Trouble With Horns

82: Pain and Payback

** Dawn **

Thunder boomed overhead as I came to my senses. My head pounded with the pain of the attack I'd just endured, and I clutched at it weakly.

My fingers met something strange and fluffy up there, well before they should have come into contact with my hair. I groaned and tried to figure out why there was sparse and weirdly sticky fur on my head, but I was far too dazed to make sense of it.

Another thunderclap rattled the slate tiles of the roof, and I finally put two and two together. Static charge in the air was causing my hair to stand on end.

Looking up, I saw dark clouds rolling in from the coast. It was a normal storm from horizon to horizon… except for the area of sky directly above me. There, the clouds hissed and boiled like a pit of enraged vipers. Lightning threaded through the skyborne den of snakes, egging them on with the rumble of thunder they produced.

Rain began to patter down around me, and I blinked, shielding my hands. The fighting wasn’t showing any signs of slowing, even as some of the Duke’s guards rushed down the street. It seemed that the two sides fighting down there didn’t seem to think much of the authority of the Duke to administer his own city. Just who were the other combatants anyway?

If I hadn’t been looking, I wouldn’t have seen the split second appearance of the tracer line that led up into the clouds. It was right in the forefront of the Pag guards who were turning to face off against the Duke’s men.

I should have realised what the thunder and lightning meant. It should have been obvious. I blame my lapse in intelligence on the concussion that was still spinning through my character’s synapses.

Tami, bound in thick ropes of lightning, rode the tracer down from her place among the clouds. The air split, shuddering with the force of her passing, Ryana held in one hand. Pagutum’s incognito foot soldiers flew away from the impact, smoking and charred. Most would be dead, I could tell that without even going to check pulses.

“By my authority as a noblewoman of the Duchy of Jingan, I demand that you cease this disturbance of the peace!” she cried, her voice high and singing. Her next words were directed back at the Duke’s men, who were standing stunned several dozen metres down the road. “Captain of the guard. I am at your disposal. Let’s clean this mess up.”

I could only shake my head as she raised a hand with menacing intent, turning her stormy gaze back on the carnage in front of her. My girlfriend was a damn glory hound.

Pushing myself to my feet, I stumbled on the slick slate tiles for a moment before gaining my balance. My wing was still fucked, but I’d made do without it before. Nestling them in against my back where they were less likely to get hit, I jumped from the roof to land in the street.

“Took your time,” I called with a grimace that was half theatrics and half produced by the pain I was in.

Tami just grinned, her face shining like the sun reflected through an orb of diamond. Beautiful and blinding.

Blood dripped from my left hand, running down with the water to paint the street. My right hand was more than capable of holding my sword, though, and I raised it in a sneer towards the Pagutum cunts who were backing away, scared.

Letting out a roar of pain, anger, and sweet catharsis, I teleported forward and spun, my bastard sword cleaving through a Pag woman’s neck. “You heard her! Yield! Lay down your arms!”

“Fuckin’ hell woman,” one of the Pag’s yelled. “Can’t yield if you go cuttin’ our heads off!”

“Your sword isn’t on the ground,” Tami noted with a laugh that ended in a crunch. She’d just merged his head with his shoulders, her maul having replaced the space it had just occupied.

Several swords clattered down to the cobblestone after that, but in a flash, knives appeared throughout the Pagutum goons. Holy shit, they were executing their brethren.

“Do not yield to the inhuman filth!” a growling voice said from their ranks. “Die for the crusade or die by the crusade!”

“Oh, hell,” Tami muttered, glancing sideways at me. “I’d really hoped to intimidate them out of this.”

"That dead guy sort of had a point," I shrugged. "No use now, though."

My girlfriend gave a snort of dry amusement and rolled her shoulders. I knew her mind so well by now that when she whipped forward like a cannonball, I was in perfect step with her.

My blazing bastard sword smashed through the clumsy guard of a man who had been staring with haughty disdain at me just moments before. His expression shifted to one of fear, then horror as his cheap gladius shattered. With a flourish that was evidence of Tami's influence on me, I thrust my wounded off-hand forward and unleashed a burst of explosive fire into his torso.

Around us, the city guard charged into the fray, adding their short spears and rounded shields to the chaos. Adrenaline flooded my veins. This was a battle in the center of town. Spells flew, slagging flagstone and steel armour alike.

Sweet relief from the pain of my many wounds pulled my excitement up short, and I glanced back behind me. Civette stood leaning heavily on her staff, hand raised as she pulsed healing into my mangled wing. Her face was red and flushed with exertion, but she threw me a wide smile anyway.

Thanks, I mouthed to her, turning back to the fight.

With my wings functional again, I spread them wide and leapt up into the air. My flight was short, and I came back down feet first into someone who looked a little more important than the common chaff. He stumbled back, baring his teeth and hissing with pain and anger. Red light pulsed over his muscles, imbuing them with strength, and he lunged, trying to catch me as I regained my balance.

His blade swept past my stomach as I twisted, going down on one knee. My sword flicked up and twisted, pushing the sword away from my vulnerable waist. From there, all I had to do was thrust and angle my sword just so. His thumb tumbled free, blood spraying out.

He screamed, dropping the gladius now that he was unable to grip it properly. Vicious and victorious, I pushed forward, ramming the tip of my sword up into his open mouth. And that, ladies, is why I prefer swords with a proper guard.

His friends were not happy about his death. I had to kick his head off the end of my sword and flash a gout of flame into the face of a Pag who was raising his blade to strike. Realising he had nothing to stop my magic, I tightened the spell and suddenly, there was a four foot long plasma torch burning his arm off at the shoulder.

That spell was nothing compared to the war crime I unleashed on the guy who had just killed a young guard who'd been protecting my flank. Superheated air rushed out of my lungs in a sizzling version of superman's ice breath. Magic twisted and controlled it, funnelling it into his mouth.

Coughing, his eyes bulged and he dropped his sword to clutch at his chest. I could only imagine what was going on inside his lungs. He definitely didn't have the energy resistance to survive the awful spell I'd just used on him.

"Bloody hell," a guard behind me swore.

I glanced sideways when he took his late comrade's place. "Vengeance for your boy."

"Aye," he nodded, briefly meeting my eyes with a mix of emotions crossing his face.

Beyond us, near the back of the Pagutum line and in the corner of my eye, I saw one of their number fall. In his place, one of the mystery faction stepped forward, his short sabre flashing in the dimmed light of the storm.

In my distraction, I didn’t see a guy winding up to stab me until it was too late. I tensed, ready for the pain, only to watch in open mouthed amusement as Tami stepped up like a baseball player and whacked him. He sailed up over the crowd, spraying blood as he went. Tami giggled. Thank god she understood the difference between a game and real life, that’s all I can say.

There weren’t many Pags left now, but they seemed entirely unwilling to surrender, even as I raised a hand to unleash a hail of explosive fireballs. Fireballs had always seemed stupid in many of the games I’d played previously. Like, fire wasn’t actually all that dangerous when you only had contact with it for a brief time. It either needed time to burn the intended victim or enough heat to compensate for a lack of time.

Unless, that is, it wasn’t actually a fireball, but an explosive instead.

That’s what my spell was. A blob of superheated air compressed and contained within a magical shell. Anything more durable than air striking that shell would cause it to crack, allowing the air and heat to expand violently.

So when my spells hit home on the Pags, pieces of them flew in all directions. Armour, weapons, flesh, blood, and so much more. It all splattered about the place, and the shock of their teammates dying like that made the rest of them pause. That was all the folks behind them needed to lunge in and cut them down.

The quiet that followed was punctuated by heavy breathing as we sized up the unknown third faction. I found myself trying to figure out who they were by visual inspection alone. Their group was mostly human, but there were several elves mixed in with them. The second most populous group though were, surprisingly, a bunch of Artifisuki. Their gorgeous fluffy tails were matted and slick with the sweat and blood of the battlefield.

“Drop weapons,” a quiet male voice murmured from their ranks. I frowned. Surely they didn’t expect us and the guard to surrender to— oh!

Slowly, the group of unknowns placed their various mass produced weapons down onto the dirty cobbles. When they’d deposited their steel, they moved back, allowing us to collect them without fear of sudden attacks.

“We’re agents of the Joret Republic,” a man said, stepping forward to show himself. “We’ll submit to the Duke’s justice. Although, I would very much like to speak to the Duke, if his grace has the time for me. I think we may have a common enemy.”