Chapter 5

5.
         Actually it didn't quite happen that way, that was just for overtly dramatic effect. Sorry.
         The first signs drifted on waves of sound toward the ears of Agent Two, who with his sensitive hearing could pick out even the faintest of sounds. And he heard heavy boots, and growling and grunting and all the things that one wouldn't normally associate with a normal human village. It was weird to say the least but he didn't really dwell on it. Things would take their proper course, he had found from past experience and in trying to force things you normally didn't get the result you wanted. Not that he was really sure what he wanted.
         When the screams started, first distant and then getting nearer, punctuated by inhuman howls of pleasure, he knew that trouble was headed their way. The clomping came closer until he caught the dimmest of shadows passing by the window. Almost there.
         And then, at that point, when he spoke to Tristian about magic, the door was kicked in.
         Both Johan and Mari gave simultaneous gasps of surprise and terror. Tristian merely stared. What walked in was hulking, about seven foot tall and dark skinned. The body seemed to be pure muscle, standing on skinny legs that didn't seem to be able to hold the weight. In one arm was a sword. The other was something that might have once been a head. The actual head of the thing itself was a tusked, toothy affair, all ugliness and dirt rolled into something that mothers had no choice but to love because something like this would beat them otherwise.
         Tristian moved first without even thinking about it. The fact that he had no weapons and this thing was raising a jagged, somewhat rusty but rather large sword at him was something that he could think about later when he made it out alive. But already a second one was striding in, shoving past the other to get at the rest of the people in the room.
         "Seal the door off before we have a room full of those things!" Tristian screamed at the Agent, who seemed to blink himself awake and wave an arm in the general direction of the door. Another one was starting to come in just as a crimson and gold shield flickered into existence. There was the start of a grunt of surprise and then nothing as the shield neatly cut the thing in half.
         Tristian dove at the first one, not really sure what to do about it. It looked at him and sort of laughed, though it stopped laughing when Tristian landed a punch right where the chest was supposed to be. His hand met something rough, almost like leather and he felt the shock radiate up his entire arm. Then his whole body felt the shock as the thing backhanded him, sending him flying across the room, hitting the wall with an audible thud and sliding down to the floor in a mild daze. In the distance, even farther away then his approaching opponent he could see the second one making his way toward Johan. Hopefully Johan knew how to use the sword, but Tristian had no time for that.
         Had to move. He just knew that and he felt the conditioning stirring the life back inside of him just as his eyes caught the flash of a sword above him, ready to come down. He moved to dodge and instead caught a foot in the face. He managed to turn to avoid most of the force but it still sent him spinning against the wall. More laughter followed. He had to end this before people got killed.
         It all came so simply to him suddenly that he almost forgot how much he hated the feeling. No weapons. Don't need any. The body can be a weapon when applied correctly. His foot shot out like a bullet tethered to his torso, slamming right into the center of the large beast's chest. There was a grunt and the smallest of cracks and the thing almost lifted off the ground. By the time it recovered Tristian was pressing his attack, feeling the coldness of everything around him.
         Almost in slow motion the sword drifted at him, intending to slice off his head. His arm shot out to stop it and he felt incredible force there, rocking his entire body. There was no doubt that this thing could chop his head off. If he gave it the chance. He didn't plan on that. If the body couldn't be hurt, there were other fragile areas. And his hand darted around even as his foot snaked up and clocked it in the chin. He felt a jaw shatter like glass even as his arm jammed the thing's arm in a way that it didn't mean to go. Bone splintered. The thing muttered something obscene and tried to fling Tristian away.
         He could have none of that and danced back to escape a crushing arm just in time to dance back in. The odor of the thing was rank, heavy with sweat. Black blood was dribbling down its chin as Tristian lashed out with his hand again, ignoring the pain of striking the bony face, some part of him relishing the growl of surprise and agony as the head whipped to the side. Tristian didn't plan on giving it a chance to turn back, instead launching himself forward and grabbing the head with both hands, feeling both arms battering at him. Tristian merely tightened his mouth into a thin line and twisted with everything he had, feeling the creature resist, feeling the head slowly turning, turning, passing the point where it wasn't supposed to turn, feeling the resistance, more frantic now, but with resignation. Then the crack seemed to erupt through his body and the thing suddenly sagged, the puppet no longer having strings.
         He let the dead thing drop to his feet, twisting his body to survey the rest of the room. Johan was fighting for his life in the other corner, his wife behind him. There were still purple flickers in the air, so she must have used some form of magic. Tristian found he had no need for that. The air was dense but the clangs of Johan's sword against the creature's was all he seemed to hear, the blades dancing with each other. The creature was bleeding from several cuts and Johan's shirt was torn, exposing a mild gash down his chest. Tristian didn't know anything about his condition. He was afraid to look.
         The dead creature's sword was in his hand before he knew he had snagged it. Goddamn, it felt so natural. So did striding over to the creature, which was oblivious to him. As did grabbing it firmly by the shoulder and spinning it around with a force that he had forgotten his possessed. That he had wanted to forget he had. And then staring it right in the beady bloodshot eyes for one brief second, seeing the dim recognition of its fate just as Tristian raised the sword and jammed it right between those eyes and through the face. It gave one convulsive jerk and tumbled to the floor. Tristian yanked the sword out, noting distantly that it was glistening with blood and brains. He felt sick. Part of him felt better than ever.
         "What was that?" he asked of Johan, almost too harshly. He hated the way he felt suddenly, all tingly and new, his blood rushing and pounding through his head. Outside he heard more clangs and screams and growls and wanted to run out there and join the fray. The thought just made him more sick. He hated what he was but the only way to accomplish what he wanted was to do what he hated. "What the hell were those things?"
         Johan seemed to be in shock, staring at his bloody sword and his bloody chest like he had never intended to ever use it. Numbly the words penetrated his brain and he looked up at Tristian.
         "I never . . . I've never seen them before. Ever. I mean, there's been . . . there have been rumors in the mountains of such things but I never . . ." he looked out his window and visibly flinched, stared at his home and didn't look much better. "Tristian, people are dying out there."
         "I know. I'm going out there to help them. Agent!" He turned to see Agent Two still standing there, totally silent, which was unlike him. His eyes seemed unfocused. He seemed to notice Tristian with an effort. "Why didn't you help us during the fight? You could have teleported both those things away, hell you can teleport all of them away."
         "I . . ." the Agent blinked slowly, as if trying to remember how, "it's . . . it's the overlap you see, it tends to muck with things. The desire to . . ." he shook himself noticeably, then said in a stronger voice. "I can't help that much Tristian, my powers here are limited to mostly defensive stuff. Thems the rules I'm afraid."
         "Ah, figures," Tristian sighed. "Then bring the shield down to let me leave and then keep it up so Johan and Mari are safe."
         "No," Johan said, somewhat weakly. His chest was suffused with purple light as Mari ran her hand over his slashes, seeming to seal them up with a touch. "I have to come with you."
         "You don't seem to have any combat training," Tristian replied, feeling the press of time running against them, knowing he was going to lose this argument and wanting to get it over with.
         "I have enough," Johan shot back. He stood in front of Tristian and stared at him firmly. "And this is my home, Tristian, don't take away my right to defend it."
         "I just don't need any needless death," he said, feeling the flimsy weight of his argument. Nobody ever understood, they marched so willingly into dying when sometimes he was more than willing to die for all of them. Every one who didn't make it was just another burden on him, another lost soul, another one he couldn't save.
         "Just let me go or get the hell out of my way," Johan retorted evenly, grasping the sword tightly. "Those are my friends out there. If anyone should stay here, it's you. You have no stake in this, you can just walk away."
         "That's where you're wrong," Tristian replied softly, not looking at him. "I can never walk away. No matter how much I wanted to." He looked up at the Agent, who was staring at him sympathetically, or so he thought. "We're getting ready to go through."
         "Fine, fine, just come back alive and all that. I'll stay here and watch the lady," Agent Two said airily, waving his hand and letting the barrier fall.
         Johan turned back to his wife. "Stay here and don't do anything rash," he ordered.
         She sighed and gave him a lopsided grin. "Should I follow your example then?"
         "You know that-"
         "Oh be quiet," she cut him off somewhat peevishly. "I'd be just as fine out there as you and you know it." But then her gaze softened. "But I don't want you out there worrying about me." Leaning in she kissed him quickly, stepping back enough to rest her head on his chest. "Just don't go and leave me all alone, okay? This child needs a father."
         He squeezed her tightly and suddenly. "Yeah," he said somewhat hoarsely, not looking directly at her. "I'll do that."
         Releasing her gently he turned back toward Tristian. "Shall we go then?"
         Tristian only nodded curtly and together they rushed head first into the chaos that was the village.
         Mari watched them go and then turned away swifted as the shield flickered back up. "Make sure you come back," she said softly, brushing at her eye. She avoided staring out the window.
         Agent Two was floating crosslegged in the air, his robes drifting around him. There was a strange expression on his face as he stared at her.
         "Don't you ever wish things would go right the very first time you did them?" he asked, and she wasn't sure if he was asking her or the air itself.