Clamors of war, cries of battle, and the clang of steel filled the air. Evestani forces defended with faith and power, wielding their overwhelming numbers against Company Al-Mir. Their god protected them, keeping the hostile siege magics from causing any harm.
Then, the protective magics failed. Siege magic bombarded the primary concentration of Evestani forces. They fell back, moving to better defensive points where they could hold off the lesser numbers with greater efficiency.
Until a shadow fell over their forces.
Walls cracked and the ground trembled as an elongated shadow eclipsed the burg of Elmshadow.
The mighty tower of shadowy stone loomed on the horizon, an ominous silhouette against the evening sky. It moved with an eerie grace on six colossal legs, each step causing another quake to shake the ground.
Walking Fortress Al-Lavik approached Elmshadow burg.
Evestani confidence shattered, replaced by abject terror as the Walking Fortress drew near. Wails of fear and confusion erupted from the rank and file as they stared up at the towering behemoth. The commanders tried to maintain order even as their hearts trembled, shouts shifting between threats to keep in line and promises that the Golden Good would prevail, crushing the tower before it could reach them.
With every step the tower took, those promises grew less confident.
The masses broke rank, abandoning their positions and fleeing in a chaotic rout.
The soldiers of Company Al-Mir, though affected by the shaking ground as much as their enemies, found their spirits bolstered. Faces, grim with the strain of prolonged combat, now shone with relief and vigor. Deafening cheers drowned out the panic of Evestani as they surged forward, backed by the might of the Walking Fortress.
There weren’t many things Priscilla could see.
That ray of gold still seared into the darkness of her vision.
Priscilla dipped a wing, sending her glide around in a tight turn. The protective dome, another thing she could see, was gone. Nothing would stop her from reaching the source of that light.
It was the Heart of Gold. The destroyer of this world. Even her hatred for humans was nothing but a pale, flickering flame next to the burning rage she felt for those so-called gods. They ruined everything, killed her kin, and destroyed her [HEART].
They couldn’t die. Or, if they could, Priscilla wasn’t capable of killing them. Nor was any mortal. It would be like trying to kill the sky. But she could kill their minions. She could scour their influence from the world.
That scouring would start here and now.
Reaching the point above the source of that golden ray, Priscilla folded her wings behind her and let herself drop. The air screamed past her until her body crashed into a thin series of wooden planks. A roof. The moment she felt herself crash through, she spread her wings wide. Her right wing scraped into the side of whatever building she had entered.
Despite using her wings to slow herself, her feet struck the ground with enough force to crater the floor. Somethings squished between her clawed toes along with the familiar cracking and snapping of bones. Judging by the lack of sudden screams, whoever it was wasn’t alive.
It wasn’t the avatar. She could see the avatar. A pinprick of golden light gleamed in her dark eyes.
Priscilla didn’t hesitate. She didn’t banter or bargain. In her experience, those with power often liked to gloat about it. Her tenure as a Keeper of a [HEART] had ended poorly in part because she had once been one of those types. It was an exploitable weakness… but one that worked in both ways. The one listening would just stand around.
Blind as she was, her opponent could be preparing Frost-knows-what while she just stood there with a stupid look on her face.
So, she didn’t hesitate. Unhinging her jaw, Priscilla breathed. The temperature of the room plummeted as sharp shards of ice formed in the air, sailing through it like miniature arrows.
The golden pinprick swelled. Whether a shield or an incoming attack, Priscilla didn’t stick around to find out. The claws of her toes dug into the ground, propelling her forward with a burst of speed that was too fast for human eyes to follow.
As she charged, the golden light intensified, morphing into a dazzling array of thin, destructive beams. They scattered through the air in rapid series, with several trailing just behind her.
One appearing in front of her forced her to twist and turn, her dragonoid form shrinking in on itself as she wove through a forming web of deadly light. She could hear the missing beams carve deep gouges into the walls and floor, leaving trails of destruction in their wake.
A stray beam grazed her side, searing through her icy scales and flesh with agonizing precision. She stifled a roar of pain, refusing to give that bastard the satisfaction of hearing her suffer. Instead, she forced her cold fury inward, channeling it into the elemental crucible within her chest.
Another blast of ice erupted from her unhinged jaw. This time, she aimed at the ground around the avatar, turning every surface in the room into a slippery sheet of ice. Excess icy crystals hung in the air like tiny flecks of snow, filling the room with a thick mist that would hopefully render the avatar as blind as she was.
Using the mist as cover, she darted forward, closing the distance between her and the avatar.
A golden construct melted into her vision just ahead of her. Humanoid and golden, she couldn’t tell if it was like that man in gold armor or like those golden statues that turned everything they attacked into more of themselves. Either way, letting it touch her was not an option.
Priscilla beat her wings, launching herself into the air. Her back slammed through another beam of wood, but she ignored it. The pinprick of light that was the avatar looked like it was struggling against the icy terrain. Its movements became sluggish as the cold began to take its toll and… well, she hoped it was slipping and sliding about. She wished she could see that. That might even be enough to make her laugh.
Unable to see the comedy, Priscilla focused on her rage. She dove with a powerful beat of her wings sending her back down, over the top of the golden construct. Claws extended, she reached for the avatar. For all his power, he was as mortal as anyone else. If she could just get her hands around his throat…
Something grasped her wing. Just a finger-length more and she would have had her claws in the avatar’s heart. Now, the construct pivoted and released, taking her with its movement and sending her sailing through wall after wall. Stone broke and shattered around her as she plowed through at least two buildings. Her back finally skimmed against the ground, bouncing her off and slowing her enough that the next wall stopped her momentum.
Priscilla’s head spun. If she still had working vision, she imagined she would have thrown up.
“[You]/[enemy]… You seem… [familiar]/[recognized]/[do i know you?].”
Clenching her teeth, Priscilla shook the spinning world from her head. The pinprick of the avatar stood before her with the bulk of the construct blocking a direct path to him.
“I suppose it won’t matter. [Kill]/[slaughter]/[destroy],” the avatar said, waving a hand.
The construct took a step forward, its weight enough to send vibrations through the ground. Priscilla tried to push herself off the ground with her wings, only to hiss as a familiar pain coursed through her bones. The wing the construct had grabbed was broken.
Priscilla dug her claws into the ground, ready to shove herself out of the way of an attack.
Before the construct could rise up at her, a gout of heat surged forward, intense enough to make even Priscilla shriek. She breathed out a heavy gust of ice, just to keep herself from burning to bits. But the heat wasn’t coming for her. It swirled around the construct. The sheer weight of the construct combined with the heat had it sinking into the ground.
Priscilla used the opportunity to push herself to her feet, carefully folding her wing behind her and out of the way. The avatar’s pinprick had grown again, much like it had when she unleashed her first icy breath at it. A shield then.
“You’re late,” Priscilla hissed at where she thought the flames were coming from. Although she could see the Gold’s avatar, she couldn’t see the avatar of the Forge.
“Not all of us have wings,” the flame witch said. With the construct down to its waist in the ground, she allowed her fires to fade. “I would have been later if not for—”
“Enough,” the Gold’s avatar barked out.
Another welling of golden light filled Priscilla’s vision. She could feel the heat swelling at her side as the flames coursed toward the avatar. Priscilla ducked and weaved, leaping over a dazzling array of beams. Rays of gold struck where the flame witch had been, but rather than carving through her position, the beams deflected up into the sky with a roaring of intense flames.
A cry of true pain echoed out as flames forced the golden beams back to the avatar. Another shield enveloped him, cutting off the heat of the flames momentarily.
Not one to be outdone by a human, Priscilla seized the moment, her claws scraping against the ground once more. The construct was stuck, leaving her with a clear path forward. The pinprick of golden light was her sole focus. She dove into the flames surrounding the avatar, grimacing as she could feel the ice melting off her scales but trusting in the Permafrost to see her through.
Priscilla crashed into the golden barrier, her momentum sending cracks spiderwebbing through it. She drew back her arm and slammed it forward. And again. And again.
The heat of the flames twisted around her. It was probably burning her skin off her bones, but she didn’t care. She struck again.
This time, the flames intensified, but only right where she had struck. She could feel the intensity of the heat in the exact spot she had struck double over, then double over again.
Priscilla slammed her fist onto the intense blade of flames.
The fire pierced through the barrier. She felt that satisfying lack of resistance as her arm followed straight after. The knife of flames erupted around her arm, filling the interior of the shield. Her arm grasped the face of the avatar.
She squeezed. If breaking through the barrier had been satisfying, it was nothing compared to the feel of brittle bones cracking and breaking underneath her icy claws. The pinprick of golden light scattered in a thousand different directions as a splattering of hot liquid exploded across Priscilla’s front. She flinched at the feeling of the liquid boiling off her skin but still managed to taste a few drops of human blood as she licked her lips.
The golden motes of light in the air didn’t escape unharmed. The flame witch’s power nipped at them even as they streaked off into the distance, off to the west. They went far, far beyond what Priscilla could see. Far enough that she had to assume they left the city entirely.
Priscilla’s knees hit the stone as the heat of the flame witch’s fires winked out. Blessed cold covered her body. Which Priscilla took as a good sign. If she could feel cold, then she couldn’t be that hurt. Maybe the flame witch’s skill with her power let her control the flames to such a degree that none of them ever actually touched Priscilla, leaving her exposed only to the convection. That had to be it.
She could have stopped herself from collapsing completely onto the ground. All she needed to do was raise a hand to catch herself. But, for some reason, Priscilla’s face still slammed into the nearly molten stone where the avatar of gold had been only moments ago.
She opened her mouth, breathing out ice that vaporized into steam almost the moment it left her lips. It still cooled down the stone she was now pressed against.
With a twist of space, she found herself removed completely from the heat of the flame witch and in the cool air of an underground room—or maybe one of the tower’s rooms—smelling a mix of blood and sweat from a variety of different species. Moaning and groaning from the wounded bounced off the smooth walls. The infirmary. This was the second time that the golden avatar—or its minions—had sent her to the infirmary.
Priscilla clenched her teeth but lacked the strength to do much else about her anger.
“What’s wrong with you?” The voice of the human child, lower than expected but higher than most humans, sounded utterly exhausted.
Last time, Arkk had healed her of her concussion. Now, she had a child looking after her. Priscilla honestly wasn’t sure which she would have preferred.
“What’s wrong?” the girl asked again.
“Wing’s broken.”
“Ha? That’s it? I have a harpy missing a wing. You can wait—”
“I have a hole in my side.” That was an injury she had taken, wasn’t it? It seemed so long ago now. “Am I burned to a crisp? I honestly can’t tell. I think all my ice melted away.” What she wouldn’t give for eyes at the moment, just to see how poorly she looked.
And now this human was looking at her, seeing her in such a sorry state.
A loud click of annoyance snapped through the air like the clap of someone’s hands. The little girl uttered one of those long new spells the humans had developed. A sharp, snapping crack of bone made Priscilla jolt.
“Sit still,” the girl snapped even as more of Priscilla’s bones cracked back into their proper place.
Pain tore at her wings. Priscilla forced herself to remain as still as possible even as she felt like this mad medic was trying to rip her wings into pieces. Three more sharp cracks echoed through the room before the sharp pain faded. It still ached, but the worst of the pain quickly subsided.
“Your bones are… strong.”
“Uh…” Priscilla raised an eyebrow. Now that the pain in her wing was gone, she was feeling much better. Her body still tingled all over and her side still ached. “Thanks? Yours are weak.”
“I know,” the girl said with a pout in her tone. “Hold still. I’m going to patch up the hole in your side.”
A human that could admit to her own weakness. That was refreshing. As was the lessening of the pain in her side. Now that she wasn’t in intense pain, she found herself feeling more exhausted than anything. Had she been able to see, she imagined she wouldn’t have seen much more. Her eyes closed and her mind decided that now was the perfect time for a nap.
Dakka fell back, stepping just in time to avoid a flying fist from the gold knight. In the weight of her old armor, she would have been far too slow to dodge like that. Even as it was, Dakka had taken more beatings from the knight than she cared to count. It was a surprise that the shadowy gear was still intact.
But she couldn’t do damage. It wasn’t that her new equipment was lacking. The first strike she made had lopped the golden knight’s hand clean off his arm. But since then, she hadn’t landed a single hit. It wasn’t her equipment that was the problem. It was her. The knight was too fast. And he was fighting without an arm.
At least she could confirm that he was human under there. Or flesh and blood. A good portion of his blood had spilled out from his stub. But not enough to seriously inconvenience him. Or maybe the armor just had healing properties and was replenishing his blood as he went.
She swung again, aiming for any part of the knight that she could swipe at. He barely moved, only raising his arm to avoid the swipe of the scythe.
Dakka grit her teeth in frustration. She was fairing better than she had last time she fought the knight but it just wasn’t enough. And she was wearing out. Though the blade of the scythe didn’t feel like it weighed anything, her arms felt sluggish and her steps less sure. If the knight was feeling the same fatigue, he didn’t show it. She was slower than him to begin with and that gap was only widening with every passing moment of the battle.
The knight stepped into her guard. His foot snaked behind hers even as he planted a hand directly on her chest. All it took was a heavy shove to knock her off her feet.
The first few blows hadn’t been so bad. She had thought that she would be able to get a lucky hit if she just made enough strikes. Now, she regretted having waved the other members of her team away to finish their job. Would they have helped? Maybe. Maybe not. At the very least, they could have taken some of the pressure off her, letting her rest for at least a few brief moments.
The knight clapped his arms together and raised his joined hand and wrist high over his head. Dakka clenched her fists, digging her fingers through the muddy ground in frustration.
He didn’t even have skills beyond his speed. Dakka was an untrained raider who had lucked herself into a good station and she figured she would easily have trounced this guy in an unarmed fight. If he didn’t have that implacable armor…
Before the knight brought his arms down on top of her, the knight froze. His helmet turned slightly, looking off into the distance of the city in the same direction as where that ray of gold had come from.
Dakka didn’t know what distracted him. She didn’t much care. A distraction was a distraction.
Dakka lurched forward, flinging one arm up. Mud flew through the air, striking the golden knight in the thin, vertical slats of his helmet visor. She heard the grunt of surprise and pain as some of that dirt got in his eyes. It was no gorgon venom but the eyes were the weak spot of even the strongest warrior.
She didn’t stop moving there. The scythe was too unwieldy to use from the ground. Dakka snagged a small mail breaker from her waist belt and, in one smooth motion, jammed the thin, needle-like blade up beneath the knight’s fauld and straight through the mail protecting the gaps in the armor around his groin. A spurt of blood shot out as she twisted.
“Gotcha, bastard.”
The knight kicked forward, sending Dakka sliding across the ground.
Yet she couldn’t help but laugh at how weak that kick felt. What was more, she still had her grip on the dagger. Ripping it out of him with that kick would have only done more damage.
Dakka rolled to the side just in time to avoid the knight crashing down where she had stopped moving. With renewed vigor from the success of her strike, she shoved herself to her feet, watching with unbridled glee as the knight staggered after his attack. Blood ran down the golden armor of his leg, tainting it red. That felt good to see.
It probably wouldn’t kill him, unfortunately. Especially if her theory of his armor healing him was true.
But if it slowed him down…
Dakka’s eyes flicked to her scythe, lying on the ground where she first fell. Too far away to be of use now. She angled the mail breaker in her hand, pointing its tip toward the knight. It was just a regular blade. Metal, not shadow.
The knight knocked his hand against his helmet, trying to get some of that dirt out. Dakka flung another fistful of muddy dirt at the knight. He raised his good hand this time, blocking his eye holes. It still obscured his vision, letting her dash forward without hesitation.
He staggered back, stumbling slightly. One of his legs wasn’t working right.
Dakka grit her teeth, wishing she could show her opponent her tusks, and jammed her mail breaker forward, aiming for the thin gap between his helmet and the rest of his armor.
The knight swept his arm to the side, knocking her away with hardly any of the force that had been behind his other blows. She still rolled along the ground.
Right next to the scythe. Her fingers curled around it. Twisting on her knees, she swung out. A ringing of metal against metal sounded as the haft of her scythe struck his leg.
“Gotcha again,” she quipped as she pulled forward.
The shadowy blade of the scythe slipped straight through the knight’s leg. Blood rained down around his armor as the leg fell away on its own. The knight tumbled to the other side, unable to keep himself upright.
Dakka stood, swinging the scythe in a high arc over her head.
She slammed it straight down on the knight’s face and then pulled.
The knight split in two from head to groin, exposing a steaming pile of blood and bone and viscera as the two halves of his armor broke apart.
Panting, sweating, and aching everywhere, Dakka stared a moment. A part of her expected some trick. An illusion where the body would disappear and he would jump out from behind her. But, after a long moment, nothing happened. Dakka chuckled. Slamming her faceplate up, she hocked back and spat a blood-tinged glob at the knight.
“Bastard.”
She sank back, finding a wall to lean against as she worked to catch her breath. As she tilted her head back against the wall, she ended up looking toward the sky. But, instead of the sky, she found herself staring at a shadowy tower standing tall in the center of the burg.
“When did you get there?” she wondered. Knowing the effect the tower’s movements had on the ground, it seemed impossible that she wouldn’t have noticed. But there it was. She must have been enveloped in that fight to the point of tuning everything else out, even groundquakes.
Then again, thinking back, there had been several times where she had stumbled. She had attributed that to some magic…
Now she was thinking it was lucky that the knight hadn’t capitalized on any of her quake-induced blunders. Or, perhaps, he hadn’t been able to capitalize on any of them with the quakes affecting him as well.
“We won!”
Dakka turned at the familiar voice. Klepp’at was hobbling toward her, limping heavily while using his scythe’s haft as a walking stick.
“We won!” he cried out again, sounding pleased beyond belief. “Some of the enemy managed to retreat. The rest have surrendered!”
Dakka’s breathing turned heavy and labored. For some reason, those words brought exhaustion rather than elation. All of a sudden, the blows of the battle came back one by one, making her feel like she was getting hit all over again. It was nothing magical. Not an attack. Just her mind finally getting caught up with the pains and aches that she had suffered through that battle.
“The others are on their way to help with the gold knight, but… you killed him?” Klepp’at asked. His helmet turned toward the pile of meat. “That’s amazing…”
“Damn right, I did,” Dakka snapped, suddenly finding that elation that had evaded her moments before. She had won.
And she was going to make sure everyone knew it.