Against the Beast

by R. J. Batla

  “There you are, Ranger,” the Skeptor said, throwing aside the entire debris pile that had Royn pinned. “Attack!”

  With a snarl, smaller badger-like creatures launched themselves at Royn. Where were the orcs? He slashed with his sword, cutting down several of the fiends. Others roared. Royn said, “Air Wall!” and pushed with both hands. Condensed air shot out from him in a burst, flinging back his attackers, giving him room. Blood clouded his vision as he tried to see an escape route, some way to get out.

  But there was none. He was hemmed in.

  Think, Royn, think! Teleport! He could teleport! He tried, but his power failed, and nothing happened. No, no, no, not now! His head was too clouded to do it correctly, too beat up and weak. He couldn’t concentrate.

  The creatures leapt into another attack, and again Royn repelled them, their bodies lying all around. “Air Slice!” Sword thrusts kept them at bay, until so many were dead they buried him to the waist. Then to the shoulders. Then he lost his sword.

  “Halt!” another eerie voice echoed from his left, and the badger-things stopped in their tracks, then backed away, leaving Royn with only one arm and his head above the dead. Then the Skeptor was directly in front of him.

  From around a building stepped a second Skeptor. Holy crap, there were two of them!

  “You fight well, Ranger. It’s always a pleasure when our prey shows so much spirit. It makes it much more sporting for us, don’t you think? You will make an excellent addition to our collection.” It looked at the other Skeptor. “The stones aren’t working exactly right; we need to tweak the formula. This one”—he pointed at Royn— “will make an excellent test subject.”

  It’s over. I’ve failed. Failed myself. Failed these people. Failed everyone.

  Both the Skeptors walked toward him, then leaned over to grab him. One of the badger-creatures got spooked and bolted in front of the first Skeptor, tripping it. The Skeptor stumbled and very slightly touched the second on the shoulder as it regained its balance.

  The second Skeptor came unglued, screaming and flailing his harms. “Idiot!” he said, flames covering his hands as he blasted the other Skeptor with such force that it knocked him thirty feet away, “You know the dangers! Be careful!”

  Bleeding profusely, Royn hardly cared what they were fighting about. He wasn’t going to live to find out anyway.

  The second Skeptor started walking back toward him, then stopped. Both creatures whipped their heads to the north, some inaudible sound drawing their attention. One whistled, and both of them and the other creatures immediately set off at a trot.

  Odd. Bloodied, battered, and bruised, Royn passed out again.

  Chapter 8

  “Hurry, before they come back,” someone said. “That distress call won’t keep them busy for long.”

  “Shut it, he’s heavy. I can’t lift him by myself! Come on, help me!”

  “Dash it all, do I have to do everything?”

  Royn couldn’t even groan. Drifting in and out of consciousness, he sensed he’d been placed on a bed. Someone fed him. A healer was brought in. They weren’t very good, but the purple energy from their hands eased the pain enough for Royn to sit up, catch a blurred glimpse of female forms tending to him, then crash back down on the bed.

  He couldn’t tell how much time went by. Sleeping was broken up by small bouts of awareness, where he was fed, watered, bathed, then went right back to sleeping.

  Finally the haze cleared, his strength started to return, and he sat up. He looked around for the first time at the room he was in: bare planks of wood for walls, simple wooden bed, a chair, nightstand, and dirt floor. That was it. In fact, the room appeared to be the entire building.

  Suddenly the door burst open, and three extremely dirty women came in, one with food, one with water, and the other with shaking hands lit up with purple healing energy. “Ah, he’s awake! Only took two weeks. Fragile Easterners...can’t take a little monster coming to town.”

  “Ethel, it was a Dealer. Two Dealers, actually. Lucky for him we know their distress call...”

  Royn said, “That was you? Thank you, thank you very much. I thought I was dead.”

  “You would have been,” Ethel said. “We almost didn’t make it out with you anyway. Damn things came back too fast, almost walked right over us.”

  “Not sure it matters,” the healer said, getting to work on Royn. “After taking out that Easterner Fort, they will have everything they need.”

  “Um...everything they need to do what, ma’am?”

  “Why, everything they need to create their army. Lord knows why they need it, but they’ve tried this before, and it almost worked. Killed a lot of people before they were stopped by some powerful Senturian round about Sior Lake.”

  Oh no. “What will your people do? Surely you can leave, get out of here, get away...”

  “This is our home. Here, eat this. Besides, we don’t have anywhere else to go.”

  “So what will you do?”

  The healer shrugged. “Die, most likely. But, you never know, something might happen. The good Lord might send a miracle our way.”

  Royn started to get up.

  “And just where do you think you’re going?”

  “I’m going to stop them,” Royn said.

  “Not on my watch! You’re half dead!”

  “That means I’m half alive.”

  All three put their hands on their hips at the same time. “Are you seriously considering going after these things?”

  Royn walked over to his clothes—freshly cleaned and pressed—and started dressing and strapping on gear. They’d even grabbed his sword while they were pulling him out, thank God. “Who else is going to? A good man has to act to prevent evil when it’s in his power to stop it. Protect those who are weaker than yourself. Or at least try.”

  They all exchanged looks, then one said, “Then you’re gonna need this.” They loaded him down with food, supplies, water, and weapons. “Take these,” the healer said, handing him some beans. “They’ll replenish your energy supply plus some. But you’ll have a splitting headache when they wear off, so don’t take them all at once.”

  Royn cracked a smile. “Thanks, ladies.” He unfolded a map and spread it on the table, talking to himself. “Now where was that cave...”

  “Oh, you mean their hideout?”

  “Wait, what?”

  Another laughed. “Yeah, their hideout—you know, where they hide? Here.” She pointed, and Royn marked it just at the foothills of the Shadow Mountains, not five miles from Fort Highway. Or where Fort Highway used to be.

  “So they must’ve been here around a lot if you know where their base is?”

  “We done told you they’ve tried this before. And most times there’s always one lurking about somewhere anyway. You live out here, you learn to steer clear of them if you value your hide being attached to your body.”

  “Do you know why can’t they touch each other?” Royn asked.

  They all shrugged. “We’ve never seen them try. They mostly work alone, but when they’re in pairs...come to think of it, they hardly ever get close at all. Interesting. Ranger?”

  “Yes?” Royn said, strapping on his last bit of gear and turning toward the door.

  “Why are you doing this? You don’t owe us nothing. Doesn’t make sense—helping people you don’t even know? People who—for the most part—wouldn’t care if you were dead or alive?”

  Royn scratched his now two-week-old stubble. “It’s the right thing to do. Doesn’t mean it’s the easy thing. But it’s the right thing. That’s reason enough for me.”

  They nodded. “You’d better hurry. You haven’t got much time. Tonight’s the full moon. That’s when they launched their attack last time. Good luck, Ranger.”

  “Thank you again, ladies. I’m going to need it.”

  Stepping outside, Royn still felt a little weak. Time for a bean, I think, before I get started. Let’s see if they know what they’re doi
ng. He popped it in and swallowed. Nothing happened. Then his eyes went wide, insects crawled all over his skin while burning irons were pressed on his hands and feet. It burned! It burned! But the burst rejuvenated Royn, pumping up his power. He grinned. I think I have a chance now.

  He shook his head, bouncing on his heels. All right, Royn. You’ve held to your principles. To what the Good Book says. Now you have to live it. He took a deep breath. Then another. And in a flash a blue, he was gone.

  The power boost from the bean and the coordinates from the ladies honed his teleportation, and he popped back into reality just where he wanted. His lungs filled with moist air, the waterfall casting droplets onto the whole area. Mist covered the upper branches where he’d teleported as well as the ground below, leaving an open space sandwiched in the middle. Scanning, he found nothing out of the ordinary. Nothing moving. It was quiet. Too quiet.

  If he was going to have any kind of success, the ground needed clearing. Seeing where he was stepping could mean the difference between living and dying. Smooth Breeze! He pushed his hands gently, alternating left to right, as a soft wind picked up at dirt level, rolling the mist slightly but doing the job of clearing it, revealing moss covered soil, flat as a pancake.

  And still nothing moved.

  Sliding down the tree as quietly as he could, he used air to cushion his landing as he dropped soundlessly to the earth. Tiptoeing—taking extreme caution with each step—he worked his way through the forest, using every piece of cover available to make it directly in front of the caves. Still nothing moved. The dark maws held no answers for him, staring back with its emptiness. Two big eyes watching him.

  Daring him.

  Royn shifted again, moving ever closer, ghosting behind a large boulder. Checking the cave mouths again, he took one more step, repositioning slightly.

  A stone shifted under his feet, making an almost inaudible noise. A horn sounded. Damnit.

  Three power-infused orcs burst into the clearing, bearing down on his hiding spot, roaring and waving their weapons. Ugh, of course. Royn drew his sword, energizing it as he went, and teleported, appearing low and in front of the left orc, already swinging, taking out its legs with a hiss of burning flesh, sending it tumbling. Teleporting on its back and thrusting down, the orc died as his blade pierced its heart.

  It must have pierced something else, because the damn orc exploded, flinging Royn off and into the trees in a spray of red light and innards. Grabbing branches, he brought himself to a halt, frantically searching to find the other two.

  They weren’t on the ground. Scrambling noises from below redirected his attention. They were climbing the trees! One on either tree next to him, they would be there in seconds. Royn dropped to the ground, falling between the orcs.

  “Air Blades!” he screamed, extending his arms. Four-foot razor sharp swords of air emerged from his fists, slicing right through the leather armor, skin, and bones of the orcs, setting off two more explosions. But he was well past them.

  “Cushion!” he said, thrusting his arms down, blowing a pillow of air into existence, slowing his fall enough to make the landing relatively soft. Branches and trees crashed behind him as he ran. Waiting until the noise stopped, he turned, facing the caves again.

  When he saw what awaited him, he popped the second bean in his mouth and chewed. Again there was a rush of power, almost intoxicating as he readied himself. He had a feeling he was going to need the extra power coursing through his veins to win this fight. Even that might not be enough.

  Two figures stood, one in front of each cave. “This one has caused us enough trouble, brother. I think it’s time we rid ourselves of this pest.” The nightmarish creatures threw off their cloaks, reveling entirely bone-covered bodies, like their skeletons were on the outside. Hundreds of bones ground and clanked together as they reached behind their hideous tooth-filled heads to their backs and drew huge broadswords, each made of bone and sinew, the blades a foot wide at the base and arcing up to a sharp point. They growled and leapt at the Ranger.

  Chapter 9

  Royn parried the sword from the left Skeptor and threw up an air shield on his right. Steel clanged against bone as the two traded blows. The second one broke through the air shield quickly and thrust at Royn’s midsection.

  Royn teleported at the last second, the creature’s sword hitting nothing but blue light. Growling, they advanced on his new position, circling around again. Clearly they meant to keep his attention divided. The left one started in again, and Royn counterattacked, matching the strikes with his own as the second one circled and jumped in again. Thank God for his Ranger training, or he wouldn’t have lasted ten seconds against these things.

  “Flying Knives!” Royn called, arcing his arm and sending dozens of daggers of sharpened air at the Skeptor. They imbedded themselves in the bone, but didn’t penetrate, didn’t even slow the thing down. Again Royn teleported away at the last second.

  They continued to circle, and this time Royn put everything he had into his sword work, until he found an opening. “Aha!” he said, driving his blade right into a Skeptor’s chest.

  It clanged and bounced harmlessly off the bone armor, the force prying the sword from his hands. “No!” he said, teleporting away, then right back to get his sword and away again too fast for them to react. Damn that was close.

  Five more times they circled and advanced, each time Royn throwing a different attack at the second Skeptor, and five more times Royn teleported away. But there was a problem. Royn’s energy was draining quickly—the second bean was wearing off, his reserves already depleted. He was weaker than he thought. He hadn’t fully recovered. He shouldn’t have come. The Skeptors circled again. Like vultures. Might as well be. One of these times they were going to get him. Just a matter of time. How could he win this battle? His attacks fell right off of them, nothing stuck. He was severely out matched.

  What is that blasted buzzing? Royn dodged a sword attack and deflected a fireball with an air blast.

  “Now.”

  From behind him the second Skeptor launched another fireball. Diving away, the heat singed his clothes as he tucked and rolled on the landing, immediately jumping up before he was blasted again.

  “Now.”

  Another attack from behind him! He dove away, this time narrowly avoiding a hurled boulder. What the heck was going on? Where were these voices coming from?

  “Circle around. I’ll distract him, you come in from behind silently, and skewer him.”

  Mindspeak! They’re using Mindspeak! And I can hear them!

  The first one attacked again, drawing his attention.

  “Get ready,” he heard. OK, this was it. He stepped in closer, the smell of the thing gagging him, but he could stand it for a minute. The Skeptor increased the speed of its attacks until its sword was just a white blur whizzing around Royn. “Arg!” Royn said, cuts appearing on his left arm and right leg. Nothing deep, but they slowed him slightly, and he heard the second Skeptor advance.

  Wait for it...

  Royn got even closer, the creature snapping its jaws at his head.

  Wait for it...

  “Kill him now!”

  The second Skeptor leapt in, blade first.

  Royn teleported.

  The Skeptor’s momentum was too much and carried him into his counterpart. The bone sword succeeded where the steel had failed, penetrating cleanly through the Skeptor’s armor and through its heart. A toe-curling scream burst from the doomed beast, so loud leaves fell from the trees around them, rocks vibrated, and the water in the river rippled violently. The Skeptor crumpled to the ground slowly, still twitching and clawing, like a snake when its head was chopped off but the body refused to believe it was dead. Finally the motions stopped, and the creature was still.

  The surviving Skeptor hadn’t moved, but stood frozen with its sword thrust out.

  Royn was bleeding in three places now. Damnit, if he only had some kind of healing ability! Or if there were
an Elf around. He pulled supplies from his belt pouches and taped the cuts shut as quickly as he could, he kept a wary eye on the Skeptor, who still hadn’t moved. As bandaged as he could be, Royn took a tentative step toward the creature.

  Royn froze as it bent over and picked up the dead Skeptor’s sword, slowly turning around, its body convulsing as if it were breathing hard. Its black eyes met Royn’s. “You killed my brother. No one touches a Skeptor. No one kills a Skeptor and lives! You will die, Ranger, like all the others. But your death will not be quick. It will be drawn out. It will take time. You will die from a thousand cuts, a thousand torments, as many as I can subject you to until your soul leaves your body. You should run, but you won’t. And it wouldn’t matter. I’d find you. I’d kill you. I’d eat your bones.”

  Royn gulped, and ate the last power bean. He might not get another chance. The surge of energy was muted by the sheer force in the Skeptor’s voice.

  With a high-pitched scream, the Skeptor attacked, flailing both swords with even more speed than before. Pulling heavily on his renewed energy, Royn blocked them, but he was instantly on the defensive, backpedaling, barely throwing up air shields and his sword in time to slow the flurry of blows. With a burst of power, the Skeptor threw Royn back, put both swords in one hand, then cocked its empty hand back, muttering in a foreign language.

  A ball of crimson formed around its hand, molten lava-like, building in heat and intensity. Royn could feel it from several yards away. “Time to die, Ranger!” it said, thrusting its arm forward in a burst of light and heat. The trees and ground around Royn were incinerated, burnt to less than a crisp. But Royn wasn’t there.

  He’d teleported, right behind the creature, stabbing up with his weapon, trying to get through the armor... Please God...

  A backhand sent him sprawling.

  Their only weakness was each other, but there was only one left! Maybe he could use the second sword, if he could get it away from the Skeptor. Which was unlikely.

  Another lava blast and it closed in again, raining blows down as fast as it could, Royn barely blocking, giving ground. Then he tripped. A root made the Ranger fall flat on his back, leaving him vulnerable! He tried to teleport, but he couldn’t move. No flash of blue, no void, nothing! I’m trapped!