Angst Box Set 2

by David Pedersen

“Angst needs Scar,” she argued.

  “Angst needs Scar to keep you safe,” Aerella said with a gentle smile. “Which is why he’s staying right by your side.”

  The girl crossed her arms and stared off at the distant battle.

  “Promise me you’ll stay out of that fight,” Aerella pleaded.

  “Fine,” the girl said in a tiny voice. “I promise.”

  “You look tired,” Jintorich squeaked, still perched on Maarja’s shoulder. “I’m having a hard time discerning your age.”

  “I am tired, but I sense that I’m in my forties.” Aerella sighed deeply. “At this age, I knew the important spells and had the power to cast them.”

  “So you can control your age now?” Maarja asked. “That would be nice.”

  “No, my age is fluctuating fast. I’m not sure I have much time here, or should I say now,” Aerella said. “I don’t think I’ll be staying much longer, either way.”

  “I don’t understand,” Kala said, taking her hand. “Are you going to die?”

  “I believe I have one more adventure,” Aerella said, kneeling to give her a hug. “So no, I’m not dying. But ever since I arrived, the more I wield magic, the more my age fluctuates. I can’t choose my age, but I’m trying to hold onto this one for now.”

  “I bet Angst would like to do that,” Kala said.

  “Angst needs to worry less about his age and spend more time enjoying his years,” she said. “I’ve certainly enjoyed all of mine, and this adventure with you has been one of my favorites. Unfortunately, I don’t belong here anymore.”

  “That’s what I said the last time I dismissed you,” a tall, odd-looking man said as he appeared before them, waving an arm in a wide arc.

  Everyone within view stopped moving. She could see and breathe, but her muscles were locked in place. It was like those moments between time, and between places, when she waited for the next unknown adventure. It was maddening, and she desperately tried to think of a spell that could free them.

  “Don’t bother,” he said. “I’m no mere wielder, and you aren’t Al’eyrn.”

  Magic, she thought, her heart racing. In all her years skipping through time, she’d never faced an actual element without Angst. She didn’t have the words to express her awe, or the breath to ask the millions of questions that came to mind.

  Magic, the Dark Vivek, stood on the snow as though it were solid ground. He walked past each of them in their frozen prison, his arms down and hands clasped behind his back pretentiously.

  “I’m returning you to timeless space,” he said with a nod to Aerella. He approached Kala and Scar, placing a hand on the girl’s head. “Having trouble growing, pup? When this is done, I’ll make you mine again. And you, child, would make an excellent host, much better than Ivan.”

  Kala’s young face was frozen in concentration as she took in everything around Magic, but never stared directly at him.

  “Huh,” he said dismissively. Magic stopped directly in front of Maarja and looked up. “I’m throwing you and your little morsel through a portal right into the middle of battle.”

  “I like your spells,” Kala said from behind him. The twelve-year-old girl had broken free of the magical constraints and was now standing on top of a snow bank. “This is one I learned from my friend Angst.”

  A burst of blue lightning shot out from her two extended arms, slamming into Magic and throwing him through a deep bank of snow. His control released, Aerella gasped for breath, and had just enough time to create an air shield. Magic crawled out, black smoke rising from his chest where the lightning had struck. His eyes were wide with surprise, and his face contorted in a grimace.

  “You dare...” he spat out.

  “We dare,” Aerella said, a blinding glow of yellow surrounding her hands, which shook from the force she held, ready to let loose.

  Magic looked up from his hands and knees, and Aerella followed his gaze over her shoulder. Directly behind her, Maarja raised two giant fists while tiny Jintorich stood by her cheek. Hovering over all stood Scar the giant dog, covered in steel, and six eyes glowing red. Kala peeked over the top of Scar’s head, the blue lightning in her hand reflecting off Scar’s steel fur. Magic burst out in laughter, pointing and laughing uncontrollably as if they were ants on the march. Jintorich leaped from Maarja’s shoulder and cracked Magic in the head. White light flashed on contact, knocking Magic deep into the snow and far into the earth beneath.

  “Not another Al’eyrn!” Magic wheezed from the bottom of the newly formed crater.

  52

  The creature’s impact drove Angst deep into the snow. The tiny space was cold and dark like a cave, and there were already cracks in his air shield, which was barely large enough to cover him and his sword. How was that even possible? What was this thing that had smacked Faeoris away like a fly and could break an air shield created by an Al’eyrn bonded with two foci? Chryslaenor didn’t know, and Dulgirgraut was almost too far away to hear. The shield wouldn’t last long, and he needed out; he was getting a quick lesson in claustrophobia.

  There was a muffled roar that sounded like “Lurp” again. What on Ehrde was a Lurp? Delicious sunlight reached his shield, revealing a cobweb of cracks; his protection was a sneeze away from shattering. With a weary sigh, Angst crawled out of his snowy crater to a vision of madness.

  In an almost perfect one-hundred-yard circle, Nordruaut battled Nordruaut battled Fulk’han. The latter had apparently arrived through the portal. But how had they found this place, which had to be labeled “Middle of felking frozen nowhere” on every map? Arrows whistled angrily overhead, staves cracked upside heads, swords rang as they clashed. All around him, war wailed its ugly cry.

  The ball of fire still burned and was even larger. He wondered if that was what had forced the attacker away, but his curiosity faded almost instantly. Niihlu’s own battle cry pierced his ears. The Nordruaut stumbled forward, striking down, his frosty axe slicing deep into the giant monster’s shoulder. The creature roared in pain as ice immediately formed around the wound, coating the mottled black and white skin.

  “Lurp,” the beast roared, backhanding Niihlu.

  Niihlu flew back, retaining a hold on his axe and tearing it free before crashing into Angst. He rolled until he could stand, finding himself in the middle of both giant and monster. Niihlu sprang up, and the two circled Angst at opposite ends. He held out a hand to warn off Niihlu, and kept his sword aimed at the moving house.

  “We don’t have to do this,” Angst said, struggling to contain the quaver in his voice. “I’m tired of killing.”

  “I’m not,” Niihlu said, wiping slush from his chin. Part of his face was covered in hard, blue ice, like a bandage over a wound.

  “Lurp,” the creature shouted, rearing back on two arms and beating its hairy chest with the other four. Apparently, it had six arms, as large as graymowl tree trunks, but no legs. Right.

  Angst felt irritable. This was going to end badly, for him. These animals wanted to fight, and he was stuck in the middle, when he should’ve been checking on Faeoris and finding his friends. He knew the quickest way to stop this. It was an old trick he was very comfortable with. He willed magic into the ground and reached up to their bones.

  “What is this?” Niihlu asked, looking down at his legs.

  “Rawr?” Lurp blurted.

  “I’m going to step away,” Angst said cautiously, now that both were anchored to the ground. “When I’m gone, you two can work out your differences.” He took slow steps back, watching them struggle in place.

  “I’m...not...done...” Niihlu said, shakily lifting a foot and stepping toward Angst.

  The Nordruaut forced his other leg forward, and for the first time, that old trick fell apart. Something about it made sense. Even as broken as Niihlu was, he was Al’eyrn, and his foci would’ve taught him how to escape. Fortunately, “Lurp” was only a Vex’kvette monster...who was also freeing himself.

  “Oh, come on!” Angst said,
as realization struck him like food poisoning. Lurp had to be Al’eyrn too, born of the Vex’kvette and bonded to a foci. They weren’t going to give up, and Angst wasn’t going to be able to sneak away and find Faeoris. He’d have to fight his way through, like always. “Fine then. It’s on!”

  “Is this her?” a gravelly voice asked, his hot breath tickling her ear. His voice was filled with wonder. “The Berfemmian you were telling me about?”

  Faeoris moaned as he rolled her over, exposing her face and ribs, still throbbing from the giant’s swat. Her check was wet and warm, and she couldn’t open her eye, which ached. Her entire side felt like she’d flown into a tree. She struggled to draw a full breath. What was that thing? Angst needed her help, now! They needed to end this so she could go drink booze, and heal, and drink more booze.

  “I’m surprised she lived through Lurp’s attack,” he said over his shoulder. His eyes widened in surprise beneath the bone mask as he stood upright, looking around. “Felicia! That bitch is always disappearing when I need her. If she’s not helping to destroy Angst...”

  “Angst,” Faeoris wheezed, reaching up.

  “Oh, you’re one of his,” he said, kneeling down to grasp her throat. “I am Guldrich, and now you will be mine.”

  The world that had just started coming into focus was now hazy with spots. This creature was fiercely strong, his hold like a steel collar.

  “This little war will end quickly. I’ve seen the Nordruaut savages fight, and despite all their great strength, they are not warriors. Angst can’t defend himself against two Al’eyrn, and you’ve already experienced Lurp’s strength and speed. Once Lurp softens them up, I will kill the Nordruaut champion.”

  He released his grip, and she coughed, gasping for breath. The sadist was enjoying this; there was a gleam in his eye as he thoughtfully looked at his hand. He stretched out his fingers and balled them into a fist.

  “The Nordruaut Al’eyrn cut this arm off. I will enjoy killing him with it.” Guldrich glared down at Faeoris. “I won’t kill Angst right away. After I defeat him on the battlefield, I will take him as prisoner and break him, over and over. He will beg to tell me how to find Prendere, the prize that will end this war. When all is done, and Angst has witnessed his failure, only then will I kill him.”

  Faeoris rolled over to all fours and began to push herself up. She wasn’t fast enough. Guldrich’s bony foot lodged in her sore ribs as he kicked her with a satisfied grunt. She flipped over as she flew into the air, and he smashed down on her chest with two fists, driving her into the hard-packed snow.

  “I hear Berfemmian are quite strong,” he said gruffly, stomping on her stomach. “It’s a shame you are so damaged. I would have enjoyed our battle. But now I’ll just take you as my pet. I’ve always wanted a bird of my own.”

  This Fulk’han wasn’t just an enemy, he was an animal. His words were madness that made fury flow through her veins. She had never been so offended, so furious in all her life. Guldrich raised his foot over her face and stomped down. She grabbed his foot, twisted to her side, and slammed him to the snow.

  “I am no pet bird,” Faeoris said, standing over him and spitting a glob of blood in his face. Bright wings of orange, red, and yellow flared over her shoulders. “I have no time for fools, my friend needs me. When I’m done helping him, I’m coming back to rip you apart!”

  Before she could launch into the air, Guldrich grabbed her ankle and jerked back with a twist. Faeoris screamed as something in her knee snapped. He rolled, pulling her with him. The pain in her knee almost made her black out, but Angst needed her, and she wouldn’t fail him. They rolled together over and over until he ended up on top and smashed his fist into her face. Guldrich reared back to do it again, and she reached forward, grabbing his hand. She grasped the inside of his shoulder with her other hand, and with all her might and fierce determination, pulled.

  She didn’t stop pulling. He wailed in pain as muscles tore and tendons snapped. There was a noisy crack as his bony exterior gave way and she ripped his arm free. The Fulk’han fell onto his back, crying out in pain and gripping the empty socket of his shoulder. Blood darkened the snow, spoiling it like bruises on fruit. Faeoris stood and threw the wiggling arm to the ground in disgust.

  Even before she had time to take flight, tendrils reached out from his shoulder. Red, fibrous ropes crawled across the snow until they reached the distant arm. In a blink and a gasp, the arm returned to its socket and he wiggled his fingers.

  “Ewww!” she cried out. “What are you?”

  The Fulk’han’s laughter sounded like the choppy grating of stones. “Don’t you see? We can’t be killed!” He sat up and glared at her. “You can be, pet.”

  Angst would be fine, she believed in him, and this would only take minutes. She launched forward and grabbed Guldrich’s hand, placing a foot against his chest and pulled. Guldrich cried out in pain as she tore the arm free once again. She smashed his head with the arm over and over, jerking it free any time it started to reattach itself. She stopped when he finally lay still, the bone armor gone from his face, and his eyes wide with confusion. Faeoris threw the arm far away.

  “Let’s see if you can live through this” Faeoris snarled, grasping his leg. She pulled.

  It was slow going along the edge of the cliff, even on the swifen. This snow hadn’t been touched in ages and was waist deep. Horses wouldn’t have lived through this, and Hector was once again grateful for their swifen. He led them while assessing the battle four-hundred-ish yards away. His heart pounded in anticipation. The battle had gone on for too long, and Angst appeared to be losing. After far too many years on the battlefield, Hector had seen this time and time again. Honestly, Angst shouldn’t have lasted this long against those odds, and he felt a pinch of pride beneath a shadow of panic. Angst was going to die.

  “Faster!” Hector shouted. “He can’t do this alone!”

  “How can you see that far?” Rose asked.

  “I just can!” Hector growled. This was not the time to discuss his skills.

  “What do you see?” Dallow asked.

  “Angst is trying to fight two...somethings,” he called back over his shoulder. “A Nordruaut with an enormous icy axe...”

  “Ghorjfend,” Dallow said, his voice quavering. “It’s a foci...he’s fighting another Al’eyrn!”

  “Great,” Hector said, deadpan. “The other thing is just huge. A Vex’kvette monster with six arms, looks like an ape, holding its own against both of them.”

  “How is that possible?” Tarness asked.

  “Lurp is Al’eyrn too. Magic said so,” Alloria said. “We need to help Angst!”

  “Tarness, how much longer will this take?” Dallow asked.

  “It’s just too much. I won’t do this!” Tarness cried out, his fists pressed hard against his temples.

  “What are you talking about?” Rose asked, shuffling her swifen over to place a comforting hand on his leg.

  Tarness was practically hyperventilating, steam blasting out of his nose like a teapot ready to boil.

  “Can you hold on?” Hector said. “Just a little longer?”

  “We need to talk,” Tarness said with a nod, his thick brows furrowing. “But it can wait.”

  “Tarness, you look angry,” Hector said hopefully.

  “You don’t even know. What I’ve been through these last three months...” Tarness said with a grimace. “I’m...absolutely...furious!”

  “Stop,” Hector said, willing his panther swifen to a halt. He didn’t know what was making his friend so upset, other than the thought of Angst dying, but that anger brought Tarness great strength.

  “How’s your aim?” Hector asked.

  “I can hit a deer with an arrow from two-hundred-and-fifty yards,” Tarness said.

  “That’ll do,” Hector said. “Throw me.”

  “What?” everyone asked simultaneously.

  “Even if Tarness can get you there...” Dallow began.

  Tar
ness grunted.

  “...and I know you can,” Dallow went on quickly, “how will you survive that fall?”

  “I’ve got this!” Hector said, drawing two long swords.

  “Now you sound like Angst,” Rose said, a bundle of shiver and worry.

  “I believe in Angst,” he said. “Let’s give him what he needs to win.”

  Rose kissed him on a cheek. Hector turned and planted a full kiss on her lips. She didn’t pull back. When they were done, he winked.

  “This will be the best story,” he said.

  Hector hopped onto Tarness’s outstretched hand with one foot and crouched low.

  “Let your aim be true,” Hector said.

  53

  Angst was one swing away from death. While the other two Al’eyrn didn’t move in blurs like he did, they were fast as a sucker punch. Lurp’s four tree-trunk arms came from all directions or all at once. Niihlu’s strikes were viper-quick and strong like bull. It was less like a dance, and more like dodging arrows—angry arrows made from frostbite and boulders. Angst got short breaks, more like breaths, when Lurp and Niihlu attacked each other before remembering he was there. In the middle. Fighting for his life.

  From a distance, it must’ve appeared that Angst knew what he was doing. He blocked Lurp’s four-armed attacks with another air shield that shattered on contact. Simultaneously, Angst deflected the large icy battle axe with Chryslaenor. But he knew the awful truth. The only thing keeping him so barely alive was being bonded with two foci, and he only had one with him.

  “Lurp!” the monster shouted.

  “Oh shut up!” Angst cried, spinning wildly, his sword bouncing off two of the arms as if he were swinging a stick.

  Niihlu launched toward him, leaping into the air with his blade raised high, ready to chop down. Angst had less than a second to recover from his failed blow at Lurp. Reeling from Chryslaenor bounce, he spun about to smack the Nordruaut with the flat of his blade. The strike vibrated painfully and hurt Angst to the bone, but Niihlu flew back, landing near the fiery orb. He screamed and rolled away, giving Angst time to face Lurp.