The Rising - Ennead 2

Scene 12.3 - Through the Looking Glass

I was too confused to complain when Trip grabbed my wrist, dragging me along, towards the danger. When we were almost across the football pitch however, I found my senses.

I slipped my hand out of his grasp and took a few steps back. He looked at me, confused. If the idiot wanted to go be a hero, he had the absolute right to go ahead. Me? I was going to do the smart thing.

"Trust me," he pleaded, I know what's coming. "you're safer with me."

He was absolutely sure of every word. I was not as convinced. My instincts were screaming to do one thing only. Move away from the danger, whatever it was.

"EWURA!!"

A familiar voice called out, frantic. I knew it too well. Moments later, my brother came over to the top of the rise that dipped towards to the field on which I stood.

The last thing on this face was relief when he saw I was alive. At least that was the last thing before a shadowy blur tore him down and ripped out his throat.

Maybe it was fear. But I swear I heard his bones crunching as the thing dug into him. Dark blood was splurting and splashing everywhere as he was torn apart.

I froze. It was beyond fear. The thing had paused from it's single minded carnage, and now I was nailed down by feral red eyes.

I could dimly hear Trip barking, "Don't move! Stay behind me. Okay?"

The thing looked canine, but it was twice as large as anything I had ever seen, and it had three slavering heads instead of one. One pair of those eyes were locked on to me, glowing dark red. I literally pissed my pants.

I stumbled backwards a little, and then Trip was there, his chest against my back. "Don't move," he whispered into my ear as his hands gripped my arms firmly when I tried to wriggle away, "It smells fear but can't see too well."

I whimpered a tiny bit when I looked at it again. This time, he sounded disbelieving when he asked, "You can see it too?"

I didn't have time to answer before the thing started bounding towards us.

Whilst he struggled to keep me from moving, Trip somehow managed to shove dull metal rings onto his fingers.

It was now three leaps away.

"Freedom and honor!" He gasped as he sucked in a deep breath.

The beast was barely one leap away.

He spun clockwise and threw me to the ground, then...

CRACK!

It sounded like a gun had gone off when his elbow connected. The thing rolled away and scrambled back onto its feet. One of its heads lolled to the side, eyes closed, out for the count.

My dad used to love boxing, so I know a fighter when I see one. How had I not seen it in Trip?

His hands were up in a boxer's guard. Left handed, so his right hand was leading as he bounced easily on his toes. The rings on his fingers had disappeared, and in their place, open finger silver and brass gloves covered his hands.

His eyes though. Those eyes were the things that changed the most. Gone was the genial, pampered easy-going guy. Those eyes, the ones that replaced the old ones, were feral.

He taunted the beast with his leading hand and it charged right in. He pounded it with a left hook and then wove under a dangerously heavy paw before he pushed it back with a brutal knee.

Now the thing was cautious. Those glowing red eyes studied their opponent as it circled, first left then right.

It faked left then bounded right, straight towards me.

I barely let out an "EEP!" before Trip was there, out of nowhere. His right shoulder was bare inches from my face as a bestial head gnawed on it. Blood, his blood, was warm as it splattered onto my face.

I was too scared to move. This was unreal. That black Cerberus-thing was not supposed to be to exist. I desperately tried waking up. I didn't work.

Trip got free of the thing, but his shoulder was a mess. His left arm was still good, though, and before the beast could react he began to rain blows on it with his one good hand.

Each hit sounded louder than the last. Dark, inky ichor began to splatter and the beast started to keen and wail. Its cries were a sound reminiscent of nothing less than nightmares.

Finally, my defender finished the beast off with an uppercut that made the air around his fist ripple. A gleaming bronze blade sprung from somewhere on his wrist and tore through the thing's spine just a moment before it collapsed into black dust.

The threat was gone.

Trip turned back to me. Gleaming Prince Astor was back -- kind of. His mushed up shoulder didn't look as bad as it should have, and he reached out a hand to help me up from where I was sprawled.

"You okay Ewuresi?" He asked.

His attempt at my name was comical for some insane reason. I began to giggle, madly delirious, before my emotions caught up and the tears started.