El-Vador's Travels (57 page)

A
blow at its remaining arm missed as the creature jerked the member
out of the path of the sword, the impetus swung El-Vador half around
and, before he could recover, it was almost upon him. Its appendage
snatched at him, catching a fold of his shirt and tearing a chunk of
it from his body, drawing blood underneath his chest that seemed to
burn and ooze.

El-Vador
danced back and swung at the monster's head. The creature ducked, and
again El-Vador had to scramble to keep out of its grip. At last he
caught it a terrific blow on the side of the head, shearing off a
large chunk of its skull. Another blow sent the head of the beast to
the dusty floor of the barrens.

The
sword sank deep into the creature's ribs as an afterthought and
almost lodged for a nearly fatal second in the spine before it was
jerked loose once more.

The
thing was still alive. Its headless body shuffling toward him as if
nothing could stop it. Untiring and unfaltering it continued, even
though its body bore wounds that would have laid a dozen men in the
dirt.

His
lungs laboured from the strokes as he fended off the beast without
any power to augment his strikes, his heart pounded as if it were
about to burst. Slash and strike as he would, nothing could even slow
the thing that was forcing him to retreat.

Unless
he struck at the legs. Reasoning that if it could not walk it could
not pursue him, he drove a fierce, back-handed slash against where he
thought the creature's knee would reside. The creature collapsed,
grovelling in the harsh dust of barrens. But still the unnatural life
burned within the creature's translucent breast. It staggered to its
feet again and lurched after the Elf, dragging its crippled leg
behind it.

Again
El-Vador struck, again the creature fell to the floor, but whatever
aided its locomotion kept forcing it stand, to prevent the Elf from
escaping its clutches. The pursuit was tireless and mechanical and
El-Vador knew not how to escape it.

Then
something caught his ankle. Off balance, he fell full-length to the
rough ground, kicking wildly in the dust to free his leg from a
powerful grip. He stared down and felt his blood freeze when he saw
the severed arm of the creature clutching his foot. He felt the bones
grinding as the near invisible fingers gripped tighter together.
Forcing the pommel of his sword down upon them he smashed his leg
clear, letting out a howl of pain in the process.

Then
the shimmering shape of the nightmare loomed over him. The headless
figure leaned down to grasp his throat and choke the life from him.

El-Vador
reacted by instinct. With all his will, he summoned forth black
tendrils of power that struck out at the being before him.

They
stuck to the translucent flesh like fire to oil, sucking greedily
upon the shifting nothingness as it writhed silently before him.

Rolling
to his feet, he grasped the member and hurled it into the darkness,
swiftly following it with the head of the creature.

The
creature burned with the fury of dry brushwood as if dark flames ran
up its form, leaping from limb to limb and converting it into a
living torch. Still it tried to stagger forward in an attempt to
grasp at the Elf, but he wisely kept his distance as it was consumed.

Within
minutes the creature was utterly devoured, leaving nothing of its
passage but the unconscious body of El-Vador.

The
barrens are a miserable stretch of land that no civilised being would
wish to call home. They are also extremely dangerous, as any quarry
who is pursued has nowhere to hide upon their plains.

H
e
heard the signs of pursuit long before he saw them, or at least
that's what he thought it was. There was no place to hide, he would
have no choice but to turn and face this oncoming threat. He only
hoped it wasn't more of the transparent force he had faced when
breaching the barrier.

That
was when he saw her, soaring through the skies with wings a-flurry
trying to get clear of her pursuers. The Orcs that followed were clad
in black leather and sported both bows and spears. Dust stained their
armour and from their haggard expressions it had been a long chase,
but the pallor of their skin was enough to tell El-Vador that they
were enemies.

Their
leader, a twisted creature running low to the ground, cranked a
crossbow as he jogged after the Pixie, El-Vador suspected that one of
those projectiles was going to hit sooner rather than later. Where
was Anacletus in all of this? Had he not assured the Elf that Aliana
would be under his protection? He silently cursed to himself and rued
being foolish enough to trust the man.

The
Orc urged his forces on with savage curses. Bolts and arrows flew
through the sky, some of them well wide of their target and others
much closer.

One
of them shot through the air and clipped the wing of the retreating
Pixie, sending her arcing toward the ground. She spun dizzyingly and
landed in a crash of dust within sprinting distance of her pursuers,
she didn't rise.

El-Vador
leaped forward to meet the opposition, picking up speed as he neared
the body of his fallen companion.

Arrows
whistled past, the Orcs had spotted him, apparently not so entirely
focused on capturing their victim that they were oblivious to his
approach.

He
didn't plan on giving them the opportunity to close, pressing his
palms outward and channelling the power within him. The now-familiar
black stream soared outward, and a shiver passed up his spine as it
engulfed and silenced the screaming prey.

The
revitalised feeling he gained from the power was no substitute for
proper rest though, and El-Vador found himself weary and swaying from
the exertion. The darkness extending from his outstretched arms
ceased, apparently relying upon the energies to augment his
traversing the barrens had sapped more strength than he realised.

The
remaining Orcs advanced upon him and he made sure to close the
distance between himself and the prone Pixie, he couldn't afford her
falling into Orcish hands for fear that the Brotherhood would make a
swoop for her out of the ether as the traitor Anacletus had
suggested. At least, that's what he told himself his motivations
were.

He
readied his bow and side-stepped another bolt before whipping around
and embedding an arrow in the offending Orc.

The
Orcs perceived the Elf's prowess with the bow and moved to close the
gap even further, rather than try and pick him off from afar and risk
the fate of their kindred soldiers.

El-Vador
drew his sword whilst abandoning his bow in one flowing motion,
readying himself and counting their numbers. Four of them remained,
and they seemed cautious about his appearance.

The
first Orc slashed at the Elf. El-Vador ducked the blow and struck.
His cut caught the creature just above his thigh, shattering bone and
slicing sinew. The lower half of the Orc's leg came off, arterial
blood pulsing hot and red, while the creature slumped to the left and
fell.

El-Vador
turned and kicked dust at the second Orc's head as he approached, the
effect was instant, blinding the attacker and taking him off his
stride. A quick slice to the neck was all it took, nearly beheading
the offender.

One
of the remaining Orcs was wiser, raising a spear and choosing to keep
his distance. 'We only seek the girl, stranger. We have no quarrel
with you, stop barring our path and we will let you go from whence
you came.'

'You
are Orcs, that is reason enough alone to slay you.' El-Vador stabbed
his bloody sword forward and advanced on the two remaining soldiers.
He knew better than to charge two armoured men, especially when one
had a spear and could gut him easily with such a rushed approach. But
because they had the advantage of numbers, if he did not carry the
battle to them and quickly, they would regain their wits and trap
him.

He
raced at them before they surrounded him and then, at the last
moment, shifted his sword from right hand to left. This forced the
spear-bearer to readjust to keep it on target. By the time he had
done so, El-Vador had already made it past. His sword swept in with a
whistling arc. The spear man’s shield came up and El-Vador's
blade sparked as it struck the surface. The edge still caught the man
in the forehead, denting his helmet instead of cleaving his skull in
half.

He
spun away, shield flying, spear falling. El-Vador turned swiftly in
response, searching for the second Orc that had slipped out of the
periphery of his vision during the combat. The Orc came at him from
his right, but the Elf was ready. Lowering his hand, he let the other
Orc's blade flash past, missing its target as he swerved, then
stabbed up through his opponent's armpit and ripped the blade free.

His
keen senses picked up the sound of breathing long before it could
threaten his position. He spun and stalked toward the dying Orc with
the lithe grace of a hungry panther, one who still had prey to toy
with.

The
Orc took one look at him and scrambled to his feet, apparently the
injury he had been dealt wasn't as great as the Elf initially had
thought. He began to attempt a run in the opposite direction, but his
seemingly drunken steps betrayed him and tangled his legs, sending
him sprawling into the dirt of the barrens once more. The minion
rolled on to his back and held his hands up in supplication as
El-Vador approached. 'Please, I have information you need about the
one you seek!'

The
Elf stared down at him, pressing the tip of his blade to the throat
of his captive. 'What do you know that is of use to me? Speak
quickly, Orc!'

The
Orc did not hesitate when given the chance. 'You seek Salvarius, but
you know not what it is you are trying to oppose!'

El-Vador's
eyes narrowed. 'I have met the man before, he cannot have changed
that much since our last encounter. Your words are useless to me,
make peace with your heathen Gods.'

'Wait,
don't kill him.'

El-Vador
looked up as the Pixie approached, dust marked her but otherwise she
seemed no worse for wear from her fall. 'He is an Orc, he must die.'

'An
Orc with information that I need. That we both need.'

El-Vador
glanced briefly at her head, wondering if she were concussed from the
fall. 'The Orc did not speak anything of value to me even under pain
of death, what makes you think anything it says will not be
falsehood?'

'If
the Orc proves false then you may kill him. I need to know what drew
me out here first.'

El-Vador
paused at that, he had assumed that the Pixie would know why
Anacletus was absent and why she had been subsequently chased out
here. Was she as in the dark as he was?

The
Orc let out a brief chuckle that stilled into a cough, blood trickled
down his throat from the bite of El-Vador's blade at the movement.
'You are the one that the woman seeks, that is why you are drawn.'

She
frowned. 'What do you mean drawn?'

The
minion eyed his blood nervously as it mingled on the blade with his
former comrades. 'Salvarius travels with a woman, she seeks someone
to bond with in ways I do not know. A spell draws you to her, and any
Orc that lays claim to you can live the rest of his days in riches.'

The
Pixie folded her arms over her chest. 'You are saying that a spell
has drawn me out into these barrens where my comrade so happens to
be?'

'An
unlikely coincidence perhaps.' the Orc admitted, a hint of panic
creeping into his voice. 'Do you not feel the urge within you? Do you
not sense that what I speak of is true?'

The
brief pause must have felt like a lifetime to the creature beneath
El-Vador's blade.

'I
do feel it.' Aliana finally said. 'Whether the rest of your words
ring true we shall see in time.'

'She
seems to believe you, Orc.' El-Vador said, his blade slowly drifting
off the Orc's throat. He held the creature's gaze as he cleaned and
sheathed the weapon. 'You live and die by her word and the truth of
your answers.'

The
Orc need not know that El-Vador planned to kill him regardless of
what was said.

Anacletus
willed against the force holding him down continuously, stretching
out his sensations and attempting to conjure the smoke to no avail.
The power that held him down seemed mountainous in its vastness, his
form buried deep under the roots and inextricable for all eternity.

He
was not a man to give in easily however, and he knew that being
trapped in this blackened purgatory would spell the inevitable doom
for both the Elf and the Pixie, resulting in his own swift death,
unless he was somehow prevented from that by his captor.

It
had been a sobering thought, the prospect of being enslaved for all
eternity, but it was not a new one. Sarvacts had got his hooks into
him and he knew the hopelessness that he must prevent washing over
his plans.

The
important thing now was that he had plans, however flimsy and
fanciful they may seem to him in his current dire predicament. This
left his situation slightly more tenable than when he had been a pawn
of Sarvacts, mobility or not.

A
piercing sensation lit up his skull, and the harder he pushed against
it the greater the pain grew. He did not care for the agony, but more
the promise of a response. The endless hours had threatened to drive
him frantic in his search for a way out, but a tangible response from
the darkness surrounding him suggested that he had done something
worth noting.

'I
don't see why you resist,' the voice called out to him, that same
mocking tone in the depths of his inflection. 'You are completely
paralysed and incapable of returning to your corporeal form. Assuming
it hasn't already been buried that is.'