The Raike Box Set

by Jackson Lear

  Gastrobk–” I clobbered him in the jaw, his spell taking a half-effect, bursting the remains of the silk pole to pieces.

  Like it or not my momentum was forcing me into a collision course with Earrings. I committed to it and dove – my blade slicing across his thigh – rolled on my landing, ran my blade through his fleshy ass, the point obliterating his femoral artery, the next strike skewering his lower back and taking out his kidney. I twisted, trying to slice out through his side but got caught on his armor. He pitched back and to the side, away from me, in shock, aware of the attack but still too close to register the pain. The asshole took my blade with him, breaking my grip as I struggled to free my weapon from his armor.

  Alysia was on her knees trying to pull the handmaids down with her.

  The calculating one was recoiling in agonizing surprise, lifting his bloodied hand as the flesh hung on like loose bandages.

  The two blocking the corridor separated, each taking a different direction around the prisoners. The two behind them ran towards us.

  The ogre was upon me, his battle ax swinging upwards.

  I hoped like holy high fuck that Krassis might actually save my life. “Volché.” The pocket in my coat exploded, the long ribbons of fabric snapping out in a cyclone of frenzy, whipping me in the face and–

  SLAM!

  –saving my life from the ogre’s ax attack. The ribbons found their target and locked onto the ogre’s wrist. They whipped, slashed, hacked, twisted, and clobbered everything in range.

  Earrings landed on his side, his instincts still trying to protect his face and wound. “Gastrobla.”

  An ethereal punch slammed me in the face. Direct hit. Couldn’t see shit between my watering eyes and the stunned sense of being.

  Cries around me. The shriek of one handmaid seemed certain. Three men huffing, the calculating one shouting: “Luxriff!”

  Lightning scorched me in a blistering second, every muscle in my body contracting and relaxing a hundred times in a single gasp, every nerve ending screaming like I was being sliced with a thousand jagged pieces of glass.

  I fumbled into my pouch, blind, my limbs numb, limp, practically belonging to someone else for how little association I had with them. Couldn’t feel anything I was grabbing onto but knew what was in there. Soot. I flung my arm out wide, scattering the air with speckles of ash and debris, a cloud that might buy me a second or two of time.

  I caught the rest of Earrings’ desperate attack in time. A swipe with his short sword. The both of us panicked and disorientated. I rolled out of the way, barely coherent, still writhing in perpetual agony, and kicked. Managed to find the handle to my blade still in Earrings’ back. Kicked again. This time he found his voice and shrieked. I rolled towards him, my muscles betraying me, refusing to cooperate.

  The handle to my blade was right there. The grip a peculiar sensation like my hand was frozen numb. I yanked. He cried out. I slammed it down into his throat, the tip bouncing off the tiled ground and knocking my hand off course again. One as good as dead.

  I rolled free. The ogre was still busy with the thrashing tentacles, trying to break them apart with his gargantuan strength. The guy behind him lept over the cowering handmaids. Mr Calculating was starting to recover from the shock of losing his hand. He drew in a breath. Incoming spell.

  I screamed at the top of my lungs. “KARMA!”

  He jerked back. Whatever store of energy I had in me was gone, but it was enough. His concentration had been broken yet again.

  In a mess of bodies all fighting to get to me, Alysia lunged forward, tackled the leaping one and crashed him onto the ground. I recoiled – the wayward sword landing on top of my arm and digging into my flesh. The guy braced himself against the fall, twisting to hit his shoulder instead. I sliced forward, taking out a clean line between his cheek, eye, and forehead. Swung back to stab again, nicked the side of his skull, then found his arm was just as armored as his friend’s, rendering my follow-on attack useless. His fingers, though, were fair game. He bucked, an instinctive jerk of energy as his ring finger and pinky fell to the ground.

  My legs still sizzled with violent energy, keeping me from getting to my feet. I threw the silk pole across the room, aiming for Mr Calculating as he staggered towards me, his sword pointing straight for my chest. He didn’t flinch. He knew the silk pole would have little effect and that I was in a desperate state – still on the ground, wounded, dazed, and having just been electrocuted.

  He lunged. I swiped through the air using every last burst of strength in me. Connected with his sword, knocked it off course, the tip bouncing into the ground next to me. I kicked out, spinning myself around in a do-or-die maneuver that would’ve exposed my legs if I failed. Instead I found his knee and kicked as hard as I could, knocking him off balance.

  I threw my hand out, grabbed his wrist, yanked him towards me with a half-body roll. He fell on top of me, head-butting my cheek. I snapped my knee up, striking his gut, rammed one elbow into his face, slammed it back on the return, punched him in the jaw with my brass knuckles. He kicked out, his arms working tight towards me. He managed to grab onto my hair, ripping my head back and exposing my throat. A hundred nerve endings flared again as the fucker damn near ripped my scalp off. His face had turned into a distorted fury, a man on the verge of primal rage with only his teeth left as a viable weapon.

  I rammed two fingers straight into his right eye. He jerked back, taking my hand with him and twisting my fingers into unflattering directions. I pulled back, my fingers shaking from the impact, drove my thumb into his left eye.

  I was finally able to stand up, blade in hand. Scooped up Earrings’ short sword for my damaged left hand. I didn’t think my fingers were broken, but they wouldn’t hold out long for the rest of the fight.

  The ogre’s battle ax crashed onto the ground, the clatter as loud as a crack of thunder. He was winning his fight against frenzied leather tentacles as he grabbed onto the base of one, yanked it free with ungodly strength and moved onto the next, like plucking the limbs of a spider one by one. The tentacles slapped him across the face, throat, chest, and arms, but he was too bulky to let that slow him down.

  Earrings was still alive but bleeding out. Unable to speak.

  The calculating one was blinded, now shrieking in desperate horror.

  Another had lost an eye and had grabbed onto one of the handmaid’s hair, probably wishing that he had managed to get a hold of Alysia instead.

  The ogre would be busy for maybe five more seconds.

  Three more uninjured and ready to go, and I was finally back on my feet.

  “Arras.”

  The semi-blinded one howled, snapped his hand away as bits of skin broke free, his grip on the handmaid gone.

  Alysia screamed at the top of her lungs. “HEEEEEELLLLLLP!”

  The threesome shuddered at the explosion of noise around them. I sped in. Sliced. Checked. Sliced again. The short sword now my shield to keep theirs busy, my blade still my primary weapon. One fell back, tripping over the semi-blinded one and tumbling back over himself.

  Next target. Checked. Sliced. He stepped forward. I kicked his foot, nudged him off balance. Not enough. Recovered my balance and tried going for his knee – pulled back in a sphincter-tightening moment as he swung his sword down to slice through my whole leg.

  I sprung forward, my short sword clanging against the side of his, clobbered him across the jaw with my elbow, his eyes losing focus. I swung back, sliced across his throat and took a three inch chunk of it out on my return.

  The last guy standing backed away, defensively.

  I skewered the one who had fallen back. Rammed my blade right into his groin. Twisted. Skewered him again, taking out another artery. Stared back at Defensive, ready to see what he planned on doing next. He seemed to be at an impasse.

  “HEEEEEELLLLLLP!”

  The ogre plucked the last tentacle free, threw the pouch onto the ground in a display of molten fury, and reached fo
r his battle ax.

  I threw the short sword at him, clunking him on the top of his head with the hilt. He acted like it was nothing more that a mosquito sting.

  I bellowed to Alysia. “Get them out of here!” Admittedly, that was exactly what she was in the middle of doing.

  The ogre wrapped his sausage fingers around the handle of his battle ax, lifted it into the air, and snorted at me like a horse on a ball-tingling cold morning.

  I turned. Ran. It was more of a hobble but fuck it, I was running.

  And then I was falling, tripped up like I had done to so many assholes in my time, all thanks to Defensive and some kind of karmic spell.

  The ogre thumped after me, crunching the calculating one’s good hand in his wake.

  I scrambled back to my feet. Hobbled for the atrium.

  The ogre hurled a stool at me, striking me in my shoulder blade and knocking me off my balance. Then came a solid marble bust, thrown at such speed that the man should’ve been employed as a catapult. It slammed into my side, winding me in an instant and making me feel nauseas at the same time. Then he charged. Ax held high.

  I darted through the garden, legs shaking, unable to breathe, ducking under all of the hanging flowers as the thumping dread of barrel-sized feet stormed after me.

  A small statue ahead of me. I grabbed on, pulled it off balance, felt a mixture of pleasure and terror at the shattering sound, but nothing seemed to stop the ogre. Another statue, its fragments crunching under the man’s boots.

  “HEEEEEELLLLLLP!”

  Alysia’s screams were closer. The end of the house was nearby. She and the two handmaids darted into the atrium ahead of me, turned, saw me racing towards them and the colossus chasing after me, their eyes widening in simultaneous dismay, their plan of escape now futile, replaced by the very high chance of imminent death.

  Alysia’s eyes widened even more. I could even feel the wind behind me change as the ogre swung for his attack.

  I darted through the doorway the women had just run out of. The ax slammed into the door frame after me, the edge of the blade almost kissing the back of my neck.

  I bounced off a wall, my injured arm shielding me from a full impact but splintering me with agony.

  Defensive came charging in, chasing after Alysia and the handmaids.

  The ogre wrenched his ax free from the door frame. Turned upon Alysia.

  “Farewell,” I whispered.

  And fucking god damn shit balls mothercunting piss face. Nothing happened to the ogre.

  I bellowed and ran in – more of a wheeze and hobble by this stage. The women ducked. The ogre backed out of the way. I thrusted my blade at the guy like I was a child with a practice sword, perplexing him for a moment. He moved to swing again.

  I slashed to my side, keeping Defensive away.

  Kicked at the ogre’s crotch. He recoiled backward, his arm still in motion, and clunked the wall.

  I feinted into the corridor to lure Defensive after me, pulled back, turned upon the ogre.

  I jabbed. He swung. I darted back inside the room. The doorframe snapped like kindling, his ax wedged in place. I slashed at Defensive. He checked my blade and went for a leg attack. I sprung out at the ogre, jabbed again, swung back at Defensive, slashed at his face, then skewered the ogre’s hand with my blade.

  He yanked on his ax, breaking it free from the doorframe. I ran in, eliminating his ability to swing his weapon around. He spun, throwing me against the wall before I could land a strike. I dropped to one knee, tried to stab him in the legs, balls, anywhere, and was met with a battle-ship sized boot across my skull.

  I fell back to the ground, sideways, dazed. I have no idea how but the ogre howled and staggered back, my blade now stuck in the sole of his boot. He hopped back, needing one arm against the wall to hold himself steady as he lumbered down to free his foot from my pesky spike.

  I found myself on my knees, the taste of vomit in my mouth, and then onto my feet. I had Alysia behind me but two armed assholes to my front and side.

  The ogre pulled my blade free, threw it as hard as he could onto the ground in front of him. The handle split. The blade somersaulted into the air and seemed to breathe its final breath.

  I was on my feet, fists up, dancing them lightly before me like a poor man’s idea of a prize fighter. The ogre tested his foot, limped, hissed at the injury. Both of us defensive from our wounds. His ax lying on the ground between us.

  Defensive himself dangled his sword towards me, still apprehensive about all the shit I had just put him and his friends through.

  Whatever plan I had of getting out of this was nothing more elaborate than to get the ax and take out the ogre’s good knee. I spoke, my words slurring worse than a drunk’s. “Like I said, she’s protected.”

  Defensive sniffed, sucking a mug’s worth of snot into his head while working out what to do next.

  I tried to go with a more diplomatic approach. “Five of you are down. You leave now and you might even get away.”

  He sneered, a distraught look coming over him as he kept his hands up and ready for whatever attack might come his way. “Can’t. We’ve already taken the money.”

  “From the short guy?”

  He gave me a leery nod.

  “Were you going to kill Miss Kasera?”

  “No. We was gonna ransom her back to her old man.”

  “What about Lavarta?”

  He shook his head, the name unknown to him.

  “Her husband.”

  “Derro was gonna take care of him.”

  “How?”

  “Didn’t say.”

  “He was going to wait here until her husband came home?”

  Another nod.

  Behind me came the most trembling, terrified voice I had ever heard. “Why?”

  “‘Cause that’s what we was paid to do.” Defensive lunged. I reached for the ax. He targeted my hand. I pulled it back. He lunged too far, bouncing the end of his sword off the ground. I rammed a backfist into his face. The ogre brought his foot up, laborious but still surprisingly strong.

  I got to the ax, my fingers reaching around the handle.

  The ogre got me, a solid kick to my chest that shot me into Alysia and the handmaids. I swung upwards. Wasn’t used to the weight of the ax or the imbalance. Defensive darted back. The ogre slammed forward. I swung. He too darted back. The ax bounced into the wall. The ogre crashed his hand onto the handle just below the head. Yanked it free from my grasp. Brought it up again like he was about to club me.

  I lifted my foot off the ground, angled, and slammed it into the side of his knee cap. He buckled off balance but he wasn’t done. I crashed into him. His attack missed but now I was too close to do anything about it.

  Defensive lunged from the side, swiped, dodging the ax handle that nearly belted him across the face.

  I drove my elbow into the ogre’s jaw. No effect. Swung around. It only pissed him off. He head-butted me in my own face.

  Defensive thrusted his sword, narrowly missing me and – worse for him – the ogre. I side-stepped, lunged, grabbed onto his wrist, kicked at his knee. A weighty hand clamped on my shoulder. The ogre ripped me off my feet and tossed me behind him. I landed in a heap, my lungs on fire from the adrenaline burn.

  One of the handmaid’s shrieked for help. Defensive spat, turned his sword onto her, drove it straight through her open hand and into her chest. Her eyes shot wide open, filled with primal horror, the realization of what had happened hitting her before the agony even kissed her mortal fear.

  Then it came. Her shoulders sunk, her body falling limp. She wasn’t dead but she was collapsing.

  I found it. On the ground in front of me. The remains of the only decent blade I’d ever had.

  The ogre turned, glancing from side to side. The horrified woman clutching her chest, the stain of red spreading across her fingers; and me, a man so battered he could be served for dinner.

  Defensive kept his sword pointing at Alysia
and the other handmaid, his head darting from them to me to the ogre and back again. “What the fuck are you waiting for? Kill him and grab her! We can still do this!”

  I drove the broken shard of my blade into the crook of the ogre’s good knee, wrenched it from side to side, and scrambled the fuck out of there.

  The ogre seized, every muscle in his body tightening in an instant. He slumped back, trying to reclaim his balance, landing on his skewered foot, then back again, faster and faster as he fell from heel to heel before crashing onto his back with his ax gripped firmly in one hand.

  I stood, curb-stomped his face and slammed the broken torso of a house-god into his forehead. And again. And again.

  Defensive turned, stepped away from Alysia, his sword dangling towards me while still three yards away. He huffed, exhausted – which seemed pretty pathetic considering the beatings I had taken that day – and slid into a defensive stance, one where he could keep Alysia and the last handmaid in sight and in range as well as seeing exactly what I was doing, which was acquiring a stupidly heavy and badly chipped ax for my own and doing some blood-curdling shit to the still-living ogre in a bid to get some kind of advantage over my last opponent.

  I thumped the ax into the ogre’s crotch. He sprung forward like a bear trap then fell back, unconscious.

  I stared back at Defensive.

  The sides of his lips quivered.

  I thumped the blade of the ax into the ogre’s crotch again, then tugged and sawed. The ogre didn’t move. I dragged the tip of the blade up the ogre’s body, to his face, prodded, and cut him up pretty bad.

  “Was Derro the one doing all the talking?”

  His lips quivered again, his senses pulling him in two inexplicably difficult directions: that he could probably fight me and win, or that he should run.

  “Derro is still in there, isn’t he?”

  He gave me a slow and uncertain nod.

  The ogre’s breathing changed. I dropped the ax onto his throat, checked the results, stepped out of his reach, and waited for the ogre problem to end in all due time.