Joudaar’s eyes flit from one target to the next. Ideally he would launch an arrow into Urquhart and be on his way, but ‘ideally’ was a luxury he did not have. If he missed the mark, the camp would be alerted to his presence as well as his intention. That would not do.
Drawing on the power within him, he wrote the word ‘fire’ in the dirt with an arrow head. Due to his proximity to the fire, the connection was strong. The arrow head began to give off faint, barley perceptible wisps of smoke.
Although an Aethereal connection had been formed any Witch Doctor, let alone fully trained Sorcerer, knew that the physical laws of the world still held true. The force used to launch the arrow would still impact how it flew.
He drew a deep, calming breath as he pulled the bowstring back. Fingers anchored to the corner of his mouth, he aimed up. High enough for the arrow to overshoot the campfire.
As arrow sailed silently through the air towards the fire, Joudaar began to run. He had already dropped the bow and unsheathed his sword. The whole time he watched the arrow make a lazy journey towards it’s zenith. He smiled as he tested his shield with the flat of his blade. It almost looks beautiful. An arrow in flight surrounded by a clear blue sky. Like the emblem of a great house.
As the arrow began to make it decent, it took on more speed as the Aether tugged it towards the fire. It began to fall at a velocity so great that Joudaar could hear it hissing through the air. If I can hear it, so can they. He slowed a step, Better time this right.
The men of the camp, busy with their daily tasks of dressing, packing, checking and general readying themselves to leave, did not notice the arrow sailing overhead. Or if they did, they did not react to it’s presence.
The arrow would clearly overshoot the campfire so Joudaar began to sprint. Once it was above the fire, about ten fathoms off the ground, Joudaar’s plan came to fruition as a column of flame shot up and consumed the arrow.
Joudaar was mere strides away from the nearest man. He threw all his momentum behind his shield. The gasps of surprise were audible and followed quickly by the sound of wood splintering and bone breaking.
Joudaar rolled effortlessly towards his second target. A tall man that would have a decisive reach advantage with his spear. Joudaar heard someone raise the alarm. Not words exactly, but the sound a man makes when surprised, confused and angry all at the same time.
Throwing the remnants of his shield, Joudaar pulled his sword back ready to strike. The tall man dodged and kicked up his spear in a smooth and practised manner. It was too late though as Joudaar had closed the distance and buried his sword deep into the man’s stomach.
Leather tunic, muscle and organs all parted with ease. Joudaar withdrew his sword and threw it towards the third squire. He ignored the viscera at his feet as well as the feeble attempts the now dying man made to hold him. Soon he had a spear in one hand and was trailing the flying sword.
He lunged at the third squire, a stocky fellow who had just deflected the sword with a small round shield. He was quicker than he looked and Joudaar missed his lunge. His opponent cursed and drew a hatchet.
Clever man, Joudaar though regaining his balance. He’ll try to close the distance and finish this quick. This suited the situation as Joudaar knew the knights and Urquhart would soon be upon him. He jumped back maintaining distance and then quickly swung the spear sideways at the stocky man. Bastard is quick.
He pressed forward again, but this time he drew a small throwing dagger after lunging forward. It left his hand faster than most would think possible. It also found a home in the other man’s neck.
Three squires, Joudaar spun and lashed out with the spear. Three knights stood facing him down. Menace on their minds, in their hearts and in the way they held their weaponry.
CW SY 2013