I can finally slam my foot down to brake.
The sand on this side of the bay is far coarser than the one by the fishing village. Tiny seashells littered across the coast shred the skin off my feet for minutes, until at last, my magick dispels.
“Shiiiiiit…” I hiss out, involuntarily.
Very carefully, I press against the whitened patch of skin on my back. It’s waxy to the touch, and although the area around it is searing with pain, I can’t feel anything on the actual blotch. That’s not something that’ll heal itself in a week’s time…
*BOOM*
The sound of my sprint finally caught up to where I was. I can hear the nearby wildlife panic, and scramble away as fast as possible. Even the sound of my magick is enough to knock some people out, and yet…
And yet, that scumbag is still alive.
I can feel my teeth grate against one another.
What the hell was his name? The tattooed one called him Erland…
Throughout the whole fight, the stab wound in my side hasn’t stopped throbbing in pain. I can still feel a bump in my throat when I try to breathe, there’s that goddamned barbed arrow I had to pry out… And now, some third shithead’s shown up with a firebomb. Just you wait – the moment I get my hands on any one of them, I’ll make them wish that–
“It’s pathetic… without your precious magick… you can’t even choke me out.”
Thunderclouds begin rolling in from across the horizon. The hair on my neck starts pointing upwards.
Erland… Erland…
I’m dragging your mangled corpse with me on a tour of the entire continent.
I close my eyes and visualize my destination – the coast of the Cupram Village’s bay, exactly where that trio will be waiting. I open my eyelids. This fleeting moment in time begins to stretch out, longer, and longer, until the movements of my body can no longer keep up with my thoughts. Sinews tighten, joints grind against one another, and muscles clasp together, ready for the instant that lightning strikes.
Ready. Set. Go.
The jagged bolt slowly unsheathes itself from the thundercloud – its countless branches diverging into increasingly smaller veins. A blinding flash of light – the sight of which I have gotten long-used to – reflects off the surface of the bay, and I give chase. The scenery around me begins to blur. I can feel the soles of my feet getting wet, but so long as I can keep up with that burst of light, my speed makes it impossible to sink. Steps turn to bounds, and bounds turn to leaps – each time I kick off the seawater, my body flies hundreds of paces forward. Ahead, the lightning’s reflection is getting further away, and just behind me, I can see a translucent wave of sound desperately trying to keep up. Finally, the endless water horizon begins receding, and starts giving way to the sandy bay of Cupram Village.
There they are! Even closer to the coast than they were before I left.
The flash of light has already reached everyone hanging around the shore; the mercenaries must’ve registered that a bolt of lightning has struck in the distance. In slow motion, I can see the tattooed archer release his bowstring, and the woman’s shoulders draw inwards whilst holding a javelin. Are they trying to hit me based on instinct?
I try to accelerate, but miraculously, both the arrow and throwing spear end up getting flung exactly into my path. What kind of bullshit..? Which step of my magick did they even figure out?! At this rate, I’ll run into either the arrowhead, or the javelin before they’ve even had a chance to travel.
Time dilates even further. Calm down, and look closer.
The arrow was aimed at my left side, only its tip is made from metal, and most importantly, it’s traveling ahead of the javelin. On the other hand, I can’t touch any part of the throwing spear, which is zeroing-in on my right side. There is a way to dodge both.
Even though my muscles can’t keep up with every command that my mind wants to execute, it’s a different story entirely when it comes to magick. Technically, I can make micro-adjustments while running if I shock specific muscles with electricity… the only difference is that at this speed, even a slight turn is going to hurt, a lot.
Both obliques. Gluteus Medius and Minimus. Hip flexors. Adductors. Quadriceps, then hamstrings, then– OW! Feet, feet! The Peroneals and… the shin muscles, whatever they’re called. Now just the upper body – deltoids, Latissimus Dorsi, Trapezius, and the Rhomboids.
Each shock feels like tissue being torn off of my skeleton. The sinews tighten hard enough to create a sound – creaking and groaning, almost like braided rope used to tie ships to mooring. When it’s finally over, my entire body has turned sideways, and I get to watch as the arrow passes right in front of my face, and the javelin, right behind me. I’m nearly there now – just you wait, the moment I run straight into you…
Wait.
The tattooed one shot the arrow. The woman threw the javelin.
Where is Erland?
My eyes scan the surrounding area as best as they can; my periphery far too constrained by the fact that I’m now running sideways. Did he retreat? No, he must be hiding somewhere… Inside one of the homes? Did he dig himself into the sand somehow? I could feel sweat dripping from my forehead before my body even started producing it. I was a handful of paces away from reaching solid ground.
Where are you?!
And just then, I spot it.
A small mound pushing its way out from the surface of the water. In slow motion, I watch as the surface tension breaks, gradually unveiling the powerless mercenary from the murky depths. His eyes aren’t even fully open. At first, all I can feel is bewilderment. What’s the play here? As I travel closer, I finally start to make it out – a silver blade, slowly peeking its tip out from the water, and at the rate it was going, it might actually clip me.
How did I not see him until now?!
My immediate instinct is to brake – slow down somehow. As soon as I do, I can feel the saltwater seep further up my ankle.
Shit!
That won’t work, not on water. For a brief moment, the idea to grit through the pain, and turn my trajectory flashes into my mind. Even if I can’t visualize it, there isn’t anything here I could crash into that would mortally wound me. Besides if they don’t know where I’m coming from next, that could be an advantage… I could even try raining lightning down a second time – maybe I’ll get lucky and–
Something else grabs my attention. Erland was still emerging out from the water, but his face was completely visible now. My jaw clenches in rage. Was I seriously about to rely on luck to waste these nobodies? Unforgivable. For the first time in my life, the lightning magick begins animating my body before my mind made that decision. I don’t try to fight it.
Erland… in a situation like this… you’re smiling?
From the moment lightning struck over the horizon, it took all of three seconds for Fulgir to blitz into the Cupram Village shoreline.
Suddenly, impact.
Rum and Wulfram watched as the tranquil surface of the water erupted into the sky. In an instant, Erland was launched out from the water with tremendous force, and flew through the air towards the burning village, whereas Fulgir was nowhere to be seen. Finally, Erland’s sword landed in the sand nearby the two mercenaries, snapping them out from momentary shock.
“Did you see what happened?” Wulfram asked while loading another arrow into his bowstring.
Instead of answering, Rum immediately made her way over to the sword.
“Son of a–”
All she needed to do was show the blade, the tip of which was now clearly dyed red. Wulfram’s eyes widened.
“How the hell did he pull that off?”
“I guess if that magus doesn’t see you coming, it’s just a matter of prediction…”
Rum clenched the handle of the blade tightly.
“Wulfram, run back up to the village and find Erland, before he burns to death.”
The tattooist seemed to be torn on whether to go or stay.
“And the magus? Shit, he might be waiting for me to do exactly that.”
“If he was going fast enough to walk on water, even a small push could’ve been catastrophic,” she flashed the sword a second time, “and Erland did a lot more than push him. He’s still near the water here, somewhere.”
“But–”
“Wulfram.” Rum’s expression softened. “I need this.”
The tattooist froze for a moment, and then, with a solemn nod, sprinted back towards the raging fire behind him.
“Just ‘scare them off’, he said…”
The unfamiliar voice caused Rum to turn around like a spring-loaded mechanism. In front of her was the man who she’d only seen briefly from aboard the horse-drawn cart – the lightning magus. On his left side, just above the hip, Rum could see a large gash in the leather armor – no doubt the one Erland just gave him – from which blood was pouring out.
Then, the two made eye contact.
Rum prepared to rush Fulgir, but to her surprise, the magus stood motionless. No thunderclouds rolled in above her head. The man seemed to be studying her face from a distance, and right now, it was in Rum’s best interest to stall for time.
“Have we met be–”
“Show me your left hand.”
The question felt to her like a kick in the stomach. Fulgir repeated the question.
“Show me your left hand.”
Regardless of anything going through Rum’s mind, she knew it was better to keep this conversation going – otherwise, the magus could check himself. Without any sudden movements, the mercenary turned slightly, revealing her missing appendage. Fulgir couldn’t hide his surprise.
“Shit, that all but confirms it…” the magus trailed off, and Rum’s pulse quickened. “For a second, I thought: ‘even if she is who you’re thinking of, why is she here?’.”
A single thundercloud began to materialize above Fulgir, but the mercenary’s tunnel vision blocked it from her periphery.
“I… I don’t know who you think I am, but–”
“You’re from Helvia, aren’t you?”
Rum gripped the sword tighter.
“I’ve lived there my whole life. I’ve been doing odd-jobs in Ferroth for a while now, but I assure you, I know a lot about the people there. The food. The climate. The customs.”
A pain flared up in Rum’s left hand. The sky darkened, but the mercenary was too transfixed on Fulgir’s words to notice.
“I wonder how many more kids like you that bastard’s swept under the rug…”
Her lip quivered.
“You should know, just in the ‘looks’ department, you take a lot after your father, am-pu-tee.”
The provocation was enough to push Rum over the edge. As she raised the sword for a downward swing, a bolt of lightning propelled the magus forward faster than sound. The short-distance punch connected, immediately knocking the mercenary out on the ground.
“Ow, ow…”
Fulgir pressed both hands into his widening gash on the side. Both instinct and reason were telling him that he needed to retreat, at least for a few minutes to treat the wounds. The mercenaries failed in their task, and more pressingly, an excellent hostage has appeared from thin air. Nothing was lost.
“…I’ll see you in five, Erland.”
What happened..?
“…nd!”
I felt the sword cut into something, and then…
“...land!”
Guys… I almost got one of them…
“Erland!”
Everything looks blurry. Everything hurts. My arms don’t seem to be following directions…
“Erland, get up! I need your help! Rum needs your help!”
I mumble something in response. Was my head always this heavy?
“Erland, I know how we can kill Fulgir.”
“…Lead with that next time.”
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