Blood Isle

Chapter Eighteen: Hunting Meer

Brenna stuck her head out of the tent, the wind and rain had both passed during the night. After the last three days, the early dawn air seemed unaturally still, everything was still in a state of sogginess.

After a quick breakfast, Brenna was met by Changa, Air Alfred, Girard, Morgan, and Celete. Where ever Brenna ventured, they would be providing protection. Meer were deadly and nobody was taking any chances.

The special hand-picked groups of guards began appearing, and Brenna gave them time to scatter throughout the camp.

Brenna raised her staff and rose high in the air, with her eyes glowing bright blue. A nimbus of silvery-blue now enveloped her petite form. Abruptly the silvery-blue light changed into a blinding white glare, radiating outward.

The men that were touched by the white glare, murmured cries of appreciation. Great smiles appeared on their faces, and they sought more exposure to the glow. The Meer did not appear, much to Brenna's disappointment, she would have to appear in another part of the camp and try again.

On attempt number two, Brenna rose in the air, and cast enduring fortitude upon the troops. Like the first instance, the men greatly appreciated the increase in their well-being, strength, stamina, and endurance. But there was still no appearance of the Meer, perhaps it was inside a tent, which would block the spells ray's.

Patiently, Brenna rose into the air on a third attempt. She cast Enduring Fortitude for a third time, and illicited a response. There was a loud shriek from the part of camp where the blacksmith's provided their services. Guards hurried to confront the Meer. Before they were able to get close, two of the guards succumbed to a pair of precisely thrown, steel daggers.

Two fireballs created havoc amoung a number of tents that protected extra weapons. They were quickly put out and most of the weapons were salvaged.

In the throes of pain, the Meer easily evaded the approaching guards and vanished somewhere among the horse pens. The guards
closed-in on the area, and began a painstaking search for the assassin. A loud cry sounded, and two soldiers and a guard were found dead, from slashed throats.

The roving teams of guards cordoned off that portion of camp, and closed in for the kill. Methodically, the men warily searched for the Meer, knowing their foe was deadly and desperate as well.

In a small area full of tents, and wagons, the teams of guards finally cornered the deadly killer. With eyes filled with malice, the Meer dared anyone to come close.

A crossbow bolt slammed home, in his left arm, spinning him around. Before he could react, Girard closed with him, with both of his swords in hand. Everyone nearby gathered around the two of them, to watch the fight. The Meer attempted to strike first, slashing at Girards legs, in a silvery crescent of steel. The blades met only empty air, as the dual-wielding master had jumped to evade the strike.

In a gleaming flash of steel, Girard attacked the nimble form,
Which the Meer promptly deflected. In a blur, a flash of steel was promptly jammed by Girard's swords. The sword master followed up with a crushing blow from his right sword's hilt to the side of the feline's head.

The blow staggered the Meer, which gave a loud cry of anger. A small glint of steel was blocked by Girard's blades, the killer had hurled a dagger at him.

In a feint, the assassin spun and grazed the duel-wielder's leg, drawing blood. Girard never even flinched in response, his left blade darted in to slash the Meers right arm. The killer slank back, favoring his arm, as the sword master's right blade was thrust into the assassin's throat. With a cough, the feline's eyes bulged, as he collapsed onto the ground, twitched once or twice and lay still.