Page 9 of War

How many deaths has that weapon delivered?

But then another sight catches my eye. My gaze travels up War’s weapon to his hand. On each knuckle is a strange glyph thatglowscrimson.

War begins to stride towards me, his red leather armor making soft noises as it rubs together, his golden hair adornments glinting in the sun. He looks less like a heavenly messenger and more like some pagan god of battle.

Grabbing my bow, I nock an arrow.

“Stay back,” I warn.

The horseman ignores the command.

God save me.

I release it.

It hits War in the shoulder, embedding into his leather armor. Without looking away from me, he grabs the arrowhead and yanks it out. It comes away bloody, and I have a moment of pride, knowing that my weapon made it past his armor.

I reach behind me for another arrow, nock it, and let it fly. This one bounces harmlessly off of him, the angle of the hit all wrong.

And now I’m out of distance.

I only have time for one more shot before I need to switch weapons. I grab a final arrow, aim it, and release.

It goes hopelessly wide.

I drop my bow and quiver, my carefully collected arrows now spilling across the ground. My hand goes for one of my daggers.

No match for that beast of a sword. I take another look at War’s enormous muscles, and there’s just no chance of me winning this.

I swallow.

I’m going to die.

My hand tightens on my blade. I have to at leasttryto stop him.

I begin to move, trying to place my back to the sun. War closes the last of the distance between us, not bothering to outmaneuver me. He doesn’t need any sort of advantage to cut me down, we both know it. And if the sun is irritating to him, he shows no sign of it.

That’s about the moment when I realize that this isn’t actually going tobea fight. This is a lion swatting a mouse aside.

Must’ve really pissed him off earlier.

War lifts his sword, the sun making the blade shine blindingly bright.

With one pounding sweep of his arm, War’s terrifying blade connects with my own much smaller one, knocking it out of my hand. I cry out at the impact; the force of the blow numbs my arms and drives me to my knees.

I reach for my other blade, unholstering it. When the horseman steps forward, I swipe out at him, catching him in the calf.

A line of blood wells from the wound. For an instant, I stare at it dumbly.

Holy balls, I actually clipped him.

War glances at the wound then his eyes move to me, and he laughs low and deep, the sound drawing out goosebumps along my skin.

This fucker is downrightterrifying.

I scramble backwards, dagger clutched in hand, trying to get away from him as fast as possible. The horseman leisurely strolls after me, looking mildly entertained.

I manage to get my feet under me and pull myself up.

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