Kieran forced himself to hold his blades level as he struggled to catch his breath. The sheer amount of energy required for Mend to stitch him together was already enough to drain him, let alone combined with his new trick. He was still shivering slightly from the cold aftershock.
Yet despite the dull remnants of pain, the cold, and the shortness of breath, all Kieran felt was euphoria.
He had never been so personally close to death before. The experience left him ecstatic. The more he recovered, the lighter he felt.
He wasn’t sure of the cause. Was it the joy of new knowledge? Or simply the deeper connection with death itself?
Kieran released the questions instantly. There was no point in dwelling on them. Before him was an enemy, and he was to deliver the foe to Vahr’Khul’s cold embrace.
He shrugged off the last remnants of pain and squared his shoulders. Holding the boar-man’s gaze, Kieran dropped into his usual stance with a flourish of his weapons.
“Perhaps the Whisper Unspoken was mistaken, taking you as their Contender,” Broken Tusk commented, his tone suddenly serious. “I should think you are more fit to serve Defiance.”
Kieran ignored the brute’s words entirely. He walked with ghastly confidence as he circled his enemy, wielding both his shortsword and Last Breath. In his periphery, he could see the other monsters’ expressions turning grim. They were clearly unsettled by his presence.
Good. He wanted them on edge.
It was Broken Tusk who reignited the duel. With surprising speed, the boar-man lunged towards Kieran, levering his axe on his shoulder and slamming it down.
Like a wisp in the wind, Kieran stepped to the side and forward. He moved with a grace he had never even seen his fencing trainer demonstrate. Carrying his momentum, Kieran performed a pirouette with his two weapons outstretched.
Both blades made contact with Broken Tusk’s flesh. The sword ripped through the wound left behind by Kieran’s previous stab, while the dagger cut across the boar-man's thigh.
Broken Tusk squealed in pain. Kieran couldn’t help but snicker at the sound as he turned towards his wounded adversary. He delighted in every stumbling step and heaving breath the boar-man took.
Feeling the tide begin to shift, Broken Tusk turned on his heel and swung his axe with his full strength. The force of the blow was terrifying. The blade made a sound like storm winds as it cut through the air.
Kieran took a risk, only moving back far enough for the blade to miss him by a couple inches. His gambit paid off. The boar-man was thrown entirely off-balance by the force of his own swing.
Dashing forward quickly enough to seem like a ghost, Kieran poised his sword to strike. Just as his enemy came to a stop, torso twisted away from Kieran, Death’s Chosen took a confident step forward and brought his blade down in a stabbing motion.
Kieran knew everything there was to know about human anatomy. He aimed his strike accordingly, the blade meant to find the gap in his foe’s ribcage and slide down into his lungs.
But as Kieran’s blade pierced the boar-man’s flesh, it met a bone it couldn’t go through. Broken Tusk swung bodily backwards with a desperate squeal and threw his left hand into a back-handed strike.
Forced to move or have his skull crushed, Kieran pulled his blade out of his enemy and jumped backwards, landing lightly on his feet.
Broken Tusk was breathing heavily. His combined wounds were steadily slowing him down, just as Kieran had hoped.
“You are… more than… I imagined,” the massive boar-man gasped between labored breaths.
Kieran didn’t dignify the comment with a response. He simply twirled Last Breath in his off hand, preparing for the continued clash. The near-death experience was still oh so fresh in his mind, and he was thoroughly enjoying this dance on the blade’s edge.
Even in the throes of elation, however, Kieran kept his head straight on his shoulders. He knew damn well that one mistake would be enough to kill him. Now that his strategy was working, it was time to look for an opening and end the fight.
Even if it cut his fun short.
The two fighters remained locked in a stand-off, each waiting for the other’s move. The crowd around them was dead silent. All of the monsters were watching intently as the scales of combat continued to shift.
Kieran used the opportunity to check on his energy reserves. He was pleased to find that the cold current of magic flowing through him was growing stronger again. Not nearly enough to support Chilling Touch, unfortunately. But maybe, just maybe, enough to use one of his other skills.
That surprise would be his ticket to victory.You might be reading a pirated copy. Look for the official release to support the author.
Finally breaking the stand-off, Broken Tusk charged at Kieran, intent on shoulder-bashing the man instead of swinging his weapon.
But while there was still plenty of strength in the boar-man's attack, his speed was steadily declining. Kieran almost felt sad for the beast as he sidestepped the charge. The move forced his foe to crash into the audience, tripping over a gnoll and falling onto a pair of goblins.
When Broken Tusk stood up, the two goblins remained motionless on the ground.
He’s already floundering, Kieran observed. Riling him up should do the trick.
“You say I am ‘more’ than you imagined,” Kieran said mockingly. “Yet past that one lucky strike, you are… so much less than I expected.”
Kieran’s remark struck home.
Broken Tusk stood to his full height, eyes filled with rage with as he roared.
“I WILL SCATTER YOU, LIKE THE GHOST YOU ARE!”
Maybe a bit too effective, Kieran mused as his foe’s eyes turned red. Still, he noticed blood was beginning to pour more vigorously from his enemy’s wounds as the monster's heart beat faster with his rage.
The boar-man threw his axe to the ground. The impressively heavy weapon clattered against the stone. Then, reinvigorated by his fury, Broken Tusk charged again. He brought his arms low and put his hands together, bringing them up in a devastating uppercut.
Kieran dodged in time, but barely. He was almost thrown off-balance by the wind from the attack. Before he could retaliate, Broken Tusk came at him with a flurry of fists.
Kieran ducked the first jab and dashed out of the way of the second. Each hit passed within inches of his face. The final strike, a haymaker which Kieran was certain could crack the mountain, sent a sonic boom through their surroundings as it flew above Kieran’s shoulder.
Deafened, Kieran stumbled to the side. He channeled the tiniest Mend he could in order to fix his hearing without draining too much of his energy.
Having finished his desperate combo, Broken Tusk doubled over, heaving. But Kieran knew better than to rush in and attack the impressive beast blindly. Broken Tusk was on borrowed time, but that didn’t mean Kieran could drop his guard.
Instead, he jumped backwards to create distance and raised Last Breath. He focused all his mind on aiming. He wasn’t likely to get another chance at a throw, not if he missed.
So he had to make it count.
Broken Tusk recovered his composure. Turning back towards Kieran, he dropped low for another charge.
Kieran smiled to himself.
Yes… this is it.
Kieran waited for the boar-man to prepare the charge. He kept waiting when the beast took off with impressive speed. He waited, perfectly still, as each hoof-fall brought the two closer together.
Fractions of a second separated Kieran from a painful, bludgeoning death. Then the words came to his mind like an ancient instinct, familiar yet new: Form of Death.
Broken Tusk collided with vapor. Kieran was already reforming behind him, Last Breath raised.
As his opponent skidded to a stop, Kieran let Last Breath fly. All other sound in his perception ceased. Only Last Breath’s silvery song rang through his ears.
The song ended in a dull thud as the dagger planted itself in the back of Broken Tusk’s skull.
The boar-man stumbled. He managed to turn towards Kieran before his eyes went blank. Then he fell to the ground, shaking the cliff.
Deafening silence claimed the camp. The gathered monsters looked between each other and Kieran.
Yet Kieran’s eyes were glued to the dagger sticking out of his enemy. He watched as shards of ice formed on the blade, taking root in the body shortly after. Beneath the layer of ice, a dull glow attracted Kieran’s attention.
“So… what now?” one of the boar-folk asked, breaking Kieran’s concentration.
Kieran walked to the body and yanked Last Breath free from its fleshy sheath, the cracking of ice reverberating through the stillness. He took a moment to carve the monster’s tusks out of its jaw as proof for Rah’Na.
“Are you asking me?” Kieran replied, still staring at the frost-covered blade. He knew his gear screen would have new information for him, but he wasn’t too keen on summoning it in front of the monsters.
“Well… yes. You killed Broken Tusk.” The boar stood, and the rest of the gathering followed suit. “By all rights and traditions, you are the leader now.”
Kieran laughed. “I am no leader. The lot of you can do whatever you want, so long as you stay away from innocents.”
“Then what do we do about him?” the boar asked, pointing at Broken Tusk.
The question rang in Kieran’s mind. The boar-man was too large for Kieran to carry the corpse back to his hideout. He was tempted to examine the body right there, but the monsters almost certainly would not allow that. He wasn’t willing to chance another fight.
Besides, loath as he was to admit it, Kieran held some respect for Broken Tusk. He was also strangely grateful. After all, he wouldn’t have come to understand death more closely than ever before without the boar-man very nearly killing him.
So, for the first time in his life, Kieran passed up the possibility to cut open a body for… sentimentality.
I don’t like that feeling, he observed coolly to himself. Let’s move on and leave it in the past.
He shrugged at the monsters’ lingering question, sheathing his blade and turning to leave. “I don’t know. Bury him, burn him, throw him off the cliff. Whatever your traditions dictate, I suppose. He gave me what I wanted, and then some.”
One gnoll stepped out from the crowd. Bowing, he addressed Kieran with reverence.
“Where do you go now, Tusk Slayer?”
“Still intent on following me?” Kieran shot a look at the gnoll, causing it to step back in fear. “Then if you’re brave enough, you’ll find me. Leave your weapons, though. I’ll strike first otherwise.”
With his warning spoken, Kieran turned towards the camp’s exit, walking as casually as he could. All eyes in the camp followed him closely. As soon as he was outside, he heard the din of whispered conversation pick up, but couldn’t make out any of it.
Kieran tested the energy in his body and focused on Recall. He hoped he had enough energy stored to take him back to Rah’Na. He wasn’t sure if he could walk back, otherwise. Exhaustion from the combat was very rapidly catching up with him, now that he was relaxed enough to let himself feel it.
To Kieran’s relief, Recall took. His world plunged into darkness, broken by stars and nebulae. He felt the cold woven threads in his mind tighten and thrum.
Then, suddenly, his feet touched familiar ground. He was standing in Rah’Na’s hideout, but the old wolf was nowhere to be seen.
Looking around, Kieran spotted Rah’Na’s spear leaning against the wall near the interior door.
“Rah’Na?” he called out, voice raspy with exhaustion. “I’m back.”
The old wolf emerged quickly from the other room. She looked Kieran over from head to toe.
“Back and alive, if worse for wear,” Rah’Na commented with a wolfish smile. “Are you victorious?”
Kieran gave a weak smile of his own, raising the two tusks he’d recovered.
“The boar-man is no longer a problem.”