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Gall's Short Story: The Cold War

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Gall stumbled forward, swept up his Mordblade and raced to intercept the Shatain. His heartbeat throbbed in his ears, nearly drowning out the shrill and agonized screams of the Mordblade’s Daemon in his mind. But he ignored this, the growing tingling in his sword arm, and a trail of sparks dripping from his weapon. At the last moment, Drakar spun to meet his attack. Their blades came crashing together in a shower of sparks. It was then Gall noticed his Mordblade pulsing with white light, and that the sword’s Daemon had gone curiously silent. Before he could make sense of the change, Drakar’s blade snapped, the usually glimmering edge disappearing in an instant. Gall’s blade slashed into the Shatain, knocking him sideways into a column. Gall…show more content…
A brief glimmer of hope raced his mind. Wait! His eyes widened. “The Grail! Vig, get the chalice.” Vig spotted the cup lying on the floor, next to Drakar’s remains. He dashed over, grabbed it, and then returned quickly. Gall filled the Grail with water and put the chalice to Larah’s bluish lips, but she remained unresponsive. Britta took Larah’s wrist but could feel no heartbeat. “It is too late.” “No,” Gall replied. “She is not yet beyond the reach of the Grail.” He forced her mouth open and poured the contents of the chalice into it. Keeping his hand over her lips, he raised her up. For a moment, she remained still, and corpse-like, but then color shot back into her face. Her eyes shot open, and she coughed loudly, a stream of blood and water dribbling down her chin. She looked about weakly, her eyes racing from Britta to Vig, and then Gall. In a tremulous voice, she asked, “Where am I?” “We are still in the Gate Room,” he answered. Horn calls drifted in from the foyer entrance. Gall pointed toward the doorway. “Vig, find out what is happening in the courtyard.” Vig disappeared into the foyer but quickly returned. “Troops from the garrison approach. We are in grave
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