Chapter 71: Fire and Water
Praxis was momentarily frozen in fear.
He didn't know what to do. At that very moment, one of the bandits had a spear pointed directly at Lysandra's exposed back. Any wrong move could see her life snuffed away in the blink of an eye.
"Drop your weapons now!" repeated the bandit while pushing the spear against her harder. "I'm not going to tell you again! Drop the weapons or this redheaded bitch gets a trip to Hades. Your choice."
"Don't hurt her," said Zenais, surprising Praxis with her concern. "We don't mean you any harm."
The bandit actually started to cackle. "Yeah, like you could do
me
harm. You're almost as pretty as she is! That sword looks a little big for you, sweetheart."
Before anything else could happen, Praxis heard the sound of voices. The rest of the thieves were coming back, driven by the sound of their compatriot's voice.
"Well, look what we have here!" grunted one of them as he stepped behind Praxis. "It looks like Phemius has found us some fresh meat!"
"Phemius, you were going to share, won't you?" asked another. "You know how much I love blondes!"
"That's for the king to decide," growled Phemius as he placed his foot against Lysandra's head. "Weapons, damnit! I'm tired of asking! Do it now!"
"Okay, okay," replied Praxis as he grabbed his sword. "Just don't hurt her and you can have them."
"You don't give the orders here, we do," replied Phemius. "Toss your shield down too."
While Praxis was busy disarming, Zenais was doing the same. Except, she was going much more slowly than he was. The other men weren't watching her as closely as they were Praxis, no doubt thinking she wasn't as much of a threat, and that's why they were all surprised by what she did next.
She turned and bolted into the night.
"Hey! Get back here! You stop right now, you stupid twat!"
Zenais sprinted just about as fast as her legs could go. Her split-second head start was enough to ensure she got out ahead of the men, and her knowledge of the terrain ensured that she stayed ahead of them.
She was gone before they could admit defeat.
"Horn of Hades, you fools let the blonde go! I ought to slit all of your throats!" replied the man that was the leader of the group, a man who Praxis soon figured out was called Ismenios. "The king isn't going to be pleased by this!"
"It's fine, Ismenios! We still have the redhead," replied Phemius as he pulled Lysandra to her feet. "One cunt is better than none!"
"We could have had
two
cunts," growled Ismenios. "The king will hear about this. And he will know about your failure to capture her."
They continued to bicker amongst themselves while Praxis tried to figure a way out of this. Zenais showed no signs of coming back, and he doubted he'd ever see her again with how quickly she took off.
That meant it was just him against ten men, all the while they held Lysandra's life in the balance.
Not great odds to say the least.
Praxis considered trying to outrun them but he knew that any delay that came from freeing Lysandra would inevitably work against them.
He was out of time and out of numbers.
"Okay, let's move out," replied Ismenios. "I'm tired and ready to start drinking, and we're still a ways from the hideout!"
"What are we going to do with him though?" asked one of the bandits, pointing at Praxis. "We going to kill him?"
Ismenios walked over to where Praxis was and appraised him carefully. He looked down at the discarded shield at his feet and picked it up.
"This is a nice shield for a peasant," said Ismenios with a sneer. "You rob this off of another man?"
"I earned it with my fighting prowess," replied Praxis coolly. "Which you're about to see for yourself."
"Is that right? Then I don't feel so bad about doing this."
With one smooth motion, Ismenios whipped the shield back and brought it crashing against Praxis' face. At that moment, Praxis was knocked to the ground as his head exploded with pain. He felt his hands reaching up to touch the area where he was hit and felt an instant, wet warmth.
Blood. His blood.
"That should take care of our new friend here," replied Ismenios as he walked away. "Come on, let's go! Bring the redhead and let's move out!"
The last thing Praxis heard before he lost consciousness was Lysandra screaming his name.
*****
It was the feeling of something trickling down his face that made Praxis awaken the next day. He put his fingers to his forehead, expecting to pull them away and see his own blood but to his surprise, there was only water there. He could feel the crusty mess that the blow from his shield produced the night before but the rest of the blood was gone. Why?
As soon as he sat up, the pain hit him. His head felt like it was literally being pulled apart by the gods, so splitting was the sensation that the wound produced. It got so bad that Praxis felt like he couldn't see straight for a moment, and that was why he missed the fact that he wasn't alone.
"I'd say good morning but then again that wouldn't be entirely accurate today."
Praxis turned around to see that Zenais was with him. She was casually sharpening the blade of her sword, only pulling her eyes up to look at him every few seconds. Near her feet were the remains of several strips of cloth, all of it stained with blood.
"You might be able to guess but I cleaned your wound this morning," said Zenais. "They really got you pretty good. I'm guessing it still hurts."
Praxis groaned as he held his head. "No, it feels wonderful. What gave it away?"
Zenais rolled her eyes. "Typical of men not to admit when they're in pain."
"It was a joke, Zenais. Obviously I'm in pain. My head feels like an army just used it for target practice."
"It must not feel that bad if you're still capable of humor," she grumbled. "Although, you did manage to let them get away with Lysandra."
"
I