He was surrounded by thousands of obedient man-serpents. The creatures listened intently as their master shouted out orders that Sigrid couldn’t hear. It seemed that his servants were abandoning their grisly work. Coiled up on their tails and rearing into the air, ever more of them gathered around to hear their master’s words.
That was when Sigrid realized that she had flown too low and had attracted the attention of several man-serpents. Hissing loudly, they pointed to the sky. Soon thousands of them were staring up and hissing viciously at the careening Night Witches. As Sigrid swooped by, she saw their master snap his head around and glare at her with his yellow reptilian eyes. To her surprise, he smiled.
Well aware that attacking would be suicide, Sigrid did her best to dig her wings into the night air and gain some altitude. Her fourteen Night Witches followed her, but not one of them knew that the Viper Lord commanded the craft. Realizing that he was seeing theJin’Sai ’s winged servants for the first time, Khristos eagerly raised his staff.
The azure bolt that soared skyward was unlike any that Sigrid and her brave Night Witches had ever seen. It pierced the dark night as a narrow beam and hurtled straight toward the center of their group. Then the bolt suddenly flattened out and exploded with an eardrum-shattering bang.
Eight of Sigrid’s witches died immediately, their bodies, heads, and wings ripped apart by the bolt. Two more were burned beyond the ability to stay airborne, and they crashed to the bloody cobblestone square. The savage man-serpents set on them at once, tearing off their leather armor and ripping their bodies apart even before they could lift their heads. To the delight of their fellows, the creatures lifted the warriors’ body parts high and paraded them about the square. Others writhed among themselves in orgiastic triumph.
Sigrid and the three remaining witches were burned but remained airborne. She immediately screamed out an order to head south, but even as the words left her mouth she realized that it was too late. Just as they started to turn, another azure bolt from Khristos’ staff came tearing through the air.
The second bolt proved equally deadly. When it exploded, it killed Sigrid’s three remaining witches immediately. This time Sigrid became showered with blood and bits of destroyed organs and bone. She survived only because her fellow witches had been behind her and their bodies had absorbed most of the blast.
Although she lived, Sigrid was shocked to the point that she could barely fly. Dazed and weakened, she too started tumbling down. Desperately trying to think, she groggily realized that she needed to break her fall. As she tried to straighten out her wings and regain control, the best that she could do was to head toward one of the few thatch-roofed buildings that wasn’t ablaze. As she tumbled through the air she knew that the end was near.
Then from somewhere she heard Duvessa’s stern voice counsel her again. “You’re a Night Witch!” the voice said.“Never give up-never surrender! Think! Do whatever you must to stay alive!”
Summoning her strength, Sigrid snapped her wings closed to protect them. She then took her dreggan tightly into both hands and did her best to raise it over her head. Just before she crashed into the roof, she brought the razor-sharp blade down with everything she had left.
She felt the blade slice into the bundled straw and cut straight through a slender roof joist, clearing a path for her to fall through. Suddenly her dreggan struck against something hard and metallic, the blow resonating so strongly that the sword was knocked from her hand.
Amid a hail of dust and loose straw she tumbled end over end into the building. At the same time a great ringing sound suddenly tormented her ears as if she were standing in some great steeple and someone was madly ringing its bell. As she crashed into the room, two more resounding explosions came from overhead, combining with the mysterious clanging to create a deafening cacophony.
Tearing through the roof, she tumbled the rest of the way down to crash hard upon a wooden worktable. Like a dry twig being snapped in two, she heard as much as felt her left forearm break. Then the table collapsed under her weight and she smashed hard onto the stone floor. Her eyes closed and her head lolled over to one side. Some time passed; she would never know how much.
As she lay there, a dense fog seemed to surround her. Her body felt weightless, her mind without care. Is this what it means to be dead? she wondered. Her thoughts seemed forlorn and far away, like the plaintive cry of a lonely wolf. Were those noises I heard the sacred death bells that our graybeards talk about when a valiant warrior dies in battle and goes to the Afterlife?
Groaning, Sigrid opened her eyes. Lying on her back, she looked up to see the lifesaving cut she had made in the thatched roof. A dark patch of sky lay beyond, silently embracing its network of twinkling stars. Then the pain in her broken left arm reached out to bite her. She groaned again and used her good arm to cradle her bad one.
It seems I’m not dead after all, she realized. But where am I? Then her mind cleared and she remembered what had happened. Her blood ran cold as the deadly nature of her predicament set in.
Sitting up was a huge struggle; standing was an even greater one. She hobbled to lean against a wooden beam and took stock of herself. She hurt everywhere. Night Witch blood, bone, and flesh still clung to her skin and body armor. Her returning wheel remained fastened to her hip, but her dreggan was missing. Miraculously, only her left arm seemed to be broken. She could still fly, but fighting would prove difficult. Then she remembered the terrible man-serpents and their powerful master. She snapped her head around, all her senses on alert.
Why haven’t they come for me? she wondered. Perhaps the blinding light of the second explosion shielded my crash through the roof. If not, the terrible things will be on me in moments. But what caused all those awful clanging noises? Didn’t the man-serpents hear them, or did the last two explosions mask them?
Sigrid looked around to see her sword lying in the pool of moonlight filtering down through the hole in the roof. She hobbled toward it and picked it up. At least I will die with a dreggan in my hand, she thought. Then she looked around the room, and the reason for all the clanging noises became evident.
She had crashed straight through the thatched roof of a bellmaker’s shop. Cast iron bells of all descriptions hung from the ceiling and from wooden crossbraces and lay scattered across numerous work tables. A hearth full of dwindling coals lay on one side of the room. A massive bellows stood beside it as if waiting for the bell master to return and use it to set the hearth glowing brightly again. More tables held variously sized bell knockers, casts, and odd bits of hardware. An old sign that had seen better days hung crookedly on one wall, reading “House of Ryburn and Sons, Bellsmiths.”
Then Sigrid remembered her dreggan striking something hard after it sliced through the roof joist. One of the bells, she realized. A quick look at her sword showed that its blade was undamaged. Bless our Minion swordsmiths, she thought.
Suddenly she heard a sharp scream pierce the night. It seemed to come from the square. She turned in that direction to see a smashed-out window frame in the far wall, moonlight streaming through it onto the dirty floor. Cradling her left arm, she quietly crept toward the opening and peered outside. She soon discovered what was occupying the man-serpents’ attention.
Eight of the brave Night Witches from Valda’s group were being systematically impaled. Like Sigrid’s group, the rest must have been killed while airborne. That explains the last two explosions I heard, she realized. In anguish, Sigrid watched the grisly process unfold. Tears formed in her eyes as her fellow Night Witches began dying one by one.
Tyra was the first to suffer. She was already stripped naked and standing before the serpent master. He seemed to regard her with particular interest-perhaps because he had never seen a Minion before, Sigrid supposed. Finally he seemed satisfied. He snapped his fingers and his servants began the grisly process.
As four of the awful creatures impaled Tyra she screamed insanely and fought back as best she could, but it was
no use. Soon the hideous task was finished, and the lower end of the sharpened stake was pounded into the ground among the bloody cobblestones. Then the dark master walked toward Valda, the next Night Witch waiting in line. As he neared, she shouted out a Minion epithet, then spat in his face. Unperturbed, the serpent master nodded, and the process started anew.
Nearly insane with desperation, Sigrid grasped her dreggan handle so tightly that her knuckles went white. She tried to ignore Valda’s screams, but it was no use. How she wanted to go charging into the square and somehow get close enough to the mysterious serpent master to cut him down! But she knew that would be suicide. Her chest heaving, she turned her back toward the wall and slid down it, squatting on her haunches. Placing the cool dreggan blade flat against her forehead, she closed her eyes.
Think! she ordered herself. You’re a Night Witch Commander! What will you do?
Suddenly Duvessa’s training returned. “Always remember these words, Night Witches,” she had warned them.“Your first responsibility is to survey and report, regardless of the circumstances. Bring your precious information home at all costs. Worry not for your own life. Because you are a Minion, it ended the instant you were born.”
Sigrid realized that she had to find a way to escape and get home. But that would mean leaving her sisters to their awful fates. Can I really do it, she wondered, only to forever know that I abandoned them?
She opened her eyes and looked around again. Perhaps there was another way out of the bell shop. If she could find it she might be able to take to the dark sky unnoticed. After several nerve-racking moments she saw a wooden door in the back wall. She looked again around the abandoned shop. What few exits she found were not promising.
There were few ways out. Using the front door or the smashed window frame was out of the question because each faced the square, and every other window was too small to crawl through. The gaping hole in the roof was a possibility, but she would need two uninjured arms to climb up and reach it. The only alternative was the far door, but she had no idea what horrors might lie beyond it.
Deciding that she had no other choice, she quietly crept for the far door. About halfway there she heard a strange tinkling that sounded like breaking glass. Holding her dreggan high, she swiveled around to look. Her blood ran cold.
One of the horrible man-serpents was slithering through the smashed window frame that she had just abandoned. Because the thing was about the size of a man, it barely fit through. As it came, bits of broken glass still lodged in the woodwork scratched at its body, became dislodged, and fell to the floor. Fully intent on squirming its way into the room, the monster hadn’t seen Sigrid. Holding her dreggan high with her good arm, the Night Witch quietly retreated, melting into the shadows.
Using its strong arms, the monster finally forced its way into the room. It quietly dropped free of the window frame and started slithering across the floor. After traveling a few feet, it stopped. Coiling its spotted tail, the thing reared into the air, much like a Eutracian cobra just before it strikes. Its yellow eyes darted around the room. After letting go a soft hiss, the beast opened its mouth and its red, forked tongue slithered forth to test the dank air.
Sigrid held stock-still, waiting for her chance. Can the thing smell me with its tongue? she wondered. Despite the coolness of the night, sweat started beading on her forehead and her hands became slippery. As the awful thing hissed again and tested the air, Sigrid did her best to steel her resolve.
She considered running for the nearby door, but then she realized that it might be locked. She could probably smash the lock open with her dreggan, but she didn’t know how fast the man-serpent was, and losing those precious seconds could kill her. And so she waited. Come to me, you vile bastard, she prayed. Come to me and we will do this thing.
Hissing loudly, the man-serpent started savagely ransacking the room. It seemed oblivious to the great ruckus it was making. Using its muscular arms it crazily scattered bells, threw hardware, and upended furniture as it scoured the place, searching for more Night Witches. Sigrid cringed as she begged that the clamor wouldn’t attract more of the awful things into the shop.
She looked down at the returning wheel attached to her left hip. She was an expert at throwing the wheel-some said that she ranked among the best. In these close quarters, missing was almost unthinkable. If she launched the wheel at the beast from the darkness of her hiding place, the thing would never know what hit it. Given all the noise the beast was making, even if the wheel sliced straight through it and struck one of the interior walls, the crash would surely mix with the ongoing clamor. But if she was going to do it, it must happen before the awful thing stopped rummaging about. She desperately needed to escape, and time was fleeting.
Silently sheathing her sword, she reached down to her left hip and freed the shiny, saw-toothed wheel from its carrying place. Raising it high, she drew it back over her left shoulder, coiled the muscles in her throwing arm, and waited. The beast was still rifling through the shop, angrily scattering things and turning over furniture with abandon. Just a little closer, she silently pleaded.
As though it had read her thoughts, the man-serpent suddenly stopped to listen. When it heard nothing, it used its long tail to propel it nearer the center of the room, scattering more objects as it went. Sigrid tried to calm her heartbeat, but suddenly her broken left arm shouted at her again, making her wince. Steadying herself once more, she watched the awful thing come nearer.
That’s right, she begged silently as the thing slithered closer yet. The red tongue appeared again to quickly taste the air, then disappeared back into the grotesque mouth.
Come to me, Sigrid thought. Come closer and taste my sharp surprise.
Still the monster neared. The time had come.
Throwing the wheel with everything she had, Sigrid held her breath and watched it go spinning across the room.
The monster’s reflexes were amazing. As the throwing wheel flashed through the beam of moonlight shining down through the hole in the roof, the beast moved with unheard-of speed and dropped straight to the floor. Sigrid watched in horror as her wheel flew harmlessly above the beast only to bury itself in the far wall.
Knowing that she had no other choice, the night witch drew her dreggan and quietly stepped from the shadows. Hearing Sigrid’s blade ring out, the monster snapped its head around and let go a vicious hiss. It quickly coiled upright again, its yellow eyes flashing greedily as they finally sighted their prey. Without hesitation it reared back, then launched straight for her.
As the creature sped near, Sigrid swung her dreggan in a flat arc, hoping to separate the monster’s head from its body with one swing. But again the man-serpent was too fast.
The beast deftly sideslipped the blow, and the dreggan severed nothing but air. Before Sigrid could summon another swing, the monster dropped flat to the floor again, this time raising its powerful tail. The tail cracked through the air like a bullwhip, its far end wrapping tightly around the hilt of Sigrid’s dreggan. The beast quickly snapped its tail again, ripping the sword from Sigrid’s grip and sending it flying across the room.
The precious dreggan skidded across the floor and disappeared into the shadows, putting the man-serpent squarely between Sigrid and her fallen weapon. The Night Witch nearly panicked as she realized that her sword might as well be ten leagues away for all the good it did her now.
As the beast hissed and glared at her, Sigrid quickly reached down to unsheathe her Minion dagger, but it wasn’t there. She had no time to mourn the loss, for the terrible creature suddenly launched itself at her again. Sure that she was about to die, Sigrid charged forward to meet it.
As the two enemies clashed in the center of the room, the monster swiftly took each of Sigrid’s wrists into his hands. The pain in her broken left arm lashed out and Sigrid screamed, exposing her injury. Seizing on its unexpected advantage, the monster let go of her right wrist while tightening his grip on her left one. Screaming again, Si
grid had no choice but to drop to her knees.
Helpless, she watched the awful thing move its face near hers. The terrible mouth opened again. Sigrid tried to turn away as the monster sent its tongue sliding over first one of her cheeks and then the other, exploring them, tasting them. Finally the awful tongue retreated into the waiting mouth.
Knowing that Sigrid was beaten, the thing finally let go. Pointing to the front door of the shop, it hissed again. There could be no question about what it wanted, Sigrid realized. She was to leave the shop as his prisoner. Like Valda and the other Night Witches, she would soon be impaled at the viper master’s pleasure.
There was only one more weapon available to her. It was one that all Minions were born with, one that they carried forever after, and one that Sigrid knew how to use with deadly expertise. It was her last hope, but she was too close to the beast to use it. Everything depended on her gaining some distance from the monster, and the timing had to be perfect.
She nodded submissively, suggesting her surrender. The monster smiled and pointed toward the door, silently ordering her to go first. Clearly he had no intention of turning his back on her. Putting on her best look of defeat, Sigrid shuffled past the beast, then quickly put some precious distance between them. The man-serpent hadn’t counted on her marching to her death so quickly, and that was just what Sigrid had hoped.
When she was about two meters away she abruptly stopped, then turned to the right, placing her at right angles with her captor. Summoning every bit of strength remaining, she snapped open her right wing.
The man-serpent never saw it coming. As Sigrid’s wing flew open, its hard-boned leading edge caught the monster directly across the throat. At first the thing just stood there, gasping and retching. Sigrid immediately retracted her wing and repeated the blow. This time it struck the beast in the forehead. As the light went out of its eyes, its neck made a cracking sound. The thing’s head fell rearward to dangle at an unnatural angle. Then the man-serpent collapsed like a house of cards, dead before it hit the floor.
Rise of the Blood Royal dobas-3 Page 19
