David Robbins - Madman Run

Straightening, Elphinstone vented an inarticulate growl and charged, swinging his fists wildly, going for the youth’s face.

This time Blade was ready. He ducked under a couple of punches that would have caved in his skull and delivered three swift jabs to the brute’s ribs. When Elphinstone shifted to the right, Blade pivoted, pressing his initiative, burying his left fist in the apish man’s stomach and following through with a right to the jaw that rocked Elphinstone on his heels.

Instantly, Blade closed in, kneeing his adversary in the groin.

Elphinstone wheezed and doubled over, and Blade executed a flawless snap kick into the brute’s nose that sent him tottering backward almost to the edge of the landing. “Had enough?” he asked.

Elphinstone recovered his balance and bellowed his enraged response.

“No!”

Blade wanted to end the fight before Morlock or Grell showed up, especially Grell. As Elphinstone came toward him, he ran to meet the brute halfway. But instead of using his fists, he leaped into the air, performing a flying side kick, the yoko-tobi-geri, and struck Elphinstone full in the mouth.

As if smashed by a sledgehammer, Elphinstone catapulted head over heels onto his stomach with a loud thud. For a moment he lay stunned.

His head slowly rose from the hard floor, his lips cracked and bleeding, and he spat blood. With a guttural growl, he started to rise.

Blade was ready. Instead of slugging it out with the brute, he must rely on the martial arts. Elphinstone obviously knew nothing of the science of self-defense, and while the brute might be stronger, his reflexes and coordination were no match for Blade’s.

The young Warrior glided in and flicked a snap kick to his foe’s head before Elphinstone could rise, rocking the apish man on his haunches.

Another snap kick with the right leg was blocked, but a crescent kick with the left connected and sent the brute onto his back.

Elphinstone took longer to rise this time. Dark stains coated the lower half of his face and neck. He grunted as he propped himself on his elbows, then came off the floor in a surprising burst of speed.

Still in the on-guard stance, Blade retreated a step to give himself more room and leaped into the air, whipping his body in a spinning back kick that hit the brute at the base of the throat and lifted Elphinstone from his feet to sail to the edge of the landing and over it. He alighted on the balls of his feet and moved to the first step, expecting to see the apish figure barreling up toward him.

There was no one there.

Perplexed, Blade scanned the stairs below and saw no sign of his adversary. Yet Elphinstone had to be down there, somewhere. He doubted the brute was gravely injured. It would take more than a few kicks to put the Neanderthal out of commission. Pivoting, he looked at the serfs.

Tabitha and Selwyn were riveted in place, their expressions reflecting total astonishment.

Blade anticipated they would be elated at his victory and walked up to them. “See? I told you I’d take care of you.”

“You hurt him!” Tabitha declared angrily. “You hurt Master Elphinstone!”

“You had no right to be so cruel!” Selwyn added.

Bewildered by their passionate reaction, Blade blinked and jabbed a finger at the stairs. “He was trying to kill me,” he said defensively.

“He was not,” Tabitha disagreed. “He probably just wanted to put you in a cage.”

“And you think I should have let him?”

“Certainly. He’s one of the masts, after all. All of us should serve them gladly.”

“I’m no one’s slave,” Blade snapped, “and I don’t serve your masts. If I can, I’m going to put them out of business for good.”

“What do you mean, sir?”

“I mean I’m going to put an end to their enslavement of the serfs.”

The brother and sister looked at each other.

“You can’t,” Selwyn responded in horror, forgetting his usual excessive civility.

In exasperation Blade threw his hands into the air and both serfs flinched. “Why not?” he demanded.

“Who will watch over us?” Tabitha asked, on the verge of tears. “Who will protect us and clothe us and feed us?”

The implications of her questions shook Blade to the core of his being.

He took a pace backward and gazed at them in blatant disbelief. “Let me get this straight. You want them to take care of you?”

“Of course, sir,” Tabitha said.

“We’d be lost without them, sir,” Selwyn chimed in.

“But they take advantage of you.”

Tabitha giggled. “How do they ever do that, sir?”

“They make you work for them, make you till the fields to produce their food, and they keep you cooped up during the day. You’re little better than slaves.”

“Oh, you have it all wrong, sir. We like working for the masts. They love us and treat us fairly.”

“How can you say such a thing? They beat and tortured your friend Tweena until she died. And Grell ate a serf.”

Tabilha nodded. “But Tweena deserved to be punished for disobeying the masts. And Cathmor deserved to be eaten for trying to leave the Domain.”

The absurd illogic baffled Blade, and he pressed a palm to his forehead as he tried to make sense of it all. The serfs were enslaved and didn’t even know it. Worse, they preferred the status quo. How could they? Didn’t they realize how precious freedom was?

“Can we go now, sir?” Tabitha asked.

“Go where?” Blade responded absently.

“We’d like to find our friends and play before dawn, sir,” Selwyn said.

“Or before the masts catch us,” Tabitha stated and snickered.

Blade stared at their pale skin, at their pale features, at their pale eyes, and suddenly their very paleness offended him. Their personalities were as colorless as their complexions, devoid of all character, stripped of any semblance of conviction and independence. They were pale imitations of human beings, at best, puppets on a string who didn’t want the puppeteers removed. “Go,” he said harshly. “Get out of here.”

The serfs giggled and danced down the stairs, and moments later they were swallowed by the inky shadows.

Good riddance, Blade reflected. He abruptly realized his rifle was missing and scoured the landing until he found it. As he stooped to retreive the Marlin he heard a little laugh behind him.

“I could have spared you a lot of trouble, boy.”

Startled, Blade crouched and spun, leveling the rifle, his finger on the trigger. He saw the thin figure of the lord of Castle Orm standing at the junction.

“I’m unarmed,” Morlock said calmly.

The youth hesitated, suspecting a trick. “Don’t move or I’ll shoot.”

“There’s no need for violence, boy.”

“The name is Blade, remember? Come closer so I can see you.”

Morlock advanced and held out his empty hands to demonstrate he posed no threat. “See? You have nothing to fear.”

“How long have you been standing there?”

“A while.”

“Where are my friends?”

“I have no idea.”

Blade took a stride and aimed at the smaller man’s forehead. “Tell me the truth.”

“Or what? You’ll shoot me? I think not.” Morlock chuckled. “You won’t kill a defenseless man, boy.”

“Don’t tempt me.”

Morlock nodded at the stairs. “I saw your fight. If you were a born killer, you would have pulled your knives instead of trying to best Elphinstone with your hands and feet.” He paused. “My compliments, by the way. No one has ever beaten him before.”

“Where is he now?”

“How would I know? Probably nursing his wounds.”

“And where’s your wife?”

“My darling Endora is taking her nightly stroll.” Blade lowered his rifle barrel a few inches. Now that he had Morlock right where he wanted him, he didn’t know what to do. By all rights he should put an end to the man’s reign of terror by terminating him on the spot, but he couldn’t bring himself to fire. Morlock was right, damn him. Blade wasn’t a cold-blooded killer. “We need to talk,” he said lamely.