by Jeff Gunzel
Claiming the girl was still their top priority, but keeping casualties to a minimum was nearly as crucial. For a race planning on retaking at least a portion of the surface world, their numbers were tragically low. All that could be spared were already present. Any measurable losses in the upcoming battle could be catastrophic to their future plans.
But that seemed unlikely. The tarrins were nothing but a race of tree huggers who seemed to worship nature, not an aggressive species by any means. No, the real threats were the humans, a thought that nearly made Orm’rak laugh. Yet the trouble they’d caused so far was undeniable. They were at least an obstacle, if not exactly an outright threat.
Worked into a frenzy, Orm’rak watched the churning tornados of black whirl around him. Flapping wings shedding their feathers, black birds cawing before they melted back together into a cone of liquid black.
“All of you save your energy,” Orm’rak warned, pointing to the tree line just ahead. “For you are about to drink your fill. Just beyond that border lies the sweetest blood that’s ever touched your tongues. Come, my children, and prepare to feast.” Of course, he had no idea what the blood of tarrins actually tasted like. It appeared they would find out together.
He eyed the sun hanging low in the western sky. There were still several hours of daylight left. Given their inherent night vision, it might have been advantageous to wait until dark. But the arrogant laberath leader didn’t feel the need. The inferior enemy would fall no matter the circumstances. Still...
Orm’rak whistled, summoning his scouting party. A group of thirty or so zipped up, instantly flashing up all around him. “I need you to go in first,” said Orm’rak, his finger sweeping across the first line of trees. “Find out if these tranquil creatures have actually set up a line of defense. Regardless of your findings, you will report back here immediately.” Eager heads bobbing, hands rubbing, one by one they blurred away. “Do not engage!” Orm’rak warned as the streaks zipped past the first line of trees.
Eyes narrowing, Orm’rak gazed into the forest, a feeling of unease creeping into his bones. Certainly the tarrins were anything but a combat race, but exactly how much better suited for battle were his laberaths? Zipping around him, they cackled with glee at the thought of sinking their teeth into something a little different. They didn’t seem focused on the task at hand. Little doubt the laberaths were genetically superior to nearly all surface races, but they were so painfully unorganized. Chaotic, even.
“Bah,” Orm’rak muttered to himself, dismissing the doubts. Of course his mind was simply playing tricks on him. “I’m overthinking. I’ve no time for such foolish thoughts.”
*
Laberath scouts flashed through the brushes, twigs crackling and snapping with the sudden force. The first in line stopped, prompting the others to pull up next to him. He sniffed the air, his red eyes scanning the area.
“What you see?” one of them hissed, also sniffing the air, although not quite sure what he was trying to detect.
“I thinks I saw something,” the first replied, head swiveling, eyes darting from trees to bushes. Just then, their eyes all pulled towards an obvious movement. A man hidden behind a tree streaked over to another. “There!” he called, his forward-leaning body already in motion. The others followed like streaking shadows.
There came a series of snapping sounds followed by screams of pain as laberaths fell to the ground clutching their legs and feet. Felled by the most ancient of tricks, the leaf-covered bear traps had worked even better than expected. A slower species would have seen one or two traps go off and backed away, but the speedy laberaths had sprung them all nearly simultaneously. At least ten were trapped for the moment.
With a whistling sound, a spinning blade flashed across their chests, even taking two heads before sinking into the ground on the far side. The slashed laberaths jerked and twitched, their wounds coming to life in a crackling show of white glitter. The remaining laberaths backed away, watching the untimely deaths of their comrades as they melted into pools of sparkling liquid white. Heads darted this way and that, wondering where the attack had come from.
One laberath glanced back at the wheeled blade embedded in the ground. Was he seeing things? Did it just move? An unseen finger twitched from the shadows, summoning the invisible thread to recoil. The blade wrenched from the ground, flashing across the chests of more laberaths as it spun back to Xavier’s waiting hand. More laberaths hit the ground, visible wounds spraying glitter like magical fountains. Having seen enough, the remaining eight scattered in retreat.
Owen stepped out from behind the first tree. “Good job, boy,” he called over to Xavier. “Too bad you didn’t get them all.”
“Too bad you didn’t get any,” he retorted with a wink.
“Watch it,” Owen warned, pointing a finger. “Next I’ll let you be the bait. Then I’ll show you how it’s done.”
*
Orm’rak roared, resisting the temptation to kill the remaining scouts himself. “I told you not to engage!” He turned and motioned to the beast handlers. “Send in the klashtons,” he ordered. “These stupid beasts can be replaced, but I can’t afford to lose any more men just because they can’t follow orders.” He leaned to the side as the handlers carefully unlocked the chains securing the beasts. “And I want you both to lead them,” he said, appearing to be talking to no one.
Two sets of telltale footprints turned and marched away. Free of their bonds, the other klashtons thundered into the forest as well. With savage murder blazing in their soulless black eyes, the beasts were ready to rip apart any living thing that crossed their paths.
Trees crackled, snapping and falling while others just burst into wild blooms of splintered shards. Hardly slowed from the jarring impacts, the beasts recklessly charged on. Jet-black eyes scanned for movement, any hint of life that they could extinguish. Their instincts demanded it. Flocks of startled birds took flight, while other small woodland creatures scattered to elude the rumbling giants.
Stepping out from behind a tree, the white cloaked figure came into view. Onyx eyes sparkled at the sight of this easy prey. The beasts roared, increasing their charge as bloodlust prevailed over logic and reason. Xavier threw his hands up, a short silver blade gripped in each. Over his head he crashed them once, twice, then threw the newly formed bladed wheels.
Whistling like teapots, they streaked through the air. The first wave of giants managed a clumsy evasion, more by way of a flinching twitch than an actual skilled dodge. Defying gravity, the spinning wheels seemed to hover in the air as other klashtons rumbled past the levitating blades that missed their targets.
Hands held out with his fingers spread, the puppet master grinned at the charging beasts. With a twitch of his fingers, the hovering blades fired off in opposite directions. The back row of klashtons convulsed with a twitching jolt, decapitated bodies skidding across the leaves, their heads rolling into nearby bushes.
His fingers twitched again, summoning the spinning blades back. Two more giants shrieked as fire shot across their sides, spinning them around and bringing them to their knees. Xavier caught the blades, then tossed them to the ground. In an effortless flash of controlled violence, he had killed or incapacitated all but three.
With a shrug, his white cloak fluttered away, revealing the steel strapped across his chest. In one smooth movement his rings clacked each handle then fired up into the air. For an instant, steel blades levitated as if hoisted up by ghosts, then began to spiral around him, his extended fingers twitching ever so slightly.
The first klashton stumbled right into the invisible dome of whirling steel, sparks flying from his chest and face as razor-sharp edges bit into rock-hard flesh. Roaring in agony, it covered its face, gashes appearing everywhere at once. Deep wounds opened across its forearms. Shredding like cheese, one arm ripped away, quickly followed by the second. Without the barrier of his arms, exposed features erased from its face, black eyes vaporizing as everything wore away in sec
onds. Jaw hanging by a single hinge, a bubbling gurgle floated up from its throat before the dying beast crumpled face down into the dirt.
The last two halted, their primitive brains unable to comprehend what had just happened to their comrades. Their brief pause was more than enough for the skilled assassin. Five of his ten blades zipped free from their streaking orbit, embedding themselves deep into klashton flesh. Howling in pain, their rugged bodies accepted the initial onslaught, one even managing to remain on his feet. Tearing them free with a twitch of his fingers, Xavier sent the other five streaking towards the injured targets. Tearing those free, his sent back the first five to finish the job. Bleeding profusely, both beasts lay motionless on the ground.
Leaning against a nearby tree, Owen witnessed the one-sided battle. He beamed with pride at the startling efficiency of his deadly young student. He had intended to help out, but quickly realized it wouldn’t be necessary.
Moments later, his beaming pride gave way to a feeling of unease. His warrior’s instinct tingled in the back of his mind, a gut feeling built up from years of experience. It soon became a screaming warning. For no reason his conscious mind could comprehend, he dove forward in a desperate evasion. The ground where he just stood imploded, forming a deep crater the shape of a large fist.
Swords unleashed, he completed the roll and sprang back to his feet. Nothing. There was nobody there. But something had clearly gone on the attack. Mists of dust rose from the freshly made dent in the ground. His eyes scanned the area, searching for even the slightest movement. His senses screamed again, sending him rolling forward once more. With a hollow thud a second crater formed exactly like the first. But this time Owen spun back, slashing his blade just above the indented soil.
Feeling resistance shudder through his weapon all the way up to the hilt, he heard a growl of pain. In a blink of light, a massive humanoid shape took form for an instant before winking out. Owen slashed the air wildly, hoping to get lucky a second time. After a few seconds of slicing air, he stopped.
Sidestepping across the area, he closed his eyes. They were useless now. Best to concentrate on his other senses. He listened carefully, reaching out with his mind. Birds chirped in the distance as the wind whistled through the treetops. It was here somewhere, he just needed it to slip up and give away its location. He just needed it to...
There! He whirled about, eyes opening as he kicked dirt towards the subtle sound of crackling grass underfoot. For an instant the outline of two legs and a torso formed, revealed within the dry cloud. The hunter lashed out like like a snake, his blades biting hard into the massive leg. The beast howled, its massive body blinking in and out of visibility. Whatever force was keeping it invisible could apparently be disrupted, if only for an instant.
Not wanting to lose track of it again, Owen burst into an offensive flurry. His blades flashed over and over as he pressed his attack. Sometimes he missed, sometimes he connected, but the strikes that rang true made the creature’s body flash in and out. Deep gashes began to form, leaving telltale signs of wounded flesh that seemed to float in the air. The damage was done and it could no longer hide from him.
Knowing it had permanently lost its advantage, the klashton countered furiously. Bloody fists flailed wildly. The skilled warrior ducked and rolled as needed, easily outmaneuvering the slow but powerful giant. After a final roll, the hunter spun back and slashed across the beast’s already wounded knee. It roared, blood pumping from the wide-open gash. Steel flashed across its neck, turning its roaring cry into a whimpering gurgle. It fell back, lifeless black eyes staring up vacantly at nothing.
Hands dropping to his knees, the hunter attempted to catch his breath. Where had that thing come from, and how was it invisible? Senses screaming once more, he glanced up, instinctually twisting to the side in an attempt to dodge an unseen blow. Too slow... Something solid crashed into his shoulder, sending him flying into a nearby tree. Severely shaken, he crumpled to the ground from the jarring blow. He struggled back up to one knee, his whole right side on fire. Dislocated at the shoulder, his arm hung limply.
The hunter shook his head, trying to clear his mind after the heavy blow that nearly rendered him unconscious. His head was full of cotton, ears whistling with a sustained shrill note. Everything seemed to spin. Don’t black out. Keep it together!
With long, labored breaths coming heavy and slow, his eyes scanned once more. He glanced at the spot he had just been standing before getting hit. Sure enough, there were large footprints sunk into the dirt. He watched them, searching to see if there was a trail leading away. The soil around one of the footprints shifted slightly, suddenly deepening on one side. He’s still standing there!
Owen growled, gripping his damaged arm just above the elbow. With a sickly crunch, he pushed it back into place. His blades lost somewhere during the impact, he was now weaponless and wouldn’t have time to search for them. There would only be one shot at this.
The warrior surged, charging at the footprints with all the speed and power he could muster. Crashing into the invisible mass, his feet kept churning, driving forward with impossible strength. The giant’s body flickered in his arms as they crashed to the ground. Maintaining top position, the hunter drove his fists down again and again. The roaring beast’s face rocked left and right, already starting to crack from the thunderous blows. No human hands should have been able to do such a thing, but the hunter’s fists continued to rain down like hammers.
Rock-hard flesh now beginning to soften from the pummeling, Owen began dropping elbows onto what was left of its face. Again and again his forearm drove home, the shattered facial structure providing all the resistance of a wet pillow. Winding up to unleash another, his arm caught in the air, wrist halted by an unseen force. “He’s dead, master,” came the familiar voice.
Breathing hard, Owen glanced back to see his apprentice standing there. Then he looked down at the distorted mushy pile that was once a klashton’s face. “Aye,” he agreed, getting off the massive body. “How long do you think it’ll be before they notice we killed all their little beasties?” Just then, a murderous wail echoed through the forest.
“Not long,” Xavier said, glancing up towards the direction of that guttural scream. “We better get ready for the next wave.”
Owen found his swords and slipped them back into their sheaths. The forest beyond seemed to come to life. Blurs of movement zipped back and forth while swirling funnels of black whirled around in the treetops. These were not klashtons or even a small scouting party. The laberaths had committed their remaining forces and were coming to finish the job.
Owen rolled his shoulders, sending his crossbows clacking down from the back of his shoulders. Latching to his wrists, he raised them towards the charging enemy. “Are you ready, lad?” he asked, a stony look on his face. Xavier only nodded in response, blades already in hand. Owen lifted his crossbows straight up, pointing them up to the sky. “Here we go!” he yelled, releasing a blaze of flaring orange energy.
*
“I see the signal!” Viola called down from her perch up on the platform. Liam turned, silently pointing to what appeared to be an unassuming row of trees. On command, the sound of tightened bowstrings creaked. He pointed to a second line of trees, which produced a similar sound of readying bows.
“This is your home!” he boomed, looking every bit the part of a military commander. “These vile beasts think to destroy your village, and peel the very flesh from your bones. They dare to threaten the lives of you and your families. Show these vile creatures what the tarrins are capable of! Send them crawling back to the dark depths from which they slithered! Loose!”
Bows snapped in unison, cutting the air like thunder. A torrent of arrows whistled through the air, shading the ground below.
*
Laberaths materialized in the trees, black funnels reshaping back into their humanoid forms. Hearing a whistling hiss, they gazed up at the sky. A snapping sound rang through the forest as tarr
in arrows rained down through the leaves. Laberaths clutched their chests, falling from the trees as their wounds instantly began sparkling with white glitter.
“Let’s go!” said Owen, snatching Xavier by the back of the collar. They had done everything they could here, and it was time to rejoin the strength of their main force. They ran through the forest, the wails of dying laberaths ringing out from behind as more waves of arrows snapped down through the trees.
Dagger in hand, Viola stepped out onto the platform. She watched Liam down below, waving his hands about in silent signals. Wave after wave of arrows snapped off, gliding through the air to bring their promise of death to the enemy. Off in the distance, she could see the tiny flares of sparkling white light, the telltale sign of direct hits taking their toll. Terror gripped her. The sight of so much death at once rattled her to her bones. She held the dagger so tightly her hands began to shake.
A strong grip snatched the back of her shirt, causing her to fall and get dragged back inside. “What do you think you’re doing?” Assirra yelled, finally releasing the girl with a not-so-gentle shove.
“I want to help,” Viola replied. Although she meant it, the words sounded foolish, even to her own ears.
“You will do nothing of the sort!” Assirra shrieked, standing over her protectively. “Your only job this day is to not get captured. Nothing else! You will not leave the temple again for any reason. Am I understood?” Viola wilted like a flower, dropping the dagger to the floor. She really did want to help, but what could she possibly do? “You shall hole up in here until this is over. I’ll say no more on the subject.” Assirra turned and slid a bookcase in front of the open doorway.
