No Guardian, I

Part 17

Jasker could only watch, transfixed, as two gods did battle in front of his eyes.

Alyona's arms and feet were a blur, redirecting blows that should have crushed her time and time again. The air around her flared sometimes, as if tiny discs of light formed to intercept the most vicious of the Fallen's attacks.

Or at least, it looked like it has once been Fallen. It showed none of the Eliksni's typical intelligence and cunning, consumed instead by a brutal, feral rage that only allowed one response to anything in its path.

Destruction.

Alyona's brow furrowed in concentration, eyes unfocused, reacting to the picture as a whole without paying much attention to the details. She found it quite easy to defend and summoning into being small shields to ward off whatever she couldn't redirect in time, but it was not enough. A good defence was just that - a temporary means to stay safe, one that an enemy would sooner or later break and feast on her heart.

Weird imagery, she thought. Unhelpful. She had to change the way she fought, quickly. Maybe...

In a split second of lull between attacks, she stepped forward, into the creature's guard, and elbowed it in the throat, willing her whole body to impart greater strength to the blow than simple body mechanics might. The Fallen, for the second time in as many minutes, flew off and cracked against the bole of an ancient tree.

It did not launch itself into battle again, like it did during the first encounter. Instead, it started circling, a wary predator, looking for an opportunity to pounce again.

Alyona broke eye contact.

The creature launched itself high into the air, bearing its great bulk down on the frail human figure.

Something flashed. Jas blinked fast to get the afterimages off of his retina.

"Over here, you dumbo," came Alyona's voice from somewhere in the distance.

The Fallen roared and bounded after her. Jasker wondered why it hadn't attacked him, just standing there, or did not finish off Yaltrik, who crawled to hide behind a bush, and appeared shaken but unharmed.

Alyona switched positions three more times, disappearing in flashes of light and reforming again a few metres further. The Fallen, again and again, jumped after her only to stagger back, blinded for a second. She left a luminous trail of sparks and ozone behind her, one that linked together the places where she appeared. A trail that now looked like a fence with the Fallen penned inside.

Alyona jumped, impossibly high, turned mid-air and very deliberately clicked her fingers.

The walls contracted with a sharp pop.

The Fallen vanished in a waft of smoke.

Alyona landed in a crouch, a cocky smile on her fine-boned face.

"And that's how you..."

The Fallen rose behind her, grabbed her by the scruff of her neck and threw her away like a broken doll. She spun like a thrown stick, end over end, and disappeared in the undergrowth. Something cracked in the distance.

The creature laughed, a booming, guttural sound, and turned to Jas. He closed his eyes and willed himself to be invisible, and, preferably, elsewhere.

***

The Fallen's paws went through thin air. His other quarry, another one of the dead things, also eluded him. He bellowed his frustration to the indifferent, pale blue sky that was so different from what legends and pictures showed of his lost homeworld. There was one more creature that he hunted. The worst kind of them all. A betrayer.

He sniffed the air. There was a weak trace of ether escaping from a poorly secured feed tank. He turned his head to its source, met the four scared eyes looking back at him from the meager cover of the bush and laughed again.

He took a step, then another, taunting his prey to flee, to make it more fun. He would enjoy this so much.

The prey whimpered and covered itself with all of its limbs, including the one missing the palm.

He snorted in disgust. The weakling was not worth the ether he consumed. He raised his left arm, the one the grenade blast left intact, and drew upon the strength that he had been imbued with. A purple vortex, a tiny null-star formed there, blistering the air with its presence.

It felt good, to be this strong. No Scribe, no Archon ever commanded such power. He could easily challenge the Kell and become the next leader, feared and worshipped.

Something struck him in the back, a familiar jolt of a shock round fired from a pistol. His focus wavered, and the null-star collapsed, taking his hand with it. He roared, now in pain, and turned to the new threat.

He saw nothing.

He smelled nothing.

But he knew the dead things were alive again. They always were, even after being dismembered and their remains scattered from a fast-flying Skiff. They were like pests, impossible to ever truly be rid of.

Another round smacked him in the helmet. It felt like it came from above, so he glanced up. The shimmer of a cloaking field marred the sky. Cackling with glee, he sprang up, bringing the shooter down in his crushing embrace.

***

Jasker had no time to react, even though he was acting on pure instincts. He did not question the way he hovered mid-air, Light bent around him in a masking cocoon. He pulled Dralixis' pistols and fired, trying to pull the Fallen's attention away from Yaltrik. Then the beast crashed into him and brought him down, pinned him and headbutted him so hard he thought his neck snapped again.

Still, he struggled. On impulse, he shouted at the top of his lungs, putting something more than his voice in the sound. The Fallen stiffened for a second, then went limp. Jas scrambled from under its bulk, trying to bring the pistols to bear on the creature.

It blinked, throwing off the shock, and rolled away, evading the hasty shots, only to pounce back onto Jas. It raised its sole remaining arm, shrouded in purple light, for a killing blow. Jasker watched in horrid fascination as the charged fist started to descend.

A sickle-shape of energy scythed through the air and swung through the Fallen's neck. Its head slowly toppled, severed clean. The body fell a second later, disintegrating into soot and smoke before it touched the ground.

Jasker turned.

Alyona leaned on a broken length of wood, bent at one end like a large scythe. She smiled, weakly.

"Don't fear the Reaper," she said, and passed out.

***

//...They simply won't understand. Why not let new recruits learn to shape the Light the way they see fit? Why blinker them with dogmatic teachings, stale philosophies and meaningless preaching? It's not what the First Ones and to go through, I'd wager. Only through innovation will we survive. Is it really that hard to see?..//

Excerpt from the journals of Kar-Tanas