Lacuna - N.R. Walker Page 0,91
Tancho threw a smoke bomb high and fast above the creatures, the arrow pierced it perfectly, spilling sleep-inducing smoke over them like a morning mist.
They stopped, swayed, spluttered, and one of the creatures opened his pig-like mouth, and just when Tancho expected an ear-piercing scream, it staggered back and fell, taking its hoard of friends down like sleeping dominos.
They had to wait a minute or two until the smoke had dissipated, and every second felt like a day. “How many more of those smoke bombs do you have left?” Crow asked.
“Three.”
“Shame it’s not three hundred.”
“If Samiel had more time . . .”
Crow made a face. “How do you think they’re doing?”
“I have faith in them,” Tancho replied. “They have skill and numbers.”
Crow didn’t look convinced. “I’m second-guessing our decision to split our teams.”
“It was the right decision,” Tancho murmured. “Tactically, and practically.”
He winced. “I worry for them.”
“As do I. But we need to worry about us right now. And I don’t like standing still here. I feel caught.”
Crow gave a nod. “Cover your nose and mouth.” He ran toward the pile of sleeping Ascii with his hand over his nose to shield what remained of the smoke, and as he reached the last creature, it stirred, reaching for Crow’s foot and raising its head. Crow stuck his sword through its throat, and as the soldiers ran through, they took care of all the others.
None of them would wake from that slumber.
Tancho heard the clang of metal ahead, the sounds of fighting, yelling, screaming. Not the Ascii scream, either.
Human screams.
“This way!” Crow yelled, bypassing the grand hall, and together he and Tancho ran at full speed toward the sounds of war.
The stone corridors were lit with familiar windows, the golden light casting an eerie glow. They had come this way with Adelais once last week, to have some fun with mock fights and displays of skill and ego. But this time, when they got to the stairs to the courtyard, they came to a halt.
There were no mock fights there now. No fake shows of skill or ego.
It was a fully-fledged battle. So many creatures, more than the one hundred Asagi had said walked through the doorway.
Soldiers fought with swords and blades, bows and arrows, axes and spears.
The Ascii creatures didn’t need weapons. They had knives for nails, huge arms that could outreach a sword. There were bodies . . . creatures, dead, yes. But also bodies in white, black, red, and green.
Some only injured, trying to crawl away. Some with their throats ripped open, some missing limbs.
A massacre.
Tancho could see Samiel, a fierce sight with her blade and spear, as she slay the creature before her. It took him a moment to find Elmwood, but there he was, hacking his axe through an Ascii as if he were felling a tree.
Tancho flooded with relief that his friends were unharmed.
Crow raised his hand, signalled for the soldiers behind them to join the fray. Then he turned to Tancho, and Tancho was certain the horror he saw on Crow’s face matched his own.
“You stay by me,” he hissed, fierce and determined.
Tancho nodded, numb to the realisation of what they were about to do. “Always.”
Then Crow turned to Soko. “Fight well, my brother.”
Soko gave a grim nod. “I will fight beside you.”
Karasu spun her katanas in her hands and narrowed her eyes at Tancho. “And I will fight beside you.”
“As will I,” Kohaku said, his knuckles white on the hilt of his sword.
Tancho gave a nod. “For Westlands.”
Tancho and Crow watched as Soko, Karasu, and Kohaku flew down the stairs, their weapons raised. And as Crow and Tancho neared the bottom step, Tancho took his katana in his left hand and held his right out for Crow.
As soon as they touched, skin to skin, everything around them slowed to a crawl.
Everything except for the Ascii creatures.
They kept moving and several of them let out that awful, ear-piercing screech and Tancho saw one of them grab a frozen-in-time red soldier and slash his throat.
Tancho dropped Crow’s hand, the world around them coming to life at a dizzying pace and they found themselves in the middle of battle.
“What in the abyss was that?” Tancho yelled, slicing his katana through an Ascii creature’s neck. Green blood sprayed from the wound as it fell to the ground.
“I don’t know,” Crow answered, as he swung his sword into the head of a creature. The heavy broad sword cut through it like butter. “They’re not affected by time.”
Their time-slowing