Demon-Killing Sword

16. Escape

A man approached the gates.

Flame snapped on either side of him, glimmering on the ram's horns that curled from the sides of his helm. The face-grate was closed, obscuring his face. His armor was new and his tabard was unmarked. He stopped. Behind the grate, his eyes burned into Brunhild's.

"Have you come to challenge for my hand?" Brunhild called.

Silence. Slowly, he inclined his head.

She drew her sword. "Step forward. We shall see if you are worthy."

Hers was a dulled practice sword. Similar swords hung from a rack outside the gates for those competitors who didn't have their own. This adversary drew his own, shining and untested but dulled, the same as hers. He strode through the gates.

As ever, the prospect of battle sent blood pounding through her veins. Though the swords couldn't cut, they could still bruise or break. She grinned with the thrill of it, the life-or-death rush. Will this one be a worthy opponent at last?

Brunhild flipped the mask of her helm down and shifted her stance as he approached. Her adversary took up his own stance opposite her. Framed by the flaming gate, the ram's horns took on an almost demonic appearance. He dipped his head in a half bow. She returned the gesture.

A trumpet sounded. The fight was on.

They circled one another, slowly, swords at the ready. Brunhild searched his stance for a weakness, an opening, but there was none. This was no upstart noble who thought he could win her hand on the cheap. This was a warrior.

Brunhild shifted slightly, presenting him an opening. He lunged, and she grinned. Not good enough to see through the feint. She lunged inside his reach and slammed the butt of her sword on the underside of his jaw. His chin snapped up as his helm let out an iron peal. He staggered back. She chased him with a slash.

Her head snapped to the side. Startled, Brunhild retreated. What... how did he—

His hand was raised. He hit me? She snorted. I did get him with the butt. Fair's fair.

The man charged at her. Brunhild found her footing barely in time to parry his sword. Heavy! She turned his blade aside with the next blow, stepped back, parried again. Her back hit the fence.

Nowhere to go. The man realized it too. He raised his sword high. Sun glinted off the blade.

As it fell, Brunhild threw herself aside. The sword thunked into the wooden post. She flipped back to her feet. He yanked at his sword. It's stuck! She jumped up and slashed at him.

His sword came free, and he jumped away. Her sword skimmed his armor. Sparks flew. He spun to face her, but she had the advantage. She chased him down, forced him to back around the ring. He was on his heels, off balance. So close! Her blows glanced off his arms, his sides, but he always turned them aside before they could become vital blows.

He stopped.

Brunhild stepped forward. He was wide open.She swung up.

Silver glared in the sun. She glanced up. He had his sword raised high and was already bringing it down. No! Faster! Her arms were too heavy. She'd been fighting too long. Too many opponents. I can't make it!

The sword tapped the top of her head.

Brunhild dropped her sword reluctantly. "You... have proven yourself worthy," she admitted. Her heart sunk. She bowed her head. I lost. How could I lose?

Unless.

She looked up. The ram's horns coiled over the helm, black against the sun. "Reveal your face," she demanded.

He reached out, hand turned down. Brows furrowed, she held her hand out as well. Something fell into it. She leaned in. A ring? A simple gold ring that curved into a point, an imperfect circle. Brunhild frowned. "What is this?"

He turned and ran.

A hand shook her shoulder. Muninn shoved the hand, annoyed, and rolled over. Not now.

"Muninn, wake up!" Huginn hissed.

She cracked her eyes open. "What?" What was so important that he'd woken her from her dream right before it got good?

"If you want to keep the sword, we have to go."

Muninn sat bolt upright. "Already?"

Huginn nodded.

She narrowed her eyes. "How do you know?"

He grimaced. "Just trust me."

Trust the guy who wanted to steal the sword as much as anyone else? Muninn pressed her lips together. Sure, and she was born yesterday.

"I don't want to steal the sword!" Huginn argued.

Muninn gave him a startled look. How did he know—

"I can read thoughts. I can read thoughts, alright? Like how you can see memories." He sighed and shook his head. "I heard Kjell's thoughts. He doesn't care if you get hurt. You kept him from avenging his brother, in his mind. This morning, he's going to take the sword from you, and if you fight back—" He grimaced. "Let's go before he wakes up."

"I... okay," Muninn said. A lot of moments suddenly fell into place; all those times he glared at her for no reason, or seemed to know things he shouldn't know... She raised her eyebrows. Hope he didn't hear everything.

"Only the surface thoughts. C'mon." He gestured for her to stand. Muninn stood up, still a bit fuzzy. She rubbed her eyes and yawned. It was dark out. Not even a hint of dawn on the horizon. Huginn hoisted his bag higher on his shoulder and gestured her on. They passed through the camp, a shadow and a moonbeam.

"Where are you two going?"

Muninn stopped dead. Huginn hissed a curse and whirled towards the voice. Vivi stood there, eyes half closed. She let out a yawn and wiped her face, then blinked at them. "It's midnight," she murmured.

"Just... going to the bathroom," Huginn tried.

Vivi's eyes narrowed. "Together?" She glanced over her shoulder back at camp, toward where Kjell and Niina were sleeping.

"Yeah. Safety in numbers," he said.

Muninn looked at him. Good going, she thought sarcastically. He couldn't be more subtle.

Vivi turned toward the others. "Kje—"

Time seemed to slow. Huginn jumped at Vivi, reaching for her mouth. Muninn stared, still frozen. Forget you saw us!

A pulse of energy burst from her. It exploded out of her chest, hot as lava, and left her cold.

Vivi's hair stirred, and her eyes went wide. She blinked and stepped back, brows furrowing, eyes unfocused. Her mouth opened, then closed, then opened again.

Muninn sagged, suddenly exhausted. What was that?

At last, Vivi's eyes focused. They zeroed in on Huginn, then Muninn. There was a pause while the cogs audibly turned in Vivi's head. "Who are you?"

Muninn stared. What? "It's... it's me, Vivi."

Huginn grabbed her arm. "Let's go." He yanked her toward the forest. Muninn resisted for a step or two, then ran alongside him. Vivi hadn't sounded the alarm. Time to run before she changed her mind.

"Hey, wait," Vivi called, and then the camp vanished behind the thick undergrowth.