Mfonemana_Uduak

Dear readers, This is the most edited version of Lucy Wickshire on the net for my readers, whose eyes itch at mistakes.

Synopsis: One misty day, the higher realms call for penance; the head of a mother and child requested. The stench of blood carried on for miles, A whiff of pain trailed down pine-covered hills. A mother's head taken on a spike, a child saved despite great battle. A failure to be dreaded for years to come. Banking on time, the realms prepare for when a child becomes a woman. But the impatient child would never reward enemies with even time. A promise; One should resolve a child's grudge before the breast milk is dry. A prayer; May the realms rue the day they failed to kill Lucy Wickshire.
You are about to read the accounts of Lucy Torgenn of Wickshire and the millions of bodies burned as a backdrop to a child's rage.

Lucy Wickshire

"Chain! Chain! Chain!" he screamed and she finally looked his way. He had followed her to jump on the leaving claw. She watched him climb towards one of the claw's sharp end and tie his chain around it several times before hooking the claw through the chain and followed his lead.

Many on the ground were trying to make sure their chain had not been grabbed by the claw; some struggled, others screamed, and those taken by the claw tried to get out. So, no one noticed the odd actions of these too.

The chains started to snap at a certain height; sometimes taking a foot with it and even breaking into two arms legs and even full human bodies, caught between them.

Helen saw as the claw easily broke her chain the moment it had reached its limit and sighed in relief. She then understood his plan. The claw broke the chain before the chain could break their foot off. She looked at the man making his way to her side and knew his chain had snapped safely too. She could have hugged him at this moment for his well-thought-out plan if they were not hanging sixty feet in the air.

Amongst the screaming people; some bleeding, others hanging on life's last thread, they were carried out of the hall into the hot night's air.

The heat called their attention away from the hall below to the large engine before them. Metal gears moved in symphony with twelve giant pistons before their eyes in a deafening rhythmic clanging. They stared so hard, that many started to urinate in their clothes, while others forgot to cry.

Helen and the strange man looked around them and understood there was no way a normal human being could jump from this height and live to spread legends. The man as a martial artist thought he could but he would not dare take the chance. He saw her look at the endless bottom below them look up with a calculating look in her eyes under the bright moon.

"Don't even think about it. There must be a martial skill at the bottom, just like at the roof of the hall keeping even high-ranked martial artists in," he shouted to her.

"I know," she answered and looked at the direction the claw was taking them. They were heading towards the heart of the engine.

"Your turn," he said in panic. One could easily see the fear in his eyes, almost as though it took all of him to trust Helen at this moment.

"Come over and hold on to me," she said and he hurriedly did as told. He grabbed onto her waist, locking his two hands in a tight grip.

The claw now hovered over a large metal bowl filled with molten lava, then started to descend, sending all screaming horrifyingly into the uncaring night.

"What now?" his shout almost deafened Helen. She looked down at the glowing red liquid boiling under them and gritted her teeth together.

"We fall" she said and blood drained from his face.

"Trust me; there is no way I will die," she said he started to regret all his decisions. Why would he trust this random woman to this point? He wanted to cry regretfully into the night but the glowing liquid under him did not allow a tear to spill from his eyes.

"Hold on tight! Nothing will happen!" Helen insisted and he took in a deep breath with his last drop of faith and gripped on tighter around her.

The claw released and people fell, screaming horridly; so did they.

Helen stared at the liquid with defiance in her eyes. As her body was nine feet from the burning liquid, a monk appeared before her swinging his prayer beads, causing Helen to break into mad laughter.

Bk 2: chapter three (9)