31 Demons of the Past

Jacob regretted not having taken archery lessons back in middle school. His parents had offered, but he was too busy playing MOBAs in his room. He left the bandit's bow behind, but he took the man's cloak in an effort to disguise himself. With any luck, he could eliminate one or two more bandits from the swarm he'd seen moving around the camp before being noticed.

And so it was. When he approached the town, someone called out to him. "Hey Ri-" she started, the words cutting off as she met the wrong end of Jacob's swift blade. Though it was still the heavy blade Will had taught him on, a thousand hours of practice had forged his skill and muscle tone into a new form entirely. It felt as light as a standard longsword, but its momentum was far more deadly.

He dragged her away, hiding her behind a tree. Someone noticed his suspicious behavior, about the raise a call when he joined the woman behind the tree. Two down. Jacob turned his sights to the village, noting the small cabin the red-haired man had come out of. There was no back entrance. The only way inside was to go through nearly forty brigands, by his count. He'd been concerned about facing down two dozen bandits. This was almost twice that; Jacob's confidence wavered.

No. He had come this far. His quest's goal was just in front of him. Fortune favored the bold, the old saying went. Jacob, for the first time in his life, followed its wisdom. He waltzed into the camp, keeping the hood of the cloak over his face, shrouding it in darkness. Walking as if he belonged, he hoped that nobody would recognize his deception. Just at the door to the cabin, he tripped, tipping the cloak off his head.

"Who in the hells are you?" a man approached him, a gleaming dagger positioned to take Jacob's life. Damn it. The bandits around him grew interested in the exchange, crowding around him. It reminded him vaguely of one of those rings kids made around two fighters in school. He was boxed in. The suns were beginning to dip below the horizon, bathing the clearing in pink and crimson. Jacob desperately didn't want to add the crimson of his blood to that coloring. A risky plan fluttered into the forefront of his mind, and as much as Jacob wished he had an alternative, he had none.

"I've come to defeat the one-eyed swordsman in single combat," Jacob infused his words with supreme confidence, though the slight quiver in his arms betrayed him. The brigand in front of him, for his part, was amused by the thought that a boy just reaching the age of adulthood would challenge one of their number. Jacob's challenge echoed through the village, no doubt reaching the interior of the cabin he sat in front of.

The door swiveled open, the red-haired man Jacob sought stepping out. The bandit leader looked down at Jacob, smirking. "You're just a pup. Undress and leave everything. I might just let you live," the man said, eyeing Jacob's armor specifically. The greed in his eyes was no small thing. Jacob swallowed.

"Are you scared to accept my challenge, fiend?" Jacob asked the man, steeling himself to look the man in the eyes. The bandit leader's face turned red, the blood vessels in his face growing in size. Obviously, the man's pride was a point of issue for him. It was a lucky thing that Jacob had guessed correctly. Were the man less prideful, Jacob could very well lay in the ground, bleeding out.

"I offered you a way out, pup. Stand and unsheathe your weapon. You'll die today, another victim of Richard the Relentless. We begin when I say so," the man said, drawing his humongous zweihander from a sheathe on his back. With the colors of the clearing, he looked every bit the demon he was at his core. It gave Jacob strength, oddly enough. It reminded him of why he had come so far, why he had spent every waking hour of every day training. Jacob's hands drew his heavy blade, settling into a time-worn stance.

The bandit leader leapt at Jacob, reminding him so much of Will's reckless style. Jacob parried the massive blade with great difficult, the momentum of the slab of iron crashing into him. The ring of iron meeting iron replaced the warbles of the birds, and the jeers of the bandits around them became static noise.

Jacob recalled a lesson Will had once drilled into him. "Keep your enemy facing towards the suns; it blinds them." It wasn't an overly complicated thing, but keeping track of the position of the suns during combat was a difficult thing. Unfortunately, that was not the case for Richard. He had fought hundreds of battles, Jacob was sure. A veteran of combat, the task was no additional challenge.

That was how Jacob ended up staring into the fiery balls. The only indications he had of Richard's blade were a few flashes of light off the edge of the zweihander. Parrying became progressively more difficult, the weight of Jacob's sword seeming to increase with time. He was tiring. Richard grinned, a violent thing on the man's twisted features. The massive blade crashed into Jacob, cutting deeply into his thigh.

Jacob cried out, the blood leaking from the wound pooling on the grass at their feet. Despite the pain, he stood. Taking the offensive, eager to end the battle before he passed out from exhaustion or blood loss, Jacob rained blows down on the massive bandit leader. They were ineffective, for the most part, resulting in only a small cut on Richard's cheek.

The tall man was genuinely surprised at the wound. Halting his movements towards Jacob, he said, "I'm willing to overlook this disrespect if you join our band. We need men of your skill."

Jacob shook his head, holding his blade in the guard stance.

"Then die, pup." Richard flew at him.