The Exemplar

[Shang Tsung]

He didn’t realize it, but Atelos had played his trump card. During their scuffle, the sorcerer had been amused to find that the Spartan’s shield was an extension of the warrior’s burning spirit. That much could have been guessed easily enough, as a shield was important in the military tactics of the period from which Atelos had lived. How many battles had been won by Grecian hoplites, with their heavy shields and sturdy spears? Now, however, the Spartan had shown that he wasn’t just a skilled warrior plucked from history. If the glowing aura hadn’t sealed the deal, the telekinetic swords and the burning gauntlet did so.

Part of him wanted to watch the Spartan die, if only so Shang could have some undeniable proof that primes were immortal. How many more cuts and bruises could the burly Mediterranean sustain before he was overwhelmed and rip to shreds by the platoon of reanimated corpses? And would a dead prime yield a soul like the normal chattel that Shang had murdered?

All it would take was a few more tense moments, but the sorcerer knew it would be too costly an experiment. After all, he would have to kill the two secondaries, lest they serve as witnesses. Even then, he wouldn’t want to have to return to the garrison. If the Spartan’s death was ephemeral, he doubted Atelos’ resulting desire for vengeance would be just as fleeting. The last thing Shang needed at this point was an immortal who wanted to see him dead.

With that, the sorcerer threw his hand forward and released a flaming skull at the group hacking at the Spartan. The concussive force blasted apart two of the skeletons and knocked away those who survived. In that small opening, Atelos was able to rise back to both feet and give himself a little more breathing room with a wide swipe of his shield.

“You ready for this, gentlemen?” Shang asked to the two secondaries as he drew his jian. Although neither man seemed mentally prepared, they both drew their own steel of choice and fell in line behind the sorcerer. He didn’t have time to at the moment, but later the sorcerer would reflect upon this as a nice little indicator of the impressionable nature of Darkshire’s youth. “Into battle!” Shang shouted as he rushed forward, both hands clutched around the hilt of his weapon.