Chapter Thirty-Four—Swords Against Urutai Sorcery

“Encircle him!” Shiro called and ran to his west.

He thought he was far enough into the fog that the mage couldn’t see him. Even so, a smattering of Urutai dialect got spat about by several men, their boots stamping across the hard ground in his direction.

Shiro whirled and raised his sword to block the attack that would have taken him in the back. He then stepped forward and exchanged several sword strikes with his opponent before the Urutai’s allies arrived.

Back stepping, Shiro parried their sword strikes with speed and efficiency, realizing how much he liked these Urutai blades much more than the Abassir scimitars. They were longer, the curve was more even and the blade weight was far less.

Hefting the weapon was more akin to the swords of his native lands. Instead of heavier chopping motions, these curved blades were excellent slashing weapons.

With a feint toward his opponent on the left, Shiro side stepped to his right and slashed the second man in the back with an upward strike.

The other man turned and parried his second attack, which would have taken him with a downward slash. Shiro jumped back and then hunched his shoulders as another explosion rocked the craggy landscape with a sizzling crack of magical energy. Whoever the mage had just tried to kill, it hadn’t been Shiro, otherwise he’d be dead now.

Even his opponent before him cringed slightly as the magic exploded.

Shiro used this moment to jump toward his opponent and roll past him. With a quick whirl he slashed the man on the back of the neck. With a sharp cry, his body turned and fell limp to the ground.

A hot sizzle of energy passed through the air. Shiro turned to face the mage—saw the glow of his magic as it shot forward. Shiro’s eyes widened. He could jump, but if it landed right next to him, what would be the point?

His heart jumped as the magic came at him.

Suddenly a body lunged into the path between him and the mage and the magical discharge changed direction and exploded into the sky.

Debaku had just deflected the attack with his sword.

Shiro turned his own blade in his hand, the metal glinting in the grey light of the overcast sky.

My sword could not do this..

Without allowing time for the mage to hurl another attack, Shiro lunged forward with his sword high above his head. A quick slash across the mage’s front would take him down easily, but there was no need, as the man cried out and died when Ali sliced him from behind with an upward angular slash.

Shiro stopped short, looked down at the dead Urutai mage.

Ali nodded.

“Thanks,” Shiro said. He turned. “Debaku, I thought I was dead.”

“But you are not.”

“Arigatou,” Shiro said with nod.

“There is no need to thank me,” Debaku said.

They all glanced behind as another wave of Urutai warriors surged forward, but this time they came from the pass where they had pushed through, not from further up ahead.

Debaku said, “Go, find their animals and secure them. I will hold them off.”

“All of them?!” Ali asked with wide eyes, his head cocked back in disbelief.

“Yes,” Debaku said, “Now go.”