BloodIER Sword: 3075 A.D. [Another update? NO WAI!!]

[Mewfour]

The Asylum of the Devitory presents….
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Spring had finally come back to the landscape after a harsh winter. Although chilly winds blew south from Ranadiam on occasion, East Namerik was finally beginning to enjoy warmer weather once more.

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An asylumBLACK production…
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Satus was a small village only a few miles south of the Ranadiam-East Namerik border. Even twenty-five years after the fall of the Ranadiam Empire, it remained as quiet and as boring at it had ever been.

Until one day…

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BLOODIER SWORD: 3075 A.D.

LINEAGE

Episode I - Bloodlines

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Serah Gize had just celebrated her twenty-fifth birthday a few weeks ago, and it had only been half an hour since she left the café where she worked as a waitress, looking forward to embarking on her family vacation to South Namerik the next day. Stuffing her hands into her jeans pockets as she walked along the gravel road back home, Serah sighed as she looked up into the sky, watching the beginning stages of twilight slowly blanket the heavens.

Suddenly, Serah heard a faint rumbling in the distance behind her. Turning around, she saw a convoy of sleek black vans quickly approaching, kicking up a cloud of dust and dirt from the gravel road as they barreled towards her. All three of them came to a rough stop at her side, bringing the cloud with them. As Serah shielded her eyes, a figure in a pressed gray suit leaned out of the passenger’s side window of the van nearest to her. “Excuse me,” he called over the humming of the engines, “Are you Serah Gize?”

Serah was taken back a bit. “Yeah,” she said carefully, “Who are you guys?”

“We’re from the kingdom of Kanadiam’s diplomatic team. We’d like to escort you home.”

**************************************

Serah tapped the edge of the coffee table nervously, keeping her eyes on the entrance to her parents’ kitchen. She could hear the two agents’ muffled voices discussing something with her parents, and judging from their tones, whatever it was they were talking about sounded very important. After what seemed like forever, the four of them finally re-entered the living room. Serah was glued to her seat on the couch, her racing heart just about ready to burst out of her chest. “With the granted permission of your parents,” said one agent, “Serah, would you like to know why we’re here?”

Serah was at a complete loss for words.

Clearing his throat, the agent continued. “We understand that you’ve been looking for a new home for yourself.”

“What?” Serah asked, confused. “How is that any of your business?”

“As you know, his Highness, Lord Mallar the first, is our nation’s second king, who acquired the throne after the death of all the descendants of the first king, Lord Orriss. But last year, from our most reliable sources, we have learned that not all of Lord Orriss’ descendants have been lost, and our meeting with your mother has just proven our conviction. Serah Gize, you are the last known descendant of Troid Orriss the second.”

“No,” Serah muttered, shaking her head and standing up, “that’s ridiculous.”

“Is it?”

“Yeah, my parents are right there,” she said, looking at her mother and father. When they did not return her gaze, Serah murmured, “Right?”

“Serah,” Her mother said quietly as her father stared at the floor, “We just didn’t know when to tell you.”

Serah’s throat began to tighten. “Should we leave you alone for a while?” The other agent quietly asked her mother.

“Please.”

*******************************

“And that’s the last time you saw him?” Serah asked, sitting by herself, staring at her parents from across the coffee table.

“Yes,” said her mother. “Twenty-five years ago. He promised to return soon, but he never did. I married your… other father just after I learned that Troid had been killed.”

Serah’s father draped his arm around her mother. “That’s why you kept calling me ‘princess,’ when I was a kid, isn’t it?” Serah asked.

Her father nodded. “Well? Are you going to Kanadiam with them?”

Serah paused. It was a tough question. Finally, she shrugged and said, “I guess.”

*********************************

Tike Mallar slouched on his throne, skimming over the newspaper. Not a day went by that he did not glance at least once at the empty throne beside him. His wife had passed away many years ago, leaving him as the only ruler of Kanadiam, and his son as his only successor. Ever since Trav died twenty-five years ago, the crown had been his to wear, but he did so with a heavy head. To find and pass on the throne to its rightful heir was the only remaining thing that Tike could ever hope to accomplish. Although he had kept the operation a secret from his son, once Troid’s illegitimate daughter was found and revealed, Tike was sure Nagen would understand.

Suddenly, the throne room chamber doors flew open, and a procession of his royal knights flooded in. “My lord,” said the tallest one in the front, “Troid’s daughter has been found.”

Tike slowly pushed himself onto his feet, ruffling his robes. “Is she here, general Vidhar?” The crowd suddenly split down the middle, leaving Serah by herself on the threshold of the chamber doors. By the time Serah had finally taken in the gigantic throne room around her, she saw Tike kneeling before her. “Your Highness,” Tike said as the rest of the knights dropped to one knee around her.

“Oh please, get up,” Serah giggled, covering her face in a vain attempt to hide her deep blushing.

Suddenly, a slender figure stormed into the chamber. “Dad! What’s going on here?”

Tike rose, with his knights quickly following suit. “Nagen, you’re just in time to meet the new Queen of Kanadiam.”

Nagen craned his neck around to stare face-to-face with Serah. “The… new…?”

Serah sighed and rubbed her eyes. “I’m Troid the second’s daughter, apparently. I’m Serah Gize. And you must be prince Nagen Mallar?” She asked with a smile.

Nagen’s lips curled into a light frown. “Yes,” he said after a hesitant pause, “prince Nagen Mallar.” Serah did not know why, but just looking into Nagen’s eyes sent a shiver up her spine.

“So, your Highness,” said Tike, stroking his greyed goatee, “I’d imagine you’re pretty tired after the long trip from East Namerik.”

“Yeah,” said Serah, stretching her arms a little bit, “what time is it anyway?”

“Twenty-two hundred, your Highness,” a knight chimed up from the crowd.

Serah struggled to hold back a yawn. “Nagen, would you show our lady to the spare chamber?”

Nagen bit his lip, and briefly glanced around at the crowd of knights. “You two, in front. Escort our… queen, to the spare room. The rest of you are dismissed.”

Serah stared awkwardly at Nagen before she left with the crowd of knights. As soon as they had all left, Nagen quickly swung the gigantic throne room doors closed, leaving just Tike and himself inside. “What was that all about?” Tike asked disapprovingly.

Nagen sighed bitterly under his breath. “I thought it was established a long time ago that I was to be the only heir to the throne.” He said after a lengthy pause.

“Nagen,” Tike sighed, putting his hand on his son’s shoulder, “I only took the throne because I thought- everyone thought, the Orriss bloodline had ended. Nothing would bring me greater joy than to see the rightful heir on her throne.”

“But what about me?” Nagen asked anxiously. “Am I still next in line? Do I still have the right to the throne?”

Tike shrugged. “Well,” he said jokingly as he prodded Nagen in the ribs, “you could marry her. Who knows, we might have a coronation and a wedding at the same time tomorrow.”

Nagen’s heart nearly stopped. “Tomorrow?” he asked.

“Yes,” said Tike. “Tonight is our last night as royalty.”

“So it’s back to nobility, is it?”

“That’s right.”

Nagen held his hands behind his back to conceal his tightly clenched fists. “Well,” he said, struggling to control his anger from seeping into his voice, “I’ll just have to ask her tomorrow then, won’t I?

Tike chuckled and headed for the doors, opening one just enough for him to pass through. “Don’t stay up too late working on your proposal,” he said as he left, “we’ve got a long day ahead of us tomorrow.”

The door creaked shut again, booming all over the vast throne room. “Yes,” Nagen muttered spitefully, “A long day indeed.”

[Mewfour]

And now some much-needed justification for this being nominated as the best new fic on TPM!

EPISODE II – The Abduction

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Try as she might, Serah could not manage to sleep at all. It was already well past midnight, and her eyes had grown unbearably sore, leaving her wishing to sleep by any means possible. After rolling onto her left side for what seemed to be the millionth time, Serah finally decided to give up on sleep for the rest of the night. Crawling out of the gigantic bed and trudging towards the bedroom mirror, Serah gazed at her reflection with one eye as she rubbed the other. Even though queens surely had stylists working for them, Serah doubted they could do anything for her chronically stubborn short brown hair, that seemed to want to stay hanging in place around her jaw line no matter what. As Serah was wondering what could be done with her royal hair, her thoughts soon wandered towards her new bedroom. One of the knights had told her that this used to be the bedroom of her uncle Trav Orriss, the prince who lost his life in a bloody battle to save the kingdom she was about to inherit. Pulling up a chair and collapsing into it, Serah questioned whether she deserved to be queen or not.

Serah snapped out of her rapture at the sound of a quiet knocking at her doors. Curious to see who else could be awake at this hour, Serah threw a bathrobe over her nightgown and slowly opened the door a murmured a quiet, “Hello?” Suddenly, a pair of arms shot out from the darkness of the hallway, yanking her off of her feet. Serah opened her mouth to scream, but was immediately silenced with a cloth smothered over her face. More hands came to immobilize her as an excruciatingly painful burning sensation seeped into her nostrils. Her head began to ache and feel heavy on her shoulders as her consciousness slowly began to fade…

****************************************

Serah groggily awoke when a sudden jolt rocked her body upwards. As her senses came flooding back to her, she realized that she was moving. Backwards. Opening her heavy eyelids, she saw nothing but black, soon realizing that she had been gagged and blindfolded. Her hands were bound behind her back with what felt like duct tape, as were her feet in front of her. She was sitting and facing out of the rear of a carriage, rushing over a rough and bumpy road. The damp smell of fresh pine was the next thing she noticed, leading her to believe that she was being carted through a forest in a rainstorm. Suddenly shivering, Serah realized that she had been stripped of her bathrobe, and was now left in nothing but her nightgown again. Serah trembled and whimpered, not only from the sheer cold, but also out of terror as she could only guess as to who was doing this to her and why.

The carriage came to a sudden stop, nearly rocking Serah onto her back. The blindfold slipped off of her head just as someone grabbed her by her taped ankles and slung her over his shoulders. “Hey, she’s awake!” her carrier called out.

“Then just get it over with quick,” came a faint answer.

Serah squealed as best she could with her tightly gagged mouth, squirming against whoever was carrying her away to no avail. She kneed his chest and elbowed his shoulder blades as hard as she could, but her efforts only seemed to annoy her carrier further as they recessed into a secluded area. Suddenly she was flung onto her back, landing with a loud thud on the muddy ground. Serah could not see very well in the darkness, but she saw her captor draw a sword from a sheath on his waist clearly enough. Completely immobilized with fear, all Serah could do was stare with terrified wide eyes as her captor raised his arms, with sword in hand, ready to cleave her in half. Serah finally managed to squeeze her eyes shut, preparing herself for the last moments of her life.

A second went by.

Then another.

A few moments later Serah cautiously peeked one eye open, seeing first a surprised and shocked look on her captor’s face, and then the point of a sword sticking out from the middle of his chest. A guttural growl rumbled from behind him, and suddenly the sword point disappeared. Serah’s captor collapsed by her side in a pool of blood, revealing a shadowed figure with a bloodied sword in his place. Glancing between her savior and the corpse beside her, Serah squealed in a mix of horror and relief. Without saying a word, the stranger grabbed the fallen man by the legs and dragged him into a thick patch of foliage, making sure his body was obscured. Before Serah could try and motion for him to undo her gag, the swordsman suddenly hid himself in the shade of a tree, spying on the caravan in front of them. Serah fixated her stare on the carriage, seeing two more of her captors realize that the one who had carried her away had suddenly gone missing. Still frozen in place with terror, Serah watched as they approached the tree her mysterious benefactor hid behind, watching him grit his teeth in anticipation, and draw a second sword. “Hey!” one of the captors called out, “What happened to-?”

The moment that they passed the tree, Serah’s rescuer lunged forward at their sides, plunging one sword into the stomach of the bandit closest to him, and quickly driving his second sword into the chest of the other. He released his grip on the second sword, and grasped the first sword with both hands. And with a feral roar, he ripped his arms upwards, splitting the captor in two from his abdomen to his shoulder in a spray of blood and entrails. Within moments, three more of the pack was charging forward to enter the melee, swords drawn and high in the air. The stranger pulled the second bandit up by the sword stuck in his chest, and as the three other men came rushing in very close, he positioned the impaled bandit like a shield, jamming his sword further in and out the bandit’s back, stabbing the shoulder of the charging assailant behind. Like a whip, he flung his free sword out to his side, startling the opponent on his side just long enough to quickly pull his other sword free, skipping backwards in front of Serah. Serah could only watch in dumbstruck amazement as three of her captors formed a circle around the swordsman, quietly inching herself away while their attention was diverted. Once at a safe distance, Serah curled up in a tight ball, and watched intently as the circle began to tighten.

Without a warning, one of the men rushed in with a slash, which was easily blocked. A fraction of a second later, the other healthy assailant took a slash at the swordsman’s back, missing by inches as he nimbly hopped to the side, slicing a shallow cut into the side of the first assailant, as he zipped past. With Serah’s rescuer’s back pressed up against a tree, the last uninjured assassin charged forward again, aiming a wild slash at the stranger’s head. Ducking low at the last possible moment, the sword was wedged deep into the tree behind him. In the blink of an eye, Serah’s benefactor had plunged one of his swords through the attacker’s Adam’s apple, ripping it out again with a swift jerk of his shoulder. No movement or moment was wasted as Serah’s savior charged forward at the other two with a primal roar, slashing with both swords at the sword of the bandit closest to him, knocking it out of his hands with ease. The other captor was right behind him, bringing his sword down towards the swordsman’s head. Darting to his left, the swordsman narrowly avoided having his brain matter halved, whipping his leg around in a low arc, kicking out the knee of his would-be killer. Hopping backwards just in time to out-range a stabbing thrust from the other assailant’s sword, the swordsman crossed his swords and held the “X” above his head just in time to block an overhead slash with the same sword. Releasing an animalistic scream, the swordsman lunged forward and planted the heel of his boot into the attacker’s chest, bowling him over onto his back. He suddenly flipped one of his swords around like a dagger and thrust the point out behind him, driving it into the bandit who was a second away from decapitating him. Kicking his other attacker down, as the other returned to his feet, he grasped his other sword with both hands, spun around on his heel, and slashed over his head and down with a mighty roar. The sword split the last captor’s head in two from the right temple to the left side of his jaw, stopping him dead in his tracks as his lifeless remains collapsed.

Serah had watched the entire scenario with the same continuous stare, now watching her rescuer detach a thick bag from him belt and scoop the loose half of the bandit’s head inside before tying it shut with a drawstring. Slinging it over his shoulder, he sheathed his bloody blade and approached Serah, wrenching his other sword from out of the other bandit’s chest as he passed. Kneeling down, the stranger cut the duct tape on her hands and feet, and untied the gag around her mouth. “You okay?” He asked in a deep, almost growling voice.

“Do I look okay?” Was what Serah wanted to scream, but by this point she was so cold and frightened that all she could do was just keep staring blankly into space. Without another word, the swordsman shrugged and hoisted her motionless body over his other shoulder.

A minute or so later, Serah found herself being laid across the back of a horse, with the swordsman mounted in front of her. “Town’s only a minute or two away. Can you hold out that long?” He asked. Serah’s jaw only trembled in reply. “I guess you’ll have to.”

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The sheriff’s office in Solmene was only a single-room log cabin, but Serah could not have been more grateful. Wrapped up in a thick blanket and gingerly sipping on a mug of hot coffee on a soft couch, Serah watched her rescuer talk with the sheriff out of the corner of her eye, still having a hard time believing what had happened. She could not hear what they were saying, but once the sheriff motioned the swordsman’s eyes towards her, she knew it was about her. The swordsman nodded, and dropped the sack containing the remains of the bandit’s head on the sheriff’s desk before joining Serah at her side. “Th-thanks,” Serah managed to weakly murmur.

“It wasn’t a problem,” the swordsman muttered.

Only now did Serah finally get a chance to study the face of her benefactor. Wild dark hair fell in a mess over most of his face, his jaw decorated with a rough stubble beard. The drooping bags underneath his dark eyes told a story, as did the thin scar laced across his left cheek. Now that they were side-by-side, Serah suddenly realized how heavy, tall, and muscular he was, amazed at how a man of his size could move so quickly and with such precision. Serah could guess a lot about him just by looks, but she needed to know just one more thing. “What’s your name?” She asked.

The swordsman took a deep sigh. “Samilles,” he said. “Samilles Allon. I’m a mercenary.”

Serah tried to think of something else to say. “You, um, must be pretty good at it, fighting three guys at once.”

Samilles shrugged. “I’ve had a lot of practice,” he muttered, standing up and heading for the door.

“Wait!” Serah gasped just before Samilles opened the door.

“What?”

“Could you,” Serah murmured, “take me back home?”

Samilles shrugged. “All right,” he said, “How much do you have on you?”

Serah was shocked. “What?” She stammered. Even the sheriff was stunned.

“I don’t work for free, lady,” Samilles growled.

“B-But-!” Serah stuttered, “You rescued me, didn’t you?”

“Your being there with the band with the bounty on their heads was co-incidental,” Said Samilles coldly, “I was heading back here anyway.”

Serah’s lower lip trembled uncontrollably. “Please?” she pleaded in futility.

“Your business now isn’t my business. And if you don’t have the money,” He said as he left the cabin, “it’s not my problem.”

Serah kept staring in disbelief at the door to the cabin long after Samilles had left.

[Blademaster]

Sweet! First reply.

OK, I was skimming over this story when the word 'decapitating' caught my eye, so I decided to check it out. I never read the original Bloody Sword, so I might have problems understanding this story. Still, I'll keep an eye on it and pop in from time to time to letcha know I'm watching.

In the meantime, don't go nuts trying to 'justify' this story's nomination, OK? I nominated it because I know how experienced (and according to some, unappreciated) a writer you are; maybe a Silver Pencil or two will coax some more folks to come over and review, huh?

Anyway, I'll be lurking in the background if you need me. Good luck!

And my regards to the inmates of the Asylum of the Devitory...

-Blade

[darktyranitar]

In the meantime, don't go nuts trying to 'justify' this story's nomination, OK? I nominated it because I know how experienced (and according to some, unappreciated) a writer you are; maybe a Silver Pencil or two will coax some more folks to come over and review, huh?

Yep, that's right. *nods*

Well... you're working on a PADS spin-off, and I like that one. But now, I feel really delighted to see that you've made a sequel to Bloody Sword! I like that one, and this is looking very promising.

Samilles... the swordfight bring back memories of the old days of Bloody Sword... I hope you can continue writing this; we're right behind ya.

Oh, who'd thought that there is a descendant of Troid? And will Tike be an important character, or maybe some 'accident' will fell upon him?

[Mewfour]

In the meantime, don't go nuts trying to 'justify' this story's nomination, OK? I nominated it because I know how experienced (and according to some, unappreciated) a writer you are; maybe a Silver Pencil or two will coax some more folks to come over and review, huh?

Oh, that's just me being my usual egomaniacal self.

[Mewfour]

EPISODE III- Crossed Paths
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This evening had been a slow one, Horry thought to himself, studying the empty interior of his small, dark bar. He was a fairly portly man, and he thought if he stood in one place for much longer, the floor would collapse underneath his weight. Finally, after what seemed to be an eternity of boredom, a large, stocky figure swung open the door, and lumbered in. “Evening, Samilles,” said Horry, reaching below the bar and taking out a small shot glass. Samilles grunted quietly and stat down on one of the stools. “Well, yer as talkative as ever,” he said, placing the glass between them on the bar. “Usual?”

“Yeah,” Samilles muttered.

Horry hesitated a little before turning around and taking down a bottle from one of the top shelves. Slowly unscrewing the top, Horry gingerly poured Samilles a few ounces, flicking his eyes between the glass and Samilles.

“Got something you wanna’ say?” Samilles asked.

Horry sighed apprehensively. “Samilles,” he said, “do you have a girlfriend?”

“No,” Samilles answered, puzzled.

“Well,” said Horry, “there was this young lady looking for you as well as a job here this morning,”

“Who?” Asked Samilles.

Horry paused to rub his bald head. “Ah, damn, what was her name now? Oh well, she was about five-four, light brown hair, pretty slim. You know her?”

Samilles paused, thinking back to last night. “I might,” he said after awhile. “Where is she?”

“That run-down motel on the west side. You won’t believe this, but she didn’t have a place to stay, so I got a room for.”

Samilles was shocked. “You paid for her?”

Horry snorted. “It’s called charity, Samilles, a word I know you bounty hunters aren’t too familiar with. Besides, the cheap bastards that run the place worked up quite the tab here, so we made a little deal between us,” he said with a smirk.

“Is she still there?” Samilles asked.

Horry shrugged.

“Thanks,” Samilles muttered, taking the shot glass and slamming it back in one gulp. Digging into his pocket, Samilles slid a bill across the bar to Horry before standing and heading for the door.

Just before Samilles could step outside, Horry called, “Wait, Samilles!”

Samilles turned his head. “What?”

“Don’t-” Horry stammered, “Well, just be careful.”

“Why?” Samilles asked, “Am I your best customer?”

“Yes, but,” Horry paused, “trouble tends to follow you around.”

Samilles grunted and opened the door. “I know.”

*********************

There were a few people lounging around in the small motel lobby, all turning their eyes on Samilles as he entered, and gazing at his two sword sheaths strapped on either side of his waist. Ignoring them, Samilles approached the main desk at the back of the room. “I need to know where someone is,” he told to receptionist.

The receptionist lifted her head and adjusted her glasses. “Who?” She asked.

“I, I didn’t get her name,” Samilles muttered sheepishly. “Brown hair, skinny, and about this high,” he said, patting his collarbone. Seen anyone like that get a room here today?”

“Oh, miss Gize, yes,” she said. “Another client of yours?”

“No,” said Samilles. “She was looking for me. Is she here?”

“She hasn’t checked out,” said the receptionist, flipping through a clipboard.

“Which room is she in?”

“Sorry, mister Allon,” said the receptionist, “I can’t tell you that.”

Samilles grunted. “And why not?”

“Policy,” she answered. “Now, if you were with the law and had a warrant, it wouldn’t be a problem. But because you’re just a hired sword-”

“Would you mind if I just asked around back there?” Samilles asked.

“Then leave your swords here.”

Samilles’ hands gripped his sword handles protectively. “I’m not here to cause any trouble,” he said. “I just want to talk with Gize.”

The receptionist rolled her eyes. “All right,” she said, “just this once.” Samilles nodded his thanks before disappearing into the hallway beyond the desk.

The first person Samilles saw in the hallway was a man of a similar build as his. “You,” Samilles said, “Have you seen a brown-haired lady around this tall check in today? Her last name’s Gize.”

The man looked a little bewildered all of a sudden. “No, no I haven’t,” he said.

Samilles grunted in disappointment as he continued through the hallway. There were only three hallways in the single-floor motel, and each of them were now barren. Now at the back of the motel, Samilles decided his only option left was to knock on the doors one by one.

He was halfway down the first hallway when he bumped into the same man he had spoken to earlier. “Hey,” he said, “I think I might know where someone like that is.”

“Mind showing me?” Samilles asked.

As soon as Samilles went to follow the man, a sudden sharp pain poked him in the small of the back. Samilles froze in his place, turning his head to look behind him. There was another man with a devilish grin, dagger in hand and holding the point to his kidney. There were suddenly two more men visible ahead of him, each of them with their hands on the hilts of their weapons. “Sure,” the man answered, “why don’t we start behind the building?”

The moment Samilles felt the dagger move off of his skin, he arched his back and rammed his broad shoulders into the man behind him, knocking him backwards and teetering for balance. Immediately, weapons were drawn, and Samilles flung out his leg backwards, kicking out the knee of the assailant behind him. With both swords drawn, Samilles slipped behind the dagger-wielding man, jamming the hilt of one sword into his wrist, forcing him to drop the knife. With one sword poking into the back and another across the throat, Samilles now held his attacker like a human shield. Put your weapons away,” Samilles ordered, “or your friend is done.”

One of the men snorted a laugh. “Okay by us,” he said as he and his allies raised their weapons.

With a thrust of his arm, Samilles drove the sword through his hostage’s body, kicking him off of his blade and into the row of his enemies. Two of them were knocked down, with only one managing to slip past and charge Samilles with a broadsword. Crossing his blades, Samilles caught the broadsword in mid-slash, quickly lurching forward and planting his heel into his attacker’s groin. As that man keeled over in pain, another one vaulted over him like a steppingstone, aiming a wild overhead slash with an axe at Samilles’ face. Darting backwards quickly, Samilles narrowly avoided getting his head split in two as the axe plunged harmlessly and deeply into the floor. As the axe man struggled to free his weapon, the third man pushed forward swinging around a mace. All Samilles could do was keep hopping backwards as the mace smashed holes through the walls as it flew left and right. As the mace plunged into a door, Samilles used the brief pause as a window to attack, slashing downward at his opponent with his left sword. The man quickly stretched out the chain of the mace, catching Samilles’ sword. He was not quick enough to stop the trust of Samilles’ second sword, having it driven through his free left hand. As he crumpled to the floor screaming over his gushing wound, the other two were quickly charging at him again. Growing more and more worn down by the second from the constant attacks, Samilles hastily retreated down the hall and rounded a corner as his attackers gave chase, waiting for his chance to strike.

********************

Serah sat at the desk, looking at her reflection in the full-length mirror on the wall. Clad in just her nightgown, she was just finishing up brushing her hair before she went to bed. Looking back on the day’s events, she wondered why she had ever thought she could rely on Samilles, after the way he had abandoned her the other night. Even though she knew she owed her life to him, the very thought of Samilles disgusted her to no end, and her left palm was itching to slap him across his scarred cheek. Serah resolved to go back to Horry’s bar the next morning, and ask again for a job- seriously this time. She would make enough money to travel back home, back with her foster parents, and forget the entire story with Kanadiam, her kidnappers, and especially Samilles.

Suddenly, Serah heard noises coming from outside in the hallway. Slowly standing up, Serah, with hairbrush in hand, took two steps towards her door, hearing rushing footsteps trample past. Wondering what it could be, Serah went to the wall to the right of her door, placing her right ear on it. She suddenly heard many more running feet charging by, followed by a ferocious roar. And hardly a second later, there was another scream as her door burst off the hinges.

Serah shrieked in fright as two men crashed over the threshold and onto the floor. “Samilles!” Serah gasped, watching in terror as another man on top of Samilles pinned him down. Samilles was barely able to keep his attacker’s broadsword above his face with his lighter swords in the defensive X-formation.

“You!” Samilles roared back, just as surprised as Serah.

Quickly glancing over the two, Serah saw the axe-wielding man raise his axe and setting his sights on Samilles’ exposed knee. “Samilles, behind you!” Serah screamed.

The shriek was enough to catch the attention of the axe man, looking up just in time to catch Serah’s thrown hairbrush with his eye. As the assailant collapsed on the floor cradling his face, Samilles finally managed to force the broadsword to the side, letting it drive into the floor inches away from Samilles’ face. With a quick jerk of his neck, Samilles sent his forehead smashing into the swordsman’s face, drawing a torrent of blood from his nose at it snapped loudly. The swordsman quickly crawled back into the hall, letting Samilles scramble back to his feet.

“Samilles!” Serah gasped, not sure whether to feel relieved or terrified as she helped him back up.

Samilles suddenly pushed her away as she spun around, slashing his sword at the doorway and cutting a wide gash into the chest of the entering mace-wielder. The last two assailants barged into the room over their fallen ally, barely getting past the threshold before Samilles rammed his shoulder into the axe man’s chest, crushing him between his body and the wall. As the axe man slid down gasping for breath, the swordsman began another assault on Samilles, each of his powerful slashes barely deflected by both of Samilles’ swords. Once again catching the broadsword in the X-formation, Samilles lurched forward to kick at his attacker’s lower body again, but this time the swordsman skipped backwards as well to safety. Quickly dropping his right-hand sword, Samilles held his left with both hands as he skipped to the side, overpowering the swordsman and forcing the broadsword down again before lashing out with a quick right jab to the swordsman’s already broken nose. With the swordsman stumbling against the wall in a daze, Samilles picked up his dropped sword, and with a primal roar, he drove it at the swordsman, pinning him to the wall through his chest. Just as Samilles released his grip on his stuck sword, the axe man had already recovered, and raised his axe above his head to drive it into Samilles’ neck.

“Behind you!” Serah screamed again, alerting Samilles just in time to dive to his side, again narrowly avoiding his head being halved. With one sword against one axe, Samilles and the last attacker paced in a circle around the room, each wondering how to kill the other man. Lunging forward, the axe man took a swing at Samilles, with Samilles quickly counter-slashing. The blade drove itself deep into the axe’s thick shaft, but not far enough to cut through it. With Samilles’ only sword stuck firmly in the axe shaft, the axe man lunged forward again, toppling Samilles and pinning him on the floor again, wrenching the sword from his hands. With the axe blade hovering just above his face, the surprisingly heavy axe man thrust all of his weight down on Samilles, with Samilles barely able to grasp the shaft in time to stop it from splitting his skull open. Samilles struggled in vain to lift the man, and inch by steady inch, the axe blade came lower and lower upon him. Just as the blade touched the tip of his nose, the axe man suddenly screamed in pain, freezing just long enough for Samilles to roll the axe man over, snatch the axe out of his hand, and drive it between his eyes.

His heart still racing like crazy, Samilles wearily picked himself up, glancing around to see Serah holding his other sword, and then noticing the wide gash in the axe man’s shoulder. Serah was shaking uncontrollably, barely able to move, much less able to comprehend what she had just done. “Thanks,” Samilles muttered, wrenching his other sword free from the axe shaft, and taking his other sword out of Serah’s hands.

“N-no problem,” Serah murmured as Samilles sheathed one blade.

Just as Serah slowly headed towards the bed, Samilles flashed his other sword out, holding it against Serah’s neck. Serah gasped and shrieked, frozen in place. “There’s a lot of people who want to see you dead, lady,” He growled, “They must have a pretty good reason.”

“S-S-Samiles, it’s not w-what you think,” Serah pleaded, shaking violently. “P-P-P-Please, let me explain!”

Samillles hesitated for a second, and then lowered his sword. “Alright,” he said as he sheathed his sword, “Talk.”

Before Serah could say a word, there was a crowd rushing to her door, staring in horrified awe at the bloody carnage. “Samilles!” the receptionist gasped, pushing her way into the room. “What did you do?”

Samilles glances around the room briefly, and then shrugged. “My job.”

[Sike Saner]

Bossness. ^^ Love the action, love the carnage…I mean, look at this:

The moment that they passed the tree, Serah’s rescuer lunged forward at their sides, plunging one sword into the stomach of the bandit closest to him, and quickly driving his second sword into the chest of the other. He released his grip on the second sword, and grasped the first sword with both hands. And with a feral roar, he ripped his arms upwards, splitting the captor in two from his abdomen to his shoulder in a spray of blood and entrails.

That’s the sort of thing I always love to see in text. Bloodspray!


I like what I’ve read thus far of this, so I get the feeling I’ll like what’s coming up next. I also get the feeling I’d like this story’s predecessor…I need to get off my arse and read that. Soon. o_o

[Mewfour]

Sorry kids, no gore today. But you'll like this next Episode just the same. I garuntee it.

Episode IV- Allegiances
**************************

“…And then that’s when you showed up,” said Serah, keeping her voice low as she told Samilles her story.

Samilles rubbed his sore eyes. He had been in the low lighting of Horry’s bar for too long. “So, you’re a princess?” He asked under his guttural breath as he took a swig from his mug of draught.

Serah nodded. “Apparently.”

“And you were about to become our queen.”

“If only they hadn’t taken me.”

Samilles rolled his eyes and muttered, “And you expect me to believe this?”

Serah’s blood had finally hit its boiling point. Bolting off of her chair, she wound back her right arm and gave Samilles a stinging slap across his cheek. With tightly clenched fists, Serah stormed over to the bar towards Horry. “I’ll be here at eight,” she muttered.

Horry nodded and scribbled something down in a notebook. “He’s killed men for things like that, you know,” said Horry, watching Samilles sitting still and soaking in the slap out of the corner of his eye.

“Good thing I’m not a man,” Serah muttered back.

Samilles had come to sit down beside Serah, his cheek still a bright pink with Serah’s palm-print. “Alright, suppose you really are who you say you are,” He said, “how do you plan on paying me?”

Serah glanced up at Horry. “Don’t look at me,” said Horry. “If I hired him I’d be broke.”

Serah winced. “Well, how much do you want?”

Samilles paused and rubbed his stubble beard. “For an escort from here to the castle, ten thousand.”

Serah’s jaw dropped wide open. “Ten thousand?” She gasped in disbelief.

“Up front,” said Samilles. “Sword repair isn’t cheap, and I’ve already gotten both my blades damaged plenty because of you.”

Serah groaned. It would take her years to work up that kind of money. “Does it have to be up front?” She asked meekly. “I’m sure the castle’s treasury has more than enough to cover that.”

Samilles was about to say up front again, but then he paused and thought to himself for a while.

“I could also probably get them to sharpen your swords for free,” Serah added.

Samilles was still mulling the situation over.

Leaning closer to Samilles’ ear, Serah whispered, “Or I suppose you wouldn’t mind me telling Horry who helped you avoid getting your head split open last night.”

Samilles sighed. “Fine. I’ll make an exception.”

“You’ll do it for free?” Serah beamed.

Samilles snorted. “No, you can pay me when we get there. I thought I already told you that I don’t work for free.”

Serah rolled her eyes. “Of course,” she muttered as Samilles downed the rest of his mug in one gulp, “how could I forget?”

Suddenly, the door to the bar burst open, and a slender frame stumbled in. “Serah!” He exclaimed, staggering towards them.

Serah’s jaw dropped. “N-Nagen?” She gasped. “What are you doing here?”

Nagen paused to rub his bloodshot eyes. His usually slicked long black hair was now in a tangled, frayed mess. “You know him?” Samilles muttered, wiping his mouth with his sleeve.

“Well, not really,” Serah murmured as Nagen dragged himself up onto the stool beside Samilles.

“Serah,” Nagen gasped, panting heavily, “I thought I’d never find you!”

“You really look like hell,” Samilles muttered, “Are the same guys after you too?”

“S-Same guys?” Nagen stammered, ”Oh, the ones that abducted you?”

“Abducted?” Horry chimed in.

Samilles turned his head and glared a hole through Horry’s face.

“No Samilles, I don’t mind,” Horry said cautiously, retreating to the back room.

“Yeah, it must have been them,” said Nagen once Horry had disappeared.

“Why are you here?” Serah asked again.

“Oh,” Nagen paused to take a deep breath, “when I heard you were kidnapped, I just had to find you.” When Samilles gave Nagen a questioning gaze. “My father was worried sick about you.”

“Tike?” Serah blurted out.

Samilles gagged. “The king?” Nagen muttered sheepishly under his breath. “You’re Nagen? The prince Nagen?”

“That’s me,” Nagen said, standing again, “Now come on Serah, we have to leave.”

“Hold on,” Samilles muttered, rising as well. “There’s going to be more people after both you and her, and you don’t look like you’re all in one piece yet.”

“And who are you?” Nagen demanded.

“Samilles Allon. Mercenary,” Samilles growled.

“Hm,” Nagen muttered. “You hired a mercenary to protect you, Serah?”

Serah shrugged. “Well, not really…”

“If you’re taking her back to the castle,” Said Samilles, “I’m coming with you.”

Nagen sighed in defeat. “If you must.”

*******************************

Nagen kept close to the horse that Samilles and Serah rode on. Samilles’ point of him being able to be on a constant lookout was valid, yet Nagen had insisted that Serah ride with Samilles. “Hey Nagen,” Serah said as they rode into forest just before Kanadiam castle.

“Yes?” Nagen asked.

“Thanks.”

“Thanks?” Asked Nagen, “For what?”

“For coming after me,” said Serah.

Nagen sighed. “It’s that mercenary friend of yours you should be thanking,” he said, “I just showed up. Late.”

“Well,” Serah shrugged, “It’s the thought that counts, right?”

Nagen smirked. “I guess so.”

Suddenly, a faint twang echoed through the air, and Samilles’ horse roared and bucked up. Serah was thrown to the ground with a flat thump, while Samilles somehow managed to stay on top. The horse keeled over as soon as all four hooves were on the ground, and Samilles spilled down. “Are you okay?” Nagen asked, rushing to Serah’s side and helping her up.

“Ow, I think so,” Serah murmured, rubbing her left thigh.

“The horse isn’t,” Samilles muttered, propping himself up on one knee and looking at the horse’s neck. The shaft of an arrow was lodged deep inside the horse, drawing copious amounts of blood. “Nagen, you brought a sword with you?”

“Of course.”

“Then draw it,” Said Samilles, standing up and quickly unsheathing his swords. “Now.” Nagen nodded, and drew a thin rapier from a sheath strapped around his waist. “Serah, you know how to use a sword?”

“No!” Serah gasped, surprised that Samilles had to ask.

“Then stay behind me.”

Nagen and Samilles stood close together with their backs turned, enclosing Serah tightly in the middle. Standing on her toes, Serah peeked over Samilles’ broad shoulder and into the foliage. “See anything?” She whispered quietly. Samilles shook his head.

“Did you hear that?” Nagen suddenly said.

“Hear what?” Samilles asked.

“I think it came from in front of you,” he said, “In those bushes.”

With eyes locked forward, Samilles slowly ventured closer towards the edge of the pathway, gripping his swords almost as tightly as Serah was following behind him. Winding back his right arm, Samilles slashed into the bushes, only to find nothing but more vegetation.

A sudden gagging noise from behind them made Serah and Samilles spin around, and their jaws dropped when they saw Nagen held around the neck by the forearm of a large, dark-skinned man. “Nagen!” Serah gasped.

“Razor!” Samilles snarled.

“R-Razor?” Serah stammered in confusion.

“Hey Samilles,” Said the man with a grin, “Imagine meeting you here.”

“You two know each other?” Serah asked quietly.

Samilles muttered under his breath. “We go way back.”

“So you’re the merc who’s been making my life difficult these last few days?” Razor asked, “I should have known.”

Serah quietly slipped behind Samilles and peeked out from behind his waist. “Cut the crap, Razor,” Samilles snarled, “who are you working for?”

“Working for?” Serah asked.

“He’s a merc, like me,” Samilles quietly whispered back.

“That’s really not important right now,” said Razor, holding up his right arm. Strapped onto his forearm was a dual-bladed pata gauntlet, and he slowly moved it towards Nagen’s neck. “What’s important is who I’ve got at my mercy.”

Nagen sputtered as he struggled in vain to free himself, but Razor’s stocky-built frame effectively immobilized him. A loud rustling in the bushes suddenly echoed around them, and from the foliage emerged a small army, quickly joining Razor in encircling Serah and Samilles. “More recruits, Razor?” Samilles muttered.

“Less, thanks to you.”

Samilles took a quick glance at the circle of warriors around him. “What is it that you’re hoping is going happen here, Razor?” Samilles asked.

“Throw down your weapons, and give me the girl,” Razor barked. “And then you can have your prince back in one piece.”

As the circle tightened, Samilles gripped his swords tighter, and glanced at the circle of drawn weapons around him. “Stay close,” Samilles whispered to Serah.

Razor snorted. “And what are you going to do, Sam? Fight us all at once?”

“There’s no way you could do that!” Serah quietly squeaked.

Samilles snarled in frustration. “I know.”

Razor poked Nagen in the neck with the point of one of his blades just lightly enough not to puncture the skin. “Your choice, hero,” Razor taunted.

“Samilles,” Serah asked, trembling, “what are we going to do?”

Samilles’ fists shook violently before he gave a long, labored sigh. “The only thing we can do.”

Serah’s heart dropped into her stomach. “What?” She murmured.

Samilles stood upright, and quietly sheathed his swords to Serah’s dismay. Undoing the buckles that held the leather sheath belts around his waist, Samilles tossed both of his sheathed swords at Razor’s feet. Samilles glanced over his shoulder, gazing at Serah’s look of shock and disgust that demanded an answer from him. Samilles only grunted quietly and hung his head. “I’m sorry.”

Before Serah could say or do anything, she found herself in the clutches of two of Razor’s henchmen, too feeling too bewildered and betrayed to even put up a fight.

“There,” Samilles growled, “Now let Nagen go.”

Razor shrugged. “Certainly,” he said, releasing Nagen.

With his sword in hand, Nagen turned to Razor, looked him in the eyes, and said, “Nice job.”

Samilles thought he was hearing things. Serah thought she had just gone insane.

Razor grinned. “Worked like a charm, boss.”

“You bastard!” Serah screamed, struggling in futility against her holders.

“Razor, you son of a bitch,” Samilles snarled, his fists clenched to tightly they could crush coal into diamonds.

“Hey, don’t look at me,” Razor shrugged, looking at Nagen, “It was all his idea.”

Within moments, Razor’s soldiers forced Samilles onto his knees, and had his hands quickly bound behind him with a length of rope. “Hey boss,” one of the soldiers by Serah asked, “should we kill her now?”

“Not here, you idiots,” Nagen hissed. “Save it until midnight, by the plot you dug.”

“And what about him?” Razor snorted, looking at Samilles.

“Oh, mister Allon?” Nagen asked. “Well Razor, let’s just say that I don’t want to see him again. Understand?”

“Yes sir,” Razor nodded. Turning to his troops, Razor ordered, “You heard the man, take her away. You two,” said Razor, pointing at the two closest soldiers beside him, “take him and follow me.”

Serah was dragged kicking and screaming through the forest path while Samilles and Razor’s entourage disappeared into the foliage.

[Sike Saner]

Ah…As I was reading, I found myself hoping something would happen on the way to the castle, and I wasn’t disappointed.

Well, I reckoned that Nagen wouldn’t just accept having his path to the throne taken right out from under him and not do something about it, and so it was satisfying in a way to see that setup he arranged with Razor play out. Loved that last scene, yes. Nagen still deserves to be kicked in the nuts for doing that, though. Hard.

Oh, and then there was this moment…

Samilles rolled his eyes and muttered, “And you expect me to believe this?”

Serah’s blood had finally hit its boiling point. Bolting off of her chair, she wound back her right arm and gave Samilles a stinging slap across his cheek.

…Which I had to highlight, because it’s just always very satisfying to see someone just get slapped right in the frelling face. Awesome.

[Mewfour]

Huh.

I've suddenly realized that there aren't many people who know what a pata is.

http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Pata_(weapon)

[Mewfour]

Uh, well. I suppose I should post with an actual update, then.

Episode V- Reunion and Redemption
*********************

Prodded in the back by the point of Razor’s pata, Samilles was marched into a small clearing of the forest before coming to a stop. “That’s far enough,” said Razor, lowering his pata.

Samilles made little effort to break through the tape that bound his hands behind his back. He could hear his sheathed swords clinking together as they had walked, all the while wondering why Razor’s men had brought them along. “Now what?” Samilles growled.

“You two,” Razor barked out at his underlings, “go back to the cemetery. I’ll deal with him here.”

Samilles heard rustling bushes behind him, and then the two of them were left in an eerie silence. “You’re really going to have her killed?” Samilles snarled.

“On your knees,” Razor commanded, completely ignoring Samilles.

Samilles did and he was told, dropping shamefully.

“Now hold out your hands.”

“What?” Samilles asked, confused.

“Your hands,” Razor repeated. Samilles grunted and raised his arms as best he could behind his back, totally lost on Razor’s intentions. “Now hold still,” Razor instructed, crouching down and sliding a pata blade underneath the tape. With a short jerk, Razor split the layers of tape, freeing Samilles’ hands with a pop.

Samilles was at a loss for words. “What are you doing?” He asked as Razor stood again.

“Repaying a debt,” said Razor, taking off his pata and hooking it onto a latch on his dull green cargo pants.

“What are you talking about?” Samilles asked.

“Remember the last time we were in South Namerik together?” Razor asked. “If it wasn’t for you, I wouldn’t have this bald head on my shoulders anymore.”

Samilles wearily got back up on his feet. “And this is why you brought my swords along, isn’t it?”

Samilles turned around just in time to have Razor throw his swords at his chest. “We’re even,” Razor muttered, “Now get lost.”

Samilles shook his head. “Not gonna’ happen,” he said. “I still have a job to do.”

Razor rubbed his temples. “Don’t do this, Samilles. I’m giving you a chance to walk away here.”

“So let me take Serah with me,” said Samilles, strapping his swords around his waist again.

“Not gonna’ happen,” Said Razor, mimicking Samilles. “I’ve still got a job to as well.”

“The cemetery, right?” Said Samilles.

“Don’t test me, Sam,” Razor snarled. “I’ll let you go, and give you the benefit of the doubt. I don’t want to kill you, but if you try to end this,” said Razor, leaning into Samilles’ face, “I’ll end you.”

Samilles brushed past Razor, making sure to shove his shoulder into Razor’s chest as he went by. “Then don’t get in my way.”

Razor shook his head in disappointment as Samilles vanished into the foliage.

*********************

The sun had set long ago, and Serah could not keep her eyes away from the empty moonlit grave in front of her. She had been staring at it ever since she had been dropped on her rear in front of it, taped up by her hands and feet, with another long strip across her mouth. Razor, however, was much more focused on scanning the foliage surrounding the small forest cemetery. “Sir, are you sure he’ll be here?” asked one of his soldiers.

“He’s out there,” Razor growled, still staring straight ahead, “I guarantee it.”

“Is he brave, or just stupid?” the soldier asked, resting his hand on the hilt of his sheathed sword.

“He’s professional,” said Razor. “I wouldn’t expect anything less from him.”

“Why don’t we just kill her now?” the soldier asked, looking over his shoulder at Serah.

“Then he’ll be a witness,” said Razor. “Prince Nagen was very specific about witnesses, remember?”

The soldier shivered. “Yeah, I remember,” he murmured.

Suddenly, a loud pop that sounded like a tree branch snapping echoed throughout the cemetery. “Spread out!” Razor roared, charging into the foliage, “Stay in the circle formation, and hunt him down!” The cemetery was emptied within seconds, leaving only Serah, two of Razor’s soldiers, and the empty grave. Nothing could be heard except for the gradually fading footsteps of Razor and his entourage in the distance.

One of the soldiers turned to the other. “You think it’s a trap?” He asked.

“Even if it is,” replied the other, “they’ve got all sides covered. Nothing’s getting through.”

“Yeah, unless he can get in from above,” the first soldier joked.

As they turned their backs on Serah, Serah moaned in defeat, flopping over onto her right side, the side of her face against the ground. Just as tears began rolling out from her eyes, she heard a rumbling from within the earth. The dirt on grave beside the one intended for her began to disturb itself, and to Serah’s awe, a familiar set of eyes peered out and glared back at her. Serah wanted to squeal in delight, but kept quiet to keep the guards oblivious to Samilles hiding just beneath the surface. Samilles glanced at Serah, and then tilted his head towards the guards. Serah glanced at the guards as well, and then back at Samilles with a nod. Samilles winked, and slowly sunk back under the surface. Taking as deep a breath as she could with her mouth taped shut, Serah began screaming as loud as she could, trying her best to draw the guards closer. The two guards turned around, and headed towards her. “Hey, what’s wrong, sweet cheeks?” One of them said, grabbing her by the arm and pulling her back upright, “Fallen and can’t get up?” With that, he pushed her over onto her back as the second one laughed. Turning around again, the two soldiers continued to joke about Serah’s plight, completely oblivious to the large figure quietly rising up from the grave behind them. With one blade already drawn, Samilles held it firmly with both hands, wound back as he crept as close as he could to the guard in front of him, and swung it with all of his might. Samilles’ sword severed the guard’s head in an instant, and before the second could even figure out what was going on, Samilles had his arms wrapped around his neck. With a quick jerk, a loud snap filled the air, and the guard fell limp.

Samilles propped Serah back up, and cut the tape on her wrists with his sword. “You okay?” Samilles asked.

“Mhhm-ummm,” Serah nodded.

Just as Samilles cut the tape on her ankles, the foliage came alive again in front of the cemetery, and out came Razor and a handful of his troops. “You!” Razor roared.

“Time to go,” said Samilles, grabbing Serah by the hand and running into the forest, pulling her along.

“After him!” Razor barked as he and his crew rushed after Serah and Samilles.

Dodging trees and leaping over dead wood, Samilles led Serah through the dense forest, dashing as fast as they could to stay a good distance ahead of the small militia behind them. As a narrow dirt road came into view, so did a horse with a tarp tied to both sides of its saddles behind it. “Get on the tarp and hang on!” Samilles yelled, leaping up onto the horse’s saddle and yanking on the reigns. Serah had just grabbed the ropes attaching the tarp to the horse when the horse reared up with a whine, and stampeded at full speed down the road, leaving Razor and his recruits behind in a thick cloud of dust.

Razor and his militia skidded to a stop, watching Samilles and Serah vanish beyond the horizon and into the night. “We’ll never catch them now!” One of his soldiers complained.

Razor was seething, muttering under his breath. “Like I said,” he growled, “he’s professional.”

**********************

“On three. Ready?”

Serah nodded, and Samilles put his fingernails underneath the edge of the tape over her mouth. “One, two, three!”

Samilles whipped his arm away, and Serah yelped as the tape was ripped off of her face. “How are you feeling?” Samilles asked, helping Serah off of the tarp on the ground.

“Other than the tape and being dragged on my ass for an hour, I’m fine,” Serah moaned, rubbing her lower back.

Samilles sighed, and mounted the horse again. “Come on up,” he said quietly, holding his hand out.

Serah took Samilles’ hand and was pulled up, mounting herself on the horse behind him. “Where are we going?” She asked.

Samilles hung his head, and thought to himself in silence. “East Namerik, right?” he finally said.

“Why?” Serah asked.

“You wanted me to take you home, didn’t you?”

Serah was shocked. “You’d take me all the way there? All the way to the east coast?”

“That’s my job, isn’t it?”

“Oh great,” Serah moaned, “How much is this going to cost?”

Samilles took a deep breath, and sighed heavily. “No charge,” he muttered.

Serah thought she had hit her head on something along the way. “What?” she murmured.

“I’ll take you home. For free.” Samilles repeated.

Serah still was not sure she was hearing him clearly. “Why?” She asked.

Samilles sighed in shame again. “I walked you right into a trap,” he said, covering his eyes with his hand, “and almost gotten you, my client, killed. People don’t pay mercenaries for failure.”

Serah’s heart fluttered. “Don’t be so hard on yourself,” she said, resting her hand on his shoulder, “There was no way you could have seen that coming.”

Samilles muttered something under his breath. “If word got out that I was still charging you after this,” he said, pausing to mutter under his breath again, “I’d never find work again. It’s bad business.”

Serah rolled her eyes, and patted Samilles’ shoulder. “Well, thanks,” she said.

Samilles looked down the road ahead. “Let’s get moving.”

[Sike Saner]

Well, I certainly wasn't expecting Razor to set Samilles free like that. I get the feeling the possibility at least should have crossed my mind though... Bah, I embarrass myself. D: Must...read...this story's predecessor...

Also, I've gotta quote this:

Samilles whipped his arm away, and Serah yelped as the tape was ripped off of her face. “How are you feeling?” Samilles asked, helping Serah off of the tarp on the ground.

“Other than the tape and being dragged on my ass for an hour, I’m fine,” Serah moaned, rubbing her lower back.

[Mewfour]

Neither rain, nor sleet, nor snow, nor even incompetent Best Buy repairmen with my broken laptop can stop Asylum from updating BloodIER Sword! And Postal workers just go up to the snow part! HUZZAH!!

Not much of an update though, but it advances things along nicely, I think.

EPISODE VI- Growing Pains
**********************

They left the upper floor of Horry's bar at first light the next morning, and continued eastward nonstop on horseback until almost dusk, barely speaking a word to each other. Although they both carried a few changes of clothing of their own in their backpacks, all Serah ever saw Samilles wearing was the same kind of tight white T-shirt that he had when he first rescued her. "Is that your favorite color?" Asked Serah as they rode steadily through a grassy field.

"What?" Samilles asked, a little confused

"Or do you just like white shirts?"

Samilles snorted. "Part of a mercenary's job is looking the part," he said. "Armor is heavy and slows me down- and I need the speed and freedom of motion to use my swords effectively."

"That's why everything's so tight?" Serah asked with a slight grin, eying how little of Samilles' heavily built body the pure white shirt managed to conceal.

"That, and it helps prevent 'incidents.'"

"Wow," said Serah, "You've thought of everything, haven't you?"

"I have to," said Samilles.

"So what's it like being a mercenary?" Serah asked, listening intently.

"What do you mean?" Samilles asked.

"Like, do you just wander all over looking for work?"

"No, I'm a settled merc."

"Settled merc?"

Samilled sighed tiredly. "There's two basic kinds of mercenaries," he said, "settled and nomadic. Settled mercs live in one place, usually for years or life, and wait for clients to come to them. Nomadic mercs drift from place to place, looking for clients who need them."

"Oh," said Serah. "Then what's Razor?"

"I don't know about Razor," said Samilles. Then, Samilles turned his head and asked, "What's with all the questions all of a sudden?"

Serah shrugged. "Bored," she said. "I thought maybe we could talk so it wouldn't be so dull."

Samilles grunted and shifted his seating in discomfort. "And talking isn't?" He asked.

Serah sighed quietly in defeat. After a few more moments of silence, she asked, "So, where are you from?"

"There's an inn up there," Said Samilles abruptly, pointing to a quaint building down the road, "we'll stop there for the night."

********************************

After dismounting and tethering their horse outside, Serah and Samilles walked into the cramped lobby of the small inn. "Vacancy?" Samilles asked the receptionist quickly.

"Ah, you're in luck," said the cheerful receptionist, "There's two free rooms on the second floor."

"Seperate bedroom?"

"Yes, I believe so, with one Queen-size bed."

"Good," said Samilles, "We'll just need one room."

"Two," Serah quickly said.

Samilles sighed. "Could you give us a moment?" He asked the receptionist, taking Serah by the arm and leading her beside the door.

"What are you doing?" Serah quietly hissed.

"In case you've forgotten," said Samilles, "I'm here to protect you. I won't be able to do that from another room."

"But-" Serah stammered.

"Or you could just wait for another merc to take you home, at a price."

Serah gave in, sighing uneasily. "Fine," she murmured.

********************************

Samilles locked the door as soon as they stepped into their room, quickly pocketing the key. "We leave at dawn," he said, "you'd better get as much sleep as you can."

Ushering Serah into the bedroom, Samilles glanced around the small kitchen. "What about you?" Serah asked, hoping not to hear the answer she thought she would get.

Samilles found what he was looking for, and pulled up the chair in front of the bedroom door. "Don't worry about me. I've slept on worse before." Serah bit her lip and decided to believe him. Dragging another chair up to the door, Samilles pushed it into the bedroom with Serah. "Prop the back under the doorknob," he instructed, "and make sure it's sturdy."

Serah breathed a silent sigh of relief. "Hey, Samilles," Said Serah as Samilles sat down on the other chair, back to the bedroom and facing the front door.

"What?"

Serah smiled and patted Samilles shoulder. "Goodnight," she said before closing the door.

Samilles listened for Serah jamming the chair up underneath the doorknob on the other side before he let out a quiet yawn. Nestling deeper into the tough wooden chair, Samilles rested his hands around the handles of his swords, and closed his eyes.

[Mewfour]

Finally, an update!

Episode VII- Siege of Gize

Riding with Samilles all the way from Kanadiam back to the very eastern pocket of Satus was almost as painful for Serah as her short time in Kanadiam. Riding on horseback from sunrise to sunset for hours at a time was one thing- but having to do with a man who spoke only to issue orders and grunted whenever she tried to start up a conversation on the long and boring trip pushed her close to her breaking point. Having nothing to do but watch the road up ahead for nearly two weeks, she could barely contain her elation when Samilles started asking for directions when they drew close to Serah’s parents’ home. Riding through the jagged rocks surrounding the path into the Nuclear Mountains, Serah waited with bated breath as the last familiar landmark left the corner of her eye to reveal her parents’ cozy little log cabin, smack in the middle of a small plateau amidst the mountains. And when her parents ventured outside to see who had just rode up, Serah hastily spilled off of the horse and gave her mother a tight hug. “Mom!” She said, on the verge of tears.

“Honey?” Her stepfather asked, patting Serah on the back, “What’s wrong?”

Serah took a deep breath, stifling her racing emotion. “It’s a pretty long story,” she said apprehensively.

“Who’s this?” Her mother asked, looking up at Samilles. “Are you from the castle?”

Samilles shook his head and grunted. “No. Samilles Allon. Mercenary.”

“Mercenary?” Her stepfather gasped, “You hired a mercenary?”

“Well, sort of,” said Serah.

“Why’d you need to hire a mercenary?” Her mother asked, bewildered.

Serah sighed, and crossed her arms. “King Mallar, I guess, kept me a secret until I got to Kanadiam. Apparently ‘somebody’ in the castle wasn’t too happy to see me take his place.”

Serah’s mother cradled her in her arms again. “Oh Serah, if I had known-”

“Don’t worry, mom, it’s over.”

Samilles muttered under his breath, feeling a little awkward. “Well,” he muttered, “I guess I’ll be going.”

As Samilles turned his horse around to ride out, Serah quickly hopped to his side. “Wait a minute,” she said, stopping him.

“What?”

Serah reached her hand up to him. “Thanks,” she said, “For everything.”

Samilles reached down and placed his hand in hers. “Just doing my job, lady.”

It was then that Serah’s mother came forward and looked closely at the bandage wrapped around Samilles’ wrist. Dried blood had stained a fairly prominent red splotch on the thin fabric. “What happened here?” She asked.

“Hunting,” Samilles muttered. “We didn’t have much by way of supplies from here to Kanadiam.”

“I can tell,” said Serah’s mother, looking more closely at the makeshift bandage. “Has it healed?”

“Not yet. I’ll be fine, though.”

“Not if it gets infected,” She said. “Let’s just get you patched up properly before you go.”

Samilles briefly glanced up at the road ahead before glancing back down to his wound. “Alright,” he said with a sigh.

*************************

The sun had sunken behind the mountains behind the cabin before Samilles finally walked outside again, taking a moment to lean on the railing on the porch. After Serah explained everything that had happened as his cut was being dressed, her mother insisted that he stay for dinner with them. “So,” Said Serah, walking up and leaning on the rail beside him, “you’re headed back to Kanadiam?”

“Maybe,” Samilles muttered.

“But won’t Nagen be looking you?” Asked Serah. “Who knows what some bullshit story he’s made up about us? He could have you tried for treason.”

“Yeah, I know,” Samilles grunted. “But Kanadiam’s the only place with a lot of jobs for us mercs.”

Serah rolled her eyes. “Is that all you really think about?” She asked. “Mercenary this, job that?”

“You’ve seen the kind of skirmishes I get into,” said Samilles defensively. “I have to be on my game. All the time. It’s a competitive business.”

“Don’t you have time to do anything else?”

“No.”

Serah sighed in defeat. “Why?” She asked. “Why’d you become a mercenary?”

Samilles shrugged. “Fighting is what I’m good at. ‘S what I do better than anyone else.”

“Just by yourself?”

“You don’t have friends in this business. Just acquaintances.”

“Do you have <I>any</I> friends?” Serah asked skeptically.

Samilles just muttered under his breath.

“Not even anyone who’s hired you before?”

Samilles sighed quietly. “It’s a general rule among mercs not to get attached to one’s client.” Then, muttering quietly, he said, “I made that mistake once.”

“Mista-?”

“It’s nothing,” Samilles snorted, turning and heading back inside, leaving Serah to wonder what he could have meant.

Suddenly, Serah heard the whine of a horse echo down the mountain path. She craned her neck around to see the severed rope dangling freely from the mooring that secured Samilles’ horse. She then heard a faint sound that she knew all too well.

Weapons being unsheathed.

Serah hurriedly retreated back inside, quickly locking the door. “Serah? What is it?” Her mother asked from the easy chair.

“We’ve got company!” Serah blurted out, holding her back to the door as if to keep it shut.

The blade of an axe suddenly plunged through the door inches away from Serah’s ear, eliciting a shriek from them both. Sprawling onto the floor, Serah scrambled to grab the nearest chair and jam the back up underneath the door handle as another axe blade smashed through the door. “It’s too thick!” A muffled voice from outside yelled.

“Just kick it down!” yelled another.

With three loud thumps, the chair skidded onto the floor, and the door burst open. “Get he-”

All five of the warriors were suddenly struck silent when they saw who stood in the living room before them. Samilles craned his thick neck to the left, letting a loud pop echo through the cabin. “I’m a fight,” Samilles snarled as Serah’s stepfather handed Samilles his swords, “Someone said you were looking for me.”

“What the hell- he’s not supposed to be here!” One of the warriors in the back quietly hissed.

Samilles leaned towards Serah’s stepfather. “Keep the door shut and stay low to the ground,” he whispered, careful not to move his lips. Then, pointing the tip of one of his swords to the crowd before him, Samilles snarled, “Let’s take this outside.”

The five mercenaries had already stepped off of the porch just before Samilles stepped outside. The cabin door was quickly slammed shut, with the rustle of barricading behind it. “This guy?” The soldier at the front of the pack jeered, pointing the tip of his broadsword at Samilles, “This is Allon?”

“That’s me,” Samilles growled.

“Stand back guys,” the soldier said, stepping forward, “I’ll handle him.”

With the mercenary charged at Samilles, broadsword raised high above his head, throwing a powerful slash downward at Samilles’ head. Shooting up his left arm, Samilles expertly deflected the broadsword’s path, jamming the point of his right-hand sword into his assailant’s gut just as quickly. The soldier lurched and dropped his sword, watching his own blood spill like a river onto the ground. Samilles plunged his free sword into the mercenary’s belly beside his left, and like a pair of scissors, Samilles eviscerated his foe with one swift outward flex. The mercenary dropped to his knees, and Samilles swatted him aside with a backhand to the temple. “So,” Samilles grunted, stepping over the body, “Who’s next?”

The remaining four mercenaries had already fanned out, trapping Samilles beside the wall of the cabin and the porch stairs. “Broydy,” said the mercenary in front of Samilles, “Get around to his back. Dianchez and Trowens, cover the side. I’ll take the front.”

Samilles pressed his back to the wall of the cabin, glancing at the semicircle of soldiers that now surrounded him. One of the mercenaries hopped up onto the porch, swinging his flail around with anticipation. “All at once, now!” one of the mercenaries ordered, “Get him!”

Suddenly, the soldier on the porch let out an ear-splitting scream, falling forward and down the steps, a wide bloody gash between his shoulder blades. Serah’s stepfather was now in his place, wielding a meat cleaver. “Need some help, Samilles?” He asked.

“No, but thanks anyway.”

The three last mercenaries, now beginning to have their doubts, wearily closed in on the porch, forcing Samilles back up towards the cabin door. “I’ll take the old man,” one of them said, branching out from the pack as soon as they set foot on the porch. “Charge on my mark.”

Samilles backed up beside Serah’s stepfather. “Let them get closer,” he whispered. “Tighter quarters don’t do their numbers any favors.”

“Mark!” the lead mercenary declared as they charged in. Immediately Samilles threw his swords up in the X-formation, barely managing to catch one of his attacker’s axe shaft before it split his face in two. Pinning the axe to the wall with one sword, Samilles lashed out with the other, keeping the other swordsman at bay. The axe-wielding mercenary wound back his arm and threw a jab at Samilles face, narrowly missing as Samilles dodged low, smashing his fist into the mercenary’s knee. As the axe man stumbled back trying to stand, Samilles threw both of his blades up and behind his head, feeling the bone-rattling clang of the other mercenary’s sword bounce off of them. Quickly spinning back up to his feet, Samilles lashed out with his right sword, catching the wrist of the swordsman with this blade. Wasting no time, Samilles suddenly flung his left-hand sword at the axe man behind him, embedding his blade deep into the mercenary’s bicep. A shrill scream of agony later, Samilles lunged forward and grabbed the swordsman by the collar with his free hand, and with a primal roar, Samilles drove the swordsman face-first through the living room window. Just as the mercenary was carefully pulling his head out from the frame of broken glass, Samilles drove his elbow into the back of the mercenary’s head, puncturing his throat on the glass with a loud, muffled gurgle. Craning his head around, Samilles saw Serah’s stepfather struggling to force the other axe-wielding mercenary off of him, pinned against the cabin wall. Without a moment of thought, Samilles charged at the last mercenary like a bull, blindsiding him through the porch railing and crashing onto the hard ground below. Landing on top, Samilles grabbed the mercenary the throat and tightened his fist, only to notice the dead, lifeless eyes staring back at him.

“You alright?” Samilles muttered, getting off the mercenary’s body and climbing back onto the porch.

Serah’s stepfather wiped the sweat off of his brow. “Nothing a little rest won’t cure.”

“Samilles?” Came Serah’s voice from inside, “Everything okay out there?”

Samilles glanced around the clearing. “We’re clear,” He said. “Bring out lots of bandages.”

The cabin door was suddenly flung open. “Are you hurt?” Serah gasped. “Dad?”

“We’re fine,” said Samilles, looking down the steps of the porch, “The bandages are for him.”

Serah and her stepfather looked at the last mercenary left alive, groaning as he clutched Samilles’ sword in his arm.

“Why?” Serah asked.

Samilles trudged down to where the mercenary was slumped, kneeling in front of him. “I know who sent you,” Samilles growled. “You’re going to give him a message.”

************

An hour later, Samilles and Serah’s family were still trying to calm their nerves after the thwarted assault. “So, now what?” Serah asked, giving her stepfather a hot towel for his shoulder.

Samilles grunted and rubbed his chin. “You’re not safe here, that’s for sure.” He said. “And as long as you’re here, neither are your parents.”

Serah sunk into the nearest chair. “Mom, Dad, I’m sorry,” she whimpered.

“It’s not your fault, dear,” her mother answered, placing her hand on Serah’s shoulder.

“Well, if she’s not safe here,” her stepfather asked, “Where will she be safe?”

Samilles took a heavy sigh. “There’s one place where she’ll be safe,” he said, “but getting there on foot- that’ll be a problem.”

“Where?” Serah asked. “I don’t care how far or how hard it is to get there.”

“Then get up and pack light,” said Samilles, strapping his swords around his waist, “We’re going to South Namerik.”

*************

“All four of them?”

“Except me, sir.”

Razor snarled underneath his breath. “Get yourself cleaned up in the van,” he ordered. The mercenary, still cradling his heavily bandaged arm, slinked away. Razor muttered under his breath uneasily as he reached for the cell phone in his pocket, hitting a speed-dial command. “This is Razor,” he said.

“Good to hear from you again,” Came Nagen’s voice on the other end. “Well?”

Razor gave a heavy, silent sigh. “We’ve… been delayed,” he said at length.

“Delayed?” Nagen asked. “Even after I gave you one of the Royal Kanadiam Vans, you still haven’t caught up with them?”

“No, we’re right outside the Nuclear Mountains now. We found her house, but-”

“But?”

“He was still there.”

“Who?”

Razor paused to mutter under his breath. “Samilles.”

“Curious,” Nagen mused. “I could have sworn I had you execute him that night.”

“He… got away,” Razor stammered.

“Ah, so that’s the real story of how Gize escaped your company in the graveyard. Tell me, Razor, have there been any other ‘indiscretions’ that you haven’t seen fit to inform me of?”

“No sir.”

Nagen sighed tiredly. “I’m beginning to think hiring you was a mistake.”

“Wait, my lord-” Razor begged, “Just one more day. We can still track them down, we can still catch up to th-”

“I’ve given you two weeks already, Razor. You assured me that it would take only that one night.”

“But I- I never thought Samilles would-”

“You seem to overestimate too much too often. I’m not willing to place my faith- or money, in someone who has done nothing but repeatedly fail me. You understand where I’m going with this, don’t you, Razor?”

Razor growled silently. “Yes, sir.”

“Keep the van, it’s nothing to me. God forbid anyone else hire a mercenary so incompetent as yourself. Good day.”

The line went dead, leaving Razor to fume in silence. “Um, sir?” A meek voice asked from behind him. “What are your orders now?”

Razor’s ever-tightening fist crushed the cell phone. “Samilles,” Razor snarled aloud, “is a dead man!”

[Sike Saner]

Liked that fight in the latest chapter, I must say. What I thought was especially cool about it were the great "ouch" moments it contained, plus the nice, graphic imagery employed in that scene. ^^

Highlights:

With the mercenary charged at Samilles, broadsword raised high above his head, throwing a powerful slash downward at Samilles’ head. Shooting up his left arm, Samilles expertly deflected the broadsword’s path, jamming the point of his right-hand sword into his assailant’s gut just as quickly. The soldier lurched and dropped his sword, watching his own blood spill like a river onto the ground. Samilles plunged his free sword into the mercenary’s belly beside his left, and like a pair of scissors, Samilles eviscerated his foe with one swift outward flex. The mercenary dropped to his knees, and Samilles swatted him aside with a backhand to the temple. “So,” Samilles grunted, stepping over the body, “Who’s next?”

Just as the mercenary was carefully pulling his head out from the frame of broken glass, Samilles drove his elbow into the back of the mercenary’s head, puncturing his throat on the glass with a loud, muffled gurgle.

[Mewfour]

I do my best. Glad you like it.

Anyway, that Episode wraps up the Lineage arc. And now for the first episode of the new arc, entitled thusly:

************

THE BLOODY HALO

Episode VIII- Lighting the Fuse
************

It was supposed to be over.

It was supposed to be over, dammit!

We escaped from Razor’s militia, we fled Kanadiam, we made it home! We’re not supposed to be running for our lives again!

“You say something?” Samilles asked, looking over his shoulder.

Serah sighed tiredly, and moaned. “How far away is this place?”

Samilles grunted and looked forward again, staring at the barren horizon towards the south as they wearily trudged through the countryside. “Pretty much right in the middle of South Namerik. We should reach Lear in a day by foot. Then we can get ourselves a horse and be in South Namerik by the week.”

Serah wiped the sweat off of her forehead. “I sure hope Razor doesn’t find us like this,” she muttered.

“He won’t,” Said Samilles confidently.

“How do you know?”

“Easy. I told his lackey to tell him where we were going.”

Serah’s heart skipped a beat. “You did what?” she gasped, dropping onto one knee in a spell of weakness.

Samilles stopped and turned around. “Trust me,” he said, helping Serah up, “I know Razor better than he knows himself.”

“Really?” Serah murmured.

Samilles nodded. “Like I said, we go way back.”

Serah breathed a sigh of relief. “So, what’s the deal?” She asked.

Samilles snorted. “Razor’s the kind of guy who likes to believe in his predictions, no matter how much odds are against them. That’s what got me into that graveyard unnoticed. By telling him where we’re headed, he’s likely to think I’m trying to trick him into thinking we’re not going where we are and to go hunt somewhere else. Of course, he’ll think that’s a trick too, but then have second-guesses that I wasn’t telling his lackey the truth. East Namerik’s a big place, and if he wastes one opportunity to find us, he knows we’ll be well out of his reach. He’ll be pressed for a decision, which I why I think he’d choose to go elsewhere.”

Serah rubbed her eyes in confusion. “You’re sure, right?”

“I know how he thinks,” said Samilles. “Trust me.”

Suddenly, a loud horn blared from behind them. Serah and Samilles spun around to see a large green van speeding towards them. “Who-?” Serah gasped.

“Dive!” Samilles yelled, shoving Serah to the left and diving to his right. Both hit the grassy ground hard as the van roared past them, screeching on its brakes to a skidding stop. Samilles quickly hopped to Serah’s side, helping her up and drawing his swords. “You alright?” He asked as he stared down at the van, trying to see the driver through the lightly tinted windshield. Before Serah could answer, the driver’s side door of the van flew open, and a figure dropped down from the elevated cabin. He turned around slowly, and Serah felt her blood run cold when she saw who it was.

“R-Razor!”

Razor smirked, slamming the door shut and adjusted the arm straps on his pata. “Glad you remember me,” He said.

“Shit,” Samilles growled angrily through his teeth.

“Think you’ve got me all figured out, huh Sam?” Razor said as what remained of his recruits watched on from the inside of the open-ended van.

“You’re not doing too well on me either,” Samilles snarled back.

Razor strolled to his left, with Samilles cautiously moving to his right with Serah close behind, circling each other slowly. “I’ll tell you what you have done,” said Razor, “You cost me a job last night.”

Samilles snorted. “Nagen finally had enough of you, huh?”

Razor roared with frustration. “If this ever goes public, Sam, I’ll be ruined!”

“So? What are you crying to me for? You came here for a reason. What do you want?”

“You!” Razor snarled, pointing his pata at Samilles’ face.

“Me?” Samilles grunted. “I thought you were after her.”

“When I cut you to strips, Sam,” Razor growled, “she’ll be a bonus. Maybe then I can salvage some of my reputation.”

“That’s how it is, huh?”

Razor nodded. “You, me. To the death.”

Samilles glanced around uneasily. “What about your friends?”

Razor turned to his crew watching from inside the van. “First man to step outside gets this through his ass,” Razor snarled, lifting up his pata for his crew to see, eliciting shivers from all four.

“Samilles,” Serah whispered, “You don’t think he’s going to-”

“Stand back,” Samilles growled, walking towards Razor.

Razor stretched his pata arm in a circle once before heading towards Samilles. Their paces soon quickened, and suddenly they were charging at each other with a roar. Serah winced when their blades clanged, swung with such force to create a nerve-rattling echo. Razor slashed his pata downward, getting the blade caught in Samilles’ X-formation. Forcing Razor’s pata to the side, Samilles turned sideways and launched the point of his elbow towards Razor’s nose, which Razor narrowly avoided by leaning back and throwing a jab at Samilles’ ribs with his left fist. Samilles spun around, pressing his back to Razor’s chest and catching Razor’s arm in his own, doing the same for his right. As Razor struggled to free his immobilized arms from Samilles’ grasp, Samilles’ mind was racing, desperately trying to think of a way to end the fight quickly. Razor was taller than Samilles by at least three inches, a fact Samilles suddenly remembered when he felt Razor’s chin against the top of his neck. Bringing his head down, Samilles suddenly flung his head backwards, smashing the back of his head into Razor’s face. Razor yelped in surprise, weakening for just a moment- long enough for Samilles to slip a foot behind Razor’s leg, crouch and spring backwards, launching both of them onto the ground, with Samilles crashing hard onto Razor. Winding back his arm, Samilles again tried to ram his elbow into Razor’s nose, missing his head by a hair. Razor’s right arm suddenly shot up, and he thrust the pata towards Samilles’ chest. Samilles barely had enough time to bring up his sword, blocking the base of the pata so that the point was inches away from his heart. Razor tried with all of his might to push the pata forwards, while Samilles found himself gradually losing. Suddenly, Samilles felt Razor’s left hand grab a fistful of his wild hair from behind, pulling back on it as hard as he could. Samilles grit his teeth and snarled loudly, his arm and scalp aching. Bearing the pain as best he could, Samilles lifted his free arm and drove his forearm into Razor’s face, again and again until Razor began to lose strength in his arms, letting Samilles drive away the pata and pin it to the ground with his sword. Turning slightly, Samilles swatted away Razor’s left arm with as much power as he could put behind his own arm, roaring as a clump of his hair was ripped from his head. With both of Razor’s arms pinned down, Samilles sprung his legs up, bending his knee as he came down, hoping to drive it into Razor’s gut. Somehow, Razor got his knees up before Samilles, catching Samilles’ knees with his own. And with a mighty roar, Razor kicked his legs upward, flipping Samilles up and over his head, landing with a hard thud behind him. Stunned for a moment, Samilles recovered his senses just in time to see Razor’s pata plunging straight towards his face from overhead. Samilles thrust his torso upright, feeling the rush of wind that Razor’s pata made as it whizzed past his ear. Barely making to his feet, Samilles rolled forward, spinning around and facing Razor again, just as Razor plucked his pata out of the ground.

Both of them were breathing heavily, glaring and wondering how to put the other down for good. Ignored by them was the cheering by Razor’s last remaining recruits, each of them eagerly awaiting someone to slice the other open. Serah was watching from just a few meters away from the van, barely able to stand. “Hey,” one of the mercenaries from the van whispered, “She’s pretty hot,” followed by a few wolf whistles.

“Hey lady,” came a familiar voice from inside the van. Serah turned to see the mercenary that Samilles had wounded, sporting a heavy bandage and his arm in a sling. “About the whole trying to kill you thing, and- awwww,” he said as Serah quietly snarled and flipped him off.

The two kept staring each other down, circling slowly again. Although she was scared out of her wits, Serah found an odd comfort in knowing that it was Samilles that was defending her. She had watched him cut down the mercenaries outside of her house through another window, and the night they first met outside of Kanadiam castle was as clear in her memory as it ever was. She had to admit that Razor was giving Samilles a tough time, but deep down she knew that Samilles could win. That he had to win. That he would definitely win.

Samilles wiped the sweat from his brow. “That all you got, Razor?” He taunted.

“I’m just getting warmed up,” Razor snarled back.

Again the two charged at each other, with Samilles again catching Razor’s pata inside his swords’ defensive X-formation. Slowly pushing Razor’s pata arm down to his left side, Samilles lunged forward and shot his boot out at Razor’s knee. Razor knew the kick was coming, and adeptly skipped to the side, letting Samilles’ foot catch nothing but air. With Samilles briefly on one foot Razor roared and thrust his palm into Samilles’ chest, sending Samilles staggering backwards, desperately trying to retain his balance. The mighty blow against his chest winded Samilles heavily, barely finding the strength to raise his arms and block Razor’s pata with his swords in time again. Razor used his free arm to press down on his armored pata hand with more of his weight, forcing Samilles to narrow his X-formation. Then, when he saw Samilles unable to do any more than to keep his pata at bay, Razor lurched forward and planted his knee into Samilles’ stomach. Samilles tightened his abdominal muscles upon the blow, trying in vain not to let out any sign of pain as his knees began to slowly buckle. Again, Razor rammed his knee into Samilles’ gut, driving Samilles lower to the ground. Then, winding back his knee again, Razor swung the point of his knee into Samilles’ kneecap, nearly costing Samilles his footing.

Serah’s heart began to race. “He’ll find a way out of this,” she thought to herself, “He always does!”

Samilles suddenly released his left hand sword, quickly swinging his right down to his side, deflecting Razor’s pata. Before Razor could react, Samilles sprung up and launched a fist square into Razor’s jaw.

“Yes!” Serah cheered as Razor reeled back.

Wasting no time at all, Samilles rushed forward with his other sword, ready to split Razor’s face in half. But just as Samilles slashed, Razor ducked underneath Samilles’ blade, thrusting his pata upwards at Samilles’ chest. Samilles barely manage to swat it away with his sword, letting Razor step in closer. And with a feral roar, Razor whipped the armored wrist of his pata around at Samilles, smashing the metal bindings into his temple.

“No!” Serah gasped, watching as Samilles stumbled away, collapsing onto his hands and knees by his other sword.

The blow had opened up some of Samilles’ skin, quickly painting his face, shirt, and ground below him a bloody red. Samilles stayed hunched over, squeezing his eyes shut as he tried to recover from the dizzying blow. He picked up his sword and turned around just in time to see Razor within a meter of him, slashing his pata downward with as much power as he could put behind it. Samilles threw up his X-formation just at the last possible moment, the force behind the blow nearly breaking his wrists. Razor sneered and snickered, using his height advantage and leaning down, forcing Samilles’ knees to steadily buckle.

“He’s going to get out of this,” Serah quietly murmured under her breath, “He’s going to get out of this.”

Samilles winced in agony before his shoulders drooped slightly, his pinkie fingers beginning to lose their grip on his sword handles.

“He’s going to get out of this,” Serah told herself again, “He’s going to get out of this!”

Samilles winced again. His wrists and knees were trembling, and Razor kept leaning forwards, able to put more and more of his body weight on top of Samilles with every fraction of height Samilles lost.

“He’s going to get out of this,” Serah murmured again, “He’s go-”

Samilles suddenly dropped to one knee, letting out a strained roar. Razor chuckled cruelly, thrusting more of his weight on top of Samilles. The pata blade steadily neared Samilles’ forehead, and more and more of his blood spilled all around him. “I’ve got you now,” Razor snarled, leaning even further on top of Samilles, “I’m going to carve you up like a pumpkin.” Razor pumped on his pata, driving a restrained yelp out of Samilles. “Any famous last words, Sam?”

Samilles grunted, groaned, and winced before finally opening his eyes wide and screaming, “You keep your hands off of her!”

Serah gasped and glanced around. All of Razor’s mercenaries were still in the van, each looking just as confused as she was.

Razor looked over his shoulder and barked, “I thought I told you dogs-!”

That split-second of distraction was all Samilles needed to drive Razor’s pata away, spring back to his feet as best he could, and with a mighty roar, Samilles spun around on his heel, slashing his sword at Razor’s face. The tip of the blade dug deep into Razor’s forehead, letting loose a spray of blood into the air. Razor screamed as his hands flew to his head, falling onto his back and rocking on the ground.

Breathing a heavy sigh of relief, Samilles, covered in blood, wearily trudged over Razor, sheathed his swords, and grabbed Serah by the wrist. “We’re leaving,” He growled, pulling Serah towards the van.

“But-” Serah stammered, “What about-?”

“He’ll live.”

Samilles paused at the end of the van, and glared at the mercenaries inside. “Get out,” he snarled.

The mercenaries quickly piled out of the van obediently.

Opening the driver’s side door, Samilles helped Serah in before climbing up and taking the wheel. Slamming the door shut and revving the engine, Samilles floored the gas pedal, leaving Razor and his crew behind with a loud screech.

[Mewfour]

MOAR

Episode IX- On the Road

Serah occasionally glanced over at Samilles in the driver’s seat of the van as they drove towards Lear, looking at the thick layers of bandaging she had wrapped around his head earlier. Seeing him coated in his own blood unnerved her to no end, especially knowing how Samilles’ fight with Razor could have turned out. “How’re you feeling now?” Serah asked quietly, finally breaking the long silence between them.

Samilles grunted. “A little lightheaded,” he muttered, taking one hand off the wheel to wipe a trickle of blood out from his eye. “Must have lost more than I thought.”

Serah shivered.

“What?”

“If I hadn’t been there,” Serah murmured, “you could have been- I could have-”

“But we’re not. We’re still alive, and that’s all that matters now.”

“What about Razor?” Serah asked.

Samilles snorted. “What about him?”

“Well,” said Serah, glancing out of the window, “I’d imagine he’s going to be pretty pissed off now.”

“Why’s that?”

“Why?” Serah gagged in disbelief. “After what you pulled on him back there?”

Samilles snorted again. “It’s no different than what he pulled on us back in Kanadiam with Nagen. He should’ve been expecting something like that.”

Serah sighed again. “I really think he wanted an honest fight with you.”

“I know,” said Samilles. “What, you wanted to see me lose?”

“No, it’s not that,” said Serah. “Look, I know when your life’s at stake, you really don’t think about fighting fair, but-”

Samilles arched his eyebrow in curiosity. “Fair?” He asked, cutting Serah off.

“Well,” Serah muttered sheepishly, “Don’t you think he’d find that a little unfair?”

Samilles snorted a short, mocking laugh. “‘Unfair’ is a word someone made up when they just didn’t want to admit they lost.”

“But what about Kanadiam?” Serah asked, “There’s no way that was f-”

“We lost that time in Kanadiam,” said Samilles. “Given the circumstances, there was no way we could have won. So we lost. Simple as that. Crying about how unfair it was wouldn’t have changed anything. Making excuses doesn’t do anything other than make you a weaker person. I don’t whine about what would have happened or should have happened. When I lose, I learn, and I become stronger.”

Serah blinked, struck by Samilles’ profound philosophy. “Well,” she said after a short pause, “Let’s hope Razor feels the same way.” Glancing out of the window again, something caught Serah’s eye in the side-view mirror. “Hey Samilles,” she said, “There was someone trying to wave us down.”

Samilles gently braked, letting the slender figure in the dust behind them catch up, panting heavily. “Hey there miss,” said the man once he approached the side of the van. “Couldn’t help but notice you’re with the Royal Kanadiam family.”

“What gave you that idea?” Serah asked, looking down at him.

The man paused to scratch the back of his head though his short black hair. “Well,” he said smugly, “you’ve got your Coat of Arms plastered on the side of the van there. Hey, you need a guide ‘round these parts?”

“We’re fine, thanks,” said Serah, about to roll up the window.

“Hey wait, hold on,” he said, placing his hand on the windowsill. “How ‘bout a little extra protection along the way?”

Serah was getting a little annoyed. “And… who are you?” she asked.

The man smiled and turned to the side slightly, showing Serah the axe tethered to his belt. “The name’s Yrral Elbac, of Yrral’s Mercenary and Bounty Hunting Service,” he said proudly, “You squeal, I’ll deal.”

“Get lost, Yrral,” Samilles muttered.

Yrral was stunned. “Sam?” He asked, stepping up on the van’s wheel so he could get a look inside the van. “Hey Samilles, what are-” Yrral’s jaw dropped when he saw Samilles’ bloodstained face. “Holy-” he muttered, “What happened to you?”

Samilles only muttered under his breath.

Serah turned to Samilles. “Friend of yours?” She asked.

Samilles grunted. “He’s no friend of mine.”

“Ouch, Sam. That hurts,” said Yrral. “Hey, where are you guys headed anyway?”

“Central.”

“Central?” Yrral gagged.

“Central?” Serah asked.

Samilles nodded. “Central. And we’re wasting time talking with you.”

“Hey, mind giving me a lift there?” He asked.

Samilles turned to Serah, turning the decision over to her. “Sure, I guess,” she said.

“Great, thanks!” said Yrral, hastily swinging the door open and dropping himself into the seat beside Serah. “So Sam,” said Yrral as they continued on down the road, “another customer of yours?”

“Client,” said Samilles, irritated.

Yrral shrugged. “Semantics,” he said as he offered his hand to Serah. “And your name is?”

“Serah Gize,” she answered, cautiously giving Yrral’s hand a gingerly shake.

“Nice name,” he said. “You must be pretty rich to hire a merc like Sam.”

“I didn’t really hire him,” Serah murmured.

“Oh? You two an item then?”

Serah and Samilles glared at Yrral in unison.

“Nevermind.”

Suddenly, Serah noticed something. “Hey, that’s the same tattoo Samilles has on the back of his neck,” Said Serah, looking behind Yrral’s head.

“When did you notice mine?” Samilles asked.

Serah shrugged. “Awhile ago,” she said. Taking a little more time to study the small, slightly faded tattoo, Serah made out what looked like a skull and crossed swords, with what looked like a halo on top dripping with something. “What is it anyway?” She asked.

“This?” said Yrral, “This is The Bloody Halo.”

“The Bloody Halo?”

“Yup. Our guild.”

Serah was taken back. “Like, there’s a guild for mercenaries?”

Yrral shrugged. “Not really a guild. Kinda’ like a club.”

“It’s no party, Yrral,” said Samilles. “We’re in the guild for a reason, you know.”

“Yeah, I know,” said Yrral, a little annoyed at the reprimand.

Serah was all sorts of lost and confused. “What do you guys need a guild for?” She asked.

“Protection,” said Samilles.

“Protection?” Serah asked. “Isn’t that what you do?”

“Yeah, but protecting each other,” said Yrral. “Hey Sam, you know how that story goes?”

“What, the one how the Bloody Halo was formed?”

“Yeah, that one.”

Samilles grunted. “A few decades ago, I’m not sure how many- but anyway, there was this one merc who was traveling on foot between towns looking for work when he comes across this other badly injured merc, trying to fight off two guys. This injured merc’s good, but not good enough, and he’s about to get gutted. The first merc dives in and runs the two thugs off, and helps the injured merc to the next town.”

“What, no charge?” Serah asked skeptically.

“Professional courtesy,” Samilles answered. “Anyway, it turns out that the injured merc was coming back from an escort job, during which he had to kill bandit. This bandit’s friends found his body, and tracked down the merc who did him. Mercs only kill out of necessity- those we do kill usually have friends or family that don’t see it that way. So, these two mercs prefer to work alone, but both agree that there’s strength in numbers, and they offer to watch each other’s backs when they can. Pretty soon, more mercs are watching each other’s backs, and eventually the guilds are formed. Yrral and I belong to The Bloody Halo, based out of South Namerik.”

“Interesting,” said Serah. “Where’s the name come from?”

Yrral shrugged. “One of the guys back in Central said a founder was reading this old book from before the big war, found the name, and ran with it.”

“And this, ‘Central,’” said Serah, “This is where the Bloody Halo stems from, right?”

“Yup,” said Yrral, “We practically built the town ourselves.”

“A town full of mercenaries,” said Serah, “If there’s any safe place for me-”

“Safe for you?” Yrral butted in. “Safe from who?”

“Razor,” Samilles muttered.

“Razor?” Yrral gasped. “But- he’s one of us!”

“One of you?” Serah gasped.

“You didn’t know?” Yrral asked Serah.

“You knew?” Serah asked Samilles.

Samilles grumbled and rubbed his eyes. “Razor won’t try to pick a fight in Central.”

“Pick a fight?” Yrral asked. “What do you- wait… Sam, you didn’t get into a scrap with him did you?”

Samilles grumbled under his breath again.

“I guess that explains all the blood,” said Yrral. “But it’s weird. I thought you two were best fr-”

Samilles shot Yrral a deadly glare, silencing him immediately.

Serah glanced uneasily at Samilles, and then at Yrral. “Friends?” She asked.

“Oh no,” said Yrral sheepishly, “I don’t know where I got that crazy ol’ idea from. Forget I said anything, okay?”

“Um, alright,” Serah murmured.

“We’re here,” said Samilles as a road sign reading “Lear” whizzed by on the road. “We’ll stop here to restock and rest a little.” Then, wiping his forehead with his sleeve, Samilles muttered, “and to get all this goddamn blood off of me.”

[Sike Saner]

Heh... Poor Samilles, so sure he'd figured out what Razor would do--and then along comes Razor in that van! XD But then Razor went and fell for Samilles's trick and ended up with something nice and sharp getting acquainted with his forehead, so I guess the joke's ultimately on him. XP And he'll live to remember how he fell for it, too. X3

Other highlights:

Samilles glanced around uneasily. “What about your friends?”

Razor turned to his crew watching from inside the van. “First man to step outside gets this through his ass,” Razor snarled, lifting up his pata for his crew to see, eliciting shivers from all four.

Ha, nice. XD

“Hey lady,” came a familiar voice from inside the van. Serah turned to see the mercenary that Samilles had wounded, sporting a heavy bandage and his arm in a sling. “About the whole trying to kill you thing, and- awwww,” he said as Serah quietly snarled and flipped him off.

I like Serah's response there. XD

“You must be pretty rich to hire a merc like Sam.”

“I didn’t really hire him,” Serah murmured.

“Oh? You two an item then?”

Serah and Samilles glared at Yrral in unison.

“Nevermind.”

XD