Chapter Forty One: Heroes and Villains - Part Two

A small figure dove through the air below, but it wasn't an Oneron. Sam turned to see Jaxx's bodyguard, the Firion, Vogri, vault upwards with his staff, which extended multiple times to lift him into the air. The Firion retracted his staff when he came downwards, and extended it again as he swung it into an Oneron's head. Vogri landed and charged towards Evan with his staff raised.

Evan was up against three guards with swords, and did not seem to see Vogri approaching.

Sam dove off the walkway and headed down. Above him, a Spreader crossed the sky, and he shot his grapple hook up and attached to it. As he fell, he yanked the drone and swung it downwards in a wide arc. He came towards Vogri, who was pointing the glowing end of his staff at Evan, and brought the Spreader down. It slammed into Vogri and broke apart with a shower of sparks, flattening the Firion.

Sam landed beside Evan and took on one sword-guard as the Voarn dispatched with the other two.

Evan turned to Sam and then saw Vogri on the ground.

"Thank you," said Evan. "Although it will take more than that to take that one down."

"Leave him," Sam said. "We'll head inside and start looking for James. Ground level upwards."

Evan shook his head. Several more guards were coming out of the forge. From one of the building tops, Oneron soldiers fired shots down at them, striking their weapons and limbs. An explosion rang out from somewhere farther away.

"I will take him," Evan said, nodding to Vogri, who was rising and shoving parts of the Spreader away. "Unfinished business."

Sam nodded. "Don't let him distract you too long." He paused. "And, careful with that thing," he added, gesturing to the golden sceptre on Evan's back.

Evan nodded in return. Sam turned and headed for the forge. Evan was a capable fighter, and James needed to be Sam's priority right then.

The iron forge tower was just sixty feet away now.

Another explosion erupted, this one near the forge front doors, throwing out bodies of guards and Oneron soldiers. Sam had to ignore it all. He had to find James. While heavily out-numbered, there were hopefully enough soldiers to take care of the guards.

Two guards ran out of the forge entranceway and headed towards him. Both wore the black and silver armour of Sacre guards, complete with helmets. Sam kept his pace and brought out his grapple hook. He fired it into the visor of one guard and yanked him off his feet, retracting the hook to pull him further. When the second guard fired his heavy rifle, Sam leapt into the air and quickly threw his grapple hook up to free his arm, then threw down a Light Shot into the guard's chest. He reached up, snatching the grapple hook in the air, and fired it into an upper walkway and zipped upwards.

Managing a sword in one hand and switching from throwing magic and using a grapple hook with the other would be a difficult task for most people, but it was second nature to all Oneron. Using the sword, grapple hook, and magic, brought a fresh smile to Sam.

As he flew upwards, he couldn't help but admit how good it was to fight as an Oneron unleashed, without restricting himself. And to use his old sword again. Somehow, he felt like the sword was happy to be back in action too.

***

James stared at the faint smoke drifting off his hand. He had felt a burning sensation building up, but then hesitated at the last moment and the energy dispersed. He was still too apprehensive, he knew. But he had to summon this Fire magic. It was his only way out.

He refocused and tried again.

This time he tightened his fist and concentrated harder. A soft flame lapped over his fist, and he was startled at first to see that he could not feel the heat from it. He opened his hand and saw a plume of fire rise up, hot air rushing over him. He raised his hand, ready to throw it, but the fire quickly died, leaving no trace of it on his skin. He had broken his concentration and gotten ahead of himself. He cursed, hating how difficult this was for him. It seemed so easy for Sam and Evan to conjure magic.

James squeezed his fist tight and tried again.

Recalling Sam's teachings made him think about how much he had been lied to. He let his frustrations spur him on, and drew strength from his inability to protect himself; to know more about himself; to have allowed himself to be lied to and having followed others so blindly.

What bothered James the most was the plan he had in mind, and what would happen if it didn't work.

Flames appeared over his fist with a whoosh. It was a powerful heat. James grimaced, raising his fist back to throw the fire at the cell doors. James tightened his fist and felt the surge of energy flow through his arm. He felt powerful. He wanted to push the magic further, to see how far he could go.

Then the fire wavered, as if a wind had blown over them, and almost died out. James tensed and flared the energy through him. Heavy black flames burst within the fire, pulsing intense energy outwards. The dark flames lit the cave room in an eerie gloom. James stepped back in shock, the power stinging his nostrils, and had to strain to bring the flames back to red and orange.

The two guards had come to the cell door and called out for him to stop.

James threw his arm forward and felt the energy leave him. The fireball struck the iron bars in a splash of heat, and both guards jumped back. The bars were singed and spots of flames lapped on the ground, but James hadn't expected to break the doors, or even injure the guards. He had just wanted to get their attention.

The guards opened the cell doors and entered.

Now came the hard part of his plan.

The tallest guard came first, bringing out a baton that sparked with electricity at the tip. The second guard carried a baton that extended to double its length.

James barged into the nearest guard, but the other cracked his baton onto his back. James backhanded the one that had struck him, and then punched the first guard in the face. Another hit struck him on the back of the legs, and he dropped to his knees.

James remained there as a baton come down, and felt a burst of blinding pain as it smacked against his jaw. He stayed hunched over, blood dripping from his chin, and another blow struck his back, pushing him down to catch himself on his hands

"Wrong move, scum," one of the men said.

"Aye, he made his choice," the other one added, and smacked his electrified baton across James's back.

James dropped fully to the ground, aching all over, his head spinning. He was hardly aware of his actions as he threw himself up and yanked the baton from the nearest guard. He managed to strike the guard across the face before the second guard grabbed him and shoved him back. The baton fell away as James hit the wall.

Both men stepped towards him with angry glares. A punch to the face and three hits to the gut sent James back to the ground. A heavy boot thudded into his side and rolled him over. James lay there, blood pouring from his old wounds, and bruises flaring up all over him. He coughed and sputtered blood.

The shorter guard had extended thin blades from his extended baton, and now stepped closer. James's eyes had puffed with bruising and his vision blurred from the pain. He brought himself up onto his knees, spitting out more blood, every movement hurting.

"This is just pathetic," one of them said.

There was still something left in James; he could feel it. He searched for that rush of adrenaline, the one he hoped would save him, and lunged up. The short guard jabbed at him and dug a blade into James's chest, tearing his shirt. James cried out and stumbled to his feet, catching himself against the wall.

The bladed baton plunged into his back and he screamed in horrified pain. The baton released in a bloody extraction that ripped his shirt more and sent James back down. With his hands pressed against the ground, blood poured down his arms and pooled around his hands

He realised now he had made a mistake. There was no special power inside him. Whatever strength he thought he had when exhausted wouldn't come now, when he needed it the most. This was his last chance. They would kill him unless he fought back for real. But he had already hurt himself too much.

James cried out with determination as he brought one foot under him. His entire body burned and ached, his muscles shutting down. There was something left in him. There had to be. He would not allow himself to die in this cell.

The tallest guard lifted his electrified baton and swung it down. James raised his forearm instinctively, and the baton crashed down on his toughlet. The blow sent a painful jolt through his arm. A part of him had tried to summon a Light Shield, but he was in no state for magic.

James balled his fists, blood squelching through his fingers, and tried to fight through the pain. Both guards looked down at him with contempt and disgust.

"I've had enough of this," the shorter man said. He raised his bladed baton.

James pushed himself back and avoided the blow. He stumbled to his feet and almost fell again, before righting himself. The room spun, his legs weak, but he could stand. And that was something.

Both guards came at him. He ducked to the side, faltering and catching himself against the wall, leaving blood smears on the rock. He huffed and grimaced against the pain.

"Come on, Lorn," one of them said. "Do him in and get it over with."

James pushed himself away from the wall as a guard swung at him. He ducked under the swinging baton, spinning, and fell into a spin kick that knocked the guard across the face. The man flew back several feet and hit the far wall beside the cell doors.

James dropped to the ground, panting heavily, dripping with sweat and blood. The guard remained twisted on the ground.

The taller guard stepped back and reached behind him to pull out a pistol. "You'll hurt for that!" he spat.

James threw himself up and dove towards the man as he aimed the pistol. The shot fired but James had grabbed his arm and shoved it aside. In the same motion, James swung his body around the guard and brought a shoulder under him, then flipped him over to slam his back on the ground. A strong punch to the face knocked the guard out, possibly cracking his skull.

James slumped down, his mind a blur. Despite his exhaustion, he could feel it. That strength inside him. Somehow it felt like it didn't belong to him, like someone else was helping him. He certainly wouldn't have the strength to move on without it.

He stood up with a great effort, and looked himself over. His blood-stained shirt mostly hung off him. He tugged at a side and allowed it to fully fall off. His torso was a mess of bruises, cuts and slashes of blood.

Stepping over a guard, James picked up both batons and left the cell. Now he had to get out of the forge, if he didn't bleed to death first.

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