Nemesis_Knight

by Michael D. Young

  After a full minute of dodging flames, spikes, and poisonous gas, he finally coaxed his imagination into reality, and the menacing weapon lay in his hands. He grinned despite himself. St. George definitely never had one of these.

  Rich took aim and held down the trigger. Fire burst from the muzzle, and round after round of bullets peppered the beast’s exposed skin. He swept the nozzle back and forth, letting the bullets graze the entire surface of the beast. Finally, the rapid staccato of gunfire fell silent, and Rich backed up to admire his handiwork.

  A batch of angry welts sprawled across the monster’s skin where the bullets had hit home, like a bad case of dragon acne. Nowhere, however, did he see even a drop of blood or a place where his attack had pierced the monster’s thick hide. Rich looked down at his weapon in alarm.

  How do you reload this thing?

  He fumbled with it for another few seconds and then tossed it aside. All five heads swiveled around and bared their teeth, narrowing their dark eyes into slits. The Hydra let out a low, ominous growl, each head starting at a slightly different pitch, creating a clashing chord that gave him an instant headache.

  Rich locked eyes with the central head. In an instant, he was flooded with a powerful emotion emanating from deep inside the great beast. It was very thirsty.

  Rich stumbled back a step in surprise, not sure that he had sensed correctly. He thought he might have felt hate, rage, malice, or some other raw, brutal emotion. Instead, the thing at the forefront of the Hydra’s mind was its thirst. Rich saw a chance for a diversion and sent his mental gears spinning.

  What do these things drink, Tabasco sauce?

  Rich guessed that a safer bet would be water. He pictured something like an Olympic-sized swimming pool between him and the creature, but then he quickly abandoned the exercise and changed his tactics. He’d have to bring the monster to water and make him drink. He hoped that this might a bit easier than with horses.

  Just then, he glimpsed a shiny bit of metal underneath the ruins of a collapsed tent. The spokes of a wheel. Rich dashed toward it, realizing that it must be one of the gang member’s discarded motorcycles. Rich cleared the debris with his sword and snatched the bike just as the beast reared up for another attack.

  Rich hopped onto the battered bike and found the keys still in the ignition. Though he’d never driven a motorcycle before, he’d ridden with his uncle out on his farm enough to know the basics. He twisted the key and gunned the accelerator just as a sharp, burning pain exploded from his left shoulder blade.

  The long spike felt like it was burrowing deeper every moment. His vision blurred, and for a moment, he lost sight of the road in front of him. He swerved and just barely missed slamming into a burning tree. He bit his lip and forced himself to continue.

  The bike sputtered and accelerated unevenly, sometimes jolting forward and sometimes not responding at all. The Hydra rushed after him in pursuit, but Rich didn’t let up his pace for an instant.

  He drew the creature away from the fairgrounds and toward the creek. In his mind, he imagined the creek waters rising, and to his delight, he found that it happened much more quickly than trying to generate water where there was none to begin with. Only the town’s rusty water tower and the occasional patch of trees served to break up the landscape. They were still a far from town and no one had seen them. Rich wished silently that someone, anyone might come help.

  Rich coaxed the bike over a bridge to the other side of the creek, where it promptly died. It sputtered and coughed, and Rich leaped off just before the engine gave out completely. He landed hard on his hands and knees and rolled, anxious to face his opponent. The Hydra had reached the other side of the swollen creek and had dipped all five heads into the water, drinking greedily.

  Rich’s senses suddenly brushed up against something dark and twisted, much like he’d felt when he’d first sensed Zahn in the hands of his nemesis. It pulsed from deep within the beast’s core with a regular rhythm, and Rich suddenly realized that it was the monster’s own mangled heart.

  Trembling, he reached out with his healing sense and recoiled immediately. Just the slightest touch was like plunging his hands into a vat of boiling grease. One of the creature’s heads glanced up with the touch and shot Rich a withering gaze. A bolt of energy leaped from its eyes and cut a path through the scrub brush on the riverbank toward Rich. Rich leaped out of the way and for the cover of a nearby grove of trees.

  In the next few seconds, another head and another finished drinking and joined the first in their attack. Multiple beams of intense energy shot across the river toward Rich’s position, charring the earth and vaporizing everything in their path. Rich reached back and pulled the spike from his shoulder, choking back a gasp. Green-and-red slime dripped from the spike and gave off a scent like sweaty clothes left too long in a dark place. Poison, Rich knew. If the flames didn’t get him, the poison would.

  A single head remained moored in the stream and had to be yanked out by the other four heads. With a single mighty flap of its wings, the Hydra launched itself over the creek and landed hard on the opposite bank.

  Calm acceptance settled over Rich, and his thoughts wandered to his family and to Aaron. Were they safe? Would any of them be safe from now on? He might never know.

  The beast reached the clearing and reared up with five of its heads in the air. Five mouths opened at once, each spewing a different-colored flame, bathing the trees in a brilliant rainbow of destruction. Rich sighed and stumbled back into the trees.

  Strangely, his mind fell back on the Mallory he had once known. So stunning. So beautiful. She was still, even as his enemy. If only she had been real.

  The creature hit the ground with an earthshaking thud and reared up again for another strike. Just then, a yellow projectile whizzed through the air and struck the Hydra in the back of one of its skulls. Confused, the monster turned just in time for another projectile to land right in its mouth. The beast clamped down with its mighty jaws, shook its head, and grimaced as if it had eaten something disgusting.

  Rich squinted, trying to make out what was happening through the advancing flames. What could have been worse than biting down on a grenade?

  In the next second, a hailstorm of little yellow missiles struck the monster’s back, and it came about to face its new problem. Rich stepped forward, despite the flames, and could hardly believe what he was seeing. Aaron’s ridiculously inflated hair stood out in the front of a small band of others carrying sacks and toting brightly colored squirt guns with reserve tanks.

  At a sign from Aaron, each member of the group stopped throwing what they had in their bags and leveled their squirt guns. In unison, they surrounded the dazed Hydra and coated it with liquid. The beast roared and writhed, lashing out and stamping the ground. Rich couldn’t tell what it was they were shooting, but figured it must be some pretty strong stuff.

  The attack, however, lasted only about a minute. Their tanks quickly emptied, leaving them defenseless. With new determination, Rich conjured a shield around his body and charged into the flames. They closed about him like a fiery cocoon and ended only a few feet from the creature.

  The huge creature trembled, and Rich could see the gunshot wounds opening up into full-fledged bruises and sores. The heads struck out randomly, biting at empty air. Aaron raised his hands and called out loudly for a full retreat.

  The rest of the group ran away while Aaron ran toward Rich. “Rich!” he called. “Come with me!”

  Rich staggered forward, feeling nauseated and disoriented. Aaron reached him and slipped his arm around his shoulders, steadying him as they ran. “How did you find me?” Rich asked in a low whisper.

  “It was not easy. Right when the fighting broke out, I got your cousins to safety and
then tried to come back for you. I couldn’t find you, but I figured you would be in trouble, so I sought out a few people to help.”

  “What did you tell them? Couldn’t have been the truth, right?”

  “Close enough. They were so worked up, they did not really need a lot of convincing.”

  Behind them, the monster stirred and rose to its feet. A series of violent coughs wracked Rich’s body, and Aaron let him lean more heavily on his shoulder. “What—what did you use against it? I couldn’t take it out with bullets or grenades.”

  “Lemons.”

  For a moment, Rich thought the poison was talking. “Lemons? Like the kind you make lemonade with?”

  “Correct. We used them as ammunition for our weapons.”

  Rich was still miles away from reaching an understanding. “What, it’s allergic? How do you know that?”

  “I wished I’d known it nine hundred years ago. It might have saved my life.”

  Rich had given up trying to question and just hung on for the ride.

  “I do not know why I didn’t see it sooner. For some reason, your nemesis decided to use the same strategy as mine. I told you I saw the girl I loved one last time. That is when she transformed into a monster, much like this one. I was not strong or clever enough to defeat it, and so I died that day. Since then, I have studied these monsters and figured out how to bring them down.”

  “Lemons,” Rich mumbled.

  “Their skin has a protective layer that can only be broken down by something acidic. I’m sure there is something better, but lemons were the only thing I could come up with on short notice. One of the tents was making lemonade in a very large barrel, and had sacks of lemons just lying around. The others helped, and a friend of yours supplied the … what did she call them … squirt guns?”

  “Yeah, that was cool,” Rich said, his head bobbing to his chest.

  “We need more, though,” Aaron said, a note of alarm entering his voice. “I underestimated this one. It’s even bigger and nastier than the one I fought. And in the end, you are the only one who can defeat it.”

  Aaron swung Rich around and helped him to stand by himself. “Rich, I am going to heal you. It will take most of my power. You will not see me for a while, but do not worry about me. You focus on using your powers to finish it off. Okay?”

  “Okay,” Rich said, trying to figure out what Aaron meant. Even though he didn’t completely understand, his friend’s words made him sad.

  Aaron paused for only a moment, and his eyes took on a faraway look. “Rich, it has been a pleasure to help you. You’ll make a wonderful knight.”

  Aaron thrust his hand forward and planted it firmly on Rich’s chest. Immediately, healing warmth spread from that spot to the tips of Rich’s fingers and toes. Rich felt immersed in light and warmth, peace and calm, and for a brief moment, everything else melted away. The sweat and the grime and the blood vanished, leaving him cleaner than if he had just stepped out of the shower.

  Aaron’s parting words floated to him as if from a distance. “Oh, and I will take you up on that offer about video games sometime.”

  The feeling faded as quickly as it had arrived, and Rich opened his eyes. Aaron was gone. Rich’s senses snapped alert, and his thoughts raced to work out what to do next. He glanced at the recovering Hydra and then at the nearby water tower. The idea was crazy, but then again, crazy was the only thing that was going to save his life.

  Chapter 13: Shower from the Tower

  In desperation, Rich tried his hand at imagining rocket boots. What he actually got was a pair of metal boots that belonged in a sci-fi movie and were too heavy to walk more than a few steps in. He abandoned them and resorted to the old-fashioned way of climbing up the tower.

  The water tower stood on three rickety legs, like a pumpkin held up by three slender sticks. It was covered with white paint that had enough flakes to make a fresh croissant proud. At one time, anyone could have read the name of the town on the front of the tower, but now the writing had been reduced to meaningless fragments.

  He was halfway up the ladder when the Hydra recovered enough to give chase. It lumbered through the field, spouting flames and sludge and shooting jagged patterns in the dirt with energy beams. Rich concentrated on the rungs directly above him, shutting out everything else.

  When Rich was about three-fourths of the way up the ladder, the creature arrived at the tower, reached out with one massive claw, and struck one of the main supports. The entire tower shook precariously, and it was all Rich could do to cling fast to the aging ladder.

  The tower stopped swaying for a moment, and Rich scrambled up the next few rungs. He then wrapped both arms tightly around the ladder and braced himself for the next impact. It came only a moment later, breaking Rich’s legs free from the ladder and out into midair.

  Rich barely managed to regain his footing and climbed a single rung before the Hydra struck again. The tower creaked and moaned, and the first support gave way. Rich swung out and then slammed back against the ladder. He realized then that he wasn’t going to reach the top. In his weakened condition, he had wanted to get closer to the thing he was trying to change. Seeing no other choice, he reached out and imagined the water in the tank. It was no spinning straw into gold, but making it lemonade would be hard enough.

  He closed his eyes and pictured it vividly—a huge yellow sea of tart, delicious lemonade. He imagined the smell, the taste, the cool feeling of it sliding down its throat. He imagined the sound of pouring it into an ice-filled glass and even imagined the sweet feeling of relief it brought on a summer day.

  He didn’t dare open his eyes for the fear of what he would see—the drop, the Hydra…certain death.

  Please, out of everything, just let this work. I know I’m not perfect, but I’m trying!

  With a roar of triumph, the beast struck the second support, and the tower fell with a sickening screech. The old, rusty tank burst on impact, bathing the creature in a torrent of lemonade.

  Rich leaped from the ladder and conjured up a shield around him to break his fall. He stopped only a foot or so above the ground and still experienced a jarring landing. A second later, he was doused in a cold yellow shower, which dissipated quickly into the parched earth.

  For Rich, it meant he’d probably have to take a shower later to scrub off the stickiness. For his nemesis, it meant being reduced to a pitiful, writhing, defenseless heap.

  Rich stood slowly, though it sent sharp stabs of pain throughout his body. He guessed he’d broken a few bones in his feet in the fall, but he tossed the thought aside. He had work to do.

  Reaching out again, he easily found the Hydra’s dark heart, stripped of all its defenses. Rich drew in a deep breath and then reached out with his healing power, willing the heart to slow, to relax, and to shed the pain, burdens, and bitterness it had been carrying.

  One of Rich’s legs gave way first, followed by the other one. His knees failed to support his weight. His eyelids fell slack, his breathing slowed, and his heartbeat slowed to a crawl. Flat on his face in the mud, he clung to consciousness with a single finger, his body far beyond the point of registering pain anymore.

  The creature’s form shifted, becoming hazy and indistinct. One head faded into nothingness, followed by a second and third, until only one remained. The barbed tail sank into the ground, and the body shrank until it was no larger than a normal human. Finally, the scaly skin and spikes gave way to smooth human skin and hair. Where once a monster stood lay only Mallory, her clothes tattered and shredded, her hair a tangled mess across her face.

  For the first time that week, he felt truly safe. He wanted to get up and do a victory dance, but he couldn’t even find the strength to get
on his feet.

  I can’t believe I did that, he thought. It worked. It really worked!

  Maybe he wouldn’t make such a bad knight after all.

  Rich slept then, his breathing deepening, and pain draining away. Calmness settled over him, and for a moment, his entire world stood at rest.

  * * *

  Rich woke to a group of people standing around him. He first caught a glimpse of Angela’s face, her brows furrowed. He then recognized Joe, standing next to her with his arms crossed. Next to him stood Nadia, trying to hide her concern and failing miserably.

  “He’s awake!” Angela said, kneeling down beside Rich and placing a light hand on his forehead. “How do you feel?”

  Rich blinked rapidly and took a quick assessment of how he felt. Terrible.

  “I’ve been better,” he said with a groan, deciding to soften the adjectives he wanted to use. “I don’t think that most of my bones are in the right places.”

  Angela withdrew her hand and bit her lip. “You’re not feverish, and that’s a good sign. We’ve already called an ambulance, and it should be here soon.”

  Rich nodded with effort and managed a weak smile. “So, I’m guessing you’re the lemonade warriors. How did Aaron get you to do it?”

  A smile finally broke Joe’s statue-like expression. “We all thought it was a joke at first…a really big prank.”

  “By the time we realized what was actually going on,” Nadia continued, “I think we all wanted to run away. I mean, one look at that thing and we knew it wasn’t an illusion. We all could have been burnt toast.”