Saithorthepyro
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Chapter 4: A Spot Of Bother
🕑 Added 2024-05-20 00:03:00 +0000 UTCAs Top Hat screamed, I grasped for his other hand.
He stabbed at my hand, and I withdrew, yanking my saber’s blade out of him. The flesh gave quickly, my blade sliding out. I cut at him again.
Top Hat’s dagger parried another slash from my saber. My hoof lashed out, kicking his shin. Daintier than usual, it still got a yelp out of the human.
A cane hit my wrist. I held onto the saber, turning to the new threat. A dagger cut my arm, carving a shallow cut on my arm. A heavyset human with a red scarf pushed toward me, trying to close and restrict my saber’s movements.
I parried a dagger stab with my saber, then pulled back from Top Hat and his ally.
They both pulled back as well, regrouping with their other allies. One of them already had several deep cuts near his eyes. Knife bloody, Gavlor grinned as he moved near me, bloody blades in hand.
“Told you they weren’t any match in the open against me,” he bragged.
I didn’t dignify that with a reply.
He didn’t stop talking. “You’re making shallow cuts with that saber. You lost your killing edge?”
“It’s poisoned. If you don’t be quiet and focus, I’ll demonstrate it on you after we’re done with these six.”
The two with pistols yelled for their compatriots to move out of the way. I only had seconds.
By the time they’d cleared space among themselves to fire through, another of my vials flew through the air.
This one smashed into the face of a pistol wielder. Acid splattered across his face. He screamed, firing the flintlock and missing. The second one fired. Golvar grunted but did not go down.
I charged ahead. We couldn’t give them time to reload and the only cover behind was the chapel.
I still had the reach advantage with my saber, even as short as I currently was. I slashed repeatedly at Top Hat and the one next to him, trying to buy a moment of isolation. Golvar followed behind, guarding my back as I moved forward.
Top Hat’s blocks were weak, my saber ripping the cane from his hand. Through the remnants of his coat, I could see exposed muscle and burnt skin from my acid.
I used my saber to drive Top Hat away from the others, then switched with Golvar. He charged the isolated human, laughing, while I fended off cane strikes from the three others. Behind them, one of them writhed on the ground, gun dropped as he tried desperately to stop the acid from eating at his face.
One flintlock out of the fight. We were lucky the Pure-bloods were too cheap to have revolvers. It would take the last one time to reload the flintlock.
It didn’t help too much. I parried multiple blows in quick succession, but the numbers were in their favor. A cane smashed into my shoulder, then a second to my ribs. I wrapped my tail around one, fighting it’s wielder for the weapon. A second cane hit it, the pain traveling up into my spine.
Golvar cackled behind me. I couldn’t spare a glance as I stopped a cane from cracking over my head. Even with more layers of bone than a human had there, headshots were dangerous.
Golvar came from behind me, charging for the one on the left. I turned my attention to the other two, only for one of them to move toward Golvar.
My saber lashed into the opening, cutting through the coat into his side. But he continued past, and I left myself open.
A cane rammed into my side. Something cracked, and pain exploded across my side. I turned, saber raised to guard.
The last gang member, red scarf flapping around his neck, held his cane up. We traded blows back and forth for a few seconds. I tried to grab his cane with my tail; he tried to stab me with his dagger. Neither of us had much success.
Behind him, the one with the pistol nearly had it reloaded. I tried to put Red Scarf between us, but I also couldn’t turn my back to the two fighting Golvar.
Over by Golvar, one of them was on the ground, blood streaming out of half a dozen wounds. But Golvar was grappling with the second. I tried to move toward him. The red scarf’s knife stabbed, keeping me back.
The one by Golvar headbutted him, then drove a knife into Golvar’s chest. At the same time, I heard the flintlock wielder yell something in a tongue I couldn’t recognize.
I ducked. The flintlock fired with a roar that echoed in my ears. Ahead of me, the red-scarfed one shuddered, then collapsed. Blood streamed out of his now empty eye socket.
The flintlock wielder was aghast. That just let me get close. My saber cut towards their throat.
Hardwood met it, the one who’d stabbed Golvar interceding. He got between me and the flintlock wielder, both knife and cane ready.
I couldn’t keep this up forever. Already, my limbs burned and ached. It’d been too long since I’d fought more than short practice bouts with Tolman. I needed to even the odds now. I unhinged my jaw as I aimed.
I didn’t keep too many Sculpts on me besides one that adjusted my appearance. Of the three I did have, one was a secret container linked to my throat, about half a cup in volume. I had to ensure the lining was very durable for what it needed to store: acid from a wall-eating giant ant in the Underground.
He ducked just in time. The stream of acid flew over his face, hitting his remaining comrade in the face. The hissing black liquid splattered all over his eyes and nose, eating away at flesh.
I tried to bring the hilt of my saber down on the last one’s head. Too late. He drove a knife into my knee, and I yowled as it drove into the joint.
He let go of the knife. A fist rammed into the underside of my chin, rocking my head. I reeled back.
He grabbed my coat by its lapels, pulling me back. His head rammed into mine. My entire world grew dim as pain burst across my forehead.
Something swam into focus. A fist rammed into my nose. I screamed as it cracked, breaking.
His knees lay on my wrists, grinding them into the dirt. A second blow rammed into my eye. I screamed, swore, spat curses as a third blow hit my jaw.
Their hand went for the knife, confident in me being pinned. It ripped out of my knee. They leaned in. The knife went for my throat.
I snapped forward, jaw latching around his throat.
Teeth sliced through his skin, blood flooding my mouth as my jaws closed. My teeth were smaller than they used to be. They were still just as sharp.
The human shuddered, and something jammed into my abdomen. Burning. The knife dug into my gut, twisting and turning. My scream was muffled by the man’s blood and flesh. I bit harder.
Something gave. With a snap, my teeth met. I pulled back, reflexively spitting out the chunk of throat. A surge of energy rushed through me, a feeling of euphoria rising from my gut as something inside me awoke. It was unnatural and not welcome, but it would keep me going.
The gang member gurgled, eyes desperate as he clawed for me. Bloody hands grasped at the hem of my dress and the bottom of my coat as he collapsed.
I knelt down and used my saber to give him some mercy. Heart pounding, I stood triumphant over my foes, glee in my chest.
I collapsed on the ground a second later.
My side was on fire. Pain seared up and down it, centered on where the knife had stabbed repeatedly into my kidneys. Smaller patches where my knee had been stabbed, my arm cut, where canes had struck across my body.
That brief wave of energy from feeding my diabolism with flesh faded fast.
My hands grasped instinctively into my overcoat, trying to find the correct pouch. Please let it not be broken. So many vials were, but I felt the neck of the remaining healing draught.
I felt sluggish as I pulled it up to my lips. I popped the stopper out and quickly drank from it.
It felt like a warmth igniting in my chest. The pain across my body lessened. The draught worked swiftly. This had many ingredients, the most important being the blood of a particular onerous troll.
The regenerative effects already began to stitch my flesh and organs together. Cuts closed like they’d never been inflicted. I could still feel the pain, dramatically lessened but still there, and I’d need to be careful so they didn’t reopen. I’d live, though, which was most important.
I clambered back to my hooves, legs unsteady. My vision swam, a pounding pain spawning behind my eyes. Blackness crept in on the edges of my vision for a moment.
I looked down at the corpse of the Pureblood. Blank eyes stared back at me, the ravaged throat still adding blood to a swiftly spreading pool. I puked next to him, my stomach rebelling at the sight.
Focus, Malvia, I told myself. You’ve been through worse. It’s just like learning how to pick someone’s pockets again.
There was a dramatic difference between picking someone’s pickets and almost dying. Or killing someone. The blank eyes still stared at me. I did my best to ignore them and the others all around.
That had been harder than I remembered. These days I only really fought when I traveled underground scavenging ingredients. Even then, that was usually as part of a group. Strictly a support role, just there to collect whatever ingredients were left. It’d been a while since I’d gotten mixed up directly in fighting.
I’d forgotten how exhilarating it was. I spat a mixture of spit and blood that wasn’t mine from my mouth as my pounding heart began to calm. Too easily did I get lost in the moment. It had been years since I’d bitten someone, and for good reason. Something stirred in excitement, mixing with the disgust at the dead and the feeling of dread over taking a life.
I did not like fighting. Or at least I told myself that to keep the thing inside me that did from growing any more aware. No matter how good the feeling of adrenaline coursing through my veins felt.
I buried that feeling as best I could. I was not letting those demonic influences grow any more substantial. Outside of it being a crime with the death penalty attached, diabolism would only make things worse. Another thing I could blame partially on Versalicci, mostly on myself being a foolish young girl taken in by the Underground Streets.
Everything seems a good idea when you’re fifteen years old. I instead turned my attention to the bodies, making sure that they all were dead. Having one of them spring back up and use the last of their life to cut my throat would be a rather dismal end to mine.
None of them stirred except one. To my shock, Golvar still moved, clawing his way across the ground.
“Stay still,” I yelled at him and tried to run over. My unsteady hooves gave out, and I ate dirt. I got back up, taking things more slowly.
Blood streamed from over a dozen wounds. Most of it came from the one on his chest. The Pure-blood must have stabbed right between the ribs.
“Guess you didn’t cut down on those teeth as much as I’d thought,” Golvar choked out, words mangled as they came out. I could barely make out what he said. Blood was coming out as well, too much to be a broken tooth or bitten cheek.
“Don’t talk. They probably punctured a lung.” I had seconds at best and no potion left. I grabbed one of the human's shirts, ripping it off their corpse and tearing strips out. I needed a tube and preferably an anesthetic. I had neither.
He tried to say something back. All I could make out was gurgling noises as blood sputtered from his throat.
“I said be quiet! Do you want to die?” I hissed. I focused on the other wounds instead, tying off bandages. I staunched the bleeding in as many places as I could. “Just focus on my voice, and do not fall asleep, Golvar. You’ll be fine. It’s a few blocks to my place. I have an elixir there that will fix you up right away.”
I couldn’t risk leaving him here. Moving him would possibly cause more damage, but leaving him with no one else around? An even worse idea.
“Okay, we’re going to have to walk there. It’s going to hurt worse than you ever- actually almost as bad as you’ve ever hurt in my life, but we can do it. Golvar?”
Golvar didn’t move. His chest moved shallowly at best.
“Golvar?” I touched the side of his cheek. He did not react. I jostled his head, only to get the same. I was about to try dragging him when I noticed that even the slight movement of his chest had stopped.
He’d passed.
Something wet traveled across my cheek. I thought it might be blood, but my probing fingers came back with tears on their ends instead.
Why was I shedding tears over Golvar? The man had been a sadistic bully from the moment I’d known him. I’d thought him admirable once, but those days were long past, abandoned with most of my teenage years. Why was I crying?
Enough time debating why I’d shed tears over a monster's death. I needed to leave here swiftly and with as little evidence of my presence as possible.
I could handle the contract with Lord Montague and then lay low for a while. It would hurt to give up any potential customers during that time, but it would be better than getting embroiled in whatever this was.
It shouldn’t be too difficult. I’d leave here, find an intermediary to hire to give Versalicci his package, and then retire to my life far removed from the Underground and its gangs.
Metaphorically, not literally. There were probably tunnels running under my apartment. But still, I could disappear again, maybe finally find a place outside of the Infernal Quarter to rent. The payments I’d be getting would be enough to justify my moving out of this literal hellhole.
Moving the lab would be more difficult. Maybe a third disguise to operate in here? I would be stretching my resources thin moving to even one of the poorer quarters, but I could-
A shrill whistle cut through my thoughts. Its shriek traveled across the air, echoing. A half second later, another dozen answered it.
I knew them. Every citizen did. Every criminal knew them and feared them sounding close. The city watch was on its way.
Ah. Well, I knew better than to think they weren’t headed directly towards me. This complicated things.
