by M. L. Ryan
Bex panicked, and as she ran to where V had fallen, Jifga reached out to grab her but succeeded only in knocking her off her feet. Undeterred, he hauled his foot back and launched it savagely into her ribs, then continued to kick her until she curled into the fetal position to protect herself. With Bex disabled, he advanced on V, and booted her in the head. Apparently satisfied she posed no further threat, he rolled her over and removed his knife.
The wound in his back seemed to be giving him some trouble as he winced and hunched over. Despite the injury, he started back toward Bex, still balled up where he’d left her. Jifga stopped a few feet away and turned to look at me. Both his expression and the gestures he made with his good arm left me with the impression he knew I was too debilitated to harm him. Gripping the knife that still dripped with V’s blood, he grinned manically at Bex.
Already wracked with grief over the loss of V, I couldn’t bear the thought of Bex dying as well. I knew fire was not an option. Even if I could summon it, I wouldn’t want Bex collaterally crisped in the process. Instead, I swung my wing out and up, sweeping Jifga off balance, much as he had done to Bex moments before. A searing pain tore through the appendage where Jifga slashed it in retaliation. While Jifga fought to regain his footing, I tried swatting him a second time, but he managed to duck, avoiding the contact altogether.
The discomfort in my wing grew worse, and without another weapon in my arsenal, paranormal or otherwise, I recalled my dangling lesson on the cliff and used the only advantage I had left. It wasn’t easy, but with my last bit of strength, I pitched myself upon him, flattening him on his back. I was heavy—not enough to crush him—but the takedown forced most of the air from Jifga’s lungs. The warlord struggled beneath me, both in an attempt to breathe and to slither out from under my girth.
Now that he was down, I wasn’t sure what to do next. I might have been able to simply sit there and wait for help, except Jifga had managed to free his good arm, and somehow my high dive hadn’t dislodged the knife. He couldn’t swing the weapon with much force, but managed to find a spot close to my underwing where my hide wasn’t quite as tough. The punctures didn’t seem particularly deep, but they hurt, and I worried he might cause some real damage if he whaled away at me for much longer.
Bex was no longer lying on the ground, but even seated, she looked wobbly. When she caught sight of me wincing with every new wound, her eyes narrowed with resolve. It took her two tries to lift herself to her feet, and even then, she struggled to maintain her balance. Once the cobwebs cleared, she limped to where her poleaxe had fallen and slowly picked it up. Still clutching her side, her face contorted with agony from what must have been fractured ribs, she hobbled towards me, using the long pole like a staff.
Jifga stopped stabbing me when he realized someone else was there. He let the knife arm fall to the ground as though it was a strain to keep it elevated if he wasn’t jabbing me and shouted something. From his commanding tone, he must have thought the newcomer was one of his, and was giving direction on how to help.
Bex glanced to the right, to where V’s body lay. She closed her eyes for a moment and raised the axe over her head. With a feral wail and the precision of an expert butcher, she let the blade fall, severing Jifga’s arm below the elbow with one swift chop.
The screech that followed was deafening, and Jifga bucked beneath me. Wow, his hand is still holding the knife, I observed, marveling at my emotional detachment, given the similar disconnectedness of his arm. Annoyed with the frantic writhing and confident he had other things on his mind than attacking us, like not bleeding out, I raised myself off the warlord. He cradled the stump across his chest with his intact arm, his white shirt stained crimson from the blood pouring from the wound.
Without sparing a glance, Bex stepped past his prostrate form. She still carried her weapon, but dropped it to examine my injuries. I wasn’t bleeding much from the stabbing, and my wing was shredded in places from Jifga’s original slashes, but all in all, I couldn’t complain.
Once she established I was okay, Bex went to V. Tears streamed down her cheeks as she held her friend’s hand. I’d never appreciated the catharsis of crying; it always seemed messy and childish. Now, as sorrow threatened to overwhelm me, I longed for tear ducts, if only to release some of the grief. Instead, I let out a deep, mournful roar.
Unfortunately, the verbalization of my heartache prevented me from hearing anything else, including Jifga. He may have had the morals and ethics of a first-level demon, but he was one tenacious SOB. Blood still gushing from what was left of his arm, he advanced toward Bex, who, so consumed with her own despair, failed to notice him either. If exsanguination and shock hadn’t slowed him, I might not have seen the weapon in time, but his sluggishness allowed me to lunge forward just as he began the upward swing of Bex’s discarded axe. The blade struck my cheek, not deeply, but enough to draw blood. Enraged at the blow, his murderous persistence, my slain acolyte, and everything else we’d endured because of him, I twisted my head, sunk my teeth into his midsection, and flung him as far as I could.
That was pretty damn far, because he ended up at the bottom of the hill. The distance was greater than I expected, mostly because the combination of my fangs and the torque of the throw ripped Jifga in half, and the two pieces traveled further than he might have whole. Had I known, I would have launched him in another direction, away from the victorious rebels gathering their prisoners. It worked out okay—everyone managed to dive out of the way of the projectiles-formerly-known-as-Jifga, except for TBD. He took his former boss’ crotch square in the face. Not a pretty way to die, but appropriate, nonetheless.
Satisfied the Wicked Warlord of the West was well and truly dead, I focused my attention on Bex. She continued to sit next to V, and now gave me a slight nod of approval. Anyone who could calmly hack off a dude’s arm wasn’t likely to be bothered by a bisected corpse flying through the air. I rubbed my face—the non-bloody side—against her shoulder, and we watched over V together.
That was how everyone found us sometime later, silently sitting vigil with our fallen companion. Hyattia arrived first, disheveled, but otherwise unhurt. Next were W, Z, and T, all somewhat worse for wear, but still in relatively good shape. They took their places beside Bex, mourning their friend and fellow Jyryxahal. I couldn’t help thinking, as I watched their ministrations, that if not for me, none of them would be here, and V would still be alive.
It took longer for Alex, Sebastian, and Ulut to make their way back, and each of the fifteen or twenty minutes we waited seemed like forever. While the original group returned unscathed, the same could not be said for those three, who all displayed various levels of scathing. Ulut had a split lip and a nasty bruise developing on one side of his face and Sebastian moved haltingly, favoring his right leg. Worse by far was Alex, whose head and chest appeared to be covered in blood.
“How much of that is yours?” I wondered, attempting to keep my voice as steady as possible even though my heart was in my throat.
Alex inspected himself and shrugged. “I think it is mostly someone else’s, but an arrow grazed my scalp. You know how head wounds bleed.”
“An arrow grazed your scalp? You could have been killed!” I’d completely abandoned the illusion of nonchalance in favor of the seemingly more appropriate freaking out.
“Don’t worry, my dear,” Sebastian interjected. “I have known Alexander a very long time. It would take much more than an arrow in his head to bring him down.”
Before I had a chance to respond, they noticed the Jyryxahal standing guard over V.
“Oh no,” Sebastian said softly. “What happened?”
“Heal Bex, she’s hurt,” I ordered before giving an abbreviated version of the events. They understood my terseness—I was exhausted, but mostly I didn’t want to relive every excruciating detail—and didn’t push for specifics. I knew, eventually, they would have to know the whole, terrible tale, but not then. Talking about it so soon, without any time t
o process the horrific events, was just too much. V’s death would haunt me until the day I died, of that I was certain.
Sebastian crouched next to Bex and placed his hands on her side. Almost immediately, I saw the physical discomfort leave her face, with only the emotional anguish remaining. If she was anything like me, she likely wished it were the other way around.
As Sebastian worked, Ulut and Alex went to pay their respects and offer comfort to the remaining Jyryxahal. It was apparent the loss of V weighed heavy on them, but I marveled at their ability to function even under such dreadful circumstances. I didn’t think it was a result of the male capacity to compartmentalize strong emotions—after all, Z, W, and T wept openly—nor that they hadn’t known V as long. Maybe they were simply used to dangerous situations, and fallen comrades were just an unfortunate consequence of their work. As Xyzok, Alex and Sebastian must have gone through this many times before, and as a bounty hunter, Ulut probably faced his fair share of senseless deaths as well. Being part of a covert enforcement organization seemed exciting, but I’d never really considered the downside. People—people I cared about—could get hurt or worse. I wasn’t sure it was something I could adjust to, or if I even wanted to try.
30
As the sun rose, the full scope of the night’s events became gruesomely clear. Bodies littered the ground and the scores of wounded huddled in makeshift shelters, waiting for what rudimentary medical attention was available. There were few clean bandages, even fewer real doctors, and no one had ever heard of antibiotics. The damage from arrows, swords, and axes wasn’t pretty, and I knew many that made it through the actual battle wouldn’t be so lucky in the days to come.
Dekankaran corpses, like human’s, quickly succumbed to decay, and the onerous but necessary task of burying the deceased fell to those who were able to hold a shovel. The bodies were too numerous for individual graves. Instead, they were carefully interred, side by side, in long trenches. Thankfully, Jifga’s men surrendered relatively quickly, or the number of dead would have been significantly greater.
By midday, with everyone who needed burying safely below ground, I got my first up-close-and-personal glimpse of Agnes d’Arc. Still riding the buckskin stallion, and dressed in a long-sleeved leather jacket and form-fitting pants, she looked a little like a biker chick, except she was on a horse instead of a hog. When she saw me, she reined in her steed and dismounted.
“Wow. They told me you turned into… this,” she said, gesturing at my Birdzilla-y self, “but I thought it was an exaggeration. If you don’t mind me saying, it’s not your best look.”
I minded, spitting out a sarcastic, “Nice to see you, too.”
She flinched slightly when I “spoke.” Apparently, while my current state of being had been a topic of discussion, no one had explained my telepathic means of communication.
Recovering her composure, she covered her surprise with a smirk. “Awesome. What else can you do?”
If ever I wished I could rustle up some wing-fire, this was the moment. I so wanted to wipe the shit-eating grin off her face, but it was difficult enough for me to remain conscious. Besides, obnoxious as she was, she did rescue us.
“Not as much as I’d like,” I admitted, “but thanks for storming the castle, so to speak.”
She chuckled under her breath. “My pleasure. Alex and Sebastian are supposed to meet me here. Have you seen them?”
“They mentioned something about checking on a wagon, but that was a while ago. I’m sure they’ll be back soon. In the meantime, how the hell did you end up leading a revolt against Jifga?”
“Uh, uh, uh,” she scolded, wagging a finger to emphasize her censure. “You’ll have to wait until everyone else gets here. It’s a long story, and some have heard parts, but I only want to have to tell it once.”
As I contemplated bitch slapping her with my good wing, Ulut appeared. He was much more effusive in his compliments concerning Agnes’ role in the insurrection than I had been, and she sucked up the fanfare like a ravenous leech. It got worse when Alex and Sebastian arrived and piled on the accolades.
For God’s sake, you’d think she’d single-handedly brought down the entire Taliban network, I grumbled to myself. I knew I was being snotty, but she’d always rubbed me the wrong way.
If the rest of the group was as anxious as I was to hear how the deputy went from reluctant inter-dimensional traveler to cavalry commander, they certainly didn’t show it. I couldn’t wait any longer.
“So what have you been up to since we last saw you?” I queried.
“Oh, right,” Agnes recalled, “I forgot you hadn’t heard the whole story. After we escaped, I managed to avoid recapture by hiding in a tree. The idiots chasing us were too stupid to look up,” she added with disdain. “Of course, Prytx didn’t have to hide, because he just cloaked himself.”
Sebastian interrupted. “Speaking of Prytx, where is he?”
“Supervising the prisoners, I believe. He should be here shortly.”
“I’m glad he survived,” Alex stated. “Despite his original perfidy, he turned out to be indispensable.”
I felt as if I was missing something important, but encouraged Agnes to continue.
“As I was saying, we kept out of sight until nightfall, and made our way back to Gera’s. He got his asshole neighbor to tell him who he ratted us out to, made him loan us two horses, and we rode after you as soon as we were able. Once we got here, we laid low, trying to figure out exactly what was going on. It didn’t take long to realize we couldn’t spring everyone without weapons and a lot of help, so we backed off to formulate a better plan.”
“I’ve often wondered,” Sebastian inquired, “how Jifga’s men were so far away from his headquarters when they captured us. He clearly had not yet secured all the villages closest to Elephant Butte. Why were soldiers hundreds of miles further east?”
Agnes pursed her lips. “Apparently, they just happened to be in the area on a sort of advanced scouting mission when they ran into the busybody who turned us in. Great luck, eh?”
“Indeed,” Sebastian said with a sneer. “I would very much like to pay the meddlesome informant a visit and reward him for his treachery.”
Curious as to what he might consider a fitting penalty, but not wanting the discussion to diverge too far off topic, I posed another question to Agnes keep it on track. “Did you get to Jifga’s before or after I transformed?”
“Before,” she answered. “We left a few days after you were captured, and made up some time because we moved faster being just the two of us. Anyway, we were lucky, because we bumped into some riders from a village up north, one that Jifga hadn’t gotten to yet, and Prytx was fluent enough in the regional dialect to communicate with them.”
Agnes paused, smirking again. “Apparently, he used the time he spied on us to good use and learned the language. In any case,” she continued, “they’d heard Jifga was systematically taking over the entire region, and they didn’t want the same thing to happen to them. As soon as we mentioned we were on the same side, they invited us to stay with them. Not only did they offer shelter and food, they were more than willing to fight against Jifga. The only problem was they lacked the proper numbers and weapons.”
Agnes smiled, a real one this time.
“That’s where Prytx came in. It was my idea to muster the not-yet annexed hamlets into one cohesive army. At first, it wasn’t easy to convince anyone to join us—people were already scared and we were strangers with only rudimentary language skills. What got them on board was Prytx’s ability to become invisible and my gun.”
“Your gun,” I said, recalling how she dispatched her attacker the night before. Did you shoot someone with it?”
She gave me a dirty look. “No, I used my service revolver on a tree. Never having seen a weapon of that sort before, when the bark started flying, they assumed it was also a result of something supernatural, and figured with two people on their side who could match Jifga’s abilities,
they might have a chance against him. Once we got the first bunch, it was easier to recruit others. The thing just sort of snowballed.”
The bullets-in-the-tree demonstration didn’t seem all that impressive, and aside from Prytx’s talent for camouflaging himself to prevent detection, he wasn’t particularly powerful, either. That both spectacles were sufficient to convince the villagers to take up arms made me consider something I hadn’t before. Maybe swaying those people to our side was so easy because the despised warlord wasn’t all that powerful. Now that I stopped to think about it, Jifga used traditional weapons rather than arcane ones when he killed, and other than the magically imbued ropes used to bind us, and a few parlor tricks in his tent, I’d never seen him do anything even vaguely awe-inspiring.
“Is it just my imagination, or was Jifga a magical wimp?”
Alex nodded. “Barely mediocre and lacking creativity, but compared to most Dekankarans who have no such skills at all, he was able to establish himself as more powerful than he actually was. Often, perception is stronger than reality in the hands of a gifted con artist.”
“Not unlike politics,” Sebastian stated with a smirk.
“You are exactly right, Alex,” Agnes continued, ignoring Sebastian completely. “And once we realized that fact, I knew our efforts were nothing more than any other military campaign, except with much more primitive hardware.”
“I get how you gathered warriors, but how did you get so many horses and weapons? Every time Jifga raided a town, those were the first things he took.”
As Agnes opened her mouth to reply, Prytx arrived, carrying the packs taken from us after our capture. A vaguely familiar floral scent wafted toward me as he passed by, an aroma far different from either of his previous fragrances.
“I thought you might want these,” he said, dropping them at Alex’s feet. “I’m not certain everything is still there, but what I found in Jifga’s tent, I stuffed inside.” Sitting down on a fence rail, he said, “Hailey, to answer your question, that was part luck and part me.”