Chapter One Hundred and Sixty Nine - 169"He's--" The white armored young man trembled, his eyes distant. Haunted. His cloak had burned away and his once-shiny platemail was dented and dull.
"Tell us, Klark. We heard it, we-we saw the explosion," an Acolyte got down on her haunches to look in the boy's eyes. And he was a boy, perhaps no more than seventeen for all that he wore the sword of an Initiate. "We need to know."
DuFont rolled her eyes, though she made sure the others didn't see her. She had been assigned to a group of Initiates and Acolytes, rounding up dissidents in the Crafters Quarter. When the sky lit up, she thought the Stalwart had unleashed its Mana cannons on the city; something the Master Inquisitor seemed more than ready to do. But then she'd spotted it falling.
And the world went mad.
They'd found the boy while trying to reach a local rally point, but when they came to the square no other Inquisition members were there. So they kept moving, down through the Crafters and toward the Wall. That was when they came upon him, sitting against a rock, dazed and bleeding.
DuFont nodded to the Initiate nearby, a man by the name of Graves. He was tall and lanky, but his Skill with the blade at his hip was well into Journeyman. Nearly Adept, if her guess was right. And it always was. "Keep an eye on the perimeter. Those Revenants could come at any time."
DuFont strolled over to the boy and rapped him twice on his helmet. Shock was painted across the Acolytes around them, shock and a little distaste. Especially from the kneeling one, the comely one. Tsk. I'll remember that.
"Times up. We've no time to coddle you," DuFont leaned over the young man, putting her face closer to his own. "Tell us what happened."
The Initiate gaped for a second before his training must have kicked in. Setting his jaw, he blinked and nodded. "Yes, ma'am. Its--the Master Inquisitor. He was onboard."
"And where is he now? We could use a hand with all these monsters running free."
"He's...he's dead."
Soft gasps erupted all around them, and DuFont closed her eyes in frustration. You bastard. You absolute bastard! To the Initiate, she reached out a hand and helped him to his feet. "How?"
"The beast it..."
"We saw," DuFont said.
"It bit the ship in half, we...we crashed," Klark gestured around the bend of rubble. "I-I got out. I fell. Why did I live when he did not?"
DuFont wanted to shake the little idiot, but she restrained herself. "You saw the Master Inquisitor die?"
Klark nodded. "He was torn apart by the beast's teeth. He--I cannot believe he could survive such wounds."
"You'd be surprised," DuFont muttered to herself. To the others she spoke louder. "Everyone, let's fan out. The Master Inquisitor might still be alive. Find him."
Katan better be alive, DuFont swore to herself. Or I'll kill him.
"Leeds, get the water line going! We have barrels to fill and it's black as pitch out there."
"Aye, cap'n," said a thin man with a shock of curly red hair. He was one of the newer arrivals, but she'd recognized him from around the Dust.
Gods, they're all new arrivals.
"And bring Bodie with you!" Cal gripped the daggers at her waist. They'd lost two runners two hours ago because of a lack of fighters and light. They had plenty of bodies, but after the Inquisition packed it up and ran, anyone worth a damn with a blade had joined up with the Wall and what remained of the Guild.
The Guild, she snorted. Without the tower, the Guild didn't exist, not in Haarwatch. Some of the Bronze Ranks were trying to rally at the Wall, but no one had even seen a Silver Rank or Elder since the Eyrie fell. If she didn't know how resilient those bastards were, Cal would have assumed they died in the collapse. Where are they, then?
The Tin and Iron Ranks had been struggling with monsters at the Wall, and it was only getting worse, she heard. And now, monsters were inside the walls too. They'd built outward from their warehouse, if only to accommodate the influx of survivors from the nearby Quarters. A few industrious crafters had built them a wall of dirt and loose stone, more a mound than a proper fortification, but it was something. It had proven its worth a hundred times already, slowing the beasts down before they could trample them all. A few torches had been planted along its length, keeping the area well lit despite the storm clouds that still crackled above them.
Lightning but no thunder. Clouds but no rain.
Kelgan and Yan stepped across the barricade, back from their patrol. The spearman met her gaze and shook his head slowly.
Damn. Still no sign of the kid.
Harn said he wasn't worried about Felix, but she'd had to just about physically restrain Vess from going back out there. Evie was awfully quiet too. Just about as quiet as she got when Mags disappeared. Cal ran her hands through her short hair, causing it to stick up wildly.
She had to protect them all. Somehow. No one else would.
Someone screamed.
Fluid Shift!
Like a greased shadow, Cal spun over the makeshift wall and onto the street beyond. Without thought or hesitation, she sighted down the Revenants charging down the road, hot on the trail of a group of survivors.
"Karp! Portia! On me!" Cal shouted as she moved, flickering through the Haarwatchers' ranks like a ghost. She didn't stop as a flurry of green-gold arrows and golden bolts filled the sky, merely timing her approach. The first row of beasts went down, leaving only six left.
Not nearly enough.
Fatal Flurry!
Seven precise slashes tore through the Revenants like they were made of paper, and a dark ichor sprayed wildly all around her as they fell as one.
You Have Killed A Manawarped Revenant (x6)!
XP Earned!
They're getting weaker, she mused. But where are they coming from? There are still so many.
Harn said the Domain had been teeming with them, but that most had died before it ruptured. So how did so many flood the streets? Her scouts were tentatively reporting several hundred in just the Dust alone. They couldn't handle that many, not as they were. Something had to change.
"Ma'am?"
Cal turned, and the man behind her flinched backward. Her sharp eyes caught him and the others all huddled close, as if afraid of the monsters...and of her. She looked down at her daggers, which were still smoking a visible vapor of black and sepia. She sheathed them.
"You lookin' for shelter?"
The man nodded. Behind him, several women, four elderly folk, and a child looked at her nervously. Cal tried to smile reassuringly, though the way the man's face paled, she doubted she did it right. Damn it, Mags. You were always better with people.
"Good, you can find it right there," she gestured behind him, to the torch line. "Just beyond the low dirt wall. Ask for Portia, or Karp if she's busy. They'll set you right."
Cal turned back around, pushing her Perception out into the narrow maze of streets. Their patrols weren't the best yet, but this group shouldn't have gotten this far. She'd have to yell at someone in a bit.
"Lady?"
A small voice. The child. Cal tilted her head back and saw a little girl, maybe no more than six or seven years old. She was bundled in a cloak and had a small makeshift pack on her back. She gave Cal the fiercest little look. "Is the Fiend here?"
"Amaya!" The man was shocked. Her father she supposed. "Apologies. Apologies."