The Cat Who Knew How to Cry

9. SINGED CATS (part 3)

The five mages spun around all as one. Er was sporting a hideous grin. He executed a mocking bow in Anar's direction, and instantly a deluge of magical projectiles of various sizes and colors descended upon the fugitive prince. Anar dodged, avoiding the most primitive of them, and disintegrated the rest with quick waves of his hands. His palms began to ache.

Anar snatched his sword and hurled it into the air. The blade hung over his head, shimmering crimson with sunlight. Anar could not stand storing energy for his spells in his own body, and the sword was perfect for this purpose – a kind of semi-sentient golden spindle.

Let's test your wits, thought Anar, and went on to the next act of the show. At his command, a cloud of dry earth soared into the air. Taking refuge in this dusty pit, Anar produced a small mirror from his pocket and waited. Not ten seconds had passed when a matte pink bundle of energy stuck out from the wall of earth like a mole's snout. It stuck its head out and immediately ducked back from a swift kick of counter-magic. There was a pained scream, followed by an explosion.

"Idiots, indeed!" Anar observed.

"Cease! He's got a mirror!" Er roared at his subordinates.

In the next second, adroitly slinking between the clumps of earth, a stream of darkness zipped towards Anar's mirror. The Alae barely had time to fling the amulet away – the moment the stream caught the mirror, both disappeared, leaving behind a cloudlet of glitter.

The wall was no longer necessary, and Anar hardly hesitated before hurling it at the mages. Without giving them a moment to recover, he folded his hands together like a little box, whispered the magic words, and opened them again as if releasing a large butterfly. The lookout mage was torn to pieces, literally smeared on the surface of his own defensive sphere. The untimely deceased's neighbor fared no better than the sentry...

Another of his companions was met with a slightly kinder fate. Upon finding a kink in his defense, Anar opened a small portal over the poor bastard's head just at the moment when the other began to raise his hands, finishing a spell of his own. Weighed down by the magic of the Curtain, the portal immediately slammed shut, slicing the magician's hands off cleanly. The victim howled wildly and doubled over, pressing the stumps to his chest, then shifted into cat form and took to his heels. Anar winced compassionately.

In contrast, Er proved fully deserving of his title of Amialis' best mage. Straining and grunting, he swung his arm in a wide arc, and Anar was horrified to find that all his protective shells slid off him. He didn't even have time to figure out how it happened. Fortunately, his sword immediately called up a wave of brown fog, temporarily preventing the enemy from directing spells at him. Under this shoddy cover, Anar ran to the side and began to weave a new protective sphere. Remembering the recent lessons, the mages were in no hurry to attack.

Meanwhile, some bizarre things were happening behind them. The "marmalade" began to bubble, a vermiform appendage swelling from it. It grew larger, and sank lower and lower. Then it touched the ground, let out a hiss and became shrouded in a cloud of steam. For a moment it lay, pulsing rhythmically, hanging from the ring like a monstrous inflamed appendix, and then began to rapidly turn upwards. Its surface grew taut, forming spots all over. At the top, Anar could see the outlines of two dark disks. Eyes? he thought.

Swinging from side to side, the freshly molded creature suddenly threw its entire mass at one of the mages, entombing him in its fiery belly. The poor wretch didn't stand a chance...

Reinforcements arrived for Er's team. The mages stopped short at a respectful distance – either they holding a mei pause or unsure of whom to attack. Or maybe they just didn't know what to make of the creepy blistering slug.