Two Cats

Chapter 22

Redforne stood, revealing the prone figure of my friend. Theo's eyes were closed, and there was blood marring his forehead and most of his right ear.

“Pity. A brilliant, brilliant swordsman,” he said, sounding out of breath but still grinning mightily, “with appallingly bad taste in friends.”

“No!” I shouted, fingers attempting to dig themselves into the stone ledge that supported me, “Theo!”

“Oh come now. He's not dead. See?” Redforne said, savagely kicking Theo in his exposed side with the toe of his boot.

Theo didn't make a sound or even twitch, despite the horribly loud sound of Redforne's foot connecting with his torso.

“Well, okay ... I suppose you'll just have to take my word for it. I must say, that was quite fun ... he almost nicked me on that third pass there,” he chuckled, his face unwilling to part with the grin he'd fixed upon it.

“Eagan, look ... let's-”

“And even though he is still alive, I'm afraid that he probably can't hear you right now. Still, I suppose you'd like to say some-thing, hey?”

I looked at him, uncomprehending.

“Don't want to say goodbye to your friend? For shame. Ah well, I guess you're not the sentimental type,” he said, adjusting his grip on the sword he hadn't sent sailing through the air during the fight. He stood straight-backed and put a single foot on top of Theo's chest, extending his arm so that the point touched the ground about six inches away from the big man's exposed neck.

“Redforne! Stop!”

“One...” he said simply, looking upwards at me.

Gods! I crouched there, frozen, not knowing what to do.

“Please, Eagan!”

“Are you sure you don't want to say goodbye?” he asked, bowing his head slightly to get a better view of his sword and the helpless swordsman underfoot. “Two...”

I have utterly no idea how I was able to get down to the floor so quickly.

Hands scraping against rock, the sudden pain in my knees and hips, drawing my saber and shortsword, running over the hard stone cobbles, screeching a furious sort of battle cry ... I'm sure these things happened, but I can't really remember them at all.

The only thing I remember was this overwhelming sense of hatred, an impossibly strong need to succumb to insane berserk rage.

And so, before the word 'three' had escaped Redforne's lips, he found himself having to defend against a red-hazed onslaught of viciousness I hadn't even known I was capable of. His sword removed itself from the vicinity of Theo's neck in order to parry the multitude of savage swings that I began throwing at him.

Snarling, I lashed out again and again, spinning and turning, left and right, utterly lost in my own zeal to destroy this man who had threatened the life of my friend.

I swung countless times, putting everything I had into each swing. Dozens of blows rained down on the object of my hatred from every possible angle, each strike bringing with it a sharp ringing sound. Not a moment passed that didn't see me swinging, turning, exploding with anger at my foe.

Hours seemed to pass as I swung at him hundreds, perhaps thousands of times.

Though oblivious at first, the part of me that was 'me' began to emerge from my scarlet fog of rage, noticing a few things. Important things.