in a clearing up ahead.
Taem drew his sword and stalked closer. He placed each foot to avoid snapping noisy twigs. His body tingled. Suddenly he became more aware of everything: the sound of his quickened breathing, the touch of his boot to soil, and the movement of every leaf in the wind. He shot from tree to tree now, using them as cover, skulking his way towards the clearing. The ringing of clashing blades had finished. What did that mean? Taem felt his blood rush. Fear surged through him. The urge to run flared up from the back of his mind. But something held him back: “Honour above your own life”, Logan’s words resounded through Taem’s head, and he remembered The Code.
Taem went down into a crouch, and crept up to a tree trunk through a patch of dense undergrowth. He winced every time he made the slightest sound, pausing for a moment, listening for signals he had been detected. He crawled to the base of a wide oak. Taem’s thundering heartbeat threatened to burst from his chest, as he edged his head round the knotted roots to see.
In the clearing, Taem saw his enemy, and all his fear was lost. A pack of Kruns had attacked some men and women. Two men and two women lay dead on the ground, as did six Krun. Taem saw a third man still had life in him, and he lay wounded and gasping for breath not two yards from Taem’s concealed position. A deep crimson gash ran down the man’s leg, and his side was pierced by one of the Kruns’ crude arrows. Five more Kruns still stood, in a huddle beyond the injured man.
Taem recognised the Krun by their horrifically sallow skin – it was a rotting, gangrenous yellow, akin to raw meat that had decayed beyond festering purple. Their wizened hides were leathery and flayed, akin to sun-scorched carcasses. The Krun were no more than five feet tall, they were skinny and ungainly, and lurched with a characteristic stoop. Their foul stench filled Taem’s nostrils and it took all of his discipline not to make a sound as he retched. The Kruns’ hooded yellow eyes, beady and devious, darted around with crafty malice. Those eyes were sunk in a face that looked as if it had been mauled by a rabid beast. A sinister hooked nose hung over a wide gaping mouth full of crooked, filthy teeth. The Kruns were armed with an assortment of vicious weapons, which were all afflicted by a rusty pestilence. Taem gagged again as he took in the clothes they wore. Their disgusting tunics and armour were stained dark by dirt, and infested with crawling lice.
In many ways Taem could see the Krun were frightening creatures – but they did not frighten him. A cold fury overcame Taem. He remembered when he had seen the Krun once before, from a distance, as they butchered his family and childhood friends. He remembered how they took such delight from the mindless slaughter of innocence.
One of the enemy walked up to the injured man – a particularly nasty Krun with a horrendous cut splitting its chin, and a badly stitched scar that ran through its missing eye.
‘We is gonna cut you good,’ The Krun hissed at the injured man, as it raised its jagged spear.
Taem leapt forward from his hiding place in the undergrowth. Taem drew Estellarum as he exploded forward. He parried the Krun spear as it was thrust at the downed man. Taem reversed the direction of his blade’s swing, decapitating the Krun with the return strike. The severed head rolled away as the body collapsed into a twitching heap.
‘Kill im!’ Shrieked one of the other Kruns.
The remaining four Krun rushed towards him. But Taem was ready. He sidestepped the first, bringing his sword into its stomach. The Sodan blade sliced clean through. Taem was already moving on. The second Krun came at him from his right, swinging its wicked scimitar, screaming for his blood. Taem swayed like a willow in the breeze, dodging the Krun’s wild swipes. Taem blocked with ease and countered swiftly. The enemy fell to the ground clutching its ruined throat.
Taem drew his sword and stalked closer. He placed each foot to avoid snapping noisy twigs. His body tingled. Suddenly he became more aware of everything: the sound of his quickened breathing, the touch of his boot to soil, and the movement of every leaf in the wind. He shot from tree to tree now, using them as cover, skulking his way towards the clearing. The ringing of clashing blades had finished. What did that mean? Taem felt his blood rush. Fear surged through him. The urge to run flared up from the back of his mind. But something held him back: “Honour above your own life”, Logan’s words resounded through Taem’s head, and he remembered The Code.
Taem went down into a crouch, and crept up to a tree trunk through a patch of dense undergrowth. He winced every time he made the slightest sound, pausing for a moment, listening for signals he had been detected. He crawled to the base of a wide oak. Taem’s thundering heartbeat threatened to burst from his chest, as he edged his head round the knotted roots to see.
In the clearing, Taem saw his enemy, and all his fear was lost. A pack of Kruns had attacked some men and women. Two men and two women lay dead on the ground, as did six Krun. Taem saw a third man still had life in him, and he lay wounded and gasping for breath not two yards from Taem’s concealed position. A deep crimson gash ran down the man’s leg, and his side was pierced by one of the Kruns’ crude arrows. Five more Kruns still stood, in a huddle beyond the injured man.
Taem recognised the Krun by their horrifically sallow skin – it was a rotting, gangrenous yellow, akin to raw meat that had decayed beyond festering purple. Their wizened hides were leathery and flayed, akin to sun-scorched carcasses. The Krun were no more than five feet tall, they were skinny and ungainly, and lurched with a characteristic stoop. Their foul stench filled Taem’s nostrils and it took all of his discipline not to make a sound as he retched. The Kruns’ hooded yellow eyes, beady and devious, darted around with crafty malice. Those eyes were sunk in a face that looked as if it had been mauled by a rabid beast. A sinister hooked nose hung over a wide gaping mouth full of crooked, filthy teeth. The Kruns were armed with an assortment of vicious weapons, which were all afflicted by a rusty pestilence. Taem gagged again as he took in the clothes they wore. Their disgusting tunics and armour were stained dark by dirt, and infested with crawling lice.
In many ways Taem could see the Krun were frightening creatures – but they did not frighten him. A cold fury overcame Taem. He remembered when he had seen the Krun once before, from a distance, as they butchered his family and childhood friends. He remembered how they took such delight from the mindless slaughter of innocence.
One of the enemy walked up to the injured man – a particularly nasty Krun with a horrendous cut splitting its chin, and a badly stitched scar that ran through its missing eye.
‘We is gonna cut you good,’ The Krun hissed at the injured man, as it raised its jagged spear.
Taem leapt forward from his hiding place in the undergrowth. Taem drew Estellarum as he exploded forward. He parried the Krun spear as it was thrust at the downed man. Taem reversed the direction of his blade’s swing, decapitating the Krun with the return strike. The severed head rolled away as the body collapsed into a twitching heap.
‘Kill im!’ Shrieked one of the other Kruns.
The remaining four Krun rushed towards him. But Taem was ready. He sidestepped the first, bringing his sword into its stomach. The Sodan blade sliced clean through. Taem was already moving on. The second Krun came at him from his right, swinging its wicked scimitar, screaming for his blood. Taem swayed like a willow in the breeze, dodging the Krun’s wild swipes. Taem blocked with ease and countered swiftly. The enemy fell to the ground clutching its ruined throat.
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