Chương 41: Waylaid

When I fought with Dendrak, it was basically just me versus him with his complete and utter back up of blood-tied people feeding him the power. The thing is though, this time, as they begin to drop from the trees, I can feel the ground around me screaming out. There's anger in there, and pain. A little bit of hatred mixed into it for good measure. These people. The entire dozen of them, plus their scouts. Well, they're all from the Blood Sect.

Each of them reaches into the ground around them, pulling on reserves I didn't know they had. It's a learning curve for me since I didn't realize they could pool their blood power within an element. It feels sticky to my senses, like a massive puddle of blood deep within the earth. Congealing with dirt and sand. I need to know more about how they work. But first we have to survive this. Lareny engages two of them herself, while Xan and Sevrin—who is mostly recovered—each clash with another.

Our delegation from Sorrishen surrounds the cart, making sure Dendrak is kept safe. Well, safe enough that he's alive when we bring him to Aarron. But several of our attackers make a beeline for the cart, and I have the sudden sneaking suspicion that they're not here to take Dendrak home. When I'm about to call it out, Mithris beats me to it.

"Assassins." I'd laugh at the irony if I didn't suddenly have two people within spitting distance, focused solely on me. My pipe is already in my hand and loaded with paralysis poison. It'll hurt them too, which right now I feel is a good measure. But I only have time to take one of them down within that distance. Even with my reflexes. Mithris is suddenly there, and another two of our attackers materialize. He positions himself with his back to me.

"This isn't close combat. Tap into your magic." With two of us, my second attacker seems warier, backing off slightly to reassess the situation. Two against three isn't as good odds as it was before I took one of them out of the picture. I hesitate, and it's like Mithris can feel it.

"No hesitation. If this was just up to you and your poison, you wouldn't." He's right. I don't trust my ability with air yet. It's a bit of a finicky element, and we do want to keep some of these guys alive. I have questions. Reaching down deep I find the earth element in turmoil of its own. There is blood fed into this ground and woven through all around where we are. It's an older thing, incident, whatever. From what I can tell, this path has been laid down since long before we visited Sorrishen.

Which means it wasn't specifically set up for us. Which also means they didn't necessarily expect me to be here. Because I can heal this. Water—it's down deeper than I expect. Mithris, while an excellent close-combat fighter, will start losing ground if I don't hurry it up. This is definitely not my best work. I try to convey the sense of urgency to the elements, all the while keeping my Recovery Acclimation alive and feeding life through to it. Trying to revitalize the ground beneath me, the nature around me.

At first, it seems reluctant, and I realize that the Blood Sect probably tried to trick the elements in their own way too. They're wary. It's okay. I don't have much time, but I can't just coerce the elements. That would make me no better than those I'm trying to stop. What feels like an eternity passes before the ground beneath me purrs in a way I'm more used to, drowning out the screams from around me. Now I need to replenish it and then ask it to cooperate with me and help us defeat a common foe.

I can hear and feel the sensations moving around me again. People fighting, being injured, blood dropping to the ground to be soaked by the already-subdued earth. This isn't something I can condone. Any blood we shed just fuels their power more. In a way, that's unfair. But it's also their weakness. Water dilutes blood—it's probably the one element they truly can't control. Oxygen carries it; water dilutes it. And thus, I begin to flood the ground underneath us, coaxing from nearby streams.

The power fills me, rushes through me, giving me that euphoric sensation that makes me almost dizzy. That's when my attacker gets through Mithris's defenses. I see it as it happens, through this other sense of self as I'm healing the ground around me, building it up for the perfect attack. It's like time has slowed and is only moving in minuscule fragments. I have what I need to center myself, to grasp onto the air around us all, the oxygen so genuinely seeking our lungs.

My brain knows exactly what I need to do, almost as if it's done this before. As my attacker closes in, I reach out with my right hand, placing it directly on their chest in a perfectly executed solar plexus palm punch and breathe one word.

"Extract." It's not like I knew exactly what to expect. I just wanted to remove the air from their lungs, and have them fall down gasping, maybe passing out. The reality is so much more than that. Their chest shrinks, visibly, inward, like I've just hit it with a mallet. Only then it begins to expand rapidly outward—and if it seems rapid to me, then I know it's happening fast because I'm still in this strange limbo of momentary distortion.

The air is sucked from their body, leaving this strange vacuum in its place, expanding suddenly into what can only be seen as an explosion. One moment a person stands before me, the next, a loud bang, like a ship cannon firing, rings through the area around us. Blood and viscera rain down around me, covering a large radius. Tendrils of intestines and shredded skin land in my hair, while the splatter of blood is like a brief rain shower as it covers most of the battlefield. Humans do contain a lot of blood.

Minx was right. If you find this story on Amazon, be aware that it has been stolen. Please report the infringement. Two down, lots more to go. I'm finding it difficult to move though. And it's not because that took a lot of out of me. Truth be told, I think it should have taken a lot more out of me than it did. The fighters with Mithris have backed off. One of them trails an arm, unable to move it properly anymore. It's been shredded by one of his fist weapons.

The other is limping and bleeding out of a massive wound in their side. Mithris hasn't escaped damage either, but it's nothing that hinders him too much. He's close enough to me that he's also drenched in blood and gore. It looks like we've just been sloshed with offal from a butchery. In a way, I guess it's almost accurate. I'm panting, my own oxygen levels depleted. But I'm fine as far as health goes. Apart from being winded, my channels aren't raw. In fact, I'm raring to go.

Xan stands off to the left of us with Lareny. One of their three attackers is down for the count too, and despite the blood-rain splatter drenching most of us, they're about to take care of another one of them. They're backing toward us, so we can work together easier. Mithris, Xalin, and I stay pretty much put and close together while Lareny maneuvers herself around so that she's closer to the rear guard. I glance around to get my bearings. That's when I notice that Sevrin has fallen back with the caravan.

There are six attackers surrounding them. We're missing one. Where is that other scout? I glance around but don't see another of their fallen apart from the obvious ones I've already tracked down. With all the noise from so many angles and sources around me, I can't quite pinpoint their location. Sorrishen's guards are putting up a good fight. I'm relieved to see Cedrik sent good people with us. But these guys are tricky and the ground beneath me groans. I can feel it through the soles of my boots.

There's pain and terror, agony and aching—all of it is fighting the healing I've been trying to leverage to the earth. A shudder echoes underfoot.

"Move the carriage!" I scream the words, diving for the horses' reins and yanking them forward abruptly. The cart lurches, sending three of the assailants and one of the guards crashing to the ground with sickening crunch sounds as it moves. But that's just the beginning. Beneath us, the ground heaves, earth breaking up into small balls of tightly packed soaked with blood dirt. I grab onto Xan and scream in my loudest voice: "Run!" I don't know if it's going to help or to get through to anyone.

But right now, nothing here is safe. The ground beneath us groans in agony, and nothing I push through to it helps right now. It's all I can do not to let the pain get through to me and destroy my current hold on sanity. At least Xan has listened to me and backed off. Their opponent is stumbling along with the rest of us, hopelessly attempting to remain upright against the onslaught below. And that's when I realize that the people we're facing don't seem to be the Adepts Dendrak was.

Instead, they're smaller fish, just a lot of them. Sent in a school to attack us all. Their focus is still on the caravan. But one of the attackers and one of our guards that were thrown from the roof are both no longer moving. Damn it. Beneath me, the soil buckles.

"Move away from the path!" I yell, startling the horses in front of me who attempt to rear up with me still attached. It's all I can do to keep a hold on their reins and move them away. I throw the lead line to one of the guards who looks more bewildered than I thought possible.

"Keep them moving. Don't let them get what's inside." I'm not sure how their blood-based tracking system works or whatever they used to find us or tail us, but I'm mostly certain saying Dendrak's name isn't going to help anything. The cart doesn't quite make it out in time. Beneath me, the ground rumbles as the soil and dirt begin to roil. From below, where the cart had been but moments ago, the ground erupts. It rips up into the air, showering dirt and rocks everywhere.

Congealed blood clings to everything, brings it all together. It hits two more of our guards and three of our attackers directly in the face. It seems blood magic isn't picky about who it hits. Lareny screams from off to my right, and it's filled with a pain I've never personally experienced. Focus. There's so much I haven't taken into consideration. All I know is that this would have been ten times worse if I wasn't actively attempting to heal the earth around us too.

Blood and earth rain down as the ground continues to heave. Even Mithris stumbles, and one of our attackers gets sucked into the maw of the ground as it opens and closes. Bones crunch and he screams—but it abruptly cuts off once the blood magic reaches his chest. Once again, the ground explodes outward, up into the air with roots and rocks, blood and dirt. It showers over all of us, and I see Sevrin take a rock to the head that sends him falling to the ground. Damn it.

Suddenly Xan pulls me into their chest, bowing my head into them to protect my face. I can hear and feel the impact as a rock hits Xan's back. The force is enough for me to witness the thud personally. That's going to bruise. I reach down, through to the earth and realize that those blood pools inside have been sapped of their energy. Where there is no blood—for these people—there is no power.

Pulling myself out of Xan's hug, I pat them absentmindedly on their arm while I excerpt a sliver of healing thought toward that bruise. Right now, I'm focused below us. Rushing water to where it's needed, healing the earth. Revenge. Take. Pay. I can feel the power of the elements suffusing me, needing me to take back what the Blood Sect took from them. These people should know better than to piss off the power of nature. And I gladly feed as much energy into the savaged earth as I can. It's fast and it's dangerous.

I can sense the way it rushes through my channels, even if it's Germination Control that I'm exerting for the good of the earth. There's only so much I can do safely. It heeds my call, working with me to heal, to fill the gaps that have been left by years of blood ravaging. For the first time in I don't know how long, this stretch of earth is free of Blood Sect influence. It's grateful to me. It's angry at the others. And I know it's not just going to pull energy from me but from everything around us.

There's not much I can do to forewarn the others. But I do know that it can differentiate. There's a marker about the people who are using magic in the wrong way—forcing it, coercing it against its will. Destruction is a part of life, but not when it's forcefully done. Not like this. My body is aching, and I can tell, somewhere in the back of my consciousness, that I've been injured. I'm bleeding, but right now I can't spare the brain power to heal myself through potion or magic.

I have to fuel the ground beneath me, heal it enough that it doesn't waste me through my channels. Please don't kill the only conduit you've had in millennia. It's a silent thought, but I hope the magic hears me. I send images through the earth, using the air to bring it to the trees, and my fingers to convey it through the ground. It's only then that I realize I've fallen to all fours in an attempt to get closer, to communicate better. This time the ground purrs. It agrees.

Power rips through me, grasped from the air, pulled from the water, embedded in the earth. It utilizes my vision, my direction, and the roots shoot up through the ground, grabbing four of the remaining ambushers and dragging them down into her depths. I guess when nature gives herself blood, it's just another form of fertilizer. Decomposition at its finest. The other three of our attackers who remain conscious are bound by the roots until we can get to them with a paralyzing agent.

Finally, the earth has settled, and I look around the path and the copse of very disgruntled trees and realize how lucky we got that no travelers happened along this stretch of road. Which barely resembles a road now. The path itself is torn up, clumpy blood-filled earth interspersed with the occasional paving stone that's been shattered. Not to mention the strips of skin from the attacker I managed to explode what seems like an age ago.

I can feel the blood drying on my skin, making facial expressions difficult to change as the dried substance stretches against me with every move. Mithris is checking on the caravan, and I notice a piece of splintered bone just jutting out of his thigh. Considering he's not limping, and the location of it, I think the bone originally belonged to someone else. While Xalin isn't badly injured, they're sporting scrapes and bruises, and several lacerations that simply look painful.

The sticky spattering of blood, dirt, and viscera lends the brown leathers they were wearing a macabre element. I can't see Sevrin or Dendrak from here and turn my attention through the mess to finding Lareny. She screamed not too long ago, and I have a bad suspicion that she was hit hard. Lennick will never forgive me if she's injured beyond repair. My own injuries are negligible. Cuts and abrasions, copious bruising, but nothing I can't tend to later.

I fish in my pouch for a healing potion and toss one to Xan on my way to find our teacher. If I hadn't been looking for our brown riding leathers stained by blood, then I doubt I'd have found her. Her leathers are so covered in cuts and abrasions that it almost blends in with the ground. And definitely with the two corpse remnants surrounding her. Their lifeless eyes stare in shock and confusion up at me like I took their attack personally. Which I did. Lareny, on the other hand, is barely breathing.