ASSASINS - SECTION 6

 LEGEND OF NEVETSECNUAC - THE ASSASSINS- SECTION 6

Outside the cabin the ongoing combat by degrees had further intensified. Now they had as well the sudden snowstorm to contend with. The blinding swirls in part aided Svein and Stark who were adept at fighting in all kinds of weather.

 

Unfortunately for Brandt, already impeded by the erupting gusts of wind and snow, he failed to intercept a lightning   strike from the side and so was catapulted off his feet.

With Brandt’s sword flying from his hand, his body next in a headlong thrust was projected through the air straight at the thick trunk of an ancient tree. The severity of the hit immediately rendered him unconscious.   After a spell when he came to, the fighting had fortuitously steered well away from his position. 

Everyone being too preoccupied with the deadly struggle, none had noted his regaining   consciousness. Seizing this opportunity, as his head throbbed anyhow and stars still danced before his eyes, besides which his body having taken quite a beating ached all over- Brandt   closed his eyes and remained perfectly still where he lay. His intent was to purloin (pilfer) some time to consider his options while he regained his full faculties and strength. 

Brandt’s subsequent stealthy observance revealed that Duan ‘s discarded sword with a broken blade lay to the side as Duan presently was using Brandt’s own sword.

Blue streaks of icy light flashed from the fierce clashes of the twin swords, engaged by opposite forces.  On each turn one blocked the other's assaults effortlessly.

 Brandt   seethed in contemptuous rage as he noted how despite Stark’s apparent impediment- fresh blood from the previous wounds being ripped apart, in conjunction with the newly incurred ones increasingly soaking the bandages- latter still fought with incessant (relentless, constant), enduring strength, skill and agility.  Meanwhile the young one’s prowess was something akin to legendary warriors. Periodically the three would be locked in such a fierce, deadly combat of such dizzying speed, that the assaults and defensives became barely visible to the naked eye in that whirling wall of wind, blades, snow and debris.

Oh, such a feat, a truly spectacular (outstanding) sight! Witnessing these near fatal clashes and murderous charges, Brandt   despite himself, for a spell, had remained in awe of their brilliant magnificence.

 His abhorrence of the nemesis was such, however, that all too quickly his face darkened, when he rebounded from this temporary sense of wonderment. 

Blast him! Brandt   presently bit his lip and cursed under his breath, as his covert focus once again was affixed on Stark.  Wounded and old, yet the fiend still fights with the strength of a hundred men.  No doubt he is aided by demons! Hmmm…This remarkable youth and he, together they represented an invincible (unbeatable) force; but perhaps individually, he inwardly concurred: yes, individually they could be bested.

It was at this point, recalling an old axiom about the two fighting tigers, that the very solution hit (struck) Brandt: his would be subsequent course of action, the only plausible option. Brandt’s heart more at peace now, he closed his eyes in respite. He would wait out the fighting tigers till they wore each other out.

Furiously however, it had continued seemingly endlessly, with the same vigor (dynamism, energy) and intensity. Though the contenders had by then divested themselves of most of their garments which now lay scattered about on the ground, and the biting winds had picked up to form rime (hoarfrost) on their hair, rivulets of sweat still ran down their foreheads, cheeks and over their bare chests.

Brandt   while remaining   perfectly still and, waiting for this stalemate to end, with hypnotic force of his mind had effectively blocked out the ravages of the cold from affecting his body.  But another sort of danger was creeping in, for the scent of warm blood fresh from the combatants’ wounds intermingling with sweat had attracted countless glowing eyes in the thick bushes around the clearing.  Saliva dripping from their mouths the hungry pack of wolves waited patiently for a chance to strike (and devour the resulting, wounded prey).

 Brandt felt as though he would burst stealthily observing how Duan breathed hot, venomous vapors from his nostrils as he wielded his sword with colossal (enormous) lethal force; yet each strike was deflected with such maddening   equanimity.  With no visible signs of strain or slowing down, both Svein and Stark kept up with their consistent fighting and superb assault and offensives. 

Blast! Brandt   seethed (fumed) considering this chink (unexpected turn) in his otherwise plausible plan.  Duan should have bested them by then or at least weakened them, but the fiend had finally met his match.

                                                                   ~

 

Stark had detected (been aware) the precise moment Brandt had regained consciousness (lucid state) then later still, noted latter’s subsequent deception (the façade). Mulling over the possible reasons Stark had kept a furtive eye on Brandt while he fought on then, deferring this concern for the more impending ploy, at a specific point in time drawing near to Svein, Stark shouted out a foreign sounding word to him.

 Following Svein’s barely discernible nod (his acquiescence) the swift coordinated assaults executed with such brilliant exactitude, once more forced Duan to shift to the defensive. Whilst he was being kept at bay, at an opportune moment at lightning speed Svein and Stark exchanged their weapons.

Presently, with his innate agility and speed, wielding the ancestor sword, Svein became even more indomitable (invincible).  Temporarily cast in dire straits, Duan summoned his most intrinsic powers and incredible zeal, however, to just barely stand his ground.

                                                                         ~                                                                             

All this time while remaining perfectly motionless, Brandt, his intense loathing of Stark fueling his resolve racked his brains till, he finally (hatched) arrived at the only plausible way to bring about a swift resolution to this maddening impasse. Mindful of the two poisoned stilettos concealed in the seams of his leather boots, he then biding his time, waited for an apt opportunity.

When the fighting eventually drew closer in proximity to Brandt, taking advantage of the fact that Duan’s total attention was focused on fending Svein and Stark’s synchronized, choreographed attacks, Brandt   nimbly sprung to his feet and rushed forth to with a lightening   thrust bury his stiletto (blade) deep into and up Duan's back.

"Damn your treachery!” Duan’s rancorous side glance pinpointing Brandt, he gasped.  “You’ll pay for this!” he licked the blood trickling from the corner of his mouth; but his malicious intent was interrupted when Brandt   nimbly veered, and instead, Svein’s deadly strike finding its mark, cut a line clear across (sliced right through) Duan’s chest and stomach.  Duan staggered on his feet for a second, then fell to the ground lifeless, his eyes bulging open and his mouth gaping with curses still frozen on his lips.  Covered in blood, his innards dangling, he looked (represented) a most gruesome sight. 

Brandt   with his bloody stiletto still poised to strike, in a surprise move just then, had adroitly jumped back way clear of the circle of combat and stood there defensively facing Svein.

"What's the meaning of this?” Stark raged at Brandt, effectively blocking Svein’s scathing rebuke.

"Let me finish him off, Uncle; his ruse is too obvious."” Svein glared at Brandt.  I’ve met him before, on my last trip to town, and trust me on this; he is no friend but a foe.”

 

"Sir, I beseech you.  Hear what I have to say, before condemning me." Brandt   interposed in a respectful, yet forceful tone, facing Stark while monitoring Svein from the corner of his eye. His conciliatory gesture of throwing his weapon aside at odds with his wry grin, he now grumbled. "Please allow me this opportunity to explain."

"Speak up, then!” Stark shouted sternly (austerely).

With a great show, Brandt bowed then crossed his clenched fists across his chest in show of humility, knowing that Stark, an honorable man by reputation, would not harm or allow another (Svein) to bring harm to an unarmed man.

 

(END OF SECTION 6)

 

THE ASSASSINS - SECTION 5

THE LEGEND OF NEVETSECNUAC - THE ASSASSINS - SECTION 5

From his hiding place Brandt’s eyes had avidly followed Duan’s progress, only losing sight of him once or twice, but then, the full moon obligingly re-emerged as the last passing cloud drifted away to the north illuminating the grounds once more.

DUAN

Brandt just then recalling to mind, the stipulated task which he presently had neglected, he at once fetched the remainder of the foul-smelling bundle that had been set aside and quickly smeared the contents of it on the well tethered mounts. It would effectively mask the horses’ scent from any predators for two to three days hence, even though thankfully after a bout, the overwhelming pungent stench dissipated, leaving only a slight residue of pong.

Hmm, why not? Brandt   shrugged, glancing at the remainder then quickly patted it on parts of his clothes and hair. For a spell, typically, his nose wrinkled up and then he was immune. As he had every intention of joining   the fight, he grinned mischievously imagining   this to be an effective repellent not just to beasts but to man.

When the moon once more took refuge behind some dense clouds, Brandt   defiantly left his post and stealthily drew close to the cabin. His searching gaze again spotted Duan, whose swift advance had abruptly stayed (halted, arrested), by the unexpected loud disturbance arising from within the stable.

DUAN

No chance of using hay from the barn to stack up against the cabin now. Flushing them out through fire, bah! It was a stupid idea anyhow. Brandt   scoffed then grinned pondering, what other bright ideas Duan had up his sleeves.

The mount presently again, was heard neighing, prancing, and stamping his hooves on the ground, overall raising quite a ruckus to give fair warning   to his master.

Unnerved, Brandt   abandoned his stealthy advance and hastily took cover behind a cluster (group) of trees.

 “Now where in blazes is he?” Brandt   grumbled under his breath as his eyes sought Duan, for Duan had entirely disappeared from his view, and this time for good. He did not have to wait long however, when suddenly a fierce fight erupted on the rooftop of the main dwelling. Aside from the thunderous sounds of hand-to-hand combat, swords clashed repeatedly and violently, sending sparks into the night air.

DUAN FIGHTING SVEIN

You shall not rob me of glory! Brandt, hugging the shadows, darted towards the cabin. He paused only for a spell to consider the more prudent course, a sure tactical advantage that seemingly lay ahead. But it was a trap, that of which he recognized just in time, therefore escaping a certain ghastly end.

Dodging similar traps, he relentlessly pushed on and finally got within proximity to the Cabin’s doorstep (porch). Grinding his teeth and brandishing his sword, he made ready to (in rapid strides) fly over the stairs and burst inside and deal a swift deathblow to those within. But at that precise moment the cabin door flung open and the other they had sought, the one-armed fiend emerging, brandishing his sword in a single jump, landed just before Brandt   to bar (block) his way.

 “Where do you think you’re going?” He shouted at Brandt, his attention at once drawn to Brandt’s sword, as he at the same time wildly hacked at him. Brandt ’s eyes blazed seeing the ancestor sword in other’s hand; rage swelling within his chest and with equal equanimity he fended subsequent nimble strikes and delivered his own deadly assaults on Stark.

Back on the icy rooftop a superb fighting had ensued between Svein and Duan, as the latter repeatedly whirled his sword like the fearsome wind and brought it down on Svein with a forceful blow. But Svein in lightning   speed each instance (case) escaped the course of the blade (the sword's path) and instead, dealt the assailant numerous damaging blows of his own.

 All the while Duan had also targeted the chimney, trying to dismantle or destroy stone/brick structure, in effort to suffocate (smoke out) those within the cabin, but this also were ably thwarted (foiled) by Svein.

At one point after parrying Duan’s sword, Svein then with lightning   speed landed Duan a most powerful punch on the jaw that sent Duan faltering backwards on his feet to the periphery (fringe, edge) of the (snow covered) roof. He halted only just, with his heels dangling in midair as the dislodged flecks of ice cascaded down.

No worse for wear however, in a flash Duan not only steadied himself on his toes, but in an agile move, with a swift summersault going right over Svein, he landed squarely on his feet behind Svein and lunged.

Quick maneuver on Svein’s part blocked this deadly aim and the subsequent lightening charges, thrusts, and stabs.

Duan, now in a more solid stand laughed aloud and shouted: “Not bad, not bad at all kid!! But these rooftop engagements are tiresome, don’t you think?” Then quick as the wind, he somersaulted down onto the solid icy ground and this time engaged Svein in so fierce a combat that even though the full moonlight bathed the premise, all that was discernable (visible) to the naked eye, was a whirling, streaking (whizzing) blur.

 Brandt   also caught (occupied) in a fierce battle with Stark, at one point had nevertheless drawn close enough to Svein to note in a side-glance, the features of the young man.

Why that is, what was his name again? Brandt   could barely contain his shock and surprise. That’s right… Audun Colden. Blast!!!  Brandt’s astute (shrewd, incisive) mind had at once pieced it together. Brandt, seething in anger now for being (duped) played the fool, he cursed Audun (Svein) under his breath and redoubled his strikes against Stark.

Once this foe was bested, Brandt next aim would be Audun; however, Brandt had pegged (gaged, judged) that one wrong as well, for despite Stark’s wounds, his consummate skill, and the intensity of the combat, was so swift and outstanding (remarkable) that it robbed Brandt any chance of besting him.

“Fool, all you are is an impediment!!” Duan furiously bellowed at Brandt, when at one point Brandt   got in his way.

Duan’s subsequent lightning   strikes in quick succession hacked and thrust at Svein's ribs and other body parts, but in each instance, incredibly, Svein with his nimble maneuvers (bend, twists, or turns), repeatedly averted and deflected the deadly course of the blade. Maddeningly still, in all that time Duan’s invincible deadly strikes had barely grazed Svein’s clothes.

Brandt   had witnessed Duan vanquishing whole contingents in the blinking of an eye. Yet thus far Duan with his indomitable fighting style and prowess had failed to gain the singular advantage over Audun Colden (Svein).

The villain (fiend) Duan had finally met his match! Adroit Brandt’s blood boiled with fury, doubting hence, his and Duan’s prior, anticipated victory.

From the start, Stark and Svein had pegged Brandt as not being a serious contender within that fighting group and quickly relegated him to lateral combat. It still took all Brandt’s skill and might, nevertheless, to parry or fend off Stark’ sporadic (intermittent) assaults. Stark’s key focus directed at Duan, whenever he could, he had landed a helping hand to Svein. Nor could Brandt   get away now, to assault those in the cabin's interior, as a diversion, presumably (likely) the weak point of these two invincible warriors.

The intense combat, occasionally, with the three combatants Duan, Stark and Audun (Svein) interlocked in fierce struggle had, meanwhile, lasted indefinitely for Brandt. They had paid little heed to Brandt, who fought futilely on the flank. Jealousy gnawing his innards. Brandt regretted now having played his part all too well, Duan despised him and so it was far too late for an effective, coordinated strike against the foes; meanwhile, the adversaries’ combined force was invincible.

Brandt, as he fought on, with his astute observations, had irrefutably (undeniably) now, grasped the full scope of their impossible situation. In all the years of fighting, (even when based on sheer force, stamina, and skill) he had seen nothing remotely, akin to it.

How best to survive (outlast) this sure forfeiture?

Presently, with the two striking at Duan simultaneously at once, Brandt, knowing it was only a matter of time before Duan was (bested) vanquished- inwardly tallied (weighed, deliberated on) his scarcest options, and wracked his brains, till he reached an apt resolution.

                                                                                        ~

At one point in time, Duan ceasing a rare opportunity, in lightning speed struck Svein, then in a whirl, hacked at Stark’s back, only to find his blade in both instances simultaneously blocked, sending fiery sparks into the night air.

SVEIN

This for a spell, demoralized Duan, for good as Stark was the youth who fought only with ordinary sword, still wielded the blade with such consummate, deadly effect, furthermore, his unfaltering speed and agility were unlike any Duan had ever encountered (engaged in). This was far beyond any human skill; it must be…. Duan inwardly nodded, remembering his fortunate findings from the supposed cryptic chronicles (private journals) of the Abbot Boqast Tizanzenn’s in that vault.

Inwardly, Duan could not help but admire the youth’s super-human competence (thankfully, not fully realized yet,) that still far exceeded any proficient mortal martial arts’ expert, such as the one-armed foe.

Anyone else would have long ago perished by my blade (wielding of sword). So young, yet he possesses such consummate, invincible power. Hmm, Duan, presently demurred while keeping up the intense combat. The elder, despite his wounds and obvious handicap is also to be admired: a pity that I must slay such fine warriors.

 

Svein and Stark, meanwhile, for an immeasurable time had kept up with their coordinated maneuvers, and presently, still effectively stayed both Duan and Brandt’s (assailants’) recharged deadly offensives.

Be that as it may, despite all seeming appearances, the unremitting intensity of combat combined   with the effects of the medicine Stark had ingested earlier, had in fact by degrees begun taking its toll on Stark; yet with tenacious vigor, he’d obstinately, persistently pushed to ward off Duan’s fresh unfaltering swift strikes, ignoring Svein's repeated urgings for him to withdraw from the circle of combat. 

STARK

"Please get back to safety, Uncle. I can manage them both.” Svein again urged Stark, before he swung with full force at Duan's chest then intercepted Brandt’s thrust by tripping him face down to the ground.

“Nothing doing” Came Stark’s stern response; however, just then seeing Teuquob armed and about to emerge from the cabin, both Duan and Brandt   shot through the air in an incredible speed, in a straight beeline towards her. It was all Stark and Svein could do to block their intent; and as Svein kept them both effectively at bay, Stark catapulted, swift as the sudden gust to land just before her.

“I told you to stay within! Outside is no place for you to be. Now get back in and bolt the door!”  His stern command, command of a general forced Teuquob to abort her aim at once and quickly withdraw inside.

 “Stubborn girl,” Stark shook his head, as he turned and rushed back to join the fray.

Teuquob with certain foreboding had bolted the door and stamped her feet, and then angrily casting the sword aside, went to look in on the just then squabbling twins.

 The sounds of the intense combat outside picking up momentum stirred her heart anew with further misgivings and she hugged her children as she bit her lip to stop the urge to scream in sheer frustration. Why wasn’t she allowed to fight? She was competent enough; was all her training for nothing but a show!

As she had squeezed them tighter still, the twins, very much surprised, ceased their rumpus (crying) and with confused expressions only a mother could tell, stared back at their mom.

“I should be out there, fighting alongside them. I am capable enough!”  She found herself explaining   to those staring, innocent faces. “In here I feel so utterly useless; there must be something I can do?”

Presently, she would pray for their salvation; then, she would defiantly, join in with the fight outside.

Subsequently, with the twins at close by, she prostrated herself before the altar of the mountain god, Rognar, (resting) set up over an ornate mahogany table in the private corner of the living area. There, with a heart-rending plea she entreated the God, till such time she participated in the fight, to be merciful and aid her beloved husband and esteemed uncle.  Furthermore, to bequeath her, Svein and Stark, utmost power, strength, and endurance, so that they may jointly, easily subdue the (assailants) enemy.

                                                                                           ~

                                                                               

TEUQUOB

 (END OF SECTION 5)

 

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