Chapter 185 - Breaking Chains

More than anything, Clay wished he’d gathered more stat crystals. He’d done what he could, and as one of the leaders at the Farm, he’d certainly been given more access than many to what resources they had. But they were a small community, and in spite of their luck against several monster domains, like the ants and goblins, there was simply a depth of scale to Eddings’ operation that Selena’s lacked. They had a lot more people bringing in crystals, so they had more of them to distribute to key fighters.

That was never more obvious than in his duel with Turner.

When they’d last trained together, Clay’s biggest concern had been about not hurting his commander by accident! Turner had been decent at his job, but he wasn’t a highly physical leader, preferring to command from behind his desk. That wasn’t strange, at the man’s rank. But this new version of Turner was very different.

Turner rained down blows against Clay’s defenses, seeking to create openings through sheer volume of attacks. There still wasn’t much finesse to the man’s strikes, but thanks to the upgrades Peter had granted him, Turner was now both faster and stronger than Clay. It was a twist he hadn’t expected and struggled to handle.

“Getting tired yet?” Turner asked as he brought his sword in for three more strikes, each one whipping toward Clay like flashes of lightning.

He parried two, but barely, and the third opened a small cut. Turner was nicking him with some of those blows. Each wound was relatively small, but they were beginning to add up.

In spite of that, he poured all the bravado he could muster into his reply. “Not even close.”

Clay’s Stamina was his top score, after all. He’d done that intentionally, figuring that he could work as a shield and help soak blows which might kill someone else. It also let him keep going even when things were darkest. Now he wished his Agility and Strength were just as high, though, because having a lack in those areas was hurting him.

Another series of slashes sent his way, and another small wound. Turner wasn’t going for a quick kill. Farnsworth wasn’t sure his old commander had the swordsmanship to manage it even if he wanted to, but this ‘death by a thousand cuts’ method would work fine too, eventually.

Clay managed a quick glance at his friends, enough to see they were still up and fighting. One guard had fallen back, maybe wounded, which felt like a good sign. That was all the time he could spare, though, and it cost him a three-inch slice along his forehead. Blood dripped down his face, threatening to fall into his eyes. Not great.

Turner closed with him, coming sword to sword in an Errol Flynn style clinch. “You’re going to die here at my hands. I am so glad I was the one who caught you, because I’ve wanted to make you pay for turning on us ever since you left with that bitch.”

Clay pushed back hard, at first using just his arms. It wasn’t enough to shove Turner away. But when he put his mass into it, that made more of a difference, forcing Turner to stumble back a step.

That was interesting.

Turner sent in two more slashes with his weapon, but Clay blocked them while his thoughts raced. Turner was very strong, thanks to magic. But the colonel was still a slender man, whereas Clay had a body built like a steam-roller. Maybe that was the answer?

Clay stepped inside Turner’s guard, taking a slice to his shoulder as he did. The wound burned, but he’d accomplished his goal—their chests were only about a foot apart. Clay put all the force he could muster into an open-palm strike and slammed it home, directly into the center of Turner’s breastplate.

The steel armor bent, denting in around the imprint of Clay’s hand. Turner flew backward, sailing three feet before stumbling and falling to the ground. He rose in a flash, that high Agility still serving him well, but speed and power weren’t enough without skill, and Farnsworth had decades more hand to hand practice than his foe.

Clay closed the gap in a rush, dropping his sword so he could grab Turner’s shoulder and right wrist. With a quick step, he moved his hip so that he could roll Turner over it, dropping the man back to the ground again. This time, Turner lost his grip on his sword. It clattered to the ground a few feet away.

“Why won’t you die?” Turner shouted. He pulled a dagger from his belt and stabbed upward as Clay dropped to one knee and delivered another hammer-like blow to his chest plate.

The knife stabbed into Clay’s abdomen, burning like fire. Turner stabbed twice before Clay managed to get his hands around the man’s throat. After that, the dagger clattered to the ground as Turner’s hands went to Clay’s wrists, straining to pull his hands free.

Turner’s face went red. He gasped for air, but there wasn’t any to be found.

With a final crack, Clay squeezed and broke his foe’s neck. Turner went limp, all the fight out of him. He wasn’t breathing anymore, either, but there was still enough light in his eyes that Clay knew the man was alive. His magic might keep him that way, even heal him if his Stamina score was high enough. People augmented sufficiently by magic were damned difficult to kill.

Clay stood and scooped his sword back up. Patches and Kara had wrapped their fight; only the one wounded guard remained alive, and he’d surrendered to them. “You two okay?”

“We are,” Patches replied. “You too?”

Clay nodded. He hurt everywhere, and he was bleeding from a dozen or so small wounds, including a few that probably would have been mortal, pre-Event. But he’d live. “I’ll make it.”

Then he went back to Turner. The man’s eyes tracked his movement. He saw pleading there, and desperation, but there was no time for mercy here, nor was he inclined to grant it, after the things Turner had done.

“Goodbye, Colonel,” Clay said. Then he sliced the man’s head from his body. Even with magic, that should be enough to ensure Turner never came back to bother them again.

He turned to face the rest of his team. Kara was finishing tying up the remaining guard while Patches held the man at knifepoint. “You two okay?”

“We are,” Kara replied. “Turner?”

“No longer an issue.”

She glanced over his way, eyebrows shooting up when she spotted Turner’s head a foot away from the rest of him. “I can see that! You loot his crystals?”

“Not yet,” Clay replied, turning back to take care of it. He tapped the body and a pile of crystals tumbled into his hand.

Turner had a dozen socketed. The tier six Stamina merged with the one he already had right away, ranking that up to tier seven. There were also tier seven Strength and Agility stones, but he’d have to add those later. Clay pocketed them for the time being. It was time to see about the baby dragons.

Kara saw him staring at the dragonets and came to stand beside him. “You want to try talking to them, or want me to?”

“I can try, I guess,” Clay replied. He wasn’t sure what to say, though. Could they understand English? He was pretty sure the mom could, but what about the babies? Only one way to tell, he supposed.

He stepped closer to the nest, the dragonets’ eyes growing wider as he drew near. They shied away from him.

“It’s okay,” Clay said, holding out his hands, palms open. “I’m here to help. We’ve come to rescue you and take you back to your mother.”

Like those were the magic words, the dragonets started making little peeping noises and dashed over toward him. Clay wasn’t sure if he was being attacked or not as they launched themselves into the air, wings fluttering madly to get them high enough to land…in his arms.

The dragonets made little cooing noises as he held them, a bemused expression on his face.

“Aw, look at the cute new friends you made!” Kara said.

Before he could reply, a massive crashing impact shook the walls around them.

“That from outside,” Patches said.

“We’ve been too long. Selena has to be fighting Peter out there, by now,” Kara added.

“Then let’s move!” Clay replied. “With me.”

There was a secondary door to this place. That was probably how Turner and the guards got in; Clay doubted they’d come down there through Eddings’ apartments. But he didn’t know where that one let out, so he carried the dragonets back the way they’d come, his feet hitting a jog as he left the cavern behind.

Kara and Patches fell in behind, him, moving fast to catch up. Clay already knew where all the traps were; they’d marked the safe path on the way in, so getting out was a lot faster and easier. Just a quick minute later, they were back up in Peter’s rooms.

Kara raced to the windows, the ones which overlooked the courtyard, and let out a gasp.

“What do you see?” Clay asked.

“Both dragons. They crashed out there, and Tenebris is down. The mom dragon is about to kill him!” Kara shouted.

They were out of time.

“I’ve got this,” Clay said. Both dragonets still clung to Clay. They needed to be outside, now! He wrapped his arms around them and leaned in close to say “Hold on to me tight!”

Then before his friends could tell him this was stupid and crazy, he did the only thing he could think of and raced forward toward the massive windows. Shielding the dragonets with his arms, Clay jumped through the glass. It shattered with a crashing sound and then he was falling, dropping toward the ground below. The window was on the second story, so it wasn’t too far a fall, and his knees soaked the impact well enough.

The move caught the attention of the red dragon right away, of course. Her snarling face dropped almost level with Clay’s head, steam and smoke billowing from her nostrils. Momma dragon saw he had her babies, and she was not happy about it!