Dakota stood blade in hand, shield raised as she stood along the walls of the room. With her was Anchor, a few fresh scratches added to his already grievous injuries. 

She had to will herself not to look at him, to ignore what she could fix if only she could spend the strength. It could not be spared today. They would all need every ounce they had, even during brief breaks like this.

At the center of the room there was a substantial hole in the ceiling. Their task was to cut any who entered to ribbons. This room could not fall. Below them lay the library. Other breaches they had abandoned. Not this one.

The enemy was not coming on in a rush anymore. They were attempting to be sneaky, to slip behind them or amongst them. Edita was the only reason they had not succeeded. Even now the steady chop of axes could be heard. But never in the same place for long. Many paths worked at once. Scurrying feet going from hole to hole. 

The darklings had learned quickly that the floors did not stop their guns, but soon they would have nothing to feed said guns. 

Another bang was heard, the orange flash visible though the open door.

Then hurried footsteps preceded a head popping inside the doorway. It was the young artificer.

“Do you have any more? That was the last one.” She spoke in a hushed tone, perhaps fearing the enemy would hear.

“… I have four,” Dakota relented, her heart sinking at the news.  In truth she had six, but she would be keeping the last pair. Just in case. “Come fetch.”

Edita snuck her way along the walls of the room as quietly as could be done with claws on wood. Dakota handed over her precious ammunition without taking her eyes off the hole.

Once close Edita took to whispering into her ear. “This is not good, Dakota. What will we do when they are gone?”

“I don’t know… But they must be straining. If they had the numbers we would know it. They are biding time… we shall do the same,” she whispered back.

For now she had no better ideas. They had heard the fierce fighting below, Yldril’s roars shaking the very stones of their home. Then all had fallen silent. They did not know what had happened. With every moment she grew more tempted to send a runner to contact her brother. 

Then she saw steel flash above: the enemy was watching. They had been warned of the danger in using the grenades indoors. And she only had the one. But how she wished to throw it at the cruel creature. 

But they were not stupid. If they threw it back down it would be a disaster. It may kill the children. All of them. In a single swoop. She didn’t have the courage. Not like her mother. She never wavered.

She glanced at her hand. The family blade weighed heavily despite being as light as a rapier. 

She was Dakota Bizmati… and she did not even know how many were left with the name. If they lost it may well be the end of the line. Her legacy, the final daughter.

“Cheer up. I know that face. It will be quite alright. It is only darklings. What count are you on now?” Anchor spoke up in a cheery voice.

“I don’t know, Anchor. Is it not a touch silly to keep a count? This is not a game.”

“Not as silly as dwelling on what might happen if we are not here to witness it. Come now. Chin up. Your mother would care more about how you face the end than why.”

She turned her head to look at the man she had been wed to so many years ago now. A burden placed upon her by the necessities of family and politics. He had felt much the same, a bond of friendship forged through blood and betrothal. Little good it had done them in the end.

At least he had always been good looking, perhaps her mother’s doing. One could hope at least. But now? After all these years, when he knew her family as well if not better than she did herself. He had become family, the father to her children, and he had always been a good man. 

“I am most worried about living to see what happens. Not what happens if I don’t.”

“Then fight like you won’t. I believe that was your mother’s secret for many years. Why she seemed to care so little… Really it is quite selfish when you think about it.” 

“Please, of all times, you pick now to call your mother-in-law selfish.”

“No no, I have been doing that for years, dear.”

“And don’t I know it.” 

“Years ago you would have struck me for that. How times have changed.” He chuckled, which was clearly a painful thing to do.

There was a moment’s pause as they listened to the footsteps above. “… I am not going to apologize,” she eventually said, a little mirth returning to her voice, her heart pounding less loudly in her ears.

“Of course not. You are a proud Bizmati. That is not in your nature. Well, those of you that take after Nunuk.”

“What are you insinuating? That my father might be one to grovel an apology for the slightest mistake? As if years with my mother could ever lead to such a thing.”

“I still wonder if he was molded or found… Truly a question for the ages.”

“Perhaps he keeps a tome with the answer.”

“No, he would have told me if he did,” Anchor snickered, Dakota joining him in the moment of levity. She was no fool. This was his doing. His way of helping her. Like he had done for many years. After they worked out their differences and the reality of the situation. 

They were a couple before the gods till the day they died. And if asked now, she wouldn’t have it any other way. 

A shot rang out down the corridor, likely Edita seeing to her duties. With some luck that was another darkling dead or crippled. 

One less threat to worry about. As they listened it became clear. The night was growing quiet, very quiet. They could only hope they had bled the enemy enough that they did not dare try one final push. They may not have anything to stop them with but steel and blood.

Then there was a glint above. She felt the twang of an arrow glancing off her right greave. The bastards had tried to shoot her in the foot! 

She stepped back, bracing her shield tight to her side as she brought up the tip of her blade. 

Down from above dropped a trio of darklings. They were poorly armed and armored, one with a fearsome wound to its side, another with dull blue blood leaking from beneath its helm.

Dakota was no fool, these three were not supposed to get past them. Perhaps they were a distraction. Perhaps the real threat was the shooter above. She kept her distance, waiting for them to advance upon her. 

A foolish maneuver to most, her back to the wall. Nowhere to go, but she could not risk a lucky arrow.

They were quick to take advantage, a pair converging upon her, leaving Anchor to fend off the single assailant.

They attacked as one, one swinging a bardiche in a wide arc for her head as the other drove forward with a spear towards her center. 

The spear was easily enough thrown aside by her shield as she ducked and sidestepped, her enchanted blade parrying the polearm up and over her. 

Darklings retained much of the skill and knowledge gained in life. These were no warriors. She drove the tip of her blade into the side of the polearm wielding opponent, the slender tip piercing the gambeson as if it were mere leather. It would be no fatal wound, nor would it stop a darkling. It would slow the darkling all the same. 

The pair moved to face her together once again, and the spear wielder rushed forwards, trying to stab around the shield. She let it pass over top, hitting her left pauldron, the rusty tip no match for steel plate, let alone enchanted mithril. Thanks to the enchantments she barely felt the strike as she once again swung at the darkling with the bardiche in hand. It attempted to block with its stout weapon. 

Dakota’s talon blade shifted into its ghostly appearance as it slid past the defence, the edge caught by a chainmail hood as it shifted back. She moved her shield hand out, bringing the tip of her sword up under the darkling’s chin as she forced the spear up towards the ceiling with her shield hand and advanced.

The sword tip slid through the unprotected chin and up into the skull as the darkling spasmed and dropped its weapon. The spear wielder abandoned its polearm in favor of a falchion and tried to come at her. It managed to bring down the blade on her arm as she retreated, achieving only a smattering of sparks for its effort.

It raised the blade as if to batter her with it, like some common club. Its infernal screech was cut short as she bashed away its sword arm with her shield and stabbed it through its gaping maw 

It failed to quite die on the first attempt as it twitched, going partially limp and falling to the floor. A second jab saw the job done as Anchor finished dispatching his assailant, the small male darkling falling to the floor with a broken and twisted neck.

“That makes eleven for me,” he said, winded but in good spirits.

“Yes, but when things are going well it is either an ambush or a diversion. Tom’s teachings,” Dakota countered as she raised her shield and crouched, darting a step forwards to peer up into the darkness.

“Sounds more like your brother’s… What do you see?”

“Nothing,” she said truthfully. Then a shot rang out again. And without the noise of their own battle, swords were heard clashing. 

“Kill it!”

“I’m trying!” was heard faintly, someone screaming with desperation. It was coming from their floor.

She looked to Anchor as she stepped back from the center of the room, inching towards the door.

“Go, I will stay here. By the door I think. If the worst comes to pass I will warn the children,” Anchor spoke, with conviction. They both knew that meant those above risked being cut off from the floor below, meaning they would need to fight their way back down.

“If anything comes through, shout for me, okay?” Dakota knew he would of course not leave her without a fight. But it felt right to make the request anyway as she popped a pair of sweets into her mouth. She was tired, so very tired. But they had no time for it.

“Like a goat stuck in a fence.”

She gave him a nod, silently praying it would not be the last she saw of him, before hurrying out into the hallway. “Where are they?!”

---

‘Come on, come on. Seated, closed, ready.’ Edita ran through the actions like she had been shown. Her last round was loaded and she took aim.

“Come on! Please!” Luke pleaded as the black knight drew his dagger, the young captain pinned to the ground underfoot. “Kill it!”

“I’m trying!” she shouted in reply as she pulled the trigger.

The knight paused as he stared down the barrel. A brief moment of fear flashed in the creature’s eyes as the weapon spat fire. She aimed for the center as she always did. After the smoke and fire cleared, the knight was still standing, one arm held up to cover its eyes.

“Piss,” she spoke, involuntarily, as the creature briefly glanced down at himself with astonishment.

The pellets had left pockmarks and some small dents in a nice little circle on its chestplate as the runic enchantments faded once more. That was all.

Luke squirmed and writhed, reaching for his blade as Edita stepped back. Beside her Herron stepped forward, sword drawn from his side, clasped in both hands. His gun was long since discarded for lack of ammunition.

She had failed to kill the beast, but she bought them time. Hopefully it was enough.

They must go through the knight and his escort. Pho, Balethon, and Ladari were cut off from the others on the floor. The knight had come down behind them. Edita saw it happen, so it was no surprise. But they could not cover all the holes nor shoot those making them. 

The knight was forced to cross blades with the small guard as its feet kept Luke pinned down.

Edita’s heart was in her throat as she tried to think of what she may do to help. Herron was deft with the blade, moving unlike his usual sluggish self. And with the knight unwilling to move from his prey, he soon found an opening. She felt her heart swell as the tip was driven towards the knight’s throat.

The armor held, infernal runes glowing.

How could she be so foolish? Lichplate was enchanted with all manner of protections. No two were alike. So it was written.

Herron squeaked in alarm as his attack left him vulnerable to a counter. One which came swiftly, the knight punching him in the face with an armored gauntlet and the pommel of his sword, sending the guard back, staggering.

“Wait your turn!” it shouted, its voice pained and anguished. It was wounded and tired. 

“Keep hitting him! The armor will kill him for you!” she shouted to Herron as she hefted her heavy wrench. She had no idea what to do with it, but she felt safer holding it.

“Coming through!” Another voice was heard to Edita’s left, Dakota rushing past her, sword and shield at the ready. Edita didn’t even hear her coming, she just clasped her wrench close to her chest.

Herron did as he was told, and the knight turned to face her, backing away from Luke. He clambered away, wounded but alive.

The pair clashed blades and a frightening dance ensued. The pair fenced and the knight was driven back down the hall, towards where its lackeys were trying to kill Pho and the others.

“You can do it, Dakota!” Edita shouted as she moved to help Luke up. The young man grasped his blade and staggered after Herron, who was also trying to come to Dakota’s aid. But she left no room for him.

She sidestepped, ducked, and weaved, only the occasional blow being allowed to touch her armor, and always when she had an opportunity to strike at the dark knight. But neither seemed able to inflict damage upon the other, though she stood nearly a head taller than the corrupted male.

“He’s tired, batter him Dakota, beat him up!” Herron called out as Dakota’s blade phased through the knight’s parry and she once more tried to stab her opponent to no avail, the tip failing to pierce just as had happened to Herron.

“Edita! Hammer!” Dakota called out, stepping back and hiding behind her shield, her focus not leaving the target to her front, who kept backpedaling, eyes darting around as if searching for an exit.

Edita hurried forwards, holding out the wrench. It was no hammer, but it was heavy. A good wrench, she had first held it when she was only eight years old.

“To me! To me!” the knight called out as he kept his distance, voice quaking with fear.

“Here! Here!” Dakota yelled, throwing her precious family blade to the ground behind her, Herron quick to pick it up as Edita handed over the wrench.

“You die now, coward,” she snarled as she grasped the wrench and rushed forwards.

The knight attempted to brace against her advance. Shields clashed and the greater mass prevailed. Dakota’s inertia carried her forwards, forcing the knight to stumble, and the pair fell to the ground.

She bashed him again and again. The iron wrench rang out with every strike, like the rhythm of a blacksmith as the knight tried to shield himself.

Herron was quick to move up past them, focusing on the gloom. Sure enough, a pair of bloodied darklings appeared, rushing to their master. One was shoved against the wall and cornered by Herron. Luke was slower to move up but threw himself at the advancing darkling and the pair fell to the ground as well.

Edita pulled a small ballpeen hammer and made to hold down and bash at the knight’s legs as he tried to wriggle free. It mattered not where you hit, as long as the enchantment stopped the blow. It would help.

“YOU DARE! INVADE MY HOME!” Dakota screamed as she pummeled faster and faster. “TO KILL OUR FRIENDS! OUR FAMILY!” 

The knight all but let it happen, shielding its face and trying to push her off to no avail. “HELP ME YOU IDIOTS!” it screamed. Luke and Herron kept the help at bay. Edita just bashed with her hammer, doing what she could to help.

The light was starting to fade from the runes of the litchplate. They were nearly there. And the knight grew weaker in its struggles. 

Dakota moved up, one knee holding down the knight’s right arm as she drew her dagger, stabbing at the creature’s throat, but the metal held. She pushed for all she was worth and the knight gurgled as its throat was slowly crushed.

With a scream, Dakota leaned back and, holding the dagger with one hand, grasped the wrench once more. She hammered it home like a spike, shattering the beautiful stone in the pommel.

With a final gurgle the knight lay still, the life fading from it and its armor.

The darklings screeched in defiance of their master’s death. The one on the ground attempted to claw its way towards her as Luke took the chance to clasp it in a strangle hold.

The one Herron was dueling pushed past him, receiving a slash along one side for its troubles as it flung itself at Dakota, maw agape and ready to bite. With a sound swing she crushed its jaw and sent it sprawling to the floor, where soon she was upon it like a rabid animal, dagger stabbing up under the chin of the helmet again and again as she screamed at it.

Edita sat back and stared. She could hear the woman crying from within her shell of metal. Then an arrow glanced off her helmet with a shower of sparks.

She snapped her gaze down the hallway. There stood another darkling clad in huntress attire festooned with gold trimmings. And it had another shot ready. It loosed and Dakota blocked the projectile with the back of her gauntlet. She made to stand as the corrupted huntress readied another arrow, then it received a shot to the stomach in reply. 

It staggered, and before it could recover a second shaft struck it in the throat. Dakota was already moving at pace, dagger at the ready. Soon she was upon it and the foe was dispatched with ferocity.

Edita had not moved from her spot, sitting by the corpse of the dark knight.

“So uhm… you good, Dakota? We could use a moment of your time. Uhm… If you got it,” Balethon spoke with uncertainty as he stepped up beside Edita, half a sword in his hand and shield battered.

“You’re welcome by the way!” Pho was quick to add, Edita looking around in confusion. 

Was this it? Had they done it? Or were there more somewhere? 

‘Oh shit! That’s my job!’

---

“Fire and retreat, arrows only,” Maiko ordered as they made it to the top of the stairs leading up from the ground floor.

The dark knight had held back ever since he managed to land a hit in his shoulder, just below the pauldron. It had sent his arm limp so maybe it had gone all the way through.

For now, they held back the darklings as they slowly gave ground at a measured pace. With some luck the knight may show himself again if there was no gunfire. They did not have many shots left but it mattered not either way. They didn’t have the blades to hold the front, so he needed to draw a sword himself, setting aside his rifle.

Hardly his preferred position, much too large of a chance of winding up dead or worse, but there was no choice. It had been just him and a wounded Kalix holding the stairs, though Kokashi had just returned to help fill the gap. Ethera and Rekui provided the fire, with bow and rifle. The gilded huntress had been given the honor of one of their precious rifles as well. They had simply needed too many in the front for their own guards to take the new weapons.

She had proved quite adept, but much of her ammunition had been spent at the window slits and so now she was reduced to her bow. It may still work to their advantage. If the enemy believed they had no more firepower, they may do something foolish. And right now, that was desperately needed. The very last thing Maiko wanted was a fair fight.

The darklings fought well, organizing a matching shield wall to the dragonettes. Behind them archers would pop up to take shots. Heavy objects were also hurled over the lines, raining down on their heads.

A far cry from what they have heard of the chaos on the top floors. In such a struggle, the side that tired first lost. And the darklings were both fresher and more numerous, so the retreat began. First up the stairs from the armory, where they held the advantage, but then came the long straight corridor. Even footing for both sides. Terrible news for the dragonettes. 

Then the good news arrived.

“The fuck you lot retreating for?” The voice of Jacky rang out from behind them. “Coming to get me? Kinda guarding a hole here.”

‘Oh thank fuck, someone else to do this shit,’ Maiko thought to himself as a piece of firewood made him hunker behind his shield.

“There are too many of them!” Kalix shouted out between panting breaths. Blood seeped from more than one place on the young man’s ragtag armor.

“Let’s speed this up a bit, back back, give them ground,” Maiko ordered and the line quickly complied, backpedaling towards what respite Jacky could give them.

“Is that so?” she replied as they neared. “You two, archers, watch that hole. Moving up.”

“Ethera, you do it,” Rekui delegated as she kept the arrows flying whenever an enemy archer attempted to pop up.

Ethera obliged as Jackalope pushed forwards to the line. “Coming through, make room.”

Maiko was all too willing to step back from his place in the line, letting the towering woman take his place. She carried no shield, instead wielding a massive pole axe which she swung down on the foe the moment she had the reach. It embedded in the enemy shield and she pulled them in, out of their formation.

“Rekui! Gun!” Maiko demanded as he retreated. The huntress presented the rifle without protestation, though she kept an eye on their latest addition. “Thank you, ammo too. What have you got?”

“Two rounds, one more is loaded,” she spoke quickly, handing over the precious brass before getting back to her duties. She  side stepped and loosed a shot into the recently compromised enemy formation. “Dammit.”

‘That makes seven total then, not too bad.’

The darklings returned fire, arrows darting off Jackalope’s armor as she wrested the axe free of the shield. The darkling tried fruitlessly to stab her in the leg with his sidearm, a short sword. The spike on the haft of Jackalope’s weapon was driven through the creature’s neck for its troubles.

“Hold them as best you can, I’ll be back,” he said, scurrying back towards Ethera then past her. “Don’t you worry, or come after me. Ain’t gonna end well,” he reiterated to the huntress as he hurried into the room and stuck his head out the formerly barricaded window. 

The last thing he needed was an ill fated rescue mission. But alas, something had to be done. And he wasn’t gonna fight fair.

Letting his magic flow and take hold, he hopped out the window and into the night, gliding down to the ground. He landed silently and quickly hid in some bushes by the base of the keep. Some hearty weed which had decided that a rock was a lovely place to grow shielded him from view.

The moon was out, but he still couldn’t see much. Slowly and quietly he crept along the wall of the keep. There were a few torches flickering from the sides of the keep which helped him pick out the dark silhouettes by the gate house.

Their attention was trained upwards towards the arrow slits above, shields raised above their heads. As far as he could see, they were all that was left standing on the ground outside the keep. Although the piles of corpses may well contain some half-living specimens.

He got to within a few feet of the nearest one and he could feel his magic slowly draining him. With a lunge he drove his blade up through the armpit of the first sentry. It let out a choking sound as blood welled in its lungs. With his off hand, he cast a palmfull of sand and grit into the eyes of the other watcher.

But it dutifully raised the alarm, screeching into the night as it wiped at its face to restore its sight.

In a swift move Maiko withdrew his blade and stabbed up under the chin of the blinded darkling, sending it limply to the ground. Then he made for the darkness and the bushes once more, back from whence he came, to watch and observe. 

His heart hammered as he readied the rifle, unsure if anything would emerge from within. Could he kill the knight if he came to check? Would he come alone? 

Most likely not. Could he escape if he killed the master? Maybe, if he was quick about it. Perhaps he could wound him a second time.

He sat, and he waited. But no one came. Had the alarm gone unnoticed? Had they prepared for him within? 

‘Only one way to find out,’ he whispered to himself reluctantly. It would be one hell of a story if it worked. But if it didn’t, then this would likely be his last mission. What a shame. He’d never had a task he wanted more than this one. He’d even thought of it as a reward for his service to Victoria that she let him have it.

‘Some things are worth fighting for. Money, girls… That’s about it. Fuck it, let’s go.’