Chương 68: Blood in the Rain

As the birds above swooped down against the roiling storm and figures of living lightning, hunter and beast looked at each other over the gap between two cliffs.

"Leave…" the hunter growled. The hound, four meters tall and covered in glowing eyes, dissolved into mist. The cloud spiraled through the air toward him, hovering above him as the creature reformed. All right then. He threw the Blinking Blade up in the sky, but an enormous claw burst from the mist and swatted it aside. Vishnii plummeted downward with a shrieking laugh that made his flame tremble like the raindrops. Wretch threw himself backward as long blades of bone burst out of each forearm.

The hound struck the wet stone with enough force to send a tremor through the column, then lunged toward him in a flurry of claws and flowing fur. Wretch sidestepped a claw the size of his torso and dashed in close, ignoring the pleas of his flame to run. Another claw slammed toward him. He spun around it, carving two deep cuts in one of the many fiery eyes among the fur. Vishnii howled, a roar of bloodlust rivaling the lightning of the storm and the caws of unending crows.

She retaliated with a low swipe that whistled through the air. A fiery blade was back in Wretch's hand. Instead of backing up, he ran back under the creature, throwing the Blinking Blade up toward its chest as he dashed between its legs. It shrugged off the blade with a shake of its fur, but that had bought him enough time to plunge another bone blade into a staring eye at the back of the leg. Even from behind, a claw snapped toward him.

He threw himself to the side, launching an acid spit toward an eye before slamming against the wet stone and scrambling up to his feet. Right, it has eyes all over. I have to — A grazing hit caught his neck and shoulder. His strengthened bones cracked and his scaled skin tore like paper. The impact hurled him backward, skidding across the wet rock. He twisted in the air, ignoring the pain and blurring vision. He landed on his feet, sliding to a stop with gritted teeth.

The Blinking Blade burned back into his hand as warm blood gushed down his chest. The hit had barely touched him, yet the force had ripped away half of his face, exposing the skull and jaw while his collarbone poked out of his skin.

"Damn, there really is a difference between Fireling and Blaze," he rasped. The hound watched him in the rain, a chuckle leaving its long snout as it crawled on all fours around him. Wretch's eyes lit and the skin twisted over the wound, bones cracking into place. What can it do? Turn into mist, eyes everywhere, but only two claws. The thoughts rushed through his mind, barely staying long enough to form. If not from under it, then maybe. The hound lunged and he stepped back.

At the last moment it dissolved into mist, its form scattering into gray vapor all around him. Wretch listened. A claw slammed down from the left. He hurled himself aside as Vishnii reformed, its form emerging from the rain. He charged it head on. The creature's other claw struck out, and he dove into a slide beneath it. Focusing on the form of Milley beside his flame, a dozen pale human arms plunged out from his skin, grabbing onto the fur as the claw passed by.

The shift in momentum almost ripped his arms from their sockets. How about this? The claw swiped air, and for the first time the beast hesitated. Wretch clung to the elbow like an insect and burst into movement, scrambling upward, vanishing over its shoulder. The hound howled in fury, clawing at its own back. Wretch, now a twitching mass of arms, held on to the slick fur. The hound's skin was tough enough that his claws and weapons only scratched it. However, the glowing eyes on its body were another story.

Fingers dug through the wet fur and nails scratched and pierced through the eyes with the sensation of a bursting grape. The creature's howls turned from anger to suffering. A clawed hand extended behind its back and finally reached him, crushing a few of the newly conjured arms. They cracked like a bundle of sticks and it ripped him away. A blade had already burned into Wretch's hand, and before the creature caught his true body, he severed the caught arms himself.

He slammed against the rock, pushing back to his feet as the remaining extra arms plunged back into his body. He was standing at the edge of the rock. He had nowhere else to retreat. The creature looked at the conjured arms in its grasp, now burning away like paper. It licked its snout and threw them to the side with a harsh laugh. Wretch let out a laugh of his own in the heavy downpour and tilted his head to the side.

"I told you, killing me was going to hurt." The creature crouched like a cat, ready to strike. In that brief fight, he had spent almost half his flame. His new Blessing was powerful, but it guzzled flame like a leaking fuel-tank. Despite his taunts, one thing had become apparent. He couldn't keep up with the beast. Its hide was thicker, its claws sharper. One proper hit would end him, and he knew that much.

Birds cawed in the sky above and lightning strikes flashed in the sky as a war between lightning and feather raged on the dunes below. The hounds' long snout extended through the rain as it opened its mouth in a short laugh, a long tongue panting vapor into the storm.

"What are you waiting for?" Wretch said. The creature exploded into a four-legged charge. Its head tilted, and the snout opened into a maw filled with teeth. Wrong move. He stood still at the very edge of the rock column and threw the Blinking Blade. With a slick sound, it disappeared down its throat. The beast did not slow and a moment before the teeth would have pierced him, he stepped back, falling off the ledge with squirming skin.

The maw slammed shut where he had been a moment earlier, followed by an audible gulp. It pressed a claw against its stomach and gave a whimper, struggling as sharp steel was forced down into its stomach. After a few moments, it peeked over the edge. Wretch was gone, leaving only a rocky cliff slick with rain. It had taken too long and lost sight of the quick hunter. Vishnii sniffed in the air.

It had no blind spots, or at least that had been the case until the hunter had torn most of the eyes from its back clean off. Its ears twitched and the hound swung around. Wretch was already hurling toward it from behind. Two massive black arms protruded from his back, still not fully formed. He had dashed around the cliff with Milley's form and instantly switched to Jonah's arms, all in a desperate gamble. A balled fist the size of a barrel slammed into its snout with a crunch. The beast staggered only slightly.

But now it was the one standing on the edge. It fell off to the crackling of lightning, plummeting towards the dunes below. The hound laughed at his tricks and began to dissolve into mist. Wretch grabbed the edge of the rock with Jonah's arms, carrying a toothy smile and wide-open eyes. I guessed you would do something like that. But I know you can't turn if I touch you. He flung himself after the creature like a slingshot, shooting through the air with all the speed his muscles could produce.

Ensure your favorite authors get the support they deserve. Read this novel on Royal Road. He crashed into it like a comet of flesh and claw, dragging the hound out of the mist. A moment later, the two figures struck the dunes below with a rumble and a detonation of sand. They tore into each other, giant claws, teeth, and fur. For a moment, Wretch held the upper hand, slamming his conjured arms against the hound. But that lasted only for a moment.

A crushing blow sent him tumbling over the wet sand, ripping one of his giant arms clean off while the other hung limp. The hit broke the concentration on Jonah's form, and the limp arm retreated back into his skin. He struggled to his feet. Only one leg carried weight, the other standing at an odd angle. A gash ran down his left cheek, splitting his eye. Another handful of cuts littered his torso, and a black rib poked out of his chest. The last diminishing flame flooded through him as he realigned the bones.

The wounds he left, unable to afford the flame. The hound turned on the dunes to face him. A handful of cuts ran along its arms and a few of its eyes were dim. Still, it was in a far better state than he was. Around them, a handful of figures of lightning, clad in rusted armor, watched them as the birds shrieked above.

"How is that sword in your stomach treating you?" Wretch said, wiping the blood from the gash that split his left eye. The beast clutched at the wet sand on all fours and gave off a short laugh. Wretch had a feeling what it meant.

"I got plenty, and I only need one eye." It snickered in response.

"You're a Blaze, right? After all that, you're barely hurt. Guess I really can't win," Wretch said.

"Not alone anyway." Around them, figures of living lightning in rusted armor closed in as crows descended in a shrieking cloud. Wretch and the beast both lunged at each other. A claw whistled toward him, and he threw himself into a roll to the side. A bird's beak ripped at his ear and a figure of blue lightning with a sword stabbed toward his gut. He swiped away the bird and dashed to his right, narrowly dodging a claw that ripped straight through the lightning figure in a screech of twisting metal.

The four different sides clashed with crackling lightning, howls, and shrieks. Wretch recalled the Blinking Blade as a lightning sword struck toward him. He blocked it, but a jolt of electricity went through his flesh nonetheless. He sidestepped to the side as a crow the size of a cat swept down to peck at his eyes, a massive claw crashing into the ground next to him, eviscerating both the living armor and birds alike. That has to be enough.

He turned and dashed, jumping over another swipe from a claw and dodging between the lightning figures. He fled the battlefield, shielding himself from beaks and tiny talons that ripped against his skin. He got to the base of the stone column and climbed upward. A moment later, he rolled into their hideout in a jumble of limbs. Cut, bruised, and beaten, he leaned on the wall for support, pushing himself to even stand.

His flame was a speck of light and every fiber of his body screamed from overexertion, the whispers of the flame were loud enough to drum in his head. Along his arm, where he had blocked a strike from one of the lightning figures, a burn twisted up toward his chest in a strange pattern. Down below, Vishnii was slaying lightning figures by the dozen. But each time its claws shredded their armor, a jolt of electricity shook it. It roared as the birds pelted its fur like angry fleas.

"Being so large has its downsides too," Wretch wheezed. He watched the beast's desperate battle. He would have felt glee, had he not been struggling to stay upright. With a last roar of frustration, the hound broke into a run, speeding away along the sand as the crows followed. He spat out a mouthful of blood.

"I told you," he said with a raspy voice through sharp teeth. He took a long look at the dunes. The animated armor and crows continued their dance of death. When the hound did not return, he exhaled and turned around. He limped toward the fire, still burning bright beside Elenya on her bed of feathers, and collapsed on the opposite side. Never had he pushed his new Blessing this far, and the strain left his head buzzing. But he had survived one on one with a Blaze.

He was hurt, sure, but his wounds were not life-threatening. On the other side of the fire, Elenya groaned.

"How are you doing, sleepyhead?" he said. To his surprise, she answered.

"By the Saint, that hurt like a son of a bitch," she groaned, her voice raspy and crude.

"It does, right," he shot back.

"How long was I out?" Wretch coughed.

"About twenty-four hours."

"That long!" she exclaimed.

"Yup," Wretch said. Outside, the crows cawed and lightning hammered the ground as the two sides resumed their unending battle.

"What's going on outside?" she asked.

"There are thousands of crows attacking living lightning. But I am fairly sure we are fine. They ignore anything out of sight."

"That's insane. What have you been doing?"

"Not much. It's been like a nice vacation," he said.

"How is your arm?" Elenya lifted the arm in front of her, looking over the bandage made from Wretch's shirt.

"It's better. I don't feel like I have a fever, but my head is spinning like hell." Wretch gave a chuckle.

"Yeah, I remember that part. It gets better if you keep your eyes shut." Elenya groaned and clutched her only hand over her eyes.

"It sucks, really does."

"Oh yeah, I've had a hundred arms severed but only seared once," he answered. It was quiet for a moment, and the fire crackled between them.

"You haven't asked what kind of dream I had in that forest," Elenya said finally. Wretch reached into his mouth, pulling out a tooth that had become loose and inspecting it in the firelight.

"You are right, I haven't. Was it mine?"

"It was…" Elenya answered.

"What was it about? Did you meet my father, or maybe crawl through the sewers?" Elenya took a deep breath.

"I met him, Akim, that Blessed thug, and I was there with the ratling in the sewer too."

"You have to start somewhere, right?" Wretch said, letting the tooth chime against the stone floor. It was quiet again before she continued.

"You should have killed Akim sooner, but you should have killed her too, Wretchy." He turned his head toward her. The fire blocked his view. As long as they had known each other, she had never called him that.

"What do you mean?"

"That other woman. What she did to you, what she did to me." Wretch thought for a moment, and his damaged face gave a blank expression.

"Oh, you mean Mom, don't you?" Elenya's response was a growl.

"Don't call her that. She was a fucking monster."

"She wasn't that bad," he said.

"I figured I'd be in that cage, and I was. I saw them take that boy and what they made him into. I experienced all that pain. But I met her and your father too," Elenya said.

"Okay…" Wretch answered.

"She starved you because she didn't like her reflection. Sold you for five pounds to a criminal. And he didn't care. In fact, he just smiled." Wretch said nothing, nor did he change expression. Elenya's voice was thick with resentment as she continued.

"She hated you, and your father knew it. She beat you to an inch of your life because she felt powerless, and he just nodded and gave you a bloody book you couldn't read." Outside, the storm picked up, a veil of blasting rain shielding the entrance.

"I know," he said. Elenya continued, offering him no mercy.

"My life hasn't been easy. But never, ever have I felt as powerless as when I was you. All that torture in the cage, all that suffering and resolve, just for a shred of affection and stability." In a different state, he might have bitten his tongue. Thankfully, the pain from the battle gave him plenty of solace.

"And that is not the worst part." Wretch was quiet, focusing on the sensation of torn muscles and nerves as Elenya continued.

"But despite what they did, you still loved them. You even want to find him." He lay there, listening to his own faded memories being retold to him. So much had happened that he had almost forgotten, or at least he had told himself that.

"How?" she asked. That, at least, was a simple question.

"If you haven't been fed affection from a plate, you learn to lick it off the floor." Elenya gave a frustrated groan, as if she was preparing herself for something difficult.

"The last memory I saw was the hunter's call. That night when you joined. I could feel your bloody emotions. I was in your head. We were the first to show you any semblance of actual kindness."

"And?" he said. He heard her grit her teeth.

"I would like to apologize. For being difficult," she said. Wretch gave a crude smile with his inhuman teeth.

"It's okay."

"That's it, just like that?" she asked with palpable surprise. He gave a dry laugh.

"Of course. I accept." Elenya sighed in relief.

"Man, I thought this would be way, way worse." This time, he gave a genuine laugh.

"What's so funny?" she asked.

"I take pleasure in seeing you suffer emotionally. That's all."

"Don't get cocky. I still have one arm, remember."

"He's still waiting at the summit, and in time I'll climb up to look him in the eye. I'll have some questions for him then," Wretch said and held up his hand, marked by cuts and burns.

"That reminds me, I should have thought of this sooner. But now that you are awake, do you mind lending me some flame with the medallion?" Wretch got up to his feet, a splattering of blood where he had been lying on the stone floor.

"Sure. Why do you…" she began, peeking out from under the hand shielding her eyes. At the sight of him and the open wounds, her jaw dropped, and she shot backward with a yelp.

"I forgot to mention, I ran into a certain dog."