Taking On the World

Enterprise1701_d

Interlude 2

The bar was dark, twilight only coming in through the couple of front windows, and the sparse oil-lamps scattered around the medieval drinking establishment. The door is pushed open by a huge hulk of a man, dressed in shining silver-polished armor, decorated with a yellow bird on the chest. The people present mutter among themselves, topic of conversation shifting to the knight who had just entered.

In a corner, a seasoned traveled shifted her feet off the stool she had prepped them on. The dancing shadows concealed her face, hiding her form. She had been on the roads, traveling by foot, for fifteen years now… the traveler closed her eyes, and took a breath. Fifteen years since the Bermuda Triangle deposited her in this shadow world, where magic had taken the place of technology.

The knight made his way to the bar, and ordered a pint, which was immediately deposited in front of him, the strong brew emitting a potent odor. The muscular knight took the rough clay canister, and deposited half of the potent alcoholic beverage down his throat. As he put it down, he turned around to survey the seedy bar. The traveler relaxed marginally, prepping her feet up once again, and shifting her back to rest against the wall. Her eyes closed half, and she dropped into semi-slumber.

The knight, in service of the local lord, noticed a nearby peasant girl, waiting on the patrons present. As she passed him, he grabbed her. “Hey, sweetheart. Let’s go upstairs, shall we?” he barked loudly, not a question, not even a request, but an order.

The girl struggled. “No! Let me go!” the poor girl shouted, merely in reaction, not even thinking about the consequences. The gauntleted hand of the knight hit her cheek with astonishing speed, slapping the poor thing against the bar, electing a scream of pain from her throat.

“When Bordas orders a slut, she jumps!” the knight growled, grabbing her, pressing her between his hulking mass and the bar, grabbing for her breast.

The traveler sat up straight, anger mounting in her veins as the display unfolded. Noiselessly, she unsheathed a sword, before slamming it down on her table, making the cup on it rattle. Silence had descended as Bordas had gotten his sight on the girl, but not it deepened even further as the knight and the girl froze. The knight looked over his shoulder, to the shadowy figure and the sword on the table.

“Go to hell,” the knight ordered the traveler, turning back to his catch, kissing her roughly on the lips. The girl twisted and moaned, scratching at his face as she tried in vein to protect herself.

The traveler got up, grabbing her sword as she rose without a sound from her position. “The girl said no,” the traveler said, tone even, yet holding a powerful air of menace under it. “And no means no.”

The knight let go of his quarry, turning to the newcomer. Smiling evilly, he leered at the traveler’s shapely body, not older than 22, at most. The muscular legs indicated her long travels, and her powerful arms showed her ability with the sword in her hands. “I’ll enjoy you more than this little bitch,” the knight said, leering. “But first, I’ll teach you some manners! If you really want to fight me, let’s take this outside!”

The traveler dipped her head, motioning the hand with the sword to the door. The knight left first, the traveler immediately behind him.

“Tell me your name,” the knight ordered, as he stood ready, sword tip-down, handle held to the level of his head.

“My name is Annika,” the woman answered coldly.

“And I am…”

“I do not wish to know,” Annika answered, on the same cold tone. Drawing a breath, she faced him sideways, sword in her right hand, tip to the ground. <<Sword… recognize that stance?>>

<<It is the Cullinan-shield stance,>> her companion of ten years answered.

<<Analysis?>>

<<Good points: impregnable defense. Negative points: no, or very limited, attack.>>

Annika thought a smile to her arm-companion. She had taught him how to answer scientifically. <<Isn’t the Cullinan a diamond?>>

<<It is a sapphire on Trisia,>> the Sword replied.

“Are you going to stand there all day?” the pissed-off knight ordered, remaining in his stance. “Don’t make me come after you, or I’ll spank you into tomorrow with the flat of my sword!”

The villagers, almost all of which were out to watch by now, stared at the differences. One was a knight, a man with a hulking mass of muscle, dressed in noble armor, and holding a steel blade that reflected the sunlight and the blue of the skies above. The other was a diminutive girl, dressed in traveler’s leathers, holding a sword that had seen better days, the blade was dull in color, the edges were chipped, and the handle was bare metal, instead of comfortable leather.

“Very well,” Annika answered, charging. As she charged, Bordas started swinging his sword in practiced patterns, so fast his arm became invisible. Annika smiled slightly, aiming a top-slash at the man’s supposedly invulnerable defense. Her sword clattered against his, and immediately, she bounced off, aiming a slash to his feet as she dropped through her knees. Again, she met resistance. Spinning around, she aimed a slash to his side, which again was blocked.

She moved faster and faster, her sword clattering metallically against the knight’s steel blade, not once penetrating. Suddenly, just as she was about to aim a slash to his neck, the knight’s movements changed, and she found his unused left fist dig into a stomach. She had enough battle-sense not to drop her guard, and blocked the strike with his sword that was coming for her neck.

Annika jumped back, putting distance between them. <<He is good.>>

<<He is,>> Sword answered. She felt her companion’s anger rise. <<He does not deserve the skills with the sword that he wields. For someone with those skills…>>

<<How much?>>

Sword tensed. <<Intermediary.>>

Annika smiled slightly, cricking her neck to the right. *crack-crack*

She then cricked to the left. *crick-crick*

Her grip on the sword changed, and she closed her eyes. When she reopened them, Bordas could read his death in those glowing orbs of red light. At the same time, her sword had changed, revealing a gleaming silver-glowing sword, the handle of which seemed to have been molded for Arianne’s hand, and the blade of which was forged in Heaven itself, emitting silver light.

Arianne brought the Sword up to her eye level, holding it horizontally. She pushed her middle and index fingers of her left hand to the part of the blade just next to the cross-guard, and funneled her magic into the blade. That part of Sword where her magic merged with that of her companion glowed the red of blood.

“Sword…bearer…” the knight whispered.

“That is correct. I am Annika MagicSeeker, known as the Swordbearer!” Annika screamed, voice angered by the unleashing of magics, powered by the rage of her mystical weapon, the source of all swords, born in the ancients times of primal magic, the weapon that knew and understood every sword-art in existence. “And now I shall destroy you!” Annika screamed.

The knight, to his credit, dropped into his martial-arts pattern, shielding himself against what was to come, powering as much as his magical reserves permitted him, actually shielding him in an ethereal Safire-shaped white-glowing shield.

“Black Wind of the God-Murdering Son technique!” Annika screamed, moving her fingers across the Sword’s blade, until the entire blade saw red. As she powered her magic, wind picked up, tossing her rust-colored hair into the skies as gold-and-red magic formed around her. Screaming, she jumped up, launching higher than possible by sheer muscle power, bearing down from the skies mere moments after, surrounded by magical energies that obscured her from view.

Inside the magical fireball, Annika was descending to her target, Sword held aloft above her head, ready to strike with a double-handle force. Dragon Strike, she added in her own thoughts as she was about to make contact with her target.

The knight had been exceptionally well-trained, and his reflexes actually allowed him to intercept her strike with his sword.

Yet, it was insignificant, as Sword cut right through the stainless steel, halving the man as Annika landed in a crouch. Directly after, the magic of her attack hit, washing over the still-living knight, and Annika could see his skin bladder off before his flesh charred and carbonized. She was still in her crouch after her magic died down, the charred remains of the knight fell to their demise on the ground.

Annika rose calmly, almost regally. Sword had shifted back into the inconspicuous version of himself, and she sheathed him. Seventeen I was when I was dropped here on Trisia… and for fifteen years I have been trying to find the source of all magic. Had it not been for you… I would have been 32 right now, instead of being held at 22, she thought to her companion as well as to herself.

She opened her eyes, for the first time looking at the remains of the knight. I have changed so much. That would have grossed me out. She turned to the villagers. “I’m going back to my drink now,” she said coolly, walking back to the bar. As she passed the girl from earlier, she whispered, “No problem.”

“Thank you!” the girl shouted after the traveler who retook her seat in the shadowy corner.