Reunification

by Timothy L. Cerepaka

  Chapter Thirteen

  By all that was heavenly! My chest burned as blood poured forth, staining my clothes and spilling all over the floor, though I managed to step backwards in time to avoid getting a much deeper and far worse cut.

  Still, the pain was so awful that I had to grasp my chest, feeling the hot blood that flowed like a river. Then I looked up at my assailant, who now stood in the doorway holding one of the double doors open with one hand, the other hand holding a bloodied silver sword with blinking lights running down its length.

  “Apakerec,” said Assassin, its harsh, grating metallic voice sending shivers up my spine. “Long time, no see. I received the Leader's message that our newest recruit had gotten yellow-bellied and wanted to drop out at the last minute. I am guessing that you are that newest recruit?”

  I grit my teeth, mostly because I knew that if I spoke, I would scream. All I did was nod and continue to walk backwards until I was back on the platform, leaving a trail of blood along my path as I did so.

  “I see,” said Assassin. “Well, I'm glad you confirmed that for me, even though I already suspected it would be you. Let me guess, are you going to try to throw another trash can lid at me again? Then again, there aren't any trash can lids around here, so I guess you'll just have to make do with nothing, huh?”

  Assassin spoke far too casually for a robot, made even more disturbing by his featureless face. Not that I focused much on that, however. Instead, I began praying fervently to the Old Gods for their aid, though I knew not if I would get it.

  “Anyway, I can see you're in no mood for conversation,” said Assassin. He raised his sword, my blood dripping from its blade onto the floor below. “Why don't we pick up where we left off? I've since recovered from that nasty little electromagnetic shock that those idiotic Foundation members used on me. Indeed, I even studied the technique and figured out how to use it to my advantage.”

  Assassin took his other hand off the door—which swung closed behind him as he did so—and aimed it at me.

  A lightning bolt lanced from his finger tips toward me. I ducked to avoid it, but the action caused me to slip on my own blood and fall flat on my back. The lightning bolt struck the wall behind me, leaving a sizzling black crater that smoked as much as the camera.

  “Do you like it?” asked Assassin, lowering his hand. “I developed the Touch of Zaunas all on my own.”

  Hearing the name of the Old God of Lightning uttered forth from this obvious heathen's lips gave me enough strength to gasp, “How dare ye use Zaunas's name like that! The Names of the Old Gods are not for us mortals to toss around so lightly.”

  “Good thing I'm not a mortal, then,” said Assassin. He began walking toward me, looking as terrifying as a lion about to devour its prey.

  Normally, I would have stood up and fought, but mine chest still bled without end, which sapped my strength as rapidly as a sponge wiped across a wet surface. Of course, what also took away my strength was the knowledge that I could not defeat Assassin, at least on my own and in this terrible condition.

  But I did not wish to give up, even though that would have been the most logical and rational course of action to take in this situation. For I was a Knight of Se-Dela, which meant that I would have to get back up and fight to the bitterest of ends. 'Twas better to die standing on one's feet than to die lying in one's own blood.

  Yet how was I supposed to fight? I had no weapons; not even my energy knife, which likely had been taken away from me after Resita and I had been captured. I did not have even the tiniest of weapons—nay, not so much as a rock—to defend myself from this evil machine.

  Then my eyes flickered over to the destroyed camera which lay on the teleporter next to me. It smoked and was clearly in no condition to fly anywhere, but it was the only thing around that I could possibly use as a weapon. I was no great improviser, but even I knew the importance of making do with what one has on hand, rather than crying that ye do not have what ye wanted or needed.

  Hence, I grasped the security camera, which was hot to the touch but thankfully not as heavy as it appeared. I pushed myself to a sitting up position, but gritted my teeth when more blood poured from my chest, though I told myself to ignore it for as long as it took me to defeat Assassin (though whether I would be able to summon that much willpower, I did not know, though I was determined to try).

  “Is that one of our flying security cameras?” said Assassin, watching as I staggered to my feet. “Well, that's an unusual weapon, I will admit, but hardly a threatening one. What, do you think I'm camera-shy or something?”

  In truth, I had no idea what I could do with this smoking, wrecked machine. 'Twas nothing like any weapon I had used before; indeed, I doubted there was any way I could use it as a weapon. It had no blades, nor did it appear to have any lasers or projectiles to fire at Assassin. The best I could hope to do with it was to perhaps throw it, but even if it hit Assassin dead on, I doubted it would hurt him very much.

  Nonetheless, I held the security camera with one hand, gripping my bloodied chest with the other, and tried to look as threatening as I could, even though I knew I looked more pathetic than anything. Assassin did not seem impressed or frightened, for he kept walking toward me, holding his sword at his side as if he was taking a nice stroll through the Fertile Plains.

  “Well, it was nice knowing you while you lived,” said Assassin. “I thought you might put up an actual fight, but if your best weapon is nothing more than a silly little broken security camera, then I can see I will not be getting the fight that I expected.”

  I prayed to the Old Gods, as I always did, for guidance. That they would show me how to use this camera, though I was beginning to think that perhaps the reason that the Old Gods hadn't listened to my prayers recently was because this was how I was destined to die.

  Moving far more swiftly than any robot should have the ability to, Assassin raised its sword and ran at me with ferocious speed. I recognized the attack, because it had been a technique that Sir Lockfried had taught me during my training. If it hit, I would surely be dead.

  Thus, with no time left to think, I did the only thing I could: I hurled the security camera at Assassin with as much strength as I could gather in my weakened state. The movement made my chest burn even more, but I could not allow myself to be distracted by the pain or the blood, for I did not have the luxury of worrying about it at the moment.

  Much to my shock, the camera did indeed hit Assassin in the head, even before he had a chance to dodge it. 'Twas an amazing thing to see, watching as that damaged little machine crashed into Assassin's plate face, and caused him to veer off course, staggering to the side from the blow.

  This was my opportunity. Without waiting, I dashed toward the doors and pulled one of them open. It was difficult, for I was so weak from the bleeding, but I succeeded in opening it just wide enough for me to slip through. Even so, I could hear Assassin already recovering, if the sound of the security camera being smashed to pieces behind me meant anything.

  And thus I ran, heading straight down the hallway, blood flowing freely from my chest. I had lost so much blood by now that I wasn't running nearly as fast as I normally did, but I pushed myself to keep going anyway. Because to give up in this situation was to die for certain.

  Even worse, however, was how my senses were rapidly fading in and out the further I ran. Most likely was the blood loss, trying to steal my consciousness from my grasp, but I had no intention of letting myself sink into the darkness that awaited me. I could survive … I could survive … I could survive.

  But then, without warning, my legs gave out underneath me. I fell down on my hands and knees, though in truth I only supported myself with one hand, for with the other, I grabbed my bloody chest to keep it from bleeding too much, even though that gesture did little to help.

  Oh, by the names of the Old Gods … this was too much. As a Knight of Se-Dela, I had never been in such a horrible situation before. The blood loss almost overwhe
lmed for me by itself, though in truth, it was my sister's betrayal that brought me pain more than anything. Or perhaps it was both the blood loss and betrayal … Ah, what did I know? I was beginning to lose consciousness anyway. Nothing made much sense anymore.

  I fully expected to feel Assassin's sword dig deep into my back and finish me off, but I did not even hear him approach me from behind. Perhaps he understood that I was going to die and there was no reason for him to waste time and energy killing me himself.

  Then I heard footsteps coming before me at an even, easy pace. Despite the terrible pain I was in, I managed to look up to see who was walking toward me, to see who would take my life.

  'Twas some sort of humanoid being, wearing a long, flowing golden wizard's cloak, striding down the hall toward me. I almost mistook him for a Sage, but then noticed that his hands were mechanical and metallic plating poked out from under the skin of his face. He looked like no being I had seen, either on Xeeo or Dela, but even in my weakened state, I could tell he was not a friend.

  “Another villain?” I gasped, as the figure continued to walk toward me. “What is your name, you cur? Are ye associated with this evil organization that stole my sister's brain?”

  As the figure drew closer, still not saying a word, I smelled a powerful fragrance—like oranges, almost, though it could have been my blood-deprived brain inventing that for all I knew—wafting off his frame. He stopped before me and looked down at me as if I were a pitiful child in need of help. His face was half-mechanical and half-human, a face straight from my darkest nightmares.

  “Young man,” said the figure, his voice deep and masculine, but not unkindly, despite his strange appearance. “You are injured. And broken. Like Xeeo and Dela. Allow me to help you.”

  I had no time to respond to that, because when the man placed his mechanical hands on my face, I immediately lost all consciousness.

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