Chapter 39 - A Little Respect

Warlock deflected Xorn’s mace as it crashed towards him from above.

He saw Taia sauntering towards the melee, a surprised look on her face as she unexpectedly saw Xorn and his men battling Warlock and his team.

“Stick to the plan Rose!” Warlock shouted.

“Right!”

Her attention returned to the soldier she was fighting. But instead of closing the distance to engage him again as he expected, she pulled back even further and his sword swing went wide.

As his arm passed in front of her ineffectually, Rose spun on her right leg. Her left leg twirled into a roundhouse kick that struck the soldier right in the centre of his lower back.

The move wasn’t especially damaging, she’d essentially just kicked him in the butt, but he completely lost his balance and tumbled forward into the ground.

He flipped over quickly to his back and held up his sword, expecting the woman to follow up with an attempt at a killing blow but instead all he saw was her backside as she broke into a run, getting away from the fight.

The soldier quickly stood up and made to run after her.

“Leave her Tarkin, she’s mine!”

Stunned momentarily that someone had called him by his name he looked over to his right and saw Taia break into a run after the pink haired rebel.

“She remembered my name…” He mumbled to himself.

Snapping out of his distracting thoughts, he looked to see that the other fighter and the bowman had broken away from his follow soldier and they were running with the prisoner, whose hands were still bound towards the forest.

“Do not let them escape!” Xorn bellowed. “I will deal with their leader!”

Xorn noticed the other soldier had faltered momentarily, distracted by incoming fire from the bowman. But soon his own attention was too caught in his battle with Warlock to notice more as the two soldiers tried to close the distance with the three fleeing rebels.

What should I do? Stay here? Mr. Witt warned me not to interfere. But he couldn’t have known Xorn would be here. Am I suppose to help? Who am I supposed to help if I do?

Still hidden under her shabby cloak, Euryale did the only thing she could think to do and stayed seated on the wagon, hoping no one would notice her. With every clash of steel ringing in her ears she worried she was too close to the battle in the wagon behind her but she didn’t dare run away.

The rebel prisoner is escaping. That was Mr. Witt’s plan. But what about the prisoner stuck here? Is she supposed to be freed? Am I suppose to help Xorn with Warlock? Or help Warlock? I just don’t know.

The demon’s already green face turned even more pale as the stress pushed her into another panic attack.

All I know is Mr. Witt said not to interfere. I shouldn’t even be here! I want to go home!!

With few other options she settled on the one that came naturally, doing nothing, and tried to keep her head low.

Meanwhile Xorn’s mace swished through the air as he brought it down over Warlock’s head. The wicked, black weapon alone was dangerous, but in the muscled arms of the demon who was well over six feet tall it took on a sinister and even more dangerous quality. One hit and the fight would be over.

Warlock carefully used his blade to redirect the mace to his right and it scrapped along his sword before smashing into the floor of the wagon. The head of the mace broke through some of the thick wooden planks and lodged itself there for moment.

In that moment Warlock took an opportunity to punch out with his free left hand and smacked the demon in the jaw.

Xorn staggered back from the blow. But Warlock could tell it was likely more from shock than any pain.

“You’re better than I expected. Where did you learn to fight?”

A voice came out from the dark hood. “Anyone who is willing to battle the demon scourge has an endless list of enemies to practice with.” As he spoke he thrust his sword forward towards the demon. His mace still imbedded in the wood, anyone watching would be certain Warlock’s strike would land.

But instead the demon just used one of his large, ashen coloured hands to bat away the blade, unconcerned about any potential wounds.

Warlock stepped back after his defected strike and Xorn held up his hand. It was unharmed.

“Do you really think you can hurt me, renegade scum?” He smirked arrogantly at his opponent. “You are a bug. And I intend to squash you.”

He sure loves putting on a show.

Ariadne had moved closer to the battle and was watching from just outside the wagon. The others in Warlock’s crew would have to fend for themselves. She wanted to see how this ended.

Instead of putting himself into any recognizable fighting stance, the demon just leaned down and charged at Warlock like a bull, clearly intent on tackling him to the ground.

Must be nice to be virtually invulnerable.

But as Ariadne watched the demon close the distance Warlock did a back flip off the end of the Wagon at the last moment.

Xorn had expected to find resistance at the end of his charge but instead his arms only grasped the air and he sailed over the edge of the wagon and buried his face into the dirt. His mace went flying to the side and skittered across the ground.

“Well, that’s got to hurt your pride, if not your face, demon.”

Warlock couldn’t keep the chuckle from his voice.

“Rrraagh!”

Xorn punched the ground with both hands to launch himself up quickly.

“Surrender scum! You cannot beat me!”

“You seem to be right at the moment. But aren’t you beating yourself up enough for the both of us?”

Warlock took a step back.

“Besides, who said I have to beat you. My mission was complete the moment your prisoner fled.”

Hmmm, is he going to run without freeing Silea too? Ariadne wondered.

“You leave me no choice.”

Just then Xorn clasped his hands together is front of him and a light flashed between his palms.

A moment later a crack in the ground formed at his feet and it quickly snaked towards the cowled rebel leader. It passed through his legs and then the ground behind him rose up creating a wide wall of mud and dirt to seal off Warlock’s escape.

“I may give your fighting style a little credit. I can tell you’ve trained well. I always appreciate discipline…”

Warlock looked behind and saw his escape was entirely cut off by a six foot tall wall that hadn’t been there a minute ago and extended for at least twenty feet in either direction.

“…But you aren’t going anywhere.”

Xorn bent low to pick up his nearby mace and then slowly approached, grinning confidently.