Ecko Rising

same core glow and cold skin. Both bore curved bows and disdainful expressions – water ran in streams from their hide.

The sky flashed again, red as blood, red as the ’bot’s target-scan, the thunder was low overhead. In the open plain, the rain was hammering merciless, it slashed into them like blade fragments.

Ecko kicked out his heatseeker to check weapons.

In one fluid move, all three creatures nocked, drew and loosed.

In elegant slo-mo, three featherless shafts ripped through the wet air, flexing with the force of the shot.

At the axeman.

Their strength was deadly, their aim impeccable. Ecko spared a second to wonder what the hell the draw was on those fucking things...

No idiot, the axeman was moving, perfectly practiced, rolling sideways below the level of the grass tops.

Adrenaline hot, Ecko started to grin.

As the stallion screamed fury and denial, there was a shadow, red eyed, darting more swiftly than the shafts themselves. His targeters blipped – once, twice, three times – plotted the arc. One arm swept, wet cloak flowing behind it – and the missiles were knocked wide. Lost in the grass.

And he was was gone again – a phantom in the darkness.

The axeman got as far as “What – ?” before Ecko’s harsh rasp shouted over the downpour, “So, ‘creature- created’. What else you got?”

The second volley came straight for him.

He cackled... and he was simply no longer there. After a world of nerve-contacted firearms, a bow and arrow just didn’t have a fucking prayer.

“Nice try, Sagittarius – you might wanna invest in some sights.”

The beast bellowed rebellion.

Down in the mass of the grass, the axeman shot out, “What the rhez are you?”

“Toldja – reinforcements.” Ecko’s eyes flashed red. “Deal with the big fucker, I’m going after his harem.” With a grin, he ducked sideways out of the axeman’s vision.

And cursed himself, for the fucking hundredth time, for dropping Salva’s rifle.

* * *

Triqueta’s mare was terrified. She wasn’t bolting – not yet – but she was whinnying through her teeth, her ears were back and she was shaking her wet mane against her neck.

Behind her, Redlock was advancing, combat-crouch, both axes spinning – one forwards, one back. He was soaked, hair and garments plastered to him, two thirds the height of the monster, but grim faced, utterly fearless. His confidence was palpable. Triq’d lay odds on his victory – an axe in the belly was going to slow that beast right down.

But it would get another shot before he closed.

Red lightning flashed.

In that instant, one of the mares squealed, rocked sideways and shot down suddenly at something beside it.

The other raised its recurve and loosed the shaft at Triqueta.

It hit her horse in the shoulder, skidded off bone and buried itself in the saddle-side.

The mare screamed, instinctually turned to bite.

The beast was nocking another, hands almost as fast as Triq’s could be.

Shit!

Thunder threatened, it rolled low round her ears. Wind and rain tore at her clothing, her skin. One chance.

As the mare gathered her legs to flee, Triq knotted one hand in her mane, swung her head sharply round. The horse hesitated – that was all her rider needed. She sat back in the saddle, down and hard.

The creature stopped, fidgeting madly.

With burning fury, Triq turned her towards the abomination. The rain hit them both, full in face. Triq blinked and spat water, it ran from her skin like blood.

That damn thing wasn’t getting off another shot.

* * *

Lost in the dark grass, grinning like a fiend, Ecko eyed the massive flank – ribs and muscles and hide – of the beast in front of him. He was still boosted, quivering with sustained adrenaline – soaked to the skin and waiting... poised...

Even with his speed, he was gonna have to be fast.

Then there it was – the jab of lightning, the IR-sight flash that exploded everything into split-second red light.

He put all his strength into it, every trick Mom had built for him, every fragment of his focus and adrenaline – and he lashed one perfectly placed kick at the side of the thing’s knee.

As it turned, it saw a dark shape, red eyes...

...then the light flash was gone.

The leg splintered and the creature buckled, squealing in pain and fury. But it shifted its weight to the other legs and shot back at the shadows in the grass.

It missed him. As the thunder rumbled, Ecko had vanished.

One down, he thought to himself. Three more to go.

* * *

Redlock faced the stallion.

In the back of his mind – Feren, child and laughing, running through the citrus orchards of his Idrakian home. His daughter, red hair in the sun; his wife, the embroidery on the front of her gown.

The memory twisted. Get out, Far! Take your ideals and your ambitions and see if they’ll build you a home! See if you can eat them, sleep with them, love them –

Her bitter, eviscerating voice echoed down through returns.

And with it came anger.

The flood of fury, the heat in his blood, the elation, the tight, narrow-focus precision. Around him, everything else had gone – the grass, the rain, the light, the storm, the sky. His world was honed, sharp as an axe-edge, his attention pure and absolute.

It freed him – he lived for moments like these.

The beast loosed its shot. It was close – too close – he twitched his hips and belly sideways.

It was past him and gone.

It wasn’t going to nock another. He was racing forwards, low down through the grass, both weapons spinning into place with his full force behind them. A hard double feint, high at its chest – it turned the huge bow to block – but the axeman dropped sharply and the cuts came under, vicious and exact. He hit both lower forelegs, slashing flesh, splintering bone.

The stallion snarled, staggered.

His expression set, Redlock smashed it again, one side then other – then he dove sideways, out of its range.

This time, it shrieked, lurched forwards. One claw slashed at him, the heel of the bow slammed hard into his shoulder. It caught his roll and drove him sideways, almost to his knees.

The pain was sharp, the nock tore through fabric and skin – his blood surged, roaring in his ears. As he came back up, he threw his bodyweight into the beast, slammed the struck shoulder up under its raised leg. The opposite axe uppercut, hacked into ribs with a vicious impact. He heard them crack, splinters of broken bone visible through hide and flesh.

Hissing fury through gritted teeth, he tried to force the beast to fall.

He failed.

The creature’s weight was too much for him; it was grinding him down into the grass. He wasn’t strong enough to hold this colossal, soaking, stinking, struggling creature. He slammed his axe into its ribs again, and