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Of Valor in Men

Chapter Eleven: Fire and Stone

There were three Fanatics, but where was the Shade? If he had three Fanatics at his beck and call then surely he was no novice, was he waiting somewhere deeper in the Tomb? Why, he could easily have us dead if he were here. My gaze was brought back to the Fanatic in front of me, his unhinged chuckling didn't do well to put my mind at ease; especially as I watched him cauterize his stump of a wrist with a smile. I didn't waste any time, the one before me was vulnerable and unarmed, I lunged forward with the point of my sword, aiming to skewer the man through the chest.

My blade was stopped however, the Fanatics hand snatching it, keeping it but an inch from its mark even though the blade sliced open his hand; yet still he didn't react to it. I gritted my teeth, took a step forward and shouldered my pommel, pushing as hard as I could but the Fanatics arm and grip barely gave. No it was Cyle who delivered the demise, his hook snatching the Fanatics limb and pulling it away, though with considerable effort. But it freed my blade, I pulled back and took a swing.

My blade went through his gut, just below the ribcage but still the Bastard didn't react, he just turned and stared right at me, smiling. I wretched my arm back once more and this time I brought My blade down on his face, splitting it down to that permanent, lifeless smile. With that did the Man finally fall, his body collapsing to the side stiffly, I quickly pulled my sword from the dead Fanatic and turned to face the other two.

“Not worthy, weak, weak." One of them muttered through lipless teeth as Cyle worked to free his hook; Triss was still at my back, mace at the ready.

“Look brother, they brought us a vermin to eat, how thoughtful" The other said, the woman, her voice was calm, cold, I didn't like it; and I especially didn't like the way she referred to Hamlet.I tightened the grip on my Sword, readying it, Cyle and Hamlet fell in next to me, also at the ready.

“BURN THE HEATHENS"! The male of the two bellowed, gritting his teeth as his very veins began to glow like fire and smoke billowed from his breath before he charged. His Maul came up under armed, the head dragging on the stone flooring, before swinging upward one handed, sending bouts of flame everywhere. The four of us split to avoid it and the frenzied Fanatic took after Cyle and Hamlet, leaving Me and Triss to deal with the calmer one.

I would much rather have fought the frenzied one, his calmer counter part frightened me, her approach was slow and her eyes were locked on me. The her gaze was something I was all to familiar with, rage, anger, it was a thing I had once bore myself.

I was more worried about Hamlet then I was myself, but nonetheless I forced my focus on the towering figure before me. I found myself wondering just how a woman could be so freakishly tall, she however was quick to break those thoughts. Her Maul coming out in a short swing, held just under the white hot head of them weapon, she followed up with a kick but I was quick to dodge both with a pair of backsteps. But now I was practically nose to chest with her, I had no room to swing my weapon so I did all I could, I shoved her back; or at least I tried to.

She didn't budge an inch, instead she shoved me, with a single arm she had me stumbling back a half dozen feet. Before I could regain my footing she was already brining that Maul down overhead in both hands. It struck my chest full force, but once again the damage was negated by Triss's quick casting of a Barrier spell; the Fanatic growled in annoyance. I was on my back now as the Fanatic pulled the Maul up and readied to bring it down again and once again did Triss intervien, casting a spell of sanctity on the Heretic.

The reaction was immediate, the Fanatic reeling back, Mual falling from her hand as she clutched at her face as it began to blister and melt. I took my chance, swiftly getting back to my feet and brining my Sword up and burying it in her neck, the point driving through halfway down the blade, her dying screams of agony cut to gurgling noises as her Body fell to its knees.

I took a moment to catch my breath, and to free my blade, there was still one more of these things to take down; Hamlet and Cyle were keeping the frenzied Fanatic at range, but just barely, and they were running out of room. It took me some effort to yank my blade free and with that Me and Triss ran over to help the others, their foe was still swinging wildly with reckless abandon, each swing accompanied by waves of fire; the bastard had near set half the room alight by now, everything other then the stones of the tomb now burning brightly.

I ran the point of my Sword up along the heathens back, his heavy leather coat saving him from most of the damage but catching his attention. He half turning to me, swinging the Maul outward in a wide arch, I dodged back, the face just catching me on the shoulder, a glancing blow. I reeled back, grimacing in pain, but the deed was done, and with one well aimed thrust, the narrow point of Hamlet's unusual spear opened the last Fanatics throat. He stumbled, but didn't fall, not till I swung my sword down to finish the job, a one handed wide arch that lopped the bastards head off and sent it rolling on the floor.

With the last one dead I stumbled back, dropping my sword and seating myself on the crumbled arm of the dead Titan; undoing the straps for my shoulder guard.

“Fuck...damnit the bastard got my shoulder…" I growled through gritted teeth, my arm hung limp and agony now began to radiate from my shoulder. Triss was quick to position herself behind me and suddenly the pain lessened.

“Bone's shattered, sit still I can heal it" She said, her voice sounded rather peppy, cocky even, perhaps just satisfied that we had just killed three Fanatics. Hamlet swiftly dismounted Cyles back, and began to trifle through their coats, looking for anything of note.

“We got lucky… these three were overconfident in themselves, only one of them tried any magic on us. If they had been more cautious we'd all be dead right now" He said, pawing through pockets and pouches; all it produced was useless trinkets. Cyle gathered their weapons, stowing them to the far side of the room just incase and began to drag the bodies together to burn so they couldn't be resurrected.

“Were in Hel'imn is that damned Shade…"? I cursed through a wave of pain washed through my shoulder, the bonds being knit back together like stitch and fabric under my skin. Hamlet darted across the room to where the other two Fanatics had come from; he returned after a few moments, deep in thought.

“The next chamber is collapsed, it's inaccessible and the antechamber to its side is a dead end, it looks like the fanatics have been using it as a camp… but there are signs of a Shades presence…" He muttered upon returning; something was still off about all this, something didn't sit well with me.

“Argh...s-somethings still not right here Hamlet…" I said, my shoulder finally coming back together; the pain however was still intense. Hamlet knew I was right, the way he stood there deep in his mind told me he had a rather troubling thought rattling about in his head.

“This doesn't make sense, there's nowhere to go from out here, there's nothing important in thee tombs, no relics of power anyways." He said scratching at his chin; perturbed and confused look upon his face.

“Maybe he's hiding deeper in the tomb, past the collapse, could be it happened after he came here"? Triss suggested, stepping away from me, letting me test the repair of my shoulder; it'd need some rest but it was near good as new.

“No the collapse looked old, at least a hundred years…" Hamlet responded, his gaze stared off into the abyssal nothingness of focused thought. I stood, tenderly applying the plates of my shoulder guard with a few winces here and there; also lost in thought as I looked at the now burning corpses of the Fanatics off in the corner. My gaze then scaled the length of the room to the entry at the far end behind us.

“Let's search the camp thourgherly, maybe one of them left a clue or something to tell us where that Bastard is" I said, setting off toward the entryway with a stiff hobble, picking my sword up and resheathing it. Hamlet nodded, remounting Cyle as the others fell in alongside me; I had a bad feeling in my gut that we'd all just been played somehow and that this had just been some elaborate death trap.

Just for us.