That man had probably been nothing more than a simple merchant or farmer, and now that he’d just been placed under the Dark Behemoth’s will, it would only be a matter of a few more days, that then he’d be converted into a Bezmir. The most loyal subjects of the Dark Behemoth changed into some kind of human, demon, animal combination, deadly, ruthless and … well, ugly. Transfigured into slaves and discarded as such.
“How about hard headed?” The words emphasized as he jabbed his sword upward at the female mage, knowing full well she could kill with nothing more than a few words. Apparently she knew a few other words as well, like those that deflect steel and arrow.
The sword bounced away as if it had encountered an equally strong sword, which was near improbable, for the blades Marsden wielded were forged in the mines of Darnotha, where the People of Deep live, the Dwarves.
On the other hand, magic has a way of bending the rules of ordinary life, and it’s often bent to the will of someone gone mad, such as Grom for example, his maniacal laughter lingering in the back of Marsden’s mind like a splinter.
While Marsden prepared for another attack, he noticed the fading purplish hint of the shielding that she’d conjured at the last second.
“Foolish boy!” then it came, in the form of a blinding flash of light! That was just great… Now, blinded, fighting a most powerful sorceress, and still didn’t know how many henchmen Grom had running around now.
Marsden felt a brush of wind from his right, something was moving fast through the rubble, and so he reacted the only way he knew how! Defense!