Goblore Pt. 03

"We got everyone?" Jesse asked, his creaking voice making him suddenly aware of an incredible thirst.

"All save Kalvis." Keela replied.

Jesse's heart fell. Without the little blacksmith, they were impossibly fucked. "You lost the only one of us who can work metal?!"

Keela's glare could have melted the sand around him to glass. "Hey, asshole. This was your mission, don't forget that. And Kalvis is much more than your little worker puppet. We knew him longer than you have."

He wanted to spit out another retort, but her works burrowed their way through his defensiveness. She was right, he can't just think of Kalvis for his skills. That kind of gross utilitarianism was not only shitty to do to a person, it was also wrong.

"Sorry. Do we know which way he went during the split?"

Keela gave a shrug. "I'm not a tracker, but probably from that direction."

She pointed over the side of the boat to a point far to the north. A tiny figure sprinted down the beach, casting up plums of sand with his frantic footsteps. In pursuit, a trio of Folk archers.

"Cast off, for gods' sake!" Kalvis screamed, dashing as fast as his legs could take him. Jesse thought for a moment about jumping over the side and picking up the bastard like a football. But he looked to his arm, which was still bleeding profusely, and decided that wasn't a great option. He took off the brand new shirt Zixie had so kindly made for him, tore a long, thin strip from it, and tied off his wound. It'd need to be cleaned and maybe sewn shut, but that could wait. So long as the bleeding stopped, he'd be alright. He'd have to make it up to Zixie later.

His crossbow lay within the pilot house. Keela had apparently decided to keep the mechanical weapon close. With some pain, he worked the action, pulling the slide back and loading the bow with a significant amount of energy. He slid a bolt from the little quiver and slipped it into place. His weakened arm made aiming difficult, so he ended up leaning it on top of the pile of automotive scrap, crouching down to sight it. A lifetime of mass trivialization of violence made him lock onto the centre of mass of the closest Folk archer, but he hesitated. Defending one's self with violence was one thing. Using a weapon to kill someone, even for a noble cause, was another. In the end, he sighted the ground at his target's feet.

*THWIP*

The bolt impacted several feet and to the left of the target. The scout's head snapped up in response. Jesse gave a sarcastic wave with his good arm, then started recocking his weapon. Several of the passenger Kith were watching him, keeping out of sight of their shared enemy.

"What did you call that?" Bee asked.

"A crossbow. All the puncture power of a regular bow but you don't need to work out your whole life to use it."

"Punctures nothing if you purposely shoot low," Huntress chided. "This isn't a game. Put holes in them or they'll kill us." She punctuated the statement by loosing another trio of shots. One went wide, the other two slammed home. One sailed clear through the thigh of one of the pursuers, sending them rolling to the ground. Another stuck into the chest of the nearest Folk. He screamed, snapped the shaft off with his free hand, then returned to his quiver to return the favour.

"Jesus," he said while peeking over the edge, ducking back down just as an arrow sailed through the air where his head had just been. "These guys are intense."

Huntress grabbed him by the collar. "Put Holes In Them." Her voice was cold, unshakable. They'd become better acquainted over their adventures but she was still a woman of sheer, singular will. He swallowed, nodded, and set another bolt in the crossbow. The bronze arrowhead should penetrate better than her sharpened wooden ends, but they were much more expensive to produce. It all came down to how much foot poundage (or Joules if you were sensible) you could put into the arrow. His mechanical advantage over her conditioned muscles and training.

He bit down and used his injured arm to lift the crossbow up. They were in throwing distance at this point. Kalvis was juking left and right but it was only Huntress' skillfully aimed shots that was keeping him safe. The closest Folk archer had just slipped past one of her arrows and was drawing back his own toward the blacksmith's back. Jesse put sights on, accounted as best he could for drop, and pulled on the trigger.

The bolt appeared to sprout from their upper torso. He must have hit something important, as the soldier dropped the bow from limp fingers and collapsed to their knees.

"I did it!" he cried, then immediately felt regret. He'd done it alright. He's hurt a person. Jesse sagged against the steel. The sharp metal jammed into his back, keeping him locked into the moment.

"Good shot," Huntress said, loosing her own arrow down range.

"I just shot someone."

"Yes, and you likely saved Kalvis' life. You wanted to fight the Folk rather than flee? This is what is involved."

He nodded absently. Intellectually, she was right. That Folk was trying to hurt one of his new community, he was within his rights. But he'd never seriously injured someone before. Imagining the act was one thing, achieving it was something completely different.

Kalvis boarded and slid behind the raft's tiny pilot house. He sucked in air, hands over his knees. "Gods preserve me, that was terrifying. Thank you for waiting for me. I got lost in the woods, thought you would have left by now."

"No one was getting left behind," Jesse said, "But, now that everyone's here...Keela?"

"I'm working on it!" the raft's captain shouted. "Get the gangplank up, I'll get the anchor."

While Jesse and Riri got to work pulling in the board, Keela slid to the side of the raft, knife in hand, ready to cut the rope holding them in place. Huntress quiver was running low, and her fire became sporadic. Just enough to keep the remaining Folk's heads down. But more emerged from the woods, bows in hand. Jesse yanked in the plank, running back to cover as more shafts sprouted from the log deck.

Keeping the steel pile in between her and the Folk, she sawed at the anchor rope. Her knife was sharp, but the rope was well hewn and it took an agonizingly long time to cut all the cords to free themselves from the shoreline. Arrows flitted overhead and bounced off cover, giving her plenty of motivation. With a shout of triumph, the rope snapped in twain and they were free to move downstream. Bee and Riri dug out the paddles and got to rowing out into the current. They were loose. They were free!

But the sense of victory was short-lived. The raft turned in the flow, and momentarily the side that had been protected was exposed to the enemy. Jesse watched, crossbow half cocked, as an arrow loosed from a Folk archer. It soared through the air, seemingly in slow motion. Jesse's head snapped around to see its target.

Keela's triumphant expression turned to a look of terror. She tried to move out of the way, but the arrowhead sunk deep into her chest. Her dodge turned to a tumble, and she fell headfirst into the water.

"Keela!" Vash screamed, pinned down in the pilothouse by more and more arrows. Huntress was doing her best to retaliate, but was almost out of arrows. The others were rowing or cowering or catching their breath after running for their life.

Without thinking further, Jesse dived in after her. He wasn't anything resembling a strong swimmer, and in the failing light it was all he could do to keep himself oriented in the river. Arrows sliced and skipped over the water, pressing him under and away from shore. By the time he reached Keela's body, they were both far toward the centre of the river.

He wrapped an arm around her to keep her close, then pressed two fingers from his other hand to her carotid. A pulse, thready but there. The arrow still jutted out of her chest, the wound leaking a trail of crimson into the turbid water. She needed treatment fast. But as he thrashed to his side to look for the raft, to his horror, it was far away and moving farther with every moment. It was still under attack, but with the heavy load and the flow of the current, steering the craft was probably a bitch and a half.

Jesse had to focus on his own survival. His and Keela's at any rate. He backstroked to the opposite side of the river, keeping the Kith woman's head above water. The rain of arrows subsided the further he got. Either he had left their range or they did not see him as a danger. His arms burned, doubly so for the one already wounded. His legs thrashed unevenly, propelling him in fits and spurts. The moments of exhausting effort feeling like eternities. He only stopped when his feet scraped the bottom of the river. With the last ounce of strength, he pulled Keela out of the surf and up onto the sandy shore. His last conscious thoughts were of Vee, and hoping that he got a chance to see her again.