Fan Fiction ❯ The Secret of the Always ❯ Chapter 8 ( Chapter 8 )

Chapter 8

Nemesis had barely enough time to throw open the door to the gun bay and dive out before the missile hit. It shattered most of the glass and propelled him forward, slamming him against the deck just behind the passenger seat row. He cried in pain as his arm twisted the wrong way and snapped. Aire yelled something he couldn't make out as he fell into unconsciousness from the pain.

. . .

When Nemesis awoke, he found himself in an under kept building lying on an old cot. He sat up slightly and felt pain shoot up his right arm. Then he remembered the dogfight and the missile that was responsible for breaking his arm. He cradled the arm and grimaced, forcing his way to his feet. He suddenly felt incredibly dizzy and felt his stomach turn over. Suppressing the sickness, he struggled toward the door. He fell forward, hitting his head softly on it and Tii'jan came to investigate.

He opened the door and found Nemesis slumped on the floor. Tii'jan helped him back to his feet and looked at the arm. "Hey, you should keep resting! That arm is badly broken. Come on, Aire and I have gotten a better spot ready." Tii'jan supported him and led him down some stairs and into a larger room. Nemesis got over the dizziness finally and shouldered Tii'jan away.

"I'll be okay, now. Where's Aire?" She came up behind him and tapped his elbow. He yelped with the pain and turned sharply, feeling dizzy again from it.

"Yep, it's broken," she said, almost cheerfully. Nemesis just glared at her. "What?"

He shook his head. "You never did take anything but piloting seriously. Where are we?"

She looked triumphant. "Thanks to my piloting skills, we made it back to the city in one piece. We're back in the bombed-out section. Tii'jan's going to go find the Eternal Flame tomorrow, then he'll report back and we'll try to bring it back. Any chance you can fight?"

He hobbled over to a makeshift bench in the center of the room. "I doubt it, Aire. This is pretty bad. I'll have to have it numbed down quite a bit. And I won't be able to use two weapons at once, either. That's a problem. I was hoping to use my sowrd as well as my gun. Tii'jan showed me how to use its runes back at the battle. I guess I can help, though.

Aire looked suddenly guilty. "I'm sorry, Nemesis. My piloting skills should have been able to dodge that missile. It's my fault this happened. Now the speeder'll be useless if we have to fight. The rear guns are scrapped and the engine efficiency is down 30% due to damaged circuits. We'll have to go in on foot and Tii'jan's no good in an all out fight. You and me alone couldn't do it all. It's all my fault…" She started to tear up.

Nemesis looked at her and remembered the old days. They had been kids then, just starting their careers and learning the ropes. Aire had been a rookie pilot and made mistakes often. She had also been a crybaby. Nemesis came back to reality and noticed that Aire was little different. He was suddenly very sympathetic.

Nemesis put a hand on her shoulder. "Don't worry, Aire. It wasn't your fault. You're still just a kid and shouldn't be getting mixed up in these kinds of things. According to Tii'jan we're going to be getting into some tough shit as soon as he unleashes the Always back into the world. I can't put your life in danger because of our mission. I want you to stay here in Giklon where it's safe… well, relatively of at least." He got up and walked to where Tii'jan was standing, studying a map of the area.

"So what's the plan?" Nemesis asked. He was edgy from the previous conversation. Having known Aire as long as he had, he knew that she wouldn't take that as an answer and would at least attempt to follow them the next day.

Tii'jan looked up, a twinge of sympathy in his eye. It disappeared when Nemesis shook his head slightly, yet pointedly, letting him know it was not a topic for discussion. Not yet, at least. "Well, here's what I can figure. According to the news story, the Always should be right around here," he said, pointing to a point several miles northwest of Giklon. "It is at the very edge of the Frozen Wastes. I have felt a strong force of evil flowing down in the air from there. We can expect resistance to our taking it, so I hope you can fight with that arm. I don't know if we'll have time for that scouting mission Aire mentioned earlier. If we allow enough of the Enemy to amass there, then we may never be able to get to it. I've got a spell tucked away that might be able to help you, though."

Tii'jan pulled a small manual out of his cloak. He flipped several pages and began to read. "Bak'tor Amnya Mis'koro Kimina!" he chanted, waving the Eternal Flame's staff in Nemesis' direction. And he ended it with one last word that seemed separate from the others. "Taye." Nemesis felt his arm change slightly and he looked down at it. It seemed to be levitating away from his body. Tii'jan proceeded to explain. "That spell is a variation on my leviatation spell that allows me to pass control onto another person and is therefore more difficult to cast. That last component I threw in gave you feeling in your arm again. You can now control the movement of the broken arm with your own will. Try it."

Nemesis wondered about this for a long minute then gave it a try. He semi-subconciously thought of his arm moving to the hilt of his sword and it did. He suddenly had feeling and felt the familiar texture of the blade's hilt. Nemesis drew the blade and felt its weight again. "How long will it last?" he asked the elf.

"Until I want it to stop or my energy runs out. As long as it's active, the spell will drain my magic powers little by little. So sheath the sword again so I can disable it. We'll need all we can get for tomorrow's battle." With that, Nemesis replaced the blade and his arm fell limp again as Tii'jan stopped the spell. He proceeded to put an uncomfortably rigid splint of scrap wood on it and all three of them rested, though Nemesis kept one eye open the whole night. He knew this city well and was not about to let it get the drop on him.