Hethir and the Archbishop sprinted right on the heels of Trace and a few other knights as they wound through the temple. "They're trying to break through to the vaults!" Shouted a knight ahead of them. He clutched at his sword arm, trying to staunch the blood that poured around his fingers. For a moment the Archbishop began to slow, reaching a hand out towards the man, but the knight gestured forward with his chin. "They need you more than me, I'll live! Go!"
Hethir wasn't sure he believed the knight--there was a good-sized pool of blood beneath him--but didn't feel like arguing, the man wouldn't be able to help them anyhow. Turning a corner, Hethir gets his first sight of the combatants. It was definitely not what he expected.
Almost forty knights seemed to have gone rogue, and the line of battered knights and clerics trying to hold them off were being inexorably pushed back. It took only a moment for Hethir to notice something off about the attackers. One knight near the center of the group had a warped sense to his mind, but the rest of them did not register to his sight at all. Mindwiped, all but the one in the middle, Archbishop.
"Yes... I think you're right... can you bring him down?"
Hethir didn't bother responding, between one step and the next, he brought the psychic equivalent of a hammer to bear against the rogue knight's mind. The man stumbled once, then his eyes folded back in his head, and he collapsed. At the same instant, the other knights seem to stagger, losing their single-minded focus on the attack. The squad of knights Trace had brought with him charged bearing heavy cudgels. The attackers were swiftly brought down, unable to mount any kind of resistance. As the last of the hostile knights collapsed, the Archbishop walked forward to stand over the one Hethir had attacked. For his part, Hethir was observing the now-fallen knights. Each had numerous small injuries from the battle, some more serious than others, but no more than what one would expect from such a battle. Up close Hethir could barely tell that their minds still existed; they had been supplanted by a magic he was unfamiliar with, but he suspected they might recover given time and treatment.
Hethir had not really been paying attention to the Archbishop until he heard a choked gasp emerge from him. He had crumpled to the floor, barely holding his body and head upright. His eyes were open and filled with agony. The rogue knight's eyes were open and filled with a menacing light. For the first time, Hethir noticed that the sword in the man's hand was not a temple blade, it's edge was oddly shaped, almost serrated on one side. Sudden comprehension dawned as Hethir noticed a wound every one of the mindless knights bore; a line of small incisions along their neck, head, or face, like a serrated blade drug along it.
The rogue knight pulled himself up of the ground, the sword raising level with the Archbishop's neck. Hethir felt himself paralyzed, only able to watch what was unfolding before him. The room seemed to be frozen, only the rogue was moving. The vicious blade shot forward; and a resounding clang rang through the room.
Trace stood in front of the rogue, his parry had driven the strike wide, but the gaping expression on the rogue's face told Hethir that shouldn't have been enough. Like a binding had suddenly been loosed, Hethir felt himself able to move again. He was behind the rogue, and a shield lay dropped at his feet. In one motion he stooped, seized the lip of the shield, and brought it down hard on the rogue's arm.
Blade still pinned by Trace's own, and almost on the ground already, the rogue couldn't really react to the blow. His arm gave out with a sickening crunch, and the blade clattered to the floor. The rogue's eyes rolled back in his head and he collapsed bonelessly to the floor. Hethir didn't need a second glance to know the man was dead. Looking to where the sword had fallen, he saw another knight's fingers about to close over the pommel. "No! Don't!"
The man's eyes shot up to meet Hethir's, then went suddenly wide. Carvings in the blade and pommel flared with crimson brilliance. His fingers tightened around the grip of the sword with painful intensity; and the man's mouth opened to scream as the sanguine light began to flow up his arm. The nearby knights simply looked on, horrified. Hethir began to lunge forward towards the man, knowing he was too far away to help. In a burst of golden light, Trace shot across the room, his blade outstretched, catching the man's arm just below the elbow. The limb sheared off and the knight stumbled backwards, clutching at the stump as blood began pouring out. Nearby clerics immediately set to closing the wound, and Hethir walked over to stand beside the sword with Trace.
The knight was frowning down at the strange weapon, and Hethir joined his gaze. Both of them nearly jumped when an eye blinked open on the crossguard. Inside their heads, a sultry, feminine voice purred, "that wasn't very nice boys... you broke my puppets... I'll have to find more now."
Hethir felt something pulling him down, telling him to just wrap his hands around the hilt, so much power he could wield. He hammered the compulsion aside with effort, but saw too many of the other knights standing around giving the sword almost longing looks. Trace alone seemed to be regarding it with disdain.
Trace, we need to get that sword out of here, and away from everyone else! Now! It will keep trying to control them.
He dropped to a knee and placed the edge of the shield he still carried next to the sword. Trace pushed it onto the shield with the tip of his sword, careful not to touch it to Hethir. The knights around them were beginning to edge closer to the blade, and a few of them were beginning to look upset at Hethir as he stood and began to move away with the sword. Hethir looked behind them, and their escape was being blocked that way too. We're going to have to disable them... they aren't going to let us take it away. Trace caught his eyes and Hethir saw conflict behind them for only a moment, then steel took its place.
"Drop them."
Hethir complied with a psychic scream. Besides Trace and the Archbishop, everyone in the hallway clutched at their heads and collapsed to their knees.
Now run!
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