Chapter 13: Retreating and Preparing (1)

A fraction of a second passed in which Xerxes perceived everything in slow motion. Bel jerked forward as the Abhorrent woman’s disturbingly structureless fingers stabbed into her. She flinched as droplets of blood splattered onto her face from the wound.

Also in that fraction of a second, he thought about Gandash, and how he smiled when talking to Bel. He thought about how all three of them had been close companions from the moment they arrived together at the Academy. He thought of the mischief they had got into in the capital, as well as the challenges they had overcome. He thought about how, only days before, they had been the ones to uncover the illegal machinery, and how that likely would put all three of them on the path to studying in a higher starisle.

In that brief moment, anger overrode fear. Swiveling, he flipped his sword around, grabbed the hilt with both hands, and lunged back in Bel’s direction.

“Xerxes!” Tamharu shouted. “Don’t you—”

Bel screamed as the fingers tightened and pulled, yanking her off her feet. However, she’d already grabbed onto Goran, and that saved her. Apparently, the Abhorrent woman’s disgusting fingers had immense reach, but lacked immense strength. Bel nearly lost her footing, but she kept her grip on Goran’s arm as if her life depended on it, which likely it did.

Meanwhile, Xerxes reached the scene and slashed out with as much precision as he could muster, cutting through four of the five fingers.

A guttural shriek erupted from the Abhorrent as her fingers were severed, causing them to snap backward like loosened rubber bands. The fifth one came with them. The portions which had pierced through Bel collapsed into acrid, grayish-white liquid, while at the same time, Bel herself fell to the ground. Then the fingers whipped back in their direction.

“Help her, Goran,” Xerxes growled. Fueled by adrenaline, he took two steps forward and slashed at the fingers again. He didn’t hit a single one.

In fact, one of the flapping white strips grabbed onto his upper arm. He swung the sword again, wildly, but missed, and ended up in an even worse position as a rubbery white appendage slapped onto the blade of his sword, just above the crossguard.

What the hell am I doing? he thought, but before he could consider how to retreat, the sword was yanked out of his grip and tossed away. Then, two flailing white fingers snapped onto his ankles, and one encircled his neck. He tried to wrench himself free, but failed, and felt himself being dragged up the hill. He reached up and grabbed the tentacular finger wrapped around his neck and attempted to rip it away. It held firm.

He was halfway up the hill when, without even realizing what he was doing, he scooped a handful of crabnickel powder out of his component pouch.

Only six or seven cubits away, the bare-breasted Abhorrent woman licked her lips as she stared at him. The teeth in her mouth were sharp and pointed, and her tongue was long and red.

Xerxes traced the Asgagu Isten rune into the crabnickel powder, and though he was sure his finger trembled like a blade of grass in a windstorm, after he drew the last line, he felt the melam flowing through him.

He was only two cubits away from the Abhorrent’s gaping maw when his hand began to glow brightly. He was one cubit away when he curled his fingers into a fist.

The Abhorrent opened her mouth even wider.

Xerxes threw his fist out, not in a wild haymaker like his fight with Ligish, but instead, a tight jab. He hit the monstrous woman in the eye, and his burning fist bit deep into her maggoty flesh, causing an immediate venting of steam and smoke.

The woman howled and stumbled back, dropping him in the process. She reeled left, her spidery legs clicking on the rocks as she nearly fell onto her side. She lurched to the right and then scuttled back over the crest of the hill, covering her wounded face with her hands.

He took a single step forward, briefly considering trying to take advantage of the spell to inflict further harm.

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No, I need to get out of here.

He turned to see Goran trying to get Bel onto her feet. Tamharu was further down the slope, and Ap was a short distance away, looking back at them.

It looked like Bel was unconscious. His eyes darted around looking for his sword. He caught sight of it and jumped over to retrieve it.

“Xerk,” Tamharu said, “take Bel back to the camp posthaste.”

As his Singular Lethality spell faded, and his hand returned to normal, Xerxes bound over to Goran and Bel. Looking down, he saw that her eyes were closed but she was clearly breathing.

“Yes, sir,” he said. “Goran, help me get her on my back.”

With the soldier’s help, he wrapped his arms around her thighs and held her tightly. He took a few experimental steps to the bottom of the hill. By bending forward a bit, he could keep her balanced atop him while he ran.

“Go as fast as you can, Seer,” Tamharu said.

“I will. Sergeant… please, hurry back.”

“We will.”

Xerxes started running and didn’t look back. He dreaded the prospect of hoarse screams ringing out from behind him, but none came. Rihan was dead. Tekinalp too. No doubt about it.

Sergeant Tamharu, though, was tougher. He’d fought in actual battles. He wasn’t going to fall to that monster. Was he? No, he wasn’t. He would get Goran and Ap back to the camp safely. Xerxes knew it.

Soon he was in the trees, pumping his legs without restraint. Now that he didn’t have to worry about non-mages keeping up with him, he could run at top speed. And Seers were much faster than Unsighted. The trees turned into a blur before giving way to rocky terrain.

At about the halfway point he stopped very briefly to check on Bel. She lay against him with her head on his shoulder, breathing shallowly.

“Bel?” he said. “Bel!”

She didn’t respond.

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