A Headstrong Youth
Part 9
Gritting his teeth, Joren set his mind to rapidly inventory his remaining equipment. Kneading his sword’s hilt, he instinctively knew there was little that would be of much use. A few smoke bombs, two daggers, a large buckler that he rapidly removed from his back and properly donned… In his mouth was a taste of bitterness at the thought of the bottled sunlight. He had been foolish. Yavan had always told him to not rely on it when in a pinch… To use tools as they were, even the rarest or most powerful of them. Mere tools. He had ventured into waters that he knew little of and was realizing too late that he did not know how to swim.
The creature’s head tossed from side to side, shaking away the effects of the light’s vicious onslaught. Joren was grasping at straws but somehow regained a determined mindset. He couldn’t back down and knew his options were few. Breathing hard as he stared at the dangerous creature, one thought drowned all others; He couldn’t let the creature regain its senses. He grimaced and on impulse, charged the beast.
Joren’s shout was dampened by the murky darkness as the blade came slashing down. However, despite the force of the blow, the blade sank but little in the matted fur and the teenager had to forcefully yank it out again lest it remain caught. He jumped back, looked down at his sword and then at the cleft in the huge beast’s hairy neck. He had not even drawn blood.
Meanwhile, the great brown head slowly turned towards the knight who rapidly launched forward, sword once again aiming for the neck. He pulled it down with as much force as he could muster and this time seemed to have luck for the beast cried out. However, Joren’s success was suddenly interrupted by a large paw that swiped at him and sent him flying.
Tumbling into the dirt with a grunt and an arm now badly bruised from shoulder to elbow, Joren rolled back onto his feet as quickly as possible and sucked in air as he saw Mirrhe charge at him. Leaping sideways, he ran, keeping to the cover of closely grown trees. Behind him, a roar and loud crashing sounds resounded. Clutching weapon and shield so that his fingers hurt, he ran as hard as he could, trying to find higher ground when the soil ripped up around him and roots wrapped tightly and painfully around his legs, pulling him violently down once more.
With a horrified gasp, he twisted back as far as he could and slashed at the wood with his sword. Too slowly for his taste, he managed to scramble out of the trap and realizing that he would be rapidly overcome, he dropped his shield, sheathed his sword and leapt to grab hold of a lower tree branch hung near. As quickly as possible, he drew himself higher in the tree and made ready for the monster’s approach.