Mid-Arc

by David Gosnell

And there is no reason to. An arrow explodes through its head and it falls to the floor.

  Maldgorath looks over Znuul’s shoulder and hisses, “Damn Pixie.”

  Znuul palms Maldgorath’s face and drives him headfirst into one of the building’s support girders. “Old friend, it should be me you’re damning” taunts Znuul as he continues to bounce Maldgorath’s head into the metal framing.

  ***

  Christophe’s first healing spell lands upon Greg. “This is good,” he thinks to himself, as you can’t heal the dead. Then Maldgorath basically punts Greg across the warehouse to Karen’s feet.

  Christophe darts immediately to Greg and lays hands upon him, certainly an emergency measure, as this use exhausts that particular ability for at least fifteen minutes. And he is glad, for as the healing energy leaves him to permeate Greg, he feels the extent of the Sword’s injuries.

  Catastrophic.

  Neck disjointed, liver and spleen destroyed, lungs collapsed. There is no doubt in his mind that had he not laid hands upon Greg when he did, he would be gone.

  Greg comes slowly to consciousness and looks at Chris. “How bad?” he croaks.

  “Very bad. Stay still.”

  The building reverberates and Chris looks up to see that Znuul has slammed Maldgorath’s head into one of the building’s girders. His attention trains back to Greg, who despite his most desperate healing measures is still nowhere ready for battle.

  Christophe looks around and sees that foes are now starting to phase into existence at a rate of almost one every second. Karen, the succubus, and the warrior are trying to stem the tide, and so far, they seem to be successful.

  Then out of the corner of his eye he sees Maldgorath shove Znuul clear, and with that separation, his hands go free to a casting. Christophe casts a quick protection on himself and covers Greg with his body. Closing his eyes, he feels the violent burst of energy spill all around him.

  ***

  His ears ringing and his sight blurring, the impact of his head against the rafter has left Maldgorath reeling. Znuul is trying to gain advantage, and Maldgorath knows in the depths of his black heart that if that happens, he will end up incapacitated and then dead.

  So he fights to summon with every free second. He calls his dragon, but it falls again to that damn Pixie. No escape, he thinks to himself.

  This infuriates him, and both his arms crash down, knocking Znuul’s grasp loose. Instinctively he kicks out, catching Znuul right in the belly and forcing him back a good six feet.

  Znuul smiles at him.

  “That impervious bastard,” Maldgorath thinks. But Maldgorath has time and separation now, along with superior knowledge of magics. In a Hail Mary effort, he gathers all the energy he can and forces it out in a shout.

  Summonlings and adversaries alike go flying. All but Znuul, whose hand is outstretched. He has obviously anticipated the move and pulled a shielding. That shit-eating grin of Znuul returns, mocking him.

  “Dammit! Why can’t you act like a normal Baalig and just die?” Maldgorath shouts at Znuul.

  ***

  I’m rushing the front door as I hear the tornado Arix summoned raise hell on the inside. Pistols at the ready, I breach the open front area and see one man upside down, his neck bent at an unnatural angle.

  Another man is starting to raise himself up. He shot at me first, I rationalize, so he gets bullets.

  I allow myself a moment to take in the surroundings, not wanting to get ambushed or worse due to my own negligence. I hear the building shudder like something has plowed against it and have to figure that Znuul and Maldy are going at it. Though there’s no telling.

  I orient myself and figure that our crew is to the left.

  That’s confirmed when a large creature comes bursting through the door in my direction. It’s muscular, with a large, toothed mouth and not much else for facial features, and I have no idea what the heck to call it.

  So I shoot it. In fact, I unload my clip. The bullets Znuul provided do damage. It stops, falls back against the wall, and curls up. But it doesn’t start to turn to ectoplasmic steam as summonlings do when they die. I eject the magazine from my gun and slap in a new one. The door bursts open again, followed by a giant-ass spider. Reflexively I try to unload the new clip into it because, after all, spiders are f’ing scary!

  Several of the rounds land and it takes evasive maneuvers.

  Now the thing with a huge mouth is starting to get up.

  I eject another empty magazine and slap in a new one. I’m about to put rounds into Mr. Bigmouth’s head/jowls, but big-ass spider decides to jump up from behind the desk. I wheel the gun around, take a shot, and spider ducks back for cover.

  That gives Mr. Bigmouth time to get pissed. He bellows out like a foghorn, and that is more than disturbing. The door bursts open again with a hellhound tearing my way. I unload the clip and miss the damn thing’s head. It slows, but basically gets more pissed at me.

  How I wish my hound were here.

  Then the hound just suddenly bursts into flames. Flopping around in agony, the hellhound is no longer focused on me. I start paying attention again to Mr. Bigmouth, who is glowing blue. He falls over and shatters, obviously frozen to the core.

  I look over my shoulder to see Arix, all pretense of being human dropped.

  “You may wish to use the sword now,” he says. “I think all the humans with projectile weapons are gone.’

  I drop the gun and pull Yayne from the sheath. When I do, I immediately get an impulse: “enemy to the right!”

  I feel the sword power up and I swing blindly. The big-ass spider is cut in half and I am partially coated in its entrails. Good thing it’s a summonling though, as it immediately starts to evaporate and I don’t have to worry about wearing spider guts all day.

  I turn to Arix, who is as ready to cast the magic as I’ve ever seen him. He looks at me and says, “Go get that Garrigin’s head. I am prepared to defend you.”

  ***

  The wave of force flings Karen, Shey, Sil, Pffif and two of Maldgorath’s summonlings backwards against the wall. Vets, remembering their last encounter, falls flat to the ground and most of the wave passes over her. After it passes, she realizes all too suddenly that the seconds they are wasting in disarray are being used by their foe.

  In the mere seconds Vets was down, four new foes have fully materialized. One attacks Ahtsag from behind and finds ruin at the tip of the poison stinger hidden in his tail. Two go for the downed heroes, with the last, a spider, scurrying from the fight. Vets fires quickly from the ground, not so much to kill as to wound and slow. That tactic works, as the beast barreling for Karen falls over, tripping the one next to it.

  This chaos gives Vets time to spring up and finish one of them. But in that time another foe ripples into existence, with the telltale signs of another coming.

  Vets surveys her surroundings and sees that Karen is stunned. Shey lies in a crumpled ball, and Silithes is struggling to find her feet. “Succubus! We are losing ground!” she yells to Sil, who snaps around.

  “Healer!” Vets cries. “The Pixie!”

  Christophe hears and moves from Greg. He raises his hand toward Sheyliene, who begins to stir.

  Shots ring out, and Vets knows that Sil is back in the battle. Reflexively, Vets ducks and rolls, then looks over to see Sil, now wide eyed. She turns her head to follow Sil’s field of vision and understands.

  They are joined by a twelve-foot-tall cave horror beast.

  ***

  Sheyliene stirs to consciousness. Their adversary is bringing forth his minions at a rate of almost one summonling a second. She bolts up and trains her bow at the foe now approaching Silithes.

  That foe falls, but due to gunfire from Vets.

  She looks over at Christophe and points at Karen.

  In that moment, Sheyliene realizes her error. Her wings fluttering, she takes to the air and retrains her sights on Maldgorath. A shimmer occurs near him and she trains her bow on i
t.

  Then a larger shimmer blocks her view and something very huge and crablike appears.

  She whips around to see the dragon forming over their adversary’s shoulder. Znuul has a hold on Maldgorath with one arm and is landing blows with the other, driving him backward. She dodges a whipping claw from the large intruder and lets loose an arrow at the dragon.

  It strikes the dragon, but it’s not a kill. She reaches back for another arrow and watches as the dragon opens its jaws and spits silver fire at Znuul. She sees Znuul topple over helplessly to the floor, clutching his face.

  Then she fires the arrow that ends the dragon properly.

  “I think I messed up,” she says to herself.

  ***

  Ears ringing and vision still blurring, Karen picks herself up and instinctively readies her wand. She sees that they are joined by a large, crustacean-like creature that is harrying Vets and Silithes.

  Her eyes, now focusing better, look over toward the large form of Znuul, who is apparently pummeling Maldgorath. That makes her feel better. That is, until she sees a small dragon appear. Its maw opens and it spews a sparkling silver fire at Znuul.

  He falls. Instantly and badly.

  “No!” she cries and summons the largest column of lightning she can with a cry of “Tintreach!” The bolt crashes into Maldgorath. forcing him back several steps, but not down. She takes in his wicked smile after he recovers from the strike.

  “Well done, witch!” Maldgorath. “But I think my dragon did a little better!”

  With that, he grabs Znuul by one of his horns and turns him toward Karen. She sees that half of his face is missing, along with most of the musculature of his right shoulder.

  Maldgorath pitches Znuul to the side casually and laughs, which infuriates Karen. “No!” she cries, and begins casting in a frenzy—fire, lightning, ice. Maldgorath is pummeled back by the onslaught. But Karen’s fury can only last so long.

  She finds herself spent, magically.

  And despite the horrendous damage, Maldgorath rises—wounds once again healing at a rate beyond any reason.

  “Red Witch! I think you will make a very nice addition to the Collection,” he says loudly over the sounds of battle.

  ***

  Pffiferil returns to consciousness, shaking off the impact of Maldgorath’s wave. The first thing he notices is the cave horror trying to jam its pointy legs into Vets and clamp its claw on Sil.

  Shaking himself, he checks his vest and pulls out shells for Double Barrel Betty.

  “Times to earn our keep.”

  He lunges forward faster than you would think possible with those two small legs of his.

  With a baseball player slide, he goes at the cave terror and pops up directly under it. He shoves Betty into a leg joint and lets her rip. The creature responds with a resonating screech. Not waiting a moment, he pulls a grenade from his vest and shoves his arm inside the hole Betty made. Then he runs like hell in the other direction—cackling in laughter.

  The grenade explodes and this large foe only has one set of legs now. It teeters over.

  ***

  As shooting the horror does little due to its tough outer shell, Sil flaps her wings to stay out of reach. Shooting at other targets makes the most sense to her.

  She sees Pffif make his move. The beast roars and Pffif darts out.

  The explosion that follows cripples the beast, but also makes it attack more frantically. A cave horror is not a thinking creature to start with. Vets is the thing on the ground presenting the most obvious threat. All its thrashing fury becomes directed to her.

  Sil collapses her wings and hits the ground fast. She remembers her training with Karen, clears her mind, and works through the casting for the fire explosion. She pitches the spell at the abdomen of the creature and watches as the conflagration sets in.

  The creature lets out a screech.

  “Cook in your own shell, beast,” Sil thinks.

  The creature has no choice but to oblige.

  ***

  The feeling of being dragged up shocks Znuul back to consciousness. The pain is the first thing that hits him. He tries to smile, but half of his face is missing. Pain is good. Pain is sensory input. Pain means alive.

  He feels himself cast to the side. He tries to bring healing to the one eye that is still there. A quick survey of himself leaves him growling. He has lost most of the use of his right upper body. He could heal, but not in time, not in this kind of battle.

  He curses the dragon and its damn silver fire.

  He struggles to his feet, noting that Maldgorath is well under attack from Karen.

  It won’t be enough. Where is that damn Arthur?

  He hears Maldgorath say something to Karen like “You’re next.” Reflexively he lunges at Maldgorath, who blocks him and lays him low with a blow right in his blind spot.

  “Seriously, Ahtsag? It’s all but over. I’m going to reap your little red witch and, from the looks of things, you too. You can’t imagine the fun you two are going to have harming one another.”

  Rage. Pure blinding rage. That’s all Znuul feels and he goes with that. He explodes from the ground, slamming Maldgorath into the wall, bending the metal supports. Out of the corner of his good eye, he sees a figure with a glowing white sword run into the area. That being cuts down two combatants and turns Znuul’s way.

  Znuul feels Maldgorath’s hand sink deep into his right shoulder where there is no flesh. The other hand reaches over and grabs Znuul’s remaining horn. With a twist, Znuul is now the one whose back is against the wall. A clubbing blow pushes Znuul’s head through the metal sheathing of the building.

  “Fool! Where is your famed strength now?” Maldgorath gloats. Znuul pulls his head back out and trains his good eye on Maldgorath and tries to smile.

  Unable to really say anything, as his mouth and tongue are burned away, he grabs Maldgorath with his good arm, pulling him close. Then seeing what he wants, he winks to Arthur, who has just skidded to a stop about twelve feet behind them.

  Znuul raises his leg and kicks Maldgorath like nobody’s business.

  ***

  Spider guts or no, I have to move. I bolt through the door and see a giant burning crab/scorpion thing and Znuul pushing Maldgorath against the wall. I rush in.

  Something attacks me and I cut it in half reflexively.

  Then the frog-faced demon I have seen before attacks me. I dodge Frog-face’s attack and cleave its head from its shoulders. I could swear it mouths “Not again” as it tumbles.

  Maldgorath flips Z around and strikes him hard enough to put his head through the wall.

  My momentum carries me right behind Znuul and the Collector. I raise my sword.

  Then I see the strangest thing. Z pulls his head out of the metal wall. Half of his face is missing. One eye is completely gone. He is so messed up. But he winks at me with the good one.

  Then next thing I know Maldgorath is sliding my way, his back to me, just skidding from the force of something Znuul did. He has no idea I’m even here. It feels like slow motion. I raise my sword, and in great clarity, step in and take his head.

  His summonlings immediately stop, fall, and begin to dissolve. Znuul falls to his knees.

  I hear the cold splut of Maldgorath’s head hitting the pavement.

  Chapter 90

  I take a step back and look at Maldgorath’s headless body standing, teetering, arms outstretched and fingers grasping at nothing. After a moment, the body’s balance is lost and it falls to the ground in a most undignified way, where it twitches for a moment, black blood pumping from the ever so cleanly cut neck stump.

  Everything gets remarkably quiet. No more angry minions. No more gunfire. It’s quite surreal.

  I look over at Znuul. He’s on the ground on all fours. He lifts himself up and turns to me. I about fall over. Half of his face is just gone, black bone exposed, his right eye socket empty. The burns extend down the right part of his torso, where more bones and org
ans are exposed.

  “Ahtsag!” Karen’s shriek breaks the silence and makes me jump. She’s running toward him as he is trying to lift himself up. I hear her tell him to sit. She fumbles at a pouch at her side, pulling out a red healing potion.

  She puts the bottle to his mouth, then tosses the empty aside, pulls out another, and pours the contents over where his flesh used to be. She is crying.

  Sil yells out, “Hey, Pixie! Time to see you dance in some black blood.”

  This seems to perk Znuul up a bit. He gives a weak thumbs-up.

  Christophe comes over and helps tend to Znuul. He casts a healing spell, which causes Znuul to promptly throw up, resulting in the concrete hissing and steaming. Guess that healing universal love doesn’t sit as well with him as others.

  By this time, Sheyliene has come over. “Eww,” she says. Then she looks at the large black pool in which Maldgorath lies. “I don’t want to have to clean that icky stuff off.”

  I don’t blame her. Over to the side lies Maldgorath’s head. I give it a small kick, then grab it up by the tentacle/dreadlock things and swing it around for all to see.

  “Revenge is ours! Jerry, Marge, Grey, Herrmann, you are avenged!” I look into the ugly dead face. “Teach you to fuck with Arthur MacInerny, you evil son of a bitch.”

  To add a little cosmic emphasis, I slap his ugly face.

  The eyes open.

  “Arrr-herr! Nooo!” comes Znuul’s slurred voice.

  I drop the head and take a few steps back. A black cloud is emanating from the mouth. Yayne lights up and sends me a warning. The cloud rushes at me and I swing the sword, trying to stop it. It envelops my face. I feel the greasy black vapor pushing into my eyes, my ears, my nose. I hold my breath. I feel hands upon me—it must be the others. I’m trying not to panic.

  Panic will use up my oxygen. I feel a spell upon me—a warding of sorts. Someone is trying to help.

  My eyes and nose are burning as this noxious cloud is trying to push in. My lungs are convulsing from lack of air.

  My brain is swirling. This isn’t fair! I’ve come too far to let this sack of crap off me with some black cloud. I drop Yayne and begin trying to grab handfuls of the black stuff and pull it away. I can’t—it’s gas.