The Chronicles of Kenrick

Chapter Three

He watched as he deflected a blow and then taking aim, swung twice before the gnome collapsed to the ground. A streak of blood dripped down from the guard’s forehead, into his eye and down his face. He swiped at it once and then looked up at Kenrick. They both turned to the three gnomes in cloaks opposite them.


They had not moved, not even to renew their chanting and swaying. Their hoods concealed their features; shadows hid their intentions.


Once again, the two pairs measured each other without movement for several moments until the ache in Kenrick’s arm overwhelmed him. It throbbed mercilessly to the beat of his heart; each beat sending torrents of pain up his arm and into his shoulder. He could see the gnome’s thin blade sticking a couple inches through the other side, muscle sprouting around the back of the wound. Blood coated his arm. His muscles soon began to contract and release, making it appear as if the blade was vibrating with each throb of his heart. It hung limply, a useless limb dangling at his side.


His first instinct was to remove it, but he knew better. The amount of blood already pouring from his arm was enough to fell a child. If he removed it he would be dead within minutes. But if anymore gnomes were to appear, the blade would also become a hindrance.


Looking up to the gnomes and seeing their unchanged shapes, he turned to his guard.


“Give me a hand,” Tossing his hammer to his guard he knelt at the closest table he could find, a pile of rocks that had caved in the open tunnel only feet from where Kenrick’s foe had died.


With a glimpse at the gnomes, the guard hesitantly walked over to Kenrick.


“What are you doing?”


Placing his arm against one of the edges of the largest rocks in the pile, he wedged another rock between the table and the hilt end of the sword, leaving the majority of the weapon leaning out over the fulcrum. He glanced at the guard then tapped twice on the flat edge of the blade. He quickly grabbed another rock and pressed it down against the protruding tip of the blade.


“It’ll rip your arm apart!”


“I don’t have a choice. I can’t fight like this if there are more gnomes.


“Here, right here. Hurry,” Kenrick tapped once more where he wanted the guard to strike.


Sheathing his bloodied sword, the guard took the hammer into both of his hands. He raised it slowly above his head. Unable to look at Kenrick’s face he glanced at the gnomes rigid positions.


Without warning he brought the hammer down to the mark he had already memorized on the sword.


A vessel of pain erupted through his arm and over his body causing time to slow. He could feel the pressure ripping each fibre of muscle. He could almost hear the tearing of his skin and the blood racing out of the widening wound. The sword tip forced its way up, against Kenrick’s strength to keep it in place. And then the blade snapped.


Kenrick instantly went to the ground gripping the wound. Within seconds he was back onto his feet. His face was pale, sweat sprouted nearly everywhere along his exposed flesh. His hand gingerly cupped the entrance wound; an inch of steel sticking through. The tip of the sword remained protruding out of the back.


The guard’s face was as white as Kenrick’s. His two hands still gripping the hammer. He was motionless until Kenrick reached for the sledge. As Kenrick curled his fingers around the wooden shaft with his good arm, he looked to the gnomes and let out a sigh.


Behind the ones with cloaks, six more gnomes waited as tolerantly as the ones before them. Each dressed in the same garb as the two fallen. Similar weapons hung from their belts.


Less than a second after Kenrick noticed them, the six leapt forward.











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Brock Sansome


Author of The Spheres of Caddock series.


www.brocksansome.com








Brock Sansome


Author of The Spheres of Caddock series and the interactive web-based novel The Chronicles of Kenrick.


www.brocksansome.com