A World Within

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A World Within Page 12

by James Somers


  Out of the tall grasses, several figures emerged with blades. They assailed the cyborgs quickly. By the time Daniel and Bon had arrived with the wagon, four metamen lay dead on the road and Marissa and one of the Bard Elves had cut Jale’s unconscious body free from the pole.

  The men quickly hoisted Jale up onto the wagon. “Daniel, I want you to try and rouse Jale from his slumber,” Marissa said, her auburn locks blowing with the breeze coming off of the Waron Sea. “We’re going on ahead to help the others with the rest of these cyborgs.”

  She and the others took off down the road. Daniel and Bon remained with the wagon, Jale, and the stench of dead cyborgs. Then again, metamen smelled bad enough when they were alive.

  AMBUSH

  Shots from the metamen’s guns pierced the trees behind Meineke. He remained just beyond their range. They used weapons that weren’t terribly accurate. The wil passed the place where Louie and his cherubs remained hidden. The cyborgs followed.

  Louie, Mickey, and Bob waited with baited breath for the metamen to pass the trees where they perched. When the group of fourteen cyborgs clamored by them, still chasing the wil, they let fly the arrows from their bowstrings. The cherubs may have been small of stature, but they had a reputation for deadly accuracy with bow and blade. No sooner had one arrow flown before they nocked another arrow and fired again.

  Their arms moved as blurs of motion. In mere moments, a hail of arrows from Louie and his cherubs reduced the cyborgs to pin cushions. Lieutenant Argle slumped to his knees, several arrows protruding from his back and chest. Meineke landed ten yards up the road. He returned to his normal state as he walked toward Argle. “Never take the friend of a wil, cyborg!”

  Argle grunted, slobber dribbling from his lips. He summoned the faint energies still coursing through his cybernetic mainframe and raised his pneumatic weapon, giving a last ditch effort to at least silence the pretentious little wil. Three arrows, one from each cherub, sank into Argle’s back. He fell forward to the ground, gurgling through his last breath.

 

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