Crow gritted his teeth as he tried to figure out how to get the stallion back under his control. Glancing back over his shoulder, he saw that one of the mercenaries was pursuing him down the street. Luckily for him, it didn’t seem like the man had any way of attacking him from a distance, because he looked like he was more intent on catching up to the thief than reaching for any weapons. It wasn’t much of an advantage for him though. Being focused on holding onto his erratic horse, Crow couldn’t draw any arrows, let alone try to notch and aim his bow effectively. Until he managed to stop or the mercenary caught up with him, they were both at a standoff.
Gods, how do knights make this look so easy? He groaned inwardly as he clutched at the horse’s neck, trying desperately not to fall off its back. Looking forward again, his eyes grew wide as he saw the fourth, missing mercenary appear from a side street ahead of him and block his path. In a flash of urgency, he tugged on the stallion’s reins, trying to make it turn to go around the obstacle. However, he apparently pulled too hard, because instead of passing to the right of the mercenary, his horse skidded to slow down and turned around completely, cantering back in the opposite direction towards the other attacker that had been chasing him.
“Lovely,” Crow muttered sarcastically. “This is exactly what I wanted. Thank you, you stupid animal.” He grasped the horse’s mane tightly as he barreled back towards the mercenary.
The man slowed slightly, raising his sword and grinning victoriously as he prepared to swing it at the thief. However, he was distracted as Penelope rode up beside him and slashed her dagger.
With his attention diverted, Crow managed to skirt past them without injury. He let out his breath in relief, but quickly realized he was heading back towards the remaining two mercenaries alone. He had to get the horse to stop somehow or he would be practically handing himself over to be killed.
Seeing as the reins made the animal change directions last time, he gave them another sharp jerk with one hand—he didn’t want to use both for fear of losing his balance and falling off. The stallion responded by turning in the direction he was pulling. It didn’t stop moving though, so the thief continued to keep tugging on the reins, forcing the animal to skip in a tight circle until it finally halted and pawed at the ground in confusion.
“Well, that was unpleasant,” Crow exhaled, shaking his head to clear the mild dizziness he felt after the horse had spun around a couple of times. Now able to think clearly again, he turned in the saddle to look back at the others. William and Penelope were caught in battle with two of the mercenaries, while the third that was still on horseback galloped into a side street. He was probably going to try to take them by surprise.
Crow frowned worriedly. He wanted to warn them somehow, but he was still too far away, and he didn’t trust the stallion to follow his orders well enough to carry him where he needed to go. Even though they needed the horse in order to get away, he couldn’t remain on its back and be useful to anyone in this fight. He was going to have to dismount.
He swung his leg over the side of the horse and slid off, touching down lightly on the ground. He was just about to turn and run to help William and Penelope, but before he could move, he felt a sharp pain in the back of his head that made his vision swim. Staggering from the impact, he turned to see the mercenary who had attacked Penelope standing behind him, shaking out his hand after having punched the thief.
Too late, he realized he had been distracted and forgotten about the fourth killer. He stumbled backwards, trying to get away from him as the mercenary drew a wicked looking scimitar from his belt and began advancing. The man raised the curved blade threateningly, seeming to enjoy the look of terror on his target’s face as the thief tried to think of a way out of the situation.
In such close quarters, his bow would be useless, but he also knew that trying to win against a professional murderer with a dagger was practically suicidal as well. He didn’t want to turn and run either, since the mercenary could easily throw the short blade and stab him in the back as he tried to escape. His eyes flicked back towards his far away comrades, and heart began to race as he became aware of how dire his situation was.
Suddenly, he flinched as he felt his back brush against cold stone. The mercenary had cornered him against the wall of a building. He eyed the man’s scimitar and swallowed nervously. All it would take was one well-placed strike, and he was done for. The mercenary seemed to know it too, because he began to laugh cruelly as he lifted his blade.
In the next instant, he brought down his sword, and Crow leaped to the side to dodge the blow. He grimaced as he felt the blade cut through the right side of his chest. He hadn’t been able to fully avoid it, and took a bit of a gash as he hurried out of the mercenary’s range. He pressed a hand to cover his wound and spun around to face the man again, not wanting to let him out of his sight long enough to get attacked.
The mercenary spat on the ground, seeming annoyed that his first strike hadn’t downed the thief. He advanced again, raising his scimitar to swing once more. With no wall to hinder his movements, Crow ducked out of the way more successfully this time. His quickness only seemed to further enrage the mercenary, who now spat a string of what he could only guess were curses in his native tongue. As he continued to evade the man’s attacks, he began trying to think of a way out of the situation.
Anyone else who touches the staff before it passes into Brerra will die.
Crow blinked as Aeklora’s words came back to him with unexpected vividness. He glanced back over his shoulder towards the stallion as an idea slowly formed in his head. It was risky—he still didn’t know for sure if the staff could kill anyone—but it was the only option he had. Spinning back around, he danced just out of reach of the mercenary’s blade again as the man tried to take advantage of his momentary lapse in focus.
“Is that all you’ve got?” he taunted, edging closer to the horse. “I’ve seen peasant girls who can move faster!” Whether the man understood his words or not, his tone seemed to get under his skin. He swung again, oblivious to the thief’s intentions.
As soon as they reached the stallion’s side, Crow reached up and pulled the staff out from the rope attached to the animal’s belly. He held it up, brandishing the rod like a sword, but the gesture only caused the mercenary to laugh and say something else in his language that sounded like an insult.
“Stay back, or I’ll kill you,” Crow snarled, genuinely meaning the threat for once in his life.
The mercenary disregarded him and moved in to swing again. However, Crow was much faster. He slipped past the man’s scimitar and into his defense, bringing the staff around to strike his torso. Fortunately, the ploy worked. Being unaware of the power behind the staff, the mercenary didn’t even try to get out of the way as the golden rod collided with his ribcage.
With the thief now in his range of attack, the man grinned cruelly and reached to grab at Crow’s collar, but then faltered. His smile vanished and he clutched at his chest, dropping instantly to the ground.
“Holy…” Crow gaped at the dead man at his feet, frozen to the spot as his mind began to slowly comprehend what had just happened. Even though he had trusted that the staff would kill the mercenary, it was still shocking to see it for himself. He stared at the staff in his hands with unbridled surprise. The legend is real, after all.
Snapping back into focus, he turned towards Penelope and William. The third mercenary had yet to appear. Good. There was still time to warn them. Staff still in hand, he took off at a sprint to get to them before they were ambushed, leaving the body of the dead mercenary behind.
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