The Forgotten Rogue

Chapter 5

Even though Emeric was running as fast as he could, he made virtually no sound.  The distance between him and the Elite grew smaller at a brisk pace, and before Emeric could second guess himself, he drove his shoulder into the Elite's lower back.

The Elite leader had heard Emeric a second too late and there hadn't been any time to react.  The force of Emeric's momentum carried them both to the ground where they landed in a tangled mess of arms and legs.

Emeric, miraculously, considering that his arms were bound behind his back, was the first to his feet.  As the Elite pushed himself up, Emeric swung a deafly kick aimed at the Elite's head.  Had the attack made contact, the Elite would have been out for days, if not worse...but the man had lightning instincts. 

When Emeric's foot was about to strike it's target, the Elite grabbed Emeric's ankle and gave it a vicious twist.  The sudden offensive move caught Emeric off guard, the twist of his foot sent him to the ground.

As he hit the floor, a painfilled cry of agony escaped his lips, much to his disliking...The Elite twisted his foot in an excruciating manner that stretched muscles and tendons...A crippling injury that would need time to recover. 

Emeric kicked the Elite's hand away with his other foot before desperately dragging himself away...which seemed rather difficult considering that he only had one useful limb...

As the Elite approached, Emeric got to his feet, but  his moment of triumph didn't last as his injured ankle gave way under him and he went down with a sickening crash.

It was then that Emeric realised that he had underestimated his opponent.  The large man that slowly strode closer evidently was an experienced warrior, much more skilled than the men that Emeric had faced earlier.  Even if Emeric had not been at a disadvantage he would have had a tough time defeating the large man.

When the man came to a stop over Emeric, a menacing face, void of any expression was what he saw.

Somehow, this sent more chills through Emeric than an angry, even fuming expression would have.  The man had defeated Emeric, and the latter had nowhere to go and no way of defending himself.  The Elite knew that and the notion filled him with satisfaction.

The Elite bent forward and roughly grabbed Emeric by the collar of his shirt.  Emeric felt himself be lifted off of the ground effortlessly, as if he weighed little more than a leaf.  The man lifted Emeric high enough so that their eyes were level.

"You dare attack me." The man said in a deadly, yet soft spoken voice that sent shiver crawling up Emeric's spine.

Emeric, however, did his best to hide the fear that was eating him up.  He would not allow his captor to see him in a decreased state.  His pride would not allow it.

The Elite slammed Emeric back into the ground with extreme strength that forced a grunt of jarring pain out of Emeric's chest.  And then the fists came.

Emeric did his best to try and tuck his head into his chest protectively, but the act seemed to do little to ease the power of the blows.

The pain was worse than Emeric thought possible.  It was as if his head was about to burst open.  He grit his teeth to try and ignore the metallic taste of blood as he accidently bit his tongue after a rather oppressive blow. 

Gradually, Emeric started loosing consciousness.  In the faint background he heard his father's pleas for the onslaught to stop...

He lay there in the dust...bloodied and bruised...

The Elite glared down at the broken figure on the floor with menace...A young man, not in his twenties yet had managed to defeat six of his warriors...Some of the injuries permanent and crippling.  With a grunt of dismissal he walked away...