The Zombie Knight

Chapter Sixty-Two: ‘The Battle at Rathmore...’

Hector nodded. ‘Garovel, get back here. Abolish is close.’

‘Voreese can sense them?’

‘Yeah.’

‘Aw, fuck. I sense them now, too.’

Roman was stretching his arms. “How you feeling, Hector? You ready?”

“Hell yes.”

When Garovel arrived, the first thing he said was directed at Roman. ‘What’s the enemy’s ETA?’

There was a silent pause as Roman asked his reaper. “Voreese says fifteen minutes, at most.”

Another pause. “Yeah.”

‘Then let’s go.’

They ran down the cliff’s rear slope to reach their vehicles.

Garovel led the way. Hector’s motorcycle wasn’t suited to the dirt road, nor was he accustomed to riding on such terrain, but he managed well enough. The path diverged, and Garovel chose the narrower one. The branches grew uncomfortably close, even brushing Hector’s helmet as he passed, and in his rearview mirror, he could see Roman’s black BMW scraping its way through.

The forest abruptly gave way, replaced by a wide area with enormous pillars of natural stone. It was a kind of rocky hill, accented in green by swathes of moss, and the pillars themselves were an odd sight. Only two, there were, rising out of the uneven ground like a misshapen tuning fork. The northern pillar was almost twice the height of the southern one, but they were both still larger than an average building. Each one cast a long shadow in the amber dawnlight.

Hector parked his bike and dismounted as Roman pulled up next to him. He took off his helmet, feeling the dewy air against his face again. “Can you still sense them?” he asked.

‘Yeah,’ said Garovel. ‘But I can sense our friends now, too. Shouldn’t be much longer.’

And indeed, it was not. After a couple minutes, the other three reapers arrived from the opposite path, along with the Queen and Harper. Everyone gathered around.

‘I sense Karkash at the head of the group,’ said Garovel. ‘They’ll be here in under a minute.’

Then came the sound of a distant airplane, and everyone’s attention was drawn to the sky. From where they all stood, they had a clear view of the small aircraft.

‘Shit,’ said Garovel.

‘It’s too far away,’ said Mehlsanz. ‘We can’t sense who’s on board or even how many there are, but I highly doubt it’s a bunch of civilians who just happen to be flying by.’

Voreese swirled over to Roman and grabbed his shoulder. ‘Leave it to us,’ she said.

‘You can’t just shoot it down,’ said Garovel. ‘There might be innocent soldiers inside.’

‘We can’t let it cross the border and attack a town, either,’ said Voreese. ‘Don’t worry. We’ll use a delicate touch.’

“Be back as soon as I can,” said Roman, letting Voreese latch onto his back. And as he crouched down, everyone took a step back. It wasn’t quite far enough, however. He shot up into the sky, leaving a shock wave in his wake that cracked the ground and nearly knocked Hector on his ass.

‘Holy shit!’ thought Hector, looking up with wide eyes to see Roman and Voreese dwindling from sight.

Then Garovel pointed suddenly. ‘Karkash.’

And Hector saw the Vaelish man as well, diverting up and after Roman, obviously wanting to intercept him.

Harper raised an outstretched arm with a closed fist. He didn’t need more than a moment in order to take aim, and then a beam of solid, white light flashed into existence all at once, cutting the sky in two.

Karkash instantly lost an arm, a leg, and half of his torso. He ceased flying up and spiraled off into the forest below.

‘Nice shot,’ said Darsihm, bobbing his head at his servant.

It was an alteration type, Hector knew. The ability to manipulate light waves. Garovel had learned of the man’s power after his long strategy meeting with the other reapers and had then been kind enough to impart that knowledge to Hector, as well. But even though he’d known about it beforehand, seeing it firsthand was something else. And just like that, the Lt. General had already crippled Karkash, at least temporarily.

Hector could hear the enemy drawing close now. They didn’t seem especially concerned with keeping quiet, whooping and hollering over the already raucous sound of their vehicles pushing down the narrow path.

Then the noise died down, the cars’ engines shut off, and Hector could hear people exiting the vehicles.

‘I sense a lot of souls over there,’ said Darsihm, ‘but only ten are making their way closer. Half of them are floating, so it would appear we have five opponents.’

‘Until Karkash gets back,’ added Garovel.

‘Keep the formation,’ Mehlsanz reminded them. ‘Don’t let them separate you.’

From there, a heavy period of silence seized the area. The Abolishers did not show themselves in order to exchange words.

The first attack came in the form of an enormous yellow crystal, crashing through the trees like they were nothing. When Harper pierced it with a white beam, however, the boulder exploded into chunks, clearing out a small section of the forest.

Andres and Desmond were immediately visible, which meant the other three were probably about to flank them.

‘On your left,’ warned Garovel.

‘Right, too!’ said Mehlsanz.

Hector raised metal walls on both sides, but as he was too far away to strengthen them with his soul, the three opponents broke through almost instantly. On Hector’s side, there were two women. They could only be Tessa Shelrick and Nola Pauls, though he didn’t know their faces. On Helen’s side, there was Conall.

Desmond had already lobbed an arm at the party, but a white beam detonated it before it reached them. Harper had one more beam, and he spent it on Tessa, cleaving her in two before she even reached Hector.

Stolen from its rightful place, this narrative is not meant to be on Amazon; report any sightings.

Nola, however, still made it to him. He raised another wall and rolled out of her path, but she smashed through it anyway and caught him by the ankle. Metal spikes shot out of his entire leg, piercing her. She didn’t seem to care very much and just pressed his foot against the ground.

His foot sunk into the rock. Melted into it. It was suddenly stuck there, and confusion was about to get the better of him until Garovel’s voice reached him.

‘Don’t panic. Protect yourself.’

Nola reached for his head next, but a full suit of spikes leapt out of his body, skewering her more completely than before, even raising her off her feet.

“You little fuck!” she yelled, spitting blood.

He struggled for leverage on his sunken foot and retracted his spikes. She fell toward him, and he punched her square in the face at full strength.

-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-

Roman arched his path toward the aircraft with bursting shock waves, each one affecting his body, breaking dozens of bones and putting pressure on every one of his muscles.

Exhilarating as it was to fly under his own power, it still demanded quite a bit of Roman’s concentration to sustain. He was essentially just using strong, controlled vibrations to fling himself through the air, and it all felt rather haphazard, like any simple misstep might send him whirling out of control. Moreover, if he hadn’t focused his soul into his head and strengthened his resilience there, the constant force against his skull would have left him completely disoriented. Voreese wouldn’t have let him fall unconscious, of course, but that hardly would have made much difference if he couldn’t even see or think straight.

As he drew closer, the jet’s true speed became clearer, and Roman slowed down to match it, gradually positioning himself beneath the blue-gray underbelly.

‘Fifteen souls on board,’ Voreese informed him. ‘Can’t tell if there’s a reaper with them, but if there is, then they know we’re here.’

‘Right,’ said Roman. ‘How do you want me to do this?’

‘Hmm.’

‘You don’t even have a plan, do you?’

‘I’m thinking.’

The plane banked right, hard and sudden.

‘Think faster, please.’

‘Shut the fuck up. Go around to the nose and get us a view of the pilot first.’

Roman accelerated and did as she requested. Through the window, they could see Hanjir, a burly man with wild hair. He was looking right back at them, and a reaper sat perched on his shoulder.

‘Guess that answers that,’ said Voreese privately.

‘Yeah, but now what?’ said Roman. ‘Garovel was right. If I just shoot it down, the soldiers in there will probably die.’

‘I’m sure there are parachutes on board,’ said Voreese.

‘Are you seriously telling me to attack it now?’

‘Bah. I guess not. Let’s just wait for it to land and then fight this asshole there. I hate to waste time, but--’

The pilot stood up from the controls.

‘The fuck does he think he’s doing?’ said Voreese. And then, publicly, ‘Hey! The fuck do you think you’re doing?!’

The other reaper chimed in now. ‘You morons are dead! Get ‘em, Hanjir!’

Hanjir wrapped one arm around the pilot’s seat.

‘Are you kidding me?’ said Voreese.

Hanjir’s hand reared back.

‘He’s not kidding me. Get ready to dodge.’

When Hanjir threw his hand forward, a path of destruction flew out of it, annihilating the windshield.

Roman avoided the attack easily enough, and he and Voreese merely watched as the cockpit depressurized, very nearly sucking Hanjir out into the sky.

‘What a fucking lunatic!’ said Voreese. ‘He’s a destruction type! He can’t even fly, and he does THAT?!’ Then to the other reaper, Voreese yelled, ‘YOUR SERVANT IS STUPID AS FUCK!’

‘Voreese, that’s not helping--’

‘No, YOU’RE stupid as fuck, you bitch!’

Another wave of destruction came for Roman, and he dodged it even more easily than the first one. ‘Okay, maybe it’s helping.’

‘DUMB SHIT!’ said Voreese. ‘HOW’D HE EVEN LEARN TO FLY A PLANE?!’

Roman hadn’t realized how obnoxiously loud she could make her supposedly soundless voice. He knew she could be annoying, but this--he was just flat out impressed.

‘Shut up and die, already!’ the other reaper was saying.

‘LAND THE PLANE SO WE CAN HAVE A REAL FIGHT!’

And Roman understood what she was doing. With a hole in the plane, the depressurization put all of the normal people aboard in danger, and neither could Roman attack without potentially blowing it up or otherwise causing it to crash. But if they could get the pilot to make an emergency landing, then matters would be dramatically simplified.

‘You idiots wouldn’t stand a chance against Hanjir on the ground!’

‘YEAH, RIGHT! ROMAN WILL MAKE THAT GUY EAT HIS OWN DICK!’

‘Hanjir, land the plane so we can kill these fucks!’

‘Wow,’ said Roman, watching as Hanjir strapped himself back into the pilot’s seat. ‘I almost can’t believe that worked.’

‘It’s Abolish,’ said Voreese privately. ‘Odds are about fifty-fifty that any given member is one of the stupidest motherfuckers on the planet.’

‘Maybe. It also helps that you’re the most irritating person who ever lived.’

‘Aww, Roman, you sweet talker. You’ll make me blush.’

Roman followed the plane’s descent toward the ground.

They’d crossed the border into Rendon a while ago, and Roman could see the edge of the forest, giving way to flat grasslands that extended all the way into the horizon. He stuck close to the plane as it landed, prepared to help in case the unideal terrain caused something to go horribly awry, but to the pilot’s credit, nothing did.

Roman touched down as well, choosing to simply stand still while his body fixed itself. There was nothing that took a great amount of time to regenerate--just some snapped bones, torn muscles, and likely a bit of internal hemorrhaging. All things he could more or less shrug off. He would certainly feel it later, though.

Hanjir didn’t even bother to turn off the engines. He pulled the door open and jumped out into the grass, wasting no time in throwing another wave of destruction.

It wasn’t exactly slow, but it certainly wasn’t fast enough to hit Roman. He propelled himself out of the way, bounding across the ground in leaping strides. Hanjir tried to cut him off, but Roman just zagged away from the next attack, getting Hanjir to pursue him. He needed the Abolisher to move away from the plane so that he could capitalize on the open environment as much as possible.

Roman circled around Hanjir and engulfed the man in an invisible cage of crushing pressure. More precisely, it was a spherical, inward-facing shock wave, the very same thing he had once used to temporarily suppress an explosion from Desmond.

Hanjir gave it little consideration, however, and merely punched through. He attacked again, forcing Roman left.

Roman readied his fire. The trick of it was to set his own flesh ablaze. By invigorating particles at a concentrated point, natural heat would increase, dry out his skin, and subsequently ignite it. He found it easiest to make a tiny flame and help it spread, rather than trying to set his whole hand alight at once. And after the flames grew large enough, he could project them out with a shock wave, effectively shooting fire at the enemy.

The flames flew toward Hanjir, who made no effort to avoid them. Instead, the man simply destroyed them before they could reach him.

That was generally the trouble when dealing with destruction types. As much as their power was renowned for its offensive potential, it was perhaps even more effective defensively. Distorting space the way they did could stop virtually any attack, the only exceptions being things that were very powerfully enhanced by the opponent’s soul--but even then, if the destruction user’s soul power was remotely as strong, then it would still make no difference.

So Roman knew that he would not be able to defeat Hanjir in terms of raw strength. But he didn’t need to. Given the opportunity, Hanjir would stop every attack, so Roman simply wouldn’t give him the opportunity. He returned to the air and began a continuous volley of simple shock waves in order to keep Hanjir busy for a few moments.

He recalled Voreese’s lessons. She’d lectured him at length about all the different types a long time ago, but it was these past two months in particular when she’d made sure to drill all the knowledge into his head again. According to her, destruction types were all one-trick ponies, lacking the kind of unpredictability that most other abilities benefited from. Moreover, they were completely outclassed by almost any opponent who possessed superior mobility. To cover this weakness, they would often carry light firearms or otherwise rely on technology for added mobility--both solutions which could backfire against the wrong opponent. This was why they were better suited to large battles where they could provide heavy-hitting support for their allies, instead of individual scrambles where they had to carry their own weight.

This fight wasn’t going to be a problem.

When Roman landed again, he slammed both feet into the ground.

The earth leapt out from under Hanjir and flung him into the air. His path of destruction ran uselessly into the dirt, leaving a pentagonal trail as Roman closed in to take full advantage, already preparing more flames with the hand he hadn’t used before.

Fire engulfed Hanjir, along with a shock wave that knocked him and his still-connected reaper higher into the air. Roman flew up after them, giving the opponent no chance to regain his balance, and juggling him even higher with each successive blast of soul-empowered vibrations. The flames continued burning all the while, fighting with Hanjir’s rapid regeneration, but ultimately doing more damage to the reaper, who then chose to abandon Hanjir and fly away. And once Roman had achieved great enough height, he let the Abolisher drop again.

Hanjir was in freefall for only a few seconds, but that was plenty of time to reach terminal velocity. As he grew close to the ground, he shot it with his power, which made a crater and was perhaps the only thing the man could think to do in the last moments of panic. His body splattered on impact, bones shattering, organs liquefying.

Roman was already busy chasing the reaper down.

‘No!’ The soul-empowered fire had taken its toll, leaving the black crow smoldering, ethereal feathers in tatters. ‘You fuckers! How dare you!’ The reaper tried to flee underground.

Roman did not allow it. He caught the bird with a pressurized, soul-empowered cage. And crushed it.

The reaper’s body evaporated and vanished entirely.

‘Fucking idiot,’ said Voreese. ‘Good riddance.’

He flew back to Hanjir’s crater to set the dead body ablaze and crush the head with a focused shock wave. “That’s one down,” he said as he landed again.

‘Check on the soldiers real quick,’ said Voreese.

He made his way over to the plane. Only a few of the men had left the cabin, the rest watching from window seats. The first soldier he approached shied away from him, but the second stood his ground.

“Are you guys okay?” Roman asked.

For a moment, the uniformed man merely returned a hard look. He was black and quite young. “You... saved us?”

Roman decided not to smile, figuring it might come across as more insane than comforting, especially after all these men had been through. “Yeah.”

“Who are you?” said the soldier.

“Not important.” Roman adjusted his spectacles, which had also benefited from his soul-enhancements. “Listen, I’ve gotta go now. I’ll try to return soon with new transportation for you guys, but if I’m not back within half a day, then you should just start walking, because I’m probably dead.”

“Wait a minute. What do we do if the Rendon military shows up?”

‘That’s very likely to happen,’ said Voreese. ‘They probably have jets already en route. These guys should just explain that they were taken hostage and surrender peacefully.’

Roman relayed the information.

“Are you serious?” said the soldier.

“Quite.” And Roman ran off, getting some distance before launching himself into the sky again.

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