Slave Unbound Ch. 33

As he glanced back down to watch the final killing blow, he found himself dropping his quill in utter shock.

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Deep in the abyss of black, some tiny particle of Leita's mind fought to regain itself. There was not enough there to fully recognize the danger she was in, just vaguely understand that she was in danger. A faint haze of vision forming preceded a pronounced flood of pain. Blearily, she could just make out the sight of something looming over her, rearing back to strike.

Her movements were purely instinctual, still not lucid enough to fully comprehend what she was evading, but sharp enough to know that she could not stay still. She lurched backwards, just ahead of the descending blade, narrowly avoiding having her head removed. That same instinct made her kick out with one foot as she jerked around, awkwardly connecting with something.

That 'something' happened to be Hulvok's left knee. The already wounded leg, supporting a very weakened and woozy oruhk, crumpled from the hit. Hulvoc didn't completely fall, but his balance was gone and he lost grip of the weapon in order to catch himself. Those few moments of discoordination bought Leita time to clear her mind and force herself fully back into awareness.

Wheezing from her busted ribs and a nose full of blood, she scrambled to her feet, as unsteady as he was. Hulvoc had managed to get his footing and was already rounding towards her, hands flexing to grab and tear apart this impudent girl who was giving him so much trouble. If he was surprised to find her rushing directly at him before he even began his own charge, he was certainly beyond caring anymore.

He swiped out at her, hoary nailed hands slashing to snag, snatch, and rend. Leita narrowly managed to dash past their arc, ducking down and delivering a series of hammering punches to the oruhk's flank. She followed it up with a swift kick to his injured leg, hammering it hard enough to bend it and force him down to a knee. Before Hulvoc could even recover, she battered him with a barrage of brutal attacks, fists and feet hitting him everywhere.

His only recourse became to retreat, throwing himself backward to escape, but Leita remained tenacious, following with him and keeping up the onslaught. Part of her was still letting some primal source deep within fuel her, but she had now re-engaged her mind, focusing herself so that her attacks were not wild or chaotic. The more she struck out, the more she fell into the hand-to-hand forms that her aljin and sidil mentors had taught her.

She could feel his body starting to give way beneath her pounding, bones cracking, muscle bursting. The oruhk cried out in fear. Fear of her and the death she brought. In blind panic, Hulvoc threw himself forward, ramming into her, not in an effort to attack, but merely to escape. In the next instant, he was running from her, his bravado broken. His aim was obvious: to reach his cleaver and try to salvage any chance to survive.

He was inches from it when Leita came sliding past him from behind, snatching the weapon away from his hands. The effort of it all was excruciating, pain racking her body with a roar louder than the deafening cacophony exploding above them from the bloodthirsty crowds. That pain was her elixir, however, sharpening her senses and her resolve. The more she hurt the more fury she generated.

Gods damn this monster! Even if it killed her to make it die, House Firebridge would claim the bounty for Chief Hulvoc the murderous!

As he dug in his feet to stop his forward rush, Leita wheeled around and brought his own weapon to bear. The weight of it was unbelievable, feeling heavier than her whole body. That did nothing to keep her from mounting the might to swing the cleaver with all the will left in her body. While the blow did connect, it failed to do more than just split the leather of his shirt and leave a thin line of blood across the flesh beneath.

She reversed the swing and tried again, but Hulvoc managed to dance away from it entirely. Though obviously still wary, he seemed to be regaining a measure of his confidence. The weapon was far too much for her to weld effectively and precisely. Both of them were fatigued and battered, both running only on absolute tenacity. She could see his eyes measuring her, watching the weapon itself.

She could see his intentions to bide his time, avoid her awkward swings until he saw an opening to take the weapon from her and end this whole affair. She knew that each attempt to use the massive and heavy cleaver would only increase the chance of him doing so. She had to end things now herself.

Rotating the sword in her hands, she let the broad tip droop to the ground, her body slumping away from it. Hulvoc's lupine grin showed plainly that he took that as the last of her energy waning and surged towards her, eager to have the upper hand back in this fight. In his rush to attack, desperate to have the battle over before he succumbed to his own injuries, he never saw it coming. Using the sword as an anchor pole, Leita sprung forward into his charge, bringing up her foot to land squarely into long cut across the oruhk's chest.

Had he been at his full strength, healthy and whole, Hulvoc could have effortlessly withstood the hit, but compromised of body as he was, he toppled backwards, landing hard. Leita's feet planted firm into the sand, hands nimbly changing their grip on the sword. With all the strength left in her, she heaved the huge blade up over her head from behind, letting her own momentum raise it and then allowing its considerable weight to drive it back down again.

The cleaver clove clean into Hulvoc's breastbone, hewing through his ribs and into his heart. He screamed out in anger, pain, and fear. He was too spent to struggle, too weakened to do anything but accept death. Regardless, Leita wrenched free the blade, stumbling back a few steps in her own fatigue, but immediately came back in and brought the blade across one last time, removing the ugly head from the oruhk chief.

And then she sat down. Or more, she collapsed into the sands, gasping and fighting a fresh effort just to stay conscious. Slowly, the sounds of the cheering crowds crept into hearing. They were cheering her name, honoring her victory. Silently, she closed her eyes and gave her own honor to Caruenos, thanking him for bringing her through the fire.

Though it would have been easier to allow the guards and attendants to just carry her back through her gate, Leita forced herself back to her own bare feet. Staggering, she went to the massive head of Hulvoc and lifted it up, showing it to the members of the Prime in their private box. Before she dropped it back to the earth, she noted a finely made bone bead woven into the beastman's mane-like hair.

She ripped the whole clump of hair free, claiming the bobble as her own, then tossed the rest of the grotesque prize away. She then walked, bloodied head high, back through the Ansgorii gate to get cleaned up and fall thankfully into the hands of healers. As she re-entered the waiting area beyond, she saw Crusher being brought out to wait for his own battle.

"Just your average tomato." She said to him, eliciting a laugh from the orling that made everyone else jump in fear.