Free Syphon: Guardians of the Fractured Realms by Chad Kunego

his sword and vambrace to deflect multiple sword strikes from her, almost hearing the metal singing as the blades slid across each other.
    As the images started to clarify, he was startled back to the present by the sound of someone begging to be left alone. Cursing the interruption to what felt like recovered memories, he started to settle back down to concentrate when he realized he recognized one of the voices.
    “Hank…?” he whispered.
    Slowly standing back up on wobbly legs, the pain in his head started fading as he glanced around. Not seeing anyone at the mouth of the alleyway, he focused again on the voices. Turning, he headed deeper into the gloom, warily choosing his steps, trying to be as silent as possible. About fifty feet in, he came to an intersection. Pausing to listen, he turned right. After another twenty feet, he could make out several guys surrounding Hank, pushing him around and occasionally hitting him, causing him to fall and groan before they hoisted him back up to continue the harassment.
    “Are ya sure you ain’t got no money? We’ll stop if you can give us just a few bucks or so… Or maybe some drugs?”
    Samuel felt a simmering rage begin boiling up inside of him. He knew first hand what it felt like to have a bunch of punks do that, and he’d be damned if he was going to let it happen to someone he knew, even if it was only this morning that they’d met.
    “Come on fellas,” Hank pleaded, “I ain’t got nuthin’. I was just scavenging for stuff in that dumpster. I didn’t mean nuthin’ by it. I’ll leave right quick if you’d let me.”
    “Nah, I think the boys and I are gonna show you what happens to people who come in our territory and don’t pay the tribute.”
    Without warning, one of the guys sucker-punched Hank in the back of the head, knocking him to the ground, groaning in pain. At that signal, the rest of the guys started kicking and punching the incapacitated man.
    “Hey, how about you pick on someone able to fight back!”
    All of them stopped at once to look at Samuel in surprise. As they stared, he started walking toward them. They glanced at each other before glancing at the semi-conscious man at their feet.
    “Oh yeah, and who are you then?” one of the guys yelled at him.
    “I’m the one who’d going to turn you into something resembling leftover roadkill if you don’t leave now.”
    “Really now,” said another man, kicking the downed man hard before turning to fully face him, “so it’s just you that’s gonna turn us into roadkill, is it?”
    Glancing around, the speaker picked up a chunk of wood from a broken pallet. With that, the spell was broken and the rest of the men quickly found other bits of pipe and wood to use as improvised weapons.
    As Samuel continued to walk toward the men, he glanced at the arrayed makeshift weapons.
    “Last chance to walk out of here…”
    “You know what, you’re a funny guy,” the leader said before glancing over his shoulder.
    “You hear that guys, this nice fella’s giving us a chance to give up before someone gets hurt. What do you thi—”
    The man abruptly spun back around, violently swinging the wooden plank in a powerful overhead arc at Samuel’s head.
    Without thinking, Samuel nonchalantly swung his left arm up to block the makeshift weapon. With a loud crack, the board splintered over his upraised arm. Shaking the splinters off his sleeve, his steady stare burned holes into the other man bulging eyes.
    “Well, I did warn you, didn’t I?”
    §§§§§§§§§§§§
    Samuel knelt down beside Hank. Gently turning him over, he could see his face was a mass of cuts and bruises from the assault the men had administered. Glancing around at the broken bodies littered around the alleyway, groaning in pain, he mentally debated what to do. Reaching a decision, he gently squatted down to picked Hank up in his arms, surprised at how light he felt.
    “Please, don’t hurt me anymore,” Hank mumbled, fading