- Sergeant Murph
- |
- Noble Legendary Member
Chapter Twenty
The Guardian and the Warlord
"I understand now!" cried Sikanoy blissfully, hands zealously flying across the panel. Still the simmering plasma within the hour-glass shaped weapon glowed purple against the dark walls, and after what seemed like days of analyzing each and every piece of the strange machine he had come to his conclusion.
Cholahee whipped around. "Then shut it down; destroy it; anything!"
"I think if I can just...curses! I'll have to rewire the system and work backwards to get it to shut down," Sikanoy groaned. "I'll need some time to work this out."
It was then that they heard Brute voices and heavy footsteps from around the corner.
"Why is it that we are always sent to solve the situation when something goes wrong?" a young, arrogant voice asked.
"No transmissions have gotten through," another replied. "You can never tell what's going to happen on this blasted planet. There may have been a breach."
"Down here? With all of us on patrol? That's foolish. No one would be stupid enough to engage us in our own underground enclave."
Cholahee and Sikanoy exchanged uneasy glances. The footsteps grew closer, rounding the narrow corner and entering through the main entrance.
"How much time do you need?" Cholahee asked, his hand already fingering the handle of his Energy Sword.
"As much as you can give me," Sikanoy said grimly.
Cholahee chuckled. "You should have more than enough then." With that he activated his blade as four Brutes came into sight before him, and launched forward, leaving the fate of their friends in Sikanoy's hands.
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The sun had just about withered beneath the horizon. Although a cool breeze bristled by his face, Reth was sweating. Sweating harder than he ever had. His opponent stood only eight or so feet in front of him. It was as if he'd knocked on the doors of hell.
Anderson drew up beside him, resting a hand on the old Elite's shoulder. "Are you sure about this?"
"If I don't put a stop to his madness, I fear no one ever will," he whispered coldly. His eyes slowly averted from the awaiting Chieftain to the unconscious body beside him. Sol's face seemed almost happier when he was asleep; the chains that bound him to his misery--to the mysteries of his life that taunted him while his eyes were open-- were broken. He was free when he was not living. "Promise me" Stammered Reth. "Promise me that you'll save him if I fail. Promise me that you'll get him to safety."
Anderson sighed and nodded solemnly. "You have my word."
Reth nodded his approval and took a step forward. "I have played my part in this part of our tale, my human friends. Little chance is there that we shall meet again before the end. I give you my blessings."
Burns and Anderson looked downward, but nodded anyway as their guide approached Janerus.
"Ha!" shouted the Brute. "You are all weaker than I had suspected. Relying on naught but spirit and clinging to friendship as if it would save you in the end. Where is your ferocity? Where is the flame in your heart that would strike horror through any opponent?"
"I use my blade for that," Reth said darkly, pointing the tip of his energy stave. "And I've had enough of your foul wit. Let us decide which of us-- the guardian or the warlord --will emerge the victor."
Without hesitation the Elite shot to the left, then pivoted right again, sweeping low with his double-sided stave. Janerus blocked the attack with the butt end of his hammer, but before he could answer Reth lowered his shoulder and blazed into the Brute's side, knocking him off balance. He stabbed furiously at Janerus, but, to the Sangheili warriors amazement, Janerus whipped his hand out and caught the shaft of his weapon, dropping his own hammer to the ground. Reth tried to yank it back, but his opponent was too strong. Roaring, the Brute thrust his knee into his chest, but Reth clung on to his only weapon despite the breath that seemed so scarce in him.
Janerus wound up for a punch, but Reth acted quickly; he swung underneath the stave that the two of them tugged at, then, still clinging on to it by his fingers, shot his feet forward. Janerus cried out and slipped backwards, but as he fell, with one last gasp of strength, he whipped the stave behind him, and the Elite that had hung on to the other side now unwillingly darted through the air at great speed. He smashed through the windows of a hotel and disappeared.
"We have to help him!" shouted Burns, dashing forward.
"No!" Anderson demanded, catching him by the wrist. "Let him fight this one out, Burns. It's not our place to interfere."
Burns looked at him, disgusted. "You're just going to let him die? Is that it?"
Anderson started to argue, then sighed. "I don't want to lose him anymore than you do, you can count on that. But this is personal between the two of them. An Elite without honor is worthless to himself."
He slowly let go of Burns and looked over at Sol. "We'd be smart to get him out of here right now. C'mon, we'll get him to shelter somewhere and call for evac later."
He started to walk forward, but he bumped into something --it was like an invisible wall-- but Anderson knew better. He discharged a round from his Shotgun, but it soared through the air, never meeting its target.
"Burns, get back to back!" he shouted, his eyes frantically darting left and right. It was here somewhere. He could hear its footsteps, slow and soft but echoing in the emptiness of the street.
"Over there!" shouted Burns, letting four loud shots of his Battle Rifle crack into the sidewalk. He was fast. Faster than Anderson had suspected.
"What's the matter, iron ass?" taunted Anderson. "Not man enough to stop playing hide and seek?"
With lightning quickness an invisible arm snatched the barrel of his Shotgun and yanked it upward. The gun bent easily and dropped to the ground.
Slowly, the figure of Kovalee started to pour in again until he was fully visible. Anderson and Burns took a few steps back.
"Orders?" Burns whispered in his Sergeant's ear.
[Edited on 06.22.2009 5:48 AM PDT]