Editing Salvar (section)

==Blackhand==

"Temper, temper."  Umbra drawled out the words as he watched from his seat on an overturned barrel.  His lazy eyes drifted away from the barge to the winter sky.  Endless layers of clouds bulged and swirled above like maggot-riddled corpse skin.  A chill breeze from the North snatched at clouds, grass, and waves alike; the world seemed tormented by the season.  He leaned his head back for a ragged cough.  “Remember, little brother, we’re here for charity.”

Across the deck, young Salvar Blackhand faced four guild mercenaries.

The boy’s ferocity was unchanged.  His legs were spread in the wide stance of the Five Dragons form, inept as it was, and he lunged broad strides and sweeps of his fists to strike at armed guards.  While he chased one across the deck, a second swung a long shafted hammer that struck a glancing blow to his shoulder.  Salvar snarled and grabbed the hammer by the head, throwing both it and its wielder into the Grey.

“At the very least, make a token effort to be aware of your surroundings.  Do I have to remind you of what a sword will do to your pretty little skull?”  He maundered over to the hundreds of cords of wood lashed to the deck, tree trunks as thick as he was tall.  From the exotic hardwood forests of the southwest, they had been imported at great expense, traversing thousands of miles by land and water.  One languid hand stroked the grain of the wood while another mercenary was held with his head in the river, his body kicking and flailing as the boy used it to shield him from the sweep of an ax.  The blade bit into the guard’s gut, and Salvar let him slip into the water.

Salvar blocked a sword-swipe with an open palm, his hand flaring for instance with essence, reducing the wound to dirty gash instead of a maiming. He shouted and pressed the blade clumsily into its wielder’s own foot.  [[Fear’s Umbra]] wagged a finger.  “Have you even considered trying to avoid an attack?  It’ll be another four hours before we can respire.  Don’t waste your essence in the day.”

The swordsman tried to step away, dropping his sword in his haste as he turned.  Salvar’s uninjured hand drew back into a claw-like shape at his side, pale skin and black nails contorted and rigid.  The strike hit the guard in the back of his neck, and his head whipped backward with a cough that sprayed blood-flecked mist into the wind.  Umbra’s acolyte growled, “If you like to hear yourself talk so much, why don’t you nag your own…”

His commentary was cut short when the last guard’s axe struck home, sweeping one of his legs out from under him as it bit deep in his thigh.

Fear’s Umbra made a clicking sound with his tongue.  “Learned a lesson today, have we?”

The ax rose for the kill, the mercenary ignoring their prattle in old realm, but stopped at the height of its arm and fell from numb hands.  Two of Umbra’s fingers were imbedded the man’s spine at the base of his neck.

He withdrew his hand casually, wiping his bloodied fingers on the man’s buff jacket.  “Help me cut the cargo ties, boy.  We’ll see to your leg when you’ve learned respect for your sifu.”

Three days later the flea-bitten slums of Nexus rejoiced when, for no apparent reason, cords upon cords of good firewood floated down the Grey, free for the taking.  Winter was a little less chilling that year.

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1. [[Rivers Between Us]]

2. [[River's Contacts]]

3. [[Heaven's Mandate]]