Rise of the Blade - Charles Moffat [16]
He stood corrected as he ran through a doorway into the foyer and was kicked in the side. Tucking his sabers into his sides so as to not stab himself with the sharp blades, Pierce rolled across the length of the foyer dodging slashes before getting to his feet to view his opponent.
Sparks flew as Mitch's blade missed again and hit the marble tiles. The stranger loomed into view, lifting the longsword before him defensively.
Pierce swallowed and held his sabers ready out in front of him. "Who are you? An assassin sent by the giffs?"
The confusion of the stranger's thoughts told him no, but one word did ring out in his thoughts that clarified the situation: Chev.
"Chev," Pierce blurted out loud and dodged backwards as the warrior swung at him, knocking over an ancient vase that fell to the marble floor with a crash. All of the sudden it was crystal clear. Chev, a bodyguard once belonging to the d'Or family. Reputed to be Waterdeep's greatest warrior over a hundred years ago. And still was Waterdeep's greatest warrior now that he had been somehow released from his magical statue.
"We don't have to fight. I'm not your enemy-"
Chev didn't hear him as he swung again. He feinted and then stabbed at the same time kicking pottery up at Pierce like a boy kicks snow at a beggar in cruel delight.
The Doctor stepped backwards, arms going up to shield his face from the flying shards. Instinctively, he angled his breastplate towards Chev's stab so the blade slid across his breastplate. Dropping his arms down, Pierce clamped them onto the blade and wrenched it away from the warrior at the same time bringing down Tarrasqueslayer in a slash to the warrior's leg.
And was blocked once more by that annoying buckler. Pierce turned to face the man and received a headbutt to the forehead.
Falling backwards into the shadows of a doorway, Pierce lifted his sabers ready for Chev's next onslaught as the warrior picked up Mitch's longsword. "Chev. I'm not your enemy."
The warrior merely spat and swung down, his blade aimed to knock the saber out of Pierce's hand. Instead, he went flying off to the side into another vase. A new prescence was in the room and Pierce struggled to retain his wits as Draque had told him so he could understand the nature of this new person.
A weathered face with a balding head came into view. He kneeled and held out a hand to the fellow Harper which Pierce quickly took.
Standing, the two faced off against Chev as they had once faced off against the Tarrasque fourteen years ago. Pierce reminded himself that Martinez had once been the greater warrior, a man awed by all as one of the best, if not the best of the best. Even Witter had looked up to Martinez who at that time had been the captain of a famed elven cavalry despite being human.
Martinez took his longflail in both hands and twirled it like a quarterstaff. Taking the first step in he allowed Pierce a quick moment to breathe as he tested Chev's defenses whiched proved to be flawless.
It was Martinez, although quite sober now, who couldn't keep up with Chev's superior speed and he fell under a quick stab to the leg, limping backwards, blocking the warrior's attacks as best he could.
Pierce stepped in with renewed vigor. The smell of blood was hot in the evening air and the adrenaline pumping through his veins was like warm cider to a sore throat. He exchanged slash with slash, ignoring the scratch along his forearm that Chev managed, pushing the warrior backwards out of sheer determination with a little help by the burning desire to end this fight.
Never before had he felt the power in his heart pounding blood through his ears so loud it was hurting. Never before had he wanted to win like this. Always before it had been the adventure and the enjoyment that came with a good fight. Now, for some strange inexplicable reason, it was personal.
Chev saw that hatred in the pale moonlight as he backed onto the marble