by Jeff Kish
Unnerved, one of the hunters shouts, “Would you two SHUT UP?”
“Come over here and make me,” Era shouts.
“Come up here and make me!” Jem adds.
“Easy, there,” the other advises. “We just gotta find ‘dis last one ‘fore she finds us.”
Era laughs. “Like she doesn’t know where you are. You’re on borrowed time.”
The tense one starts to panic, and his friend places his hand on his shoulder. “Don’t let ‘im get to you. If she could, she would. She’s waitin’ for us to approach her hidin’ place.”
“Wrong,” a low voice says behind him. He whirls around just in time to take an elbow to the nose. Fire delivers a sharp knock-out with the first strike, and she sweep-kicks her other opponent as he clumsily reacts to her arrival. He falls against a tree, and she high-kicks him in the forehead to finish the job.
“About time,” Jem gripes.
The assassin isn’t done. She accurately flings a spike into a tree nearby Era, where it embeds itself in the bark with a loud thunk. “Come out!” she orders.
Reluctantly, a figure peeks around the thick trunk, and Era cranes his neck to see their secretive dark-haired opponent reveal herself. Dressed in a tightly-wrapped leather tunic with a scarf around her neck, the hunter’s most notable feature is the blade at her side, composed of thick branches twisted into a menacing form. She fixes her cold, expressionless eyes on her opponent as she makes her analysis.
Fire’s hands quaver, and her breath trembles at the sight of her revealed opponent. “You…” she whispers, her lips twisting into a ferocious scowl.
Era turns back to their Allerian aggressor, and her identity dawns on him. “Tema…?”
Fire flings a spike straight for her hated nemesis. The squirrely assassin ducks behind her tree, but Fire doesn’t intend to stay at a distance. She swings wide before charging directly in, only to find her opponent is gone. The rustling of leaves in the distance is all that remains.
“COME BACK HERE!” Fire shrieks, tearing after Tema without regard for her trapped companions.
Era finds his bindings have loosened, and this time he shreds the vines without a problem. “She’s strong…” he mutters, realizing she was holding the form of the vines to prevent him from slicing through. She made Jaras look like an amateur.
Jem’s shriek pierces the air as her vines loosen from their position in the treetops. “JEM!” Era shouts as he scrambles in vain to catch her. She falls halfway to ground before getting snapped back by the tied threads around her ankle. However, when the binding itself loosens, she falls the remainder of the way to the hard ground, where she lies immobile.
Era slides next to her and lifts her head. “JEM! JEM!” he screams, and he places his cheek next to her mouth to find her breathing. He sets her down gently, and he exhales a sigh of relief.
He stands to chase after Fire, but, as he glances to the four unconscious combatants, he knows he can’t leave Jem out here in the open. Placing his palm on the jungle floor, he lifts her onto a bed of sand, extends the dirt to form a handle, and drags the makeshift sled into the dark cave.
* * *
Fire zips through the trees, her knuckles white from grasping her blade. Her body is numb to the cuts and bruises she takes from charging through the brush, her vigor fueled by the mental image of ending the life of her nemesis.
Tema finally turns to confront her pursuer, drawing her twisted wooden blade and flinging a deadly dart. Fire brashly dodges without slowing down and flings her two remaining spikes, but the skilled hunter deflects them with her wide blade. Undeterred, Fire coats her dagger with ice and plows into Tema, clashing blades as she takes her opponent to the ground. Their faces mere inches apart, Tema meets Fire’s ferocity with the appearance of apathy.
Her back to the jungle floor, the Allerian fighter twists her sword to imbalance Fire, and she kicks her foe away. Fire instantly lunges back at Tema, who barely has time to get to her knees before reengaging. Their blades deflect, and Tema retreats several steps.
Out of breath, Fire snags Tema’s dart off the ground and holds it up to observe. “Poison, I assume?”
“Poison, I assume?” she repeats.
“I won’t play your game!” Fire shrieks. “You won’t get in my head. Not this time.”
“This time…?” Tema continues to appear emotionless. “Who are you?”
Fire sneers as she flings the dart back at Tema, who easily dodges from this distance. “Doesn’t matter. I’m going to kill you.”
At last, the cold villain shows a hint of emotion. “Someone I’ve crossed, looking for revenge?” she chides. “Pathetic.”
Enraged, Fire again charges her adversary, but this time Tema meets her head-on, exchanging blows as Fire pours every ounce of strength into her attacks. Yet the Allerian pushes back with ease, and it’s soon Fire who finds herself on the defensive end of powerful and precise strikes. When she tries in desperation to tackle Tema, the light-footed combatant dodges and elbows Fire in the side of the head. Dizzied, Fire is yanked to her back, and her blade lands a short distance away.
Tema jabs her wooden blade to Fire’s neck. “Dead,” she says, but, instead of finishing the job, her blade unravels into smaller branches, each of which enwraps one of Fire’s limbs. Small threads work their way around its victim’s arms and legs, even squeezing her fists closed to prevent any kind of elemental manipulations.
Fire grits her teeth as she pulls against the bindings. “Don’t you DARE show me mercy!”
“Mercy?” Tema repeats with disdain. “You’re wanted alive.”
“W-Wanted?” Fire stutters. “Who wants me?”
“Irrelevant,” she responds. “Now you will do as I ask. Walk.”
Against Fire’s will, the enwrapped branches mobilize her limbs, forcing her to rise and walk according to Tema’s desires. “NO! NO-NO-NO!” Fire shrieks, fighting furiously against the hunter’s controlling vines. “FIGHT ME, YOU COWARD!”
“I already did,” she says, “and it was boring.”
* * *
Era dashes through the foliage, his heart pounding at the sound of Fire’s screams. He plows through branches and leaps over a fallen tree, realizing his friend must be in dire straits to be so vocal. He stumbles into a clearing and finds a sky boat planted within, where his ally is struggling with her captor in front of the open door. “FIRE!” he cries as he charges in.
Eyeing the new arrival, Tema pulls a dagger from her side and flips it around. “Good night,” she says as she clocks Fire in the back of the head with the handle. The Allerian mercenary shoves her unconscious captive inside, bindings and all, and she closes the sky boat door just in time to meet Era’s opening strike with her dagger. She instantly shifts to the offensive, making swift, precise strikes that force him away from the craft.
The sky boat’s air runes engage, flooding the area with ear-piercing winds as the earth shaper finds it takes an intense effort just to keep his opponent at bay. He realizes this is not a fight he can win in time to save Fire, and his emotions flare at the thought of losing her. “Let her go!”
“Let her go,” Tema quietly repeats, barely audible over the noise as she relentlessly continues her assault.
“What?” Era asks in confusion.
“What?”
“STOP REPEATING ME!” he yells, his desperation bringing on a full panic. He deflects a strike and counters, swinging and shaping with all his might as Tema brings her dagger around to intercept.
The blade shatters. Tema has no time to react as Era’s blade cuts across her shoulder and gashes it deep. She shrieks in pain, and Era is momentarily stunned by his own success. He hurries to follow up, but the nimble assassin rolls away from the attack and plants her hand against the departing sky boat. As if it was made of paper, she peels one of the boards from the hull and forms it into a sword, ready for Era’s next attack, even as she grips her bleeding wound.
Instead of a direct assault,
Era stretches his blade to the roof and shapes it into a grappling hook. He runs at Tema and leaps at her with feet extended, using his weapon as a whip to swing under the rising sky boat. As desired, she dives to the ground to avoid him, and he yanks himself toward the sky boat roof by contracting the earth.
Despite Era now being airborne, Tema’s foot suddenly delivers a sharp kick to Era’s gut. He loses his grip and falls to the ground below, landing hard on his legs, and he rolls to absorb the impact. Staring up at the departing aircraft, he finds that Tema matched his maneuver, attaching her wooden weapon to the hull.
“No, FIRE!” he cries, his arm outstretched, helpless to do anything but watch as the sky boat carrying his friend disappears over the tree line.
Chapter 21
Galen ducks his head as he steps into the regional military establishment where Commander Marmela’s team has taken residence. Within the cramped room resides two hefty beacon receivers, each one a conglomeration of sophisticated runes being carefully tuned by technicians while scanning the air for communications, while Marmela is sitting on the floor in the corner. Galen pushes through to where his peer is furiously jotting notes on a scrap of paper and asks, “How goes it, Commander?”
She patiently finishes her scribbles before turning her attention to the visitor. “This is difficult.”
“You can say ‘impossible’,” he says with sympathy. “Granted, I would have labeled your earlier efforts as such, but you proved that untrue. Let us hope that Rex comes through for us.”
She raises an eyebrow and asks, “How can I help you, Commander?”
Reluctantly, he answers, “The general’s plan… Do you think it was the right move?”
“It is not our place to judge such things,” she cautions.
“Then you have the same opinion?” he asks.
Marmela’s expression twists as she wrestles against her own thoughts. “Our time would be better spent on the task at hand, Commander. Please allow me to do my work.”
“Of course,” he mutters, offering a distracted salute. He squeezes out of the compact abode and onto the dirt street, where he is met with an expansive sky painted with the gorgeous colors of sunset, and he regrets seeing their second day come to a close without any progress.
An officer hurries up to Galen and salutes. “Sir! I apologize for my tardiness!”
“At ease,” he says. “You must be Corporal Foard.”
“Aye, sir. I just learned your notice arrived while I was on patrol. You moved in quickly.”
“Naturally, since the matter is urgent,” Galen snaps as he marches down the street, and his subordinate hurries after him.
“It’s just that, well, we’re not equipped for such operations here in Allas,” he continues. “Housing this many soldiers is going to be difficult for a long-term deployment.”
“We are here for at least two weeks,” Galen says. “Make the necessary accommodations.”
“Yes, sir.” After hesitating a moment, he comments, “It’s been some time since you’ve visited us, sir. Is everything alright in the capital?”
“Everything is well. There have simply been some distractions,” Galen laments. “It was not my intention to stay away for so long. The border patrol is supposed to be my primary responsibility, after all.” Expectantly, he meets eyes and says, “Give me your update on the current state of affairs.”
“Allerian scouts remain active,” he reports. “Border sightings have increased 300% in the past two weeks.”
“That is consistent with other team reports,” Galen mumbles as he takes in the sights of the lackluster town. Though planted amidst rolling green hills, it hosts a meager population thanks to its proximity to the border. The town’s history is like many in this vicinity, its population winnowed over time by the attrition of many nearby battles and occupancies. As such, the populace’s allegiance to Valvoren is nothing short of situational. If Alleria moved in today, their strategy would be one of appeasement.
Two short figures round the corner ahead, and Galen grits his teeth in annoyance. “Corporal, I have to excuse myself. Please do what you can to accommodate our troops.”
The officer is confused by the sight of two children clad in soldier uniforms, but he salutes and obediently hurries off in the opposite direction.
Galen storms toward Di and Opal, who are bickering yet again. “Report,” he demands. “What did you find on patrol?”
Opal spreads his arms wide. “Plains. Grass. Some trees.” He looks to Di and asks, “Did I leave anything out?”
She crosses her arms in contempt. “What’s the point in having us patrol, anyway? Aren’t there, like, fifty soldiers stationed here who have been scouting?”
“There are only seventeen scouts stationed here,” Galen corrects, “and they are busy tracking our unruly neighbors. They do not have the luxury of helping us.”
“What’s keeping them so busy?” Opal asks. “Have them take a break and give us a hand!”
Galen grits his teeth. “We cannot do something so foolish. Allerian troops are active, and we must remain cautious of them.”
“Cautious?” Opal exclaims. “You have two invincible soldiers standing right here!”
Di puffs her cheeks. “You have a loud bark for a puppy.”
Before Opal can retort, Galen interjects, “She’s right, Opal. You have zero experience on the battlefield. You had best treat this seriously or you will end up dead.” Startled by the rebuke, he lowers his eyes and lets out a weak acknowledgment. Galen turns to Di and growls, “And you, Diamond, had best improve that attitude. Your scouting could prove the most useful of all.”
“Me?” she asks, offended. “How?”
Galen points skyward. “Have you scouted from up there?”
She sighs. “No…”
“Then get moving, soldier,” he stresses. “Find Commander Talkem before he claims your friend.” His words have an immediate effect on Di, her expression reflecting a strong motivation to carry out the order.
“Hey, I can’t fly!” Opal exclaims.
“Neither can I,” Di says smugly as she takes to the sky by way of an invisible staircase.
Opal looks to Galen and says, “I’m hungry. I ate my snack, but I need another.”
“That wasn’t a snack, that was a military ration,” he sternly replies. “That was your dinner.”
“That tiny morsel was dinner?” However, when met with only a scowl, the runic sets aside his hunger and hurries after Di on foot.
The commander used to believe his interactions with new recruits were the most aggravating part of any day, but dealing with the two adolescents is far worse than anything he has been forced to endure. He longs to oversee his original directive prior to that unhappy moment he was tasked with that simple mission of escorting a schoolgirl to the capital.
* * *
“Pearl,” Sreya grunts, focusing on her runic as her boss watches with bored apathy. “Transfer… your control… to Angal!”
Nothing happens. Pearl plants her forehead into her hands, dreading where this is headed.
“Five failures,” Malof sneers. “This exercise is pointless! It’s clear she is unable to deliver control over to you, Angal.”
“I’m sorry to say it, but Malof is right,” Rohe says. “We have come to the end of this exploration.”
Pearl’s heart races in nervous anticipation. She looks to her master, but Sreya’s expression reflects a stern acceptance. “Very well, then,” she says stoically.
“I had hoped there would be another way,” Rohe laments while glancing to Pearl. “Are you sure you’re not hiding things from us?”
“Sreya already commanded her to answer those questions truthfully,” Malof says playfully. “Sadly, it is time for more drastic methods. This power must be in your hands, Angal. You represent the guild’s power.”
“There is no doubt of that,” Rohe agrees. “I just wish it didn’t come at the expense of my loyal lieutenant.”
&nb
sp; Sreya remains resolute. “I am yours, Angal. Pearl and I are but tools for your use.”
Malof rolls his eyes, but Rohe eats it up. “Well said, my dear Sreya!” he cries as he wraps his thick arm around her shoulders. “Now, come, let us see if our flight is ready. We shall conduct our business privately.”
Rohe leads her outside their new hideaway, a manor hidden well within the forest, followed by his inferiors as they step under the orange sky. Pearl is slow to follow as Sreya’s indifference stirs an intense anger within the air runic.
The thick woods around Ashen host one of the guild’s two ultimate hideaways. Only Rohe’s lieutenants and their direct reports know its location, keeping it safe from unwanted attention. Unlike his previous manor, the establishment is built within the thickest sections of trees, reducing visibility even from the sky. Because of this, the sky boat landing is a short hike away.
When they arrive at the clearing, Pearl nearly drools over the size of the luxurious sky boat. The rune fixture layout is far more intricate than what she is accustomed to using, and there is enough room for two pilots atop the craft. One dismounts to open the door in anticipation of the guild mogul, and Sreya enters first.
Pearl watches as Malof approaches Rohe with a sheathed blade extended. “You’ll need this, of course, since ownership may only transfer to the one who finishes the conductor.”
Rohe takes it with an audible sigh. “That’s why you’re the brains of this leadership, Malof,” he replies. “I would rather there have been another option.”
“He does Sreya a disservice,” the muscular Nolen rumbles, prompting a sneer from Malof. “She is loyalty personified and serves us with all who she is. She deserves better than such an end.”
“This is true,” Rohe says. “Malof may be the brain and Nolen the muscle, but Sreya is the heart of the guild.” With a faint grin, he cautions, “Still, let us not be dramatic. I’ll start with her hand, and only take her life if that doesn’t work.”
“Good point, sir,” Malof agrees.
