I glanced at Sephimara. Our connection was no longer about academics or friendship. It was life and death.
She had to know the basics of swordsmanship, I was confident of that. But just how skilled was she with her blade? It wasn’t the sort of thing that creeps intocasual conversations.
I unsheathed my scythe-axe from its leather cover, locking the blade into a pole-axe configuration with a solid clunk. It was lighter and less cumbersome than it appeared, as well as ferocious-looking; compensating for my lack of bad-ass quips.
Sephimara and I exchanged a glance
I will not let you down.
Something in her gaze ignited.
“Protection is a salient consideration in attire.” Sephimara drew her saber, which glowed in the dim light. “Perhaps you gentlemen were not aware of the shortcomings of your attire. Crystal flamed steel will slice through metal chain like tallow.”
The leader took half a step back.
We shuffled further to the side. We would either make it around them, or at least back up against a building to avoid being surrounded.
Time slowed as the thug with the crossbow raised it.
As I stepped between Sephimara and the leader to parry a cutlass blow with the shaft of my axe, she lunged at the one with the crossbow, slicing the weapon clean in half before he could get off a shot.
Holy hellweed she’s fast.
I spun, bringing the butt of my axe into the leader’s groin.
He screamed.
The crossbow-armed thug leaped back inconfusion.
“Run,” said Sephimara.
We did.
“Nice work taking out their only ranged weapon,” I said between panted breaths.
“That we know of,” she replied.
We darted around a corner to reach an entrance, where I stopped dead, stymied by a massive set of doors with no apparent handles.
“How do you… uhh… where’s the entrance?” I said.
“Down here.” Sephimara clicked a recessed catch towards the bottom, and a hidden door popped open.
“These look like warehouse doors.” I inspected them as she stepped through. “What sort of place do you live in?”
“Theavailablesort of place.” She turned to address someone inside as I stepped through. “Good evening Gretta, I am surprised to see you here this late.”
I fidgeted with the latch. “Should we bar the door or something? In case our friends come after us.”
“That will not be necessary.”
“Hullo Missus Nose,” boomed a voice from above.
I stumbled back against the timbered door, feeling like I’d been hit by a sledgehammer. “What… uhh… Miss… Seph… Lady…”
“Gretta, this rather inarticulate gentleman is a friend. His name is Theodore Thistlewood. Please treat him respectfully.”
“Hullo Mister Wood,” said the ogress.
