Riding atop a giant lizard that scurries the ground of a brick paved road, Ammiel sits behind the bearded, thinly, elderly man who directs it. They're flanked by tall, slender trees. Occasionally, another lizard carrying passengers would pass them from the other direction.
The squawk of birds in the distance is accompanied by a rumble that grabs their attention towards the right. A gigantic snake head rises from the trees in the distance. The snake holds its tail high and slams it down. Creating a shockwave that startles the lizard and causes Ammiel to fall off his seat. The lizard disappears into the forest with the old man tugging at the reigns trying to gain control of his mount.
The rumble intensifies as the snake slithers towards the road. Ammiel runs further back. Not wanting to be in its path. Trees flatten as the snake turns to join the road and head straight for Diyarton with lesser versions of it following close behind. A few of these lesser snakes advance on his rear. Pinning him from running away from the one's approaching in front.
As they stalk him down. They rattle their tails. Ammiel becomes unable to move. Like before, in the tavern, every sound is unbearably loud. This time, he can't even put his hands over his ears to try dampening this irritation. All he can do now is watch his end draw near.
'I must run. You need to run. You're going to die if you don't. Why won't you move, dammit!'
For a second, he sensed a presence encircle him. The heads of the snakes fall to the ground. Blood drips from the open wounds where they once were. They wriggle before succumbing to their deaths. She appears, and decked in white, pink trimmed, leather fastened clothes, with a sword strapped to her hip. Her dark hair bounces as she casts a watchful eye over the surroundings. With no notable danger present, she relaxes her hand away from the sword's hilt.
"Are you okay?" She asks, concerned.
How old is she? Looks to be in her mid-twenties. What training allowed her to move like a blur? He must know. With such speed, he wouldn't need to be saved. He would've legged it to Diyarton himself.
The woman waits for a response from Ammiel who's glazed in thought. She waves a hand to get his attention.
"Ye…yes!" he stutters. "I am fine. Thank you for asking."
"Oh, thank goodness. I thought they had poisoned you. What a relief." She exhales a deep breathe. "Make sure to close your ears when around them. The sound they make paralyzes anyone who hears it."
"Do you know what's going on?"
"Someone disturbed a snake den east of here. Now there's a lot of them roaming the area."
"Can I even make to Diyarton without walking to my death?"
She turns to look down the road in the direction of Diyarton.
"They can handle the king snake without me. But he'll be worrying where I am. He'll understand. By the way, my name is Sundar." She extends a hand which he shakes.
"Ammiel, you have quite the rough hands."
Her handshake tightens. Squeezing on his hand while wearing a smile that contrasts a pointed glare. She lets go, and Ammiel is now massaging the pain away.
What did I do to deserve this? I thought she was nice.
Ammiel walks in silence behind her. Sundar easily dispatches any snakes that cross them. He can't shake the feeling of movement behind him. But then again, the atmosphere has this wavy, swinging sensation about it. Easily bent by shapes in the environment.
There is this invisible force pushing outward from Sundar. When the situation is uneventful, like now, the force gently sways. Then, when she's fighting, it suddenly becomes stern and sharp.
Ammiel perceives a snippet of an annoyed whisper saying, "We need to get closer. Who's the gut she's with?"
Ammiel tries to concentrate more on the sound, but Sundar interjects, "Will you stop doing that?"
"I'm not doing anything?"
"Oh, really?" She stops in her tracks. "For the past ten or so minutes, your esens has been fluctuating. Shivering like a child out in the cold. Didn't you learn how to compress your bubble."
Not knowing what she is talking about, Ammiel responds with, "No."
"Where you from, Firmus?"
That question makes him want to invest in a map. Should he be hiding the fact his from another world? Would she even believe that? Not likely.
He says, "What does that have to do with anything?"
Before she could speak, he heard the same annoyed voice say, "Why have they stopped? Did they see us?"
"I told you to stop doing that." She points a menacing finger at him.
"I heard someone talk just now."
"Are you—" Sundar rests her hand on the sword's hilt. "—sure?"
"I hope so. The alternative would be hearing voices in my head. There's two, maybe three of them lurking in the forest."
"You two have been standing there for far too long." It's the annoyed voice again. He reveals himself from behind the trees. "I don't believe that you're talking chummy. It's obvious we've been spotted. If you guys walked faster, I wouldn't be so angry. Because you'd already be dead. Now we're forced to do this quickly."
"Are you the ones who spooked the king snake?"
"I didn't do anything, yet." He snickers. "You can't hide your secrets forever—"
For a man who wants to kill, he's quite talkative. Is he stalling? What is all this talk going to achieve? He came out alone. No weapons on him that can be seen. He has a sleeve tattoo of strange markings. If his friend decides to join in, can she take them both? Where is this friend anyway?
Suddenly, something disturbs the wavy atmosphere that Ammiel feels. Whatever it is causes Sundar to spin around and slash behind her. Ammiel turns to see a rogue bleeding from a horizontal wound on his chest, clutching a slim dagger. Clangs grab Ammiel's attention to Sundar fighting the tattooed man.
The man is somehow clashing his bare fists with her blade, and with each collision, a metallic pang can be heard. They exchange blows until he grips her sword. He tries to yank it away, but she proves to be stronger. She pulls him closer and thrusts her blade through his chest. Then kicks him away.
The two rogues struggle onto their feet, and immediately rush her. It's now a handicap contest. Ammiel backs away from the battle, using a tree as cover.
Their combined assault pushes her further down the road.
She cuts and stabs them a couple of times, but they keep pressuring her backwards. Nobody should be walking after such injuries.
***
I keep hurting these idiots, but they won't go down. This is unnatural. They're pressing me to go wherever they want. Are they leading me to a trap? I didn't want to kill them. There's not a lot of things to switch their attention to. Whatever their trap is, I bet there'll be something I can distract them with, and end this.
She's getting irritated by the tattoo guy blocking every swipe. Unable to get a defining blow against the weaker friend.
They stop their advance for a second. Sundar spots another friend of theirs perched on one of the trees.
The tattoo guy screams, "Do it now!"
Purple chains shoot out from the ground.
This is my moment.
Sundar glares at the man in the trees, switching his focus from herself to the weaker friend. Which causes the chains to change course and wrap around him.
"What are you—"
Before the tattoo guy could finish the sentence, Sundar decapitates him with a single slash. The weaker friend is freed from the chains, but not quick enough to block from being decapitated too. The third now seen that he is alone, flees. Sundar doesn't chase. She sheathes her blade and breathes a sigh of release.
What did they want from me? He talked about secrets. Was he talking about divine script? Everyone knows you can't decode it. Even if he had my body as a subject.
***
The battle is over. And I am still alive. I wonder why they didn't attack me. Common, it was obvious. Or was I insignificant?
Ammiel still watches from behind the trees as new individuals arrive. A tall but slender man wearing a side hung cape, and a petite woman wearing a black mask that covers the lower half of her face. They chat with Sundar. A lively sight. Not even bothered by the splay of dead bodies.
Sundar points in his direction. Does she want him to step closer?
Ammiel comes out of his hiding spot to introduce himself to the new pair. As he gets closer, the atmosphere feels like the mixing of two liquids. The caped man doesn't have a force pushing outward like the two ladies beside him. Ammiel wonders why that is.