Do I get hit? Absolutely. I get hit a lot, and every strike takes a bit of wind out of me, chipping away at my stamina and tiring me faster. I bleed from cuts on my face and body. I'm staggering, and there are still ten of them left, with Thaddeus waiting and watching.
He's not going to get into the fight now. He's waiting until I'm spent. He never enters a fight he can't win. If I were the Bearer, this sword in my hands would prevent fatigue, letting me fight on for hours, perhaps even years if I were pushed. If I were the Bearer before The Omega Treaties diluted the sword's power, I would have called down an army of angels and killed them all — the fire and brimstone kind of devastation.
Alas, I'm only a man. A well-trained, and physically conditioned fighter, but a man nonetheless. I'm running on empty. There are six of them left. They're not tiring. And Thaddeus stands there, inspecting his perfectly manicured fingernails.
I fight on until I fall to my knees, taking down two vamps before I drop. Then I go on all fours — my right hand pressing the hilt of The Destroying Angel down against the floor. My wind is gone. My lungs burn with every sharp breath. My mouth is dry, and the inside of my body is on fire. Adrenaline levels in my bloodstream are dropping, and I am more aware of my injuries. Gashes and bruises, swell and throb. I'm done. My fight-or-flight stores are depleted, and apathy sets in — my mind singing 'Que sera sera, whatever will be will be.'
"This is how I wanted you," Thaddeus says. "Supplicant. Weak. Broken."
The clip-clop of black, polished Bolvaints gets closer. I spit out some blood. My thermal suit is torn to pieces. My avatar is gone. The four vampires that survived our fight are hovering around me, anticipating the taste of my flesh and blood.
Thaddeus nods to one of his vampire cronies, and it punt kicks me in the face, strong enough to whip my body around. I land hard on my back and cough up more blood. The pain in my jaw is so intense I wish it would fall off. My brain wants to shut down most of my bodily functions and keep the necessities turned on. But it doesn't. I am on the verge of passing out. Then a crony steps on my right wrist, and twists, applying an agonizing amount of pressure. I let out a howl and release The Destroying Angel. Then it kicks the sword over to its boss.
Thaddeus picks up the sword and walks to stand over me. He lays The Destroying Angel flat across his palms. He admires the Damascus steel blade, his black eyes following the silver swirling patterns along the length of the dark steel. He tosses the sword in the air like it was pizza dough, and catches it by the hilt on the way down with his left hand. Then, with a soft stroke, he runs the fingers of his right hand over the etchings of the angel-wing cross-guard, and the placid angelic face carved into the heavy circular pommel.
"Such a fine piece," he says. "This will make a fantastic addition to my collection."
The sword is indestructible. It cannot be undone by anything material, or magical. It can survive inside the sun and will hold an edge until the end of time. Fine piece? You're damn right it's a fine piece.
"Oh, would you stop talking, and end it, why don't you," I say to him.
Thaddeus shrugs his shoulders. "As you wish."
Thaddeus looks at The Destroying Angel. He grips the handle with both hands and angles the point of the blade down at my heart.
"Give my regards to your mother," he says.
Twenty-Five
I close my eyes. I'm outnumbered, injured, unarmed, and prone. At least I went out fighting. I open my eyes again, and hazy faces of the people I knew flashback through my memory. Emily, our kids, my mom, Astraea, Lev, Kyle, Lara — wait, Lara?
I shake my vision clear. Lara is swooping down from a purple sky. She's dressed in an erolith soldier's uniform, black leather with yellow trim, the swirling patterns on her suit glow gray. She looks good. The yellow brings out the violet of her eyes, making them look like polished amethysts. She is flying down towards us with the air rushing up to meet her flawless, ebony face. But she looks menacing with ten erolith behind her, in an arrowhead formation, with her at the tip. They are all shooting fire from spinning orange crystals in front of them.
Thaddeus looks up and dodges a mote of fire, which splashes on the rope bridge panel I am lying on. I turn my head away from it to hide from the heat. Then Thaddeus orders his minions to take care of this new threat coming from above.
The four vamps around me fly off at their master's command. Then, other vampires from bridges and platforms take off to face the erolith. I watch the aerial battle unfold.
The erolith utilize disciplined flight patterns and break off of formation into groups of two. The flying vamps are disorganized, but they're hardier, stronger, and ferocious with their attacks. The erolith's fire projectiles are like orange laser beams streaking across the air. The arcane blasts throw the vamps off course, burning their undead flesh. But because the vampires are so many, and the erolith so few, the elven fire spell can't prevent the vamps from getting close. The erolith unsheathe their shortswords for close quarter combat, handling them in their dominant hand, and throw up an arcane shield for defense.
With the flaming background, and the medieval European fighting method of sword and shield, the battle above reminds me of Pieter Bruegel's ‘Fall of the Rebel Angels.’ It's beautiful to watch amid the horrific scenes of vampires running amok, and manufactured ogres ripping people apart.
Thaddeus is mesmerized by the action above. A smile washes over his face. He's enjoying this — sick bastard. I take advantage of his momentary lapse of attention. I spin around, swinging my legs to propel myself to a standing position. Then I try to sweep his legs from under him with a spinning heel kick low to the ground. I underestimate his speed, however, and he easily avoids my attack by jumping back. We both circle each other on the rope bridge. I’m circling to my left, and he’s circling to his. He moves gracefully with legs bent, sitting on his stance, ready to strike. He's holding The Destroying Angel in a long guard; the tip pointed straight at my head.
I keep my shoulders low, a shooting stance, trying to find an opening. But with Thaddeus’ long guard, he has the reach advantage. There’s seven feet of space between him and me, and an indestructible sword in the middle. No matter how quickly I move to close the distance, he doesn't have to spend too much energy to defend. A quick flick of the wrist and I could be done for. But I don't have to take my eyes away from him to see my objective.
My shotgun is lying on the panel about ten feet away. I have two shells left in my pocket. I am circling towards my firearm, but I want Thaddeus to think that I'm more focused on finding an opening on him than going for my weapon. I press on my earbud applicator, to distract him further.
"Call Lev," I say.
"Your friends can't save you," Thaddeus says.
I look at Thaddeus, and put a finger over my lips. Then Lev answers.
"Uh, hi? Kinda busy right now," says Lev.
Pop-pop-pop!
Lev's shooting his Glock.
"Is Kyle with you?" I ask.
"Yeah!” Lev answers. “He's busy too."
There are growls, grunts, and screams in the background.
"Do me a favor. Tell Kyle to go easy on the spells. His sister is here."
"What? I can't hear you!" says Lev.
"Tell him his sister is here!"
"Okay! Did you say his sister?" Lev asks.
"Yeah."
"Okay! I'll tell him!"
Then I hang up. Thaddeus smiles at me. I circle closer to my shotgun.
"You should have said your goodbyes," says Thaddeus.
I snap my fingers. "Dang it. I knew I forgot something."
"A joker until the end,” Thaddeus says. “You do so love playing the fool."
"And you love playing the king," I say. "But we both know your entire life you've been the subject to someone more powerful than you. You're a celestial trust fund baby. Dracul is your rich old dad. And now you're sitting under Marchosias' table begging for scraps."
He lunges with a forward thrust of t
he blade. I move to the side, but he follows up with a high horizontal cut. I roll under his strike towards my shotgun. I fumble around my pockets for the shells. This is taking too much time. I didn't think this through. I look up in time to jump back and avoid a descending cut. The blade crashes into the panel and smashes it to a thousand tiny pieces to the point of obliteration. I'm horrified — an indestructible sword in the hands of someone as strong and as fast as Thaddeus is devastating.
I manage to load and shoot off one round. Thaddeus darts out of the way in a flash and is at my right flank. I roll away and stand up to avoid another of his horizontal cuts.
My body is not doing so well. I'm winded, my shoulders and arms are burning, not having fully recovered from last night. The only thing saving me is my ability to tell when a strike is coming. Thaddeus is well versed in using the longsword. He knows to lead and rotate with his hip to deliver an effective and strong blow. The thing is, I know that too, so by watching his hips, I can time him and make him miss. If he wants to hit me, he's gotta earn it.
He grits his teeth. From a high guard, he tries to cut me with a descending blow. I quickly swing my Mossberg and hold it across me in time to intercept his attack. The Destroying Angel, however, cuts right through my shotgun, and I back away with two pieces of my Mossberg in my hand.
"And here I thought you'd given up," says Thaddeus. "I'm glad to see there's still some fight left in you."
"Well now that it's you and me, my odds of survival increased," I say.
Thaddeus laughs. "You're weak, powerless, and unarmed."
"Yeah, that's true," I say. "But you don't have eyes in the back of your head."
"What?"
Thaddeus turns around, and Lara's fire spell hits him in the side of his face. There is a small explosion as globs of flame explode on impact. His skin and flesh burn off, pieces of them flying. However, the demon inside him, Dracul, heals him quick.
Thaddeus growls and charges at Lara. Lara fires off two more flaming bolts, but Thaddeus uses The Destroying Angel to block them. Then as Thaddeus is poised to slice Lara in half from an overhand swing, Lara throws up a three foot by three foot, black arcane wall in front of her. I've seen this before. It's the same kind of barrier the erolith threw up during our car chase, which I crashed into going a hundred and fifty miles an hour. The Destroying Angel cuts through it but throws off the angle enough so that Lara can slide away and draw her shortsword. Then she flies up, hovering five feet above the bridge and shoots two more tennis-ball-sized fireballs at Thaddeus.
Reality warps and stretches around Thaddeus' feet, and he launches himself into the air, right at Lara. He goes to swing with his sword, but Lara expertly parries the blow. I say expertly because had she met The Destroying Angel head on, her sword would have broken. Instead, she angled her defense, so that The Destroying Angel hits her shortsword as a skipping rock hits the surface of a lake. Then she spins away.
The only weapon I have left is my dagger in my shoulder sheath. So I draw it, but come on. Two magic-wielding beings, with flight capabilities, are dueling with swords in midair. I ain't the hero in this fight. All I can do is distract.
I arrive at the fighting, jump as high as my body will allow, and stab my dagger into Thaddeus' calf. That's all I could reach from down here. He looks down at me with mild annoyance, like I am a pebble in his boot. Then there's a flash of realization in his yellow eyes. He remembers I'm the one he was trying to kill in the first place and turns his full attention to me.
He attacks. I parry his strikes the same way Lara did, making sure that his blade glances off of my dagger’s blade instead of meeting it head-on. I fare pretty well in defending his attacks. The only problem is, my weapon is too short for me to strike with. All I can do is play defense, and I can't keep this up for much longer. My injured body is fighting beyond its limits right now. My breaths are heavy, my mouth is hanging open, and my parries are getting sloppy with fatigue.
I am lucky that Lara is with me, and joins in the fight, giving me some opportunities to attack with my dagger. We both move to strike him in different openings. If I go low, then she goes high. If I go left, she attacks right. If one of Thaddeus' attacks looks to connect with either of us, she throws up a concentrated wind spell. It's pretty cool to see in action. She is such a phenomenal caster that she can activate a spell in concentrated places. She knows any shield she throws up against The Destroying Angel is useless. If the sword was able to break through her arcane wall, then it's strong enough to break through her shield spell. So instead of throwing up any form of arcane barrier, she’s gathered Field energy into a maroon crystal in her left hand and shoots out controlled bursts of wind on Thaddeus' wrists so that each time he goes to strike, his arms bounce back as if they've hit a wall. Genius.
The tide swings in our direction. Our relentless attack, coupled with Lara’s newfound tactic, is giving Thaddeus trouble. Then I manage to connect a spinning heel kick to the side of Thaddeus' head. The blow staggers him enough to loosen his grip on The Destroying Angel, which allows Lara to push the sword out of his hands with another concentrated burst of arcane wind.
The Destroying Angel clinks and clanks on the rectangular, rope-bridge panel we've been fighting on, and rests near the edge. Thaddeus and I glance at the sword. We both make a move to grab it. He's faster, but Lara is fast too, and she launches herself—shoulder first—at Thaddeus with her fly spell, giving her an enormous amount of thrust. She sends Thaddeus hurtling off the bridge. It was like she was a baseball bat, and Thaddeus was a fastball placed perfectly in the strike zone, which she hit right out of the park. He spins in the air, end-over-end, into the smoke of the fiery man-made rainforest.
Twenty-Six
I kneel in front of The Destroying Angel and pick it up. I smile because, in the back of my mind, I hear Astraea saying, "How many times do I have to tell you to stop dropping your sword?" A quick sadness follows after realizing she's not here with me.
I stand up. My muscles and joints are throbbing, and my jaw is constantly sending shooting pains up to my brain.
I turn to Lara and say, "Thank you."
Lara points her shortsword at me. "Where is the fugitive, Kylanthansa Uthmandir?"
God, please no. I'm tired of fighting, and I don't want to fight her. My legs are Jell-O, and the rope bridge is shaky underneath us. Whatever nanobots I had inside my body are all gone. They are designed to disintegrate after twelve hours of being put in. It's safe to say, me repeatedly injuring myself throughout the day, rendered all the work they did useless. There is no possible way I would win a fight with Lara, even with an indestructible sword. She's already shown me that she knows how to defend against The Destroying Angel in a fight.
"Holy crap, Lara," I say to her. "You cannot possibly be serious about this right now. There are bigger problems here. We just fought the most powerful demonic possession in the last thousand years. Look at this place. It's madness."
"Call me Lara again," she says, snarling.
Damn it.
"Larastrumbala, I apologize. But please, look around."
Her violet eyes take a glance at her surroundings and then return to me.
"This is no business of The Elven Nations," says Lara. "We came here to apprehend a fugitive."
"Larastrumbala, listen to me. The whole world is in danger. That includes Superior. Thaddeus has been manipulating this whole thing. Kyle and I were both set up."
"I do not care!" she says. "I have come for the fugitive Kylanthansa Uthmandir. I will not let you get in my way."
"Stop calling him 'fugitive.' He's your brother," I say. "Come on, say it. Say he's your brother. You can do that, can't you?"
"If you continue to obstruct my—"
"What? You'll kill me?"
I sheathe The Destroying Angel and walk to her with empty arms outstretched. Flames engulf the ends of the rope-bridge we're standing on. The bridge shudders beneath our feet. She keeps her balance while mine struggles through
injuries.
"Go ahead, Larastrumbala Uthanasa," I say in Elven. "Go on kill me. Thaddeus has successfully raised Marchosias. They've captured the new Bearer. This, all of this fire and torment is what awaits our world. War is coming. Now is the time we need allies, not rivals.
"But if I have to die fighting you, then so be it," I say. "I shall do what I can to give your brother enough time to escape your judgment. He is not in the wrong here. And the rules you are clinging to no longer apply."
The rope-bridge teeters. I see a break in Lara's resolve. Her full lips contract into a thin line with each breath. She looks up. The erolith are fighting for their lives against a vampiric horde with an endless reserve of manpower. Then she looks all around us. Manufactured ogres are ripping people apart on platforms and rope bridges. Vampires are feasting on the blood and flesh of their victims.
She looks back at me. There is sympathy in her eyes.
"You are correct, Bearer," Lara says.
"Well, actually I'm not the Bearer anymore."
"So what shall I call you?" she asks.
"Call me, Nyyx."
"Nyyx, what do you suggest we do?" asks Lara.
"We gotta get out of here,” I say. “You, me, Lev, Kyle, and any other people we can take out of this mess. This is not a manhunt anymore. This is a rescue mission. And I am going to need your word that you won’t harm Kylanthansa. We—all of us—are going to get out of this alive."
A snarl comes across her face at the mention of her brother's name. She gathers Field energy into a floating pink crystal in front of her. Ten disembodied elven heads appear in a semicircle before her. All of them are in various stages of struggle as they try to fight off their enemies.
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