The Witch; Stronghold; Underworld

by Ky Tyrand

  “We need to find her,” said Je’nna. “Do you have any idea where she would have gone?”

  The boy looked from the small opening, back to the dark passage. He tried to make sense of where they were in relation to the floorplan. Though he’d rarely been inside the Royal Chambers, Petch had swept the hallways enough times to have a reasonable understanding of where things ought to be. “Do you think she might have gone after her uncle?”

  Je’nna felt a jolt run through her. “Yes,” she admitted. She’s stupid enough to do something like that.

  Petch pointed around the corner, down the dark corridor they hadn’t explored yet. “I don’t know where this thing leads, but Tho’ran’s chamber should be that way…”

  “Let’s go,” said Je’nna, after closing the small door and shining her light into the darkness.

  The boy followed close behind as she scurried off.

  Click, click.

  Click, click.

  Click, click.

  25

  The tattooed man marched down the sloping roof. He ignored Tho’ran and headed straight for Ki’ara. The look in his eye said everything. All that mattered to him was hurting the Princess.

  Tho’ran moved to intercept. His staff was raised, even though the tips – normally glowing with Blue Energy – were dark.

  Ki’ara was surprised by what she was witnessing. Is Tho’ran really going to stand up for me?

  A loud thump near the top of the roof made her jump…

  One of the spiders that had been dangling precariously from the overhang had suddenly dropped, smashing onto the roof directly below the skylight windows. It immediately began to slide and roll, picking up speed as the metallic mass was pulled downward. But, unlike the previous bots, this one made no attempt to gain its footing. All eight of its slim legs were curled up, not moving apart from being spun around as its spherical body rolled. The light that had been trained on Ki’ara was now dark. It was as if the monster had just… died.

  Like Sylor had sucked the life out of it.

  Tho’ran spotted the large sphere moving toward him, prompting him to scramble aside and hope that it bowled over the tattooed man on the slope above him.

  The massive ball was on target to hit the angry warrior, and Ki’ara desperately wanted to see it happen. She wished it would take him out at the knees and drag him over the ledge. But at the last instant, Sylor – who was facing downslope with his back turned to the round robot – simply stepped to the side as the heavy orb rolled by. He didn’t appear to be caught off guard in the slightest, and barely broke pace as it barreled by.

  Does he have eyes in the back of his head?

  The sphere rolled over the ledge and disappeared from sight, crashing to the ground a moment later.

  After casually avoiding the metal globe, Sylor drew a sword from around his back. It was a curved blade, similar to what his brother had used against Ki’ara and her father, but larger. And, of course, there was only one.

  The Princess backed away.

  She had no way of defending herself against the huge man, and wouldn’t dare let him get hold of her. Just his approach was enough to send stinging pain under her skin, throughout her body.

  His dark energy was neutralizing her Mu’turi, just like it had her weapons.

  Ki’ara’s feet began to slip. She didn’t even realize that she had been using her Mu’turi to help grip the slippery shingles with her feet.

  Sylor seemed completely unaffected by the strong wind and hazardous footing, plodding diagonally down the dangerous slope on a direct path toward Ki’ara. He had an uncanny ability to keep his feet firmly planted on the steep and slippery tiles, which made him either terribly foolish, or gave him an enormous advantage. Ki’ara hadn’t decided which. She wondered if Sylor noticed that he was walking directly under the last spider.

  His twisted grin was enough to convince Ki’ara that it wasn’t worth sticking around to find out. She was about to bolt when, from out of nowhere, Tho’ran’s staff swung across at Sylor’s leg.

  It would have taken him out at the knee had the tattooed man not lifted his leg, ever so casually absorbing the blow with the thick sole of his boot.

  His sword flashed across at Tho’ran, who ducked under the blade and moved between Sylor and Ki’ara.

  With a swift maneuver, Tho’ran’s staff came up, nearly clocking the bigger man in the chin.

  Sylor stepped back, allowing the uppercut to slip by before his foot hit Tho’ran hard in the chest. The kick lifted Tho’ran from his stable position and carried enough force to throw him through the swirling air.

  Ki’ara dove to the side as her uncle flew past her.

  After skidding down the rooftop toward the ledge, Tho’ran was somehow able to gain traction just in time to prevent himself from falling. He immediately got back to his feet and charged up the rooftop to once again intercept Sylor before the tattooed man could reach his niece.

  The Princess considered rolling right off the ledge and getting as far away from Syjak’s brother as she could. But something was keeping her here. Despite the fact that she was weaponless, a third of his size, and knew there was little she could do to defeat the man, Ki’ara couldn’t bring herself to run away.

  And then she realized what was keeping her here: Her uncle.

  Though she knew Tho’ran wanted her dead, he was risking his own life to protect her from Sylor. Ki’ara didn’t know what to make of it, but she couldn’t pull her eyes away.

  Their weapons clanged together in a ferocious duel of staff versus sword, which continued until Tho’ran’s long weapon clipped Sylor’s other arm, knocking the black glove free of the tattooed man’s stumped wrist.

  “I see that you’ve lost something since I saw you last,” Tho’ran observed.

  “One more thing your little Princess has taken from me,” Sylor spat. “One more debt she owes me that I intend to collect.”

  Ki’ara didn’t like sound of that.

  The men continued their clash of testosterone as the wind whipped furiously from side to side, making the Princess wonder how the fighters could appear so immune to it, when every gust threatened to carry her off.

  What amazed her most was that Sylor’s moves seemed effortless, as if he foresaw each attack coming long before Tho’ran even planned to swing.

  Contrary to that, Tho’ran’s attacks no longer looked as crisp and polished as they normally would. He was moving slower. Sloppier.

  It was evident that the wounds Ki’ara had given him – especially the one through his shoulder – were preventing him from moving properly, and causing a great deal of pain. Ki’ara’s blade had cut a hole clean through his shoulder, and no doubt severed all kinds of tissue that hampered him to the point that he couldn’t effectively defend himself.

  If this went on, her uncle would surely lose.

  Is that really so bad?

  Despite how much she hated Tho’ran for what he had done, Ki’ara found herself silently rooting for him. If she had to choose between the man responsible for betraying and killing her own father, or the evil-oozing, energy-sucking demon brother of the man she herself had killed, there would be no contest.

  This realization alone surprised Ki’ara.

  At least she didn’t feel helpless around her uncle.

  And he did seem to be trying to protect her, at least from torture, even if he ultimately still wanted her dead.

  Ki’ara didn’t know what she should do. What she could do.

  She still had the G.R.

  The pain under her skin was getting unbearable. Her Mu’turi was trying to fight Sylor’s ability to block it, but she knew it was just a matter of time. The sooner she got some distance between herself and that man, the better.

  But something kept her there, watching as Tho’ran took a hard hit from the butt of Sylor’s hilt. He hadn’t been able to block it, and the strike knocked him senseless, sending Tho’ran toppling to the smooth shingles.

  Ki�
�ara nearly choked.

  Her uncle was down, and Sylor was moving in to finish his handiwork. For the first time since stepping foot onto the rooftop, he appeared more focused on Tho’ran than Ki’ara.

  A million thoughts ran through the girl’s mind as she wondered what she should do. What she landed on was, “Hey, isn’t it me that you want?”

  Sylor stopped and turned his attention to the Princess.

  Ki’ara was confident that he wanted her to suffer much more than he wanted Tho’ran dead.

  He stepped away from her uncle, just like she suspected he would.

  The girl let out a breath.

  It seemed like nothing more than a sigh of relief.

  But Sylor spotted it.

  His sole purpose was to see Ki’ara suffer.

  And she had inadvertently let on that she didn’t want the tattooed soldier to harm her uncle.

  In Sylor’s mind, that was reason enough to do the opposite. He stepped over Tho’ran and looked Ki’ara in the eye, his sword glinting in the light.

  The girl knew exactly what was about to happen…

  Her uncle would be executed; not because he deserved it – solely to punish Ki’ara.

  This morning, Ki’ara would have thought nothing of Tho’ran being made to pay for his crimes. But that wasn’t what this was. This was wrong. It was clear that Sylor would kill and torture anyone if it would hurt the Princess. And Ki’ara couldn’t let that happen.

  She leapt, straight at Sylor.

  Her G.R. lifted her upward, but not nearly as high as she was expecting. Ki’ara meant to kick Sylor in his tattooed face, but settled for his stomach instead. It was a hard hit, but his solid torso was like booting a brick wall.

  Even brick walls could be toppled. Especially when they were standing on steep roof pitches.

  Like Tho’ran, Sylor’s feet had no place to go against the sloping shingles. Even with little weight behind it, Ki’ara’s kick had just enough momentum to knock the big man back, tripping him up until he landed on his butt.

  Unfortunately, he still hadn’t relinquished his grip on the curved sword. From a seated position, Sylor could still slice her in half with one swipe.

  Ki’ara hadn’t thought beyond this point, and had no weapon to finish him. Her entire body was on fire from the pain of her Mu’turi trying to fight the Dark Matter possessed by Sylor. And yet, she knew that if he caught hold of her, this pain would be no match for the agony she would face.

  With nothing else coming to mind, the Princess kneed him hard in the chin before springing away.

  This hit rattled the man. It landed square and sent Sylor’s head all the way back to the shingles.

  Yes! Ki’ara felt triumphant – right up until she realized her G.R. wasn’t lifting her like she was expecting. The Princess thought she’d put some distance between herself and Sylor… but there was never enough.

  She looked down to see the man’s cold eyes moving up to hers.

  Ki’ara lost her breath.

  The girl was stuck in the air above Sylor, hovering within reach, with nowhere to go but down.

  There was no doubt that the man’s ability to block energy was messing with her G.R. What surprised Ki’ara the most was that the wind – which had been gusting non-stop since she stepped foot onto the rooftop, and could surely carry her away – seemed to have completely stopped.

  Seriously?

  Sylor grinned and tossed his sword to the side.

  His hand stretched up and caught hold of her ankle.

  Ki’ara’s other foot tried to kick it away, but the man’s strength was incredible; his grip, crushing. It made Ki’ara forget about the pain of her Mu’turi. She feared if he squeezed harder, her heart would pop out of her chest. Under the circumstances, that would be the best thing that could happen to her.

  “There you are, little Princess,” hissed the man. “Where are you off to in such a hurry?”

  Nowhere, apparently.

  Ki’ara could hear him chuckling as he reeled her in. Her eyes darted from side to side, wondering how she could possibly get out of this. She couldn’t let Sylor have her.

  She wouldn’t.

  Ki’ara saw her uncle off to the side. He wasn’t moving.

  She didn’t know what had happened to his staff. Ki’ara couldn’t sense Blue Energy anywhere, not even in her own weapons. And her Mu’turi bind that held them strapped to her wrists was slipping.

  The girl’s mind raced as fear of what Sylor might do to her made her frantically search for a way out. She wished she had have taken to the sky the moment he stepped foot onto the rooftop.

  Sylor’s sword… It was on the shingles beside him.

  Ki’ara released the G.R. and dropped onto Syjak’s brother.

  He coughed out a grunt as her knee landed on his chest.

  The Princess dove for the sword, but Sylor’s stumped arm engulfed her other leg, pulling her back.

  Her fingertips bumped the blade, but she couldn’t catch hold.

  Instead, she accidentally knocked it away, and gravity dragged it down the smooth tiles. The Princess watched as her only hope of beating Sylor slid over the edge of the roof.

  26

  Ki’ara knew it was over.

  She wished she’d jumped when she had the chance.

  The girl would rather have taken Tho’ran up on his offer than face what this man had in store for her.

  Now, she was worse than dead.

  As Sylor pulled her back, Ki’ara’s fingers caught hold of something as they dragged across the shingles. It was so fine that she barely felt the thin strand, but a glint of light told her exactly what it was.

  A dragline from one of the spiders.

  Ki’ara’s heart leapt. She looked up to see the only remaining spider, still desperately clinging to the overhang almost directly above them. It would take so little to knock it free…

  But with Sylor’s grip on her legs, there was no way she would be able to reach it. Ki’ara fought, kicking her legs violently.

  “No, no, little Princess… that’s not going to happen,” Sylor informed her.

  He was right, she couldn’t even break the grip of his handless arm. But while he was busy holding her, his neck was exposed…

  Ki’ara twisted back. The dragline was in her fingers, and in the blink of an eye, around his neck.

  She looped it once under his greasy chin before he even realized what was happening.

  But then she felt his arm release from her leg, and he somehow stuffed it between his neck and her attempt at a second loop.

  The filament was so thin and sharp, she knew that it could cut into him…

  Or slice off her own fingers if she wasn’t careful.

  Ki’ara saw the man’s face change color.

  Inspired by the effect it was having, Ki’ara pulled as hard as she could, even using her free leg for leverage.

  What started as a choking gurgle evolved into a growl, as Sylor pulled her leg down and rolled over to his knees.

  The Princess lost her leverage to Sylor’s shift, but hadn’t given up. She threw her free leg over the man’s broad back in hopes of continuing her assault on his neck. But the clear wire was now at an odd angle, with the tension leading up to the skylight making it too short for her to pull in an effective way.

  Ki’ara knew that she couldn’t maintain her grip.

  Sylor’s strength was far too great, and he would be free of her attack in a matter of moments.

  She needed to act fast.

  Out of desperation, the girl looked to the spider above them, barely clinging to the overhang.

  If I just had something to throw…

  As if a sign from the Old Gods, one of her Niksuru dropped from her wrist as her Mu’turi strap finally gave out. Ki’ara fumbled for the handle, which landed on Sylor’s back.

  She snatched it up and without hesitation threw the small cylinder as hard as she could.

  So used to being able to steer her weapon
s in the air, Ki’ara was caught by surprise at her lack of control. As soon as it left her hand, she knew the device was going to miss. Her Niksuru went wide and slid down the rooftop, over the ledge.

  The Princess wanted to kick herself for not taking the time to aim.

  Sylor brought up a foot as he wrestled the dragline with his arm, nearly free of its choking noose.

  Ki’ara could tell he was getting ready to stand, and would tear her from his back the moment he did.

  One more Niksuru. One more chance.

  The girl caught hold of her second weapon, which was barely attached to her wrist.

  She inhaled a breath, took aim, and threw.

  Before Ki’ara could even see if her Niksuru hit the robotic orb, Sylor’s foot slipped on the tiles, sending them both crashing face first into the shingles.

  They were suddenly moving, free of the dragline and sliding down the steep slope.

  Ki’ara saw Tho’ran blink his eyes open as she shot past. Their eyes met for a single instant as she scrambled to get traction. But it was to no avail.

  Sylor’s fist was clamped to her ankle like a vice, pulling her downward.

  And then they were falling.

  27

  “Do you think this is it?” asked Je’nna, as she eyed the mechanisms of what appeared to be another door. It was taller than the one leading to Ki’ara’s room, but not any wider.

  Petch frowned, looking farther down the corridor, which continued around another corner. “I think it must be,” he said, with a confident enough nod. “But I’m just assuming Tho’ran changed rooms to the King’s quarters.”

  “Worth a look,” said Je’nna, pulling the latch.

  Unlike the previous hatch, this door swung toward them, back into the corridor. And there was no bright light on the other side to blind them this time. Instead, it was completely dark.

  With Je’nna’s finger to her lips, the pair waited in silence for nearly a thirty count, until she finally shined her light in. All she saw was… “Clothing?”

  “Must be a closet or something,” suggested Petch.