by Davis Ashura
“I heard,” the first warrior said. “It was wrong if you ask me. The Shektan is Tainted, but it was a suicide mission. I say if you want to see a man dead, kill him in honorable combat.”
“You want to be the one to take him on?” the second warrior scoffed.
“Who? The Shektan? No chance. I heard he’s the one who took out most of the Chim scouts on our way in. Ten, twenty at a time…it didn’t matter. He laid them all low. My lieutenant says all we did was follow his trail of dead Chims to their doorstep.”
“I heard he took down three Balants by himself,” the second warrior whispered. “Charged right in and cut them to mincemeat.”
There was a whistle of appreciation. “His lieutenant better be careful to watch his back. A man like the Shektan might snap at any minute.”
Rukh moved away. The men still didn’t like him, but at least they feared him. It was something he supposed.
“Move out.” The order came in a harsh whisper. “Double time.”
The Ashokans marched into the cavern, quick and stealthy. Rukh glanced around. Dead Tigons and Braids littered the floor, about twenty of them, their bodies riddled with arrows. They had been killed only a few minutes earlier. Fresh blood still oozed from their wounds, and their bowels had emptied. It stank. Fluttering lanterns, evenly spaced on the relatively smooth walls of the tunnel, provided a disjointed light. It looked like he wouldn’t need the dozen or so oil-soaked torches on his back. He shrugged. Who knew? Maybe the rest of the caves wouldn’t be as well lit. Better to keep them.
The column reached a bifurcation, and Rukh took a look at his map. He was glad to see it showed the split where the column had halted. Maybe the information from the captured Chims would turn out to be accurate. The plan now was to further divide the forces at each junction of the tunnel until there were thirteen units of fifty warriors working their way through the cave system, with each group clearing a predetermined set of tunnels and caverns. It wasn’t ideal, but with their force structure, it would have to do. Fifty warriors in cramped quarters should be large enough to handle whatever enemy forces they came across but also swift enough to get the job done: kill the breeders.
Their unit quickly divided into the predetermined thirteen units, and Rukh found himself assigned, as expected, toward the back of the squad. It was the most dangerous position to be in, but somebody had to do it. No surprise the lieutenant in command of the unit had chosen him for the job. It was just another punishment for being what he was. As a naaja, he was expendable.
They marched into the depths of the caves, and Rukh’s stomach clenched as he imagined the shadows and adjoining tunnels hiding Chims waiting to leap and kill him. He was thinly supported. Would he even have time to get his sword and spear ready? He scanned behind the column constantly, especially the intersecting tunnels, looking and listening for danger.
It was a quarter mile before they finally came upon the enemy, a nest of Ur-Fels loping down a side passage and lumbering into the center of the unit. For a second, the Chims looked comically surprised to see their hated enemy marching through the very heart of their home. After they got over their shock, the Ur-Fels screamed their outrage and attacked. Most quickly died beneath the swords of the warriors, but one of them managed to escape, speeding away and howling warning to his brethren.
Rukh wiped sweaty palms on his pants. Suwraith’s spit, but he wished he were somewhere else all of a sudden. Life was suddenly about to get much more interesting.
“Cavern coming up.” The whispered word came down the line.
The pace quickened. They entered a wide, tall space. Within were strange creatures, like hairless, pasty versions of an Ur-Fel, chained at their necks to the walls. They were skeletal in appearance with protuberant abdomens and naked. Their mouths gaped when the Ashokans entered, revealing broken yellow teeth, and they took to howling. Their cries drew twenty Ur-Fels, who immediately threw themselves at the squad, but were swiftly cut down by a hail of arrows. The breeders were similarly killed.
“Move it. Take the tunnel to the right,” the lieutenant whispered.
They traveled several hundred yards before coming to a jumbled halt.
“The hell are we?” Rukh heard the lieutenant growl. He and the first sergeant had their heads bent close to one another, furiously whispering as they studied their maps.
“We’re supposed to be here,” the first sarge whispered. His voice was loud enough to carry as he pointed at his map.
There was pause in their conversation as the lieutenant scratched his chin. “Suwraith’s spit.”
Rukh’s head snapped up. He heard something. A scrabbling noise from behind them. He searched the tunnel leading back to the Ur-Fel breeder’s cavern, listening as closely as possible. They had passed a bend in the passage…his eyes narrowed as he concentrated. He heard it again. And something else. His eyes widened. He knew that sound. It was the growls of Tigons on the hunt. “Incoming,” he hissed loudly, his heart pounding. “Tigons.”
His words had the squad spun around and facing back in the direction they had come.
Before they could form up, fifty Tigons rounded the corner. With their prey in sight, the Chims eschewed their prior quietness. They bellowed in rage and charged.
Rukh threw two Fireballs into the faces of the lead Tigons. They stumbled and fell, tripping those behind them. It bought the Ashokans just enough time to form up. The front rank, three wide, quickly Shielded, while those behind them hurled Fireballs.
“More Tigons coming from up ahead!” someone shouted.
There were just as many as in the first group, trapping the squad in between.
“Second and third ranks, bows only. Front ranks, Shields and Fireballs!” the first sarge yelled out.
His words were hardly needed. The Ashokans knew their business. Fireballs screamed out, incinerating the charging Chims. The tunnel quickly filled with smoke and the stink of burning flesh. It didn’t slow down the Tigons one bit. Thankfully, the damn cats, as they often did, threw their weapons aside in their unthinking fury and kept on attacking. It was a slaughter as arrows ripped through them. The few who managed to close were quickly hacked down. Bodies littered the ground, and blood splattered on the walls, soaking the floor and making footing slick.
Just as the Ashokans breathed a sigh of relief, another group of Chims charged in from a side passage, this time Balants. Twenty of them. They smashed into the center of the Ashokan column, separating a group of fifteen warriors from the main force.
Rukh was one of those cut off, and he had little room to maneuver, pressed on both sides by hooting Balants, who were busily laying about with their clubs. He launched a Fireball straight into the face of one of the elephant-sized, baboon-like Chims. The creature howled in pain, and Rukh took the sudden opening to fall back. The other Kummas had already planned for such a situation and fought in Triads and Duos. They were ably defending themselves, dispatching the Balants in a swift movement of sword and spear. No one had bothered to offer such an arrangement with Rukh. He fought alone.
His spear was knocked from his hands, and he was pushed further away from the column. Most of the Balants were swiftly put down, but of those still alive and fighting, a full five stood between Rukh and the rest of the squad. With a little luck, he might still be able to rejoin the unit, though.
He moved forward just as hissing cries arose from behind him.
Rukh spun around.
Suwraith’s spit. Luck wasn’t with him.
From beyond the bend in the tunnel and the mangled bodies of the Tigons, he heard the fast approaching sound of more Chims coming to join the battle. Braids judging by their cries.
Fragging unholy hell.
There was no way he could regroup with his column.
Time to run.
Rukh disengaged and took off down a side passage.
Four Balants gave chase. Rukh opened up some distance but not too much. He had a plan. He conducted Jivatma, letting it fill hi
m, holding it until…He glanced back. Now. He let it out in a sudden burst. Fire Shower. The Balants didn’t even have time to scream. And just as Rukh had hoped, their carcasses ended up blocking the tunnel, hindering the pursuing Braids.
Rukh paused, needing to get his bearings. He pulled out his map. He had a rough idea where he was. He also knew where the column was headed. So…if he cut down the tunnel over there, he might be able to reconnect with the squad. He put away the map and was about to set off when more Tigons appeared from up ahead.
Rukh ran, Shielding as he took a random intersecting tunnel. He unlimbered his bow as he went. He outdistanced the cats, but they followed close behind. At a bend in the passage, Rukh turned, aimed, and fired. One down. Two.
He flinched. Damn it! The Tigons were throwing spears. Hard. A few almost penetrated his Shield, causing it to compress against his chest. Time to go.
More spears and arrows peppered his back, but his Shield held. He drew on his Well, running faster. He took a turn at random, temporarily losing his pursuers and found himself in a large open cavern. His nose wrinkled in disgust. It smelled like cat piss. It had to be a Tigon breeder’s cavern. Rukh paused for a moment, disturbed by what he saw. The creatures looked like deformed and stunted Shylows, with slack jaws and drool collecting on the ground. Suwraith’s creations were all so damn ugly. The breeders howled at his presence, and he raced through the room, stabbing and cutting until the space was silent.
There were three entrances to the chamber. From two of them, a number of Tigons entered. The Chims saw Rukh standing amongst the mangled corpses of their breeders, and their eyes filled with crazed hatred. They screamed, a sound like a mill saw cutting bone.
By now Rukh had grown accustomed to his fear. It was like an old friend, not even hindering him anymore. He set it aside and took careful, steady aim with his bow and fired. An arrow in an eye. Another in a mouth. He smiled without humor. The Tigons were even more pissed off than before. Good. Sometimes, in their anger, they took the time to rip at their fur. They did so, and Rukh took advantage of their stupidity. He raced for the one unblocked exit. The Tigons moved to intercept. It would be tight getting out. His gut tightened involuntarily as two Tigons surged in front of him, flanking the passage he needed. He rolled under their sword swings, was through the doorway and out, before rising and sprinting away.
A short-lived surge of relief passed through him, but he wasn’t out of the shithouse yet. The Tigons would give chase. The two in the lead were well ahead of the others. Their mistake. Rukh taunted them, keeping just out of their clawed reach. The Tigons ran harder, opening up even more distance between themselves and their fellow cats. The tunnel widened. It was the opening Rukh had been looking for. He spun around, sword at the ready, surprising the Chims. He slashed one Tigon across the throat before the cat even had time to raise a sword. The other one blocked a slash. Its return sweep caught empty air as Rukh twisted aside. A viper fast thrust took the creature through the heart. It gurgled its death even as it fell to the ground.
Six or so left. The others still chased after him, roaring their rage.
Let them.
A cold malice had settled over his heart. Weeks of abuse at the hands of his fellow warriors, weeks of resentment at his mistreatment, at the fragging injustice of it all…someone would pay. It was just the Chimeras’ bad luck that it would have to be them.
Rukh took a moment to quickly clean and sheathe his sword before running on. He had a plan. All he needed was the right opening. A few moments later, he had it as he came upon another large, round space, this one empty. No breeders. Maybe his luck was changing. There were two entrances, the one he had entered and one directly opposite. He briefly considered another Fire Shower, but it was overkill. He could handle the Tigons with sword and bow. Besides, he needed to save his Jivatma as best he could. Today was going to be hard as the unholy hells. He didn’t want to waste his strength.
He ran to the opposite exit and crouched in the shadows, hidden and ready, ears straining for any flanking pursuit. He heard none, although he did pick out the distant sounds of battles echoing through the tunnels. He had no idea where the fighting was taking place or where his unit might be given the honeycomb nature of the caves.
His attention snapped back to the task at hand as a Tigon burst into the chamber. It ate an arrow. Another stumbled over his fallen brother, throwing off Rukh’s aim, and his arrow sailed above it, but caught another Tigon in the chest, downing it. Three more entered the room. Time for one final arrow. Another one down.
Three of them then. He could handle it.
The Tigons closed, and Rukh dropped his bow and drew his sword, wiping sweaty palms on his pants before engaging. He conducted Jivatma and moved in a blur.
His training took over. No thought to it but muscle memory. He’d practiced these moves ten thousand times until they were as natural as breathing. He attacked right, ducking a slow, reckless slash at his face. A further slide to the right, and a kick crunched into the Tigon’s knee. Something broke, and the cat went down, howling in pain. He parried a disemboweling thrust. Step back, leap over the other two Chims, and surprise them. Their backs were to him, and he pithed one, slamming his sword-tip through the back of its skull and into its brain. The other cat spun, and Rukh parried its thrust. He edged inside, hammering the pommel of his sword into the Tigon’s chin. It bit its tongue in half and gurgled in pain. A kick to its gut brought it wheezing to its knees. A slice to the throat and the Chim was done. Take care of the injured Tigon, and it was finished.
Rukh cleaned his sword on the corpse of a Tigon and gathered his arrows, feeling oddly satisfied. Stupid Chims. Let them come. He’d kill any others he came across, too. And if he died here, on this night, he was determined to have it on his terms, doing what he’d trained all his life for. He was a Kumma. He was a warrior, and he had a mission to complete.
But first, he had to clean up. He stank. His face, hands, and clothes were covered with blood and bits of Tigon meat, leaving him wet and sticky. There were even chunks of flesh in his hair. Luckily, one of the cats had a canteen full of water, and Rukh used it to rinse off as much gore and blood as possible from his hands and weapons.
He knelt on one knee, leaning on his sheathed sword, and prayed. He wasn’t sure what he wanted. All he knew was he was full of anger and terror, all alone in a cavern full of Chimeras. He didn’t want to die here, not like this.
He sighed. Survive today and let tomorrow sort itself out.
For now, time to get back to work.
Once more, Rukh studied his map, trying to figure out where in the unholy hells he was. Fruitless minutes later, he still had no idea. Fragging hells. He’d eventually figure it out, or he’d be dead.
He exited the cavern full of dead Tigons, but in less than fifty yards, he almost ran headlong into a hooting herd of Balants. They hadn’t caught sight of him yet. He was about to turn and run, but instead he decided to Blend.
He was hidden from sight – or so he hoped – as he hugged a corner of the passage, letting the Balants pass. They never saw nor heard nor smelled him. Except the last one, who turned and stared Rukh in the eyes. How had the fragging Chim seen through his Blend? Damn it. The Balant hooted his discovery, drawing the attention of his fellows.
Rukh sliced the beast’s throat for its troubles and raced away. Fragging Balants.
The baboon-like beasts gave chase, but Rukh quickly lost them, taking a side passage easily missed in the gloom. His choice proved to be fortuitous. Good word, fortuitous. Jessira liked using important sounding words like that. He wondered where she was. Wherever it was, it had to be a damn sight better than where he was.
He entered a cavern full of what looked to be Balant breeders, judging by their size and appearance. Rukh’s face scrunched up in disgust. They looked like a grotesque and tortured mix of simian, elephant, and ox, with the worst features of all three. The Balants he’d run into earlier were probably supposed to be here pr
otecting them. Their mistake. He raced through the chamber like a wind of death. The breeders hooted and hollered as he took their lives. They didn’t have his mercy, but they did have his pity. They looked to be nothing but dumb beasts.
He was about to leave the cavern when he noticed a small stack of barrels along one wall. He smelled oil, and a grim smile lit his face. He shucked the torches still on his back and grabbed a small barrel, strapping it to where the torches had been. It was hardly any weight at all, and it might prove very useful. For a moment he pondered how best to utilize the oil. The sound of clawed, running feet ended his speculation. By the howls, it was Ur-Fels. Lots of them.
Rukh turned and ran, planning to lead the dog-like Chimeras on a merry chase until he could figure out how to kill them. He took a side tunnel and briefly lost them. One of them must have caught his scent, though, finding him even through the Blend. Soon enough, he heard the Ur-Fels pursuing him once more.
Fine. Let them come.
He had an idea, and the Ur-Fels wouldn’t like it.
He stopped where the tunnel narrowed and broke the cask of oil, quickly emptying it all over the ground, walls, and even the ceiling. The Ur-Fels were close, and Rukh sprinted for cover around a nearby bend. He peered around the corner, Blended, nearly invisible, and waiting.
The Ur-Fels didn’t disappoint. They spilled into the tunnel, a howling mob of a hundred or so.
Rukh threw a Fireball. It screamed along the passage and ignited the spilled oil.
The tunnel went up like an inferno. The Ur-Fels screamed in pain, and their column disintegrated. Rukh Shielded. Protected from the heat and fire, he attacked, leaping into the midst of the confused Ur-Fels. His sword ripped across throats and stomachs and into torsos. Blood and meat hissed and sizzled in the fire. Greasy smoke filled the air, and it became hard to see or breathe.
Rukh killed a dozen or more of the Ur-Fels before the rest got themselves free of the still burning oil and launched their counterattack. They attacked a ghost.