Chapter Four Hundred - 400The temporary estate of Representative Veil, delegate from the Territory of Nagast was silent as the grave. The gates, so wrapped in wards that they shimmered in the midday sun, were a bulwark against all any violence that might crash against it. The walls were tall, crenelated and defensively constructed, with battlements for warriors to walk.
Yet they were empty.
"What is happening here?" Captain Jorald Malphas demanded. "Where are the gate guards?"
He had marched his Fist of Knights at double-time across the entire Ward at the Matron of Incandescence's command. Elite they may be, but a direct order from a Matron? Not even Malphas could deny those that were Chosen of the Flame, and all they were to do was escort a company of traitors to the Temple. Simple and an insult to the Captain's abilities. Yet when he arrived, what did he find? Guards so lazy they cannot keep men at the gate!
The wardings aren't even responding to my Will! This is unacceptable! Malphas stomped his golden boot, cracking the roadway for six entire strides.
"Sir, my Lord Captain, sir."
Malphas snapped his attention toward a bowing scout. He had no idea what his name was, but it didn't matter. Scouts had a tragically short lifespan, even on controlled hunts. It wasn't even worth it to Analyze him, even if Malphas had the Skill. Which he didn't. "What."
"Sir, there is no response from the estate sir."
"I know that, why do you think we are still standing here?"
The scout blanched, but kept talking. "Nno, that iswhat I mean is! Sir, there is no response from anything. No Skill can make contact."
Malphas felt the cold worm of fear squirm in his belly. He drew his side-sword. "Men, with me. We're breaking down this gate, now!"
"Aye, sir!" his knights all cried in unison.
The Captain spun around and lifted his gilt blade into the air. "Let Flame Beget Flame! Molten Strike!"
A geyser of orange Mana vapor shot upward from his sword, igniting into a baleful bonfire twice the sword's length. Malphas strode to the gate and brought it down with all of the Strength he could muster. The wards burnt away while the wooden gates ashed to nothing.
Malphas pulled his still-blazing sword back up and grinned. "Men! Forwar!"
A boot caught him in the face, crumbling his helmet and sending the Captain tumbling, ass over teakettle into his Fist. Water followed, but nothing natural; instead he found himself floundering in an endless bubble of the stuff, unable to breathe or orient himself properly. Outside, crackling lightning and flashing steel burst from the sundered gates. Men and women, armored and armed to the teeth, flooded outward with death in their eyes.
Malphas screamed, releasing a stream of bubbles before realizing he was wasting his breath. He saw his Knights cut down, one by one and then in great swaths by the traitorous force. Rage kindled in the Captain, enough to fuel his heat Skill that began boiling the water Mana all around him. He poured everything he had into the Skill, earning himself two entire Skill levels yet coming no closer to freeing himself. By the time his Mana ran out, his lungs were burning in utter agony, and his eyes were flashing with blooms of random, blinding color.
He witnessed a giant of a man step forward, carrying a massive blade bigger than himself. He lifted it and Malphas twitched...that was all he could manage to save his life. With an immense swing, the water finally burst and Malphas was rolling wildly across the cobblestone street. He fetched up against the stone lip of a fountain, but barely noticed. The sight of his own body took up his fading attention, splayed out on the ground, headless.
How?
"Is everyone quite finished?" Zara asked. "Darius?"
Reed straightened and flicked his oversized blade, casting a bright line of red to splatter on the ground."Yeah. I'm done here. Harn?"
"Hrm. Claw. Stealth Formation Number Two." The fully armored warrior watched as the members of the Fiend's Claw moved relatively smoothly into the proper positions. There were a few slower learners among them, but overall Harn was impressed. All of them were dedicated to improving. "Ready to move."
"What, erm, what is to be done with the bodies?"
That question came from the Faun, a girl Harn had been very confused to see at Zara's side. Harn grunted. "Fourth Talon, put the bodies in side the courtyard. Quickly now." He glanced at the Faun and noticed she was still quite pale, watching the bleeding corpses of her former allies. "You could always stay here," he said.
Fiammetta started. "No! No I am dedicated to...to stopping all of this. That doesn't mean I cannot wish that my...that people weren't going to die."
"It is either them or us at this point," Zara said. The Fourth Talon hustled back out of the burnt gateway, bodies disposed of, and she clucked her tongue. "They have given us little choice."
Harn watched that blue-green Mana manifest into a shimmering, illusive door. It glowed with inner light before growing dull and seemingly solid. He even spotted bits of glowing sigils on it, like it still had wards. It was damn impressive.
And if she were there with Evie, maybe we'd be outta this situation already. Harn clenched his jaw hard enough that his teeth ached. He knew blaming Zara for this was unfair, but his gut was boiling with hate enough to spare. Evie better be fine, or I'm gonna kill every Master on that Council. Don't care how strong they are.
"II am most impressed that all of your people were ready and waiting for our assault," Fiammetta said to him. "To be quite honest, I had expected far more difficulty in extracting all of you from this estate."
Harn bared his teeth. "I never trust a cage. The Fiend's Claw stands ready, always."
A soft, rhythmic stopping extended outward from Harn's position as each Talon took up the chant in low voices. The Disciple look around, eyebrows drawn low in...it wasn't annoyance, but what was that word? It was a big one. Consternation, that's it.She's consternated.
"The Autarch would never leave us behind. We knew someone would come," Loquis said from beside them. He and his Talon, now three times the size, stood at attention. "Commander. We march when you're ready."
Harn slapped him on the back. "Good man. We move, now."
"Autarch?" Fiammetta asked.
"Perhaps later, dear," Zara said, approaching. "We must reach the Council Rotunda. Darius? We are aimed at rescuing our people, and whomever else is held within. None are to be sacrificed, you understand?"
"I will demolish their dungeon brick by brick if I have to," the Hand said, his breath heavy and scowl furious. "They have laid hands on the duke's daughter, and they'll pay for it."
"Aye. We'll see to that," Harn agreed, and he led them all down the sun-bright thoroughfares. His core rang with blow after blow on his visualized anvil, each strike propelling him onward. Faster. Faster. "We'll tear 'em apart, Reed."
"Wait. Explain this again," Felix said. "There's a monster nearby?"
"Oh yeah. Huge one, according to legends, and dead too. Sposed to be a tomb or something where it was left. Been looking for it so I can get Hallow a new upgrade."
They were walking down the hidden staircase carved into the cliff face while Pit and Hallow flew and crawled down to the chasm floor, respectively. Felix reflected that they could have ridden their Companions, but Beef had taken off toward the stairs before he could suggest it.
"The Multipede is great, don't get me wrong. But it can't fight off everyone, and Hallow gets tired after a certain number of Bodies get lost. So even if I made an army of weak creatures, if they can get wiped off the map fast enough Hallow is too exhausted to fight with me." Beef made a grumbling noise in his bull-like throat. "I'm strong, but magic is so much stronger. Found that out too late."
"Oh?" Felix asked as he followed behind. "How's that?"
"Well, after I made the change to this," he said, gesturing to his impressive physique. "I uh, I got a little wild. There's these mobs called Sandwolves out there and they're nasty. Almost killed me before my Race changed, but after that I could handle 'em. Killed a bunch, earning a whole slew of new Skills and stuff. That was a rush. But...Sandwolves travel in packs, and I nearly died a bunch of times. So I specc'd toward Vitality and Strength, leaning into my leveling bonuses. I can't exactly be mad about that, since doing that let me survive the worst of it."
"That is all very familiar, dude. I didn't arrive in a desert, but it wasn't a picnic, that's for sure," Felix said. He clapped Beef on the backthe Minotaur was a full two feet taller than him, so he managed only to hit his shoulder blade. "Survival comes first. The rest'll come later."
Beef smiled at him, looking relieved. His Spirit wobbled and calmed...though it was a little hard to make out, even for Felix. Odd. Wonder why?
"Well, when a particularly huge amount of Sandwolves almost killed me, I escaped by running into one of those sandstorms. The Cursewinds, they call 'em." Beef laughed, but it was tinged with chagrin. "Nearly died in there. But when I saw that storm, close up? I saw swirling winds and sand and dark flashing of lightning and...and it was power. Real power. I saw it summon corpses out of the sky to kill the Sandwolves. Even fought them myself." Beef shook his head and licked his lips. "They were strong, even the weakest ones. I barely survived. But I got out.
"That night, when everything was calm, I couldn't get that magic outta my head. I felt inspired, you know? Like how teachers talk about it in history class. I was that light bulb guy, right? I saw the thing and realized it could be so powerful and stuff. Magic. Magic was the way forward. Naos...er, Isla? Was that her name? Anyway he uh, she told me I 'kindled my Mote' or whatever at that point. She called it a 'spirit of possession' or like, what was it?" Beef snapped his thick fingers. "A wisp of undeath. But uh, nicer."
"Hallow," Felix said, putting the pieces together. "He's part of you."
"Yup. Something like that. I don't really get the whole," Beef cut himself off and waggled his fingers mysteriously. "The more complicated bits are weird. Naos tried teaching me, but I guess I'm just better at hitting things. My magic hasn't gotten much better. Each level I've gotten has just made my Body stronger. My Spirit and Mind are lagging behind, according to Naos. Isla. Fuck."
They chatted more, Beef getting more and more invested in telling Felix all of the enemies he'd fought around the desert. He'd waged a genocidal war against the Sandwolves, nearly wiping them out as they kept coming at him again and again. Some of his first faux-undead were Sandwolves, which Beef clearly relished. The guy was surprisingly bloodthirsty, but Felix couldn't exactly throw stones on that account. Anyone that chased power on the Continent were bound to get a taste for it...or else they wouldn't be around for very long at all.