Chasing Sparks

Chapter 11.2

The Caver woman exploded into motion immediately. She darted away towards the trees but seemed to be intercepted by something equally fast.

There was a short scuffle that ended with a small lithe man standing over the woman holding two viciously sharp daggers in both hands. The woman was curled up on the floor wincing in pain holding her left ankle, her achilles tendon sliced in half.

The man with the daggers smiled, seemingly happy with his work. “I should have done that a long time ago,” he said. “Nevermind, better late than never. You won’t be going anywhere fast, now.”

The man then laughed out loud as if he had said something funny.

He then turned his attention to Wren. “So you are the person who set my little Barbarian free. I had expected someone a little more, hmmmm, how can I put this politely, formidable.”

Wren said nothing.

“Yes. You appear about as formidable as a worm.” The man continued, before putting both his daggers away with a theatrical flourish. “Now, let me introduce myself. I’m the infamous Julius.”

The short man had a well groomed moustache and wore a wide brimmed hat and tailored loose fitting clothing. He was probably the best dressed Forester Wren had ever seen. Back at the Gardens, fashion was not high on the list of most Forester’s priorities, however, the little man standing in front of Wren now, was quite the dandy.

“And who have I the pleasure of talking to.” Julius said, the politeness of his words, in sharp contrast with his conceited manner. There was also a level of arrogance to his demeanor, that suggested Wren was no match for whoever he was.

Watching the speed with which he had moved and the way he had neutralised the Caver, Wren thought his confidence was probably not misplaced.

Wren didn’t reply.

But this didn’t seem to bother Julius. He just carried on, “I’m sorry I missed your little visit last night. I hear it was quite the party. Although, Denny didn’t think so. He’s dead. Bitten to death. Nasty business.” Julius looked at the Caver. “Your handy work no doubt”.

The woman just spat at him.

Julius laughed. “I wish I could keep you. I really do. You are such a beautiful little treasure but alas, I must deliver you. I promised you see, my dear, and I always keep my promises.”

Turning to Wren, he whispered quietly, “Do you know one more thing I promised.”

Wren had a feeling he knew what was coming.

“I promised my men I would find and kill the person who dared to steal from me.” There was no attempt to mask the malice in this final comment. It was said with a snarl.

Wren’s enhanced senses saw the man start to move. He even saw the man draw his daggers. He twisted to the side, blocking the first dagger slash with his forearm. Blocking may not be the right term as the dagger sliced through his forearm cutting him to the bone. But the cut had been aimed at his ankle and he had stopped the dagger from making contact with that part of his body. But that was only the first dagger, the second came down almost immediately after the first and Wren watched helplessly as it sliced his tendon clean in half.

There was no pain initially as the cut was perfect, but that didn’t stop the onslaught of pain a second or so later, as his body caught up with what had happened.

Wren screamed out loud and reflexively cupped his ankle in both hands. Blood was flowing simultaneously from both the gash in his arm and his ankle.

The Forester stepped back to admire his handy work.

“Well, you won’t be going anywhere fast either,” he laughed, as if cutting people was some kind of joke.

“However, it seems I owe you an apology. You were a little more formidable than I first thought. You were able to block my first cut. The only other person I know who was able to do that is lying over there. It’s a shame neither of you could maintain your defence for a little longer.” He laughed again.

“Now, whereas I will get an excellent price for the little Barbarian over there, I fear the Mining Lords will pay little for you. They want moles you see, not tall blind Krills. Therefore, killing you is not a problem.” He was still laughing.

Juluis then pursed his lips together and said quietly, as if musing to himself, “Now, how shall I kill you? Hmmm. So many possibilities. Slow is always good but your neck is so long and inviting. It’s hard to ignore. What to do?”

Wren wasn’t listening to the disgusting man. He was focused on his spark. He had used most of the energy to heal the Caver but there was still a little energy left. Wren closed off everything around him and concentrated hard on his ankle. He tried to pinpoint the exact point where the tendon was cut. There was pain in the whole area but he slowly found the centre of the pain and poured the remaining energy from the spark into the torn ligament.

He felt the usual tingle and numbness like the other times he had healed himself. He was careful, however, to keep hold of his ankle and give no indication of what he was doing. Wren even let out a little moan.

The Forester heard and said, “Oh please be quiet. I’m trying to think of the best way to kill you,” laughing again.

The laughter then suddenly stopped and a whispered voice said, “Besides, the pain you feel now is nothing compared to what is to come.”

The Forester then darted towards Wren, daggers back out at the ready. One dagger slashed viciously across Wren’s exposed chest, the other stabbed him in the stomach. Wren saw all this unfolding but instead of backing away or trying to block the blades he accepted the blows and moved towards the Forester, wrapping his arms around him.

Wren winced at the pain but pushed it away and focused on pulling the Forester tight to him. Wren then stood up, lifting the Forester clean off his feet.

The Bandit gasped in surprise.

Hoping desperately his tendon had healed sufficiently, Wren began running holding the Forester tight to his body.

The bandit was totally shocked now.

Wren could feel the pain in his ankle as he ran but just prayed the healed tendon would hold out for a little longer.

Although he had the Foresters arms pinned to his side as he carried him, Wren began to feel the daggers scratching across his belly at crazy speeds. The Forester was using what little leverage he had, to crisscross Wren’s stomach.

Keeping the escarpment to his right Wren just ran. Ignoring the pain, ignoring the feel of the daggers, he just kept going. One step after another, his stomach screaming at him. He then felt what he had been waiting for, the water of the pool splashing around his ankles, he took two more steps before plunging head first into the pool.

The Forester was struggling desperately now, beginning to understand what Wren was going to do. But Wren wouldn't be denied, his extra bulk holding the Forester underwater beneath him. Wren’s own head was under the water too, pushing the Foresters head against the bottom of the pool.

Holding this curious position, Wren used his weight to keep the Forester under water. He held his breath for as long as he possibly could, preventing the squirming body below him from surfacing.

Wren’s lungs were screaming at him now for air and eventually his survival instinct kicked in and he raised his head up out of the water to breathe. He frantically gulped in the much needed air.

Letting go of the bandit, he slowly dragged his pain ridden body towards the edge of the pool, which was stained red from the blood coming out of his stomach. He managed to climb half out of the pool before collapsing and passing out.