Once more, pain shot through his entire body. His nerves complained about working overtime
as every punch and every kick made contact with some part of his flailing body. He knew his
body would already be severely bruised, but before death ensued, he would suffer massive
internal bleeding from many of his organs. He wanted to cry out in agony, but then realised the
pain was subsiding. Have I been beaten so much that I can’t feel it anymore?
His thoughts were interrupted by a feeling of weightlessness. He opened his eyes and
almost jumped when he realised he was floating in the air. Am I experiencing an out of body
moment? God this is peculiar. However, within moments of his realisation, he was thrust
against a far wall. Michael knew what had happened, but his mind was forced to think of
something else when his helpless body smashed into the stone wall and crumpled to the floor.
Raising his head, Michael opened his eyes and looked at the followers; they were holding
their positions. Why won’t you finish it? There must have been ten or twenty at first glance,
hardly fair, Michael thought whilst scrambling to his knees, he had barely seconds before they
could reach him again; but they did not move.
Michael heaved a sigh. He wanted to cough. He could feel fresh blood curdling at the back
of his throat, a metallic stickiness, but he resisted as he also felt a sharp edge being slowly
pressed against his neck. He looked down without moving his head and spotted a metal sword
poised at his throat. His eyes surveyed the blade; it was beautifully crafted with intricate
designs weaving up and round the blade similar to wild ivy growing over a wall of a house. The
design culminated at the base of the hilt which was hidden under the assailant"s hand, but
Michael could just make out a green emerald gem in a silver hoop at the tip of the hilt. “Nice.”
He could not help but admire the intricate design despite his predicament.
Then, suddenly, without speaking a word, the assailant swung his sword. Michael grabbed
the hilt pulled it clear of the assailant"s hand. “Fool, you would have stood a better chance
before giving me this.” However, to Michael"s surprise, the swordsman had already drawn
another sword from his robe, almost identical in design to the one he now held, but instead of
pointing it at Michael; he was pointing it at the attackers.
The swordsman raised his free hand and lowered his hood startling Michael who instantly
recognised him as his only friend in Kirkfale, “Andrew?” He almost dropped the sword.
Andrew turned his head, winked and smiled, “you might want to point that thing towards
them,” he said motioning towards the moving mob. Michael took up a similar stance to Andrew.
“Who are you?”
“A friend...” that was all he could say before they both were lunged into battle.
Michael thrust the sword with expert precision; as if it were a foil and he were fencing.
Granted the sword was heavier, but the manoeuvres were just as effective, with the added
bonus of piercing the flesh. Both he and Andrew danced as if they were following a practiced
recital as blade met flesh and splashed blood in every direction.
Michael pulled his sword out of the stomach of one assailant, twirled and swiped at another"s
arm, cutting it clean off. This was followed closely by an elbow jab to the jaw, to throw the
assailant off guard before stabbing him in the heart with the sword to finish the job. He dodged
an incoming fist but allowed his sword to linger to his side just long enough to make contact with
the attacker and slicing through his flesh until it reached bone. Michael slid the blade out of the
falling man and headed for another.
It was not long before only Michael and Andrew stood panting with the swords readied for
the next attack. They looked round and silently counted the bodies lying motionless at their
feet. It had happened so fast, Michael could not believe it, the adrenalin had taken over, “is it
over?” he panted, hating the thought that he may have enjoyed that a little too much.
Andrew turned to Michael and smiled. His gasping was almost as quick as Michael"s and
just as heavy. He opened his mouth to say something, but closed it again just as the sharp end
of a sword erupted from his chest. Michael watched aghast as the blade continued to move
forward and up, blood smearing on it and dripping off the tip. He could see in Andrew"s eyes
that he was not scared, but they soon glazed over and his head slumped forward.
Michael followed the body of his friend as it hit the carpet of dead bodies and then looked at
the Lord. Anger burst his every vein and he took up a defensive position with his sword ready
to defend, “You did not need to do that.” His teeth were clenched giving a growl to his voice.
The Lord raised his free hand and removed his hood to reveal his identity as the
headmaster. “This is my village and school; I can do whatever I want.” Michael saw the corners
of the headmaster"s lips begin to curl up, is he enjoying this? He had begun suspecting the
headmaster was the Lord a while ago before he was attacked. There was something not quite
right with the way the others beckoned to his will and call.
“But the children, you stood by and allowed the prefects hurt the younger ones.”
“It was necessary to bring them to my way of thinking, let"s just say, it was an easy way to
prepare the way for me.”
“And the villagers?” It was all making more sense now. He did not flinch from his defensive
stance and continued to stare at Donald, trying not to blink in case he missed him.
“Expendable resources.” Donald curled the corners of his lips a little more and Michael felt
nauseous, he fought it back down though.
“Who are you to think like that?” Although Michael was looking straight at Donald, his mind
was still on Mary, though his vision was being blocked by Donald. “Well, I"m going to have to go
through you.” The smirk on Donald"s face turned to a defiant grin.
“But what about you, Michael, you come here with hatred in your heart, kill all these people,”
he motioned to the bodies on the floor, “and still feel no regret. Something tells me you actually
enjoyed it.” He raised his free hand and pointed his index finger at Michael and laughed, “you
did didn"t you, you actually found a thirst for killing people.”
Michael took a step closer and pointed the sword at Donald, “SHUT UP!”
“Touch a raw nerve did I?” Donald stopped laughing and stepped forward. He looked at
Michael for a moment longer before screwing his face into an angry growl and thrust his long,
thin sword into Michael, piercing his belly and lingered for a few seconds. Michael tried to
knock the sword away with his own, but to no avail, all he achieved were several chimes of
metal. Donald retracted the sword and thrust it into Michael"s chest and twisted it and sneered.
Donald looked down at the limp body hanging from the blade of his sword, “You would have
been so useful, still, no matter,” He let go of the sword. The lifeless body made no sound as it
landed on top of those that had already been slain providing a soft cushion of human flesh.
Michael"s torso bounced shaking his hands free from their futile grip of the blade. His fingers
cut to the bone, stained red from his blood flopped to his sides.
