by Adam Witcher
“We do not have any water for him,” Ana said.
“We do have something else he could drink,” Anton said slowly.
Petra gave him a horrified look.
“You don’t mean…”
“Look, he’s going to die regardless, and he’s nearly out of blood. You know what that means. If we let him drink it, it’s going to poison what’s left of his blood. And if his blood is poisoned…”
“Whoever drinks it will be poisoned too…”
“It may seem cruel,” Anton said. “But it solves two problems at once. Put this poor bastard out of his misery and quietly take down some Draconian scum with him.”
“I don’t know…” Petra said, obviously disgusted.
“You should decide quickly,” Ana said. “A reptilian is coming this way.”
“Shit, shit, let’s do it.” Anton scrambled to pull the jar of poison from his satchel. “Give these bastards a taste of their own medicine.”
“Here you go.” Anton put the jar to Hectus’ lips, and the man gulped weakly. The contents were gone in a matter of seconds. Hectus lowered his head and panted.
“Quick,” Anton said, “Back up into the ceiling.”
The three scrambled upward, barely sliding the tile back into place as the door opened. They listened carefully.
“Not looking so good, are we dear Hectus?” Matthias’ booming voice sounded from below. “You’re almost all dried up. What do you say we get it over with, eh? I’m so thirsty.”
Anton winced at the dry sucking and moaning from below.
“Master…” Hectus' voice was barely audible. “Master…”
“Got something to say?” Matthias stopped slurping.
“The… the ceiling… in the… ceiling.”
Anton looked at Petra, and her wide eyes mirrored his. Blood ran like ice through his veins.
“In the ceiling? What’s in the ceiling?”
“M-m-magician.”
“Go!” Anton hissed. “Quickly.”
Three thuds hit the ceiling below them.
“Shit.”
Three explosions. Three bursts of purple light. Blazing heat surged through the tunnel. They collapsed onto the ground in a pile of rubble. The purple light left Anton temporarily blinded, and when his vision returned, he was staring up into the sadistic eyes and wild beard of Matthias. The Draconian grinned and pointed his gun again, this time right at Anton’s face.
“No!” Anton shouted.
With what little strength he had, he pulled the dagger from his vest and thrust it at Matthias. The blade dug into the reptilian’s hand, and he dropped the gun with a scream. Green blood dripped from his wound and pooled on a human blood stain on the floor.
Matthias wore his ebony armor, minus a helmet and gauntlets, but there was something different about it. Whereas the brute’s armor usually had a reflective sheen to it, this set was a solid, impenetrable black, like staring into a starless night sky. Before Matthias was able to retrieve his gun from the ground, Anton fired a laser blast into his chest.
The Draconian just laughed. The spot on his chest where he’d taken the blow was undamaged. Instead of dissolving into the metallic mush that the laser usually produced, the armor somehow absorbed it. It took Anton a moment too long to realize what had happened. He raised the gun higher and aimed at the reptilian’s head, but Matthias kicked the laser pistol out of his hand and sent it flying across the room. Matthias stepped toward Ana, who was readying her own weapon and sent it flying too.
The bellowing laughter didn’t last. Matthias took a step toward his fallen weapon and dropped to his knees.
“What…” His eyes glazed over. He looked to Hectus, motionless on the mattress. “What did you…”
Matthias fell forward, breathing heavily. Dark red vomit spewed from his mouth, but it was too late. The fast-acting poison coursed through him. So freshly consumed, it must have hit him harder than the diluted blood of the boar. Hectus had drunk a lot of poison. Matthias shifted. Even when a scaly snout replaced his pale face, he still looked sickly and disoriented.
“You’ll… you’ll die for this.”
Matthias collapsed. His writhing convulsions diminished into disjointed twitches.
The three slowly got to their feet. Anton and Petra winced against the sting of scratches and bruises. Ana dusted herself off.
“Is he dead?” Petra asked, nudging Matthias with her foot.
“God, I hope so. Ana, do you have any idea what this armor is made of?”
“Let me see if I have information about the material in my database.”
Ana knelt over the dying reptilian and examined his suit closely.
“This material does not exist on Androna,” Ana said. “I cannot say what it is, but it is extremely strong, and apparently has the ability to absorb various kinds of energy.”
“Damn,” Anton said. “They’re prepared for us. We’re going to have to be more careful than we thought.”
“At least we killed one,” Petra said.
Matthias stirred. With what little energy he had left, he reached and pushed something in his ear.
“Magician is here,” Matthias whispered in Draconian. “In my chamb…”
Anton cut him off with a laser blast to the face, and the reptilian’s head became a biological soup.
“Fuck!” Anton stomped in frustration. “We have to go back up into the tunnels.”
“We can’t do it from in here,” Petra said. “Look.”
The tunnel above them no longer existed. The damage even extended into the next room. In no time, footsteps echoed in from outside the room. Anton peeked through a break in the wall and saw where the tunnels resumed. They’d have to go out in the hallway to reach it.
“Come on,” he said, “quickly.”
He leaned into the hall, but when he saw what awaited them, he retreated and slammed the door shut.
“Shit,” he said. “Looks like we’re gonna have to make a stand here.”
Chapter Twenty-Two
From the hallway, a dull thud rang through the crumbling room for every spike that stuck in the wall, followed by explosions. Splintered wood showered Anton as he struggled to pull the pieces of armor from Matthias’ corpse and don them himself. He heard clicks, gurgles, and hisses outside the room, but Anton was too focused to interpret them.
“Who’s out there?” Petra asked him. “Matteo? Eliza?”
“Matteo, yes.” He grunted as he put on the final pieces of armor. “I didn’t see Eliza. He brought the cavalry. Bunch of knights and guards, their people and yours. Well, not so much yours anymore. He brought your sword instructor too.”
“Thaddeus…”
More thuds, more explosions and splintered. Ana pointed her Draconian firearm through a newly formed crack in the wall and blasted a volley of needles. Anton couldn’t tell if they hit their targets, but distress cries told him they’d at least bought a few moments.
Anton, finally clad from neck to toe in the energy-absorbing armor, felt a surge of confidence. The splitting door frame allowed him to observe the scene. Matteo had one of the needle guns, and a set of armor to match his, but the others carried the barbaric weapons of the era. Knights, some human and some Draconian, brandished swords and axes, but they all hung back at Matteo’s order.
“Come out, come out, magician,” Matteo said, words dripping with venom. “This little game is over.”
Anton grimaced. He retreated into the room before Matteo had a chance to fire again.
“Ana,” he said. “You and I are gonna do an all-out assault on Matteo and his goons. I’ll go for his head and his weapon, you shoot his men. Petra, we’re going to get rushed by the bastards with melee weapons. Hold them off as best you can, okay?”
Ana nodded. Petra drew her two swords. Another series of explosions destroyed all that remained of the wall, and they took that as their cue. It would take Matteo a few seconds for his gun to recharge.
“Go!”
/> He opened fire on Matteo the moment he saw his eyes. The bastard and his crew of cronies stood a dozen feet away. Laser blasts hit the reptilian’s armor, and though he wasn’t harmed, he stumbled backward. Several of the Draconians and castle guardsmen rushed Anton, so he turned his weapon on them. Ana’s needles whizzed through the air and buried themselves in the joints of the men’s armor before exploding. They fell to the ground one by one as their flesh fused with the inferior armor. They writhed on the ground, and several reverted to their natural state. Within a matter of moments, he dropped four of them and Ana dropped three. He didn’t relish murdering the brainwashed humans, but he had little doubt they would have smashed his skull in without a second thought.
His attention turned back to Matteo, who had regenerated his needles and prepared to fire again. Over his shoulder, he heard metal clank against metal as Petra went head to head against a guard.
Anton aimed carefully at the needle pistol, desperate to prevent him or either of the ladies from taking a razor-sharp exploding projectile to the face, and pulled the trigger repeatedly, sending bright red blast after blast toward the alien technology. As he did this, Ana held off the goons with her remaining needles. The hallway was a psychedelic storm of red and purple. Some of Anton’s shots were absorbed by Matteo’s alien armor, some of them went careening off, crashing into the walls and sending rubble tumbling to the ground.
Matteo buried a volley of needles into Anton’s breastplate. All he could do was move his arms to shield his head from the blast. The needles burst. Recoil sent him backward, where he landed heavily on his back. Fighting through the pain, he did his best to recover before Matteo could recharge, and aimed his gun more carefully.
In the instant before Matteo fired more needles of death toward him, his laser blast connected with the fiend’s gun. The needles sticking out of the Draconian’s pistol shattered, the gun shooting sparks in all directions. Matteo dropped it with a frustrated roar.
Meanwhile, Petra was locked in combat with Thaddeus, and she could tell that the brainwashed, blood-drinking bastard was losing his upper hand. Petra caught each one of his wide-swung blows and retaliated with smooth, quick jabs from her dual swords. Thaddeus stepped back and saw what was happening to his allies. Ten guards were dead or dying, and a now unarmed Matteo was beginning to retreat. Thaddeus was on the verge of panic.
“Fuck this,” growled the lanky swordsman. “I’ve got another idea. I’m sure your parents will be easy to slaughter down in the dungeons. All glory to house Dracos!”
Thaddeus bolted toward the stairwell leading downward. Petra glanced quickly behind her to see Anton and Ana bolt after Matteo, then she turned back as Thaddeus disappeared down the stairs.
I’m sorry, Anton. Good luck.
She raced off in pursuit of Thaddeus.
Petra was agile, but Thaddeus was much taller and had thin, long legs. It was a struggle to keep up, but she prevailed. The swordsman leaped down the next stairwell with her in tow. When he burst into the hallways of the ground floor, he took off in a direction that confused her. The entrance to the dungeon was on the east hallway, but the man rushed toward the western section of the castle. She racked her brain, desperately wondering if there was another entrance to the dungeon that she didn’t know about, or if perhaps her parents weren’t in the dungeon after all, but came up with nothing. She’d seen them there on the magic screens.
While she was still trying to understand what he was doing, Thaddeus took a hard turn into the dueling chamber where he often taught her lessons. She hesitated, but, with a surge of anger, followed him inside.
Petra entered the chamber and found that Thaddeus was not alone. The swordsman grinned maniacally and brandished his longsword. Beside him was a giant. Standing at least six and a half feet, the bald, armored brute carried a sword that must have been longer than she was tall. The man had blood smeared across his chin.
“You’ve betrayed your rightful rulers, princess.” The coward regained his confidence standing beside the giant. “And now you must pay the price. I’d like you to meet another pupil of mine, Wolfgar.”
Wolfgar grunted.
“Wolfgar isn’t much of a talker,” Thaddeus said. “More of a killer. Adept with a blade.”
Petra considered retreating, but she was too enraged to do anything but face them.
Suddenly, Thaddeus threw his head back and laughed.
“Princess, do you remember the other day when you said perhaps I should bring another swordsman into the fray? You needed a better challenge than just me, did you? Well, I’ve delivered as her highness requested. Get her, Wolfgar!”
Petra was trapped between the two walls by the door, so she dashed forward, using her momentum to dive beneath Wolfgar’s legs. The giant swung but was too slow. As she somersaulted, Petra jabbed toward the man’s leg. She managed to slide the blade between two plates of armor, and blood dripped from the wound, but he didn't even flinch. He grunted in annoyance rather than pain.
“You’re a god damned traitor, Thaddeus,” she shouted. “And a coward! You can’t take me, so you have to bring in this fucking meathead? You’re pathetic.”
Wolfgar began to turn around, and Thaddeus flanked her.
“Oh, I can’t take you, can I? Boo hoo.”
He jabbed his blade forward, but Petra parried and got to her feet. She turned one sword on each opponent, holding them up like guns in a stand-off.
Wolfgar rushed her again, this time with an upward swing. She shifted both swords toward him and managed to push the blade away, but the man’s hulking mass slammed into her, and she flew backward.
Getting up was tough with the wind knocked out of her. She ached all over, but the juggernaut was coming back. A nimble roll got her out of Wolfgar’s path and led her toward Thaddeus’ feet. The tutor slashed at her, but she ducked and rolled again, then swiped one of her swords outward and nicked his leg. Thaddeus yelped, dropped his sword, and clutched the light wound.
“Come on, I barely scratched you!” Petra rolled her eyes.
“Kill her, Wolfgar! Now!”
Wolfgar grunted and stomped toward her. Petra looked up, expecting another attack from the brute’s broadsword, but instead, he kicked her hard in the side with a steel capped boot and sent her sprawling on the ground. She gasped for air while Thaddeus laughed.
Wolfgar approached again and towered over her. In a move of desperation, she slashed at his legs with what strength she still had, taking aim for any breaks in his armor at the ankle or knees. Even when the sword sunk into his flesh, the giant didn’t blink. He raised his broadsword, preparing for a finishing move. Thaddeus limped over for a better view. He grinned sadistically and drew his own blade.
Petra’s life flashed before her eyes. Wounded, barely breathing, she stood little chance. Never again would she see Anton, learn more about the future of her planet, fight the invaders. A new world was slipping through her fingers. All because she had fallen for a dirty trick. Goddamn you, Thaddeus.
“Kill me already!” she shouted with more confidence than she felt. “I haven’t got all day!”
Wolfgar was about to indulge in her request when something stirred in the ceiling. The brute took no mind and continued to aim the killing blow. Thaddeus, however, turned toward the commotion. A tile slid aside.
A familiar face gazed down at Petra, and she was simultaneously filled with hope and confusion. Gregor, the silver-haired, mild mannered servant, had rage in his eyes. Never in her life had she seen him in such a state. The old man prepared to jump.
“Wolfgar, above you!”
Wolfgar looked up just as Gregor descended upon him. Petra gasped when she saw the servant’s state.
Gregor was shirtless, and Petra had no idea what the man had been hiding under his loose-fitting robes. The old man had chiseled arms and pecs, his abs were cut like a statue’s. Veins bulged under his skin, coursing with power. His pants were simple linen covered with chainmail, but his legs were so mu
scular that they, too, threatened to burst through the metal. A long dagger was strapped to his waist, a battleaxe to his back.
Gregor wrapped his legs around Wolfgar’s neck and grabbed the broadsword straight out of his hands. Effortlessly, he tossed the giant weapon aside.
Wolfgar flailed, too stupid to understand what was happening. His beefy arms waved uselessly, and Gregor dodged the swipes. The giant stumbled. Gregor’s strong legs tensed, cutting of Wolfgar’s oxygen. His face turned red, then blue.
“Get off of him, you bastard!” Thaddeus’ voice shook. “You cannot kill Wolfgar! Nobody can.”
“Is that so, sir?” Gregor asked, his voice as calm as ever. “I should like to test that theory.”
The ripped manservant pulled the dagger from his waist and plunged it into Wolfgar’s neck. Blood spewed, covering some of Gregor’s sleek muscles. Petra stumbled to her feet, welcoming the distraction. Collecting her strength against the pain, she leaped for Wolfgar’s chest. Pulling back his breastplate with one hand, she plunged one of her swords into the man’s heart.
Wolfgar fell into the spreading pool of his blood. Gregor jumped from his shoulders and joined Petra. They stood side-by-side, their bloody weapons and pointed toward Thaddeus.
“Two against one,” Petra grinned. “How does it feel, you fucking coward?”
Thaddeus charged, one last-ditch effort. It was a pathetic, desperate attack. Gregor lunged forward with amazing speed and rammed his dagger into the man’s belly.
“Princess,” he said, “would you care to do the honors?”
“My pleasure.”
Thaddeus fell to his knees, and Petra took a deep breath. She aimed her swords carefully, then swung them toward each other with her former teacher’s head between them. With a scissoring effect, the weapons converged and sent his head careening into the nearest wall. Thaddeus collapsed, his neck wound spurting a fountain of blood.
Petra and Gregor stood beside the two corpses, both painted crimson by the blood of their treacherous enemies. Petra smiled, but Gregor remained as stoic as ever.