Chapter 97
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My cavalry and I rushed toward the gathered crowd of spectators while watching the battle between the two great generals unfold from atop our mounts.
Darah, who had only just risen from the ground in what may have resulted from a fall from her own flying steed, dusted herself off with her free hand looking as livid as I'd ever seen her. If looks could kill then the one she sent her opponent might have done the job.
The dark-haired elf riding the black pegasus gazed back at her without fear. In fact, I was almost certain there was a smirk on his face.
We covered half the distance now. Close enough to reach the edge of the crowd. From here, Darah's voice rang loud and clear.
"You injured my peryton, you bastard!" Darah yelled. "You'll bleed for that!"
Peryton, a strange word for an even stranger creature. For those of you who don't remember, it was that half-bird and half-stag creature she flew that first night of the battlefield. From what I understand, Darah doted on it almost as much as she doted on Aura. And if that was any sign, then Great General Spellweaver was in for a rough ride.
The elf didn't seem to care, however. His smile stayed plastered onto his face right up until the moment he and his pegasus dived for Darah.
Darah reacted instantly. She dodged to the right just as the pegasus reached her. Then she lept forward and sliced off the poor creature's left wing with a single swing of her golden sword.
The pegasus struggled to stay in flight, failed, and then went crashing off to the opposite side of the encirclement and slamming into a sea of gray soldiers like they were a set of bowling pins.
A cheer rang out from the soldiers in blue.
"Darah! Darah!" they yelled as one.
It wasn't too difficult to cut in line as we were riding on swiftharts that could easily push the mob of soldiers aside. But on my way to the front, I glanced left and then right, and noticed how the gathered soldiers faintly reminded me of a crowd in a sports stadium. Their enthusiastic focus on the scene beyond, with some raising their fists reaching for the sky, brought an electrifying atmosphere to the surrounding air.
I couldn't blame them. I felt the same way. In fact, I'd ridden this far just to get a glimpse of this epic matchup.
"Excuse me!" I said. "Coming through!"
We'd made it past the crowd and forcefully opened up a spot for ourselves at the front of the encirclement right between our Darah compatriots and a group of heavily armed Magesong soldiers.
Although I wanted to inspect this new enemy force I hadn't encountered before, Darah's taunting laugh stole my attention. Find authorized novels in Webnovel，faster updates, better experience，Please click www.webnovel.com for visiting.
"Get over here already, Spellweaver… I'd like to kill you quickly," Darah taunted.
I glanced over to Great General Spellweaver who had just finished extricating himself from the mess of pegasus and fallen Magesong soldiers, and I had to admit, the elf was impressive.
Long dark hair framed a pale oval face before falling neatly over broad shoulders. His eyes were a bright amber beneath thin eyebrows. He had a prominent aquiline nose and thin lips, the latter of which, was set in a tight smile. Although covered from head to foot in black, the strips of armor shaped almost like leaves wrapped tightly across a lithe form that spoke of a fairy who indulged in the warrior's way. An intricately designed sword-hilt hung on the black sash tied around his waist.
As the great general of the Magesong army stepped forward, he pulled out the sword hilt from his sash and raised it forward. When the shadowblade launched out of its container, it took the form of a falchion almost twice the length of mine. But unlike the blue light mine emitted, his glowed with an almost golden aura.
"Darah… always so arrogant." Spellweaver's voice was low yet it carried the same sing-song note of elf-speech. "Small wonder you fell so readily into my trap."
"Your trap?" Darah's eyebrow arched menacingly. "When will you stop taking credit for your son's achievements? We all know this was his plot. You wouldn't have thought up a plan to save your own life."
There was an audible, "oo~~oh," from the crowd. Followed by, "Burnn~~n!" from me and Luca.
Spellweaver scowled deeply at gathered onlookers, forcing many who weren't prepared to hold back his killing intent to either faint or take several steps backward.
Although Myth Chaser and I hadn't moved from our spot, it took all my focus not to be overwhelmed. I patted my mount softly on his neck to calm him down as I could feel him shiver slightly.
Satisfied that he'd shut everyone up, Spellweaver focused his attention back on Darah.
"Certainly, Ardeen is a brilliant strategist… he is the brain. Whereas I," Spellweaver draped his oversized falchion's shadowblade across his right shoulder, "I am most certainly the brawn."
Darah laughed again. "That's certainly all you're good for, Spellweaver."
Spellweaver frowned. "You arrogant quim. It seems a lesson in death is necessary to carve out the difference between you and I."
I wasn't sure what 'quim' meant, but I definitely caught the narrowing of Darah's eyes as she heard the word.
"I will use my own hands to rip your fool's heart from your chest right after my men have had their way with you and I have crushed your pretty face under the heel of my boot," Spellweaver continued.
My brow furrowed at his description. He was rather graphic.
"I see toppling you off your high horse wasn't enough." Darah raised her sword arm delicately, almost like a dancer's movement. She pointed the pointy end of her golden sword at Spellweaver. "You won't have hands at dawn. You won't have feet or groin. You will wander the land of the dead crawling on your belly while screaming for your manhood, and all the spirits will know, this is Spellweaver, the charlatan who thought he could challenge Darah."
There are just some people who can change the atmosphere by a simple exchange of words whether it be an empowering speech or a defaming taunt. Darah was exactly this type of person. Just hearing her flail Spellweaver alive with words was enough to life my spirits. And judging from the puffed-up chests and raised fists, I wasn't the only one affected.
In response to Darah's scalding words, Spellweaver raised his falchion forward and pointed its sharpened edge at her too.
"You will die for that insult…" he said in a low, menacing voice.
Boom! The sound of thunder streaking across the sky exploded out of the ground.
Darah was the first to act. She'd said enough. Now was a time for action—and action came in a blaze of speed that would have given the Flash a run for his money. She launched herself forward with such force that the ground beneath her cracked at the strength of her push off.
Kaboom! A second thunderous roar could be heard as Spellweaver launched himself forward as well.
They met in the middle, oversized falchion clashing against a golden sword. Metal raked on metal. Not once or twice or even thrice. It was an exchange that lasted moments, but the number of swings and parries were almost too many to count.
Enormous pressure flew off each sword swing in waves that could be felt by those of us who weren't even their targets. More than once, I had to hold Myth Chaser steady to keep him from bolting away and taking me with him.
Both combatants pulled back momentarily only to launch themselves forward again in a renewed onslaught of sword blows. This pattern would repeat once more, but by then it was obvious that Spellweaver was stronger as each of his swings pushed Darah back. However, Darah was faster and more graceful of the two, and with each attack, she proved she was the better swordsman. For every one of Spellweaver's heavy strikes, she nimbly parried with a slight twist of her shadowblade.
Honestly, it was like watching a fairy dancing under the golden moonlight. Darah was both graceful and beautiful in her dance, and I almost believed the brute I had to deal with on a near-nightly basis was just a figment of my imagination. Almost.
A single monstrous punch launched from Darah's left hand quickly shattered the illusion of the graceful dancer in my head. Her fist impacted on Spellweaver's face, nearly pushing him off his feet with its force, and crushing my whimsical teenage heart while she was at it.
"Oo~~oh, that's got to hurt," Luca said beside me.
Spellweaver pulled away to a safer distance with a bloody face. Blood dripped out of his aquiline nose. There was also a trickle of the red stuff coming out the side of his mouth. Yet, despite the obvious injury, the elf was smiling from ear to ear with bloodied teeth clear for all to see.
He spat out a mouthful of bloody spit before looking back at Darah and saying, "That's right… that's the kind of fight I want!"
Spellweaver wasn't the only smiling lunatic in that fight. Darah too was showcasing her pearly whites like she'd just won a point in a tennis match. She had such a smug look on that I face-palmed myself.
"Great… they're both battle freaks…" I sighed. Then I glanced over to Luca and said, "I'm surrounded by battle freaks."
He raised an eyebrow in response. "What are you talking about, Dean… you're one too, idiot."
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My cavalry and I rushed toward the gathered crowd of spectators while watching the battle between the two great generals unfold from atop our mounts.
Darah, who had only just risen from the ground in what may have resulted from a fall from her own flying steed, dusted herself off with her free hand looking as livid as I'd ever seen her. If looks could kill then the one she sent her opponent might have done the job.
The dark-haired elf riding the black pegasus gazed back at her without fear. In fact, I was almost certain there was a smirk on his face.
We covered half the distance now. Close enough to reach the edge of the crowd. From here, Darah's voice rang loud and clear.
"You injured my peryton, you bastard!" Darah yelled. "You'll bleed for that!"
Peryton, a strange word for an even stranger creature. For those of you who don't remember, it was that half-bird and half-stag creature she flew that first night of the battlefield. From what I understand, Darah doted on it almost as much as she doted on Aura. And if that was any sign, then Great General Spellweaver was in for a rough ride.
The elf didn't seem to care, however. His smile stayed plastered onto his face right up until the moment he and his pegasus dived for Darah.
Darah reacted instantly. She dodged to the right just as the pegasus reached her. Then she lept forward and sliced off the poor creature's left wing with a single swing of her golden sword.
The pegasus struggled to stay in flight, failed, and then went crashing off to the opposite side of the encirclement and slamming into a sea of gray soldiers like they were a set of bowling pins.
A cheer rang out from the soldiers in blue.
"Darah! Darah!" they yelled as one.
It wasn't too difficult to cut in line as we were riding on swiftharts that could easily push the mob of soldiers aside. But on my way to the front, I glanced left and then right, and noticed how the gathered soldiers faintly reminded me of a crowd in a sports stadium. Their enthusiastic focus on the scene beyond, with some raising their fists reaching for the sky, brought an electrifying atmosphere to the surrounding air.
I couldn't blame them. I felt the same way. In fact, I'd ridden this far just to get a glimpse of this epic matchup.
"Excuse me!" I said. "Coming through!"
We'd made it past the crowd and forcefully opened up a spot for ourselves at the front of the encirclement right between our Darah compatriots and a group of heavily armed Magesong soldiers.
Although I wanted to inspect this new enemy force I hadn't encountered before, Darah's taunting laugh stole my attention. Find authorized novels in Webnovel，faster updates, better experience，Please click www.webnovel.com for visiting.
"Get over here already, Spellweaver… I'd like to kill you quickly," Darah taunted.
I glanced over to Great General Spellweaver who had just finished extricating himself from the mess of pegasus and fallen Magesong soldiers, and I had to admit, the elf was impressive.
Long dark hair framed a pale oval face before falling neatly over broad shoulders. His eyes were a bright amber beneath thin eyebrows. He had a prominent aquiline nose and thin lips, the latter of which, was set in a tight smile. Although covered from head to foot in black, the strips of armor shaped almost like leaves wrapped tightly across a lithe form that spoke of a fairy who indulged in the warrior's way. An intricately designed sword-hilt hung on the black sash tied around his waist.
As the great general of the Magesong army stepped forward, he pulled out the sword hilt from his sash and raised it forward. When the shadowblade launched out of its container, it took the form of a falchion almost twice the length of mine. But unlike the blue light mine emitted, his glowed with an almost golden aura.
"Darah… always so arrogant." Spellweaver's voice was low yet it carried the same sing-song note of elf-speech. "Small wonder you fell so readily into my trap."
"Your trap?" Darah's eyebrow arched menacingly. "When will you stop taking credit for your son's achievements? We all know this was his plot. You wouldn't have thought up a plan to save your own life."
There was an audible, "oo~~oh," from the crowd. Followed by, "Burnn~~n!" from me and Luca.
Spellweaver scowled deeply at gathered onlookers, forcing many who weren't prepared to hold back his killing intent to either faint or take several steps backward.
Although Myth Chaser and I hadn't moved from our spot, it took all my focus not to be overwhelmed. I patted my mount softly on his neck to calm him down as I could feel him shiver slightly.
Satisfied that he'd shut everyone up, Spellweaver focused his attention back on Darah.
"Certainly, Ardeen is a brilliant strategist… he is the brain. Whereas I," Spellweaver draped his oversized falchion's shadowblade across his right shoulder, "I am most certainly the brawn."
Darah laughed again. "That's certainly all you're good for, Spellweaver."
Spellweaver frowned. "You arrogant quim. It seems a lesson in death is necessary to carve out the difference between you and I."
I wasn't sure what 'quim' meant, but I definitely caught the narrowing of Darah's eyes as she heard the word.
"I will use my own hands to rip your fool's heart from your chest right after my men have had their way with you and I have crushed your pretty face under the heel of my boot," Spellweaver continued.
My brow furrowed at his description. He was rather graphic.
"I see toppling you off your high horse wasn't enough." Darah raised her sword arm delicately, almost like a dancer's movement. She pointed the pointy end of her golden sword at Spellweaver. "You won't have hands at dawn. You won't have feet or groin. You will wander the land of the dead crawling on your belly while screaming for your manhood, and all the spirits will know, this is Spellweaver, the charlatan who thought he could challenge Darah."
There are just some people who can change the atmosphere by a simple exchange of words whether it be an empowering speech or a defaming taunt. Darah was exactly this type of person. Just hearing her flail Spellweaver alive with words was enough to life my spirits. And judging from the puffed-up chests and raised fists, I wasn't the only one affected.
In response to Darah's scalding words, Spellweaver raised his falchion forward and pointed its sharpened edge at her too.
"You will die for that insult…" he said in a low, menacing voice.
Boom! The sound of thunder streaking across the sky exploded out of the ground.
Darah was the first to act. She'd said enough. Now was a time for action—and action came in a blaze of speed that would have given the Flash a run for his money. She launched herself forward with such force that the ground beneath her cracked at the strength of her push off.
Kaboom! A second thunderous roar could be heard as Spellweaver launched himself forward as well.
They met in the middle, oversized falchion clashing against a golden sword. Metal raked on metal. Not once or twice or even thrice. It was an exchange that lasted moments, but the number of swings and parries were almost too many to count.
Enormous pressure flew off each sword swing in waves that could be felt by those of us who weren't even their targets. More than once, I had to hold Myth Chaser steady to keep him from bolting away and taking me with him.
Both combatants pulled back momentarily only to launch themselves forward again in a renewed onslaught of sword blows. This pattern would repeat once more, but by then it was obvious that Spellweaver was stronger as each of his swings pushed Darah back. However, Darah was faster and more graceful of the two, and with each attack, she proved she was the better swordsman. For every one of Spellweaver's heavy strikes, she nimbly parried with a slight twist of her shadowblade.
Honestly, it was like watching a fairy dancing under the golden moonlight. Darah was both graceful and beautiful in her dance, and I almost believed the brute I had to deal with on a near-nightly basis was just a figment of my imagination. Almost.
A single monstrous punch launched from Darah's left hand quickly shattered the illusion of the graceful dancer in my head. Her fist impacted on Spellweaver's face, nearly pushing him off his feet with its force, and crushing my whimsical teenage heart while she was at it.
"Oo~~oh, that's got to hurt," Luca said beside me.
Spellweaver pulled away to a safer distance with a bloody face. Blood dripped out of his aquiline nose. There was also a trickle of the red stuff coming out the side of his mouth. Yet, despite the obvious injury, the elf was smiling from ear to ear with bloodied teeth clear for all to see.
He spat out a mouthful of bloody spit before looking back at Darah and saying, "That's right… that's the kind of fight I want!"
Spellweaver wasn't the only smiling lunatic in that fight. Darah too was showcasing her pearly whites like she'd just won a point in a tennis match. She had such a smug look on that I face-palmed myself.
"Great… they're both battle freaks…" I sighed. Then I glanced over to Luca and said, "I'm surrounded by battle freaks."
He raised an eyebrow in response. "What are you talking about, Dean… you're one too, idiot."
My cavalry and I rushed toward the gathered crowd of spectators while watching the battle between the two great generals unfold from atop our mounts. Darah, who had only just risen from the ground in what may have resulted from a fall from her own flying steed, dusted herself off with her free hand looking as livid as I'd ever seen her. If looks could kill then the one she sent her opponent might have done the job. The dark-haired elf riding the black pegasus gazed back at her without fear. In fact, I was almost certain there was a smirk on his face. We covered half the distance now. Close enough to reach the edge of the crowd. From here, Darah's voice rang loud and clear. "You injured my peryton, you bastard!" Darah yelled. "You'll bleed for that!" Peryton, a strange word for an even stranger creature. For those of you who don't remember, it was that half-bird and half-stag creature she flew that first night of the battlefield. From what I understand, Darah doted on it almost as much as she doted on Aura. And if that was any sign, then Great General Spellweaver was in for a rough ride. The elf didn't seem to care, however. His smile stayed plastered onto his face right up until the moment he and his pegasus dived for Darah. Darah reacted instantly. She dodged to the right just as the pegasus reached her. Then she lept forward and sliced off the poor creature's left wing with a single swing of her golden sword. The pegasus struggled to stay in flight, failed, and then went crashing off to the opposite side of the encirclement and slamming into a sea of gray soldiers like they were a set of bowling pins. A cheer rang out from the soldiers in blue. "Darah! Darah!" they yelled as one. It wasn't too difficult to cut in line as we were riding on swiftharts that could easily push the mob of soldiers aside. But on my way to the front, I glanced left and then right, and noticed how the gathered soldiers faintly reminded me of a crowd in a sports stadium. Their enthusiastic focus on the scene beyond, with some raising their fists reaching for the sky, brought an electrifying atmosphere to the surrounding air. I couldn't blame them. I felt the same way. In fact, I'd ridden this far just to get a glimpse of this epic matchup. "Excuse me!" I said. "Coming through!" We'd made it past the crowd and forcefully opened up a spot for ourselves at the front of the encirclement right between our Darah compatriots and a group of heavily armed Magesong soldiers. Although I wanted to inspect this new enemy force I hadn't encountered before, Darah's taunting laugh stole my attention. Find authorized novels in Webnovelfaster updates, better experiencePlease click www.webnovel.com for visiting. "Get over here already, Spellweaver I'd like to kill you quickly," Darah taunted. I glanced over to Great General Spellweaver who had just finished extricating himself from the mess of pegasus and fallen Magesong soldiers, and I had to admit, the elf was impressive. Long dark hair framed a pale oval face before falling neatly over broad shoulders. His eyes were a bright amber beneath thin eyebrows. He had a prominent aquiline nose and thin lips, the latter of which, was set in a tight smile. Although covered from head to foot in black, the strips of armor shaped almost like leaves wrapped tightly across a lithe form that spoke of a fairy who indulged in the warrior's way. An intricately designed sword-hilt hung on the black sash tied around his waist. As the great general of the Magesong army stepped forward, he pulled out the sword hilt from his sash and raised it forward. When the shadowblade launched out of its container, it took the form of a falchion almost twice the length of mine. But unlike the blue light mine emitted, his glowed with an almost golden aura. "Darah always so arrogant." Spellweaver's voice was low yet it carried the same sing-song note of elf-speech. "Small wonder you fell so readily into my trap." "Your trap?" Darah's eyebrow arched menacingly. "When will you stop taking credit for your son's achievements? We all know this was his plot. You wouldn't have thought up a plan to save your own life." There was an audible, "oo~~oh," from the crowd. Followed by, "Burnn~~n!" from me and Luca. Spellweaver scowled deeply at gathered onlookers, forcing many who weren't prepared to hold back his killing intent to either faint or take several steps backward. Although Myth Chaser and I hadn't moved from our spot, it took all my focus not to be overwhelmed. I patted my mount softly on his neck to calm him down as I could feel him shiver slightly. Satisfied that he'd shut everyone up, Spellweaver focused his attention back on Darah. "Certainly,Ardeen is a brilliant strategist he is the brain. Whereas I," Spellweaver draped his oversized falchion's shadowblade across his right shoulder, "I am most certainly the brawn." Darah laughed again. "That's certainly all you're good for, Spellweaver." Spellweaver frowned."You arrogant quim. It seems a lesson in death is necessary to carve out the difference between you and I." I wasn't sure what 'quim' meant, but I definitely caught the narrowing of Darah's eyes as she heard the word. "I will use my own hands to rip your fool's heart from your chest right after my men have had their way with you and I have crushed your pretty face under the heel of my boot," Spellweaver continued. My brow furrowed at his description. He was rather graphic. "I see toppling you off your high horse wasn't enough." Darah raised her sword arm delicately, almost like a dancer's movement. She pointed the pointy end of her golden sword at Spellweaver. "You won't have hands at dawn. You won't have feet or groin. You will wander the land of the dead crawling on your belly while screaming for your manhood, and all the spirits will know, this is Spellweaver, the charlatan who thought he could challenge Darah." There are just some people who can change the atmosphere by a simple exchange of words whether it be an empowering speech or a defaming taunt. Darah was exactly this type of person. Just hearing her flail Spellweaver alive with words was enough to life my spirits. And judging from the puffed-up chests and raised fists, I wasn't the only one affected. In response to Darah's scalding words, Spellweaver raised his falchion forward and pointed its sharpened edge at her too. "You will die for that insult" he said in a low, menacing voice. Boom! The sound of thunder streaking across the sky exploded out of the ground. Darah was the first to act. She'd said enough. Now was a time for actionand action came in a blaze of speed that would have given the Flash a run for his money. She launched herself forward with such force that the ground beneath her cracked at the strength of her push off. Kaboom! A second thunderous roar could be heard as Spellweaver launched himself forward as well. They met in the middle, oversized falchion clashing against a golden sword. Metal raked on metal. Not once or twice or even thrice. It was an exchange that lasted moments, but the number of swings and parries were almost too many to count. Enormous pressure flew off each sword swing in waves that could be felt by those of us who weren't even their targets. More than once, I had to hold Myth Chaser steady to keep him from bolting away and taking me with him. Both combatants pulled back momentarily only to launch themselves forward again in a renewed onslaught of sword blows. This pattern would repeat once more, but by then it was obvious thatSpellweaver was stronger as each of his swings pushed Darah back. However, Darah was faster and more graceful of the two, and with each attack, she proved she was the better swordsman. For every one of Spellweaver's heavy strikes, she nimbly parried with a slight twist of her shadowblade. Honestly, it was like watching a fairy dancing under the golden moonlight. Darah was both graceful and beautiful in her dance, and I almost believed the brute I had to deal with on a near-nightly basis was just a figment of my imagination. Almost. A single monstrous punch launched from Darah's left hand quickly shattered the illusion of the graceful dancer in my head. Her fist impacted on Spellweaver's face, nearly pushing him off his feet with its force, and crushing my whimsical teenage heart while she was at it. "Oo~~oh, that's got to hurt," Luca said beside me. Spellweaver pulled away to a safer distance with a bloody face. Blood dripped out of his aquiline nose. There was also a trickle of the red stuff coming out the side of his mouth. Yet, despite the obvious injury, the elf was smiling from ear to ear with bloodied teeth clear for all to see. He spat out a mouthful of bloody spit before looking back at Darah and saying, "That's right that's the kind of fight I want!" Spellweaver wasn't the only smiling lunatic in that fight. Darah too was showcasing her pearly whites like she'd just won a point in a tennis match. She had such a smug look on that I face-palmed myself. "Great they're both battle freaks" I sighed. Then I glanced over to Luca and said, "I'm surrounded by battle freaks." He raised an eyebrow in response. "What are you talking about, Dean you're one too, idiot."
