Going Feet First Ch. 02

"DIE!" the beast roared as he tried to pull his blade from the window. A struggle that proved damning as the weapon was wedged in.

With little more than a sneer, Galen drew his colt and lined it up with the Neko's head. "You first."

Pink matter exploded out the back of the slaver's skull as he fell off the tail of the plane.

Holstering his pistol, the Private got his hands back to the controls and brought the guns back on target, only to find that the last of the slavers had gone. Looking down to his feet, he saw that both barrels to the fifties were glowing red hot with trails of smoke rising from the muzzles. Giving a sigh, he released the gun controls and climbed back down into the plane. A minute later, he emerged out the pilot's escape hatch on top of the craft and climbed down the side to the ground.

Rifle at the ready, he carefully approached the ruins to see the destruction he just wrought. To his satisfaction, everyone who had been part of the slaver band lay scattered across the remains of their camp. A handful escaped, but Galen didn't mind them now. He had thirty kills at least to add to his tally and the women, still wrapped in Necela's glow, didn't show a single sign of any physical damage. The area around them compared to the surface of the moon with the amount of craters left behind from the guns, but they were perfectly fine.

As Galen approached the women, he heard the buzz from the turret's electric motor die behind him. Seconds later came Necela landing on his shoulder with a bright smile upon her tiny face. She snapped her fingers and the blue glow faded from the chained females to release them from their immobilizing protection. For several long moments, they simply stood as they had been. They didn't move, or wander, or even acknowledge that the slavers were dead. It was as though they didn't even realize what had happened.

A rustling bush brought Galen's attention to his right and he spun while bringing his rifle up. His finger released came off the trigger the instant he recognized Petra emerging from the brush line tying a bandage around her forearm.

"Rakna cut me before I tore his throat out," she cursed, apparently not even noticing the weapon that had been trained on her.

Shaking her head, Necela snapped her fingers and muttered a few words. In an instant, the bandage the Neko had been working on disappeared with the gouge in her arm instantly sealing shut. The Neko only blinked in surprise before glancing up and realizing who was sitting on her soldier's shoulder.

"Thank you, Galen," the goddess said as she fluttered in front of his face. Her body was suddenly consumed in a bright glow as she underwent a blinding transformation. When the Private could see again, she was several times her previous size with her height matching his own. Still stark naked, she moved forth to plant a soft kiss on his cheek.

"What happens now?" he asked, smiling a bit as he slung his rifle.

"Now? I will take these women to the Human tribe in the northern end of the forest and disappear for the day. Petra would know the people I speak of; they will care for these girls and bring them back to health. As for your reward, my wonderful soldier..."

Necela jabbed her finger into his chest, right over his heart. His entire body began to shiver, his eyes flashing blue before he fell to his knees short of breath. An instant later both Petra and the goddess were standing above him and offering him a hand to help him back to his feet.

"What did you do?" he gasped, accepting their help.

"Eyes of the Avien," the deity answered. "It is clear that you look before you act, so I may as well give you a better way to see. And also, access to true magic. An aura of your own to use those tricks Atzlar teased you with."

As she finished her speech, the Private's vision blurred with a strange feeling numbing the back of his retinas. It took several long moments but when his eyes cleared up, he found the details on trees fifty yards off becoming clear as crystal. He could count the leaves on a branch and see the caterpillar eating its way through one while still being able to focus on the three hands of his wristwatch.

Accompanying the new vision was a powerful tingle that started coursing through his veins. In seconds it became a pins-and-needles feeling that spread throughout his body. His face twisted as he scratched at the prickling in his skin before it quickly receded.

But then he had to cringe and rub his eyes as his retinas again underwent a new transformation. They burned inside his skull and he was forced to shut his eyes as something adjusted within them. When that pain subsided and he tried to open them, he found that the night suddenly seemed... brighter.

Not as if the sun had come up, but it as though his eyes had fully adjusted to darkness, or become more adept at seeing within it. He gazed up at the stars for a moment, then down at the women who had taken a seat around the still burning fire and fiddled with their ankle bracelets.

Blinking and squinting to adjust to his new eyes, Galen looked over their faces before he finally noticed something missing.

"Where's the Elf?" he asked. "More importantly, where's the guy with the fancy robe?"

Both Necela and Petra perked up in alarm as they began scanning the area around them, finding no trace of either person in question. All warmth drained from the night air as the goddess cringed up and pressed the bottom of her fist against her forehead. Galen and Petra took a step back, listening as a Hell's full of fury burned in her voice.

"Manipulating so many of my puppets at once, I forgot to... damn you, Pretayus!" She dropped her fist to her side and looked to Galen with her red-dawn eyes. "The Elf is of no matter to me but that monster Pretayus cannot escape judgment! He. Will. Die!"

"Of course," the two mortals before her said in unison.

"Good. I must deal with the women and rest this puppet until tomorrow night. I trust you both to seek Pretayus out, but that is now at your convenience, of course. He is little threat now that his men have gone to the Nether."

With the snap of her fingers, Necela and the girls vanished in a cloud of silver dust before either Galen or Petra could get another word in. Curious of the lingering tingles on his left arm, the soldier rolled back the sleeve of his jacket to find a circle of tattooed feathers wrapping around the middle of his forearm and covering up a section of the green vine.

Seriously have to mark my body like this? He mentally grumbled before soft jingles drew his attention away from the new tattoo.

Free of the goddess' presence, Petra began rifling through the pockets and coin pouches of the dead.

"What are you doin'?" he asked, watching as she counted out the gold coins in her hand.

"If we didn't need currency for our travels, I wouldn't bother with any sort of gold or silver coin or trinket. But we will need them in the future to purchase supplies, and these Racknar are dead."

As much as he abhorred the idea of looting, she had a point. Not like there was any punishment for it here, not that he knew of anyway. The two rounded up what money they could fit into a scavenged belt lined with a dozen fist sized pockets. It all came out to a considerable sum, and the loaded belt fit snugly around Galen's waist even if it was quite heavy.

Now, there's just one thing left for me to do here...

The weapons on the B25 were too dangerous to leave lying around, just as they were too heavy to get back to Michael. The likeliness of any creature figuring out the electronic turret was beyond impossible, but if one dismounted a fifty cal. and had the strength to carry it, it would change the game anywhere it went. Galen wouldn't allow that chance.

He walked with Petra down to the river, a good hundred yards from the crashed B25 before he stopped and looked back upon the wreckage. The ground by the river was lower than the ground around the plane, and the ruins the slavers camped in also provided a small layer of protection from the shockwave. At least he hoped they would.

"What are you doing? Celia is waiting," Petra started as Galen pulled a grenade off his webbing, sighing and giving a final prayer for the men who had ridden the craft to their doom.

I don't know your names, nor do I know your faces. I know not your families or friends, or your wives or your children. I know only your sacrifice, and the price you paid. For giving us your all, I thank you, my brothers. May you forgive me for the desecration I must do, and may God bless you and welcome you to a peaceful place in Heaven.

"Amen," he whispered, looking to the explosive in his palm, then over at the B25. The distance was greater than with the doll, but he knew how to do it now. A white glow intensified in his palm as he removed the grenade's pin and focused intently on the two bombs still loaded aboard the aircraft. Fingers crossed, he shut his eyes and released the lever on the grenade.

"Galen?"

His eyes reopened, and his hand was empty.

"Petra."

"What?"

"Hit the dirt."

He didn't have to tell her twice.

The second his face hit the sand at his feet was the second the whole world shook beneath his body. All the air was ripped from his lungs as the shockwave passed him, knocking his senses loose as huge chunks of metal went flying in every direction. The absence of a fireball meant that the plane was empty of fuel but that didn't stop several trees from getting leveled by the high explosive bombs.

By the time he had gotten enough of his senses back to pull his face out of the dirt, there was nothing left of the B25 but a smoking crater and a few bits of the fuselage.

..........................

A bloody scream pierced the air as a hot ember seared Pretayus' hand to cauterize the flesh where his right thumb used to be. With his whole body stiffening up from the pain, he smacked the back of his head into the tree he sat against and grit his teeth. The stubs that had been his ring and pinky finger on that same hand still gave off a putrid stench from that same burning process, as they too had been liberated from his appendage.

The only comfort the slaver could take at this moment was that the last five of his surviving troops still stood by his side. The three Humans' and two Lycans' loyalty held strong as they guarded him while his Tree Elf tended to his wounds.

Every fiber of his being still trembled from the thunder that slaughtered his men. Thrice, he had jumped like a cowardly dog at the smallest squirrel or jackalope that had come out to nibble on greens. A heart attack nearly claimed him when the world shook with the roar of a hundred Hill Giants a zetran earlier. The annihilation of his customers, the brutal slaughter of his personal friends, and the sudden loss of an ear, thumb, and two fingers on his right side had reduced him to a quivering runt.

"I'm sorry for your pain, master," his Elf pouted. "I don't have potions to help, or bandages to wrap with."

"Use this," he growled, tearing off a sleeve from his expensive robe to reveal the shimmering, gold-like, plate armor underneath. She took the silk cloth and began to wrap up his mutilated appendage, humming a soothing tune as she did so.

"Sir, what are we going to do?" one of his men asked, the human boy's voice as shaky as the hand he kept on his belt of throwing knives.

Slowly letting out his lungs to calm and steel himself in front of his men, Pretayus did his best to quell his own rattled state and asked, "Did anyone see the demon that did this?"

His men looked to one another, one-by-one they shook their heads. His Elf, however, stopped singing to answer, "I did, master."

Lifting his chin and drawing his brow down into a frown, he asked, "What did he look like?"

The Elf cocked her head to the side and tapped her chin, "I heard the name 'Galen' be said, I believe it to be his. He looked to be a Human, one who wears an odd green jacket with an eagle on the arm, with a green metal helmet that only covers the top of his head."

Pretayus went silent for a moment, losing himself in thought until the bandage around his hand was pulled tight. He winced and cursed under his breath, but then managed to compose himself enough to say, "Thank you, Val."

Standing up on shaky legs and using his servant for support, Pretayus turned toward his troops. With clenched teeth, he flexed his mutilated hand and twisted his head to get a crack from his neck. The five men of his once-mighty band looked to him expectantly with lifting ears or hopeful looks as he then put on his best glower and growled.

"We may have been bloodied, we may have been broken, but we are not defeated. Not while we still breathe. Human, or Demon, we can and will destroy him and avenge our brethren."

He had their attention now, his show of confidence swiftly proving infectious as he continued, "We once struck fear into the southern plains and northern mountains. We are among the few who broke the will of a Mountain Guardian. Without the body of that metal beast to guard him, we will seek this Galen, find who he is, who he loves, and send him to where the gods can't save his soul!"

With those words, his men stood up straight, their faces glowing with renewed vigor and their hands firming up on their blades.

"Tonight, we will go back to camp to retrieve my personal chest and round up all the supplies we have left. In the morning, we begin the hunt for this man. If you find anyone at any time, whether they are one of us or not, make one thing clear: fifty gold for information on Galen; one thousand gold to anyone who can bring him to me alive. If it cannot be managed, then five hundred gold pieces for his severed head within his helmet and wrapped up in the jacket he wears."

...........................

Crickets chirped on through the night as Galen and Petra walked along the river bank back toward the cave. The two moved in proud silence at the deed they'd done and the fiends they had put to judgement. Although, even a good conscience couldn't wave off Galen's thoughts of the men they'd just killed. Questions kept running through his mind yet not a single answer could formulate. Why they were there? Why had they turned to such a life? Why someone would support such atrocity?

Then, there were the Nekos that had been present. The waiting customers that had borne the symbols of the Red Claw that he had cut down as well.

"Petra?"

"Yes, Galen?

"Why were there Ra'zorlichs at that meeting?"

"To collect slaves," she answered without hesitation.

He stopped, staring at the Shadow Stalker and shifting the rifle over his shoulder. Noticing his pause, she stopped as well only she stepped into the river waters as to let the current run over her aching feet. Seemingly not caring about the glower she received.

Glaring with narrowed eyes, the Private growled, "Do explain why your clan needs slaves. In fact, explain this whole concept to me, Petra, 'cause there must be somethin' I'm missin' here that makes the whole idea acceptable."

She seemed indifferent to his anger, though she did come across as a bit surprised at his anger considering their relationship. "The Ra'zorlichs have mines, and we need men to fill them." Shrugging and looking back toward where the slaver camp was, she continued, "I doubt there would have been any purchases tonight made by my former clan. The slavers didn't have any males that would fit our morals."

"So the Ra'zorlichs have morals?" he questioned with an edge to his voice, prompting Petra to frown.

"There are two slaver bands that circle around Atzla, but they are nothing like the scum we saw tonight," she explained before turning her attention to the moon above. "Necela's fifth order is 'Shackles condemning any to bondage must be earned with good reason, forcing shackles upon another is forbidden.' We follow this to the letter."

Galen cocked an eyebrow and crossed his arms, and the Neko met his condescending gaze before she continued, "The normal slaver bands go around and purchase the bandits, murderers, and scum that have been captured by the tribes. Then they break them, make them docile, and then resell them to whoever is interested. It is a form of punishment, and it has been a practiced tradition by the people of this forest for centuries."

So there are morals to it, Galen thought silently to himself. Maybe like the chain-gangs of my world? "And Necela is okay with that?"

It was Petra's turn to cross her arms and frown. "Look at me. I tried to murder you, now I am bound to you." She motioned to her felt collar. "It is Necela's justice to allow me to redeem myself for the afterlife, lest I wish to spend an eternity in the Nether suffering in ways that would make gods cringe."

A thought suddenly crossed Galen's mind, "And if you weren't bound to me?"

"What do you mean?" the Shadow Stalker queried.

Rubbing the side of his face, he said, "I mean, that if I were to let you go, right now, say that you were free, what would you do?"

The question seemed to hang in her mind for a moment, juggling around her thoughts before she could come to an answer. "Probably kill you. I could not return home unless I had ensured I took your life. And, with being freed by your own word, I would not go to the Nether."

"Oh," Galen was taken back for a moment, swallowing suddenly as he adjusted his rifle on his shoulder. "Guess I'll keep you as you are then."

"Most gracious, Master," she said with mild sarcasm, turning toward the woods while muttering under her breath, "If not you, I'd kill that insufferable brat on the throne..."

"What was that?"

"Nothing. The cave should be close now."

.........................

Wrapped tightly up in her cloak, whole body quivering with fear, Celia kept watching the entrance to the cave with her sliver of hope. So much distant thunder had erupted, all of it sounding much more powerful than her soldier's weapon. And then came the largest blast, shaking the ground beneath her and making her fear for the lives of both him and Petra. When she finally heard rustling outside the cave, her hand instantly lit up to check to see if it was him coming inside.

"Celia, I'm back."

"Galen!" she shrieked.

He didn't even have a moment to react before she was all over him. Her lips were all over his face, kissing him at every point she could before she finally landed one right on his mouth. That momentary, lip-locked pause left him warming up inside as they held together for what seemed to be the longest time.

"Master, may I please come in? It is awfully cold out here," Petra pleaded in a cheeky manner.

Galen found himself half-blushing, half-grinning as he and Celia stepped clear of the cave entrance so Petra could crawl in. A few feet into the dwelling, both soldier and Stalker were surprised to find beds of grasses and leaves swept up on the cave floor. Pressing onto the larger of the two with his hand, he found it to be relatively soft.

"I readied some food as well, an apple tree was in bloom nearby as well as sweet root," The Elf lifted her glowing hand to reveal the two separate prepared meals placed atop top of a broad leaf by the beds. "I hope you don't mind, but I already ate."

With a loving smile, Galen pulled Celia in to give her another kiss, Petra sighing as she turned away.

After the meals had been finished and the trio settled into their beds, the glowing aura around the Tree Elf dimmed down for the night. Though Petra didn't mind a nightlight, the total darkness now allowed her to be one with her thoughts, let her focus on the queries that had built up in her mind throughout the day... and to finally come to full grips with the life set out before her with her warrior.