Punching with his free hand, and the wood of the door caved in slightly, the shape of his knuckles from the impact only inches from the young woman’s face.
Marsden yelled half out of anger, half out of pain and letting out some kind of grunt from tossing the female at the bed and he felt grief being relieved in there as well. She bounced across it and onto the floor on the other side. Marsden heard his sword being scrapped across the stone-like floor and lifted.
“I thought I told you before, Marsden…” That voice! No! It couldn’t be!! “You are as a thorn in his backside and you will be removed! Forcibly if necessary…”
The sorceress rose once more, her, or his back turned toward him. She spun about, her face now a distorted version, her mouth stretched to an unnatural position, her carnivorous teeth had stretched to resemble some kind of feline. Her eyes and forehead stretched and wrinkled to a horrible deformity. It was Grom’s ability to possess others, and the sorceress had been trying to reach him earlier.
“NO!” he shouted, realizing what had happened, after Marsden had thrown his secret weapon, Grom was caught in the collapsing of the balcony, his possessed body died, and he in turn possessed the sorceress, “Why?! Why Grom? Why her?”
“She was my servant even before you killed me…again, Braxton!” The possessed girl leapt over the bed, the sword pulled deep behind her, as if when she slung it back toward him it could have cleaved him in two.
Fortunately for him, before the possessed enchantress could react, the door smashed down and a heavy axe was heaved into the room. It crushed into the sorceress’s side and the weight and momentum threw her to the floor where she slid five or six feet.
Everything had happened in tenths of seconds, Marsden was still registering information.
The Tenth and final Knight stood at the doorway, the master of the Axe, Blahna. Any other time Marsden would have retrieved his blade and shield and ran to the dwarf-like man and thanked him, but this time was different.
“‘ey boy! You live to see another, eh?” He spoke with an unusual accent, and only his left eye was undamaged, so his right looked stuck in a perpetual wink, which only added to his playful nature. The scar that caused his right eye to remain shut, began at the top of his head, and ran down to the middle of his cheek.
Marsden had been told that an axe had cleaved him there, and yet he’d heard another story that he was trying to slay a werewolf. Unsure which one to believe, and truly it mattered not at this moment.