Ripples of Shadow
Chapter 11 - Confessions of Regret

Fox leapt back from the toppling table; clattering mugs spilling ale onto the floor. The crash silenced all sounds of conversation and music as the startled patrons gawked at the erupting scene. Nearby men and women shot to their feet, some knocking over drinks of their own, ready to move out of the way if the fight came their way.

Before Fox had reached the floor, the heavy oak table flew toward her. Shifting her weight she caught her fall with her shoulders and hands. Never touching the ground, she pulled her hips and legs to her chest, to cradle the table, and pushed her entire body into its weight; flinging it back toward its host.

With a smooth cutting noise, the table’s center gave way as the two halves, careened into the walls behind Rash. Eyes red with fury, he stood with a terrifying rage. His long gleaming blade held high above his head; its tip tracking Fox’s every movement. Hunting her. Ironic, considering that she had been the hunter until now. Nearby on lookers began to scatter and scream with the sight of the blade. This was no longer a simple brawl. Fox had thought that maybe, just maybe, a public location would taper some of Rash’s temper, or that it would at least not resort to this. She was angry at her foolishness. His woman was dead at her hand.

Rash’s face could have been cut from stone. She had seen this look before in the alleyway. A bead of sweat made its way down her face. She reached for her center again, for her calm, forcing her breathing to slow. “Rash I -”

“Shadowed wretch!” Within an instant, Rash’s long legs had closed half the ten span gap separating them. Changing his grip, swung the sword wide, bringing the momentum over his head and crashing down on top of Fox.

As the blade struck she rolled to one-side; the metal sinking deep into the flooring, sending specks of dust and stone from the gash. It had missed by a hair’s breadth. Shifting her weight to her right shoulder, she kicked her legs out wide away from Rash; using the momentum to hook them around his sword arm and neck. Rolling her weight onto her left shoulder, she locked her ankle just under his arm and pulled with all her strength.

Rash tumbled forward under the combined force of his own weight and her pull. Losing his grip on his sword, it slide away beneath the forest of chairs and tables as he rolled awkwardly into the oaken legs of another. More patrons starred in awe at the showcase, while the closer onlookers began to flee more quickly than before. Elra pleaded to deaf ears for the fighting to stop. Fox knew she was not prepared for something like this. Fox wasn’t sure if she was either.

“Rash, please listen to me,” Fox was back on her feet as Rash staggered to his, rubbing his head slightly. “I didn’t -” He came again. As quickly as his first attack, Fox narrowly turned her frame away from his fist. This time Rash didn’t give her time to counterattack as he used the force to swing his entire body weight into a side-long elbow to her chest, knocking her back to the wall. Before she could regain her composure, the sole of his boot was aimed toward her stomach. With a gasp, she managed to scurry out of its way, the wall cracking and splintering under the force of the blow. If that had hit me…. She didn’t have time to think about that. His movements, his dance, was crude and uncoordinated in her eyes, but his speed and power were horrific. Just who are you?

Reaching for her center once more, Fox took a deep breath. Releasing it, she pushed her hands out from her center, fluidly extending them to a defensive position in front of her. Her footing shifted, placing most of her weight on her back leg. Lowering her eyes she spoke confidently. “I do not wish to fight you Rash Vandren, but I will defend myself. And you will listen. This is a dance I cannot lose.”

“I have no desire to listen to the lies of a demon like you.” Removing his foot from the wall, he squared his shoulders to face her. The room fell still with the mention of “demon” with only the occasional whisper to be heard. “I will squeeze the last breath of life it out of you and all your murderous kind for what you’ve done.”

Fox could only sigh. “Very well.” She could see the surprise in Rash’s eyes as she took to the attack with a fierce upward kick. He barely blocked the blow, its force pushing his arms back until her toe grazed the stubble of his chin and staggering him back. His grunt of effort was fairly satisfying to Fox. Without putting her foot down, she recoiled her strike, turned her hips and kicked low at his left knee. Catching it the full brunt, he grunted in pain. As he fell to one knee, she recalled her leg a second time, again without touching the floor, and struck higher, at his head.

Rash managed to stop her attacks this time, supporting his wrist with his opposite hand, he cradled the blow. With a smirk, he grabbed her ankle and with both hands swung with all his strength. Unconsciously, she reached to hold her hat, as Fox’s light frame was easily picked from her foothold and her body smashed into one of the few still standing tables. Its splinters spread like a cloud of mist, and with another spin, Rash flung her towards the far end of the room. The once, thought-to-be-safe spectators dove frantically to avoid being hit.

With a lurch, Fox managed to pull her feet into her chest, and turn over her head. She landed on the far wall, in a low crouching stance balanced by and outstretched arm parallel to her leg, poised on just her heel. The opposite hand rested on her head. Stupid hat. She had not lost it, thankfully. Time seemed to slow as she looked up at an exasperated Rash. Bringing her leg in, she pushed as hard as she could off the wall, catching Rash in a tackle. As his back bounced off the ground, she threw herself forward, onto her feet, dragging Rash by his collar. With a cry of effort, she flung him past the columns supporting The Filthy Animal’s second tier.