Lawrence stood next to Brad and Stellas, obsidian scalpels in hand, as they both followed Thomas's instructions. Their new bodies – their backups – were on the tables in front of them, downstairs in Trisha's hospital and medical school. All three had stenciled using ink, and now they were making tiny incisions, with Trisha following up with a healing spell worded to ensure scarification.
He glanced over to Thomas's backup body. It wasn't Human. Vharthon mixed with Duskari. Stellas had provided some genetic material for one half, and he was able to acquire the Duskari half from one of Lyn's bodyguards. "Why'd you decide on that?" Lawrence asked in Khrelardian, his second-most comfortable language behind English.
Thomas smiled softly. "I think it would be neat trying out different bodies each time. And I wanted the Duskari blended in for the racial features and longevity." He looked up at and met Lawrence's gaze. "Plus, I don't want to constantly be the scholar named Thomas. I'll take on a different name and persona and keep working for Lyn's empire."
Stellas nodded and chimed in. "It is wise, given her decision to have a Duskari or Ari as a primary councilor with a junior councilor of the same position but less long-lived." She looked up at Lawrence and smiled softly at him. "You know, you've really blended into society here well. The city is looking wonderful, and those public arts projects you put together are really something. Did you see the marble sculpture of that giant raven the Sloren made?"
Lawrence nodded and grinned. "Yup. I'm so pumped that I don't have to worry about resource management. Just talk to Lyn, and boom, she'll get the raw materials with magic." He chuckled a little. "It's like playing a civilization builder with cheat codes on."
Stellas blinked a few times in confusion. "Cheat codes?"
"Something from our world," Thomas said.
Brad sighed and put down his scalpel, squeezing his hand and shaking it. "Why do we each have to do our own? This fucking hurts my fingers. I'm not used to holding something like this for so long."
Thomas was about to answer but Trisha beat him to it. "It's a type of internal spell that you're inscribing. For lack of a better way to put it, this is like your magical fingerprint. You have to do the inscription, or else it won't work."
She scribbled some notes on a pad she carried. "I'll finally be able to come up with something akin to an IVF program here on Ghomar for couples wanting to conceive. The whole part of them being "empty shells" is easy enough to fix with the removal of a verse."
"What about inter-racial offspring? Those can't normally happen, right?" Lawrence gestured to Thomas's cloned body. "We can see right there that it works."
Brad also grunted. "You're also creating life with the removal of that Elenthir verse. It could be considered blasphemous to some."
Trisha put her hands on her hips and sighed, but Stellas interrupted. "It's no different from two people having sex and breeding the traditional way," she stated succinctly. "Just removing any actual pregnancy and the risks that come with it. Without the growth-acceleration spells we used on these empty shells...they would be pulled out at infancy. Just like a regular baby, but no risk to the mother. And, these ones might have brains – but they are empty. Not really people. If we did add in a single verse, then regular people could have kids that were people, not shells."
Trisha nodded. "Stellas hit it on the head. Not only can you have the racial barriers broken down with this methodology, but you can also prevent harm to the mother. Or let people who want kids but cannot normally, have kids. Like, if Bolvon and Gael wanted a child – find a willing donor egg, magic together both of their sperm, and boom, child from two male parents." She walked over to Brad's clone and poked at one of the arms, "Plus, it doesn't stop people from having kids the traditional way." She dropped her clipboard, and muttered, "Fucking hell," as she knelt to pick it up.
Stellas looked over at Trisha. "I've heard you heroes mention the word 'hell' a few times. I'll admit, Khrelardian isn't a language that I'm the most adept in, but I've never heard of a translation for that word."
Thomas chuckled. "The word was added to the language since we used it so much upon arriving. There's not a direct translation from our home world's language."
Stellas stopped what she was doing. "Describe it."
"Well," Brad said as he cracked his neck. "Back where we come from, a specific religion had a concept that if you sinned – broke moral codes – you would go to a place of eternal damnation and suffering. That was called hell."
"Oh, you mean the abyss," Stellas replied.
All the heroes paused what they were doing and looked up at her. "What?" Thomas asked.
"The abyss. It's an old story passed down orally and used as a curse sometimes." She looked at Thomas, surprised. "I figured you'd know that."
"I have heard it plenty before, but not with context," Thomas replied, rapt with attention. "Tell me more."
"It's not written anywhere," Stellas continued. "It's something that isn't done. You won't find the word written down in any language."
Lawrence narrowed his gaze. "What is it?"
Stellas shrugged. "Well, no one knows for sure. It's rumored to be an ancient Elenthian ruin, lost to the ages. A prison of some kind for something that existed at the same time as them. Maybe even another realm of existence where the very bad go to."
"Where would something like that be?" Lawrence asked as he looked at Thomas. "You didn't find any prison in the Ruins of Elent, did you?"
Thomas shook his head. "Nope. But...I never came across records of any Elenthians going 'against the grain' and being disruptors of the social order." He looked over to Stellas. "Are there any stories about this abyss?"
"Not that I know," Stellas replied as she went back to carving the Elenthian verses into her still clone.
But what if it isn't? Lawrence thought as he went back to work as well. What if it's some type of horrible abomination locked away somewhere? He was concerned for about half a second before shaking his head.
It didn't matter. Lyn could crush anything at this point. And it's just a word. Just like hell – it doesn't really exist.
Lyn exited the meeting of her small council – Chancellor Vehenna, Steward Mol, Marshal Rashanna, and Spymaster Velenna – very confident at the direction her empire was heading toward. All her plans were on track: the schooling system was set up in Lynhold and the curriculum had been shipped out to their two vassal kingdoms and vassal republic, the codices of laws and strictures had been implemented, and repeat crime was practically nonexistent.
All criminals who were found guilty in a court of law were shipped to Lynhold, evaluated with a mind spell for true guilt or not, and if guilty they were subjected to an inscribed statue which would remove the problematic, unlawful behavior upon activation...or they would serve their sentence in a prison she created inside one of the mountain-walls on the northern side of the Valley.
And thankfully, the results spoke for themselves. The prison population was remarkably low. The realm prospered despite a harsh, severe winter. Food stores were plentiful, and her vassal kingdoms had all survived very well.
One report from Spymaster Velenna concerned her, however. She had heard whispers that there would be some type of assault on Kor's Hold proper, a force sent by Cecily to capture or kill King Marshall's family. A way to force a surrender. Lyn couldn't allow that, and so she had sent not just Bolvon, but Gael and two full squadrons of Duskari specialists. Hopefully that's enough, she thought. I can't afford troops to be placed elsewhere.
Trisk was going to hold The Rill and prevent any Valagonians up there in that direction, and with the river and the fortified wall, Valagonia assaulting Trisk was very unlikely. That meant Lyn's forces would be fighting on a single front – the Dragon's Maw. She planned on being with Khrelardia's forces in the main assault, but the spymaster had reported something else; Kory was among the forces that was arraying across from the Dragon's Maw. The Berserker hero had gone missing from Trisha's hospital ten months ago, and had only just resurfaced. Lyn had to meet him on the battlefield and either disable him or kill him to acquire his mana core.
She still had no clue what would happen if, say, Kory or Cecily was killed before she had harvested or swapped out their hero core. Would they float among the world like the last two she needed to save? Or would they just linger in the body, waiting to be consumed? There were too many variables, and Lyn would rather be safe than sorry. She would have to let James fend for himself for a time so she could focus on Kory's front. She had told James as much over the communication mirror network, and whilst he understood, it also meant their plans had to change.
No longer shock and awe, it would be a grueling, multi-day battle in all likelihood. She sighed and went to her chambers deep in the conclave. Two of her Empress's Guard were standing at her doors, and she waved at them as they both bowed and opened the doors. "Send Vael," she said to them as the doors shut behind her.
She willed her armor to vanish and went to the restroom, drawing a bath using the inscriptions and relaxing for just a little while. Just a small break, a little bit of fun, and then another dungeon. She willed the bracer portion of her armor to return, and looked through the map that appeared when she poured mana into it. Right. Next stop is the Emerald Isle. A small landmass off the coast of Valagonia, she could travel there and clear the dungeon without Cecily being any the wiser.
She heard the knock at her door. "Come in," she stated. Vael walked in and shut the door behind.
"Vael, reporting as requested."
Lyn waved her hand. "Drop the act. It's just us."
Vael walked over to the front of the tub and nodded as she took off her armor and sat down on the lip of the vessel. "It's harder to keep casual with you when I have to act so professionally."
Lyn nodded. "Are you good?"
"I am well, yes." Vael looked at Lyn and grinned mischievously. "Shall I be of service?"
"A shoulder rub would be nice first," Lyn said as she sank into the water a bit more. "How's the guard?"
Vael walked over and took off her heavy gauntlets and gloves, dipping her hands into the hot water before setting to work rubbing Lyn's shoulders and the crook of her neck. "The Empress's Guard is well established as a core of twenty-four. Two for each hour of the day, with overlap, since you sleep for so long."
"I don't sleep all day," Lyn commented as she luxuriated in the warm, strong grip that was working out the kinks in her body.
"You do sleep for long periods," Vael replied. "This last winter indicated as much. I wonder if it is because of your draconic nature? Going dormant in the cold."
"Mmmm. I don't know. Maybe you're right. You've been keeping the mana circulation training going, yes?"
Vael nodded. "I'm quite more capable now."
"Good." Lyn sighed and sank lower. "Rub my horns please." Vael did so, and Lyn became putty in her hands. "So good."
Vael laughed lightly. "What's the plan?"
"If you'll share my bed for a few hours, I'd like to just relax before my next dungeon."
"Of course. Whatever you wish, my empress."
Lyn playfully splashed her, and the two chatted for a short while before moving to the bed.
Bolvon was sitting on the top of the palace roof, staring out over the city of Kor's Hold. Gael was next to him, feet dangling over the ledge, as they relaxed at the end of their shift. The Duskari squadrons had set up a rotation, and so the two got to experience gorgeous nights like these.
"The calm before the storm," Gael muttered.
Bolvon nodded. "If anything is going to happen, it will be soon." He lay back and looked up at the two moons Tassisno and Tessella. "I wonder who they're named after," he said softly as he pointed up at the burgundy and light green celestial bodies respectively.
"I'm sure that Scholar Thomas could tell us," Gael replied as he lay back as well, gently grasping Bolvon's hand.
"How do you feel about all this?"
"Good," Gael replied. "I get to be with you. I wanted to serve, and Lyn is letting me do my service alongside my love. What more could I ask for?"
Bolvon chuckled. "True. We get to serve our amazing goddess."
"I do wish I could fight on the battlefield," Gael said softly. "I always heard the older Duskari speak of the glory to be won in combat. The stories of heroism."
"But some of those people died," Bolvon whispered, squeezing Gael's hand.
"I wouldn't," his partner replied. "I'd be invincible in my Titansteel armor."
"No risking your neck. You need to live a long life with me."
Gael rolled over on top of him and kissed him. "Don't worry, I can keep myself safe. And if you stay out of sight, then you'll stay safe, too."
Bolvon nodded and leaned up to kiss his partner, relishing the feeling of just being alive and with someone he loved. Soon enough this calm will vanish, he thought. Just lose yourself in the moment.
Sigurd sailed deep into the Southern Sea as soon as the weather permitted. Her single vessel was a deep-water fishing vessel that had been acquired from the Free City of Bashinol several months before they capitulated to the Eternal Empire. They were able to sail around the Teardrop Isles and come in to Khrelardia from the west. Her whole force – two hundred veteran soldiers on both land and sea – were disguised as mercenaries. No Valagonian colors. Their gear was also akin to those of the Free City's mercenary guilds.
They did not have rifles, knowing that the odd instrument would instantly mark them. As they pulled into the docks at Kor's Hold and tied off, Sigurd hunkered down with her commanders and pored over a map on a table under the main deck. "Remember, only speak Khrelardian while we're here," she reminded them all. "If you use Shereldian, you'll blow our cover. This is a targeted operation." She pointed at the map's edge. "The docks are about a half mile from the town center, and from there it's another quarter mile to the royal quarter and the palace proper. We'll divide our troops into squadrons of twenty and make our way through the city."
"Are we still going to use the coinage plan?"
Sigurd nodded. "Yes. We should still be able to do that." Even though the Free City of Bashinol was no longer the arbiter of free trade, and coinage was switching to that of the Eternal Empire, many places still accepted the Free City's coin, trading it in at a bank for the new currency. "Small purchases that sailors on shore leave would make – alcohol, foodstuffs, trinkets, replacement clothes, and the like. The goal is to blend in and infiltrate." She pointed to the main palace. "Once you arrive at the eastern edge of the market district, meet up at this sewage outlet. If Princess Cecily's intel is correct, it should lead us right under the palace proper."
She looked over to the handful of elementalism-capable soldiers that were at this final meeting. "You all have your squad assignments. The first one there will use earth elementalism to shape the rock and allow us access up into the palace." She pulled out another sheet of paper that showed the floor plans of the palace. "The king's family should be in the royal apartments. They would never expect a strike at their heart." She looked up. "If you think your squad is found out – return to the ship. They won't search a Free City ship without a higher-up's go-ahead."
The various sergeants and other commanding officers nodded and set to their tasks. Over the next hour, the groups would infiltrate Kor's Hold and make their way to the palace. The task set before them was discomforting to Sigurd, to say the least. Kidnapping children and their mother was not something she looked forward to...but if it would end the war quickly, saving Valagonian lives, it would be worth the effort and discomfort.
She prepared herself in the captain's quarters before setting out in one of the middle groups with her hand-picked squadron. They went through the unfamiliar streets of Kor's Hold, stopping at small shops here and there, purchasing items, and acting like sailors out on shore leave. Having studied the map, she was able to navigate to their designated rendezvous with ease. They were the third group to arrive. The outlet was just on the opposite side of a small wall behind a large tavern – making it an ideal place for them to gather. The back patio was full of her men, pretending to drink and revel as they gathered. Some were inside the building, but to outside observers they were just sailors with coin to spend.
Sigurd hopped over the wall with her squad and approached the sewer grate. It was a bulky, enormous piece of iron that she and six men wedged up with crowbars before gently setting it aside. "Alright," she quietly muttered. "Keep an eye out for any type of alarm system. If you see something, say something." She drew her thin short sword and stepped down the small tunnel into the darkness. Pouring a small amount of mana into an inscribed rock, the object lit up and she held it aloft to provide some light as they descended into the foundations of the palace.
The military council led by Marshal Remora all met in the main council chamber in the Conclave of the Fortress. Admiral Naila, Empress's Guard Vael, Strike Commander Slanosh, leader of Kory's Killers Lionel, Ben the Guardian hero, and the military advisors of the Duskari were all in attendance.
"Thank you for coming on such short notice," Vael said as the meeting began. "I will be translating for this meeting." She stood up. "Empress Rivers has left to conquer another dungeon and wants us to come up with our strategy for the southern front where an army gathers on our doorstep." She gestured to the left, where on a seat next to but a little back from the table, Seer Dran sat. "I have also invited our top diviner to provide what insight she can."
The seer stood up and bowed. The elderly Newen's voice was crackly and raspy. "I have divined our foes beyond the Dragon's Maw," she said in Arinol. Vael rapidly translated for those who did not speak the language. "And there are approximately four thousand troops, all well-equipped, with odd tube-like devices on their backs. There are larger tubes mounted on rolling platforms. They have set up camp three miles away."
Ben stood up, and Vael continued to translate as he responded in Triskol, "Cannons and firearms?" This warranted glances from around the table, and he cleared his throat as he crossed his arms. "Something from the world the Ruler hero originates from. They are akin to a crossbow, but the projectile they fire is a small, metal object. It flies fast, and can be very accurate." He looked to the Newen seer, "Can you draw a picture of what they looked like?"
The seer produced a sheet of parchment and slid it over to Ben. Remora watched his face as his expression changed to one of concern and slight panic. "What is it?" she asked in Arinol.
Ben looked at Vael and then shook his head before the translation came through. "They are capable of firing several times before they need to be reloaded – restocked with ammunition. And those cannons are capable of the range of a trebuchet, but much, much more accurately and faster."
Marshal Remora felt a twitch of fear. Some type of new weapon that we have never seen, but has the Guardian hero this worried cannot be something to be taken lightly. She turned to Lionel, "How do you feel about subterfuge?"
"Right, this is going nowhere. You coming back to Ghomar or—"
Fuck that noise. I'm back to Earth. Later bitch. There was silence for a few moments. Why aren't the doors opening?
"I have to consume the hero core. First – tell me what yours does."
Gah. Fine. The Binder hero has a unique spell that lets you physically restrain any target. I don't know what spell type it falls under. And as for spell type? You'll get mind. And, no one can use mind magic on you at all. It just won't work."
"Alright, off you go."
Fuck yo—
Lyn didn't let the woman finish as she consumed the hero core and fed it to the churning furnace within her that was the Destroyer core. There was a very brief struggle before it faded.
She stood up and grinned. Finally, she thought. Mind magic is going to make things much easier. Plus, being immune to Cecily's bullshit will be huge. She knew that the Ruler hero was a skilled mind magic user – and this immunity meant she was going to wipe the floor with the smug bitch.
As she looked out over the ocean, she did feel a slight sense of regret. True, she had slept with Julie's boyfriend at the time...but Elias hadn't controlled himself, either. He was the one who initiated things. Lyn pushed aside the thought. What's done is done. She channeled mana into the bracer and looked for the next dungeon. The Eastern Archipelago. She looked off to the northeast and incanted the lightspeed travel spell, vanishing in a blue blur.
"Oh, do go on!" Rashanna said with a giggle as she sipped her glass of wine.
"So, so then..." Her drinking companion for the evening, Diplomat Obedai Hondur from Khrelardia, pushed aside his blonde locks. "Then...King Marshall fucking trips on his cape!"
Rashanna laughed along with him as they both drank deeper into their cups. She was in Kor's Hold, continuing to smooth over relations between some few dissenters to her empress's rule and King Marshall's fealty. The palace was particularly quiet on this evening, and she sat under a canopy in the main garden, enjoying the pleasant company of the man with her.
He drained his cup and poured himself another glass of the wine before offering Rashanna more. She held her cup out, and once he filled it, they both leaned back in their chairs and stared up at the night sky. "It's gorgeous," she muttered.
"It is very beautiful," Obedai replied. He glanced over at her, and she caught his gaze from the corner of her eye. "You know what Empress Rivers did the first time I met her?"
"No, but do tell."
"She kicked me out! Told me to tell James to bend the knee or be ready for invasion. I tell you, that empress has balls on her."
"I can assure you, she does not." Rashanna took a sip of drink.
The man sat up and looked at her with jaw agape. "No...you've slept with the empress? The Destroyer took you to bed?"
Rashanna giggled and nodded. "She offers her bed to those she finds attractive."
"Interesting," he said as he rubbed his short beard. "Do tell more."
"Ah-ah! I don't kiss and tell," she replied as she sipped her drink. "Plus, it has been a few months since I last shared her bed. She has a few consistent bed companions. I think she sees me as a bit of a 'treat' as it were."
"Oh, I'd say you are a treat," Obedai said as he wiggled his eyebrows overtly. His facial control was impressive, and Rashanna let out a guffaw of laughter as he chuckled with her.
There was a slight trembling. Rashanna immediately sat up. "What's going on?" she asked.
Obedai stood up and pulled his slim, thin knife. "I don't know...we've never had an earthquak—" The ground in the center of the garden opened, and pirates began streaming out of the hole. Privateers from the Free City, wielding thin blades and clubs. Obedai grabbed Rashanna by the wrist and pulled her behind him, shouting for the guards.
Rashanna pulled out her amulet and thought of Gael. "The main garden! Intruders!" she shouted.
"We saw," the voice echoed in her ear, confident and stern. "We're on it. Get to safety."
Obedai led Rashanna through a set of double doors and shut them behind, throwing down the iron bar. He kept leading her upstairs, and he raised the alarm throughout the whole of the palace, making a beeline for the royal apartments. "You need to help me get the queen and princes out of the palace."
Rashanna nodded and gripped her amulet, thinking of Bolvon. "We're taking the queen and princes away to safety."
"Little busy here!" the voice came shouting back – in a panic.
Obedai burst into the royal apartments and dashed to the princes' room, throwing it open. "Boys let's go. We have to run!"
Rashanna went across the hall to Queen Maria's bedroom and threw open the door. The woman was just getting out of bed. "What is it?" she asked.
Rashanna bowed slightly. "The palace is under attack!"
Obedai ran up behind her, a prince under each arm as he handed them off to some king's guard who ran from the far end of the hall. "Let's go!"
Rashanna nodded. She knew the evacuation plan; the royal apartments had a hidden servants' corridor, and an even more hidden passage that would lead to the exterior of the palace. From there, they could make it out of the city to the private, royal docks north of Kor's Hold.
As they went into the servants' corridor, the sound of clattering wood and metal on stone echoed ahead. The king's guard handed the children over to the two diplomats, and one of the two men walked forward into the darkness with sword drawn.
Rashanna felt her heart beating faster and faster as they stayed put, the sounds of combat echoing up toward her. Then...silence. A shadowy figured appeared in front of them, and spoke in Arinol. "Go! The passage is clear!"
Rashanna rapidly translated, and the group rushed by the Shadowstalker. "Thank you," she whispered in his language as he slipped by them.
Bolvon nodded. "Hurry. The escape tunnel is clear." He rushed off into the passage to the royal apartments.
Rashanna grabbed Maria's hand, and the group ran for the escape tunnel.
Sigurd emerged from the earthen hole in the middle of a garden. A Vharthon woman and a Human male ran off before she could draw her blade on them, and as she helped up her men, she heard doors slam open. Looking out across the garden she saw a group of lightly armored, red-eyed demons forming a defensive barrier with archers behind. Duskari, she knew instantly from the stories of the red-eyed Ari. "Barriers!" she shouted as her disguised soldiers poured through the gap and shouted, "Esgal!"
Overlapping fields of prismatic energy cascaded over her troops near the tunnel entrance, and she saw the telltale flickering of mana-charged weaponry. "Incoming!" she shouted as she formed up her men.
The Duskari archers let loose in rapid succession, and their projectiles penetrated the barrier and picked off her lightly armored men. "Scatter!" Sigurd shouted as she saw the generic barriers were no match for the mana-charged weaponry. The men did so at her command, and they rushed toward the Duskari.
There's twenty of them, she thought. Glancing up at the balcony above, she saw torchlight. The royal apartments. She ran forward with her men and signaled to two of them to split off as the rest engaged with the Duskari. They boosted her up to a trellis structure, and she clambered up and into the royal apartments.
The room was well lit as she readied her weapon and muttered a spell to mana-charge her blade and manifest a barrier. There was flickering candlelight and the sounds of combat echoed behind her. Where are they? she thought as she went into the hallway of the royal apartments. A shadow crossed her vision, an odd shape in the torchlight, and she struck out toward it.
She impacted something solid, and her weapon was thrown back as a shadow-cloaked figure stood next to the wall. She could barely make out the dim, red glow of his eyes in what was otherwise a silhouette. She lashed out with her blade, and the figure dodged with a grace and ease she had not thought possible. A shadowy appendage flicked out toward her, and she barely deflected whatever it was holding.
A pain seared into her foot and sparing a glance down, she saw a spike of pure shadow had pierced her booted foot. Blood began to seep out, and she tried to move – but the shadow tethered her in place.
The shadow said something, and she redoubled her efforts on her barrier, trusting in her mana to keep her safe so she could focus on offense. She saw the shadows moving again, and heard the telltale crack of glass as her barrier shattered. She barely got her arm in the way of the incoming strike and felt a hot, piercing pain as she was stabbed, the arm going limp.
What the fuck is this? she thought as panic started to set in. Trying to shift her stance so she could run, she tore the shadowy spike from her foot and felt the warm rush of blood. Keeping her front facing this shadow, she made her way backward into the bedroom and toward the balcony. Sparing a quick glance back, she saw the two men who had boosted her up had clambered up. "Help!" she shouted.
The two men drew blades and charged toward the shadow-wraith figure, swinging chops from both sides that the shadow deftly dodged and evaded. It bought Sigurd enough time that she could reach into her hip pouch and pull out a Purple Patch. She shoved it inside the foot wound and felt the numbing property kick in as she regained her footing.
The shadow figure tackled one of her men, and his throat exploded outward in a crimson cascade. Sigurd took the opportunity to chop down on the figure, but it rolled aside, and she hit her own man.
The other soldier tackled the shadowy figure and pinned it down – but the form slipped and faded into the darkness, and she saw her soldier go limp. Fuck this. I'm not dying here. The royal family was gone, her mission failed. She had to get out while she had the chance, and this shadowy figure seemed to be collecting itself on the other side of the room.
She turned and vaulted the balcony rail, gripping onto the column as she slid down. Her men were still fighting against the Duskari squadron, and she yelled, "Mission failed! Retreat!" before leaping into the hole.
Bolvon sucked in deep breaths as his mana ran out and the shadow form dissipated. Sinking down against the wall, he let out a brief chuckle and shook his head. Three on one. All things considered, I didn't do too bad. He felt the sharp pain in his side and glanced down, seeing the red blood seeping through his leather armor. Damnit. That's deep. He reached into his hip pouch with a fumbling hand and pulled out a Purple Patch, slapping it on the wound as he felt it numb over. That should keep me from bleeding out.
He would need a healer in the next few hours, but until then he could survive. He picked up his amulet from around his neck and waited silently in the dark corner of the queen's bedroom until he had just enough mana to activate it. "Gael, the king's family is out, but I'm injured up in their apartments."
"Kind of busy here!" he shouted.
Bolvon sat up. The voice wasn't just coming from the amulet, it was coming from outside. He pushed himself to his feet and walked over to the railing, looking down. Gael was with the Duskari squadrons. A few of their forces had died and lay splayed out on the grass, which turned crimson under the light of the dual moons. But they were winning. Is this really all—
Bolvon felt a deep pain in his lower back and screamed out as he collapsed. Rolling over he instinctively kicked – but his leg did not respond. He saw one of the men he had sliced was not killed by the throat-slit. I must've missed the artery. The man dragged himself up Bolvon, stabbing a knife into the Shadowstalker's leg as he pulled himself up. For some reason, Bolvon didn't feel the knife gouging into his leg, and he reached for his punch dagger.
If I die, I die serving my goddess's will. A sense of finality washed over him...and sorrow. He pictured Gael in his mind and felt tears begin to well up. I wanted to spend my life with you...I'm so sorry.
The raider jabbed the knife into Bolvon's stomach; he felt the deep, piercing pain and screamed. As the raider dragged himself up, sawing along Bolvon's midsection, he raised the knife and prepared to bring it down on Bolvon's head. The Shadowstalker stabbed the man in the side – but he could see the blade coming down and closed his eyes.
The weight on top of him disappeared, and he opened his eyes. Looking down, the man was impaled by a spear which had shoved him back before propping him up. Bolvon willed mana into the communication amulet as he felt darkness close in. "Gael...I love you."
"Don't die on me!" he heard from behind and above him. He saw Gael come into his view, hauling himself over the balcony. The world darkened as Gael incanted the verses to a spell.
Gael breathed a sigh of relief as he staunched the bleeding with the spell Lyn had taught him. He reached into his pouch and pulled out Purple Patches, covering Bolvon's wounds with them. Then, he slowly sat the smaller Duskari up and felt his heart drop. No...
There was a stab wound that had coagulated over thanks to his spell encompassing all of Bolvon's body, but he could see the shattered bone in between. Slapping on another Purple Patch, Gael lifted the Shadowstalker, pushing him up and over his shoulder. He reached down to the corpse that he had thrown his spear into, and ripped the weapon out of the body before stabbing it in the head.
He grabbed his communication amulet and thought of Lyn. "I need you here."
There was quiet for a moment before the response came through. "What happened?"
"Bolvon...he's hurt badly. I stopped the bleeding, but his spine was hurt." He heard his voice crack. "Please!"
"What about the palace?"
"Mercenaries speaking Shereldian came up from underground. We pushed them back, and they're fleeing. The royals were kept safe." There was silence again. "Lyn?" Nothing responded. Gael began cautiously working his way toward the infirmary within the palace.
A flash of blue flared in front of him, and Lyn was standing there. "Let me see him," she ordered. Gael gently laid Bolvon down, and Lyn's eyes glazed over with a light-pink hue. "Thoracic spinal injury with a total loss of function. That explains the smell."
Gael hadn't noticed – still caught up in the adrenaline rush – but now that Lyn mentioned it and she was here...he did smell the rank stench of someone expelling their guts. "Is he going to be okay?"
"I can heal him, but he'll be out of commission for some time. Healing with spells accelerates the process, but things can still be iffy." She raised her hand "Lova an'thoryar / a aniron lav a'mar." A storage dimension opened up next to her. "Place him inside."
Gael did so and ran a hand along his beloved's face, feeling some sorrow but relief at the same time. Lyn squeezed past him and began rapidly firing off Elenthir verses so quickly he couldn't keep up. His eyes went wide as he saw the slight flush return to Bolvon's face as his legs jolted in place, and the wounds all sealed up.
She stood up and let the storage dimension close. "He'll be out of it for a few days. I'll deliver him to Lynhold. But first...where are these assailants?"
"Follow me."
Sigurd was out of breath by the time she reached their ship at the docks. Only one hundred and twenty made it back. The rest were assumed dead. "Untie and set sail!" she shouted. We must get as far away as possible.
Their mission had failed. The royal family had escaped. The best she could do was return to Valagonia, tail between her legs, and report back to Princess Cecily of her failure. But then she heard a flapping noise. An enormous, winged creature was a blot against the bright night sky and flew across the city toward the boat. Fuck me.
"All hands to stations! Hurry!" The gangway was pulled up and the ship was pushed off the docks as men scrambled to the oars. They had barely gone a hundred feet before the enormous dragon slammed into the back of the boat, ripping it apart as it roared out. Sigurd felt her heart skip a few beats as she turned to face this enormous creature.
A Duskari man slipped off the back of the beast as the dragon set to killing her men all around, forming a sort of eye of the storm as the Duskari raised his spear and shield. In broken Shereldian, she heard the man speak. "I Gael. Guard of Empress. Fight."
With pleasure. I can do a one on one, no problem. Sigurd unsheathed her blade and held it out, ready to strike as the two circled each other. It was only then, as they began to cautiously close, that she saw the armor he was wearing. Is that Titansteel? She felt a twinge of fear, knowing that even with mana-charged weapons she could barely scratch that armor. There was a slight gap in the neck that she could make out. There's my target.
The man stabbed out in rapid succession and Sigurd deflected each blow. They were engaged in a deadly dance where a single misstep would cost the other an opening. And the spearman made one mistake as he advanced. His foot stepped into a ring of rope. Sigurd took advantage of that and stomped down on the other end, pulling back and forcing him off balance.
There! She lunged forward toward his neck, but her blade missed the opening. Damnit! She tried to recover from the overextension, but the Duskari dropped the spear and grabbed her wrist. He pulled her into his chest and wrapped his arm around her back. Then...he squeezed.
She felt her back popping and could feel her insides ripping from the pressure. She let out a scream of pain as she clawed at the man's helmet, trying to shove her fingers into the visor – but it was too narrow. She tried to reach down and force her arms inside of his to buy some time and room to wriggle her way out – but he squeezed even tighter, and she coughed up blood. The world began to go dim. She tried to batter the man with her fists, but her blows were weak and pathetic as she struggled to suck in any air. She had unknowingly sped up her own death by suffocation. I never thought I'd go out like this.
A sharp, piercing pain shot up her body, and the world went dark.