“Oh, no! Oh, please, no!” For the first time since Malka had known the felinoid, she seemed more genuinely worried than annoyed at their situation; she knew what Liza had seen.
“The Urumi,” she confirmed in a quiet voice.
“All three of them. And they’re moving towards us.”
Malka untied the sash from around her waist and inserted the brass knob into one of its ends. She listened for one of the dark forms, as it approached her side of the wagon.
Frowning, Liza hesitated for a second before picking up the revolver. She confronted her opponents with it on the wagon’s left side.
Malka felt more than heard the slight sound behind her. She turned in a flash of motion, to see that two Urumi had appeared instantly in front of the wagon, rather than approach it from behind. The one nearest her brought down its long flexible blade, now already dripping with blood. Malka lashed out with her sash. Its weighted end wrapped the red fabric around the tip of blade, deflecting it.
Yet, made slippery with blood, the fabric of Malka’s sash slipped from the metal weapon. Allowing its wielder to bring it up and around again for another strike.
Malka parried again. The need to swing the sash up from outside of the carriage forced her to lean to the right, slightly. This time her weapon caught hold of the Urumi’s blade a bit further up its length. Her awkward position required the Thag to throw her left hand – which held the sash – up and out; the Urumi’s blade was deflected. But, its tip became deeply buried into the torso of one of the horses. The animal whinnied loudly as it fell to the ground. The sudden force of the impact had the effect of wresting the blade’s handle from the grip of the dark figure. It began to advance upon Malka.
Pressing her advantage, the Thag reached into the folds of her garment and in one motion extracted her dagger. She threw it into the heart of the black mass that was moving towards her. It collapsed, and then it seemed to resolve into the inanimate form of a relatively young black-robed human that slowly dissipated into thin air, leaving only her now-bloodied dagger.
Meanwhile, Liza faced a similar onslaught. Using her unnatural speed and agility, she dodged two attacks from the blade of the dark figure that faced her, before having a chance to bring her weapon up. Quickly, she squeezed off two shots. The first went wide. But, the second hit the black form dead in the center. The form dissipated slowly until only the bullet fired into it was left, now red with blood. Both Malka’s and Liza’s heads snapped up at the sound of a deep voice.
“Cease what you are doing. Hand over the Fragment, or he dies.”
They saw the third dark figure standing about one hundred feet away. It held Henry in its indefinite grasp.
“Shoot it!” Malka yelled.
“Why? He just tried to escape. Again.”
“You claim that we’re on the same side. Do you really want the Urumi to emerge victorious when there’s a choice? In any way? If so, give me your weapon. It looks simple enough to use.”
Liza glared at her. Then took aim. When not shooting at close range, she was not a particularly good markswoman and she knew that she was just as likely to hit Malka’s partner-in-crime as she was the dark figure that held him, or have the shot go completely off into space. The black-haired felinoid squeezed the trigger.
The gun clicked. It had not been fully loaded. Liza could not help but sigh in relief. She tossed the weapon away as if it were something odious.
Malka jumped down from the wagon and began running toward the remaining Urumi, sash in both hands as she did so. She neared the rough striking distance of the Urumi’s blade and jumped, attempting to somehow catch the dark figure in its fabric. The Shadow Warrior brought its blade up and Malka had to throw her weight to the side to avoid being hit. She landed rolling, and recovered her balance only to see the Urumi advancing on her. Malka prepared to charge again, this time diving low under the blade, attempting to catch the lower end of the figure with her sash and knock it off balance. As the fabric sank into the blackness of its indefinite form, Malka felt the figure lose purchase but not enough to knock it down, or make it release its grip on Henry. She rolled sideways, narrowly avoiding another pass by the Urumi’s blade. As the Thag did so, she noticed that Liza was approaching, looking for a tactical weakness that she could exploit. Malka attempted to rise, regaining her own balance. Then, she was knocked back to the ground, barely avoiding something that she had not expected.
The ax flew through the air between the dark figure and Malka from a completely unexpected quarter. The Urumi let out a feral roar as the weapon clipped the side of its dark form about its midsection. Malka turned to see a brown-skinned figure with long white hair approach from behind a boulder only three feet away. Knocked down, Malka was not in much of a position to defend herself; she crawled back a few paces to where the ax had landed. But her new nemesis proved faster and was first to retrieve his weapon.
For Malka, time seemed to pass in fractions of a second. Her blue eyes looked around for any advantage and noted that Liza was otherwise engaged with the Urumi – who was now dripping blood onto the ground. Suddenly, letting out another wail, it vanished, taking Henry with it.
A single piece of paper wafted down to the bloodied earth in its place.
Liza immediately turned to ascertain her charge’s status.
“Malka!” the felinoid screamed, running towards her, mortified by what she saw. An older stranger, practically dressed in rags, stood over the Thag who lay partially on the ground, hands held up in an instinctive gesture of self-defense.
The ax in the man’s right hand swung down toward her in a deathblow.
Twenty-Four
The ax sailed toward her. Initially, Malka shut her eyes. She seemed as if in a state of delirium. Then, the Thag forced herself to open her eyes again as the blade seemed to continue toward her in excruciatingly slow intervals.
This is how it will end? the thought came to her. She was too disoriented to offer any semblance of a struggle. Liza had just begun to realize the situation, running towards her. Part of Malka’s mind seemed to sense that all she could do was wait until the ax found its inevitable home, which she judged to be near one of the vital arteries of her neck.
The blue-eyed girl had always expected that she would feel apprehension during a moment like this, even if such an event had occurred in service to her Black Goddess. Instead, Malka found she was calm; she could only trust that Shakti would understand and somehow forgive her failure. The Thag forced her darkening vision to focus on the blade, which bore down towards her, willing herself to remain conscious at the end. In that moment, she found herself wishing that she could have saved Henry from being taken by the Urumi. In a burst of clarity, she felt remorse over her failure to protect him. It stung almost as much as the knowledge that the diamond now would likely fall into the Urumi’s hands. She wished that she could have kept either from happening.
Malka watched idly as the ax’s cutting edge passed out of her field of vision. The girl waited for the end. She wondered how much it would hurt.
Suddenly, the man’s arm stopped. The ax must have been fractions of an inch from piercing her flesh. She felt something grab hold of her left arm. The ax’s wielder raised that limb into her field of vision. He examined her wrist, holding its exposed veins away from her.
Despite his disheveled appearance, the new arrival studied her arm with bright brown eyes. An expression of shocked inquisitiveness crossed his weatherworn features. The figure opened his mouth. He spoke. But, Malka could not understand his words. She continued to stare at him as if in shock. The white-haired figure spoke again. Still, Malka could not understand him. Then his features slacked, in what was visibly a disappointed sigh.
“English?” he rasped. From the single word, it was clear that Malka’s assailant commanded the language with a heavy accent.
“Y-yes,” Malka managed to respond in a weak voice. Then she turned her head, registering an intervention from a third party.
“Okay!” Though it had seemed a long time from Malka’s perspective, it had taken only a second for Liza to advance toward them. “I don’t know who the hell you are, but….”
The crag-faced man quickly moved the blade farther toward Malka’s neck, so that its metal connected with her skin, drawing a slight trickle of blood.
Processing the apparent situation, Liza paused in her tracks, noticing that the new arrival focused his attention back on Malka, while not completely ignoring her own presence.
“Which is your tribe?” he asked.
“What?” Malka responded, confused.
Her inquisitor responded by pressing the ax even harder into her neck, causing the blood to flow more liberally.
“Tell me. From which tribe are you?”
“I...I have no tribe. I am a Thag. My...my Sect lies dead now.”
Without warning, the pressure on her neck slackened.
“It was your tribe that gave you this?”
The figure moved the top of her left wrist so that she could clearly see the Sign of Aghasi – a triangular blade underscored by Sanskrit text.
“My Master. He bestowed it upon me.”
The ax fell away from Malka’s neck completely; the stranger pulled on her left hand, helping the girl to her feet. Still perturbed by her fall, Malka stood unsurely, struggling to regain her footing. Liza started towards them again. As quickly as she did so, the mysterious figure aimed his weapon toward her. His eyes continued to remain focused on Malka.
“If you are one of us, why consort with them?”
“What? Consort with whom?” Malka asked again, genuinely confused.
“They took our land. Destroyed our life. Yet, you associate with them. Their ways?” the figure snorted, looking between Malka and Liza as if not sure who was more deserving of his aim. His dark gaze eventually settled on the darker skinned of the two.
“I have never heard of your tribe. You are one of them.”
“One of whom?” Malka’s grip returned to her sash as she asked again. She still found that it remained clasped by her right hand.
The figure cocked his head toward Liza, his long, matted white hair swinging with the motion.
“I do not understand,” said the Thag.
“Then, you cannot be one of us!” the man stated with a quiet certainty.
Malka brought her sash up as the disheveled man raised the gore-slickened ax against her, positioning it behind his head so as to give the weapon maximum force.
“Stop!”
In a superhumanly fast gesture, Liza moved toward the space between them as if attempting to interpose herself in the way of a new altercation. She focused her green irises on the attacking hermit.
“I’m not one of them,” the felinoid declared.
“Your skin tells me otherwise.”
“Yeah, well, appearances, deception, and all that.” She stared directly at him.
There was a tense pause.
“I am not one of them,” Liza repeated.
The man regarded her as if strongly doubting the veracity of her statement.
In response, Liza seemed to explode with annoyance:
“Ugh...okay! Don’t believe me? Fine!”
In two blinks, Liza transformed into a black feline and then back into her humanoid form. Malka’s erstwhile assailant fell back a few steps. He seemed to bow slightly in a gesture of respect.
“I understand,” he intoned. Then a cloud of suspicion returned to his face. “If what you say – what I have seen – is true, why does she who holds that mark claim to have no tribe that I recognize?”
Malka opened her mouth, intending to again state her confusion at the bedraggled man’s accusation. Liza quickly answered for her.
“She is of a...tribe similar to your own. Far from here. They gave her that mark, which you both clearly revere, before her own were vanquished. I am not your enemy. Neither is she.”
Again the brown-skinned man paused. Holding Liza’s gaze, he appeared to consider the felinoid’s words. Then, directing his sight to Malka, the Indian asked:
“This is true?”
Malka shrunk from his gaze, thinking of her role in the death of the only family she had ever known, the ones who had set her on her current path. Her eyes seemed to study the ground in front of her.
“Yes,” she finally responded, her voice almost a whisper. “They were killed in a conflict over control of my homeland. I am the last that remains.”
The man crouched, stepping closer to her. Slowly, he reached his hand up towards her chin. Grasping it, he pulled it gently upward, so that her glimpse directly met his own.
“As am I. Whoever pursues you, know this: I stand ready to help.”
The Thag looked into his gaze. She felt relatively certain that he was sincere in this statement. Still, schooled in the arts of the Thags as she was, Malka knew better than to take any statement of friendship at face value. The dark-skinned girl extricated herself from the striking distance of the Indian’s fatal blade. She backed away slowly, moving to take stock of the situation that surrounded her. As she did so, she was relieved to notice that the ax had returned to rest unthreateningly at the man’s side. Liza stood at the ready, prepared to counter any threat.
The Thag paced backwards for a few steps, noticing the half-bloodied note that continued to rest on the ground. Casting one more look at the man, and then at Liza, Malka directed her sightline towards it. She turned her torso completely and moved to pick it up.
On it was the emblem of a black cobra’s silhouette. Despite the obscurity, it appeared as if ready to strike. Below it, a date, time and address were provided. It was followed by a warning:
10 May. 21:00.
1411 Broadway St.
New York City, New York. USA.
Should you wish him returned, come alone.
At first, Malka’s brow furrowed as she read the message. Then she looked down, folding the parchment into her satchel with its precious cargo, which she still carried securely around her shoulders. The Thag turned and began walking toward the wagon.
“We must go.” It was a statement mumbled by way of explanation.
Without question, the man who had threatened her at ax-point only moments before turned to follow. Liza, however, proved far more recalcitrant:
“Go! Where the hell are you planning to go? Damnit, Malka. I don’t know what was on that note; frankly I don’t care. We have a rather important mandate from the Society to protect a certain something. I’m sick of you disregarding it. I mean, can this really be more important than what you’re carrying in your purse at the moment?”
In response, Malka reached back into her satchel and retrieved the note that the dark warrior had left. She showed it to Liza.
“I am not saying that it is more important. But we are going after him,” the Thag asserted. With that, she turned and continued on her way.
The felinoid frowned as she read the short instructions.
“Malka, you can’t be serious.”
“Liza? Why would you think that?”
“Because, for one, he betrayed our trust once already after you insisted we could confide in him, against my better judgment, thank you very much. And now, after his amazing bank plan turned out to be nothing more than a ruse to escape with the riches, you’re still about to set off in search of him? Knowing that the enemy who just attacked us is clearly trying to use his person to keep us over a barrel? Oh, and then there’s this thing where the only person you seem, inexplicably, to have recruited to this dubious cause, basically just tried to kill you two seconds ago! So, yeah, I think that! You’re either flirting with insanity, or.... Oh, screw it. Why not just go straight ahead and call it plain old certifiable!”
Liza’s voice culminated in a yell. Malka regarded her assigned protector for a moment, pensively. Clearly, the girl mulled over the merits of Liza’s diatribe; eventually, she responded.
“Maybe, Liza. I am still going.” She turned and beg
an to walk towards the long-haired man who had stood stoically watching the entire verbal altercation between the two young women. The blue-eyed youth showed him the address on the piece of parchment.
“Can you take me here?”
The man took it. He studied the message, squinting as if his eyes had begun to fail him. After a beat, he offered a determination.
“I cannot.”
Malka sighed, looking away. Unexpectedly, the man continued.
“Not all of the way. Not nearly. Certainly, I cannot, not by foot. Not by the date of your meeting. But, if that is what you require, I shall set you on the right path. Come.”
Without, preamble he turned to unbind the remaining horses from the wagon. As he did so, Liza renewed her argument.
“I cannot even begin to believe how crazy this is, Malka. You’ve made some royally boneheaded maneuvers since we’ve known each other. But this takes the proverbial cake! Hell! You’re allowing a man who just tried to kill you to play guide on some irrelevant quest after one whose biggest contribution to our actual mission has been to betray us!”
For the moment, the Thag seemed not to respond.
Malka remembered how she had felt back in the Sect’s camp, when Nell escaped. Malka had given her no aid. Yet, she’d felt responsible for her charge; what had happened. More than that, the thought of how her rival, Zaima, had treated her that day – berated her in front of the entire Sect – burned most brightly in her mind. Only Husain had been able to calm the camp into not taking Zaima’s side. Despite popular misgivings, he had picked Malka to lead a raiding party: she was to infiltrate and eliminate two youths – who she now knew as Stanley and Mungo – who were headed toward the camp. His reasoning still baffled her.
She had done as ordered – at first. Upon hearing that her twin sister might still be alive, she’d gone with them. The camp-raised girl had been blamed by her Sect and treated with disgust for a mere accident, simply because of who she was. The thought of finding someone who might accept her called too loudly for Malka to ignore.
Outcast: Keepers of the Stone Book One (An Historical Epic Fantasy Adventure) Page 24
