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22

Tactically speaking, this situation was a mess.

First of all, not a lot of room to fight. The wooden room was maybe thirty feet to a side. Might have seemed like a lot of room, except that a lot of it seemed to be filled with bad guys.

Six of them, to be specific. Big, red, furry bad guys, with dirty yellow claws on their hands and feet. Gossaks, a species with a reputation for viciousness.

That they filled the room with the smell of wet animal did nothing to make me think better of them.

True, two of them had been injured, that I could see. One was bleeding from a beagle bite on its leg — I refuse to give these things the dignity of hris as a pronoun — and another’s hand had swollen up to three times its normal size, thanks to a sting from something in Vasco’s duffel bag.

Unfortunately, one of those gossaks held Magellan in a grip that looked as though it was one bad thought away from a dead beagle.

Anther gossak still had a good grip on that duffel bag, which was good and bad. Good in that its unstung hand was busy. Bad in that Vasco didn’t have access to his bag of tricks.

And one of the other gossaks held Brikatika in a tight grip up by the throat. Not much better a position to be in than Magellan’s.

Vasco was with me, but he was bleeding from several wounds to his chest and arms. He’d definitely looked better. And he might not have seen the wink I’d tried to shoot him.

I could only hope he did.

So I faced those six sets of suspicious, yellow eyes, and held up my little double-sided jar of Bruisebane and Serpent’s Kiss.

And I smiled with a lot more sincerity than I’d managed earlier.

“This,” I said, hefting the jar, “is how I survived a bit from the ice serpent you had stationed as a threshold guardian.”

That got them whuffing back and forth at each other in tones I couldn’t quite pick out.

I might or might not have recognized their language. Tough to be sure because they spoke a pidgin version of something to each other, and they did it fast and slurred.

“Show,” the one closest to me said.

I tugged up the left leg of my blue jeans. Showed the healing, almost gone bite marks, and the twin holes in the jeans.

“This will heal the dog bite too?”

“Sure will,” I said, and Magellan growled an objection to my healing his captor. I nodded at him, and hoped the gossaks didn’t speak Beagle.

“Give,” the closest gossak to me said, one hand forward.

“No way,” I said, shaking my head slowly. “This stuff is the most valuable thing I have, and you’d use way too much. I’ll apply it myself.”

“Trick.”

“How could healing you be a trick? Don’t you know Locksmiths don’t slow down for anything?” — I knew that was our reputation — “This stuff is how we do it.”

And I had complete honesty in my voice as I said that.

I think the honesty of my tone did me as much good as my words.

But then, they had no way of knowing how much Bruisebane and Serpent’s Kiss hurt while they worked.

I picked my cautious way across the floor to the one who held Magellan.

“You should put down the dog,” I said. “If this stuff relaxes you wrong, he could bite you.”

Another gossak stepped over to take the hostage, and I stood up straight.

“Just a damned minute. I’m over here offering to heal one of you. The least you can do is let my friend’s dog go.”

“Dog bit me.”

“And your claws are hurting him. I’d say you’re even. Plus, I’m about to heal the bite.”

I stared right back into those yellow eyes. I saw no sign of yielding.

“Let the dog go, or no healing for you. I can demonstrate my good will on our friend with the bad hand instead.”

“Me!” the gossak with the stung, swollen clawed hand said. “Me!”

“No!” the bitten gossak said. “Me.”

And he released Magellan, who winced, but trotted somewhere behind me.

“Now hold still,” I said, scooping out some Serpent’s Kiss on one finger. Too little to really heal that bite, but that was fine with me.

I made a show of taking a deep breath.

“Now,” I said, “this might sting a little, at first. So I want you to count to three for me, and I’ll apply the ointment on three.”

That got me suspicious eyes again, so I pointed to my healed ankle.

“One,” the gossak said.

I put away the jar.

“Two.”

I positioned myself so my finger was right above the bite wound, which was still dripping thick, smelly yellow blood.

“Three.”

A lot of things happened at the same time.

I slapped a fingerful of Serpent’s Kiss on the wound.

The gossak screamed as the fiery healing began.

Magellan leapt right for the throat the gossak holding Brikatika.

Vasco crippled a gossak that it turned out he’d already hurt, before I’d entered the room.

I immediately brought my right fist up with all my strength — amplified with Locksmith training and skills as well as using everything my body could give me.

I slammed that gossak’s jaw for all I was worth.

I saw the huge thing’s clawed feet leave the floor, but I didn’t stick around to see the results. I spun—

—right into Vasco’s duffel bag, swung by the stung gossak.

The bag hit me, but it wasn’t hard enough to hurt. Instead it slammed me into a furry wall — the gossak I’d just punched.

I took the opportunity to give that gossak another crack, using the back of my head against its jaw.

As I pulled away, I heard the gossak behind me slump to the floor.

The stung gossak threw aside the duffel now. Approached with its good hand high and menacing.

But whatever had given the gossak that sting had slowed it down.

I waited for it to come in at me with that claw. It came in high.

I ducked under the blow. Danced to the gossak’s right and brought the knife-edge of both hands into the gossak’s stung hand, one strike to each side.

It screamed. Threw itself at me.

I ducked. Grabbed that swollen hand and twisted. Flipped the gossak through the air and into the wooden wall.

The wood must have been façade. Because the gossak hit with a dull thump, as though it had slammed into stone.

The stung hand ended up near the floor.

I brought down an axe kick on that poor, swollen clawed hand, with all the focus I could muster.

Bones broke, and something unhealthy squished. Broke the surface of the gossak’s skin.

Something foul, odorous and black seeped out.

The gossak screamed again and passed out from the pain.

I spun to see what was going on in the rest of the room.

Vasco had taken down one gossak. He was in close and mixing it up with another. Throwing punches but taking too many claws.

He was getting woozy. His punches weaker.

Magellan and Brikatika had taken down one gossak, and were squaring off with another. Magellan tried to harry it, but Brikatika had only an otter’s grace on land. Not nearly enough for pack fighting.

“Help Vasco!” I yelled at Magellan.

Magellan darted toward his friend.

That was a mistake, on my part.

I’d thought my voice would be enough to turn the gossak from the dorach, which wasn’t much of a threat, to face me. A Locksmith. A much greater threat.

But the gossak had already chosen its target. Grabbed up Brikatika in both claws. Ready to rip the dorach in half.

I had only moments to stop that gossak.

Which meant I had only one option.

In regular martial arts, flying kicks are a showy thing. Useless in a real fight. Too slow to be effective, and they tended to make the kicker an easy target.

However.

Locksmith martial arts applied energies in creative ways.

So when I roared, charged, and leapt into the air, I wasn’t just leaping into a kick.

I was lassoing the gossak with energies. Energies that accelerated me beyond anything short of jet speed. Drew the blade of my kicking foot right into the join of the gossak’s head with its neck.

The snapping sound was gruesome.

The rest of that force got distributed through the gossak’s body, breaking most of its bones, and probably rupturing a lot of internal organs.

Assuming gossaks had internal organs.

Sounds lethal, doesn’t it?

Not for a gossak.

Part of the reason they were so popular as henchmen. Not only were they tough and vicious, but they could heal from anything short of getting stabbed through the eye with a sprig of holly.

But for now, that gossak was well and truly out of the fight.

I grabbed Brikatika myself. Called back over my shoulder.

“How you doing?”

“Bad guys all down.” I didn’t like how weak Vasco’s voice sounded.

“Magellan,” I said, “would you come keep an eye on Brikatika while I see to Vasco?”

“No,” Vasco said quickly. “We need to get out of here before something comes through those doors.”

“Brikatika,” I said. “Is anything going to come through those doors?”

“They were going to kill me,” Brikatika said, in English. His voice dejected.

“Answer the question or they might not have to.”

No, I didn’t intend to kill him. But I was more than a little pissed at Brikatika right now, and if he stayed a little edgy, so much the better.

“No,” Brikatika said quickly. “Not that I know of. This was supposed to be a safe house. Where I could get a message to—”

“It’ll keep,” Vasco said, voice weaker still. “We need … to get out…”

“On it,” I said. I started the process of opening a temporary portal to the Upper Forest Park Portal. Nice and out of the way. Someplace we could interview Brikatika in peace.

Only problem was, the portal didn’t open.

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