“Uwah! What the hell is happening?”
Duncan’s head spun as he pushed his body off the carpeted ground. Bloody hell, that trip felt a lot more unstable than when he used the daggers for only himself. It made sense, considering the size of that knife. Transporting two people probably pushed its magic to the limit.
Metal clinged as he picked up the second dagger and tucked both knives into his coat. “It’s a damn good thing you didn’t drop this knife, Hilda.”
“What— Why— How?” Hilda sputtered, staring wide-eyed at both Duncan and Yuri.
She was bound to a metal chair with a rope, but Duncan could sense some sort of magic nestled within it. He refrained from cutting her loose in case he activated some sort of alarm.
“I snuck one of the daggers into your clothes before you left the Witch’s Train,” Duncan explained. “I couldn’t risk pulling you over just in case it wasn’t convenient for you, so I opted to teleport myself to you instead.”
Yuri wasted no time throwing her arms around her daughter as she sobbed loudly. “Hilda! Oh, Hilda… Thank god you’re alright. I’m sorry… I’m so sorry for lying to you and bringing you into all of this…”
Duncan watched on as Yuri tearfully promised Hilda to leave all this business behind for good this time and begin a new life with her, swearing that she would never leave her alone again. He chose to keep his mouth shut. Not that he was intentionally cynical, but he wasn’t inclined to trust that woman fully just yet. Yuri had changed way too much over the years.
“If you two are done, would you mind letting me get us the hell out of this place?” Duncan said dryly. “I still have a megalomaniac and a cult leader to stop.”
“Duncan…” Hilda’s eyes were glistening. “Why do you care so much? We’re safe now. Can’t we just go home and forget all about this?”
Duncan pursed his lips, unable to answer. To tell the truth, he had been asking himself the same question. He had been given plenty of chances to simply disappear from the mortal world, but he never took them. That damned conscience of his was one hell of a slave driver.
“No.” He shook his head. “I can, but you can’t. These people believe they walk the path of the gods, and they will burn down the entire world to prove it. Your world. I won’t let them have their way.”
“Perhaps Miguel was right. Perhaps you really are a living angel.” Hilda chuckled wryly. “If it still means anything to you, I’m sorry for being so childish on the train.”
“Glad to hear that.” Duncan broke into a small smile. “None of that anymore, promise?”
“Promise.”
“You and I have walked the Earth unnaturally; it would be nice to settle into a quiet life,” Yuri said. “So how about that? How about a nice, peaceful life when this is all over? Just the three of us. We could build our own house away from the world.”
“And fill it with books,” Hilda chimed in with a light giggle. “Or voodoo dolls.”
Tis a pity that giving up our mortality also means giving up our fertility, but we need not deny ourselves the fortune of family. Dost thou not wish to settle?
Duncan exhaled loudly as Lucy’s words surfaced in his mind. He felt like one of those cliché war heroes in propaganda movies, but he understood the sentiment well enough.
“That would be… nice,” he said. “But let’s focus on the present. Come, it’s about time we get out of here.”
He aimed a Transylvanian dagger at the ropes around Hilda’s wrists, but paused just above them. “There’s a detection charm on these ropes, which probably means a whole group of cultists will be here to fight us once I cut them open. Are you ready?”
“Shouldn’t be a problem.” The girl shrugged. “I assume you’ll open a portal out of here once I’m free?”
“Nay, we are in the middle of a desert, I reckon. I’m feeling nothing but sand when I try to open a portal. If I try to go any further, my magic channels may very well haemorrhage. We’ll have to fight through this.”
“Just like that?” Hilda asked worriedly. “No plan of attack?”
“That is the plan. Attack.”
“This is madness,” Yuri muttered.
“The sanity of our plan is of no consequence. We have no choice,” Duncan replied in a monotone voice. “Hilda, stay behind us as much as you can. Let’s go.”
Hilda’s hands snapped to her sides as the broken rope fell to the ground. She rubbed her wrists gingerly while Duncan snatched the Mace of Mercy lying against a wardrobe and passed it to her. Thank god the cultists were sloppy enough to leave Hilda’s belongings in the same room.
Duncan wasted no time kicking the motel room door open and running out of the corridor. It was still empty, for a relief. With any luck, they could probably get out of here without—
“What the— Yuri is with them? Traitor! Kill them all!”
He cursed under his breath as a small group of cultists came out of nowhere and blocked his path forward. Magic thundered through his whole body as they charged towards him.
A wave of carpet swelled up as Duncan slammed a fist onto the floor. Yells rang out as most of the cultists were sent flying, but a few managed to avoid it by clinging to the ceiling instead. They crawled towards him like demon-possessed spiders, latent magic sticking their limbs to the surface. Duncan instinctively stepped back as they pounced towards him.
Purple light barely grazed his cheek, striking one of them cleanly before they could reach him.
Yuri pushed herself off the narrow corridor wall and rolled in front of Duncan, blocking another beam of light with a deft flick of her wrist. More cultists showed themselves, all of them wielding weapons that looked like some sort of wand, presumably to channel unrefined magic.
Duncan smirked; a true Sorcerer did not need tools—
A flash of light tore through his shoulder blade. He staggered back, his vision swimming with stars from the pain. Bugger, that spell was faster than he had expected. Duncan sensed another flash of light coming from his side.
Too slow.
Pain exploded through the side of his head, and he went down hard. Everything went dark for a moment. The next blow hit him in the gut, rudely bringing the present back to his senses. No pain this time, but his lungs were fresh out of air.
Fight back, fight back!
Duncan flung himself to the side blindly. Less than a second later, a lance of orange light whizzed just by his head. Those new fancy wands were fast, if nothing else. A yelp rang out from behind. He turned around just in time to see Hilda doubled over on the floor, groaning in pain.
Anger possessed his body as Duncan shot forward with a burst of speed, closing the distance between him and the cultists.
One of them swiped wildly at him, but he ducked with ease before slamming the woman away. Duncan punched the ground, and jagged spikes burst out intermittently from the carpet. The cultist tried to roll away desperately, but it was too late.
A choked gasp escaped her lips as the last of her dying breath left the woman, her body impaled by several spikes. Duncan narrowed his eyes in recognition; this woman was one of those who attacked him on the Witch’s Train. Russian, if he recalled correctly.
“Nina!” An anguished cry nearly deafened him. “AAARGH!”
Duncan dropped into a boxing stance, dodging the hail of light as the cultist across him flicked his wand like a possessed man, tears glistening in his eyes. It did not take long before Duncan ducked under the last swing and knocked the wand out of his foe’s hands. Their eyes met, and Duncan recognised him instantly.
With a pained roar reserved only for the most wounded of beasts, the Texan man pulled out a gun from his coat. Three darts bounced off the walls as Duncan narrowly dodged the first shot. He returned the favour with a solid punch to his foe’s jaw.
He dodged again before retaliating with a punch to the ribs.
He circled behind as the third shot whistled in his ear, before punching his opponent twice in the liver.
Duck. Punch. Parry. Uppercut. Side step. Elbow strike. Block. Jab.
Ross stumbled back from the relentless assault, and Duncan moved forward to chase the advantage.
A familiar flash of yellow burst out again, but he was prepared this time.
Duncan gripped Ross’s hand and twisted the syringe back towards him. The Texan man barely had time to widen his eyes in surprise as the needle pricked into his skin.
It was either him or Ross. He had no choice.
Duncan clenched his jaw, pressing the syringe plunger firmly. The cultist’s eyes widened in anger, but they turned bloodshot quickly. Blood started leaking out of Ross’s orifices as he choked on his own blood. Duncan let go of the man’s body, which had already gone slack from the venom’s paralysing effect.
A shadow loomed over him. He grunted in both hostility and recognition at the Kenyan man poised over him, but the giant crumpled to the ground before he could do anything else.
“That was close…” Hilda muttered, helping Duncan up with one hand while holding the Mace of Mercy with the other. “I think most of them are down. Let’s get the hell out of here already—”
An explosion cut her off.
Duncan grunted as he caught Yuri, who had been flung back by the explosion along with the cultists’ motionless bodies. Rubble rained all around as a huge portion of the floor gave way, creating a huge hole in the ground in front of them.
He clenched his fists at the familiar figure standing menacingly just ahead. Dammit, did they play right into that man’s hands?
“About time you showed up!” Miguel shouted with a maniacal amount of ecstasy. “And you’ve brought the whole family with you, too! Ohoho, this is amazing!”
Shit, it’s a trap!
Duncan moved without hesitation and slammed into the man, pushing him into the hole. Whatever the case was, he had to finish this on his own. He had to keep Miguel from hurting Yuri and Hilda.
He flipped his body over mid-air, ignoring the snarling man trying to claw at his face. With a burst of energy, he hurled Miguel onto the ceramic floor below. Miguel grunted as his body crashed unceremoniously, and Duncan landed with a loud thud a moment later.
A resounding crash echoed all around as a huge piece of rubble landed squarely above the hole, sealing the two men in the room.11Please respect copyright.ＰＥＮＡＮＡkV7s0dAIcw
and then Add to home screen.