Runeblade

Edmund ran like the coward he was, dirt and fallen leaves spraying behind his heavy footfalls. The wound Julian had left on his calf wept blood, but he ran strong with only a slight stagger. Despite everything, the man was still a strong Silver, and Julian knew he had a decent Skill improving his toughness.

Far off, hidden by the Crater’s black veil, battle raged. It was a chorus of galloping hooves, the heavy slap of fired crossbows, and steel on steel. Julian hadn’t heard the screams of dying men yet, but he had no doubt the situation was tenuous. Kel and the rest of his men faced off against two Golds and a Silver mage. If Edmund made it, the traitor might just tip the battle in favour of his enemies.

He couldn’t let that happen.

“After him!”

Bounding forward with his retainer quick behind, he placed his sword and shield into his storage artefact. It was an expensive one — requiring far less focus than most. A moment later, his crossbow appeared in hand.

Julian wrenched his string back and summoned a bolt. His retainer struggled with the string of his own weapon, his wounded shoulder working against him. No matter, his bolt was inscribed with Knight’s Doom. The bolt was expensive enough to make a merchant weep — he had ten. It would punch clean through Edmund’s plate, but not his Skill-enhanced shield. The shot had to count.

Snapping the crossbow up to his shoulder, Julian focused on the sprinting figure ahead. His target vaulted high, sailing over a low bramble. What an utter fool — the man had no Skill to manoeuvre midair. He pulled the trigger.

Shining inscriptions streaked through the night as his bolt soared straight for Edmund’s hip. To his shock, the man twisted at the last possible moment — just barely moving his shield before the shot. Impossible! Edmund had no danger sense Skill — unless he’d been keeping secrets for far longer than Julian thought.

Edmund screamed as the bolt flared bright, shattering the empowering light that covered his shield. Reinforced wood buckled in a spray of splinters and blood, a sight that filled Julian with a hungry glee. He’d punched through into the man’s arm — that would slow him.

Pained and out of position from his desperate block, Edmund tumbled as he hit the ground. Julian sprinted after him. Another shining bolt ripped past him, crunching through plate to bury itself in Edmund’s thigh.The man grunted in pain, ripping the projectile free as he jumped to his feet.

Vaulting over the bramble that separated them, Julian lunged into a thrust.

Catching the blow on his cracked shield, Edmund growled in pain as the force of it rattled his injured arm. Pushing through the agony, he bashed away the sword. A sharp crackle filled the air, his own weapon burning with energy as he cleaved into the gap.

Steel sparked against the reinforced edge of Julian’s shield. The force of the blow was astonishing, forcing him back a step. Edmund pressed the advantage, flowing into hammering cuts — only to suddenly jerk his shield up as another bolt shot past Julian. It slammed into the wood, quivering — but it gave Julian the moment he needed.

The tip of his burning blade slammed into the bloody hole at the centre of his foe's shield. His earlier bolt shattered as the scent of charred wood and cooking flesh wafted over him.

Frenzied, Edmund roared with arcane energy, his arm splitting into four as he called on Final Onslaught once more. Blow after blow rained down, a savage assault born of long-buried rage. Julian weathered the storm as best he could, shield and blade flowing in a linked dance as steel sand and wood splintered.

Eyes burned bright through Edmund’s visor. The fury there was no thing of petty pride or boiling ambition: it was righteous. But why? Perhaps they had not always seen eye to eye, but Julian had never done something to earn this.

Not even another bolt from his retainer stalled Edmund’s advance, the man catching it on the rim of his shield. Julian gave ground, his arms aching from the strain of warding off his opponent. His shield was splintered. Still strong, for now — but he couldn’t let this continue.

Beyond his raging opponent, shadowed chargers danced in constant movement. Kel and Adrian had split into two squads, firing at unseen shadows. A man burst out of the dark, cutting down towards the neck of a charger — wind howled, the beast surging to the side with its own Skill. As dirt fountained high, Julian knew he was running out of time — but Edmund was sturdy, strong, and as well trained as any of them.

Where the hells were the delvers?

A crack sounded from behind him, and Edmund jerked his shield up to catch another bolt. Julian’s heel slammed into its fractured centre, sending his opponent staggering back with a cry of pain. Abandoning Final Onslaught, Edmund hacked at him to prevent an advance.

“What has driven you to this, old friend?” Julian said, thrusting towards Edmund’s throat. His taunts hadn’t thrown the man off — but maybe another angle could work.

“You pretend, even now?!” Edmund raged. “Was it not enough to taunt me with your presence for a decade?”

By all of the gods, what was the man talking about? Feinting low, Julian caught Edmund’s parry in a bind, before he stepped forwards and punched his burning blade into the man’s exposed shoulder. He heard it sizzle.

“Whatever imagined slight you have invented, you will have to be more specific than that.”

Edmund roared in response, driving Julian back with a wild hack before he hunkered behind his shield and charged. Wild in his abandon, he left himself open. Metal and bone crunched as Julian cleaved into the man’s ribs. He didn’t stop, slamming his bullrush home. Even with Julian bracing with his shield, it meant little as a pulse of force erupted from Edmund’s own.

Slamming into the ground, the rich scent of wet mulch greeted Julian with open arms.

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“Lord Flowers!” his retainer roared, dashing forwards as he summoned his shield and blade. Edmund was far closer.

“They found violet oleander in my father’s brandy, and still you deny it?!” he roared, plunging his blade down.

Julian rolled to the side, his eyes wide. Gleaming death thumped into the soil next to him. His retainer leapt over the brambles, swinging at Edmund’s neck with a roar. Ripping his blade free, their opponent smashed aside the swing. Julian scrambled to his feet, grim certainty settling heavy in his chest as he moved to pincer Edmund.

Violet oleander extract was nigh undetectable and universally lethal to any below the third tier. That specific cultivar was also only grown in the ducal gardens. Gods’ damnit Father! He didn’t know what slight had led to the late Baron Rosenhall’s death — but Father could have at least told him when he’d picked Edmund for his team. But… that felt wrong. Father could be vicious, and old Patros had been too much of a soft heart to succeed in court — but he’d been loyal. Hells, the fact that violet oleander had even been found smelled absolutely rotten.

Exhaustion settled deep on his shoulders as he hammered Edmund’s flank. There was always a plot, and his old teammate had fallen for one like the fool he was. Someone had sharpened a good little knife and given it all the nudge it needed to strike a decade later.

Julian didn’t bother to push the matter further. Another time, maybe. A little attempted murder could be forgiven, even bonding in the right circumstances. But to sell him out to the Onyx? To try to undercut the stability of his duchy? No. Edmund would die today, and later, when Julian returned home, he would find who had actioned this little gambit. Those who had access to the ducal gardens were few. Francesca, maybe? His sister always had been fond of poison, but she was usually more subtle. Regardless if the instigator was blood or not, he could use this scheme as leverage to solidify his position as heir.

Blade flowing in a constant dance, Julian pressed his opponent. His retainer’s shoulder had healed somewhat, and with the two of them advancing Edmund had no choice but to give ground — inexorably drawing them closer to the greater battle with the Golds.

Blood wept from a half dozen torn sections in Edmund’s plate, while the searing heat of Julian’s sword had blackened and charred the man’s shield. Panting, the man cleaved towards Julian’s head. Flicking his blade up, he knocked the strike away — only for Edmund to move with the deflection and thrust at his retainer.

Slowed by the remnant wound on his shoulder, the retainer brought his shield to bear just a moment too late. Skill-honed steel punched into the man’s belly. He hissed in pain. Growling, Julian hacked at Edmund’s exposed arm, drawing a scream as smoke erupted from the injury.

Staunch through his injury, Julian’s retainer smashed his shield down on the blade in his stomach. Vibrant fortitude erupted, his breath steaming in the night as an enhancing Skill surged into action.

As one they advanced, wearing away at the traitor. It was not without cost, retaliation coming in a dozen cleaving cuts that slipped through their guard. Julian’s armour held — mostly. His arms ached from bludgeoning smashes, and blood was slowly filling his boot from cut on his thigh. Staring as the bloodsoaked ash that coated Edmund, he could only consider the cost acceptable.

Focused on his foe, Julian lost track of the wider battle — until a battle cry split the night. Jolting, he whipped towards the sound. A barbarian of rippling muscle cleaved down with a massive axe, right through the leg of one of his men and into the flank of their mount. They were so close that Julian could see the delighted gleam in the Gold’s eyes as man and beast screamed in unison.

Soil erupted under the Gold’s foot as he leapt forward towards the closest tree. Another kick splintered the trunk, and he flew towards the next of Julian’s men — Adrian. He threw himself from the saddle, but a halfmoon of steel cleaved through the back of his plate all the same.

Rather than stop to finish off the downed lord, he ran on, grinning with manic delight. Julian’s eyes went wide. The barbarian was staring straight at him.

“There’s the dukeling,” the Gold crooned.

“Brace!” Julian warned, smashing aside Edmund’s blade.

His retainer tensed. Edmund looked over his shoulder and sighed in relief, sidestepping to give the Gold room. Musclebound and full of battle fury, the barbarian rushed right past him. His axe came down, pulsing with violent force. Julian’s retainer roared, their shield shining bright with reinforcement as they raised it overhead. A crack filled the air as the top of the shield shattered. His retained flew back, gasping in shock.

Whirling their axe, the barbarian was on Julian a moment later. His heart pounding, Julian drew deep, flooding his own shield with a Skill. A titanic force slammed home, crushing his guard. His helm rang like a bell as the edge of his shield slammed into his forehead. Then fire erupted from his belly — a blade pulling free of his flesh a moment later. Fucking Edmund!

With the Gold joining the battle, Julian had no chance. He fell back, every slamming blow striking dread into his heart. One strike. That’s all it would take. He could fight through the wounds, but if he was slowed even a hair, another would follow.

He could see the rest of his men scrambling into action behind the barbarian — but Adrian was injured, and the Gold seemed to simply ignore the bolts that slammed into his back.

Iron-banded wood gave a final deathscream as his retainer’s shield shattered under another blow. The Gold’s axe slammed into the man’s helm, splitting his head right open. Julian could only watch, pinned by Edmund’s ongoing assault.

As his retainer fell limp, Julian felt only the cold certainty of his own doom. In moments, the Gold would be on him. Then his shield would shatter, and his bones would soon follow.

Kaius had been too slow. He’d been too slow.

“Oh, how I've longed for this day!” Edmund roared. The Gold only laughed.

Julian made his peace and stood his ground. Men like him died on their feet.

A screaming indigo streak ripped through the night, fog trailing behind it. Julian barely got the time to jolt in shock it was so sudden. A lance of deep-blue ice rammed through Edmund’s ribs, skewering him like a common rabbit. The barbarian reacted instantly, leaping backwards so fast he might as well have teleported — just barely evading the spear of ice and the man embedded on it. It slammed into a tree, cratering the trunk as Edmund was pinned in place.

An arrow of screaming wind shot after the Gold. He blocked with the flat of his axe — only to fly into the nearest tree as the projectile burst into a crushing gust.

Two shapes rushed out of the dark. One a man, one a hulking beast. Julian couldn’t stop staring at the weakly struggling Edmund. His chest was a ruin, hollowed out and crushed by the spell that had skewered him. Gushing blood slowly stemmed as a plug of red ice formed around the edges of the wound. The traitor was dead, just like that. It had only taken a single spell.

He gasped as a monstrous roar washed over him. Porkchop ran past his flank a moment later, a ghostly shieldwall racing ahead of him as he charged the axe-wielding Gold. Kaius followed a moment later, longsword of gleaming crystal in hand.

“I told you it was him!” the delver said, racing on. He didn’t bother with the barbarian that had slaughtered Julian’s retainer like cattle — apparently satisfied the Porkchop alone would be enough.

Bloody monsters.

Taking a sharp breath, Julian tightened his grip on his blade and ran after Kaius.

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