The attacking Rykz aren't trying very hard to kill us, their goal is to gain time and it shows as they both remain at safe distances to throw their attacks. The respect they have for lady Lance's skill is displayed in how both creatures endeavor to stay a lot further away from Lady Lance than from me.
Despite this sad fact, this is still my first real fight so my mind is fully occupied by watching my opponent's every movement, dodging the occasional spike stab thrown my way, and failing to throw even a single attack.
Every time I contemplate launching one, a tiny movement from any one of the Rykz' many limbs makes me second guess myself until I am forced to dodge another of the creature's attack instead. It doesn't matter what the move is, I am too tense to make calm judgments either way.
I see a flash of iron on my right, a spike flies in-between me and my opponent, it impacts the wall to my left and falls to the ground. Cut above the elbow. I snap my eyes back forward, in time to see the spike coming towards my left side again, I hurriedly jump away towards my right, landing behind lady Lance who took a timely step forward to give me space.
“Fuck, sorry.” I mutter, lady Lance shrugs in response before launching a series of quick stabs towards the one-armed … well, one-spiked, Rykz in front of her.
I retake my position, gritting my teeth and raising the hammer above my head again, this time I'm using it to bash this fucker's head in. I launch the weapon forward, arcing towards the Rykz' lower torso, less by choice than because that's where it headed after I threw it.
The creature moves back nimbly on its pointy legs, easily avoiding the blow. I half-succeed in changing my grip, unfortunately, half-succeeding means failing. I tighten my fingers in a backhanded grip around the iron bar, stopping it from slipping out of my hand as the momentum of the sledgehammer escapes me.
The weapon's head impacting the ground, the grasp I hastily secured over the handle allows me to keep it in hand but at the cost of having to absorb the kinetic force, that resulted from the collision with the ground, with my own body. The vibration travels back up into my arm, its sheer force shakes my muscles and resonates through my bones, most certainly bruising both.
“Aarrgh!” I yell out in pain and frustration, but keep my eyes on the Rykz.
I frown and focus, this isn't the time to fuck around or lose my temper, the creature is already preparing its spike for a stab but its body-language is as casual as always, upper torso held back out of reach as it attacks. I straighten my back, the Rykz' spike moves upwards, following my movement to keep its point aimed at my center mass.
I keep my backhanded grip tight on the weapon but leave its head laying on the ground, I angle my torso forward, putting myself under tension to prepare to follow through with a crazy idea that just came to me. The creature throws the stab, I let a split second pass to find the timing I'm comfortable with.
Within a two split seconds, I estimate the strike too far along for the Rykz to redirect, I let myself fall forward a bit more, starting forward in a quick rush, slipping under the attack as I run towards the Rykz, dragging the hammer behind me in the ground, it provides me with some stability this way.
I can't throw my own attack before the creature does because it will use its other spike to block me if I do. My eyes remain fixed on the second spike as I get past the first, a delay in reaction time will cost me my life here.
The Rykz scuttles backward, finally, it is taking me somewhat seriously now, but it's too late for that sucker, I'll have you even at the cost of my other arm. It throws its other attack as I approach in a wide sideways blow, a strike designed to scare me back and create space.
I use all my strength to lift my hammer all the way back behind my back, as far as I can, coiling myself like a spring. My bruised muscles hurt, they yell in protest, I grit my teeth. I take one more step inside the Rykz' range, making it past the dangerous point of the natural weapon swishing towards me so that only its blunt portion can hit me.
I throw my right leg forward, the last step. I forcefully plant the foot sideways in the ground, stopping my momentum dead and using my entire leg as a pivot to transform it, turning the forward motion into a rotation.
My foot protests with sharp pain, I put too much pressure on it but it doesn't matter as long as it has already fulfilled its purpose. My whole body rotates along the fulcrum, hammer included as my arm uncoils by itself.
The centrifugal force projects the weapon outwards at full speed, the point of no return, of no control, is passed immediately despite my hand clinging desperately to retain its hold on the very tip of the handle. I witness the hammer's head crash inside the Rykz scout's upper torso, crushing the interlocked carapace and directly going through it. Yes.
That is the last coherent vision I have because the creature's sweeping strike impacts the right side of my chest soon after. A dull crack resounds in my eardrums before a familiar wave of pain drowns out my senses, somewhat refreshingly coming from a different location than usual this time. I feel my back impact the ground.
Neither the pain nor the fall cut my breath short, simply because all my air was immediately expelled from my lungs when the strike landed. I haven't had a chance to breathe in since. My neck muscles seize with the agony, irrepressibly shaking as I impotently open and close my mouth to try to get a scream out, just one, please. But there is no air available for such a thing. No release to be had from the mind-numbing pain.
After a long moment, the survival instinct ingrained into my lungs kicks in, drawing air in with a brief but violent inhalation. A short shock of pain accompanies the air from my right side, I start coughing uncontrollably, projecting droplets of blood mixed with saliva, a small amount of bile rises up from my stomach and burns my throat on the way.
I only notice now that my eyes are swimming with tears, I try to blink but it doesn't clear my vision. The wave of pain finally recedes, leaving behind another familiar feeling, the dull aching of pain, a stake of hurt stabbed in the middle of my right rib-cage.
The lack of air in my lungs has been an ever-present pressure on my mind, coherent even through the worst of the pain, but it is now somehow getting worse, the urgency of it drowning all other thoughts.
The reflex of trying to breathe when your lungs demand air is something that is ingrained in us throughout our life. No, it was inscribed inside our very beings as they formed. So, I try, reflexively. The stake of pain piercing through me increases in intensity when my lungs rise, this new realization kills the reflexive attempt in the crib, a pathetic moment after it begun.
I make a more conscious use of my lungs, pushing out with only my left side, a throb of pain radiates from the stump, nothing to worry about. I succeed in filling my left lung up to a third of its capacity before it starts pulling on the right one by association, I exhale as soon as I notice, fearing the pain I could provoke if I kept going.
I focus my entire mind on finding a breathing pattern that provides the most air but provokes the least pain. I regulate my next breaths, taking them in short small increments, doing my best to speed up the rate of inhalation and exhalation.
I am stuck with a sixth of my total lung capacity, for now, the lack of oxygen is a weight on my mind that might trigger my instincts to attempt another reflexive full capacity inhalation, the thought of the pain that such an action would cause me is enough to send shivers down my spine.
My arm. I lift it up, wiping my hand on my shirt before clearing the tears out of my eyes. Alone. She left me here. Of course, she did, I got injured again. I'm a burden. Weak. Two dead Rykz, one and three meters away. At least I got the fucker. Worth it. I giggle at the thought but immediately wince in pain. Right, don't shake the broken bones because it hurts.
“You alive?” Yvonne asks, pressing her bloody hand against the left side of her stomach. She looks down at me, lying down with my back to the ground.
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“Are you?” I reply, softly, carefully.
“I think so, but my mother didn't last time we met, we haven't reached a consensus yet.” She smiles mysteriously before continuing when I make a curious frown. “My dear mother believes me to be an odd type of fungus that took the shape of her daughter, because, and I quote: My loving child would never leave her aging mother in her old days like this.” She kneels in front of me, taking out a piece of leftover bandage to properly wipe the corners of my eyes and lips.
“R-” A cough escapes me, expelling a bit of spit mixed with blood on the front of my shirt. “Really?” I ask.
“She was exaggerating to achieve the maximum dramatic effect, don't worry, all her children have built up quite the resistance to guilt trips. It forces her to regularly escalate, perhaps next time she'll accuse me of trying to murder her with worry.” She makes an amused smile and I return one of my own. “Now, where's the problem?”
“Which one?” I suppress a cold shiver. “Ribs, broken.” I add without waiting for a reply. “Take … care of your … self first.” This small amount of words is enough to put me back into a panting pattern as I try to catch my breath.
She tries to ignore me but I can still move my right arm so I use it to swat her hand away from my ribs. She glares at me but I glare back, probably looking ridiculous because of my quick short breaths.
She grumbles something I don't hear before sitting down next to me and untying the laces keeping the front of the hard leather jacket closed over her torso. She then opens a pouch attached to her belt, taking a roll of bandage out and directly applying it over her shirt. She passes over the bloody red patch on her left several times as she wraps the bandage around her whole abdomen, pulling on the bandage with each turn to tighten the pressure on the injury. She winces visibly when she knots both ends of the bandage together, on top of her injury.
“Motherfucker!” She swears.
“Don't use that word.” I manage to find enough time between two breaths to say that.
“Oh, sorry. Fatherfucker?” She asks.
“Th … at's …” Not any better. “What … ever.” I give up, giving her a tired smile.
“What do you say?” She asks as her fingers start softly following my ribs over my shirt, one at a time. I start shivering, solely because of the expectation of pain. I focus my mind away from that, on what she asked me.
“Fuck.” I answer. “Or, fuck … me.” I smile. “Not al … ways with … the same … meaning.”
“I bet.” She smiles, her fingers hit a break in my rib and a shrill yelp escapes me, parting my lips. “Sorry.” She says, wincing along my cry of pain.
“It's … okay.” I begin a shrug, interrupting it when I realize it would disturb my ribs.
“Good news, your ribs are just cracked.” Yvonne makes a small smile.
“Not … broken?” I ask.
“Well, they are broken, but only in one place, so the term is cracked.”
“Only … in one … place.” I make a small coughing laugh, feeling the spike of pain it provokes to be worth it.
“Two breaks on two different ribs, but it'll be much easier to heal than broken pieces of ribs floating around. In the meantime, I'll help you walk.”
“Hon … estly, just, … leave me … here.” I tell her, my face and emotions remain flat as I do, surprising even me.
“No.” She answers with a chipper smile, already standing up.
She moves around me to my left side, pausing for a second as she has to figure out a way to get me up without hurting me too much, the normal option of putting the left arm around the shoulders isn't available with me.
Yvonne slips her right hand between the ground and my right shoulder, taking painful hold of the back muscles protruding around the armpit, she wraps her other hand around the front of my waist, taking hold of the bone on my right side. Feeling secure enough she pulls me up with a groan of pain while I manage to grit my teeth and endure the short burst of pain.
We settle awkwardly as I lean my back against her side. She lets go of my waist and switches the position of her right hand, the tip of her fingers had essentially been painfully pressing against the inside of my armpit the whole time.
Unfortunately, the new spot she finds for her hand to sustain me might be worse as she relocates her right arm around my back to support me while her hand takes a hold around my upper ribs.
“Your … fingers are … digging into … my boob.” I tell her.
“Wishing they were Leomi's, huh?” She teases.
“I … wish you'd … stop … drilling your … nails … into the … side of my … boob.” I reply, flatly, while panting for my breath.
“We all have unachievable hopes and dreams, but I find it refreshing that you held onto your youth and express them so readily.”
“Please … change your … grip?” I ask directly.
“Sorry, I would but, I don't see where …” She shifts her hand upward, right up under my armpit this time. “Better?”
“Thanks.” I breathe out in relief because the amount of pain radiating from my ribs lowers when she changes grip. And no more nails biting into my skin, that's always a bonus …
Although … Absolutes do not exist. I remember one of my mother's personal sayings. She had reveled in the paradox contained within. It's a good point, my Leomi's nails could …
“We need to go, their warriors are slower but they are not slow.” Yvonne's voice breaks my train of thought before it can get anywhere interesting.
I nod, deciding not to bother with the sledgehammer, not enough energy in me to carry it and I can't ask her to. We start walking side by side, awkwardly, further into the tunnel, presumably towards the others. I keep my eyes fixed on the ground to keep my mind focused entirely on my movements, breathing, and feet, gotta make sure I don't trip.
“They retreated soon after I joined.” Lady Lance informs us both.
“Or when they inflicted enough injuries that their objective was achieved.” Patrick says, snorting.
I have no doubt that he is currently glaring at me for being stupid enough to be injured, again. I don't really have anything to defend myself with if he does come out and say that. That was … stupid on so many levels.
If my attack had missed, I would have died or forced lady Lance to cover for me, putting her at risk. There was no reason to trade blows in that situation, if I thought it through clearly instead of letting lust color my reasoning, trying to impress her after I distracted her in the middle of her fight, I would have seen that a suicidal charge wasn't the smart move to make.
I don't even think that what I did has impressed her since it was such a stupid call to make. The best thing I can hope for now is that she'll think me courageous but dumb, idiotic, blind, silly. I shake my head, trying to focus back on my breathing and walking. Once more. I smile as my old working mantra comes to mind. Yvonne and I walk by a dead Rykz scout.
“That was one frustrating engagement.” Yvonne says as she steps over it.
“I agree, they didn't even try to kill us.” Lady Lance replies, a few meters away.
“They traded three scouts for three wounds.” Patrick says, from behind me. “The peasant was hurt, but that was never in doubt. Yvonne's stomach wound isn't too damaging to our speed, but your limp and the peasant's inability to carry herself are.”
Your limp? Her limp? My head snaps up and my eyes frantically explore my surroundings. I find lady Lance walking not very far in front of us, favoring her left leg, limping along just slightly. I find the cause soon after, a long rip in the hard leather on the side of her upper left thigh.
I lower my head back down to my feet, somewhat relieved that the wound isn't serious but having to distract my mind from the possibility that she suffered it because of my reckless decision.
“The four scouts that managed to retreat kept going since, they've just left my vision range.” Lady Lance informs us. “The four warriors behind us are keeping their pace, they'll be on top of us in four hours if they decide to rush.” She pauses. “And I see sunlight ahead.”
Everyone stays silent, we all realize that in our current situation, this isn't good news, just news. Finding the way out of the tunnels was necessary because there was no escaping the Rykz otherwise, but right now we are surrounded and wounded, leaving the mine is not going to help us put some distance between the Rykz and us, it is going to cost us the natural choke point provided by the tunnels and let the creatures surround us.
But we can't stay in here forever, we can't even stop moving with those warriors … well, they're not literally breathing down our necks right now, but figuratively, they are. Actually, their silence is a bit of a relief, but I shouldn't trust it, just enjoy it.
Half an hour of stumbling with Yvonne later, even I spot the point of sunlight visible in the distance further down the tunnel. The group's pace doesn't accelerate despite the exit being so readily visible, Yvonne and I continue wobbling forward, awkwardly, at the same pace. Lady Lance keeps limping along slightly, as she walks in front of us. About Ass-face, … don't know, don't care, don't care to know.
As we approach the exit, the sunlight, my mind starts thinking about what we may find outside and it makes me regret leaving the sledgehammer behind despite my utter lack of strength back then.