Twelve

61 2 2
                                    

◦❁❀❁◦

Oops! This image does not follow our content guidelines. To continue publishing, please remove it or upload a different image.


◦❁❀❁◦


"Hmm...impressive," goaded the Jackal, cupping his left temple and ear and panting.

"Do...they...train nishacharas...in the Ketakey reservoir's catacombs...these days, imposter? Those...builders... hadn't...have...lasted long...had they? The poor fools..."

"I'm n-n-no imposter, sir," Daminey replied, keeping down the anger bubbling within her. Her eyes briefly flitted over his shoulder to note the woman's state. The sailor had requested her to save her friend personally after all. Daminey hissed at the deviation of her train of thought. She had bigger beasts to fight now.

"I'm a mage apprentice at the Kedho M-m-mrichagōpura, trained to combat beings such as yourself. You took the question right out of my m-m-mouth! What are you, why are you here and where are you taking her?"

"I'm the mage who's going to bury you, you lying pile of decaying flesh and I'm taking this lovely lady home. There, I hope those are your answers. Now if you'll excuse me, I'll be murdering you shortly and going off on my merry way."

"Quite the s-s-smooth talker aren't you, Geeratha Roukha," she shot back. Perhaps rousing the being into anger would force it give proper answers.

"You should stop throwing my name around like it's your birthright, nishachara, if you know what's good for you," snapped the Jackal, uncrossing his arms from across his chest and moving forward. The apprentice chose to lower her centre of gravity for stability. The Jackal circled her, looking for an opening to finish her off. The apprentice moved with him following his gaze.

The punch headed for her forehead seemed more rash than the ones that were previously thrown at her. Her right hand caught his fist and threw it aside, leaving him wide open for an uppercut to his jaw. She flinched and ducked below the deadly jab of his that followed, aimed at her nose. Her fist connected with his left cheek without delay, sending him back a few paces to recover.

Apologies from the core of my heart and being, forefather, but I cannot let your legacy be dishonoured like this. You are to be remembered as the Jackal who saved Ketakey by containing this godforsaken fluid, not rising from its depths as its puppet.

I remember now.

Geeratha Roukha had died drowning in the reservoir. He hadn't slipped and fell, he had dove in to contain something. I didn't expect it to be the water. But now with the nishacharas and everything, him drowning in the water and being reborn makes sense.

She racked her brain to let the memories of the report resurface and be of use to her.

I need more information. I need him to talk.

"Huh, that's a neatly grown kavacha you've got there," the Jackal Eka said, retracting his facial armour to spit out a purplish-grey fluid.

"I like the reinforcements over the plexii and the joints. Adept work, really, for a thousand-year-old cadaver with little to no experience as a mage. I wonder how you managed to mimic mine so well without laying as much as a finger upon it. Did you steal a Samudra's off a dead...no, even then you can't force a Samudra's organ to grow a skin-armour alien to it. How did that boneless liquid teach you to do this?"

Jackal Eka || ONC 2021 (Editing)  ✔️Where stories live. Discover now