Chapter Seven
By Untwisted

Reprinted with permission.
Added 07/28/2002.

Padre-Adamo gripped the hilt of his sword tightly, and shuffled his feet a bit in anticipation. Everyone held their breath, it seemed as if all life stopped for a moment as the first wave of drudges made their way into town. Padre and Charon let loose battle cries loud enough to scare the mightiest of warriors, and then, they charged. The charge was an explosion of swings and feints, relieving a tension in the air, and even the trees seemed to be relieved. Padre extended his shield arm, bowling over three drudges. Charon did the same, followed by Rat Foo and Dajyrad.

The four fighters swung unmercifully, jabbing, crushing, swinging, slicing. Drudges fell left and right, corpses littered the now crimson dirt road. The humans fought with a passion, a longing; they were out for blood.

Soon the sound of arrows in flight filled the air, as the archers Mach Xin and Lorik the Ranger took deadly aim. There seemed to be no end to the drudge's numbers.

When it seemed as the melees were being overpowered by the vast sea of drudges, Deathgrip and Gimpt let loose volley after volley of flame. Their magic lit the sky, and scorched the ground. Flaming drudges ran wildly, crying out in pain, before dropping to the ground in a putrid pile of flesh.

The warriors all fought with such rage that they did not notice a small band of drudges creep by them and take Dulcion captive. The poor alchemist tried to yell, but it was drown out by the sounds of battle.

Thinking fast he uncorked a red hip flask and flung it in the face of his captives. For a second the drudges were stunned, but soon realized that the liquid was only rum. The apothecary was out of ideas, he could not use one of his explosive potions, it would surely take his life too.

As the party and their captive began to leave town, a small shadow darted across their path. The drudges took no notice, but Dulcion did. Minutes later a ferret leapt with all its might at the lead drudge, clawing, biting, furiously. The drudge squawked and bat the creature aside. Stunned, Palyn laid helpless on the side of the road. As the group moved on a lone drudge broke formation and struck Palyn with a crippling blow.

Dajyrad across town fell to the ground with a cry like no other. Pure malice ran through the area, a cry so loud the mage Di-Jin shuddered in his warm tower abode. Stooping low Padre grabbed Dajyrad and swung him easily over his shoulder. Eager to help his brethren, Padre laid Dajyrad against a kitchen wall, where the archers would be able to keep him safe. Dajyrad's eyes were wide, pupils large. A stream of tears flowed freely, winding their way down his beat red face. He was too stunned to even talk. He felt as if a piece of himself had been ripped out. He felt like his organs had been removed and hastily shoved back inside him. He felt dead, yet alive at the same time. No feeling could compare, no physical wound.

Slowly Dajyrad realized what had happened. His very best friend, his brother from birth, his very own soul had been killed.

The warrior, eyes wide and glassy, sunk deeper and deeper into a trance. He could not think, nor cry. He could not feel, yet he felt more malice, more hate, more love, and more sadness then he had ever felt in his entire life. This was the end, in his eyes, life could not go on. With a light thud his head hit the ground, and he knew no more.