Chapter 75: A Wurm's Fury

Chapter 75: A Wurm's Fury

Akkyst had thought he was large.

And he was, objectively. He towered above other goblins, his paw blocking out their heads, his fangs like their fingers. Even the stalking jaguar and bladehawk were miniature before him, children's toys compared to his behemoth of a body. It had taken him a long while to grow this large but he felt comfortable in it, in knowing that he was strong and could defend himself, could defend others.

He no longer felt large, staring at the stone-wurm.

It raged against the air, bloodshot eyes furious with no easy target—some sort of anger had been instilled into it, whether by natural methods or magical; its roar trembled the very foundations of the mountain, even the whisper of its draconic presence slamming over his back. Its teeth, twisting and serrated, gnashed at the air.

And beyond it, goblins shrieked and jeered, brandishing spears and knives and fists wrapped in sharpened bone. The army they had been preparing; the patrols had only been to trick them. They had figured out where the Magelords were and prepared. This was the attack.

This time, Akkyst guessed, they wouldn't be letting the Magelords escape a third time.

He felt every muscle tense under his pelt, back claws cleaving through stone as he reared, chest quivering with a held-back roar; that was fine. This chapter is updated by nov(e)(l)biin.com

He wasn't planning on letting them escape, either.

As one, the Magelords moved forward; their hands glowed every colour of the rainbow, bright and fueled by fury; this was their home. They had defended it twice before and they would give their lives here once more, if need be. The War Horde jeered, outnumbering them three to one. Akkyst lumbered forward, towering overhead, eyes locked onto the stone-wurm.

It hissed, heading rising off the ground as its spines rattled against each other. More and more of its bulk crammed through the hole it'd shattered in the back wall, spiraling out in pale grey scales and bone white spines, pockmarked with dust and scraps from busting through the mountain. It was enormous, larger than he could conceivably comprehend, and he was only seeing its front; some part of him enjoyed that. Enjoyed expanding his knowledge of how big things could be, locking it away for future consideration.

The larger, slightly more aware part of his brain raised his claws and sent a roar bursting from his lips; the stone-wurm's attention snapped to him. Good.

Let the goblins fight the goblins. Akkyst growled and charged.

Alongside him, the Magelords cast their spells, bright zaps of light firing into the weaponous masses of their enemies; from the corner of his eyes, he saw the stalking jaguar disappear into the surrounding shadows, her golden eyes hunting for a distracted target. Over, the bladehawk shrieked, voice rebounding through the stone cavern like a thousand of him swarmed overhead; the War Horde flinched, unfamiliar, and left themselves wide open to jagged feathers loosed from above, finding delicate purchase in their throats and stomachs.

Spells exploded through the dusty air, just as spears and knives lunged for skin; Akkyst ignored it all with the boneheaded determination he'd worked so hard to build. He needed to keep the beast's focus on him.

With a bellow, he raced for its exposed underbelly, shadows bleeding from his fur. He swiped and his claws glanced off its scales, but the impact rippled up to its throat; its gaze snapped away from the charging Magelords and burned into him, bloodshot and furious. He bared his own fangs in response.

It hissed and dove, muzzle crashing into the stone with a boom. Akkyst threw himself to the side as a crater opened where he'd been standing, rubble filling the air; a cough and suddenly Bylk was beside him, eyes squinted against the dust, fingers raised. "No taking all the glory, eh?" He wheezed, and fire erupted from his fingers.

The quartz-light of before was a spark compared to the inferno; the stone-wurm wailed, sensitive eyes bulging as it thrashed away from the light. Akkyst charged and rammed his shoulder into its side, throwing it back even as his bones groaned from the effort. Bylk's fingers changed colour, one of the jewels in his ear losing its glow, and stone exploded beneath the beast like an earthquake. He was corralling it, Akkyst realized—trying to force it back outside the cavern. He could get behind that.

Rearing, he fumbled his claws into the grooves beneath its scales and heaved, shoving back as it thrashed overhead; the War Horde shrieked and howled, jabbing at its back, trying to get it to fight. Bylk's fingers moved faster than he could see and more stone burst from the mountain, shoving it back even as it threw itself against the walls, awareness returning to its sunscorched eyes. Not yet; Akkyst bellowed, digging into the ground. He could feel muscle taut beneath his paws, the raw power of the thing even when blinded and confused. His bulk shoved it a foot back, another–

Its sight recovered and it twisted, looking down at the irritating pest pushing on its chest. Akkyst overbalanced, but his claws were still curled around its scales and he tore them loose, revealing pale flesh and oozing scarlet.

Its bloodshot eyes widened.

It seemed to pause in its battle, tense and quivering. Akkyst retreated back a few steps, heaving in ragged breaths. Its massive neck craned around, revealing tattered spines and missing scales down its spine, but all it had eyes were for the bleeding slashes around its side. The injury.

The first injury it had received in quite a while, if Akkyst's horrible prediction was true.

There was silence, for a moment, every other goblin pausing in their war to glance up at the towering beast in their midst. One from the War Horde was pushed forward by her brethren, all too cowardly to do it; she stepped forward and gently, hesitantly, prodded the thing's side. They wanted it to keep fighting.

Oh, it would. Akkyst could see the signs and flattened his ears a second before it screamed.

Bylk had warned him about this, a distant part of his brain recognized. Wurms had traded their intelligence for draconic strength, and with that strength came the raw superiority that believed oneself invulnerable.

And suddenly he knew where his claws were.

Everything hurt, everything ached, and the last time he had felt this he had run. Had abandoned his home to find shelter in the dark tunnels, had tore through the mountain unaware of where he was going, had been scared.

He was no longer scared.

Akkyst shouldered forward, forcing his claws in deeper; something hot rushed over his fur and the thing shrieked, making it past the blood caked in his remaining ear. It writhed against him and he could hear its jaws snapping at the air, desperate to bite him; but he was underneath it, claws embedded in its throat. It couldn't reach.

Something gave and he found the hole Bylk had carved through its underbelly, claws tearing through flesh as he dug, clawing furiously at anything he could reach, only able to feel its vibrations as it screamed anew. It thrashed around him and Akkyst felt himself lift off the ground, kept pinned to its side, and his weight dragged his claws further into its body. Even past the blood he could hear it, shrieking, echoing like the voice of the mountain itself.

He reached deeper and found something, something trembling and shaking and warm, and ripped it to shreds.

There was a groan, air hitting his fur, and then he was moving—he slammed back first into the ground, bones cracking. Another second and the beast landed beside him, dislodging his claws, its immense weight missing him by a hair as the thud shook him to his core.

And then it was still.

Akkyst laid there for a moment. Everything hurt in such a way that made him realize he'd never really felt pain before, not like this. It was more interesting than mindbreaking, his brain certainly aware he was in pain but simply refusing to finish the connections.

But more than that, he felt relief. He had done it.

He hadn't run away.

Something touched his ear. He flinched and the presence retreated, waited a second, before returning. "Shh," someone rasped, and he could feel knobbly fingers combing through his fur, tugging out clumps of blood from his ear until he could hear again, hear the distant groan and crash of falling stone. The cavern was falling. Was destroyed, probably. He couldn't open his eye to check. "Don't move."

Bylk, some part of him recognized. The goblin continued making soothing noises, something tight in his voice, and Akkyst could feel the faintest prickle of mana race through him.

It wasn't enough. He knew how much mana it took to heal creatures born from mana like him, and Bylk had more than emptied himself in the fight. There wouldn't be enough.

But that wasn't right, either.

Because there was mana in his chest, something burning and swelling, stronger than anything he'd ever felt. It almost hurt and it kept growing, spiraling in from something he couldn't see, filling his channels until he could feel the excess bleed off as shadows, tumbling through the air. Something brushed against his side and he knew it was the stalking jaguar, her feathery tail settling on his twisted claws. A shriek as the bladehawk circled overhead, watching without trying to force his way close. Goblins all around tended to their wounded, pulled the screaming out from beneath rubble and stone, or paid their respects to the cave bear who had lived with them. The one who was dying.

The thought struck Akkyst quite out of the blue. He didn't want to die.

Most mortal creatures didn't, he knew, but there was something very certain about the fact that he wasn't done yet. He needed to help his fellow creatures, help these goblins, discover more about the world—and he couldn't do that while dead.

The mana built, rising higher and higher until his channels ached. He could feel Bylk still stroking his face but it was distant, not important in the moment. Something growled within him and for a second he could taste whitecap mushrooms, feel water rushing through moss, hear the distant chitter of spiders and serpents. He remembered home.

Akkyst didn't want to die.

A question thrummed, deep in his chest, spiraling around the mana still building within him.

Power. Shadow. Knowledge.

An offering, one of the three. He didn't understand but he didn't have to, in the end. For all his life, there had only been one thing he had hunted for, learning the goblin's tongue and training their ways and searching for answers in the broken mountain. Something that set him apart from his underthings, what had made him strong—not his strength, but his desire. His want to learn.

He chose knowledge.

Light exploded within him.