Other members of the squad would have been slowly worn down until they had mentally given up. Donovan and Kallei just shared a glance and made their next move. Both mercenaries came in from the side, swinging at waist and shoulder height, forcing the woman to retreat—right into a waiting attack from Meas.
It was a perfect trap; any opponent should have been done in with the sudden strike. Meas swung his large bronze sword, twice as thick as most blades and shimmering with a sharpness enchantment, faster than most could swing a dagger, but this ‘Bonded cultist was no ordinary fighter. Her body swung forward, rotating unnaturally in the air as she ducked the blow. Instead of hitting her, the big blade took out one of the four support columns in the room.
The three mercs cursed as the entire situation seemed to reset. They hadn’t landed a hit and the enemy hadn’t countered. Now that Meas had joined the fray, the cultist was finally pressured enough to drop her grin. A swirl of wind danced around her dagger.
The cultist witch feinted forward, a ruse that Donovan fell for and stepped into. After Donovan closed, she reared back to swing with her wind-cloaked dagger.
As she watched, Roa suddenly made a snap decision, drawing and firing her bow. The cultist generated a gust of wind that took the arrow off course, but the distraction was enough for Donovan to drop back with the others, unharmed. He was fast and capable, but the cultist was an extremely dangerous opponent.
Roa’s contribution was small, but had helped. She readied another arrow, one of her few remaining, in case it was needed again. She’d refused to leave in order to watch her friends’ backs like this.
The cultist glanced up at Roa where she stood on the stairs, licking her lips as she examined the teen before turning her attention back to the others. The wind around the woman picked up slightly, feeling defensive in nature as the four combatants clashed again.
The three Swords and Sins fighters were more than just mindless bashers. As she watched the deadly battle, Roa knew she had limited ability to help her friends, so she stepped closer to the stairs to better watch the entryway. She would do her part by keeping watch. From her vantage point, she could keep track of the fight, too.
Meas deflected a strike from the witch and stepped out of the fray to gather his breath. His right arm still hung uselessly by his side, courtesy of the fight with the demons outside, and his superhuman endurance and pain threshold were starting to lag. When he disengaged, it created an opening for Donovan and Kallei.
Donovan came in low from the right and Kallei attacked at head level from the other side. The attack was executed perfectly, but somehow, it was easy for the cultist to step past the two, flowing around to Donovan’s open side. However, behind her, a sharp clang of steel on steel sounded as Kallei’s sword struck Donovan’s mace with the flat of her sword. This allowed him to reverse the direction of his weapon impossibly fast and circled it around, right across the face of the cultist.
This was the first solid strike of the fight, and the cultist yelped, spinning away as she clutched her face. She’d just been struck by one of Donovan and Kallei’s signature moves, one developed after years of practice and trust.
Roa nearly whooped in triumph from her position on the stairs, but her celebration died in her throat as the woman shrieked and thrust her hand forward. What she created then was no small gust of wind, but rather a vicious tempest that carried Donovan off his feet into, then through the wall behind him. Through the hole, all Roa could see of him were his unmoving legs.
The evil witch had been playing with them this whole time.
Donovan’s wife roared, a sound of primal rage and loss as she swung a heavy blow, but her opponent stepped in, making the attack go wide and the sword bury itself into a column of wood. With a swift jab, the cultist’s dagger met Kallei’s chest.
Kallei’s back burst outward in a splatter of blood and gore, ejected so far, a bit splattered across Roa’s cheek. Then she slumped lifelessly to the floor, a gaping hole in the proud warrior’s side from where a storm of bloody wind had torn her apart.
Anger and sorrow drove Roa to release an arrow, too quickly to charge with magic, but the shot sailed uselessly wide. Her attack hadn’t even distracted the woman long enough to keep her from spitting on Kallei’s corpse. However, apparently the arrow had reminded the woman that there were others in the room and she glanced up at Roa.
Meas breathed deeply as he moved to stand at the base of the stair, “Ro… get out of here,” he commanded one more time.
Roa simply shook her head, refusing to leave him behind here, not alone and hurt as he was.
The witch saw all this and her lips quirked. She raised her head enough to let Meas get a good look at her and his shoulders slightly drooped. “Rotting rot.” he whispered, voice numb as the woman’s grin widened, returning to the expression she’d had before Donovan had landed a blow. The tip of her tongue flitted across her lips again.
Meas stood with his uninjured side forward, blade held low and pointed toward his foe. He was prepared for a lunge. The woman countered by flexing her knees and flipping her dagger, then adopting a more defensive stance. Wind swirled around her as she prepared to accept his strike, and Roa took the unspoken invitation.
The next few seconds were a flurry of motion as Meas moved at full speed, far faster than his size would suggest was possible. His sword was not built for it, but he was orb-Bonded and stabbed dozens of times at his foe. He’d given up his more powerful swings in favor of speed and kept the witch on the defense. His opponent’s dagger flashed here and there, leaving small cuts in his tough skin, but she was actually being pushed back.
Roa felt hope lift her heart, and surprise built pressure in the back of her neck as the flow of battle suddenly reversed. Then the cultist danced back once and spun before whipping her dagger in a smooth arc. Wind surrounding the blade lashed out like a whip and carved a deep gash in Meas’ side.
The orb-Bonded merc took a step back and stumbled to a knee. The cultist didn’t relent. Her attacks kept coming and Meas was barely able to block enough to avoid a fatal wound. An uninhibited, wild smile was visible in the shadows over the woman’s face as she moved in and slashed again and again, toying with her prey. Finally a large gash opened on the side of Meas’ neck, blood pouring from the obviously fatal wound.
Roa overcame her shock to reach for her quiver, but she didn’t get the chance to draw again.
The fight had gone horribly wrong and Meas had to know it, but he wasn’t about to just let his murderer continue her rampage. He forced his broken body to stand as blood poured down from his many wounds. Roa would never know what exactly went through her dying mentor’s mind as he made his final move.
He was unwilling or unable to turn and meet her eyes in that moment, but his actions echoed the way he’d lived his life and the example he’d always set. He seemed to be reminding her to live thoughtfully and always try to save others.
The witch had put one hand on her hip in a mocking way, but since Meas wasn’t giving up even while bleeding out, she moved in to claim her prize.
Meas made sure she never got the chance. With the last of his mighty strength, he swung his sword across the room, the broad blade tearing through the last two wooden beams that supported the floor above. With nothing holding it up anymore, the ceiling came down, filling the entire lobby with a deafening crash. The destruction buried the entryway in wood, plaster, and dust.
***
Standing on the rooftop after Meas had sacrificed his life, and after she’d tried to save what children she could, Novaroa held back angry tears.
This was the worst day of her life. She’d witnessed her personal heroes, her friends, die at the hands of this horrible woman, and yet the witch was still not satisfied. Shrinking back deeper as her last arrow trembled against her fist, the teenager couldn’t help but feel overwhelmed. She was spellbound, transfixed by every move of the serpentine Gentra. In that moment, she was every bit the prey to this woman�
��s predator and she knew it.
“You led me on quite the chase, Green Eyes, but that’s alright, it was fun,” Gentra assured her. The orb-Bonded cultist gestured, and a sudden gust of wind behind Roa’s back, coupled with sudden despair made her lose her balance and she tumbled into the room, her bow clattering on the floor.
She sprang up, flesh cringing—expected to be in pieces any second, but Gentra still just stood there, watching her with a sardonic grin.
Every fiber of Roa’s being screamed in fear, demanding that she turn and run but as the window creaked she was reminded of what was at stake. There were lives outside that fragile glass that she couldn’t abandon no matter how scared she was. She had to make this witch want her more than those kids, to give them some more time if nothing else.
“Really? This was fun?” Roa gulped down her terror as best she could, knowing goading this woman was her only choice. “I’m not a fan of getting my face fucked up but I see you’re into that, but no judgement…”
Gentra stared at the young woman blankly for a moment before bursting out in a short bark of laughter. “Ha! Rotting hell, you’re a cheeky one! But I’m not that simple...or that stupid. Wait there.” Stepping over toward the window, the woman shook her head. “I’ll get back to you for your reward.”
Roa’s mind raced as she realized the bitch was still going to chase after the kids first, she hadn’t taken the bait. Luckily, she knew something the cultist didn’t, something important. Roa steadied herself, preparing to deal the last card she could play.
When Meas had collapsed the lobby, she’d been on the stairs slightly outside the falling debris. For a moment, she’d thought it was all over for her. But before the dust had fully settled and she could lose herself in incoherent grief, reality had given her a slap in the face as a flash lit the room. After the light vanished, a small wooden box had appeared at the base of the stairs.
At first Roa had had no clue what it was, but something about the box drew her to it, even in the midst of all the destruction and chaos. Inside was a small glass ball that seemed to contain a faintly glowing light. Roa had never actually seen a spirit stone before, but she knew what they were. Then as she’d woodenly begun climbing the stairs, she’d guessed the stone had been the cultist woman’s reward for killing Meas, as per the rules of Lord Dolos’ game of Hunt-the-Bonded.
Naturally, Roa had pocketed it. The unimaginable wealth the sprit stone could bring hadn’t even been on her mind, though. All she’d wanted to do was spite her foe. Then she’d wondered if the witch was truly dead, realizing she wasn’t sure. At that moment, the wooden debris had begun to shift where the witch had been buried, and Roa had immediately fled to follow Meas’ last orders. The cat and mouse through the orphanage had begun then.
Now it was time to play with fire, to deal the last card she had left. Her spite had given her one last chance to draw the woman’s attention away from child-murder. “Are you sure?” Roa asked. She reached into her pocket and produced the spirit stone, holding it out for just a second before clenching her fist around it. “I’ve already got my reward.”
The good news was that the ploy worked, but the bad news was the ploy worked.
***
Gentra had already had one hand on the window sill when she glanced back at the spirit stone. The moment her eyes landed on it, she instantly made the connection. Some other members of her priestess order might have shrugged it off and still gone for the pleasure of offering more prey to Dread Asag, but not her. She was a pragmatic woman, and she’d known that the man downstairs, Meas, had been ‘Bonded.
After the rubble had fallen, she’d been afraid she’d lost her reward forever, and yet here was this quivering little bitch holding it for ransom. Delaying more delicious agony was a price she was willing to pay for this; a bunch of brats could never equal to the power a spirit stone could grant her. She had already taken another stone a few days earlier, and the one here would let her finally enter the truly powerful ranks of Asag’s army.
Besides, this would only take a minute or two, tops.
She turned to face the uppity little bow-girl and made her decision. Gentra shook her head in mock sadness. “You should have taken the stone and ran, little snack.” She gave her lips a quick lick as she advanced, deciding she was going to take her time and enjoy this.
The silly girl raised her bow again to try another futile attack, but Gentra had expected it and acted, casually flexing her power. She hadn’t even needed to gesture to send a bolt of wind snapping out, severing the bow in two. With the tension of the spring, one end violently whacked against the floor. Now the girl was toothless, her weapon useless.
Gentra believed the girl’s name was Roa. It’s Roa, right? I thought I heard that. Green Eyes—Roa, dropped back, nearly falling on her butt. She shuffled to a corner, getting as far away as the little room would allow. Gentra actually slowed her pace as she advanced, casually tapping her knife against her hip, both out of caution for any traps and out of a desire to savor the moment.
The teen’s eyes darted back and forth, likely searching for something, anything to use as a weapon, but finding none. Roa was literally backed in a corner now, completely boxed in as Gentra blocked any hope of escape. The moment was truly wonderful, one to remember. “I’ve got to say, girl, you’ve done pretty well for a shiner with no real miles on her.”
She sped up the tempo of the dagger tapping against her hip. She’d actually just changed her mind, she wasn’t going to make any demands here, or take too much time, she’d just take the stone off the girl’s corpse. Taunting the girl a little should be okay, though. “Pity you couldn’t be one of those nobles wallowing in their power, eh?”
***
Roa realized that this was likely the most important moment of her life. She bit her cheek hard enough to taste blood and focused. Then she stomped her foot against the bottom half of her severed bow and awkwardly raised the other, forcing the string taut. With shaking fingers, she pulled the string tighter and notched her last arrow.
The witch stopped, standing still and cocking an eyebrow. “Oh? One last shot, Green Eyes?” Then the cultist raised her arms, moving them in a circular pattern around her chest where an orb of wind appeared and swirled. After it spun for a second, it snapped, expanding to encase her body in fluttering dust, like a wall of wind around her. “Go on then. It won’t matter.” She was obviously enjoying herself.
Roa had never hated anyone as strongly as she did then. She drew back but her fingers slipped, and the string’s weak power was lost, going slack. A gasp of fear escaped her before she could stop it, frozen as she looked at Gentra. The cultist gave her a mock look of concern, even tilting her head, but didn’t advance. She simply stood there and let Roa reset her grip to begin an unsteady draw again.
Gentra shook her head. “If only you had power right?” She looked at her own wind wall with an exaggerated motion of her head. “In case you were wondering, it’s wonderful.”
The woman’s words struck a chord in Roa’s mind and she focused less on the wobbling arrow and more on herself, pushing every drop of remaining magic power she could summon into the arrow. Her projectile swayed strangely on her hand, but she finally got it somewhat steady, aimed at the woman.
Gentra kept speaking, she couldn’t seem to help herself. “But you don’t, have any power that is. A victim. You are just rot thrown to the road like the rest of u—”
The cultist was cut off by a loud gong that seemed to reverberate from everywhere. She glanced to the side at the same time that Roa began seeing text scrolling over her left eye.
Congratulations to Aodh Anthony O’Breen for-
She immediately saw the reaction that the cultist was having to the message, and decided that this was something she could use. Roa didn’t pause to read the missive as it meant nothing to her. Instead, she slammed her left eye shut to block out the scrolling distraction while the woman across from her hissed in apparent fury at its contents.<
br />
Roa continued to focus her power into the arrow, going far past what her tutors had told her was safe. This might kill her, but she didn’t care. She was putting everything she had into this last act of defiance.
***
No! The mission failed? thought Gentra in horror. She didn’t fear much, but Dread Asag would not be pleased. Her face shifted from amused to horrified, suddenly draining of color as she focused intensely on the notice. She vaguely noticed the brat continue to play with her broken bow but only paid her half a mind.
Then the arrow leapt forward.
Gentra had never expected an arrow from such a weak string with next to no tension to snap out like a rifle shot. She’d been sure the little shiner had no real chance of even scratching Gentra; this would be one last act of defiance, a beautiful, desperate attempt to survive. Just to be safe, she’d even put up a moderate-strength wind wall, more to drive home to the girl how pitiful she was than for actual defense.
In disbelief, she watched the teen’s arrow fly true, even piercing her wind barrier like it wasn’t even there. Then there was a sharp pain in her throat, and warm liquid poured into her lungs. She’d inflicted such injuries on others enough that she knew exactly what was happening to her own body. Then her legs lost their strength and she stumbled back against the door frame. Everything had been so unexpected. None of this was supposed to happen this way; it couldn’t be real.
Gentra tried to curse her opponent, tried to throw hate at her, but she couldn’t make a sound. Her fingers clutched weakly at the arrow shaft that was lodged in her throat. Gentra didn’t even have the physical strength to hurl her weapon. She slid down the door frame to her knees, dropping the dagger from her hand and reaching out at the girl who had somehow killed her.
With her dying breath, Gentra converted her hate into magic power and blasted the orphan brat with all of her fading strength. Roa was carried off her feet and into the ceiling by the violent burst of wind, slamming her hard against the roof before she fell, bouncing against the floor. She didn’t move after that.
Delvers LLC- Surviving Ludus Page 31
