Nightsea Outlaw

"'Tin Man' Ortega." Lucien looked down at his screen and felt a smile crack unbidden across his face. "WPN Nine."

"You know the man?" Gulantry's couch creaked beside him as the man leaned forward to look at the screens that were plastered across the glass.

"He is an old acquaintance." Lucien reached out and touched the glass. "You could say he is the reason I am the man I am today."

"If I recall correctly, he is the man responsible for Burning August. Killed King Fabian and everything." Gulantry reached down and picked up an apple from the plate on his couch. "Amazing what one man can do to an island."

"I know. I was there."

Gulantry turned to him, his mouth agape. Lucien reached up to his forehead. In it, there was a single pale stone embedded, as all Apostles had. His stone was cracked, and it was a blemish on his life that it existed. His status as an Apostle had been forfeited that day.

"When you first came to me, you said you had been an Apostle, a servant of the Scions," Gulantry said. "You didn't say what happened to you."

Lucien frowned. The reason he had not shared that information was simple. Gulantry didn't deserve that information. Gulantry was only worth his ability to give Lucien a good fight. Beyond that, he was lower than any of the people he thought beneath himself.

"They say that Apostles are the protectors of the Scions. They are people with abilities above even the Twelve Rulers. You're saying you were at August, and you and the king could not stop this man?"

"Not quite," Lucien said, grasping his hand closed as he watched Ortega deal with the trash on the battlefield. "Not everything that has been said about August is true. Much is story and fabrication. It is true that King Fabian died that day. It is true that the island burned to the ground. It is true that Ortega was there, at the center of it all."

"But did he kill the King? Did he burn down the island?"

"It was chaos," Lucien said. "That is all you need to know. I failed my mission that day, and for it, I was thrown from the Apostles."

He had no reason to protect the Scions or their schemes any longer, but Lucien would not tell trash like Gulantry the truth. The lab, the experiments, and the shattering of mind and body. Only he needed to know what had actually happened on the island.

"Maybe we should eliminate him now if he's so troublesome." Gulantry began to fiddle with the air, bringing up a small screen and scrolling through it. "I would hate to have my island meet the same fate as August."

Lucien's gate opened on its own like the gaping maw of a great beast. A red-tinged black mist covered his right arm, replacing his pale, graceful hand with the gnarled brown husk of a monster's claw. He lashed out at Gulantry's hands, knocking them away and dispelling the screen as his vision blurred red.

"No." The words rattled in his throat in a monstrous rasp. "I will not allow one such as you to sully this battle. If Ortega survives, he shall be my prey. Our reunion will shake these walls as we each struggle to our dying breath. I will have my fight."

Thump.

Gulantry had fallen from his couch and looked up at Lucien with fear. Lucien didn't know what he saw, but he could see his now yellow eyes reflecting back at him. Lucien smiled as he closed his gate and reduced himself to his normal form. He had lost control there, but that was the fate of beasts like himself.

"I understand." Gulantry raised his hands on the floor, his corpulent mass making it impossible for him to scurry away from the onslaught. "Please, Lucien. I understand. I only wished to make sure that he would not cause harm to the island. If you are sure that you can handle him, I will not have that worry."

"I can," Lucien said as calm settled over his body. "If he had not escaped me on August in the chaos, I would have beaten him in the end. What I failed to understand back then was how crafty he was."

"Then, let us prepare for the next round of fights," Gulantry said as he struggled to get his mass back to his couch. "If you wish it to be the nightshade, we must craft the arena to fit the creature's environment. Step away from the fights for a moment, and we'll work together to give the people the fight of their lives!"

Lucien knew that Gulantry was distracting him. Perhaps the man wanted to make sure there were no more outbursts, and Gulantry wished to control the focus of his anger by directing him. Lucien knew that Gulantry was manipulating him, but instead of being angry, he went along with it. If he focused on Ortega down below, then his anger would consume him. His prey was so close, and they would battle again soon. That would have to be enough to slate his thirst until they met in the arena.

Abed ran through the streets, leading the people he had found behind himself. He had found ten people who did not wish to fight. Some he had to fight to free, while others he had found hiding in abandoned buildings. He only had his khopesh at his side to fight off others, but he had been lucky so far.

"This way!" he yelled back at his compatriots, leading them down an alleyway.

As he ran ahead, he saw a dark-robed figure suddenly step in front of the alley's exit. The figure held his arms up high, and too late, Abed realized what he was doing. The air around and behind Abed sparked and cracked.

"Lightning Lance!" the dark-robed figure screamed.

A line of blue light arced from the figure's hand, connecting to Abed's khopesh before jumping again to the person behind him. Abed didn't have to think too hard to imagine that it jumped between each person in the alley. They had walked into a trap.

Crack-Boom!

A stronger line of lighting jumped through each person in the alley, and screams filled Abed's ears in the wake of a deafening crack of thunder. His fingers tensed hard around his khopesh. The smell of burning flesh and fat filled his nose as he fell to his knees. An explosion of pain ripped across his arm and down his leg. Skin ruptured and cooked under the heat. Abed fell to the ground, and his vision went dark.

Thump.

He opened his eyes and looked across the blackened ground. The robed man advanced toward him, and Abed tried to move his left arm. The fingers didn't respond, though he was sure they were still burned and charred around the khopesh. He tried to force himself to stand, but his left leg did not even twitch. All he accomplished was a slight movement in his right leg and some spasms in his pinned right arm. He looked up as the robed figure approached him, his fingers cracking with electricity.

Abed was a warrior. He had fought in hundreds of battles in the civil war that had ravaged Hajh since he was a child. Before coming to the new world, he and Sayed had been brothers in arms and would fight together back to back, no matter the circumstances. Sayed had entrusted the safety of their camp to him, and he wouldn't let Sayed down. Abed gritted his teeth and pushed himself up. He lunged forward and grabbed the robed man's ankles. He could hear the man laughing, but he wouldn't give up.

"I will not let you take them."

"Listen to yourself." The robed man laughed. "They're already dead. You'd see it if you could look behind you. No one survives my powers. My curse makes me the strongest thing out here. Nothing beats lightning."

"I will not let you take them!" Abed pulled harder on the man's ankles, but he did not budge.

The man reached down toward him, lightning cackling in his hands. Abed closed his eyes. This was to be the end. He and Sayed had been unstoppable together, but the one time he had to fight alone, he was useless. If only he had received a blessing like Sayed. Maybe he would have been able to fight. Instead, he had failed in his duty and would die for it.

"Listen," the man whispered before raising his voice. "Lightning Volley!"

Crack-Boom. Crack-Boom. Crack-Boom.

Several lightning strikes struck the ground behind them, and Abed looked back to see the men on the ground. They were unmoving in the strikes. Not a single stirred or shied away from the strikes. They were all completely motionless. Dead.

"See, you're the last one," the robed man said. "Now sit still and stop crying so I can finish you off for good."

Crackle.

His hand glowed as he brought it down on Abed. Abed closed his eyes tight. From the right side of his face, tears wet his cheeks. His ears rang, and he didn't want to see the end. The entire left side of his body was useless. He did not even have a chance to fight back. He was going to die. The thought hit him like a punch in his gut. He gripped the man's ankle with all his strength.

He was going to die.

Tap. Tap. Tap. Tap.

Small objects fell on the stone around him. Abed blinked his eyes open, and through the tears, he saw tiny spots on the ground. What were they? It took a moment for him to recognize them. They were seeds.

"Thorn's Grasp!"

A woman's voice yelled out from above, and Abed looked up at the bright light to see a descending shadow. Vines erupted around him and the robed man from the seeds. They grew rapidly, entangling around both of their bodies but finding more purchase on the robed man. They wrapped his arms tightly around his chest, snaked around his legs, and even across his fingers. They forced his hands closed, and Abed pulled as hard as he could on the man's legs.

Thump.

The man tumbled to the ground, completely wrapped in vines from head to toe.

"Are you okay?" a woman in a green robe asked as she cut away the vines with a black knife.

It took a moment for Abed to recognize her. The night before, she had come to the camp with Sayed. He recalled the conversations the two newcomers had had with Sayed while at the edge of camp. He thought her name had been Erin.

"The others," Abed gasped out.

"Worry about yourself," Erin said, a green glow coming to her hand as she brought it to his right arm. "You saw his second attack. They didn't even move. You're the only survivor."

Abed's heart ripped in half in his chest. Tears flowed freely from his right eye. Was he indeed the only one to live? He had found so many survivors. They could have all gone home if they had just held on for the hour.

"No."

He closed his eyes and willed the world to go away. Would he have to carry this failure for the rest of his days?

He was so caught up in his thoughts that he barely noticed that sensation began to return in his left side as Erin's glowing hands worked over his body. In a distant part of his mind, he registered that his fingers twitched around his khopesh, but it was unimportant.

Abed cried for his fellows as Erin healed his wounds.

Sayed heard the sound long before he knew where it came from. It was a faint scratch of claws against stone in the din of the arena, hidden behind walls and out of sight. He slowed in his run and closed his eyes. He could not be delayed from finding his brothers from the camp, but his instincts could not ignore that sound. Sayed clenched his teeth and opened his eyes, ducking into an alley and the shadows of a building.

"This way," he said, honing in on the slight sound.

When he turned the corner, he had to stop himself from collapsing to the ground. His fingers trembled at the sight, and his throat went dry. Sayed fought to keep a cry out of his throat, but one managed to escape anyway.

"Ah-"

Clatter.

He dropped his sword and fell to his knees. There was so much blood in the alley. Far too much blood than should have been possible. Sayed looked up at the center of the blood and saw a familiar figure crushed into the wall. Only his head remained intact. The rest of his body was broken and crushed to pieces.

"Why could I not protect him?" Sayed cried out.

Gramps's head was all that remained of the old man. Sayed's breath caught in his chest, and he searched around the street for the cause of Gramps's death. Claw marks cut into the walls, deep and long. He saw a green piece of scale on the ground nearby, partially hidden by the blood. Whatever had done the atrocity had been as large as the buildings around him, and Sayed immediately marked it as a person with a curse.

He would not call such a thing a blessing. This one was truly a curse.

"The machinations of evil have dug deep around this arena," Sayed said as he reached down to pick up his sword.

He forced himself to his feet and pushed away the sickness that threatened to rise inside him.

"I remember when you first came to our camp, Gramps." Sayed forced back his tears. "I remember how you would not tell us your name and how you reluctantly took on the role of caring for Jack. You were a kind man, too kind to be forced into such a world."

He turned away, closing his eyes to the scene and forcing it out of his mind. There would be time to mourn when the fight was over. Right now, he needed to focus on finding Abed and Jack. So long as they might be alive, he could hope.