CHAPTER 10-RECKONING
Aquilifon stood atop a high ledge overlooking the valley. Beneath, his long-gathered army, though superior in number, was faring badly against the determined forces of Valeri the prophetess. He just continued to watch, still amused, yet observing his special specimens carefully.
In the midst of the thick pitched battled, Krovin waded calmly through the gory mess. He wantonly fired his crossbow again and again, and bolt after bolt flew in every direction. He did not care whether he hit ally or foe. A tribesman rushed up at him with his spear. Krovin struck his arms with the crossbow, disarming him. Clutching the hapless man by the neck in a vice-like grip, he bit ravenously into the man’s neck. As he gorged on the man, an armoured figure and a golden-haired man caught up with him. Krovin spotted them and threw his victim down on the ground. His bloody mouth opened, showing his serrated teeth. Then he charged at Shruiken and Charnaiz.
The king of Gondwana and the samurai looked at each other. It seemed they would have to trust each other for now. They nodded, as if a psychic link had transpired between their minds. They both rushed forward, meeting their cannibal foe. To Charnaiz, it was the first time he had ever known that samurai would fight alongside another one not from his own clan, and acknowledging his aid.
Char Milvian and Shruiken’s Kyuretsukiryu brushed against Krovin’s longsword. The two showered the Varangian with quick, fierce sword thrusts. Krovin, however, stood his ground, countering every thrust the two could throw against him. They continued like that for some time, each one occasionally seeing an opening, but could not capitalize, as either side’s defense was too efficient. Finally, as Charnaiz and Krovin locked swords again, the king saw behind his growling foe the Russian lieutenant, Natasha wielding Kazansky’s AK-47 and already setting her sights on Krovin. Charnaiz lunged backwards, and Natasha cut loose with the weapon, her bullets striking the nape of Krovin’s neck. The Varangian screamed in agony. Charnaiz expected him to fall dead, but instead only saw Krovin drop to one knee. Krovin’s pain was immobilizing, but he didn’t have time to grope, he saw Shruiken bursting towards him, seemingly to deliver the final blow.
Blood showered as Kyuretsukiryu smashed into Krovin’s hauberk. Krovin clutched his chest and grunted, but his eyes widened as he saw Charnaiz stretch out his hand towards him. The space where he was standing was then vaporized in a huge explosion. Charnaiz’ blast sent up a huge pall of smoke.
“It’s over,” Natasha said, posing dramatically over the smouldering mine-crater in the ground. Shruiken spat out a gob of bloody spit then looked at Charnaiz and Natasha and bowed deeply to both of them in a gesture of profound Japanese respect. Charny returned the bow, and then glanced down at his own armor. There were several dents all around. Krovin had gotten through some hits, after all.
Meanwhile, Gerhardt and Kazansky were continuing their own pitched battle a short distance away. Earlier, Kazansky had struck at the back of the German’s neck, loosening the hinges that held his air mask intact. The Russian, now entrenching himself on a shallow chasm, anticipated the German’s shots. Sand splashed above him as bullets rained. He sharply got up, and returned fire---and then a shot caught him in the shoulder. He plopped down, his gun flinging out of his hands.
Next thing Kazansky knew, Gerhardt was standing over him, his cavalry sword raised with both hands over his head. As he brought it down, Kazansky managed to roll out of the way. Gerhardt advanced again on his wounded foe, and Kazansky kept him at bay with a desperate kick. The German retaliated with a kick of his own to Kazansky’s ribs. He then grabbed the Russian by the collar and his other hand holding his epee inclined backward, preparing for a fatal stab.
Suddenly, Kazansky’s hands sprang out, taking hold of the air mask on Gerhardt’s face. He tugged at it wildly and desperately, tying to force it off with raw strength alone. Gerhardt punched Kazansky’s face repeatedly, trying to make the Russian release his hold. But Kazansky’s hands held; he continued tugging, and finally, as if by sheer force of will, he pried Gerhardt’s mask off, and with a final weak effort, Kazansky hurled it away.
Gerhardt clutched at his throat, gasping for air. For a short while, he writhed and gagged before ultimately dropping to the ground, his body twitching convulsively. Kazansky stared at the suffocated carcass, and then tended his heavily bleeding shoulder. He then picked up his Yarygin pistol and set out to search for his comrades.
Up above, Aquilifon was pleased. He had been entertained enough. Now, it was time for the endgame to begin.
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