Song of Seven

Song 16: A Union of Swords and Lightning

The grizzled Crown Hound and the elusive Percian braced themselves against the towering doors that led to the courtyard, listening intently to the disconcerting symphony of chanting and cheers that echoed from beyond. The chorus of voices was as chilling as the cold breeze that whistled through the crack of the fortress doors. Axel shivered with the cold and the rush of adrenaline that preceded combat, a familiar sensation that was colored by the grim reality of the situation outside the doors. They were far outnumbered, even with the Mayj Percian's assistance in this fight, they still had to contend with Graylen's vast arcane abilities and the danger of the enslaved Seven.

Axel's hand gripped the hilt of his sword, his palms wet with a clammy nervousness, while Percian's fingers tingled and bristled with the latent power of arcane spells ready to be unleashed. They exchanged a final glance, Percian's expression assuring Axel that he was on his side, before they threw open the heavy doors.

The courtyard lay before them, a bleak expanse filled with black-robed cultists whose jubilation turned to stunned silence as Axel, the warrior with the wide-brimmed hat, and Percian, the enigmatic Mayj, disrupted their dark revelry. A moment passed as the onlookers studied the pair, a tense minute of cold emotion that mirrored the climate of the frozen northlands. The only sound for those few seconds was a skiff of snow that blew across the stonework of the wide courtyard like an artist's brush stroke against a clean canvas. 

The cultists, their faces hidden behind veils of black cloth, drew their signature darkened steel daggers in unison, the glint of malevolence in their eyes matching the metallic song of their weapons. The very air seemed to thicken with tension as the two intruders dared to challenge the congregation of these unholy faithful.

Axel's voice, commanding and unyielding, cut through the silence like a battle horn in the dead of night. "Graylen! Release her!" His eyes scanned for the Mayj amongst the crowd, spotting the elderly spellcaster standing near Seven, who was bound in chains both physical and mental.

Graylen, the imposing Mayj who stood at the center of the courtyard, turned to face the interlopers with a wicked grin that seemed to defy his advanced years. "Ah, Axel, always the valiant one," he sneered, his voice dripping with malice. "And Percian, the ever-elusive."

Percian remained poised, his hands centered in front of him in the threatening gesture that was typical of those who wield such arcane power, locked his stare firmly onto Graylen with an intensity that mirrored the elder Mayj's malevolent resolve. "Oh Graylen, ever the flair for the dramatic," he declared. "It isn't often that we get the chance to face one of our order. Let's see who has the stronger magic, shall we?"

The ghoulish cult leader, his pallid visage twisted in a grotesque semblance of pleasure, raised his gnarled hand to signal the cultists. The tension in the courtyard shattered like glass as the cultists surged forward, their daggers gleaming with dark intent. Percian immediately vanished into the crowd, making his way toward Graylen, leaving Axel to deal with the cultists. The old warrior lost sight of Seven among the rush of attackers and cursed under his breath. 

The Crown Hounds transformation took hold faster than it ever had, immediately changing Axel into the muscled beast that had struck down so many men in the past. One of his clawed hands brandished a long steel sword, arcing out in front of him to keep the approaching cultists at a distance. His other hand was busy clutching tightly to the whitewood staff, he needed to deliver it to Seven and would not release his grip on it until forced by death itself. 

The courtyard, once filled with chants of dark devotion, now resounded with the clash of wills and the clash of blades. Daggers lashed out at Axel from all directions like a swarm of steel hornets, his sword arm working deftly to deflect as many of the potentially lethal stings as he could. Even in his most bestial form, the fervor of the attack and the relentless onslaught of the cultists were pushing him back towards the courtyard doors. One mistimed deflection or stumble and he would suffer the consequence of steel.