《Honor of the Dead》Chapter Four: Swordswoman
Advertisement
The muddied tracks were getting harder to follow.
Harrin crouched next to the down-trodden path of broken twigs and snapped bushes, running a bone finger along the grass pressed into the ground. For a group of criminals, they weren’t very good at covering their trail.
Memories were still slowly drifting into his mind, gradually moving around and settling. It was hard to tell in what order some of them had happened. They didn’t seem to want to cooperate, despite his best efforts, and it was proving both difficult and frustrating to try and figure out the proper chronology.
At some point he would have to take a moment to stop and fully take in the fact he’d died. He knew that. But it was incredibly easy to… forget, almost. He was walking, thinking, moving, doing nearly everything that made being alive, alive. If he didn’t try to speak and didn’t look down at himself, he could almost picture he were still human.
...What made anyone human, now that he thought about it? He could think and he could feel, but any animal could do that. Maybe it was the use of intelligence? Rational thought? Even the dumbest goblin could learn math, if they tried, so not that either.
After a moment of thought, he realized to both his concern and relief that he couldn’t make a straightforward answer to the question. It made it much easier to lie to himself.
Standing, he walked back over to Senna and crouched before her. She was seated on a rock, absently glaring at a shrub. Part of him wondered if there was some sort of necromantic spell that might invovle aforementioned shrub, but he doubted it.
Releasing a low hiss, he patiently waited for her to snap out of her fugue. Blinking, she looked up at him, eyes dull. “Are we getting closer?”
Harrin nodded. The tracks in question were relatively fresh. The mud still held bootprints, but the edges were sharper than if they’d been there longer than a few hours. If they didn’t take a break, they would be able to get to the camp of the…
...Wait. Who was he chasing?
Advertisement
He paused as he realized he’d been tracking these people without the slightest clue of who they were.
A second thought made him realize he didn’t care. They razed a village to the ground and tossed the bodies in a pile. To add to it, Senna wanted them dead, which by itself was a good enough reason. Regardless, it wasn’t something that warranted too much thought.
He glanced at the young necromancer as she got to her feet, coming to a decision. Removing his new sword from its sheath, he offered it to her hilt-first, grasping it by the flat. She stared at him blankly, the dullness lifting from her face. “Wh-what are you--”
Ignoring her hesitation, Harrin placed the sword in her hand, wrapping her fingers around the grip. Her eyes widened as she realized what he was doing as he let go, and her arm dropped under the weight.
“Harrin!” She gasped, grabbing it with both hands as she tried to raise it back up. She was, he realized, not the strongest person he’d ever met. “I can’t use a sword!”
Harrin gave her another nod. That much was obvious, but the fact of the matter was that she needed to be able to defend herself. He couldn’t be in two places at once, and once he left to find his family, he didn’t want her to be helpless. Besides, she needed something to distract herself with. Her vengeance was already close at hand, and she would likely find herself without a purpose once it was executed.
Grabbing a relatively straight stick off the leaf-strewn ground, he gave it a few swipes to test the balance, found it downright awful, and went with it anyway.
Stepping in front of Senna, he raised the impromptu weapon at an angle from his body, placing his right foot forward and his back foot to the side, keeping his free hand out for extra balance. In other words, a fencer’s stance.
“Harrin, I really don’t think-”
Harrin rapped her with the stick. A clean, rapid strike across the knuckles. She dropped her sword immediately, jumping back and grabbing her hand. “What was that for?!”
Advertisement
Ignoring her reaction, Harrin leaned down and picked the sword up again, offering it to her. Rubbing her already reddening knuckles, she frowned at him. “I’m not picking that up again.”
Flipping it back to the correct orientation, he offered it to her handle-first, silent insistence bleeding from his body language. Senna’s mouth tightened, and she folded her arms over her chest. “I can’t - I’m not a fighter, Harrin!”
Harrin nodded in agreement, still offering the sword. She stared at it, looking visibly frustrated. “I’m…”
Releasing a sigh, she accepted the sword and took a step back. This time, Harrin could tell she put more effort into holding it ‘at the ready’.
Or at least, something approaching at the ready. In reality, her stance was hideous, her grip was wrong, the sword was angled incorrectly, she was angled incorrectly, the sword was sideways… Harrin had to look away. There was pain from being an undead, a constant soreness that permeated every bone in his body, but watching someone hold a sword that badly hurt far more.
Shaking his head, he lowered his stick and walked towards her. Senna’s forehead creased in confusion. “Am I doing something wrong?”
You’re doing everything wrong, he thought to himself. Taking the sword out of her hand, he moved her arms to the correct placement, sliding her feet back with his own. Lifting her by the armpits, he straightened her back and stepped backward, assessing his work. She looked more confused than ever, but at least she was holding the position. Satisfied enough, he gave her the sword back and picked his stick up from where he’d dropped it.
Turning back to her, he returned to his fencer’s stance and gave her a sharp nod.
Immediately abandoning all decorum, she ran at him with the sword raised, bringing it down as hard as she could in a crushing blow. Harrin barely had to dodge to avoid it, and whacked her on the knuckles again.
“OW!” She yelped, dropping the sword once more. Glaring at Harrin, she asked with frustration in her tone, “What’s the point of this?!”
Harrin poked her in the shoulder with the stick, and before she could grab it, snapped it back, adjusted his stance, and nudged her in the stomach. He continued whipping the stick out of her grasp, tapping her collarbone, neck, forehead, knees, elbows, and anywhere else he felt like it. Each hit was gentle enough that it wouldn’t leave a bruise, but he knew from experience exactly how much strength had to be applied to sting.
Jumping back, Senna practically growled, “Are you just showing off? Is that-”
Harrin’s foot flicked the underside of the dwarvish sword, flicking it into his hand, and he tossed the stick away. Even faster this time, he shot the blade upward, quicker than thought and driven by sheer instinct, coming to a dead stop an inch from her hand.
She froze, eyes wide, and he watched her carefully. Would she get it? Would she understand the lesson he was trying to teach?
Withdrawing the sword, he slid it back into the tattered scabbard at his side, giving her another bow as he did. The tension slowly drained out of her shoulders, but she didn’t stop staring at him. She didn’t say anything for a while.
Harrin grew worried all of a sudden. This was not the time to be picky about swordsmanship - she’d just lost her entire village, for crying out loud! He took a step forward, ready to prepare some sort of apology, through gestures if necessary.
Senna picked up the stick, shuffling her feet until they were close to the right position. Standing straight, she bent at the waist and held the stick out two-handed, watching Harrin carefully. “You’re… training me, aren’t you.”
The worry drained through his feet into the ground as she took up a stance, and Harrin nodded. This time, instead of rushing forward, she took small steps to approach him, carefully sliding to his left as she did so.
Harrin couldn’t help but feel a spark of pride, despite the fact she was a necromancer and he supposed to be dead.
She was learning.
Advertisement
- In Serial43 Chapters
Within The Soul: Supremacy
After a series of unexpected and traumatic events, Matthew, a physicist from futuristic earth, found himself transmigrated into a new world. In this world, humans practice cultivation in order to gain power and survive against the beasts and demons that plague the lands. Now in the body of a youngster, Matthew uses his inquisitive mind to reconcile with this new reality soon discovering the potential his scientific knowledge holds. Follow him on his journey to power and immortality, answering old and new questions about the nature of the universe while he strives for unrestrained freedom. Notes 1: It is my first attempt at writing anything so any constructive advice is more than welcome. if your comment will be just to insult, don't do it, you will waste time typing and I will waste time reading it and not giving a damn about it. 2: To make it worse English is not my mother language. I'm still learning and through reading and talking is not a problem for me, writing is my weak spot. Though not the only one and not the most important, this is one of the reasons I decided to start writing this novel. 3: I do not own the artwork used as a cover, I found it on google, I liked it A LOT and decided to use it. At the time I tried to contact the creator but received no answer and if he wants me to remove it I will. With that out of the way, I hope you enjoy it and sorry if you don't :P.
8 206 - In Serial13 Chapters
The Divine Traits
During the dark of night in a small town, a golden glow can be seen a moment later a baby wrapped in a golden blanket made out of an unknown fabric softer than silk. Unknown to the world this was the birth of a new godling a holder of the divine traits. Given god-like powers. This is a story about a fantasy world where at the age of 16 people will go through a change and unlock dormant "traits" these traits cause powers known as classes the severity of the traits control how rare or powerful these classes are. the main character is a godling an offspring of a god their traits are classified as Divine Traits and are the most powerful traits and contain the best classes and powers. The main character Jericho Stormblood is the first godling in this world and will be a tester for the gods to see if this world is worthy of their children's presence. This is my first story and is inspired by the story Dantes Immortality which is on this website as well please go check it out Discord: jV8vWAx P.s I do not own the top picture if you are the one who owns it pm me and I will change it I will change it anyways when I can create a better cover picture
8 200 - In Serial13 Chapters
Unstable (L x Reader)
This story is about you helping L with the Kira case but you have a very scary and dark past that you slowly share with your "comrades" along the way. And of course since this is a L x reader you end up falling for the lovable sleepless boy.I own none of the deathnote characters. Just (name) and her family and that's it.also trigger warning for some violence and gross menit does come but mostly at the end of the story....
8 88 - In Serial38 Chapters
The Courts Divided
The old guard is now threatened by older evils. Without their legendary king to guide them, an ancient way of life and honor is put to the test. What starts with a string of unexplained murders in the fairy lands, steadily develops into the greatest crisis Western Civilization has ever encountered. Not the dragons and their ilk, not The Trenchlings that gnash in their holes, not even the great empire of Ulteria that holds the power of gunpowder and electricity. This is the oldest, most consolidated structure of evil the omniverse has ever known. Hiding between silent nightmares and the deepest crevices of the human psyche, necromancers, vampires, demons, and all manners of undead hold covenent with this one, ultimate predator upon humanity's hope: The Night God. The West is strong, held up by the remaining bastion of their immaculately-powerful witch knights, but when their sworn nemisis and a beloved traitor are the ones that uncover the great masquerade, will they trust them, or will they doom the planet by holding fast to what they know? Magical power beyond all comprehension is what they're up against, that is of no doubt. The question of the hour is this: can old knights of a dead kingdom stand up once more to put the dark back in its place? The Courts Divided is a massive fantasy project containing humor, horror, and some of the strangest forms of magic known to man or arcanite alike. Daily updates until June. Cover by Shiroasa.
8 160 - In Serial6 Chapters
18 Purifying Magics
When an unimportant and unwanted man suddenly becomes the only one left to take care of his neice he will use an ancient artifact that had been in his families possession for hundreds of years. Never understood. Never opened. Never used. Until now. I'm an novice when it comes to developing stories, so I'm using this fanfic to get experience. Please do comment, criticism will be greatly appreciated. Within the world of Harry Potter using Pokemon elements incorporated into a dungeon type story. I own nothing, but my OC's. All rights belong to J.K. Rowling, Nintendo, and GameFreak. Special thanks to gel302 for making the cover art.
8 190 - In Serial8 Chapters
Do you know what I have become (RWBY x Male abused sith Reader)
(Y/N) Rose grew up only knowing pain, suffering, and anger. His adopted family would abuse and torture him, because they could and can. Then one day (Y/N) heard voices in his head, which lead him to discover his powers. he then ran away and followed were the voices told him where to go, they led him to a cave deep in a forest. And this is were (Y/N) will gain strength, get power, and this is were the sith will be reborn.
8 72