Going Feet First Ch. 03

Pretayus acknowledged the Lycan with a nod and said a few last words to Val before walking back toward the group. In a voice loud enough for all to hear, he asked, "Tin, are you and your friends ready to move?"

"Ready we are, sir," Tin replied as his two fellow Knights saddled up their horses.

It is time, I guess, Celia thought as Val and Pretayus approached her horse. She waved her hand about her body, her vision giving a sudden, blinding flash. Several seconds passed as her eyes recovered, the colors of the world flooding her mind as it became one with her body once again, complete with all the exhaustion she incurred from her retreat from reality.

"Alright, everyone," Pretayus started as he climbed onto Celia's horse, snugging up in behind the Elf to keep her close against his body. "Mount up and-"

Distant popping sounds made Pretayus pause, his heart suddenly pumping ice within his chest. He whipped his head toward the faint blasts and listened intently until they finished. For several seconds afterward he remained silent, as did his Lycans, all of them listening and hoping to spot a thundercloud in the distance. It was then the louder, more powerful blasts rang out, a faint scream of pain, and then an unleashing of another round of the gunfire.

"No..." Pretayus muttered. "No."

"Thunder?" Tin wondered aloud.

Galen... Celia thought with the smallest hint of a smile upon her face.

The slave master only shook his head, his voice shaky as he barked, "Everyone, mount up double time! Therin, ride with Tin! Gark, take the horse with the gold and break through the forest fifty paces into the tree line! When it's clear, take back to the river and wait for us at the forest's edge! I want everyone else ready on their swords!"

"What's going on?" one of the Knights asked as the Lycans took to their orders.

"Galen is free!" Pretayus snapped.

"What do you mean Galen is free? All we heard was thunder!" Tin retorted.

Before the Knight could get out another word, a clawed hand grasped his throat, Therin jerking him in close as to lock glares with the gasping human. "Listen, you cretin! That sound is what we heard when that demon tore our men apart with his magic! If we hear it now, our friends are dead, and yours as well! Unless you wish to follow, MOUNT UP and RIDE!"

Therin shoved Tin back toward his horse, the Lycan's nostrils flaring as he tried to calm himself. Choking in air, the Knight braced against his mount with one hand while the other grasped the reddening part of his neck where he had been nearly strangled. But with the powerful, overbearing wolfman looming over him in panicked rage, Tin gave an affirmative nod and begun climbing onto his horse.

Gark, the Lycan who'd held Celia when Galen was first captured, mounted up onto his horse and kicked his pawed feet into its belly, provoking a whinny from the beast as it broke into a full gallop into the trees. At the same time, Val climbed onto Pretayus's horse behind him. The horse itself neighed and grunted, the weight of the human and two Elves being just a bit greater than its previous master when he had ridden in full battle gear with a full pack.

"Make room," Therin growled to Tin as he readied to mount onto the Knight's horse.

"Please would help," the Knight grumbled as he slid forward in the saddle.

The Lycan climbed on, settling in behind Tin and giving Pretayus a nod.

"Everyone, we move along the river, keep sharp and have your blades ready."

"Won't Galen be along the river?" Tin inquired.

"He will. We're going to intercept him and kill him. No Drider, no games, no more mistakes. We can't afford to allow him to live. Let's move!"

Pretayus spurred his horse into a gallop, racing off downstream with his men following in behind. Val held onto her master with a death grip, keeping her body close against his while bouncing around the saddle. Fearful tears rolled down Celia's cheeks as she held onto the mount's mane, wincing with fear as Pretayus reached across her body to draw his sword, pulling the blade so close the rapier nearly cut open her belly as he brought it to his side.

The other three horsemen riding behind the slaver drew their weapons as well, ready to strike anything at a moment's notice.

It was less than ten zetras after setting out from their camp that the first contact was made. As the posse rode along the river, a horse and rider appeared downstream. From the distance in between him and Pretayus, the only detail that could be made out was his green clothes and the metal pipe in hand.

"This is him!" Pretayus yelled. "Get him!"

One of the Knights gave a sharp "Yah!" as he lashed his reins to speed up his mount. Before either Tin or Pretayus could call him back, he rode off ahead of them to charge the oncoming demon.

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

A scowling Galen released the reins of his horse as to have both hands free to hold onto his shotgun. No longer being pushed to run forward, the brown stallion trotted to a stop, breathing heavily after being forced to run so fast for so long.

In a move to settle his heart rate, Galen started taking deep breaths, relaxing his muscles as his trembling hand tried to steady his weapon. He kept the barrel away from the head of his horse, bracing his forward elbow against his side to try and keep the shotgun on target. In the back of his mind, he was giving thanks to his past self, for the summers he had spent riding horses at a friend's farm.

All sorts of bones were broken during those times as he learned stupid riding tricks of all kinds. Riding with no hands, jumping over fences and rocks, shooting while mounted up; tricks his mother and friend's father had scolded him time and time again for trying so recklessly. Thinking back now, they didn't seem so stupid anymore.

With the oncoming Knight forty yards off and closing fast, Galen patiently waited as he kept the barrel of his shotgun on target. Sitting in the saddle, hips shifting while his left hand trembled terribly, a racking shiver rippled through his muscles in the sudden breeze to throw off his aim. The soldier was quick to bring the barrel back on target but it cost him precious time. His stomach muscles went as tense as his teeth clenched in his jaw.

Twenty yards separated the Knight from Galen as he brought his finger to the trigger, the safety ensured to be off as the other rider was now ten yards away.

"DIE YOU DEMO-"

BOOM.

A blast of buckshot blew the man right off his saddle, punching through the mail to tear open his chest. Not an ounce of life remained within him as he hit the ground, the last breath escaping his lungs as Galen grabbed his reins and onward toward Pretayus.

...

Despite the loss of one of their numbers, the posse thundering toward Galen showed no signs of slowing down. They kept in tight formation with little deviation, as a single mistake at this point would cost another life, something Pretayus couldn't afford.

...

Scanning over the oncoming Knights, Galen grinned to see both Therin and Tin on one horse, their heads close enough to be caught in the spread of one blast of buckshot. The two other Knights that belonged to Tin were riding alongside him, while the horseman leading the group was... Celia?

The Private took a second look, shaking his head out and squinting to see the arms wrapped around her, an arm encased in gold. She was not leading the charge, she was cover for the man who controlled the horse she rode.

"PRETAYUS, YOU SON OF A BITCH!" Galen yelled as he came to a gallop toward them. "LET CELIA GO!"

"DIE FIRST!" Pretayus roared back, Celia screeching as his grip tightened around her.

The posse thirty yards off, Galen released the reins and brought his shotgun around, pulling the pump to eject the spent shell and leveling the barrel with Tin's head.

"EAT LEAD!" he snapped, the Knight's eyes going wide.

Right as Galen pulled the trigger, Tin ducked down against the incoming blast. Several pellets slammed into his shoulder, some tearing through his horse's ears and mane to slice open the mail on his back.

A rush of fire pumped into Tin's veins, the gallop of his horse seemed to half its pace, though he could still feel the wind rushing through his hair. The world was blurred around him, as though it all slowed down to a smooth, walking pace.

With this newfound agility, he leaned off the side of his horse just as he came within melee range of Galen. The Knight swung his blade low, tearing through the right legs of the soldier's mount and slicing open his right calf. The brown stallion kicked upward, screaming as it stood on its hind legs. With a string of curses, its demon rider was thrown from the saddle as Pretayus's sword pierced through his steed's neck and tore out a significant piece of flesh.

Ripping his blade back from the horse, Pretayus yelled out the order, "Don't stop!" as he rode on downstream, leaving Galen behind as the soldier's mount fell down on top of him. Tin pulled himself back into his saddle and glanced over his shoulder, expecting to find Therin at his back, congratulating him for his crippling blow. The only sight the young Knight saw was the Lycan lying belly-up in the dirt twenty paces back.

A gaping hole blown open in his chest from the blast of a shotgun.

...

Lying on his back and staring at the clear, blue sky above, Galen prayed for shock to settle in his legs as the nerves screamed in torment. His bones felt as if a jackhammer had gone rogue upon them. His muscles felt as though a butcher had come after him with a dull hacksaw. A rock was digging into his back while another jabbed into his right butt-cheek.

With all this, he couldn't escape or heal as the weight of his horse was crushing down upon his legs. But he still had a firm grip on his shotgun. The ammo for it, however, was trapped underneath the beast.

I'm coming, Celia. I'm sorry, I'm so sorry for failing. But never again. Never. Again.

With a groan he began to sit up, pulling every ounce of strength he could from his body to accomplish an unimpressive feat. Between his thoughts of pity and rage, he managed a moment to be thankful that his upper body free of pain other than several expected muscle aches. It meant he hadn't broken any ribs or his back, but his legs were still unclear. All he could feel down there was pain.

A sudden coughing fit caught Galen's ear and drew his attention to a body laying ten yards to his right. The muscular form of the Lycan Therin started to move, attempting to sit up only to howl as his chest flared with pain. He just laid there a moment, whimpering as his hand pressed down over the bloody holes in his chest.

"How tragic," Galen said weakly as he set his weapon aside and attempted to shove the horse off of him.

The second the beast shifted on his legs though, he immediately let out a scream of pain even louder than Therin, his eyes washing over with tears as agony in its purist form amplified the physical throes in his lower extremities.

Broken, definitely broken... but, arhgg, fuck, nothing magic won't fix.

"Sounds as though you do no better than I, demon..." Therin said as he coughed blood out of his snout.

"Nah, I --errghhh- I'm gonna live. You ain't."

"This... this I... can't argue," the Lycan wheezed as his lungs began fill with crimson life. "But when your time comes, I hope you burn an eternity in the Nether."

"Necela said you're, erghnnn, slated for twenty millennia," Galen retorted, teeth clenched, and breath struggling as he fought back the pain. "I hope you enjoy every minute."

"Twenty millennia?!" Therin squealed, a red spray shooting from his mouth. He stared blankly up at the sky above, a tear running his canine face as he shook his head. "No... No... Pretayus, you bastar- ahck."

The Lycan began to spew blood out from his lungs, his breathing struggling more and more as he fought to get out his last words. "He said... we were invincible... he had... fought off..." Therin hacked out another round of coughs, his eyes fading as his head rested off to the side. "He fought off a mountain god... held back Necela... he said that the gods couldn't touch us... that damnation was for the weak... that we would... only see... an eternity of happiness... Damn you... Pretayus..."

His eyes slid shut, his heart going still.

"You suffer for eveythin' you done," Galen growled at the wolfman, turning back to the horse that crushed his legs.

How the fuck do I --arghh- get out of this?

He considered a moment taking his knife out and slashing away the horse's flesh. It would take time, but he could do it. Had he kept his pack with him his entrenching tool would have made a big difference. Only now he was stuck in the middle of nowhere, out of earshot of anyone he knew would help him, with two broken legs that made it impossible for him to shove away the thing trapping him.

"For a demon, not have you... uhmmm..." a female voice started and stammered.

A glint of hope stirring within, Galen twisted around as much as he could to find a cloaked figure standing less than ten feet behind him. His eyebrow cocked as he instantly recognized her as one of the Sun-Kissed Dark Elves, though it was unclear which one. All Galen could use to identify her was the pair of blood-red eyes that narrowed upon him as she focused on using his language.

"Not have you great strength? To push the horse off?"

"It's crushin' my legs, I can't move it alone," Galen responded, motioning to his lower extremities.

The Dark Elf stayed silent for a moment while she circled around the soldier and knelt down beside him. For a moment, he felt a sudden sense of threat, his gut kicking in once again for a reason he did not understand.

"No strength, yet you kill many," she said, the hint of a smile underneath her black mask.

"You gonna help me or what?! I need to get after 'em!" he snapped, pointing in the direction in which Pretayus had ridden off.

For another few seconds, the Dark Elf silently stared at Galen, that smile widening under her shemagh. Eyes narrowing again, she raised a hand toward the horse lying atop his legs, her arm shaking as though she were attempting to lift something beyond her capacity.

Suddenly the horse began to shift, its weight lessening as though some force began to pull it upward. As the Dark Elf squealed under her breath from the impressive strain, the horse began to levitate. Again, the Dark Elf heaved, lifting the body another few inches above the ground.

When the chance to get free presented itself, Galen wasted no time in sliding out from underneath. The ground shook as the horse slammed back down the second his boots were clear, the Dark Elf panting heavily as she came down to her knees.

Both human and Elf instantly took notice of the odd angle at which one of Galen's knees was bent along with the massive gouge in his calf where Tin had sliced him open. Had the shock not already set in, Galen would have fainted, but he only felt a nauseous wave unsettle his stomach until his looked away from the gruesome sight.

"Thank you," he said, glancing away as both his hands lit up in their magical glow over his legs.

"You have debt now," the Elf replied, suddenly breaking for the tree line.

"Hey, wait!" he yelled before she ran into a thicket and vanished from sight.

He stared in her direction for a moment longer, one brow cocked above his puzzled face. Why was she out here? Didn't her squad mount up and ride away?

A sudden surge of relief pulled his mind away from the Elf, the glorious wave of soothing sensations sending a warm sigh through his lungs. Once again he could feel the pain melting away from his body under the healing spell, enjoying the icy-warmth that followed through into his muscles and nerves.

In this momentary bliss, his focus somehow ended up on the dead horse lying before him. The question of how much magical strength it would take for the Elf to lift the beast crossed his mind. As he began to pondering further on the idea of the arcane strength of Elves, he also wondered whether or not all Elves were magical in some fashion.

Celia had it, the clan all had it, this one Dark Elf showed to have it. If the rest of the Elves were magical, why didn't the Sun-Kissed cast any spells when they were surrounded by the cavalrymen?

The first stabs of a headache began to strike his mind as he pondered the matter of the scale on which a species was granted a supernatural gift. The answer to this query would have to wait until another time. At the moment, he had to focus on healing his legs and getting his Elf back.

Muscle and bone shifted around inside the limbs as he chanted out the healing psalm. His nerves began to throb and ache but not nearly as much as when he had healed his belly. Unlike the near instant healing he experienced with that wound, he had to remain seated for several minutes, basking in the icy warmth that began to rush more fluidly through his healing lower extremities.

After his knees were restored and the muscles stitched back together, he felt his femur lining up into place through the magic. The breaks rejoined, the healed bone growing stronger than before. Every fragment that had broken off moved through his flesh and joined with his skeleton like pieces to a puzzle. Only when the puzzle had been finally completed, did the last part of the spell kick in, and the painful end of the process finally struck.

Had there been any birds left in the area, they would have scattered as his scream echoed across the forest.

...

Staggering back to his feet, recovering from the momentary fatigue from using his magic, Galen stumbled over his dead horse. Blinking rapidly as to keep his watering eyes open, he grabbed onto buckle of the saddle to pull it apart. With that done, he braced a foot against the beast's side and took hold of the leather seat. With every ounce of energy and strength within his body he heaved, dragging the saddle and his satchel full of shotgun shells out from under the horse.

With a deep breath to clear his mind, he grabbed the satchel and slung it over his shoulder, adjusting the strap and ensuring the buckshot was still inside. Nodding at his healthy supply of shells, he began looking down at the ground around him. For a moment he was concerned, but then he was alarmed as the question came to mind.

Where's my shotgun?

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

The uneasiness of using a surface steed still dogged Keetle as she rode through the forest. The Dark Elf wished that she could curse the beast into a new demonic form more suited to her tastes. She felt that she rode too high above the ground with the wind able to grab her black cloak and cause it to flap around on her back. If she were to fall off like the demon had, she had doubt that her armor could absorb enough of her fall to prevent any bones from bruising or breaking.

Despite these troubles, she kept her head down and blood-red eyes fixed upon the trail. She would not be riding the surface beast for long. By that night she would be in her own bed and enjoying a much needed rest after her squad's three-week excursion to the surface lands. She just needed to get through of this forest first, starting with the heavy brush that appeared up ahead.

Knowing the dense cluster of trees and bushes would be too thick to ride through, she pulled her reins to the right, guiding her mount that direction until she was riding up on the treeline. The Demon's booms-stick clacked against her back as her steed jumped over a bush and landed in the soft sand along the river. While reaching around to steady the weapon across her back, she jabbed her heels into the belly of her mount to continue its run toward the Rock lands.

The weight of the demon's "shotgun" had surprised Keetle at first, as she had not expected some metal item that was so large to be so light. Especially with the power it contained. What also proved to be a blessing was the strap that the metal pipe possessed to reduce the burden of carrying it across one's back. With how fatigued she had become from the use of her magic to free the demon, that simple fabric band may as well have been a gift from her goddess.