Okay, chapter time. . . . What chapter were we on? Oh, yes, I remember.
Just note -- I may very well post more than one chapter. I realize that it'll make it harder for people to catch up, but . . .
"Sire, I told you --"
"You tread dangerous ground, Magnus," Rotiart snarled. "You'd best to back off."
"But sire, I must insist -- AAAAHHHH!"
He was electrocuted by his very own circuits.
"Sorry . . . sorry, sire . . . I . . . I overstepped my boundaries."
"Yes, you did. And all three of you best remember this."
Rotiart activated the shock for all three of them, which caused them to withdraw from Rotiart and cower. This, however, amused Rotiart slightly. He had the power to dish out punishment to uppity lesser beings, a power he never had as a RAFian. Of course, now he'll make them pay for daring to exile him. For daring to Ban him! He noted briefly that the data was received from Sakki's fight with the berserker.
"This one had better not fail. This one had better kill its intended target," Rotiart said, more for his own benefit than his involuntary lackeys. He was spiralling down the pit of insanity, but he seemed not to be aware of it. There was only one beast left, and Rotiart seemed to think that it was the greatest -- well, except for the other one in the considerably larger tube. It remained in shadow, but bits of red, blue, white, yellow and gold seemed to eke out in the dim lighting. "If this doesn't work, then the Onslaught will begin. . . ."
"Sire . . ." Slicer spoke up from the corner, ". . . what if . . . what if . . . what-if-it-doesn't-work?"
"It cannot fail, fool. It's the ultimate contingency plan!"
His lackeys seemed to doubt it. Apparently, Rotiart hadn't noticed their doubtful looks and body language.
"Computer," Rotiart said with a snap like that of a trodden twig. "Is the Realm Walker nearby."
"Designate CloakedFigure Mark-signature is at these coordinates."
"Excellent," Rotiart cackled, "launch the chiropteran skunk."
"Complying." the cool female voice replied.
"Excellent. This time it cannot fail. Cloak will finally meet the fate that he deserves. He will die!" Rotiart said with megalomanical relish. He was apparently unaware that Realm Walker can only be killed at the hand of another Realm Walker. Rotiart took out the transparent, cylindrical canister that held the swirling energies that he procured a while ago, right after Cloak slayed Malice and Abomination. . . .
***
Cloak was sitting on a rather comfortable rock in the middle of a forest, by a bubbling stream with a slight waterfall to his left and a few feet behind him. He had allowed his cloak and tail to drape over the edge of the rock, while he crossed his legs so that his left heel touched the right side of his hip. He had balled his hands into fists and had the knuckles touching each other. He was sitting straight up, and his eyes were closed.
Cloak had hoped to come out here to meditate, to hopefully contact his grandfather's spirit. He sought solice from the horrible grief, the dagger of remore that had lodged into his heart. He hoped for his grandfather's wisdom, something he still felt that he had not inhereted from his mentor. But his mind was so full . . . too full. He couldn't concentrate properly. He was also getting rather antsy, as well.
Cloak noticed that he was feeling really restless of late, but could not explain why. It was as if he felt a deep, dark shadow of the future flowing over to him, eclipsing him. It was not a pleasant feeling. Cloak continued to try to calm his mind and focus on the mediation.
He sensed it before he smelled the odoriferous beast. It stunk worse than skunk fumes, a Gloom, an uncleaned toilet, a Muk, rotten eggs, a Stunky, rotting meat, a Skuntank, soiled baby diapers, a Trubbish, the worst kind of gym socks, or a Garbodor. It stunk worse than all of those things, enough to bring tears to Cloak's eyes, though Cloak managed to leap up and behind the creature, where it turned and he got a good look at it, albeit with watery eyes.
It appeared similar to
Stinkor with the colors of
Stinkbomb. It had broad, bat-like ears, and broad, flapping bat wings on its back, as well as a fluffy, tongue-shaped black tail with a centralized white stripe.
Cloak could barely breathe -- much less speak, due to the awful stench. Then it opened its mouth -- Cloak took note of two overlarge upper canines -- and unleashed a blast of sound of which a Howler would have been jealous. It was only the sheerest luck that Cloak managed not to be hit. Cloak was effectively immobilized by the stench. And the howl, for lack of a more fitting term, screwed up his Earthsight. Not that it would have mattered anyway, because it remained airborne.
Cloak attempted to fight back using the Air Element. But the howl rendered that effectively useless in this condition. He daren't use the Fire element, lest he burn down this entire forest. Attempted to fling the boulder that he had sat on at the creature, but it managed to howl at such a frequency that the boulder shattered into gravel. Cloak didn't want to use his energy -- because that's rather akin to a human picking up dog droppings with their bare hands.
Cloak glanced at the waterfall -- maybe that would clean this monster up. Cloak flung the water from the falls, as if fired from a firehose, at the skunk. He had hoped to lessen the smell. And it worked . . . to a degree. It still smelled to high heaven, but it was more tolerable now. But unfortunately that just also gave the creature an opening to fire a howl directly at Cloak and hit him dead-on. The pain was intense, but he compartmentalized it.
But then a blur appeared in the trees. Flitting from branch to branch with unbelievable skill and agility and athletism. It caught the creatures attention, and Cloak managed to fire more water its way before falling to his knees. The blur leaped from the tree and landed, gestured at the nearest tree, which stabbed one of the creatures wings -- skewering it completely. Without flinching, the creature ripped off that wing, which concealed into nothingness, only the merest hint of its stench remaining.
"Sh-Shadow . . ."
"Don't worry, Uncle, I've got this."
It attempted to use it's howl at her, but Shadow possessed far more agility and less bulk than her uncle. She was a far smaller target, and she deliberately used this to her advantage. The howls could not seem to land at her. Cloak realized, as he summed up his wounds, that Shadow's sense of smell was not as acut as his, and the stench, thereby, has less of an effect on her.
Eventually, she skewered its other wing, and then finally delivered the killing blow. The beast congealed into nothingness, its ever-fading stench its only legacy.
"There, that's done. You okay, Uncle?"
"I'll be fine." Cloak said. Standing up, and it was clear that he wasn't fine.
"Uncle! You're hurt! Let's go to Meemaw's*."
"No, Shadow."
"But Uncle --"
"No, Shadow. I'm never going back there."
"You're hurt, Uncle. Surely --"
"Kelly can heal me, then." Cloak said, knowing full well that Kelly couldn't. Or else she would've when Cloak was on his deathbed**. "But I will never go back to the Nexus. Never, if I can help it."
Shadow looked crestfallen.
"I do thank you for your timely assistance, Shadow. And I do love you. But I have no home there. My home has been, and always will be, here. I'm sorry, but this is the way it is. You should go back though. Your mom is probably waiting for you."
And, with that, Cloak began to walk off, although there was no hiding the limp in his left leg.
---
* That's Shadow's name for my mother. I don't know if this had come up before. Possibly in Book I.
** All the way back in Book I.
