Page 52 of Tattered Huntress
‘You are right,’ he said slowly. ‘This is not a fair fight. We will do battle as you suggested the first time around.’
I met his one eye. Eternally optimistic, I asked, ‘You mean by not battling at all?’
‘I mean by using our bare hands.’ He released his hold on me and put up his fists. ‘I will not use my sword. You will not use your magic. That is fair.’
Not given the size of him, it bloody wasn’t. I didn’t have time to complain because he was already launching his first punch towards me. I moved to the side but I wasn’t fast enough to dodge it completely and it caught me on my ear. I cried out at the pain but did my best to ignore it. I couldn’t afford to hesitate.
I ran straight at the Fachan, then veered around him at the last moment and lashed out with my fist. It caught him on the side of his chin but he didn’t seem to register the blow. ‘Pathetic,’ he grunted.
Yup. I twisted and kicked the back of his shins. His legs didn’t buckle, he didn’t collapse – he didn’t even wince. As he slowly turned to face me. I swallowed hard. Time to start running again. I tensed…
The Fachan sent out a lightning quick punch that smacked into my shoulder. Its force sent me sprawling backwards. ‘Pathetic,’ he said again.
I scooped up a handful of the scree and threw it at his face with all the energy I could muster. ‘I am trying my best!’ I yelled as I scrambled to my feet. I followed up the tiny projectiles with another punch, this time aiming for the only obviously vulnerable spot – his eye. I had to jump up to reach it and even then I missed by half an inch. What had been intended as a knock-out punch was little more than a glancing blow.
I cursed.Run, Daisy. Just fucking run.
The Fachan must have read my mind because he kicked at my ankles, knocking me off my feet yet again and preventing me from sprinting away. His expression grim, he stood over me, pulled back his fist and prepared for another blow.
I tensed and squeezed my eyes shut. This was going to hurt. If I survived this blow, maybe playing dead would work – nothing else could help me. Not that I’d have toplaydead because I’d most probablybedead.
I held my breath and waited. When the killer blow didn’t arrive, I opened first one eye and then the other. The Fachan’s fist was still pulled back but he was staring down at me with a strange, thoughtful expression. ‘Go on,’ I said. ‘Do it. Hit me.’
‘You are pathetic,’ he said for the umpteenth time.
Yeah, yeah. I sighed and looked away – and saw the Fachan’s sword lying on the ground less than a metre away. Ah-ha. Trying to disguise my movements, I inched towards it.
‘You are a high elf,’ the Fachan said. ‘Why are you not better at combat?’
I shuffled closer to the sword. ‘I’m not a high elf.’
‘Yes, you are. Do you think I am as stupid as you are?’
‘I’m a low elf,’ I said. ‘Promise.’
The Fachan sniffed. ‘I do not smell a lie on your lips.’
‘Because I’m not lying,’ I said. I snapped out my hand and grabbed the cold metal hilt of his fallen sword, then tried to jump to my feet and swing the blade at him.
The Fachan didn’t move; to be honest, neither did the sword. I grunted and pulled at it but it was too heavy and I couldn’t even lift the tip off the ground. I tried again using both hands and managed to raise it up by an inch or so, but then I was forced to drop it again. What the hell was it made of?
The Fachan rolled his single eye. ‘Pa?—’
‘—thetic. I know.’
He shook his head, obviously disappointed. ‘You are trying hard. You are even resorting to under-hand, unfair tactics and yet you still cannot do more than tickle my skin with your attempts.’
‘All right, rub it in,’ I grumbled. I dropped the hilt of the sword. There was obviously no reason to continue trying to use it.
‘You are no match for me,’ the Fachan declared.
It was my turn to roll my eyes. ‘Tell me something I don’t know,’ I muttered.
The Fachan stared at me for another moment. ‘Wait here. I shall return.’ He spun to his left and marched out of the glowing green light and into the darkness beyond.
I waited for two seconds, then sprinted in the opposite direction. There had to be a way out. I headed straight for the wall of darkness; I didn’t know what was there but it had to be better than what was here.
The darkness swallowed me up and yet again I couldn’t see anything in front of me. Wary of obstacles, I kept my arms outstretched but I continued to sprint metre after metre – until my hands smacked into a cold, hard wall. I felt my way along it. Come on. There had to be an exit, a door of some sort.
