by L. Fergus
It took a few vigorous shakes to dislodge the water in her ears. A bump followed by prolonged pushing on her leg nearly knocked her over. Kita froze, waiting for whatever it was to pass. She drew Dawn and probed the water. Only rats lived down here, and even they couldn’t live in the foul water.
Come to think of it, I haven’t heard any squeaking, munching, or scurrying.
A flittering tickled her ear, like the gentle wings of a butterfly with the quickness of blinking eyelashes. She shook her head trying to shoo away whatever it was. It started again with what sounded like a slow release of air. Grumbling, Kita scratched her ear and tried to swat away whatever was violating her.
A gooey muck landed over her eyes. Something closed around her raised arm like a vice, pinning her right arm—holding Dawn—above and behind her head. The pressure was immense—only the protection of her bracer kept her bones from breaking. Her eyes burned, even closed. She drew Dusk with her free hand. Lashing out randomly, the only target she found was air. Something heavy slammed across her back and wrapped around her several times. She imagined the enormous sea monster tentacles from the sailors’ tales around her. The muscles moved and contracted tight.
A brief moment of panic gripped her, but whatever had her failed to pin her left arm. But she couldn’t reach anything to strike. The weight attached to her right arm shook and pulled, and the pressure lessened. The movement reminded her of something trying to free itself. It’s stuck, I’m stuck, great. Dusk isn’t helping, maybe Dawn can reach?
Carefully, she transferred weapons between hands. It was almost done when she felt the first big squeeze around her chest. Her ribcage wanted to implode and take all her air with it. Dusk fell. Finding it is going to be a bitch…Dusk didn’t hit the water. She felt several spasms go through the tentacle. It released her for a second and then squeezed harder.
It was hard to breathe…again. With Dawn in her free left hand, she slashed where she thought the tentacle was. It felt like she slashed it several times. Spasms raced through the tentacle, but it squeezed harder. I must have hit it. Taking a breath became difficult. Whatever is controlling this tentacle must be what’s stuck on my arm. So, how to separate the two, and quickly?
Logic yielded to panic. She struck several more times, but the tentacle only squeezed tighter. Striking the tentacle was making it angrier. She felt her ribs nearing their snapping point. Desperate, she swung hitting something. This time, the beast thrashed differently. Is this the weak spot?
She struck again, harder. Whatever Dawn found was softer than what she’d attacked before. On the third strike, the tentacle loosened. Kita hacked at it. Each time the tentacle’s grip gave, and she could breathe a little more. Dawn cleaved through a hard material into something soft. With one final blow, the coils spasmed and fell off. Whatever had her right arm stopped struggling and went limp, but didn’t let go. She brought it down from above her head, and painful pins and needles worked their way to her fingertips.
The object attached to her arm hung like a dead weight. She felt around to find a way to dislodge it, but it wouldn’t budge. It took up most of her forearm and felt like a hand with smooth, bony fingers—the tips were sharp. Bumpy scales covered the back of the hand and two big bumps could have been bone. She severed it behind the wrist. Guess I’m stuck dragging this damn thing around like some reverse clutch purse.
It was difficult to do anything with the hand attached to her arm. Feeling around, she retrieved Dusk. The crud burning her eyes wouldn’t come off. Not that I need to see since I’m blind.
She’d won the fight, but the beast had succeeded in disorienting her. Cautious of the tentacle, she made her way to the edge and climbed out of the water. Back on the path, she sought the wall and followed it to the next intersection. When she arrived, she failed to locate any of her old landmarks. Annoyed, she followed the other wall. It took three more intersections before she found a landmark, but getting to the exit required backtracking. By the time I get out of here the battle will be over.
Back at the intersection where she’d fought the creature, she turned the corner down the tunnel to the shower room. This tunnel was newer than the rest. It was taller, and the walls had different bricks with less slime. She found a ladder and climbed up, but the four-square-foot drain cover weighed as much as her.
She struggled to shift the metal grate. Her right arm with the scaly purse was useless. Bracing herself against the ladder, she used her shoulders and legs to lift the drain cover. It was enough. She crawled out of the sewer and lay on the shower floor, exhausted.
Kita hauled herself to her feet. The smell coming from her was awful. It was in everything—her armor, hair, it probably seeped into her skin. The thing on her arm had to come off. I could cut it off, if I could see. Her sight should be better by now—at least that’s what Mother told her. It was impossible to tell with the goo over her eyes. She dared not open them in case something nasty was in the slime. That settles it. A shower is what I need.
She located the door. Whoever installed it had the good sense to make the room lock from the inside. She started both showers, stripping off her armor and clothes, letting the water rain down on them while she showered in the other. Locating a washcloth from the towel rack, she scrubbed her eyes. She then took the soap and scrubbed her armor.
Finished, she retrieved a set of towels. She did her best to dry herself and her armor. Wearing it wet would be uncomfortable, but only a faint odor remained. After dressing she realize she still hadn’t opened her eyes.
Opening them, dim light came through the high windows. Squinting, things came into focus, and the light became bearable. She stepped into a brighter spot to examine the weight attached to her arm.
What in the ten thousand bloody moons is it? Eyes? Fangs! HOW DO I GET IT OFF? Kita screamed until she passed out.
Kita’s eyes fluttered open to Zidin’s grave face looming over her. The panic that caused her to faint gripped her as she tossed her arms around his massive neck.
Zidin grasped Kita’s arms to loosen her iron grip, but the more he tried, the tighter she clung. He looked to the duchess. She shrugged but tried to soothe her daughter. Kita made no sound nor shed a tear. She just clung.
“We need to do something,” the duchess hissed to Angus. “This is worse than having her blind.”
Sarge offered his solution. His rough tongue licked Kita’s face. Her eyes focused as her body relaxed, and her death-grip on Zidin’s neck subsided.
“Kita, how do you feel?” the duchess said in a gentle tone.
Kita was surprised to see her mother still in her Arconian kit. She had picked up a bow somewhere.
“I’m alright,” she whispered.
“We need to go. Do you think you can walk?”
“Yeah.” They helped her to her feet. She wobbled but used Zidin to steady herself.
Angus put his hand on her shoulder. “What happened? Killing a ravager boa singlehanded is…very rare.”
“Is that what it was? I couldn’t see it.” Kita told the story. Strength and wit returned, along with confidence. Soon, only embarrassment over the reaction to the severed boa head remained. At least it’s off my arm.
“Ravager boas are apex predators of the tubes. They can burrow through solid rock, but like damp locations. They’re hard to kill, even for a platoon of legionnaires.” Angus crossed his arms. His eyes held a glint of disapproval. “It’s an extraordinary tale that comes at a bad moment and has cost us time. Good commanders must first learn to follow orders before being allowed to give them. Trust between leaders and the led takes a long time to build, but can be destroyed in an instant.”
Angus’ gentle teaching of a hard lesson stung more than if he’d hit her. Turning first to the duchess and then to Zidin, neither offered her any comfort. But I was only trying to help, and…Oh, bloody moons…I’m so stupid…They could have died looking for me, and then who’d be left to…Nuts…What did Jeffrey tell me about lessons from the war
college? All lesson plans are written in blood. Maybe he wasn’t speaking metaphorically.
Angus gave a slight nod as Kita frowned over her actions. The group left the shower room.
“Where’s Father?” Kita asked her mother.
“We don’t know. There was evidence of a struggle in the library, but your father was gone. We’re going to the main hall. That’s where the command post is supposed to be set up during an emergency. Your father should be there.”
The heavy thumping of a ram against the main gate echoed through the castle.
“Duke Cunningham is trying to get the bulk of his forces into the castle,” said Angus. “So far, we’ve only encountered the advance party. We must hurry before they breach the gate.”
They went to the speaker’s entrance to the main hall. The guard remained at his post, standing at attention as they approached.
“Why are you not defending the castle?” the duchess demanded.
“My lady, I can’t abandon my post until properly relieved,” said the guard.
“The castle is under attack, our garrison is gone, and we need everyone in an emergency.”
The soldier stood his ground. “Especially in a time of emergency, it’s important to observe proper protocol and procedure.”
The duchess went to open the door.
The soldier blocked her way with his halberd. “My lady, you and your companions aren’t on the cleared list.”
The duchess looked at the soldier, stunned. “You’re telling me I can’t use a door in my own house?”
“It’s not my lady’s house, it’s my lord’s castle,” said the soldier, unwavering in the face of the duchess’ wrath.
The duchess drew her sword and pointed it at the offending guard. “I’ll cut my way through if I have to. I don’t have time for this.”
Nervousness crept into the guard’s face. “Killing my lord’s soldiers is a capital offense, even for you, my lady.”
“Mother, wait.” Kita stepped out of Zidin’s shadow. Overcoming her current doubts of her abilities, sanity, and maturity, she put on her best alluring look and strutted up to the guard.
The guard came to rigid attention, doing his best to ignore her. Kita went to open the door. The quivering halberd dropped in front of her.
His voice shook more than his weapon. “Y-you’re m-most definitely n-not allowed, L-lady Kita.”
Kita looked at him with amusement. She stuck out her hip and fluttered her lashes. “Didn’t we talk about this last time I came home?”
“W-we t-talked about n-nothing.”
“That’s right. I talked to a few of the other guards, and they talked to you. When I get unhappy, they get unhappy. I heard you fell down a flight of stairs.”
The guard’s eyes shifted back and forth.
“I need a champion in the fight. Imagine the envy of the others when I tell them you’re my hero.” Kita kissed the air and winked.
“I’ll go fight. I’m not a coward. I was only following orders.”
“Tell anyone who asks, the duchess ordered it.”
“Yes, my lady.” Relieved, he unlocked the door, let them inside, and left toward the front gate.
“Kita, was that necessary?” the duchess asked with a disapproving tone.
Kita sighed. “I thought you wanted him to let us through the door and for him to go fight?”
“Yes, but I didn’t need to watch you do it.”
“How is this different from you sending me across the castle in a towel?”
The duchess made a face. “I thought you liked girls.”
“I do, but the guards don’t know that.”
“What were you going to do if you couldn’t sweet-talk your way through?”
“Have Zidin hit him on the head.” Kita gave Zidin the same smile she’d used on the guard. He rolled his eyes as the duchess shook her head.
The decorations from the night’s festivities still hung in the main hall. Tables, chairs, and benches lay strewn about. Around the main door, a group of soldiers turned the furnishings into protective barricades. A pile of other furnishings was stacked against the door. The rhythmic pounding of a ram against the main door echoed through the chamber. The barricade jumped with every strike. In the distance, its larger companion—working on the main gate—answered in turn.
A knight approached Kita’s group as they crossed the stage. Kita didn’t recognize him. It struck her as odd. I thought I knew all the pompous asses in my father’s army.
The duchess stepped forward. “Sir whoever-you-are, what’s going on here?”
In an even voice, the knight said, “I’m Sir Merax, Milady. Who are you?”
The duchess eyebrows closed in annoyance. “I’m Duchess of Arbol, Sir Merax. This is Commander Angus of the Legion of Yorq, his junior commander and my daughter Kita, and her protector Zidin. Now, who are you and what is going on?”
“Apologies, my lady. I’m new to his lordship’s army and am the reserve commanding officer for the night guard. I haven’t the honor of being introduced to my lady. I’m glad to find you safe and well. I was on duty for this evening’s festivities and missed the beginning of the attack. I came straight here as per orders and found I was the ranking officer. I’ve done my best to attend to the defenses of the hall and command post. As you can see, we’ve barricaded the doors against an impending attack. An advance party crashed through the side gates before we could seal them. We didn’t have the men to stop them. The main gate still holds, last I heard.”
“Thank you, Sir Merax,” said the duchess in a calm, even voice. “The marauders are wearing Duke Cunningham’s livery. We have tripped over a few on our way here, but the family living quarters should be clear. Have you seen the duke? He never returned last night.”
Merax shook his head. “I was hoping you knew, my lady.” A loud crack echoed through the hall as several timbers in the door gave way. “My lady, I must get you to safety, our attackers will breach the door shortly.”
“We’re more than capable of standing on our own, Sir Merax. You only have a thin line. You’re going to need all the help you can get. If you fail here, it will only be a matter of time before they overwhelm us. Better to die together than die separately.” The duchess drew her bow for emphasis.
“My lady, I must protest the inclusion of you and your daughter. It would be improper and undignified for women to participate in such activities. Battle is a time-honored and glorious tradition reserved for the men of the region.”
Kita opened her mouth to retort to the standard pigheaded rhetoric the men of Yorq spouted to keep women from fighting, but her angry mother spoke first.
“Sir Merax, I have plenty of arguments against your last statement, but this is not the time for a debate. I suggest you adjust your attitude to women on the battlefield. Battle is not glorious by any stretch of the imagination. Brutal, savage, cruel and harrowing are much better descriptions. It only becomes glorious afterward when the survivors make up stories to try and forget what they experienced. I wouldn’t worry about Commander Kita, Sir Merax. She proved tonight she is the most lethal person in this room.”
Damn straight.
Both Angus and Zidin nodded. Kita gave Merax a wave and sly smile.
A shout from the men below brought everyone’s attention to the door. Sometime during their discussion, the pounding stopped, and now the door twisted and bulged.
“Shaper!” Angus yelled. “Take cover. The door is going to explode!”
Most of the men heeded the warning, ducking behind their barricades. The force of the explosion smashed several of the near barricades, sending the men sprawling. Splinters traveling with enough force to pierce armor perforated those left exposed.
“Sir Merax, Zidin, Sarge, help the men on the ground,” ordered the duchess. “Kita, draw Midnight. We’ll support from here while Angus defends us.”
The groups moved out. Kita and the duchess took positions on opposite ends of the stage.
Men wearing chainmail armor, kettle helms, and white tabards with yellow cranes poured through the remains of the massive doors. Merax’s men stood ready, each defender wielding a crossbow. They fired at point-blank range and the first wave of attackers fell. A second wave of attackers pushed through the shattered door and engaged the closer defenders before they could reload.
Kita and the duchess fired from atop the stage. Kita quickly learned Midnight’s tolerances. Pulling a shot back farther than she intended, she sent an arrow through three attackers and a shield.
Men entered the room at an alarming rate, faster than the duchess and Kita could engage them. Angus yelled and pointed—coming through the door was a man wearing armor pieces, rusty scrap metal—even an old horseshoe—fused together as a set of armor which appeared to have no joints, but moved like a second skin. A purple flash leaped from his fingertips and hit one of Merax’s men. His armor crumpled like paper, crushing the man inside.
Kita took aim at the junkman and fired. The junkman faced the incoming arrow. A purple flash engulfed it, redirecting the arrow into one of Merax’s men.
The junkman cast a large purple flash from both hands at Kita. Angus jumped in front of her with his shield and the flash dissipated harmlessly.
“What happened?” said Kita.
“The shield’s made of a metal he can’t manipulate,” Angus said matter-of-factly.
How can he be so comfortable? “How do we get rid of him?”
“Use something that’s not metal and strike when he’s close.”
Getting close to the shaper wasn’t going to be easy. “I have an idea.”
Kita dashed to the duchess. “Mother, when I give the signal fire three arrows at the shaper.”
Kita drew three arrows and nocked one. Looking at the duchess, she nodded and fired. As quickly as she could, she fired the next two arrows. The duchess mimicked her.
The junkman raising both hands at the incoming arrows. Purple flashes struck the first arrows in the line. The first masked the trailing arrows. The junkman cried out as four arrows struck him. Kita pulled Midnight back farther for the last two arrows, and they went through the junkman and stuck in the wall.