CITY OF BRIDGES

20

Wrath Rediscovered

There is an ambush ahead.

“Watching the sorcerer’s back, no doubt.” Leonie noticed the crossbow in the intruder’s hands. “How tough did you say your skin was?” She was totally exposed in this position.

Very.

“Do you think—”

Certainly. Styx anticipated her question, manoeuvring himself between the archer and Leonie.

“Thanks.”

At your service.

They continued climbing, keeping an eye on the archer. Moments later there was a dull twang. Styx swiftly adjusted his position, deflecting the bolt. The archer cursed as he reloaded.

“I bet he wasn’t expecting that,” she purred.

You make light of the strangest situations.

“Survival instinct, otherwise I’d go mad.” Leonie tried to push the archer from her thoughts, concentrating on the climb and retrieving the book.

Riff is in trouble!

The shock and power in his thoughts startled Leonie, causing her to slip momentarily. “What? How?” Now she had a headache.

This powershaper has a device. It does not require a mental signal to activate it. He jumped again as another bolt came their way.

“What’s it doing.”

Freezing him.

“That’s bad, isn’t it?”

Yes, very. It is about the only way we can be injured.

They were almost at the beginning of the fissure now. The slope levelled out slightly, allowing Leonie a direct view. About twenty paces away she saw a stooped figure pointing something at the small, round shape in front of him. There was a bright aura emanating from the device.

And there was no time for her to get there.

“Two can play at that game.” Confident Styx had her back, she braced herself on the narrow ledge and concentrated, attempting to draw in power. Slowing her breathing, Leonie shut out all interference to focus on the ring. She released the power. A ball of energy, larger than any she had previously drawn, covered the distance quickly.

The powershaper was engrossed in his own affairs; unaware of anything else. The fireball burst on impact with the square of his back. In the confined space, the released energy propelled the man into the wall before he crumpled to the ground. Stone and crystal fragments rained down. He lay there unmoving while flames spread across his robes.

The aura dissipated as the rod fell to the ground. Riff lay unmoving.

Beware; the archer approaches.

“How’s Riff now?” Leonie gasped as she felt her weight increase dramatically, realising the spell all but depleted the harness. The ‘extra’ power to create the larger fireball had come from her surrounds, including the energised crystal. She turned her head to watch the last intruder make his way across the slope toward her, undeterred by the rollo’s presence. It took great effort to reach for the dial, hoping there was some residual energy. If there was, it wouldn’t last long.

Riff cannot signal, though I sense he is still alive. Relief flooded from him.

The archer closed the distance drawing his short sword.

Leonie turned her dial to maximum. Nothing happened. She strained to dodge the swinging blade. Styx deflected the blade by jumping into its path.

Drawing a dagger, the assassin lunged again, thrusting both weapons at his target simultaneously, but from different directions. Again, Styx jumped. The dagger blade was easily blocked, but the sword passed Styx’s small form. The sword struck the wall above Leonie’s face. Chips of limestone glanced off her mask.

The man prepared for another attack.

“Styx?” she gasped, barely able to move.

His helmet prevents me from reading his thoughts or controlling his actions, and I am forbidden to injure.

Both were in awkward positions; hanging onto the rocky slope to stop from sliding into the deadly mist below, but the assassin still had a functioning harness.

Styx unfolded himself and continued to move between them as a shield, managing to deflect the jabs and thrusts with his claws.

The fighter grunted something inarticulate. He sheathed his weapons, moved to the edge and climbed the last few feet of the cliff. Moments later, he reappeared above them, this time holding the wand. He aimed it at Leonie.

Immediately, coldness hit her in the shoulder, spreading rapidly to her neck, head and chest. Breathing became difficult. She tried to move, but her limbs responded like dead wood. Numbness overcame her rapidly. So cold. She gasped for air; her mask now becoming a hindrance. Raising her paw to remove it was too hard.

The wand attack stopped. With a determined effort that left her panting, Leonie managed to turn her head slightly.

Styx had leapt up to intervene and was now taking the brunt of the attack. The wand now aimed towards him; a bright aura lanced out, surrounding him as he strove to push forward. In self-preservation, Styx coiled back into his ball shape.

Leonie was horrified as the assassin continued to freeze the rollo. Inwardly she raged; her mind seethed at this cowardly act. She tried to yell, but only a pathetic growl escaped her lips, muffled by the face-mask. Fight back, she fumed. Her fingers clenched. Mobility was gradually returning. She was almost overcome with relief when she noticed the aura stop. Battling numbness and the heavier gravity, she tried desperately to flex her arms to circulate some blood.

The assassin bent down and pushed Styx towards the cliff. It was a tremendous effort considering the sheer weight, only the hroltahgs’s spherical shape making it possible. As if in slow motion, Styx rolled over the edge, landed on the ledge she was on before rolling off. Moments later, the cavern resounded to a loud thud.

“No!” she grunted. In disbelief, Leonie stared down at the murky, yellowish clouds.

A few pebbles clattered as the assassin slid down to the ledge Leonie was on. They turned to face each other. Through his mask, the crinkling around his eyes indicated he was smiling. He slowly removed his mask and tossed it into the yellow clouds below. He then unsheathed his dagger and stepped up to Leonie, running the flat of it up and down her back.

“Ain’t losing a bitch? Did you like the part where I killed your ‘invincible’ friend? I could cut your head off and you’d be unable to do anything about it,” he whispered in her ear. The point pricked her skin as he traced a line down her arm from her shoulder. “Or even better, I could slice you open and watch you bleed to death,” he continued. “That’d be fun, don’t you think? But, I ain’t got time to play much.”

She stiffened with a groan, feeling the blade penetrate below her ribs. Pain raced up her side. Darkness beckoned.

“I bet that hurt. Lucky I didn’t do much damage. You’re gonna die good and slow.” He slowly twisted the blade before pulling the blade free. “A shame you ain’t got no movement. I heard what you did back in Delta, I reckoned you’d fight better. Coulda been fun.” He turned her around, wiping the blade on her fur. “You must think your pretty special to take on all of us. But, no one defeats the Jart’lekk”

Leonie glared at him. “There’s one… thing you’re forgetting.” Her wheeze was barely audible.

“And what’s that, kitten?” He moved right up to her confidently to listen, grabbed her ear and snapped her head back, exposing her neck.

If she was about to die, but she wasn’t going alone. “If the Jart’lekk… are so good,” she gasped. She concentrated on her pain, and her loss. He killed Styx and Riff! “Why am I the one… always walking away?”

Putting all her pent-up wrath into one last-ditch effort. Her sharp claws dug deeply into the soft flesh as she clutched his groin. She squeezed and ripped.

He howled, doubling over, slashing at her in the process.

Leonie was too slow. The dagger cut deep, slicing her neck and shoulder. Her legs collapsed. As she crumpled, her paw came free; ripped flesh hanging from her claws. Toppling down the cliff like a stone, disappearing into the yellow mist like Styx did moments earlier.

Dropping his dagger, the assassin clenched the ruins of his groin. Blood freely seeped through his shredded trousers. He slumped against the cliff, agony etched on his face. By slow, painful increments, he clambered up the slope, crawling to where his fallen comrade lay smouldering. He grabbed the book as he contemplated the escape route. The frozen hroltagh remained tightly wedged in the exit.

Placing the book on the ground, the assassin spent several desperate moments working his sword through a small gap to lever the creature out of the way. With urgent desperation, he cleared enough room to get his hands around it. Soon, the obstructing was rolled back enough for him to crawl past.

The assassin grabbed the book and squirmed into the narrow exit, lying down and pushing the book in front of him. With his body inside the fissure, he barely had enough room to move. His boots found purchase against the frozen rollo and he forced himself further into the crevice. He felt the rollo shift with his kick, but there was little he could do about that. Slowly and with much grunting, he painfully wormed his way up the smooth tunnel to freedom, leaving a trail of blood in his wake.

*

Leonie landed on her paws more by instinct than planning, immediately collapsing in a furry ball of agony a short distance from the base of the cliff; the three-gravities pulled incessantly at her body. Blood seeped out of the deep cuts as well as all those she received on the way down. She felt intense pain from her ribs.

Her face-mask had dislodged and try as she might, there seemed to be nothing to stop the fumes from seeping in slowly. She struggled to move her paw pinned beneath her before clutching her wound to staunch the blood flow. Now and then spasms of uncontrollable coughing wracked her body as the fumes did their work.

Fading in and out of consciousness, Leonie decided being numb was a good thing. There was no input from Styx. Even in this condition, she missed his banter.

“Well, well. Look what we have here – the enemy,” the female voice rasped. “I told you I heard coughing.” Evlin broke out into a coughing fit herself. “She really isn’t much to look at, is she?”

“Finish her off so we can get out of here.” Tunif looked around warily. “The rollos will be swarming around here soon.”

“And what’re they going to do?” Evlin kicked the injured half-rrell in the already bloodied ribs. “Nothing. They won’t help her.” She lashed out with her boot again. “And they won’t be hurting us. I think I’ll get myself a souvenir first.” She dropped to her knees and drew her long, thin dagger. With a deft cut, she had a good length of tail in her hands.

Leonie shrieked in agony.

“Yep, this’ll do fine.” The assassin watched the blood pool on the sandy floor with mild interest. “Who woulda thought so much blood would come from a tail.”

“Can you hear that?” Tunif peered into the yellowish mist.

“I told you before, you’re nothing but a coward.” Evlin admired Leonie’s tail in her hands, running her fingers along the fine fur. “Go then, I’ll have my fun and complete this mission once and for all. If you ask nicely, I might even share the gory details.”

“No.” Tunif licked his lips, eyes searching the mist. “I’ll wait.”

Evlin cackled. “You can watch and learn then.” She looped the tail through her belt and then rolled the body over onto its back. “Damn. I think she’s died on me.” She moved closer to check her breathing. “Not as tough as I thought. And I was anticipating all the fun.” She reached to remove the enemies mask “What do you really look like?”

Suddenly Evlin fell forward heavily. A furry arm slowly snaked around her neck, pulling her closer.

“Time… to die,” Leonie croaked faintly. The crystal she’d just removed from the assassin’s harness falling from her paw. Claws sank into Evlin’s windpipe, gripping tightly. She gargled blood; choking as it filled her mask. Struggling feebly, darkness descended swiftly.

Watching through the swirling gas for the approaching rollo, it took a few moments before Tunif noticed Evlin’s fall. He swore at her clumsiness, then saw the pooling blood. He whipped out his dagger and stepped around Evlin’s body to cut the half-rrell’s throat.

Wary of any more tricks, he stepped on both the arms of the rrell thief.

“You failed, Evlin, but her head will give me much pleasure, and all the reward,” he gloated. “Now it is I who will succeed in avenging our slain brothers in Delta.”

Tunif looked up as a rollo appeared through the mist. He had never seen one with spikes before. The spikes, the same colour as the rollo, were about a hand-width long. They looked… lethal. “Stop there, little monster,” he called nervously. “Come any closer and I’ll show you the true wrath of the Jart’lekk.” Tunif brandished his dagger, watching warily for movement.

Surprisingly, the rollo stopped.

Tunif risked glancing down at the thief. It would only take a second to cut her throat. Determined to fulfil his duty, he bent down to complete his task. Poised with dagger against the thief’s well-muscled neck, his hand froze. He looked around anxiously hearing more faint rumbling.

With regards to wrath, let me show you mine.

An invisible force flung the assassin backwards like a rag-doll, striking the cliff face.

Dazed, Tunif picked himself off the ground and adjusted his mask. “Is that the best you can do?” he panted nervously, searching for his blade.

It will suffice.

“For what?” The clatter of pebbles made him look up.

The impact of Riff’s falling body crushed him, shattering his bones and turning the rest of his body to pulp.

For that.

* * *