by A. R. Cook
“What, are you going to let that guy have all the fun?” Chiriku tried to steady herself on her good leg. She carefully bent down to pick up her warhammer. “How about a little help here?”
Desert Rain came over and let Chiriku put an arm around her, leaning on her as a crutch. Chiriku limped along, wincing as she went, and Desert Rain remained alert, scanning the woods for signs of danger. Everything around them was uncomfortably quiet. Sweat dripped down Desert Rain’s face, and her ears shivered. Chiriku whispered for her to cool it, since Dez’s shaking ears were ruffling up against her feathers.
They limped on and on through the dark wood. Then Desert Rain spotted something ahead, in the middle of a tight ring of trees. It was a silhouette of a man with a long battlestaff in his hands. She and Chiriku ducked down behind a bush. They peered out, watching Gabriel, who stood rooted there, in a defensive position. His feet were spread wide, his battlestaff held across his chest. The two women were not sure what he was doing. He looked stuck.
Then they noticed that he was surrounded by pairs of red-glowing eyes.
A blur of black whooshed out of the trees, a flash of light off of metal headed straight for Gabriel. The boy dodged the attack, bringing his battlestaff upwards and knocking the dagger from the Zi’Gax’s bony hand. More blurs lashed out, hungering to smother Gabriel in darkness, but the man jumped aside, twirling his battlestaff around to block the multiple assaults. The battle was difficult to follow, the combatants darting this way and that in a jumbled foray, but Gabriel was fending off four Zi’Gax at one time.
“He’s going to be killed!” Desert Rain gasped.
“What an idiot,” Chiriku stated. She tried to stand up, but her ankle was throbbing. “Damn it. If you could get a couple of those suckers to come this way, I could whack ‘em.”
Desert Rain knew what she had to do. She had to get those Zi’Gax away from Gabriel, had to lure them into the big trap, not too far away. She left the bush and started towards the fight, and that’s when she noticed something. Gabriel was no longer handling his weapon like a battlestaff. He held it at one end, perrying and swinging it like a club. No…like a…
“He knows how to use a sword,” she realized. Her hand reached for the black pouch in her pocket, thrusting her hand into it. She found the hilt inside, wrapping her fingers around it, getting as firm a grip on it as she could. She withdrew the magnificent sword, and it shined even in the overpowering darkness. She dashed towards the battle, holding the sword before her. Its radiance gleamed brightly, catching the eyes of the four Zi’Gax. They gaped their horrid mouths wide, squinting their beady eyes against the silver light. They shrunk back, raising their arms against the terrifying sword.
Chiriku’s beak dropped open. “You had that sword this whole time, and didn’t think to use it??”
“Gabriel!” Desert Rain lifted the sword as best she could, as it was a bit heavy for her. “I have a sword you can use! Here! Take it!”
The expression on Gabriel’s face was not one she expected. His eyes were wide in fright. He gripped his battlestaff tightly, and stared at Silverheart like a deer facing a wolf. He backed away, his knees shaking. He dumbfoundly shook his head.
Desert Rain couldn’t understand. Why didn’t Gabriel want the sword? Maybe he didn’t know how to swordfight; maybe she was mistaken about him. She didn’t have any time to contemplate. The Zi’Gax were staring at her with skeptical eyes. She could think of one thing to do: bluff.
“Stay back!” she commanded, coiling her fingers around the hilt so to hold the sword before her, blade extended towards the goblins. “This is Silverheart, the Wretched-slayer! One slice of this sword will kill every last one of you!”
Three of the Zi’Gax cowered at her declaration. “That is the evil sword!” one of them cried. “The one of the horrible Swordmaster!”
The one not-so-scared Zi’Gax bared his teeth. “Maybe, but that ain’t no Swordmaster. I bet she don’t even know how to use it.” He twirled his daggers in his hands, and then gripped them for attack.
Desert Rain’s ears drooped. Forget this!
She ran like she had never run before. She knew those Zi’Gax would be chasing her now, would kill her so they could get their hands on Silverheart. The weight of Silverheart was slowing her down, and she almost considered dropping it. But no, she couldn’t. She couldn’t lose it, not for anything. The big trap wasn’t too far. If she could make it…
She saw it. Straight ahead was a break in the trees, and what lied beyond was screened by a veil of blue mourning glory vines rising from the ground. Desert Rain was running so hard, her legs were burning in pain. She could feel the Zi’Gax right on her heels, laughing maniacally in anticipation of capturing their quarry. They could tell she was tired, and it would be more fun to catch her by hand then throw daggers at her. She made one final sprint, and made a mighty jump through the curtain of mourning glories, vanishing from the Zi’Gaxs’ sight. The Zi’Gax, blinded by their lust of the hunt, leapt through the vines after her like lemmings.
They stopped. Not of their own free will, but because they ran headlong into a wall. They were plastered against something spongy, something fuzzy, something sticky. When they tried to pull away, they found their entire fronts stuck to the adhesive-coated prickles of the wall. If they could have turned their heads to see what they were stuck in, they would have seen the face of a gigantic scarlet flower, with petals large enough to cradle full-grown men. The fleshy petals were lined with spines—no, teeth, and they were splayed like the jaws of a bear trap. The Zi’Gax barely had a chance to scream for help before the petals of the carnivorous plant snapped shut around them. It swallowed them all down into a massive bulbous digestive sack, which in terms of size, could have held a large bull. Through the membranous skin of the plant, Desert Rain could count about five other goblins as well—which Clova was most likely responsible for—encased in the jelly acidic juices of the plant. The goblins inside couldn’t move, as the sticky gel held them fast.
Desert Rain plopped down onto the ground, landing on her back. She breathed heavily, her legs shaking from the exertion. Silverheart laid at her side. After a few minutes, she sat up slowly, panting. She held her head in her hands, a massive headache pounding in her skull. She was still for some time, until she heard someone approaching. Snapping her head up in alarm, she saw Gabriel, carrying Chiriku in his arms.
“Dummy wouldn’t let me walk,” Chiriku scowled.
“Are you all right?” Gabriel asked.
Desert Rain nodded tiredly. “I’m fine. The Zi’Gax fell for the trap. We should be okay for a while.”
“Looks like we rounded up a good bunch of those suckers.” Chiriku looked at the giant carnivorous plant, counting the bodies she saw inside it. “Let’s see…nine there. And I bashed at least six others, and Dummy Boy here got one. I spotted two or three others caught in the vine traps. Yep, I say we got the upper hand.”
Desert Rain nodded. “It was a good thing Mac had the seed of this giant plant in his pocket so Clova could grow it. If these things really grow all around the Bayou like he said, I don’t think I want to visit that place.” She stretched her legs, rubbing her burning calf muscles.
“So, are we going back for another round?” Chiriku asked eagerly.
“I’m going to find Clova. Hopefully, once the remaining few Zi’Gax can’t find the rest of their group, maybe they’ll run off to wherever they came from—”
“I wouldn’t count on it.”
Five figures rained down from the trees overhead, landing right next to them. Two of the figures grabbed Gabriel, causing him to drop Chiriku to the ground. Before she could reach her warhammer, one of the Zi’Gax, taller than the others and wrapped in red, kicked Chiriku in the jaw, snapping her head back and knocking her out. The remaining two accosted Desert Rain, threatening her with their iron daggers.
The tall Zi’Gax surveyed his captives, curling his upper lip at them. “This is pitiful. To think we were alm
ost tricked by a pair of wenches and a boy with a stick. Spiggat—” He addressed one of the goblins by Desert Rain, an underling wearing a stocking hat—“Cut open that giant dandelion over there.”
Desert Rain squeezed her eyes shut, not believing how their plan had suddenly gone so horribly wrong. The Zi’Gax called Spiggat went over to the meat-eating plant, and after a few good stabs of his daggers, cut through the thick membrane and sawed open the side of the digestive sack. The trapped Zi’Gax spilled out in a pool of acidic goo. By now, some of their bandages had been eaten away to reveal large holes, and their skin was raw and burned. This made them all the more enraged at their enemies, and many moved in to do away with these impudent insects.
Cryle growled a warning to them, and the Zi’Gax held back, grudgingly. “Not yet, comrades. You’ll get your revenge soon enough. But we have to keep our minds on our business.” He turned to Gabriel, and pointed at him. “We need to catch our bounty, and you’re going to tell us where it is.”
Out of nowhere flew two green spiders, near the size of human heads, and they smacked into and coiled around the faces of two Zi’Gax, cutting off their air and sending them wriggling to the earth, suffocating. Desert Rain blinked in surprise, and could see that they were not quite spiders—they were spider plants. With her sensitive ears, she thought she heard the whisper of a spell, and another spider plant came soaring by, ensnaring the Zi’Gax guarding her.
“Run, Dezzy!”
The lead Zi’Gax snaked towards the direction of the call, spotting a female figure hiding behind a tree. He withdrew a sickle from his belt, and charged.
Clova reached into her seed pouch and murmured a quick spell, tossing a bulb that instantly morphed into a spider plant. The Zi’Gax’s sliced through the enchanted weed in midair. Before Clova could begin another spell, the red-bandaged goblin jumped her, impaling the pouch, scattering all her seeds. In the blink of an eye, he was holding her from behind, his spindly but steel-hard arm around her rib cage, his sickle against her throat.
“Now I’ve got you,” the Zi’Gax hissed into her ear. “You’re coming with me, Hijn, and if you try anything funny, I’ll slit your throat.”
CHAPTER EIGHT
Wielding the Sword
“Clova!” Desert Rain lurched forwards to her friend, but two Zi’Gax thrust their daggers at her face, keeping her down on the ground. She glowered at them, but they cackled at her.
Clova was rigid with fear. The sickle jabbed at her skin, and the slightest movement would cut her. She was also drained, sweating profusely—her excessive magic use to set up all the traps had taken its toll on her. The head Zi’Gax bared his teeth in a wicked smile, and turned his gaze to the sword lying at Desert Rain’s side. He looked back at his own sickle, and wrinkled his nose. “I want that sword. Bring it to me.”
“No!” Desert Rain went to grab Silverheart, but Spiggat pounced, spitting a rattling hiss at her.
“I’ll do it, Captain Cryle,” Spiggat announced fervently. He grasped the sword in his grimey fingers, and made a surprised shriek as the sword flashed a white light, shocking him and rendering his fingers numb. He staggered back, tucking his hands under his armpits and chittering curses. The other Zi’Gax had become distracted by the flash of light, and Desert Rain took a chance. She grabbed Silverheart, receiving no shock at all, and once again coiled her fingers around it awkwardly. She got to her feet, and the other Zi’Gax near her skittered away from the deadly blade. She held the sword before her, and it took her a second to realize that Silverheart was lighter. Much lighter, as if it had adjusted its weight to suit her. The hilt subtly shifted in her palms, adjusting so her lengthy fingers could get a better grip on it. Even the blade looked different, shorter than the longsword she thought it to be, and elliptical in shape rather than linear. She faced the head Zi’Gax, sword pointed at his wrinkled, pug face.
“Let her go, now!” Desert Rain bellowed.
“Dezzy, no!” Clova tried to raise her hands, but the sickle pressed harder against her.
Cryle narrowed his beady eyes at the donkey-eared woman. He sneered in contempt. “I’m supposed to be afraid of a scullery maid, am I? Not even a good-looking one, at that. You’re out of your league, wench.”
Desert Rain held Silverheart in both hands, feeling a seering energy flow through her arms. “You’re going to look far worse than I do, when I’m done with you.”
Cryle paused at this remark, and then let out a weasely laugh. The other Zi’Gax joined in, creating a cacophony of wild hooting. Desert Rain didn’t take her eyes off of her enemy. Every inch of dread inside her was gone. There was a burning drive to get that ugly imp away from Clova, to teach all these little monsters a lesson. She planted her feet firmly on the ground. She clenched her teeth, and flattened her ears back against her head like a maddened mare.
“You’re a feisty one,” Cryle said after his laughter subsided. “But I don’t have time to play around. Why don’t you be smart—give me that sword, and maybe I’ll be nice enough to let you and those two others over there go. After we beat a little sense into you, of course.”
Desert Rain gripped the sword tighter. “Let Clova go. She’s never done anything to you.”
Cryle smirked, amused by the would-be heroine. “We got nothing against the Hijn witch. We’re doing what we’re paid to do. There’s a good reward to bring back this one.”
“Who sent you, and what do they want with her?”
“That would be their business, now, wouldn’t it?” Cryle snapped his teeth at her. “I’m not being paid to answer questions.”
Desert Rain began to advance on him. “You’re going to answer mine.”
“Don’t,” Gabriel warned her, as he struggled against the Zi’Gaxs’ grip.
“You better listen to the boy,” Cryle advised. “If you want to leave this forest alive, you better forget about this Hijn and we’ll be on our way. I admit, I expected the Hijn who belongs to the Distortionist to put up a better fight.”
Desert Rain’s ears perked up like a startled rabbit’s. “The Distortionist…”
Spiggat, taking any opportunity he could to talk, cut in. “The Distortionist is the enemy of our masters. They thought they were rid of him, but he’s returned, and the word is that a female Hijn was the one who brought him back. Our employers gave us this handy little device to hunt her down and everything—”
“Shut your trap, Spiggat!” Cryle growled. “You’re not supposed to educate the prisoners.”
Desert Rain’s face went stoic, cold. “The Distortionist you speak of is Katawa of the Darkscale.”
Cryle gnashed his teeth, his eyes wide and wild. “How do you know the Twisted One?”
“Because Clova’s not the Hijn you’re looking for.” Desert Rain raised her head high, defiantly. “I am.”
There was an uncomfortable pause.
“Sh…she’s a Hijn too??” Spiggat glanced back and forth between Clova and Desert Rain. “But…but they didn’t say there would be two of them!”
Cryle tightened his lips. He, too, was perplexed. He looked at Clova. “This one does magic.” He looked back at Desert Rain. “I didn’t seen you do any magic.”
The desert Hijn’s voice grew as dark as dragon’s blood. “Let go of her, and I’ll show you what I can do.”
The Zi’Gax began to snicker, but there was a nervous twinge in their chuckling. Cryle was not amused anymore. He was getting impatient, and did not like being talk to in such a way, especially by some female. “If you are a Hijn, we’ll take you both and let our employers sort out the two of you.” He gestured with his head for his brigade to take the insolent girl.
Three of the Zi’Gax moved towards Desert Rain. One removed his length of chain belt, holding it ready to tie her up. The panic returned to Desert Rain. Silverheart became heavy again. She shook violently, her body frozen in place as the Zi’Gax advanced on her. She closed her eyes, biting her lip until it bled. She could feel the cold iron of the chain touc
h her skin—
She heard the sound of flesh impaled.
She opened her eyes. Silverheart was still in her hands, but it was no longer directly in front of her. Somehow, it had shifted, and now the blade was half-way through the Zi’Gax with the chain. She couldn’t even recall having moved an inch, and yet she was staring at the Zi’Gax, shock on his smushed face, black-red blood seeping out of his gut. He dropped the chain, and fell to his knees. Yanking the sword from the goblin’s body, Desert Rain watched him fall over, lifeless.
Dead silence.
Desert Rain did not believe what she had done. She had…killed someone. No, wait, she didn’t. She couldn’t have. She didn’t do anything, she wasn’t even sure how it could have happened. It was the sword, it had to be. But how could Silverheart stab somebody, by itself? Maybe she truly had done it, unconsciously. Maybe in her fear, her body reacted, despite having received no orders from her brain.
Her mind reached back in time to the memory of some frightening words, spoken by a certain indigo-skinned demon, his yellow slitted eyes staring wickedly down at her. Do you know what happens to people without souls, little girl? They become feral. And that’s exactly what will happen to you. You will fall apart, piece by piece, until there’s nothing left.
Was it true? Was she becoming feral?
A roar of rage escaped Cryle’s lips. He threw Clova aside, into one of the other Zi’Gax, who seized her tightly. He removed his other sickle, clashing his weapons together in a rusty, horrible clang. “You want to spill some blood,” he rasped through crooked, clenched teeth. “I’ll have to take you as a corpse, then.”
He made a running start, and then launched himself at Desert Rain, his sickles hungering to rip her open.
Desert Rain went numb from head to toe. Great Guerda-Shalyr, I’m going to die!!!
An air-shattering clash resounded through the still forest. The two combatants were locked in time, like a work of art, their blades grinding against one another. Once again, Desert Rain couldn’t explain how, but Silverheart had risen to block the attack, its pure, silver steel a streak of light against the dirty, dark metal of the sickles. Its weight was barely anything now, but that may have been because she felt nothing at all. There wasn’t a single ounce of physical nerve in her whole body. It was like being in a dream, or in the Eternal Deep, so she supposed. She could feel something—well, “feel” wasn’t really the right word, for she couldn’t describe it in terms of hot or cold, pain or pleasure—in the moonstone on her forehead. It pulsated like a warrior heart ready for battle, shimmering in a milky moonbeam glow. The sapphires on the hilt of Silverheart responded to this heartbeat, glistening in blue fire. Her right eye glowed its intimidating emerald green, with a gaze so penetrating, it was as deadly as the sword she held.
