You Can Run

The Experience

Pierre stopped in his tracks as he watched the chaos unfold. Esmaael had led him to the heart of the onslaught: fires blazing with rigour unmatched, eating away at the straw roofs in nanoseconds, jumping from one roof to another. He could hear someone scream; one of the flames had attacked a man with grey-streaked hair, engulfing his left arm in hot, slithering lava.

No, Pierre chided himself. Fire can't do that.

The man attacked the blaze with an ivory spear, somehow extinguishing the flame.

Ivory can't put out fires, can it?

"Here!" Esmaael handed him a staff made of the same white material. It felt metallic, smooth and cold to the touch.

"Bonesteel," Esmaael informed, fighting off a flame himself. "It's the only thing that can kill these things!"

A glaring snake slithered towards Pierre, causing him to back up against someone. He swung his staff wildly, trying to hit the creature but it was faster, transforming into a seven foot tall giant and striking him across the face with such force, Pierre got knocked into a nearby tree.

He blinked hard, trying to clear his vision of tiny flickers of light and got to his feet. A boy, merely a teenager, tried hard to fight three of those giants all at once. Pierre moved as fast as his vertigo would allow and swung his staff at one of the giants.

Dear God, Pierre thought to himself. If I get out of this alive, I'll become a priest.

The giant turned to face him, and just then Pierre looked at its hideous face.

Jet black eyes like those of a beetle over a brown face that closely resembled burnt bread. Its nose resembled a snout, but was pressed back into its face and a serpentine tongue licked its non existent lips. It cried out— a guttural mix between the bray of a donkey and a cat's yowl. Pierre braced himself for a fight as the giant raised a barrel sized hand, ready to swat him away but this time—

Pierre defended the attack.

It came as a greater shock to him than it did to the giant, which merely hissed and withdrew from the staff, holding his hand. And then it occurred to him:

The staff harms them.

Pierre could see a burn mark where the staff had hit the creature. Its skin had turned to leather. Another blazing snake made its way towards Pierre, and this time Pierre struck it on the head, causing it to wriggle on the ground in discomfort.

"Stab its head!" The boy shouted, demonstrating his advice by stabbing another slithering snake and then striking a giant on its bare red torso.

Pierre looked at the squirming snake in front of him, and took a deep breath.

Don't dawdle about! He must be losing it if he could hear James, his foreman right now, Pierre thought to himself, as he stabbed the snake's head. But instead of blood and gore, the snake transformed into a plume of dust and smoke.

"They only die in their snake form," the boy panted. "You can't kill their humanoid figures." He wiped a hand across his faint moustache, wiping away the sweat that had pooled there. Pierre nodded, and shook his hand.

"Thanks," he coughed, the smoke from earlier irritating his throat.

"Don't mention it," The boy answered, walking off, with his ivory sword in hand. Pierre turned his head around, looking for Esmaael. He was instead met with a shove to his back, pushing him onto the rough ground. He turned around, scooting away as he looked for what pushed him, but then—

Something rose behind him.

Pierre didn't think: he swung his staff behind him as he got up, grazing something invisible.