“Sorry, Chen,” said Priest, throwing a strong hook towards Chen’s face. But Chen, unable to stand still as he wished, jumped away from his friend’s fist, thrusting the spiked tip of his rope dart at Priest, who barely got out of the way.
“Do not be sorry, my friend, for this is like the story of the scorpion and his friend, the—”
“Chen, just shut up and let me knock you out.”
“I will endeavor.”
The odds, which had seemed to be turning in their favor, were now the worst they had been. With three kelpies down and Chen’s agile body enchanted against his will, it was three against five.
“Need a little help!” cried Priest.
Nash grunted, himself having trouble. He was basically using the empty R.I.G.G. to block with now, unable to reload. His ax swung this way and that, leaving him and the two kelpies at a stalemate.
“Me too,” he said.
“Nash.”
“Give me a sec, I’ll see what I can do!”
Nash backed away, wiping sweat away from his eyes. He realized just how much he wanted to sit down and give his aching legs a break. It was different, fighting monsters in the human world. Nash couldn’t say that he liked it.
Distracted, his hand slipped, and his ax flew harmlessly to the side, leaving him without a weapon. One of the kelpies lunged, and Nash ducked. He heard someone grunt above him and, not feeling enchanted, looked up.
“Get away from him!” Maurie snarled, holding the kelpies back. He watched in a cross between relief and concern as Maurie’s two hands were both frozen on the kelpies torsos. Her arms were shifting between healthy skin color and those sickly blue-purple hues. The kelpies seemed to be battling Maurie with their willpower, trying to enchant her into submission, and not give into her Death Touch. Nash marveled at what power the old Huntress must hold.
Shaking his head, Nash started reloading R.I.G.G.
Maurie started to gasp for breath, and her legs threatened to drop beneath her. The kelpies grinned, their bestial mouths splitting into walls of too-large teeth.
As she thought she could no longer take the pressure prodding her mind to let go control of her body, Nash stepped forward, R.I.G.G. leveled at one of the kelpies. With a loud release, he fired, scattering fragments of salt, flesh, bone, and muscle up and into the air behind his target.
Her power no longer divided, Maurie focused everything into one last push, one dark spell she had hardly ever used in her life. Gritting her teeth, her right hand became black as night, fingers digging into the kelpie’s flesh.
“Behold,” she said, “a true Death Touch.”
Knowing it was about to die, the Kelpie raised one hand to smash its opponent to the ground, but it stopped there, midair. The kelpie crumpled to the ground, muscles atrophied, blood vessels all about its body black and spidery. Its eyes were bloodshot and the pupils constricted to points.
Nash rushed to Maurie, who lay on the ground, coughing up blood. “Are you alright?”
“Stop worrying about me, I’ll be fine! Go help Priest mop up the rest.”
He looked over to the kelpie on the ground. “That was amazing.”
“No, boy. That was horrid. Now go, blast you!”
He nodded. Not far away, the kelpie he shot earlier was nursing its wound—namely, a big hole in its stomach—and was about to pounce on Priest from the side.
“No you don’t,” said Nash, and stomped on the ground. With the kelpie already airborne, this time Nash’s lightning bolt had an effect, throwing him off course and crashing into one of the other kelpies.
“Thanks, lad,” Priest said over his shoulder.
“Uh, welcome,” said Nash, having had no idea that his lightning bolt would help in such a way. He rushed to the older Hunter’s side, taking the free moment to load a few large salt clusters before pumping and firing R.I.G.G. The shot hit the kelpie who had gone sailing through the air, ripping into its back. It jerked and slumped on top of the kelpie it had bowled over.
With the kelpie on the bottom trapped for the moment, that left one more of the water creatures standing, and Chen.
“Lad, get that blasted water horse. I’ll take care of Chen.”
Nash nodded, glad not to have to fight against the enchanted Hunter.
Chen swung one end of his rope dart, and then another. Priest took both of the blows while dropping his sword, the metal ball cracking a rib and the dart piercing his hand.
“Sorry, friend,” Chen said, grim faced, as Priest ripped the rope from his fellow Hunter’s hands.
“I know,” Priest gasped. His right hand felt broken and useless, and his ribs burned whenever his left arm moved. “Me too.”
His arms nearly useless, Priest lunged forward and crash landed the top of his head into Chen’s face, knocking his friend out completely.
At the same time, Nash put the final two shots into the last standing kelpie’s chest, finishing it. The kelpie trapped under its dead companion had stopped struggling, so they left it be.
“Now come the wolves,” said Priest.
Nash looked over his shoulder to where the wolves were beginning to stand, hackles raised. There was no feasible way they would survive them all. Still, Nash ignored that thought. He bent down to check on Maurie, who was unconscious but breathing consistently.
Derrick half-dragged, half-carried Darcy—now awake but coughing badly—to the group.
“What will we do?” asked Derrick.
“I still have my vest,” Darcy said, her voice hoarse as if she were ill. “Those wolves can’t enchant like the horse-faces, right? Wait for them to charge, throw the vest in front of them and, Nash, you shoot it. Boom.”
“That may be the best idea I’ve heard all week,” said Nash, picking up and reloading both his hunting rifle and R.I.G.G.
But the wolves didn’t attack. They slunk back into the trees like shadows.
“Why?” asked Nash. “Why didn’t they attack?”
“She’s giving us a chance to leave,” croaked Darcy. “Just like she did on Witch Island.”
You’re right, said the Sagemistress.
The group spun around, albeit slowly, with pain.
Over the water, the Sagemistress stood, or at least the foggy image of her.
“Well we can’t,” said Nash. “We can’t let you have Drakauragh.”
Enough with the heroics. In the woods to the west of here, one of your number has already fallen under a servant of mine. The girl who lost her brother. I will make no promises as I did so kindly last time we met. Make your own decisions, but be prepared for more loss than you can imagine.
And without negotiating, without prolonging their hope, the fog that made up the Sagemistress separated, dispersing over the lake. With her gone, a heavy despair filled the hearts of Darcy and Nash. The last time the Sagemistress had warned them not to keep going, they had lost Liev.
How much more could they lose?
Lisa struggled to get up. She had blacked out, but only for a second. Now, the halberd pinned down a chunk of her hair as she rolled away, otherwise just missing her head. She kicked out feebly at the powrie. The goblin grunted, no longer in a gleeful mood but still with a black sparkle in his eye.
She pushed forward with what little strength she could muster, meaning to tackle the powrie to the ground, but it didn’t budge. It grabbed her by the shoulder and tossed her to the side. Lisa blocked with her dagger as the halberd swung down on her. She gasped as the dagger shattered, but the powrie did not stop for her shock. It swung down and down again, and all she could do was get away.
Having completely lost her sense of direction, Lisa dropped the useless hilt and ran. She heard wood splitting as the halberd lodged itself into a tree behind her. Running, she started changing directions behind one tree and another, hoping the powrie would lose track of her long enough for
her to think.
Back against a tree, Lisa dropped her pack, looking through it. The crossbow would be useless among the trees. She had one more dagger but doubted it would work as well as it had the last time. She grabbed her rapier from where it hung on the back of the pack. It wouldn’t be good for blocking against such a strong opponent, but if she could land one good thrust, she could win. The powrie would fight until he died, but he wasn’t in good shape either. He would have to stop soon to close up the wound in his abdomen.
But for now, it wouldn’t be enough to stop the powrie from giving chase to Lisa if she made a run for it.
The sound of metal cleaving the wood behind her head made Lisa’s decisions for her. She sprung from behind the tree, whipping the face of the powrie with her black energy and slicing at his bare shins with her rapier. She brought the sword back across the inside of his forearm as he swatted at her, and ducked to the side as he aimed a clawed kick for her torso.
The powrie pulled his halberd out with a roar and swung. Lisa moved to block.
Time slowed down as Lisa realized the mistake she had made. The halberd would shatter her thin sword without effort, and at this distance she wouldn’t have time to spin out of harm’s way. Fear clutched at her chest, and as the blades met she closed her eyes…
The shock of the blow caused her to reel, but she didn’t hear the tinkling crack of metal, nor did she feel the powrie’s halberd cut into her side. Lisa’s eyes shot open to see that her sword was black and writhing with energy, smoking where it still touched the halberd.
Both she and the powrie recovered from surprise, but she was just a moment faster, flying on the adrenaline one feels when they are alive even though they shouldn’t be. With the realization that her weapons could be reinforced with her gift, Lisa fought in an unorthodox manner with the rapier, using it to hack as well as slice and jab. While the powrie avoided most of the hits, her aggressive surge left more than a few wounds along his arms and legs.
Unable to swing with the ax-side of his halberd, the powrie jabbed the wooden shaft forward to create breathing room between them. Pouring everything she had into the blade, Lisa’s rapier arced towards the end of the halberd. It did not cut cleanly, but shattered the wooden pole like a blunt weapon. Immediately, Lisa jumped forward, thrusting the black-covered rapier into the clammy flesh under the powrie’s ribs, driving upward.
The powrie grunted, a look of surprise and confusion in his single rusty eye. Lisa stepped out of the way, pulling her sword with her, as the powrie staggered and fell, his armor creating a great crash against the ground. Lisa collapsed, landing on her knees and settling back slowly.
The light was beginning to fade. She needed to keep going.
“Well, Sagemistress?”
The witch Carman lounged in her bone chair. Two young men stood behind her—one a seedy looking man with black hair tucked under a black hat, the other a man running his calloused and bony fingers through a ragged mop of red hair. A young child played on the floor with a toy bat and a toy mouse. These three were her sons, horrible half breeds much like the Blind Boy, waiting for her command.
Across the table, the Sagemistress watched the figures in her bowl of water as they argued among each other on the water’s smooth surface. Finally, they reached a decision.
“They will continue. How strange, they haven’t changed in that aspect since last we met.”
Carman stood up laughing selfishly, an ugly and sharp sound that sucked the remaining mirth out of the room.
“And these are the same foolish fledglings that stopped the Dark Prince?”
“They made their choice, Carman, or did you not hear me?”
“I heard you,” the younger witch replied. She patted her youngest son on the head. He looked up, smiling impishly as his toy bat flew and his toy mouse scuttled under his fingers. “I will send out their consequences.”
“See that you do,” said the Sagemistress. “However, do not underestimate them as the Prince did.”
“They will wish they never defeated him, my mistress,” Carman said with a sneer. “For then, they would have never known me.”
With the light so dim, Charlie and Aisling almost ran through the remnants of Lisa’s battle without noticing it. Dräng stopped and picked up the shattered blade, calling them back.
“What is it,” asked Charlie. His eyes were quickly consumed with red to survey the broken dagger, and he grew pale.
“Aisling.”
“What is that?”
“It was Lisa’s.”
They all stared dumbly at each other.
“I still smell her,” said Dräng, looking around and sniffing madly.
Spinning around, Charlie gripped the broken dagger’s hilt. “She’s gotta be close,” he said, half to himself, as his eyes scanned the trees. He saw all of the carnage in an instant. Dirt and grass and leaves were violently upturned where a battle had taken place, bark and entire chunks of trees shattered and gone, and then—farther off into the woods—he saw the powrie.
Charlie, Aisling, and Dräng all rushed to the body, saw the damage inflicted on it, the roughly broken halberd held over its body protectively, the blood seeping from its fresh wound.
Dräng jumped up and down, clapping.
“Big sister beat a bad, ugly goblin! She is alive!” he exclaimed happily. Aisling eyed the little monster.
Charlie smiled, silently hoping his little friend was right.
Between Dräng and Charlie, it took them only a few minutes of circling the powrie’s body to find a set of tracks in the leaves that led away from the scene of carnage. With Dräng in the lead hopping giddily from tree to ground and back again, they followed a consistent disturbance of moist leaves.
Then the rain came. It was cold, but started out light; just an annoying dribble on their heads. But before long they could hear the rain roar ahead of them as it battered the forest, and it grew louder. Heavy drops pelted them in no time, threatening to erase Lisa’s tracks. Charlie grabbed a shivering Dräng and zipped him up under his jacket, pulling the hood up.
“We need to find shelter!” Aisling yelled over the downpour.
Charlie shook his head. “Not until we find Lisa!” His red eyes blinked against the water pouring into them, straining to find her.
Aisling shivered, but nodded, pulling her jacket tighter.
“There!” said Charlie.
Up ahead, a black figure was draped over a tree root, the rain falling mercilessly upon it.
Charlie took off at a run, Aisling on his heels. Under a black jacket and a messy black ponytail, they could see a pale face. It was Lisa.
Charlie dropped to his knees and, grabbing her shoulder, gently rolled her over. Her eyes were half open, and she didn’t flinch as the rain struck her face. Charlie feared the worst.
“You can’t die,” he whispered, then, louder, “You can’t die here! Lisa, you’ve got to wake up! I can’t lose you, too. I need you.”
Aisling heard him. Her heart sank, but she knew what she needed to do.
He didn’t feel when Aisling shook him by the shoulder, or hear when she told him to move. She slapped him to get his attention. Charlie looked at her in shock.
“Sorry,” she said, “now please move.”
He stood up quickly, watching her as she sat down next to Lisa. Charlie was taken by Lisa’s beauty as she lay helpless against the rain.
“She’s not dead,” Aisling said after a moment. “She probably just pushed herself too hard and fainted. She might have tripped and hit her head. I can treat her, but we need shelter.” Then to snap him out of his trance, Aisling yelled, “Charlie!”
Charlie nodded up and down rapidly, “I’ll-I’ll go find some then.”
Dräng jumped out of his jacket, “Stay here, I am faster.” He skittered off, scattering leaves as his flat feet slappe
d the ground.
“I’ll need your help to move her,” Aisling said.
Charlie nodded. They moved Lisa into a sitting position against the same tree she’d collapsed under. Then they each put a shoulder under Lisa’s arms and stood. Her feet dragged unevenly over the wet ground as they walked.
It didn’t take long before Dräng was speeding back for them like an anxious puppy. He half-pulled, half-told them where he was taking them. If it weren’t for their situation, they might have stopped and thought twice about the old village he led them to.
Not that there was anyone there. It wasn’t really a village as much as it was a ghost of one. There were only a handful of houses without a caved in roof, and most of those had grasses and vines that had long since grown up and through the windows.
Dräng paced back and forth in front of the house he had scouted, as Charlie and Aisling carried Lisa between them. The front door was missing, and even the mold had long died, but it at least had a roof and just enough floor left free of the grass where they could lay down and rest for a while.
“Here,” said Aisling, and they stopped to lower Lisa onto her back in the middle of the floor.
“Can you help her?” Charlie asked.
“I think so. My grandmum taught me a little healing magic, and I have medicinal herbs with me.” She began to fish around in her pack.
“What can I do to help?”
“Just stay nearby. Make sure nothing tries to get in.”
Dräng sat down next to Lisa, ears floppy, lips pouty. Aisling eyed the monster but said nothing, kept working. She muttered a few things under her breath—some to focus a spell, some just to remember what her grandmother had taught her. She took a few dried plants Charlie didn’t recognize, then waved them under Lisa’s nose and rubbed them over her forehead or arms with some water until they were a light paste.
He sighed to himself and sat down, facing the door but several feet away from it. Now that he had allowed himself to calm down, the abandoned village was beginning to concern him. He knew this place, although that was impossible.
Charlie Sullivan and the Monster Hunters: Witch Moon Page 11