The Lost Tayamu (The Legends of Kiamada Book 1)

by Ben Cass

  Theonus, he thought. Listen carefully. He quickly told the Wiler what he wanted.

  Another hail of bullets came towards him, but this time, Doyle was ready. He focused, and his body twisted into a thin filament, vanishing from sight, becoming one with the wind. Doyle swirled and moved with the breeze, leaping from eddy to eddy, his physical body nothing more than a memory at the moment. He could sense an enemy near him, and decided it was time.

  Doyle exploded out of the breeze, his body becoming solid, and drove the poisoned blade through the man’s heart. Before the others could react, he again vanished into the wind, soaring across the park. Another enemy, another appearance, and another death quickly followed.

  Doyle repeated this process several times, killing four more men before they even knew he was there.

  He could feel his body tiring; bullets were still stuck inside of him, and every time he rematerialized, he lost more blood. He needed to end this quickly, deal with the Chiami while he still could. Doyle stepped into the wind again, his body twisting into nothingness, and made his way to something he’d noticed: one of the food trucks had a lit grill, the fire small but still present.

  He could work with that.

  Doyle stepped out of the wind right next to the grill, and moved his palm over it. The fire responded to his command, flaring up, caressing his hand. Doyle picked it up, the flames spreading over his arm, warming him. He closed his eyes, focused for a second, and then reopened them. The men had no idea where he was. They were huddled together, back where he’d struck last.

  Perfect.

  Blood poured down his arms from the bullet wounds, but Doyle ignored it and twisted into the wind one more time. If he was lucky, he wouldn’t have to do it again. He moved with the breeze, rising and falling, passing through trees and over grass. His mind was focused on the task on hand. He knew exactly where he was going. Finding the current he needed, Doyle leaped to it, floated over the group of men, and exploded out of the air, his flaming hand slamming into the ground. He called upon the fire to obey him, and it did, shooting out spikes, hitting each man in the back.

  Screams of agony tore through the air, but were quickly silenced by the blurring of Doyle’s hands. Necks snapped, skulls cracked, ribs broke, and the ones who weren’t already dead tore off running for the river, the flames climbing the backs of their bodies. Doyle waited until they were diving into the water, and then called upon it, raising his arm again. The river responded, forming a giant column, rising a dozen feet into the air, the confused men trapped inside, desperately trying to get out, to get a breath of air.

  Doyle gestured, and the column threw the men back out, smashing them onto the sidewalk next to the river. They were, at best, all unconscious, and some undoubtedly dead.

  Doyle didn’t think about it. Tayamu tried to avoid taking life, but when they had to, they would do so quickly and efficiently. He took no pleasure in this, and knew from past experience this would haunt him for a while, but it had to be done.

  Doyle turned back to the guns that now lay on the ground. He moved his hand in a circle, and a small tornado formed on the ground, moving around and gathering the weapons up. Doyle stretched his hand out, and the fire leaped from his body into the tunnel of wind, setting it alight. A thought left his mind, and the guns clattered together into a haphazard column, surrounded by the swirling fiery vortex. He called on his magic once more, commanding the flame to draw from the air, making itself burn hotter.

  The fire responded, the tornado turning in to an inferno, beginning to melt the ends of the weapons, rendering them unable to shoot. Doyle snapped his fingers, and the guns clattered to the ground, useless. The flame dissipated into the air, winking out as if it had never even been there.

  “Impressive,” came the Chiami’s voice. He walked warily, sword in hand, his steps measured and steady. There was no arrogance or confidence in his walk. It was the careful, studied movement of someone approaching his equal, unsure whether to strike or wait.

  Pain burned in Doyle’s abdomen, and he glanced down to see blood pouring out of it. The bullets must have caught him there, too. Wonderful, he thought. He flicked his eyes to Jen, whose fear and worry were plain to see, giving him the extra strength he needed to stand.

  He didn’t have time to draw this fight out; indeed, he didn’t have much time left to fight. His body was still human, despite his abilities, and these wounds were most likely fatal. The bullets had struck both arms, both legs, and his abdomen. He was starting to feel light-headed, probably from the loss of blood.

  “I’d forgotten how good Tayamu really were,” Lin-Vareen said, settling into a fighting stance, sword above his head. “Had this been just the two of us, you might have won.”

  Doyle smiled grimly. “I was about to say the same thing to you,” he replied, raising the sword.

  JEN stood helplessly in her small shell, watching the man she loved bleed to death. She should have known the armed men would shoot at Doyle. He’d been struck by too many bullets for her to count. He’d taken the men out quickly and brutally, providing her enough fodder for a year of nightmares. A dark stain spread across his entire abdomen, blood flowed down his arms and legs, and he no longer moved as easily.

  He stood facing the Chiami now, both men holding their blades over their heads. A quick bow was all that signaled the start of their battle.

  Lin-Vareen moved first. Like a striking snake, his sword spun around, aiming for Doyle’s neck. Doyle casually blocked the blow and retaliated just as quickly, lunging forward with his left hand throwing a punch, swinging his sword around to the right. Lin-Vareen was forced to spin, moving his head to the side to avoid the fist and neatly catching the blade on his own.

  They separated, circling each other, watching warily. Jen guessed they hadn’t really expected to do anything with those two attacks, but were merely feeling each other out. Her stomach was full of rocks; she was having trouble breathing, and not just because her own life hung in the balance. Doyle had moved like lightning again, but she could see the truth, making her sick inside.

  He was dying. There was too much blood loss. Even if he survived this fight, would he be able to hold on long enough to heal himself?

  After a few seconds, Lin-Vareen lunged again, swinging his sword with both hands in a downward diagonal slash. Doyle blocked it and lashed out with his foot, catching the assassin with a glancing blow to the knee. A small grunt was the only acknowledgment of the impact. A second later, Doyle stumbled backwards, his hand going to his nose, which now dripped blood. Lin-Vareen had connected with an uppercut.

  Doyle wiped the blood away, looking at his fingers. “This is getting us nowhere fast,” he said, a small ball of fire appearing in his hand. He threw the flame at the assassin and then leaped forward, swinging his sword.

  Lin-Vareen raised his own hand, and a stream of black light shot out, striking the fire, evaporating it just as Doyle’s sword reached him. Twisting his body to the side, Lin-Vareen avoided the blade and sliced with his own sword, but Doyle was no longer there. Jen watched as his body again twisted into what looked like a thin string, vanishing into the air.

  “Damned wind travel,” muttered the Chiami assassin. He slowly spun in a circle, crouching low, sword held parallel to the ground.

  Jen longed to get involved, to help Doyle. She couldn’t just sit there and watch him die. Could she break through the walls surrounding her? She had to try. She started hitting the shell with her fists, kicking with her feet, hoping to find a weakness somewhere.

  A sudden hissing from the Chiami drew her attention. Jen gasped as a stream of water burst from a drinking fountain just behind him, the heavy metal casing and pipes exploding out of the wall as the torrent of water rushed forth. Lin-Vareen slashed at the water, but the blade passed through harmlessly. An instant later, the stream coalesced into a solid figure. Doyle’s fist struck, knocking the Chiami sideways. Blood flew from beneath the mask. Doyle’s blade blurred and his opponent in
voluntarily yelped in pain. Blood seeped from a gash in his leg.

  Doyle stood motionless, one hand pressed against his bleeding stomach, watching as his adversary wiped the blood from his mouth. Lin-Vareen pulled his mask off and spat onto the ground.

  “You are much better than your brothers and sisters were,” he said, bowing his head. “I hold you in the highest respect. I will not enjoy your defeat.”

  “Good to know,” Doyle replied. Their blades touched again, rasping off each other, and the battle resumed.

  Jen continued working on her prison, feverishly trying to make a dent in the shell, but nothing was working. She could no more get free than she could touch the moon from where she stood.

  She heard Doyle cry out in pain, and her head snapped up, focusing on the battle. Blood ran down his left arm where Lin-Vareen’s blade had cut him. Jen covered her mouth, holding in her cry of terror.

  Doyle shook the arm, staring at his foe, who was now favoring the leg Doyle had cut earlier. Clearly, the poison was working in both men, and Doyle was still bleeding out from the bullet wounds. How was he still standing, let alone fighting?

  Jen’s heart pounded, and her vision blurred with tears. She didn’t care about her own life at that moment; she just couldn’t watch Doyle die trying to save her. She slammed her hands against the wall of earth and air.

  “Let me out!” she yelled, her voice echoing in her ears. “Dammit, let me out!”

  The shell suddenly collapsed around her, causing her to stumble forward slightly. Jen looked around her, confused. She started running towards Doyle, whose face slowly turned to her with a look of absolute horror.

  “Enough!” she yelled, waving her arms. “I surrender to you!”

  Lin-Vareen spun around to face her, an evil smile appearing on his face. His hands blurred, and two small daggers flew, soaring straight towards Jen. She closed her eyes and said a silent goodbye to Ellie and Doyle.

  EVERYTHING moved in slow-motion for Doyle. His strength was nearly gone, and his body was running on its final reserves. Tayamu could last far longer with fatal injuries than ordinary people, and he was much stronger than the other Tayamu, but Doyle knew he’d reached the end of his strength. He couldn’t fight much longer. He had to end this.

  In the back of his mind, he felt the shielding spell dissipate. Doyle turned to look at Jen, completely confused, horror dawning in his heart. That shell was unbreakable! Only Tayamu or....he silently cursed himself. Of course Jen could break it! He should have thought of that. Idiot! She’s going to die because of you!

  He forced the negativity out of his head as he heard her shout in surrender, and knew exactly what would happen. Ordinarily, a Chiami would completely ignore her and focus on the combat, under the agreed-upon terms. Lin-Vareen, however, didn’t seem to play by the same code of honor as the rest of his brotherhood. He would simply kill Jen, right here, right now.

  That was not going to happen as long as Doyle had breath in his body.

  Doyle blended into the wind as the Chiami flung two poisoned daggers at Jen. He jumped from eddy to eddy, barely ahead of the daggers, his mind desperately tracking his position relative to the blades. He had to come out of the wind right before they struck Jen. Only one chance at this, so he had to be perfect. He had to jump right...NOW!

  Materializing out of the wind, Doyle appeared in front of Jen, the daggers merely inches away. He was able to grab one out of the air and fling it aside, sending it into the wind to clatter helplessly to the ground dozens of feet away, but the second one buried itself into his left thigh. Burning agony shot through his leg, his nerve endings screaming at him. Doyle tore the dagger out and threw it after the first, sending it into the wind. He saw it fall in the same area as the last one.

  Now, Theonus!

  A roar came from the far end of the park as Theonus rounded the corner, teeth bared, running at top speed. As Doyle had hoped, Lin-Vareen spun to deal with this new threat.

  A stream of black magic poured out of the Chiami’s hand. Theonus dodged the first blast, and then the second, but when he reared up, exposing his chest, the third one caught him directly and threw him backwards into the building, which rattled with the impact. Theonus sat up slowly, shaking his head. Lin-Vareen turned his attention back to Doyle and Jen, who was standing right behind Doyle, her hands gently pressed against his back.

  The assassin’s attention was locked on the two of them...right where Doyle wanted it.

  “I am afraid this must end now, Tayamu,” said the Chiami. “The blade was coated on both edges, not just one. The poison will work much more quickly.”

  Doyle chuckled darkly. “Yeah, I noticed. Hurts like hell. Still, it was worth it.”

  “Was it, now?” asked Lin-Vareen, his teeth bared in an evil grin. “You can barely stand.”

  “You’re not doing so well yourself,” Doyle pointed out.

  The Chiami shrugged. “Well enough to end you.” He settled into a fighting stance, crouching down, sword held parallel to the ground, his arms drawn back to allow for a maximum thrust. “Enough niceties. Let us end this.”

  “Best idea you’ve had all night,” Doyle said. He held up his left hand, which was difficult to do because of the venom in his veins, and made a gun with his fingers. “Bang,” he said.

  Gunshots exploded through the night air, and Lin-Vareen’s eyes went wide as bullets tore into his arm and hand, making him drop the sword. More gunshots sounded, and the Chiami went down, blood pouring from his side.

  Doyle looked to his left and smiled. Jerry and Kira stood there, each with a gun pointed at the assassin. Kira’s eyes blazed with fury, and he wasn’t sure whether she was angrier at him or Lin-Vareen. Beside them, the sheriff and several officers stood, their own guns drawn.

  Lin-Vareen slowly rose to his feet, grabbing his sword as he stood up. Blood dripped down his side; he held his palm over it, and dark light flowed from his hand onto the wound. The blood stopped flowing, and he sighed in relief.

  “I am impressed, Tayamu. Distract me with a Wiler, and then exact an eye-for-an-eye revenge. I didn’t think Tayamu would resort to such a tactic.”

  “Like you said,” Doyle replied, “I’m a little less honorable than I was.”

  The Chiami bowed his head, a slight gesture. His fingers moved, and shrieks of pain filled the air as the guns began glowing brightly. Kira was the first to drop hers, blowing on her fingers, and the others quickly followed suit.

  The Chiami made another gesture with his hands, and a strong gust of wind washed over Doyle, moving his hair around. The breeze was strong enough to knock Kira and the others down. Black light shot out of Lin-Vareen’s hands, heading for the small group. Doyle lifted a hand in response, and huge chunks of earth burst from the ground, forming a makeshift barricade. The dark bolts struck against the wall, eradicating sections of it, but the holes were mended as quickly as they were created.

  “Impressive,” said Lin-Vareen. Black light again poured out of the Chiami’s hands, swirling and twisting around the two of them. In seconds, the light had hardened into a translucent shell of some kind, much like Doyle had placed around Jen. The structure was too high for the others to scale over. Lin-Vareen had created a small barricade around the two of them.

  “Unfortunately, only Tayamu or Chiami can pass through,” Lin-Vareen said, “so I’m afraid it’s just back to the two of us again.” He swung his sword, and Doyle caught the blade on his own.

  JEN ran to Jerry and Kira, who were picking themselves up from the ground. They looked dazed, but unharmed. Jerry grabbed his gun, shook his head, and pulled himself to his feet.

  “That’s not supposed to happen, dammit,” he muttered, glaring at the wall surrounding Doyle and his opponent. Jen helped Kira stand as Theonus limped over to them, his front left leg apparently unable to fully support the weight.

  “Theonus, you’re hurt!” Jen exclaimed. “Why did you let him blast you with...whatever that was?”

  Wilers are
immune to magic, dark or otherwise, Theonus explained. Doyle’s plan made sense. I provided the distraction, and the others evened the odds.

  “Jen!” Ellie’s voice came from behind, and Jen spun to see her sister running to them. Ellie threw herself into Jen’s arm, hugging her tightly.

  “I told you to stay at the house!” Kira snarled at her furiously. “Is it that hard to listen?”

  “Damn right it is! You came for your brother, so why the hell would you even think I wouldn’t come for my sister?” Ellie threw an angry glance at Kira, who held her eyes a moment before nodding, albeit reluctantly. “What’s going on?” Ellie asked.

  Jen quickly explained what was happening, and Ellie’s eyes grew wider and wider as she spoke. Another cry of pain came from the combatants, and Jen turned to see Doyle on his hands and knees, sword on the ground, hands empty and bleeding. Doyle’s face was pale, and his body was shaking uncontrollably. The Chiami also knelt on the ground, facing Doyle, but still had his sword.

  As it had earlier, Lin-Vareen’s voice boomed through the air, clearer than any PA system. “You were a magnificent opponent, Tayamu. Nobody has ever lasted so long against me, especially not in your condition. You have accrued more honor in this fight than any of your brothers or sisters ever did. You should be proud of yourself.”

  “There’s a saying about pride and a fall,” Doyle observed, his voice shaky. “You might do well to heed it.”

  Jen watched in horror as Lin-Vareen pulled himself to his feet, staggered over to Doyle, and grabbed his hair, lifting his head up. “Arrogant to the end, Tayamu. A shame your death will be my final chance to eradicate your people.” Lin-Vareen’s blade pressed against Doyle’s throat, the tip resting right against the jugular vein, before moving down to his chest.

  Doyle started laughing, coughing up blood. “Final chance? I’m the lost Tayamu, you idiot, but I’m not the last Tayamu. Hell, I’m not even the only Tayamu here right now.”