Going Feet First Ch. 06

"The gate won't close! Hit the alarm bell!" cried one of them, drawing Ssz'Vasbryn's attention to the portal into the castle.

Two humans were pulling on separate chains that fed into a series of pulleys hooked to the doors. Keetle was standing between them, arms spread out with her hands pointed to the barriers. While they tried to seal the entrance, she kept it pried open. If just barely.

"Somebody kill them!" she growled.

Ssz'Vasbryn bolted forward, charging right through the middle of the fighting until she was at Keetle's back. Mindful of the force pushing out from the Aide's hands, the elder Drow ducked under her arms and charged the closer of the two men trying to shut out her squad. The soldier saw her coming, releasing the chain and reaching for his sword just as hers sliced the leather neck-guard under the chin of his helmet. Crimson poured over his breast plate, and she immediately leapt across the hall with the grace of a cat to stab the other doorman through the open face of his helmet.

With the pressure off from the doors trying to close in on her, Keetle redirected her magic to the guard running to a T-intersection down the hall. Where a large, brass bell hung from the ceiling. But when he was no more than two steps from alerting the entirety of the castle to the intruders, an unseen force latched on to his chest and ripped him off his feet. He clawed for anything to hold onto, cried for someone to help as he was pulled back to the twelve waiting blades standing over his fallen comrades.

...

"Put the lights out, and get the bodies on this side of the door before we lock it," Ssz'Vasbryn ordered. "Dreek and Jrastra should be in the castle by now, so we need to be in position. Let's go, sisters, the wars end has come at last."

Moving as ordered, the Drow had the slain guards stacked on the castle side of the door as torch lights in the chamber were extinguished. The doors that they had fought to keep open now closed, with every lock falling in place. With the one direct path between the guards' main barracks and the royal castle sealed, the only way in to the king's domain was the main gate on the other side of the grounds. That entrance would fall into lockdown in the event that an alarm was raised.

This left the occupants of the Royal Castle to the mercy of Sun-Kissed now roaming their halls.

.........

"Galen Martin, your majesty," the Private said in introduction before a table lined end-to-end with men and women dressed in rich clothing and fine jewels.

"Farok Salkahn," declared the Neko beside him, bowing his head and pressing a fist over his heart.

A man Galen could only presume to be the King rose from his seat at the head of the table. His chair gave a creak as it no longer had to support the mass of its well-built occupant, the sound nearly deafening in the deathly quiet room. The fine yellow cloth of his pants hovered just an inch over the floor around his slippers as he stepped around his table to put himself between his guests and the two bounty hunters standing with their captures on the other side of the room.

Adjusting his red dinner coat, the King carefully inspected the two Drow on their knees in front of the hunters, each one scowling at him with their vile eyes. He took note of the one on his right, as her eyes were an exceptional shade of violet compared to the typical red.

"Commandant Dreek," the King grinned. "If the reports were accurate about your appearance."

The Third Commandant scowled at him, and he shifted his gaze to the other Drow. "I do not know who you are."

"A powerful empath," Galen stated, removing the tanneran ball from the front sight of his rifle to hold it up for display. "Only reason any of us are alive right now is because this keeps her power in check. Still doesn't help if you get too close, however."

Whispers passed along the dinner table while the King brought one hand up to his face to stroke his rather impressive mutton chops. Galen glanced to his left, where Devon and Aius stood against the wall half way between him and the dinner table. The Captain gave him a subtle nod, and the Private brought his attention back to the Royal before him.

"Then that would make you Jastra," Redding's ruler declared.

A wave of fear pulsed through the room, churning Galen's gut and making him shudder. Both of the First Commandant's hands clenched into fists in their binds behind her back. In a second, Galen expanded his senses, feeling the area around him for any sign of Ssz'Vasbryn's team as the rising anger of the Empath began to bleed into him.

"You foul my tongue, Benson. Jrastra is my name and it will be the last one you speak," she growled.

"Sorry, Commandant," Galen muttered in Drow before he slung his rifle and drop kicked her square in the center of her back, invoking a sharp yelp of pain from the Drow leader.

Before she could rightfully recover, he knelt down and brought his tanneran ball closer to her head while grabbing her by the back of her cloak with his free hand. She visibly winced as he jerked her back, bringing her to an upright position and with a violent shake.

"Watch your damn mouth in King Benson's presence," he growled, subtly moving his hand down to ensure he hadn't dented the back of her plate armor.

Jrastra coughed as her red eyes seared hatred at the Private. "You'll be next."

"We'll see," he replied as he stepped back.

The whole room focused on him as he looked to the King's. There were nothing but wide eyes and dropped jaws from his little show. Even the guards seemed to have trouble keeping their placid faces in the wake of what a mere mortal did to a Sun-Kissed Commandant.

Boasting an empowered smirk, Galen asked, "If they got your approval, then I think it's time we settle on a reward?"

Right then, Galen sensed the life signs of the two guards outside the dining hall stagger, the strength of their auras shuddering. In moments, two other beings rushed forward and caught them before their armor could clatter against the wall or floor. Breathing a bit easier, the Private adjusted his rifle sling over his shoulder to hide his hand sliding down and flipping the fire-selector to "auto."

"For this masterful prize," the King started. "I would first want to express how impressed I am at your amazing feat. These two have slaughtered dozens, if not a hundred yet you bring them down with just you and a... Neko."

Farok's stance shifted and one of his eyes twitched at the way his race was said.

"The rest of us are back at our camp. There were more, but we lost a lot tryin' to capture these two... It was quite the sacrifice," Galen said, sensing both Farok's anger and the number of Drow gathering outside.

"And I will be sure to compensate for them. Name a boon, and I shall pay the price," the King stated.

"Oh yes," Jrastra hissed. "You will."

A wave of empathic energy slammed into the troops along the walls of the room right as the doors burst open. The trinket having no actual effect, Galen threw his ball of tanneran away while he brought his rifle around. The buttstock braced against his hip, he fired a burst into a quartet of guards to his immediate right, the bullets tearing through their armor as though it were tinfoil.

Farok had his claws out and slashed the ropes binding the Commandant's wrists before he drew his sword to engage the guards just recovering from the First Commandant's empathic blast. It came as a shock to the Neko when a Dark Elf in yellow, plate armor leaped into the fray at his side. Despite that surprise however, he did not pause to ask questions as he charged into the King's troops.

Sharps clangs of warning bells rang in the hall outside, Galen's attention shifted only for a moment as he dodged a bolt of ice cast from a mage. Switching back to semi-automatic, he fired a round of 7.62mm in return and the magic caster pirouetted and hit the ground in a heap. That was the last opportunity he had to shoot at any of the guards as the Sun-Kissed poured into the room, leaping past him and charging forward to attack. The clash of blades offered no clean line of fire, and despite the initial disruption, the Royal guards were quick to regroup and form a defensive line before the dinner guests.

Galen could see now why these men were on the King's protection detail. Their sword technique proved refined and calculated as each attack was deftly countered and blocked. Even Ssz'Vasbryn was kept at bay by a warrior in crimson armor and despite having both Captain Devon and Aius assisting; the clash quickly became a deadlock. And then there were the mages casting spells behind the guards, healing and attacking where they could as several dinner guests stepped forward to prove themselves far from defenseless. Three men with clean-cut, red uniforms complete with medals on their chests, along with the King himself, stepped forward.

The generals and the Royal, Galen thought, pacing to one side to get a clean shot. One of these high officers paused to take in the situation, and an opening appeared that was just enough to allow a round to pass through without hitting any friendlies. Galen snapped his rifle up and fired, knocking the officer off his feet with a thirty caliber hole in his chest.

When the Private tried to line up another shot, however, somebody grabbed onto his collar and pulled him down and around. He blinked to find his face level with Dreek's.

"That bell means reinforcements are coming! You are to hold them back!" she snapped, pulling Galen's sword from him and shoving him toward the door and Jrastra. "Siks squad! Third Commandant will handle the mages! First Commandant and Galen will hold the reinforcements!"

Moving on his orders, the Private turned to the door and planted himself at the First Commandant's side.

"I'm sorry about that boot, Jrastra," he said as the storm of steel grieves came stomping down the hallway.

"I ordered you to make it look good," she replied as her influence pressed on the space around her. "But if you do that again, I will explode your brain within your skull."

Galen swallowed and readied his rifle as the first trio of fresh troops came rushing into the room.

.........

Fresh crimson smeared on the wall as Petra crept up to a corner in the castle corridor. Holding her breath, she leaned in just enough to slowly peer around it and glance at what lay down the hall. She found a quartet of men standing under a torch ten paces away; none of them paying any mind to their surroundings as they chatted the night away.

With no light in her section of hall, and with a good joke to further disengage the guards from their duties, she waved the human at her back to come forward. Moving on his toes, Flak gritted his teeth against the rising pain in his shoulder and carried Zax'va past the hallway and waited in the shadows on the other side. After waiting a moment, Petra herself crossed the intersection and pressed on past Flak.

"You sure you know the way out?" Flak whispered once again as he shadowed the Neko.

"They did several circuits around the castle when they brought me in," Petra hissed back. "I know the way out I just need to find the landmarks I made in my memory."

"You get five more minutes, then we do it my way," the Sergeant grumbled.

Five barks, faint but distinct caused both Flak and Petra to snap their heads toward the dark corridor ahead. Petra may have recognized the sound, but the Marine had it embedded into his very soul.

"That's an M-14 cracking off," he thundered in a low voice right before a bell began to ring. That bell was followed by another, and then another. After the initial rings, the successive bells stopped to allow the chimes of the original to be pinpointed.

The four sets of boots in the hall behind the escaping trio came running in their direction, the torch light moving with them. The guards came into the same hallway as the soldier, Neko, and Drow and stopped, staring a moment to register what they saw. When they did however, swords were swiftly drawn and brought to the ready.

"Now would be a time to run," Zax'va said, gripping Flak's shirt as tight as she could.

"Go!" the human ordered, bolting away from the men.

He ran full tilt down the hall, Petra keeping pace with him and knocking over anything she could to slow the men charging after them: statues, suits of armor, plants. She even flipped up a rug to successfully trip one of them and send him crashing to the floor in a mess of steel.

The trio came to a four-way intersection of the hallway, immediately breaking right in hopes of buying any time they could—running right into the path of five knights in blood-red plate armor gathering at T-intersection not twenty yards down the hall from where they stood. The groups stopped and stared at one another, the chase party catching up in second to pin the escapees between them and the elite knights of the Orrorein.

Very calmly, Flak eased Zax'va down onto the carpet at his feet, stepping over the Drow to put himself between her and the men in red. More gun shots rang out down the hallway, noticeably closer than before, but Petra shut them out as she turned to face the guards that had been in pursuit.

"It's been an honor to meet you, Staff Sergeant," she said.

Flak pulled his KA-BAR with his left hand, and drew his Colt 1911 with his right.

"Save that bullshit for another time. I didn't survive a helicopter crash just to get killed by some medieval pricks."

One of the men in red, bearing a fancy emblem painted on his breast plate, shook his head and motioned his men forward with a knife-hand. "Kill them."

Before any of them could move, however, something slammed into the crimson knights at an impossible speed. There was only a short scream as a black shadow tore through the hall, leaving nothing but a sword clattering against the stone after it passed. Having blinked and missed it, Flak stood confused as he stared at a now empty corridor.

"What the fuck?"

He turned around, seeing the other four guards now taking steps in retreat, sheer terror on their faces.

The Sergeant asked, "What the fuck just happened? You fuckers see a ghost?"

"Ghost?" Petra repeated, casting a questioning look back at Flak.

A girlish giggle echoed through the air and the Marine instantly aimed his pistol toward the ceiling in response. The assassin at his back scanned the spot where the muzzle pointed with narrowed eyes. Something was making her fur tingle on the back of her neck. Something else was among them.

As she scanned the ceiling above, the guards moved together until they had brought their backs against one another so they could face every direction with their swords at the ready. Then a shadow shifted. Each of them looked to the space above him.

A strand that one could only describe as living, black rope lashed out from the ceiling, wrapping around the necks of the guards and hoisting them upward. Swords clattered to the floor, legs kicked outward, hands fought to hold back the shadowy noose while gaping mouths tried to take in any air they could.

"Petra, move. Slowly," Flak ordered, returning his knife to its sheath and pocketing his pistol.

In paced movements, he scooped the Drow off the floor and backed away from the hanging men, the Neko moving with him. One by one the guards stopped squirming and fell limp in the grasp of the shapeless force, and he was soon followed by another. Only when the last one was strangled from his place in the living world did that tendril release them and send four bodies crashing to the floor.

Both the Neko and Soldier bolted then. Adrenalin coursed through their veins as they sprinted to the next hallway over and turned in the direction they had originally been running.

"What in Necela's name was that thing?!" Petra asked, an audible quiver in her tone.

"Fuck if I know, fuck if I care! We're alive, they aren't, and I fucking don't want to fucking get caught by whatever the fuck that fucking thing was!"

The Neko swallowed and kept running toward another thunderous clap of a rifle while Zax'va said, "A good plan."

The three escapees came up to a new section of the hallway that was extremely well-lit compared to where they had just come from. Torches on both sides bathed the stone corridor in light all the way to the end. But somewhere in the middle, echoing out from an open pair of double doors, were the sporadic cracks of gunfire.

That was where the trio wanted to go.

While they ran forward toward the fray, two guardsmen emerged from a hall of their left. They already had their weapons in hand as they charged ahead, but they didn't make it two steps down the hall. A burst of black smoke erupted from the ceiling that instantly consumed them both. There was a glint of light off a blade, and when the smoke cleared, two headless corpses were all that remained on the ground.

"What the fuck is going on here?" Flak muttered, shock showing on his face as his pace slowed.

Without a word, Petra grabbed his arm and pulled him forward, past the two bodies and making the last dash toward that room. At least twenty or more bodies were stacked up in the doorway, with the sounds of steel clashing inside.

They were less than twenty feet away when the Shadow Stalker yelled, "Galen?!"

"Petra?" was the immediate reply.

"Who... Zax'va?" challenged another voice.

Feeling that familiar empathic touch in her chest, the Drow in Flak's arms jerked her head to look forward, her grip tightening around the Marine's shirt.

"Commandant!" she cried out in her loudest voice before breaking down into a coughing fit.

"Friendlies coming in!" Flak shouted, rushing forward into the room though he froze as he witnessed the scene playing out inside.

Almost a dozen Drow in armor and a cat-man with golden hair locked blades with a number of the castle guards. At the back of the room, four men in robes were dancing their hands around like they were casting spells. Aside from the bodies by the door, three of the coal-skin Elves and four knights were on the floor dead or dying and standing guard over the entrance with rifle in hand was one clean shaven, fresh-faced soldier and another one of the yellow armored Drow.

Not spending a moment for pleasantries, Flak stormed up beside Galen while Petra rushed in to hug the stunned troop. The Marine was quick to set his Elven burden on the floor behind the one of her own kind before he drew his pistol. He hadn't stopped for any sort of conversation and only headed for the battle still going on at the back of the rather spacious hall.

Keetle came down with her sword upon a knight in crimson armor, the human blocking her blade with his own before his head snapped back with a spray of pink mist. The Sun-Kissed frowned in confusion as the body dropped, then looked up to the robed magic caster that had been standing behind him. The mage stepped back in horror. Then came another blast, and the mage pirouetted as a red spray erupted from his chest.

The Aide risked a moment to glance behind her. There was a new human at her back with a "Colt" in his hand and bloodlust on his face. Without hesitating he then marched forward toward the line where he had just cleared an opening. One knight tried to fill the gap, only for the human to fire again. The projectile sent a spark flying as it ricocheted off the top of the man's breastplate, deflecting up under his helmet and right into his head.

Why didn't Galen do this? Keetle thought.

Whoever put that Private on duty as the doorman wasted his capabilities, Flak griped to himself.

With three of theirs down, the line of guards took a step in retreat to tighten up their group. The Sergeant came to a position ten feet back from the line, taking in the situation further as the guards maintained their defensive around...