by R. M Garino
“Command reports that they’re not in the infirmary,” a voice from outside the copse of trees said, his words tiny with distance. “They’re still in the area. Search beneath the trees.”
“So much for getting some distance,” Caradoc said in a whisper. “Think you better hurry.”
“Shush!” Arielle said.
Ignore everything around you, Angus sent. Trust your Pride to watch your back and focus. Nothing else exists but what you’re doing.
Arielle heeded the advice, and drew deep from the energy currents in the earth. Both halves of the Pride had already sustained significant injuries as the day wore on, but the failsafe she and Angus had constructed was ensuring that all of them stayed in play. They had created an inert node that drew from the earth, and affixed a thin filament of energy to each member. Should anyone take a wound serious enough to initiate the caster, the node would activate and heal them before it could trigger. It was not a complete healing, but it was enough to keep them viable.
Anything less than a mortal wound was up to Arielle to fix. Like the barbed arrow sticking out of Ba’ril’s side. She did not have the time to erase all the damage, but she could get him back on his feet.
Looks like they were able to overcome your trick with the comms after all, Angus, Ba’ril sent. There was a tightness to his mental voice as he attempted to push past his pain. Arielle adjusted the flows of his sin’del’s flux, and his voice cleared with a gasp as the injury closed. Was great while it lasted, though.
We can fix it, Denuelle sent. Right?
I don’tthink it’s our comms. Thomlin sent. Seems they’ve patched into the main display rigs scattered along the course. They’re watching us on the same net everyone else in the Patresilen is.
Then they’ll find where we’re hiding Hironata sent. We’ll have to move shortly.
Arielle scuttled over to where Gwen lay and pried her hands off her sides. Ignoring those around her, she manipulated her friend’s sin’del.
If I can get to an array, Angus sent, I might be able to slow them for a bit.
How long? Gwen sent. We’re going to have visitors soon.
Not sure, Angus sent. I haven’t had a good look at any of the rigs. It depends on what they’re using. Maybe five, ten minutes.
We’d have to pull from your periphery, Thomlin sent. You’d be on your own.
We can hold, Darien sent. Do what you can.
We got this, Ti’vol sent.
Rock on, Killa’. That’s the attitude, Darien sent.
We’ll meet up at the rock field a quarter mile down the trail, Thomlin sent.
Be careful, Arielle sent to Angus without the group hearing.
You as well, my love, Angus sent a heartbeat later. Not too tired are you?
No, she lied as she finished healing Gwen’s ribs. Three of them were fractured, not two, and one had actually punctured a lung. Maces should be outlawed in contests like this. I’m fine.
Scattered formation, Gwen sent. Let them come to us. Arielle, open up our trail and give them a way in.
She did not respond, but bent her sin’del to the undergrowth. The branches bent away, and the soft earth puckered as she allowed their tracks to reform in the loam.
Thomlin had called this half of the Pride the “baited” group. They hid in the thicket as the afternoon bled into early evening. It was not long before the first Blade noticed the path. Gwen, Hironata, Ti’vol, Ba’ril, Caradoc and Darien were dispersed throughout, waiting for the enemy to appear. She was surprised by how well Hironata integrated himself into their formation, and she was hard pressed to spot him now despite his size. She was, however, horrified by how often they had had to stop for Ti’vol. Despite all the training and physical conditioning they’d received at the Areth’kon and the Gates, she was still a weak, sickly thing. It was no wonder the Third had held the lowest tier for so long. With her to weigh them down, it was a wonder they’d progressed at all. Thankfully Darien had appointed himself her guardian.
She could sense Angus out in the woods, moving away from her. His half of the Pride consisted of Ossian, Thomlin, Enid, Nessah, Demona, and Denuelle. The Third had received ample training in the fine arts of disappearing that all scouts had to acquire. Even those who could not merge with the environment were all but invisible in the woods. The Twelfth, however, had only received the basics. It was a common assumption that House Kal’Parev snuck about, whereas House Fel’Mekrin would never dream of such a thing. What had surprised her was how easily her mates picked it up, especially Nessah. Arielle had never associated her with all the transcendental, meditational beliefs. Denuelle took to it with the same determination she did everything else.
The sound of a muffled footstep announced the vanguard of the pack.
The first Blade entered the static field of her Sin’del. She waited, letting them pass, drawing more into the trap. Three more followed. Ba’ril leapt up from his concealment and skewered the first soldier. Arielle broke cover and dove into the attacker, closing the distance to eliminate the advantage of extra reach his superior height gave him.
Yearlings! Gwen sent, recognizing Cora.
True to their reputation, the Yearlings reacted to the surprise attack as if they had been expecting it. They broke their formation and scattered amongst the trees. The one in front of Arielle met her attack with his own. With her left sword, she parried his blade, but he spun with the momentum and punched her in the face. The blow staggered her, and he followed through with a sideways kick to her middle. She twisted, and swung her left sword toward him. He met her blade with his own, and deflected it, the ring of steel resounding through the trees. She spun, and brought her right handed sword around with a backhanded swing. He ducked low, the blade’s edge clipping him along the ear, removing a chunk. He ignored the damage and slammed his sword into her middle and lifted her off the ground, impaling her into a nearby trunk. The back of her head struck the immoveable wood, and her sword slipped from her left hand. He withdrew his blade, and struck her with a blow of his pommel against the side of her head. Her knees buckled as he swung the edge of his blade for her neck. She slipped down the bole, the sword hacking off an inch of her hair that trailed behind her. She struck out with her remaining sword, piercing his belly with an upward lunge. True to what she’d been taught to expect, he disappeared in an imploding cascade of light as soon as she pulled her blade free.
The Areth’kon did not believe in pulling its punches in live combat matches. The mantra, learned within the first year of training upon the Vaults, held that a Blade performed as they practiced. To force them to hold back in an exercise would lead to disaster on a real battlefield. Gwen met her opponent stroke for stroke, each dancing around the other. She was favoring her right side and her half healed ribs. Sensing the weakness, the Yearling caught her with a savage knee to the side that bent her double. With a backstroke, Gwen hacked him across the chest. He staggered back, and she stabbed him through the belly.
Hironata was wrestling with his adversary, each having disarmed the other, and they fought to gain the upper hand. Hironata’s nose was shattered, and blood flowed down his chin. He twisted, getting an arm around the Yearling’s throat. He locked his arm by grabbing his wrist, and using his tremendous height and strength, lifted him from the earth. His opponent disappeared in a flash of light.
Ba’ril’s sin’del activated the node as the Yearling’s blade slipped between his ribs. Ba’ril grabbed her by the shoulder, and her smile of triumph dissipated when his caster did not trigger. With a growl he slammed his sword into her middle. She vanished, but her weapon remained embedded in him as he dropped to his knees.
Four more behind you, Arielle announced to them all as her sin’del was triggered.
As one, those who stood spun to meet the new threat, sending up a chorus of “Oohraah!”
Four more Blades charged them from the trail. Caradoc, Darien, and Ti’vol exploded from their hiding places to meet them.
Carado
c was knocked to the ground by a vicious blow to the head after his initial thrust was turned aside. He rolled away from the sword stabbing into the ground, and swung his foot around to kick his attacker in the elbow with his heel. The Yearling danced away, his arm broken. He twisted and lashed out, his boot connecting with Caradoc’s jaw, which exploded in a spray of blood and teeth. Hironata hurled his war hammer at the Yearling’s head. The implosion of light announced a successful strike.
Ti’vol was disarmed within seconds and knocked to the ground with a backhanded fist. Her enemy stepped back and let her regain her feet. With the tip of his sword he ripped a pair of shallow cuts to her legs and a gash on her forehead as she made for her weapon. He opened the flesh of her face with a cut across her check, and when she pulled back, he slashed across the top of her chest. He threw his head back, laughing in derision as she fell back to the ground.
“Stupid little girl,” he said, flipping his blade in a lazy figure eight as he approached her prone form. “I’m gonna make this hurt. And when we’re done here, I’m gonna come and visit you in the infirmary and make it hurt some more. We’ll have ourselves lots of fun.”
He placed the tip of his blade against her pelvis, just inside of her hip bone, and leaned his weight upon it. Ti’vol cried out as the steel penetrated. His laughter died when her caster did not activate.
“Guess we’ll have to have our fun right here,” he said as he withdrew his weapon. He grabbed her shirt and hoisted her up. His eyes flew open as she latched onto his neck and pulled herself against him, her belt knife piercing his lung. She withdrew the dagger, and slammed it in again and again until he disappeared.
Darien’s shield and left arm splintered beneath the blow of a hammer. He threw himself into his foe, knocking her back with his shoulder. He followed through with the pommel of his sword, but she ducked. She struck his left shoulder with the spike of her hammer and drove him down. With her foot, she pushed him into a patch of snow and stood above him, raising the hammer head with confident leisure. Ti’vol crashed against her from behind, her blade slicing open a kidney. The woman vanished, and Ti’vol landed on top of Darien.
The final Yearling found himself surrounded by four grotesquely bloodied members of the Pride. He grinned at them and saluted with his weapon.
“Well done,” he said. “Not every group of graduates can say they bested a pack of Yearlings.”
No one spoke in response. Hironata feinted an attack, and the Yearling responded. Arielle and Gwen moved at the same time, impaling him from two sides as Caradoc’s thrust caught him in the base of the neck.
The now familiar cry of “Huzzah!” went up as the last of the enemy disappeared in a cascade of light.
“Seven hells!” Darien said, as Ti’vol rolled off of him. “Killer it is. You’re a badass little bitch, you know that.” Ti’vol grasped her middle as she giggled, burying her face in Darien’s uninjured shoulder.
Sheathing a sword, Arielle tended to her disabled squad. She used her life force, and some of Darien’s own, to repair the bone and stop the internal bleeding. Turning her attention to Ti’vol, she sewed the numerous lacerations shut with magic, embedding the wound with a few deft stitches of energy.
Gwen and Hironata waved her off, and she turned her attention to Ba’ril who lay with the weapon still embedded in his flesh.
“Hiro,” she said, indicating the hilt. He nodded and yanked the blade free. Ba’ril gasped and almost lost consciousness, but Arielle held him fast with her sin’del, as Trenton had done to Leah.
“That will hold,” she said when she repaired the worst of the damage, “but you need to favor that side.”
“Damned useful,” Darien said, rolling his shoulder to test it.
“Wonderful thing, having your very own wannabe Magi,” Hironata said.
“Not Magi,” Gwen said, not masking the pride in her voice. “Mala’kar.”
****
Angus shook his head as he examined the rig. The workmanship was sloppy and second rate.
“This thing’s at least a thousand years old,” he told his half of the Pride. “They’re still using a collinear syndrome to enhance the image capture.”
“Great,” Demona said. “Can you bypass it?”
“Of course,” he said. “Honestly, I was expecting better.”
“Geek out later,” Denuelle said. “We have to get back.”
“And yer killing my back,” Thomlin added.
He grunted an agreement and set to work. He extended his sin’del and enfolded the crystalline structure of the construct set high in the tree as he balanced on Thomlin’s shoulders. In his mind, he saw the interplay of energy signatures as they flitted across the gems that studded the surface. These were the lenses that captured the images. Another set of crystals within the array broadcast the audio and visual to the central rigs, which then sent them further afield.
“Company’s coming,” Nessah announced, pointing further up the trail. She and the others were facing away from the array, scanning the mountainside for any sign of hostiles. “Northwest.”
“Two packs!” Ossian said as he reappeared further up the slope. “Both Fel’Mekrin.”
“Time’s up,” Thomlin said, shifting beneath him.
“You go,” Angus said. The tree he leaned against was very compliant and agreed to his request when he reached out to it. A growth appeared near his knees and continued to expand until there was a small platform. Shifting his weight, Angus took his weight off his cousin and transferred it to the tree.
“Really?” said Thomlin. “You could’ve done that the whole fecking time, you shit?”
Agnus looked down at him and grinned.
“Watch it,” he said. “You’re in spitting distance.”
“Form up!” Thomlin said. “Scouts, merge until they’re on us. Let’s give them a tempting target.”
Ossian, Enid, Nessah, and Denuelle disappeared from view as they entered the Ri’en.
Demona moved to stand next to Thomlin.
“We’re gonna get our fecking heads handed to us,” she said.
“And so we will,” Thomlin said in response, his gaze locked on the tree line.
“Don’t you ever get tired of getting beat on?”
Thomlin shook his head. “Not so long as I can hit back.”
“Boots in the blood?”
Thomlin spared her a smile. “And screamin’ our defiance.”
Demona drew her sword and freed her shield from her shoulder. “Wouldn’t have it any other way.” Looking up at Angus, she called, “You about done up there?”
“If by done you mean finished,” he said, “then no.”
“Just hurry up,” she said. “It’d be a shame for you to miss the abuse we’re about to receive. We all know how much they enjoy beating on you.”
Angus chuckled and continued his task. The center crystal was glowing red again, and he knew that it was once more active and broadcasting.
“Hello, world,” he said, leaning in for a close up. It was not every day that one received the chance to speak directly to the entire populace. “Hi mother. Don’t mind me. Go back to whatever it was you were doing. You see, those in charge of this little contest decided to cheat a little, and I’m just evening the odds. Would you believe that they set the entire contingent of the Gates against us? It’s shameful, really. And here we are trying so hard to provide quality entertainment for the masses.”
“Shut up and get to work up there!” Demona said.
“As you can imagine, things are a little stressful over here in Gauntlet land,” he said as he resumed his task. “Right now, we have two packs of Fel’Mekrin pledges rushing toward us. Should be a good show.”
The attackers burst from the cover of the trees, loping down the slope to where Thomlin and Demona waited. “Forward the Blades,” they shouted as they ran. If anything, the sight of two graduates defending a third who was stuck up a tree spurred them on.
Wait for them to engage
, Thomlin sent.
The vanguard broke upon them with inarticulate cries. Thomlin jumped forward to meet them, his shield upraised. He deflected the first attacker’s strike and lunged, only to have his foe rotate away. Another came in behind the first, batting Thomlin’s sword to the side. Thomlin spun, and bashed his shield against her head. She dropped in a heap, vanishing before she hit the floor. The first moved back in, raking his blade up Thomlin’s side. Demona struck as he dropped, hacking diagonally across the Fel’Mekrin’s chest and sending him to the infirmary. Four more followed.
A flight of arrows slammed into them as Ossian and Enid revealed themselves. Three disappeared. Nessah and Denuelle appeared as the rear guard entered the fray, and attacked them from behind. Two more attackers fell to their assault. The rest engaged individual targets as they assessed the situation.
Demona’s arm was broken at the elbow as her enemy blocked her thrust and pivoted within her guard. Her sword fell from her hand, and her opponent slammed his blade into her belly. He stepped back, confident that she was done, and when he turned she smashed her shield into the back of his head.
Denuelle fought to move forward to assist, but was met with two assailants. She moved from one to the other, deflecting their thrusts and falling back. One dropped low and sliced open her thigh. The other, taking advantage of her distraction caught her on the side of the neck, his blade moving past in a spray of blood. She staggered and gripped her neck. The two Pledges paused, but when her caster did not activate, they pressed in again. Defenseless, she was unable to turn the blow that eviscerated her, nor the lunge that punctured her liver. And still, her caster did not activate. Both opponents paused again, unsure of what was happening. One stopped an arrow with his throat. The second was knocked to the ground as Nessah’s foe was shoved into him. She was still on top of him, her teeth latched onto his neck and his spear embedded firmly in her side. Denuelle’s opponent wiggled out from beneath them, and landed a solid kick to the side of her head.