Lament of the Slave

Without asking either of them if they were ready, I made my move. It was an attempt to catch them off guard, half successful. Harper was still pointing her crossbow at the ground when my feet kicked up the sand of the training ground, and the mage was no better off. The bunch of hot embers hovering over Meneur’s palm weren’t dangerous magic, just practice, his effort to find a new spell quickly and thus made himself more useful to the squad.

Freyde was the first to respond, not the fastest to act. Harper was seriously nimble with her hands and took a shot at me two steps earlier than I thought. Well, call me impressed. She managed to tweak her crossbow. The bolt now packed enough force to leave cracks in my barrier, even with just a graze. 

Not the reason I went after her now, though. It had a much simpler rationale, perhaps even silly. I didn’t want to attack the same target twice, avoid repeating my moves, and give the sword-wielding-elf a basis to predict my intentions.

Speed was what I based my attack on so far, and that didn’t change. Only this time I pushed my legs to the limit, doubling the speed and risking snapped tendons and torn muscles. The price I was willing to pay just to get rid of one of my squadmates as quickly as possible.

To her credit, the moment Harper saw she wouldn’t be able to fire another clear shot, she chose to move towards Freyde. She might as well try to dodge or take a point-blank shot regardless. Good thinking, only the baker should have done it half a breath earlier. Despite her best efforts, I managed to dig my claws into her and draw out her scream.

“Son of a bitch, seriously?!” she hissed as I left bloody gashes not exactly where I intended.

Yeah, her ass was a somewhat awkward spot to hit, nor did it take her out of the fight. If anything, it just pissed her off. Kinda mercifully, I didn’t get more time to dwell on her butt as I had to dodge Freyde’s sword and, for the first time, with a lock of hair in my left hand, swat away a swarm of embers threatening to burn me.

It worked like a charm, better than I expected, and actually reflected the spell into the ground. No longer did it stop me in my tracks or require me to turn my back to the mage. Though it had its unexpected, let’s say, quirks too. 

The spell, although weakened, when it hit the training ground, blew up a fair amount of sand. If not careful, it could blind me. I mean, take away my eyesight. True for my squadmates, too. With good timing and aim, of course, it was an advantage I could take. That, or straight up, deflect Meneur’s magic onto one of them.

The downside of it all was that I had to fight severe frostbite. Although not experienced firsthand, I knew it was painful. I just never imagined how much. Seriously, I had trouble holding the mane, working its magic in my hand.

Yet, an issue I had to put off for now. A bigger threat than frostbite was Freyde. With his strike, he forced me to take a quick sidestep in a direction I didn’t want. Being locked in a fight with this sword-wielding bookkeeper wasn’t what I wanted to get into. Already been there, and it led nowhere. So, at the much greater risk of snapping my tendons, I slipped past him to Harper. 

The pointy-eared bastard didn’t let me off so easily, though. Not as fast on his feet, he stood no chance of keeping up with me. With not many options in his hands to stop my advance, he resorted to dirty tricks and tripped me up.

Sadly, I couldn’t say I was nimble enough to avoid it. His foul play worked, to a certain extent. It threw off my footwork, not my balance. With [Perfect Equilibrium] among my skills, wings, and tail, it was...challenging, at the very least. Not impossible, but very difficult to do so.

Still, I didn’t think Harper would take the shot in that brief moment it gave her. And so good shot at that. Despite my efforts to deflect the bolt like before, it hit the shield I hurriedly formed at a more blunt angle than I had meant. No wonder, then, that with the sound of shattering glass, it passed through the barrier. 

I’d love to chalk it up to my skill, but it was a bit of luck that allowed me to avoid the shot. Dumb luck and physics that made the bolt change its trajectory slightly. Not much, enough for me to avoid it.

Still in the twist, but with less success, I smacked Meneur’s spell away at Freyde’s feet. My aim was higher. The blast of sand stopped him in his tracks, nevertheless. It made him swear, too. Grinning, I gave my wings a flap that strained my muscles to the point it hurt and took the chance to pounce on the baker and not let her reload the crossbow, which she hastily tried to do.

Seeing me coming, she gave up her efforts to fire another shot and hid her crossbow in spatial storage. For a split second, I expected another flour bomb to appear in her hands. Yet, the dough roller was not something that crossed my mind.

A ridiculous weapon in the hands of anyone but a baker. Harper was skillful enough with the roller to parry my strike in time for my claws to only sink into the wood of her rather odd weapon.

Our eyes met for a second. There was relief in hers and a smirk on her face. “You want more of my ass? Try harder!”

Out of the fray, I would have considered making a comment about the size of her butt, not with Freyde on my heels. He always seemed to be one step behind me, giving me room for one or two attacks at most before I had to face him. Meneur followed suit.

Still feeling frostbite on my hand, I opted for the shield. This was its big time to shine. And it did, shine, briefly under the heat of the spell. Then it melted like glass in a glassmaker’s oven. As it gave in, my body flooded with the warmth of the mitigated damage, a reminder of how hot the embers were.

If I had been where I was a second ago, I would now have burns in very uncomfortable places. Not that having burns was pleasant, in general. 

Though perhaps not as severe as the first time the ember magic hit me. The impact on the training ground didn’t pack the power it should. No doubt, the barrier not only held back Meneur’s spell for a split second, but also reduced its heat.

Honestly, [Master’s Shield] did better than I had hoped.

With no time to even take a breath, let alone ponder this half-assed success, I went to the ground. If I didn’t, the pointy-eared bookkeeper would cut me in two. Still, in motion, I went into a sideways roll a breath later. Like a cold-blooded killer, without a hint of hesitation, Freyde tried to pin me down. 

Bastard! So why was I grinning?

As his attempt to trip me up was still fresh in my mind, I gave it a shot of my own. Leaving the honors to Sage, I wrapped my tail around his leg and pulled.

We both shouted out in unison. The bookkeeper turned swordsman, in surprise while he was falling on his back, me in pain that ripped through my spine. I was incapable of putting together a coherent thought, unable even to curse, let alone keep track of the fight. 

So when I came to my senses from the blinding agony that made me almost piss myself, it was too late to form a shield or avoid the shot Harper took. All I could do was grit my teeth and brace myself for more pain before the bolt pierced my shoulder.

Payback came shortly.

Making use of my mane, I managed to fend off Meneur’s magic on the baker, forcing her to jump to the ground and eat dirt. Nevertheless, it was my groan in pain that echoed through the training ground as I ripped the bolt from my shoulder.

Well, since I didn’t raise the white flag, so to speak, Freyde didn’t even let me finish my scream. Back on his feet as if with renewed vigor, he threw his attacks at me. And he was doing it with remarkable precision giving me no chance to attack further.

My momentum was gone, and I found myself locked on the defensive against a highly focused wannabe-elf. 

In that situation, dealing any cuts to the sword-wielding bookkeeper was difficult. Not impossible, but every one of them was bought with the blood of my own. What a strange stalemate we find ourselves in.

It would be interesting to know how the city guards regarded what our fight had turned into. One gal defending against three, and neither side able to land the decisive blow.

Strange as it may sound, despite all the pain and frustration, I was having fun. 

No, I wasn’t so twisted to find pleasure in fighting, blood, or aches, nor did I give in to my instincts. What I enjoyed was the challenge. It was interesting to seek out new ways to use my skills and abilities while I wasn’t in fear of ending up in the hands of another master. Even more enjoyable was not to do it alone. It was too soon to call the three of them friends. I’ve known them too briefly for that, but it was the beginning of something. 

The end of the fight came too soon and suddenly, as so many times. One small mistake, a miscalculation of the correct barrier angle, and I ended up with a bolt in my chest. Even if the heart didn’t take a hit, fighting with one lung filling with blood proved to be very difficult, I would say even impossible.

White flag! My loss again.

 

***

 

“That lass is better than the reports make her out to be.” I heard Marcus remark while his subordinate rushed to check on me. His voice was a pleasant distraction from the pressure in my chest and the blood I was drowning in. “...and given the level of her pain resistance endures more than most of the lads and lassies here. I don’t see your moves in her, though. Haven’t you taught her anything yet?”

“Man, look at them...” Deckard motioned in our direction. “They have their hands full with her as she is now.”

“True. Still...I thought you’d be more eager after all these years.”

“I was going to teach her some basics today...perhaps later?”

“Don’t look at me like I’ve ruined your plans, Deckard,” Rayden retorted. “We all agreed on this. Even Grey.”

Did I? If I remembered right, I only agreed to become part of the junior guards, train with them. Not to this kind of exhibition. This ‘show’ was a bit of a surprise to me. Although, if I’d asked Rayden, I was sure she would tell me it was part of the training.

“I don’t think the girl would agree with you right now.” 

“And whose fault is that? You’re the one who told her she was here only to meet her squadmates.”

Marcus laughed. “It’s good to see that the Labyrinth still hasn’t changed you a bit, Deck. Really good to see.”

“We never saw eye to eye on that, did we?” Rayden wondered. “You’ve always preferred going in blind and figuring things out as you go along.”

Deckard shrugged. “What’s wrong with that? Overthinking tends to grab you by the balls and hold you hard to your plan. We all know how most of our plans have turned out.”

“Yeah, I thought I was marrying a tender and sweet woman with love for the same profession...”

Rayden let out a chuckle. “Janina, tender and sweet? Or did you marry someone else? Be glad the woman’s not here and can’t hear you.”

“Not sure about that,” said Deckard. “No doubt she’ll be with the old man.”

“For the length of Lord Wigram’s stay, I assigned her to him. When it comes to her work, she actually is very professional...unlike some. Care to explain the complaints, Lieutenant.”

Chief Healer straightened up and gave her an innocent smile. “It must be a misunderstanding, Captain.” Then he relaxed. “Speaking of complaints, I don’t think your apprentice will appreciate the last part, Deck.”

“Please tell me you at least told her about that.”

“Didn’t you say you wanted your junior guards to think for themselves, not have to hold their hands? Same thing. Actually, I thought you were starting to think like me.”

“That’s what the General taught us,” she replied. “He also explained to us the importance of preparation. Don’t you remember? I told the three of them what to expect.”

“Don’t think it did them any good. Do you, Marcus?”

“Oh, don’t drag me into this,” he said, then looked in my direction. “But if I had to say, Korra is adapting pretty damn fast, trying out her skills in new ways. Of course, some of these are questionable choices. All the more interesting to watch.”

“Shouldn’t you be in the infirmary? I don’t recall you having a break right now.”

“I don’t. I’m supervising those guys over there to make sure they’re doing their jobs properly.” He gestured to the healers attending to the rest of Squad Four and me.

“He made a good point, though,” Deckard said in his easygoing tone with a bit of provocation seeping into his voice. “Don’t you think, San? The girl knows full well that life gives her no warnings. She was kidnapped three times, and I bet no one told her beforehand. And the shit...in...the woods, even you didn’t expect that.”

“That crap of yours, expect the unexpected?”

“It works for me. For the girl too, she adapted, didn’t panic...unlike the baker chick.”

“She wasn’t prepared and didn’t know what to do.”

“You can’t prepare for everything life throws at you.”

“Nor can you expect to get out of everything just by improvising.”

Marcus cleared his throat, interrupting them. “You two do realize that you’re both doing the same thing to some extent, right?”

Preparation and go by gut. Rayden leaned towards the former. He relied more on the latter. It was a wonder how they got along.

 

***

 

To me, life was a bitch. I had a family, friends though not many, a job that I enjoyed. All gone. So I’ve seen the benefits of Deckard’s thinking. Yet even he came to the Labyrinth prepared, perhaps not as much as the Captain and her master guards, but ready nonetheless.

What blew my mind was Marcus. I knew the man was married, that to Janine was a bit...unexpected. It made sense, though. And thinking back on it, I should have thought of it myself earlier. There were clues.

Then there was the last part of the fight they mentioned. What the hell were they talking about?!

Not wanting to go to Deckard for every little thing, especially since he was the one who kept it from me, I tried to ask the healer kneeling beside me, making sure I didn't die. Unnecessary effort.

“For Traiana’s sake. I told you I’d get rid of the blood when your regeneration heals the hole in your lung. Don’t try to talk!” he admonished me sharply when I coughed up blood instead of asking. 

Did he say that? I wasn’t so sure. I may have been too focused on what Rayden and the others had to say.

Marcus’s words, in particular, hit the nail on the head. Some of my choices were indeed questionable. As hard as I tried, my mane was more of a drag than a useful thing. How long had it been since the fight, and I still had no feeling in the fingertips of my left hand.

It was somewhat satisfying to see Meneur’s frustration as I used his magic against his mates. On the other hand, it wasn’t hard to avoid, and the shield worked to some extent. 

Speaking of skills, I didn’t get any related to my mane.

I still got a few skill level-ups on this brief fight.

 

• Painless Agony reaches lvl 25

...

• Master's Shield reaches lvl 18

...

• Swift as a Whip reaches lvl 24

 

Sadly, no class level up, no class evolution. But I wasn’t actually expecting one, nor did I really want to go through with it at the moment. First of all, I only got the level a little while ago, and since then, I have been the one who got my ass kicked. And second, it would have made me even more of a freak in the eyes of others. I know I shouldn’t give a shit about their opinions, but as I said before, there was already envy in the eyes of some.

“Looks well, enough,” said the healer. “I’m going to remove the blood now.”

Giving him a nod, I was glad to be rid of the discomfort in my chest finally. My regeneration was good, really good, but just as it failed to remove the bolt from my body, it was also beyond its ability to remove the accumulated blood in my punctured lung. Not that it was dangerous for me. I wouldn’t have drowned, or at least I wouldn’t have died. It was just very unpleasant.

Breathing normally again, and after making sure I was fit enough to fight, I gave it another go. Then again and again. Each time honing my combat prowess and skills just like Meneur, Freyde, and Harper. However, with each fight, it became more apparent that the battle was taking a greater toll on them than it was on me.

Despite being a mage, Meneur’s magic wasn’t regenerating fast enough. He wasn’t used to casting so many spells in such a short time. Harper had good stamina as a baker, but her shooting required a lot of concentration. The fight wore her out mentally. Freyde had the opposite problem, his body betrayed him. And so it was me who had the last laugh in the end. 

“Thanks for going easy on us,” Freyde said, and though he seemed genuinely glad, there was bitterness in his voice.

Harper rubbed her bruised jaw. “I wouldn’t say she was being too sparing.” Conscious as I was, I didn’t use my claws in our last match. On the other hand, I didn’t spare my fists on them.

“Honestly, I’m surprised how much mana you have? For a fighter,” Meneur remarked. Not something I want to explain to him in public.

“Mana? I’m not much older and can hardly catch my breath while she seems fine.”

“Well, duh! You turned pages all day. She slaved for others.” 

I nodded at Harper’s remark. “You all just need more training, that’s all.” There was no reason to justify or explain myself to them. I suffered for it.

“Anyway, do you have any idea...what might come next?” I asked, hesitating with my words since I didn’t want to sound like an idiot. Their looks spoke of my failure.

“You...”

“Weren’t you briefed? Or something?” Harper asked instead of Freyde.

“Okay, Squad Four. I’ll take it from here,” Captain Rayden cut in, loud enough to make my ears ring. Without saying another word, she reached us and ran her eyes over everyone before her gaze stopped on me.

“Grey, what Deckard foolishly didn’t tell you is that you’re about to face a full-fledged city guard.”