“Underhanded...” Wyatt re-gripped his sword and stepped forward to counterattack, but right at that moment, the black-clad swordswoman crumpled...no, she hadn’t collapsed. She’d deliberately dropped to all fours. The red-armored knight hesitated for a moment, baffled by the utterly defenseless position she’d taken, but he was able to read her gaze and decipher her aim quick enough to respond to her ruse.
Whoosh came the sound of a thick log swinging down on a rope from his left side. The log had been hung so that it would collide with the upper body of an adult human male when released. From the mass of the log and the speed it was coming at him, the impact would be fatal. Wyatt instantly understood why Darke had continued to cross blades with him despite her inferior skill.
I can’t dodge it. In his accelerated thoughts, he could sense the black-clad swordswoman going on the offensive. He even felt like he could hear her thinking, “Die a pathetic death.” Even if he could crouch and avoid the log, she would strike as soon as he was thrown off his balance. ...In which case...
There was a thud! as the massive log impacted...Wyatt’s left hand. The patterns on his armor glowed red. Inside the red plate, his flesh and bones groaned, and a searing pain tore through him.
Darke was in position to thrust out her blade, but her eyes opened wide at this, and what happened next was enough to freeze her in place.
Wyatt knocked aside Darke’s hanger with his right hand, leaving his left hand holding the entire log. It was the only way for him to defend in his position. But the swordswoman could never have imagined what happened to her blade in that moment; it didn’t simply bend or snap, but shattered. And Wyatt would never let the opportunity her shock afforded him go to waste. Not even bothering to bring his sword back from its swing, he sent a fierce kick her way, his armor still glowing.
Crack. Darke’s body folded at the impact, flying thirty feet through the air in an arc and rolling when she hit the ground. She thudded loudly into a tree and went still, her head lolling. At the same time, Wyatt collapsed to the ground, in agony from the strain of using the armor.
“Darke!”
“Captain!”
Rain Grass and some others from the attack team rushed to Darke’s side while one of them leapt at Wyatt, slobbering and snarling ferociously. It was the young, blue-furred kobold.
“Deyah! Deyah! Deyah! Hoh! Hoh! Hoh!” He was slashing and thrusting with no proper form or thought behind his blows. Without proper footwork, his blows were light and shallow. Still, Wyatt was more vulnerable than he’d been all day now. He couldn’t even lift his sword to defend, so he was left with nothing but his gauntlets to block the strikes of the shortsword. And while he was so occupied...
“Put your back into it! She’s heavy!”
“Gwoooh! You can say that again!”
“Sheeee’s heavyyyyy!”
“She’s too heavy, isn’t she?!”
The other kobolds had thrown aside their weapons and worked together to lift up the unconscious swordswoman, fleeing as fast as they could.
“Mmnh!” The blue-furred kobold who’d bought them time also fled as soon as he sensed that he’d done his part, and by the time the red-armored knight was able to regain his feet, they’d all gotten a considerable distance away.
“...How pathetic. I let the dunce take control of the situation, and ended up having to use the armor in the end.” Wyatt scowled and sighed. He patted, pressed, and rubbed at his body to assess the damage the Scarlet Plate had done to him. Grimacing in pain every so often, he eventually finished his examination and took another deep breath. “I’m good.” He was all right. Nothing had been severed or broken. He could still go on. He wasn’t finished yet.
“Unbelievable,” he muttered, looking down at a broken dagger, still in its sheath, lying at his feet. It was likely one of several such knives the swordswoman had strung up underneath her cloak. “I thought I broke her sternum or some ribs.” She’d jumped back at the last moment, probably taking the brunt of the force from the kick with her right arm and this small piece of steel under her cloak. “...A skilled fool to be sure.” Still, she couldn’t have escaped completely unscathed.
Wyatt took a moment to think about it, but decided not to pursue them. If he followed them too far there was ample danger of them luring him into another trap. The guildmaster had a more pressing duty to reorganize his forces. He decided to make reuniting with Ashcroft and his men his priority for now.
＊
“The attack team was defeated by the enemy guildmaster, currently fleeing! Captain Darke is unconscious!” Unease ran through the command center as one of the housewives received a report from the attack team.
“There’s an area of unsprung pit traps a little farther in that direction! Tell them to retreat through there!” Sashalia ran her eyes over the map and pointed out the location in question. “Is the enemy pursuing?”
“No pursuit!”
“Attack team has arrived at traps! Attempting to revive the captain!”
After a short while, the lady kobolds began receiving more updates. The attack team seemed to have been attempting mouth-to-mouth and chest compressions on the unconscious Darke. This was a method of resuscitation familiar to the hunters of the village, who put their lives in danger every day, or so Rain Grass had told Sashalia.
“Darke...” Though she was concerned for her colleague, Sashalia couldn’t neglect her duties, so they went about their work in the command center for a short time, even though the atmosphere was strained with worry.
“Captain Darke has regained consciousness!” This time, the elated report sent a wave of relief through the room.
“How are her wounds?”
“She’s claiming to be fine, but her spirit messenger reports that her right arm looks to be in bad shape. Also, Rain Grass...”
“Rain Grass...?”
“...Is in some distress. ‘She put her tongue in,’ he says.”
“Uegh,” came a chorus of housewives, disgusted looks on their faces. Fog’s childhood friend was very unpopular among the group, it seemed.
In any case, from the reports it seemed Darke had regained consciousness without the actual need for cardiopulmonary resuscitation.
“Any other losses?”
“They abandoned their weapons to flee, so they’ll need replacements.”
“There’s a stash in a moss cave a little further back. Have them restock there. Anything else? No more casualties?”
“Nothing but the ‘tragic loss of Rain Grass’s first kiss.’”
“No one cares,” shouted one of the housewives.
“Er, that’s probably what Darke told the spirit messenger to say...” Sashalia felt the need to make that comment lest her colleague cause the flax-colored warrior to fall even lower in the eyes of the housewife alliance. “It’s harsh, but we can’t let Darke leave the front lines. Tell her to avoid fighting personally, but remain there to command. We’ll restore some of their fighting power with squad five, which is nearby.”
“Got it. We’ll contact them,” two housewives set about their task.
“Red Eye’s squad one should stay where they are to maintain our last line of defense. Squad two should bring their staves with them and begin confronting small groups to replace squad five. While the enemy’s main force is cut off by the river, we’ll finish off the fifty remaining on this side.”
“Yes, ma’am!” the housewives replied.