[Hirilaelin]

The sun dipped low in the sky as evening drew near. Narwen stood by then crates containing valuable "merchandise," awaiting the signal from Yr Saldin to attack.

She looked around, surveying the area for the coming battle. People milled about, families, mothers with children. She frowned, hoping that the men would have enough sense in the heat of battle to remember their instructions. "Kill as little as possible, but if anyone resists, they will be dispatched. The women and children should be herded into the buildings, do not let them escape. Also, keep to your business. There will be time for revels later."

She turned to Khazdifir, standing nearby, and said, "When will he signal? The time creeps on." The other corsair looked up to the tower on the high hill, silhouetted against the burnished sky. "Soon," he replied. They stood in the market square, Narwen running her hands up and down her polished quarterstaff. Suddenly, a red light flared from the tower, the signal for attack.

Khazdifir yelled, and the corsairs burst from the crates, cutlasses tucked into their sashes with cries. As the men swarmed the marketplace, Narwen yelled, and dashed forward, and Khazdifir ran the other way. Suddenly, a burly merchant appeared in front of her, sword naked in his hand. He charged her, the blade outstretched, but she sidestepped him.

Turning on her, his sword flashed up then down, almost slipping past her whirling staff. His blade sliced against the staff, but it merely glanced off the hardened wood. Bringing her staff around to face the tip towards him, she drove low, ducking to avoid the deadly metal as it clove the air above her head. Squarely contacting his midriff, it bowled him over onto his back, winded. Whipping out a small knife from her boot, Narwen threw it straight into his chest, killing the man.

Retrieving her knife, she turned to see how the battle went. The men were wreaking havoc among the few guards and civilians. Narwen was glad to see however, that they remembered the instructions. Khazdifir was driving a small force in the opposite direction, deeper into the city. Narwen heard a scream. One of the corsairs was down, felled by a guard. But he fell seconds later, decapitated by the sweep of a saber blade.

Almost an hour later, the city was secured. Many of the men were dead, having chosen to resist. The few guards were all dead, taken by surprise. The women and children had been captured and secured, according to instructions. In the west, the sun was setting, turning the sky the color of blood. Minimal casualties had been taken, with a loss of only four corsairs. The city was theirs.

[ February 17, 2003: Message edited by: piosenniel ]