Chapter 4:
The Marksman Odyssey
I’m not fond of fighting.
That isn’t to say I’ve never had the displeasure of being in a fight before. Shit simply happens, especially when you’re young and stupid. Well, younger and stupider.
Tussles with friends, standing up to a bully that took things too far, arguments during sports matches, I’ve gone through them all. There was even a time when I thought I might find something to enjoy in fighting when I trained martial arts throughout high school. I attended several tournaments, held my own fairly well during them according to my teacher, but I never scored a medal.
At least, I thought as I moved on from that phase, I have some experience now and won’t panic in a real fight.
And see, that might’ve been the case if I was up against people. Fear is one’s greatest enemy, it’s said, but that applies to any reasonable person involved in a scuffle, and thus if nothing else, you can count on an unarmed foe not to suicidally throw themselves at a man with a gun.
But I’m not fighting people, I’m fighting beasts. A swarm of ravenous, frenzied, bloodthirsty beasts.
Nothing I have done in the past has prepared me for something like this.
They burst from the hatch in droves, scampering, gnashing, climbing atop each other in a mad dash to be the first onto the arena. Three of them, then six, a dozen, more and more, each a fiendishly fast bundle of razor-edged fangs and talons. They rush at the competitors with wild abandon as the crowd above us roars with excitement.
Gunther fires his blunderbuss at a small pack heading our way. The shrapnel puffs up a myriad clouds of dust from the ground and shreds the three creatures leading the charge, forcing them to recoil with an agonizing, high-pitched cry. Six more quickly climb over their wounded comrades and continued forth unabated, closing the distance to Siabahn and Luach in a heartbeat.
Luach holds her stance low as the first monster lunges for her neck. In an instant, she is a blur, deftly stepping off the beast’s trajectory as her katana draws a smeared arc through its body, and it lands in two pieces, bisected at its middle.
Siabahn twirls his twinned blade in a taunting flair as two monsters try to rush him down. With them almost upon him, his blade suddenly bursts in a shower of crimson flames, searing the ground, forcing the creatures to jolt back with a hiss. That’s when Siabahn seizes the initiative, blade and body wreathed in fire as his first thrust pierces the neck of one monster. He pulls the blade free with a wide movement, slicing the second monster’s side open with a wide sidestroke that instantly kills it.
That’s six monsters killed; several more rush at us, threatening to overpower the formation with the sheer weight of numbers. Two slip past Luach and Siabahn, rushing Gunther and I on the backline. But that is no issue for Gunther, who swings his heavy blunderbuss like a club at the creature lunging at him. The swing connects, slamming the creature against the stone floor so hard that I hear its bones crack. It flails around in pain for a moment before Gunther finishes it by crushing its skull with a vicious stomp..
And then there was me.
The beast targeting me lunges for my neck, forcing me to push the length of my musket into its maw. Its teeth gnash against the iron barrel. Claws flail madly as the creature desperately tries to dig them into me. One reaches my right arm, ripping the fabric of my sleeve and the flesh underneath like a razor through soft clay.
With a cry of pain and panic, I take a step back and twist my body, adding my strength to the creature’s momentum to shove it away from me. I lose my footing from the effort and trip down to my knees. The monster, on the other hand, deftly rolls back on its feet as soon as it lands, completely unfazed.
It is a lizard the size of a crocodile, perhaps only a bit smaller, but as agile as a wolf. A webbed fin sprouts from its spine all the way from the crown of its head to the root of its tail, the end of which is armed with long, sharp spines. Stone-grey scales cover its whole body, their shade lighter at its belly than its back.
It hisses, a high-pitched, blood-curdling hiss as it circles me, its amber-colored eyes fixed firmly on me. Its jaw hangs open, displaying two matching rows of saw-like teeth, and its front feet bear prominent, curved claws that give each of its steps an ominous sound like that of a blade being sharpened.
And I’m still on my knees, clutching the bleeding gash on my twitching arm. I try to get my feet under me, but the beast seizes its advantage, pouncing at me again, claws stretched forward for a killing stroke.
Not enough time to block again, not enough of a foothold to dodge, not enough courage to try anything that would risk contact with those vicious claws. So instead I let my body fall away from it and land hard on my back. With the musket gripped firmly with both hands, I turn the tip of the bayonet towards the creature with the stock braced against the stone floor. Unless it can somehow maneuver mid-air, there’s no way it could avoid the danger.
Sure enough, the blade pierces the monster’s scaly hide and digs deep into its torso, impaled by its own momentum. And yet it doesn’t die, but screeches in pain, thrashing furiously at the end of my gun. It still swipes its claws at me, but the length of the weapon keeps me safely out of reach.
Still, I’m struggling to hold it back. My bloodied right hand desperately feels for the trigger, hoping the bullet can end what the bayonet could not.
But before I can find it, Gunther rushes to my side and whacks the monstrous lizard with a mighty swing of his gun that sends it flying away.
“On your feet, kid!” Gunther yells, grabbing me by the back of my shirt and pulling me up. “We can’t handle this many out in the open like this! We’re taking cover!”
“A-alright!” I stutter back, running after him towards a pile of wreckage that seems to once have been a cart. Luach and Siabahn stay close around us, covering our retreat as a couple more lizards give chase.
The bulk of the monsters are busy with the other groups of fighters, several of which are tragically not doing as well as us.
I spot one fighter, a man with a sword, fall face-down with a lizard on its back. Its curved talons dig right through the metal armor he’s wearing. The man screams, desperately clawing the floor in a futile attempt to escape, but more of the monsters quickly swoop in with claws and fangs. His cries are soon snuffed out.
From a quick glance, I can count six or so more fighters already suffering similar fates, but I cannot stomach the view for very long. Above us, the crowd roars at the bloody spectacle.
Meanwhile, we gather around the wrecked cart, Siabahn, Luach and Gunther keeping an eye out while I huddle underneath the wreck, still holding my bleeding arm.
“Argh, what are those things?!”
“Sickle lizards,” Luach says. She and Siabahn keep eyes on four of the creatures as they pace around us, prowling for the slightest opening.
“Someone made quite the investment to bring in this many,” adds Siabahn.
“Quit the chatter,” Gunther interrupts as he hurries to reload his blunderbuss, pouring a handful of shrapnel into the barrel. “Luach, how many are left?”
“Eighteen lizards, ten fighters left.”
“Eight, counting us,” Siabahn clarifies. “Another team is holding out, but the others were wiped out. At least the dead are keeping most of the lizards busy.”
I don’t dare see what he means, though the noises are difficult to ignore, even through the rapturous cheers of the audience.
“Don’t let your guard down. These are pack hunters,” Gunther warns. “We’ll be in trouble if all of them come at us at once. Luach, could you handle them with your breath?”
“I could,” Luach answers. “But they’re too fast and spread out to attack. I might disable three or four, five if I’m lucky.”
Her breath? Curious as I am, this isn’t the moment to delve into the details, but it must be some sort of wide-area attack.
“Only three…” Gunther ponders the issue deeply, rubbing his bearded chin. He gives a long look to the other team that is still holding out. They have huddled around a boulder, stuck in a standoff against a small pack of lizards that is harassing them as we ourselves are being harassed. The creatures swoop in for quick bites or swipes of their claws, while the fighters defend with shields and scare them back with thrusts of their spears.
I can’t guess what he might be thinking, but Gunther’s brown furrows darkly, as if savoring a bitter thought. Still, whatever it is, he doesn’t say anything, even as I notice Siabahn and Luach giving him patient but questioning glances, ready to follow his lead.
It might be out of place for me, but I dare to speak up, even with the flavor of bile still lingering in my mouth. “We can force the lizards to bunch together.”
Gunther turns to me. “How?”
I look at Siabahn’s twinned blades. “The flames, the lizards fear them. We can push them together by using fire.”
“Ah, I see,” Siabahn says. “That is indeed a sensible idea, but I fear you overestimate my power. I am only able to wreathe myself and my weapon in flames momentarily. I cannot, for instance, set the ground alight. It won’t suffice to corner so many lizards.”
That is inconvenient, but there’s a potential solution right on hand. We are taking cover right under a wrecked, wooden cart, with planks scattered all around us. Slinging my musket to my back, I quickly pick a plank that is long and light, then tear off what remains of my right sleeve and wrap it around one end. “Can you set this alight?”
Siabahn needs only a glance before he grins confidently. “With ease.”
He snaps his fingers and his claws spark. A tiny ember jumps to the end of the plank and instantly sets the wrapped cloth alight.
I can’t help but gasp in wonder. Could this be magic? It must be. I’m in a world not only of exotic peoples and monstrous creatures, but magic as well. Even if I’m wrong and it’s only a device concealed in his claws, I’d so like to learn the secret.
But it’s not the moment for that either. With my buckler and the burning torch-plank in hand, I charge at one of the lizards circling us. “Cover me!”
My right arm is still injured and bleeding. I’m not sure I would be able to muster enough strength to strike with it if I needed to, but that’s not my intent. I simply swing the plank in wide arcs, threatening the closest lizards with the flames as the swings fan and brighten them into a modestly strong torchlight.
And just as with Siabahn’s burst of flames, the lizard I’m harassing hisses and retreats. It doesn’t go too far, still hunting for a chance to pounce at me, but it’s clearly cautious of the torch.
Another of the lizards approaches from my flank, eager to attack me while I’m apart from my group. But before it’s close enough to pounce, Gunther steps in to defend me, scaring it away with a long, burning wooden beam that he swings around like a pole.
“We’re going with this!” he announces. “Siabahn, join in! Luach, cover our backs and be ready!”
Siabahn hops in at the order, wielding a plank similar to mine as his torch. I had half-expected him to just use his twinned blade, wreathing it in flames with his power, but I’m guessing it’s easier for him if the blade actually does burn something as fuel.
Between the three of us, we start to push back the three lizards that were harrying us towards the rest of their pack, where most of them are still feasting on… no, don’t think about it. One of the creatures manages to break away and circle around to flank us, but Luach is on it in a moment, intercepting the lizard and slicing open its side with a precise swing of her blade.
We gain ground this way, our fanning flames pushing back the creatures, Luach running down the few that make it past our formation. Those that were still eating are a bit stubborn about leaving their meals, hissing angrily while stomping the ground and clicking their prominent, curved claws against the stone floor, but with some insistence even they are forced to pull away.
“Keep at it, keep at it!” Gunther encourages. He’s covering the most ground out of all of us. “Leo! Spread out more!”
“Right!” I shout back as I cautiously move further out, looking for the right angle to properly herd the quickly-growing pack of angry lizards.
But there’s only so much space we can cover, especially as the fifteen or so lizards that remain are pushed against each other and, much like a liquid, start to press for any gap in our formation. I do what I can to hold my side, but my torch can only shine so much, scare so many of them, and unless we can surround the pack somehow, we’ll just be herding them around the arena.
Suddenly, three of the lizards break away from the pact and try to circle around me just as others did before. Luach intercepts once more, and to her credit manages to cut down two of them, but the last one gets through and runs directly at me.
Should I turn around and defend myself? I must, but then I’d be turning my back on the many other lizards I’m still holding back with my torch and if I let those run free, everyone will be in danger.
And yet the clatter of that monster’s claws against the floor only gets closer and closer. The image of those claws digging straight through metal armor flashes through my mind. My mind races with growing panic, but I refuse to turn my back to the pack. All I can do is scream to keep my resolve. “HAAAAH!”
That’s when I hear a loud clatter of metal, followed by a mighty slam that sends the flaking lizard flanking past me back to its pack. I glance surprised over my shoulder and spot the fighters of the other surviving group rushing in to help, already carrying improvised plank-torches of their own..
The four of them run to Siabahn one at a time. “A spark, cat man?” one of them requests.
“By all means,” Siabahn replies, lending them sparks to set their torches alight.
Their intervention seals our strategy. Just Gunther, Siabahn and I were too few to fully surround the dozen or so lizards left, but with seven it’s more than enough. One by one they join the formation and, with the threat of spear and flame, we push the creatures against a corner, closer and closer together until they begin biting and clawing at each other for any bit of space.
“Luach, now!” Gunther commands.
She steps forward between him and I, sword held down at her side. She takes a deep breath, puffing her cheeks a little, and blows a white-blue mist on the pack of lizards. My skin crawls as the air suddenly becomes chilly. A thin patina of frost spreads on the stone floor as the mist passes over it. The flame of my torch dies with a sudden puff, as does everyone else’s.
The lizards snarl and hiss, yet it’s difficult to see what is happening to them through the white mist. Their silhouettes, at first thrashing and struggling, gradually slow down. Their panicked noises also grow quieter and quieter until all I can hear is the cracking of frost and the amazed gasps of the crowd watching above us.
Little by little, the mist clears away. All that’s left of the lizards are their stiff corpses, frozen right where they stood, ran or struggled to escape their grizzly fate.
Not a single one of them moves.
Luach pants, each gasp letting out a little more mist that shimmers with tiny, sparkling ice crystals. Gunther sets a hand on her shoulder. “Great job.”
We all take a moment to catch our breath. Everyone else watches in stunned silence. Then, suddenly, the audience erupts in…
“BOOOO!!”
“KICK OUT THE ICE BITCH!”
“MAKE THEM FIGHT EACH OTHER!”
“I PAID TO SEE MORE PEOPLE DIE!”
“MORE MORE MORE MORE!”
They shower us with jeers, foodstuffs, bottles and other trash. It’s a good thing I still have my buckler because I set it over my head like an umbrella as the crowd’s displeasure continues raining down.
“QUIET!!” booms the voice of the showmaster, Nuren, loud enough to silence the audience’s fury. Up on his alcove, I notice him leaning forward on his seat, staring down at each of us. “Congratulations to the two surviving teams! The Bewitched and the Free Sentinels advance to the next round! Enjoy the spoils of your victory and ready yourselves for the next battle!”
There is a collective grumble from the crowd, but they’re also not dumb enough to oppose their leader. I guess we should count ourselves lucky that outlaw or not, Nuren respects the rules of his own arena.
One of the doors slides open for us. The other team heads out first without as much as a thank you. Rude, but I can guess that nobody is here to make friends. Frankly, I don’t think I would have said much of anything in either case, as my body and eyelids suddenly feel quite heavy.
“Good job to you too,” Gunther says. He startles me a bit; I had not even noticed him approach.
“Thanks,” I respond, finally tossing away the extinguished torch-plank and pulling my musket back to my hands. “Though I didn’t even shoot.”
Gunther tilts his head, brow furrowed. “Eh, we’ll work on that. What matters is the quick thinking you did back there.” He pats me on the back, strong enough to make me stumble a little. “But common, you look exhausted. Let’s get done with the rest and head back.”
I’m more than willing to take him up on that offer.
We suddenly hear a thud. Gunther and I both turn to look and spot Siabahn lying flatly on his back. He tries to smile, but his feline eyes look exhausted. “Ah, it seems I over-exterted my magic a bit, haha…”
Luach approaches him. She is still panting as well, but she offers Siabahn her scaled, clawed hand without a word. “Much obliged, my friend,” Siabahn says, taking her hand and letting Luach help pull him back up to his feet. Then he leans on her shoulder as both of them limp to the exit.
Gunther has already gone ahead. I lag behind for a moment, examining my injured arm. I tear out another length from my sleeve and do what I can to tie it over the cut, anything to stop the bleeding. It’s a bit of an alarming sight, but I’m fairly certain it’s not as deep of a cut as it could be, and it thankfully missed any major blood vessels. I don’t think I’d still be conscious if it hadn’t.
As I’m struggling to tie the bandage with only one hand and my teeth, a small sound catches my attention. A dull thud, a low hiss, a rasp of claws, somewhere behind me.
I turn back to the pile of frozen lizards, but spot no movement. There’s no way one could have survived, right?
That’s what I’m thinking when one of them suddenly shoots out from within the corpses of its pack. One that survived huddled between all of them? I follow the direction it’s charging and realize it’s headed right for Luach and Siabahn!
A few members of the crowd above us gasp as they also notice what’s happening. Its claws click on the stone floor, not caring to hide its presence as it breaks into a hunting sprint. “Watch out!” I cry out as I drop on one knee and quickly brace the musket against my shoulder.
Luach and Siabahn turn at the same time, eyes widening as they realize the danger. Luach is still carrying her katana, but it’s trapped in its scabbard while her other hand is still helping Siabahn, who himself does try to brandish his twinned blade, but his exhausted movements no longer display the agility or precision he had displayed.
In either case, it’s too late. The monster has already pounced, stretching its claws forward to bury them deep into Luach’s back.
But this time, my finger finds the trigger.
The gun erupts in a flash of sparks and acrid smoke. My eyes sting, forcing them shut. I grunt in frustration and quickly wipe away acidic tears.
As soon as my eyes can stand it, I blink them open and look.
The lizard is dead. Its corpse had slid to a stop right before Luach and Siabahn. It twitches ineffectually for a few moments before going still.
Luach looks at me. Her face that had been coldly impassive until now is still sharp with fear, eyes wide, gasping, though relief is starting to set in. She takes a deep breath and exhales a fine white mist before giving me a single, thankful nod.
And I nod back, climbing back to my feet.
“Good shot,” Gunther says, having seen it all from a few steps away. “Now that’s what I call making it count.”
—
“Idiot! How many times must I tell you?! Have you any idea how much money you lost?!”
Cethlenn loudly berates Gunther while I awkwardly stand to his side, keeping my mouth shut. Perhaps I should feel more concerned, but I’m mostly annoyed, probably due to how tired I am and how poorly this compares to the life and death situation I went through just a moment ago. From Gunther’s impassive face, I think he feels much the same way.
Once we had returned our weapons to the armory and were about to head back to our cell, I was pulled aside by the guards. They were Nuren’s men, of course, but there were also a couple hooded figures that reminded me of the man that drove Rosa and I into Zedia. They said Miss Cethlenn wanted to see Gunther and me, so we had no choice but to say goodbye to Luach and Siabahn and follow them.
We were once more escorted through the maze of tunnels, this time heading up stairs and passageways, perhaps even higher than the ground floor, though it’s impossible to tell for sure. They really don’t like windows here.
Along the way, the tunnels below ground gave way to proper corridors with smooth concrete walls and floors of tiled stone. There were signs of some extensive renovations, like corridors sealed off with new construction and walls broken down to create new passageways. It’s clear the bandits had taken some time to reorganize and fortify since taking command, even if they left things rather half-baked at places.
And now we’re here, in what I can only assume is a guest room with fancy wooden furniture and flowery wallpaper, as well as scattered artifacts on display, from helmets to the skulls of animals I cannot recognize. It’s mismatched like a variety antique store, as if the bandits had just set up their trophies randomly in a tasteless attempt to show off.
The self-proclaimed Witch of Agony looks as much out of place as the more elegant features of the room. She is wearing a long, immaculate white dress and a jacket with contrasting green accents, stylish in a way nothing else here is. I can’t help but think she truly is beautiful.
I still don’t lower my guard for a second.
“I asked you a question!” she insists, tapping her finger on the armrest of a lavish chair that fits her better than it does the room.
Gunther shifts slightly, perhaps a reflexive shrug he had to rein in. “We're lucky just to have survived, the kid especially,” he replies. “And we still won, so you got your winnings, right?”
She crosses her arms. “You know full well that the less teams survive, the greater the payout for the winning teams, and you weren’t the only ones that made it out today.”
“Without their help, we’d still be down there struggling to survive,” Gunther firmly counters. “And in case you didn’t notice, three whole other teams did die.”
“Oh?” she smirks. “Do you seriously mean to say you couldn’t have handled the situation back there any other way? A team with your talents and experience? Please.”
“Uhm,” I venture, wanting to be helpful. Cethlenn glares at me a little, but I don’t let that scare me off. “Excuse me, but I don’t recall that eliminating the other teams was part of the objectives.”
Cethlenn scoffs. “Hah! This is what I mean. You didn’t even tell him about it, huh?” She shakes her head disappointedly before turning back to me. “Whether it is or isn’t an objective is besides the point. As long as the payouts are cut between the winners, any team that steps into the arena with you is an opponent.”
“So what were we supposed to do?” I question, my eyes narrowing. “Kill them?”
“Kid…” Gunther murmurs, his tone a warning.
Worryingly, the witch smiles. “I said nothing of the sort. You could have easily used them as bait, or simply held a low profile and allowed the beasts to overrun them. There was no need to do it yourselves, though if you don’t mind going that far…”
I don’t like the way she’s looking at me, as if I meant anything by it. I just wish to get back to our cell to take a nap.
“I do mind,” I counter dryly. “I’m not about to kill someone just for your profit.”
“It’s not just for me,” she says. “Did you have time to look around your cell? Did you notice the stove, the table, the beds, the water and food? Do you think all those comforts are afforded to every prisoner in this place?”
I didn’t get so far as to see the beds, but as for everything else…
I glance at Gunther and the long breath he exhales sounds too much like resigned agreement.
“I treat the people under me right,” Cethlenn continues. “All I ask of them in turn is that they do all in their power to benefit me.”
True or not, the idea of letting others die just for my own convenience makes my stomach turn. “Is that why you brought me here?” I ask her. “Just to play blood games for profit?”
“For now. This is the most you can do for me in your current state, but I also brought you here so you can get stronger. Speaking of…” She looks at Gunther. ”As much as I wish you would cease being stubborn, train him well and I will consider taking you out of this place.”
Gunther doesn’t say anything, but his brow furrows deeply at her offer.
Train me for what though? Fighting? Killing?
“Forget it,” I say firmly, “I won’t do your dirty work for you.”
Cethlenn narrows her eyes and raises her hand. The air in the room shifts, stirred by a ghostly wind coming from nowhere. Suddenly, my lungs empty as if someone had knocked the wind out of me. No, it’s more like the air is being vacuumed out? I try to patch my mouth closed with my palm but it does nothing to ease the pressure crushing my chest.
“Enough!” Gunther yells and lunges at me, shoving me to the ground. I roll away, gasping for the breath I’d lost. The pressure immediately eases, leaving only a vague ache, though my senses are still frayed from the pain.
But then I look at Gunther, his eyes wide, jaw clenched, baring those inhuman tusks of his. He claws at the shackle wrapped around his neck, tensing, struggling. He is being choked by whatever struck me a moment before, though for him it doesn’t relent. For several long, painful seconds Gunther fights just to stay on his feet.
There is no fear in him, more of an angry, burning stubbornness. He turns his head to look at Cethlenn. His lips move but no sound comes out.
Cethlenn matches his gaze, her own eyes cold even as they shine with the same ominous green glimmer I had seen before. She is holding her hand up with her fingers curled into a circle.
Gunther takes one defiant step towards her, but trips down to his knees on the second. His head slumps, hiding his face, and his body falls slack, hands still clenched around his neck shackle.
“Gunther!” I cry, but there’s no response, no movement. I glare at Cethlenn.
“Relax, he’s not dead,” she casually says, reading my thoughts like an open book. Then she reaches for the wine glass sitting on the table next to her and takes a long, relaxed sip. Such a theatrically nonchalant gesture, but not any less upsetting for it. “Consider it his punishment for your subpar performance during the match. You, I will excuse for being new, but he should know better.”
“You-“ I blurt out without thinking, but a warning glare from her makes me swallow the next word. I choose what to say next a bit more carefully. “I won’t be a killer for you.”
“Killer or not, we’ve yet to see, but don’t forget our deal. No matter what you end up becoming, you and every one of your achievements belong to me. So make it count, outworlder.”
“Welcome to my world.” I still remember Celmund’s words vividly.
“That would be all,” she continues. “Take him to the infirmary. Get that gash on your arm treated while you’re there.”
“Wait.”
She glares at me again. I may be testing my luck, but…
“Kim, the girl that I came to this world with, where is she?”
“Celmund has her,” the witch responds.
“Is she safe?”
“I wouldn’t know. She is his responsibility.”
I need something more concrete. “Is she also here, in Zedia?”
“Wouldn’t you want to know?”
Bitch.
“When may I see her?”
She smirks, a conceited, victorious smirk. “When your efforts merit such a reward.”
Dammit all. I just keep playing into her hands.
“Now, for the second time, that is all,” she says conclusively, clapping her hands twice. The doors swing open and one of her hooded henchmen steps into the room. “Help him get that musclehead down to the infirmary,” she commands, and the hooded servant nods obediently.
That was the order, but the henchman does little more than help pick Gunther off the ground and brace him on my shoulders, and the man is heavy. It’s a long and awkward trek back down through the tunnels, not least because of all the guards giggling at my 170 centimeter tall ass hauling a passed out, muscular giant as best as I can. But I grit my teeth and do it; I owe Gunther this much at least.
More importantly, my head swirls with worry and fear, anger and powerlessness, bitterness and defiant intentions. While Kim takes priority, I wouldn’t mind making it my personal goal to one day knock that witch off her high horse.
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