“Yes. Yes, I should,” she says
She takes to the air.
The prayer releases, and I feel the healing cascade over and through me. It’s nice. I go for one more round of cleansing and healing, then stand.
“Thanks for bailing me out there, Pffif. I knew that flask would come in handy someday.”
He smiles at me, “The flask is handy every day. I’ll be cursed if I know where it went, though.”
Taking his lead, I begin looking for my things and checking them as I find them. The side arms are all right. They get put in their holsters. I check the HK and don’t see any issues. I pull the magazine and view the emptiness.
“You wouldn’t happen to have any more .9mm ammo in that thief bag of yours?”
“I could check.”
Sheyliene buzzes back in and, in a cascade of fairy dust, right-sizes.
“We have incoming. Looks like there’s a bunch of them at the terminal. Some are splitting off to check out what happened here.”
“How many are some,” I ask.
“Maybe a couple dozen,” she says
“Begorrah,” Pffif says. “Ye two look away. I need to hide.”
“Shey, can you fairy dust me some camouflage?”
“Yeah!,” Shey says. “It won’t last long, though, maybe ten minutes. Less if you’re running.”
“Pretty sure I’m running Shey.”
We make our way to the blown-out rear of the building.
She reaches up to her hair and concentrates while scratching around. She pulls her hand down and shakes her head a bit.
“I’ll stay here and cover your trail. If they try to come after you, I’ll end ’em. Now, here you go; get to running.”
She opens her hand, which is full of brown sparkly fairy dandruff. Her wings flutter, and she drops the dust over me.
“Get going; you’re ready.”
I look down at my hands, and they are as clear as glass. This works.
I make my way around to the peeled-back opening at the rear of the building. The Dzemond are approaching. I wait until they are rather close, and as they fan out at the front to inspect, I run. My target is the shot-up hangars where Bravo Group got assaulted by that flying black thing. My run turns to a trot, then a jog. I think I realize what Sheyliene meant. The dust doesn’t just wear off, it can blow off, too.
I put my earpiece back in during the run and click the comm.
“This is Mac. Gate down. Did Greg get back to safety? I sent him with company.”
“No sign of him. Glad to hear he’s okay,” Karred’s voice responds. “We are pinned down at MT with remnants of all teams. Stay clear. Get to …”
The fact that she was cut off couldn’t be good.
I finally reach the hangar. It’s been shredded, but it’s still some cover. I move to the side of the building and follow the wall.
“They’re collapsing the terminal with those gravity grenades,” comes Karred’s voice again over the comm. “Arthur, Find Ahzna. She just left to go out searching for Greg. Find them and get yourselves away from here. We’ll hold on as long as we can.”
Not what I want to hear. I stop and take a deep breath. I shouldn’t be so out of breath. At least we have cover of sorts; I could take another round of healing. Then I feel one of mine return. The sound of metal crunching comes from the distance. I backtrack to the front of this hangar and look across the tarmac and see the hangar building where the gate was deforming and falling in on itself.
I take a step back and concentrate on feeling who returned. It’s Pffiferil.
I reach to his sigil and call him forward.
He looks around and then joins me in keeping a low profile against the shot-up hangar wall.
“See, I got me flask back.” He taps his jacket.
“What happened?”
“Picked some pockets. Got some of them grenade things. They go off pretty easy, ye know.”
“Jesus, Pffif.”
“It weren’t pleasant, but I knew ye’d be bringing me back. They ain’t coming back.”
“Good work. What about Shey?”
“She’s probably chasin’ down survivors an puttin’ them arrows in ’em. Where be the others?”
“Main terminal. It sounds bad. We’re supposed to gather who we can and get the heck out.”
“Likin’ the sound of that plan, Master Arthur.”
“Yeah, can you keep an eye out? I need a little more healing before we go searching for Greg and survivors.”
“How we supposed to find ’em?”
“I have a hound dog.”
Chapter 67
“Commander Ehzig, should we not be attacking with the others? That is where Ahtsag Znuul hides,” P’Melk asks.
“I’m in no hurry to die, P’Melk. You shouldn’t be, either,” Ehzig says, scanning the terrain. He turns to the three Vetisghar with them. “Nobody should be.”
“What is your plan, commander?”
“Lay low. See what happens. Make an intelligent decision. Only idiots rush headlong into death.”
“So if they kill him?”
“They’ve done our work for us, with no risk to us.”
P’Melk cracks a smile across his canine-like face.
“I like how you command.”
“The commander is wise,” one of the Vetisghar says in agreement.
“What of the human insurgents?” another Vetisghar asks.
“Not our mission. That’s unnecessary engagement.”
P’Melk and the Vetisghar all nod to each other in agreement of their commander’s wisdom as good subordinates should.
“We should get a better view,” Ehzig says, looking around. “Atop this building should offer a better look.”
“You are the only one with wings, commander,” P’Melk says.
“True. But I can carry you up. All of you.”
“Perhaps best that some stay on the ground. Just in case of the unforeseen,” P’Melk offers.
“Good thinking, P’Melk. I’ll bring you and one of the Vetisghar up. We should be able to monitor everything well enough. You, you are coming,” Ehzig says, pointing to one of the Vetisghar.
“Remaining Vetisghar, make sure we are secure from the ground,” P’Melk says.
“It shall be done,” they say in unison.
Ehzig lifts the designated Vetisghar to the roof, then returns for P’Melk. Once on the roof, Ehzig notes the condition of the gate hangar. The sight makes him pause. He can’t imagine any survivors, the building having imploded on itself as if from multiple singularity grenades. The outside of the building at front and rear shows scorching as if from a great explosion.
“Perhaps the Dzemond Collective has underestimated this race,” P’Melk says, breaking Ehzig’s concentration.
“Maybe. It’s only a matter of time until another gate is set and opened, though. This realm will fall as all do who face us.”
Ehzig pulls his bulky helmet off and takes his Dzemond binoculars in hand to scan the hangar and surrounding area, noting the crashed, smoking needle craft embedded in the tarmac.
“One looks to escape the siege of the terminal,” says the Vetisghar. “It is not human; perhaps it runs from a failed infiltration. It is on wing. Baalig most likely. Maybe it is him, fleeing.”
Ehzig, curious, walks over and sees the winged entity flying away from the main terminal, heading roughly in their direction at a brisk pace. It dives down behind another large warehouse out of sight. He raises the binoculars and scans the ground.
P’Melk was the first to notice Ehzig’s reaction. His jaw clenches and hands tremble while holding the binoculars. When he puts the binoculars down, it’s plain to see his hands were trembling in rage, not fear.
“Traitorous waste of resources,” he says. “She must die.”
“Who?” asks P’Melk.
P’Melk regrets asking the question immediately as the once reasonable commander turns on him with murderous rage.
“It’s personal. And I am going to attend to it, personally. Do you have an issue with that, Hjuulak?”
P’Melk takes a step back, then realizes with a few more steps he will be falling off the hangar.
“How may we assist, commander?” asks the Vetisghar, breaking the tension.
“Yes. How may we assist you?” P’Melk asks.
Ehzig takes a deep breath and appears to recover from his rage.
“This is personal. Very personal. You may assist me by killing that walking pile of spider crap if, for some reason, I can’t. But her life is mine to take. She will understand the depth of my hate. I must go.”
Ehzig turns and unfurls his wings.
“You’re just going to leave us up here?” P’Melk asks.
Ehzig turns around and looks a little embarrassed.
“My apologies. I’m just a bit pre-occupied. Let’s get you two down. Oh, yes, and just in case – names for everyone. Now.”
Chapter 68
I reach to my will and call out a compelling to Arix. He has to hear it.
“Situate yourselves. I am coming. I’ll wait two minutes then call Hjuul to me. He can bring me to you.”
It’s a one-way communication, but I know it works. I look over to Pffiferil.
“We’ll get moving shortly.”
“Don’t call me shortly.”
I laugh, I’m sure that was his intention. The smile on his face assures me of that fact.
We wait a while in silence until I feel enough time has passed.
I touch my will again and send a compelling to Hjuul.
“Hjuul, find me.”
“Might as well meet him halfway,” I say to Pffiferil.
“If we had an idea of where that be.”
“This way,” I say with a shrug and begin moving.
From the sound of things, the conflict appears to be primarily at the main terminal. There are the sounds of gunfire and sporadic explosions. Reaching another street, I look for enemies and see none. My view of the terminal shows another tornado, this one not quite the F-5 spectacle seen before.
We scurry across the street, and I feel it’s best to cut right. No explanation for that feeling; it’s just what I go with. We follow along the buildings and across another street. We follow that building for cover, and I look around the corner to see if anything is awaiting us.
In the middle of the intersection, I see what appears to be Ahzna, based on the armor, and another of her kind in human clothes with a bright white T-shirt and bulky helmet. They are in intense hand-to-hand combat. The two both have plasma swords, Ahzna’s being a smaller short-sword variety. They strike at each other relentlessly. Each warrior appears to anticipate the other’s moves, responses, and reactions. They clash again; then Ahzna leaps back, taking to an unnaturally low, wide stance.
The other Baalig pauses for a moment at the strange stance and adjusts itself. Then it charges in with a slide, the point of its sword coming in first. Ahzna rolls out of the low stance avoiding the blow. He pivots and slices in what should be a perfect strike, but Ahzna somehow catches his arm.
I see that arm fall to the ground after she lets go of it and swings the sword around low, cleaving his leg off above the knee. She sweeps his remaining leg, and he falls catching himself with his arm-stump.
Her back now blocking my view, I see her raise her sword and tear his bulky helmet off, and it goes flying to the side.
Then she pauses. Her sword is ready to strike, she doesn’t. I can’t figure it.
But apparently he does, as there’s a blinding flash followed by the silhouette of her body twisting through the air and landing hard on the ground.
He’s been blown backward and is lying on his back.
The first thought running through my mind is Znuul. He’s bound to that evil bitch. I take off running toward her. I’m not going to let my friend die because of her. I skid to a stop once reaching her, and I don’t like what I see. Her left side has been torn open. There’s bleeding, but apparently whatever he used on her cauterized the majority of the wound. Her armor is making “slicka” sounds, the nanites trying to figure out how to cover everything up.
I move for the pouch with the healing potions. I pull the last one out, take the stopper off, and drizzle some of the potion on the open wound before the nanites seal her up. I take the back of her head in my hand and lift her up. Her eyes open.
“Drink this. Now.”
I pour the liquid into her mouth slowly. Her darting red eyes show confusion and pain. I lay her head back on the pavement gently. I begin the chanting for my largest healing prayer. If there ever was a time, it was now.
I release the energy into her. Her body heaves and bends upward from the ground. She rolls over and tries not to vomit. I’m guessing that partially blown-away midsection included some stomach. I roll her over to her back.
“I’m going to need to cast upon you again.”
She nods acknowledgment to me.
I begin the chant for my secondary healing spell but am interrupted by the shout from behind me.
“Kar forgum grn zmlak gorn, Ahzna!”
I turn around and see the other guy has sat up. His face terribly burnt, the other hand he had is gone now from whatever it was he used on Ahzna. While I don’t understand exactly what he’s saying, but I think I get the gist – “I’m going to kill you, Ahzna.”
His burned face turns from her to me. That is one pissed-off Baalig.
He leans down to the ground, using his stump to brace himself and uses his one remaining leg to propel himself at us. I’m knocked to the side by the impact of his shoulder and spill across the asphalt.
I regain my composure and see him atop Ahzna trying to beat the snot out of her with his stumps. She’s barely defending herself.
He has some hate. I happen to have some myself. I reach down to it again, feel it, shape it, name it, and send it his way as a wave of force named, “Tznok!”
Mr. Hateful gets knocked across the pavement. Some say payback is a bitch. I say payback is here. He begins to collect himself, and Pffiferil appears, dagger in hand. He slices off the end of Mr. Hateful’s tail.
Mr. Hateful screams.
Pffiferil jumps away, then jumps back in, only to be caught by a forearm stump and catapulted away.
The tail was a smart strike as Baalig’s have a stinger at the end of their tails. Mr. Angry begins to set himself up to lunge again.
I’m thinking a hat-trick. Yeah, no weapon in hand doesn’t mean I don’t have weapons. I begin the calling to the death coil. His burned face and mostly blinded eyes turn in my direction. He says something I am sure isn’t polite. I just smile and keep with the conjuring.
He looks away and senses Ahzna starting to try to move. He lunges at her again on his one good leg.
The coil is swelling and building inside of me. I start running, muscles of corded steel or not, he’s a body in motion with no grounding. I bend my head down, and shoulder-check him in mid-air. It’s not quite NFL-worthy, but it does the job as I break his trajectory and spill him to the side.
I get up as he’s still trying to get his bearings. I dive into him and shove my thumb in one of his burnt eyes and release the coil. I try to hook into his torso with my legs, but a clubbing blow from one of his stump-arms has me almost seeing stars. Not wanting another, I shift my posture and snag his arm with my legs.
I’m still no match for his strength, but at least he’s not pelting my brain. The coil well inserted, I start to pull on his life. His other arm whacks me, and I my vision blurs. There’s another thump, and I’m about ready to go out.
Then he stops. I think it must be the coil until my vision clears and I see my hound buddy Hjuul with a mouth full of Mr. Hateful’s arm. Somehow I kept my thumb in his eye socket, and I’m feeling the surge of this guy’s life draining into me.
This is so much better than Mr. Deathball. I could do this all day.
But as all good things tend to do, the life si
phon stops, his brittle arm breaks off in Hjuul’s mouth, and I look down at his dried-out, life-sucked husk.
“Yeah! Screw with me, bitch.”
It feels like the right thing to say.
I look away and see a group of four enemies heading my way. One squeezes off a round from whatever gun it has. I move in the nick of time.
“Yeah. Come get some death,” I scream out and punt Mr. Hateful’s head off his brittle body, the dust of his muscles and flesh pushing up a small cloud.
Hjuul jumps in front of me, all snarls and growls.
They stop.
“Come on,” I shout. I want to eat their spirits, too.
I grab the bag of bug bodies Arix gave me. The incantation comes so naturally, so quickly. I toss the bag to the air and yell, “Attack!”
The body parts light up and begin to swarm at the group of four.
Heck, attack wasn’t even the release phrase Arix taught me. I am a fricking necromantic god.
The swarm converges on the first of the group that foolishly shot at me.
The others take note, turn, and run before the swarm of undead bug missiles can get them.
Hjuul starts off, then stops to look back at me.
“No, boy, let ’em run.”
I scream to let the world know I’m here. And it should fear me.
Chapter 69
My moment of superiority is ended by two simple words from Pffiferil.
“You done?”
I look at him in disbelief.
“Thinkin’ rather than challengin’ the whole damn Dzemond army to a fight, we might take our wounded to safety.”
“Yeah,” I say, trying to collect myself.
“Well, we best be getting out of the middle of the damned street, ye think?”
“Yeah.”
With Pffiferil’s help, we pick Ahzna up and drape her across Hjuul’s sturdy back. She stirs a bit.
“Just relax and ride,” I tell her, coughing a bit.
“Yer not sounding so good.”
“I feel like a god, Pffif. Hjuul, take us to Arix and Greg.”
Mid-Arc Page 155
