The Fight

“This is the last one,” Kobie said as they rounded the corner of the tunnel to the last of the underground cells. In the distance, the sounds of men fighting  echoed throughout the tunnels, metal clanging against metal as the cries of the dying filled the air.

Jarl gripped the hilt of his sword and smashed it down on the lock holding the gates closed. The old, rusted lock soon broke apart under the force of his blows and the gates hauled open, their hinges groaning in protest.

“Follow me if you want your freedom!” Jarl shouted into the crowded cell.

Over a dozen dirty faces stared out at him, hope and fear shining in their eyes. With hesitant steps they walked towards him, their eyes darting from one rescuer to the next. Skinny arms wrapped around waists shrunken by lack of food. Their frail bodies cloaked by raggedy clothes that could not protect them from the damp chill of the cell they had endured.

“We need to get moving before any of those guards decide to come this way instead of joining the fight above,” Kobie warned as he moved through the bedraggled group, checking them over to ensure that they would be strong enough to make their final dash for freedom. Lack of nourishment appeared to be their only ailment. Kobie could not see any wounds or injuries that would hinder them. Their strength and stamina would be the questioning factor.

“Follow us and stay close. We’ll get you out of here and to safety. From there you can either head to your homes or to somewhere new where you’ll be out of danger.” Jarl looked down the line to where his men waited. “Sabu, you take rear guard with Reyo. We need to know as soon as you seen any signs that we are being followed.”

The two, muscular warriors nodded and moved to the back of the group where they could observe the tunnel that they had travelled along. Their new additions to the group would make travelling along the tunnels undetected even harder.

As the last of the captives exited the cell, Jarl placed his hand on the shoulder of a slender female, her blonde hair matted and tangled, shielding her features from him. With gentle hands, Jarl eased her hair away, his jaw hardening when he saw the bruises marring her pale skin.

“Tori,” he whispered as he gently cupped her head to look at him.

Blue eyes met grey ones as she met his gaze. “You came,” she breathed through dry, cracked lips.

“I told you I would always come for you. I gave my word to you.” Jarl brushed his lips across her forehead before turning to the rest of the group. “Let’s get the hell out of here,” he ordered.

Together the mismatched group of heavily armed warriors and weak, shuffling prisoners made their way along the dark, damp tunnels towards a freedom they had given up believing they would ever have. Some were afraid to hope that it was theirs. Their eyes darting nervously behind them whenever they heard the clash of steel echoed down from above. They half expected their captors to appear whenever they rounded a corner, ready to march them back to the cells for more hardship and torture.

They rounded the final corner without encountering anyone. Jarl was grateful for that. His plan to lead his men down into the cells whilst the King’s army had engaged Vron’s forces had been a risky one but so far it was working.

“When we get out of the tunnel you need to head to your left. You keep moving. You do not look back nor do you make any detours. My men and I will do everything we can to keep you safe and alive but we need you to do what we say.” Jarl looked over the raggedy group, seeing the fear and the hope in the eyes that looked back at him. They were not soldiers, not trained for anything remotely like this but they were giving it their best shot and he was proud of them for their efforts.

“Give me a bow.” Tori’s determined voice cut into his thoughts. Her delicate hand was placed across his broad, muscular chest, holding him as sure as the bars of their prison had held the prisoners.

“Why?” he asked, knowing that at this moment he would give her the world if he could.

“You need all the help you can get and I am a crack shot,” she replied. “You know that no one can shoot better than I.”

Jarl looked down at her, seeing the determination in her blue eyes. He knew there was no arguing with her over this. She had made her decision and she would stick with it right through to the end. Sighing, he unhooked his own bow from across his shoulders and handed it to her along with the quiver full of arrows. “Make sure you don’t shoot me by mistake,” he teased with a grin.

“Make sure you don’t do anything to make me want to,” she replied before strapping the quiver to her back. “Let’s go.”

Kobie opened the wooden door guarding the entrance and looked out into the street beyond. “It’s clear,” he stated as he re-joined the group. “We don’t have long, though. I could see some movement at the other end of the street.”

“Let’s get everyone moving.” Jarl turned to face the group, his face serious as he looked them over. “Remember what I told you and you should be safe. Don’t make our job harder by doing your own thing. Let’s go.”

A few of his men headed out first, checking that the way was still clear, before moving forwards to allow the rest to follow. Slowly, the bedraggled group filed out of the tunnel and into the open street. With rapid, shuffling feet they headed in the direction Kobie indicated, not daring to look around to see if they were being followed.

As the last of the group left the tunnel, Jarl checked that Tori and his men were clear before joining the rear guard. Swift strides covered the dirt encrusted ground as he brought up the rear of the group. He could see the ship up ahead and he mentally willed everyone to hasten up. The sooner they were all on board the better.

“Going somewhere, brother?” The voice came from the darkness of an open doorway, an unexpected and unwanted intrusion on their mission.

Jarl stiffened and turned to face the source of the voice. His harsh features revealed nothing as he stood before the one warrior he had thought he would never see again.

“Hello, Kray,” he greeted, his hand resting lightly on the hilt of his sword. “Didn’t expect to see you again?”

“Maybe not but I’m here now and you and I have things to settle, I believe.” His hands reached up and removed two curved bladed swords from their scabbards on his back.

Jarl recognised the two swords his brother was now expertly wielding as he circled him. The curved blade of Isha, covered in the ancient carvings of the first warriors of his people, stained with the blood of innocents that Kray had shed, held in one hand whilst in his other he held another curved blade. This one had a mean looking serrated edge that Jarl knew could take off a man’s head with very little effort. Blood dripped from the serrated edges, fresh and warm, making Jarl wonder who he had killed to get them there.

“Let’s settle,” Jarl invited as he drew his own sword, a magnificent steel blade etched with dragons along its centre whilst a blue sapphire sat nestled in its hilt.

Kray smiled, a cold, humourless smile. The two swords were held tucked into his side, their tips pointing skywards. His black hair hung in thick, uneven locks whilst ice blue eyes stared hard at his brother. A steel breastplate protected his chest and shoulders whilst wide steel straps covered his stomach down to the tops of his powerful legs and along his forearms. He was dressed for battle, ready to kill or be killed and he was looking forward to ridding himself of Jarl’s presence.

“As you wish,” he murmured with a cold smile before advancing towards them with a bloodcurdling war cry. The fight had begun …