Garm followed Alek’s finger and saw nothing.
“One of what things?”
“The golem!” Alek exclaimed, almost childlike excitement was in his voice. “That big, iron…” He turned to look at it, and his smile vanished, his voice trailing off . The golem was gone. There was nothing where it had stood for the past few days, except a small stone bench. He tried to remember if it was there when they left for the Citadel, but couldn’t remember. The Akvan had rather occupied his mind. But was it always there? Did it have breaks? Relief? He realized how foolish he looked suddenly, so he turned back towards the house.
“Well shit,” he said glumly. “Okay, sorry, I’ll come back in,” he said apologetically to Garm. “I’ll do it your way.”
Garm let out a breath as he sealed the door closed. That strange little episode dealt with, they were ready. Trained men holding a highly fortified position against ten men in the open. This should be over quick, Garm thought. One way or another.
As soon as Johan and Ryker made it to the gate of the Citadel, they knew something was not right. Though the main gate and access doors were still closed, the customary presence of guards was absent. Loosening their gladius and long sword scabbards, the two men ran inside.
Just past the main gate was a small disembarking area for mounted officials and couriers. Usually a hub of horsemen and stable hands, it was now devoid of both people and horses. The only thing of import they saw was the massive iron wagon that Jovar’s men had stuffed Kinnese into. As they rounded it, they saw that someone had hastily drawn a number of runes onto one side of the wagon. The rune seemed to ripple slightly as they looked at it. Ryker, without realizing it, clutched his right forearm as a sudden cold feeling stabbed through it.
“That looks bad, Joh,” Ryker said, his teeth clenched.
“Tell me about it,” Johan said. He cautiously took a few steps towards the wagon. “Come on, we need to see if he’s still-“
He was cut off as a white beam of light stabbed through the side of the wagon with a terrible screech of shearing metal. The beam quickly sliced a circle through the wall then disappeared. With a heavy thump the section of wagon fell to the ground. Kinnese nimbly jumped through the hole, feet first. He was still stripped to just pants. No shirt, or shoes. His wrists had horrific looking burns, with pus and blood dribbling down onto his hands. Both of his shoulders had awful looking wounds where he had been shot by the Outriders. Despite the apparent injuries, he moved quite smoothly. He looked at Johan and Ryker with a confused expression.
“Wait, you two sprung me? Why didn’t you just give me the damn lockbox at Oberon?”
“Sorry traitor,” Johan said, drawing his longsword from his back. “We’re here to shove you back in there. There are quite a few things you need to explain.”
The confusion on his face quickly vanished, replaced with a determined look. His right hand opened, and with a flash of light, a sword appeared in his hand. Both the blade and hilt were violet in color, and it looked to be made out of Smokey glass.
“I’ve come this far, gentlemen. While I really do appreciate the mercy you showed me earlier, I’m afraid I won’t be able to return the favor if it comes to blows again. Just kindly point me to where the lockbox is, and I’ll be on my way.” Suddenly he cocked his head, as if hearing a faint sound. He looked at the rune on the side of the wagon. As he did so, Johan and Ryker saw his eyes flash a bright violet light, and he smiled. “Actually, it would appear that my friends have already given me directions. I guess we-shit!”
Ryker had lunged forward as Kinnese spoke, bringing his own longsword downwards in a killing stroke. Kinnese barely had time to bring up the violet blade to protect him. Ryker pressed the attack, not letting up. When the blades connected, it made a curious sound, Johan noticed. There was a clang of metal from Ryker’s blade, but it seemed to come from far away, as if it was an echo. The shock of Ryker’s initial strike had faded, and Kinnese had recovered. No matter how hard or how fast Ryker was, Kinnese was able to block and counter him. A quick slice from the violet blade missed Ryker’s face, instead slicing through the heavy riding coat and cutting through the mail shirt on as if it wasn’t there. Ryker snarled but didn’t back down, enraged all the more by the sarcastic smile now on Kinnese’s face.
Johan now entered the fray, his gladius in hand. Where Ryker was making savage slashes with his longsword that Kinnese easily deflected or sidestepped, Johan began stabbing furiously at the traitor, using a sequence drilled into him during his career as a Legionnaire. Forced to now alter his footwork constantly as Johan and Ryker used completely different angles, Kinnese found himself on the defensive with the Outriders attacking him. If Kinnese was any other man, Johan and Ryker would have brought him down quickly. But his agility and skill with a blade were apparently far superior to them both, and it took the two of them together to merely keep him at bay.
But for all of his skill and speed, he was injured, facing two seasoned combatants who knew how to fight in tandem. Johan’s gladius finally found its mark. Kinnese dodged out of the way, but he was a split second two late. The swift thrust went through his torso, slicing through meat and skin, barely missing his stomach. Kinnese yelled out in pain and dropped his guard slightly. Ryker’s longsword crashed down upon the conjured blade, shattering it into countless pieces of violet glass that vanished into puffs of steam before they hit the floor.
Kinnese leapt back from the two Outriders, landing a few feet beyond the reach of their blades. Blood began to seep out of the wound on his midsection. He made a fist and it glowed bright white. Knowing they wouldn’t be able to close the distance in time, and remembering his tricks from their last encounter, both Outriders dove away as a lance of white light stabbed outwards from Kinnese’s fist. Ryker scrambled behind the metal wagon. The metal was thick, and it proved strong enough against the white light, which cut a deep gouge through the thick metal walls, but did not puncture it. Johan had ducked behind the closest thing he could find, and cursed himself when he realized it was a stack of hay bales. He readied himself to run when Kinnese suddenly screamed again in agony.
Peering over the hay, he saw steam rising from the wrist of Kinnese’s outstretched hand. The flesh began to bubble as if it were over a fire, and the smell of seared meat was potent. His face contorted into a grimace.
“The Hells take that fat piking Weaver!!” he snarled in pain. Composing himself slightly, Kinnese looked at Johan, and at the wagon where Ryker was hiding. Then he turned and fled towards the nearest doorway.
“Ryker!” Johan yelled, “Move it! He’s running!”
The two of them ran after the traitor, keeping their swords out.
“Where do you think he’s running to?” Ryker asked as they ran.
“Wherever the Militant kept the lockbox,” he replied. “His chambers most likely. Let’s move!”
Nerthus was peering out of her window. She had removed the glove from her left hand and had manipulated it into its longer-range firing mode. She had the window open, but was hidden from the outside by the curtains. Across the room Vegard was doing the same, he had an arrow knocked and held at his waist.
Behind them Alek and Edda sat in the kitchen. Edda had seven blades of various sizes laid out that she had just sharpened, and was in the process of resheathing them. She seemed relatively calm, Nerthus thought, for some strumpet about to be involved in an attack. Then again, not many call girls carried so many weapons, or had leathers weaved with some kind of metal mesh either. Edda picked up two daggers, one in each hand, and swung them around expertly a few times. She would need to be watched.
The big oaf, Aleksander, was simply frying more eggs and bacon. She needed to correct herself. He was no oaf, though he played the part of one. She could see the intelligence in his eyes. He was also a terrifying physical specimen. About as big a man as she’d ever seen in person without suffering from some type of gigantism. Despite his physical presence though, he was had a disarming pers
onality, and the Outriders seemed to regard him as a friend. Or at least some sort of bizarre mascot. Movement caught her eye, and she peeked out the window again.
“That must be them,” Nerthus said.
“Yeah,” Vegard agreed, “looks like.”
Ten riders had ridden into Newcomb Square. The Square’s lamps and torches were lit, but it did not provide much light for the defenders to see their attackers. The riders halted in the center of the Square, scanning the buildings for the Outrider’s barracks. It wasn’t much time, Nerthus knew, until they’d see the Outrider sigil and begin their attack. The riders were easily within bowshot. Nerthus got ready to fire, as did Vegard.
“Just make sure they really are our friends before we start shooting,” Vegard said. “I’d like to not kill someone who didn’t deserve it.”
“Agreed.”
“Pick your first shot. I’ll take the second Shadowy Stereotype on the left. He looks like the type of guy to not donate to the temple. Probably cheats at dice too.”
“I’ll take the one to his right, then. I believe he called into question the virtue of a lady once.” Nerthus was trying hard not to smile. She had to admit that she was greatly enjoying working with these Outriders. They were quite adept at lightening the mood in tense situations, and their devil-may-care attitude was rather infectious. She had found herself almost glad to have to go back to them so quickly. Her usual co-workers were less jovial and easy going, more sinister and melodramatic. Two soft taps on the ceiling above them snapped her out of her reverie. Garm was letting them know that he and Toma were ready. This was it, Nerthus thought. Her rider and Vegard’s both dismounted, along with three others, and began walking towards the front doors. An instant later, all four dropped dead, shot by the defenders. Toma, carrying the repeating crossbow fired three more times at the mounted riders, but the bolts pinged away as if hitting stone bricks. Now reloaded, the other defenders fired at the mounted riders. Again the arrows were knocked away.
“Shit,” muttered Nerthus.
“Here they come,” Vegard said.
Nerthus watched as four of the shadowy riders dismounted. She began to draw another arrow, but then she froze. The four riders had clearly dismounted and began advancing on the house. But she saw that they also remained seated on their horses. Now those four dismounted as well. Eight dark figures were now advancing on the house.
“Holy spitballs,” she heard Vegard mumble
A series of bolts and arrows rained down upon the advancing figures from Toma and Garm, but they all bounced away as if the intruders were walking through a tunnel made of glass. The first four figures made it to the steps, and Nerthus’s blood froze at the sight of them.
From a distance they certainly appeared human. They wore hoods over their faces, but they were dressed similarly to the assassins that attacked the Outriders before. She started. They were almost identical outfits to what Edda was wearing. Aleksander’s words of “your old friends” echoed in her mind. She shook the thoughts from her head momentarily. Time enough to deal with that after the fun. Refocusing on the approaching figures, they drew within the torchlight of the house. She finally saw what they looked like under their hoods, and it horrified her.
Where there should have been faces were nothing but smooth globes of flesh, covered in a clear fluid she hoped was just sweat. She could see outlines of movement within the globes, pushing against the smooth, wet flesh. As if there was something struggling to burst out. She felt her gorge rising in her stomach as she looked at them.
Vegard snapped her out of it, moving to stand over by Alek and Edda, with an arrow nocked. She hurried over and joined them, a bolt prepped in her arm.
“You two shoot the first two that come through that door,” Aleksander growled behind them, “then get behind me. Once they get in here, I’ll handle them.”
The front doors shuddered as they were hit by a heavy blow. Again and again strong blows were hitting the doors. Finally, the doors were bashed in, one of them ripping off the hinges completely. Three of the strange men rushed in, long jagged daggers in their hands, with five more pushing in behind them. As a prize for being in the house first, one of them was rewarded with a bolt through the ‘face’, and a second had an arrow put through the throat. Dark green blood and white fluid sprayed out where they were shot and they both staggered. Nerthus feared it wouldn’t be enough to stop them, but they were knocked down and trampled by the rush of the other creatures.
Aleksander pushed past Nerthus and Vegard, who began readying for up close fighting. With a huge blow from his right fist, Alek sent the nearest intruder flying backwards, it’s ‘face’ pulped by the impact. Swinging now with his left, he caught a second creature with a punch to the chest. There was a wet cracking sound as the creature fell to the ground thrashing. A third had just enough time to stab at Alek with its blade. He swatted the dagger aside casually and then crushed its head against the hard wooden wall. A fourth creature slashed with its dagger, and Alek had just enough time to catch the blade in his hand. There was a sound like a blade behind dragged across a whetstone, and the dagger snapped into pieces in Aleksander’s hand. A quick kick snapped the creature’s knee in, and it fell to the ground making strange, distant-sounding gurgles.
“Planes…” Nerthus breathed. Vegard was similarly impressed. They stopped arming themselves momentarily to gape at the carnage Alek had wrought in only a few short seconds.
“Yeah, he’s good in tight spaces,” Edda said, a sarcastic tone in her voice. She drew her own daggers as Vegard and Nerthus prepared themselves.
“Hah!” Alek said, still facing the oncoming figures. There were only two left, and they had halted just inside the door, unwilling to be massacred like their comrades. Nerthus watched as Alek brought himself up to his impressive height and slowly dropped the dagger fragments he held in his fist, one at a time. The sound of splintered metal falling on the floor was unnerving. One of the the figures hesitated, and then drew out a small jewel on a chain and held it in its hand. A spark of light flashed from the jewel once, and Nerthus felt the air around them all suddenly grow heavy. A pressure rapidly began to build in her brain, and she felt her knees go weak. Looking upon the malformed creatures in the doorway, she gasped as they underwent a hideous transformation.
The one holding the jewel seemed to grow in height, while Alek seemed to shrink. The writhing mass of flesh it had for a face began to ripple and distort with more frequency. With its other hand, it drew a jagged sword out of a sheath, it was dripping with blood. The second creature also grew in height, but instead of drawing a weapon, its hands ripped through the gloves it wore, turning into vicious looking pincers, and its face began to draw and pull in different directions.
Nerthus began backing up, the sudden intense fear causing her heart to nearly burst through her chest. She heard Edda throw up next to her. Vegard simply froze in place, his gladius dropping from his hand with a thud. They heard a loud crashing sound coming from the back of the house, and the sound of multiple footfalls. The last thing Nerthus saw before the darkness took her was five more of the monstrous creatures running towards them from the back door.
Garm and Toma, both with their longswords at the ready, rushed down the stairway. They had heard the sounds of battle below them and had rushed to join their comrades. As soon as they had made it to the main floor, however, their resolve and determination vanished in a heartbeat. Toma watched with horror as Nerthus simply fell limp to the ground, Vegard frozen in place next to her. The woman Edda was on the ground sobbing in fear. The pressure and nausea building up within him was intense. Beside him, Garm’s face twisted in horror, and he became rooted in place, both hands clutching onto his sword hilt for dear life.
With a dawning horror, Toma remembered these effects. He had felt the same physical and mental agonies the night of the assassin attack. As he recalled that night, he felt for the scorched jewel he took that night in his pocket. Clutching it tightly, he remembered
Leonid’s words to him when the Weaver gave him the jewel. Toma found himself fighting to stay moving, grasping his sword in one hand, and the jewel in the other. The more he thought of the fat Weaver’s kind words, and of the pride he felt in overcoming that fear, the less he was gripped by the horror around him.
Hearing oncoming footsteps and looking up, Toma saw five more of the smooth faced creatures rushing towards them from the back door. Seeing five of the unworldly assailants almost made Toma slip out of control and join his terrified comrades. But a massive man that only could have been Aleksander charged the five assassins before they could reach his comrades, and snapped Toma out of the fear that threatened to envelop him.
As Alek knocked the five around in a massive brawl, two more figures approached from the front door. Toma watched as they moved slowly and silently to avoid Aleksander’s wrath. One had a long jagged sword in its hand, and raised it up in front of Vegard, who stood there trembling, paralyzed with fear. The fear he felt was intensified at the sight of this creature, and Toma realized that it must be holding a jewel similar to the one he held in his hand. If he could find it and shatter it, his friends would be freed. Without any further thought or hesitation, Toma hurled the jewel in his hand at the creature, hitting it in the shoulder. It turned its hooded flesh face towards Toma just as he swung his longsword downwards at its head. With a dull chopping sound, he split the creature’s head in two, but surprisingly, the sword blade remained lodged in the skull of the creature. As the second creature dove at him with some sort of bladed claws, Toma abandoned his longsword and drew his Legion gladius. Letting the creature build up a little momentum in pursuing him, Toma thrust his gladius forward, stabbing clean through the throat of the creature, the force of the thrust sending the creature back into fallen body of the other Toma had killed.
The Outrider Legion: Book One Page 22
