In Huck's Hands

Chapter 9: Huckleberry Vasca??

I furiously yet narrowly rolled clear left as the beast shattered the tiles where my skull had rested a heartbeat earlier. Its hellish velocity kept me reeling off balance, hecticly scrambling to keep inches of distance. Flasks of brown rotten liquor smashed around us as we wrecked an ancient dilapidated tavern - the putrid smell sharpened my focus on not emulating it after my desiccated body was flensed of its fucking flesh.

No span for even my own haughty introspections before jagged fists slammed into my heaving abdomen. The impact, though glancing, had broken me like the many granite rocks strewn around the deserted necropolis. It bellowed loudly as I scrambled to my feet, spitting dark Vascan blood onto the black tile floor.

As I bitterly battled for air through splintered ribs and bloody organs, my sweaty fingers found purchase around the king's obsidian knife in my belt--The beast had planned on a savage bite to my crown. I braced for those gnashing jaws to descend upon my prone form. This is where I would meet my end. Hot breath seared my eyelids with wet drool.

But as the creature irately loomed overhead, some insane impulse helmed my hands - I drove the long knife upward with all my rapidly fading might. My quick brutal thinking paid off as the blade wetly sunk into flesh, I felt the handle cut my hand from the force as I let go of the sharp black knife.

Hot crimson blood erupted, dousing me fully with sweet liquids of war. The piercing thunderous wails that followed told me I'd hit my mark through the left eye into some deep inner brain pocket. But still, the hopefully lobotomized beast thrashed mindlessly. I rushed away frantically as tapered claws rent stone, threatening to disembowel me.

Its blind one eye conveyed deep sorrow and rage as it mangled the glistening mosaics of the past I had witnessed mere moments ago. The relics shattered into treasure tinkling cracks as heaps of castle crashed loudly all around. Now with one eye, the albino creature reminded me of my bulky father.

He too shared that look on his face as he sat beseeched by Svetlan delegates....they had done the same to my father as this animal--I felt a tinge of remorse for never taking the time to really be a true son to him...I felt my dreads sway from my head shaking involuntarily--There was no time to pity anyone...I unclasped the second Vascan ceremonial knife. Though old and stolen, I had seen its better do damage.

Somehow I struggled upright, silently spewing my own crimson broth from my ruptured organs. Our crazed romp continued until my enemy grew lethargic, blinded by gore sheeting its mangled face, and tired from needing to echolocate me. I knew to press the onslaught - I leaped onto white bloodstained fur, seeking to finish it finally. But blood-slick fingers failed to find purchase and I slid off suddenly to the smooth tile floor.

Now we both could barely stand as vital fluid left us by the gallon. Our exhaustive clash had reached a torturous stalemate...what other slimey sadistic human tactics could I conceive to gain an edge before my rent corpse fed these ancient halls?

My bestial enemy was weakening from blood loss, but so was I - we were latched in a mutually savage dance with death. Through the red haze, I realized we fought not just meat versus flesh, but each other's rudimentary yearning to survive. I couldn't read the blank one-eyed watch of the animal but mine seethed more scalding with memories of simple combat with Aiko burned into my muscle memory.

I flung aside any meddling sense of self instantly, seeking any advantage as we thrashed violently. When its fangs tore into my right shoulder, I embraced the blazing agony, using the leverage to rake its face relentlessly with a cool black knife blade.