Echoes of a Shattered Age (38 page)

Kenjiro and Akemi shielded their eyes from the dirt and rocks that those beating wings stirred.

“A bit of a rude entrance, don’t you think?” Akemi remarked, one hand gripping the hilt of Sekimaru.

“Must feel the need to make a grand entrance,” Kenjiro replied.

“Are all humans as confident as you?” the thing asked.

Akemi’s eyebrows twitched at the raspy sound of the creature’s voice. “You sound as if you need a throat-soothing tablet,” she said. “If you will wait a moment, I can see if I have one with me.” Her older brother arched an eyebrow.

Zreal studied the humans. Both had great power emanating from them, like nothing he had ever seen from their species. They stood casually, but he had no doubt that they could spring into action in an instant. He decided to gauge their skill. In the blink of an eye, he launched himself straight at them.

Akemi snapped Sekimaru out of its sheath and sidestepped to the right while cut diagonally down and then vertically up.

Kenjiro, in one motion, unsheathed his sword and sliced straight up and then diagonally down to his right while stepping into the motion.

To their surprise, the reptilian-looking creature dodged both of their attacks and landed safely behind them. From the corner of his eye, Kenjiro saw a long, thin cut that had almost removed the sleeve of his
haori
. He glanced at Akemi, her hair hanging freely at her shoulders. The band that held her hair back fell to the ground. It didn’t take much to realize that the creature had dodged their attacks, sliced his arm and cut the band from her hair.

“I wished to see your hair unbound,” the creature said.

Akemi stepped forward, her foot on top of the band, further burying it in the dirt. “Show me your weapon creature, so that I may remove it from your corpse.”

It chuckled at her statement. “All of my weapons are natural,
human
,” it spat the last word. “Try as you wish, but you’ve little hope to survive this.”

Zreal had their attention, and there was no doubt in his mind that they believed him. They attacked, one cutting low while the other cut high, one left, one upward. Their tactics were systematic and precise, indicating years of fighting together that surprised Zreal. His surprise was nothing more than amusement, however. They were fast and they were skilled, but they were humans.

Kenjiro feinted a stab, then changed the motion and cut a circular strike that surely would have removed the creature’s head if not for its tremendous speed and reflexes. The creature dodged his attack, then dropped to the ground to avoid the ninja’s low strike that would have removed his legs. It hopped from the ground between them while turning its body diagonally. It straightened midair, delivering a powerful kick to the samurai’s chest, and a head to the ninja’s stomach.

Launched in opposite directions, Akemi tumbled head over heels backward while Kenjiro’s body skipped over the ground like a pebble across a body of water until he slammed into a tree.

Zreal looked a mixture of amused and disappointed. “This cannot be the extent of your abilities?” he said. “Two of you against me and this is all you can do? The tower should be rubble by now if all depends upon you.”

Kenjiro struggled to his feet. That had hurt more than he wanted to admit to himself. Whatever this thing was, it was definitely strong enough to have killed him with that kick to the chest. It was toying with them. He noticed that Akemi was slow to her feet as well.

Akemi was also hurt more than she wished to admit. The demon huntress was no stranger to being struck down in a fight, but she always managed to recover with the grace of a cat. This reptilian thing had sent her tumbling out of control for several dozen feet before she finally slid to a stop. She stood, partially bent at the waist and trying not to grab at her stomach. Kenjiro would need to buy her some time to recover. As if reading her mind, the samurai raised his sword once again and stalked toward their enemy.

Zreal looked at him in mock surprise. “Up again? You wear a brave face, but don’t move so fast. You really don’t want to play with me anymore, do you? If you admit it now, I can end all of this quickly.”

Kenjiro continued toward his enemy.
It knows nothing of the samurai
.

* * *

The human’s quick reaction surprised Szhegaza. She’d thought to rip out his intestine and be done with it. Her underestimation had earned her a slap at her wrist from the human’s staff. He followed the blow with a reversed horizontal swipe at her head, which she slipped underneath. The fact that she had to expend this much energy on a human irritated her.

The zitarian was nothing, if not vain, and such vanity was the source of her irritation at having to get dirty. Her vanity also could have cost her more than a stinging wrist. If there had been a blade in place of that staff, she might be cradling a nub instead of her hand.

Now he was on her, feigning a left swipe, then reversing the motion and nearly slapping the zitarian on the side of the head. Szhegaza was getting angry. This human was a much better fighter than she’d anticipated, and it had damaged her pride. She dodged his every attack, even parrying a few with her hands, then ducked another horizontal strike and darted in low. He sidestepped and barely avoided her right-handed slash at his midsection.

Kita did well to hide his surprise at this creature’s prowess. He hadn’t expected her to parry his staff with her bare hands. He was obviously not fighting a demon. This thing kept him on his toes, and it was difficult to establish a solid footing long enough to formulate some sort of strategy. She was faster than he was, but how much faster, he was unsure. Kita knew that he had caught her off guard only because of her arrogance at the start of the fight.

“Time to finish our little dance,” the thing hissed. “I don’t know why you are still alive, but that doesn’t matter much to me now.” Its spread its dragonfly-like wings and half-flew, half-jumped toward him in a confusing zigzag motion that was so fast, Kita had trouble following the movements. He barely avoided being cut across the face by a clawed left hand that he didn’t see coming till the last minute.

Quick to improvise, Szhegaza followed the attack through and slammed her shoulder into his chest and blasted the wind from his lungs. The human flew a dozen feet and hit the ground in a backward roll.

Wheezing for air, he looked up and saw a clawed hand stabbing for his chest. He turned aside just in time to avoid those razor sharp claws, and rolled backward again to put some distance between them.

“This is it, my human friend. I hope you don’t mind.” That same venomous smile crept across her striped green face. And then the smile was gone, along with the reptilian-looking female. Kita flinched away as a blur of movement whipped by him and knocked her into the air to crash into a group trees.

“Not at all,” a deep voice replied.

Kita’s eyes widened at the sight of a half-horse, half-man peering into the distance with a grin of satisfaction on his face. Kita was still in shock as this new ally helped him up. “Thanks,” he said. “I hate to admit it, but I think that might have been my end.”

“Do not say that,” the centaur said. “Even the greatest of fighters need help at one time or another. Besides, I think your friend was determined to help you despite his injury.” The centaur nodded over his shoulder at his Kenyatta, holding one of his swords in the hand of his strong arm.

“He might be mad that you beat him here,” Kita chuckled. “He’d like nothing more than to have another save to hold over my head.” He straightened and extended his hand. “I am Kita.”

“I am Warsong,” the centaur replied, taking the human’s hand in a powerful grip.

Kita waved a hand. “My struggling friend over there is Kenyatta.”

Warsong smiled and tipped his head.

Kita’s smile disappeared when he remembered the others. In his fight with that green winged thing, he’d forgotten them.

Seeing the concern on the warrior’s face, Warsong placed a reassuring hand on Kita’s shoulder. “Fear not for your friends. My clan battles with you.” They walked over to help Kenyatta get to his feet, and after careful inspection of his wound, Warsong lifted the protesting islander in his arms and started toward the tower.

Kita insisted on remaining behind so that he could help Shinobu, despite Warsong’s assurance that his leader was more than able to deal with the creatures. Kita soon found that it was no exaggeration. The—much larger—centaur leader had come to the strider’s aid, and now battled those two frightening Zzrt. The big centaur inflicted grievous damage on the two demons, but they seemed more tolerant of the enchanted weapons. The one named Grimhammer pounded one of the hulking fiends to the ground, and struck a gaping hole in the chest of the other, only for it to mend almost immediately.

Kita joined the fight, and with him, Shinobu, and the giant centaur together, they managed to defeat the two demons, beating at them until they finally succumbed to their numerous wounds and faded back to the dark realm. After the centaur leader inspected a nasty wound Kita had received from one of the Zzrt, Grimhammer declared that they must make haste, and grudgingly offered to carry them both on his back to the tower.

On the way, Grimhammer explained the strategy that had begun before the five of them had arrived, and what was happening now on the fields of Takashaniel. The brunts were fighting their way back to the tower and may have reached it by now. The remaining magical warriors fought with the last bit of power that sustained them, but would not be able to hold their physical forms much longer. Aside from the five humans, the guardian and his apprentice, the brunts and the centaurs where the only other mortal warriors on the battlefield.

Once they reached the tower, they found a battered Kenjiro and an exhausted Akemi. Kita was surprised to see the siblings so worse for wear. Kita whistled through his teeth after listening to a recap of the fight with a reptilian-looking creature similar to the one he’d fought, and that the centaur Lightlance had tipped the scale in their favor. None wished a rematch with those two any time soon.

Across the field, the battle was turning for the better. The brunts had fought their way back, and most of the remaining demons were not as powerful as the first wave that had attacked before. Though the centaurs had suffered the loss of three of their clan, the brunts had not fared so well. Grit reported that he had lost his fifth in command. (Traditionally, a clan of brunts would have as many as ten in command.) It was that loss that had brought them closer to winning the day. When Leader Ghrass fell, the brunts had gone into a frenzy. Although they lost a few more numbers, they’d sent many demons screaming back to the dark realm.

***

Chapter Forty-One

Brit prepared himself for a tough battle that he had known was inevitable from the start. Kabriza had summoned two subordinates and housed them in his fortress without his knowledge. Surely a face-off would follow, as Brit could sense power emanating from the twin winged demons standing to the side like statues.

To his surprise, however, Kabriza made no threatening gesture. Instead, it spoke a word in its guttural tongue, and they ran past Brit toward the balcony, leapt over it and glided into the distance. Brit never took his eyes off of the Quentranzi general.

“A plan of your own?” the Drek inquired.

“A precaution for an ambitious plan that might have proven beyond the Drek’s means,” Kabriza rumbled. Brit let the insult pass. He was more concerned with the demon before him, the two that just left, and how strong they might be if their efforts were joined. If Kabriza was able to summon those two without his knowledge, how many more could it bring? How was that even possible since Brit himself was the demon general’s
tether
to this world. The prospect of battling two Quentranzi interested Brit more than it worried him. What did concern him, was the prospect of battling those two along with the demon general. That might prove to be a challenge unlike any Brit had experienced.

***

Chapter Forty-Two

The defenders regrouped for a final stand against the closing demons. The centaurs formed a simple formation and awaited Warsong’s order. The brunts formed a two-group, arrow-shaped formation, ready to charge at Grit’s command. Despite their determination, Iel was concerned for his human allies. They had fought beyond anything he thought a human capable of, and were looking the worse for wear.

The sound of hooves pounding the ground drew the guardian’s attention, and Iel looked out to the battlefield to see Grimhammer racing toward them with Shinobu and Kita riding his back.

The defenders readied themselves, but at the sight of the resistance that the two remaining warriors met in the field, half the centaurs and half the brunts, per Warsong and Grit’s orders, charged the field to aid their friends. Iel moved to the humans and offered what he hoped was a confident smile. “You need not …”

“Do not even bother, guardian,” the samurai interrupted. “We have no intention of leaving without finishing this.”

Iel could only nod at that declaration. He had expected such from them, but still he had to try.

“I have a bad feeling,” said a voice from behind. Iel turned to his worried apprentice. “Only a handful of demons are left, and there is no sign of any new threat, but I can’t help this feeling I have.”

“I feel it also,” Iel responded. “There is no sign of the Drek or his ally.”

“Not only that,” Kenjiro added, “but those two reptilian things are still alive.” That brought a worried expression to the Ilanyan’s face, for he received a full account of the two winged creatures that were even more formidable than any of the demons they’d fought, save the titan.

* * *

The taste of dirt in his mouth, and the sound of the remnants of battle awakened Zreal from his unintended slumber. He lifted his head and immediately regretted it when the pounding started. That huge centaur had crashed into him with so much force, he’d been launched far away from those humans. The last thing he remembered seeing was the fast approach of a tree.

“I think we would do well to leave while we may,” said a familiar and unwelcome voice. “The tide is turned against us.”

Zreal lifted his head—slowly this time—to see the haggard-looking zitarian on her hands and knees. There was no sarcasm or deviousness in her tone. She must really be hurt.

“The master would disagree with you, Szhegaza,” Zreal responded through gritted teeth. His head felt like it might split.

“Oh?” Szhegaza said. “He would prefer his two most loyal and competent servants to perish in an already lost battle?”

Zreal almost laughed at that last question. Surely they were indeed the most competent of Brit’s forces, but loyal? Surely Zreal’s loyalty was not in question, but amongst the zitarian race perfidy was a way of life.

Szhegaza had finally regained her feet, and upon seeing Zreal’s dubious expression, she grabbed his arm and hosted him upright. “You have no choice, Zreal.” She draped an arm around his shoulder. “You must trust me.” She grinned at her groaning companion. “If it makes you feel any better, I would never take advantage of a helpless ally or adversary. There is simply no honor in it.” She shot him a sly grin. “Or fun.”

With some effort, and no small amount of pain, the unlikely allies took flight, and put as much distance between themselves and Takashaniel as possible.

***