Be sure to read Part 1 here
Then, when you are finished with this part, read the end of the story in Part 3
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Bight jerked into a sitting position, hands shooting to his neck. A fire raged from the unbroken skin. Wrestling with the grimace on his face, he leaned back into his seat. The pull on the back of his head lessened as slack returned to the wire attached to him. A sigh left his mouth, taking with it the cold bite of the knife. He lowered his hand and opened his eyes.
Blacked out walls encircled him, barely wide enough for the reclined chair he sat in. Set into the front of the dark pod was a small, vibrant screen. On it he could see Pross’ Knight cutting down the opposing Thief, Bight’s own lifeless body lying next to him.
“That looked painful.” Serk’s voice came through a speaker behind his head.
“It’s not bad,” Bight said.
“Good job taking out the Firecaster though.”
“Thanks.”
“But I don’t think that elf was their Healer.”
“You don’t say? Apparently they decided to send their Wind Dancer on the offensive for once.”
“Apparently. At least the others don’t have to deal with him without us.”
“Who all is left?” Bight asked.
“Sig just died. Lep, Dat, Charles and I were ambushed on our way,” a new voice said before he could find the roster on the screen.
“Don’t pretend it wasn’t your fault, Key,” another voice said.
“Now don’t start bickering,” Bight said. “So that leaves Pross, Div and Scrie left?”
“They don’t have to last much longer though,” Serk said.
Bight’s eyes shifted to the top right corner of the screen. A timer counted down above Pross’ knightly form as he ran back toward the front of the fortress; forty-three gave way to forty-two.
The image changed to Div’s elvish form as Bight swiped his hand across the air. A small smile wormed its way onto his face as he watched her lithe character twirl around a column and swing her shortsword through an opposing Archer’s bow and into his neck. She withdrew her blade and danced back behind cover in time to avoid the second Archer’s shot. With all the grace being an elf demanded, she sheathed her weapon, pulled her bow off her back, nocked an arrow, sidestepped into the open and launched her missile into the face of her opponent.
“Yeah! Go Div!” Key said.
“Don’t celebrate yet, their Icecaster is almost to our flag,” Scrie said. “Icicles hurt.”
“He won’t get out of the fortress in the next ten seconds. Serk, you’re with me when we respawn to hunt him down,” Bight said.
“Got it,” the other boy said.
“Good, everyone else, meet at the entrance so we can plan our attack.” Before the others could respond, Bight’s eyes fell shut and his body went limp.
A tingling sensation played on the back of his head as his mind rebelled at a flood of new information. The muggy, sweat-scented interior of the pod was replaced by fresh, crisp air complemented by a hint of tossed dirt.
A doorway into the fortress’ main building stood in front of him. Stretched out along the wall in either direction stood his team, minus the two that had survived the last bout.
He nodded at Serk and together they rushed forward through the doorway into the building. Low torchlight illuminated the open room and the empty pedestal situated between four entrances.
Serk chanted and a new, bluish light filled the room, emanating from his staff. Once it reached the pedestal, navy footprints appeared. They lead in through the door on their left, walked to the stand, then left through the door on their right.
“Let’s go!” Bight dashed over the trail of tracks, leaving the robed Wizard struggling to keep up. The wind pushed on his back and drew his legs farther across the ground.
His daggers were drawn and ready to attack the Icecaster before he passed through a second archway. A red banner covered much of the Mage’s body. The only parts of his pale blue robes Bight could see were the sleeves, which covered outstretched arms. His hands waved as he chanted. The wall in front of him was freezing over like a lake in winter.
As the Mage stopped his incantation and wheeled around, Bight angled his feet toward the wall. A chill ran down his spine just before he reached it. His boots fell to the wall and he continued his run along it.
He made it three steps before an icicle point made to intercept his eye. He was about to die again already, this time with a brain freeze. Then the icicle exploded into tiny shards that hit him like a gentle snowfall. Another chill took his spine, slowing the Mage’s next attack.
Bight took his newfound time to give Serk a nod of thanks he would never see. Turning back to his enemy, he pushed off the wall and swung his daggers. They cleaved through the Icecaster’s neck, toppling his head from his shoulders.
Once the deed was done, Bight crashed to the ground at normal speed. He panted into the dirt.
“You alright?” Serk asked.
“Yeah. Remind me never to combine those two abilities again.”
“Need a boost?”
“No, I’ll be fine in a moment. Take the flag back and meet the others at the front.”
The Wizard pulled the banner off the mage’s body and set off the way they had come.
Bight stayed kneeling with his head bowed until strength returned to his limbs. He pushed himself up and jogged along the wall into the maze at the front of the fortress. He found the front gate just as Serk did. Div and Pross were talking, the others standing around them.
“And the Wind Dancer?” Div was saying. “Nice job Pross.”
“For the record, I handed him that Wind Dancer kill,” Bight said.
“Yeah?”
“Yeah, he kinda did. Kicked the guy right down to me,” Pross said.
“Well then good job on the team work,” Div said.
“Yeah, sure,” Bight said. “Enough talk, we need to play. I say we go after them with everything we’ve got. Everyone rush together.”
“Too late for that,” a new voice said. Bight spun around to see the opposing Thief standing in Sig’s place, her reptilian form at his feet.
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Read Part 3 here