Natyla signalled for silence and a hush fell over the room they were standing in. Beyond the walls he could hear the snorts and stamping hooves of horses as the riders arrived. Holding his breath, he waited tensely as the noise outside began to settle down.
“Eval! Where are you you flaming drunk, if you boys got drunk again I’ll thrash you,” called out a strong voice filled with annoyance. Beron wondered which of the men lying on the floor in the other room was Eval. The curses grew louder as the speaker grew more agitated. Soon Beron could hear what sounded like boots on cobblestone, and he prepared for them to enter.
Sudden screams erupted through the door, and Beron could well imagine the men had approached to close, allowing Lysira to take her shot. Soon enough a man stumbled in through the door, an arrow protruding from his shoulder as he stumbled into the doorway. Seeing two figures, both with bare steel gave the raven haired man pause for a moment, and when he spied the dagger in Beron’s hand he charged him rather than face a sword.
Beron stood in a loose guard stance, his dagger and free hand both out to help ward off or intercept any strikes, and when the bandit attacked in a wild flurry of sloppy punches, he seemed to move in thick syrup.
Closing the distance, Beron knocked aside a wild punch and drove his knife inwards. The man twisted wildly, but Beron with his offhand clutched and twisted his dirty coat. Pulling the man off balance, Beron waited for an opening as the man struggled to catch himself and plunged his dagger deep into his heart.
Clutching feebly to Beron, the raven haired bandit breathed his last and the Ji’val was forced to throw the body to the ground as other man finally noticed them through the chaos outside.
“Eval! Where are you you flaming drunk, if you boys got drunk again I’ll thrash you,” called out a strong voice filled with annoyance. Beron wondered which of the men lying on the floor in the other room was Eval. The curses grew louder as the speaker grew more agitated. Soon Beron could hear what sounded like boots on cobblestone, and he prepared for them to enter.
Sudden screams erupted through the door, and Beron could well imagine the men had approached to close, allowing Lysira to take her shot. Soon enough a man stumbled in through the door, an arrow protruding from his shoulder as he stumbled into the doorway. Seeing two figures, both with bare steel gave the raven haired man pause for a moment, and when he spied the dagger in Beron’s hand he charged him rather than face a sword.
Beron stood in a loose guard stance, his dagger and free hand both out to help ward off or intercept any strikes, and when the bandit attacked in a wild flurry of sloppy punches, he seemed to move in thick syrup.
Closing the distance, Beron knocked aside a wild punch and drove his knife inwards. The man twisted wildly, but Beron with his offhand clutched and twisted his dirty coat. Pulling the man off balance, Beron waited for an opening as the man struggled to catch himself and plunged his dagger deep into his heart.
Clutching feebly to Beron, the raven haired bandit breathed his last and the Ji’val was forced to throw the body to the ground as other man finally noticed them through the chaos outside.
