Fate

Ten

There were five of them in all, each one as ruthless looking as the last. They each had at least one weapon in hand, their eyes wild as they anticipated the thrill of a kill. A feeling Tonius knew all too well. As the bandits readied their swords and clubs, Tonius drew his dagger. The bald man who had stopped them laughed. "How exactly to ya plan to fight the five of us with such a tiny blade?"

Tonius grinned. "I don't." Holding his hand out to the left, he waited for Micah to toss him a sword. He had noticed them the night before when he was searching for the blankets. At first, he thought it funny that they were there, not thinking for a second that they would have any sort of use. Now, he was grateful.

Micah didn't disappoint, tossing him the long-bladed weapon as he unsheathed his own, brandishing it skillfully. Putting away his dagger, he drew the sword, testing the weight of it in his hand. It was heavier than his dagger, naturally, but just like his smaller blade, it was still an extension of his hand. He gave it a few practice swings, already getting used to it.

One of the bandits laughed as Tonius played with his new weapon. "Look at the whelp! He's never even held a sword before!"

"Let's flay them," another said maliciously, tossing his wheat scythe from hand to hand impatiently.

The leader held up a hand to silence any further comments. "Ya should have paid the toll, friends. Ya could have been on ya merry way. But my boys here, they've already seen ya. And it's been so long since they've tasted the satisfaction of a kill. Please, fight back. It only excites them more."

Tonius felt his own blood alight at the thought of fighting again. His skin itched to make his move, to sink his blade into the squishy, pink flesh of the bald man. To hack at bones, feel them splinter under his strength. It had been so long since he had had the pleasure of killing. A true kill, which he would be able to remember. It disgusted him that he was like this, but much like he had begun to accept Beast, he had begun to accept this. He was a murderer by nature. He knew that this would be a bad idea, that he had spent so long trying to get himself under control, how easy it could be to slip back into old habits. To let Beast have it out, after just getting to be himself again. But the instinct was too strong, pulling at him like a siren's song.

"If you're finished monologuing," he said indifferently, giving his sword another swing, "I'd very much like to kill you now."

The lead man laughed heartily. "So eager to die. Well go on then men, rip them limb from limb!"

It was the release they had been waiting for. With a yelp, they sprang, tearing the riders from their horses. Having not expected it, Tonius hit the ground hard, the shock of the landing knocked the sword from his hand. Two of bandits took advantage of the fact that he was unarmed, wailing on him with clubs. He felt more irritated than anything. This was not how this was supposed to go. Creeping his hand to his waist, he pulled out his dagger, swinging his arm up and slashing at one of his attackers. He felt his blade rip through cloth and skin and one of the clubs vanished. Now being able to raise both arms, he gathered his strength to toss of the remaining man. He wasted no time in scrambling to his feet, dirt and dead leaves flying as he bolted to his sword. He picked it up and pivoted, raising the sword just in time to catch the club about to hit him. The force of the bandit's swing shook his arm, nearly making him drop his weapon yet again, but he held fast.

Dropping his dagger to the ground, he placed his now free hand on the long blade, applying enough pressure to push the bandit back. Staggering, the man swung upwards with his club, but now Tonius had his footing. He gave a swift slice at the man's wrist, nicking him just enough for him to drop his weapon. But that didn't stop the bandit. He rushed Tonius, hammering into him. His feet were knocked out from under him and Tonius fell yet again, sword knocked far from his side. He was starting to really get annoyed with ending up on his back on the ground and losing his weapon. Determined not to lose his upper hand, he turned onto his stomach and crawled to his dagger. His fingers had nearly brushed it when he felt a hand grab at his ankle, yanking him away from his blade. Frustration bit at him.