Torun ducked as something wrapped around the tent, so did Ashraful and Jamal. Except Lanka, obviously emotionally distraught at the moment, couldn't.
The tent was yanked from above them, dragging towards the river. Torun watched dumbfounded, but Ashraful jumped towards it, getting a hold of Lanka's legs and planting his feet on the ground.
And it dragged him too.
"Kalyani!" Torun yelled, before remembering she was gone.
Ashraful was dragged almost twenty feet already, leaving deep gashes on the ground. Forty feet remained from the river.
And then Torun noticed what was dragging them.
Metal chains glittered in the trickle of light that came from the dock. It came from the river and wrapped around the tent, Lanka with it.
Torun brought out the red stone from his pocket, and called, "Abdul!"
Nothing happened.
Panicked, he called again, "Abdul!"
"Help!" Ashraful said, not getting any leverage against the pull.
Something yanked the knife away from Torun's waist, almost tearing his pants. It was Jamal. He dashed towards the tent, but instead of grabbing it, he ran around it.
Unsheathing the knife, Jamal jammed it into a chain link. He held both ends of the knife.
Then he squatted and planted himself.
The tent stopped abruptly, and Jamal's feet pressed harder into the ground.
"Get her out!" Jamal screamed, and Torun found himself moving. Now that the chain wasn't as tight, Lanka could be wriggled out of the tent pretty easily. She took deep gasping breaths as she got out. Ashraful helped her stand and the two slowly got away. Torun ran around to Jamal.
And then he heard the sound of plinking.
He ducked as a chain shot out of the water, leaving a trail wave like a fishing line. It crashed on the ground after it whipped over his head, not having anything to wrap itself on to, and slithered back to water as if pulled by something.
Jamal tsked, and pulled the knife to rest on his elbow as he reached back to unzip his bag and pull out a pipe bomb.
"The tent," he said as he flicked the bomb towards Torun, "Light the fuse first."
The bomb didn't reach Torun, dropping some ten feet infront of him. Torun lunged towards it, bending down to pick it up.
And a chain whipped towards him.
Torun could manage a half strength jump before the great arc of the chain reached him. It slapped against his thighs, not wrapping around him but making him roll in the air with a stinging burn on his legs and then land on his belly. Torun gulped for breath and felt sand get in his windpipe.
He took a second to catch his breath. Then he jumped up, shooting for a sprint. But his feet betrayed him. Hot brands of pain shot up from his thighs as he toppled over. The iron whip crack inches over his back as he fell.
So Torun crawled.
The whip missed him several times in the few seconds it took to get to the tent, a target laying on the ground evidently being a harder target to hit. The tent inched closer to him as well, but that was not a good thing
When he reached the squeezed tent and looked back at Jamal, a chain was swinging toward the man. Jamal simply changed his posture that the chain he held was between him and the incoming blow, and the blow deflected away.
YOU ARE READING
The Misfortune Cycle: River Desert
FantasyIt was a case of theft. A simple one, really, since the volume of materials stolen and the particular means of transportation should've made the traces clear as day. But young private detective Torun Kiriti soon learned with his partner Ashraful Ma...