Elwyn Shadowblade (Complete)

Chapter 18

It took very little time for Elwyn to reach the rooms where Thaddeus was being held. She wasn't surprised he was being housed in a small suite. It'd be easier to prevent escape or rescue attempts with several layers of guards between Thaddeus and freedom.

At least, that's what they think. Elwyn kicked open the door before spinning out of the path of a swarm of crossbow bolts. She chuckled. It was absurd to think anyone strong enough to storm the estate would be stupid enough to die in an open doorway.

Still, the six bolts gave her an accurate count of the men she'd be facing. Six was what she expected. Six was what they had. Meaning the final two would be with Thaddeus.

A muffled grunt came from the room. It was a voice Elwyn had tuned herself to recognize so she wouldn't accidentally kill the man she'd come so far to save. Thaddeus was in the room with the six. That meant the last two would also be there.

Elwyn's plans shifted and she knocked the wall with her hilt. It reverberated hollowly on her side but stopped short on the other. Meaning there was someone leaning on that wall. Someone planning to ambush anyone who survived the crossbows. Someone who was very stupid after all.

She turned and drove both her swords through the wall's thin wooden paneling. It cracked past the wall and drove into the mercenary on the far side. He screamed in pain and fell to the floor, his sword clattering uselessly to the carpet. He groaned, clearly alive, but out of the fight. Elwyn heard the cursing and rage from his companions. Thaddeus, however, had gone silent.

"You bastards! You get in here or we'll string up this boy!"

Elwyn smiled, "As you wish." She turned through the door and spun to her left, grabbing the other mercenary who'd been lying in wait. She turned him before her and felt three crossbow bolts slam home in his back. The other three had skittered into the hall.

Her swords held the man before her, one across his throat and the other along the back of his neck. He was in pain but her blades kept him steady. In the dull reflection of her swords she could see the other six in the room. One had Thaddeus by the hair and a dagger at his throat.

"Drop him or the boy dies!" shouted the one who held Thaddeus. He'd be the first to die.

Elwyn slid the blade from the back of the man's neck, extended her arm, and dropped it exactly where she'd be able to reach it. Her other blade bit deep, taking his throat and propelling his body to the side at the same time. Her free hand took his dagger from his belt and threw it in an upward trajectory toward the one holding Thaddeus. It went into the man's wrist, dropping the blade from Thaddeus' throat.

Elwyn followed the thrown blade with a diving roll, grabbing her sword as she went, and she came to her feet easily. She spun left to avoid the mercenary trying to close with her. She'd made a promise, after all, that the one threatening Thaddeus would die first.

He did. Elwyn grabbed Thaddeus, turning to strike the mercenary's head from his shoulders, and completing the turn by tossing Thaddeus down behind a heavy couch far from the fighting.

The hand she'd used to grab him snaked out to strike the bindings on his wrists. As his arms naturally jerked forward to stop his fall they broke the mostly severed rope. Thaddeus landed hard, but unharmed, and immediately began to shake his way free.

Elwyn ignored him as she raced across the room to the first archer to get his crossbow reloaded. His nearest companion stepped into her path with a sword at the ready. He struck out and Elwyn knocked his sword high on her left before she tilted down to put her shoulder into his gut. Her blades entered, one at the throat and the other at the groin, to meet in the middle. She lifted him like a spitted bird and slung him onto the friend he'd meant to shield. They both tumbled down and Elwyn sprinted over to the living one and stomped his throat flat.

She spun down into a crouch as a crossbow bolt nailed the wall where she'd been standing. Two low, spinning steps put her in line for the next victim. He raised a loaded crossbow and fired. Elwyn spun her blades before her in a practiced movement which sheared the bolt from its path and sent it whistling across the room where it was halted by the chest of another mercenary.

Then Elwyn was on the one before her, her foot lashing out to crush the wrist trying to draw his sword. He screamed and would've begged if Elwyn hadn't skewered him through both sides of his chest. Begging always ruined the moment.

The panic in their eyes, the pain in their voices, all vanished when they started blubbering for one more moment of life. It was discordant to the melody all around her. It soured the sweet taste of victory and life. It banished the warm, copper-rich aroma of their blood and replaced all her senses with disgust and revulsion. How could they not see they belonged to her? That their deaths were hers to create? That their lives would end at the time of her choosing, and she'd chosen, and yet they dared beg for more?

No. They were hers and if she didn't want to listen to their sniveling cries, she wouldn't let them speak. They never said anything new anyway. Elwyn turned for the last two men in the room. It didn't escape her notice Thaddeus had found a sword and was gazing out from cover, eyes wide in shock.

"Stay put," she commanded him harshly. Then she danced across the room in a jagged line to meet the final pair of mercenaries. Her blades hummed in anticipation and sadness because they knew these would be the last for a while.

They both abandoned their crossbows, and each held their swords out and ready. They distanced themselves, thinking to flank her. They should've run. Elwyn was glad they hadn't. She hated missing their eyes.

They each struck out at the same time. Both chose long, slicing swipes at different heights. Elwyn leaped, spinning horizontally between their blades, and landed on the far side at the ready. She dove behind one mercenary, even as he was attempting to recover, and shoved both her swords through his back.

The other had begun to move toward her and Elwyn slammed herself against her hilts, driving the man into his companion. They died, face to face, and horrified. Elwyn laughed as they dropped from her swords.

When the last of the light went from them, she turned to the nearest chair and drove her sodden blades into the fine upholstery. The stuffing, tightly packed as it was, did a fine job of scrubbing her blades clean as she drew them out. She belted them with a precise movement, but had to pry her fingers away from their hilts one painful joint at a time. They weren't ready to be put away. Her hands weren't ready to let them go. They begged for more. Just one more. Anyone would do.

Soon... Eventually they released her.

"Thaddeus," she called. He was frozen where she'd left him, gaping at the carnage.

She raised the volume, "Thaddeus!" He flinched, eyes darting to her.

"Time to go," she told him firmly, "follow me." He swallowed, nodded, and walked toward her on shaking legs. When he reached her side she slapped him lightly. It was enough to sting but not enough to turn his head. He jerked back.

"Focus, boy, or we'll never get out of here," she commanded, "You can shake and vomit and whatever else you want later. Now we must leave." Thaddeus nodded, eyes narrowing, and some of the glassiness left his gaze.

She grasped his arm, careful to take the sword he held and slide it into his belt before guiding him back through the massive house. He didn't miss the bodies or the blood. He couldn't miss the fleeing servants, or the cowering ones.

Elwyn just kept dragging him forward. She didn't have time to waste. They needed to get to the stables, from there to her supplies, and then to the road. They had to get moving before the servants fled far enough to alert the outer patrols. Patrols who must die.

Elwyn's free hand grazed over the hilt of a hungry blade. It quivered in anticipation.

Soon. Very soon.