A Game of Heaven - 4. Mythal's Hunt

The man wandered through the forest, an invisible sensor floating over his shoulder. The spy was around here somewhere, just waiting to get the jump on him. He wouldn’t, not this time.

Mythal heard a bush rustle, and his sword appeared in his hand. An elf dropped from a tree behind him, layers of gambeson covering most of his body. A spear materialized in his grip, and the elf rushed at Mythal.

The human spun, sliding his arm around the spear and wrenching it from the elf’s grasp.

“You want to keep trying?” he grinned.

“Ah, you know me. I never know when to stop,” the elf laughed, a dagger flying toward Mythal suddenly.

The wizard stopped the blade with a spell and teleported behind the elf.

“Fuck!” he gasped as another dagger pierced his gut.

“Do you yield?”

Mythal pulled himself off the dagger and swung at the elf.

“Come on Mythal, keep up with me.”

A vine lashed out toward Mythal’s ankle, and a fireball incinerated it.

“Or we could cut to the end if you want, though that takes out most of the fun, don’t you think?”

“I’m going to get you Naril dog.”

The elf laughed.

“You better put in a little more effort then, my Galaway guy.”

Mythal hurled another fireball, and the druid dodged it easily. The man charged at the elf, sword in hand, and the elf faded from view.

Mythal glaced around himself warily, keeping a healthy distance from the trees. A shadow descended on him from above, and the man looked up.

The elf landed on Mythal, and swung a blade heavily, slicing Mythal’s left hand off at the wrist.

“You’re slacking today. Yield.”

Mythal grunted as his hand throbbed. He’d be screaming if he had his pain settings up. As it was, the pain in his hands was minimal, but it was there.

“Fine,” he growled. “I submit.”

His sword vanished, and the elf grinned.

The elf knelt beside his defeated foe, and forced his pants down. Mythal moaned as he felt the druid enter him, taking the spoils of war.

“One of these days I’m going to fuck the hell out of you,” he grunted as the druid pounded him.

“When that day comes, I’ll make sure you’ve earned it,” the elf promised with a gasp.

A minute later he pulled out, and retied his pants around his waist.

“If you two are finished…”

Both men stood up, weapons in their hands. Terian appeared from behind a tree, and Mythal lowered his blade.

“What do you want?” he asked.

“Karil was destroyed by a dragon,” the battlemind said. “I just wanted to let you know we’ll be here for another couple days.”

He nodded at the man’s missing hand.

“Need a little help?”

Mythal looked at the elf, who sighed.

“Yeah yeah, look, I won. Don’t think this counts as your victory. By all rights I should have slit your throat already.”

“What do you think Terian?” Mythal smiled, fingering his blade.

“I’m staying out of this. You two play your little games.”

The druid grinned, and darted forward, fading. He yelped and solidified as Mythal’s sword pierced his chest.

“I’ll see you around,” the man smiled.

“Bastard,” the elf muttered as he died.

Mythal removed his sword from the corpse, and picked up the bag of twenty gold that had fallen from his foe.

“Let’s go,” he said.