(Scars do not appear to be cause of death –shock ... - Bad Request

you. You may not HIDE from punishments for CRIMES to come.”
"So we can leave?" I coughed, propping myself up on my hands and knees.
When had I fallen? My head was swimming.
“NO. I have judged the guilty.” Vhailor's eyes flared, and he raised his axe,
his gaze searing Annah to the bone. She stepped back, the spit and vinegar
now tepid and dull. “You have EARNED your fate.”
He swung.
Too slow... I reached out, the weaves of magic slipping from my grasp as the
heavy blade fell. Strong enough to cleave through flesh and bone as if it
were butter, force great enough to sunder the barriers of treachery. He was
fueled by a will that clung to this world to correct an injustice he couldn't
name. So much power.
And I was too slow.
The crack of white-hot light, like burning metal, blinded me for an instant. A
cold terror chilled me as my vision swam into focus. Would I still be able to
pull Annah back and bind her spirit to her shell, I wondered, if the final
judgment of a force like Vhailor was what killed her?
And then I saw it, the frail old warrior standing between justice and the
condemned, karach blade trailing sparks in deflecting the axe.
Dak'kon.
Vhailor roared. “
.”
Dak'kon spared no words, and Annah backed off, giving room for the two to
circle. Dak'kon danced from one step to another, his forms flowing and light.
I recognized the stances: Thel'dekon's Pace, to dodge the heavy blows. Four
Leaves Falling, the two-handed grip for parrying. The sharp song of his zerth
blade played a harsh duet against the heavy slams of Vhailor's axe. Focused
as he was, it was only a matter of time before he was overwhelmed. Even
the sharpest sword couldn't protect one from the force of an avalanche.
Annah was circling, trying to find a weak spot. Grace was bolstering
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