Resist

by Derek Belfield

  She passed a few members of the Scourge in the halls, and they gave her a wide berth. They could feel through the Scourgemind that their queen was burning like a bonfire with righteous anger. The fact made them feel warmed by her presence. They knew that while the queen was alive, they could trust that she would make things right. They had lost brothers and sisters, and they didn’t want to let the enemy who killed them go punished. Shale ignored their glances of admiration and love as she made her way to the library where Lynia dwelled.

  As Shale passed the threshold of the room, Lynia got up from a chair, startled. She had a book in her hand, and there was a pile of tomes on the wooden table where she perched.

  Lady Paramour! Lynia exclaimed. Shale noted that the woman had clearly not been observing the Scourgemind if she was surprised at Shale’s awakening.

  For a moment, Shale was shocked at the woman’s new appearance. The hunting of the Vallyr had evidently been successful. Lynia had the opportunity to evolve, and it was quite a change from her previous form.

  The Mystic had always been the more humanoid version of the Scourge. She didn’t have the plethora of natural weapons that the rest of them possessed. She wasn’t the juggernaut that Sumnu had become nor the mobile and generalized warriors that Slate and Shale were. Instead, she had become a specialized spell caster, and it was now readily apparent.

  Her midnight blue scales had retained their luster, but now her scaled hide was covered in dimly glowing white runes. The woman was wearing a robe, but Shale could still see the runes that started from the sides of her neck and trailed down her arms until they touched the back of her hands. Her hands were still much the same. They were dainty and feminine—well suited to academic work—but Shale noticed when Lynia fidgeted that there were runes along her palms as well. If they were anything like Shale’s own Mana-Forged Scaled Hide, then summoning and using magic would have been made easier by their presence.

  Even the woman’s eyes glowed with a hint of white light. Shale imagined that when the Barrager was channeling magic, they would shine even brighter. As for the rest of her, she wasn’t much changed. Her scales had been smoothed while she was still draconic in appearance, and she retained the deadly tail of her previous iteration. It looked slightly longer in comparison to the rest of her body. It was suited for more extended reach. As Shale’s eyes followed the tail where it wound to the other woman’s feet, the Scion Paramour discovered that Lynia was hovering an inch off the ground. She floated like it was a more natural way to travel than actually using her feet. That was probably why the tail had become longer now that the form needed a longer reach. Shale couldn’t help but think about how the Way would need to be revised before she caught herself. Clearly, some changes were more than skin deep, but Shale didn’t have the desire to explore them right now. She was pissed.

  Lynia, she hissed. Why haven’t you greeted my awakening with a pile of Vallyr corpses? She strode toward the First Mystic, her tail flicking angrily as she demanded an explanation.

  Lynia felt danger emanating from the Paramour. She had never seen Shale so angry. The woman had been annoyed, sure. She had participated in slaughter and bloodletting at a level higher than anyone but Slate, but she had never been furious. She was too cold and aloof to be angry. However, the Shale in front of her looked like she was ready to lop off Lynia’s head and start her pyramid of corpses right then and there.

  I’m sorry, Lady Paramour, Lynia said softly with a bowed head. She hoped that she was saying the right things to assuage the other woman’s anger. I have focused on collecting information and allowing our forces to recover. Many of them were heavily damaged when we arrived, and the Collective has been acting…strangely. I didn’t want to commit to action beyond recovery until you had awakened. We have been raiding the enemy forces, but we have been careful not to attack in force and open ourselves up to unnecessary risk.

  Shale thought rapidly. Open your mind, she demanded. The request was not a common one among the Scourge leadership. Even Slate had been wary of forcing his followers to open themselves up to him without them offering. To Shale’s knowledge, he had never forcefully pried through another member of the Scourge’s memories. The Firsts were afforded special privileges that the rest of the Scourge was not. It was easy for Slate and Shale to flit among the memories and thoughts of the typical Scourge. The Firsts had never been that accessible.

  Sensing that she was on the edge of death herself, Lynia opened her mind quickly. She had nothing to hide, and she hoped that the knowledge would calm Shale. As she did so, she felt a terrifying force enter her mind. She felt like a towering beast had invaded her spirit. Shale rifled through her mind like it was nothing more than the drawings of a child. For the first time, Lynia realized how much more advanced Slate and Shale were compared to the rest of the Scourge. She couldn’t comprehend the might that Shale possessed in both body and spirit. The mental landscape was something like a symbolic avatar of one’s power. Lynia felt like she was a candle staring down the sun and wondering who was brighter. It was simply a different scale of might.

  Short seconds later, Shale had finished her evaluation. She was as calm as frozen fire. I see, you haven’t been idle in my absence. You’ve done well reaching your evolution and keeping my children safe, she said. Well, now that I’m awake, we have work to do. The Collective isn’t going to know what hit them, she said icily.

  Lynia breathed a sigh of relief. Aye, Lady Paramour. Your will is my command.

  CHAPTER 18: THE HIDDEN BLADE

  SLATE STUDIED THE citadel as he glided closer to it. It was crafted from dark stone like most Vallyr fortifications. It was fairly outsized for the city. That seemed appropriate for the logistical and military support it likely provided. There were thick walls and a series of switchbacks that would make the structure difficult to siege. Guardhouses dotted the exterior walls, and even in the dark of night, Slate could make out the various patrolling guards. He used his enhanced vision temporarily to confirm their locations and made sure not to flap his wings as he made his way lower to the battlements. He tilted his wings slightly to adjust where he was going to land. It reminded him of the times that he practiced with the Army back on Earth. The Marines didn’t have their training facilities to learn how to parachute. It was a fact that the Army used to tease their Marine counterparts. The Marines responded that parachuting into a hot zone hadn’t been realistic since World War II. However, now Slate found himself thankful for the skill. Using his wings took similar instincts. Knowing where and how to land was just as important as knowing how to utilize the parachute itself. A misstep in either could send a person hurtling to their death.

  Slate landed on the stone battlements and allowed his talons to sink into the floor. His claws, harder than the stones themselves, gouged small holes as he flexed his knees to arrest his momentum. He could feel the strain on his legs and talons as he had to power his wings closed and wrap them around his body. The winter wind was still whipping through the air, making the entire process more difficult than it should have been and had made more noise than he wanted to when he landed. He wished that he had more direct control over the air because then he could’ve had a completely silent landing. Unfortunately, his blessings from Lucidus ensured that he would be unable to use any magic other than her own. Even worse, he didn’t have access to the full range of her powers, only the destructive aspects. It made him feel more like a weapon than a person.

  He considered what he was planning to do. I suppose I am, he thought bitterly. Unlike Shale, he liked to be in control at the strategic level. It was fun to fight the enemy, especially in the form he was in now, but it presented its share of risks. Even now, he was utilizing himself as a tactical asset rather than doing what he was best at.

  He used his enhanced vision to take stock of the battlements. He decided to clear them of their guards and consume them. It would be more terrifying for the people of Koral if not only their leadership but the entire apparatus that gua
rded them were to disappear. It sent a not-so-subtle message to the city that nowhere was safe for them—except for perhaps the arms of the Scourge. It wasn’t a subtle political message, but then, in a crisis, the message couldn’t be subtle. One needed to break through the fear and the indecision that people were feeling. As long as there was a consistent, powerful message, the masses would flock to it.

  Slate crept along the walls in search of the next sentry. He noticed that the citadel had masses of resources hidden inside the fortification. There were boxes upon boxes of foodstuffs, weapons, and ammunition that looked to be collected in preparation for a siege. He decided that it would be part of his mission to destroy them on the way out. His first victim was only a few feet ahead, and Slate could feel his mouth watering already. It startled him to realize that he was hungry for the flesh of his enemies. It had been too long since he had the opportunity to hunt.

  With his camouflage activated and his practice creeping through the forest, Slate wasn’t even a dark shadow to be discovered. The sentry had no chance as Slate drew up and tore the helmet from his head with his claws. Bending the man’s neck to the side, Slate plunged his fangs into the side of the man’s throat. Duotoxin rushed through the man’s carotid artery, and he didn’t even have the chance to scream out before the paralytic caused him to stop moving and silenced his voice.

  With savage glee, Slate allowed the partition in his lower jaw to stretch. His jaw unhinged and opened until it was wide enough to fit the man’s entire head. Slate crunched down, punching his fangs into the man’s skull and tasted the blood that flowed to the back of his throat. The man was still very much alive as the acid in Slate’s mouth turned his head into a soupy combination of flesh and bones. Slate drank it all down and continued drinking as the man’s neck produced a geyser of blood directly into his gullet. Slate reflected humorously that it was like drinking an adult-themed juice box. The man’s feet twitched and kicked as Slate began to consume the rest of him. Within a few minutes, Slate had finished his first snack. He stood up and wiped the blood from his mouth with a sense of satisfaction.

  Congratulations! You have slain a level 30 Thrall. You have earned 12,050 experience. You have earned 10 biomass.

  Slate moved along the ramparts like a specter of death. He had plenty of time to kill and consume his victims. There wasn’t any magic to reveal his presence or any surprises. Slate was almost disappointed. By the end of his hunt, he killed twenty low-level sentries and netted 241,000 experience and 200 units of biomass. He looked over his mutations before entering the citadel proper. He had almost replenished all of the biomass that he had spent on his last upgrades. It took 300 biomass to buy a mutation outright as long as it had less than five upgrades. Having close to that made him feel comfortable knowing that he had the chance to alter his abilities if the need arose. It would become less practical the more evolved his mutations became, but he hadn’t yet reached the point where he needed to worry about having more on hand.

  He made his way to the door that led from the outside fortifications to the interior of the citadel. It wasn’t secured, and Slate sneered at the poor security. It was this kind of sloppy behavior that made fortifications useless. People tended to think that just because a location was difficult to get to meant that it needed less security. It was a common physical security error. Just because something was difficult didn’t mean it was impossible. Slate wondered how long it would take for the Collective to respond to the fact that he and Shale could fly.

  He hoped it would take a while. He was optimistic that the Roc eggs he sent back to Bastion would allow his troops to become more mobile. Slate could already imagine flying mounts carrying invisible Lurkers. Being able to drop them behind enemy lines and enemy fortifications would vastly change the calculus for how many of the Scourge it would take to conquer a city. If Slate had more forces that could fly, he would simply take the inner citadel and hold it against the city’s forces. Turning defenses against their previous occupants held a delicious irony that the Scion was looking forward to. As the door to the citadel creaked open, Slate made his way through surreptitiously.

  He used his enhanced vision to note the living creatures within. It seemed that most of the targets would be on the floor below his current position, which seemed to hold the sleeping quarters for the rest of the guards. Slate would slip through there and kill them quietly. There were enough bodies that Slate hoped he would be able to earn his next level. He didn’t think he had the time to consume them entirely. The sound of his murders wouldn’t wake the others, but the scent would. Once he killed the first few, the smell of blood and voided bowels would likely alert the rest. This current floor had little in the way of enemies. Instead, there were large storage rooms. Slate figured that it would be easier for the defenders to get ammunition and other resources to the top of the wall if the supplies were stored on the same floor. If it were his citadel, he would have devised some sort of pulley system to work as a medieval version of an elevator. He idly wondered if they possessed that kind of technology in Somnium or if everyone was still hand carrying their supplies up and down the stairs.

  Fuck that, Slate thought as he studied the stairs. They were steep and angled in pitch. It was meant to make navigation more difficult for invaders, but it also made transporting supplies a colossal pain in the ass. The Scion waited a moment for his headache to clear. He couldn’t use his enhanced vision for long, and he still hadn’t found what he was looking for. After a few moments of silent waiting, Slate activated his senses once more. He finally found what he was looking for two floors above. There was a group of humanoids that shone brightly in his vision. They were evidently mana users, and Slate frowned

  He liked a challenge as much as the next person, but he didn’t share Shale’s relentless pursuit of capable adversaries. Slate preferred to find his enemies with their pants down, kill them, and move on to the rest of the plan. Honor was a myth. There was only the victorious and the defeated. The victors could pencil in the appearance of honor when they decided what went into the history books. Until then, it was mostly immaterial. The fact that these humanoids had access to so much mana meant that they posed a threat to Slate. He wasn’t about to let himself get killed over a side plan for the main event. He was only here as a means to make the city tumble faster. This wasn’t a mission that he needed to accomplish. It was just helpful and, more than that, it would be fun.

  That’s the sticking point, he sighed. He was bored, and he knew it. If he left now, he would be annoyed that he didn’t get to hunt the way that he wanted to. He needed to blow off some steam after a week of inactivity.

  Fine, he whined to himself as he trudged up the stairs to the next floor. He ascended one more story before finding himself where he needed to be. This floor seemed to be made up of large suites for various VIPs.

  I wonder if I’ll find the Imperial Ambassador up here, he mused. It would save him the trouble of arranging a meeting if they were housed on this floor. He activated his vision and let it spread out from him like a sonar wave. It passed through every material object in its path. As it passed two individuals in a room down the hallway, he saw them stiffen and look in his direction.

  Fuck, Slate thought. Seems like they discovered me. His mind worked quickly as he considered what he should do. He leaped into the air and allowed himself to stick to the ceiling. As soon as he did so, two Vallyr came rushing into the hallway. It was a male and a female, and they were both wearing gray padded armor. They shared the raven-colored hair that Slate was learning was synonymous with Vallyr. He didn’t mind that fact; it made his enemies easier to identify. One carried a sword, and the other was wielding a mace. Neither seemed to notice Slate on the ceiling, but they moved down the hallway with their weapons at the ready. Slate didn’t like how quickly they had responded with weapons. It spoke to above-average training. Even now, he observed that they were used to fighting together. The woman wielding the sword was moving toward him in front of the m
an with the mace. She was out front because her sword had greater reach, and once she locked up the opponent, the man would have a chance to maim them using the mace.

  They peered into the gloom, and the woman waved the sword through the air experimentally. “We know that you’re here,” she said softly to the air.

  Slate wasn’t nearly stupid enough to respond to her. He even stopped breathing, a trait that he had rarely used since he earned it. He was utterly motionless on the ceiling, and he figured that if he didn’t make any noises to alert them, he might be able to get the drop on them.

  The man spoke. “You’re trespassing in the home of Lukas of the dal Luvyth bloodline. Show yourself, and I will show you mercy. I require someone who can penetrate so far into my domain undetected.”

  The woman shot the man a surprised look to which he merely shrugged. Slate saw the action and sneered. Once again, he wasn’t nearly that stupid. The two had stopped in the middle of the hallway about five feet from his location. They were too far out of his reach, and Slate didn’t like being on the business side of their weapons. He gingerly tried to move forward on the ceiling in the hope that he wouldn’t make any noise. He was wildly incorrect. As his claws and talons scraped across the stone, they made a piercing noise that made the two Vallyr immediately respond. The woman reacted quickly by swinging her sword at the ceiling

  Slate leaped from the ceiling and threw off his camouflage. He wanted the full range of his powers and shielding himself from their vision now was only a waste of energy. When he revealed himself, the two Vallyr’s eyes opened wide.

  “It’s the Scourge,” the man whispered.