Seeds of Revenge

Blood rushed through my ears and my vision dimmed, the dull beat of my heart pounding through my head as all I heard was the phrase, "They killed him Genny.  They killed Master Hanzo!"  Master Hanzo.  Father.  Dad.

Gone.

I was unconsciously aware of my bodies movement, of the over turning of the table we had been seated at, the abstract pattern the ale made as it spilled across the floor, pitcher shattered and forgotten like so many dreams of care free summer days.  There was motion and shouting, someone was crying, possibly me.  We were outside, weapons drawn.  Motion.



The drumming in my ears subsided somewhat as we loped down the street towards home.  Already you could smell the scent of smoke in the air, twin spirals of discordant grey and black winding their way above the clay tiled roofs of the city, like a pair of fingers pointing towards our destination.  Mikisai had his katana drawn, his mouth moving silently in a prayer to the powers as his blade faintly crackled with energy.  Belaron had moved ahead, bow drawn.  I glanced at Cillyra, riding in her cart a few paces behind Geniven, her normally cordial face for once without cheer.

I took a deep breath.  There was one thing to do now.  Life's hard decisions had dropped by the way side.  There were no more warring conflicts of the soul.  No more lazy days of indecision.  Everything was clear now.  Life now had one meaning.  Revenge.

I reached for my gun.

Calm sank into my being as I felt the solid reassuring weight of the Nalwood grip between my fingers.  The pistol had a weight to it that centered ones being.  A grim smile crossed my face as I tipped some powder into the barrel and rammed home the wadding in two quick economical moves, bullet following.  The house was nearly in view now, the smoke getting much thicker.  It was almost time.

The cart stopped, the small pony pulling it rolling its eyes in nervous anxiety at being so close to fire.  The Crafthouse on fire.  Geniven tried to gather us together to get a plan of action, but Mikisai shouldered past her and disappeared through a billow of smoke into the inner courtyard, disappearing under the circular arch.    My eyes narrowed as for once, I completely agreed with my brother.  There was no need for a plan.  There was only the one thing.  Distractedly I noticed Belaron following in his wake as I crawled up on the edge of the cart.  Cillyra was in back, moving her arms and doing something as she gathered powers about her.  Had I not been so focused on my own exploits, I would have stopped and gaped, but reality had taken on a surreal undertone and nothing seemed to out of the question.  Placing one foot firmly on the top of the cart, I crouched low and gathered up my strength before springing upwards.  The wind and smoke billowed about me as I arced through the air, landing catlike atop the nearby wall of my family's small estate.

Balancing atop the smoke swept wall I stayed crouched, head down, eyes closed.  I let my sense range out over the battlefield that had been my home.  I heard a Schnickt! and a crackle of energy, followed by crumple of  body just inside the courtyard.  Something breaking inside my home - No, it's just another building now, it will never be my home again - then raised voices and weapons being drawn.  Cillyra's soft chanting coming to a stop, then something answering her in a voice full of soft hisses.  Hobnailed boots moving across the floor, then bursting out of the front door.  Voices raised in bloodthirsty anticipation, turned to surprise.  The sharp Tuunng! of my half-brother's bow, followed immediately by a cry of pain and a weapon clattering to the stairs.  Now...


My eyes snapped open, the world resolving in sharp detail around me.  I stood quickly, turning to face the interior of the courtyard as I did so, my long hair splayed out behind me as I brought the pistol to bear.  A mail clad Hell Knight was down on one knee, yanking at an arrow sunk deep in his thigh.  Another followed quick on his heels, live steel glinting in the already visible flames as he rushed Belaron.  My world turned into a tunnel, its edges growing dim as if all that existed was a straight line connecting the extension of my arm, my pistol, and the Hell Knight into one point.  It was almost a surprise when the pistol went off in my hand, jerking like a live thing as it spit death at the killer in front of me.

The Hell Knight's torso slammed backwards as his feet ran out from under him, literally flipping him on to his back in a spray of blood.  His helmet spiraled through the air, then came careening down next to him.  The first Hell Knight cursed as he tore the arrow from his thigh and reached for his blade, bringing it up to block a swing from Mikisai in a clash of metal on metal.  Belaron cursed as he notched another arrow, quickly changing position to try and get a clear shot past his brother.  His eyes widened as a figure streaked by him on the ground, moving fast and low in a flash of scales.  Scales?  Mikisai's opponent suddenly stiffened as a nearly seven foot long snake wrapped itself around his legs and bit into his torso.

CRASH!  The front door of the Crafthouse was kicked off it's hinges and went banging down the stairs, causing Mikisai to sidestep out of the way and disengage his now rapidly stiffening opponent to avoid being hit by the solid oak panel.  Standing in the doorway was the biggest damn Hell Knight I had ever seen, like a mountain made flesh.  His full plate helm had been molded into a snarling demonesque visage, and he wore plate pauldrons over his mail covering all of his arms down to massive, claw like gauntlets.  He held a square topped blade equal to my height and half my weight with casual ease in one hand, the other flexed into a fist as he raised his kite shield, the blazon heraldry of Lord Borean across its front.

"Look who's home for dinner..." he drawled, his voice low and deep from inside his massive helm.

Belaron snarled and released his arrow, which the Hell Knight sergeant deflected with his shield with contemptuous ease.  The sound of the arrow crashing off the shield brought me back to my senses, my hands flying to my belt and the powder horn kept there.  It was an effort of concentration to keep the hands deftly working as I watched the giant of a man snarl and stride down the stairs in two easy steps, his massive blade flashing out as he did so.  Metal crashed on metal as Mikisai desperately parried, back pedaling all the while,  his much smaller Hanzo Blade expertly turning aside the larger weapon.

With a sudden burst of speed surprising in one so large, the Hell Knight battered aside Mikisai's blade with his shield and lashed out with his blade.  Mikisai's quick sidestep saved his life, but a bloom of crimson stained his torso as he staggered back.  Sensing the kill was close, the towering warrior pressed forward, raising his weapon.

BAAMMM!


He staggered back, a shower of sparks and blood arcing out from his pauldron.  It was only then that I realized I had fired my pistol.  Less than a second later an arrow shaft sprouted from his other shoulder, finding its way between two of the overlapping plates of protective steel.  With a roar the beast of a man shook off the pain and brought his meat cleaver of a sword crashing down at Mikisai before him.  Rolling lightly on his feet, Mikisai sidestepped the blow and came to stand beside his assailant.  Ancient paving stones cracked under the weight of the blow, lodging the weapon in place for a moment.  With a roar the Hell Knight fought to free his weapon.

"For my father.  For honor" Mikisai said as energies coursed down his arm, crackling over his fresh wound and flowing into his blade.  Taking a two handed grip, the blade flashed down in an electric arc, blinding the eye to see.  I blinked at the intensity of it, my eyes snapping shut to protect themselves.  There was a sizzling sound and a few dull thumps, accompanied by the smell of burnt flesh.  Opening my eyes I saw Mikisai standing over the headless form of our father's killer, holding the blade named after him in silent pose.  Slowly, ever so slowly, the armored form toppled forward, crashing into the courtyard with a dull boom.

It was only then that we saw the crumpled form of Hanzo Tenzen, The Hanzo, our father, slumped against the side of the house, sword still in hand even as he died.  A litter of bodies surrounded him, for even in his advanced age, he had been a Master.

My voice caught in my throat.  It hadn't been real.  Til now...