Aleksander, his body splattered in green and white, walked over to Toma, who was now desperately searching the body of the flesh face with the longsword imbedded in its skull.
“Kid, what are you doing? This isn’t the time to loot, we still have more of these…things heading in here.”
“I know, I know! But if I can find the…got it!” Pulling off the jeweled necklace, Toma threw it to Alek. “Shatter it, break it, do something with it quick before more get here!” Toma gestured to the terrified Outriders. “It’s what’s making them…that!” he cried, at a loss for words.
Shrugging his shoulders, Alek smashed the jewel against the wall, it shattering into tiny glittering pieces. Toma instantly felt the change around him, as if a window had been open within a smoky room. Nerthus slowly roused herself, but Edda, Vegard, and Garm came quickly to their senses, of a sort. Edda was covered in her own vomit and looked highly embarrassed.
Vegard, with tears in his eyes, sat down and began sobbing.
“By the hells…I think I pissed myself! What in the hells happened to me?! What is wrong with me!?”
Garm walked over to them, his face ashen, and put a hand on the sobbing Outrider.
“That was…horrible. And not your fault, Veg. They tried this shit on us once before, remember?” He looked over at Toma, pride on his face as he helped Nerthus to her feet. “But they keep forgetting to take our secret weapon into account, eh?”
Aleksander looked confused.
“What, ah, are you all talking about? What am I missing?”
“You…you didn’t feel it?” Edda asked.
Alek shook his head.
“You’re joking,” Nerthus said, her voice weak.
“No. That one guy…thing…held a necklace for a second then drew its sword, but I figured they hung back because I just slaughtered their buddies. Then I heard the guys bust in the back. When I turned around, I saw that you all were…indisposed. When I was, ah, informing those gentlemen they were not wanted I didn’t feel anything, other than the satisfaction of a job well done.”
“Yes, it is a satisfying feeling, isn’t it?” a deep voice cut in.
The Outriders whirled around as one to the front door. Standing there was Commander Samnusen, a cruel grin on his face, and a longsword was in his hand.
“Crunching the bones of your enemies, that is,” he said. “And something tells me I am about to be very satisfied.”
Ryker and Johan raced up a side staircase within the Citadel, hot on Kinnese’s heels. Kinnese was fast, but he was also wounded, which was slowing him down. The Outriders were gaining on him, even wearing mail and running up stairs. But the race was beginning to take its toll.
“Why are we in such a hurry?” panted Ryker. “Won’t the guards up top be more than enough for him?”
“Maybe, but they don’t know his tricks like we do. If any of them get killed it’s on us. And I’d rather it was you and me that finally ran that bastard through. It’s more poetic that way.”
They ran another few seconds in silence, the only sounds made by the jostling of their gear. Johan, suddenly struck with a realization gasped.
“Shit, where the hells is everybody? There should have been guards down there, and here too. There may not even be guards with the Praetorian!”
Ryker actually hadn’t noticed that, so focused was he on Kinnese, but now that Johan had mentioned it, he had to agree, and that terrified him. The warnings of collusion and subversion within The City, both by Leonid and then the Akvan came echoing back to him. Whomever was manipulating things had deep influence within the city if they could get the Citadel cleared out.
“We need to end this,” he said.
Johan nodded once, but said nothing.
As they reached the top of the staircase, the two Outriders rounded a corner. The hallway leading to the Praetorian Militant’s chambers was just ahead.
A violet blade came swinging around the corner, almost taking Johan’s head off. Ducking the blade, his face was caught by Kinnese’s fist in a vicious uppercut. He fell backwards on his ass, and scrambled to get on his feet, his vision momentarily blurred. Kinnese rushed out from around the corner, but before he could finish Johan off, Ryker stood between his friend and the traitor, a two-handed grip on his longsword. He felt a rush of anger at Kinnese, the root of all of their troubles and dangers. His arm went cold again, cold but not numb. He blocked Kinnese’s first two strikes, and slashed one of his own, but Kinnese had already turned and fled.
As he ran, the traitor turned around slightly and extended a hand behind him. Another stab of white light lanced out from his hand, aimed at the ceiling above the Outriders, bringing it down on top of them. Kinnese’s cries of pain were audible even as he ran from them. Grabbing the rising Johan, Ryker dragged him forward into the main hallway before the debris pinned them.
“C’mon Joh,” he grunted, helping Johan get his feet underneath him. “You good?”
“Yeah, I’m fine. Let’s finish the bastard. He’s got no place left to run to now. We’ve got him where we want him.”
Ryker ignored the uncertainty in his friend’s voice as the two of them ran down the hall. Kinnese, still ahead of them, was at the large doors leading to the Praetorian’s chambers. Finding them locked, Kinnese held one of his hands up to the lock, his wrist seared and bloody, and waited a second, his eyes closed. With a soft click, the locking mechanism of the doors opened, and Kinnese pushed the double doors open and hurried inside. Johan and Ryker were only seconds behind him, and they knocked the double doors aside as they charged into the room.
Immediately upon their arrival, they were greeted with the sight of Praetorian Militant Hauge being hurled backwards from his desk by a thin beam of white light. High Commander Atrarch was also in the room, and with a shout that was both confusion and challenge, he drew his sword and ran at Kinnese. Not wasting more time, Kinnese sent another beam at Atrarch, this one not nearly as coherent as the one that took Hauge. The beam caught Atrarch in the shoulder, sending him spinning to the ground. Snarling in agony, Kinnese stormed to the desk, where the lockbox still sat, still sealed as Johan had left it.
“Kinnese! Stop!” Johan cried.
The traitor whirled around, the lockbox in his hand. His face showed desperation, like a cornered animal after an exhausting chase. With the damage to his wrists spreading to his forearms, Johan didn’t think he had much left in the way of magical surprises. Whatever was in those manacles Leonid had put on him, days before, they were severely impacting Kinnese’s attempts to escape, even after they were removed.
“Something tells me you aren’t going to let me get out of this one,” Kinnese said, forcing his voice to remain calm.
“Well everything else aside, I did see you just strike down two superior officers, so I don’t really have much choice in the matter,” Johan said, his gladius at the ready. Beside him, Ryker gripped his longsword tightly. If they engaged him now, they were both confident they’d take him down.
Hauge, collapsed in a heap between his desk and the wall, groaned in pain. Quickly stepping around the desk, Kinnese put the tip of his conjured blade under Hauge’s chin.
“Shit,” Ryker muttered under his breath.
“Okay my friends,” Kinnese said, some of the old confidence returning to his voice. “Looks like you have some choices after all.” The blade never leaving Hauge, Kinnese slid the lockbox into the satchel that Johan had used to deliver it earlier. Draping it around his torso, he used his now free hand to haul Hauge to his feet.
“You two stay back. I am going to walk past you with the Praetorian here. Once I leave the room, you will close the door behind me. You will wait here for five minutes. I will leave the Praetorian on the grounds of the Citadel. If I see either of you, or anyone else as I am leaving, I will kill him. Understand?”
Samnusen sheathed his sword and pointed a gauntleted finger at Aleksander.
“I want that one. You can have the rest, just find me t
hat box.”
“Hells,” Garm swore. Just how many of these faceless monsters were there, he wondered. This was going to get ugly. Fast. He saw Aleksander bow mockingly at the renegade commander, as if accepting an invitation to dance.
“Ask, and ye shall receive,” Alek said sweetly. He gathered himself up and hurled himself at the four figures now in the doorway, spilling them all out of the barracks and into the Square.
“Come on!” Garm shouted, and chased after them. The others were right behind him.
The first thing Garm noticed when he ran outside was that Newcomb Square had an eerie blue glow about it. The source of it, he saw, was a large glowing rune drawn upon the ground in seemingly bright blue paint. In the center of the rune was the final rider, still on horseback. It’s his, or her, arms were held aloft, with light arcing from the upraised hands and splashing onto various parts of the rune. There was a soft crack, like distant thunder, and two more of the faceless creatures appeared in fetal positions on the ground within the rune. They slowly rose, as if getting their bearings, and then began walking towards Aleksander, who was currently a one-man bar room brawl, keeping the assassins and Samnusen at bay.
Garm didn’t know how long the big man would be able to keep that up. Reaching into one of his boots, he pulled out a throwing knife and hurled it at the figure on horseback. Blue lightning arced from the figure’s hands and deflected the knife, just like Kinnese had done in the forest. The figure turned its cowled head towards Garm and made a guttural sound. The faceless, even those engaging Aleksander, turned towards the Outriders leaving the barracks and ran towards them, weapons drawn.
“Well, you got their attention,” Nerthus said, her sword in her right hand.
Edda swung her two daggers around to loosen up her arms.
“Come on,” she said. “I have places I’d rather be tonight.”
Garm nodded and, looking back to see Toma and Vegard ready, charged the oncoming assassins.
The melee was a hectic mess, as they almost always were, Garm remembered after. He only caught glimpses of what happened around him. Nerthus shooting a faceless up close before decapitating it. Edda’s daggers carving up another in a flurry of blades. Toma and Vegard, back to back, fighting four of the faceless. More and more kept appearing out of the glowing rune. And as Garm pulled his sword out of a slain faceless and blocked a slash from a new one, he knew they were going to be overwhelmed. He’d been in enough fights to know when one was hopeless, when it would be decided by sheer numbers. There was nothing he could do, but keep fighting. Fight until you couldn’t. That was the only mantra Garm knew. The clashing of weapons, the smell of blood, the shouts of pain, enveloped Garm like a favorite blanket. The old habits, the old rushes, returned to him in a heartbeat. He wasn’t in Newcomb Square anymore. He wasn’t an Outrider. He was on the battlefield, and he was the reaper again, sending those whose time had come on their way. Smiling wickedly, Garm lost himself in the only thing he really knew: killing.
An iron fist slammed into Aleksander’s forehead, knocking him onto his ass. He quickly scrambled to his feet, slightly dazed.
“I’ll give you credit, old man,” Aleksander said, blood trickling down his forehead and nose into his mouth. “You know how to throw a punch. Now give me some metal goddamn gloves and make it a little more fair.”
Samnusen, his own face untouched, spit on the ground before charging Alek again, delight in his cruel eyes.
Aleksander knew he was out of his depth here. He was sure that he had already broken the man’s arms and one leg, and in multiple places! But Samnusen kept coming at him. And he was murderously quick. Faster than he was, that much was certain. And while he didn’t hit nearly as hard as Alek did, he was incredibly strong in his own right, and had landed many more punches than Alek had. Alek had tried to simply fist fight the man, and was losing badly. He needed to change his approach. A series of body blows, followed by a punch to the temple sent Alek sprawling back into the stairs of the barracks. For the first time in a long while, Alek had the wind knocked out of him. He had almost forgotten what physical pain was like. But he remembered that he did not like it. Not at all.
“Pike this,” he mumbled as Samnusen lunged at him again. Just barely dodging the commander’s fist, Alek planted a hand on Samnusen’s head and savagely slammed his face into the stone wall of the barracks with a dull crunch. That seemed to slow the man down, Alek thought.
“Let us continue this lesson,” he snarled, repeatedly slamming Samnusen’s face into the wall, leaving a large splatter of blood there. Reaching up, Alek took hold of one of the torches set by the door, and thrust it into Samnusen’s ruined face like a blade. The former Outrider groaned, and his body quivered in agony. Alek kicked him hard in the chest, knocking him to the ground. Samnusen’s Outrider helmet rolling off of his head in a lazy circle. The clothing Samnusen wore underneath his armor now ignited from the torch, and the fallen monster began to cook within his own armor. Alek stood there a second, wanting to ensure Samnusen was dead before turning to aid his friends. But to his disbelief and horror, the fight was not over.
With one trembling hand, Samnusen pulled the torch from his face, now wreathed in flame from his body. Tossing aside the torch, the burning man now drew his sword, its blade glowing orange as it reflected the flames.
“Clever,” came a twisted voice from within the immolation.
Aleksander, in shock, took a step backwards. Samnusen, still burning brightly, began slowly walking forward. He raised his left hand, palm facing Alek. The fire that engulfed the man suddenly changed color, from orange to dark green. There was a loud whooshing sound, and the flames that were consuming Samnusen traveled across his body into his outstretched hand, and then launched at Aleksander like a spray of water.
Diving out of the way, the green flames caught the bottom of Alek’s legs and his feet, and he screamed in pain. This was no ordinary fire, part of his mind recognized, it burned too hot, too fast. That rational part of him was quickly drowned out by the agony in the rest of his mind. Rolling and slapping his shins and feet, Alek managed to put out the fire before he was seriously burned. The barracks behind Alek, however, were not so lucky. Green flame began to sizzle and burn the wooden window frames and the floor inside.
Aleksander got to his feet despite the pain and faced Samnusen again. What he saw would haunt him for years after. The Outrider commander, his helmet off, now resembled a shambling corpse fresh from a funeral pyre. What skin was visible was burnt and cracked. His jaw, broken by the torch, was hanging open, attached only on one side. His eyes were melted in the sockets, but he never lost sight of Aleksander, and raised his sword to strike.
“Piking hell!” Alek exclaimed, despite himself. The heat behind him grew as the barracks was slowly consumed. As Samnusen walked closer, hope sprang in Aleksander. Gone was the swift, capable fighter from seconds before. In its place was, granted, an unkillable monster zombie thing. But it was a slow, hamstrung, unkillable monster zombie thing. The fire had taken its toll on Samnusen’s body, and whatever he truly was, he depended on his body like anyone else. Alek knew he had to capitalize before this infernal bastard magic-ed up some more shit. Time to go with what works, he thought to himself.
Rushing forward and diving beneath Samnusen’s slowed swing, Alek grabbed him by the ankles and stood up, ignoring the pain and heat in his hands from the surprisingly hot greaves Samnusen wore. Violently knocking the horrific thing onto his back, Alek braced himself and then swung Samnusen like a sack of flour into the stone walls. This time, with no helmet to protect him, there was a loud cracking sound as Samnusen’s burned and ravaged head impacted the wall with great force. Alek knew it had an effect when Samnusen, limp on the ground, let go of his sword. Hefting his ankles a second time, Alek swung him the opposite way now, bashing the back of Samnusen into the wall, the monster rolling onto his stomach and laying still. Fearing it wouldn’t slow him down long, Alek dropped the fallen monster’s legs, stom
ped hard on his back, and placed his large, bleeding hands around Samnusen’s head. With a tremendous surge, Aleksander ripped off the monster’s head. The tearing sound as he did so gave him a flash of horror at his own actions. Pausing for a second, he stared, aghast at the head in his hands. Quickly he turned towards the burning barracks and hurled the head into the inferno. He barely had time to turn around and catch his breath when the next round of faceless assailants were upon him. He didn’t know how much he had left.
Johan and Ryker stood a few paces away from Kinnese and Hauge, the violet blade still held to the Praetorian’s throat. Both Outriders held their swords in a way that indicated no threat, with free hands up and open.
“Okay Kin, you’ve won,” Johan said through grit teeth. “It would appear that way,” the traitor said. “Drop your weapons, then turn and face the walls. Only turn around when I have left the room. You make any sudden movements or turn around before I’m gone, and he’s a dead man.”
Reluctantly, both Outriders dropped their swords and turned as they were told. They were tense, like coiled springs, ready to act. But they both knew that they weren’t fast enough to get to Kinnese before he slit Hauge’s throat. All they could do was play along and hope for another opening. They both almost turned when Hauge, wheezing and coughing, spoke.
“Does your new employer realize what kind of loyalty he’s getting with you, scum?”
Kinnese held the blade closer to Hauge’s throat until a small trickle of blood began to run.
“Shut up!”
“I also wonder,” Hauge continued, “if he knows that he is also getting an incompetent henchman in addition to a disloyal one?”
“Keep talking, old man,” Kinnese snarled. “I don’t have to leave you alive after this.”
“Did you even do any research before you took the mission?” Hauge pressed on, ignoring Kinnese’s threats. For Planes sake, boy, the box is empty! You’ve done all this for nothing, other than to get yourself killed.”
The Outrider Legion: Book One Page 23
