Chapter 382: Goading

Screams rang out over the Skull Pits.

Armies clashed in a storm of magic and death.

In the sky above, Alex battled demons.

He weaved past the sticky tongues of green-feathered demons and dodged the barbed claws of imps; the sky was filled with screeching monsters, snapping and clawing at him. They poured from the witches’ flanks, racing past their allies and taking to the air like flocks of malevolent birds. They aimed to rip Alex, Claygon and Cedric from the sky, but the trio had another plan.

Wizard’s Hands whirled with speed: tugging wings, pulling imps through the air, flaring with crimson light that blinded demonic eyes. Alex hurled sleeping potions through the flocks, the air filled with vapours; shrieks died as sleeping monsters dropped from the sky like hail.

Through the chaos came thunderous booms, flashes of light, and searing heat as Claygon’s blasts tore through the skies. Cedric’s challenges roared above the demons’cries along with lightning and flame. The Chosen of Uldar wielded spells and divinities like he was a vengeful god removing the wicked from his presence.

Below, blasts raced skyward, coming for him and his companions: but were met with beams of light spraying near and far, striking flying demons and those below. Alex and Cedric weaved between the dead.

Demons and their allies were dying like autumn leaves, and just like autumn leaves, there seemed to be no end to them. They were so thick in the skies, that Alex couldn’t gauge how the battle was going below.

‘Die, you bastards,’ his mind screamed. ‘I need to see past you! Just drop dead already—”

Looking like a streaking star approaching, flashes of light reflected off polished blades coming toward him.

Theresa spun through the sky, her swords flashing, thinning both hordes and flocks she flew by.

Poor Brutus followed behind her, looking like a newborn calf with flailing legs trying to stay upright. A flash of fangs met anything that came close; he would snatch them from the air with snarling fangs, shake them, then drop them into whatever waited below.

Finally, the demons’ flying force broke. Between the persistent attack from Cedric and Claygon, and Alex’s potions combined with cerberus fangs and twin sword blades, the skies were at last free of cultists and demonkind.

“You alright?” Alex panted.

“Yeah, I’m great,” Theresa reached for the whimpering, trembling Brutus; the cerberus nuzzled into her, making a point of not looking down. “I thought I’d come up and lend a hand since I ran out of arrows,” she said. “I didn’t think you’d mind if I took a potion and gave poor Brutus one since I couldn’t just leave him in the boat with all those demons coming at us.”

“My potions are your potions, and thanks,” he said emphatically. “Thanks to you, we finished them off faster than I thought we would.”

“Well, the battle’s ending down there too.” She watched the battlefield below. “I’ll go see if I can get some arrows from one of the witches, that’s if they have any to spare. I’ll need more for when the rest of the demons get here.”

She and Brutus descended, the cerberus shaking with relief.

“Aye, looks like we gets a few minutes' rest,” Cedric said. “They’ve got things wrapped up down there.”

Steam and smoke rose from the Skull Pits below, and everywhere Alex looked, lay the ruins of demon and cultist bodies alike. Dozens floated face down in murky water or were trapped in quicksand. Witches moved through the trees with care, finishing off survivors.

No mercy was shown by the witches of Crymlyn Village…as no mercy had been shown to them. Among the corpses of demons and cultists, dead witches lay; the numbers of their dead were small, but even one was too many at the end of it all.

Too many witches were left in mourning.

His mind flashed back to the beach on Oreca’s Fall, and his anger at the cult of Ezaliel smouldered in his chest.

‘Focus,’ he told himself. ‘It's time for action, take your rage out on the ones coming.’

He looked across the swamp grimly.

Demons and the traitors they’d aligned with were approaching, closing in from three sides and—even with their flying demons destroyed—the oncoming demon force was at least triple the one they’d just defeated.

Alex clenched his jaw.

More losses could be catastrophic.

“We need Hart and Dresta,” he said, looking to the north.

Still no signal.

“Aye, those demons’ll grind a lot o’ these witches to dust if they get us surrounded,” the Chosen said.

“Yeah…we have to move. There’s a couple more positions here in the Skull Pits we can retreat to,” Alex said. “We should get to one, force the cultist scum to come at us from only one direction.”

“...aye,” Cedric said grimly. “Or we could strike the head off the snake.”

The Chosen pointed to the south at the imposing figure leading the advancing demon army.

“Yeah, that one’s the leader, alright,” Alex said. Even from his distance, he felt a chill from the immortal’s gaze. “But I don’t know about attacking her yet. Not before Hart and Drestra get here.”

“I’ve cut down Ravener-spawn commanders dozens o’time.” The Chosen’s grip tightened on his weapon. “An’ some o’ them were a hell o’ lot bigger than that she-beastie over there is.”

“I don’t doubt that,” Alex said. “But any spirits or elementals—including demons—can get very powerful as they go up hierarchies. Not just physically powerful—but with some real nasty magic and more years of combat experience than everyone here put together. Some are even resistant to magic.”

“How resistant?”

“Very resistant. Like, sure, she’d probably be like a flea to Baelin, but to us? I doubt our magic could do very much to her.”

“Then that’s even more reason to take ‘er on: it’d be best fer our forces if she’s tied up, if she’s even half as tough as yer thinkin,’ ” the Chosen said.

“…you’re not wrong.” Alex frowned. “We can take cover in the trees and blast her from there.”

“Aye, but didn’ y’say she was resistant to magic?”

“I don’t know for sure, but she very well could be since a lot of higher demons are.”

“Well then somethin’ needs to be in front o’ her: somethin’ so tough, she can’t just ignore it.”

“I can summon some monsters. They can keep her busy.”

“She’ll cut ‘em down quick. I’m the bloody Chosen: she won’t be able to go through me so easy.”

“Yeah, you’re the Chosen, and Thameland needs you. Alive.”

Cedric gave him a look. “Now you’re startin’ to sound like the bloody priests.”

Alex paused as a wave of anger washed over him. He held his tongue.

“Can’t just sit back an’ let this demon rampage an’ kill our allies,” the Chosen said. “I’ll come out still breathin,’ I’m sure.”

Alex winced, remembering how they’d met: Cedric went off on his own to fight Silence-spiders in the Cave of the Traveller. He did it to stop them from going to massacre the townsfolk and the villagers around Alric.

Of course Cedric would run into battle to save other people. Alex admired that and his bottomless well of courage. The Mark of the Chosen had…well, chosen well.

“Alright,” the Fool sighed, opening his bag and counting the remaining potions. “I don’t know if my mana soothing and sleep potions will affect something that powerful, but I’ll give you all the support I can. And I’ll see if I can hit her with a booby-trapped flight potion. She probably won’t put up much of a fight against you with her arms ripped off…if my potions affect her, that is.”

“We’ll find out.” The Chosen cracked his neck.

Alex's mind was working through different scenarios.

He could run Hsieku’s technique through his mana pool a few more times then summon a ton of air elementals to hit the towering demon with them. His eyes focused on the giant, walking trees below.

“Let's see if I can convince the witches to let them back Cedric up,” he muttered, ready to start summoning.

Zonon-In’s mouth tentacles wriggled behind her teeth as she watched the battlefield.

A quarter of her forces lay dead, and—more alarmingly—there was no sign of a dungeon anywhere, just witches and flying strangers.

She pointed toward the outsiders in the air with her war-spear.

“What are those?” she asked a nearby traitor witch.

“I can’t tell,” the witch said, peering at the flyers. “We’re too far away.”

The woman’s calmness stoked Zonon-In’s annoyance. Unlike Osrian, she didn’t lose her temper at the slightest provocation. How…dull.

The demon leader instead turned her focus back to the flyers.

A black-haired woman and a three-headed hellhound had disappeared into the trees. That left the sky with only a magical clay soldier and a shirtless warrior floating in it.

Her eyes took in the warrior, noting his liquid weapon and the glowing symbol on his chest.

“Hmmm, it seems some of you mortals have taken to branding each other. How delightful. Witch, that man there,” She pointed to the sky. “Have you seen that symbol before?”

The witch and the other cultists around her, gasped.

“That’s the Chosen of Uldar!” the witch hissed, her tone hard, but her eyes filled with fear. “Why is he here? He’s one of five who were named a Hero of the enemy. They’ve been tasked with destroying the Ravener in Uldar’s name. That one’s their leader and the one they call the Chosen.

“And yet he’s here…” Zonon-In’s voice grew thoughtful. “In this swamp.”

A flutter of excitement went through the demon; a powerful mortal…this ‘Chosen’ might be an interesting challenge. The symbol on his chest recalled runemarked warriors she had fought on this world in past times. Among their kind, the more symbols they bore, the more powerful they were, but this ‘Chosen’ had only one.

She wondered if that would make any difference .

More importantly, she wondered what this all meant. Something was wrong.

She’d learned from these witches that this place was called the Skull Pits—a name she heartily approved of, it almost sounded like home—but what she didn’t approve of was that several of her most loyal cultists had been lost to quicksand along the way.

Coming so far without finding a dungeon… even the worthless Osrian would have known her forces had been led into a trap.

But there was something else concerning her.

There was no question that the sniffers had smelled dungeon core mana.

Did the mortals use some trick to imitate it and lure them? Or was there a dungeon core hidden in their ranks, ripe for plucking? If so, the dark orb had gone silent; the sniffers hadn’t detected even a hint of its mana again.

What were they up to?

That question must be answered, and the only way to learn what treachery these mortals had brought to her territory was by capturing some and forcing answers from them.

Annoyance rose again.

If they were—

“Oi!” a voice roared from the Chosen. “Great, dirty demon!”

She growled, her annoyance giving way to amusement.

“Ooo! A heroic speech!” She grinned, her face scornful. “How fun!”

The demon cleared her throat. “What is it, oh mighty Hero of Uldar?”

There was a pause, her smile widened.

“Didn’t expect me to know about your amusing title?” she called back.

“Aye, I'm the Chosen, that’s true!” he laughed. “An’ this Chosen o’ Uldar challenges you, demon weaklin’, to a test o’ arms! Come, leave the safety o’ your horde! We’ll fight it out, if’n ya got the nerve to face me!”

Zonon-In put on her best ‘evil overlord voice’, which she’d had millenia to practice. “And why, puny mortal, should I bother with you? I could squash you like an earthworm!”

That’s what they were called in the material world, right? Earthworms?

The Chosen barked a laugh at her. “I don’t think so! I’m gonna cut ‘cha inta a dozen pieces! An’ spear your heart—”

Oh, she loved when they said that.

“Which one?” she called back.

“...what?”

“Which heart? I have a few! Which one will you pierce?”

Another moment of silence, and a flustered expression.

“All of ‘em!” he shouted. “So come on, ya weak, dirty, cowardly wretch! I’ll tear ya down!”

“Well that was fine goading,” she said to herself. “If a little obvious, but one turn deserves another.”

“Fine!” she roared. “But why should I come to you, when you could come to me!” She gestured at her army with a claw. “We’re going to return to camp now and surprise your little friends who are, no doubt, raiding it as we’re having our little chat!”

The Chosen’s expression shifted dramatically.

There. She had him.

“So, if you really want to challenge me and not lure my army into any more of your traps, then you’ll have to come to me!”

She faced her troops. “Ar-heugeni! Go back to camp! Spellcasters, cover yourselves and our mantogugons in flight spells then return there with haste! The prisoners are waiting for a taste of your blades!”

Zonon-In raised her war-spear.

“Everyone else! Retreat! We’re leaving this death trap!

With a great clamour of voices, her army didn’t hesitate, circling the enemy to pull back to their base.

She suspected the mortals wouldn’t simply let them leave, they’d do something to keep her entertained.

“Ah shite!” Cedric roared from above. “Bloody clever bastard!”

“Shit!” Alex swore from below, summoning one final air elemental.

“I gotta bring ‘er down!” the Chosen flew down to Alex. “If’n any o’ them make it back ta that camp, the whole thing’s busted! We gotta cut the head off!”

“Shit! Cedric, wait! We need a plan!” Alex shouted.

But it was too late.

The Chosen flew off, arcing toward the demon horde, bellowing a prayer to Uldar.

“I swear, that war-spear’s gonna find itself down that demon’s throat,” Alex grumbled, getting his potions out.

“Heads up!” he shouted to the witches. “Send as many walking trees with me as you can, we’ll try to kill that thing!”

“I’m coming with you!” Theresa emerged from a copse of trees. Brutus was back in Baelin’s boat, watching as she flew off. “Stay there, boy! Stay! I’ll be back soon.” she called.

“Well, here goes nothing.” Alex, Theresa and a horde of air elementals, launched toward Claygon hovering above.

They exchanged a nod…then tore after the Chosen.

Ahead, the demon grinned.