Chapter 427: Racing the Explosion

Euphoria!

Thundering cheers rising louder and louder.

Warriors, mages, all celebrating the enemy’s imminent end.

The invisible Ravener-spawn verged on defeat; its black blood stained the ground where it lay, unseen limbs stirred clouds of white and its fading cries rose and fell like the gurgles of a choked well. The mana-soothing potions had withered its power, while the war-spear withered its life.

Victory was a Wizard’s Hands grasp away.

“We did it!” Alex cried to Claygon, throwing his arms as far around the stone, yet warm body, as they could reach. “We did it, my beautiful golem! Now let’s end the rest of these bastards then get down to the tunnels and rescue…”

A chill crawled through him like the cold hand of death reaching for his heart.

“No…” he paused, his mana senses brushing against a rising power. He turned his attention to the invisible creature whose ebbing power was suddenly growing, surging.

Rising.

Rising.

Changing, transforming, becoming something that stilled the heart of every research team member in the courtyard.

Isolde drew back, keeping her eyes fixed on the blackening spot in the snow. “What is happening? The energy…is still…” she whirled around. “...going to explode!” Some felt the energy growing and looked for cover, others screamed orders, others froze.

A chilling memory flooded Alex’s mind: images of a mushroom cloud rising high above the moors.

“It’ll wipe out the castle!”

The power was listless, and still the reaction built. Maybe they could get rid of the monster before it blew everything they’d built and everyone who’d built it, to particles.

“Claygon!” Alex shouted. “We have to stop it!”

Below, others sprang into action.

Watchers cast spells around the unseen beast, wrapping it in walls of force, shielding the surroundings from the building power.

Alex and Claygon raced for the creature, tearing through the icy wind, the young wizard’s cloak billowing around him. Power built, bringing a new realisation: when this thing exploded nothing could withstand it. What could survive an explosion even stronger than combined power of the chaos essence and dungeon core remains? It had torn hills apart, forcewalls could never contain it.

“Evacuate!” Professor Jules’ voice—enhanced by magic—boomed through the air from somewhere in the keep. High above the mounting snow, her tiny form caught his attention. “Evacuate the research castle! Retreat until Chancellor Baelin arrives!”

As though responding to her words, the earth bucked; the struggle continued between Baelin’s power and the Ravener’s energies, and their clash was showing no sign of weakening.

Still, Alex kept faith in the chancellor.

“That’s right, Baelin’s here,” he whispered, reaching the creature and hovering above the force walls containing it. “He’ll be back soon and he’s gonna grab this thing, teleport it so it can blow up somewhere else, then everything’ll be fine. All we need to do is buy ti—”

As though mocking him, the earth heaved again.

Stone crumbled and soil belched through holes tunnelled from deep below the surface. Defenders and monsters alike were knocked to the ground, buildings trembled.

And through it all, the power built.

‘We might not have time for him to get here,’ Alex watched the ground heave. ‘We’ve gotta do something fast…but what? Maybe I can soothe its mana with more potions? But, who knows how long that’ll work for. We need a way to get rid of…’

Symbols.

‘That’s it!’

An old witch in an underground grotto.

Elder Blodeuwedd, painting symbols on a traitor. Symbols that bled away mana.

“I can drain it!” His hand shot for his bag while he called to a Watcher. “Hey! I need to get through those force walls! I can drain some of that thing’s mana!”

“It’s too dangerous!” the Watcher shouted back. “Move from there!”

He had no time for this.

“Claygon, break the wall down!”

Stone fists hit with the force of an avalanche and with two quick blows, a section of a forcewall shattered and Alex dove through with Claygon at his side.

“What do you three think you’re doing? Get out of there!” The Watcher shouted.

“We’re trying to save us! You can close the wall behind us!” He drew a brush and dipped it in the gift from Crymlyn Village. “Wait, three—?”

“He refers to me.”

“Isolde!” Alex turned at the sound of the noblewoman’s voice.

“I am here to help,” she said.

There was no time to argue. The power was building. Nearing its peak.

“Glad you’re here!” He handed her a bottle. “Here, paint this stuff on—by the Traveller!”

Below them a creature was slowly materialising.

Its oblong form was covered in grey chitin and three long legs stretched on for yards. Burns and raw wounds marred the silvery sheen of natural armour, and a withering rot was spreading through its twitching body. Glazed eyes, bulbous and wavering, slowly tracked his every movement.

Fluid poured from a mouth wide enough to swallow a pair of oxen, and its screams were choked. Even now, it fought to reach Alex, but—for all its effort—it could barely raise a single limb.

“Look how weak it is.” Isolde said.

“But that won’t stop it from exploding,” he said, landing on its armour. We need to get rid of it. Here, just drop some of this on as much of its body as you can.”

He handed her a bottle of mana-ejecting ointment.

“We must work quickly.” Isolde’s voice was strained as her eyes turned to three

long twitching legs. With a trembling hand, she dribbled the liquid over the creature’s hide, then frowning, she focused on its wounds.

“Nothing is happening, Alex!”

“Just give it a minute!” He shouted, calling on the Mark. It guided him through images of Elder Blodeuwedd painting ancient symbols on the traitors; he copied them, using as much speed as he could manage, quickly refining each symbol.

The symbols wouldn't be perfect—he’d only watched Blodeuwedd once, and practised them with Drestra once—but with the Mark’s help, they’d be close. He hastily painted symbols onto a monster that was both dying and growing in power.

Even if it died, that power would keep building until its body exploded, bringing catastrophe to Greymoor.

‘This isn’t fast enough!’ He called on Wizard’s Hands.

The spells raced toward the bottle clutched in his fist, dipped magical fingers into glowing ink and sped to the monster’s body, painting symbols at speed.

The power pulsed, flowing like a rising tide.

‘Come on! Come on!’ Alex thought.

“Alex?” Isolde murmured, the colour gone from her face. “I just want you to know…it was an honour to know you and I am happy that we formed our cabal. May we reach the after world together hand in hand with the highest of honour.”

“The highest of honour can be us living after we beat this thing!” Alex shouted, desperately sifting through the Mark’s memories, trying to draw the symbols as precisely as time would allow.

They weren’t perfect, some were too big and others didn’t quite curve properly.

‘I just need them to be close enough,’ he thought, ‘just close enoooouuugh—There!’

He finished the last symbol and a flare of power spiked throughout the glyphs, spreading, alighting every drop of ointment on the monster’s body.

Power flowed.

The creature’s death rattle suddenly gasped out in a choked scream as its mana began pouring away, dissipating in the wind. As power drained, rising mana lessened, sputtering like water pumping from a dying well.

“Yes!” He nearly screamed. “Yes Yes…yes…oh no!”

“Oh by the elements,” Isolde murmured.

The creature’s mana was flowing out, but not as fast as was needed. What seemed like a river running freely, was a mere trickle from the ocean of chaotic energies that had slowly built within the beast.

And worse…

“I can feel it,” Isolde said in horror. “The reaction is not stopping!”

Beneath them, the dying spawn’s mana was roiling in pure chaos. Even if Claygon ripped it apart until there was nothing left but shreds of flesh and silver armour, he didn’t know if that would stop the explosion, nor did they have time to experiment and find out.

Think. Adapt.

‘We can’t stop it,’ he thought. ‘We need it gone. Maybe drop it in a hole? No, that would kill everyone in the tunnels and collapse the earth and kill everyone above ground. Think! Think! We survived the chaos explosion…how? Distance. Okay, the explosion won’t be as powerful since it has less mana, but we'll still need to be far away when it explodes. The right distance…that’s key.’ “Claygon!” He called to his golem. “I need you—” Alex pointed in the direction that the wind was blowing, looking between the monster and his golem. “—to throw this thing as hard as you can with wind. Get it away from here!”

The golem’s head turned, and—for a brief, horrifying instant—he thought he wasn’t going to listen.

But, he reached down, gripped the Ravener-spawn by a single leg and streaked skyward as though the titanic creature were no heavier than a sack of feathers. He began to spin, building momentum. Turn after turn, spinning smoothly, ever faster ever swifter. The dying creature’s leg grew taut as its body rose.

The whirring sound of it cutting the air mounted, growing, building in force. Claygon swung the Ravener-spawn with such speed that it decompensated with every turn, shedding damaged bits the faster he spun.

A final spin and Alex could feel the explosion straining its bonds and…

“Claygon!” He yelled. “Throw it!”

The powerful stone golem hurled the ruined body, throwing it with the wind. It flew straight as an arrow—rotating through the air, trailing gore in its wake. Watchers cast force walls, sealing it away from the world on all sides.

Alex could only hope it would be enough.

The monster disappeared into the storm.

“Everyone, down!” A Watcher shouted as he burnt a swarm of spear-flies to ash.

Alex leapt to the snow with Isolde beside him. Clenching his teeth, his arm covered her. “Air elementals!” he shouted. “Shield us!”

The summoned monsters floated above the two wizards.

And then…

For the second time that day, it seemed as though a second sun blazed in the wintry sky.

A blinding flash. Then a concussive force and the rumble of thunder. The shockwave struck Alex like a battering ram, threatening to drive him into unconsciousness. The wind reversed course, blowing hot, steaming droplets of melted snow poured down.

Chaos energy billowed in the distance, shaking the ground well beyond sight. Alex shut his eyes, praying to the Traveller that the ground would hold.

The earth shifted, and Alex braced, ready to fly into the hot wind should the castle be sucked down into the earth. Images of Selina, Theresa and everyone he held dear flashed in his mind.

‘Please,’ he thought. ‘Please hold.’

For what felt like an eternity, the world threatened to fall apart around him…until—slowly—the ground began to settle.

The quake stilled. Heat cooled. And the blazing light diffused as the roar of flame faded.

Alex risked looking around.

The castle shook, but still stood. The ground beneath them held, they were alive, and they were free of the invisible Ravener-spawn that was likely sent for him and Carey.

He was mostly relieved, but numb.

Snow crunched nearby and his breath stopped.

Above him and Isolde a pair of clawed monsters loomed, claws raised, eyes burning into him.

“Claygon!” Alex screamed, casting force spells, while Isolde whirled, shouting an incantation.

But they were too slow. The first creature’s claws fell to twin blades of steel, then the rest of its body followed.

The second monster was greeted by a shining, morphic metal weapon.

Two warriors turned with surprise on their faces.

Alex and Isolde’s expressions echoed theirs.

Theresa had come from the right, climbing from a hole in the earth to defend her partner and their friend. Her snarl was feral as she raced through the snow, leaving clouds behind her. Brutus bounded behind, followed by the towering Grimloch, then Thundar, Khalik, Svenia, Tyris, Hogarth and more from the excavation team behind. Najyah circled, sharp eyes tracking flying monsters.

While Theresa came from the right Cedric had approached from the left, his morphic weapon whirling in one hand. Behind him, Hart charged through the snow, and above, Drestra weaved through the air, her reptilian eyes locked on the remaining clouds of spear-flies.

Behind the Heroes squads of mounted knights and foot soldiers thundered, armed with lances and brandishing their spears.

Amongst the army, a strange, blue man sat astride a moose with tinkling bells hung about its antlers. And sitting on that moose's broad head…

…a terrified Gwyllain, looking like he’d rather be anywhere but there.

“Not agaaain!” the asrai screamed, his cry a war-horn for what was to come.