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5. Showtime
🕑 Added 2021-09-26 23:30:46 +0000 UTCWe sprinted toward the forest. At our top speed, it took an hour to reach it, the trees perpetually just out of reach. Overhead, Quetz writhed and roared. Lightning cracked and wind howled, the storm stoked by his anger. At the hill, we slowed to a walk, the slope allowing nothing faster. Trees loomed over us, blocking Quetz from my vision. I frowned, but from the howling and screeching, the battle still raged.
The first fat drops of rain thumped down on the dust as we reached the chain-link. Barbed wire tangled along the top of the fence. Patches of fresh chain link covered holes in the fence, crimped in place with metal prongs. Ten feet or so down from us, the chain link curled back from the fence, a hole large enough for grown men to easily crawl through hanging open. I ducked through.
Dust and pebbles became thick leaf mould and fallen branches. Tall trees towered over me. The howling wind cut to the whispering rush of distant leaves overhead. Despite the battle nearby, a hush hung over the forest, an almost sacred silence like the kind that hung in a cathedral or shrine.
Quetz blasted by overhead. He thumped into a tree, screeched, and wriggled off into the sky. Blood mingled with the rain loosed from the high leaves.
“Damn. Should’ve brought a flask,” Grim muttered. He reached out and caught a drop of the diluted red fluid. Rolling it in his palm, he sighed, then dumped it on the ground.
“You have that cultist’s water bottle,” I replied, chasing after Quetz.
“Eh, honestly? Not worth the time or the wasted water. Especially not if they get a big chunk off him somewhere. But then… then I might. If we’re talking heartblood, that’s a totally different game,” Grim replied.
“Pass me some of that water.”
“Thought you didn’t want any.”
“Well, you’re not high, so… I’ll take some.”
Grim sighed and handed the bottle over.
I chugged it down and passed the empty bottle back. “There ya go. No water wasted.”
He sighed again. “Thanks, Kit.”
“Happy to help.” I shot him a mock salute and a grin.
Ahead, shouting sounded through the woods. I peeked between the trees, searching for the source. A flash of leather, a glimpse of jeans.
“Hey!” Grim shouted.
“Grim! There’s a fin over this way, by the glen. Wanna help on the breakdown?” a woman offered. I didn’t recognize her, but by her slender, recurve legs tipped in hooves, she specialized in speed.
“I’m going to chase down my own share,” Grim replied.
The woman nodded. “Fair enough. Hey! Keep an eye out for Jane, alright? Took off after Quetz with a few others.”
Grim nodded and waved, smiling.
I bumped shoulders with him. “Figures you’d know all the girls.”
“I do have a reputation to maintain,” he muttered back, smile unchanged.
Quetz roared in the near distance, deafeningly loud. His body crashed down into the canopy again. Mid-run, I kicked my boots off. For a few steps, bare human feet crunched down on leaves and sticks, and then I transformed my legs and leaped into the trees. Grim followed at ground level.
“I’m going to try to mount his tail. Quetz’s tailfeathers go for good money. You pick up anything I drop, alright? We’ll go seventy-thirty,” I said.
“Sixty-forty. Deal.”
“Sixty-forty? Are you nuts? We’ll bargain later.”
I scrambled up the tree, leaving Grim behind. With a blast of leaves, I burst out onto the canopy. Wind slammed into my face, threatening to steal my hat away again and whipping my jacket straight out behind me. Rain pelted me. In an instant, it soaked me through. I raised a hand against the weather and squinted into the storm.
A few trees ahead, Quetz squirmed. Feathers and scales rained down. His fins flared, and he bared his teeth at the sky. Blood spurted from a dozen small wounds down his back, and from the huge gash on his side we’d seen earlier. Twisting viciously, he bent in on himself to bite something atop his back.
A tiny form dodged Quetz’s jaws. White fabric twisted around them, disguising their shape. Quetz howled and shook himself. The form dropped and gripped tight to Quetz’s back.
Quetz sagged against the trees, tired. The second he settled, the forest burst into motion.
I leaped from my tree, arms and legs spread wide. To my left, a trio of hunters jumped from the hollow gap at the top of a particularly large and old tree. Ahead of Quetz, to the right, a knot of white-clothed cultists peppered Quetz with lead and blasts of magic. Quetz howled in pain, and shuddered, but didn’t lift off the canopy.
I landed on Quetz’s tail. Slippery, iridescent scales gave no purchase, and the rain and blood slicking them only made it harder. I slid backward. Eyes wide, I spun my core faster, drawing magic into my arms, and squeezed tight. Quetz’s scales deformed under my grip. I drew to a halt, feet dangling into Quetz’s tailfeathers.
The other hunters smashed into Quetz’s side, right next to a fin. Claws, blades, and the bark of a shotgun rang against Quetz’s scales. One dug a grappling hook into Quetz’s scales and knotted the rope around her waist with a few quick motions. Beside her, the other two hunters followed suit. She braced herself against it, then slammed a blade into the base of Quetz’s fin.
I widened my eyes. “Oh, shit.”
Quetz screamed and bucked. His tail slipped by under my fingers. I tightened my grip, to no avail. Further and further, falling with every buck until my fingers dug into the roots of his tailfeathers. “Stop that!”
The hunters ignored me. Taking turns, they sliced at Quetz’s fin. Feathers and blood fell into the forest below.
Gritting my teeth, I snatched at a feather. Before I get bucked off, better grab what I can.
Quetz thrashed again, suddenly. Startled, I had no time to tighten my grip. I flew through the air toward Quetz’s head, falling toward his body.
I yanked the bar out of my ear. “Extend!”
The toothpick-sized bar grew to the size of a walking stick and kept growing. Red-lacquered wood hurtled downward. The golden cap pinned Quetz to the canopy, and I hovered high above Quetz. Quetz thrashed around the pole, desperate.
Mana roiled in my core. Heat from the core warmed my chest. Magic rushed out of me, surging to power the pole. I released the spell and dropped toward Quetz, pole only the length of a walking stick once more.
Quetz rushed up off the trees and bared his teeth at me. I lifted the pole in both hands, dropping down at Quetz. “Come at me!”
The white shape on his back charged forward. In all the ruckus, I’d assumed they had fallen off, but to the contrary, they seemed unbothered by the fighting and thrashing all around them. The white form bared their hands. Scaly, vicious claws burst from under loose sleeves. They bucked back and clawed Quetz’s neck.
“It’ll take more than that!” I shouted, and slammed the pole on Quetz’s face.
My pole bounced off Quetz’s forehead. The shock traveled up my arms and threw me backwards. I plunged toward the trees. In contrast, the figure’s claws sunk into Quetz’s neck like hot knives into butter.
What the hell. I stared, disbelieving.
Quetz shook himself. A ferocious wind blew, tossing the figure’s robes into wild disarray. They dug their claws in deeper. Blood stained their robes red.
The wind caught under their mask and yanked it up, covering their eyes. Annoyed, the figure tossed their head. The mask flew off.
Underneath, the boy from earlier tossed his head. Hair so dark it shone blue swirled around his face. Navy blue eyes pierced through me. A red collar wrapped around his neck. He narrowed his eyes and dug his claws deeper. A fountain of blood spurted from the depths and soaked him head to toe. Over and over, digging into Quetz’s back with dogged determination, until I could barely see him. He burrowed into the flesh, leaving a trail of destruction behind.
Lightning blasted from the sky and scorched the wound on Quetz’s back. The boy stiffened. His skin crawled visibly, something moving under the robes. He shook his head and pressed on, digging deeper.
Quetz screeched and shook himself again. Under his skin, it did nothing to shake the boy. Claws, scraping madly, failed to dislodge the burrower.
As I floated, halted in midair for the split second before gravity reclaimed me, one thought flew through my mind, something I hadn’t thought possible until this moment: He’s actually going to kill Quetz.
I smashed through the canopy. The slap of leaves and snap of branches broke me out of my thoughts. I jabbed the pole downward. “Extend!”
The pole rushed through my hands, then struck earth. Pushing off it, I flew back into the sky. Gripping the pole with my dexterous, transformed feet, I reached for Quetz’s ruff as I zipped past. With a good handful of feathers to hold me up, I released the spell, and the pole collapsed back to its ordinary size again. I scurried up into the ruff and toward Quetz’s neck, climbing with two hands and one foot, other foot clutching my pole.
Quetz convulsed under me. His muscles spasmed, every inch of him twitching helplessly. No longer the coordinated throes of a fight, but the pitiful throes of the dying, he thrashed over the canopy. Blood gouted over the forest, dyeing the trees red. Rolling over again, he fell out of the trees and toward the ground, massive body whistling past trunks and smashing through branches. I clung onto his ruff for dear life as we plummeted together, ducking into the stiff feathers for protection. Branches knocked off the plumes, breaking some, others breaking off themselves. A thick branch rushed at my face. I ducked low to Quetz’s neck, and it narrowly passed by, knocking my hat on the way past.
Quetzalcoatl smashed down.
Louder than thunder, the impact reverberated through me. Quetz rolled, bounced, then caught against a bunch of old trees and snapped to a halt. I rolled out of the feathers, thrown by the jolt. Earth and sky flashed by. Brambles snagged at my skin and fur. A tree of my own flew for me. I curled up, guarding my squishy bits with my strengthened limbs.
Bam! I struck the tree. Pain ached down my forearms and knees. I flopped onto my back and laid there, stunned.
A few seconds passed. I shook my head. Wobbly, I climbed to my feet and staggered. One of my legs gave out under me, refusing to take my weight properly. Is it broken?
I looked down. My foot still clutched tight to my pole.
Sighing, I passed the pole to my hand. My leg took my weight again, uninjured.
A huff of hot, damp air rushed past me. I froze, then turned slowly.
Quetz laid there. Big golden eyes stared past me, shaking with panic. A long, slitted, purple-tipped tongue hung out of the side of his mouth. He struggled to draw a breath, entire body rising with the effort. It shuddered out, another rush of hot air that stirred my hair and tugged at my hat.
He looked at me.
Dying.
I put a hand over my core, over my heart. The word resonated from there, not heard, but felt. I bowed my head. “Quetzalcoatl.”
His eyes closed. Lonely. Tired. Sleep now. Maybe later…
A last breath shuddered out of him. His body shuddered one last time, then went still.
Quetz’s voice faded to a whisper, almost gone. Maybe, again…
My core shuddered. An image filled my mind. Blue skies. Rolling forests, bounding green hills beyond them. A lush and vibrant world. Creatures I’d never seen roamed the scene, full of life and magic, scales shimmering as they splashed in crystalline creeks, fur shining under the sun, rainbow-hued feathers spread to catch the wind.
The world as it had once been, long before humans began to lust for magic. The world Quetz had been born into, a world as alien to me as this rugged wasteland must have been to Quetz.
“I’m sorry,” I whispered, but there was no one left to hear me.
