by Stuart Jaffe
"Die! Die! Die!" the woman guarding the fence bellowed as a rush of fire flowed from her hands.
The nearby workers squealed and sought cover. Tumus stood her ground, mouthing the name Korstra while the flames shot towards her. Though Malja had witnessed the Chi-Chun absorb magic before, she couldn't help but wonder if this time Tumus would fail.
As it neared, the fire curved toward Tumus. The Dragonfly woman raised her arms and the stream of flames reared as if it were leashed to its creator. Tumus turned her palms upward and the flames pulled down toward her. Back and forth, tugged one way then the other, the flames danced in the air like a pet caught between two masters.
Like all the others watching, Malja stood mesmerized by the display. When the Dragonfly man swooped in to hit her head, she never countered. The blow knocked her to the ground and brought sparkling lights to her vision.
She knew better than to try to shake it off. Even as she stumbled to her feet, the Dragonfly landed next to her, striking out with a fist. Though dizzy and off-balance, Malja swung Viper to block the attack. Her strike lacked power and went in a wide, wild arc, but its unpredictable wobble served her well. The Dragonfly pulled back.
In the short time he took to reconsider his next attack, Malja's head cleared. The two warriors came together in a brash display of solid weapon work meeting superior reflexes. The Dragonfly held no weapon because he had no need. Malja missed every swing. He was too fast.
But she could be fast as well. He came at her with fists and feet. She dodged most of it. Twice she willingly took a punch in the side hoping to use the closeness against him. The first time she gouged his arm. He wised to the trick the second time.
Caught between two fights, Fawbry, Tufts, Cole, and Skvalan all stood tight together, watching and waiting. Tumus continued to battle for control of the conjured flame, but Malja couldn't look long enough to tell who might win. She ducked and countered, but Viper slipped through air. She felt like a child practicing against her shadow.
The Dragonfly rose up at least twenty feet and hovered for a moment. He cocked his head to the right and opened his mouth. Rotting teeth and a sickly-gray tongue greeted her.
Thrusting his arm forward, he dived straight down. Just before hitting the ground he shot off away from Malja. She had braced for the hit, but the change in course left her confused. That is, until she understood his target had changed — Skvalan.
In a series of smooth motions, the Dragonfly threw Cole into a wall, knocked Fawbry into Tufts, and snatched Skvalan, taking him high above the ground. The weakened Muyaza tried to free himself but the Dragonfly held tight. Skvalan punched and wriggled. Nothing worked. In frustration, he let out a deep, guttural war cry.
"Let him go," Tumus yelled.
Malja watched on, stunned by the passionate power emanating from Tumus. The Chi-Chun spun her torso, her arms flowing like a seasoned dancer. The sudden shift in motion surprised the Dragonfly woman. She lost control of her fire and Tumus took over.
The flames funneled into her right hand. She raised her left and sent scorching bolts into the air. She had complete control now. The bolts circled Skvalan and the Dragonfly — only striking when they could do so without hitting Skvalan.
Malja felt Tumus's anger burn as hot as the magic above. Tumus turned back to the magic's source.
"Stand aside," she said.
The crazed Dragonfly woman giggled as if watching a silly puppet show. "Not until you're all dead."
Without further warning, Tumus released the rest of the flames. The Dragonfly woman never tried to escape. She welcomed the full blast with open arms and a sadistic smile. As it sent her crisp corpse smashing through the gate, Malja could still hear her foolish giggles.
All grew still. Only the sound of the brisk mountain winds blowing against the broken city infiltrated the area. The pungent odor of burnt air and burnt flesh drifted on this wind.
Just a few feet away, Malja saw Skvalan's body tangled in a heap with the Dragonfly man. No one moved. Tumus pushed Malja aside as she rushed to Skvalan. She dropped to her knees, crying, and carefully pulled Skvalan's body away from the Dragonfly man.
"We can't stay here long," Fawbry said as he settled up next to Malja.
"I know."
They waited. At length, Tumus composed herself, but she did not join the others. Instead, she raised her arms upward and in long, mournful tones, she said, "Korstra, most powerful brother God, to serve you, we live and in serving, we are fulfilled. I offer you the soul of a cherished friend." She lowered her hands upon the corpse, closed her eyes, and started again.
Cole looked to Malja. "She can't do this."
"She is."
"But these weren't the only guards."
"I know."
"There's bound to be more. If we stay ..." Cole's eyes and chin shivered.
Malja had seen plenty of people reach their breaking point. Cole was no warrior. She wasn't even a grunt soldier. She was a technician and a politician. That she had lasted this long impressed Malja.
"Keep yourself together," Malja said as she heard the distinct buzzing in the distance. "We don't go on without Tumus. We don't leave our teammates behind."
"But they're coming. We barely made it this far against just four of these nasty things. We've got to hide."
The buzzing had grown loud enough to pull Tumus's attention. The sound came from all directions — even above. Like a giant machine grinding its way through the city, a Dragonfly force of at least forty closed in on them.
Malja wiped Viper clean, rolled her shoulders, and settled into her battle stance. Cole's face dropped. With a worried whimper, Tufts scrambled up Fawbry's shoulder. Tumus joined them, grim understanding resting on her lips. Without a word, she handed Malja a strand of dark hair — Skvalan's wife. Cole looked at the determined faces of her allies and panic bloomed.
"Are you crazy? They'll kill us." Cole's hands shook and tears rolled along her nose. "I'll run. I can hide. I don't need you."
Tumus held Cole's shoulders. "Trust in Korstra."
Cole backed away, pointing a wavering finger. "You're both as insane as those guards. Come now, Faw-Faw, you don't want to stay here and die."
Fawbry picked up a rock as a poor weapon. "I've got to help Tommy," he said.
Tumus lifted her hands and started focusing on her magic. Cole looked at them with confusion at first, but a horrible understanding dawned on her face like a swimmer alone in the ocean seeing a massive wave towering over her. She spun to find the Dragonfly force hovering like a cicada-covered field — clear wings and incessant buzzing. She raised her hands in surrender.
One Dragonfly man landed. He wore a dirty red breastplate made from the hood of a grounder and held a machete in each hand. His cold face revealed nothing as he spoke. "I am the Factory King. You are trespassers and murderers. For you, there will be no mercy."
"I am Malja, daughter of Jarik and Callib."
A startled wave rolled through the Dragonfly force. The Factory King contorted his face and jerked to the side. He whispered to the empty space on his left. With a jerk of his head, he regained his self-control and said, "There are many of my subjects in this great world who would make such claims. But only the real Malja could defeat my entire army."
Cole dropped to her knees while keeping her hands straight in the sky. "I don't want to die," she repeated in a soft prayer-like whisper.
The Factory King laughed and pointed both machetes at Cole. The familiar burning rage Malja knew like a beloved pet snapped to life. In one rapid stroke, she cut through the King's arms. The machetes rang out as they hit the ground, but the King's screams challenged the sound. Blood gushed from his wounds leaving behind a crimson trail as he flew off.
"Put your arms down," Malja said, nudging Cole with her foot. "Grab the weapon."
Cole took a few seconds to react, but so did the infuriated army. By the time she took hold of one machete, Fawbry grabbed the other, and Malja had cut down three Dragon
flies. The same panic that drove Cole to surrender now fueled her fury. She fought off her attackers with harsh strength and blind anger, but did little to reduce their numbers.
Malja moved in bursts of speed and grace. She knew her assault suit aided her; however, it could not manifest energy in her that did not already exist. Ducking one blow, striking another, feigning one attack, and following through on the next, Malja used all her skill to protect the group.
Streams of fire, bolts of lightning, and blasts of ice shot down from above. Tumus moved like a juggler, catching magic in one hand and throwing it back into the air with the other. Dancing left, reaching out right. Throwing magic without watching the result.
Fawbry did his best, but he lacked Malja's skill and Cole's rage. He parried what he could and struck a few enemies, causing an occasional cry of pain. When the opportunities arrived, Tufts leapt off Fawbry to claw at heads, eyes, arms, and wings. After a few lashes, he hurried back to Fawbry and readied for another leap.
Without warning and in unison, the Dragonfly force broke off. Malja, Tumus, Fawbry, and Cole stood back to back, weapons ready. The great cacophony of buzzing ceased as the entire army landed.
In the new silence, Malja heard her heartbeat drumming in her ears. Each deep breath she took sounded like a hurricane. She circled around her friends, waving Viper to keep the Dragonflies at a distance. Tumus pulled herself together and circled from the opposite side.
"This city is ours," a Dragonfly said.
Malja shifted her back foot, lowered her center of gravity, and cleared her mind. She turned Viper an inch more open. She searched for the one who spoke.
"Korstra will protect us," Tumus shouted.
A commotion broke out far in the back. Strange sounds like cheering and arguing filtered its way up. As it reached Malja's ears, her stomach hardened — not cheering, not arguing, but chanting. Over and over.
Zorum. Zorum.
Fawbry said, "Um ... Malja?"
"Shut up," she said. "All of you back away." She stepped forward to increase the distance between her and her friends. While she didn't know who or what exactly Zorum was, she had encountered enough battle in her life to guess. This had all the marks of their best warrior.
From the crowd of Dragonflies emerged a giant. Zorum stood nearly eleven feet tall with muscle so thick his skin tore in an effort to contain him. His wild hair shot off in all directions as if he had been struck by lighting. His Dragonfly wings lay flat and impotent against his back — a side-effect of whatever magic he had used to get this way. Blood dribbled from his oversized knuckles. Madness swam in his oversized eyes.
"I am Malja," she yelled. "This is Viper." Her voice overcame the buzzing. Her name stopped a few. Zorum's deep gasp halted the rest. She knew they sensed the tension, even those that didn't know her name.
Zorum saw the sudden pause in the group and registered his mistake. With a thunderous voice, he said, "Malja's a myth. You're just a wench."
"You're about to find out."
Without further preamble, they circled each other. The Dragonflies cleared around them and began to cheer. Roars of excitement followed each feint, thrust, and parry. They stood as one, bonded by an anticipation Malja could feel in the air. Those that knew her name, knew they witnessed the birth of legends. She thought she heard betting. It reminded her of battles long gone. Her lips cracked into a grin — just a second's break to smile, but Zorum seized the opportunity.
He charged, startling Malja into a clumsy block that left little more than a scratch on his arm. Zorum barreled forward again and grabbed Malja's free arm. He swung her around like a drunk spinning a whore, spitting laughter while his mates cheered him on. He smelled putrid, and part of Malja was grateful when he let her fly into the crowd. Several Dragonflies kicked and punched her as they tossed her back into the fight.
"I thought Malja was a great warrior," Zorum said. More laughter rippled through the Dragonflies. "Guess she's just a little girl with a big story."
Malja settled into a fighter's stance, breathing heavily but not empty of all her strength just yet. The corners of her lips raised — they always underestimated her. With a piercing scream, she launched her assault. She swung Viper over her right shoulder, guessing Zorum would block it with his magically enhanced arm. He did. So she reversed her motion, spinning fast and slicing horizontal across his thighs. Blood seeped down his legs but he showed no signs of suffering.
"Stupid," he said. He punched downward, his fist connecting with her back. The Dragonflies roared. She hit the ground, air shoved from her lungs, her head rattling at the blow. A thick hand took hold of her braided hair and yanked her to her feet. Zorum pulled back his fist, a brutal gleam in his eye, and let out a deafening yell — his breath worse than his body. As the fist sped towards her, Malja kicked straight out for his groin. Down he went, dirt spewing into the air around him.
He rolled on his back. She leaped over him, ready to stomp on his throat and end this. Instead of grasping his privates, though, like most males, Zorum stayed present in the fight. He caught Malja's foot and twisted her to the ground, once more knocking the breath from her lungs. Gasping, she rose to all fours only to feel a crushing blow on her head, sending her face into the cracked pavement.
Her head spun. She couldn't find her balance. The ground seemed to pitch and yaw under her. She saw Dragonflies urging her to fight, others laughing at her failure. She saw twisted faces and lustful eyes. They were beyond insane.
She saw her friends. They looked at her with pity and suffering and tears. They looked at her with defeat in their eyes. She attempted to rise but rolled on her back, staring at Zorum's towering figure.
"You see," Zorum said, but the words muddled in her ears as if spoken underwater.
She saw him shake with mirth while he displayed Viper like a conqueror and then let the weapon drop as if it were a harmless toy. Her eyes closed, and for a moment, the idea of sleep sounded ideal. More harsh laughter startled her awake. Fear wrapped a chilled hand around her heart — fear for Tommy.
Fawbry babbled, pleaded, but Malja couldn't decipher the words. Zorum dropped Viper and pointed at Fawbry who raised his stump in defiance. Good, Fawbry.
Malja rolled to her stomach. Zorum kicked her side — just strong enough to warn her to remain still. He stepped over her, one huge leg on either side. His deep voice rumbled the ground as he yelled at her friends bow down. She didn't need to look at them now. They had to be terrified. They had to be lost.
Then I won't be. Viper lay just in front of her head. No time for hesitation.
In a series of smooth motions, she snatched the weapon, flipped it so the curved blade faced skyward, jumped to her feet, and thrust straight up, sending the blade deep between Zorum's legs. She bellowed her rage as Zorum crouched and groaned in pain. His shock afforded her a few precious seconds — enough to step on his thigh and vault herself higher, slicing up through his gut and into his chest. Arching backward, she flipped her body. She pulled Viper along, tearing it out of him in a crimson spray, and landed on her feet.
Malja's head screamed at her audacity, pounding her brain against her skull with every heartbeat, and she fought hard not to pass out. Zorum gazed down in disbelief as his innards flopped to the ground. He couldn't even muster a final word. His body dropped like a soulless bag of rotten meat.
Shocked silence hung in the air. Nobody moved.
Malja stood still. Breathing heavily. Eyeing every Dragonfly she could see — there would be no more challenges.
Before she could speak a word, the Dragonflies prostrated themselves on the ground. Malja frowned. She'd never seen this kind of reaction before. But Tumus elbowed Malja, and the answer came to her without looking. She could feel their presence like the shadow of a predator darkening over sleeping prey. She peeked over her shoulder, knowing exactly whose appearance had caused the sudden change.
Jarik and Callib.
They floated over the wreckage Malja and her friend
s had wrought, looking every bit as strong and virile as they had at the Bluesmen's house. Bald, shirtless, tattooed — power radiated from them like a sun. Basking below them, their entourage of magicians floated and focused.
As they neared, Jarik turned his jaded but sad eyes upon Malja. She wanted to leap in the air, berate them for all the sorrow they had caused, and slay them with merciless blows. But more than just exhaustion stopped her. A strange emotion roiled underneath her hate — a desire to curl up and go unnoticed. Not a need to hide, but rather a hope to become small.
Callib leveled a stark, penetrating glare at the Dragonfly army and said, "You have made a mess of this place. If you can't handle the simple job of being guards, what good are you?"
"W-We're sorry," one Dragonfly woman said.
"I have made you all, and I can unmake you. Don't fail me again. Where is the Factory King?"
In a sturdier voice, the Dragonfly woman pointed at Malja and said, "She cut off his arms."
Callib faced Malja, and she felt the full weight of his gaze like a boulder sitting on her chest. It sent her mind swirling backwards — seven years old, caught in one of the many off-limits rooms, a broken beaker in her hand. She never could please Callib. It proved easier to disappoint.
"All of you will follow us to our home."
"I'm not here to follow you," Malja said, her brazen words surprising her as much as them. "I came to—"
Callib's hand sliced across the air as if he held a sword. "I know exactly why you came. Jarik may not have believed you were capable of patricide, but I never doubted."
"Malja," Jarik said, his voice firm but a tinge warmer. "Come with us. You won't be harmed. You may keep your weapons. Your friends won't be harmed."
"You can't hurt us anyway," Callib said.
"You've been gone a long time," Jarik said. "Ever since you came into our lives, we've worked tirelessly to find a way to send you home. Come with us and let us show you what we can now do."
"Besides," Callib said like a konapol lowering itself to strike, "we have Tommy."