Ashes of Love and War - TodoMomo

||Chapter 23 ~ Part 1||

On the western edge of Dicaea, past the taverns and perfumed pornai, elongated corridors of wooden and stone buildings stood proudly at the edge of the harbor. Towering walls of the warehouses were erected to protect the city's goods, preventing those with slippery hands from pilfering the valuables inside — or from the valuables escaping by themselves.

A high-pitched scream tore through the night.

In front of a larger warehouse, slavers stood blocking and beating men and women back inside. A body lay on the ground unmoving and was soon kicked to the side as the slavers and city guards advanced.

Wooden sticks and whips cracked against pale flesh. The smell of rust was thick in the air. Bright red blood dripped from fresh lacerations. The liquid fell like raindrops onto the stone road and smeared underneath sandaled feet.

On the other side of the commotion — down a narrow alley — Momo stood facing a tall, broad-shouldered man.

The clouds parted, and the moon gleamed silver off the tip of Momo's spear. She could feel the warm presence of the freed slave, Toru Hagakure, close behind her like a guardian spirit. It provided her with a little comfort as the crisp wind blew across the street, carrying the heavy smell of fear and violence.

"I'll hold him off. Go help the others," Momo said in a low voice to Hagakure. She didn't wait for a response. There wasn't any time. She would just have to trust that Hagakure would do as asked.

The wind rustled Momo's short chiton around her thighs. She slid into an offensive stance.

The man adjacent to her chuckled darkly. "The little rat wants to play? Very well." He reached into his chiton and pulled something out. "In honor of you killing my men and being such a nuisance, I'll give you something special."

Sticking out his long tongue, the head slaver placed a pebble-sized crimson berry in his mouth and swallowed it back.

For a moment, nothing happened. Then the slaver groaned in pain. There was a ripping sound. Red mist seemed to pour out of his body.

His skin tore.

Flayed.

Momo gasped, shrinking back in horror as his body began to expand. The ripping sound was replaced by a curdling, chilling sound of bones breaking and reforming. It filled Momo's ears like an infection, drowning out the chaos from behind her.

A shiver of terror ran down Momo's spine. But she stood frozen, unable to move, unable to tear her gaze away as she watched muscles and sinews erupt out of his torn, bloody body. They slithered like serpents over each other, twisting and coiling to form giant gauntlets of blood and tissue.

The slaver hissed between his teeth. He slowly rose up, a giant.

Straightening, he cracked his neck. Crimson liquid leaked down his arms and saturated the front of the slaver's stretched chiton, dyeing him red. Then he looked at her, and his lips twisted up into something malicious. His teeth flashed as his black eyes met Momo's.

"What's wrong, little rat? Don't tell me you're scared already? The fun hasn't even started."

Momo swallowed hard. The blood had drained from her face, and she could feel her heartbeat resonate in her teeth.

Instinctually, Momo knew this fight could only end in one of two ways: death or victory. There would be nothing in between. And Momo also knew, now more than ever, she had every reason to live, to rage against any obstacle that stood in her path. She needed to save the slaves and return to Todoroki's side.

But could she do it?

Alone?

Her heart pounded heavily, blood coursing in her veins, as Momo took in the slaver's new form. Her hands were moist with anxiety. And she forced her fingers not to show her fear.

'You're a godslayer.'

Todoroki's deep voice drew to the forefront of her thoughts. And Momo's throat tightened.

'I can do it. I must do it.'

Momo sucked in a deep breath. Conviction swelling, she tightened her fingers around her spear and lunged forward.

The head slaver laughed and swatted at her. Momo dropped low, dodging his fist. She whipped her spear around and struck, aiming for his exposed neck.

But, despite his increased size, the slaver was fast. He twisted, and her weapon ricocheted off his shoulder.

Momo's hands quivered as her spear bounced off the corded muscle, and she stumbled back.

The bloody twining muscles were as hard as metal.

"Nice try, rat." The slaver chuckled low in his throat. He pivoted, and his fist flung backhanded towards her before Momo could even brace herself.

She dodged, but not fast enough. His fist clipped her side, and Momo tumbled backwards, slamming into the dirt.

The pain was indescribable. He had only grazed her, but it was as if Momo's innards had been smashed.

Slowly — too slowly — Momo's senses returned. She felt her face and hands against the ground. The dirt and her hair plastered against her cheek. Her chest was heaving.

Momo pushed herself up using her spear as support.

In the back of her mind, she noted that she could no longer see Hagakure. And Momo prayed that she had found a way to assist the other slaves. Momo wasn't so naïve as to think that they all could escape, but she could hope.

She spit out the dirt that caked her lips. Sand and gravel lingered on Momo's tongue, but the coppery taste of blood wasn't there.

No internal damage.

It was a small mercy, but Momo would take anything the gods gave her.

Momo wiped at her mouth and swung her spear around to sink into a defensive position, just as Tokoyami had taught her back in Troy.

The man let out a bark of laughter. "What's wrong, little rat?" The slaver's expression was gleeful. His eyes shone in victory. "Is that all you have? Where's that fire from yesterday?"

What could she do?

Momo tried to think. If she took one of his punches directly, she likely wouldn't survive. Whatever magic he had used was too strong for her spear to pierce. The only weak spots she could locate were his neck and feet. The rest of his body was carefully guarded by coiling, bulging muscles.

She wet her dry lips. Her heart pounded. She needed time to think of a winning strategy.

Close by, screams of alarm sounded.

Momo jerked her head up. Behind the head slaver, men and women raced out into the street. They stumbled and tripped over each other as they poured out of the warehouse, slavers on their tails.

Even through the fear racing through her heart, Momo couldn't help but feel a thread of pride at seeing the men and women. Hagakure had done it. She had found a way to turn the tide and free the men and women who had been trapped.

"What the fuck!"

The head slaver roared. He twisted and grabbed a boy who, disoriented, stumbled too close.

Momo's hands tightened around her spear, and she bolted forward.

The slaver pivoted and swung his fist at her. She skidded under the blow and struck out. Her spear sliced through his heels.

The slaver howled in pain and released the boy. The kid hit the dirt and quickly crawled out of range as the head slaver spun on her, his fist flying out.

This time, Momo was ready.