Blue Words - Part I Read online

the troops and weapons around the room. “Where’s - my - daughter!” snarled George breathlessly. She swung her right knee up, landing it firm and square between Kyran’s legs. His face twitched, his grip crumbled and he slouched forward. George growled and slammed the peak of her forehead into the bridge of his nose, her bound hands clenching with rage behind her back. Blood burst from Kyran’s nose, spraying onto her face. Instantly Gudrik felt the urge. Not the lingering urge from the tanks but. Whatever Kyran had done to himself, that was still his blood. “Blartvictus!” he roared as George fell aside. The order resonated within the small stream of blue liquid leaking from Kyran’s nose then surged throughout the body. It excited all but a few meticulously spared drops into action. Large spikes of night stone tore through his flesh in every conceivable direction, exploding out from inside him.

  Dorian realised the salt trap had been breached. He glared at the two greys which had stood by Kyran. They quickly snatched their weapons up to fire at Gudrik. Dorian shifted from where he lay, leaving his bindings on the ground. With a heavy puff of blue mist he appeared behind them, one hand on each of their grey shoulders. In an instant he was gone again, this time taking the greys with him. Another puff echoed through the chamber. Dorian appeared once again, close to the wall of the tunnel with the greys twisting and writhing, their bodies partially embedded within the rock wall.

  The greys’ demise left the room in a tense standoff. The Sword and the Hammer were not regular men. Fear did not take them; the powers did not intimidate them. They were level headed enough to react strategically, even under intense situations. The Hammer scooped George up gripping her so that one small twitch from his massive arms would shatter her fine neck. The shard Kyran had held protruded from between her left ribs, a final strike none had noticed. The Sword had positioned himself over Ami, his right foot stomped on her head, the muzzle of his rifle firm at her temple.

  “This can’t end well for any of us,” said the Sword calmly, “I think you had better drop the knife Warlock and we can sort something out.” Gudrik gave no reply, but he let the wand fall from his hand, clattering on the ground at his feet. “I’ll leave this one as a good faith gesture,” he said nodding at Ami. “The other one comes with us. As long as no one follows she’ll be left unharmed.”

  Gudrik stared hard at him. Ami was near death, Malaki had stopped rolling and flinching, George was looking pale. Dorian was already quivering after his two shifts. Gudrik however, was not concerned. He knew something the others did not.

  A fine blue mist wafted around the giant of a man and suddenly burst into form between the Hammer and his captive, shoving her from his grasp and unceremoniously into the dirt. George’s head firmly struck a small rock bursting blood from her forehead and rolling her eyes back to white. Kahn went pale, Gudrik’s eyes widened. The Hammer lunged landing a mammoth fist across Kahn’s jaw, knocking him to the ground. Gudrik flinched toward Kahn. “Don’t worry about me you fool!” he called, “Deal with her!”

  Kahn slid between The Hammer’s towering legs and popped up behind him. He swung a lighting fast kick into The Hammer’s lower right ribs. Even through the body armour, they crunched. It didn’t faze the giant. He swung around, launching a flurry of punches at Kahn. For such a large man, he was quick. Kahn deftly avoided his blows, throwing many of his own in between. The Hammer blocked all but a few.

  The Sword smiled, revelling in the fight for a moment. Dorian seized the opportunity. “Rizarous,” he whispered. A long thin shard grew in his hand, crackling with light.

  “Shame,” said the Sword looking back to Ami. His finger twitched on the trigger. Dorian loosed his shard directly at the Sword’s throat. The paladin reacted with freakish speed, he drew the rifle up as he fired, intercepting the crude dart and ricocheting it into the wall. The bullet, from his interrupted shot, plunged into Ami’s shoulder. It wasn’t a perfect save, but was better than the alternative.

  Gudrik charged to George and dragged her as clear of the battle as was possible. He ripped the shard from her side and quickly bled into her mouth. He was not used to playing medic in battle; his instincts did not serve him well in that role. He was nervous, jittery and over thinking everything. Combat was what he knew, what he was comfortable with. Nevertheless, he stayed by George.

  Dorian rolled aside as the Sword fired shots at him. He dropped low and loosed another dart, but the paladin once again removed his head from its line, using the rifle to defend. However, this time the dart struck a gloved finger. He dropped the weapon. Blood leaked from Dorian’s mouth, nose and ears. His body was breaking down. Rather than flinch, Sword drew his combat knife and launched into close combat. Dorian bounced to his feet, wrenched the ricocheted shard from the wall and met him. Both were well trained and both were blooded, giving and receiving blows and slashes without end. But Dorian was weakening quickly. His technique was becoming sloppy. His reactions slowed.

  George opened her eyes. Relief. Gudrik lay her down and looked to the fray. The Hammer had managed to wrap his iron hard fingers around Kahn’s neck and begun to crush. Kahn’s face was turning blue, his eyes red. Gudrik snatched up the giant’s rifle which lay only a few paces away. He fired at the Hammer. A terrible shot, it kicked like a mule, launching out of Gudrik’s grasp and clattering back to the ground. The shot sailed harmlessly past its target. The noise however, distracted the Hammer. He stepped back, his monstrous boot looming over Ami’s head. Gudrik moved towards her, but before he could get there Dorian had shifted in and out with her, leaving the Sword to slice at thin air. Distracted, his grip on Kahn’s throat loosened enough for the Inscribed leader to utter a single word aloud, “Histfush.”

  He collapsed back into mist and the Hammer’s fingers interlocked. The blue vapours wafted briefly about his bulbous head before a heaving snort from the giant breathed a puff in. The remainder of the blue mist surged in after it as the Hammer coughed and spluttered in protest. His eyes grew wide, his body twitched. Red gore erupted. The room was showered with warmth. The remnants of the Hammer flopped to the ground with a wet slap. Kahn was left standing in his place momentarily, but he too collapsed to the ground, weak, weary and wounded.

  The Sword was gone, the distraction of his brethren’s death enough time for a hasty escape. Gudrik wasted no time. He scooped the wand from the ground and bled for all his comrades. He went to Ami and Malaki first as he triaged the injuries. All bar George were in need of his help. Dorian was now barely maintaining consciousness, four shifts and two darts in such a short amount of time was far too much for his fragile human form, it was a miracle he lived at all. Beneath the coating of bodily fluids, Kahn too was injured from the battle, fractured chunks of Hammer’s bones protruded from him. Gudrik wrenched them free as the blood healed.

  The father and son recovered quickly. Kahn wiped his face and cut George’s bonds. “I saw a large room at the end of that offshoot we gave chase down,” announced Kahn with haste.

  “Go, find Tabitha,” called Gudrik as Kahn helped George up. “I will follow soon, but be alert.” George ran after Kahn, Dorian too. Malaki slowly recovered and climbed to his feet, weak but grateful to be alive. He looked down at Ami who was much more severely injured than he. Gudrik was inspecting her injuries. He held his ear close to Ami’s mouth. Her breath was almost nonexistent, but it was there and that was all the blood needed. “The wounds have closed, she will be fine with rest,” rumbled Gudrik, “I only have two exit glyphs, one on the hill overlooking here and one at the safe house. There is no point sending her to the hill, and we know the safe house is all but safe now. I want you with her,” said Gudrik.

  “Of course,” replied Malaki as Gudrik freshened their war masks.

  “Svanjanus vindiktsus.” Malaki and Ami’s unconscious body collapsed into the low road.

  Gudrik stood back up and walked over to Kyran. Despite the mutilations and protrusions, he still lived. The small measure of blood Gudrik spared had seen to that. He was obviously in inexplicable
pain, but unable to vocalise anything other than a moist, gurgling hum due to the razor sharp shard of night stone bursting through his throat. Gudrik did not end this blue word. Instead he stared at the morbid, stone urchin in front of him. Gudrik pictured all whom he had lost at the hands of this man over the centuries and savoured the picture for them.

  “Where is the child?” Gudrik asked. The response was nothing more than gargled splutter. “Where is the child?” he repeated. Kyran began scratching in the dirt with his left index finger. Gudrik could not read the word; it was in the modern tongue. He locked eyes with the tortured, twisted mess and reproduced his axe. Kyran’s right hand twitched free from his pocket, it was closed into a fist. In one silent swing Gudrik closed that chapter of his life and made his peace with the past.

  A blue mist lifted off the trickle of blood which escaped and it faded back to red. It brought a fitting symmetry to the saga. As he passed Kyran’s tightly clasped fist fell open. The object he had grasped from his pocket rolled free. Gudrik scooped it up. He stared at the tiny trinket in the palm of his hand and a queer look of realisation washed over him,