Chapter Ten
As he reached the end of the ninth bench, Annev slowly approached a two-foot gap in the plank flooring overhead. A black drape reached down to the floor, creating a faux wall of sorts, and Annev stopped behind it, listening intently for any sounds of movement. The silence was complete, broken only by Edra’s gravelly voice – closer than it had been before – shouting ‘TEN MINUTES!’
There was a gentle shuffle of cloth against wood on the other side of the drape. Annev silently eased back and rewrapped the broad strip of cloth hanging around his neck so that it covered his mouth and nose. There was another near-silent shuffle, and he slipped one of the Rods of Paralysis from his tunic. The curtain above him went taut, stretching as someone pulled on the black fabric, and Annev struck, lifting the drape and jabbing the black tip into the climbing student.
The witgirl didn’t even falter as the rod bounced harmlessly off her covered calf, and Annev stared in awe at the sight of the young woman. Gone were the bright skirt and blouse, which had been shed in favour of a fitted, black, practical outfit that covered her from head to toe swathed in her reaping uniform, she was almost perfectly camouflaged in the shadows.
As Annev recoiled in surprise the young woman swung from the drape and kicked out with her slippered feet, catching Annev hard in the forearm and knocking away his first Rod of Paralysis. Annev rolled away and drew a second wand from his wrappings.
The witgirl dropped from the curtain, landing silently, and Annev glimpsed her cloth-wrapped face, her brown eyes barely visible in the faint light shining through the hole overhead.
Not Myjun, Annev thought. He was relieved and disappointed at the same time – and determined to stun her. Somehow.
The witgirl cocked her head, watching as Annev assumed a combat stance. She hesitated for the barest moment, and then her eyes seemed to twinkle beneath her mask. She spun out, feinting for his left. Annev shifted his weight as if to dodge, but instead he met her blow to his right. The witgirl snapped out with a rod of her own, its tip grazing Annev’s covered cheekbone.
Annev instinctively threw himself backward then cursed himself for not simply grabbing her while she’d been close. He was stronger – he was sure of that – but it seemed she was faster, and Annev was unused to those skill-sets being reversed.
Unfortunately for Annev, the witgirl needed no such mental adjustment. She lashed out again, slapping his flailing arms aside and stabbing for his eyes.
Annev dropped to the ground, rolled and kicked out against an anticipated follow-up attack. His momentum caught the witgirl’s leading foot and she spun, reeling. It was only a moment’s respite, but Annev used that half-second to roll beneath the nearest bench. He spied his fallen Rod of Paralysis but left it, preferring to get some distance between himself and his cloth-covered adversary.
Annev crawled to the end of his pew and glanced back to see the witgirl stalking him in the near darkness. There was a flicker of movement behind her and Annev saw a second black-wrapped figure in the gloom. He thought it might be Therin coming to trap the witgirl as they had originally planned, but then the stranger passed beneath a shaft of light and he saw it was a second witgirl.
Bloody burning bones.
Annev tucked his rod away, rolled out from under the pews, and dashed into the maze of cloth panels obscuring the aisle between the eastern and centre sections. There was no time for stealth now – he was being hunted.
Annev darted between the hanging black curtains and brushed aside another drape, reaching the central section of pews. He crouched to dive beneath its floorboards, but the prone forms of Lemwich and two other avatars blocked the way. Cursing, he bounded up onto the artificial floor in the centre of the nave instead.
The planks beneath his feet shifted and groaned as he landed, broadcasting his exact location to any remaining students. As if on cue, a sandy-haired avatar named Horus dropped from the curtains above, his Rod of Paralysis sliding across Annev’s neck and back. The black wrappings protected him from this sudden assault, so he spun and slammed his open palm into the avatar’s face. The boy stumbled back, and Annev pressed his attack with a second palm-strike to the chest then a swipe upward, grabbing the boy’s medallion and pulling it over his head.
The soft thuds and muted creaks of more padded feet converged on their position. Annev spun, kicked Horus in the chest, and sprinted away across the planks covering the centre pews. Behind him, the brown-robed avatar roared in defiance. Though reeling from Annev’s kick, he had kept his feet beneath him and pursued, seemingly deaf to the witgirls behind him.
Annev flew down a corridor of cloth, flinging Horus’s badge around his neck as he ran. As he moved, he tried to form a mental image of the gaps he had seen Duvarek make in the floorboards, then he headed towards what he recalled to be a large pit in the centre of the nave.
With a burst of adrenaline, he brushed aside the next thick curtain, spied the expected hole in the artificial floor, and jumped, barely clearing the gap. He continued his sprint to the opposite end of the pews, but when the boards clattered behind him, Annev spared a glance over his shoulder and saw Horus reach the same wide hole. Taken by surprise, the boy hesitated at the edge of the precipice for a second and a pair of cloth-wrapped hands lashed out at him, the naked fingers thumping into the boy’s calf and opposite knee, paralysing his legs the same way a stumble-stick might. The avatar fell with a groan, toppling into the hole, and was immediately dragged beneath the floorboards.
Gods! Annev thought, suddenly eyeing the wooden boards more suspiciously. They’re good. So good they don’t even need wands to take us out.
Annev slowed his pace, brushed aside a second cloth panel and stayed a careful distance from the edge of the plank platform. On a hunch, he crouched and leapt halfway across the second aisleway. Mid-fall, he caught a hanging curtain and swung the rest of the distance to the western benches. As he released the drape, he backflipped onto the platform and narrowly glimpsed a pair of hands dart out from under the western pews, searching for his legs.
Therin was right. They’re under the pews and they’re working together to take us out.