Ten of Swords (Draft Only)

Chapter 6

Mad men and women stumbled over each other to try and get to Boss, only tripping over each other until they either got to the front or fell over. Those at the front found themselves infuriated by the rogue's taunts and evasions. Those who fell behind began to try and look for other ways to retaliate. Some even remembered what it was that started the fight in the first place.

Small gusts of chilly air slipped through the stampede of feet, whipping up small funnels that gathered dirt and leaves into miniature funnels that danced and swirled. Wind of course, would typically cause a blaze to grow, but as the spell was still being cast it was unlikely that the air movement was the intended effect. Rather, they were evidence of the transfer of energy from the area surrounding to the mage's focus – the crystal head of the staff.

Boss didn't see the exact point when they started to thin out, but she knew something was off when the crowd wasn't moving the way it had before. There were too many gaps. It was clear that she had lost the attention of some of her audience. Not good. Biting her lip, she moved in, ducking between the stick-like arsonists to get to the other side. She deflected an incoming blow with her shortsword and cut the man across the face with her dagger, giving her an opportunity to get past him and go after those who were splitting off from her group.

"Hey! You'd better not turn your back to me if you want to live!" She cried out in a futile attempt to pull the splintering maniacs back toward her.

A villager jumped in, tackling one of them to the ground. It was a young man, arms scarred from the flames and holes burned through his clothes. There were tears in his eyes. He brought his fists down on the arsonist's skull and screamed.

More joined. With most of the criminals who had attacked their village focused on Boss and the mage, they were able to pick out their quarries one at a time. They took out their grief on those they singled out, their fists and makeshift weapons carrying their misery and rage. Boss winced, knowing that the townsfolk would be much less merciful than her. There would be little she could do now to quell the violence. She knew this would be her fault.

With a crack, the mage stumbled as he was hit with a burned-out torch. His fingers tightened around the staff, and he kept chanting. He was hit again in the back but held his ground. Were his attacker less famished, the assault might have been more successful, but the light in the crystal dulled a little. He was in pain, and it was making it harder to focus. With the fires still burning, he had to finish the spell soon if they wanted to help anyone. Any longer, and whoever was still alive in there would suffocate or be burnt to a crisp. If the spell was disturbed any more, there wouldn't be enough time.

Villagers became overwhelmed again as worked-up arsonists forgot about Boss and jumped on them. This time however, the villagers weren't afraid. Before their homes were burning, they feared for their lives. When they watched their town burn and heard the dying screams of their fiends and families they were overcome with grief. They still grieved, but fear no longer prompted them to bow down to their assailants. Their sense of self-preservation had been replaced by unadulterated fury. Now, they would fight back, and would continue to fight back until one side stopped moving.

They had started this to try and save people, but wasn't this just making things worse? Boss closed her mind to that thought. It was too late now. She pushed through the groups of living skeletons and enraged mourners that beat each other with anything they could get their hands on. She lunged at the arsonist who was attacking the mage. She missed.

Apparently, this one was a little more situationally aware than the others. It was perhaps the reason why they had been the only person to reach the mage before the townsfolk got into the fight. Boss could hardly call the thing human anymore. Its eyes were dark and sunken, and its cheeks were hollow. The ghastly visages of some of these arsonists made her wonder if perhaps some of them truly were re-animated corpses. Just a few, like the one that stood before her now, were people so broken that they were simply unrecognisable as living things.