Roard lets out a war cry; it sounds cavernous and muffled as it emits from his helmet.
He charges, spear level and shield out front.
That spearhead is a wicked shape, which pans out near the base, like someone made two Nike logos out of metal, and fused them together. Just one thrust, and I'll be speared like a fish.
That shield is massive, near the same size I am.
Roard himself is tall, imposing. Holy crap he's fast.
He clears the 40 feet in ten steps, two seconds, one cry that reverberates against his helmet in a dull thrum.
He's upon me, and I hesitate.
Dodge!
Away from the spear!
I sidestep on a whim; I can feel the wind Roard brings with-
I'm struck.
That shield slams into me.
It feels like I ran into a brick wall at full sprint.
My legs leave the ground, my world spins. There's no air in my lungs, my vision blurs. I crash, I tumble. Each jarring thud sends shocks of pain that move in waves.
I hit the wall of the chapel, which leaves me with a violent kiss on the back of the head.
…Ow.
I fight to get breath back in my lungs; I've lost hold of my sword, again.
Get up, he is coming.
I struggle to even see correctly; I see two Roards charging at me.
He brings that spear down; I barely roll out of the way. His boot comes next, aimed to squash me flat with a stomp. I scramble to my feet-
His spear misses my neck by a hair.
Another thrust, another. He swipes right after a thrust, cutting the top ends of my hair as I duck. He expected it, just as he expected me to dodge away from his spear when he first charged me. The old reliable with Roard; he bashes me with the shield again.
Melina warned me this time; I cover my face; my forearms and the side of my hips take the blow. It feels like I ran into a brick wall at full sprint, and I braced just before impact.
My legs leave the ground, I'm sent flying back across the main room. I crash and tumble. I lazily get to my feet-
He's upon me again.
"Oh come on!" Roard roars, his voice underlined with a growl. "What happened to that kid mouthing off just a second ago!?"
He thrusts three times in quick succession, one knicks me in the side. I'm dodging the best I can, still dizzy from the initial bash.
Dodging a spear thrust; such a thing is almost impossible to do. Dodging them one after another; impossible. The weapon is versatile, it's leverage works with the user. It can be thrusted ahead at a blurring speed and can be drawn back just as fast. It works perfectly with the anatomy of the human arm; there is a reason why it's known as the king of weapons.
I should be dead.
He's toying with me.
"Where is he!?"
Two thrusts, I duck behind one of the pillars to evade the second. Without missing a beat, his shield slams into the pillar; I need to run away before I'm crushed by the falling blocks of stone.
He's upon me again.
I can't react, it's too fast.
He's too fast.
Melina is shouting into my ear, trying her best to aid me. It's not working; I'm slowly being peeled apart.
"Where is the 'warrior' who killed a Tree Sentinel!?" Three thrusts. The spear cuts deep into my left arm.
"Where is the demon that stalked my camp!?" Four thrusts. The spear grazes my right arm.
"Killed my men!?" He raises his shield; I foolishly prepared for him to bash me. But his spear appears beneath his shield; it swipes right. My legs are swept out from under me.
"Thinks he can face ME!" I roll; that spear buries deep into the ground.
It splits stone, kicks up dust; it was aimed for my chest.
A spear, no. Not even a pickaxe can do that.
Is he really that strong?
I'm on the ground, Roard towers over me. He dislodges his spear, it's barely affected.
He's about to stab again, he won't miss this time.
I think of the only thing I can do; I crab a handful of dust and damp dirt off the floor. I throw it, and a particularly large clump enters lobsided Roard's visor.
He growls, and swings his spear right, only ever right, to make sure I don't try and attack him. I don't; I make space.
"Clever bastard." He utters.
I let out a breath I didn't know I was holding; I'm heaving for breath. Sweat sticks my bangs to my forehead, my heart is loud and shows no sign of slowing down. I quickly draw the spare straight sword at my hip, wincing at all the cuts across my body. All of them were glancing blows, none administered by the tip. They hurt like hell; burn like hell too. The wound on my left arm is particularly deep, it bleeds enough to drip.
Roard is shaking his helmet about, trying to get the dirt out of eyes. He's vulnerable; I should attack.
But my feet are anchored in place; fear that I thought I rid of clings to me, cements me to the floor.
The Tree Sentinel was a monster, Agheel was a monster.
Roard is his own kind of monster, in that he's the most like me. A human, an opponent. But this opponent just beat me around for the past thirty seconds; he took my weapon away with the first attack. I'm afraid to face him again, I feel I won't be lucky the second time.
Lance, are you alright?
…Just barely.
That little light hovers next to my head, seemingly watching Roard with me. The knight stands tall, probably waiting for his own tears to wash away the dirt.
"What. Not gonna attack?"
Roard growls, his rage still seething underneath his words. He isn't looking at me, but he doesn't need to. As long as he has that armor, there's nothing I can do. The only spot would be his visor, but I already exploited that. Roard won't make the same mistake again. I can't run either, I'll either be captured or killed the second I leave the chapel.
Ideas?
I have a few.
I am noticing a pattern.
You are? Really?
Nothing about Roard's assault felt like a pattern, it was chaos.
I need you to keep him busy.
With that, Melina's light flies over to Roard while he still can't see; she disappears within his armor.
What the?
Since when could she do that?
Melina has said a few times that going into objects hurts, but are living things different?
I have no clue what she's up to, but I swallow, and I open my mouth. Might as well buy Melina time.
"Why not just call in your soldiers? They would make quick work of me."
Roard turns to face me; it looks like for a second that he's going to attack.
He doesn't.
"You really are a fool. You think I need numbers to defeat you?"
I want to back up, but Melina can only go so far away from me before she will snuff out like a dying ember.
"You would be right." I admit.
He laughs, it feels forced. It does sound like he's trying to catch his breath too. Attacking with such a ferocity for such a long time did a number on him.
"I do admit, it would be entertaining to watch my men tear you apart. I wonder if you could still scuttle about if your arms and legs were gone. You might just still move even if we cut your head off."
What does this guy think I am?
Lance. Melina says suddenly; she hasn't left Roard yet. Have you noticed it too?
I think for a moment, there's only one thing I can think of that she's referring to.
"What do you think I am, a cockroach?" I say.
You mean when he swipes his spear, right? I think.
"No, a cockroach would be too high of a status for you." Roard slowly approaches me, still talking. "I think a worm would be better."
Yes.
He carries a spear and shield, a terrifying combination. The shield makes up for the spear's weakness from a close-range attack, and the spear has the reach to make up for the shield's weight.
"I don't care much for worms." I'm only half paying attention to our degrading conversation.
Roard must be able to see now; he stalks right toward me.
But to use his shield, Roard must only use his spear with one hand.
I get it. The leverage, the range of movement. If Roard had both hands on his spear, I'd probably be full of holes by now. He can only thrust, and he can only swing around on his right side.
The shield restricts him.
But he wears armor, why does he even need a shield?
I do not yet know.
Roard stands at an arm's reach away, towering over me. His helmet is stained in dirt, I swear I can see eyes staring down at me with open hostility.
"You won't run, won't attack. You only evade and talk. Talk and talk, to an exasperating extent. If not a worm, then what are you exactly?"
Says the chatterbox.
I do not know, but we can use it to our advantage.
How? If I get close, he just hits me with his shield.
That is the plan.
…What?
His runes are in a chaotic state in his shield arm.
It was recently injured, near the forearm side of the elbow.
A fracture, it has not yet healed. He normally uses his spear with two hands, he is not yet accustomed to using a shield.
You can read his mind?
No, but his runes give him away.
He has a weakness.
Melina tells me her plan; I feel my heart sink.
"Well!?"
I give Roard a half-baked answer.
"Well, a man in a white mask called me a frog once."
Roard is silent, before he barks laughter. It's genuine laughter, which is terrifying.
If I told my past self that I'd have an eight-foot-tall knight in full armor and armaments standing over me, with the intent to kill me, laughing like this… my past self would probably say something stupid like "take your pills dude". To be frank, he wouldn't believe me. I can't believe the situation I'm in either.
"A frog! Those useless creatures that mindlessly croak and hop about! It's perfect."
Melina's light returns to me.
He is about to attack, are you ready?
Don't think I have much of a choice.
That is true.
Roard's amused tone and laughter cut short; his spear rises.
"Die now frog. Croak no more."
Two minutes after Roard's first charge, twenty seconds after he agreed to call me a frog, I went flying out of the chapel.
I used his shield bash like a springboard; it was all I could think of to get outside. That or running. But Roard is faster than I am; I'd get skewered.
I tried my best to land on my feet, though it's safe to say I didn't. My world is spinning even after I stop moving, I feel physically sick now. My joints ache, my body covered in bruises. New cuts, one on my legs, and one right across my cheekbone. The one on my face hurts the most, it's enough to make me slightly convulse.
Before I encountered the Tree Sentinel, Melina and I worked for a week, slaying wanderers every day. Those runes, the two times I felt golden light splash onto me, were to "level up" my "vigor", or as Melina put it: increase your will to fight. The wound I received when I first came to this world, that wicked slash across my back; that hurt more than anything I've ever experienced before combined.
If I received such a wound now, it would still hurt to the point of me screaming. But I wouldn't fall, I could take the blow. Heck, I got my fingers cut off not an hour ago, but I kept up the fight, and killed the soldier I faced. These cuts are nothing life threatening.
But it still makes things apparent: Roard is toying with me.
He wants me to suffer, wants to peel me apart bit by bit. He has the luxury; I can't run away.
When I scramble to my feet, I find myself out on the center street. I'm surrounded. Soldiers, closing in to the north, to the south. The west fills in; they file out from the edges of the chapel at the east. There's so many, enough to fill the stands of a small high school's football stadium. They form a tight ring nearly eighty feet across, making sure I can't go anywhere.
Amongst them, Wolves bark and growl, being held back by collars around their necks. So many hostile expressions, in the light of the coming dawn.
What they see, is a thin young man, with a glint in his eyes. They see a young Tarnished with a sword that he took from their fallen brethren, gloves that are not his, pale skin coated in blood that is no longer there. A rat that scampered about their camp, ate their food; killed their friends and family with a plague. A plague of a Tarnished, a disease of cold metal burying into warm flesh. They hate me, but they don't attack.
Roard exits the chapel entrance, its fallen walls barely make it up past the opening.
"Still hopping about?"
I face him, but I can't help but keep an eye on the soldiers and wolves around me. It only takes one, one to decide that they want to disobey orders and kill me. They would be shouted at, maybe even thrown in prison for insubordination.
But it wouldn't matter, because I'd be dead.
Soldiers make way, Roard stalks into the ring.
"Your sense of self-preservation is exceptional."
The tip of the sun begins the rise past the horizon, beginning its slow crawl across the sky. It casts colors of fire into the clouds, illuminates the hazy air as if it just ignited the atmosphere. It highlights the edges Roard as he readies his spear, still clutching onto his shield.
"If not annoying."
He's going to attack any second.
Melina, are you sure about this?
Yes. I can see it in how his runes flow. His arm that holds his shield is injured. If we can get him to drop his shield, we can win.
]That last bit gives me hope.
Victory is possible, Melina said it herself.
She says there's a pattern, says there's a weakness.
There is a chance.
This is a crazy idea.
If it doesn't work, then I'll get swarmed the second Roard falls. If he falls at all.
Melina doesn't try and explain, as she normally does. She only asks.
Do you trust me?
…
I feel it in my heart, a warm sensation. She's hiding things from me, but she has saved me time and time again. I may not trust her, but I believe in her. I believe she can save me. I believe she watches over me.
My own guardian angel.
I do.
I give a silent prayer, before I square up against Roard.
Thank you.
Let us begin.
One last banter, one last time. If this plan is to work, this needs to be theater. Luckily, Roard is an exceptional actor.
"Looks like the end of the road for me. Didn't know my last moments would draw a crowd."
Roard must be grinning.
"Oh, my soldiers wouldn't miss this for the world." He raises his voice. "Am I right!?"
The thunderous roar of approval that answers make me shiver.
I'm alone, surrounded by enemies.
I grin past the fear, eyeing Roard dangerously.
"Then I might as well make this a show. But will you be able to keep up?"
Roard scoffs.
"You're asking that, to me? Of all people?"
Laughter blooms from the ring.
I don't explain what I mean, that's not how provoking someone works. I continue to jab.
"Your shield arm's looking a little slow Roard."
Roard goes silent, I shiver.
I feel like I'm poking a sleeping bear.
"You really think you're up to the task?"
He stares at me unendingly; not moving. It's like he's a statue.
"Or do you like hiding behind your weak arm?"
The soldiers fall silent, eyeing their leader nervously. I don't know if they all heard me, but they must sense something coming from the knight.
The atmosphere is palpable.
He must wonder how I know, must wonder if he should just order his soldiers to kill me. But this man lives for the approval of others, he would never let such meager threats like mine go unanswered. He will prove himself, as he has done for years before.
As Melina put it, he's a slave of his own pride.
Roard drops his shield.
He doesn't make a show of it like he normally does. No flair or telegraphed movement. He simply lets go.
The shield falls with a loud thump, as if it weighed as much as a dinner table. Some soldiers shout protests, but I can't hear them.
In a single, fluid movement; he leans, shifts his right hand back on his spear's shaft, steps forward, grabs his spear with his left hand, and lunges forward.
His voice is without bravado, mockery, or amusement. It is monotone.
"Die."
That spear, low and jutting out. His posture curved and hunkered over like a farmer ready to spear hay with a pitchfork. His legs pumping, armor clicking and clacking. His tapered spearhead makes a whistling noise; he's faster than before.
He's upon me in three steps.
Twelve thrusts, lethal accuracy, all in three seconds.
Five to the chest, four to the neck and shoulders. Two in the face, one for each eye. And the last to punch straight through my throat.
I die before I hit the ground.
That's how he kills me.
At least, that was his intention.
But before he was upon me, Melina's light flies over, and lands on Roard's armored chest, glowing amongst the waving and frayed fabric of his surcoat. There she stays, there she watches Roard's runes move in a pattern. There, she reads him like a book.
Are you ready?
I don't get a chance to answer.
The first attack comes, eleven more just behind.
Duck left.
Parry overhead.
Evade right.
Parry left, parry right.
Riposte.
Backstep, duck, swing toward the sky.
Her first command comes a split second before Roard's first thrust, I duck and swing away to the left. The spear head whizzes by twice to my right, I parry the third just above my head.
Sparks fly.
I evade right, the fourth and fifth miss. My sword handle and arms swirling about faster than my eyes can track, with a dexterity I could never hope to match in my past life. Roard's accuracy increases, as he adjusts his twelve-strike assault for my movements.
Dodging won't work anymore.
My blade meets that spearhead near the tip and deflects it. Sparks from shaving metal flying every which way. Parrying the sixth left; I send the seventh right.
If I'm a millisecond fast, I send the spearhead left and into my face. If I'm a millisecond late, the attack lands and drives into my skull.
But that one split second, that golden moment. I hit it twice in a row, and I riposte, sending my own attack back toward Roard.
Spear tip missing the right side of my neck, reflecting off my blade. My sword arcs over my head, as I bring my bent arms down.
Such a thing is not possible, a sword user can't fight a spear user like this. But it's like I know Roard's attack a split second before he makes it. To the soldiers, it looks like I can see the future.
My blade skids across Roard's helmet in a sharp diagonal angle; it misses the visor.
Roard roars in frustration; I backstep, dodging the swipe he sends my way.
His twelve thrust combo is broken.
He marches forward, and swipes again.
I duck.
He thrusts with a shout of adrenaline, I send my sword skyward.
Our weapons smash into one another, sounding out in a loud noise that sounds like dropping a giant metal fork onto a ceramic floor. Violent vibrations run through my forearms, travel up and down my body like a compressed shockwave.
It hurts, but Roard is affected too.
"Gaaargh!"
He roars in pain, his left arm spasms. It re-fractured.
"Damn you!"
He presses again, forcing me to retreat.
We parade about the makeshift arena, trading blows.
I'm not perfect; Roard is faster.
My blade skids his shoulder plates, slices into his surcoat, deflects off his spear's shaft.
He slices my knee, knicks my face once more, stabs straight through my foot.
Melina tells me what to do, but I feel slow. My dexterity has increased, but it's not enough.
I slightly limp, narrowly deflecting a spearhead aimed at the bridge of my nose. I grab my blade, pommel striking Roard's forearm like holding a pool cue above my head, hitting the cue ball. It hits his weak point, the damage goes past the armor.
He grunts, curses, and tries to strike me with his spear's shaft, following up with a punch from his right hand. He continues to spin, bringing his spear's endcap to strike me, before spinning the spear about, quickly executing three thrusts not a second later. I move faster than I can react, following Melina's words like it's doctrine.
Sidestep Left. I narrowly dodge the thrust.
Duck. I drop my head; a spearhead grazes my spine.
Riposte right. I'm up; my straight sword spins.
The spearhead catches my forearm, slicing deep. But I push through the pain, slamming my sword onto Roard's broken forearm.
Vibrations make my fingers go numb, Roard retreats.
I march ahead, pressing. Melina only tells me how to counter, how I attack is up to me. How can I down Roard? How can I overpower him? His spear keeps me at a distance, I can't draw close enough to get a shot at the visor.
We trade blows, we dodge, we dance the dance of death. My blade flashes in the rising sun, Roard's spear whistles as it practically splits droplets in the air.
I'm running out of breath; my stamina is at its end. I might just collapse now; I'm breathing like I'm on the verge of drowning. I'm bleeding from more cuts than I can count with my fingers, I've been forced to keep my left eye closed; a gash on my forehead half coated half my face crimson. I taste iron, I'm seeing flashes. My vision swims, my legs burn. It's all so much, but I'm not done yet.
I won't fall.
I spit phlegm, growling like a rabid beast.
I swing at Roard's forearm, stab at his chest and visor. He blocks my attacks with his spear's shaft, lets my attacks land against the plates of his armor so he can strike at me while I'm mid-stroke. But I dodge, duck and weave away. No side can land a decisive blow.
He thrusts for my chest and head, sometimes mixing it up by aiming for my arms and legs. He just needs one good hit, and I'll be down. He's so close, every time. But I dodge and dance, incorporating everything I know from karate and fencing into my fledgling fighting style. No side can land a decisive blow.
Jump!
He sweeps his spear; I jump.
Brace!
Roard's foot slams into me while I fall; I use a leg to soften the blow. If I were a second slow, I would be kicked right in the gut. The kick sends me flying away; I taste dirt when I tumble to the ground.
Roard growls, leveling his spear. He eyes me up; I'm hacking for breath on the floor.
Neither side closes in again; I feel the weight of my fatigue when I'm given a second to breathe.
Holy hell. How am I still alive?
Lance, he will charge you. Be ready.
I try to rise again, but I falter, dropping to a knee. Sweat beading down my face, mixing in with the blood. My mouth agape, slightly contorted by the pain. I draw in air like I can't get enough. I'm going to collapse, I'm going to. My mind is muddled. I need to stand up, I need to fight. Roard begins to approach, testing his spear. He eyes my failing form; he sees too many openings to count.
I need to get up...
I don't think I can.
I- I can't. I can't anymore.
...
Lance.
My legs fail to raise me; my arms fail to raise my sword. My heaving back, my swaying head. It's not just fatigue; I'm feeling lightheaded. Blood dripping from cuts, gashes, and gouges all across my body. I feel cold, I feel my life slipping away. I'm without armor, my skin and clothes in tatters. In more pain than I ever thought I could handle. Only one eye open, mouth agape. I'm paling more than I ever had; my mind is swirling.
Blood loss.
I'm done. I can't.
Lance.
I fall to both knees, my hearing cuts out temporarily. I can only hear a faint whine.
My grip slackens on my sword. I'm glad I survived this far; I feel accomplished.
I'm good, this is enough for me.
I'm at the end.
Lance, listen to me.
I'm sorry Melina. This is it for me.
Run for the breach, I'm sure you can make it there before you fade away.
...
I'm grateful, you've helped more than I think I could ever repay you, even in a hundred lifetimes. I hope you can someone else like me some day. Though a less foolish one would be preferable.
Lance.
I start.
Melina's light hovers inches from my eyes. She left Roard; he could attack me, and I wouldn't know what to do.
What's she doing?
... Well what does it matter anyway. I can't stand, I can't fight.
Roard draws closer, cautious of Melina's light. He'll be here in five steps. Four. Three. He readies his spear, that tapered head catching the morning light.
Melina's light lands lightly on my nose; I feel something warm.
I already told you. I am never leaving your side.
I can offer you no guidance. I am no maiden.
But I am your ally; that will never change.
But-
I'm cut off.
I feel something sucked out of me, like heat is being taken from my body.
We share destinies.
That taken power draws to Melina, before it explodes out from her small light. The ground glows, glows with such an intensity that it rivals the rays of the morning sun. Sounds of surprise erupt from the crowd; Roard halts.
If you will share your power with me; I shall share mine.
Golden veins spill out of the ground, firing skyward like a pit of snakes. But the lights intertwine, grow up and out, until a golden tree towers over my drooping head. Golden particles sprinkle onto me like falling snow; my pain melts away.
I know this feeling.
It's not as potent as the breach, my wounds do not seal up. But aching joints soften, bruises fade away.
It is selfish. But I have not yet given up.
So, I ask. Do not give up.
I rise to my feet, faltering a little. The wound through my foot is still open, those cuts persevere. But my body feels full of energy.
That tree dissipates and I'm left stand alone.
No, a light shines brilliantly next to me. I'm not alone.
"The hell!?"
Roard coughs; his breaths ragged. I feel like I've cheated. I can only guess it's one of Melina's spells, or an incantation.
My enemy can't heal, he has no way to do so.
"What is this? What the hell did you do!?"
I'm a cheater.
"Don't tell me..."
He eyes Melina.
"A spirit?"
I ready my blade. I don't know what he's talking about; I don't care.
Melina's light flies over to Roard; sticking onto him. He gives out a shout of surprise; tries in vain to bat Melina away.
I ask again. Are you ready?
Yes.
I charge.
Roard's shouts of anger echo throughout the town. I slam into him with fresh vigor, finally matching his faltering movements in speed.
A soldier breaks from the ring, looking to hack me in two. Melina seamlessly breaks off from Roard, and attaches onto the new assailant. She reads his runes; the meager number that they are, a deciphers his intentions on the fly. I dodge the first attack on my own, duck away on the return swing.
Got it.
Dodge left. Attack low. Parry left.
I duck away and to the left, spinning my sword about until both of my hands are on the blade. I attack low, swinging the sword horizontally like a hammer. The cross guard collides with the soldier's knee, making him falter. He swings overhead in a frenzy; I guide the swing away with my blade. Melina led me through his attacks, like it was muscle memory. As if I've seen this attack a thousand times before; doing nothing but going through the motions. The soldier's weapon buries into the dirt of the street, his balance is knocked off. He can do nothing; he's wide open.
I slash his throat.
Melina breaks away, the soldier falls.
Runes leak; Roard is upon me. I parry three attacks, nearly messing up the last. I beat him away; a wolf nearly snaps onto my throat. Melina keeps herself on Roard; I dispatch the wolf without her help.
Another soldier.
We exchange two blows, until my straight sword finds his eye.
Another, running alongside Roard.
Roard violently shoulder checks the soldier away. Through a haggard mouth and manic posture, Roard bellows.
"StAy baCk!"
Three thrusts; they're getting sloppy.
"HE's mINe!"
Three more thrusts; Roard takes three steps closer to his death. I dodge the first two, then I swing my sword skyward, catching the last. Violet vibrations, I lose grip with my left hand. But Roard bellows.
He falls to a knee, his already failing posture broken down.
He has his left arm held out, his fingers twitching.
His breaths are ragged.
I've never broken a bone before, but if it's made a knight fall to their knees, it must be painful.
We are not done yet.
His forearm is leaking runes…
Wait, why? He's not dead yet. Why have runes started coming from him now?
What's more, it leaks from the area of his fracture…
I get that feeling.
It's been long since I've felt it; I've seen this before.
The runes are unstable!
Melina's light flashes vibrantly from Roard's chest.
Attack, now!
I grit my teeth, and I let out my own battle call.
It strains my vocal cords, makes my ears pop.
But adrenaline rushes through my body; I charge. Before Roard can react, before the soldiers, wolves, and my own conscience can stop me, I swing my sword like a baseball bat; dead onto Roard's forearm.
Snap.
Roard screams, his own voice muffled to sound like a blaring bugle.
His forearm broke all the way through.
He surges to his feet, his movements no longer calculated in the slightest. He grabs me by the throat, threatening to choke me to death.
I gag; I'm lifted off the ground. My sword clatters to the floor.
I'm clutching onto his arms, trying to take the strain off my neck. Roard's other arm hangs loosely at his side, but his good hand clamps down like a vice around my throat. I'm seeing spots. I'm starting to black out. His enraged eyes glow in the morning sunlight, showing through his visor.
"YOu! I'Ll... kIlL yOU!"
"…Melina!..." I choke out; it feels like my eyes are about to pop out of their sockets. "…Now!"
The second part of her plan.
That light on his chest, Melina. She says something, a short phrase. It sounds like chanting a wizard would use to cast a spell in a fairy tale. It's one of her few spells, one of her incantations; she's used it before to save me. She uses it here to save me now.
Kindling, accept this meager flame.
No spark, no indication something burns. It doesn't grow from a meager blaze. It happens almost spontaneously. Like igniting flash paper.
Roard bursts into flames.
His surcoat catches on fire, the plume on his helmet goes up like a torch. Sparse lint and his fabric gambeson under his mail get eaten up in the blaze, smoke plumes out of his visor.
I'm dropped, and a living torch flails about. He's screaming, he's dying.
But Roard's not dead; I snatch my sword form the ground, trying to force air back into my lungs.
Roard, like a demon from hell, charges me; I smell cooking flesh and fat.
If he dropped and rolled, if he removed his helmet or dumped water on himself, he could survive. But his arm is broken, he's out of breath, he's burning to death, and I'm still here.
He's made his choice; he will kill me.
He lets out an inhuman cry, flames curling about and fluttering around his form.
"DIE YOU BASTARD!"
No effort to dodge, no effort to block my incoming sword.
He has eyes only for me, before all he can see is a blade.
With a shout of adrenaline, I drive my sword into Roard's visor.
It's not perfect, it doesn't kill him.
His rampaging speed and intense weight throws me off, wrenches my sword out of my hands.
He screams, clutching at the blade embedded in his eye with his one good arm, and clutching at his helmet, which asphyxiates him as the flames eat up all the oxygen.
He writhes like a burning insect. He collapses to the floor, one failing limb at a time, and crawls, his voice dying out like the last air leaving a deflating balloon.
I'm clutching my ears; I don't want to hear this.
It's horrible noises; it etches in my mind.
Roard was a strong flame, it takes a lot to snuff him out. But when the fire that smolders on his carbon scarred armor, fumes from gaps in his chain mail, and leaks from his visor goes out, so goes his own flame.
Roard, Kight of Stormhill. Son of Treyla and Bruden. Regarded as one of the best spear users in all of Godrick's army. Exiled from Leyndell, he fought in Godrick's army when he was still young, when they tried and failed to storm the Capital. He has helped conquer Limgrave, assisted his fellow knight in laying siege to Fort Haight, and established a connection with Castle Morne on the Weeping Peninsula, even coordinated with Godrick to have an ambassador by the name of Edgar sent there to help oversee the castle. He had snuffed out the demi-human presence, established trade with the Weeping Peninsula and friendly Kaiden clans, and brought Limgrave into relative peace. Roard, a man of many talents and accomplishments; slain by a Tarnished he tried to have killed.
A slave of his pride, held up by his own standards.
Quick to make friends; slow to change his ways.
Quick to crack a joke; slow to accept his faults.
He's joined his comrades at the makeshift bar in their camp every night; He's left worried and alone at his desk every night.
He drinks and laughs and sings; He stresses and sulks and grimaces.
He knows he's surrounded by his fellows; he doesn't know what became of his family.
His parents, his wife, his unborn child. He was exiled before the child was born; he knows not their fate. He's prayed to the Grater Will every night, wanting nothing more than their assured safety.
In the end, he never knew what became of his family.
In the end, he never realized his dream of being able to return to Leyndell.
In the end, he lay broken and burned; the rising sun being the last thing he ever sees.