Chapter 343: A Living Clue

The scene was a sea of chaos.

Ravener-spawn became puppets and the potion mist their master, tossing them into tree trunks, sky, or ground, it didn’t matter which. The result was the same.

The crich-tulaghs and beast-goblins had no need for air; murteidheann vines had long removed the goblins’ need to breathe. So, unaffected, they fought through the vapour. Still, there were less monsters now and Claygon had more room to manoeuvre.

His fire-beams were powered-up, firing on his attackers, reducing their numbers.

‘Good.’

“Hey! Monsters!” Alex roared, swooping down toward the battlefield, stopping some twenty feet above the ground. Hovering with his arms crossed, he called his forceballs to his side and glowered at the window high above. “That goes for you too, you snaggle-toothed, half-witted bastards! Your aim is as bad as your smiles!”

“What are you doing?” Gwyllain cried.

Monsters looked up.

Birds circled.

The Hive-queen snarled.

Two faces, the very picture of rage, appeared at the window; iron claws bit the frame.

“Oh, by the fae lords, they’re looking at us! They’re looking at us, Alex!” the fae screamed, trembling against the rope.

“That’s right! Your aim’s terrible, it’s no wonder you’re not a threat to anyone!” He mocked.

The air bristled, hate flowed from the hags.

Push a little more.

“Why are you enraging them?” Gwyllain cried. “I—I don’t share his opinion, nice monsters! I’m sure your aim’s very good most days!”

“See, your aim’s so bad that you need pity compliments from my little buddy here!”

“What?” Gwyllain gasped.

“That’s right! You’re trash! You mad now? You want me?” The young wizard’s forceballs and Wizard’s Hands orbited him like crimson planets. With an act of will, they flared bright. “Come and claim me!”

“No! Don’t come and claim anything! Go away! Alex, w-what are you doiiii—Noooooo!” Gwyllain screamed.

The Hive-queen’s whips slashed the air. Her mouth opened in a silent roar.

“Try again!” Alex dove.

Crackle!

Two blue lights lit the window; lightning danced between the hags’ claws.

A bolt arced down.

He barrel-rolled to the side, the hair on his arms rising.

Lightning struck, catching a venom walker off guard.

“Wake up!” Alex laughed as the monster was electrified.

Wind roared past them, and he pulled into an aerial loop, dodging the other bolt. He hovered again.

“Forget half-witted! You don’t even have one wit between the two of you to rub together!” He whirled, his laughter echoing through the woods. Force spells revolved around him, deflecting squawking birds.

‘Claygon!’ Alex called mentally. ‘Listen carefully, smash as many of those crich-tulaghs as you can. You’ll get my signal from inside the windmill over there: I’ll need you to start charging your fire-gems as soon as you get the signal! Be ready to fire into the mill—Oh shit!’

Whiiiish!

A giant blade cut the air. The Hive-queen was leaping for him.

“Nooooo!” Gwyllain screamed.

The wizard tucked and rolled above the slash, letting it pass a hand-width below him.

“Still too slow!” he mocked her as she shot past and dropped to the ground. Her bladed legs skidded through the dirt.

Snarling, she raised her whips, but Alex was already soaring around her, arcing toward the windmill. He risked a glance behind.

His heart skipped.

‘Got you.’

The horde was following him: Ravener-spawn, birds, beast-goblins and even a crich-tulagh had broken away from Claygon and was shambling after him.

Leading them was the Hive-queen.

‘Good, just follow me,’ Alex thought, descending. ‘Pay attention to nothing else.’

With the wind whipping by his ears, he dove through the windmill’s archway.

“He’s in the mill!” the young hag scrambled from the window. She peered through a wide hole in the floor. “That rude human wretch! I’ll wring his neck! Agh, damn this dust!”

Flour drifted from below. Dozens of sacks had been ripped apart, and the rude wizard’s insects were spreading it with their wings. Small cloud-like creatures blew wind into the mill, whipping the flour into a billowing mass.

The hag coughed, waving it away, trying to see through the cloud of white. It was no use: it looked like a blizzard inside the mill and she could barely make out shapes.

“No, sister, no wringing his neck.” The elder stayed by the window. “That would be too quick. Our birds will eat his eyes, fingers and toes! Then we’ll have all the other soft bits while he shrieks!”

“Yes!” The younger screamed, still trying to look through the flour cloud. “But the asrai is mine! I saw him first, and he gave us pity compliments! I’m going to eat him from the feet up!”

She ran back to the window, throwing her consciousness into the flock of birds. “Together, sister, together!”

As one, the blue annis hags guided the flocks toward the windmill.

A tide of birds poured through the archway.

“Why do I get the feeling something’s thinking about eating me?” Gwyllain cried. “Oooooh, I know it! I just know it!”

“No one’s eating anybody—Oh shit!”

Whoosh!

A crich-tulagh’s vine struck a rafter inches from Alex’s head.

He dove, flying through the drifting flour.

There was a sense of deja-vu about this.

A building filled with dust. A monster stalking him through the dark. Flames in the night. It was like Patrizia DePaolo’s ball…almost. Alex hadn’t flown through the patrizia’s granary, and Claygon had been at his side then, not a screaming, terrified fae. He’d also been weaker and slower. His reflexes less honed.

But of course, there’d only been one monster to deal with then.

Now?

Monsters were everywhere.

Silence-spiders clung to the windmill’s walls. Birds filled the air, choking on flour-dust. Venom walkers were climbing after him, trying to poison him with their deadly tentacles. The crich-tulagh was throwing beast-goblins at him.

Their bodies crunched as they hit the walls.

He was glad he wasn’t a beast-goblin.

And the Hive-queen?

Her whips had been cast aside and she’d spun line after line of webbing through the mill, swinging from one to the next, trying to trap him. Scythes slashed when she came near.

Alex ducked and weaved through the weblines and monsters, spinning as he went. His cloak billowed behind, whipping more dust around. He grabbed flour sacks as he flew by, splitting them, spilling their contents in his wake.

The white dust grew thicker.

Air elementals' whipped it up like a storm; inside the mill was like a whiteout blowing across a barren countryside: a Thameish winter’s full fury concentrated inside.

Monsters coughed. Monsters sneezed. Monsters roared, almost blinded.

“I’m getting diiiizzy!” Gwyllain cried. “For the love of the fae lords, whyyyyyy?”

Alex threw a glance at the archway. Through the dust, he made out silhouettes stumbling in; the horde was starting to thin.

‘There. Looks like most of them are inside.’ He barrel-rolled, passing another webline. ‘Not a moment too soon either!’

He grabbed another sack, split it, and soared toward the ceiling in a spiral.

“That’s it!” he shouted over the racket the monsters were raising. “Follow me, you fools!”

He was unaware of another pair of unfriendly eyes, watching from a rafter above.

The final Hunter watched the usurper, its claws dug into the windmill’s rafters, and its muscles were tensed to spring. It had been waiting for its chance.

And now that chance was here.

The usurper was proving to be a ferocious opponent.

In the time the Hunter had walked these lands, never had it seen prey that had struggled so fiercely. Any strike would have to be quick, decisive and final.

It watched as the usurper shot through the mill, kicking up dust. Was he trying to hide himself? Was this some means of camouflage? It did not matter: the Hunter would have sensed him near, or far. This futile attempt at hiding was a fool's errand.

More allies flooded the human structure.

They chased the usurper, striking from all directions, but he dodged them like an annoying fly.

What was he doing? He was only cornering himself.

Unease seeped into the Hunter’s thoughts.

None of these tactics made sense.

What was he up to?

Whatever it was…it had to be stopped.

He had to die, now.

The Ravener’s assassin braced against the rafter as the usurper flew through the air, shooting up the structure.

Now!

It sprang, bearing venomous fangs and spreading its claws, set to puncture the wizard’s back.

He was oblivious to its presence.

The ambush was perfect...

Until the usurper spun in mid-air—with eyes blazing—and grabbed the Hunter’s wrists.

“Hah! You thought you could—” he began speaking.

But the words died on his lips and his eyes flew wide.

“Y-you!”

Shock hit Alex, chilling him to the marrow.

There, in his grip—after so long—was another clawed monster, kin to the ones that had attacked on the night of the patrizia’s ball. A little larger, but from the same stock.

It struggled in Alex’s grip as his mind raced.

So many mysteries to solve: this ambush, the silence-spider attack, the patrizia’s ball, the Irtyshenan empire…the answer to so many questions was right here.

“Aaaaaah! Aaaaaah!” Gwyllain screamed. “It’s a monster! It’s a monster! It’s going to kill us! Throw it away!”

“Why…” Alex asked, his voice shaking. “What are you? Why are you hunting me?”

The monster snarled and lunged.

Venom dripped from its fangs.

Crack!

Alex blocked its face with his forceshield.

Two Wizard’s Hands grabbed its shoulders, pulling it back.

“Answer me!” he roared.

They spiralled up the inside of the structure, whipping clouds of white powder around.

“Tell me! Why are you hunting me? What are you? Answer me!” Rage filled him. How dare this thing remain silent?

“Tell me what you want!”

The Hunter roared, moving to overpower the human…but to its alarm, it couldn’t! The grip binding its wrists…was like steel! No matter how it shifted its body, the usurper’s hold didn’t weaken, even as he flew through the rafters in circles.

Anger and disbelief was turning to fear…the final Hunter had never known helplessness. The usurper had sensed it. This wizard was its superior in strength; it couldn’t escape! How could that be? He was not the Chosen or Champion; no mere mortal could match the Hunter in power!

It extended the claws on its feet and slashed at the man’s belly, trying to eviscerate him.

Thnk.

But, the enemy’s leg whipped up, blocking the blow. An invisible force protected his legs, and their movements were like flowing water; the Hunter’s attacks were pushed aside.

It slashed frantically.

“Answer me!” The human’s eyes burned. He shook the Hunter in his grip. “You don’t get to chase me, try to kill me then act like you can’t talk! I heard you in the woods, playing like you were human! I know your kind can mimic voices!”

Now the hunter froze.

Its kind? The usurper knew of its kind?

By the Ravener, had its kin found him before?

If they’d failed…then he was even more dangerous than the Hunter had thought.

For the Ravener and for its own sake, he had to die.

Frantic, the clawed monster threw its bulk around, desperate to break Alex’s grip or claw his insides out. Forceballs spun at its feet, deflecting its claws, but the weight threw their flight off.

Wizard, monster and asrai moved through the air while the beast kept struggling. The flight grew increasingly erratic. Weblines whipped past. The clawed monster pulled the three of them within a breath of the rafters.

Alex’s frustration grew. “You’re going to be like that? Fine. We’re not dying because of you!”

A Wizard’s Hand took out a sleeping potion. The monster’s head recoiled and a leg lashed out, slashing the Hand, destroying it; the potion spiralled downward, landing in the horde below.

“Bastard!” Alex snarled.

“Why are you talking to it?” Gwyllain screamed. “Why, by all the fae lords are you talking to it! Let it go!”

The wizard focused on the struggling creature. “You wanna shake us around? You wanna make this harder? Then have it your way!”

As Alex flew, he spun.

“Raaargh!” the monster screamed.

“Aaaaaargh! Noooot agaiiiiin!” Gwyllain screamed.

Whooosh! Whoosh! Whooosh! Whooosh!

The world tumbled end over end. Alex focused as the enemy spun with him. They climbed higher.

He’d disorient the creature, then put it to sleep. It’d be too dizzy to stop him.

Its plan was not working.

The usurper kept spinning faster and faster. The Hunter could not tell up from down, or left from right. Its eyes swam and its stomach clenched. If it lost control of its senses, it would be gassed by one of those bottles.

That must not happen! It had to do something.

Well, if resisting didn’t work…

“Over here!” it called in its monstrous tongue. “Hive-queen! Be ready to strike! I’ll distract the mortal!”

It moulded its voice box.

Then opened its jaws.

“You are our enemy,” the Hunter said to the man. “You wronged my master, and now you must pay the price.”

The usurper gasped.

It had used the man’s own voice to speak.

“Now!” it roared.

Two weblines shot through the dust.

The Hive-queen leapt, coming at the usurper from behind.