by Clayton Wood
“You armed?”
“No…”
“Then get back!”
Dio lunged at Hunter…and passed right by him, grabbing Sukri and throwing her back toward Hunter. Sukri fell into him, and they tumbled onto the bridge. Hunter swore, scrambling to his feet, facing Dio.
The Seeker strode toward them, now standing between Sukri and the Kingdom of the Deep.
Hunter focused inward, feeling his hunger, his anger. He stoked it, willing forth the voices from the past. The Legend within him.
Za-ga-mar!
A chill ran through him, and he took a step back, then another. Dio closed the distance between them, his staff gleaming in the sun.
Za-ga-mar!
Time slowed, Dio’s footsteps seeming to take an eternity to rise and fall. Hunter felt Zagamar’s mind within his own, instantly evaluating the situation. Plotting each possible action, taking it to its logical conclusion.
Need more data.
He feigned a thrust at Dio, at only a fraction of the speed Zagamar was capable of…but plenty quick for a regular human. Dio dodged to the side, thrusting the butt of his staff right at Hunter’s belly. To anyone else, the attack would’ve been lightning quick, but to Hunter, it was almost tediously slow.
Hunter took a step back, bending at the waist, Dio’s staff missing him by an inch.
Dio followed up immediately by swinging the butt of his staff up at Hunter’s chin. Hunter leaned back, the blow missing him again by a fraction of an inch. Another attack, another dodge. Again, and again. And again.
Dio stopped, taking a step back, staring at Hunter silently.
Hunter smirked.
And then Dio went ape-shit.
He swung his staff twice as fast as before, each thrust and slash blending into the next in a vicious string of attacks. Hunter’s mind raced, calculating the trajectory of each attack and dodging and parrying every last one of them.
Then Dio’s foot came out between attacks, managing to connect with Hunter’s belly.
Hunter stumbled backward, bending forward at the waist…and Dio came right at him. Hunter dodged and parried desperately, only barely managing to deflect each blow. He felt Zagamar’s frustration…and the world slowed even further, his thoughts coming so fast he couldn’t follow them, his heart pounding rapidly in his chest.
Play-time’s over.
He went on the offensive, counterattacking every attack Dio attempted, slashing, thrusting, and kicking…and setting Dio back on his heels. The Seeker barely managed to block each counterattack.
And then he turned to run.
Hunter lunged after Dio…and right into the Seeker’s mule-kick.
The blow struck Hunter right in the chest, knocking the wind out of him. He flew backward, landing on his back on the bridge, his helmet bouncing off the hard stone.
His vision blackened.
Hunter groaned, rolling onto his side, his heart pounding far too quickly, his lungs screaming for air. He gasped, struggling to get to his feet, but his limbs felt like jelly.
Metabolism too high, he sensed Zagamar thinking. Temporary lack of air untenable.
He watched as Dio stepped toward him, saw Sukri leap in-between them, waving her arms at Dio.
“Don’t!” she cried. “Stop!”
Body failing. Energy consumption too high. Must abort.
Hunter shoved Zagamar back into the recesses of his mind, the world speeding up instantly. He got to his feet, clutching at his chest.
Dio pushed Sukri aside, lunging at Hunter!
And then a huge black shape leapt over Hunter’s head from behind, slamming into Dio and shoving him backward.
“Xerxes!” he heard Sukri cry.
Dio stumbled backward, then rolled into a backwards somersault, springing to his feet. Xerxes roared, rushing at the Seeker. Dio dodged, beating the Ironclad back with a flurry of blows, then ran back toward Hunter, his staff gleaming in the sunlight. Sukri intercepted the Seeker, but Dio shoved her to the side…right as Xerxes slammed into him from behind.
Dio stumbled forward…and Sukri flew to the side, right toward the edge of the bridge!
Hunter burst toward Sukri, who fell onto her side, then slid head-first over the edge of the bridge.
No!
He lunged after her, landing belly-first on the bridge, grabbing at her legs. He caught her by the ankle…
…and promptly slid off the bridge with her.
Shit!
His gut wrenched as they fell from the edge into the canyon, plummeting toward the river hundreds of feet below. The wind howled in his ears as they accelerated, tearing at his clothes.
Shit shit shit!
And then he felt a sudden jerk as he spread his wings out reflexively, feeling them fill instantly with air. He nearly lost his grip on Sukri’s ankle.
Wings!
Hunter spread them out fully, tightening his grip on Sukri. They were gliding now, accelerating rapidly forward through the canyon. He glanced down, seeing the river still hundreds of feet below…and in the distance, the canyon began to narrow sharply, from about a thousand feet across to less than a hundred.
“Shit!” he heard Sukri scream.
He focused on the canyon ahead, aiming for the center as it narrowed. The walls closed in on either side…and up ahead, the canyon curved gently to the right.
Okay, he told himself. You got this.
Hunter pulled his right wing in, trying to turn rightward…but that just caused him to barrel-roll instead. He swore, extending both wings, righting himself.
“Hunter!” Sukri warned. The curve was coming up quickly…and if Hunter didn’t turn, they’d smash into the cliff wall ahead. He focused, trying to twist his core to force himself to turn, but this didn’t work either.
The curve was only a hundred yards away now…and closing in fast.
Think!
He remembered flying on planes back on Earth, looking out of the window as the plane was turning. A flap on the back of the wing would go up and down to do it. Which meant that turning required increasing resistance to air flow on one wing…the right one. So to do that…
Hunter rotated his right wing backward, as if he were rotating his arm to make it go palms-up. He felt an immediate push on his right wing, turning him rapidly to the right…way too far. He glided toward the rightmost canyon wall.
Shit!
He reversed the action, rotating his left wing back – more gradually this time – and turned gently to the left. The curve in the canyon was only fifty feet away now; he rotated his right wing slightly, turning gradually to the right, following the oncoming curve…and made it through, reaching the straightaway beyond.
Yes!
His elation was short-lived, however. There was a left turn a few hundred feet away…one much sharper than the last.
Hunter focused, practicing turning left, then right. He was still picking up speed as he dropped gradually downward; he needed to slow down if he was going to make it through the turn ahead. He tried rotating both wings backward…and felt the wind shove him back powerfully. His stomach lurched as he decelerated…and as he promptly began to lose altitude, plummeting toward the river far below.
He rotated his wings forward, accelerating forward again…and slowing his descent as he resumed gliding. Experimenting with different wing positions, he found a good compromise, gliding at a reasonable speed toward the turn ahead without losing altitude too quickly.
The turn approached, a near-ninety-degree turn leftward. The canyon had narrowed further, now a mere fifty feet wide here, giving him little room for error.
He took a deep breath in, waiting for the turn…then rotated his left wing back, turning sharply with the canyon. He came perilously close to the leftmost canyon wall, his wingtip only a few yards away. But he managed to level off, gliding gently to the center of the canyon again.
Yes!
They were only a hundred feet above the surface of the river now, and the cliff walls
on either side were considerably shorter ahead. Hunter was only a few yards below the tops of them. If he could gain a little altitude, he could land on them.
He tried flapping his wings, and immediately regretted it. His wings flapped at different times, their movements uncoordinated, and this seriously disrupted his equilibrium.
“Careful!” Sukri shouted over the howling wind.
“Sorry,” Hunter yelled back. He abandoned his plan, focusing on gliding safely in the center of the canyon. Luckily the canyon walls dropped even lower ahead, not even fifty feet high. Which meant that he could easily fly over them.
Hunter did just that, turning right and gliding out of the canyon. There was dense forest ahead, hardly a suitable landing area. He scanned the terrain, spotting a clearing amidst the trees. But how was he going to land with Sukri dangling head-down?
“Swing up,” he shouted at Sukri. “Grab my arms!”
She grunted, doing a sit-up and grabbing his forearms.
“I’m gonna let go of your legs,” he warned. He did so, and her hands slid down his forearms, stopping at his wrists. He grabbed her wrists as she gripped his, then turned toward the clearing, rotating his wings backward as they drew closer. They were only twenty feet above the treetops now, and dropping quickly.
“We’re not gonna make it!” Sukri cried.
“Hold on,” Hunter ordered. He rotated his wings forward, picking up speed, thirty feet from the clearing now.
Twenty…ten.
He felt a jolt as Sukri’s leg smacked against the top of a tree, and struggled to keep himself flying straight. She struck another tree, then another…and then they were in the clearing!
Hunter rotated his wings back sharply, decelerating rapidly…and dropping Sukri to the ground. She fell the six feet to the ground below, and Hunter zoomed past her, gliding another few yards before his feet touched the ground. He stumbled to a stop, folding his wings behind him.
“You did it!” Sukri cried, rushing up to him and practically leaping into his arms, squeezing him tightly. He hugged her back, and they held each other for a long moment before Sukri disengaged. She stared at him shaking her head with a mix of disbelief and awe. “I didn’t know you could do that,” she exclaimed. Hunter smirked.
“That makes two of us.”
And then his legs wobbled underneath him, and he turned to the side, leaning over and puking his guts out.
Chapter 18
Zac awoke to the sound of banging on his door.
He jerked up into a sitting position in his bed, and Zooey bolted upright beside him. They were in the shack they’d rented from the innkeeper, and sunlight was streaming in through the windows.
There was more banging on the door, making dust rain down from the ceiling.
“What…?” Zooey blurted out.
“Get dressed,” Zac stated, leaping out of bed and pulling on his clothes hurriedly. They were still a little damp from the night before. He grabbed the blanket from Zooey, shoving it in his pack, then went to the window, looking out.
The innkeeper was standing far away from door, using a long wooden pole to bang on it. And there were other men standing behind him.
Armed men.
Zac looked down, seeing the fenced-in pen attached to the shack. Chickens were walking about. Or what had once been chickens.
Zac swore, backing away from the window.
“We have to leave,” he declared. “Now.”
Zooey nodded once, not even questioning him.
“Out the window?” she proposed. There was another window at the other end of the room. He nodded, and they both ran to it, opening it and crawling through.
Then they ran.
Zac heard shouting from behind, and looked back over his shoulder to see a few of the men coming around the side of the shack, pointing at him and gesticulating wildly. The innkeeper came into view, dropping his long pole.
Someone handed him a crossbow.
“Oh sh…” Zac blurted out, grabbing Zooey and pulling her close to him as they ran. There was a short fence ahead, and they leapt over it. Zac landed on his feet, but Zooey stumbled forward suddenly, falling onto her belly.
A crossbow bolt protruded from her back.
“Zooey!” Zac cried, yanking her to her feet. Her eyes were wide, her mouth open in a perfect “O.”
He looked back, seeing the innkeeper chasing after them, reloading the crossbow as he ran.
Zac gathered Zooey in his arms, running toward the hill they’d come down the night before. He saw the forest atop it, and his mind raced.
Trees will provide cover. Make us harder to track. Innkeeper is overweight, won’t be able to keep up.
He reached the foot of the hill, charging up it as fast as he could. Glancing back, he saw the innkeeper rushing after them. The man stopped at the base of the hill, lifting his crossbow to aim.
Zac switched to a zig-zagging pattern.
The innkeeper fired, the bolt shooting toward them. It buried itself in the side of the hill to Zac’s left, missing him by less than a foot. He heard the innkeeper curse.
Needs to reload. Almost to the trees.
Another bolt flew over Zac’s right shoulder.
Come on…
He reached the tree line, weaving between the wide trunks. Glancing back, he saw the innkeeper bounding up the hill after them. But the man slipped on the still-wet grass, sliding back down the hill on his belly.
Still Zac ran, clutching Zooey to his chest, until he could run no more.
He collapsed by a broad tree trunk, setting Zooey down. Her face was deathly pale, her breath coming in short gasps. He propped her against the tree, kneeling before her.
“Okay Zooey,” he stammered. “Okay. We’re okay.”
Then he spotted the sharp, bloody tip of the arrowhead jutting out of her chest.
“Zac,” she gasped. She coughed, pink, bubbly spittle trickling out of the corner of her mouth.
“Oh Zooey,” he moaned. “Oh no Zooey, no, no…”
“Zac,” she repeated, breaking out into another fit of coughing. Her face twisted in pain, and she grit her teeth, squeezing her eyes shut.
“I’m so sorry Zooey,” he whimpered. “I didn’t…”
“It’s okay,” she mumbled. “It’s okay Zac.”
“No Zooey, it’s…”
“They’ll never…accept us,” she interrupted. She put a cold hand to his cheek. “You know…that.”
“But…”
“It’s not your fault,” she said. “Not…your fault.”
“It is,” he insisted. “You were right, we never should’ve gone in that inn.”
“…not you,” she gasped. “Not your fault. It’s…them.”
He blinked tears from his eyes, feeling them trickle down his cheeks. She gave him a weak smile.
“I got to be…you,” she murmured, stroking his cheek. “Got to…” She coughed again. “You’re…special, Zac. You’re…”
“I’m a freak,” he retorted.
“You’re…better,” she countered. “Make them see, Zac. Make them…better.”
“Zooey,” he said, holding her hand against his cheek. “Don’t leave me.”
She grimaced, shifting her weight against the tree.
“Thirsty,” she mumbled.
And then her breathing slowed, her eyes staring off into space.
“Zooey?”
He put a hand to her cheek, tapping it gently. But she didn’t respond.
“Zooey?” he repeated, tapping harder. “Zooey!”
No response.
Zac stared at her, his whole body going numb. She took another breath in, her chest barely rising. A horrible gurgling sound came from her throat, more pink foam dripping from her mouth.
It was the last breath she ever took.
* * *
The creature jolted awake from its dream.
It gasped, feeling a terrible pain in its throat, and in its side. It was sprawled on its back on
the forest floor, the leaves high above swaying in a stiff breeze. It took a moment for the creature to recover from the dream. And for it to remember what had happened.
How the human had stabbed it and strangled it, crushing its throat.
It grunted, rolling onto all fours and running a hand over its throat. The flesh there was intact, its voice box no longer crumpled.
How?
The creature looked around, spotting the corpse of a man dressed in a black and red uniform laying nearby. The human whose eyes it had torn out. Hunger seized the creature, and it walked up to the corpse.
And ate.
An hour later, it finished gorging itself, stumbling away from what remained of the human. Lowering its head to the forest floor, it sniffed the footprints there, smelling the same scent it’d smelled on the human who’d nearly killed it.
The humans were always trying to stop them. The Dark One and anyone who dared to follow Him. Who dared to receive even a small portion of His essence.
The creature spotted movement in the distance, and turned toward it. There were shadows lurking between the trees, more of the Dark One’s followers. One of them glanced at the creature, nodding slightly. The creature nodded back, then began to follow the others.
Though the memories it shared with the Dark One were vague and ephemeral, it remembered what had happened long ago. First the humans had sent bounty hunters to stop Him. Then towns had risen against Him, amassing small armies to find and kill Him. When that’d failed, the towns had sought help from the cities, sending larger forces.
And then entire kingdoms had sent their armies.
But they’d been too late, the humans. They’d underestimated Him. Underestimated how quickly he could turn their own armies against them, by giving their soldiers a taste of his will. For he was better than them, and he made his soldiers better by sharing his gift with them. The gift of his intelligence, and of his perspective.
The humans were weak and stupid, always reacting instead of acting. Always letting their fear control them.
But with each victory, the Dark One had become less and less afraid.
And now that He was reborn, there was nothing that could stop him.
