Asgard Awakening 2

by Blaise Corvin

  The Kin’s glowing shield brightened, and the Kin’s eyes glowed. “I have not heard of a human this powerful existing for a long, long time. On second thought, I think I want to take you alive. The Church would love to have you.”

  “Fuck you,” snarled Trav. He bound forward, his supernatural speed letting him close the distance in a blink, and yelled, “Flamethrower!” White-hot fire shot from the tip of his shiv, just like Trav had practiced before. Part of him had been hoping that the fight would be over, but he was still wary, which was why he saw the anteater Kin begin to rise with its bow out the corner of his eye.

  Trav turned, yelled, “Accelerate!” and threw Hex. The shiv was instantly sped up as it flew through the air, hitting like a massively heavy rifle round. All Trav’s practice with the ability had paid off, because while the weapon didn’t go exactly where he’d aimed, it still clipped the Kin’s shoulder. The anteater screamed as its arm was torn off, and it clamped one hand over the wound, falling to the ground.

  Out of the smoke to the other side, the dinosaur thing barreled forward at Trav, and flicked its weapon. Trav saw it too late to dodge, so the best he could do was hold out a hand and project his magic shield the best he could. The glob of fire hit him square. His shield absorbed most of the explosion, but a wave of heat still got through, blistering his skin and burning one hand.

  He screamed, and retaliated by using all his enhanced strength to throw his spear. The weapon shot forward like a rocket before punching right through the dinosaur Kin like wet tissue paper, leaving a massive hole through the middle of its body.

  Trav hurt so bad he could barely think, but he still managed to call Hex into his good hand and scream, “Pain, compartmentalize!” His torment was instantly manageable, and with his wits intact, he turned in time to see the Rakshasa rushing him, sword raised.

  Shit shit shit! Trav thought. He checked his available power and his heart sunk. His resources were rapidly dwindling. Trav had less than two bars of power left. “Back gust!” Trav was blown back again. He’d tried to angle himself to get closer to where he’d set up his trap, but he’d gotten turned around at some point. “Soften!”

  The moment Trav’s boots touched the ground, he held his hand to the side and shouted, “Searching Mist. Spear!” Thudding, running steps would have announced the Rakshasa’s approach even if Trav couldn’t see him. The monster hadn’t waited, and was almost right on top of Trav again.

  Trav acted like he was going to flee to the right, but then went left instead. The heavy Rakshasa howled as his momentum took him the wrong direction. “Accelerate!” Trav threw Hex at the dangerous Kin, but the Rakshasa somehow managed to block the attack, his longsword ringing like a bell as he parried the heavy blow.

  “Fuck!” cursed Trav. He ran as fast as he could, heading to the point he’d aimed at before while he’d surveyed the field. While he ran, his spear slapped into his open palm. With a pang of regret, he wished he could use both hands to fight but one was too mangled right now. His burned hand wasn’t moving at all.

  His mind raced. He might not be as fast as he would be if he were uninjured, but if he could end this fight here, but he could still escape. Most of the other Church forces were still distant. This Rakshasa was likely high ranking and had wanted to have his own fun with friends. “Fuckers!” Trav could feel his anger coming back. Anything was better than fear, so he held onto it.

  The Rakshasa came barreling toward him, but stopped before getting too close and instead advanced on the balls of his inhuman feet, tail swishing. The Kin’s eyes were narrowed, and teeth were showing, but the expression was not mocking anymore. This monster was taking Trav seriously now. Damn. This would be a lot easier if he just rushed me.

  Trav was down to one arm and a spear, but the Kin obviously knew he was still dangerous. With patience honed by training with his cousin Ash, then Jang-mi, Trav waited for the eventual attack, a lunging stab. He barely evaded the Rakshasa’s blade, and hissed as he stabbed in return. The hit was true, jabbing the Rakshasa through the bicep. While the blow hadn’t been very solid, it was still enough to make the monster start bleeding heavily.

  As the beast roared and took a step back, Trav was able to see the damage all of his magical attacks had done to his enemy. While the beast had avoided the majority of the damage, like Trav had earlier using a shield of his own, there were still burns and injuries all over the Rakshasa’s body.

  Perfect.

  Trav stabbed again, trying to take advantage of the Kin lord’s momentary weakness. His attack was aimed right at the monster’s feline face, and would have been beautiful if it’d hit, but it didn’t. The Rakshasa swept the thrust to the side and moved impossibly quickly, lashing out with a bare hand, claws extended.

  Without even thinking about it. Trav raised his bad arm to block and screamed as the Rakshasa’s claws tore strips out of his shoulder even as the impact broke his arm. He fell back, somehow holding onto his spear, and scooted back on his butt. The Kin followed, grinning again, and stepped on Trav’s weapon before triumphantly moving forward for the kill.

  Now, he thought. Trav remotely triggered his trap he’d laid earlier, shoving a full bar of power into the effort.

  The distant, rune-covered shed detonated, and a solid plane of blue energy shot out in two directions. The first wave scythed backward, across Faith at just high enough to take a Dacith’s head off. Entire buildings crashed down, and the Church Kin screamed as at least a handful were cut into pieces.

  The second plane of energy had been aimed at the field, had a much tighter range, and greater intensity. Trav hadn’t judged the aim perfectly, but the fringes of the powerful magic attack still caught the Rakshasa across the chest. The Kin screamed and fell back.

  The entire field was instantly covered in smoke after the beam had burned and superheated everything it touched. Steam rose into the sky and the air smelled of ozone and burnt hair. Trav gingerly got up, wincing. He wondered if he’d broken a leg or a foot too. With a grunted curse, he had just turned to begin limping to the distant tree line when a terrifying shadow loomed out of the smoke.

  “Oh no you don’t,” hissed the Rakshasa. One of the Kin’s eyes were missing, half his face was burned, and a deep cut extended all the way across his chest, even through the dark armor. The Rakshasa grabbed Trav by his armor and effortlessly picked him up with one arm. “I had to use everything I had not to die just now.” The Kin grimaced and spat out a tooth. “Taking you alive is not going to happen. You died in the fight, unfortunately. The Dead Masters will just need to understand.”

  One of the Rakshasa’s hands dropped to his belt, and he drew a dagger. Trav felt an echo of surprise when he saw the tip glowing, and recognized what it was—emberstone.

  It was hard to think clearly, and only hate helped Trav avoid panicking. He desperately tried to bring his spear to bear, but it was underneath the Rakshasa’s arm holding him, and he couldn’t get the right grip or leverage.

  The feline monster grinned evilly, stared him right in the eye with his own remaining eye, and drove the blade into Trav’s side.

  The world went white for a second. Between seconds, Trav felt the power of the emberstone, and a resonance. There was a sea of red around him, and he floated on it for a while.

  Some part of him was screaming at him to wake up. There was a thunderous boom, and Trav realized he was hearing his own heartbeat. The emberstone was looming on the horizon, a well of crimson energy. He drew a tiny bit of power out of the stone, just a drop. It was enough to make him feel so nauseous he almost passed out again, but he pushed through and snapped awake. If he’d been relying on his biological eye, it might have taken a while to focus, but his emberstone eye immediately focused.

  He was still being held aloft, and the Rakshasa was shouting something. The butt of Trav’s spear was in his armpit, and the dagger in his chest was on the other side. Trav felt his anger beating in his ears like a drumbeat, and let it fill him. He was not going
to let one of these fuckers kill him, not after everything he’d been through.

  Using his one good hand, he let go of his spear, pulled the emberstone dagger out of his own body, and slammed it into the gap in the Rakshasa’s armor, directly into the cut in his chest. He’d briefly thought about aiming for the bastard’s heart, but there was no need to get fancy, especially while Trav was struggling just to stay awake.

  The Kin stiffened, turning his head, eyes wide in surprise. “How—” he began.

  “Fuck off, cat. You’re dead. Eat your own emberstone, bitch.”

  The Rakshasa tried to reply, but collapsed, taking Trav with him. Now that he was on the ground, Trav could feel approaching feet, and hear shouts too. “Shit,” he sighed. There was no way he was going to get out of here now, even with magic—at least not without risk. He had less than half a bar of power left, his body was broken, and he was starting to feel his consciousness fade again. He might die anyway even if his last-ditch plan worked and he didn’t teleport into a lake or a dungeon somewhere. Blood covered the entire side of his body.

  He yanked the emberstone dagger out of the dead Rakshasa, put it in his belt, and called Hex. Then he drew a circle around himself, trying to be as fast as possible, but also being careful to do it right. His entire body was in agony, and he had to breathe deeply a couple of times to avoid passing out. No matter how hard he tried, he was still feeling more light headed by the second. Time was not his friend.

  Finally, when he got the circle closed, Trav collected some of his blood on Hex, flicked it on himself, and said, “Random Teleport.” He heard the shouts get louder, closer, as the world went sideways and he lost consciousness.

  Chapter 8

  Trav awoke covered in an unfamiliar bed, covered in bandages. He lay still for a while, letting memories return, and kept his eyes closed. Taking time to get his bearings was a habit he’d formed during his time as a slave, and when he finally remembered his fight and how he’d barely fled Faith with his life, he was glad for the automatic caution.

  Then he registered dull, throbbing pain.

  The room he was in had log walls, likely a cabin. His bed was made in the same fashion, of logs dovetailed together, and he was lying on tanned furs over some sort of padding. A crude skylight and a wax candle on a side table provided plenty of illumination.

  As he examined his room, Trav caught sight of his gear, including his armor. He felt a chill and reached under his blankets, verifying that he wasn’t wearing anything other than his underwear and an unfamiliar shirt.

  He heard footsteps, and fully relaxed his face in time before his door was opened. Under the covers, he silently willed Hex into his hand. He doubted that someone would have patched him up and put him in bed just to hurt him later, but he didn’t plan to be unarmed in a strange situation if he could help it.

  After a few seconds of uncertain breathing, a youthful voice said, “Are you awake?” Trav didn’t answer, and the voice shouted, “Mother, I think he is awake!”

  Larger footsteps sounded in the hallway outside, and the door squeaked as it fully opened. This time, Trav felt something, a probing sensation, then a high, but husky voice said, “You can stop playing dead. I know you are awake.”

  Trav decided to err on the side of caution, and didn’t move a muscle. He kept his breathing deep and regular, but his grip tightened on Hex and his full attention was focused on his hearing.

  Suddenly, he saw text over his vision.

  Trav immediately recognized the communication as coming from the Oracle, and did as she’d said, opening himself in an unfamiliar way to sense using a power he hadn’t even had for half a year.

  The presence before him was blinding, suffocating. Trav’s eyes snapped open in panic and his arm came up defensively with Hex. The weapon was charged with magic, and easily burned through the furs on its way up, filling the room with the acrid scent of charred flesh and hair.

  In the doorway stood a large, modestly and plainly clothed Rakshasa female drying her hand on a rag. Now that Trav was using all of his senses, he could tell she was practically swimming in power, but was suppressing it.

  A Rakshasa boy behind her eeped, but the female absently patted his head and fixed Trav with a steely eye. “Don’t burn my house down, human. The only reason you are still alive is because my son asked me to save you, and sometimes he knows who and what will be important later. I smelled the Rakshasa blood on you, but you are not a threat...to me. If you annoy me, I will crush you. Do we understand each other?”

  As Trav stared, more text crossed his vision, obviously courtesy of the Oracle. Over the heads of both the powerful female and the child floated, .

  Trav stood still for several seconds as the female glared at him, still drying her hands. His brain didn’t feel like it was working right, and he was considering either teleporting again or doing something, anything, other than just staring at an angry Rakshasa while he lay injured.

  “Oh dead gods,” the female cursed. Then in two lightning-fast strides, she was at Trav’s side, one hand gripping the wrist above Hex, the other on Trav’s throat. Before he could do anything else, even think to struggle or use magic, she bent close to Trav’s face, her eyes locked with his. Lips peeled back from huge, sharp teeth and she very softly said, “Now listen, human. You may be strong, strong enough to fight a Rakshasa and perhaps even kill one. The blood I smelled on you reeked of desperation and regret. But not all Rakshasa are equal. This is my home, I will not tolerate any violence, nor dangers to my son. Understand?”

  “Mother, stop.” The boy’s clear, childish voice cut through the room with certainty, much different than how he’d sounded earlier.

  “Rahim?”

  The boy shook his head. “He should be protected. He will one day do you a great service, something you want with all of your heart.”

  “You saw this, I mean, Saw it, right?”

  “Yes. Just like I told you before.”

  “Fine.” She let go of Trav’s throat and it suddenly felt like the weight of the entire world had left him. His hand shot to his neck as he gasped for air. Some part of his consciousness that was still working properly realized that she’d been putting the weight of her...aura, or magic power on him. He wouldn’t have been able to use his own magic even if he’d thought to try.

  The Rakshasa said, “Oh well. I did not spend so much time and effort saving your weak, human body just to kill you anyway. Being in exile doesn’t mean I cannot be civilized. Wash up. We are having dinner soon. There are clean towels and a water bowl under the bed. A chamber pot, too.” Then the powerful female swished out of the room, back straight. “Come, Rahim!” she called.

  Before he left, the Rakshasa boy, Rahim, laid a hand on Trav’s arm and said, “Please be patient with Mother. She has been through many hardships, mostly for my sake. Saving you was another of them.”

  Trav stared after the both of them, and at the newly shut door in shock. Nothing quite like this situation had ever happened before in his life. Now that he was getting his faculties back and had opened his senses, he could feel the Rakshasa’s presence through the wall, a massive cyclone of power being suppressed by an unyielding will. She was like a force of nature. He had a feeling that the only being he’d ever met before that was this powerful might have been Kraachias, but he couldn’t be sure. His magical senses were relatively new.

  One thing was sure—fighting that monster was impossible as he was now. He’d always known Rakshasas were strong—the one back in Faith had almost killed him. But even with the emberstone dagger that he’d noticed was lying on the floor, he wouldn’t have a chance.

  When Trav’s reason completely returned, he realized why he must have ended up here, wherever here was. His borrowed memories helped him puzzle it out, and he knew in his bones it wa
s true—this Rakshasa’s incredible well of magic was the answer. Enough power had its own weight. Even though she was suppressing it, her magic had its own force, like gravity. When Trav had randomly teleported, he’d been drawn to her.

  He was lucky to be alive, and hoped he could stay that way. Lying in bed wasn’t going to change anything, so he painfully got up and began to ready for dinner with monsters.

  ***

  “What is your name, human?” said the Rakshasa. She’d finished chewing and had daintily patted her mouth with a cloth, somewhat at odds with her simple clothing and bestial attitude.

  “Trav.”

  “I am called Najila. My son is named Rahim.” After speaking the Kin tore into her meat again.

  Now that he was at the table and thinking clearly Trav was fully feeling all of his wounds. He’d healed fast, but was still definitely injured. He studied the Kin more closely.

  Najila had tiger stripes. She was powerfully built, but still obviously female. On both wrists she wore what looked like bronze bracelets. Other than that, she didn’t seem very remarkable other than the fact that she was obviously Rakshasa and boiling with barely contained power. At her belt, she wore a large, curved knife.

  Rahim had dark skin and fur. In fact, Trav realized that the boy actually had stripes too, but were barely visible because they blended in with the rest of his exposed body. Rahim was wearing simple clothing like his mother.

  Trav thoughtfully chewed a piece of bread as he studied the boy. The way Rahim had talked to Najila earlier had been strange. Right now the two were acting as Trav would expect a son and his mother to act, Kin or not.