Chapter 3: As the sparks fly upward

As the scream sounded through the night, Mark was jolted awake, his eyes growing wide in surprise. Body slightly stiff from his awkward position, he quickly jogged to the cave entrance, straining his ears as he looked out into the dark night. While the sound was far and faint, he could make out the sound of a commotion down the river.

Standing there, he squinted his eyes trying adjusting them to the darkness. After a moment, Mark began to dash down the faint pathway next to the stream. He may have been a junkie and alcoholic, but he was an ex-cop as well, the least he could do was to check what was going on. If his luck was good, the other party might even know a way back to town.

Of course, being this far out in the woods, there was always the off chance that whatever was happening was not something he should see. In that case, he would just hide and pretend like he was never there; the bosses of the local underground had been trying to find him for over a year now, he’d not be noticed by some low-level mooks.

With practiced steps, he ran closer and closer to the sounds of fighting, furrowing his brow in confusion as he could make out the sound of clashing metal, like someone slamming metal pipes together. As he drew near he could make out a tall bulky man fighting a group of short fellows near a stone bridge, swinging rods at each other. Before he could be noticed, Mark ducked into the shadow of the nearby trees and slowly approached for a better look.

[….the hell?]

Peering out of the shadows, Mark could see a young man standing on the bridge in the moonlight, his size magnified by the heavy looking metal armor he wore. With a grunt, the young man swung the long rod; or sword rather, at one of the cloaked short fellows surrounding him. The short fellow gave a startled, high pitched scream and fell to the ground. Watching in confusion, Mark wondered to himself whether he’d wandered into a movie set or some re-enactment or another. Either way, it was the strangest thing he’d seen in a long time.

As he watched the battle from the shadows, Mark’s eyes were drawn by another loud scream. While it sounded younger than the first, Mark recognized the emotions it carried; it was not a scream of terror or pain but a primordial yell filled with rage, welling up from deep within the soul. It was a sound that Mark was intimate with.

Looking a little ways away, Mark could make out the outline of an old canvas topped wagon, sitting by the roadside. It was a simple design and could have fit neatly into any old western movie. But what drew his eyes, was what stood on top of it. There, in the shadow of the night, stood a short fellow, though a little taller than the ones fighting the man on the bridge. In his outstretched hand, he held the hair of a child, no older than six or seven years old.

Jumping down from the carriage, the clouds in the sky parted slightly, illuminating the short fellow's figure. At the sight, Mark’s blood ran cold. There in the moonlight stood the ugliest creature he’d ever seen. Dark green skin covered long, thin bony limbs that made it look like an oversized spider monkey. Its small head was topped with a thin patch of white hair and huge pointed ears. Its mouth was long and slim, exposing thin needle like teeth as it grinned at the girl in its hand. The girl screamed and flailed at the thing, causing its large black eyes to squint in amusement. Mark could do nothing but stare at the creature in shock, mind blank, unable to process what he was looking at.

It was not till the young girl spat in the things face that Mark snapped back to reality. With growing fear and cold sweat dripping down his back, he watched as the creature’s face went cold and he placed the little girl on the ground. With a fierce left hook, the little girl was sent flying across the road, landing hard before tumbling to a halt just shy of his hiding spot.

As the thing started to slowly approach the girl, Mark’s heart began to beat faster. He did not know where these monsters had come from, but he had to run before they noticed him too. He may not have cared if he died or not, but that did not mean he wanted to die with a sword through his gut. As he quickly stood to move away, his unconsciously looked at the little girl lying on the ground and froze.

The look in her eyes and the creature neared pierced his heart like a dagger. It was a dead eyed stare filled with remorse and hopelessness that did not fit the face of one so young, but there was still a spark left, screaming for life. As he stood there watching, his mind could not help but go back to all those years ago, when he’d seen those same eyes on another youth. With the crack of bones, Mark closed his trembling hands into a tight fist, before cursing himself in his mind at the foolish action he was about to take,

{{SON OF A B****!!!!}}

Then he charged out of the Shadows at a full sprint towards the slowly approaching creature. Rushing at full speed, Mark used his momentum to deliver a full power forward thrust kick towards the creature’s chest. The creature, noticing him immediately, crossed its arms to block the kick, taking the impact and flew several meters before tumbling to a stop.

As Mark slid to a stop, his eyes caught the girls and he could see a small glint of confusion and surprise before she lowered her head and closed them. Letting out a sigh of relief as he saw the gentle rise and fall of her chest, he looked towards the creature again and opened his mouth in shock. While the creature stood up and screamed in rage at Mark’s intervention, it appears otherwise unharmed. Thinking about the kick itself, Mark felt confused; not only did the impact feel light, as though he were kicking something a quarter of the size, there was a strange bounce to the hit, like he’d struck a rubber wall.

Not letting the thought cloud his mind, Mark took a shoulder wide forward stance, his right-hand square against his chest, his left extended outward along his center line. He’d studied Kajukenbo while in the Army for several years, and enjoyed it enough that he continued his practice even after leaving the service. He did not know how effective it would be against this Thing, but if it was good enough to keep him safe from the street thugs, then it was worth a shot.

Eyes filled with Anger, the thing raised an eyebrow at Mark’s stance, but a thin grin began to spread across its mouth as it saw he was unarmed. Mark’s breath began to grow ragged and shaky and the thing slowly approached; eyes full of mocking confidence. When it neared to about a meter and a half away, Mark, still shaking slightly, gave a loud Kiai and shifted his stance forward, striking the creature in the chest heavily with his right fist.

Again, the creature was blown backward several feet, as Mark stared in shock. Just like with the kick, however, the thing simply rolled a few times and stood up, otherwise unharmed. Again, the blow had felt light, like the creature weighed far less than it appeared. Rage filling its eyes, it charged at Mark, mouth filled with needle like teeth gaping wide. As it approached, Mark moved to strike with his left hand, aiming a reserve hammer fist at its head. However, the creature stopped mid rush and pivoted on its heels, ducking and using the momentum to send a crescent kick into Mark’s unguarded flank.

With a surprised grunt, Mark took several steps back and adjusted his stance. Unlike the wildly swinging grunts fighting the armored man on the bridge, it was obvious from its movements that this one was much more skilled. It's smile widening to a mocking grin, the creature took its own strange stance and waved Mark forward, taunting him.

Furrowing his brow, Mark moved forward with the creature moving in the same moment. Over the next few minutes, they would exchange blow after blow, Mark relying on his heavy and powerful blows to disrupt the creature’s movements, and the creature using its agile and long limbs to slip through Mark’s guard. After several moments, the two separated, both breathing heavy, soaked in sweat. However, Mark realized that while he was covered in bruise and cuts, the creature itself seemed only tired. Barring a few cuts on the face, it seemed otherwise unhindered.

A slow fear began to creep into Mark’s heart as the creature let out a low chuckle at his pitiable condition. As Mark started to strongly consider retreat, a voice sounded out from nearby,

[The Sword! You have to cut them!] <Hero>

Taking a quick glance at the young man on the Bridge, Mark saw that there were only 3-4 of the Creatures left as the young man in armor called out to him in haste. Eyes turning back to the creature in front of him, Mark took a quick glance at the blade strapped to its waist. Hope growing in his Heart, Mark moved forward once again to meet the creature, the thing apparently unaware of the young man’s warning.

After another brief exchange of blows, Mark saw his chance and took a sliding step to the side. Pretending to miss a blow aimed at the creature’s chest, he quickly grabbed onto the blade’s grip, smoothly freeing it from the sheath and flowing around to its back. With a rage filled cry, Mark swung down with all his strength.

The creature, eyes wide with surprise, moved to dodge the rusty blade. As the sword made contact, Mark felt the distinct give of flesh and bone, before hearing a high pitched scream. Looking back, Mark saw the creature fall to the ground rolling in pain, as it held onto the stub of the severed arm.

Breathing heavily, Mark approached the creature slowly, a fire burning in his eyes as he looked into the creature’s own, full of fear. Suddenly, there was the crack of wood and the twang of a bow from behind. Mark barely dodged the arrow as it flew past and embedded itself into a nearby tree. Quickly turning around, Mark saw another creature, its face half shrouded in a gray hood, standing in the shadows of the tree behind him. The Creature slowly lowered the bow it held, before giving him a mocking look with its eyes and disappearing into the shadows.

A Light bulb going off in his head, Mark quickly turned around to look at the first Creature, only to see it running at full speed towards the opposite roadside. As it reached the trees, it leaped upwards, grabbing onto low hanging branches with its good arm and pulled itself up. With nimble movements that belittled its injury, the creature began to climb higher. Turning around to give Mark a hate filled, full toothed evil grin, it quickly disappeared into the treetops.

As Mark stood watching, a shrill whistle sounded through the night. The few remaining creatures still fighting the armored man raised their head and quickly broke off their engagement, running swiftly into the Forest and up the nearby trees, just as the first had, then disappeared.

The young armored man stood in shock for a moment, before collapsing to his knees, his sword the only thing keeping him upright. After a moment, he looked up at Mark with strange eyes as they both stood there breathing heavily. Then giving a bloody toothed grin, he began to laugh. Mark stood there and looked over at the strange man and raised an eyebrow before shaking his head. Dropping the bloody sword, Mark turned around and walked over to the young girl, still lying on the ground. Watching the slow rise and fall of her chest, a frown began to form on his face.