Chapter 74 – Only two?
The explosions stopped, but Matt didn't take his hands off the window glass. He stayed there, palms pressed against it, breathing a little ragged, eyes still fixed on the smoke rising from the forest.
Elyra was looking at him. The guards were looking at the door. Nobody said anything for a few seconds.
Then, the younger of the guards, the one who had been on the right, turned her head slightly toward Elyra.
"…Your majesty. The barrier held," she reported quietly.
Elyra nodded without looking at her.
"I know. Go verify the east wing."
"Your majesty, we can't leave the room."
"Now you can."
The guards exchanged a slight look. The queen didn't give an order like that without a reason, and the reason was standing next to the window with his palms against the glass.
Matt.
The guards nodded at the same time, gave a short bow, and left the room in silence.
The door closed, and the room was left with two people.
Matt lowered his hands from the glass and turned around.
"Elyra."
"Yes?"
"I'm going out."
"No."
Matt blinked.
"Elyra."
"I said no."
"Elyra, listen to me—"
"No, Matt."
Elyra walked slowly until she was between Matt and the door. Not in a hurry. Not with violence. Without rushing her steps. She leaned lightly against the closed door, with her hands behind her, and looked at him with that same face of hers, that queen's face that decided things and said them only once.
"You're weak."
"I'm fine."
"You're weak, Matt."
Matt looked at her for a second. Then he lowered his gaze. He looked at his hands, they were still trembling slightly. He looked at his legs. They felt heavy. He ran his tongue over his lips and felt they were dry.
And even so.
"Elyra. I'm leaving."
"At least take a bath."
"…What?"
"A bath, Matt."
"…"
"You're dirty. Your hair is flat. Your eyes are sunken. If you're going out, go out like a person, not like a corpse that just woke up."
Matt looked at her.
"…Elyra."
"What?"
"They're attacking the castle out there."
"Yes."
"With aircraft."
"Whatever it is," she cut in. "A bath, Matt. Half an hour. Then you can go out."
Matt closed his eyes for a second. He opened them again. Elyra was still leaning against the door with her hands behind her. Not moving. With that "this is not up for discussion" expression Matt had known since day one.
Matt sighed.
'…I don't have time for this.'
He raised his right hand, opened it, and on his palm, with a barely visible tremor of the air, appeared a soft blue pistol, with white details on the sides, with the trigger a little smaller than normal, the barrel just slightly shorter than a standard pistol.
Moon.
There were no guards at the closed door. But from outside came a faint sound. Two pairs of boots that had stopped in the hallway.
Two vampires who had felt the weapon manifest from the other side of the stone and had frozen in place.
Inside, Elyra didn't even blink.
"…And that?" she asked, with her usual calm.
Matt didn't answer. He raised his arm and aimed at her chest.
The silence lasted a second.
BAM!
The door burst open.
The two guards came back in with their weapons already drawn, a meter into the room, left hand extended, right hand pointing at Matt's throat.
"Back!"
"Drop the weapon!"
"Now!"
Elyra raised a hand.
Just one.
She didn't even peel her back off the door.
"Stand down."
The two guards went still.
"…Your majesty."
"I said stand down."
"…Your majesty, he's aiming at you."
"I saw. Get out."
"Your majesty—"
"Get out," she repeated, sharper this time.
The two guards looked at each other.
One of them, the young one, the one who had been sweating two hours earlier, clenched her teeth slightly.
But she didn't argue. She lowered her weapon. The other did too. Both of them gave a short bow, shoulders tense, and walked backward out of the room, not turning their backs on Matt for a second.
The door closed again.
Matt was still aiming.
Elyra lowered her hand, and smiled slightly.
"…Matt. If you're going to draw a weapon, it's to use it. Not to wave it around in the air like a child with a stick."
"…"
"Are you going to shoot or not?"
Matt looked at her, looked at Elyra's chest, looked at the blue pistol in his hand.
And he fired.
BANG!
Elyra took a step back, her back hitting the door.
Thunk!
Elyra's eyes opened slightly.
In her chest, a little below the right shoulder, a little more inward from the center than one would have expected, there was a hole from which a thin thread of dark blood, almost black, was flowing, starting to run down the fabric of the dress and stain the bodice.
Elyra lowered her eyes and looked at the wound. Then she brought a hand up to it slightly.
"…Ah," she let out quietly. "…Well now."
Elyra raised her eyes again and looked at Matt. Her smile hadn't fully gone. It had tightened a little, yes, gotten a little smaller, but it was still there.
On the other side of the door, no sound came.
The two guards outside. The queen's order not to intervene. The order was working. Even though they were on the other side of the stone hearing the shot, even though they'd felt the mana release into the air, even though they were two steps from kicking the door in, the order was working.
And that was the only reason Matt was still alive in that second.
Matt didn't lower the weapon.
"The next one goes to the head."
Elyra looked at him.
"…"
"If you get in my way, it goes to the head, Elyra."
Elyra laughed.
"…Ah, Matt. …My Matt."
Elyra lowered her gaze to her chest again. She brought her hand to the hole and pressed.
'…It's not closing.'
The wound wasn't closing.
It should. With her blood, with her age, with everything she was, a bullet like that should already be starting to close from the edge.
And instead the blood kept coming, not fast, but it kept coming, and the surrounding skin wasn't knitting back together.
'…I'm weak.'
Elyra clenched her teeth slightly. And then, looking at the blue pistol in Matt's hand, that second thought came to her without permission.
'That ego-weapon isn't just any weapon. That bullet had very pure mana.'
Elyra raised the wounded hand and looked at it. Fingers stained with black blood. She rubbed them slightly against her thumb, with curiosity, almost with interest, as if she were examining the texture of something she hadn't touched in a long time.
Then she lowered her hand. And with the other one, the free one, she touched the inside of her left wrist with two fingers.
"…Gluttony."
The air in the room compressed suddenly.
Matt felt the change before he saw it. Like a pressure in his ears. Like someone had closed every window in a house at the same time.
His skin broke out in goosebumps on his arms, his neck, the back of his head. And in Elyra's free hand, the one that had touched her wrist, something appeared.
Red. Big.
A scythe.
With a black shaft, thick, ending in a curved, wide blade of a dark red with edges of a black that reflected none of the light in the room. The blade was almost as long as Elyra was tall. The edge serrated in two small sections near the base.
The scythe appeared from one side of Elyra's hand to the other without weight.
And in the same second, the wound on Elyra's chest closed.
The skin knit back together. The black blood that had run down the dress dried instantly, darkened, flaked off the fabric on its own, and fell to the floor as dust. The hole in the dress was still there. But beneath the hole, the skin was whole again.
Elyra let out a breath slowly.
"…Ah. That's better."
Matt swallowed.
'…Oh.'
And he didn't think anymore.
He fired.
BANG!
Elyra was already moving.
She raised the scythe with her right hand, spun it in front of her chest in a movement Matt didn't even fully see, and Moon's blue bullet struck the black shaft.
CLINK!
The bullet split in two.
Each half went shooting off to a side. One embedded in the ceiling. The other in the window frame, behind Matt. The two impacts made a tiny, almost disappointing sound compared to what the bullet had made coming out of the barrel.
And Elyra was already on him.
One step.
Two.
The scythe coming down from above, diagonally, aiming from Matt's left shoulder to his right hip, a cut that was going to split him in two if it connected.
Matt saw the blade coming down.
'…No!'
He threw himself to the floor.
He dropped down all at once, knees giving out on him, falling more than crouching, and the scythe's blade passed over his head a centimeter from his hair.
WHOOSH!
And went on to cut through the headboard of the bed.
The headboard split in two. One half fell onto the mattress. The other onto the floor. The wood made a dull sound as it broke, dry, without splinters flying, as if the blade had cut so cleanly the wood hadn't had time to resist.
Matt didn't look at it. He rolled to one side and raised his arm to aim.
BANG!
Another bullet.
Elyra spun the scythe with her wrist. The blade moved as if it had no weight and cut the bullet in the air.
CLINK!
Again.
The halves went shooting up and down.
And Elyra was already coming with the second move, a lateral cut this time, right to left, aimed at his chest.
Matt saw the blade coming. He leaned back, but he stepped wrong. He fell backward against the nightstand next to the bed.
THUNK!
The nightstand broke too.
Matt fell to the floor with pieces of wood on top of him.
The scythe's blade passed above, cut the air where his chest had been, and kept going until it buried itself in the stone wall.
CRAAAAACK!
The stone split open.
A gash almost a meter long, clean, in the wall. As if the stone had been cheese.
Matt swallowed.
'…She's playing with me.'
Elyra pulled the scythe out of the wall with a smooth movement. The stone crunched around it. The queen turned, weapon resting against her shoulder, and looked at Matt sprawled on the floor among the pieces of the broken nightstand.
"…Matt."
Matt aimed at her again from below, arm trembling slightly.
"…"
"Matt. Wait a second."
Matt didn't answer.
Elyra lowered the scythe slightly. She rested it on the floor, blade down, and leaned lightly against the shaft as if it were a walking cane. The black blood that had dried on the dress glinted faintly under the light of the room.
"Listen to me. If you beat me… here. Now."
"…"
Matt didn't lower the weapon.
"…What?"
Elyra smiled slightly.
"…I'll give you your freedom."
Matt blinked.
"…"
"You'll be able to leave the castle. You'll be able to go back to the coffee shop. You'll be able to change countries if you want. You'll be able to never see my face again. If you beat me here."
On the other side of the door, though Matt couldn't see them, though he couldn't hear them, the two guards had gone still. Very still. With their hands on the hilts but not touching them.
Matt swallowed. He shifted slightly on the floor. He propped himself on one elbow. He sat up. He stood. Every movement cost him. His legs were heavy. The arm he was holding Moon with was heavy. His head was heavy.
But he stood.
And from the floor, with pieces of the nightstand still at his feet, with the cut wall behind him, with Elyra smiling as she leaned on the scythe, Matt raised his left hand and opened it.
On his palm, with the same barely visible tremor of the air, another pistol appeared. Red. A little bigger than Moon. A slightly longer barrel. A slightly thicker grip. A slightly wider trigger.
The details weren't white this time, but a muted orange.
Sun.
Elyra's eyes were opened just a little wider than before. The smile was gone. The scythe was still resting on the floor, but the fingers around the shaft had tightened, just barely, not enough to be seen from far away, but yes from here.
Elyra looked at the red pistol. Then she looked at the blue pistol.
"…Matt."
"…"
"…Only two?"
Matt didn't answer right away. He settled both pistols in his hands. One on each side.
The blue one a little low, aimed at the floor, still firm in his fist. The red one raised a bit, just slightly, with the barrel pointing to the side.
Matt raised his gaze.
"Elyra."
"…Yes?"
"I hope you don't take that back."
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