The pirate extended both hands toward Dodge — the club still bound in the grip of his right — as it to bestow a blessing. It was only when the smell of burning wood scented the air that Dodge saw violet sparks rippling across the metal surface of the talons. He recalled the parting words of the hooded villain to Krieger. The gift I have given you….
The dark god had given the pirate king the gift of lightning.
CHAPTER 15
THE GIFT OF LIGHTNING
The club abruptly transformed into a bright yellow torch, increasing to near white — hot brilliance, and then was extinguished. When the spots cleared from Dodge’s vision, he saw that the broken wooden pole had been completely incinerated. Krieger’s claws continued to spit purple tendrils of lightning and Dodge knew what was coming next. He barely had time to throw himself flat on the catwalk as twin bolts of electricity scorched the air above his head.
The lightning scoured the interior walls, leaving trails of flame in the rough wood. Dodge rolled toward the ladder and flipped over the edge, just as a second burst of electricity set the catwalk on fire. Krieger, possessed by madness, seemed to revel at the wanton display of destructive power. Dodge’s feet slipped uncertainly on the rungs, and failing to find a foothold, he simply pushed away and let himself fall.
He landed on his back, the breath driven from his lungs, and Krieger was there, looming high above on the second level, his talons dancing with violet sparks. Gasping for air, Dodge backpedaled away from yet another attack.
A pall of smoke tainted the air of the enclosure. The walls of the fortress bled fire wherever the pirate king’s lightning touch was felt, and despite the soggy humidity of the tropical environment, the baobab wood burned quickly; the flames were spreading. Dodge finally caught a breath and rolled onto hands and knees, struggling to rise. Krieger, still laughing maniacally, swept down the ladder intent on blocking his foe’s escape.
Dodge scrambled for the large opening but he wasn’t fast enough. An arc of energy blasted into his shoulder blades and launched him through the air to collide with the wall. The electrical shock seized the muscles of his extremities, leaving him momentarily paralyzed and in a daze, but through the miasma of wood smoke, he could smell the aroma of burnt flesh and knew intuitively that it was his own.
Krieger stalked toward him, a cat eager to toy with his prey, intent on delivering the coup de grace in person. Dodge willed his quivering limbs into action and succeeded in rolling over the threshold of the fortress, a mere whisper ahead of his enemy’s arrival.
The compound was still in an uproar from the escape of the prisoners but more than a few of the pirates had taken note of the smoke pouring from the heart of the baobab. If they were surprised to see Dodge half-crawling from the smoldering tree, that reaction was multiplied exponentially when the rogues saw their unmasked leader emerging from the firestorm. A collective gasp went up, faces twisting in revulsion as they beheld the terrible answer to the question that had fueled more than a few drunken debates; now they knew why Krieger wore a mask.
Dodge used the momentary distraction to regain his feet and plunged into the throng. The stunned pirates were slow to react but Dodge, still disoriented from the energy blast, was slower still. He staggered through their midst, careening from one body to the next, instinctively aiming for the river; if he could reach the water, he would be safe.
“Hold him!” Krieger’s voice cut through the ominous quiet and it was enough to break the spell. Dodge felt hands grasping his biceps. He twisted in their grip, lashing out with kicks, but to no avail. They had him.
The pirates parted before their leader like the sea in a Bible story; where once they had merely feared his wrath, they now were petrified by his mere presence. Krieger however cared nothing for their disgust; his blood rimmed gaze was fixed solely on the recaptured fugitive and his claws blazed with static electricity as he closed the intervening distance.
Dodge felt the numbness in his limbs diminishing by degrees, but the reawakening was heralded by a wave of pain and it took every iota of his will to keep from passing out, though perhaps unconsciousness would have been preferable. He fought his captors’ hold, but his resistance was instinctive not deliberate, he was a wild animal caught in the jaws of a trap while the hunter approaches.
Krieger leaned close — close enough that the blood streaming from his self-inflicted wounds dripped onto Dodge’s shirt. “You will pay for this,” he hissed. “You will suffer the tortures of the damned.”
“Maybe,” Dodge answered through clenched teeth as he stared back into the pirate king’s crazed eyes. “But you’ll still be ugly.”
The taunt hit Krieger like a slap, and as his hideous visage twisted to a new level of rage, Dodge saw a chance to strike one last blow. Snapping his neck forward, he slammed his forehead into the other man’s nose. There was a crack of cartilage breaking, and Dodge knew that the spike of pain in his forehead would be nothing compared to what Krieger would be feeling.
With a howl, Krieger randomly unleashed the electricity that had been building in his talons. Twin tentacles of violet lashed into the pirate ranks and set the treetops alight. Dodge felt the restraining hands fall away and abruptly he was standing unaided, free again. Krieger mastered his fire in that moment and turned his attention back to his hated foe, but this time Dodge was ready. Before the unmasked villain could raise claw-blade or lightning in his own defense, Dodge darted in close and delivered a right jab that connected squarely with Krieger’s broken nose. He followed through by planting a booted foot in the pirate king’s chest that sent him stumbling backward to crash in a heap near the entrance to the burning fortress tree.
For a moment, Dodge stood alone in the clearing. A few unlucky pirates, struck down by their leader’s lighting blast, writhed on the ground, but the rest had fled the field. Dodge snatched up an abandoned cutlass and hefted it in his right hand as he closed on Krieger.
The pirate rose up on unsteady feet, but thrust his claws forward to defend against any attack. Dodge did not disappoint him; he swung the short sword in a sweeping arc aimed at Krieger’s torso. The disfigured pirate deflected the blade with his talons and steel rang on steel in a shower of sparks — not the unnatural hues of blue and violent electrical arcs, but the bright yellow of friction. Dodge swung again and again Krieger parried but the claw-like prosthetic hands had never been intended for combat. Every smashing blow from Dodge’s cutlass sent a numbing jolt up Krieger’s weary arms. The cumulative effect of the fatigue was showing. Harried by Dodge’s unrelenting assault and bleeding copiously from innumerable flesh wounds, Krieger was on the verge of collapse. Dodge however was hurting, too. He knew that if he didn’t seize the advantage, he might lose it.
With a fierce war cry, Dodge drew back for a two-handed slash, but at the last instant pulled up short. Krieger fell for the feint and overextended himself to parry. Dodge twisted in place and swept up with a one-handed cut that caught the pirate’s wrist. The blade crunched into bone and Krieger’s left-hand claw fell ignominiously to the ground.
Dodge whirled around, drawing the grip of the cutlass back into both hands as he swept around for a follow through. The pirate stared incredulously at the impotent stump and made no move to block the final sweep of his foe’s sword. The blade crashed into the side of Krieger’s head in a spray of crimson, and the pirate king sprawled backward to fall in a heap on the threshold of the fortress. Dodge leaped after his enemy, raising the sword above his head to deliver the final cut. That was when he heard the screams.