Chapter 62
Shadow Of The Colossus
The flame witch makes a noise I would have sworn a human throat couldn’t produce before dropping to her knees. The flamestick falls from her hands as she stares down at her droplet-covered skin. For a frantic moment, she tries to wipe the water away with her hands before letting out another scream as she realizes this just moved the water to her hands.
I’m sure plenty of people out there have seen an Itti’atti get wet before but I am not one of them. I know that all the Itti’atti fear the liquid to the point of obsession but beyond that I’m not really sure what to expect. Maybe she will pass out or even die?
Leaping out of the way of Klash who actually slows his charge at me I move to regroup with Xael as the Elephant boy of all things tries to reason with the flame witch.
“Sand Embella,” He says in his voice like a rockslide. “ Remember the sand.” The girl who has started to shake tries to say something, but all that comes out is a pathetic whimper. Giving up on communication she starts scrabbling at the hard-packed sand of the pit floor, desperately trying to gather and rub sand on herself. I snort at the sight because I know it won’t work, the sands of the pit are so packed down they are almost as hard as stone. She should be trying to roll around. The elephant boy is still trying to help her when the pops start.
Little sparks start appearing in the air around her head, they last maybe a heartbeat or two before flaring out of existence with a loud popping sound. When he spots them Klash begins to slowly back away from the still shaking girl.
“Embella…” He says cautiously.
“It seems to me, “ says Xael as I sidle up to him. “That our plan is working.”
Always the dazzling conversationalist, I reply with “ Yeah.” It galls me that we can’t take advantage of the fact that Klash is both outnumbered and distracted especially since if the Itti’atti recovers we will be right back where we started but now without water to surprise her with.
On the other hand, the sparks appearing around the flame witch are growing in both size and frequency. If the girl who can convert an ettin into a bonfire with a mere touch is losing control of her magic we do not want to be anywhere near her.
You could be reading stolen content. Head to Royal Road for the genuine story.
A decision that is proven wise a few moments later when fire explodes out from the Itti’atti in all directions. Briefly, the flames hold the shape of a person, like an eight-foot-tall giant of fire. But then the figure collapses into what I can only describe as a whirlwind of flame. A whirlwind of flame that rapidly expands outwards.
All three of us turn and run from the whirling inferno, but Xael and I are a lot further away from the Itti’atti than Klash is. I can’t help but smile as I see the fire catch and then overtake him. By the time Xael and I skid to a stop a few feet from one of the arena walls the flames have expanded so far that I can’t see the crowd on the other side of the pit, nor can I make out Klash or Embella.
Like a child’s construction of sticks and twine the fire reaches the limit it can spread and begins to collapse. Falling away to reveal blackened sand in between fading embers.
My grin widens as I know that there is no way we haven’t just won, even if Klash survived being enveloped by the flames even he won’t be in a condition to fight. All we need to do is wait a little bit for the fire to fully clear, confirm the Itti’atti girl is really down for the count, and wait for the judge to declare us the winners.
Despite my usual complaints about playing to the crowd, I raise the axe that I didn’t even need to use today into the air with a celebratory roar. Still holding the weapon aloft I turn to Xael to express my utter disbelief that the BlackMist Invitational is finally over and that we have won it.
I’m cut off by a spear that comes hurtling out of the collapsing fire, followed close by a charred and bellowing Klash. The weapon hits the left side of my chest with the force of a siege weapon, punching through my lung and out my back as the thrown spear lifts me from my feet and slams me into the arena wall. I feel and hear the head and top half of the spear shatter as it meets stone with the kind of power no weapon of wood and bone is intended to endure.
Most of the haft is intact though, buried deep inside me and sticking out for a few feet. My head is still fuzzy from the collision, and my chest is beginning to register that awful invasive feeling of having a foreign object inside my body. I fall to the sands like a sack of BloodRock’s spices, my legs splayed in front of me, my back against the arena wall. I know my body is doing that thing where it blocks out the pain for a little while. It must be, as this hurts far less than it should. The problem is when that happens it becomes almost impossible to think or move quickly.
I manage to get my legs back under me and lean against the wall as I rise, but it's then that I realize I haven’t taken a breath since I got hit. I try to inhale but it awakens the pain my body has been hiding from me. I try to scream with the agony of it but nothing comes out.
There has to be something I can do, some way to cope with the pain and the injury, some path to victory and survival for me from here. After all, I’m the best.
Those are the last words I think as the world descends into darkness.