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Stone and Wolf (Part 9)

The Minotaur let his twenty foot sword fall from his shoulder down towards Lyke. Lyke flung his body out of the way, rolling to the right. He found himself facing the stairs to the upper level of the chamber. With a glance back at the Minotaur, he discovered his opponent was slow in his armor. In fact, it seemed to be armored unnecessarily heavily. Of course, this would make it hard to find an area he could strike, but at least the beast was encumbered. Lyke could afford to kneel on the hard stone and contemplate this because it took nearly three full seconds for the beast to bring his sword back up. This time, it went for a stab, throwing its weight forward with a slight stumble. Lyke didn't bother dodging. He merely lunged for the steps and took them two at a time to the top. He was now ten feet above the Minotaur, to the beast's frustration. It used it's sword like a broom handle prodding a spider, trying to fish Lyke out of the upper level. These prods Lyke ducked around, keeping low. As he did so, he became aware of a disturbing sensation in his legs. They were burning in pain, simply because of maneuvering in this low stance. I need to land a blow quickly, or I won't make it... Was this your plan you coward? Lyke moved up to the edge and called to the monster.

"What are you trying to do with strikes like that?! Give me a good one, whelp!" The beast roared, its maw parting wide under its mask. Its giant hands pulled the sword back over its head. Lyke's knees bent in anticipation. Then, the heavy blade was brought down, shattering the stone of the balcony. Lyke jumped to the right and sprinted for the bridge. He looked back as he turned left onto the span of stone in between the two balconies. The beast had just barley recovered from the weight of the blow.

"What are you doing!? Over here you ugly son-of-a-Warg! A strong hit this time, if you can!" Lyke barked, knowing full well that a quarter of this beast's strength could pop his organs out of his mouth. But clearly this trait was easily insulted, for it prepared another strike, taking slow, long steps for the bridge.

"Die!" The Minotaur screamed almost in desperation rather than rage. Lyke sprung up onto the railing, holding his own sword ready. He would not have done so if he did not notice the momentum of the beast's body would carry it almost directly under the bridge. He took a deep breath the moment before, his body tensed and ready. The next, he leapt into the air, dodging the great blade in mid-flight. As he spun his body, he looked down at where he would fall. There on the creatures back was a spot on the upper spine that was unarmored about a half a foot across. It seemed too easy, but making a suit of stone for a thing of this size must be difficult. Additionally, there was nowhere else to fall. Lyke aimed the point of the ancient sword at the lightly furred flesh. Then, he let himself fall into it. The tip plunged into the warm body and he was able to catch his momentum, using the sword as a paw-hold. The beast roared again, its body twitched backwards. So did Lyke's. A sickly feeling came over him. He had to grip the sword hard to keep from falling off. A pain glimmered in his upper spine, but more than that, he felt like vomiting. He was brought back to reality when the Minotaur shouted at him.

"Get off! Get off!" It shook itself from side to side, but this only served to pry the ancient sword back and forth in the wound. Lyke saw the sword wasn't in deep enough to kill, for he felt no scrape of bone against metal from within. He would have to re-insert it. When the beast stopped shaking, he found a foot-paw hold on one of the spikes of the armor. From here, he was able to draw out the sword for another blow. Lyke hauled back and with a cry of effort, drove the blade back into the same spot, right up to the hilt. Lyke's spine spammed and his stomach turned over. A jet of vomit issued from his mouth, covering the wound and mixing with the liters of Minotaur blood cascading out of it. His right paw, however, refused to release its death grasp on the hilt. Through the shaft of the blade, he felt the scrape of bone as he pushed up and pulled down to slice an opening to the spine. He gritted his teeth with the effort, his ears flat and his eyes narrowed. Every twist of the blade wracked his body with a fit of violent shakes. He felt cold. He barely noticed the Minotaur's hands grasping at him in vain. Its armor prevented it from reaching that particular spot. The great sword clattered to the ground and the momentum of the beast's throws of pain bucked Lyke back and forth. Lyke thought the blade would surly bend under the strain, but it stayed firm.

"I'll crush you!" The Minotaur bellowed. Lyke looked backwards to see he had been turned to the right wall, and was about to be ground into it. After a moment's hesitation, he returned the ancient sword to its strap, and withdrew a metal spear. He drove the head right against the spine, making sure it was about level with the wall. This done, he franticly looked for a way down other than jumping. The beast threw itself across the room, taking large steps backwards. Wind rushed past Lyke's face. He lowered himself a few feet down using the spikes of the armor, but there was no time left.

He let himself go, kicking off to one side and spinning around the Minotaur's wide body. He took out his headless spear and held it by one end hard, pointing it downward. Before he hit the ground, he heard his opponent slam into the wall, and yelp (as much as a Minotaur can yelp) in shock. Lyke realized it was a combination of both their cries that caused the sound at the last moment. Then the stone of the floor came up to strike him. The pole in his paws hit first and he used it as much as he could to break the fall. When his foot-paws touched the stone, he bent his knees, going with the flow, still leaning on the metal pole. The full force hit him a split second after that, and a bolt of pain shot up his legs. This combined with the horrible ache in his back, and knot in his stomach, caused him to collapse to the floor, helpless. He let out a pitiful whine, closing his eyes and holding his stomach.

The sounds of the Minotaur's armor crashing and scraping against the stone were of some comfort to him as he curled up into a ball and hugged his knees. One of his eyes opened out of casual curiosity and saw his opponent thrashing about on the floor under the ruined bridge. Some of its armor had broken in the process. Lyke thought to himself: I bet I could really hit him now... But even as he thought that, he realized it was a fantasy, nothing more. He urged his body to move, but he found he was very comfortable right here on the cold stone. He felt a cough rise in his chest and he let it out, spraying speckles of blood on the floor. The sight of that blood caused a spark of fear in him, his eyes widening. A growl replaced his whine as he grew angry with himself. He rolled up to all fours with great effort. Shots of pain streaked through his knees up to his stomach and through the tips of his toes as he crawled forward. The Minotaur seemed to be doing the same, toward the stairs down to his master. The stairs were too small for its body, so it just laid there, moaning at the opening down further into the earth. Lyke crossed the distance slowly, remembering how the ancient demon had called him an animal. He felt ashamed, on all fours without dignity or ability. Soon he was beside the great monster. It didn't seem to care about him anymore. Its head was stuck down the hole the stairs carved in the floor, weeping softly. Lyke took out the blood covered sword once more and propped himself up on the armor to stand. Putting any weight on his paws sent bolts up from his toes. His whole body shook with the effort of standing, but he forced himself to walk over to the beast's head. The stairs were blocked by it. The mask was still intact, but some of its neck plating was cracked.

"Huh..." Lyke tried to speak, but found his lungs and throat thick with liquid. "Hu- Hey..." He stopped and panted for air. A drop of blood fell from his tongue. "I'm... still here... you great ugly..." He couldn't finish the sentence. The Minotaur wasn't ugly or stupid. It was an honorable warrior and a pitiful slave. A grumble rose from the beast, and its head lifted out of the hole. The demonic mask that stared at Lyke was an insult to the poor thing's pride. Lyke noticed a large greenish rock around its neck, inlaid in the stone armor. It served the same purpose as the amulets he collected for other stone slaves.

"Die... I... Die..." The thing whispered through the mask.

"Then die like... huh... like a warrior. I will avenge you... noble creature." It gave a shudder. After a few moments of silence, it nodded, and reached a feeble hand forward. Lyke batted it away with his sword and stumbled towards the head. He raised the sword up and aimed for the cracks in the neck plating.

"Fight... hard." The beast sobbed. A tear clouded one of Lyke's eyes. Then, he let out as much of a cry as he could muster, and struck the point down through the armor. With a fleshy thud, the beast twitched. Blood sprayed out of its massive arteries as the blade was removed and colored Lyke's off-white fur red. He fell to his knees again, for the pain in his stomach had returned, and a new sting had appeared in his neck. He knelt there beside the corpse of the Minotaur and vomited again. This time, it was mixed with his own blood. After that, he dry heaved several times, stopping in between to clear his lungs of more blood. His body was cold, and shook involuntarily under his wet and sticky fur. Every muscle burned. He was spent three times over. His eyes wandered to the stairs down. A heavy metal door stood at the bottom. Ilisha... Are you even alive? It's alright if you're not... what better gravestone that this magnificent castle? I just need to make it to your lovely body... With these thoughts of comfort in mind, Lyke got back on all fours and made his way down one step at a time.

The cold metal of the door handle felt rewarding on his outstretched paw. He was finally there. With a tug that consisted mostly of him shifting his weight backward while clinging to the metal ring, he opened the door. There were more stairs beyond, spiraling down to the left. He was glad of this. It gave him the chance to pick himself up and travel to his final confrontation with a bit of poise. He did this by using the door as a crutch. He took the ancient sword and used the point as a cane. The stairs were an intimidating foe, but by taking one at a time, he was able to defeat them. Each one he passed made the pain in his legs flash alive. There was more than this though. He felt so tired. His energy and strength was gone almost completely. The strength of his will was the only thing that hadn't given out. As he rounded the corner to find another metal door, he wondered if he ever had a chance to begin with. The sorcery used to drain him like this would not have been combatable by any means.

He put his paw on the handle, lifting the sword off the ground to give the illusion of dignity. He filled his lungs with a deep gulp of air, and almost coughed again. His composure remained strong, however, and he gave the door a pull, ready for whatever greeting, or farewell the ancient demon had planned for him.