6
Nov
This piece is an excerpt from what I wrote today for NaNo. Context is missing, so here’s a brief run down: Tarranau has been transformed into an Áðexe, and is journeying through Þracian to meet allied spies.
Looking forward once more, Tarranau was just able to shout a warning as three Áðexe stepped from behind a closed door, and into their path.
“Guess they want to bring us in earlier than expected.”
The five Áðexe all drew those strange wood and obsidian swords from underneath their cloaks. Racentéah cursed his lack of weapons and crouched down, his teeth baring in an ugly grin.
“Cover me.” Tarranau began forming the ice into a heavy mace, more serviceable against the hides of their enemies.
“With what, you fool?”
Tarranau ignored the response and spent a ball of ice whipping down from the ceiling at the two Áðexe behind them. The first never saw it coming, and his head was stove in with the first blow. The second shouted and dodged aside from the lashing blow, tumbling to the ground. Racentéah took that opportunity to dive at him, and they engaged in a crashing, tumbling wrestling match of gnashing teeth and rending claws.
Turning his attention to the three in front, the watermage was forced to duck away as one of the obsidian swords whizzed past, but not before it clipped him on the shoulder, leaving a bright red gash. All three of the warriors charged him, and he could do little more than run before their assault. He flipped the ball of ice over his head at them, but they were able to dodge it easily, for he had not thrown it with much force. A strike lash it at Tarranau’s back, and he dove to the ground to get away from it.
An Áðexe thudded down on top of him, his mouth open wide to bite out the human’s throat. Grasping him with all four arms, Tarranau was able to hold the creature back, long enough for the watermage to crush his foe’s skull with the mace of ice. Seeing their friend fall, the other two Áðexe slash at Tarranau with their swords. Able to roll away from one, the other caught him in the thigh, leaving a deep gash that bled profusely.
Flinging the ice mace at them, the watermage reached out with his talent and grabbed at the water within the Áðexe, pulling it from them. Both staggered when they felt Tarranau’s attacked, and then they charged, for they could tell he was weakening them somehow. Another strike caught Tarranau on the upper arm, and it flopped uselessly to his side. He was able to keep his concentration as he tumbled, and the ball of ice launched into the ribs of one foe, cracking them and driving him back.
Rising to a knee, Tarranau stared down the last remaining Áðexe foe, still pulling at the moisture inside of his enemy’s body. The watermage was in poor shape, with three deep cuts marking him, making him weak. He had to let go of his attack, and focus on slowing the bleeding, using his talents to keep his blood inside of his body. To keep it flowing in rhythm demanded almost all of Tarranau’s skill, and so when the swordsman came at him, weapon held low, he could do little more than spin away from the thrust, taking another nick along the ribs for his efforts.
A stumble put Tarranau on his back, and with a grin the swordsman advanced, raising his weapon for a killing stroke. There was a thump, and the Áðexe’s eyes glazed over and he fell, his weight crushing Tarranau beneath it. Cursing and crying out in pain, he looked up to see Racentéah standing over him, holding a damp blade.
“Can you walk?” The spy wobbled, his body covered with claw marks and the tell-tale wounds of teeth. It was apparent he was in a poor way, and one of his secondary arms was clearly broken.
Tarranau nodded, shoving the corpse off of him with his good arms, then rising to his feet to lean heavily on Racentéah. Together, they cut up the cloth of their foes’ cloaks, using it to bind the wounds as best they could. That done, the two Áðexe staggered onwards, sticking to the darkest corners of the tower complexes.
“You know where we are?”
“I know a place that was safe last time I was in the city. I have to hope it still is, I wasn’t told about it in the brief.”
Wounds caused them both to lapse into silence, and all that could be heard from them was grunting, as each step brought agony. Tarranau’s head began to throb, for building in the back was a thunderous headache, the warning that his body was drained from using his talent too much. He knew that soon he would collapse and faint, for he was weak from his wounds and from using his talent so strongly.
The watermage was able to stumble another block before he collapsed to the ground. Racentéah was able to drag him some little way into the shadows before departing, too wounded to carry the burden of another Áðexe. Blood began to seep into the cloth binding Tarranau’s wounds, as his talent no longer forced it to stay within his body. He stirred briefly, and then slipped away.
Comments
Leave a Reply