37. Wind

Drake ran across the fire escape, his stupid shoes pounding on the pavement. Each breath he took felt like someone was stabbing him and a stitch was starting up in his side. He'd never felt something like this before, never been pushed so far beyond the limit of his physical endurance. Failing wasn't an option though.

You can do this, he thought, Remember when you were on the track team in middle school? This is just like that only with fire escapes and roofs.

Didn't you get kicked off? another thought intruded.

"Thanks subconscious," he moaned, vaulting himself over the railing and onto the street below.

Both Bianca and Ashley had trained him for these situations. He hadn't exactly been on a rigorous physical schedule, but it was enough to build up some sort of strength and fighting technique in him. They had concentrated more on magic, which they had all thought would be more useful in the long run. Boy were they wrong.

Landing on the street he risked a glance backwards. They were still following him, he hadn't expected otherwise. A plasma bolt was aimed at him, nearly missing his head. Drake stopped looking back and concentrated on running. All he had to do was get to the Chrysler building, which was actually on the other side of town.

So his chances of actually making it were slim. In that case he'd have to fight his attackers, and his odds of doing that successfully were on the narrow side too. In all reality how does one fight six Morganian sorcerers? He himself had been one once upon a time, so that should give him an edge. However, he'd never been very good at it and these ones obviously were.

All in all it was just another piece of evidence that luck was against him. For one thing he knew that he was over ten minutes late for the date with Ashley. Things had been lasting so long that he'd nearly lost track of time. He was sure that she'd forgive him when she found out that he'd been being chased by bloodthirsty Morganians. Yeah.

It had started so simply; go in and get the information. Things were moving quickly in the Morganian world now, too much going on. The coup project had been abandoned. Simon felt that things would be easier if he just proved himself worthy in a big way. Then everyone would flock to his banner.

A direct attack was being planned on the Chrysler building. If it was badly thought out than he wouldn't have worried too much. However, this one was quite cunning and presented a large problem. If no one knew about it it would definitely work. If they did know about it then it still might work. He'd have to tell Bianca that they'd have to mobilize now.

That was what he'd found out at that night's group meeting where he had been organized. Drake had gone into meetings countless times before and there had been no problem. This time though, a Morganian of the 550th degree had noticed that there was something off about his magic. He'd nearly smacked himself for not noticing him in the room earlier. That had led to his present undesirable predicament.

His only consolation was that they'd all gone after them at once. No one had sent a runner to go and tell anyone that he was a spy for the Merlinians. That gave him some time. It also meant that he'd have to kill all of them, or at least put them out for the running. Comas might work, if he had the ability to do that without killing anyone. Drake shuddered to himself. He wasn't prepared for actually killing anyone. Even Horvath had known that it had been all talk with him.

Drake rounded a corner into a dead end. He swore loudly and faced the opening of the alley. He bet that James Bond never had this kind of thing happen to him. If he did then he'd planned it and would have clever traps in the alley. Unfortunately he wasn't really James Bond; he was not getting constantly laid and the probability of death was actually greater for him. Yeah, he really lost out on that deal.

Forming a plasma bolt with his hands he knocked back the first Morganian to come into the alley. Drake sidestepped his body and used it to shield himself against the fire bolt of another oncoming Morganian. He ducked under the man once he'd resumed his purpose and backed up. If he could get out of there then he could probably carry on running despite the burning in his lungs. Scratch that, he would carry on running.

All of his plans were shattered when he felt arms grab him from behind. Before he knew it he was shoved head first against the pavement. His lip was cut and he tasted copper in his mouth. Why was it always the face with these people? If he lived then he'd have words with them about that. The 550th sorcerer came forward and crouched down.

"How long have you been spying on us?"

Drake considered the question.

"Piss off," he settled for.

His head was slammed into the pavement and the area under his eye was cut from the impact. Although it made him see stars he tried to concentrate on the positive; at least he wasn't dead yet. How long that happy state of affairs would last he wasn't sure, but he would do his best to make sure that it did.

"What kind of Morganians are you, slammin' another man's head into the pavement?" Drake said, spitting out blood.

"We have more sophisticated methods of torture you know."

"Sophisticated?" laughed Drake, "Tosh. You couldn't be sophisticated if your life depended on it mate."

Another slam. He heard a crack and felt pain from his nose. It was broken now. That wouldn't heal correctly. Drake had to get out of the situation and fast. Hadn't Bianca taught him how to get out of torture? Most of the methods involved a cyanide capsule, but there had been a few that shouldn't involve him dying at the end.

A wind spell started to form in his left hand. They couldn't see it because it was air, and it took a while to build up. Drake would need to concentrate on it though, and that allowed very slender allowances for mistakes. So no matter how badly beat-up he got he needed to keep thinking about that. That was…problematic.

"You don't believe us," said 550, electricity forming in his hands, "I can make you."

"Out here, in the street?" said Drake, keeping his mind on the spell, "You're gonna have lots of people hearin' my screams."

"Put a sound damper," 550 ordered.

That bought him a little more time. The spell was maturing in his hand. Piece of cake.

"Done," another one called.

There were five now, the one that he had taken out earlier was still out for the count. If he was clever and quick he could do this. The spell was ready in his hand.

"Shall we begin?" asked 550.

"Yup," agreed Drake cheerfully.

He let the spell go. The kickback knocked the man who was holding him back. Leaping to his feet Drake used the man as a shield against the attack that 550 was setting up. The wind was knocking everyone else around and the man who was used as shield soon served his purpose. Drake moved behind him and headed towards the mouth of the alley.

They were still after him; he didn't need to think about that. He levitated groups of garbage cans at them, shoving two of them to the ground before beating them. The move wasn't very elegant but he had abandoned elegance when he found it necessary to save his life. Bianca would be proud of him.

Still running he hopped on the back of a garbage truck. It wasn't going very fast but he just needed something moving while he could stay still. His concentration was broken and he needed to be concentrated to set up a shield. Drake had never been very good at defensive spells so this required some extra thought.

Throwing it up he started shooting plasma bolts and water displacement spells. He was being sapped of his energy quickly but he couldn't afford to let up. They were all gone, except 550 that is. He was good. Everything Drake shot at him was deflected. His skill level was so far above him that it hurt. Not to mention, he was a very athletic runner.

550 caught his shoe and dragged him to the ground. Drake hit his head hard and felt bruises and cuts form all over his body. His leg made a painful crunching sound, not something he wanted to investigate. He was pissed, he didn't intend to die that day. For one thing he still had to apologize to Ashley for missing their date in a suitable manner.

Just as he thought this he felt something slide into his ribs. It was painful, but not overly so. Drake looked down to find out that he'd been stabbed. The thought rewrote itself into his brain and he found himself swearing out loud in a screaming voice. Oh yes, it was very painful indeed.

He grabbed the lapels of 550. Concentrating Drake summoned up the most electricity that he could possibly use. The man shook under his spell, going into convulsions. Only when he was sure that he was out of the running did Drake let go. Then he let go of himself and collapsed on the pavement, trying to steady his breath.

With shaky hands he reached into his pocket.

"Bianca?" he breathed out.

"Drake?" asked Bianca, sounding bored, "What's going on?"

Trying to collect his thoughts he gave her a basic outline of what was going to happen. That was what she always wanted, a report first, yeah.

"That's…serious," she said, "Where are you now?"

He looked around him. His vision was becoming blurry for some reason. In gasping breaths he gave his location.

"Also," he managed, "I've been being chased by some Morganians. I took them down, a little scattered, but yeah. Um…"

"Yes?"

"I've also been stabbed and I don't know how to heal it," he said, "Could you send someone over?"

"WHAT?"

"Oh…and tell Ashley I'm sorry," he managed before unconsciousness took him.