concrete pillar, the joint broke with a loud snap. The man did not cry out, and managed to twist so that he fell on his back. The ground shuddered.
Vedas saw the counterattack coming. Admiring the White Suit’s persistence, he rolled to the right just as the warhammer fell, slamming into the street where he had just been. Momentum carried him onto his feet as the grapple arced over the man’s prone body. From the ground it was a clumsy throw, and Vedas caught it easily.
The man reacted quickly, however, jerking the chain back, but Vedas was already moving in this direction. He stamped his left heel into the man’s left inner elbow, deadening the arm holding the hammer and simultaneously using it as a springboard.
He calculated in the second before his right foot landed on the giant’s face. He noted the thick fabric armor covering the bridge of the man’s nose and reconsidered his attack, angling his foot for the neck rather than the head.
Cartilage crunched satisfyingly under his sole. The giant’s roar became a gurgle and then a wheeze as Vedas landed in a crouch beside his head.
Vedas dropped the grapple and rolled clear before the giant could attack again—but he knew even before completing his turn that the man was finished, dead or in great need of medical assistance. Vaguely, Vedas hoped the battle would end soon so the man could get the help he needed. Death was an unfortunate fact of sectarian battling, best for the orders if kept to a minimum.
One must always remember , Abse often reminded the brothers and sisters , we are tolerated only as long as we do not draw too much attention to ourselves .
Besides, Vedas was not without compassion. He hoped the giant’s faith in Adrash lessened his pain. The sentiment conflicted with the views of his order, but this troubled Vedas not at all. He had risen above such trivialities. His faith was unassailable.
Vedas stood at the center of a battle still going strong. Everyone had either paired off against an opponent or moved to assist a weaker brother or sister. Several Black Suits had fallen, but so had a handful of White Suits. Through the thick of fighters, Vedas saw Abse at the gathering’s edge, engaging one of the mages. The other lay at his feet, face disfigured by burns. The staff he had taken from her spun in his hands and struck, spitting magefire.
On the opposite side of the square, Vedas spotted the recruits. He could hardly tell his own from the opponents’, and started to jog in their direction.
Howling, the blurred form of the hellhound came at him as he rounded a fierce melee. Vedas had only half turned when its shoulder slammed into his right hip and lifted him into the air. He spun three times before hitting the ground face first. His limbs whipped into the ground and his suit stiffened to minimize the impacts, but he felt them all the same.
Apparently, Abse had not been successful in taking the hellhound down. The beast had not uttered a sound since the beginning of the battle, and Vedas foolishly assumed it had been incapacitated. Banishing the embarrassment from his mind, he rose.
The dog was headed straight for the recruits.
Vedas ran, knowing he would never get there in time to stop the animal if it intended violence.
What else could it be intending? he asked himself.
He was still twenty paces from the recruits when the hellhound closed its jaws around the girl’s head. She disappeared under the creature’s body, but not before Vedas saw the black sash tied around her left arm.
‡
Abse called Vedas to his chambers after the post-fight toilet. The two sat, separated by a small lacquered table. They ate cold dumplings and mutton and drank hot fahl tea, the reason for the meeting hanging unspoken between them as they chewed and sipped. The abbey master had never been one to rush matters, even when both parties knew the outcome.
Vedas’s hood was gathered at his neck and he had made his generous, wellformed features blank. The
Vedas saw the counterattack coming. Admiring the White Suit’s persistence, he rolled to the right just as the warhammer fell, slamming into the street where he had just been. Momentum carried him onto his feet as the grapple arced over the man’s prone body. From the ground it was a clumsy throw, and Vedas caught it easily.
The man reacted quickly, however, jerking the chain back, but Vedas was already moving in this direction. He stamped his left heel into the man’s left inner elbow, deadening the arm holding the hammer and simultaneously using it as a springboard.
He calculated in the second before his right foot landed on the giant’s face. He noted the thick fabric armor covering the bridge of the man’s nose and reconsidered his attack, angling his foot for the neck rather than the head.
Cartilage crunched satisfyingly under his sole. The giant’s roar became a gurgle and then a wheeze as Vedas landed in a crouch beside his head.
Vedas dropped the grapple and rolled clear before the giant could attack again—but he knew even before completing his turn that the man was finished, dead or in great need of medical assistance. Vaguely, Vedas hoped the battle would end soon so the man could get the help he needed. Death was an unfortunate fact of sectarian battling, best for the orders if kept to a minimum.
One must always remember , Abse often reminded the brothers and sisters , we are tolerated only as long as we do not draw too much attention to ourselves .
Besides, Vedas was not without compassion. He hoped the giant’s faith in Adrash lessened his pain. The sentiment conflicted with the views of his order, but this troubled Vedas not at all. He had risen above such trivialities. His faith was unassailable.
Vedas stood at the center of a battle still going strong. Everyone had either paired off against an opponent or moved to assist a weaker brother or sister. Several Black Suits had fallen, but so had a handful of White Suits. Through the thick of fighters, Vedas saw Abse at the gathering’s edge, engaging one of the mages. The other lay at his feet, face disfigured by burns. The staff he had taken from her spun in his hands and struck, spitting magefire.
On the opposite side of the square, Vedas spotted the recruits. He could hardly tell his own from the opponents’, and started to jog in their direction.
Howling, the blurred form of the hellhound came at him as he rounded a fierce melee. Vedas had only half turned when its shoulder slammed into his right hip and lifted him into the air. He spun three times before hitting the ground face first. His limbs whipped into the ground and his suit stiffened to minimize the impacts, but he felt them all the same.
Apparently, Abse had not been successful in taking the hellhound down. The beast had not uttered a sound since the beginning of the battle, and Vedas foolishly assumed it had been incapacitated. Banishing the embarrassment from his mind, he rose.
The dog was headed straight for the recruits.
Vedas ran, knowing he would never get there in time to stop the animal if it intended violence.
What else could it be intending? he asked himself.
He was still twenty paces from the recruits when the hellhound closed its jaws around the girl’s head. She disappeared under the creature’s body, but not before Vedas saw the black sash tied around her left arm.
‡
Abse called Vedas to his chambers after the post-fight toilet. The two sat, separated by a small lacquered table. They ate cold dumplings and mutton and drank hot fahl tea, the reason for the meeting hanging unspoken between them as they chewed and sipped. The abbey master had never been one to rush matters, even when both parties knew the outcome.
Vedas’s hood was gathered at his neck and he had made his generous, wellformed features blank. The
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