He fought for a moment as the men tried to grab him, wondering what other tricks they’d have, perhaps something to steal the air from around him? He could get a little air from about three feet away, but if they used even one of his own air chokes, he’d be stuck.
Apparently someone had been taking notes, because three of the men had them and the other three had lances he’d built the template for that would have gone through his shield if he hadn’t already upgraded. He managed to get in one good breath before the air went away, burning skin stealing oxygen from his system much faster than normal. He had to get air, and fast too. The poisoning had really lowered how long he could hold his breath, by about half he figured, and it hadn’t been that great a talent before. If he had half a minute before he started to black out, it would be a surprise. Not really knowing what would happen, he triggered the Not-flyer and rose above the ground a bit. Being busy attacking him, no one really seemed to notice Tor getting taller until he jammed his right hand forward and smashed into the three men blocking the hallway in front of him at about forty miles per hour. At least they were in the choke field with him.
Horrible plan though. You don’t really ever think about how much fun breathing is, until you can’t.
Nifty thing about the way he’d constructed the shield he wore, if he touched the ground any force hitting him would go directly into the earth. If he flew or in this case floated a little, any form of impact did its level best to go right back into what ever hit him. Now if he was hovering in place that didn’t really do much. It just meant that he didn’t get knocked around a lot. But, if he was moving fast and hit something that wasn’t, that changed the equation. In this case the men that tried to bar his way flew to the side except the one directly in front of him, who flew straight back until Tor hit him a second time, hard, spinning the black clothed stranger halfway around.
The move got him out of the range of all the effective weapons and while the lances should have worked at the distance he was at, they didn’t go through his shield at all.
Yay, forethought.
Near the end of the hallway, a good two hundred feet away from the original point of attack, Tor spun and dropped the field that kept him up in the air. He had to in order to use his right hand to dig into his inner pants pocket for his own remaining weapons. He felt a little silly for giving Smythe, who’d turned out to be his enemy and an evil man, the explosive weapon like that.
Not because he thought the man would try to use it. If he did that they just all died.
No, it was just that someone that would attack another person in the middle of a fairly civil discussion like that, especially since it was obviously a premeditated assault, wasn’t exactly stable either. Well, nothing for it now. After all, going back that way meant pain and burning again. He got his own force lance out, probably the same type these men carried, from the way they were trying to use it, spraying it back and forth, throwing objects at him in the stream generated.
He returned fire.
Connie and Richard had run away, or possible had been pulled to safety. Either was possible. What they were thinking ordering a needless attack like this he didn’t know. As the men closed with him, weapons raised, ready to fire, if not doing so already. Tor sprayed the whole hallway from left to right. It knocked people down pretty rapidly. They seemed to be wearing shields, but either they weren’t very new ones, or if they were, the shields weren’t made by him. Good. It made the next bit easier.
When he had as many of them as possible taken down, four of the nine seemed about what he could manage at once spread out as they were, because they stood up too fast for more, he rushed them full speed, using the new field to hover just over the floor. Way faster than he could run. Bodies flew again as he hit. At the door he found Counselor Smythe standing in the way, hands raised, burning pain coming off of them, so he hit the man with the direct beam of the lance, knocking him out the door.
The stumbling and flailing of the large older man would have been either sad or funny, depending on the situation, if it wasn’t so dire in the moment. The man had set the military on him. Commando’s it seemed. Who the hell did that? He was a seventeen year old kid for god’s sake. Tor wasn’t even particularly dangerous. What was he going to do, run away at them?
The thought made him laugh out loud, since that was pretty much what he’d actually done.
“Run away!” He called out, as if it were his battle cry.
Even after knocking them down he heard their foot falls behind him, closing fast. Tor pinned the man’s head to the ground with the force lance as he closed with him. It couldn’t have been comfortable at all. Smythe had tucked the explosive device into his left front pocket, which would probably be impossible to get to, depending on the type of shield he had on, he knew. When Tor moved slowly though, his right hand passed. It felt like reaching through thickened mud.
Finally, just as the first of the military men got to him with their pain devices and air chokes, he got it and pulled it slowly from the field. Yes, he couldn’t breathe and was in pain the whole time, the air thick and hard to move through… that didn’t matter though. All that did was making sure a madman didn’t have his super-weapon.
The big difference now, other than that he was armed with a weapon they couldn’t match again, was that he was outside. Rules against it or not, if you tried to kill him, he was going to try and run away, even if that meant flying.
Run away!
The motto came back again clearly. Kolb really knew his business Tor decided, having drilled that into him so forcefully for years. Trying to fight the army meant eventual death, but this… He started to fly straight up when he heard the yelling. The relief from pain was almost instant as he rose, like cool water caressing his tender flesh. Air sucked into his lungs hard, making him cough due to the force of it. That hurt too, but it felt better having the air than not.
“Stand down!”
He couldn’t see who was yelling it at first, but after a few seconds twenty black and purple clad Royal Guards rushed the courtyard pointing weapons. At first he thought they were trying for him, so he rose to a few hundred feet, ready to bolt. Instead they pointed them at Smythe and his men, who dropped their own weapons in an orderly fashion. Tor didn’t go anywhere, but also didn’t let himself be lulled into a sense of security.
It would have been a very convoluted trick to try and pull, using the Royal Guard to make him feel safe from the military, then everyone attacking him, but the royals did things like that. It was like they couldn’t enjoy a victory if it didn’t have six layers of intrigue or difficulty built in.
Finally Richard and Connie came back out, and so did Rolph. They didn’t yell up at him or anything, but they all looked, and finally Rolph waved to him. Tor lowered to about twenty feet so they could all talk, hoping it really wasn’t just another trick.
“Hey, so, guys… What the hell? One minute were having a nice, if slightly heated conversation about how to handle some shady merchants, the next, military guys come out of the walls? What kind of a set up is that? Or do you want me to believe they just live in the walls and pop out on command? If they were Royal Guards I might have bought that excuse, but military commandos living at the palace full time? I think not.” Tor shook his head broadly so everyone could see it.
Smythe stood on the ground, unarmed, or at least without his interesting gloves, looking angry. Well, he wasn’t alone in that, was he? Tor landed, holding the explosive device in his right hand. The man didn’t cringe away, but did speak as if he wasn’t right there again.