Tainted Victory – Chapter 1, Part 8

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The rest of the soldiers took off after the dog. A couple threw sticks, rocks, or daggers. The dog evaded the projectiles with ease. It stopped at a cross in the road and diverted left. The soldiers ran up to catch it unaware of what Troforsect saw was about to unfold. 

The house doors surrounding the soldiers flung open. A man in a green cloak came out the front with a woman in black. A soldier with a rose on his armor, and man with two swords drawn exited the rear, closing the other soldiers off. A small skirmish occurred. One of the Blues yelled “Trap!” 

It was too late. The soldiers rushed the woman. She jumped, kicked the lead soldier in the head and caused the remaining soldiers to stagger backward. The rose soldier and the two-sword wielding man braced them from the back and began engaging them in clashes of metal while the green cloaked man and woman dealt with the soldiers in the front. Metallic clanging filled the space.

“Of course,” Troforsect cursed. He rode up the street to join in the fray only to catch a scent of sulfur and acid. The next second a ploom of fire erupted from the ground in front of him creating a natural, if you could call magic natural, wall blocking him from his me. An image of the  man in purple and silver flashed in front of his mind. “The old man!” He heard doors creak behind him. He bucked his horse around to see the old man holding his staff outward. It glowed bright red like the ploom. Next to the old man was a man dressed in a shirt and red vest. 

The man in the red vest held out his hand. “Call your men off and stop what you are doing here. Now! We have you outmatched if not outnumbered. Leave before it gets worse for you.”

Troforsect examined the red vested man. He had no visible weapons, or any marks of the magic ones. Troforsect drew his sword. Neither man stepped back. The violence around the corner got louder, but not any more violent than he would have thought. “Interesting tactic.” He rose his sword to the sky. “However it closes yourself in as well.” The blade glowed a blue, the color of the sky from the tip to the hilt. The gray clouds lost their silver lining and filled in the remaining blue. Troforsect began rotating the blade in a slow circle. The storm clouds followed. 

The mage slid a single foot back. “Storm magic. That’s quite rare.”

The red vested man moved his arm, as if to brace for a hit. He looked up and saw the swirling brew above the back at the glowing blade. “It’s not quite storm magic. Maybe closer to storm manipulation than magic.”

“Quite an interesting interpretation,” Troforsect said. He titles the blade downward jabbed the air above the ground. A cool air swept through space between the houses, and even cooler water began to drip from the sky. They splashed onto the staff, steaming it, and fading the red glow. Troforsect pulled on the reigns, bucking the horse upward. The mage and vested man scattered back. The horses feet shot mud into the air on landing. Troforsect swing the blade down on the staff. It clashed hard. The plume of Fire stuttered and fell to the ground. 

The sounds of his men cheering in rejoice erupted from the battle around the corner. It was followed by the sound of clattering and banging. The rose soldier’s body staggered out of the alley followed by a leaping Blue soldier. 

Troforsect began to swing the sword from side to side in front of the mage. The blade hacked against the staff and pushed the mage back. The rain picked up. It fell harder. Troforsect raised the blade again. A single bolt of lightning rode down from the sky and exploded on the blade. The lighting radiated from the blade. “This was fun for a moment.”

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