Lucera and his entourage had traveled through the night on foot, a blade held to the woman’s neck all the way until the dragon could once again be secured. They had found no decent shelter, only hills and open ground. The valley between two such hills would have to see them through.
They had work to do. There was no doubt in his mind the dwellers would not give him what he asked of them, especially after what the young guardsman had disclosed. What worried him most would be any attempt to seize Rashan’s valuable cargo.
Time to secure what could be salvaged for transport and to bolster his forces what he could should they come under assault in the night or the following day. They must retreat to the landing camp. It held supplies for several times their current number. They could plunder what they needed there. Then they would need to hide and rest till the weather permitted safe passage off of this blasted rock.
A simple plan, but if anything had become clear, it was that these dwellers despised leaving a good plan alone.
He had in his possession the recovered armor of Raver in addition to the twisted remains of Destra. Many pieces still held the remains of their former occupant. And he had the crown of Nilisa, so executed in the night far from the keep. The rest of the priceless equipment was lost to him unless the locals saw fit to have a change of heart.
He may wait out their response or he may create one knight and one witch to help him stand against them.
He could take no further chances tonight.
“One butterfly in the net is worth a dozen in the bush,” he mumbled to himself before waving over his second. His second was the last decently trained and equipped darkling amongst their number.
“Fetch me Raver’s armor, quietly.”
He would teach that little shit what it meant to have expectations placed upon you that were beyond your control. And he was going to enjoy it. As for the girl, without the boy the deal would be forfeit no matter if the keep dwellers stuck to it. And it would make that dragon a damn sight easier to control.
Moving as quickly as they could, they trudged through the night following the dragon’s trail. They tried to count footsteps, but it was impossible in the darkness. There were many still. And at least one set which looked to be a vargulf according to Dakota.
Nobody talked, and those who could see were checking around for any sign of their quarry. Perhaps they would be lucky enough to see another torch or something similar. Even just a big white splotch would do nicely.
They heard a scream in the distance and everyone stopped, heads poking up to look in the direction.
“What was that?” Kokashi questioned as they stood frozen.
“A target bearing,” Tom said with conviction, starting to head in the direction of the sound. “Come on, can’t be far.”
They booked it through the night over damp grassy meadows, Tom soon getting overtaken on the sprint, Jacky staying alongside him. Soon his heart was pounding as he could hear Jacky wheezing inside her heavy suit. Cresting a ridge, his old goggles easily picked out the large white creature even if he had been rubbed down with dirt or something. Lying on his side.
They had sought refuge in a valley, likely to make finding them from the air that much harder, but it meant they were in a bad spot now that they had indeed been found.
Dakota called a halt, voice hushed but firm, and they stopped and stared. They had been noticed, heads turning their way, caught in the middle of something. Tom could now see the source of the screaming. A small male dragonette lay writhing on the ground, half-clad in dark looking armor. Dakota beat him to calling it out.
“Lichplate, it is Radexi. Kill the knight and get it off him!” she ordered as they heard a cork being popped, Dakota downing a potion of something. “Swords with me! Sapphire, here!” she roared out after having chugged the bottle. She ripped off the goggles, tossing them to Sapphire and slamming down her helmet. “Charge!”
“With pleasure!” Jacky growled as Dakota sprinted ahead, leading the way, wings already spreading. Tom took a knee, readying his rifle and lifting the goggles to aim as Sapphire put on Dakota’s set and stood next to him.
There was some light from the moon, but it was limited. This wasn’t gonna be an easy night’s shooting.
“Darklings are trying to put more of that shit on him,” Sapphire called out. “And he’s got something for the girl. Tom, shoot the bastard.”
“He’s black and can’t see him without the goggles!” It was true. He lowered them back down to try and find his target in the gloom as Sapphire cursed under her breath. He couldn’t look through the scope with his goggles down.
“Here comes the airwing, they got vargulfs still!” Sapphire shouted as she drew back her bow, letting fly into the night.
Tom had to trust in her to keep them safe as he found the bastard again with the goggles. He had the girl by the throat and was sending forth darklings towards the charging trio. ‘It’ll have to do,’ Tom muttered as he lifted the goggles and looked through the scope. He used the white silhouette of Elsara to guess the shot and fired, the crack ringing out but no clang of a metal hit accompanied it. ‘God dammit.’
The screech of the guards on the perimeter was the first warning they received. They were right in the middle of the sacred ritual of armoring the young man to bind him to service with bonds stronger than oaths and banners.
He wanted to scream at the misfortune of this accursed day. Every conceivable calamity that may be imagined had befallen them, no matter how unlikely. Witches shot at hundreds of paces, magics never seen nor heard unleashed, armor older than any dragon alive breached. And now, he, a dark knight, could not hide in darkness.
“Of all the days for the gods to take a side, maybe you were right. How would you like to fight against the will of the gods? Get up!”
The screaming keepdweller resisted the order; the armor had yet to break his spirit. It could not force his hand, only inflict unspeakable pain should he resist. And they had yet to finish the job, as he was only partially armored. If they were to make their stand here, it would be Lucera and his troops alone. He could not remember the last time it had come down to this. He drew a vial from his belt pouch and pulled off the wax sealed cork.
“I suppose I must do everything myself.” The shimmering liquid tasted foul as he quickly drank the contents, feeling energy flow through every fiber in his body.
He grabbed the squirming little bitch of a woman by the throat, her throat so soft and malleable in his iron grip.
“All remaining! Stand and fight! Fight for your masters, meet them and stop them, buy time! Let the vargulfs do their job. Second, give me the crown,” he ordered as the pathetic young man rolled around in the dirt, his pitiful cries no doubt driving his friends to rash action.
His designated second handed him the cold iron crown of Nilisa as he tightened his grip. The woman tried to scream as she bashed at his arm. All that resulted was a funny choking sound. She knew what was to befall her. To think what so many were willing to sacrifice in the name of becoming a mage. So ungrateful. Her proposition had been enticing, he must admit. But if he could not use her, at least he could ruin her. It would not do to let his threats be empty, even should this be his last venture.
The dragon let out a pathetic excuse for a roar through his muzzled snout as he fought his bindings fruitlessly. They were no strangers to binding dragons or that which was worse with rope and cordage. He was going nowhere, and he would watch as his dear little thing was taken from him.
The pair almost reminded him of Rashan and his beloved Gehenna, the only one who could do no wrong. The unapologetic favorite. Oh how he had hated her. The now familiar crack of ancient arcane weaponry rang out, and he heard a whistling sound pass them by. A chilling sensation, but it was a miss.
‘The first good fortune of the day.’
The lone rider strained against his grip, eyes wide as he brought down the crown. She was strong, but she was young. And he had a potion of strength in his veins.
A wet snap of mighty bone sounded above the clamor of battle, giving him pause for a moment. His feet left the ground and the world tumbled around him. He had been struck by a powerful blow. Much of the force was absorbed by the armor, leaving him staring in confusion as the sky became ground. Then he landed, tasting dirt and grass as he rolled and skidded for a moment.
‘What in the blazes?’
He hurried to his knees, looking around. Had they brought a mage? Perhaps it was the work of some arcane device? What had happened?
As he regained his bearings it became clear that he had been thrown a dozen meters to the side. He saw the fighting front line, they had clashed head on. In the midst of the camp, the dragon guarded the woman, zealously fencing with his halberd wielding second. Fencing, he realized, using the protruding bone of his right foreleg, the flesh torn away.
He blinked, and he stared. This he had not yet seen. He stood calmly, as attention slowly shifted his way. The attackers had noticed that he now stood alone. An easy target with no pawns to play. He could run, he might escape. He would lose everything. All the years of work, clawing his way up the ranks. Failure was not rewarded, it was only punished…
“Very well then.” He drew his blade. Forged in the deepest halls of the capital, far beneath the spire. The last gift he had been bestowed before his doomed expedition. “It has been a while, old friend.”
“The knight just got fucking yeeted!” Jackalope called out as she bashed and pushed her way through a small darkling’s defences, clubbing the creature into mush rather than fighting with an inch of the poise they had attempted to teach her.
“We cannot let him escape!” Dakota called out. She was right. They had to hunt that bastards down.
“Bit busy here,” Kokashi complained as he matched his blade to a large darkling’s mace.
“Tom and Saph’s got it, right?!” Jackalope bellowed out as she buried her weapon in her target’s neck, taking a moment to glance back and check how they were doing.
“Oh shit!” She ducked, but not in time, as a large black shape came hurtling by, stinger lowered and poised.
A tiiiing! was heard as it bounced off the adamantine plate and broke. The creature wailed in pain as it passed them by, its assault a failure.
“Hah! Moron!” Jacky shouted in defiance as she wrested her poleaxe free. “Ope, here comes another one. Aaaand, FUCK YOU!”
She wheeled about and swung the polearm with supernatural speed, and the head bit into the chest of the charging beast. It went in deep, and she did not release her grip, dragging the creature from the air in an arc. It slammed into the dirt with a thump, from which it did not move again.
“Almost as cool as killing a dragon. Almost,” she exclaimed jovially as Dakota got past the shield bearing annoyance to her front and ran her blade up under its mail coif. The stab through the clavicle should see it choke soon enough.
“Would you please shut up!” Dakota snapped at her as she drew the blade free, turning to face the dark knight who was now charging them. He wielded nothing but a blade, an arming sword which he clasped in two hands, but who knew what tricks he held from view.
Behind them Tom fired again, and the clang of a hit rang out, but no damage seemed to have been done, and the charge continued. Dakota stepped forward, sword and shield braced to meet him as Jacky stepped in to protect her rear alongside Kokashi.
‘Let’s see you hide now.’
He came at her with a flurry of blows, moving deftly and swiftly like a blade dancer at a stage show, complete with flourishes and all. Maybe he really was a prince or perhaps a disgraced noble. It seemed like the kind of flash style one might expect from aristocracy trying to prove something.
Her quiet confidence evaporated the moment their blades clashed and sparks flew. He swung with such strength and such speed it reminded her of her duels with Jackalope. She had hoped to punish such bravado and to rely on the potion of strength she had coursing through her veins. Instead she was forced to adopt the defensive. To parry and evade rather than block or let the strike pass through to her armor.
Her darkened opponent blurred with the night behind him as he moved about wildly. He was skilled, but it was form over function. She held her own well enough, letting him come at her, and in a matter of seconds she saw her opening for a counter. The family blade faded into the immaterial, passing by the dark knight’s parry, the point seeking towards the pit of his shoulder.
A large orange gem embedded into the knight’s crossguard pulsed with light and enchantments lit up along his blade. She felt herself pushed back as he braced the weapon. It was like an invisible hand forcing her away.
She staggered, but the distance between them bought her time to recover.
“Neat trick.”
“Likewise. I know those when I see them. What did you do to earn it? Burned rebels? Sent your sons and daughters to die?”
“Unlike you we are not cowards. We went ourselves.”
Such a defence must be draining, and he must have drunk something as well. But if he could simply repel her at will, the only way to beat him may be to tire him out. Looking at his stature, she would not have thought that difficult, but dark knights were creatures of legend for a reason. He may only need to get past her once.
He came at her again with vigor, light on his feet. She resigned to save her strength and let him make the mistakes. The more they fought the more she learned. He was flashy, but he was also predictable. He may not be used to needing more than a few seconds.
She had little trouble keeping him at bay, but she was being battered as the exchange continued. On a counter he parried too high, and she did not even require her enchantment as her blade slipped inside his reach, its tip skidding up his breastplate towards its target.
Once more she was forced away by the enchanted blade, both parties staggering back. More importantly, she could see the strain it was taking on the heretic warrior.
“I will have your soul for what you have done here today!” He was angry, and that could be used as well.
“Because you already sold yours!?”
“Shoot him, Tom!” Sapphire shouted out as she kept her eyes on the sky. Even with the goggles, seeing a black vargulf against a darkened sky was no easy feat. But she wouldn’t dare to try this without them.
“I’ll hit Dakota!” he shouted back as he sat kneeling, peering through his various goggles and sights. “But I can nail that one.”
A shot rang out, she knew not at what. She saw another shape in the sky descending towards them. Surely there could not be many more of these things left. Fortunately, none of them seemed to be wearing armor of any sort.
She loosed her shaft and it struck home true. The creature screeched but held course as she sent another shaft. Only then did she spot the rider wielding a couched lance. His mount may be doomed, but he was steering true all the same.
“Shit! Tom MOVE!” She threw herself to the left, away from the human, hoping the creature would steer for her.
She landed face down in the grass to the sound of the creature crashing into the ground behind her. Snapping bone and tendon was followed by silence.
She rolled onto her back, only to be greeted with a dark shape descending upon her. The rider had dismounted and drawn a blade, bringing it down upon her.
She rolled again, the weapon stabbing into the ground beside her. The darkling landed hard, turning to face her as she pushed herself up and drew the knife at her back. It rushed at her, blade leveled at her guts as she bashed it aside with her forearm bracer.
She was no sword fighter. Tom wasn’t either. This thing was. She backpedaled away from her assailant, keeping the long slender knife up between them, heart pounding as she tried to think of a way out of this.
“DUCK!”
On instinct she did as she was told. A fusillade of fire was unleashed at the darkling, punching through its armor with ease, spattering her with tainted blood. A moment later it collapsed to the ground, sword clattering against the ground.
“You good?!” Tom shouted out from the other side of the crashed vargulf.
“Yeah… I’m good…” she replied, glancing at the fallen darkling, her mind racing for but a moment on what could have happened.
“Great! Air cover, I’m advancing!” he called back, catching her off guard.
“Wait, what?!”
“Can’t hit shit, gotta get closer.”
“Oh for the love of all the gods,” she cursed, scrambling for her dropped bow, before setting off after the madman, eyes trained skywards.
“Let me have a go at him! Come on Dak!” Jacky called out as she stood shoulder to shoulder with Kokashi against what remained of the darklings.
He was forced to admit, had he not emptied his bowels earlier in the night, he would have shat himself when the wounded vargulf lunged from the night on foot. It managed to grab a hold of Jackalope’s left arm, pulling her away from him, opening his flank.
She bashed her helmeted head against its bare scalp. She won.
He was just trying his best, holding his own. He really had hoped he could just blame her getting lucky with the opponents they faced. But she was through two of them now and a vargulf. He had some big scary looking woman that he just could not get past. And Dakota was giving ground. Was she losing? What were they supposed to do?
“Heads up!” Jacky shouted as she took a brief opening to bash Kokashi’s opponent in the side with the haft spike of her poleaxe. It didn’t go through the mail, but it sounded like it hurt, and it shifted the creature’s attention onto herself.
Kokashi sidestepped right and took advantage, slashing at the poorly armored back of the knee on the large darkling. The blade bit through and drew blood, but the creature remained standing. It came at him again, and he once more bore the brunt upon his shield. The wood cracked with every blow, his arms aching from the strain. He was scared. Truly scared.
He could not fail here. He could not die here. He was needed. At home, by Dakota. He just had to remain standing, for everyone’s sake. He did not even attempt to press the darkling, he let it batter him, defending what he could. Surely it must be tired too.
“Oi! Get off him you shit! Try one your own size!” a muffled voice roared, and then the darkling was smashed into a broken pile at his feet. “Sorry bout the wait. Busy.” A small dragon’s head suddenly loomed above, looking down upon him. Tears gathered in the corners of its eyes, and its muzzle was tied shut with heavy rope. With a muffled voice it asked. “Mind if I borrow the sword for a bit?”
“Of course! Let me!”
‘You useless fucking bitch, I drank the potion,’ Lucera sneered as he watched the woman once again find a way out of his masterful attacks. She was not stronger than him, she was no faster than him, and no one was better than him.
He was trained by the best private tutors in the capital. He had seen battle many times in his life. How did some frontier wench match him?! How did she carry a fangblade and wear such armor? These things did not exist on the frontier, and those who had them out here never knew how to use them.
‘The potion. It must be old. I should be stronger, faster. I need another. But how? If only I could-’
His line of thought was interrupted as she pushed him back. The lapse in concentration nearly cost him another use of his blade.
‘Where are those useless…’ He threw a glance to where his darklings had engaged the keep dwellers. Every dweller stood tall. And he watched the last of his cut down by that brute of a woman as another labored to free the dragon’s bindings.
With the dragon free, it was over…
What could he do? Rashan was dead, his direct commander, and with him Rashan’s orders. But the court still ruled over him. He could not disobey them… But he could test the limits of their wills and wishes.
“I yield!” he shouted, stepping back, keeping his sword at the ready as he felt the armor’s presence tingling at the back of his neck. He was flying in dangerous skies.
That did catch his opponent off guard. She stood and she stared, unsure for a moment. Poised to strike him as the others turned to back her up against him. He could never stand against them all.
“I have lost,” he proclaimed loud enough for all to hear.
“Damn straight!” the large woman called back as they all leveled weapons.
He took the cue and dropped his blade flat to the ground. There was no escape now. He had waited too long. Then their attention was snatched away by a scream. Then cursing, and shouts of pain. All looked to the hill where emerging from the gloom came a huntress, going end over end as she tumbled down the steep hill before finally coming to a stop at its base.
She quickly got to her feet, looking about with some confusion about the scene before it dawned upon her. “Oh shit, you got him alive?”
“You good, Saph?”
“Yeah yeah, running, looking up at the sky. Uhm… fuck, right what now? Any more of them?”
Attention shifted back his way. Truth be told he did not even know. He had forces at Rashan’s corpse. But they were quite limited. There was a night terror there. They may not know of this yet. His objective must be to reach it and escape.
“I do not believe so, no.”
“Riiiight. What’s the plan, Dakota?” All heads turned to the knight that had faced him alone and survived the ordeal.
‘Dakota, I shall make a mark of that.’
She hesitated before giving an answer. “Tie him up. And strip him of anything you can find. Do not touch him without gloves or cloth, and leave the armor be for now. I have a feeling some may be pleased indeed at receiving a live one.”
“If you say so. Sit yoo ass down you ugly fuck or I will turn you into a piss pot for the kids. Tom, point a gun at him would you?” the big woman ordered.
‘Charming, that one,’ he mused, getting down on his knees, arms raised above his head as he looked left to see another emerge from the darkness. Clad in darkened armor, wearing a cloak seeming to meld with the world around it. Its face a singular green eye. Its gait uncanny. Seeing it sent a shiver down his spine, as if something was terribly wrong with whoever that was. Whatever it was.
“Sure. Smile, wait for the flash,” it replied with a strange alien accent unlike any he had ever heard in his many years.
‘The oracle… The oracle fights with them.’ He almost said it aloud, but he could not keep himself from staring. “Who are you?”
“One of many reasons you lost an army tonight. Behave, or you’ll lose more.”
“Hardly possible. The only thing I have left to lose is my life.”
“Oh I’m sure we can think of something. Jacky, we got rope?”
“We sure do.”
Leave a Reply