Devryn - "Something Gained"
Blinding white light filled my
vision as flashes of excruciating pain shot through my body. My lungs screamed for breath, fighting to
recapture my lost wind. Why me? Things are always so difficult.
The first drag of air included the dust
that swirled about, dense and choking. A
coughing fit brought me back from the edge of panic. The years of training did not prepare me for
this, the simpler moments of fear.
The white went to black, to dull grays. I laid on my back in a room lined with
cubbyhole walls, some stuffed with what I would guess as rolled parchment and the
such. The shattered remains of the table
that took the brunt of my fall lay scattered about. Just hope the fall didn’t break me.
Wah…
wait. I can see! It should be pitch black. “What the…?”
A squeaky voice answered, “Lucky
you. You’re still alive. Didn’t know if you’d make it.”
“Thanks for the vote of
confidence.” My mouth was filled with
grit and the taste of blood. My tongue
probed a split lower lip. “Tell me, oh
wise lil’ shit, why I can see.”
“Seems your lovely tattoos aren’t
only for decoration, you dim-witted ape.”
The imp sat on the edge of a nearby table scratching its ass.
“Cut the crap. What’s going on?”
“Hmmm… Not sure.
Guessing you are running cause you pissed off some crazy elf bitch.” It paused, looked at its finger and
sniffed. His muzzle cringed.
I pushed myself up, brushing the
brittle shards free of my clothes. “You
said I called out. The only call. Called out what?”
“Hraxendeka. The tower.
It called. You called. No one has tested in over a century.” His crescent fingernail tapped at his temple
as he looked to the ceiling. “Maybe
longer.”
Bits of dirt started spilling out
from above.
“Oh, our friend is almost
here.” A faint giggle replaced his form
at the table’s edge.
Adrenaline kicking in, I pushed
myself up, looking for anything to defend myself. Sets of long, dust-covered glass cases filled
a few of the shelves. The first was
empty but second held a curved Tressian short sword. Flinging the glass off, my hand grabbed
around the rotted leather bands that wrapped the hilt.
Instead of the thundering crash I
had the joy of experiencing, a mass of fur and claws adeptly landed where I
once lay. It’s massive badger head swung
my direction, hissing forth its contempt.
That’s
one big badger. He may bite.
I hate his impish ass.
Flipping the table that separated
us, I crouched, ready to strike. The
moment was short-lived.
The beast barreled forward, crashing
into the wood. It held together,
splintering at its weakest points. A massive
claw broke through, grabbing at the ground, tearing at the rock.
The badger paced backwards, then
charged again, pushing the table and me against the wall. Thanks to the legs, I wasn’t quite
pinned. With a swift stab downward, I grazed
its shoulder.
A squeal of pain and it retreated to
only pounce headlong again. The impact slammed
me against the cubbies, racks breaking apart in an avalanche of broken frames
and crumbling parchment. Again, another
swing. The dense fur repelled the
sword’s edge. The awkwardness of my
crouching behind the disintegrating table was not helping.
Adjusting my awkward position, I
rolled the hilt in my hands, pointing the blade downward. The rabid monster pushed against my makeshift
barrier, the table shattered in half from its continued clawing. With a practiced jab on the other side of the
table, the blade slid across the badger’s neck.
An immediate spray of blood was a great sign. And it proceeded to gush forth, soaking the
immediate area as it flailed its head about.
Weaker strikes at the failing wood
were enough for me to push back, freeing my legs. The ferocity ebbed, its breath slowing to a
wheeze. With a grunt, the bloody furball
winked out of existence, a quick pop sound echoed. Funny how its blood that covered me didn’t.
Trying to get some leverage, my hand
punched through the wall as I tried to clear myself of the debris. Looking closer, the small section was
plastered over, meant to hide something beyond.
Inside sat a scroll wrapped around a gold-ringed roll, about a foot long. Pulling it out, my hand heated up at its
touch and an odd tugging sensation, as if a suffocating force was pulling at my
soul. There was no pain, more like an emanating
vibration.
“Oh, tasty.” The imp now rested on the upturned table’s
edge, running its finger through the fresh blood. “Find something?” its eyes looked into mine,
licking its wet finger.
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