Fast Fiction: Flight to Antonica (Part 4)
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Go to Part 2 - 6 minute read
Go to Part 3 - 5 minute read
Malphus's voice sounded in the night, "Flash!"
Zalmo didn't have time to adjust his field spectacles, and threw up his arm to shield his eyes. The pixies stopped as they brightened in unison with Malphus's hammer. The buzzing noise grew even louder as they continued their advance.
Malphus jumped into the mix and flashed a second. This time Zalmo had his goggles on, but again the whizzing creatures remained unfazed.
Malphus swung his hammer to no avail. In battle the dwarf was swifter than he appeared, but the pixies were much too quick. Each stabbed into him with an incinerating burst. The dwarf growled with each bloom of fire.
One or two of those little assaults wouldn't slow the dwarf, but they added up quickly. Zalmo remembered the unicorn. If something that big and that fast had been brought down by the little devils then Malphus wouldn't stand a chance. The gnome watched with dread as burn marks grew upon the dwarf like a plague.
A whip cracked as one of the pixies exploded. Little wings fluttered to settle upon the ground as Gregabor guffawed. Another roaring lash followed, each time the leather hit its mark precisely. However, the pixies were rapidly growing in number.
Baelerwyn swung his shield to fan them away as his axe slashed forward. No less than ten swings were required to fell one pixie.
Zalmo saw the fruitless battle unfold. Most of the sparkling red lights now hovered and dove around Baelerwyn and Gregabor. The whip wasn't as effective up close.
Malphus was down on one knee, coated with burns. He yelled out, "Zalmo! If you've got anything in that bag of tricks of yours, now's the time!"
The gnome's mind raced through a list of everything he carried. There was something, but he'd need the attention of the pixies. By the time he could have rounded them up, his companions would be nothing more than roasted corpses.
His rummaging hand found the rune stone. It was a long shot, but it'd have to do. He crouched and removed it from his pocket to place gently upon the grass. He fought to remember how he had gotten it to respond. He focused on the symbol.
Its strange shape seemed to fit the mindset required for its activation. He stared into it, positioning his hands on either side. It glowed as it rose from the forest's floor.
"Pixies..." Zalmo called out in a soft melodic voice. He stood as the stone hummed inches from his face. He kept his eyes fixed upon the magical object, and became aware of blue lights accumulating behind it. It was working.
He held it there until he had the attention he required. His eyes moved away from the stone that thudded to the ground. A hundred pixie lights reverted back from blue to red as Zalmo's hands dug into the twin satchels on his waist. He clenched the sooty reagents within and tossed them forward. By themselves they looked little more than dust, but together, Zalmo had found an interesting result. The reagents rained over the pixies in a hazy cloud of electricity. Zalmo had named the concoction as such, electrodust.
The gnome reeled as tiny bolts stabbed at his limbs and face. Like the pixies, each thread of electricity was a jolting sting. Concentrated, however, it was lethal as well as agonizing.
Tiny screams erupted as innumerable pops, hisses, and whizzes burst in a myriad of colors. The charred faces of the onlookers and the trunks of the oak trees were bathed in a rainbow spectacle. Gregabor watched with an amused smile, "Now that's what I call Gnomish Fireworks."
The dust subsided along with every one of the lifeless pixies. A few sparks crackled as the cloud dissipated.
Malphus roared.
The three rushed to the fallen dwarf, his skin putting off heat like a furnace.
Gregabor emptied a water flask on his head. Malphus hollared in a mix of pain and relief.
Grimgander pointed accusingly at the elf. "Why didn't you tell me those damned things were so bloody vicious!" He didn't like losing fights. Especially to a bunch of spritely children's stories.
Baelerwyn surveyed the area. "Skittish, even temperamental, they are known to be."
"That's putting it rather lightly, don't ya think?" The dwarf growled.
"The forest is not at peace, and it seems its denizens are responding in kind."
Malphus fought back his frustration. Gregabor continued to empty another flask. "There you are, master dwarf."
Malphus rested his war hammer on the ground and rubbed the soot from his face. There were more little punctures than Zalmo thought.
"They sure made a pin cushion out of ya. Better than even I could've." Gregabor chuckled.
Malphus's voice affected a serious tone, "They'd have made short work of us all with their hot little pokers if not for that one." His forefinger indicated Zalmo.
Gregabor nodded with pride at the gnome. "Aye."
Baelerwyn stood over the dead orc, eyeing it with apprehension. "We should go."
Malphus studied the elf for a moment. "Well, you heard him lads. Let's get out of these accursed trees and into something a little more suiting."
Gregabor raised an eyebrow.
Malphus returned a stare. "To Butcher Block. There we can find a ship in the old harbor, if we're so lucky."
Baelerwyn nodded. Zalmo looked back and forth between the two. "Where should we sail to?"
The dwarves picked themselves up and made way. The gnome, confused, turned to Baelerwyn. The scout looked grave but with an unexpected air of hope as he said. "Antonica".
To be continued...
