Rhistmaege

The Others

Dovi named them The Others, not because they were other than him; the moniker's true meaning was, whatever or whoever came to him in the Mind World, was Other than what he wished or anticipated them to be. His own mind failed him. The untrustworthy, useless lump of membrane always turned against him. He knew he fought himself. Himself! He wanted them to just go away, to disappear, but they always came for him. Relentlessly. No matter how much he begged or bargained. Attacking with Wit or Folly or Venom merely slowed their advance, so he had abandoned that tactic. He had nearly perfected the art of defense.

If I could correct the minor imperfections, I know I could hold them back. I could outlast them. Professor Puck would announce the two minutes had passed. Maybe I wouldn't win, but a tie is not a loss.

Dovi pushed himself onto his tiptoes and squinted into a smoky haze. Where are you? What are you? There. Movement. So, Venom it is. They mean to rip me to pieces. So be it.

Dovi rushed here and there, slicing the smoke and the land with a hand that worked intricate patterns - from where they came he did not know. Steady hands drew circles upon the stony, dying land. Funnels of twisting, writhing flame shot down from the flaming sky. Three raging humanoid infernos set a picket line around him. Time was his ally. Just a little bit faster. A little bit more care. No mistakes.

The Others erupted from below.

Stone Men.

Jagged, coarse-grained blocks of granite burst through the ashen surface. Obsidian eyes devoid of life or care sat callous upon fractured faces of stormy grays and splotchy, muddy browns. Pitted, raw-cut, mountainous shoulders pushed into view. Splintered, curling, dog-toothed shards of stone scratched and clawed against the unforgiving landscape. The tectonic horde ground and grated its way to finally breach the ruptured world.

So many?

Dovi hesitated for just the slightest moment. The enormity of the task he faced ripped the breath clean from his chest.

The ground quivered and quaked. The monstrosities advanced, numbering in the hundreds, perhaps more.

"Repel them!" screeched Dovi, his throat raw from the billowing dust.

His Flamenoids, as Dovi named them, rocketed towards the approaching enemy. Fiery arms swung molten fists. Sparks arced high into the air, as they smote the gigantic, shambling sediment. They shattered crusty heads and battered bulging, bouldered biceps. Wide craters were carved deep into brittle, metamorphic chests. The Stone Men crumpled left and right. The battlefield became heaping mounds of shifting sand. Still, they came forth.

Dovi worked at a fevered pitch, surrounding himself with a pulsing dome of power. He knew not where the power came, nor did he care. He just had to make it hold until the professor declared time was up. He scoured the barrier for weakness. Sealed a fissure here. Strengthened a warped strand there. It was the best he'd ever made. He knew it would hold this time. This time would be different.

No, it can't be. Dovi shuddered and closed his eyes tight.

A tall man, cloaked in heavy, wandering shadows strode into the midst of the bustling chaos. The Hooded Man. Dovi had faced him many times before. This blight always appeared at the brink of victory. Although his face was obscured by a cavernous, crimson cowl, there was no doubt what his intention was.

In the blink of an eye, the Flamenoids had fallen. Under the direction of the Hooded Man, the Stone Men had changed tactics, propelling themselves high into the air. Broad stone bodies tumbled upon the Flamenoids like felled Greatwoods, covering them completely, stealing away the acrid air fueling the Flaming Men. They snuffed them out of existence.