It was hard to breathe. The tunnels seemed blurry. And the pain in her leg was growing worse. Yet she was still running, still holding on. Opip dashed into another corridor, this one too covered by wines and moss, the air felt moist and the tunnel seemed to point down. Likely this was a path to the third floor. The so-called waterways.
Tristin was not awake yet and judging by his expression it looked as if he was having a bad dream. In a way she wished this could also just be another bad dream. Bandits were cruel people and she had heard only horror stories of what happened to those who were caught. They weren't the kind of people who left witnesses.
Her pursuers would soon catch up, The armour and gear they had was light while hers was heavy. The hill folk didn't exactly make escaping easier. At least she was traveling down hill although the rocks became ever slippier and the air ever heavier.
The floor became wet and covered by water. Each step a splash on the surface. An echo from behind told of several pursuers. And finally after three bad turns a dead end. This would be a final stop. Or was it. She could leave the hillfolk behind and dart for another tunnel hoping the bandits would choose an unconscious prey instead of a running one.
The footsteps were quickly approaching, if she was to make a decision it would have to be now. Opip looked at the tunnel exit where two other paths were ripe to be taken, could she get there with Tristin before the bandits saw her? not likely. Then a look towards her sword secure in its hilt. And so her decision was made. She quietly set the small motionless tristin in the cold water poised up against the rocky wall. And turned towards the tunnel. She wouldn't die here.
When the bandits finally caught up to the hounds trail they saw a body leaning against the dungeon wall. Just before one of the other tunnels. What remained of the adventurer's belongings were there with him floating aimlessly in the water. It was quiet. Yet a sense of bitter victory had already found itself to the first bandits who came upon the scene. They may not have gotten the full party but this was good enough.
The first two to approach the hill folk were dead in a heartbeat. A blue sword severed them in two and the water covered floor turned a crimson red. From the dark tunnel hidden by the third floor's shadow the hound had laid waiting. What came next was a flurry of arrows. Two could not pierce the hounds armour but the third found a wedge in the knee. Yet she could balance on one leg.
Four pursuers were left. Two came forth and circled around, cautious without taking any risk. While their allies readied more arrows. The hound swung recklessly, she couldn't move freely from both her exhaustion and the deep wound in her leg. a few more arrows bounced off, one was cut down by sword. The bandits circled like vultures. Another reckless cut another sway to the side and the hound seemed to fall. Her sword slowly sank out of her hand.
One of the bandits seeing the weakness went for a strike, he came from behind fully expecting a swift end. Yet a swift end for who exactly. A rouse, a trap, the hounds body might be weakened but her mind was as sharp as ever. The slipping sword was seized within a second and the full brunt of its savage blue blade bore directly into the bandit's shoulder, neck, spine and arm. Another one down.
The other bandit still circling went for a strike of her own hoping to catch the hound of guard, but to no avail. The hound simply grabbed her dead comrade and used him as a shield for the other's dagger. But just in her moment of triumph the hound missed the arrow to her back and the other to her arm. Two more arrows had pierced her flesh, one was poisoned judging from her now dormant right arm. The arm which she had carried her sword with.
But it was not her only weapon. She tossed aside the corpse of the first bandit dragging the remaining one's knife with her still stuck in the corpse's gut. Then she struck with the claws dragging the victim close before ripping the face with her tooth filled maw. It was a brutal way of fighting. The reason for which hounds were feared by weaker races. The blood thirst of the hounds which infamy rang throughout history. Fear spread to the remaining two bandits. Who hurried to get another arrow ready as the hound began to march.
She picked up her sword with her left hand, struggling to lift its weight, she dragged it behind in the water. The first arrow fired missed. The second pierced the hounds head rendering one eye useless. Yet it continued to march. Two more arrows and it continued to march. One bandit fled as the other readied another bolt. "What in five hells are you?" The question came like a whisper. Fear had consumed the final bandit and like a deer watching a hunters bow he could no longer move.
"I am… I AM A WARRIOR!" The sword soared high into the air and with a crushing morbid sound found its way down directly atop the last bandits head. The battle was over, and she had won. A few short breaths, a spinning world and no feeling in neither leg nor arm. Her grey fur wet with both blood and water her remaining eye was foggy and she felt quite tired. And then she drew her final breath, and the warrior arrived at her first death.
"l o o k, o u t" the last words Tristin had heard. Before a headache rocked his world. When he finally came through he first noticed that his pants legs and feet were cold and wet possibly since he was sitting in water. His head hurt like hell and when his eyes slowly adjusted to the darkness the first he saw was a severed corpse in the water beside him. "What the fuck?"
"So have you traveled together for a long time?" Jakurk made small talk with Equa and Gnist. There wasn't much else to do in the dark tunnels.
"A few years" Equa's answer was exhausted. Ever since he joined the old mage wouldn't stop talking. Which was made worse by the fact his other companion wouldn't talk at all.
"How did you meet?" It was tirelessly boring to explore the dark march. While you could certainly hear and smell the presence of the creatures that lurked in the dark they themselves wouldn't show themselves in the light.
"At a port in Sydmaneriket, we were both hunting the same target, and decided to team up, since then we've been together, as friends for life" Equa seemed fond of the memory while Gnist seemed to be caught off guard by the title of friends for life.
"Who were you hunting? another bandit?" Jakurk paid attention to the conversation, Sydmaneriket was a land at the eastern edge of Cezen far away from this northern island, it was a place Jakurk had briefly passed through once a decade or so ago.
"No, one of the surviving Kungsoldat, Kishner a dusk elf" The Kungsoldat were the elites of the elites among war mages in the days of the Orrain dynasty. Each of the Orrain princes had a fellowship of ten such soldiers and the emperor or ruler under eight skies had five.
"Back then I joined up with a band of adventurers. We were around fourty, it's where we met for the first time" A band of adventurers was a party which exceeded ten members but remained under fifty. "The job came directly from the house of coin, and it paid much better than any job we have had since then." Jakurk listened in silence.
"He hid out in an old tower by the tall orange coast, forty adventurers walked in, four came out… the kungsoldat was just as scary as the stories make them out to be." It seemed as if Equa tried to laugh but something within prevented it, a memory both of the battle and the fallout.
"It was a slaughter, we won by sheer luck, end of story" Gnist didn't want to hear any more. Any memory of the battle made her remember her original first party, five friends who had journeyed with her from Askmark, five friends she had buried along the orange coast. And Jakurk didn't fancy the story either it seemed. His smile had faded and what was left was a bitter after though and a blank stare neither here nor there.
"Sorry for oversharing" Equa felt he might have gone too far. If the old mage was as old as he looked then he no doubt would have been around at the Dynasties fall, he too must have seen the horrors the Kungsoldat and Orrian flag ushered into the lands. He hoped he hadn't dragged out any bad old memories.
"No it's my fault for prying" There was no tune to Jakurk's voice. And the group decided not to speak for a while. As they journeyed further into the Darkmarch, Jakurk said a small whisper carried and heard only by the wind, so there were others left. He smiled for a brief moment before continuing into the dark.