The Verse of Estoria

Chapter 2

Chapter 2

         Drake falls on his blood-soaked hands, and a chilling gust passes by. The stench of corps fills the mines while dark clouds blot the light of the full moon. His sobs disturb the deafening silence around him. Trying to make sense of it all, he rests on his knees and holds the soft, crimson scarf his grandmother left to him, but fear, confusion, and sorrow kept him frozen in place.

         What's going to happen to me now? From what I figure, the Alterneans are at war with the Dalmecians, and we’re caught in between. Grandma told me that a time like this would come. I thought she was just saying things to make me feel better. But Grandma didn’t tell me anything…she never prepared me to face this.

         She should've told me who she was, at least.

         However, his mourning ends when the gates behind him rise in haste. Dozens of crossbow-wielding Dalmecians rush in and charge at him.

         “THERE HE IS!” They shout, “KILL HIM!”

         Drake turns his head and eyes the men as they release several arrows in his direction at one time. Without delay, he snatches the scarf in his hand and sprints towards the gaping hole in the wall. Kicking up dust, Drake zigzags through the mining camp and evades the hissing projectiles. Adrenaline dries his teary eyes and makes his heart beat faster. Nervous beads of sweat run down his neck as he feels the crossbows targeting his back. Huffing, he reaches the exit but feels a cold arrowhead scrape his shoulder. The painful sting causes Drake to yell as he slams into the dewy earth, rolls down a hill and crashes into an adjacent tree. Drake groans as places the red scarf inside his tunic and covers the bleeding gash on his right shoulder with his left hand. He hears the thundering footsteps of the soldiers and rises to his feet to flee. Drake perceives the whizzing of arrows as the archers’ fire into the woods hoping to kill their fleeing target.

         As the moonlight disappears under the treetops, his feet mesh the wet leaves while inhaling the fresh air. Drake stops by a redwood tree and pins his back against it to avoid his pursuers. From a distance, he hears the Dalmecian soldiers barking orders at each other that mix with the rushing night winds. Drake calms his panting as the indistinct voices disappear into the depths of the woodland. He slides down the rough tree bark to his bottom and listens to the wind tussling against the treetops. Leaves rain on Drake's head and shoulders while he observes parts of the moon between the gaps of the canopy but the stinging pain in his joints makes him clench his teeth and squint his eyes. He sucks in the scent of redwoods and releases a long breath as his mind dwells on the fallen. He places both of his arms on his knees and props his head on his arms to sleep his pain away in the dark, dewy woodland.

         However, a warm sensation envelope his forearms as something draws near to him. He lifts his head and spots a glowing red wolf with an aura of the sun around it. The wolf lights up the woods and reveals a walking trail littered with green and brown leaves. Drake blinks his eyes and squeezes his aching shoulders a few times to check if he was dreaming, but the creature remains in full view. The beast sits on its hind legs and with its beady eyes, beckons Drake to follow it. The wolf then rises on all fours and walks away. The young man, remembering his grandmother’s dying words, stands up and follows the mysterious beast. Following the bright trail, Drake walks behind the animal amid rustling trees and bushes. The warmth he feels from the wolf calms his inner anxiety, a feeling Drake recalls while living with his grandmother. Afterward, it makes a turn by a tree and slumps down on his back legs beside a rocky entrance to a cavern.

         “Is someone following me?” he wonders while looking behind him, “I can’t be the only one seeing this”

         Drake scratches his head, stops for a few moments, and examines the dark surroundings. Soon after, the wolf, with its furry tail waving behind him, enters the cave. Drake goes after it while grasping his wounded right arm. As the two go into the cave, a bright red light from the wolf’s body illuminates the dark walls around them. Footsteps echo off the walls as the faint aroma of sulfur permeates the air. The two travel along a narrow hallway until they enter an opening where the stench was the strongest. The chamber illuminates from the wolfs aura where a giant, wall shaped ruby rested at the center of the room. The wolf faces the giant monument and then, turn his attention to the young man. Staring at the vast structure, he detects a faint, pulsating light emanating from within the large jewel that hypnotizes him.

         “Greetings, Drake Ryft,” The wolf says in a soft, mystifying voice.

         Its fur moves like ocean waves, as the creature studies Drake’s expression with it’s blazing, dark-red pupils. Drake jumps back after the wolf spoke to him.

         “Who are you?” Drake asks.

         “I am the guardian sent to aid you in your travels to Estoria,” The mysterious beast replies.

         Drake remembers what his grandmother told him before she died.

         “Are you the one my grandmother spoke about?” Drake asks, regaining his composure.

         “Yes,” The wolf answers.

         “Then why didn’t you protect her?!” Drake shouts, “She would’ve lived if you would have done your job!”

         “I understand your grief,” The wolf says, “But I don’t belong to Griselda. Her use of my powers was limited until you were ready to wield it.”

         “Why me, then?” Drake asks.

         “That question is something you must discover yourself” The wolf replies.

         “Then, who are you?” Drake asks, “Are you from Estoria?”

         “I am,” the wolf replies, “And I was sent to aid you in your journey to the city.”

         “What is Estoria?” Drake asks.

         “Estoria is the home of the beginning and end, Life and Death, joy and sorrow. It is the birthplace of all the inhabitants of Endina, and its exposure can pose a threat.”

         “Exposure?” Drake asks.

         “Griselda was one of the children of Estoria whose existence kept the city hidden from the abyss. With her death, armies are gathering to lay siege to it and destroy it once they find it. You must travel there to protect it. The destruction of the city will mark the end of Endina, Drake,” the wolf says in a deep, somber tone.

         “Griselda raised and trained you in preparation for this day. She knew how important you were to the mission, so she sacrificed her life to save yours.”

         “Now it is time,” the wolf says, looking up at Drake, “Will you take up arms and fulfill your duty?”

         After hearing this, Drake reaches into his tunic, pulls out his grandmother’s scarf and stares at it. He reminisces the fond moments he spent with her, despite the harsh conditions. His sorrow in his heart makes water swell in his eyes.

         Is this what grandma was hiding from me? All the time I spent in the quarry; she gave me all of her attention. She fed me, taught me how to fight and educated me about the outside world. Now that I think about it, I was all she ever focused on. She never wanted anything for herself, never wanted to be anything other than what she was, nor did she ever want to escape that prison. Was it all for me? If so then…

         After he makes his choice, he places the scarf back into his tunic and says, “I’ll do it.”

         “Be mindful” The wolf warns as it rises on all four of its legs, “The journey to Estoria will be arduous and I cannot give you its location. You must find a way to get there on your own”

         “I understand,” Drake says with bolstered resolve.

         “Very well,” The wolf replies, “Then, let us begin the covenant. First, you must give me a name; this will officially bind me and my powers to you until you’ve reached your destination. What is my name?”

         Debating on what to name the wolf, he looks around the room and inhales the humid air that fills the room.

         “Fane” Drake speaks, “Your name will be Fane.”

         “Good,” the creature says, “Now touch this wall with both of your hands to be endowed with the power of the burning sun.”

         Drake walks up to the large ruby structure, lifts his caramel, toffee hands and places them onto the glassy surface.

         The sizzling heat from the surface sears his palms. The searing heat makes him pull away, but when he flips his hands over to see, his skin didn’t scorch. His hands shake as the burning sensation travels up his arms.

         “Do not worry.” The wolf says, “The flames will accept you as their father, but you must endure the agony they bring for a short time.”

         Drake wiggles both hands and squeezes them into fists several times before placing them back on the ruby structure. His palms sizzle on the edifice like meat on a skillet as white smoke ebb from his fingers. Muscles tighten from the burning pain as he squints his eyes and lowers his head. The ruby bursts into orange flames that envelopes the young man’s entire body. His muscles tighten as the scorching heat courses through his veins. Hot combustions fill his lungs and mouth and exits through his eyes as he falls to his knees and screams at the top of his voice. Afterward, the flames fade into blackness, leaving Drake’s smoking body at a standstill and unscathed, and he collapses on the floor.

###

         The sun peaks above the horizon casting its rays on Debt Forest and its pointy triangular tops. The woods, acting as a barrier against runaways, encircles the quarry with dark evergreens. Only men who know the forest didn’t get lost in the maze of trees. Among the trees rests the first row of tents that serve as a garrison for the soldiers that patrol the walls of the quarry. Large gray canopies with pyramid tops, covered with brown leaves, sit next to each other in rows of three. Although obscure, the sunlight glistens against bronze flag posts atop the tents that display black and white banners. At the center of the camp, two officers with metal spears guard the grandest canopy in the encampment. However, the screams coming from it kept the privates from entering for fear of what may happen.

         In the tent, Arbaroll flips over a wooden table and knocks away the white cloak verse mages who struggle to heal his wounds. Two more mages, wearing black cloaks, pins him down and wraps white bandages around his muscular chest. As soon as they finish, he throws them off in a fit of blind rage.

         “Sir! You can’t heal if you keep moving!” one mage says.

         “It's not working!” the man shouts and thrashes about, “I can still feel my missing arm burning like it's on fire! It won't stop!

         “There’s nothing we can do about that,” The verse mage replies.

         “THEN GET OUT OF MY SIGHT!” The commander yelled as he throws a vase and smashes it against the table.

         The healers scurry away, leaving the man alone. Arbaroll plops down on his bed and places his one arm on his knee. He reaches over, grabs a pitcher of water and pours water over his hairless head. The liquid trickle down his thick black beard as he wipes away the excess water from his lips. Afterward, he slams the empty vessel on the ground.

         A Dalmecian soldier rushes through the open flap of the tent and salutes him.

         “You better have some good news,” He says.

         The Dalmecian soldier holds his black and white helmet underneath his right arm shakes in fear of what he was about to say.

         “S..S.Sir! We failed to capture the escapee!” the private says.

         Arborall’s anger swells up inside of him and mixes with the pain burning inside his body. He stands up and begins walking towards his subordinate.

         “Do you mean to tell me that a helpless slave was able to escape a well-trained soldier?” Arbaroll asks.

         “I…I-It was d…dark, sir,” The man says as he looks up at the wounded man towering above him.

         “Oh…Okay,” Arbaroll replies in a low growl.

         Then, he grabs the soldier by his neck and raises him into the air. Arbaroll’s human eyes turn into yellow marble eyes that resemble a fierce panther. The subordinate drops his helmet on the ground, kicks his legs, wraps his hands around Arborall’s and struggles to get free from his grasp.

         “I’m in no mood for excuses,” Arbaroll says, “You will die for your failure.”

         “P…P…Please, no!” The subordinate gasps in a shallow breath.

         Suddenly, a thin stream of blue lighting fires into the room with a booming crack and strikes Arbaroll in the chest, knocking him on his bed. The subordinate falls to the floor and gasps for air as flickering blue sparks pop in the path of the lightning bolt.

         “The incompetence of the soldier reflects the incompetence of his commanding officer” A haughty voice spoke from the doorway, “Isn’t that right, Arbaroll?”

         In walks a tall, slender man with a pale face wearing a long ivory cape. His uniform signifies his high-ranking position among palace officials. A black tunic embroidered with gold sketches of miniature bloodhounds graces his straight neck collar and long sleeves. His spiked raven black hair matches his simple trousers and leather boots. Arbaroll struggles to his feet and dusts the wooden shards off his bandaged chest.

         “Darkall,” The commander says, “You dare to interfere with my affairs?”

         “That’s Lord Darkall to you, Commander” The man replies, “Know to whom you’re speaking. I come to seek a report on our last shipment of metal and stone, and here you are amusing yourself; torturing your men. And what happened to your arm?”

         The commander glares at Darkall before he answers, “The Alterneans attacked the mines, and we had to slay the workers to keep them escaping. However, one insurgent, with a sword, did this to me after I shot her in the chest.”

         “A sword, you say? What kind of sword?” Darkall asks as his finger and thumb grip his chin in curiosity,

         “Tell me, was she with someone; a boy, perhaps?”

         “Yes. I’ve managed to kill the woman, but the boy escaped,” Arbaroll says.

         “Hmm,” Darkall replies, “That is news. Very well, then. New orders. Capture the boy and bring him to me.”

         “But what about the Dragon that attacked us last night?” Arbaroll asks.

         “I’ll deal with that matter myself,” Darkall says.

         Arbaroll looks at the soldier on the floor rubbing his neck and shouts, “Hey, why are you still loafing there?! Get back out there and search for him!”

         “No!” Darkall replies as he holds out his hand to stop the subordinate, “You go personally and search for him. You can take a few of your men with you if you like.”

         “But I’m wounded,” Arbaroll answers in a low voice.

         “So?” Darkall says, “You had little trouble strangling him so it shouldn’t be too hard to bring back a slave.”

         The one-armed commander complies with a nod.

         “Good then,” Darkall says as he walks out and brushes the dust off his black tunic with the back of his slender, pale hand, “You have until high noon today, don’t fail me.”

         “Tsk!” Arbaroll smacks and mumbles, “Not before I accidentally kill him first. I will not let that traitor walk these lands free.”

         He flashes his superior an eerie smile and concocts a sinister plan in his mind.

         “I’ll say that a wild beast killed him before we could reach him,” The man says.

         “GET MY HORSE!” He barks to his subordinate and storms out.

###

         Drake’s gasps awake on the soft black dirt. He raises his head and surveys the hardstone cave around him. He squints when he sees the sunlight piercing his pupils coming from the cave’s exit.
Standing to his feet, Drake stumbles forward, dusts the black soil off his arms and trousers and heads towards the cavern opening. For the first time in his life, he steps into the open and takes in the vastness of the woods. He stares at the lush leaves decorating the big branches of the redwoods. The pine aroma mixes well with the red oaks as the chirping birds and bees disturb the rushing waters of the creek. Driven by an overwhelming thirst, he walks towards the bubbling brook, falls on his hands and knees and scoops up the cooling liquid. A refreshing feeling overwhelms him as he sips up several more handfuls of water to drink, but the sound of a snapping twig stops the young man. After searching for suspicious activity, Drake continues to drink at the brook.

         A click sounds, and he feels a tight small strap grip his ankle. Drake looks down to see what it is, but the rope tightens and yanks him from the brook. As he slides on the forest floor, dead leaves and branches assault the young man’s face. Drake turns on his stomach and digs his fingers into the ground to slow his drag, but he collects loose black dirt in his fingernails. The young man arrives at an opening that’s near the quarry where Arbaroll was waiting, along with his men. The one-armed commander retracts the grapple hook on his wrists and unbuckles the strap on his ankle.

         “Welcome to Debt-Forest,” Arbaroll says, “I hope you’ve enjoyed your night of freedom, for it will be your last”

         Drake sat up and rose to his feet. He pulls a twig with green leaves from his red tunic, drops it on the ground and dusts the rest with his hands. He glowers at the tall brute, and he clenches his hands into tight fists as thoughts of the slain, including his grandmother, flood his mind.

         “Well,” Arbaroll says, with his finger tapping the hilt of his sheathed sword, “I see you bear hatred towards me. You better hope it does you some good when my bare hands crush your throat.”

         “Well,” Drake says sneering, “At least we both know which hand it's going to be.”

         Upon hearing this, a scowl takes over the man’s face as his hand grabs on to the hilt of his great sword. At the same time, Drake takes bends his knees and prepares for a fight. However, the commander unsheathes his weapon, raises it under the high sun, and drops it onto the grass. The young man, taken aback, kept his hands at his side.

         With one hand, the commander yanks off his white breastplate and shoulder plates revealing the bandages around his torso. Using his strong jaw, he removes his gauntlet and throws it to the ground.

         “You have a sense of humor, boy,” Arbaroll says, “Here’s something to laugh at.”

         His pupils turn yellow that resembles the eyes of a large cat. Long fangs grow in his mouth as his mustache lengthens into long, thin whiskers. His nose transforms into a snout and black fur sprouts on his face and body. Pulsating veins protrude from his bulging muscles as he drops on three limbs and pushes out a furry, long, black tail. Drake’s eyes widen in shock while the men standing behind the werepanther, scream and flee.

         “The commander has turned!?” They cry in panicking voices.

         Drake’s hands and feet tremble as he steps back with his instincts telling him to flee. The panther releases an earsplitting roar that pierces his ears and makes him sprint in the opposite direction. As Drake dashes into the forest, ignoring the leafy branches slapping his body, but the large were-panther drops down in front of him. The young man swallows the lump in his throat and watches the savage creature saunters towards him. The beasts face curves into a sharp toothy smile as its pink tongue licks its wet snout.

         Drake turns around to flee, but the beast pounces on his back with its head-sized paw slamming his head onto the ground. His face presses into the soil, and he feels the unbearable stings of the creature’s sharp claws digging into his temples. Drake’s breath grows heavier and blows the loose foliage away from his face while the paw presses his head further into the dirt.

         Drake’s hands search the earth for something to fend the beast off, but he finds twigs and more leaves. The were-beast raises the young man into the air, sprints, and slams his face against a redwood.

         “It won’t be hard to crush your skull!” The beast spoke in a deep, lionlike voice holding his opponent’s head, “I’ll make sure a traitor like you never tastes the springs of Dalmecia ever again!”

         Drake takes his feet, plants them on the giant tree, and pushes off. The shift releases Drake from the beast’s grip. The young man falls to the earth, gathers a hand full of loose dirt and lobs it into the beast's’ eyes. While the cat wipes its eyes with his single hand, Drake escapes into the forest. He leaps over bushes, zigzags through a maze of tall trees and hides behind an oak tree to catch his breath. Beads of warm sweat pour down his face while his chest expands and contracts from the dreadful encounter. He keeps his back pinned against the wood and wipes the sweat off his brow. The menacing roar of the panther cements his feet to the forest floor.

         Since yesterday, I’ve dealt with dragons, lizard-men, soldiers, and starvation and now I’m dealing with a murderous panther hell-bent on killing me. It's too much to handle in one day. I just lost my grandmother, and I don’t even have time to mourn her death. I can’t do this by myself! This is hard, and I’m scared. I want everything to go back to where it was, I want to be training with grandma again. I don’t want this pain; I don’t want this fear. I don’t want to die.

         Drake.

         What…? Who’s talking?

         It is me, Fane. Since you accepted me as your guardian, I have fused with your spirit and now dwell in the depths of your soul. I can hear your thoughts and your innermost emotions. what you’re feeling is a common trait all beings on Endina have.

{indent}You think I don’t know that? I’ve spent my whole life watching people live in fear. Slaving day and night under the threat of Dalmecian crossbow and starvation. So long as the strong have power, people will always live in fear. That… thing is trying to kill me, and I don’t know what I’m going to do.

         Drake. Do you remember seeing Griselda in her pure form? The night she died protecting you.

         ….Yes…

         When you looked into her eyes, what did you see when she faced Arbaroll?

         …fear…she was afraid. I knew that face all too well. The eye movement the trembling arms and the narrowing pupils. It was the same as all the villagers who died there in the quarry. Thinking about it now, she was probably as scared as I am now.

         Griselda spent most of her time using verses to conceal her identity; therefore, it cost her a considerable amount of strength. When she stood face to face with her foe, she knew she wasn’t going to win. She knew she would die.

         Drake lowers his head in shame as the voice continues to speak to him.

         When you accepted my power, you became enemies with the horror of horrors; the likes of which no one has ever seen. You will have many overpowering enemies. They will be visible and invisible, friend and foe, man and woman. With the weight of the world on your shoulders, you will be alone sometimes. Remember my words Drake your strength lies in your willingness face these perils. Steel yourself; for eternal glory, outweighs intermittent pain.

         Upon hearing this, Drake sucks in a deep breath, gazes at the sunlit trees towering over him and thinks about his grandmother’s actions and everything she taught him.

         He’s right. While I’ve been cowering here, all I could think of is my own life. When I watched grandma fight this monster, all I ever did was watch. If I had done something, then she’d probably be alive today. But I thought I was outclassed. A slave against a Dalmecian officer? It's impossible…Right? Did I really try to fight him to win? Or did I resign myself to defeat before the battle even began?

         “Stop sounding weak!” her voice echoes in his memory.

         I understand what she meant now. Cowards tell themselves that they can’t do it. Hero’s tell themselves that they will do it.

         He laughs with a single tear streaming down his cheek.

         "All this time I didn’t know." He says.

         Still shaking and trembling, Drake steps out from behind the tree and walks in the direction of the roaring beast. He stops, stands still, and waits for the vicious animal to appear.

         Following his scent, the were-panther drops down in front of the young warrior. Leaves fall around them as Drake stares into beast’s eyes and struggles to calm his instinctual fear.

         “So, you’ve decided to man-up and face me,” Arborall says, “Thanks for saving me the trouble of finding you. Now I will maul you into a heap of broken bones.”

         Sharp claws eject from its forepaw as it swipes at Drake. Drake jumps back, runs forward, leaps and punches the were-cat in its face. The thud did little to hurt the creature, but its fearsome eyes widen in disbelief from the audacity of Drake’s attack. The creature retaliates with a swift slash that slams the young warrior into a tree. A wave of anguish surges through the young man’s body as streams of crimson spew from the lacerations on his arm. His face falls into the soil, but he plants both of his hands into the earth and gets back on his feet. Blood flows from his right arm and drips off his fingertips as Drakes writhes in pain.

         Nevertheless, beads of sweat pour down his temples as he limps towards the beast and inhales the oaks. Arbaroll plants his massive paw into the fallen foliage and dashes towards his enemy. It head-butts Drake in the chest and sends him crashing into another tree. This time, saliva ejects from Drake’s mouth as he shrieks in pain.

         Huffing and puffing, Drake glares at the beast that approaches him.

         “It seems you weren’t a match for me at all,” The creature says, “Usually, I’d take pity on weaklings such as yourself, but in your case, I’ll make an exception.”

         It lifts its sharp paw over the young man’s head and roars, “Curse your existence! Perish, traitor.”

         While Drake awaits his fate, everything around him halts in a red hue. He looks down and notices orange flames burning his right index finger and smells the sulfur emanating from it. He raises his hand in front of him and wonders why the fire didn’t destroy his hand.

         Finally! You have ignited the flames of courage! Write my name and take my inferno to consume the defiled and purge the unclean.

         Drake takes his hot finger and burns FANE in the air. The words stretch and create a fiery ruby sword that levitates in the air. Drake grabs the blade by its black hilt, and the heat sears his clenched palms. The hue around Drake disappears and returns everything to normal. As the creature’s claw descend towards him, Drake holds his sword parallel to his eyes and the sharp nails clash against the crystal sword.

         Drake pushes the panther’s claw away and swings his blade backing the were-cat away as he stands to his feet. Arbaroll grunts into a low growl revealing its sharp white teeth at the sight of Drake’s blade.

         "You may have the blade boy but you lack the skill to wield it!"

         The commander charges towards Drake again and repeatedly swings his claw. Drake ducks, leaps back and side-steps each swing while holding his sword at the ready. His back bumps into a tree causing his eyes to widen in shock. The panther’s yellow eyes narrow and roars as he performs a powerful horizontal swing. Drake drops onto the ground as the sharp claw tears of a huge chunk of wood off the tree. Drake rolls beneath the panther stands to his feet at attacks. Drake’s sword whoops at Arbaroll in a spark scattering clash of claw and blade. Drake forces the panther to back away as it parries a few of Drake’s strikes. Drake steps in turns raising his leg for a spinning kick. However, The were-cat however, catches Drake’s ankle and grips it tight with its claw.

         The were-panther turns, pulls Drake’s leg, spins him around in a gust generating swing and hurls Drake away. Drake’s back arched in the wrong direction as his back collides with the tree. Spittle and breath eject from his mouth before falling into the floor.

         Drake places his hand on his lower back clenching his ivory teeth as pain shoots through his whole body.

         You’re too predictable! Griselda’s voice sounds off in Drakes mind.

         Drake looks up and sees the Panther release a victorious roar revealing its pink tongue.

         Angry, Drake punch the ground and pushes himself up into a full sprint. His anger replacing his fear, Drake grips his sword raises it over his head for a full-on assault.

         The panther smiles, writes CRAFT in the air with its sharp fingernail and a metallic crossbow appears.

         Pay attention! Her words echo again.

         The panther takes the weapon out of the air points it at Drake and fires off several whistling bolts.

         Drake’s eyes narrow tracking the fast approaching bolts he leans to the left dodging two of the bolts however, the third bolts cuts Drake’s cheek causing spots of blood eject. Drake ignores the scratch, closes in and knocks the crossbow away claw and all.

         Arbaroll however, swings his head downward and collides with Drake’s in a loud thud that rattles his brain. Blood cascades down Drake’s face, his vision blurs and the ground starts spinning. The blow takes its toll as he starts to lose consciousness and his grip on his sword loosens.

         Then Grisenda’s words echo inside of Drake’s head.

         Don’t give up.

         Remembering Griselda’s words, Drake’s vision clears and his hands clenches the hilt again. He glowers up at the were-panther whose eyes widen in shock when he sees Drake regain himself.
He’s still standing?!

         Drake places his other hand on the hilt of his sword clenching it with all his might. Arbaroll pulls his head back for another head butt.

         Drake swings his sword and cuts Arbarolls black furry chest leaving a sizzling laceration.

         Arbaroll grunts in pain but swings his claw at Drake’s face. Drake swings his sword again and another laceration appears on the were-cat’s torso.

         Ahhhh! Arbaroll screams as burning pain surge through his body.

         Drake gives a loud shout as he swings his sword in rapid succession blurring his red sword from sight. The blade whistles through the air creating dozens of lacerations on the were-cat’s body. Chunks of black fur fly off of the animal’s body as Sizzling smoke burns the smell of singed hair into the air.

         Drake finishes with a horizontal swing as all of the lacerations across the were-cat’s body erupt in orange flames.

         The animal wails and plummets to the ground in a leaf scattering drop as the fire dissipates from its body. Drake walks up to the smoking sizzling body stinking of burnt hairs and stands above him with his sword in hand exhausted and surprised.

         I did it. I did it Grandma.

         Its half-burnt body reverts to its human counterpart lying on his back.

         ”I guess it's my time to die.” The man says as his hands tremble from the burns.

         “Why did you treat us like castaways?!” Drake shouts, standing over his defeated foe, “What did we do to deserve this!?”

         “You were treated better than most of us.” The man says, coughing up dark smoke from his mouth.

         “What?” Drake says, taken aback.

         “At least you had bread to eat — bread taken from the faithful to feed to a bunch of traitors. King Radius was the one who cursed you to harsh labor.”

         “What are you talking about?” Drake demands as he points his sword at the fallen warrior.

         “A harsh famine plagues the lands and has driven everyone to war. Because the mines provided much-needed metal, the king ensured that the people in the quarry have enough strength to extract all of it. I had to watch as my family starve while traitors eat of the bread taken from them. But it doesn’t matter now. Soon my corps will be food for this forest.”

         Drake was silent upon hearing his words.

         Then the fallen foe breaths his last and lie motionless on the ground.