Ovun launched forward, his heavy axe swinging in a broad, ruthless arc. The air hissed as the massive blade cut through it, forcing both Amukelo and Padrin to backstep in a quick retreat. The strike barely missed them. But as they evaded him, Jezar and Peles moved in, pressing their advantage.
Jezar was on Padrin almost immediately, his blade flashing as he aimed a series of rapid, testing strikes at him. Despite the wound he'd received, Jezar was cunning, using his skill to keep Padrin occupied rather than overpowering him directly.
But Padrin was no fool. Though Jezar was quick, the wound he carried limited his stamina. With each clash, Padrin steadily gained the upper hand. His blows were fierce, his technique tight and unyielding, forcing Jezar to stay on the defensive. As they traded strikes, Padrin's focus sharpened, watching Jezar's movements with a practiced eye. He noticed the faintest hesitation in Jezar's step as Ovun's figure loomed closer, coming up behind him.
With precise timing, Padrin sidestepped, parrying Jezar's blade aside in one smooth motion and driving a hard kick into Jezar's wounded chest. The impact sent Jezar stumbling backward, directly into Ovun's path. The larger warrior reached out, trying to steady Jezar, but their coordination faltered, creating a gap that Padrin seized. He pressed forward, his gaze briefly darting to where Amukelo fought Peles.
Amukelo and Peles were locked in a tense, evenly matched duel. Under normal circumstances, Amukelo's skill and strength would have outmatched Peles, but the blood soaking his arm and his weakened grip made every strike a struggle. Peles's twin daggers darted in and out like snake fangs, aiming for any exposed skin, hoping to make each minor cut bleed Amukelo's strength away.
Amukelo gritted his teeth, focusing on each movement as he attempted to maintain control. But Peles's maneuvering was relentless. He sidestepped a thrust from Amukelo's sword, using a twist of his wrist to deflect the blade to the side. In the next instant, Peles slid close, one dagger aimed directly at Amukelo's neck. Amukelo shifted his head just in time, the blade grazing his skin, drawing a shallow but painful line across his neck.
The sting brought clarity to his mind, and in a flash of inspiration, Amukelo reached to his belt, his fingers finding the dagger with the artifact—a unique blade he drew only to track Neclord. It was his last remaining dagger, and using it meant revealing his ace, but he knew it would give him the advantage he needed.
The glint of the dagger caught Peles's eye, and for a split second, he froze, recognition widening his gaze. This dagger had an identical artifact to one he himself carried, the very device they'd used to track Amukelo after their confrontationin Norton. The sudden revelation shattered his focus, and he faltered, dropping his guard.
Seeing his opportunity, Amukelo brought his blade down in a swift arc, cutting through the hesitation on Peles's face. Peles barely managed to twist away, but he wasn't fast enough. The blade bit into him, carving a deeper line from under his neck to his shoulder. The wound wasn't critical, but it was enough to make Peles stumble back, clutching at the injury with a hiss of pain. Amukelo didn't hesitate, taking advantage of the moment by driving his boot hard into Peles's chest, sending him reeling backward.
At the same time, Padrin had already begun to move, his eyes catching Amukelo's. Without words, both of them knew it was time to fall back. Padrin sprinted toward their horse, and Amukelo followed, his breaths quick and labored. Behind them, Peles and Jezar scrambled to their feet, their expressions dark and furious.
Peles remained where he'd fallen, however, his eyes fixed on the dagger that had been in Amukelo's hand. His thoughts raced, trying to make sense of what he'd seen, his fingers pressing against his new wound.
But before he could dwell on it further, Ovun approached him, his heavy steps measured and deliberate. Jezar moved alongside him, his hand pressed to his bleeding chest. They stared at the trail of dust left by Amukelo and Padrin as they rode off, the horse carrying them swiftly away from the battlefield.
Ovun regarded Peles with a sharp glance, noting the assassin's distracted expression and bloodied shoulder. "Are you okay?" he asked, his voice rough but laced with a rare hint of concern.
Peles blinked, shaking himself from his thoughts as he looked down at his wound. It was painful but shallow, and he forced a tight smile. "Yeah, I'm fine. It's nothing."
But his gaze drifted back toward the horizon where Amukelo and Padrin were disappearing, his expression darkening. "But I think I know why this kid was able to find Neclord, even when he was out of the town…"
Jezar approached Peles and Ovun, rolling his right shoulder as he walked, grimacing from the earlier hit. His brow furrowed as he looked at Peles, noting the odd expression on his face. "What do you mean by that?" he asked, his voice rough but tinged with curiosity.
Peles didn't answer immediately. Instead, he drew his dagger with the tracking artifact. Holding it up, he gestured in the direction where Amukelo and Padrin had fled. "We knew he was this way because of this artifact," he explained, his tone edged with irritation. His finger pointed to the small, dark stone embedded in the weapon, a dull, cloudy gem that pulsed faintly in response to a distant signal.
Jezar's eyes narrowed, understanding dawning slowly. He nodded, listening intently. "You think he has one, too?" he asked, voice low.
Peles continued, his gaze locked on the stone, almost as if willing it to give up answers it didn't have. "When he struck me, I caught a glimpse of the same stone on his dagger," Peles said, his voice tight. "It's also weird. I mean, back in Norton, the artifact didn't react like this, but now... He must have other tricks. It's clear he has one just like ours."
Jezar paused, processing this new information. "That would make sense. It explains how he was able to find Neclord so quickly after leaving Norton," he mused, scratching his chin thoughtfully. His face hardened. "But then how would he get something like that? It's not like these artifactsare lying around."
Peles's face darkened, a flash of anger flickering in his eyes as he glanced back in the direction Amukelo had fled. "There's only one person he could've gotten it from…" he muttered, not bothering to finish the thought. The implication was clear. "But it doesn't matter now. We can figure out the details later. First, we need to report this to Neclord. He'll know what to do."
Beside him, Ovun let out a loud, exasperated "Tshh…" and glared down at the bodies of the slain horses. "The fact they had to kill our horses…" he grumbled, flexing his fingers as if imagining wrapping them around Amukelo's throat.
With a curt nod, Peles slid the dagger back into his belt and turned, leading the group back the way they had come. They disappeared into the shadows, heading toward Neclord's camp to regroup and relay the unexpected news.
---
Meanwhile, further ahead and moving quickly, Amukelo and Padrin continued to put distance between themselves and their pursuers. The fields had given way to sparse woodland, and with the adrenaline of the escape ebbing, Amukelo could feel the sting of his wounds resurfacing. He slowed, breathing heavily, and with a grimace, reached into his pack to retrieve his last healing potion.
Padrin watched him carefully as he downed it, observing the way Amukelo's face tightened with pain before it eased slightly, his wounds beginning to close. The faint glow of the potion's magic worked its way across his skin, knitting torn flesh and easing the worst of his injuries. Amukelo took a deep breath, relieved but still frustrated, as he wiped the sweat from his forehead.
"That was my last healing potion…" he muttered, mostly to himself. But then a thought struck him, his eyes widening as he reached into his bag again. "Potion…" he whispered, his voice trailing off as realization hit him like a slap. His hand emerged, clutching a small vial filled with reddish liquid.
Amukelo stared at it, his expression shifting rapidly from disbelief to frustration, and then to a simmering anger. "How *stupid* I am!" he spat, his voice filled with self-reproach. "I could have finished that piece of filth back there! All this time… and I forgot about this!"
Padrin raised an eyebrow, watching Amukelo's sudden outburst with a faintly amused but curious look. "What is that potion about?"
Amukelo held the vial out, the reddish liquid swirling slightly inside the glass. "This," he said, his tone both regretful and resolute. "It was a gift to give me the strength to face Neclord. Boosts my strength, speed, everything." He took a deep breath, feeling the weight of his oversight settle on him. "Bao and Pao's parents gave it to me specifically for this fight. And I completely forgot I had it."
Padrin glanced at the potion, nodding thoughtfully. "But you said you have a way to track him as well, from what I remember, right?" His eyes flickered with an understanding of Amukelo's frustration but stayed focused on their path forward.
Amukelo nodded, his expression shifting from regret to a renewed resolve. "Yes. The artifact they use to track me—I have one just like it. But what does that have to do with my potion?"
Padrin gave a tight, approving smile. "Then we've got all we need. We'll ambush them right away. If it's really as strong as you say it shouldn't be a problem." He glanced at the sky, noting the sun sinking lower, casting the horizon in hues of red and purple. "We've got less than an hour until dusk."
Amukelo's grip tightened on the potion. He looked back in the direction they'd fled, feeling his pulse quicken as the possibility of ending it all in one final strike filled his mind. "Let's finish this. Once and for all."