Runeblade

A spike of shock ripped down Julian’s spine. He hurled himself down, lying near flat in his saddle as his lifelong bannerman pulled the trigger. The bolt cut past the back of his neck, a warm wind tusseling the few loose strands of his hair that weren’t contained by his helmet.

One of his men screamed, a flare of heat washing over Julian’s back as he was consumed. The other surged in front of Julian, cutting off Edmund’s angle of attack.

“You!” Julian roared, ripping his blade from his scabbard as his crossbow vanished into his storage ring.

“Me,” Edmund replied, cold as steel. His own blade was in hand. With a swift kick, the man’s charger launched into motion, pulling Edmund away — into the dark. His retainer quickly followed. He’d fucking given them those mounts!

He ignored the dim flashes of dampened orange light from the courtyard below, and the single scream of pain. Even Brokenlight’s roar of fury and surprise drifted away. Edmund was fucking dead.

Shaded and hazy, Adrian and his retainers slid through the dark, circling around. It was almost impossible to see them well — he’d have to watch for another bolt.

“Julian!” Kel yelled in alarm. That was a surprise — he’d been damn sure it was him.

“Hold off the Golds!” Julian roared, leveling his shield at the traitors. “The delvers aren’t far behind us!”

Oh how he loved Edmund’s shocked hiss that crossed through the trees.

“I bloody knew it!” Kel yelled back.

“I thought it was you!” Julian yelled back.

“As if you would ever see me coming!”

A moment later, Kel let loose a stream of commands, directing their remaining men. Six crossbows thumped as another volley loosed into the courtyard. There were no screams of pain, only a roar that was rapidly growing closer. Julian shoved it to the back of his mind.

He had a rat to catch.

“With me!” he yelled, digging his heels into his mount.

His remaining retainer fell in beside him, sword free and shield raised. His other lay dead and smoking in his saddle, a blackened wound the size of a fist punched into his armpit. His innards were a pulped ruin. Taken in the fucking heart. Edmund would pay in blood.

Two bolts scythed out of the dark, screaming with magic potency. His shield snapped up instantly, shining bright with the potency of a Skill. The bolt slammed home, erupting into a pyre that billowed over its edges. Julian grit his teeth against the pain, his arm scoured by the eruption. The wound was surface deep — his plate had done its job. Crouched low in his saddle as his mount charged, he knew Edmund wouldn’t get the time to wrack his crossbow again.

Edmund and his man reached the same conclusion. They drew their blades, kicking their own beasts into a gallop.

“I dragged you out of the dirt!” Julian roared, fury overflowing. Edmund. Edmund?! What the fuck was wrong with the man! His House had been on the verge of ruin when Julian had given him a place in his team. He had wanted to strengthen one who would one day be one of his bannermen! He would’ve made him a fucking count!

Stamina surged through him, acerbic and biting. Infernus Grandblade erupted, ravenous blue tongues exploding from his hand-and-a-half sword. Stoic in his silence, his retainer followed his lead, his own blade gleaming with cutting martial energy.

“Save me the drivel — you just wanted another dog. I will be your pawn no longer!”

Years of silenced frustration and hatred boiled through his words. It sickened Julian, the bastard had the gall? Edmund was dead. He knew everything about the man, every trick and feint he had, every tell, and every Skill.

“Then I will put you back where I found you!”

Both pairs charged. This would be no fight of skill and tactic, fading like ghosts through the night to strike only when victory could be assured. It would be a duel of passion, of that Julian was certain.

Edmund had always been a shit duelist.

As the distance closed, Julian caught a whirling streak of black race towards the rest of his men from the direction of the ruin. Then Edmund was on him. The man roared, ethereal thorns wrapping his blade as he cut down towards Julian’s thigh. Julian dropped his shield a handspan, reinforcing it with a gleaming orange aura. The slash slammed into the banded edge of his kite shield, flicking to the side. He slid his blade over the top of his shield, a vicious thrust towards the traitor's heart.

Edmund blocked, and for a single moment, Julian could have sworn he saw the hint of a grin through the man’s helm. Mana burned through Edmund’s blade, biting it deep into the edge of Julian’s shield. He yanked hard. Julian cursed; forced to let go lest he be yanked from the saddle.

Then they were gone, racing past each other once more. Turning to look back, he saw his once-ally toss his kiteshield into the gloom. He committed the spot to memory.

“Tagged Mordel on the shoulder with Autumn Fade. His shield arm will be weak,” his retainer said in a short clip, panting from his own clash.

Julian nodded, whirling his mount around. Shaded at the edge of his vision, Edmund and his man galloped through the trees, turning for another charge of their own. Beyond them, he could see the barest hints of a hive of activity, echoing with the scream of steel on steel. The Golds had engaged.

“Push hard, we can’t give them a moment to regroup. The Golds are the biggest threat, the more we linger on this treacherous cur, the greater the risk is. Draw Mordel away. I trust you can deal with him. I’m going to unseat Edmund — glancing passes will take too long, especially without my shield.”

“Aye, my lord.”

Trunks towered out of the gloom like columns as Julian spurred his mount. Weaving through the black-cowled pillars, he could not help but feel that he was charging through his father’s grandhall. Like this was just some mockery of an exhibition match, rather than facing down a betrayer he’d once called friend.

Julian snapped his blade out, levelling it at Edmund’s distant form. Golden light spilled from its blade as he called on Resplendent Lance. The light swelled until the blade was nine strides long, and its pommel was tucked firmly in his armpit. A stiffness fell over his target. Julian watched the man bring his shield high, leaning forward in the saddle as a crackling point of green light shone on the tip of Edmund’s blade.

The tale has been stolen; if detected on Amazon, report the violation.

His once-teammate might have been hidden behind the faceplate of his helm, but Julian knew Edmund well. The baron was nervous. His blade was drawn back for a counterstab, but the point was wavering a little high — one of his old tells. Without a Skill to counter Julian’s Lance, he would have to rely on his defences alone. Despite that, the man was committed. Julian was too tempting of a target without his shield.

The pounding beat of hooves hammered in time with Julian’s heart. They met in seconds.

Just before impact, Julian twitched the point of his lance high, aiming for Edmund’s neck. The man flinched, ripping his shield into its path — angled just right to deflect the attack. Shimmering force surged through the barrier of iron-banded wood. Even early, it was a sturdy defence. Julian would never break through in a single strike. The hot-blooded fool that he was, Edmund had made a mistake. So desperate to shield his neck, the man had pulled his shield too high — and covered his eyes.

Snarling, Julian abandoned Resplendent Lance and leapt from his saddle.

For a singular moment, he hung weightless in the night.

Then he slammed into Edmund’s shield shoulder first. White light beat weakly against the darkness as the man’s Skill-empowered kiteshield repelled the force of Julian’s tackle. He stopped instantly, his surroundings snapping like a whip at the jarring halt to his motion. Edmund flailed, yelling in shock at the sudden weight.

Rather than hook his foot over the man’s charger, Julian grabbed the shield that was strapped to the man’s arm and let himself fall — yanking Edmund after him.

Slamming into the ground, both warriors tumbled uncontrollably as their mounts continued to run. Unburdened by his shield, Julian was just able to claw the damp soil and use the drag to roll himself into a slide. He focused on his foe — Edmund hadn’t been so lucky. The tip of the man’s kiteshield hit an exposed root, ripping his arm backwards painfully as he came to a sudden halt.

“You bastard!” Edmund roared.

Julian popped to his feet and whirled his blade into a flourish. He settled into a two-handed grip. While a hand-and-a-half sword didn’t have quite as much reach as a longsword, he’d manage just fine. He didn’t need a shield to win this fight — but finishing it quickly could be different story. A problem, considering the other threats he faced this night.

They were alone in the dark. His retainer had forced Edmund’s own away from his master, their presence only known as barely seen shadows racing through the night. Beyond Edmund, Julian could barely even hear the rest of his team — but there was the distinctive sound of clashing steel. They’d been engaged. The Delver’s might be coming, but only the gods’ knew how close they were. Kel and Adrian faced Golds — he couldn’t waste time on a treacherous cur.

“A bit rich, coming from you,” Julian sneered, stalking towards the man. It had always been a rumour at court that the late baron Rosenhall was a lecher. Preposterous, of course: Patros had been a devoted husband simply fond of late night wandering — but unfounded questions of his parentage had always set Edmund off.

Strangled sounds of rage spilled from the traitor. Exploding into a charge, the man hunkered down behind his shield as he drew his blade back into a stab.

Light on his feet, Julian met the charge. Sidestepping his foe’s advance, he cleaved down with his blade — searing flames erupting from the honed edge of his weapon. Edmund slammed his shield up, forcing the weapon to the side as he thrust with his own sword. Backstepping, Julian twirled his sword into a parry, knocking aside the thrust.

He needed space.

Grunting, he booted Edmund’s shield. It flashed bright, the man staying stable. Off balance, he couldn’t quite react quick enough to a retaliatory slash. Metal peeled as the strike glanced off his cuisses — but it was a Skill-enforced blow. Unnatural force sank through his armour, slamming into his thigh.

Julian grunted, giving a little ground as an ache consumed his leg. He kicked off the ground anyway.

Refusing to let his inferior grab even a scrap of the initiative, Julian fell on Edmund like a firestorm. His burning blade struggled against the dark, but it burned no less hotly for it — and even a light touch would be enough to sear. Again and again he smashed against Edmund’s defence, not giving the man even a second to breathe. He knew how Edmund fought. He was stronger, faster, more Skilled and came from better stock. But the bastard had a shield.

Yet the man’s furious growls grew heavier as Julian tagged him on the forearms, shoulders and thighs again and again. Heavy or light, every touch made enamelled plate gleam as its inscriptions desperately tried to ward off the building heat.

Eventually, he would break through and give the man the pyre he deserved. Unfortunately, that would take too long. His retainer was nowhere to be seen, and the distant battle of Kel and Brokenlight was growing more fervid by the second. Julian grit his teeth, scanning their surroundings as he looked for an advantage. On an open field, he could have abused the extra reach of Resplendent Lance — but in the tightly packed trunks of the Crater the added length to his blade would only hobble him.

His eyes settled on a shadow some thirty strides behind Edmund. It was impossible to make out clearly — but its curve was unmistakable for something artificial. His shield. If he could get to it, he could press his assault harder

Set on his task, Julian pressed his assault. Cleaving down, he hammered Edmund’s shield — just barely backstepping to avoid the man’s retaliatory slash. Picking up his tempo, he flew into a flurry as his opponent turtled behind his defenses. Lacking in self-healing skills, neither of them could risk a truly dire wound to create an opening — which made Edmund just that little bit easier to manoeuvre. Forcing him back with a thrust to the face, Julian circled to the man’s right — as if he were trying to get an angle around Edmund’s shield.

They spun, the crash of steel ringing loud, until eventually Julian fought with his back to his shield.

“Who put you up to this?” Julian sneered. “We both know you are too hot-headed to come up with a deception like this yourself.”

Rather than answer, Edmund snarled. Energy roared through his body as his blade fuzzed, three ethereal copies splitting from the weapon. Held in ghostly arms that split from Edmund’s shoulder, the man attacked with all four blades in unison.

Julian clenched his teeth, falling back as he desperately flew from parry to parry. Final Onslaught was a devastating skill — one far harder to deal with without his shield — but it was expensive beyond reason. If Edmund had used it, he was trying to end this now.

That focus would be the man’s end,

Taking another step back, Julian heard the faintest clink of metal under his heel. His shield. With physical contact, it took a single thought to pull the item into his storage artefact. He focused. Edmund cleaved down with two blades, stabbed with a third, and slashed at his ribs with the fourth.

The air popped as Julian’s shield snapped into position. Grinning, he yanked on his stamina, flooding the energy into Fortress Unyielding. The Skill ripped Edmund’s blades towards his shield. In the same moment, he thrust down — towards his enemy's legs. He had nowhere near enough reach, but…

Golden light erupted from his blade. Resplendent Lance punched forwards. Edmund leapt back, but his Skill was faster. Julian thrust through the side of his once-friend’s calf, plate crunching and blood gushing.

“I’ll kill you for that!” Edmund growled, staggering back.

Julian dismissed his skill. Covering his front with his shield, he stalked forwards. “I sincerely doubt it.”

Right as he was about to lunge a sound brought him up short. Hooves, clobbering the ground at a full gallop. They sounded distant, but the blasted darkness made it impossible to tell how far they were truly. Only one thing mattered. There was only one set. He had faith in his man, but good men died by the sword in their dozens.

Flames erupted on his blade once more. If Edmund’s man was the survivor, he needed to push his advantage now — before he was outnumbered. Orange light flickered.

The only warning he got was the barely audible thump of a crossbow firing. Julian’s stomach flipped; he hurled himself to the side.

He hit the ground right as a roaring clap split the air — and Edmund flew back. The man slammed into a treetrunk, yelling in shock and pain. That had been a greater force bolt — he must have gotten his shield up in time.

Julian scrambled to his feet right as the charger raced out of the gloom. A shadowed figure leapt out of the saddle, landing next to him with a pained grunt. His retainer. The man could barely hold his crossbow, his left pauldron a ruin of torn metal and weeping blood, but he’d already smeared the wound with a staunching unguent.

“Sorry I’m late, my lord. Mordel always was a good shot.“

Edmund took one look at the pair of them and ran, heading straight for the Wellspring ruin.

Visit and read more novel to help us update chapter quickly. Thank you so much!