Part 7 - Close Quarters

Tolan had miscalculated. The majority of the town he had seen thus far was open plan; probably an effort to make it easily navigable to visitors, but Tolan’s moment of desperation had caused him to choose the one alley in the entire town that led to a dead end. His momentum carried him to the wall at the end of the alley and he immediately began searching for hand holds or items to use to boost him up, but there was nothing. With a sigh of resignation he stepped away from the wall and turned to face his assailant. The huge man stood at the end of the alley but did not enter. Tolan stood with his feet set, ready to sprint past the big man if a gap presented itself, but before that could happen two men moved past the northerner into the alley, unsheathing swords as they passed him. For the briefest of moments Tolan thought about unwrapping the sword that currently rested on his back, but that would be foolish. He knew nothing of the reasons why it meant so much to the church. It could be more powerful than he could wield, or it could be powerless, or it could even be something horrific. No, he was going to have to stick to his dirk. Stick to his dirk and pray for a miracle, he was nowhere near skilled enough with a short blade to take on two long swords. Back in the abbey his sword master had explained to him several times that no matter how skilled you were, some times you needed a miracle, but the more skilled you were, the longer the miracle had to arrive. With this galvonizing thought in mind, Tolan drew his blade and set his stance. Slowly and carefully he took stock of his surroundings like an artist making sure everything he needed was perfectly in reach before starting his work. The location had its advantages, although there was virtually no room for Tolan to back up, he couldn’t really afford to risk a parry or a block with such a short blade anyway. Instead he had to try and get between the swordsmen; or at least appear to, so that they were forced out against the walls of the narrow alley, that would allow him freer movement while limited there swings and thrusts, but to do that he first had to get past any initial lunges or slices. The two men slowly advanced, shoulder to shoulder, measuring their prey. Their caution put Tolan at a disadvantage and he searched frantically for his opening while attempting to keep his mien as clear as he possibly could.

The man on the left lunged, intending to catch Tolan in indecision and skewer him, but Tolan was quick, and rolled around the blade up towards the man. The cut of the blade glanced off Tolans leather chestpiece and he raised the dirk to cut up into the mans abdomen. His motion was too heavy though, he had focused so much on avoiding the mans sword tip that he had not properly set himself up for his follow up and the dirk caught on the mans hilt, knocking the dirks blade off in an odd direction away from the attacker. Tolan was within two swords now, a dangerous position in open territory, but relatively safe in a spot were neither man had the room to hack.

Tolan spun back the way he had come, pushing off the man who had attacked him, but as he did so something caught his side sharply and caused him to suck air in involuntarily and lose the momentum of his flurry. He came to a stop in his battle ready position just short of the back wall facing the two men. The man who had not lunged smiled at him malevolently and held a small dagger in his off hand. Tolans hand slowly moved down to his side where he was bleeding heavily. He felt oddly dizzy and nauseous. He had been cut before, this hadn’t happened before. His head reeled trying to comprehend what had happened until his vision focused on the mans blade. He could see on the tarnished silver of the blade a thick black liquid mixed with his own blood, it had been doused in poison. The two men did not make any effort to attack further, they knew they had already won and saw no point in risking any injury. All they needed to do was wait until Tolan’s strength sapped away from him, and then they could take what they wanted. Instinctively Tolan lashed out with his dirk, but he missed by feet and the momentum of his own weight almost carried him off balance, the poison was potent, more potent than anything he had encountered before, or even heard of. Tolan closed his eyes in an attempt to clear his head and silently wished for his miracle. A clatter echoed through the alleyway and the two attackers turned to face their companion guarding the entrance. Tolan saw his opportunity to strike and tried to focus his energy. With all his strength he swiped the dirk, but as soon as the movement began he seemed to lose his sense of how to remain upright, and before his dirk even crossed infront of him the stone floor rose up to embrace him. The cold stone soothed his bruised cheek as his eyes slowly closed.