Chapter 421: Seeing As They Are

Harsh Ravener-spawn cries echoed through the force walls.

The excavation team were talking numbers to one another.

"Talk fast," the lead Watcher pushed.

"I have about half my mana left," an earth mage said.

"Same here," another echoed.

"Less for me," Prince Khalik revealed that between fighting mana and casting spells through Najyah, he was down to a quarter, if even that.

More earth mages reported: all were down to half their mana, maybe slightly more. Nobody’s voice held enthusiasm or optimism.

"What about you lot?" The lead Watcher pressed the other Generasians.

"I've got about a third." Tyris raised a hand. The young woman was crouched with her back to a wall, drenched in sweat. "That swarm really had me pushing hard. Even with me using a mana regeneration technique, I can’t really say how much I can make up before another attack comes.”

Thundar raised a hand. "I've got more than half, but only by a little."

Other wizards weighed in, things were looking grim: most were at half mana and some reported far less.

With a solemn nod, the lead earth mage’s eyes focused on a spot in the distance, muttering calculations under his breath. "Okay, if we move slowly. And I do mean slowly, we could inspect the walls for differences in soundness and stone composition as we go without interfering with our earth and stone shaping spells."

"How slow are we talking?" The lead Watcher asked.

"Slow enough so the tunnel doesn't crumble around us like an egg." The earth mage frowned at the ceiling.

"Hmmmm, If we raise walls of force behind us while we move forward that should reinforce the tunnel and make your job easier, shouldn't it?" The Watcher followed the earth mage's eyes upward.

"That it would," the mage said. "We’d move a bit faster if you did too."

"Good, and it’ll stop the spawn from getting right behind us." The Watcher cleared his throat and pointed at three of his juniors. "I want you, you and you building those force walls. Set them up behind us about every twenty paces."

He turned to the blood mages. "We’ve got to be ready to move in under a couple of minutes, so you blood mages need to have our wounded on forcediscs in less than that. Everyone else? I want you prepped and ready to go by then."

"We'll be in your care," Thundar said to Khalik. "And I'm not even joking, I mean we'll actually be in your care, so remember, if you screw up, we're dead."

"Thanks," the prince said dryly.

"I wish I could help," Theresa said.

"You can, by making sure no bone-chargers trample me into paste," Khalik’s jaw flexed.

"That I can do," Theresa checked her swords, remembering what it took to pierce tough bone-charger hide.

'I hope,' she added mentally, moving away to help the others prepare to leave.

The mood was bleak. Folk stared at the patched walls with dead eyes, some muttered silent prayers, others busied themselves by helping with the dead, leaving care of the injured to experienced blood mages. Healers secured the wounded to forediscs, working quickly to stabilise and relocate them. Anyone who could fight was stretching and giving their blades and spear tips a quick wipe, and heavy weapons a few swings.

"Alright," the lead Watcher looked over the group.

All were in close formation, with warriors and mages at their flanks, positioned to defend against attacks. Watchers would lead, acting as vanguard, meeting frontal attacks with their melee skills and magics. Another group of Watchers would bring up the rear, raising walls of force behind them.

Fighters were at the front, back and at either flank, guarding against sudden ambushes from monsters charging in from air or ground. In the middle of the defenders were those unable to fight; the wounded, the healers and the dead. The earth mages would also be in the middle: acting as lifeline and defence against the dungeon cores’ plan to crush them.

Theresa took up position between Thundar, Brutus and Grimloch; behind them came Hogarth and Svenia—their spears at the ready—while Prince Khalik walked behind the two warriors with Najyah perched on his shoulder. Tyris was nearby.

"Alright, come on," Theresa heard her whisper. "I want to see my turtle, my bed, my family and that tall, spicy drink of water. You’re not getting my life, you stinking bastards."

The huntress glanced back, about to say something when the lead Watcher spoke.

"Alright, everyone hold your position and we'll survive this. Are you earth mages ready?"

The eldest earth mage took a deep breath. "We are. I'll keep the pace, you keep us safe."

"Fair." The Watcher pointed ahead with his sword. "Let's go."

Everyone was gathered and began their march forward. Darting eyes scanned tunnel walls with precision, while the entire passage shook; Theresa held her breath, listening to the sounds of something unseen moving through the stone. Flapping wings. Heavy steps. Shifting earth.

Her grip tightened on her two swords and beside her, Brutus sniffed the air, all three heads facing toward different directions.

"It's okay, boy," she whispered. "It's okay."

They crept forward slowly, almost painfully, while the earth mages fortified the tunnel, casting spells at a whisper. Strain had been on their faces and in their voices before, but now, it grew.

Theresa prayed to the Traveller, her ancestors and anyone else listening that their strength would hold. 'Please let me see Alex again. Please let me see Selina. Please let me see my parents, my brothers, Shi-Shi...and please don’t let Brutus die—’

Crashing sounds reached them from deep in the tunnel to the rear.

The excavation team started to turn around. Theresa raised her swords.

"Eyes forward!" the lead Watcher shouted. "Keep moving! Watchers at the rear, you know what to do!"

"Sir!" They shouted, raising shimmering walls of force in their wake. The huntress glanced back, seeing wall after wall shining behind them. In the distance, she spotted a horde of Ravener-spawn throwing themselves into the walls, seeking to shatter them. The barriers shimmered and shook with each impact...but they held for now.

"Anyone trying to figure out how long it took us to get down here in the first place?" Thundar asked. "Cause I know I am."

"You have any idea?" Theresa asked him.

"Too long," the minotaur grunted, his grip tightening on the haft of his mace. "Way, way, way too long."

The team continued along at a crawl, giving the earth mages the time they needed to adjust to the shifting rock. Every heartbeat seemed an eternity, and each rumble and shaking of stone felt like a prelude to catastrophe. With silent footsteps and a pounding heart, the huntress helped move the group forward, glancing down at her great-grandfather's blades, remembering the feeling of trying to cut through the bone-charger. That resistance. That futility.

'Is this it?' she wondered, turning the blades, forceball light reflecting off of steel. 'Will I die with you down here in the dark?'

Towering anger rose in her chest, directed at herself. She imagined what might have been had she put these swords aside a long time ago and replaced them with something with more bite. Thundar's magical mace crushed bone. Grimloch's maul flattened a dozen foes at once. It was only her—and these swords—that were close to being dead weight. Or, at least, that’s how it felt.

And she was only one warrior with two blades...but if they were sharper, maybe everyone’s chances of survival would be better. These were deadly times, any extra advantage could mean death for the enemy, or doom for them.

For more times than she could count, she looked at her swords closely, as frightened whispers from some of her comrades, the terrifying crash of bone-chargers slamming against force walls, and the ominous rumble of shifting stone somewhere beyond the passage walls, reached her. It felt like all of it was closing in around her, bringing the swords into sharp focus.

Her professor had said, see them clearly. To see them for what they actually were.

'If I don't do this now, I might never get another chance,' she thought. 'I might never get a chance to do anything again.'

The huntress' eyes flicked between the passage ahead and the two blades in her hands. 'Describe everything you see. Two swords. Reflective. Tassels on their hilts. Thick crossguards, but not wide. Forged from steel. Old swords. Sharp edges.'

"Hey, do you hear that?" Grimloch growled. "Theresa, you hear that?"

"Hear what?" She pulled her mind away from the blades, looking at him with concern.

"Ahead." He nodded to the front of the tunnel. "Fighting."

Theresa peered down the winding passage, concentrating on her hearing. She picked out distant sounds over quiet footsteps, laboured breathing, and the murmurs of her companions: chaos, distant explosions and the crack of metal on flesh and bone. Voices shouting spells.

"There's fighting up ahead somewhere," she told the sharkman.

"Yeah that's what I’m hearing too," Grimloch grunted, tightening his grip on his maul. "Means the enemy's already ahead of us."

Though his tone was optimistic...almost cheery, his grim words sapped any hope from the rest of the team. Shoulders slumped at the thought that there wasn’t a straight path to safety up ahead, but instead, another struggle with monsters awaited.

The lead Watcher spoke quickly. "But that also means there's a rescue team up ahead. Can we pick up the pace?"

"Not if we want to make it to them. We go any faster, our magic will lose control of the stone and the tunnel will collapse. Monsters’ll die, but so will we."

A noise like glass shattering—somewhere behind them—then bone-chargers broke through a wall of force.

The lead Watcher growled at his juniors. "How much more mana do you have?"

"We'll run out if we keep putting up force walls every twenty paces," one answered. "If that rescue team doesn't get to us soon, we'll be down to just swords, spears, and rocks before we get anywhere near the castle."

"Shit," the lead Watcher squinted at Grimloch and Theresa. "Any idea how far ahead that battle is?"

"No," Grimloch grunted.

"With so many different sounds coming from in front and behind us...I have no idea," Theresa said apologetically.

"Shit! Alright, we switch vanguards and rearguards. Watchers in the back, you go up front, and those of you in front, take the back and start raising—"

"Mana swell!" the eldest earth mage shouted. "A breach’s coming right below us! Get on it!"

Khalik and his fellow earth mages chanted incantations, aiming their hands and power toward the ground. The stone bucked and the tunnel rocked. Theresa felt a colossal being move through the earth below them as two immense forces wrestled each other for control.

She braced herself against a wall.

Impacts shook the passageway.

"Another mana flare coming from ahead of us!" Prince Khalik shouted. “It’s a new breach!"

A sound like doom struck the left wall ahead, battering it to rubble. The Watchers reacted with knife-edge timing: raising a force wall over the breach in heartbeats. Bone-chargers met the force wall, pushing against it with their full weight. Spear-flies drilled into the glowing force magic like crossbow bolts.

But, for now, the wall held.

Earth mages and Watchers panted with strain, their chests heaving.

Then, the breach widened, gaps formed between force magic and stone. Spear-flies spilled into the tunnel, bone-chargers squeezed in behind them. In instants, the tunnel filled with Ravener-spawn and a battle was raging before anyone could shout one word of warning.

Theresa, Brutus, Grimloch and Thundar rushed ahead, desperately cutting down bone-chargers before they overwhelmed the tunnel. Impact numbed her muscles with every slash against resisting hide and bone as she hacked at glowing eyes and gaping mouths; Ravener-spawn screamed and reeled backwards as her blades bit home, making the monsters easy prey for Thundar and Grimloch's heavy weapons. Brutus savaged their legs and Svenia and Hogarth slid their spears into soft underbellies.

"Widen the force wall!" the lead Watcher ordered. "Seal the cracks—"

The wall burst, opening a second breach and filling the passage with drifting clouds of stone dust. Sounds of hacking, wheezing and coughing joined the shrieks of agitated monsters.

Through the clouds, an enormous form entered the tunnel, a form with a growl like crumbling bone.

In a blink, light flashed through the dust and a bead of green energy shot over the excavation team.

"No—" Theresa cried.

Then it exploded.

Green force ripped the air, jolting wizards and engineers. Theresa screamed as it raked through her: her flesh shrivelled, her blood felt like it was being released through her pores as vapour. Wounded shrivelled like wilting leaves, others exhaled once then collapsed on the spot; the more robust stayed upright, while blood mages frantically cast their spells on the injured, helping those who had fallen. Theresa called on her lifeforce, staying on her feet even as the magic ripped through her. Her consciousness wavered, but she fought on.

The enormous beast before them stepped from the cloud, lumbering through the passage, its broad bulk nearly filling it. Upon its shoulder, a hive-as-one clung, the wings of masses of spear-flies caressed each other.

The behemoth roared and shuddered, fired streams of bone-shards from its towering body, then sprayed the excavation team with razor sharp shrapnel. The Watchers' force armour held against them, but those not fortunate to be protected by armour, fell screaming, pierced and bloodied.

A mix of fear and rage gripped the huntress. Shards cracked against her chain shirt as she dove low. Sharp pain burned across her cheek as one tore through her skin.

Grimloch charged the towering monster alongside Thundar, while Brutus snarled and snapped beside his master.

The world seemed to slow around her.

Death hung over the tunnel.

Many were down.

The earth-mages were holding on by the barest thread.

Others were dying.

She glared up at the giant beast, her two swords crossed. There was no way she'd be able to cut the behemoth, so she would have to strike the hive-as-one.

But could she? Could she kill it?

It wasn’t a single being she’d have to cut, but dozens of creatures—all connected—acting as one. Even if she killed some, the rest would be...

...identical to each other...

...acting...

...as...

...one...

The huntress' eyes fell on her two swords—No.

That was wrong. She'd been seeing through the veil of her own biases. They weren't two swords, they were twins: two that were really one, acting together just as she, Claygon and Alex had when they danced together.

They weren't two weapons at all. Each was a half of one; her great-grandfather wasn't called Twinblades Lu.

He was called Twinblade Lu.

All this time she'd thought she was wielding two blades, when...

Theresa poured her lifeforce into both halves of her weapon, reaching out to forge a connection between each.

Making them one.

And something awoke within the steel.