Cedric threw himself violently into the water and used one last burst of the red light's power to propel himself forward, using the sword as a paddle.
In a flash he emerged at the lake's edge and leapt onto solid ground. Not stopping to take a breath, he tore into the grass in the direction of Mel, who had retreated inward. The remnants of the red light faded away, but the momentum it provided persisted as he lunged toward his friend.
The blond-headed bandit streaked in between them, readying a fine hiltless dagger in defense.
"OUT OF MY WAY, BANDIT!"
Cedric reared the sword to his right before slashing sideways at the smiling man. His fury filled him, but he controlled it with resolute focus.
The bandit, unable to duck away from the attack like before, parried the sword with swift precision. Squatting down with one leg, he whipped his arms over his head from his right shoulder, deflecting the sword just enough to duck his head below its path. He allowed the momentum of Cedric's blow to spin him graciously around in a one-legged twirl.
Tilting his body, he bounced toward Cedric, who was busy trying to stop the momentum from his deflected attack. Sensing the counter-attack, he gave up on pursuing Mel even though he was right in front of him and executed a frantic backslash to defend himself.
Cedric barely managed to deflect the bandit's lunging attack aimed at his legs, and the two kicked up dirt as they readied themselves again, recognizing each other as immediate threats.
Cedric knew that he couldn't get to Mel without taking a serious blow from the relaxed bandit. He gnashed his teeth as he mulled over options in his head while the other two bandits moved in front of Mel, leaving him surrounded by enemies.
Fainting a step toward Mel, he darted to his left, where Quentle lay meters away. He slid recklessly into his friend, colliding into him, and then cutting his bonds away. Quentle grunted in pain before staggering up alongside Cedric.
"You alright?" Cedric asked, shifting his gaze to the bandits.
"Yeah, I held down the fort while you snatched the prize, ya know?" his friend razzed him in a cheerful, yet labored voice.
"Yeah, I can tell," Cedric chuckled, glancing behind them.
One of the other nearby parties was advancing on them. The group of Red Wolves, no less than thirty, were clad in the same uniforms he'd seen the night prior. His expression tightened with apprehension as his gaze panned across the threats surrounding them.
"Alright, Cedric, it's time to give up." Mel emerged from behind the two smaller bandits, speaking in a firm voice and incurring Cedric's furious glare.
"As you can see, the enemy has surrounded us. They're here for that sword you have, so it's very simple. You just have to drop it, and—"
"Shut your mouth, Mel! Shut your mouth! This is your way of handling things? You're a damned coward, you know?!" Cedric roared, thrusting the sword in Mel's direction.
Mel stepped toward him, looking directly into his eyes. "I don't need to explain myself to you, Cedric. You need only drop the sword, and we can all go home."
"Screw that, rich boy! We aren't going to bend to your petty threats!" Quentle fired back, struggling to snatch his spear from the grass. "We have the sword now! Let's use it against these wolf-babies, you idiot! Don't you understand that we have the power here?"
"No, Quentle, you're the one who doesn't understand. Neither one of you understands anything!" Mel clenched his fists, glaring at Quentle. "This plan will end the war without fail, but if you get in the way, we're all just going to die meaningless deaths!"
"I'm not giving away a weapon this powerful just because your dad and his friends are in bed with the enemy!" Cedric shouted, face taut with rage. "You think I'll trust someone who allows intruders to roam free, even if it means letting his own people die? The man I just killed… your contact that was waiting outside High Town last night… he would have killed anybody who saw him, including me. Yet we're supposed to believe these same people will just leave us alone after fifteen years of war, just because we gave them a god-damned sword?"
"Arguing about this is useless, deer-boy," the bandit interrupted, smoothly stepping in front of Mel. "You're not Garik. You can't fight against this number of enemies, can you?"
"It doesn't matter!" Cedric bellowed back. "We aren't going to give in because of something like that!"
"This is moronic, Cedric… don't throw both of your lives away for something that you know nothing about!" Mel forced his way back in front of the bandit, waving his arm emphatically.
"If I'm the Heir, then my Teuton Will ought to help me make it through this, wouldn't you say, Mel?" Cedric replied calmly. "In that case, don't you think I can take matters into my own hands? Rather than leave everything in the hands of your dad and his friends, I'll rely on my OWN POWER!" He slammed his chest with an open hand, then caught his breath before turning to the panting Quentle.
"Think you can run?" he muttered, eyeing the bandits.
"Sure, if I need to… which direction?" Quentle responded heartily despite his labored breaths.
"Well—"
Suddenly, Cedric's attention was drawn to the blade of the sword. Across the glowing red surface of the blade, green sparks began to form sharp letters.
< -V-O-L-C-A-N-O- >