“Kill the bastard!” The dark mage shouted at the top of his lungs as he rode past his subordinates. For a brief moment they looked at each other with confusion before jumping to their feet and drawing their weapons and turning to look in the direction of where their master came from. There they saw a man on horseback following, a man with three swords floating at his side and malice in his eyes.

  Almost abruptly the man pointed his open hand towards them and two swords shot forwards with great speed killing one ripping through his chest and wounding another in the shoulder.

  The dark mage’s servants looked between themselves as the distance was closed and the swords slowly returned to the side of their master. They all counted six of themselves remaining, hopefully enough to take out this unknown mage their master had angered.

  The unknown mage suddenly jumped from his horse and landed on his feet and started walking towards them with the same look in his eyes. Each and every single one of them got a good look at the unknown mage. He looked physically tired not unlike their own master, but where their master looked stressed and worried this mage looked like he wanted to hurt them. And somehow all six had the horrible feeling in their souls that it wasn’t to get revenge or anything like that, it was a craving for harm and suffering, like this mage needed it.

  Two of the servants had ranged weapons, a bow and crossbow to be precise, and they quickly started positioning themselves on what little high ground they could find near the mouth to the cave. Two more had short swords and large shields, large enough to cover their full bodies if they were crouched down. They slowly started moving forwards with their shields raised up. The last two had spears and kept themselves behind their allies with the shields. Once they had been a part of a city militia, once they kept away the occasional bear or other wild animal, now they fought against a man possessed with malice.

  The mage didn’t react to their quick organization, he just kept walking towards them as the three swords floated by his side.

  The two servants with the bow and crossbow raised their weapons with quickened breath fired at the mage with just a second between themselves.

  The mage only raised his arm up and conjured up a circle of earth that he used as a shield to block the projectiles with very little effort. It was a chilling calculative reaction devoid of any stress or worry for his own safety.

  As he closed the distance he remained under fire, and yet he decided it was time to go on the offensive. With the improvised earthen shield hovering around his left hand he pointed his right hand in rapid succession towards the three that were closest to him and the three earthen weapons shot forwards towards their targets.

  The first two were those who were carrying the large shields and managed to protect themselves with said shields as a hole was punched through, just enough to keep themselves from harm. The third however wasn’t quite so lucky as he felt the earthen weapon, a sword to be precise, rip through the simple leather armor he wore and drive deep into his flesh.

  He tried to scream or shout, anything to cling to what little life he still had. But his strength gave out in his legs and he fell to his back as the conjured sword slowly pulled itself out from the wound it created and back towards its master.

  With all three weapons at his side the mage decided it was time to focus his efforts on one target at a time instead. Despite the desperate arrows and bolts that were shot towards him the mage commanded all of his conjured weapons towards the nearest enemy within his sight which just happened to be one of those with a large shield.

  Like before the shield survived against one and then two of the weapons as they punched holes into the shield slowly destroying the structural integrity. But the third managed to break through and met tanned leather and then flesh.

  He looked down to his stomach where the burning pain originated, he saw the blade slowly pulling itself back out, taking blood with it as it moved his intestines. He felt sick, sicker than he had ever imagined he could be. He felt pain too, so much that he wanted to puke, cry, and then puke one more time to be rid of the feeling. Unfortunately he didn’t really have that choice as he could do nothing but drop his weapon and shield and do his best to keep his intestines from sliding out as he dropped to his knees and then to his side.

  One with a spear tried running when he saw his ally fall to the ground, he only made a few meters before he felt a pain in his leg and he fell to the ground. The pain grew sharp and hot so he looked down to see his leg was gone. He screamed in pain and fear as he saw his leg just a short distance away, it had been cut just shy of the knee at the joint and he was bleeding profusely.

  The remaining three stood frozen in fear as they heard their ally crying to their left, but they didn’t dare look. Whether by choice or out of fear they kept their eyes glued to the mage that barely gave a glance to their dying ally and kept moving forwards.

  The two with the crossbow and bow each took aim and fired towards the mage as other with the shield rushed forwards shouting as he did so.

  The one with the shield could feel his heart beating like a drum as he ran towards what was basically certain death. For whatever reason the mage didn’t just strike him down with all three of his conjured weapons, instead he took one in his hands and moved forwards with a very dangerous speed with it pointed forwards.

  The mage was the first to strike with his conjured longsword which he used to thrust forwards with his right hand directly at the face of the servant with the shield. The servant quickly raised it up and with a loud thunk he and the shield felt the impact of the attack. A small hole opened up at the top of the shield where it blocked the attack, a small reminder of what it would do to a person.

  Reading on this site? This novel is published elsewhere. Support the author by seeking out the original.

  The mage quickly followed up on his attack by twisting his conjured longsword to the left before bringing it up and over in an arc before bringing it back down and cutting through the top portion of the shield like he was chopping firewood.

  The servant quickly dropped to his knee as he saw the attack, it was just enough to save his life and give him an opportunity. With barley a thought in his racing mind he thrusted his sword forwards towards the mage’s exposed stomach. With the mage’s weapon caught in his shield he should be able to deal a terrible blow against this seemingly unbeatable adversary, and for a moment it seemed like that was the case.

  But then at what felt like the last moment the mage slid away towards his right away from the attack and partly around the shield leaving the conjured longsword in the shield. The mage then reached for another of his conjured weapons, this one a spear, and in one fluid motion took it and practically threw it towards the servant and impaled him in the side.

  The servant froze for a moment as he stared towards the mage at his side and the burning pain slowly became hot like a fire. Slowly he turned his eyes downwards towards the spear sticking out of his side. Given it was angled downwards and he was still breathing it hadn't pierced his lungs, but that meant it made short work of his intestines and possibly his stomach. As his analysis came to an end his right leg started feeling weak and slowly gave out. He fell to his side dropping his sword and shield as he did so.

  The mage stepped closer as well, the two servants with the bow and crossbow respectively tried to stop him but the mage just swung his right arm in their direction and the two other weapons made rather short work of them.

  The mage slowly walked towards the dying servant until the spear lodged into his side was within arms reach, then he took it in one hand and pulled hard removing it while leaving more damage than when it first went in. The servant cried out in pain as this happened, but the mage didn’t seem to care as he instead plunged the spear into the servant's neck.

  For several moments the servant tried clinging onto life, he clawed at his throat hoping just a small amount of air would get past the blood pooling and blocking it like a dam. But eventually the blood loss and suffocation made him lose consciousness and eventually die.

  The mage turned and walked towards the other servants making absolutely certain that they were all dead. He passed the two with the bow and crossbow and looked over the deep wounds in their chest with only one thought filling his mind.

  ‘They died too quickly.’

  The cries of the servant who lost his leg suddenly came to his attention and he slowly turned his eyes in the direction the cries came from. There he found the poor servant crawling away as he wept, his leg still bleeding profusely. The mage placed his foot on his back and pressed downwards, the servant cried out as the bones that made up his spine creaked from the strain. Slowly the mage raised the spear in his hands and brought it down with significant force, first once, then twice, then thrice. When he was done there were no less than three large holes in the servant’s back each covering the surrounding grass with blood.

  Slowly the mage turned his eyes back towards the mouth of the cave when his last target hid. He continued his quiet walk as his thoughts swirled around what he was going to do with the dark mage when he found him.

  Slowly he entered as his left hand twitched in a mix of excitement and rage, his ears listening for even the smallest sound, and his left hand performing the necessary hand signs to conjure a protective wall at a moment's notice.

  As he walked the rough inner walls of the cave became littered with boxes and barrels that likely contained whatever supplies dark mage and his servants needed to maintain their raids, and perhaps some of it was spoils from others who were not as capable.

  Eventually the sound of heavy breathing along with what was the movement of clutter reached the mage’s ears, his eyes widened and he picked up the pace. He found a room that contained a few shelves and a table or two, when the mage peeked around the corner where the sounds continued coming from something was thrown in his direction.

  The object that was thrown was a small red coloured sphere no larger than a pumpkin seed, the mage wasn’t quite certain as to what it was until it struck the wall around a meter away from his face and exploded. He quickly ducked his head back behind the wall and moved a few steps towards his right.

  ‘Fire seeds.’ The mage snarled as he thought back to one of the few alchemical creations he personally never really saw much use for.

  The mage listened as the sound of footsteps went in the opposite direction deeper into the cave and slowly stepped out from behind the corner and followed.

  Like a game of cat and mouse the two mages ducked behind corners and used whatever magic or alchemical weapons they had on their person. But eventually the game came to an end as did the cave.

  As the dark mage rushed around the last corner his heart froze as he realized where he was. The simple bed in the corner, the wooden shelf that housed the few books he found both useful and interesting, and the bodies he had left out with the intent of reanimating when he returned.

  Suddenly a sound came from behind, the dark mage quickly whipped back around and threw a fire seed at the entrance of the room and a moderate explosion followed. When the fire and smoke cleared the sound of footsteps continued and the mage popped out from behind the corner with a conjured longsword in his hand.

  The dark mage reached for another fire seed from the pouch he retrieved from storage and his heart sank as he felt it was empty. The mage clearly took notice as he stopped forwards and quickly started closing the distance, his dark expression somehow darkening further.

  Without thinking he reached for the emergency wand he was given by the one he served and pointed it towards the mage who was now winding his arm back to throw the sword like a spear. The wand looked simple at first, but the obsidian black wood it was made from and the red glow that it generated as it was powered up gave away its uniqueness. The magic that came from the wand created a sound that could only be described as death, the thin red beam striking the mage in the left arm just moments after the sword left his hand.

  The mage felt the pain as the skin of his left arm dried and cracked before becoming flaking, the magic started moving on towards the fat and the muscle underneath. Blood vessels started rupturing and pooling blood with serious internal injuries that only serious dedicated restoration magic could fix. The damage would have been irreversible if the conjured longsword had not been thrown and lodged itself in the dark mage's shoulder forcing him to drop the cursed wand.