Spurned by Monsters

Only a few of the knights had turned to stone, but but many that remained still leaned back. If the petrification had been a pointed attack to morale, she was successful.

“By the goddess!” screeched the knight leader. The shock on his face would’ve been satisfying if that same news hadn’t dropped Boreal’s heart into his stomach. Those petrified soldiers would’ve been looking straight ahead at the lawn and keep. The gorgon must’ve been there.

“Off your horses!” the knight leader commanded, before doing the same. “Five of you, stay behind to fight the statues. The rest, follow me eastward!” He glared at Boreal. “Keep her occupied! Don’t let her do the same to any more of my men!” There was no cover to duck behind, probably a deliberate choice on the gorgon’s part, but Boreal nevertheless turned around to once again face the keep, and kept his eyes on the grass before him.

Boreal tried to keep his breathing steady. One foot in front of the other. The braying of horses eventually subsided. Maybe they’d been turned to stone too or had been mercy-killed by one of the knights, Boreal couldn’t know. All the same, the quiet let him hear approaching footsteps.

These steps came from further back, near the left side of the keep, and moved toward the center of the lawn. The steps were too firm and confident to be Riko’s, and then the gorgon’s voice called out.

“For the time being, I’d been content to mourn the future that died with…well, none of you care.” Her cold and clear tone pierced the cool autumn air. Even if Boreal did not meet her gaze, he could feel her eyes on his wing. “You even parade freaks that harbor our parts.” Her tone held the same disdain as the mustached knight leader’s when he’d called Boreal a dog.

Boreal hadn’t planned on allying himself with a monster, but to hear even this being also reject him, it made his teeth clench. He shook his head. The words of a target about to be dead didn’t matter.

“Kill her!” the knight leader commanded. His voice came from the east. He and some of the knights must’ve established a perimeter like Boreal had told them to. Judging by the commotion behind Boreal, some had probably stayed behind to fend off their petrified and puppeted former-comrades. “If she falls, this spell on the people she’s turned to stone might fall too. They’re just a distraction.” Boreal snorted under his breath. The knight leader could spout platitudes as much as he liked, but it wouldn’t stop one of those human-shaped sledgehammers of solid stone from bashing someone’s skull in.

Boreal kept his eyes on the ground and drew his sword as he stepped toward the gorgon. He couldn’t expect any help in melee against the gorgon from the knights. Riko probably wouldn’t have the guts to come aid him either.

Still, gorgons typically could only turn creatures and people that met their gaze to stone. For this particular gorgon to be able to control her victims, something else had to be going on. With any luck, Harlin and Grasil would find the reason within the keep and destroy it. And then come help Boreal.

He wasn’t sure if he ought to call out to Riko if the younger man had hidden himself amongst the grass and weeds already. Wouldn’t want to give away his presence to the gorgon. So Boreal turned his head in the opposite direction of where Riko had been.

“Riko, keep your distance,” he called. “Don’t want to stab you.”

He received no answer. Hopefully Riko had the sense to keep quiet, or even slip away into the keep to tell Harlin and Grasil what had just happened. Or Riko might’ve been petrified too like those knights had been. Boreal tried not to think about that.

“I’m not surprised that you freaks flock together.” The gorgon chuckled, but it was a mirthless sound. “Looking at that ugly thing upon your back now, I appreciate the glimpse of what will happen to us all now that you all have attained your happy ending. Allow me to repay the glimpse in kind.” There was a faint sound of metal. Even without being able to see, Boreal had drawn his sword from its sheath enough times to know that she’d just done the same.

His heart hammered in his chest, and his face twisted into a grimace.

A gorgon that could petrify with a look and knew how to wield a weapon, and could manipulate those she turned to stone like puppets. Meanwhile everyone she faced couldn’t so much as look at her without risking petrification. Ridiculous. No wonder she’d worked directly under one of the Dark Lord’s generals.

Maybe they should’ve brought Medina after all. No. She was in no condition to go on hunts anymore, and the gorgon would’ve probably gone after her in particular.

Boreal kept his gaze on the ground, and swung the moment the gorgon’s black skirt and pale legs came into view. His straight blade clashed with another sword, curved in shape. He pressed against her, pressuring her to keep her from disengaging and potentially stumbling upon Riko, or going back into the keep and killing Harlin and Grasil. Soon he felt the gorgon’s posture shift. Her grip on the weapon shifted as well. He pressed forward, staying near her even as his eyes remained closed.

“You’re quite bold to attack me directly,” she remarked, though her tone was scathing. “Pity that you’re content to be used like a dog. Or maybe you sought that power from the wing on your back. You must’ve slaughtered the dragon it came from and seized that wing as a trophy. But you weren’t content to simply cast a single spell with it as you humans do and let that sliver of its soul inside pass on, no.” Her voice fell to a hiss. “You desecrated the dragon’s flesh and claimed its power, that shard of its soul, for yourself.” She could hear the half-crazed, half-furious smile on her face. “You deserve to be used like a dog, and thrown away when you’re no longer useful.”

Boreal scowled. This monster didn’t know the first thing about him, or why he’d been tricked into bearing this dragon wing. Nevertheless those words struck a familiar chord, and he recalled the last conversation he’d had with his older sister after she found out what he’d become.

“Shut up!” Boreal roared. The sliver of life within the dragon wing seized his swelling anger, and channeled it into a spark of flame that started in his chest. The fiery mote crawled up his throat, and then reached the inside of his mouth. The pain along his throat was ten times worse than when he’d been a child, and eaten cookies that he’d stolen. Boreal pushed aside the pain and focused on the target before him.

He spat out the mote of fire at her face. She shifted, whether to dodge or block the flame he couldn’t know without seeing, but swung his sword to try and catch her in the middle of her movement all the same. His blade sank into something soft and wet, and the gorgon yelled in pain.

“Cheap trick!” she shrieked. His body tensed. Surely she would counterattack now, but he’d be petrified if he tried to look. He couldn’t dodge an attack that he couldn’t see. Left with no choice, Boreal brought his dragon wing around to fold over his side and torso, using it as an improvised shield. The tip of her blade clinked off the hard black dragon scales that covered the outside of the wing. “You’re nothing but a pile of tricks in the shape of a man!” Her unarmed hand clenched into a fist and slammed into the side of his head. The impact sent him staggering. Stars danced in his vision as Boreal stumbled back, not keen on taking another one of those or a slash. He hadn’t expected such strength from her. His father’s strikes from Boreal’s childhood feel piddly by comparison.

“I could use some help over here,” he called over to the soldiers that should’ve followed their knight leader and established a perimeter to the east.

“Fire, fire!” they called out, and the sound of firing arrows rippled through the air. Boreal dove for the ground and tried to cover his head with his wing. With his body as low to the ground as possible, he dared to look. From this vantage point, he could only see the gorgon’s legs as her body weaved and ducked out of the way of many arrows. While they occupied her, Boreal rose to his feet. His eyelids narrowed, ready to go from squinting to shut the moment her face seemed about to face his. Through his squinting eyes, he saw black gloves on her hands with a yellow gem embedded in the back of each. She must’ve been using those gloves to control those she turned to stone, like how a puppeteer would manipulate their puppet.

Her head and body both turned to face the archers, and away from him. Boreal could only see the snake hair that covered the back of her head. They hissed in his direction. She took a few strides toward the archers. The arrows stopped coming.

With her back turned, Boreal strode forward and swung his weapon at her sword arm. The blade came down upon the gorgon’s wrist. Her hand tumbled to the ground along with the blade, and a gout of blood spilled forth. Her scream signaled for him to shut his eyes. Her body shifted, and he brought up his wing once again to cover his torso. Unfortunately her remaining hand, clenched into a fist, collided with his face. It was too high a target for his wing to shield him. His ears rang and he staggered back again. Blood spilled from his nose and lip.

Boreal dropped his blade and brought up his hands to cover his face from further strikes, while his wing remained around his torso. Memories from both his knightly training and childhood took over. She didn’t have a weapon anymore, so he played defensive. Had to stay alive. Long enough to escape or for help to show.