Displaced

Chapter 57

A chilling wind atop the wall whipped through Arlette's hair and made her eyes water. Blinking repeatedly to clear her vision, she sidestepped the swing of an incoming warhammer and rushed forward. The massive weapon continued on its arc towards Kima Escarain, who bent backwards to the point that her body looked like an arch as the hammer's head sailed over her. Twisting about unnaturally, the small spearwoman thrust up at her opponent from below at an equally awkward, unexpected angle, forcing the hammer-wielder to quickly hop back.

Arlette slipped past the pair. Kima could handle this on her own, Arlette was sure. The small woman wasn't much on power, but she made up for it by being nearly impossible to hit. It seemed her Feeler ability allowed her to contort herself in ways that no person should be capable of as if her entire body was double-jointed, avoiding hits in ways others couldn't and striking from strange, unusual directions. Against a slower melee opponent, Arlette didn't have to worry about her. Kima would handle it just fine. Meanwhile, Arlette would focus on something she herself was good at and take out the Observer in the back.

The Observer, a man of average height and build with short green hair and a scar over one of his eyes, spotted her as she approached, her real body ducking to the right while her illusory clone mirrored her to the left. The man froze for a split second before sending a small blast of flame towards the fake Arlette. The real Arlette smiled. They fell for it so often.

The gout of flame blasted through the fake Arlette's space as real Arlette flashed forward, a deadly thrust aiming for the Observer's side, but unexpectedly, she did not feel the telltale resistance of blade on flesh. Instead, the man swayed back, avoiding the incoming sword, and in one smooth motion grabbed her outreached arm on the wrist and pulled her forward. A foot caught her leg and she tumbled to the ground as the sword was wrenched from her hands. The next thing she knew, the man was on top of her as he drew a dagger from beneath his tunic.

What.

Arlette didn't have time to pull out a knife of her own. She could only reach out with her hand and grab the man's wrist as best she could, trying with all her strength to stave off a quick and sudden death. Unfortunately, the man was stronger than her and had gravity and leverage on his side. Try as she might, the blade slowly descended towards her chest. Realizing that she couldn't stop the blade, she quickly shifted tactics and tried to redirect it, desperately she twisted her shoulders while pushing the knife to the side.

The given the sudden lack of resistance, the man drove the dagger deep into Arlette's left shoulder, sending waves of pain roaring through her body. A furious pained growl escaped her lips as she continued to wrestle with the Observer, using her good right arm to keep the knife buried in her shoulder instead of somewhere much worse. The man snarled and a ball of flame flashed into existence just above her. Muttering several choice expletives, Arlette released her grip on the man's wrist to backhand him across the face as hard as she could. His head rocked back and the flame disappeared just before it could plummet down and roast her face into cinders.

Arlette hadn't even been sure that her panicked tactic would even work. Observers needed focus and concentration to manifest their abilities. Break their concentration, be it through pain or some other method, and any phenomenon they'd created that wasn't fully manifested would disappear. However, a few talented and highly trained Observers were able to maintain their focus through all sorts of situations. Given this man's reactions to her attack and the scar across his face, she'd thought it possible that he was one of these formidable veterans of battle. It seemed, however, that he was not.

Unfortunately for her, by releasing his hands to strike his head, Arlette had also forfeited her ability to hold off his knife. Another wave of pain washed over her as the knife was pulled from her wound, and the man brought the dagger up for another strike towards her heart. She was out of ideas.