Were Phoenix Blades like the guilds? Elfstones, with all their pretty cloaked warriors and thrill seekers?
Could an extra sword be enough to fight the flames of death? Was his nemesis waiting for him yet again, and would he need to cross the swamps or the mountains once more?
Concentrate, he told himself, as Feather Sword was whistling a tune in spite of rotted flesh filling the air.
"For fuck's sake!" Isaac snarled, kicking over a half open tomb. "We'll be rich in shit and guts most certainly!"
The Pyr lord kicked and shoved his guards to do all the digging, turning over corpses, or investigate any harrowing holes.
Twigs snapped and everyone, save for himself and Feather Sword, jolted around to see nothing.
If there were grave robbers, they would've run into them closer to the wood lines. There were tunnels, secret passages smugglers used to cross from one end of the cursed lands to another, and he cared not for the work of thieves. Many of the man-sized holes they encountered were filled with mud, and most were so small only a child or a malnourished man could've fit.
"Clever," Feather Sword said, tapping the mud with his foot.
Cackles ran round the woods.
He readied his shield, and Feather Sword showed the slightest bit of concern for the first time.
"Bloody fucking hell, we never should've come here," Isaac stuttered, skeletons approaching from all directions, torch light revealing their bloody skulls.
The guards stayed close by his majesty's brother, while he and Feather Sword stayed on either side of them.
His flail soared overhead, sweeping away dozens of bone warriors and shattering them to bits.
Feather Sword's blade ignited, orange fire across dark metal he'd never seen before, and the red-sword darted dozens of paces per stride. Faster than anything he'd ever seen before, the Phoenix Blade severed skeletons in half with a blazing cut. Thrusts brought about streams of whipping orange fire, and Feather Sword moved within ranks of skeletons like a shooting star, scorching them to dust or carving them apart.
Between his flail and fire the hordes turned away within a few minutes time, and Isaac howled with laughter.
Clouds parted for a moment, allowing the half moon to shine then it was covered again.
Giant skeletons stomped through the woods, all wielding hammers and axes, eyes glowing green light. Feather Sword scaled up the nearest tree, then leaped. One swing of a fiery scimitar severed a giant's skull in half. The Phoenix Blade landed, racing towards the next giant and ran beneath a hammer swing with inches to spare. After scaling up the giant, the red-sword Phoenix swung a fiery cut up its skull, obliterating it to embers.
Flail overhead, he spun wild, smashing shin bones and toppling giants. None landed a hit on his shield, as between himself and the fire of the phoenix the giants were in disarray, fleeing into the woods.
Bone wheels span in circles round the party, but Feather Swords fire engulfed them the moment they turned towards Isaac and the guards.
His flail took a bone wheel still rolling in circles, then he yanked his flail to roll onwards, shattering the rest in one curved sweep.
Isaac demanded they retreat at once, and before he could argue their deal was still intact, the half moon was clear in the sky.
The nearest clouds were over a mile away, and he reached for his flask, yet Feather Sword grasped his wrist.
"That's no good," the Feather Sword insisted. "It'll slow you down."
"It increases my strength," he argued, gusts kicking up bone dust.
Feather Sword shook his head. "You're plenty strong enough. Just draw his attention, and attack whenever he's open."
Hand still tight around the flask, he nodded while putting it away.
Smoke filled the woods, flames rising on all sides of the party. Over a hundred meters in all directions, fire rose beyond trees and winds raced so fast even Feather Sword raised his cloak.
He stood firm, roaring for the champion to reveal himself.
Blood curls screeched above, bat-like wings blotted out the moon, and the champion descended towards the party, scimitars already ablaze. Isaac and his guards were too slow, so he threw them down and raised his shield. Explosions rocked his arm, fire bursting on all sides, and his arm already felt to be cracking.
As soon as the champion leaped back, red eye blazing faster than ever before, orange light severed one of its scimitar hands. It held its blade firm, but blood leaked from its wrists. Feather Sword darted again, flipping clear of hacks and slashes from the roaring champion. He scaled up its shining dark armor, cutting at its face, carving into its burning eye. Still in midair flipping backward he heaved curved knives at its face, though it parried them all.
Feather sword sprinted clear of ravaging scimitars, and he charged onward slamming his flail forward. A direct hit onto its right achilles, and the champion wailed, taking to the sky.
Blood leaked from its ankles, and he kept his shield raised as fire rained down from above.
Isaac screamed, taking cover with his guards behind a tree, though branches fell around them, sparking flames. Shield up, he hurried over to them, and tossed away the burning branches.
Down into the center of the fiery arena, the champion landed without a sound, its wings flapping fire gusts towards them. His shield absorbed everything, and though his arm was burning, he charged forward. Scimitars slammed down, though not as hard as he'd remembered. One strike would stumble him back, then the other would hardly leave a dent.
Feather Sword, perched on a branch, heaved knives into the champion's eye. It roared, spewing flames toward. The red sword leaped away, missing fire by a hair's length.
One swing of his flail took out the champion's other shin, and it collapsed onto a knee. Flames roared along its scimitars, Feather Sword heaved more knives into its eye, then it swung mad.
His shield cracked, then the next swing severed him in half. Fire withered within the arena, along with the champion's blazing eye. It cursed his name, falling onto its back as its eye went dark.
"Pathetic warrior! Curse you! Damn you to the blackest corner of hell! You twisted eyed, pig fucking, shit….."
Familiar darkness took over.
It was over.
He wasn't standing over a vanquished foe as he'd done before, but the graves were without a champion.
Light shined, though instead of awakening within the dusty room of the inn, it was a white walled room. It was blurry, though he could make out what must've been a window. There was another light, a lantern or sorts, but it was square, almost rectangular, and it was attached to the wall with some sort of tight black rope.
"Babe," a woman spoke, though her voice was muffled.
"I was going to be a federal agent," he said, raising his voice. "What difference does enlisting make?"
"Babe, you know what happened to my brother!" She screamed. "And my dad was never the same after his deployments."
He cursed at the woman some more, speaking into a palm sized glass rock, some sort of sorcery.
"I already signed up," he said, rubbing his eyes. "I ship out next week."
She cried, her voice coming out of the glass rock, and he couldn't figure why he was wasting his time with this woman.
"Then I'm leaving," she said, and then she went silent.
He threw the rock to the side, cursed her name, then reached over the side of his bed to pick up a bottle of rum.
Rum. That was something he hadn't had in a while, and as everything faded to black, he at least got two things out of the new memory.
He'd make for the nearest sea merchant within town upon waking up.
And his name was Babe.