by Nick Freo
They looked exactly as they had the first time I had encountered them. They still wore their finely pressed clothing and ascots, their shiny shoes, and their tinted spectacles. Not a hair on their heads seemed out of place as they stalked into the chamber like twin leopards.
“We meet again,” the first bullet priest said, beginning to circle to my left.
“You should have come quietly last time,” the second said as he circled to my right. “Now things could get messy.”
“For all of us,” I replied, hefting the Lustblade. “But I do not mind a few stains on my clothing, especially not in the fine shade of crimson your blood displays.”
They reached opposite sides of the room, making it impossible for me to watch both of them at the same time. I chose the first and pivoted left, seeing him summon a hail of bullets to fly in my direction. In the wake of his mystical attack, he charged, and I could hear his partner doing the same behind me.
With the Lustblade in my hands and the Pridehelm on my head, I cared not what weapons they brought against me. The wide flat of the Lustblade carved a swathe through the bullets, and I slid into the channel of safety the grim sword created. The bullet priest blinked in surprise, but he had committed to his attack and could not change his trajectory without leaving himself badly open.
I pivoted again, putting both of the priests in my sight, and joined the fight in earnest.
Chapter 19
The bullet priests came at me in the same instant, but it mattered little. I swung the Lustblade in a wide arc, pivoting so that its point menaced first one priest and then the other in swift succession. They wisely avoided it, veering off course in opposite directions. That divided them and separated their focus, giving me the opportunity I needed to strike. I kicked one in the back and leaped toward the other, grasping the pressed collar of his jacket while bringing my sword in for a one-handed stab.
The bullet priest’s clothing tore as he shook free of my grasp and wisely rolled away, never upsetting a hair on his immaculate head. His partner found his balance following my kick and came back with a vengeance, sending a fresh hail of bullets my way as he climbed to his feet. I dove aside and tackled the other priest, bearing him to the ground. Even with two of my Viceguard aiding me, fighting off the well-coordinated duo was an unnecessary risk. I had to separate them—truly separate them—and there was only one way to do that.
The bullet priest beneath me struggled free, but it was too late. The world around us had changed. We had been transported to another realm. My Pridehold.
“What is this?” the bullet priest cried in shock, wheeling about to examine his surroundings. “Where are we?” We stood in the middle of the rows of wooden pews. The perpetual demi-light of the Pridehold shone through the stained glass windows recording my many triumphs. This would be one more; I had only to use my wits.
“I only wish to talk,” I lied as I crept closer to the priest. “Your partner seemed like the unreasonable one. Now that we are alone, we can discuss the matter plainly.”
He summoned another hail of bullets and sent it at me in a string of three salvos. “You think I am a fool?” he shouted. “You brought me here to die. So be it. I do not fear death, but I will be sure to take you with me!”
I carved a safe path through the bullet hail with the Lustblade, smirking as the projectiles disintegrated against my unstoppable weapon. The priest threw his arms wide and summoned three more storms but brought them all in from different angles at the same time. I had no choice but to throw myself behind a row of pews. The bullets tore the wooden furniture shielding me.
I rolled and came to my feet running. A window shattered and curtains were torn to pieces in my wake, bullets missing by mere inches as the priest focused all of his attention on killing me. I raced out of sight behind a large standing screen and seized an ornamental jewel-encrusted dagger that sat on an elegant stand. I peeked out from behind the screen and threw the dagger with deadly force and accuracy, but the priest was quick enough to evade it, rolling his shoulder back and allowing it to pass by to sink into a large wooden chest.
“You own many trinkets,” he called. “A pity none of them can rival the power of a bullet priest. How does it feel, to know that you sealed your own fate? Had you fled here alone, we would never have found you. But by bringing me along you have assured you will never poison the air on our world again.”
Many trinkets indeed. I searched the immediate vicinity but found nothing useful behind the protection of the tall, heavy screen. I stepped forward and kicked the screen powerfully, causing it to tip over and fall toward the priest. He cried out in alarm and rolled to safety, but the distraction gave me the moment I needed to get close, close enough that he would not be able to use his bullet storms as effectively.
I rushed in and threw a furious uppercut at his chin, fast and hard enough that a normal human would not have seen or felt it before dying. The priest was swift and skilled, though, and he diverted the blow with both hands before cartwheeling away, attempting to put some space between us. I ran in his wake and threw a sidekick that caught him in the midriff as he finished cartwheeling, slamming him into the wall. A nearby shelf full of ancient books and baubles rattled, and a crystal sphere tumbled to the ground, shattering.
As the priest rose again, I grasped the now torn collar of his jacket and pivoted, attempting to throw him in front of the shelf. Rather than resist the technique, the priest rolled through it and reversed me, flipping me sideways so I smashed into the shelf. I felt the solid wooden rungs dig into my side as the contents of the shelf rattled again. But the bullet priest was not done. He followed up with a hail of bullets aimed at my head, forcing me to throw myself to the ground. I heard a creaking sound and looked up to find the priest tipping the shelf forward on top of me.
Crash!
The shelf broke over my back, the books pummeling me, the trinkets smashing or bouncing away depending on the fortitude of their fabrication. I cursed and rolled over, shoving the shelf aside and climbing to my feet as I blinked the dust from my eyes and hefted my Lustblade.
The bullet priest had vanished, taking to hiding within my domain like a coward. That was a mistake. The Pridehold contained only so many hiding places, and I knew all of them. Unless... I hesitated as I strode toward the rows of pews and turned. The immovable door with the emblem of the serpent mocked me. It appeared as firmly closed as the last time I had seen it, but was the priest now using it to hide? I took a wavering step toward the door.
Too late. I heard the shift of footsteps from between the rows of pews. As I attempted to turn around the diving priest struck me headlong in the back, and we tumbled to the ground together, locked in a grappling battle. I bucked and rolled and wound up on top, but the priest shifted his hips and slithered away sinuously. We both climbed to our feet again, facing each other, disheveled and dusty from the trials of combat. The priest was beginning to breathe hard.
“Tiring already?” I asked with mirth in my tone. “They must not train you very hard at whichever monastery reared you.”
The priest blinked at me in confusion. “We start every day by running up the side of a mountain and then crawling back down like bears on our hands and feet. Only then does the true training begin. But never before have I faced a man with powers and endurance such as yours.”
It was my turn to blink in surprise. The people of this world continued to impress me.
“Well,” I said through gritted teeth, “since you have never seen my like before, why do you not admit defeat? There is no need for wasted efforts.”
“Never!” he cried, gaze hardening. “I would sooner endure a thousand years’ torture than willingly admit defeat, especially at the hands of one as dishonorable as you. Now finish me, or die trying!” He summoned a fresh hail of bullets and sent them storming in my direction, turning to flee again while I carved a safe path through the bullets with a flurry of swings from my Lustblade.
I chased after the bullet
priest as he found his way to the weapon rack in the front corner of the Pridehold’s main chamber. He seized the two-handed greatsword immediately and lifted it, his gait showing a renewed confidence as he came after me for a change.
Clang! Clang! Tsssang!
With three blows I had defended, countered, and cut his weapon clean in half. There was no material the Lustblade could not cleave, and when wielded in my mighty hands, it had unlimited potential. The priest ducked and dodged away, losing his tinted spectacles in the process.
I stared into his amber eyes as I crushed the glasses beneath my dragon scale boot. They made a crumpling, tinkling sound.
Barehanded again, the priest summoned bullet storms with both hands and sent one salvo after another. I ducked behind the nearest broad stone support column, evading most of the bullets while a select few missed and curved around to pursue me. Those few I cut down with careful strokes of my Lustblade, hearing her sing her joyous song as her arcane edge destroyed the projectiles.
The priest backpedaled across the open space, hurling bullet hails with decreasing accuracy as I dodged and carved my way closer to him. He was flagging and faltering. And I was nearly close enough to close my mighty hands around his throat... I put on a burst of speed and swung the Lustblade, using all of its length to quest for a target.
The priest was quick and clever. He changed direction suddenly and darted in to meet me, clutching my breastplate with both hands and pivoting to toss me into the pews.
The benches were too heavy to shift beneath my weight. Instead, I smashed straight through their broad backs, my body sundered the first two and crashing into the third hard enough to crack it. I shook myself free of the debris but had no time to recover as another handful of bullets flew towards me. I rolled backward and grabbed two chunks of the pew, bringing them up in front of me as an improvised shield to absorb the bullets. The wood shattered, but all except one of the bullets were redirected enough to miss me.
The last damnable projectile caught me in the leg, ripping clean through the flesh of my calf as it tore past me. I grunted at the sudden pain and caught myself on another pew to prevent myself from stumbling. I leaned on the pew, staring hatred at the priest.
“Perhaps it is you who should give up already,” he gasped, raising a hand to send more of his seemingly limitless munitions in my direction. Blood spilled from my damaged leg, pooling and spreading across the floor in a crimson ring.
“Is that what you think?” I roared. I dropped the Lustblade momentarily and hefted the long wooden bench I was leaning on, swinging it with all of my might. The tactic caught the priest completely by surprise, and the sheer length of the pew made it nearly impossible for him to dodge nimbly away. He tried and nearly made it, but the curved end of the bench still caught him in the back, spinning him around and smashing him up against the wall. I hurled the pew at him like a spear, then seized the Lustblade and charged in its wake, ignoring the pain in my leg.
Crunch!
The bullet priest clapped his hands, and some unseen force tore the oncoming pew apart like a thresher demolishing a stand of wheat.
Crunch!
The priest clapped his hands again, but not a moment before I did the only logical thing. I turned and hurled myself behind the nearest pillar. I heard the sound of tiny metal projectiles careening into the stone behind me and understood what the priest was doing.
Shot-gun.
This had to be the pure, destructive power that Alia, now Lust, had spoken of. But even the Lustblade could not carve a safe path through such a menacing cloud of metal. Even the Pridehelm might not protect me from the destructive torrent of magical bullets. I would have to act wisely and use every advantage the Pridehold could offer me.
“You are growing desperate,” I called, trying to sneer despite the cautious edge to my voice. “Otherwise you would not have shown me that little trick. You are weakening, priest! Give up now and I will make your death swift. I will lop your head off with one stroke of my blade. She is as sharp as time is endless. You will not feel a thing.”
The priest laughed in response, and I heard his footsteps nearing my hiding place. “It is you who is tiring,” he crowed, “for finally you have learned to fear my abilities. Tremble now, as you face the true might of a bullet priest!” He leaped around the pillar, hands upraised, but I was no longer there. I had ducked down between the pews, crawling through the gutters of my own house. Anything for victory. I made my way between two benches until I reached another pillar and scooted behind it.
I looked up and realized I had arrived next to the serpent-sealed door. The damn thing loomed over me, tail-in-mouth, almost as if laughing. I scrambled to my feet, seizing a moment’s sudden inspiration. I checked around the corner, but the priest was busy inspecting a large armoire on the other side of the chamber. I would not find a better chance.
I flung myself against the immovable door, digging my fingernails into the crack between it and the wall and heaving with all of my might. I thought I felt it budge a fraction, but it may have been my imagination. As I paused to gather my strength, I heard the priest crossing the Pridehold.
“Where are you?” he called in a taunting voice, “Come out, come out, wherever you are. I had heard rumors that you were a mighty warrior. I never thought I would have to call you a coward...”
I abandoned my attempts on the door and leaped out from behind the pillar, swinging the Lustblade with both hands. He was prepared for me. He had a pair of three-pronged parrying daggers he had found behind the armoire and he caught my sword deftly, nearly disarming me. I twisted my blade, shearing half the prongs off his weapons, but he used the distraction to send an elbow into my midriff. I had to drop to the ground and roll across my shoulders to avoid a sudden stab from his other hand. I let go of my blade and snared an ankle as I rolled, sending him tumbling to the floor. He fell on top of me, though, and caught one wrist in the remaining prongs of his nimble weapons. I growled and rolled again, flailing my free arm until my wrist made contact with his temple. He dropped the daggers and rolled away, barely semiconscious. I clutched at my injured wrist as I grasped my Lustblade once more. Meanwhile, the bullet priest prepared another deadly hail.
“Let us have a proper contest!” I shouted before the priest could clap his hands or summon a hail of bullets. “Let us determine the superior warrior. No more tricks, hiding, or hidden powers. Our martial skill should decide who walks away from this alive.”
The priest shook his head with a sneer. “Even after I kill you, I am doomed to die here. So why should I give you a fighting chance?” He prepared to bring his palms together.
“Wait! I lied before,” I told him. “If I perish, the Pridehold is bequeathed to the first person to find their way into its depths. That would be you. You would gain power over this domain if you killed me, and the ability to step to and from it at will.” I was lying, but I could see the spark of belief in his eyes. “All this could be yours if you face me like a man.”
“What’s to stop me from killing you the easy way and taking it anyway?” he asked.
“Nothing but your honor, since you claim to have some,” I replied.
He wavered, appearing to consider his options, then shook his head and retreated several steps before turning to face me in a fighting stance. “I don’t need my magic to best you. Come and face me.”
I stabbed the Lustblade into the ground, then charged forward, throwing a barrage of swift short punches that chained up from his sternum to his chin. Rather than block or dodge, he rolled with them, allowing them to strike his abdomen but moving away to distribute the force. The result was that I pushed him clear across the open area and just missed his chin with my final blow. He flew backward from the force of our combined strength, catching himself against the wall with one hand and one foot, bouncing off like a child’s ball.
“You are swift and well trained,” I admitted as I circled back to give him space to enter the clear area. As he stepped i
nto it, I threw a leaping sidekick at his face, but he caught my foot and attempted to sweep my supporting leg. I anticipated the move and leaped again, rolling through his grip and kicking him a glancing blow to the head. He staggered away as I stumbled to my feet and raised my hands, one closed in a fist, the other open and beckoning.
“Come on,” I grunted. “No more resting.”
He answered by sprinting straight at me and diving forwards, tackling me around the midriff. The act surprised me so much that he actually bore me to the ground, and then we were locked together and grappling again. I scrambled on top but he rolled and reversed. I found myself on the floor with his knees pinning my arms and his fists battering my face through my helm’s opening.
I bucked and flipped the priest off of me before returning to my feet. The fight had gone long enough. It was time to end it swiftly, by any means.
I reached into the back of my waistband where the Desert Eagle still lurked, safety on. I pulled it out and clicked the little lever to the firing position, then pointed it in the priest’s general direction and pulled the trigger. I pulled the trigger again and again.
The bullet priest fell, a look of surprise frozen on his face as blood leaked from the trio of holes in his chest. It seemed despite their abilities and moniker, they were not bulletproof.
I took a moment to gather my senses, then tucked the gun back behind my belt and straightened the Pridehelm on my head.
Well fought, my lord, Pride said in my mind. I sighed.
A battle for the ages, Lust agreed as I picked her up from where I had stabbed her. I have never seen fighting like that before in my life. To face a bullet priest and triumph, by any means, is nigh unheard of in my world.
“But we are not in your world,” I growled aloud. “We are in my realm.” I shook my stiff wrist out and flexed my calf, both wounds already nearly healed. “Now come. Our day’s work is yet unfinished.”
