Page 54 of Dark Elf's Ragdoll
He nods and breaks away, joining his men as our allies begin fighting with my brother’s men. I raise my sword and point it at Fohri.
“So that’s how it’s going to be,” he snarls, sheathing the knife. He reaches behind and pulls out a sword, its tip longer and sharper than mine. “I always knew you were jealous of my position as heir, my beloved brother, but I never saw it ending like this.”
“It never had to,” I growl. “But you leave me no other choice.”
We scream in unison, charging for one another. I bring my sword down on him but he jumps and rolls over my back. A searing pain ignites down my back, causing me to yelp in pain. I turn to see my blood dripping from my brother’s sword.
“How about a little more?” he laughs.
Suddenly, he produces a set of throwing knives in his hands and hurls all three toward me. I deflect all of them as I advance on his position. Our swords clash, my faces inches away from his.
“How would Mother and Father look down on you now? To see you fighting your own blood?” he growls, pushing down on me.
“They’d be more proud of me than you,” I snarl. “They loved this land, and they loved us. Too bad you went and ruined it all for your own gain.”
We pull our swords back and clash again.
“I will fight for Infnore, to restore it back to its former glory!” I yell before headbutting him.
He stumbles back as I rush him. He deflects and blocks each of my attacks, laughing them off. “You’re a fool Ihokha!” he says.
He punches me in the gut, causing me to drop my sword. As I keel over, he grabs me and twirls me around, using my body as a shield against the rebels. They halt, Fohri’s men slain on the floor.
“Come no closer,” barks Fohri.
My hands come to rest on the hilt of his dagger. I whisk it from the sheath, Fohri noticing too late as I hurl it into my ribs, pointing it upward. I feel each inch of the blade tear through my flesh, piercing my back and penetrating Fohri’s chest.
The burst of his heart sends a wave of vibration down the dagger, rocking my hand as I gasp for breath. Fohri tries to speak but spits out blood in place of words, the warmth of it spilling down my neck. I pull the dagger out of him and I, causing us both to fall to the floor.
Stinging more than the pain in my body is my grief for commiting fratricide. The dagger falls out of my grip as I muster up all the strength in my body to turn to Ellie, her body laying in the arms of Brilyk.
Clutching my wounds, I suck up the pain as I trudge over to them, collapsing to my knees by their side. Everyone looks at me with gaping mouths.
28
BRILYK
How the fuck did that son of a bitch survive that?I think in awe of Ihokha as I glance between him, his fallen brother, and the dagger on the ground.I can’t believe it.
I turn my attention back to Ellie who lays unconscious in my arms. Ihokha stumbles over, clutching his wound and breathing rapidly as he takes a knee beside us. I throw my fingers to Ellie’s neck.
“She has a pulse but it’s fading!” I say in panic, snapping my thumb beside her ear. “Ellie, are you with me? Wake up, please!”
“We must get her somewhere else,” says a stained Ihokha through clenched teeth. “Somewhere with more air. This place is designed to starve people of oxygen.”
I’m distracted by the blood pouring out of his chest. “Don’t worry about me,” he snaps. “We must get her out of here.”
“I’ll carry her then. You’re in no good condition yourself.”
Gavarn leads his men out first, running ahead as I follow behind. We reach the courtyard, Ihokha trudging along with us as we come upon a glorious sight. The fighting around the estate has come to a standstill.
Enemies who remain are on their knees, swords kept at their necks by the rebels who stand tall amongst them. Destruction is strewn about every inch of the estate grounds. Pillars have fallen, causing parts of buildings to come down with them.
Smoke rises from various spots, emanating from small fires blazing away. The ashes of enemies lie in small piles, having fallen victim to magic attacks. Blood has coated the surfaces of the walls and ground.
Broken weapons lay beside their fallen owners, with corpses of both allies and fallen men being organized into small piles. No doubt, it was a war, a battle whose stories shall be passed down from generation to generation, a day that will forever be etched into Infnore’s history.
The day that Infnore won itself back.