Elephant Pond 17:

The Last Savage Verse(4)

The Harcovian took a step towards Typhon, squeezing his sword’s hilt tighter as he observed the winds condensed around the sea smith’s spear and shoulder. “What did you just say?”

“Step away from her before I murder you,” Typhon repeated. Maya frowned in disapproval and Morgan instinctively did the same. Typhon let the shaft of the spear slide down out of his hand till he was gripping it by its golden end, giving him extended reach.

“Keep your temper, Gellend. We still need him alive,” the female Harcovian reminded him.

“Do we? There’s three more sea smiths right behind him, and it looks to me like he’s been leading this rebellion. We could squash this whole thing by severing the head from the rest of the snake. That’s what we were hired for, weren’t we?”

“That’s not your ca-,” she began to protest. But he ignored her and charged Typhon, red eyes wild and hungry within his helm. He closed the distance between them almost instantaneously, propelled by grey blurs it took Morgan a second to recognize as his legs, moving at ridiculous speeds. It was hard to think of Harcovians as the same species as they were.

Gellend jabbed his sword right at Typhon’s chest. A wind-clad blur of blue tipped gold, Typhon’s right arm moved, even faster and deflected the blade. Pushed back by the sheer force of the counter the Harcovian slid backwards, the metallic clatter of their clash ringing out, before a stunned silence enveloped the opposing crowds.

Pirate and former captive alike looked to each other to confirm that their eyes hadn’t fooled them.

Gellend cracked his knuckles and engaged again. Typhon deflected it just the same but Gellend maintained his footing this time and pushed on, raining strikes down on him. The Blade crouched low to slash at Typhon’s legs, stabbed at his abdomen, swung over his head to split Typhon’s skull and every other area he thought exposed.

Yet, Typhon made no effort to dodge. Instead, he stood his ground, his body completely still while his right arm accelerated to a blur just like Gellend’s. Their respective weapons clashed sparks flying off, and then smashed together another half-dozen times before the sparks could touch the floor.

Before now, Morgan had sincerely thought that what his father was doing was impossible, much like every other sea smith had. Nevertheless Typhon was actually fighting a Harcovian in close combat, in their Blood Frenzy no less, moving so fast that Morgan’s eyes were only able to register what occurred seconds after they’d already happened.

But within the flurry Morgan was able to discern his father’s pattern. Tide Reaver’s Wind Armament swelled whenever Typhon swung the weapon to meet and deflect Gellend’s strikes and inversely thinned when Typhon forced the Harcovian to block one of his strikes, to avoid harming him.

This was the style Morgan’s father had found in his three years among the sired isles and dull men; a balancing act that took his opponent’s limits and weaknesses into consideration without taking advantage of them. He was constantly limiting his strength whilst gradually working to overpower his opponent without harming them. Fighting like required persistent and unflinching restraint and control, at the very least more than what Morgan could even dream of having.

Regardless of that, Typhon was pushing the Harcovian back the entire time, taking slow steps forward while drawing out a little more of Tide Reaver’s power with each step.

That was until Gellend grew tired of it and red erupted on the blade of his sword; a blood charge. The winds already battering them intensified as the Wind Armament grew larger and Tide Reaver sliced through the deck to meet Gellend’s overhead strike.

Magic-dense blasts of wind poured out from the impact, electrifying the air as Wind Armament met blood charge, glowing grey winds and manifested lethality working to extinguish each other. The dull men and women of either sides stepped back even further, giving the tribesmen an even wider berth than they already had. But their eyes never left the fight.

All of them watched, entranced by the friction and the novelty of seeing a sea smith withstanding a Harcovian’s fury. At least that was until Typhon summoned even more power from the supreme spear. And like there had never been any resistance at all he sliced upward, right through Gellend’s sword, snuffing out the red glow and shattering the blade.

Gellend stood there, in shock. He took, large gasping breathes as his chest heaved and sweat dripped down his brow. He looked down at the small pieces of sword still left in the hilt and then up at the spear that Typhon still held up over his head.

Typhon brought the spear back down and slashed straight down the center of Gellend’s body.

The Harcovian’s armor fell away in pieces. Chest plate, helmet and all, split right down the middle, revealing a completely unharmed young man. He was just a few years older than Morgan, with barely an inch of brown hair on his scalp and wide-eyed, terrified surprise that quickly twisted into an embarrassed scowl. Cutting down an enemy was one thing. But being able to pull off something that precise, in the midst of a fight to the death, was a show of undeniably superior skill. And doubly humbling from the man he had treated like a child just minutes ago.

Typhon locked eyes with the Blade as he called to the crowd behind him, “See Vella, there’s nothing here to be scared of. Come lend me a hand.”

“Aye, I was just…shining my coins is all!” she yelled back. Morgan peered behind his mother, where her voice had come from, but she was already gone.

Gellend looked among the crowd for the assistance Typhon had called on but saw no one come forward. “If he’s getting help then you should support me too, Fiore,” he said as he snatched a new sword from a pirate’s hand. He had obviously been shaken to his core. But he also seemed to be just as well versed in smothering fear in pride and wrongly placed self-confidence.

The female Harcovian knocked an arrow on her bow that promptly glowed red, and aimed at Typhon. “Losing to a sea smith and asking for help? Today just isn’t your day Gellend.”

“Quiet!” he scolded, “just follow my lead.”

He sprinted forward, hard and low to the floor. Typhon raised his spear to block but at the last second Gellend stopped mid-swing, shifted his weight onto his left foot and dodged left to get behind him. Typhon’s wind cloaked arm was more than fast enough to react but his body itself still lagged behind the Harcovian. So Typhon couldn’t do anything besides frown as he prepared to guard himself by timing alone as Gellend alighted behind him, sword primed with a fresh blood charge. At the same time Fiore knocked three arrows right in front of him. And then she fired them off, crimson and charged, whistling as they headed right for his chest.

Typhon released his Wind Armament and then slammed the butt of the spear into the deck and a pillar of air swallowed him. Although weaker than the condensed Gale Fang, the charged arrows and blade barely pierced the surface before the rising wind expelled them.

Gellend leaped away, frustrated but opting to regroup regardless. “Come on Fiore! Try harder!” he yelled at the top of his lungs.

This time it was Typhon that came to him. “Wind Armament: Gale Fang!” He commanded and the winds returned even stronger than before.

Again they fell into the series of clashes, intermingled with brief flashes of magic in the air as Gellend weaved blood charged slashes into his assault while Fiore simultaneously fired charged arrows. And once again, Typhon stood his ground, cutting arrows down in mid-air while he pushed Gellend back, broken arrows and sparks falling around his feet.

“Vella go high!” Typhon shouted.

“Aye!” she yelled back.

Typhon hit Gellend’s blade harder than ever, pushing him back, a few paces past the mast and sprinted towards him to continue. But when Gellend rushed forward to continue the fight, Typhon stopped and wedged Tide Reaver’s blue spear head into the deck, anchoring himself as the Blade closed in.

With barely an inch between his left eye and Gellend’s blade, Typhon fired off a gust around him, just like he had earlier, in an even larger radius. The wind lifted the struggling Blade up, propelling him into the air by a cushioned updraft, taking him halfway up the Burning Lady’s mast.

There Vella dropped out from behind the sails, hanging upside down from the horizontal beam. She grinned fiendishly as she leveled her pair of golden pistols to Gellend’s crimson eyes, now fraught with fear and squeezed the triggers.

Dual *pops* blared above their heads and Gellend’s corpse fell and landed neck first on the deck with a wet crunch.

“I heard you called Mister Sea smith, sir.” Tibbles said, appearing next Typhon. “For the small price of a castle, I can finish off this fight for you.”

“I don’t- why would you think I own a castle?” Typhon asked.

“I don’t think you own a castle, but that’s what it will cost you for me to take care of the last leech over there. Or more accurately….help you take care of the last leech.”

Typhon turned to face Fiore, opting to ignore Tibbles. “Surrender young one. I would rather not have a hand in killing anyone else today, even if it doesn’t incur any guilt.”

“Didn’t you hear Gellend? Win or lose, it’s all in the pursuit of the thrill of combat and if that ends in a glorious death, then so be it,” she said in adamant tone.

“Do you think you’ll find a glorious death like your friend did?” Typhon said motioning to where his body lay. “You can have a look down the barrels of my associate’s guns, like him. Or take a chance and see what you might find at the end of my spear. I’ll let you choose if you’d like,” Typhon offered.

Tibbles strut forward, jewelry jingling on his neck and pointed a dagger at Fiore.

“I’ve already got twelve titles to my name. Don’t give me the opportunity to add leech killer to that list.”

“You swear that you will only take Dagon’s ship and leave?” asked Fiore disregarding Tibbles as well.

“I swear,” Typhon nodded.

The Harcovian placed her bow on the deck and raised her hands up in submission. Morgan couldn’t help but think it was awfully strange how quickly she had given up, especially after the grim sentiments she had just expressed. Although, he supposed that the prospect of death often changed many minds.

“Tibbles and the rest of you, take their weapons to be safe, but don’t harm any of them. Keep an eye on them while we prepare Blade Dagger for our departure.”

Vella and the other captives approached the group of merged crews warily, even as they dropped their weapons and kicked them forward. They scooped them up and ordered them all on to their knees as the crowd parted to let Morgan and his family pass.

Wary and loathing leers followed them as they walked past and boarded Dagon’s black ship the Black Dagger.

“We aren’t leaving them are we?” Morgan asked when they were out of earshot.

“Considering the way they fought and the nature of the bounties on their heads, setting them loose in the world again isn’t a very appealing idea. Nevertheless, they fought and many of them died beside us, even when I couldn’t contribute in the way I just did. That much is worth honoring.”

Typhon leaned Tide Reaver on the railing beside him and took a seat. He clutched his upper arm, trying to keep it in place as it aggressively shook like it had been dipped in freezing water.

Maya stared at her husband with a glare and a pursed-lipped frown, her unique blend of disapproving and worrying at the same time. “So that’s the cost of your Armament?”

“Yep,” Typhon said with a gloomy smile. “Humans were never meant to move that fast. Wreaks havoc on the muscles and bones. The effects will wear off in a few days but the only thing I can feel for now are the vibrations and the pain.”

“Couldn’t you have made armor to counter its effects? As a Naturalist you would definitely have the runes you’d need,” Morgan inquired thoughtfully.

“I know that but aside from me turning my back on the forge, the issue is more complex than it seems. Armaments are pure elemental magic so I would have needed to find a creature with enough strength and speed for my arm to naturally keep up with near immunity to high winds, without adding too much bulk.”

“Uhm,” Tory interrupted. “What about D? Are we leaving him after everything he did for us?” she asked.

“Of course not, dear. As risky as it is I couldn’t live with myself if I left him behind like this,” Typhon said as he stood up. “The three of you stay here and prepare the ship for departure. I’m going to pay Dagon and his sniping rat a visit, and get our forgetful friend back.”

“Just…be sure to come back, okay?” she pleaded.

“Of course,” Typhon said, pulling his daughter into a hug.

“And unburdened,” Maya added.

There was a metallic *clink* followed by the sound of wood sliding on wood. Then a trap door on the deck slammed open. A heavy voice boomed up from the belly of the ship: “No need to worry about your husband returning. He won’t be leaving at all.”

A Harcovian man stepped out. Adorned with the same iron armor and red cloak, toting an obscenely large double-bladed axe on his back. His massive stature shrunk everything he stood next to.

“Step aside. I just dealt with two Blades at the same time, I’m tired. I don’t think I have the time or restraint left to leave you alive, if you insist on standing in our way.”

“I can understand if you mistook me for being in the Brute class, but just a Blade? Forgive me if I sound too proud, but I am actually a slayer, Slayer Vigram Hazzard.”