by Gwynn White
High in the trees, Viola leapt from branch to branch, whirling black settling briefly before spinning off to the next perch several yards away. She went to leap again, but her foot held fast.
“Going somewhere?” Orm’rak asked, gripping her by the ankle. He dropped down from the tree, slamming her to the ground with a heavy thud. “You’ve cost me much this day,” he said, releasing her foot with an angry flick of his wrist before kicking her square in the stomach. “Who would have thought those humans could be so resourceful?” He kicked her again, sending her body tumbling several feet away.
“Even if the ghatins keep their word and give the laberaths a fair amount of land once they take over, what am I supposed to rule with less than half an army?” He kicked her yet again, driving the last of the air from her lungs. Too winded to scream, she wheezed over and over, both hands wrapping her stomach. “I’m not so sure it’s worth sparing you for the ritual any longer. No, I think I’m just going to satisfy my need for revenge and just kill you now!” He released his blades with a hiss, holding them high above his head.
Redirecting them, he spun back and slashed the air, deflecting a spinning blade with a shrill clang. With a back slash, he sent the second tumbling away as well. The misdirected blades never touched the ground, only hovered in the air before spinning back to Xavier’s waiting hands. He stood like a statue, his glaring blue eyes filled with hate. Trained to ignore distraction, to ignore emotion, he found himself unable to do that this time. He wanted Orm’rak’s head.
“Touch her again and I’ll kill you where you stand,” he hissed.
“Oh, so touching,” Orm’rak mocked, a hand rising to his chest. “So says the monster in disguise who walks among men. Does the killer now stand for truth and righteousness? I suppose now she is your one true love, inclined to be rescued by the famous hunter’s apprentice?”
“No,” Xavier whispered plainly, his voice soft and dangerous. “You are the monster, and by my pledge I am bound to kill your kind. This I shall do without remorse or regret.” He looked at Viola, trembling on the ground as she gasped for breath. “And by that very same pledge I am bound to protect her and all those like her, no matter the cost.”
“Oh? And why is that?” Orm’rak mused, his lip curling up in a half smile.
“Because she is human!” Xavier roared, dropping to the ground as Owen dove over the top of him. Corkscrewing through the air, his twisting blades slashed towards Orm’rak’s neck. Stumbling back, the laberath barely deflected them at the last second. Relentless, the hunter pressed his attack. His blades worked feverishly, crashing against Orm’rak’s swords in a constant spray of sparks.
“Fools!” Orm’rak boomed, deflecting Owen’s blades high before flashing forward ten feet or so. Owen felt the hot blade cut his side and whirled back to face his speedy attacker. Liam’s spell had given them the edge they needed, but it was clearly wearing off. Orm’rak was dangerous no matter what, and now his unworldly speed had returned to his body.
Xavier dodged left then right, slashing blades he sensed more than saw. Orm’rak’s swords were a blur, slicing in at wild angles with blazing speed. The apprentice dove to the side, his rings slapping across his chest before rolling back to his feet. Throwing his hands in the air, glistening steel flashed all around him. Together they formed a protective dome formed of twirling blades. Orm’rak pulled up, almost rushing directly into the trap.
Hearing the clicks behind him, the laberath leader whirled back with blurring speed, knocking Owen’s arm up in the air. A torrent of orange energy fired harmlessly into the sky. The hunter drove his head forward, his forehead smashing Orm’rak’s nose. He followed with a knee to the hip, then a hard elbow across the jaw. Stunned by the heavy blows, the laberaths’ leader sprawled to the ground. Dazed, he rolled away just as Xavier’s spinning blade impaled the ground right where he was lying.
Orm’rak leapt to his feet and began circling the two humans. In truth, he was shocked at how dangerous they were proving to be. A single laberath at full speed versus two mere humans should have been a rout. He needed to finish this quickly. In a streaking blur, he rushed at Owen with his blades low. One clanged astray in an instinctual block by the hunter that was nearly impossible to comprehend. But the other hit home, biting deep into the hunter’s leg. With a growl, Owen hobbled back, the fabric of his armor darkening with blood.
Placing almost no weight on the injured leg, Owen countered with a double high slash. When Orm’rak parried, he suddenly dropped low. Airborne steel flashed over the top of his head, Orm’rak barely deflecting in time. Their strategy was obvious now. The bruiser would hold the front position, taking the heavy brunt of Orm’rak’s offense while Xavier used his speed and pinpoint accuracy to attack from the outside.
Coughing blood into her hand, Viola watched the battle rage on. Sparks bloomed in the air with each crash of steel, but Owen was getting pretty cut up with each exchange. Already she could see dark spots all over the hunter’s body, and more forming every few seconds.
Owen ducked, allowing Xavier to roll over the top of his back. In a wide arch, his half-moon daggers came raining down on Orm’rak, who deflected each one with a shrill clang. Xavier dropped to his knees as the hunter rolled across his back, flashing his steel aggressively despite his mounting injuries. Working as a single unit, they were doing just enough to keep Orm’rak off balance.
She glanced at the blood in her hand, bits of white caking the top. It was the ash that had been dropped from the sky. A thin layer was scattered all around them. It felt warm in her hands, somehow. She rose off the ground, feeling its tingle beneath her feet. Nothing more than a mere sprinkling of dusty ash, it should have had no effect on her. But it did. Like sunlight on a flower, she could feel its influence coursing through her, an energy-giving effect that made no sense.
A cluster of memories assaulted her mind all at once.
Flesh turned solid, her pale arms had extended several inches, each now resembling the blades of long swords.
“Why didn’t I see it before?” she asked herself.
* * *
“Only, the conclusion was not clear. It’s as if Odao himself is confused.”
“I’ve run the tests myself. Her blood consists of both human and laberath.”
“And so I am,” Viola whispered. “But that’s not all that I am.”
* * *
“Your findings are not in question. It’s just that...there is something quite alien about her. An infection, for lack of a better word. Her blood is...tainted.”
“You were correct also, Assirra,” Viola hissed, her attention returning to the ensuing battle. “I am infected. My blood is tainted.” She began to sink down into the ash beneath her feet. “I am cursed with the blood of the ghatin!” She disappeared below the surface, ash bubbling like molten lava.
Owen crashed his swords down low, ducking his head as two small blades zipped past the backs of his ears. Orm’rak blocked the swords and ducked the half-moon daggers. To his eyes these slowing humans were moving in water. Like a bolt of lightning, his swords simultaneously crossed Owen’s chest. Blood misted the air as the hunter spun and hit the ground.
Xavier charged forward to cover his fallen master, his fingers twitching and body spinning. Orm’rak’s body seemed to teleport back and forth as the spinning blades shredded nothing but air. The laberath’s swords seemed to flash from multiple angles at once. In a virtual explosion of blood, wounds erupted all over Xavier’s body at once. Flashing steel his eyes could hardly register bit his shoulders, chest, and thighs. White-hot pain surged through him, his ruined body crumpling to the ground. No longer controlled by the puppet master, levitating blades clanked to the ground all around him.
“The two of you were stronger than I expected,” Orm’rak admitted, raising his weapons in the air. “I shall dine on both of you this evening. Consider that an honor.”
The ground behind him erupted in a wave of ash as a white form burst into the
air. Features twisted with rage, red eyes flaring with light, Viola’s warped form clasped onto his back. Like a white sheet of flesh, she seemed to fold around him, pulling him down towards the ground.
“Wha— No! It can’t be!” he screamed, thrashing to rid himself of the clinging being. It was like trying to escapade from the grasp of an octopus. For an instant, he managed to shed one arm. It melted in the air, reshaping into something that resembled a hook. She drove in back down, sinking it deep into his shoulder. He wailed in pain as she did the same with her other hand, now pulling down with even more leverage.
Impossibly, they both sank down into the ground, his face twisted with panicked fear, hers twisted with rage. Like sinking into a pool of water, they dipped down below the solid surface, white ash bubbling and steaming where they disappeared.
“Viola!” Xavier yelled, blood running from the side of his mouth. With a mighty effort, he inched his broken body towards the bubbling ash. “Viola!” he cried out a second time, gazing in horror at the smoldering spot. Suddenly, white hair emerged from the bubbling ash. Inch by inch, Viola rose from the ground like a ghost. Her eyes were intense, cold, like those of a creature void of all emotion. “Viola?” Xavier repeated, his voice soft and unsure.
“He is gone,” she said, her voice every bit as cold as her eyes. “He was a monster, true. But it seems I am the bigger monster.”
Resigned to his fate, Liam gazed into the hollow eyes of the frozen creature before him. Claws twitched for an instant, crumbs of crystal sifting to the ground. Soon enough they would break free, and the mystic could do nothing to stop it. Strangely, his thoughts were not of his own forfeited life, but of the others. Had they managed to save Viola? Were they all right? He was but a single man who would face certain death the moment these ghatins broke free. “All death is certain,” he reminded himself. But if Viola had managed to escape, perhaps his death would have meaning.
The surrounding tarrins moved closer to him, approaching with caution. Some carried their dead; others still gripped weapons as if they would do any good.
“Go,” said Liam, dismissing them with a flick of his hand. “Get as far away as you can before they break free. There is nothing else you can do here.” They stared at him with milky white eyes, blank expressions all around. A tarrin holding his dead brethren laid the corpse on the ground and sat by his side. One by one, others began to sit, clearly having no intention of fleeing.
“Suit yourselves,” Liam sighed. “In the end it will matter not.” Another ghatin moved, its hand closing into a fist as more crystal crumbs sprinkled down. The mystic scooped up a bit of dirt and ash in his hand, then watched it sift down between this fingers. “Completely trapped by a binding curse, yet they’ve found a way to reach us anywhere in the world,” he muttered, watching the fine stream sprinkle to the ground. “This cursed ash... If only we could—” He closed his fist, then threw the rest down on the ground. “Take shelter!” he bellowed, surging to his feet. “Return to your homes and barricade the windows and doors.”
Not questioning the mystic’s command, tarrins began to scramble about, climbing up ladders and steps to find shelter. His staff in hand, Liam raced towards the steps at the base of the boxa tree. He hesitated a moment before leaping up the stairway, often bounding three steps at a time. There was no time left, and his fear of heights would have to wait.
When he reached the top, he saw a wounded woman down on her knees inside the temple. After taking a few steps towards her, Assirra waved him off, assuring him she was all right. Whatever he was going to do, he’d best do it now.
Standing at the edge of the platform, he raised his staff above his head. Rotating it in slow sweeping circles, he began his guttural chanting. The winds started to pick up, leaves spiraling up into the air. Liam’s long white hair lifted from his shoulders, waving around as if air were rushing up from under his feet. The clouds above began to boil, turning black as they churned.
His voice gained strength as the wind increased, an angry sky now creating hurricane-like conditions. His eyes lit up, a white shining light that seemed to radiate all around. With a final twirl, he slammed his staff down, creating a soundless boom that shook the boxa tree to its roots. A black tail funneled down from the dark clouds, its spinning head rotating towards the ground. Once the twister touched down, others began to form, black spinning tails funneling down from above.
One by one they touched down, pulling up leaves and dirt, sending debris straight up into the sky. The twisters danced in and out of one another, occasionally uniting as one before separating a few seconds later.
With a crackling sound the crystal encasing the ghatins shattered, releasing them in an explosion of flying shards. Like levitating specters they rushed at Liam, rising straight up as if shot from the ground. Within seconds, the mystic found himself eye to eye with a stretched, ghostly being. Bright pink eyes glared from a pasty white face, its lipless mouth stretching wide open as if to swallow Liam whole. But something tugged at its body, pulling it back the other direction. As ash on the ground was being swallowed up by the black funnels, the ghatins were losing their temporary grip on the surface world.
“Go back to your fiery hell!” Liam commanded, his eyes still blazing with white light. “Return to your cursed home of fire and ash, demons!”
The ghatin’s face seemed to stretch and pull, his smooth features strained from effort. “This is but the beginning, old man,” it rumbled, its white body turning translucent before Liam’s eyes. “Time means nothing to us. Soon, we will return in numbers you can’t possibly imagine.”
“And we shall be waiting,” Liam said, his voice a calm whisper. The creatures’ bodies stretched out like strings as they were sucked into the funnels. One by one the twisters retracted into the sky, black tails absorbed back into the clouds above. The blackened sky began to clear, the winds dying down to form a gentle breeze.
Covered in sweat, Liam turned back to assist Assirra. He could only hope she was still breathing. But already on her feet, he watched as she removed a hand from her wound. Aside from the dried blood ringed around the torn clothing, the wound was completely healed.
“Help me gather the wounded and even the dead,” she said, appearing strong and healthy. “I fear I have much work to do.”
“I will assist when I can,” Liam replied, relieved to see her well but concerned for the safety of his own party. “But I must first set out to find my friends.” Weak in the knees, he hobbled further out on the platform and gazed down below. His heart nearly leapt from his chest when he saw them. Obviously wounded, both Owen and Xavier came into view. Viola stood between them, providing support from under each of their arms. She stopped to wave, then slipped her arm back around Owen’s waist.
Relief washing over him, Liam waved back. They were alive and well. Clearly they were injured, but they had certainly come to the right place for that to be addressed. Assirra walked up next to him.
“She’s tougher than she looks,” Assirra said, reading Liam’s mind. “Thanks to all of you we are safe for the time being. Come now; the other wounded need our help. You and I have much work to do.”
If you plan to continue with this series, there’s an epilogue…but I suggest you stop here if you don’t like cliffhangers and don’t plan to continue.
Thanks for reading!
Epilogue
“Bring in the next,” said Assirra, signs of weariness seeping into her voice. Ignoring her obvious need to rest, Liam simply gazed on in wonder. No matter how many times he watched her do it, the reality of the feat just couldn’t sink in. Two tarrins carried in a corpse, then set him down within a red circle on the floor with various drawings around it. Eyes glazed over, his gaping chest wound hung wide open. With very little blood left in the body, even the skin around the wound was dried and leathery. This was about as far gone as any subject could be.
Displaying no squeamishness whatsoever, Assirra placed her hands on either side of his chest and
began to pray. Although no individual candle seemed to change its hue, the room itself appeared to darken before Liam’s eyes. The subject’s chest lurched up off the floor, the leathery skin around the wound joining back together with a dry, crackling sound. His wide-open eyes blinked once, then twice, starting to moisten with the tears of life. He gasped, chest expanding with the first air those lungs had seen in several hours.
Wracked with coughs, he rolled to the side as Assirra lightly smacked his back. “You are whole again,” she said, seeming just as pleased as the last several times she had performed this miracle of miracles.
“Odao be praised,” he groaned, slowly rising to his feet.
“Indeed,” Assirra replied, watching him hobble away.
“I simply can’t believe you can do such a thing,” Liam gasped, dumfounded at what he had seen with his very own eyes.
“Me?” she questioned. “I can’t do anything of the sort. I am but a powerless mortal.”
“Odao?” Liam said, now more convinced than ever that a deity must be behind all this.
She nodded. “I find myself forced to pray anew with each of my fallen brethren. Perhaps Odao will heal their flesh and reignite the fire extinguished from their eyes. Perhaps he feels they have done enough in this life, therefore keeps their life force on the other side. I have no way of telling which he will choose until I pray. Neither choice is wrong. Odao does not make mistakes.”
“I see,” Liam replied simply, having little reason to deny her logic. Besides, there was another matter pressing his mind. “I say, Assirra, would you mind taking a walk with me? I should think a break from all this might do you some good.”
