The Chaos Blade - Chapter 2

Chapter 2

All he ever asked for in life was for help in trying to prove that money alone could not make him happy. Thus far, he had failed miserably to prove that simple truth. It was a common myth middle and lower class people told each other and themselves, though deep down nearly all of them yearned for it. It had taken Eric many years of hard work to accomplish it, but now that he had enough to live his lifestyle quite comfortably, he had no intentions of ever losing it.

Originally a computer geek with an athletic side and a passion for motorcycles, he had turned his knowledge of computer lore towards programming. Designing systems able to outperform those in place, Eric's software package acquired first a single state contract, then others followed as soon as they were able to do so. The purpose of the software was running the lottery games for the states that were his customers. Now, some seven years into it, Gamers, Inc. possessed thirty-nine state lottery contracts and was looked at very favorably by the remaining eleven when their current contracts ran out. Even other countries around the world had expressed interest, a fact which caused more then a few ulcers to the managing staff of the other big fish in the international lottery pond.

At the age of thirty-four, Mr. Hunt could have retired if he chose. He chose instead to continue working, an ethic he instilled into himself less then ten years past, but one that had served him well. It was this work ethic applied in other areas that kept him in top shape, regularly playing tennis and hockey, as well as lifting weights and eating healthy. Perhaps his greatest accomplishment, were any to ask him, was that he had managed to remain single throughout his life, in spite of a couple of close run-ins with ring-crazy women.

Speaking of crazy women, he glanced over at the one lying beside him. After a particularly fulfilling bout of totally raunchy and obscene sexual acts, they had collapsed on the bed. Eric thought that the girl had dozed off, but he was not sure. His own mind had wandered, going over everything from the upcoming roller hockey game his team was supposed to play in a few days to the board meeting he had planned early next week at work. Now he took a chance to admire the woman laying beside him.

They had met at a club, one of the many he occasionally frequented when he was in the mood for some companionship. Neither one showed any interest in the dance floor, instead she merely slid into the seat across the table from him and looked at him challengingly. Eric had been surprised at her audacity. Then, meeting her gaze, he had been more surprised at how she radiated raw sensuality. It was only a matter of time then. She showed no interest for the usual fencing match that most women played when it came to finding a bed partner. Instead she took the offensive and before he knew it, they were back at his place.

Now her short blond hair was tussled by their lovemaking. Her eyes were closed and her mouth opened a slight bit as she breathed regularly. Taller then most women at five and a half feet, her green eyes had pierced him earlier that night with an intensity that had surprised him. He guessed her at being in her early to mid twenties by appearances, but after having spent some time with her, he suspected she was older then he had first guessed. Nonetheless, her skin was soft and smooth and nicely rounded. Being a reasonably charming and attractive man himself when he put his mind to it, Eric had dated better looking women, but there was something about this one that attracted him to her. He had to remind himself to keep this one at a distance. As much as he felt himself drawn to her, he felt something was strange about her other then her accent (which he was unable to place). He had learned years ago to trust his instinct.

It was years ago indeed that a great many things had changed for him. He had met first two men that had claimed to come from another world. One a mountain of a man named Garrick who possessed the strength and ability to do things that Eric was reasonably certain were impossible. The other was a very tall black man by the name of Kelnozz, who was no slouch when it came to muscle tone either. Both seemed largely ignorant of technology, and to back up their stories they wielded medieval weapons with a proficiency that Eric was certain no one else on the Earth could match. Garrick had claimed to be a former God of the world they insisted they had come from and Kelnozz a dark elf.

Eric had gone with them on their mission, being their transportation and guide to America. They had quickly learned the English language and had even taught him a bit of theirs, though both claimed skill in many languages native to their world, Viconia. More importantly, they had taught Eric some great lessons about being a warrior. Not merely a sword or gun wielding soldier, but a person who did whatever was necessary to succeed in life. Being a warrior had only a little to do with being armed and taking the life of another. Instead it had to do with having the desire and the ability to fight for what was necessary.

In what seemed a short time they had accomplished their goal, which was to capture an ungodly beautiful woman that had come from their world to Earth in an effort to raise an army of followers and conquer not only the Earth, but also to return and rule Viconia. As part of the terms of her capture, she had been forced to release her followers from the magical thralldom in which she held many of them. Magic, on Earth. Had Eric not seen it with his own eyes and felt its effects he would never believed it. The thoughts of Alesha still haunted his dreams. Nightmares really, the eroticism of some of them frightened him anymore, for they always ended in death and worse.

But triumph they had. In addition to the occasional training sessions Garrick or Kelnozz gave Eric, they also gave him Alesha's sword. The sword was priceless in and of itself. The crosspiece was made of ornately carved ivory and trimmed with a metal that Kelnozz had told him was mithril. Having no idea what mithril was beyond that in popular Tolkien fiction, Eric just shrugged and accepted the explanation. The blade was black, though not merely a fire tempered black iron, but made from some metal that he had never seen before. It shined brightly whenever light hit it, yet when you stared into the blade it seemed as if you were looking into a void. A fuller ran along the length of it, adding rigidity and allowing it to be withdrawn from a body with greater ease. The final thing of interest about the short sword was the leather hide that was wrapped about the ivory hilt. Eric had never seen it's like before, and Kelnozz had assured him it was griffin hide. He had accepted it as well as anything he had encountered then, for the thought of a giant beast with the body of a lion and the wings and head of an eagle were no stranger then anything else he had seen at the time.

Kelnozz had also claimed it was a very powerful magical weapon, and that he should take care with it. Other then going through katas with the sword, Eric had never found any use for it, save as a beautiful decoration piece. According to his one time companions, many beings were trapped within the sword, including a powerful demon that Eric had seen them banish. Sometimes he caught himself daydreaming, wondering if any of that had really happened or if he was really crazy and had dreamed it up. He knew such was not the case deep down in his bones, but that did not stop him from wondering.

Picturing Alesha, the self appointed High Priestess of the cult they had put an end to, Eric felt himself growing aroused again. The woman possessed a dark beauty that was so intense he felt as though he would cut himself upon her. Well toned but not overly muscular, she had nonetheless impressed upon him in the very short time he had seen her that her strength was not to be underestimated. Of course, her strength was the least of her weapons. Trained to a level of expertise with the sword he now owned by Kelnozz himself before she had been seduced by evil forces and coerced into abandoning the dark elf, she was almost as deadly with a blade as Kelnozz or Garrick. But even worse was her magic. She possessed incredible powers, seemingly able to shape the forces of nature and magic around her as she wished. Smiling ruefully, Eric imagined her most dangerous weapon of all was her simple beauty, able to enslave men by their hormones with a simple smile or flash of her skin.

Eric rolled over then looked back at the woman sharing his bed that night. Yes, definitely a keeper for a sportsman that wanted to keep what he caught. Eric regretted having to tell the girl in the morning that a relationship between them was not to be. The things she had done in bed that night had truly blown him away, both literally and figuratively. He had never known anyone more skilled, though he suspected Alesha might have given her a run for her money. Another thing that he found strangely unique and captivating about her was her name, Yamara.

Eric's eyes trailed down her body in the dim light let in by the large windows that made up one of the walls in his bedroom. He had run into her at a popular nightclub. At first he had dismissed how quickly they had hooked up as mere coincidence and perhaps his own charisma, but the more he thought about it, the more it seemed to him like she was the aggressor. In the few hours he had known her, he had yet to see her with the benefit of a full light. Still, he suspected perhaps that was for the best. Dim lighting and beer goggles, both helped men and women alike in their nocturnal pursuits of companionship.

Not as voluptuous as he would have preferred, she was nonetheless endowed correctly and in all the places that it mattered. Eric's hand reached out and gently slid along the curve of her thigh and along her trim belly. She woke instantly, her eyes focusing on him with an uncanny alertness. His hand stopped and he was about to withdraw it when she smiled faintly at him and glanced down to see his hardness. Her smile grew then and she rolled towards him onto her side. Unlike him, she possessed a single item of clothing still, a thin silver chain about her neck upon which hung a good sized ruby shaped like a teardrop.

Eric opened his mouth to say something but she stopped him from talking by placing her fingers over his lips. Her piercing green eyes bored into his, a twinkle of amusement in them. She slid down the bed then, pulling her fingers away from his mouth and lightly scraping her nails across his chest. All to soon and not soon enough she arrived at her destination. Eric felt her hot breath blowing lightly across his manhood, teasing him to greater heights. Then her soft lips brushed against him, just rubbing along his length lightly. Eric groaned. He did not know what it was about this woman, it had been years since he had been as active in a single night as what she had coaxed out of him, yet here she was again driving him to a pleasant distraction.

Her lips sank lower, kissing lightly now along the base of his shaft and then the fleshy pouch below that housed his sensitive and overworked balls. He sucked in his breath as her mouth opened and her tongue began to lightly lick him. A little suction from her mouth and Eric found himself clenching the sheets with his hands. He wanted desperately to drive himself into her mouth, but even more he wanted her to continue the delightful torture.

Yamara licked all the way up to the tip of his cock then, a string of pre-cum attaching her lips to him when she pulled away. She dropped her head back to him and swirled her tongue around his head, agonizing Eric further. Then, in a moment of rapture for him, she sunk his stiff phallus into her mouth until the tip of it bumped against the back of her throat. Fighting the natural urge, she swallowed repeatedly to further stimulate him. Eric groaned and felt his hips unconsciously buck up at her. She looked up at him and smiled around the raging cock in her mouth, with over an inch and a half of him still not covered by her hot lips.

Then just as suddenly, she pulled away from him. Eric gasped at the cool air and looked down at her. She had retreated further down, licking at his sack again. She forced his legs apart and lay between them, worshipping his crotch with her tongue. Then Yamara sank down even further, her tongue licking a teasing trail behind his sack towards his ass. Eric's breath caught in his throat as she flicked her tongue against his rectum, spiking his already aching libido into overdrive. He moaned lightly and noticed that his muscles in his body had been clenched tightly enough that he had begun to shake lightly.

Yamara's hand lightly slipped up and down his shaft, milking the pre-cum out of it while her tongue continued to tease his asshole in a way that Eric could never remember any other girl doing. Sure, he had seen it in porno's and read about it, but he never expected to meet a woman willing to actually have a go at it. He had done it once or twice to ex-girlfriends himself, and they certainly seemed to enjoy it, but the favor had never been returned nor did he really think much of anything about it.

Then it was over. She slipped back up and greedily sucked his cock into her mouth. Eric tried to form words but only managed to grunt on his first try. Before he could try any more one of her hands found its way up to his mouth and two of her fingers slipped inside, distracting him with its unspoken request. A prisoner in his own bed, he went along and focused what few still functioning brain cells he had on devoting proper attention to her fingers. Down below Yamara continued to sink her head up and down on his penis, bottoming out on every plunge with his cock grounding out against the back of her throat.

Yamara stopped pistoning her head then and Eric realized that his hips had been thrusting up at her mouth in time. One of her hands, the one not in his mouth, wrapped around the base of his cock and actually encouraged his behavior. He doubled his efforts, driving his cock into her mouth in an effort to sate the incredible lust he was feeling. For all intents and purposes the rest of the world had ceased to exist, all that mattered was Eric fucking Yamara's mouth.

He was almost there then. He could feel the gripping sensation down in his balls and knew that with a little bit more effort he would succeed. A tiny part of consciousness remained that told him to warn her of his impending explosion, but when her hand slipped away from his cock and began to fondle his balls the last resistance he had to animalistic behavior left him. Just to be safe, her fingers slipped out of his mouth and her hand cupped itself over his mouth to prevent him from speaking anything more then a mumble - not that he had the presence of mind to do that anyhow!

Eric's loins clenched and unclenched, driving orgasmic shivers through him as the process began. He grunted behind Yamara's hand as his semen rushed through his cock and into her mouth with powerful spurts. His hips continued to thrust into her mouth and his cock continued to bottom out against the back of her throat on each thrust throughout, but the tight seal she maintained around him prevented any of his seed from escaping.

Eric felt certain that he had never came so much or so hard in his life, and the slightly swelled look on Yamara's cheeks seemed to confirm the fact. He finally collapsed back on the bed, his muscles exhausted and spent. Yamara continued to suckle at his cock, sending oversensitive shivers through him. She swirled his sperm around his cock, refusing to relinquish her seal. Eric would have chuckled if he had the strength to do so.

Then the strength came to him. All of a sudden something seemed out of place. The light in the rim, dim as it was, seemed to dim further. A quick glance down at Yamara and Eric saw that she had noticed something as well. Nothing had changed, but yet something had. Her eyes darted around and her head pulled up off of his still hard cock, not spilling a drop in spite of the distraction. Eric rolled off the bed then, reaching under it and pulling out a pistol he kept for just such an emergency. Yamara rolled the other way, dropping into a low crouch and narrowing her eyes as she searched for the unseen threat they both sensed.

They did not have to wait. Between one blink of the eyes and the next three people appeared at the far end of the room. Dressed in black clothing, they looked around the room and the one in the middle focused his gaze on the sword mounted on the wall above the head of the bed.

"What the fuck do you want?" Eric asked. Yamara remained motionless, blending into the shadows so well Eric forgot for a moment she was even there.

The man smiled darkly. "You have something that belongs to us, we'd like it back." The two men to either side moved out a bit, taking up flanking positions on the bed. None of them had any visible weapons, but the long black coats they wore could have easily hidden any sort of firearm.

"See this?" Eric asked, holding his pistol up to get their attention. "I'm not entirely sure how you got in here, but if you want to avoid a trip to the hospital or morgue, you'll leave the same way by the time I count to three."

The man chuckled softly and the his two flunkies just grinned as if Eric had told a good joke.

"One!" Eric said, somehow reminded of his childhood where his parents had threatened a spanking had he not done what they wished by a three count. Unlike his parents, he had no intention of delaying the time from two to three by adding in two and a half, two and three quarters, etc..

"Two!" Their grins did not diminish any.

Eric opened his mouth and let loose the final number, squeezing the trigger that he had sighted in on the apparent leader of the would be thieves. "Three!"

The gun flew out of his hands then, crashing into one of the tempered windows and causing it to shatter into thousands of tiny pieces. He scowled and understood what had been bothering him. He glanced at Yamara and had to take a moment before he found her. She blended into the shadows beside the bed and the wall so well he had began to wonder if he had been abandoned.

"I've dealt with your kind before," Eric spat out, standing up. "I helped banish your queen, in fact, you're no match for me!"

The leader of the thugs grinned and his eyes flashed red for a brief moment. If he was hoping to distract or frighten Eric he was disappointed. Eric leapt onto the bed and grabbed the sword on the wall. He triggered a hidden button that released the catches on the mount, allowing him to wield the extremely well balanced weapon in front of him. Turning back around he saw that he was alone in the room. More then just saw, he felt that they were alone again.

"Yamara!" Eric said, wondering if she was a part of it too.

"I'm here," she said, moving away from the now open window where the pane of glass had shattered. Eric looked at her through narrowed eyes, had she not drawn attention to herself, he might not have seen her at all. He prided himself on being an observant and perceptive person and to not be able to see someone in the same room as him bothered him immensely.

"Are you all right?" He asked, moving closer to her, the sword still in his hand. It fit his grip well, warming to his touch. He had always marveled at how natural the short sword felt in his hand and now was no exception.

Yamara nodded, her arms coming up to fold across her chest in a deliberate move to try and conceal her nudity. Too deliberate, Eric thought. "Who were those people?" She asked.

"I was thinking of asking you the same question," He replied. Eric came around the king sized bed and gently grabbed her arm. He pulled her over and sat her on the bed, watching her closely all the while. She went along willingly enough, but something about her attitude just did not sit right with him.

"What's this about a queen you helped banish?" She asked him when he glanced at the broken window before speaking to her again.

Eric stuck his head out the window, looking down at the ground seven stories below. He owned the penthouse apartment in the building. Owned the entire building, actually, a few upper level management people lived in apartments in the building, as well as a few other people who just rented. None of the non-employees knew that he owned it, of course.

Somehow three men had managed to not only break into a fairly secure building, but they had also gotten past the human guards stationed on the ground floor, the stairwell, the elevator, or the roof. Not to mention they had then somehow managed to send his favorite pistol flying seven stories to a metal crunching grave below.

"Damnit, I really liked that gun. Expensive getting all those modifications done to a Glock 23." He muttered quietly before turning back to Yamara. "Well dear, this queen was a self styled queen. More of a High Priestess really. But you see, I have a feeling you already know this and I'm preaching to the choir."

Her mouth opened to protest but he waved her silent. "Here I was thinking what a great person you were and how I was sorely tempted to break my no commitment rule and try to turn this into something other then a night of incredible sex. Rest assured love, that's not a concern I have anymore. Now my concern is what you know that I need to know and whether or not you should even walk out of here."

Yamara dropped her hands to her sides in indignation. Then she realized she was naked and her hands and arms once again tried to cover herself, though this time she was even more modest, one hand dropping in her lap while the other clutched at both breasts in an attempt to conceal them.

"That's a good act, Yamara," Eric admitted grudgingly. "But you're not blushing at your nudity. That and your eyes have yet to leave mine, it's quite disconcerting really. A guy could get lost in those beautiful eyes of yours, as I'm sure you well know. In spite of this assault, I can't help but still find you damned desirable." His body betrayed him and confirmed his words by causing his cock to throb partially to life at the sight of her trying demurely to cover herself.

"Lights - full!" Eric cried out, stepping away from the window. The computer controlled systems he had programmed himself and installed in his penthouse kicked on, lighting up all the recessed lighting in the place. Yamara blinked hurriedly, trying to adjust her eyes to the new lighting. Her gaze shifted away from Eric then, and he found himself thinking a little more clearly as she tried to recover.

Eric stood next to her and stared down at her, forgotten sword hanging from his fist at his left side. "Tell me Yamara, what should I do with you?"

She looked back up at him, squinting a little in the light but otherwise recovering quickly. Eric looked at her face and noticed for the first time some odd faint patterns on her skin. He leaned closer to her and took her chin gently in his hand. He studied her skin for a bit then raised an inquisitive eyebrow.

"You've got an even tougher job convincing me now then before. You've been ridden hard and put away wet I think, and more then once. Lots of old wounds and scars, but they're really hard to notice. That's either damned impressive medical work or there's a lot more to you the meets the eye."

She looked up at him silently. Then her eyes glanced down at his cock, which was behaving itself rather nicely at the moment. As she glanced at it she licked her lips subconsciously. Eric narrowed his eyes suspiciously, but he could not help the thrill of excitement that caused his manhood to pulse upwards.

"Stop that!" He demanded pulling her head back up towards his. Yamara's hands fell back to her sides and she looked up at him expectantly. There was a new look deep in her eyes this time though, and it was one of annoyance.

Eric sat on the bed beside her and sighed. "All right, out with it, what's your story?"

"Aren't you worried they might come back?" Yamara asked, her voice no longer as sexy as it had been up until then.

"Ha! Nice try! You get me worried about that and then offer a 'safe' place to take me too, then we get jumped there and they get this sword back. I don't think so toots, I'm not going anywhere with you without a lot of confirmable explaining from you."

The look of annoyance passed her eyes and made its way onto her face this time. "I don't know this place very well at all, so anyplace 'safe' you want to go is entirely up to you. Just seems stupid to me to stick around in a place where the security has already been breached."

Eric eyed her suspiciously then glanced away at the sword still in his hand. She was on his right and the sword in his left hand. He raised it up and looked at its blade, wondering if he really was staring into infinity within the blade or if it was merely an illusion.

"Why do they want that sword?" Yamara asked after a moment. Eric started, realizing he had started to zone out.

"Magic," he muttered, half expecting her to scoff and half expecting her to jump at the confirmation and try to wrestle it from him. "It belonged to Alesha, their High Priestess. She supposedly captured a lot of souls in it, souls which are still trapped in it, including a powerful demon that she made serve her."

She nodded, accepting what he said without any complaint or derision.

"Ten years ago we - that is Kelnozz, Garrick, and I - found her group of followers and did our best to put an end to it. Unfortunately, I guess we didn't get all of them. Kelnozz defeated Alesha while Garrick took care of the crowd of blood hungry worshippers, I helped wherever I could, mostly against Alesha, though I did have a nasty encounter with the demon I mentioned. I've been keeping my eyes and ears open and I guess their nasty little sex and death cult has sprung back up down in Florida. It's not growing as fast or as powerfully as it did before at least, so apparently Alesha is still under parole," Eric explained, remembering parts of the fight where Garrick was outnumbered 40 to 1 and still managed to hold his own against the crowd. His injuries from the fight against Alesha and Talifernon the demon ached in spite of the many years during which they had healed.

"Were you there then or did they recruit you since then?" Eric asked snidely. He figured she would have not even been a teenager back then, but depravity knew no limits.

Yamara frowned. "No, ten years ago I was being trained by a different group of evil men, sorry to disappoint you."

"Ah ha!" Eric said. "So you admit to coming her with a nasty purpose in mind then!"

Yamara sighed. This seemed like a simple assignment in the beginning. Find this Eric Hunt and get into his penthouse so she could steal the sword. She had opted to use her feminine wiles to get there and had found that the men on Earth were a far cry better in bed from the ones on the worlds she had visited, or at least Eric was. She had planned on giving him nothing but good treatment for all the pleasure and simple courtesy and respect she had received, but now he was pushing things the wrong way and getting on her nerves.

"Look, I have had nothing to do with these cultists you're talking about. I've only seen about twenty-three summers, so that would put me pretty young to be a full fledged raving zealot, don't you think?" She spat out, looking directly into his eyes.

Eric grunted and glanced at his alarm clock. 4:30 on a Saturday morning. Twenty-three summers was an awfully odd way to tell your age. There was definitely something odd about her. "Explain the scars."

Yamara's gaze dropped for a moment, then she looked back up. "Like I said, I was trained by evil men. You make a mistake, they punish you."

"Then why are they only visible if I look really close?" Eric asked. "I have plenty of scars and their fairly obvious. There's the surgery marks in my leg from a bad jump over Iraq, there's the bullet hole in my right calf, there's the shrapnel mark on my chest and above my left temple, there's the knife cut on my arm, there's countless childhood incidents - one involving a chain saw... they all show up pretty clearly, don't you think?"

"As much as they feel pain helps instruct, injury hinders. They always had me ready for another lesson the very next day," Yamara said, clearly not wanting to discuss it.

"So you've been trained, eh? Trained to do what and by whom? Lots of evil men in the world, babe. Most of them, in fact."

"Lots of things. It's not important really. Look Eric, I'm sorry about what's happening to you, you clearly don't trust me anymore and I assure you that I was genuinely interested in you. Things are not working out as I had hoped they would though, so it's up to you as to what you want to do. Either let me go or figure something out, perhaps it's not to late. Like I said, I'm far from helpless, if you want my help, perhaps we can figure something out if the offer interests me enough."

Eric chuckled. "That's a good one. I try to be open minded but it's the middle of the night and in spite of how great the night started, it's taken a turn for the worse. Really down the shitter, in fact. What say I just decide you're against me and I would be better off ramming this pig-sticker in your gut?"

Eric stood up and faced Yamara directly, his sword held threateningly between them so that with a thrust he could make good on his threat. Yamara glanced at the blade and then again at his manhood briefly before looking up at his face. Her expression was extremely calm. So calm it unnerved him a little.

"You could try, but you would not do it," she said.

"And why is that? Hon, from where I'm standing, aside from the fact that you're a great lay, I have known nothing but trouble since meeting you!" Eric said.

"I misspoke myself. You could try but you would not be able to do it."

Eric laughed sharply. "I'd happily fuck the brains out of you the rest of my life, my dear, but I'd just as happily simplify my life and not have to worry about you sneaking up on me."

"Then try," Yamara looked almost bored. Almost. He could tell that her stance had changed ever so slightly. She was poised now, in spite of looking casual. Eric was a veteran of more then just the campaign with Kelnozz and Garrick, he had also served for six years as a United States Air Force para-rescue trooper, which was one of the more secretive special forces branches out there. Para-rescue was used for recovery instead of surgical strikes though, but they still saw plenty of classified action.

Eric was debating doing that very thing when that tickle on the back of his neck kicked in again. He looked over and there were all three of the bad guys that had shown up earlier, once again standing a few feet away from the foot of the bed. He turned and dropped into a crouch to center his balance.

"Enough of this shit, if you fuckers want this, come and get it!" Eric roared, charging at the three of them. He aimed for the man on the left, who was the closest to him. His only thought as he charged was that maybe he should have put some pants on.

Eric veered to the right and engaged the man in the middle a second before the guy on his left would have met him. This threw the man on his left off, allowing him to slip past him and lunge at the leader. The leader parried the blade to the side with a saber that he pulled out from somewhere within his coat. The man on his right drew a wicked looking dagger and moved to try and get behind Eric then, being careful of the king sized bed.

"Lights - off!" Eric cried out, dodging a thrust from the saber and trying to get his back to a wall. The room was plunged in darkness then, giving Eric what he thought was the advantage of knowing where everything was. He heard a grunt and more glass breaking, then felt something tug at his right arm above the elbow. He slid away from it to his left and lashed out with his sword, feeling it bite into something. The hiss of pain he was rewarded with let him know that he had scored a hit.

A few moments later his back bumped into a wall, not the one made of windows fortunately. Everyone's eyes had adjust by now so the temporary advantage of darkness was now gone. Only two of the attackers remained and another pain of glass was broken out. The leader faced off against Eric, but Yamara had managed to get captured by the remaining thief. Or perhaps they had planned it that way.

"Give us the sword and we let the bitch go," The leader snarled at him, his left hand across his body holding onto his hip where a slowly spreading dark stain could be seen. Eric grinned at his discomfort and ignored the blood running down his own right arm.

"Kill the bitch, I don't care. I think she works for you anyhow," He responded, calling their bluff.

Turned out it was not a bluff. The man holding Yamara acted on his own initiative and tried to plunge the dagger into her chest. She twisted and lashed out though, causing his attack to partially miss. The point of his dagger grated along her bottom rib then slipped off, plunging into her belly. She whipped around quickly, the dagger coming out of her wound before he could do any more damage with it. Her foot came up and around in what Eric recognized as a roundhouse kick. The man stumbled backwards, spitting out teeth. In his defense he had kept the dagger up in front of him and managed to cause a deep cut in Yamara's calf. Another half step backwards and he shook his head and spat out a stream of bloody spittle. Yamara advanced, ignoring her injuries. She kicked low, striking the top of his front foot and drawing a grunt of pain from him. He tried to draw his leg back but that unbalanced him and Yamara reached out with her hands and grabbed his dagger wielding arm. Her foot slipped behind his back leg as he tried to retreat and she deftly tripped him to the floor, falling on top of him and keeping the dagger held between them.

"Oops," Eric muttered, distracted by the ruckus the two were causing. The leader capitalized on this, lunging forward with his saber and very nearly emasculating Eric. Eric jumped back and twisted his hips, drawing only a slight scratch on one thigh from the attack. He landed off balance and tried to cover it up by lashing out with his sword. The attempt failed simply due to bad luck. The cultist's rapier, which had been coming in for a lunge at Eric's chest, was foiled by the nearly blind swipe. However, the same swipe foiled it by putting the back of Eric's wrist in the way of the saber. Cut nearly to the bone, the short sword dropped from Eric's suddenly numbed fingers.

Jumping at the chance to recover the artifact for their religion, the cultist dropped his saber and grabbed up the short sword. He grinned happily and was met by Eric's right fist crashing into his nose. Stumbling backwards, he tripped on the bed and lay there for a second while blood gushed from his broken nose. He rolled off the far side of the bed and regained his feet rather clumsily. Yamara stood up over the dying cultist that had stabbed her, her legs a little shaky. She held the dagger in her hand and glared at the leader of the invaders.

Eric grabbed up the dropped saber in his right hand. It felt awkward there since he was so badly out of practice, but he had taught himself to use a weapon in either hand years ago. He stalked forward towards the cultist, intent on extracting vengeance for the attack on his penthouse and person.

"Drop the sword or die!" Yamara hissed. Clearly the shock of her wound had worn off and the pain had set in. Eric had noticed the stinging in his own arm from his earlier wound and was concerned about the numbness wearing off on the wound in his wrist.

"No way, he dies regardless, dropping the sword just makes it a little less painful for him," Eric growled.

The cultists eyes widened a little as he came to fully understand his predicament. He began muttering something then under his breath. Eric was clueless as to what he was doing, but Yamara seemed to have a good idea. She threw her commandeered dagger as he finished his spell. The dagger bit into the cultist a fraction of a second before he disappeared with a slight pop as air rushed in to fill the vacuum of space that he had just occupied.

"Shit!" Eric grunted. He let the saber dip down and looked over at Yamara. She was holding the hole in her belly and slowly sank down to sit on the bed and look at him.

His training took over then. Never forgotten, the para-rescue trooper in him came to the fore. He quickly walked over to her and pulled her hand away from the wound. Glancing at it while blood seeped out he gritted his teeth and cursed. "Sorry about that, guess I was wrong." He muttered.

She chuckled weakly. "Nice to know a man can admit to being wrong."

Eric felt like an ass, to put it mildly. Not only had he lost the sword to the cultists, but on top of that, he had damn near gotten Yamara killed. For that matter, she was not far from it still. He put her hand back over the wound and said to her gently, "Keep pressure on this, we've got to get to a hospital right away!"

Then he remembered the window. "Shit, cops probably already on their way." His brain fired off several ideas rapidly, each of which he rejected. Then he began to become aware of his own wrist. The cut was bad but not life threatening. He still had almost full control of his hand too, so any damage to his tendons was minimal as well. He gripped it tightly with his right hand while he tried to brainstorm a way out of this.

"My purse," Yamara whispered, her voice quiet with controlled pain. "Get me my purse."

Having no better idea, Eric left the bedroom to find where Yamara had left her purse. It was with her clothes in the living room. He grabbed it up and returned to the bedroom, dumping it's contents out on the bed beside her. She reached for a small flask with a hand covered in blood, either hers or the cultists, he was not sure.

Eric pulled the cork stopper out of the flask, wondering at the odd shape and size of it. To small to hold a pint of liquor, it was also cylindrical instead of curved. She took a few swallows of the contents then offered it to Eric. Her eyes were closed and Eric decided that the cops be damned, she needed a hospital. He took the flask from her and put the cork back in before tossing it on the bed.

"Phone - 911!" Eric called out to the computer. Immediately they heard a dial tone and then some ringing over the hidden speakers in the penthouse.

"Drink," Yamara said, her voice still quiet. Eric looked at her and saw that she had picked up the flask and offered it to him again. He frowned and popped the cork back out. He took a sip, knowing that alcohol would hardly be beneficial to either of them at this point. He shrugged and drained what little remained in a single swallow.

It tasted like cool refreshing water with a hint of a fruity taste to it. As he liquid went down his throat it soothed and relaxed him. The feeling spread more slowly as time passed, but by the time the emergency operator had come on the phone Eric had noticed that the wound on his arm had clotted and the gash in his wrist had begun to clot and heal up some as well. He looked at Yamara's belly and saw that some of the skin over her rib looked a little pink at the edges, the color of healing flesh. The bleeding had slowed some as well, but by no means stopped. A hospital was still necessary for her survival, but at least now he thought that she would probably make it there.

Continued in Chapter 3

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