Chapter Forty-One

Irian was hacking at the face.  The creature regarded him as a fly, and attempted to swat him.  A secondary arm came up, and the creature did a fair impression of a dog trying to scratch, if dogs were covered in crystals, had twenty-four eyes and six legs, and were four stories tall.  Irian scrambled on top of the head.  He looked for the place the head joined the neck.  There was a hard, crystalline plate over the connection.  His usual trick of severing the spinal cord wasn’t going to work.  Slowly but surely, thought was returning.  However, he still couldn’t make sense of anything. 

He swung his sword in frustration.  It caught under a band of tissue on the side of the head, and the creature roared.  Irian leaned against the blade and pushed inward.  The blade continued to drive inwards, finally coming to rest against the bone.  Clear fluid leaked out, turning azure blue as it fell to the earth below.  The creature swatted again.  Irian held on to the blade and dangled from the side of the creature’s head to avoid the attack.  He lashed out with a kick after the hand had gone, and made solid contact with one of the many eyes.  It closed, and three around it did in surprise, as well. 

So it did have a weak point.

Hariel didn’t so much come to a stop at the creature’s feet as turn into a metahuman dynamo.  The blade came up, and he spun with it as he struck the creature’s feet, attempting to dissuade it from the person hanging from the side of its face.  He watched Irian launch a kick at its face, and shouted in exultation as the monster winced in pain.

Hariel’s blade could no more find purchase than Irian’s and so he looked for an opportunity to cause havoc as well.  He happened to spot a place on the forearm that looked like an old scar, and as he approached, was astonished to find that it opened, exposing what looked like gills.  He jammed the blade in as far as the hilts, and the creature for the first time stopped its forward motion, its mouth agape as gill-like structures unfurled from its throat. 

Hariel looked at his blade, buried in the forearm.  He tugged it free, the serrations on the back of the blade dragging out layers of gill plates.  His curiosity piqued, he reached into the ragged rent and squeezed.  His hand plunged through the gelatinous flesh, tearing a chunk free.  A wicked smile crossed his face, as he began to get an idea.

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Published in: on January 16, 2010 at 4:36 pm  Leave a Comment  

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