by Joseph Lallo
Lain motioned for Ivy to stay where she was. She obeyed while her defender crept up to the window, evading the light it cast. Behind, Ivy huddled in the corner, cradling her wound. She was every bit as terrified as the people below her, but she couldn't allow it to show. She buried it deep within her. Even a wisp of fear reaching the surface would stir up her aura and they would be seen. Lain didn't want that, so it must not happen.
Epidime grinned, keeping a watchful eye on the chaos as he abandoned the back of the injured creature and summoned down a fresh one. His caution proved justified. No sooner had he taken to the air than the whole of the mass of attackers seemed to rise up. A black form could just barely be seen beneath them. An instant later and it surged up, sending the attackers hurdling helplessly through the air, raining down all around. In the center of the eruption was a dragoyle, but it was not like the others. A silvery tone was mixed with the black hide, and a brilliant white light shown from the hollows that should have held eyes.
Ether wasted little time. With the massive strength inherent to her new form, she trounced the foes foolish enough to venture near her, then took to the sky. Epidime would not escape this time. A silent command pierced the minds of the army of creations as her foe attempted to put distance between himself and her raging new form. Every nearman, every cloak, and every dragoyle moved as one, turning instantly to the new target. The shape shifter drew in a deep breath of air and heaved out a great cloud of miasma, blanketing the scattered forces below her in the caustic mist. As dragoyles swept in she spat a second cloud of it in their direction. The beasts were unaffected, though the riders cried out in their unnatural language before falling to the ground below. Whereas before the creatures would have fetched a new rider, it seemed now that Epidime had taken a more direct role in controlling them, as they remained focused on Ether even in the absence of the guiding hands of their riders.
No matter. The shape shifter had spent an eternity learning how best to use every aspect of a form, and even in the mere moments that she had occupied this shape, she was every bit as capable as the beasts she faced. What's more, she had the benefit of a more than rudimentary intelligence, something that her foes lacked. The first of the creatures clashed with her, but its attack was smoothly evaded. Ether then countered, choosing her attack carefully. A single blow separated the creature's head from its body and both tumbled earthward. The entirety of the remaining dragoyles swarmed around her. Ether's skill with this form was more than formidable, but the volume of attacks was greater than she could withstand. Rather than be overcome as she had before, she darted away. The others followed. The shape shifter wove through the air as gracefully as this form would allow.
The constant rain of blows that pummeled the church from all sides died away suddenly and completely as the creatures were commanded to protect their master. Lain silently forced aside a board from the window and peered outside. The creatures, all of them, were distracted chasing one of their own, and it didn't take long to understand why. For once the shape shifter had used her powers wisely. He turned to help Ivy to the window.
Lain grabbed her good arm and guided her to her feet. The blood loss was beginning to affect her, and she had to fight to keep her balance. Her eyes were heavy. If something was not done about her wounds soon, she would lose consciousness. Death would soon follow. She stumbled, nearly falling. Lain stopped her, but in the silence left by the departure of the attackers outside, it did not go unheard. In a flash, the hushed and huddled townsfolk below began to clamber anew in fear and anger. In the darkness below, the bolder villagers took up lanterns and headed for the stairs to the walkway.
Quickly Lain widened the opening. Time was against them, and there was no use being quiet anymore. When it was large enough to crawl through he tried to lead Ivy onto the narrow ledge beyond. Her head no sooner peeked out of the ruined window than a whiff of icy air and a glimpse of a dizzying height brought back her senses and the memory of dangling high above the city just minutes ago. She pulled back, refusing to face the drop again. The bang of a door being thrown open startled her. As Ivy turned toward the sound of approaching footsteps, Lain took matters into his own hands. Throwing Ivy over his shoulder, he hurled himself out of the opening, catching the ledge and dropping down as gently as he could manage.
It was not gentle enough, unfortunately. Ivy cried out in pain as they struck the ground. Heads peered out of the broken window above. Lain could fairly feel their gaze. They had been seen. Both of them. He turned and fixed his eyes on the horizon to the west. He had to escape, find shelter, and attempt to bind Ivy's wounds. It might already be too late. The injured creature was muttering incoherent scoldings about being careful and warning her when he did such things. The assassin thrust aside all he'd taught himself to do, all that had become second nature to him. There was no time for stealth. There was no time for caution. The last real hope for his kind was fading away. That could not be allowed to happen. Not while he still drew breath.
High above, Epidime watched as Ether weaved between buildings, over roofs, through arches. The other dragoyles, clumsy by comparison, crashed into walls and collided with one another. A thought came to mind, causing him to turn his eyes to the ground. Beside the now collapsed form of his former mount was the weakly stirring form of Trigorah. When a glance upward confirmed that the shape shifter was distracted at the other side of the town, he guided his beast earthward. Casually dismounting, he fairly sauntered up to his ailing ally and watched her struggle to her feet.
"The shape shifter . . . " Trigorah warned.
"She has her hands full at the moment. I am surprised at you. You aren't one to be so easily fooled. And I should know," he said.
"Save your mockery . . . what about the others?" she asked.
"Last I left them, they were holed up in the church," he said. "Demont's little project is wounded. They won't be hard to follow."
"If you think Lain will be easy to follow then you learned nothing from me. He has skill enough to overcome any handicap. You need to find him before he leaves the city," Trigorah warned.
"The cogs are already moving in that regard. I will see to it personally just as soon as the more immediate threat can be dealt with. Ether's power concerns me and . . . do you feel that?" he said, suddenly distracted.
Trigorah held her aching head. "I felt nothing. Where is my sword? If you won't find him I will do it myself."
" . . . I may have dallied too long. It is time for you to retreat. I cannot risk having you here right now. Not under these conditions," he decided suddenly.
"Not while Lain is so near. And not while you face three Chosen," Trigorah countered.
"I would reason with you, but I really haven't got the time, and this is a precaution I am afraid I simply must take," Epidime said.
In one smooth motion he raised his halberd and struck the still weak Trigorah. The blow was accompanied with a flash of the halberd's gem, betraying a spell that was no doubt intended to ensure that the strike had its desired effect. His fellow General dropped back to the ground. A silent order went out to the fastest remaining dragoyle. As he mounted his own beast, the second pulled away from its pursuit, snatched up Trigorah, and turned north, disappearing into the distance. Epidime soared high into the air. It didn't take long before he spotted Lain. The fool was carrying the injured creature across his shoulders, running in plain sight. He swept down after the pair, but the leathery beating of wings drew his attention. Behind him, the dragoyle form of Ether was closing in on him. He managed to evade her, but the five dragoyles that pursued her were another matter. They were far more focused on catching their prey than avoiding this obstacle or any other. Just as Myn had in her final battle, Ether used the trail of single-minded beasts as a battering ram. No fewer than three of them collided with him, the whole tangle of creatures falling to the ground like a stone. Now that only two remained, Ether could easily dispatch them, and she did so in mere moments. Circling to the ground, she eyed the m
ound of shattered dragoyle suspiciously as she resumed her human form.
"I cannot abide by that form. It is not without its usefulness, but I feel soiled by it," she hissed, confident that her job was done.
Her confidence, so often her downfall in the past, was again misplaced. As she approached the pile, a small portion of it stirred. Epidime pulled himself from among the broken bodies. Impossibly, the fall that had shattered the almost supernaturally hearty monstrosities had spared him. He was much the worse for wear, to be sure, as one arm hung limply at his side and an ankle was turned hideously inward. As he struggled free, however, his arm twitched, moved, and apparently recovered. He didn't even seem to notice the ankle until he tried to step on it. A moment later and he corrected the twisted limb.
"What are you?" Ether growled.
"For now? Human," Epidime croaked, his voice faltering.
He hacked and coughed, a pink mist of blood splattering his chin as he did so.
"In a moment, you will be nothing," Ether threatened, taking on her stone form and charging at him.
Lain had heard the collision and watched out of the corner of his eye as the broken mass had fallen. Perhaps Ether had defeated the General once and for all. Unlikely. All that mattered was that she had occupied him. There was a chance that he could escape. The edge of the town, and the field that lay beyond, was only a few hundred paces away. It was far from safe, offering little cover, but that was a blessing as well as a curse. Once he was outside of the city he could at least be sure that no foe was lurking out of sight. If he could just reach it. In the shadows, a whisper of motion caught Lain's eye. Then another, and another. He redoubled his efforts, pushing himself as hard as his weary, battered body could allow.
With a chorus of screeches, the shadows themselves seemed to leap out at him. Claws swiped at him from all sides as cloaks, still sizzling from the dose of miasma Ether had doused them with, flooded the street. One of the creatures caught his leg and he tumbled forward. By the time he regained his footing, he was completely surrounded by what was left of Epidime's ground forces. They floated and flitted around him, sweeping in to slash with their phantom claws. He stood over Ivy and drew his sword, knowing that these moments of delay might be the mortally wounded creature's last. The way in which the creatures attacked, holding back and jutting in briefly to swipe at him one at a time, had been a blessing in the past. It had allowed him to pick them off slowly and to bide his time for an escape. Now, though, he needed to hold his ground, to destroy every last one of them, or at least disable them, and fast. The intermittent swipes now came frustratingly slowly. It was almost as though they were purposely wasting time.
Ivy groaned weakly. Lain sliced through another cloak. He breathed in long, greedy breaths, the frigid air burning at his lungs. The motions of his body and the sword were an afterthought, something akin to a reflex. As he fought, his mind worked feverishly to plan out his escape; where to run, how to treat Ivy's wound. There would be no room for error. Another slash, another foe fell. The fact that Ether had ravaged the beasts so badly was more than a blessing. It was a rare stroke of luck that made victory possible.
Just a few streets away, the shape shifter's clash with Epidime was growing ever more intense. Ether knew that she'd spent most of the strength she had left. If she didn't end this quickly, she was not certain she would last. Epidime, however, seemed inexhaustible. His body seemed to be failing, but the mystical creature knew that the real threat came not from his body, but from his spirit, and it raged just as intensely as it had at the beginning of the battle. Despite this, he was limiting himself. His blows seemed as carefully measured as they were well placed. Ether avoided most and blocked the rest, but she knew that he would not behave in this way unless he had good reason. His motivation, however, remained a mystery to her, and that concerned her.
His halberd swung in a slow, wide arc, forcing her backward. He then quickly circled around her, deftly avoiding a diving attack from his opponent. Ether's fatigue was beginning to show. Her attacks were becoming more frequent, and had the air of desperation that he had been waiting for. He shuffled a few more steps, watching with a grin as she adjusted her stance to compensate. Perfect. In a lightning motion, he thrust his weapon forward, unleashing a blinding lance of energy that struck her squarely in the chest. The force of it launched her like a comet, trailing energy and shattering through the wall behind her.
Hearing a distinctive crackle, Lain crouched and gathered up his precious cargo, rolling aside a mere fraction of a moment before the wall that had served as the backdrop for his battle thus far burst toward him. He rolled to a stop with cloaks on all sides. One grabbed each arm. Another grasped him about the throat. He struggled briefly, but their grip was too strong. In the rubble beneath the gaping hole in wall, the form of Ether rose. She was riddled with cracks, barely holding together. As the last pieces of debris from the explosion of force fell to the earth, Epidime stepped through the hole he had made. He looked about at his handiwork, smiling at the mound of rubble and the flicker of shattered lanterns from a nearby storefront.
"You should thank me. It is an important lesson in the art of war I have taught you today. Victory in a single stroke takes as much planning as power," Epidime mocked.
A sudden and swift move from Lain quickly wiped the smile from his face. The assassin caught the edge of one of the cloaks restraining him with his foot and pulled his arm free. He then managed to force the second one backward into the pool of burning lamp oil from one of the shattered lanterns. It took quickly to flame and screeched through the air for a few moments before fluttering to the ground, motionless. In the distraction, Lain managed to regain his sword. The other cloaks, and a handful of surviving nearmen who had finally managed to navigate the city to their prey, began to descend on Lain, but Epidime stopped them with a thought.
"Listen, Lain. I know full well that you would sooner die than be taken captive, just as you would sooner give your life than lose that of the delicate creature at your feet. Alas, my orders are quite clear. Until certain criteria are met, you must be captured alive. All of you. Perhaps I could subdue you. Perhaps you could defeat me. Neither could happen before your precious Ivy fades away. That is her very life pooling about your feet. Every drop of blood is one she can't spare. Use your logic, assassin. Let me have her. I will heal her, you will escape. We will both fulfill the more important of our goals. If not, then we both fail," Epidime reasoned.
"Don't listen to him, Lain. Kill him," Ether ordered. She struggled to remain standing, straining under the weight of her own stony form.
"She wants Ivy dead. You know that," Epidime countered.
Lain's weapon lowered slightly. Ivy's eyes were locked on him, glazed and wavering. He drew in a slow, deliberate breath of air, eyes closed. He then exhaled, opening his eyes and tightening his grip on his weapon.
"So be it," Epidime sighed, raising his weapon for the coming battle.
He made ready to attack the stubborn hero, but something made him pause. Weapon still at the ready, he swept his eyes across the cityscape around him. A bitter wind was blowing. Harder now than it had been a moment ago. And now harder still. There was something else. A sensation. A presence. He shifted the halberd and gave the ground a sharp thrust. A wave of black force rippled out from where it met the earth. It flowed across the street in all directions. Just before it reached Ivy, something disturbed it. It parted, like the water in a stream about a stone. As it did, the merest glimpse of something else could be seen, as though a veil had been briefly blown aside by a gentle breeze.
What followed happened with a speed few could comprehend. The fluttering black mist was drawn up by some unseen force only to be dispelled entirely, vanishing. A flash of light forced all to avert their gaze, as the icy wind surged, seeming to blow in from all directions at once. As Epidime struggled to regain his sight after the blinding flash, he beheld before him a pair of forms. Each was clad in a pristine white cloak, face hidden
by the hood. One held the crystal-tipped end of a shattered staff, a bow over one shoulder and a quiver of arrows over the other. The second clutched a crystal in one hand and an odd, twin bladed weapon in the other. A sadistic grin came to Epidime's face, in his eyes a hint of the darkness that lurked in his soul.
"And then there were five," he said, his tone that of a monster unleashed. "KILL THEM ALL! NO ONE SURVIVES!"
The foot soldiers rushed in, Epidime turning to the opening he'd blasted through the wall moments ago and dashing through it. As he did, he raised his weapon. A ribbon of intense light erupted skyward, splitting above the city and encircling the walls. Instantly a shimmering barrier coalesced just outside the outskirts of the city. A trio of nearmen followed their master as he sprinted from sight. The staff-wielding stranger rushed to the side of the ailing Ivy. The other turned to the cloaks. A swift thrust of the crystal sent a bolt of light that struck the nearest attacker. In an instant the cloak turned to glass, shattering as it struck the ground. A second cloak drew near only to be struck by a second bolt that seemed to unravel the monster, leaving only a pile of frayed threads. A nearman was next, turned to stone by another attack. Behind the defender, the first figure crouched beside Ivy. The half dead creature struggled to focus her eyes on the white-clad form.
"I told them. I told them . . . " she wheezed.
The staff was lowered, a hushed voice whispered a few arcane words. Slowly wounds began to close. Ether, still barely able to stand, dragged herself over to the pair.
