A Flight of Broken Wings: Aeriel Trilogy #1

Chapter 88

"Should've hit her in the heart," Ashwin whispered as they stood catching their breaths, watching Reivaa stagger slowly back to her feet, her right shoulder a mess of torn skin and ruined cloth, the blade still sticking out of the flayed flesh like some kind of morbid banner. Ruban cursed internally. How was it that he never had more than one sifblade on him whenever he was being attacked by some of the most powerful Aeriels in creation? What use was a whole arsenal full of top-of-the-line ammunition when all he ever actually had to work with was an old standard-issue sifblade that any third-year at Bracken would scoff at?

"If I had that kind of aim I'd be an Olympic archer, not an underpaid government employee," Ruban snapped through gritted teeth, not taking his eyes off the Aeriel. "Be thankful for what you got."

"You live on less than half your income," said Ashwin indignantly. "What would you do with more money?"

"Point," agreed Ruban, even as they both jumped out of the way of the fiery ball of saturated energy that crashed into the ground where they had been standing moments ago, scorching the earth a charcoal black. It hadn't been the most powerful blast, but it would definitely have fried them alive had it made contact. "Damn."

"I'll try to get close to her. You warn me if she tries anything. And shoot her in the wings if you can. It's one of the most vulnerable parts of her anatomy."

"Bullets won't do any good without sif," Ruban bit out, frustrated.

"The sif's inside of her. How long do you think she'll last with that thing lodged in her flesh? It's a death sentence. We just have to keep her distracted until she falls over and dies." With that Ashwin lunged at the Aeriel, throwing kicks and blows that connected more easily and seemed to have more of an impact now that Reivaa was being drained by the blade in her shoulder. As the Aeriel crashed into a nearby tree, hurled into it by a rather vicious kick from Ashwin, a tiny, iridescent light flickered near the palm of her right hand, barely visible in the twilight.

"Ashwin look out," Ruban roared, jumping forward to push the Zainian out of the range of the shell as it flew at them in a headlong rush.

As energy blasts went, this one was a fairly poor specimen – barely managing to knock over a single tree when it finally detonated deeper in the forest. For once, though, the strength of the blast didn't matter. The shell had grazed Ruban's right calf as he pushed Ashwin out of its way and into the ground. He then landed on top of the Zainian in an unceremonious heap.

Ruban thought that if somebody had taken the dullest butter-knife in existence and used it to carve out a chunk of his flesh, it probably would not have hurt anywhere near as much as it did now. The stench of scorched flesh stung his nostrils and his throat burned with what had probably been the hair-raising mother of all screams, but his brain was too busy trying to crawl out of his skull to register much by way of sensory information. Apart from the earth-shattering, heart-stopping pain in his leg, of course.

Distantly, he heard Ashwin talking to him, cradling his head as he moved carefully out from under him, mindful not to jostle him more than necessary. "...I'm gonna take your gun," the Zainian was saying, and through the haze of agony he felt hands fiddling with his holster, unloading the firearm until there was an uncomfortable emptiness at his side.

"Mpphhh," he said, unsure of what it was he really wanted to convey, even as a gunshot rang out a few feet off to the side of where he lay. He looked up, forcing his eyes to focus, to see Ashwin standing less than ten feet to his left, facing Reivaa, gun held out in front of him as he moved further away from Ruban, deeper into the forest. He's leading her away, Ruban realised after a moment, his pain-addled mind moving slower than usual. Grunting, he rolled over to his side, using his arms to push himself off the ground. It wouldn't do to let a foreign diplomat – no matter how much of a useless pain in the ass – get killed on his watch. That would be all kinds of embarrassing, for everyone involved.