Shan, Darren - Cirque Du Freak 07 - Hunters Of The Dusk

I looked around quickly, taking in the state of play. Three of our foes were down, although the vampet who'd lost his eye was scrabbling about for a sword and looked ready to rejoin the action. Mr Crepsley was battling a vampaneze who favoured knives, and the two were swinging around and slicing at each other like a pair of whirling dancers. Vancha had his hands full with a huge, axe-wielding brute. His axe was twice the size of Harkat's, yet he rolled it about between his immense fingers as if it weighed nothing. Vancha was sweating, and bleeding from a cut to his waist, but he wasn't conceding any ground.

Across from me, the seventh vampaneze — tall, slim, with a smooth face, long hair tied back, dressed in a light green suit — and the hooded servant were watching the fighting. Both clutched long swords and stood ready to flee if the battle seemed lost, or dive in and finish things off if they sensed victory. Such cynical tactics disgusted me, and drawing a knife, I sent it whizzing at the head of the servant, who wasn't much bigger than me.

The small man in the robes saw the knife and twitched his head out of the path of its flight. By his swiftness, I knew he must be a blooded creature of the night — no human could have moved so quickly.

The vampaneze next to the servant scowled as I drew another knife, paused a moment, then darted across the clearing before I could take aim. Dropping the knife, I raised my sword and turned his blow aside, but only barely managed to get it up in time to deflect his second strike. He was fast and well-trained in the ways of war. I was in trouble.

I backed away from the vampaneze, protecting myself as best I could. The tip of his sword became a blur as it struck, and though I defended myself ably, his blade soon bit. I felt a wound open on the top of my left arm … a deep gash to my right thigh … a jagged scratch across my chest.

I backed up against a tree and caught the sleeve of my right arm on a branch. The vampaneze thrust his sword at my face. I thought the end had come, but then my arm tore free and my sword came across to block his and drive it towards the ground. I pushed down with my sword, hoping to make my foe drop his weapon, but he was too strong and brought his sword up in a smooth reverse movement. His blade slid up the length of mine, giving birth to a shower of sparks. It was moving so fast, and there was so much force behind it, that instead of being routed away by the hilt of my sword when it got there, it cut clean through the gold casing — and clean through the flesh and bone of my sticking-out right thumb!

I screamed as my thumb shot away into the darkness. My sword dropped from my fingers and I fell, defenceless. The vampaneze glanced around casually, dismissing me as a threat. Mr Crepsley was winning the war of the knives — his opponent's face had been slashed to ribbons. Harkat had defied the handicap of his injured arm and buried the tip of his axe deep in his vampaneze's stomach — though the vampaneze bellowed valiantly and fought on, he was surely lost. Vancha was struggling with his opponent, but was holding his own, and when Mr Crepsley or Harkat came to his aid, their combined force would be enough to make an end of the giant. The vampet who'd lost an eye was on his feet, sword in hand, but was swaying unsteadily and wouldn't pose much of a problem.

While all this was happening, Evanna had remained seated on the ground, a neutral look on her face, taking no part in the fighting.

We were going to win and the vampaneze in the green suit knew it. Snarling, he swung once more at my head — aiming to cut it clean off at the neck — but I rolled out of his way, into a pile of leaves. Rather than duck after me to finish me off, he about-faced, ran to where the robed servant was standing, grabbed a spare sword from the ground, then hurried through the trees, pushing the servant ahead of him.

Getting to my feet, I moaned loudly from the pain, then gritted my teeth against it, picked up the knife I'd dropped earlier, and moved in to help Harkat finish off his vampaneze. It wasn't noble, sticking a knife into a warrior's back, but all I cared about was ending the battle, and I felt no pity for the vampaneze when he stiffened and collapsed, my blade buried deep between his shoulder blades.

Mr Crepsley had dispatched the vampaneze with the knives, and after taking care of the one-eyed vampet — a swift cut to his throat — he started forward to help Vancha. That's when Evanna stood and called to him. "Will you raise your blades tome too, Larten?"

Mr Crepsley hesitated, knives hovering in his hands, then dropped his guard and went on one knee before her. "Nay, Lady," he sighed. "I will not."

"Then I will not raise a hand to you," she said, and commenced walking from one dead vampaneze to another, kneeling beside them, making the death's touch, whispering, "Even in death may you be triumphant."