Chapter 337: Ground Control

Elenore stepped into the grand chamber housing Vasquer, ancient ancestor of all the royal family of House Vasquer. The now freed serpent appeared emotionless, but it curved its huge body slowly around, snout facing Elenore. It was like some sort of embrace, and Elenore held her hands out even as her royal guard seemed nervous from the prospect. A small white bird settled on her shoulder, and though it turned its head from side to side it did not flee.

As soon as she touched the large snake, jubilation filled her head—not her own, but the golden snake’s. It was like a mother’s pleasure at seeing a child thrive, and it was particularly directed towards her full recovery. Elenore briefly lost herself in that pure feeling, reliving her own enthusiasm for her sight, but she had other purposes that more urgently demanded attention.

Elenore sent forth a memory to Vasquer. She could not remember the background, and so the people involved strode atop formless fog as they spoke.

We faced a pitched situation once before in the distant past, Anneliese mused. We were at a huge disadvantage, but I used my Starsparrow to quickly relay directions. Effective management of a large force and intelligence on the entire battlefield has unimaginable benefits. Since Argrave needs me on the frontlines, I cannot do the same here, nor would it be practical now… but you can do something better, the elven woman pointed to Elenore in this memory-scape.

Anneliese is on to something. It’ll be like playing a top-down strategy game, Argrave said. You and Vasquer will link up. You’ll use her enhanced perception to view the battlefield, and then you’ll relay orders to Sumner’s druidic bond, whereupon he will act accordingly. He’ll be able to position his troops to adapt to whatever the Shadowlander does. Like this, we shepherd it into the kill zone, barrage it with the deadliest assault we can muster.

Duke Sumner’s face twisted. That’s… unconventional, he said, though whether it was a compliment or a criticism was not certain. Couldn’t I achieve the same thing by simply watching from above with my druidic bond?

You’re limited even still, Argrave held his hand out. But with Vasquer aiding Elenore… the insides of the palace, any secluded streets, all the walls of the city… she can keep an eye on them all concurrently. If someone like Traugott is behind this, she can keep watch. She can be our ground control.

Duke Sumner slowly nodded. Where would this kill zone be?

It’d have to be in the city, Argrave stroked his chin. The palace won’t ever offer a clear shot for many people. And considering the strength of this abomination, we’ll need a shot for many people.

I saw a place when I scouted, Anneliese volunteered. Though… it is densely populated: a large garden square in the city, surrounded by tall buildings.

Argrave took a deep breath. I think I know the place you’re talking about. But…

We have time to evacuate, Anneliese suggested. Or at the very least, encourage people to take shelter.

It’ll be hard. Argrave stared at Anneliese. Not to mention the other problems we might encounter in the city. Everyone will need heavy security.

The memory faded from her mind, and Elenore waited for Vasquer’s response anxiously. The link between their minds was silent, and the princess feared the response would be negative. A dim flame of caution came—Vasquer informed Elenore that the burden on her mind, though survivable, would not be without consequence. Orion had used it but seldomly, and yet his headache had been unbearable for days to come. And this was Orion. The prolonged contact of such a bulk of information might do genuine damage to Elenore’s brain.

The princess did waver after learning that. Then, as she recalled all she already lost and regained, that hesitance vanished to the wind. And so… after some coaxing, to ease her into the process… Vasquer granted her perception unto Elenore fully. The new sensation was so intense that she lost her footing immediately, yet Vasquer’s body wrapped about her tighter to keep her propped up.

The sensation… it was not entirely new, per se. Part of it was an enhancement of what already was: namely, her sense of touch. It came with such a profoundly large and delicate machination as to make her numb. She felt all the vibrations on the earth—not just things walking, but the wind against buildings, the water against the ground, or the sounds against the earth. All of this worked in tandem to give her a total sense of all that was above or below, and all of what they did.

This gray and lifeless scene was given life by a more mystical perception. Elenore saw the previously unknown forces of the world—people’s souls, the magic in the air, or the foul rupture emanating outwards from the Shadowlander. Just like wind or sound, these left echoes that could be perceived. If the vibrations against stone brought shape, this mysticism brought color to this world. And like that, Elenore saw all of Dirracha laid plainly before her.

This scene overwhelmed to the point Elenore forgot the reason she was here to begin with—to speak, to relay. It took time—a long time, in fact—but she eventually remembered how to work her mouth. But then she remembered speaking required breath. If breathing didn’t come naturally to her, she might’ve died.

When Elenore realized she could perceive herself curled up in Vasquer’s embrace, she shuddered. “I’m… prepared, Sumner. Our task is twofold: relocation of Dirracha’s citizens and positioning of your troops.” As she took note of the palace atop the mountain, she added grimly, “And we should hurry. Argrave has already begun.”

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Argrave thought cheese was a rather fun thing in video games. Of course, that wasn’t referring to dairy, but rather the exploitation of certain mechanical oversights to defeat a foe or overcome a challenge with relative ease. One could lure or cajole enemies into spots where they couldn’t move and then pepper them with projectiles, for instance. If these video-game enemies had non-artificial intelligence, such a thing would never suffice.

Even despite that, intelligence had historically made people do stupid things in the right circumstances. Argrave rather liked that fact. It meant that he, average as he was, could still overcome the monstrously smart people that abounded in Heroes of Berendar if he orchestrated things properly. Furthermore, he might just stand a chance against the monstrously smart monsters. He intended to put that theory to the test.

Prince Orion fought valiantly against the gargantuan Shadowlander. It clearly tried to disengage, heading for the entrance to the Dragon Palace for a safe descent down the mountain to the city—namely, the Royal Road, the place they’d entered from. Every time it separated in its attempt to find the easier prey in the city, he chased it down. The Shadowlander outclassed him without a doubt—it left wound after wound on his body yet bore few itself. But just as a man could not ignore a feral cat entirely, so too could it not ignore him. And unlike a feral cat, Orion actually had nine lives… or something roughly equivalent, at least.

When they first arrived at the Dragon Palace, Argrave sent out his Brumesingers to assist Orion in his struggle even as they desperately struggled to get in proper position for their plan. It didn’t matter if the Shadowlander was strong enough to rend stone—against their mist warriors, each swing would do precisely nothing until their reserves of magic were worn down. Their months of consuming souls might be expended in this battle, but Orion alone could not resist forever.

Argrave and Anneliese followed this fight closely, leading some of the mages as the others took their proper position. Galamon and Vasilisa were absent, alongside a great portion of them. He peeked his head through the hallway, but the battle was difficult to perceive through the absolute darkness warping around the creature. It was like trying to stare through thin cloth close to the eyes.

Argrave looked back and waved everyone forth. They headed for the outside wall with their own party, giving the battle a wide berth. Anneliese brought her forefinger and her thumb to her lips and blew, and a shrill, deafening whistle echoed out across the halls. It was returned in short order—once, then twice, each one in different locations. Their only physical advantage here was that the Shadowlander could not hear nor make sound, and they used it amply.

They followed along the outside wall, using the noise to roughly track the battle. Every so often, a whistle was sent out, then shortly returned. Argrave found a point where a large window overlooked the city, largely glass. He examined the area, then looked down the large corridor beyond. This place was the last large intersection before the exit.

“Alright. Now… we play the matador, boys and girls,” Argrave said confidently, though swallowed nervously in a betrayal of his true thoughts. “Don’t worry about the two down there. They can take it,” he assured. “Anneliese, the last.”

Anneliese brought her two fingers up once more, clenching them together. She whistled once, twice, then thrice. Like birds chirping to birds, the signal was returned. Argrave thought he might need to practice this skill.

Argrave stepped a little ahead of the group, listening for the slowly approaching battle. He cupped his hands to his mouth and shouted, “Orion! It’s Argrave! If you can hear me, don’t bother responding. Up ahead there’s an intersection! I want you to step back for a beat for our attack, then resume! Don’t worry about letting it escape any longer!”

He repeated his directive thrice, ensuring that it would be heard. Once that was done, he rejoined the ranks of his mages. Anneliese took to the back of the crowd, sending ahead her Starsparrow with druidic magic to gather intelligence on the scene. All waited for her signal… yet all could hear, too, the coming mayhem.

The seconds that passed felt like minutes, and it grew ever closer. Anneliese watched, eyes closed and silent as she observed things through her bond. The darkness grew ever closer, corrupting the air and the stone around them with its warping refractions of light. The chiming of his Brumesingers made the scene eerier, as though some grim reaper came with bells portending his arrival.

“Attack!” Anneliese shouted urgently, breaking the silence.

It was sufficient to spur all to action. Their mages cast lightning magic of the most potent kind they knew. Though varied in power and rank, they were uniform in speed. The spells illuminated the lightless hall at once, traversing the distance too fast for the eye to see. The Shadowlander was caught in many, but many more passed by it. It flinched in pain, but only just. As it looked to them, it failed to notice where, precisely, the missed bolts had struck: on Galamon’s Giantkillers.

Holding two knives that sparked brighter than the sun, Galamon lunged forth and stabbed the Shadowlander in the leg. As the sparks discharged, the intersection was lit up, illuminating the creature and Galamon both. It staggered backwards with great burning cuts on its legs, but as it prepared to retaliate their mages sent out yet another wave of lightning magic. Galamon reeled back, catching bolt after bolt in his knives as he prepared for the second attack.

What was the intelligent thing to do in its situation? The answer was obvious: get the hell out.

And so it did. Without Orion constantly restraining it, the creature ran out towards the Royal Road, into the daylight. The moment it did, something more greeted it. The rest of the mages, and Vasilisa.

Vasilisa led the charge, a great teal mana ripple splitting the air. Befitting her A-rank ascension, the S-rank spell completed near immediately. The spell was exceedingly simple, placing all of its emphasis on a powerful spear-like thrust of wind designed to do nothing more than pierce. Even despite its raw destructive power, the Shadowlander caught the spear in hand, sliding back against the stone. Darkness erupted out from its hand, and with a wave of its hand, shattered all of its power. A great wind raged against the Dragon Palace’s outside wall.

Following up her opener, the remainder of their mages peppered the titanic creature with spells. It dug its long arms into the ground and resisted stubbornly… and indeed, became immovable. Yet as it stubbornly resisted, Galamon ran into the spells and tackled the creature’s neck. He succeeded in dislodging it, and when the two were caught by a spell, both hurtled over the edge.

Argrave watched with wide eyes through the window, and then ran up to the Royal Road in a heavy-breathed frenzy. He eyed below, watching for Galamon. All he could see was the titanic Shadowlander, plummeting into the city… where Sumner’s force waited, ready to herd.