“No!” Bethany sobbed, fighting against both D’Jenn’s and Shawna’s hands, “You can’t leave me!”
Dormael’s heart broke. “I’ll be right behind you, dear. You have to go with D’Jenn and Shawna right now, but we’ll catch up to you. Don’t worry; we’ll be right behind you.”
“Do you promise?”
Dormael felt slimy and cold as the lie passed his lips, “I promise.”
“They’re coming! Get out of here!” Allen barked at them, and D’Jenn gave one last nod to his cousins before turning. Shawna’s eyes were worried, but she turned, and together the three of them ran down the walkway to the next crossing. Dormael turned back toward the creatures.
They rushed at them with a strange almost loping gait, pulling themselves along the ground with powerful strokes of both their arms and their legs. Dormael squared himself and reached out with his magic, feeling the heat and water in the air, pulling it all into one place. The lights of the magical braziers at the bases of the water tanks around them dimmed a little as he pulled the heat from them.
“A little magic, please?” Allen asked, crouched and ready.
“Working on it,” Dormael replied, and gestured sharply with his spear. Fire rushed forth from the tip of the steel blade, undulating in the air as if it were made of some strange liquid. It slammed into the smaller of the two creatures, sending it into a backwards tumble. Dormael felt a surge of satisfaction as his spell connected. It was too late to hit the other one.
The larger creature gathered its limbs beneath it and leapt into the air, screeching an odd hiss as its feet left the ground. It was still over twenty links away, but it kicked its limbs in midair to keep itself aright and flew with a terrible grace straight for Allen. Dormael’s brother, however, was ready for it.
“Big mistake,” Allen grunted. Stepping forward with a practiced, fluid motion, he hefted his spear above his shoulder and let it fly. The spear rushed through the air and met the creature as it was coming down from the apex of its leap. It made a wet tearing noise as it pierced the body of the thing, and Allen had to roll forward to avoid the creature’s body as it clattered to the walkway, still transfixed by his spear. It slid to a stop a few hands behind Dormael and his brother, and for a moment all was silent.
“Well…that was easy,” Allen said, rising from his crouch and striding over to Dormael.
The creature at the end of the walkway let out a screech of what Dormael thought could only be annoyance and began rising to its feet. Its clothing was blackened by Dormael’s fire, and there were even places where Dormael could see that flesh had been burned as well, but the thing didn’t seem to feel the pain of its injuries as it rose back into a hunched crouch. It barked another shriek at Dormael and slowly began to creep forward, a little more wary this time.
“You spoke too soon, brother mine,” Dormael grunted, setting his feet and readying his own spear. He heard the thing behind them start to rise, and shot a glance in its direction. It pushed itself up into his stunted, short legs, and gripped the spear that was rammed through its midsection. With a short pull, it removed Allen’s weapon, and dropped it. The spear clattered onto the stones of the bridge.
“Gods be damned,” Allen cursed, yanking that large curving sword from its sheath and setting his targe upon his other forearm, “I could be down at the Bastion right now, fighting normal Rashardians that at least bleed when you cut them. Why did I let you talk me into this?”
“You love the pleasure of my company,” Dormael shot back, gathering his Kai for another strike.
“Maybe, but I really hate your friends, here. Couldn’t you have taken a mission that planted us in the middle of a bevy of beautiful women, just this once?”
Dormael laughed as he heard his earlier thoughts echoed by his brother’s words. They both grew silent, and Dormael watched the thing that crept toward him, trying to discern something from it. It appeared to be…a child. Dormael couldn’t place his finger on why, exactly, but he felt sure that this thing had once been a child. He could see it, even through the deformities that now twisted the thing’s body.
It shuffled a bit right and left, trying to feint Dormael into throwing another blast at it, but he didn’t want to waste his energy on something that he wasn’t sure would have enough of an effect on the thing. Instead, he took a page from D’Jenn’s book.
He began to swing his spear in those slow circles that Shawna had instilled in him during their sparring sessions, taking feinting steps of his own toward the thing in front of him. Surprisingly, it reacted – changing its stance and backing off a bit, even though it was still a few hands out of spear reach. So it had a bit of intelligence, after all.
Dormael pulled energy from the air around him, spinning it into the black wooden haft of his spear, feeling the movement as it cut the air, and feeding his magic into its passing, charging the spear until it vibrated with energy. It made an odd crackling noise as it passed through the air, leaving trails of spark-like motes that shone bright red with heat as he swung it. He stepped toward the thing, taking a few mocking swings at it, trying to bait it into making an attack.
The thing obliged him, and it almost killed Dormael in the act.
In the blink of an eye, it moved inside Dormael’s swinging range and threw one of its long claws up in a slash aimed at Dormael’s throat. The only thing that saved him was the fact that the thing’s hand passed through an area where Dormael had just swung the haft of his charged spear, and the contact with the energized air slowed the thing’s attack a bit. The air crackled loudly as the claw passed through the air, and it gave Dormael time to react and slip backwards out of the reach of the sharpened bone tips that reached for his blood. The creature moved too fast to be believed.
Dormael was inside its range, and he thought for the second time today that he was going to die. There was no way he could match this thing’s unnatural speed, but if he tried to move outside its range again, he felt sure it would be on him in an instant, and the battle would be lost. He’d just have to slow it down, somehow.
He brought the spiked end of his spear up to knock aside the thing’s other claw as it slashed at him, barely checking the blow in time, and rammed the spear’s haft into the thing’s midsection. The energy he’d built up exploded out of his spear with a sound like cracking stone, and sent the thing tumbling backwards down the bridge, gaining Dormael much needed space. He didn’t waste any time.
As the creature’s claws dug into the stone of the walkway, stopping its tumble, Dormael divided his concentration and began another spell. The air thickened around the deformed creature, gaining mass and weight, and the thing began to move as if it were underwater. Dormael smiled at his own ingenuity, and poured even more energy into his spear, which he spun now even faster, and began rushing toward the sluggish thing, pressing his attack.
He spun, ecstatic with the feel of his power rushing through his body. He pulled more and more energy from the air around him, amplified it with his own magic, and let the length of the spear haft out in his hands until he held it just above the spiked end. The magic practically hummed in the air around him.
Time seemed to slow as he committed to his attack. He could see the thing struggling to move out of the bubble of congealed air, but it wouldn’t be able to get out in time to avoid the blow that Dormael was aiming at it. He felt the energies around him reaching a crescendo as he spun and planted his feet, swinging the entire haft of his spear at the creature. In the last seconds he pulled even more energy up from the stones, and could feel it rushing up his feet, into his hips, and turning with the motion of his shoulders, until it focused at a point just under the leaf shaped blade of his spear. His weapon glowed hotly in response.
At the very last moment, he dropped his slowing spell and his spear slammed into the creature with a loud crack. There was a flash of light and a discharge of heat as his blow struck home upon the chest of the deformed thing. It wailed in pain, and Dormael’s hands went numb
with the vibration that slammed back up the haft of the spear. The creature’s feet left the ground as Dormael’s energy-charged blow knocked it into the air, and it tumbled head over heels to slam into the nearest bronze hood. The metal rung like a bell in response, and screeched as the thing bent the face of the hood inward. Dormael wasn’t done just yet.
He reached out with his Kai and seized the metal of the hood, and as the creature began to try and crawl forth from the dent it had made, he made a squeezing gesture with his hands and the hood bent with a creaking noise that jarred Dormael’s teeth in his head. It folded itself upward and closed off the creature’s escape. Then with another gesture, Dormael screamed out in anger and defiance, pouring all of his hatred and pain from what had happened to him earlier in the day, and crushed the thing inside the bronze prison.
Then he charged the whole bit with lightning. It arced between several of the tank hoods around the bent one, striking down into the boiling water and causing hissing steam to issue forth in response to its quick, random strikes. Dormael felt his throat going raw and realized that he was still screaming. He let the lightning die as the breath in his chest finally squeezed out. He felt greatly fatigued after that rain of power, but he had to be sure that the thing wouldn’t be getting up again.
Dormael hefted his spear once again, and turned to help his brother.
Allen was engaged in a deadly dance with the larger of the two creatures. As Dormael watched, running forth to help, his brother slipped his head aside, barely avoiding a slash that had been aimed at his face, while blocking another blow with his targe that shot out so quickly as to be near simultaneous. He went on the offensive afterward, his stance flowing so quickly and easily that Dormael could scarce see the subtle differences in the way he moved. His sword swung in great circular arcs, causing the creature to backpedal or risk losing a limb. Dormael noticed something then that Allen had obviously already figured out – the short stunted legs of the thing caused it considerable trouble when trying to move backwards. It could lope forward with deceptive grace and speed, but it shuffled backward with difficulty, and the movement kept it off balance. Allen used the advantage as best he could, pressing his attack and staying too close to the thing for it to get its footing straight.
Dormael dared not unleash any power at the creature; lest he hit his brother. He rushed toward the melee, gathering his hands on his spear in the proper way and preparing to help Allen battle this monstrosity as best he could. This was going to be a serious fight.
Allen knocked aside another slash aimed at his face, as if he’d anticipated the swing, and went immediately into a low crouch as the creature threw another slash at him with the other claw, but only met empty air where Allen’s head had been. Allen’s sword swung down and to the left in a flash, biting hard into the creature’s right knee and severing the calf from the rest of its body. The thing screeched at him in pain, and reached its two hands down to try and grasp Allen, but that was when Dormael entered the fight.
He rushed forward, stabbing at the thing’s face to force it back from his brother. It avoided his jabs easily, but had to scramble on its three remaining legs to get out of range of Dormael’s spear and regain its balance. It leapt backward suddenly, propelled more by its thin arms than its leg, and landed ten links away from them, screeching in pain and anger.
The leg that Allen had cut from the creature lay upon the stones of the walkway, quivering with tiny spasms as a dark, smoky substance rose from the severed end. In a few short moments, the skin dried and crackled, and the leg seemed to deflate and grow brittle. Allen made a disgusted noise and crushed the thing under the heel of his boot, causing it to shatter into tiny pieces of a salty substance.
“How do you want to do this?” Allen asked, breathing hard, “Do you have any of those crazy magical attacks left in you?”
“Not like before,” Dormael replied, feeling the fatigue cramping his muscles and dulling his responses, “Anything I could probably throw at it now wouldn’t hurt it much, if the other one was any indication. It took a good bit to bring the other one down, and to tell you the truth I’m not entirely sure it’s dead.”
“Oh, wonderful,” Allen replied as the thing gathered itself to rush the two of them again, “In that case, you try and bind that thing’s arms up high, and I’ll cut into it low. Stay a bit behind me and give me room to work. We’ll send this thing back to whatever level of the Hells it crawled out of.”
“Sounds beautiful,” Dormael agreed, and the thing charged at them again, its missing leg not seeming to slow it by much.
Allen charged right into its path, screaming and brandishing his sword as he ran, and Dormael had little choice but to stay close to his brother. They met the charge of the creature, and Dormael threw a few feints at its face, forcing its hands up to defend itself. It obliged him, but it seemed to move even faster than before – that, or Dormael was simply moving slower – and it knocked each blow of his spear aside with a casual, almost contemptible ease.
Allen charged into the fray in a crouch, spinning and slashing with his sword, but each time his blade came close to the thing’s leg or torso, it simply brought one arm down to knock the blow aside, arched its body out of range, and even in one case it jumped, spinning sideways in midair and landing on one foot and one arm, bringing the other down to crash into Allen’s targe, sending him to one knee. Dormael scored a slice then as he thrust his spear at the thing’s head, but it was fast enough to slip its head to the side, and he succeeded only in opening a thin line across the thing’s neck. No blood issued from the wound, and the creature didn’t even register it.
Allen screamed in rage, rising from his knee and pushing the attack, forcing the thing back on its heels, but the creature was ready for him this time. Instead of trying to backpedal onto its one good leg, it simply turned over backwards in a flip, pushing off with its arms as it flew out of reach. It landed again in that awkward three-limbed crouch, short gurgling sounds coming from its throat.
It was laughing at them.
“That ugly, deformed, bastard,” Allen hissed, and abandoning his weapons, he rushed the thing. Dormael screamed out to his brother to stop, but Allen didn’t hear him. The creature gave an elated shriek, and bounded forward, pushing off the ground with its arms and leg. Dormael took a step towards the coming clash, but it seemed that his legs just couldn’t move fast enough.
The creature reached its long, wicked arms out toward Allen as it flew through the air, but Allen surprised the thing – and Dormael – by flinging himself on his back and sliding the last couple of hands, his armor screeching on the stones. He caught the creature’s stunted leg as it flew by him, and wrapped his entire body around it in some strange wrestling hold. The creature made no noise as its momentum suddenly stopped and it fell, face first to the walkway with its arms sprawling out before it.
Dormael seized the opportunity and gave the thing two dazing whacks across the temples with his spear, hoping to buy his brother some time to get free of the thing, but Allen had no such intention. Dormael watched with tense horror as Allen turned his body over, rolling the creature onto its back and snapping bones in its leg in the process. It screamed out that strange metallic noise and reached its arms down toward Allen, but Allen was already scrambling up its body as he pinned it to the ground, and the long arms were too ungainly to defend itself from Allen’s grapple.
Without the leg to use for leverage, the strange thing couldn’t move Allen. It tried to thrash, and once or twice it almost got free, but Allen rode down the creature’s resistance like an expert, and finally struggled into a position with his legs wrapped around one of the creature’s arms, pinning it against the ground, and the other arm gripped in both hands, straining against the thing’s deceptive strength as he tried to pin it to the ground on the other side of its body.
“Dormael! Pin that arm down!” Allen shouted with strain evident in his voice. Dormael was almost too shocked by the sight to respond, bu
t he opened his Kai and managed to grip the thing’s hand and pull it slowly down to the stones. It was a strain to hold it in place. His magic seemed to seep off of the creature’s skin somehow, as if there were a slight resistance around it, causing most of his magic to slip harmlessly aside. Some of it still connected, though, and he began to sweat with the effort of keeping it in place. It didn’t help that the thing was so Gods damned strong.
Allen, one hand now free, reached onto his belt and whipped out his handaxe. With short, quick, and savage motions, he began chopping at the creature’s neck. It shrieked in protest and pain, whipping its head back and forth, but Allen was implacable. Gore and ichor splattered up from the thing’s neck and head as Allen swung over and over again, grunting with the effort. Finally, after what seemed like a hundred strikes, the head came rolling free of the body, and the struggling suddenly abated. It crackled in the exact fashion that the leg had earlier, and the entire body fell away into that grayish salt.
The only noise was the din of the boiling tanks around them, and the brothers’ heavy, fatigued breathing.
“That,” Dormael said as he reached a hand down to help his brother stand, “was the most foolish, crazy, idiotic, and amazing thing I’ve ever seen, brother.”
“I do try, you know,” Allen said, stretching a bit and beginning to gather up his weapons.
Dormael snorted loudly, “Do you realize what you just did? You wrestled a Gods damned…whatever that thing was to the ground and chopped its head off. It had to have been some kind of demon, Allen. And you wrestled with the damned thing as if it were another boy in the sparring yard. What in the Six Hells were you thinking?”
Allen just shrugged, “I was thinking about killing it. And I was a little angry. Couldn’t you hear it laughing at us?”
“Yes.”
“Then you know why I did it, Dormael. Nobody laughs at Allen Harlun and gets away with it, not even a skinny-armed demon straight out of some nightmare.”
The Sentient Fire (The Seven Signs) Page 74