Shotput of Power

by Drae Box

  The inspector that Lodema had sent for a bucket returned.

  “Fill the bucket up,” she ordered, nodding towards the sink.

  In silence, the inspector went to do as he was told. Lodema returned her attention to Raneth, slipping the Shotput back into the leather case.

  “You know perfectly well. They’re probably paying you to come here and get it! Or they’re manipulating you and King Cray. They’re good at that. Manipulating. Brainwashing.”

  “Who?” asked Aldora.

  Lodema smiled at her. “You know. You know,” she insisted, snarling the words at the Dagger Bearer.

  This isn’t good. Either she’s paranoid, or she’s right and whoever she’s talking about may have manipulated Lodema.

  “Lodema,” pressed Raneth. “Who are you talking about? Who is Koyla?”

  “If you don’t know, Captain, ask your precious Dagger Bearer.”

  “I don’t know who she’s talking about,” growled Aldora as Raneth glanced at her. “I don’t know anyone called Koyla.”

  The inspector with the bucket carried it to Lodema’s side, freshly poured cold water splashing over the side. “Where do you want it, ma’am?”

  “In front of the Dagger Bearer.”

  No. No.

  The bucket was set down and the inspector strode to stand behind Aldora, a hand holding her arm. Raneth snarled as he watched Aldora’s pupils flare. He yanked at his arms, twisting his torso, trying to break free from the handcuffs. “Lodema, no! Aldora, use your gift!”

  “Don’t you dare,” snarled Lodema as she grabbed a handful of Aldora’s hair. The inspector holding her gripped onto Aldora more tightly as Lodema shoved her head into the water.

  “No!” Raneth yanked at his handcuffs again, bashing the small chain against a corner of the wooden beam as he spewed white mist from his palms, solidifying the ice onto the cuffs. He bashed them against the wood again as Aldora thrashed her legs, trying to kick backwards at the inspector, her tied hands useless.

  “Why did Broken Crown choose you two to clean house? To come and kill me?” growled Lodema, turning her eyes onto Raneth. “To get you out of the way?”

  A chill was growing in the royal official’s gut as Aldora desperately tried to free herself from the water. Her thrashing was already slowing and his chest was seizing at the same rate. He could barely breathe as he turned his blue eyes onto Lodema. He couldn’t lose Aldora. He couldn’t.

  “Please, please stop!”

  Lodema yanked Aldora’s head up and Raneth watched as his partner sucked in a breath of air and water ran down her face. “Why you two?”

  “Cray sent us,” snapped Raneth. He swept his gaze over Aldora, watching her sucking in breaths, her brown eyes squeezed shut as the water ran down her face. She was breathing. She was OK. His heart hammered violently against his chest, but if he couldn’t get free, he couldn’t help her, couldn’t save her. Raneth bashed the handcuffs against the corner of the beam again. The small chain still didn’t give, so he defrosted his ice back to mist and resolidified it. “Cray sent us to get the Shotput. He didn’t know you had anything to do with it!”

  “You’re lying!” Lodema shoved Aldora’s head back into the water. “Broken Crown are using you to kill me, just like they used me to kill the overseer!”

  The inspector holding Aldora down backed off, releasing the Giften from his hold. “He’s dead? We shouldn’t be working for you!”

  Lodema shoved harder on Aldora, keeping her face under the water. “Then leave, and I’ll kill you with the Shotput. Slowly.”

  The inspector glanced at the Shotput’s case, then he grabbed Aldora and shoved down on her again.

  “Shale killed my son. Murdered him – just a boy! – because he had a gift. A gift that gave him visions of other people’s desires. And that made him dangerous, but it hurt him too. My poor son – the visions were making him blind!” She yanked Aldora’s head back up, pulling painfully at her hair. “And when Broken Crown didn’t need Shale anymore, when they started getting their money from Mening Kingdom instead, that’s when they got me to–”

  Aldora screamed.

  A ripple in the air crashed into Lodema as Aldora’s scream snapped into the roar of a big cat, shoving the ex-detective back and knocking her feet out from under her. Aldora glared at the inspector still holding her; he quickly let go, raising his hands to shoulders. Thank goodness for her gift, thought Raneth, feeling his heartbeat slowing somewhat in his chest, the pulse of his blood at his trapped wrists becoming less noticeable. He watched Lodema stumble back onto her feet, her nose bleeding. Her hand slipped towards the Shotput.

  “Aldora, again!” he barked.

  Aldora sucked in a lungful of air and shrieked at Lodema, the ripple from her eagle’s cry bashing into the detective and knocking her back once more, this time against the wall beside the door on the other side of the kitchen.

  Keep her at bay. Raneth swept his focus onto the handcuffs at his wrists; they were tight and cutting off his circulation, a common bullying tactic among inspectors. He crawled white mist over the chain links again, digging deep, feeling the sensation of his mist touching the metal and entrapping the links before hardening into ice. He shoved extra mist into the locking mechanisms on both cuffs and solidified it into ice. A soft ping whispered from the left handcuff, so Raneth yanked it once more against the wooden beam. His left hand came free. Good. He took the left handcuff into his right hand, holding it so it would strike anyone he punched.

  The inspector backed out of the room and shut the door behind him, leaving Lodema to his and Aldora’s mercy.

  Raneth turned to face the detective as Aldora tipped the bucket over. He grabbed the Dagger of Protection from the counter behind him and handed it to her. Then, together, they advanced on Lodema, who had the Shotput shining in her right hand.

  “Give it up, Lodema,” ordered Raneth. “Give us the Shotput and we’ll let you go. We’re not here for you, despite what you think.”

  Aldora frowned. “What did–”

  “Not now,” insisted Raneth, taking a deliberately slow step towards Lodema. He gave her what he hoped was a disarming smile. “Please, ma’am. Put the Shotput down. We’ll escort you home if you want to go home, or we can leave you here.”

  “The inspectors will kill me if I give up the Shotput,” stated Lodema, gripping it tightly as she thrust it above her head. “They know now that I killed their beloved overseer.”

  She stalked closer to them and Raneth noticed that the trajectory of her footsteps would put her nearer Aldora than him.

  That can’t be allowed. He took a step closer to Aldora, slightly ahead of her but to her side. He glared at Lodema. You’ll have to get through me to get to Aldora.

  Lodema’s advance stalled and her blue eyes watched him and Aldora as she flung the Shotput towards them. Raneth ducked. The silver sphere sailed past where his neck would have been and struck the wall between the kitchen and the dining room. Raneth looked at it over his shoulder. The Shotput caught fire and started burning the wall around it, before bursting free in a shower of plasterboard and wooden splinters.

  The Shotput sliced through the air towards Aldora. She summoned her gift, barking at the sphere and pushing it back from her and Raneth. It fell on the floor and Aldora jumped out of the way as it rolled back towards Lodema.

  “Your gift,” snapped Raneth. “Use it on her. Quick!”

  As Aldora sucked in a mouthful of air, Lodema grabbed the rolling Shotput and slammed it into the floor. Fire flung itself up around her from the Shotput, and the ground rumbled as the floor cracked down the centre. A widening crack raced towards Aldora.

  Raneth flung two thin icicles towards Lodema, but the Shotput’s fire leapt up, swallowing them as they travelled through its wave.

  “Broken Crown will never control me again!” shrieked the Giften detective, as she slammed the Shotput into the ground again. The ground either side of the crack tumbled back, swallowing the
wooden flooring and throwing up chunks of concrete, rebar and dirt. A brown and grey mist masked Lodema from Raneth and Aldora. Raneth coughed, drawing as close to Aldora’s side as possible.

  “The Dagger?” he suggested.

  He flung white mist out in front of them, hoping it would be enough to warn him if the Shotput came for them through the smog, but just then he felt the ground vibrate under his feet.

  “Aldo–”

  He felt Aldora’s smooth hand grasp then slip from his wrist as he fell into the earth’s embrace. Searing pain erupted in his right side as rebar sliced into him. He thudded to a stop, sucked in a dirt-riddled breath and instantly coughed, grateful that a mass of concrete and rebar had stopped him falling further.

  “Raneth!”

  “I’m OK,” he yelled as he looked up.

  He hadn’t fallen far, perhaps twice his height. That explains how I didn’t get knocked out. He checked his side. The rebar had scratched him enough to bleed but it wasn’t deep. Raneth pressed the crook of his left elbow to his mouth, using it to try and shield his lungs from the dirt in the air around him, which was visible in the shaft of light creeping towards him from above. He squinted as a blue shimmer enveloped the air above the wide crack. The Dagger. Aldora’s using the Dagger to protect us from further harm. His chest seized as he realised that he’d never thought to ask King Cray if the Dagger could neutralise the Shotput. We’d better hope that the Dagger is stronger, especially as the Dagger is supposed to be the primary of the Six.

  He looked at the dirt walls either side of him. There were slabs of cracked concrete dangling dangerously above him, threatening to fall and crush him. I’d better form. Looking to either side, he grimaced. I need to do it faster than I’ve ever formed before.

  “Raneth! I’m not sure how much more of this the Dagger’s shield can take!”

  “I’m coming, hold on!”

  He knelt down on his hands and knees and rushed through the transformation into his griffin-self, keeping his back towards the ceiling far above him. His wings burst from his back, the wing skin billowing into place as the feathers flicked out like a wave. As his hearing enhanced to that of a griffin, he caught the sound of Aldora’s short, hurried breaths. She’s scared. He rolled his eyes as they twinged and transformed. Of course she’s scared, idiot!

  Fully formed, Raneth lifted his weight onto his white back paws and reached up with his red front paws, grabbing at the pawfuls of the dirt and rebar between him, Aldora and, somewhere up there, Lodema. That concrete slab might hold me long enough. He aimed for a piece of concrete with rebar sticking out of it and scrambled over it, pressing down with his back legs as he reached up for the edge of the floor above. He caught it, and with a triumphant bunching of his muscles, the griffin burst from the ground, landing on muddied paws at Aldora’s side.

  The protective blue orb around them dissipated. Where’s Lodema gone? The sound of a stone scratching against the floor behind Raneth made him spin round. Lodema. She was creeping towards them with the Shotput in her hand. That’s enough of that! Raneth pounced forwards, his beak reaching for the soft front of her neck. The sharp edges of his beak ripped into the soft flesh around her voice box and he swallowed the metallic taste of her blood as he yanked it free.

  Something bashed into his left shoulder. He was flung sideways, his beakful of flesh falling free as he tumbled through the air, his wings unfurling and bashing against the debris around them. He slammed through a window and part of a wall before he rolled to a stop.

  Blearily, the griffin opened his golden eyes and peered out at the world, which pampered him with soft rays of sunlight in the wide open space behind the overseer’s home. The cries of startled inspectors caught his triangular ears, making them twizzle. Lift head. Look. His left shoulder burned. Where’s Aldora?

  Footsteps rushed towards him. Familiar ones. “Raneth.” He felt a small warm hand press against his torso and he rolled his eyes to the left, his sights landing upon an uninjured Aldora. She must have jumped out of the window and come to him. Had he blacked out for a moment, and where was Lodema’s body? Aldora gave him a weak smile and then her brown eyes lifted to observe something further away.

  Raneth turned his eyes to the right. Nine inspectors were walking towards them, warily. He forced his griffin-self onto its paws and shook his body from shoulders to tail tip, whining as his left shoulder protested. A glance revealed why: his shoulder feathers were blackened, a few standing proud of his skin like crisp dead leaves, waiting to crumble at the slightest touch. Stupid Shotput.

  He turned to face the inspectors and billowed his cheek feathers as he growled, the feathers along his spine standing upright. He unfurled his wings at the same time to check they were OK. The inspectors slowed their advance, but two of them continued closer. Raneth spun around to face the window, feeling the niggles from small cuts likely picked up as he was flung out of the building by the Shotput. He limped closer to the destroyed wall and window and peered into the gloom inside, spotting Lodema’s bloodied neck and the piece he had bitten off discarded halfway between her body and the window. The Shotput was still in her hand from when she had hit his shoulder with it, and his blood and a few of his feathers were stuck to it. One threat down.

  He turned to face the two braver inspectors and saw Aldora was facing them too, the Dagger of Protection aimed at them both.

  “By order of the Common Kingdoms Treaty of Alliance or whatever it’s called,” she said, “I order you to back down. This was a Giften matter and the woman inside killed your city overseer.”

  Raneth cast his gaze over the two inspectors and watched as the older looking one looked at the younger one. Behind them, seven more watched.

  “Kill them,” growled the younger inspector, pointing at Raneth and Aldora.

  Sod that, thought Raneth. He growled and jumped to stand between Aldora and the nine inspectors. The two closest ones raced forwards, drawing their swords and raising them over their heads.

  Weren’t you taught that’s the fastest way to get yourself killed?

  The griffin darted a step to the side, spun and shoved his paws against their backs. They fell to the ground and Raneth pounced. He bit a neck, heard it click in his beak as it broke, then grabbed the other inspector and shook him like a ragdoll. His neck snapped too. He turned to face the other inspectors. Three of them slowly stepped back, their focus on Raneth, before they spun and fled. Raneth snarled and jolted closer to the four remaining inspectors. Finally, they realised it was dumb to try to get close. They turned and fled with their companions.

  “Thank you,” said Aldora, drawing close to Raneth. “Are you OK? Your shoulder.”

  Raneth eyed it for a moment before nodding.

  “I think it’s home-time,” she said.

  “Did I hear you say, home-time?” asked the soft voice of Pedibastet behind them.

  Raneth turned and purred at the prince. He nodded his griffin-self’s head.

  “I’ll grab the Shotput,” said Aldora. She climbed into the building and wasted no time prising it free from Lodema’s fingers before returning to Raneth and holding it out in front of him. “Let’s get our stuff and head home. Are we flying?”

  Raneth nodded as he inspected the silver sphere. Other than having his blood and feathers stuck to it, it stood out in no particular way. It didn’t have a fanciful design like the Dagger of Protection. It was as simple as a shotput could be. Is that because it’s supposed to be the most powerful?

  “Let’s go home and ask my dad if you can marry me,” said Aldora.

  The griffin squeaked and his ears thrust forwards.

  Aldora pointed to Pedibastet. “He can’t keep a secret, Raneth.”

  We’d better not waste any more time then.

  With a purr, the griffin rubbed his cheek against Aldora’s shoulder and prowled back the way they had come, not bothering to worry about the retreating inspectors, but enjoying the soft touch of Aldora’s hand against his good shoul
der and the Prince of the Cats resting on his hips. I wish more assignments ended with Aldora at my side.

  Epilogue

  Aldora

  We’re going the wrong way. Aldora looked over Raneth’s griffin shoulder, past the burnt feathers that had started to break away as the wind pushed and tugged at them. The Giften-Newer border wall wasn’t below them. She couldn’t even see it. Raneth seemed to be sliding lower in the air too. Where are we? She reached for the warm feathers at the top of the griffin’s head and ran a hand down them.

  “Raneth, where are we going? You just turned and you’re going nearer the ground.” She pointed towards a settlement, one that they had been about to fly over before he turned. “I saw, Raneth. I thought the plan was to go home?”

  “Maybe he needs a break,” said Prince Pedibastet. Curled tightly in the gap between her legs, the Prince of the Cats looked up at Aldora with his leaf-green eyes, his black, brown and white fur ruffled by the combing of the air’s fingers.

  Raneth looked over his burnt shoulder at Aldora, his gold eye looking at her, before he swept his attention to the ground in front of them and grumbled so Aldora could feel the rumble underneath her from his ribcage.

  She looked down and ahead. The Newer Palace. She slipped her cold fingers under his healthy feathers to warm them, grateful that his griffin-self was warmer than a half-boiled kettle.

  “Why are we going there?” she asked him.

  Raneth’s griffin ears twitched at her words, but he gave her no suggestion of an answer. Looking down again, Aldora watched him fling his front paws out, readying himself to catch their weight against the ground as the palace’s garden sped up fast. Aldora wrapped her arms around his neck and held on, hunkering slightly to make sure Pedibastet wouldn’t be dislodged, giving him a safe haven between her torso and Raneth’s back.

  The griffin’s back white paws hit the ground first, a little rougher than Aldora had expected. He’s tired. This stupid assignment has taken its toll. She straightened, and Pedibastet leapt onto the grass beside them. Aldora looked at Raneth’s sword in her belt. He’d formed without it on him, and without the sheath with its glued-on griffin feathers, she wasn’t sure if it would return with his human-self like normal. If she hadn’t needed to steal his sword back for him, maybe they wouldn’t have this inconvenient problem. Unable to do anything about it, she repositioned it at her belt, careful not to slice herself or her belt, and climbed down.