by C K Burch
“Good on you, kid. I'm gonna pick you up, and then we're gonna – ”
“What,” Jack interjected, pointing her gun at the far wall, “was that?”
Dust froze. Instinctively, he knew to push forward, and thusly he did, cradling the boy in his arms as he lifted him from the floor. But his senses kept drawing him towards whatever Jack was aiming the pistol towards, as the Bandara in the room had all become frozen in place, hunched over, prepared for something to happen.
“Do not move,” Karaang warned quietly.
Dust squinted; he couldn't make anything out. Either it was the darkness in the room or the fact that everything along the walls was thick and green. Perhaps Jack's years of training on the gun range provided her with better eyesight. Try though he might, he could see no immediate danger, and yet he could feel its presence.
Slowly, like a veil lifted in the wind, he saw it.
What at first had presented as one of the statues in the environment was a creature that shifted ever-so-slightly. Here, now that he was staring at it, he could see it wavering in place, perched upright on a torso that was connected to a thick, long, curled tail, scaled and heavy like a snake's. Its upper half consisted of two reptilian arms, not unlike a crocodile's, and a long heavy snout which matched this description. Green skin blended effortlessly into the surrounding jungle plantlife, either a sight that these predators had evolved to match this environment...or worse, they could camouflage themselves in a chameleonic manner.
What surprised Dust even further was that he had the time to surrender to these thoughts, to roll them around in his mind with analytical process. This creature – a naga – merely suspended itself upright and stared back at the group of intruders. Beyond this, it did nothing. Something was wrong.
Like a bolt of lightning, it occurred to him: they were being distracted.
Shifting to the right, Dust quickly scanned the walls of the interior, and noticed that the other statues were also naga in disguise. Snakes, upright, arms crossed over their chests, facing towards the center of the room. None of them wavered as the other one did, but they were all clearly naga, all green and hidden and waiting to strike. They had been watching and waiting the entire time, perched for the proper moment to enact their trap.
One of them turned to look at Dust.
Dust whispered, “Jack. On your right. When I say. Shoot.”
Jack whispered back, “What?”
“Trust me. When I say.”
She nodded.
The closest naga flinched.
“Shoot!”
Whirling to face the beast, Jack turned and immediately found her sight. The naga spun in time to come at them, its arms came uncrossed to reach outward as a cobra's hood spread out along the sides of its neck. A double-hinged jaw opened far too wide to reveal rows of serrated teeth and a forked tongue nearly as long as Dust's forearm. Jack did not hesitate and put four rounds into the naga's chest; it fell over, quivering in death throes like a broken marionette.
Quickly, so quickly Dust had little time to negotiate the reality of it, the other naga sprang forward. Hissing, growling, slithering, screeching in time with one another, their attack was coordinated and fierce. But the Bandara were ready: Karaang and Johyung stepped between the onslaught and their human companions and crashed their battle maces down across the heads of the naga with precise brutality. A pair of serpents dodged the attack, attempting to slither around to bring their sharp claws through the flesh of their prey, but Jack was quicker: the pistol in her hands became a blur of motion as two rounds fired, one in each target, enough to slow the beasts down before she settled on the closest naga and finished it off with a volley that thundered and echoed in the close quarters. Beside them, the final naga was grabbed by Karaang and she pressed her knee into its back to force it prone upon the floor, where she reached down and grasped its upper and lower jaw with her powerful hands. With a mighty pull, she broke its lower jaw and shoved the upper half through its brainpan. All became silent.
Jack ejected the empty magazine and replaced it. It was the loudest sound in the building, which spoke volumes that something was still wrong.
“That was too easy,” Dust mused.
Shattering the silence, battle cries and sounds of torment from the other Bandara guardians came from the outside. “NAGA!” one of them shouted, even as the cry cut off immediately in a gurgling report that sounded like a slashed throat. Karaang growled something unintelligible as both she and Johyung leapt outside to join their sisters in combat. Dust did not hesitate either, collecting Cairn as close to his body as he could, leapfrogging over slick vines as Jack followed close behind in pursuit.
As they stepped across the threshold, the writhing body of a naga fell before them, reeling from a terrific attack. Dust slipped and skidded to a halt, with Jack nearly crashing into him, as the beast flailed about, attempting to right itself and flip over to its stomach. Unseen hands dragged it up and off of the ground in a brief, tumultuous motion like an Olympian wielding a hammer, and Dust leaned forward just in time to see Johyung swing the naga in wide arc, clutching the snake by the tail, and upon release smashed the naga into the nearby jeep. The naga screeched in agony as the vehicle fell over onto all four wheels once more – giving Dust an idea.
Before them the scene was absolute madness: the street and the walls surrounding them seemed to be thriving with movement, as mythical snake beings slithering up, down, and along the way with a speed that was terrifying to realize. Dust blinked and they had all moved into different positions; there were too many to count. So many that the remaining guard of Bandara – five total now, two felled by the attack – seemed hopelessly outnumbered at first glance.
But Karaang and Johyung were leading a defense that was mighty, their true strength on full display. With practiced, measured swings, Karaang brought her mace down upon the naga again and again, sometimes clipping the serpents at just the right spot to delay their movements, sometimes crushing torsos outright. No beast stood in her way, despite the zipping, swirling motions the naga left in their wake as they swarmed about. Two of them slithered up her torso and were denied: she dropped her mace and with a hefty clap Karaang brought her hands together in order to crack their skulls in collision.
Meanwhile, Johyung stood tall without weapon in hand, wrestling her foes with such smooth confidence and ease that Dust felt a terror in his heart that had nothing to do with the reptilian monsters she was fighting. Johyung shattered bone and twisted joints into deadly positions with short, decisive force. Even as her victory seemed assured, Johyung allowed herself to absorb the violent attacks assaulting her: fur flew, flesh was rent, blood spilled across her body, and yet she stood tall in defiance. For the time being, the naga were satisfied to focus solely on the Bandara, but at any moment that could change. Dust understood that they needed to escape, at least for Cairn's sake.
Jack raised her pistol, but Dust quickly reached out and pushed her hand down.
“We gotta get out of here!” he told her. “The jeep!”
With this understanding they moved as one, quickly and quietly amongst the chaos before them. As they came to the vehicle, one of the naga sprung upwards from the ground and coiled itself onto the backseat and faced them, hood spread wide to block the way. Two elongated fangs emerged from the serrated teeth within its maw, dripping with what could only be venom, hissing violently with its forked tongue shimmering wildly, daring the soft humans to approach the vehicle.
From the left, Karaang's mace soared through the air and crushed the naga's head.
“Go!” Karaang roared over her foes. “Save the child!”
Dust placed Cairn in the passenger seat. He turned to Jack. “You drive!”
Jack began to protest. “I shoot better than you! You drive!”
Dust tapped the side of his head, then held out his hand. “You know the map, you drive! Gun!”
Relenting, Jack tossed Dust the pistol as he hopped into the backseat of
the jeep. He checked the slide and ensured he still had a new magazine or two on his belt. Then he uncoiled the whip and planted his feet solidly against the oncoming momentum as Jack twisted the keys in the ignition.
The engine sputtered. Nothing happened.
Dust turned, his blood cold. “Jack?”
Jack gave no answer. Continuing to twist the key, she pumped the pedal in an attempt to flood the gas. Sputtering, dying reports came from beneath the hood, and Dust imagined all of their hopes releasing as that same sound.
He turned to look at the battle once more – just to see two naga coming at them from either side. Dust swept the bullwhip high over his head, then brought it down: two pops, one on the left, one on the right, exploded amongst the vicious cries of furor, and both naga recoiled in surprise. Dust then took the time to shoot them both in the torso, which was not enough to kill, but more than enough to delay. He tried for a third shot to finish one of them off and the gun clicked empty. One of the gods was having a hell of a time at his expense today.
“Jack!” Dust shouted, returning to the whip as his offense. Cracking left and right, hard, over and over, he kept the wounded naga at bay, but a third was approaching from above and to the right, which was problematic. It perched just within his peripheral vision, waiting, sensing for the proper moment to launch itself across the air and attack. Dust decided for it, and cracked the whip in its direction. Distance was his enemy; the flail fell short. The naga, realizing the limit of reach, held back, prepared.
Still the jeep's engine refused to turn. For a moment, Dust allowed himself to feel that this might be the end. Lady Luck had been too kind to him over the years, but yet, her guidance could only go so far. Refusing to give in without a fight, Dust paused his whipping to replace the magazine in the pistol and ensure a loaded chamber. One final launch into the breach, as it were.
At last, the jeep roared to life. Perhaps Lady Luck was not without another blessing.
Jack pressed the accelerator to the floor, and with a wild lurch the jeep pulled forward at last, tires spinning aimlessly over mossy roots until they caught purchase. With the lurch, Dust lost his balance momentarily, yet managed to keep himself from falling out of the vehicle – but as he did the pistol slipped from his grasp and fell out onto the street with a clatter.
Dust stared at it as they drove away. “Oh, shit.”
“What?” Jack called over her shoulder.
“Nothing!”
“Oh shit what?”
“Nothing! Drive fast!”
Dust looked out beyond them: a trio of naga were slithering towards them at top speed. The jeep was trundling along somewhat slower than it should if it were in better condition, and he could feel the shocks beneath his feet straining and complaining with each bounce along the uneven road. For the naga, there was no such hindrance: they sped along and over every root and crevice, and they were catching up with frightening assuredness.
“Drive faster!” he shouted, and he curled the whip to attack.
With the first crack he connected with his oncoming target. The middle naga's skull split open partially, leaving a pair of wide, dead eyes to drift forever in surprise. It tumbled forward, the torso flopping uselessly about as the tail's momentum kept going and fell over the body like a drape. Had it not been a life-or-death situation, it would have been comical.
Returning to his other targets, Dust unfurled another crack, this time to the naga on the left, but it anticipated this. Where the flail struck, the serpent had already leaned to one side, just out of reach. This allowed the one on the right to sneak up closer, but Dust turned and cracked at that beast to deny it, yet it, too, was prepared, and slipped backwards in retreat. However, as it did, the beast entered a doorway to its side, and disappeared within. Unfortunate.
Losing sight of the creature was simultaneously a relief and a desperate anxiety, as now it would appear anywhere, from any angle, but all he could do was anticipate and deal with the beast still in front of him. No gun meant that he would need to be creative with his method of dispatch, but for this he remained ever resourceful. Quickly reaching into his utility belt, he found a stray flare that he kept on his person for circumstances that required signals during adventure. The naga continued onwards towards them, faster than the jeep, continually dodging Dust's whip attacks. Within seconds it would be within reach, but here now Dust was ready.
Coiling its tail, the serpent leapt upwards from the road and crossed over the rear of the jeep, claws outstretched, jaw wide open. Dust popped the flare to life, a red burst of white heat and nitrates sparkling with vicious quality. He brought the flare to the fore as the naga attempted to bite down upon him, and he shoved the firework into its mouth. Something like a screech emitted from its maw, but with the flare sputtering and burning loudly, it was difficult to tell; what was evident, though, was that the burn drew great pain from the beast, causing it to slip away and roll off of the jeep, clawing at its own snout in defiant agony. Dust grinned to himself – that had been almost too easy.
“Hard left!” Jack shouted, and she took a strong corner that Dust held little time to brace for. The rear of the jeep skipped along the street, bouncing off of one vine or another, and the tail of the whip nearly went under the wheels and caught. He pulled it away madly, going down on one knee as if to propose, and heard Cairn shout some sort of warning. Looking upwards, he saw that the naga which had disappeared had made its way up into one of the higher levels of the buildings surrounding, and had thrown itself out of the upper window towards him.
Instinct kicked in: Dust held the whip taut between both hands and shoved it into the open mouth of the serpent like a gag, choking and holding the beast at bay. He was instantly pushed back against the front seats by its weight, desperately holding the whip in place, and the naga's arms clawed and whirled about to tear at his shoulders, flaying his skin. His reach was equal to that of the naga, and his strength was just enough to match as well. But its claws were potent, continually raking down and through his shoulders, drawing more than just blood. Dust grit his teeth and pushed back, but he couldn't withstand this. He had to think desperate.
“Hit the brakes!” he screamed.
Jack looked over her shoulder briefly. “Hold tight!”
She slammed the brake and the jeep responded. As it did, skipping and tripping about, Dust lifted his knees up into the snake's belly, and pushed upward with all his remaining strength. Momentum carried his foe over him and the front seats; it crashed onto the hood and tumbled over it onto the street, dazed for just a moment. Jack renewed the acceleration and drove over the creature, to the accompanying sound of thumping and bones crunching.
For a brief pause, Dust wondered if the jeep would still continue onwards in its present state, and by blessed miracle, it did. But Dust's body was not in a similar state: his shoulders had been flayed ragged, and any movement more than flexing his elbows at the joint resulted in in catastrophic agony. He would not be able to use his whip, and if anything else attempted to give them grief, that would be problematic.
Jack called back: “How are we looking?”
With blood running down his arms, Dust replied, “We're looking fine. Keep going.”
Cairn, however, stared back at Dust with terror in his eyes; the boy understood that all was indeed not well. In fact, despite events, Dust was no doubt in worse condition than Cairn was. A brief instant passed, and Cairn's eyes flicked back and forth between the two elders with him, as though he needed to communicate this new development.
Dust shook his head at the boy. Jack would know soon enough.
“How close are we?” Dust called forward.
“Close! I think.” Jack's voice was confident enough. “How are you?”
“I'll be fine,” Dust groaned, even though he didn't believe his own words. It had been quite some time since he'd sustained an injury of this sort, if ever at all. Blood soaked into the sleeves of his shirt, and he felt it begin to run down his ribcage t
owards his waistline. Part of him felt confidence that, since they were currently on their way towards the honey of immortality, all should shortly be well once he had the opportunity to consume some of it. Simultaneously, he would have to not bleed out on the journey there to do so.
Jack looked back. She did a double take, horror eclipsing her features. “Dust!”
“Just keep driving,” he muttered in response, already feeling weak. Somehow, he needed to fashion a tourniquet of some kind. His hands fumbled at his belt to no response. He smiled; bleeding out seemed to be quite a bit more probable than he'd given due.
“Keep your eyes open!” Jack shouted. Her voice seemed far away. “We're close! We're almost there!”
“I'm gonna be fine,” he replied, meaning to have more snark attached to his words, but found himself unable to muster the edge necessary.
“Eyes open! Do you hear me?”
“Just, uh,” Dust replied, “just make sure the kid, the kid, just save the kid.”
A small hand reached down and took his.
“Stay awake, guv!” Cairn pled. “Don't give us any frights!”
Dust nodded absent-mindedly, and sat himself up a little straighter. A rough bounce on the road shifted him, and he felt something pinch his leg, reviving his constitution.
“Okay, kid,” he said, working hard to keep his strength up. “Okay. Alright.”
And yet, despite the boy's hand desperately clutching his, he wondered if he could keep the promise.
What felt like an eternity passed. There was no incident, no further attacks. Just the blur of the world around as Dust fought with himself to remain conscious at the boy's request. Muffled noises and sounds of talking lingered around him like internal dialogue, real enough that he understood there was someone speaking, but not so realized that it felt as though it were out loud. At some point, he felt the motion of the jeep come to a halt, and all was still. Perhaps in this moment he felt he could finally rest, and then his agony would come to an end.
Something slapped at his forearm. Cairn. Of course. Dust opened his eyes and forced himself to focus until the youth's face sharpened as much as it could. There was worry and fear there, and when Jack came around his other side, he expected there to be worry there, too. Not so: her face was stoic, lined with determination, unreadable. He smiled to himself, noting that she had truly come into her own during this adventure, and he was proud of her in a way.