*
Light. Warmth. Heat. Flames. Pain. Panic. Terror. Desperation. Death.
I am standing in the middle of a large plaza, surrounded on all sides by a multitude of bowing humans. They lie, face down, facing towards the centre of the plaza. There, sitting on a throne of earth, is a man. Around him, woman languish in luxury and men in crowns wait eagerly for his attentions. Suddenly, he stands, staring at the sky. He appears to be listening to an unseen voice, and nods in agreement. After a few more minutes of conversation, he looks down sadly and shakes his head.
Immediately, the people around me cry out with a deathly wail, as if he had just announced the end of the world was imminent. From their horrified faces, maybe he has. He looks to me, and my blood freezes in its eternal circuit. His eyes, a deep emerald, burn like the sun. His golden hair seems angelic, and rightly so. Not giving any indication he has even noticed me, he rises into the air. Raising his arms to the sky, a harsh light surrounds him. The light grows more intense, blinding me until I throw my arms up to protect my eyes. However, the people in the plaza make no effort to shield themselves. They stare fixatedly at the shining figure, tears running down every face.
In a flash, he is gone, replaced by a towering statue of himself. Vanity? Or a mournful memento? The people turn now to those who had been near the man, their angry shouts demanding an explanation. The shouting intensifies as the mob moves toward the men with crowns and sceptres. From the back of the crowd, a rock is lobbed with surprising accuracy. It strikes a man beside the cooling statue, knocking him down. More rocks are flung as chaos erupts, with man fighting woman and peasants fighting kings.
Unseen to all but me, two men float unsupported above the plaza. The first man wears a mask of anguish, and tears from his light blue eyes fall towards the earth below but do not strike it. The man beside him is marginally less emotional, but the redness around his eyes belies his true feelings. He seems to be trying to console the first man without much success. Angrily he pushes his companion away, before quickly vanishing into the air. The remaining man is left to stare in sadness at the violence below. He turns, his piercing green eyes boring into mine, and says, “You are in-
-danger!”
With a start, Alza awoke. The sullen moon in the sky told her that it was not yet dawn, yet Barsch and Kingston were already up and on their feet. Blood had matted the young man’s hair, and his left arm hung limply beside his body. Kingston had fared little better, and his blood-stained shirt and hobbled leg gave indications to the extent of his injuries. Alza could not see Maloch, but she could hear the roar of his sonic cannon from the other side of the Voxner.
Struggling to her feet, she cried, “What’s happening?”
Shouting over Lanista’s roar, Barsch replied, “We’re under attack! They’ve surrounded us!”
Suddenly, a break in the clouds overhead allowed a ray of moonlight to bathe the area, revealing their unseen enemy. At first glance, she counted twenty of the beasts. They had formed a rough ring around the courtyard, and were slowly tightening their inescapable net. Blood-stained teeth, harsh crimson eyes and bleached white coats gave of the appearance of hellhounds, but from the two that lay dead not five paces away, she knew they were real.
As if reading her mind, Kingston said, “Cóyotl, a vicious breed. Carnivorous; two feet tall and four long; with a penchant for ambushes and scavenging. Razor sharp fangs and claws, and a brutal nature. Maloch says that that they have a pollutant concentration of sixty-two percent, the highest he’s ever seen. Bloody things must have been tracking us since we arrived, and attacked when we were most vulnerable.”
“So what do we do?” asked Barsch, with pain in his voice.
“I don’t think we’re dealing with the whole pack here, just a scouting group. I doubt they’ll continue to attack if we can show them that we’re not worth it.”
Alza nodded and walked quickly towards the injured duo. As she reached them, she embraced the ever-present power that dwelt within her, allowing it to fill her completely. It did not come at first, and she had to force it out of her mind, bit by bit. Maloch reappeared from the other side of the Voxner, his back towards them, occasionally firing warning shots towards the encircling beasts. Kingston had drawn his solar staff, and its light seemed to drive the creatures back by a hair.
Barsch reached down towards the miniaturized engine on his chainsword and pulled the ripcord. On the third try it caught. With a great deal of coughing and spluttering, the saw teeth surrounding the blade began to increase in speed. Their preparations complete, the weary group positioned themselves with the Voxner behind them, guarding their rear. As one they turned and faced the snarling cóyotl.
As if on command, the fiends leapt towards the travellers as one body, a simultaneous howl announcing their vile intensions. Alza could not afford to pay attention to the others, as six of the beasts had chosen her as their target. She briefly heard Maloch’s cannon fire and Lanista roar, before the beasts were upon her. Not fully knowing what she did, she lashed out with her power, flinging it randomly into the air. In mid-air, two of the cóyotl burst into flame, whilst another was flung back by an unseen force. She could already feel the drain in her energy, as she struggled to maintain control.
Refocusing her power, another two creatures were raised higher into the air and then flung into the distance. However, through sheer luck, one of the cóyotl had made it through, and its outstretched claws drew white-hot lines across her abdomen. As soon as the pain appeared, it was gone, washed away by the power bubbling within her. As she raised her hand to destroy the last beast, the power suddenly faded away, her body no longer able to contain it. The animal before her had flinched as she had raised her hand, but it soon realised that nothing was coming. Taking advantage of her confusion it leapt once more, aiming for her exposed neck.
Alza raised her arms in a futile attempt to shield herself, but in her heart she knew that she could not hold back sixty pounds of pure killing intent. Suddenly, the roar that she had been hearing in the background was right beside her, as Lanista’s unmistakable profile swung past her and buried itself into the airborne cóyotl. The beast gave one last howl and then fell silent. Barsch withdrew the still screaming blade and gave Alza what he probably thought was a cheery smile. To Alza, it looked more like a pain filled grimace, but she declined to comment on his expression.
Looking past him, she could see the results of the battle. Including the two before her, twelve cóyotl had breathed their last, while the howls of the rest could be heard in the distance. As for the combatants; only Maloch was undamaged, though his dimming eyes suggested a critical loss of power. Lit up by his solar staff, Kingston appeared to have fared the worst, as two streams of dark blood flowed down his face and pooled in his already blood-soaked beard. He was leaning heavily on the staff, and every breath was long and tortured. Barsch had seemed to have fared little better, and it looked like adrenaline was the only thing holding the young man up.
“Hah! We sure showed them, didn’t we, Kingston?” The laugh sounded forced, and Alza could see the unasked question in his eyes.
Kingston did not answer for several moments, breathing heavily as he surveyed the carnage around them. “It’s not over. They’ll be back, and in greater numbers. We can’t stay here. Let’s go.” Each sentence was forced, and Alza got the impression that he was barely staying conscious. Without waiting for a reply he turned and slowly limped towards the Voxner.
As he reached for the cab door, Barsch caught up to him and said, “No! You’re hurt, and I’m not letting you drive in your condition.”
“Someone has to drive m’boy. Don’t worry about me, I’ll be fine,” lied Kingston.
He turned back towards the door and tried to open it, but Barsch stopped him and said, calmly, “No.”
Then, in a quieter, yet no less firm voice, he said, “Maloch, please put Kingston in the back. And when you’re done with that, would you please activate the autopilot
on the Voxner?”
“Yes mas- I understand, Barsch.”
Ignoring the old man’s protests, the re-mech gently scooped Kingston up and placed him in the hold. Turning back to Barsch, he said, “Order fulfilled. The auto-pilot has been activated. I have taken the liberty of setting a course for the nearest village, where medical supplies may be present.”
Climbing into the container after Kingston, Maloch disappeared from view. Barsch was already climbing into the driver’s seat, with Alza climbing in beside him moments later. After several failures, he managed to start the engine. On the dashboard a warning light came on: a red, flashing lightning bolt. Not knowing what it meant, Barsch ignored it, and it soon disappeared. A moment later the autopilot kicked in and plotted a course out of the eerie city. As they raced down the ancient streets, Alza thought of what to say to the boy who had just saved her life.
Eventually, she managed to whisper, “Th... thank... you. You… fought well...”
Barsch gave no indication that he had heard her barely audible voice, but in Alza’s mind she had already done enough. They drove in silence as new-born sunlight gradually lit up the cabin. A few minutes later, they were out of the city, and veered away to the west once more. With the rising sun behind them lengthening the shadows of every tree and rock, they were increasingly wary of another unseen ambush. They drove on cautiously for another hour, before deciding that they were safe for the moment. Barsch turned away from the uninteresting scenery and tried to strike up a conversation with Alza, but she had long since fallen asleep.
“She really is very pretty when she isn’t scowling or killing something. Still, I doubt there’s anyone alive who can do what she does. I mean, five cóyotl in the time it would take you to tie your shoelaces... that’s insane…”
Barsch felt loneliness creep into his soul, despite the cóyotl killing girl sleeping peacefully beside him. He remembered sitting in the passenger seat as his father had driven them towards the next village, the smoke from the previous one barely visible in the rear-view mirror. Despite the uncertainty of finding food or shelter, he had never felt safer than when he was with his father.
“I wish you were here… I feel like I’m losing my stride… dad.”
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