Mahi’s forces’ flaming arrows continued to burn through the hard Blackwood of the second wave of ships as barbed arrows pounded Dockside. A ballista fired from a sinking vessel near the front of the formation. The massive bolt lanced over Mahi’s head, crashing through a wood building. Debris and detritus spewed out, and Mahi dove before a shard crushed her. Others weren’t so lucky.
As she scrambled back to her feet, she realized they’d done all they could at range. Babrak’s surviving ships were close enough to see the whites of their warriors’ eyes. Swimmers reached beaches and jetties near Bit’rudam’s side of the inlet, forcing his archers to abandon their bows and engage in close combat.
“Draw swords!” Mahi shouted just as one of the flaming ships smashed into the docks straight ahead, splintering through it. If there was confusion before, now there was utter chaos. Babrak’s men leaped from the deck and into Dockside.
Mahraveh unstrapped her new spear from her back and charged. She windmilled around, clipping two soldiers as they disembarked. One stumbled backward and into the water, and the other dropped to one knee. He didn’t let the attack slow him, swiping at her with a polearm of his own.
Sir Yuliz’s Glassmen finally joined into the battle, forming shield walls to repel attacks as more battered ships crashed into the docks. While enemies debarked, trilling their tongues, Mahi’s reserve archers fled to the many flat rooftops deeper into the city.
Mahi jabbed the butt of her spear into her opponent’s throat, then staggered forward as she was hit from behind. She turned and stopped her attack just before the tip of her spear buried itself in one of her own people’s forehead, locked in battle with one of Babrak’s men.
She looked around for Babrak as more ships crashed, and swimmers from sunken vessels invaded the shore but saw him nowhere.
Across the harbor, Bit’rudam held the southern end valiantly. His sword flashed, swiping enemies off the dock. Others stabbed spears into the water as swimmers tried to climb. Crashing ships allowed Babrak’s men to pierce the defenses in areas, but a fallen lighthouse cut off the northern route and kept Mahi and her army from being overwhelmed.
The Current had turned in their favor.
Mahi even began to wonder if, perhaps, this wasn’t just an extended defense to buy time for the others, but an opportunity to completely rout Nesilia’s naval force.
Then, as if Nesilia was purposefully inflating her hope just to spite her, the Current Eaters returned. Giant, wet tentacles slapped down all across the inlet, stretching ten meters or more and raking across shanty buildings, turning them to rubble with hardly an effort. Archers perched atop them fell to their immediate deaths. Men in the streets below were crushed as well.
Some of the great beasts clambered out of the inlet, collapsing docks everywhere, but they were so immense that they simply skittered up anyway. Many were slowed by the heavy chains which entangled them, but others dragged them like huge whips. The warriors caught in their paths were shredded and crushed.
In an instant, all hope vanished. In the face of the monsters who’d ravaged Latiapur, her front lines fell into a frenzied retreat.
“Fall back!” Mahi cried out as she joined her men. “To South Corner. Abandon Dockside!”
At her orders, all the remaining archers kicked over buckets and barrels of oil being used to ignite their arrows. All throughout Dockside, torches were lit to initiate the blaze.
Enemy arrows zipped past Mahi’s head as she ascended the stairs leading to Port Street, where their next stages of defense were situated in the form of Glassmen with shield barriers, and mounted zhulong cavalry, the last they had left. Stacked debris and barrels would force Babrak’s troops down certain roads where attackers were ready. They’d crafted a maze of death throughout South Corner’s already disorganized streets.
She was almost up to the top when in the corner of her eye, she spotted Babrak. He lumbered off his flagship, which was fully collapsed against the docks. Fire from the hull licked at his boots, but he didn’t seem to care. His mighty warhammer caught a fleeing Glassmen in the back. Warriors armored falsely like Serpent Guards flooded out behind him.
“Babrak!” Mahi shouted.
She turned to charge him when a tentacle smacked down in front of her. She stabbed at it, but it rose only to fall again in another place. When it lifted, Babrak was gone again.
Mahi clenched her jaw but thought better than to abandon the plan for vengeance. She wasn’t Nesilia. So, she crossed Port Street and gave the signal. Glassmen stationed upon the higher portion of the city fired more flaming arrows to set piles of tinder and hay ablaze along with the spilled oil. Soon, the fires raging throughout Dockside became an inferno, so many of the buildings made from dry and cracked wood. Enemy screams saturated the air. The flames rose high in front of Mahi as she fell into ranks and glared through the fiery haze.
Now came stage two. All the smoke made visibility poor, especially in the darkness, and only she, Bit’rudam, Sir Yuliz, and their respective warriors knew the best paths through South Corner.
A silhouette burst through the orange veil, sword high and slashing down. Mahi ducked and rolled back, then brought her spear up through her bent knee. The Scorpion’s Sting caught the attacker in the heart.
She pulled her spear free and shouted, “Hold the line!” Her army braced for the enemy charge, but none came, only mad, screaming stragglers. Mahi bolted away and down a side street to reach a position where she could survey the situation and ensure things were unfolding to plan. While her army held South Corner, she had to snare a Current Eater, all while keeping it alive and from killing everything around it.
She soon came upon the most elaborate building in the district. It still stood, untouched despite the blaze. She climbed to the balcony, using the grapevine-carved railings as hand and footholds. From there, she saw Babrak’s men waiting to climb over the fiery rubble throughout the city. Instead of charging, they fell back and gathered behind the Current Eaters, and whatever zhulong riders they were able to successfully deliver to shore.
Some of the Current Eaters were missing limbs and pouring black blood, dying. Others were so wrapped by the chains they were stuck in the water, releasing wicked screams as they pulled with all their might and tore apart more of Dockside to get free.
The uninjured ones rose like black storms against the night sky. Fire seemed to do nothing to them. They tossed rocks and chunks of building out of the way, clearing paths so Babrak’s army would be able to charge alongside them in overwhelming masses.
Burning Dockside had backfired. It created space between their armies, allowing them to regather after the initial losses, thanks to monsters that couldn’t have been adequately prepared for. How could anyone have guessed they’d be intelligent and resourceful enough to do what they’d done?
Their roars split the night, thunderous, terrifying—a feeling Mahi thought she could no longer feel tugging at her. She watched, helpless as Babrak reappeared, issuing orders for where his men should gather. More climbed up from the inlet, now with time to rest after a long swim.
“Mahraveh!” Babrak the Usurper shouted at the top of his lungs, voice echoing as dread stole over her entire army. “Come out, come out, wherever you are!”
XLIII
The Mystic
Half a dozen of the gargantuan chekt tore through the Mason’s District north of the castle. No one had considered their substantial strength when planning this little trap. Maybe they didn’t know about them. Crowfall had apparently fallen fast, with only nearby scouts to tell of it. Sora wasn’t sure it would’ve mattered, but she’d spent so much time under Nesilia’s control in the harsh white tundra of Drav Cra, she should have known better.
Now, she watched as Sir Mulliner’s men were trampled underfoot. They had no hope. Not even as Sora threw fireballs toward the beasts. A few were slowed by her magic, but she was limited—if she unleashed her full power, she’d incinerate the Glass soldiers as well. The best the
y could offer was Aquira zooming in and out of the fray, blowing flames into the creatures’ eyes, hoping to blind them long enough for one of the soldiers to land a killing blow. Sora would have to trust her little friend to stay alive. Her skin was tough and wouldn’t easily succumb to an arrow strike.
Their entire plan hinged upon the Arch Warlock leading the charge, but with Freydis pulling up the rear, she was more dangerous than ever. Vines burst from the ground all over the battlefield, but not small ones like Sora had seen her use before. These were the girth of any tree trunk in the Webbed Woods and then some. They carved great fissures in the landscape, dragging men inward to death. The chasms also jeopardized the integrity of not just the city walls, but small avalanches were already beginning in the foothills of Mount Lister.
Sora stood upon the walls, enduring every shake and quake, eyeing the battlefield and trying to determine her best course of action. She could stand there, throwing fire and immolating the enemy unto whichever god they wished, but her magic wasn’t inexhaustible. She would need to reserve her strength for Freydis.
“Sora!” Sir Mulliner shouted. He strode across the ramparts, slowing when he reached her. The man looked like… well, like he should. Under Torsten’s leadership, this man might have seen battle, but never anything like this. None of them had.
“Sir Mulliner,” Sora said solemnly.
“This is a disaster, and it doesn’t sound like anyone else is faring any better,” he said, quiet enough that his men might not have overheard. “Torsten’s defenses have broken. Dockside is already in flames. We’re not going to be able to hold them off much longer.”
“We have no choice,” Sora responded. “Look out there. There’s an entire army between us and Freydis. I need your men to clear the way.”
“My men can barely hold the streets, much less press the attack beyond the wall!”
Sora followed his gaze to the northern battlefield, then to those within the city.
“We have to take out those chekt,” Sora said. “They are all that’s stopping us within.”
“With what, our good looks?” Sir Mulliner said, though there was no humor in his tone. “It’s taking everything just to not get crushed like ants. Not to mention the wolves.”
The dire wolves…
They were ruthless, and now that many of them were possessed by hellhounds, those vile dogs Sora and Whitney had fought in Elsewhere, they were even more vicious. As with every other thought, she had to push this one away. She couldn’t be distracted.
“If Torsten died today, who would replace him?” Sora asked. She let the question linger, knowing the former Shieldsman would understand. Then, she continued. “I have my job.” She pointed to Freydis. “Your men are to occupy these forces while I put an end to that witch.”
Sir Mulliner’s face turned to a stone-cold resolve. “There was never any hope of winning this battle, not traditionally,” he said more to himself than to her. “We need to cut off the head, so the snake might die.”
“Exactly,” Sora said.
“Then that’s what we’ll do.” He turned to his archers and began to direct them all to take out the chekt, even if it meant the walls were scaled and more city streets were taken.
Sora didn’t hear the rest. She was too occupied with watching the massacre unfolding before her. She had to stop Freydis—the proverbial snakehead. She knew she had to do it. If not her, then no one.
The Arch Warlock stood alone, high upon a foothill, overlooking a field of thousands, surrounded by a pile of dead… children? The bodies were small, even though they were painted like warlocks. Were they part of the new stock of Drav Cra magic-users—sacrificed to provide the power to tear open Yarrington? Sora had watched children be offered to Nesilia while at the Earthmoot, and now, their very blood seemed to be swirling in the air around Freydis.
Below Freydis, Wvenweigard, Nesilia’s loyalist warlock apart from Freydis, used his own magic as he advanced on the walls, raining shards of ice down upon Mulliner’s archers. His face, Sora could see, and beneath the white and red paint—if that was paint and not blood—there was the joy of battle. It sickened her.
It didn’t just sicken her, it enraged her.
Glassmen fired back at him with arrows, but Drav Cra warriors gave their lives to protect him, and he continued forward. He’d soon finish what the chekt started and break her army’s front lines.
She returned her attention to Freydis in the distance. But now, she wasn’t alone. Another nasty, pathetic Drav Cra warrior was with her. Sora fantasized about lopping off both their heads. Now was her time to move. But as she planted her foot on the wall, she stopped.
The newcomer was behind her, and he was… sneaking? Crouched and low to the ground, he inched toward Freydis, each hand gripping a glinting blade. It was a familiar posture, one Sora had seen many times before. Her breath got caught in her throat for an instant, then…
The Drav Cra warrior plunged a blade into Freydis’s back, cutting her attacks short. Vines dropped and fell all over the battlefield, crushing her own men. Then, the warrior stabbed a second time, higher, closer to her neck. Even from there, Sora could see the blood.
“Oh, Whit,” Sora said, realizing both who it was and the horrible mistake he’d made. The only chance he had was to kill her instantly. Now, her powerful blood was seeping out all over Whitney’s arm.
Sora felt a familiar tingle within her own blood. She used to think it was Elsewhere, but now, she wasn’t sure. Whatever it was, it was like magma shut up in her bones, begging to be released. And this time, she didn’t think she would argue.
Freydis spun on Whitney and slapped him hard. Whitney went down, but Sora didn’t see anything else. She let out a primal roar, sprinted, and leaped down from the wall, landing on the hairy back of a chekt.
She kicked its rider off, and the beast bucked in a frenzied attempt to shake Sora off, too. However, Sora gripped its thick hair and refused. Then, with one hand, she grabbed hold of the reins and slapped them hard. The beast responded by rearing its front legs, then smashing down. It whipped its head to and fro, but somehow, Sora still held on. Then, pressing a hand against its neck, Sora closed her eyes and willed the creature to obey her. She’d never tried anything of the sort, but something within her said it would work.
At once, the chekt calmed.
With her hand still firm, Sora guided it. With all the ferocity in which it attacked Yarrington, it now turned its ire upon the Drav Cra. Two mammoth tusks ducked low and rose, goring Sora’s enemies and sending them soaring through the air. Its giant feet crushed and smashed. Freydis’ army didn’t even know what was happening. Soon, confusion was evident, but it was too late. The dead piled up around her.
She was outside the walls now, exposed and caught within it all, but something was different. She couldn’t see anything but blood and flame. Black blotches moved in front of her, silhouetted against a fire that hadn’t been there before. She didn’t even think about it as she hurled her magic. Fireballs exploded all over the grassy plains. Out of the corner of her eyes, she could see her arm wreathed in flame.
With that hand, she shot thin lines of fire. Like arrows, they tore through the horde of painted faces.
Without mercy, she charged. Each step sent Drav Cra warriors to Elsewhere or Skorravik—their supposed resting place—it didn’t matter to her. All she could think about was Whitney knotted in mortal combat with the Arch Warlock of the Drav Cra—Nesilia’s chosen champion on this plane.
Sora had seen first-hand what Freydis was capable of. She knew that Whitney could already be dead. But she also counted on Freydis and her twisted sense of humor, her inability to end things quickly. She liked to play, just like her master.
A warlock stopped before her chekt—barely old enough to be in her teens. She drew a blade in a long line between her unformed breasts. Naked and bloody, she raised both hands, palm out, and a mess of vines grew around the chekt’s feet and tripped it.
I
t fell forward hard, tusks breaking against the hard ground, crushing the child warlock serving Nesilia with her life. Sora was flung off, but she had height and momentum on her side now. She summoned a powerful gale, catching her limbs and clothes, and lifting her above the Drav Cra army.
As she landed close to the foothills where she’d seen Freydis, she heard confused Drav Cra clamoring behind her. She looked back to see Wvenweigard storming toward her on a pathway made of ice, his own men pushed to the side. He slid, blood-covered hands contorting into tight balls, two fingers extended on each. Another sphere of ice careened toward her.
She raised a fist, and a wall of flame formed, melting the projectile before it reached her.
Wvenweigard skidded to a stop in front of her.
“Our Lady offered you everything,” he said. Genuine sadness coated his features. Perhaps a hint of jealousy as he raised bloody hands to attack and shouted, “Everything!”
Sora didn’t have time for Wvenweigard, and she didn’t have time to rest. She cut her hand in a sharp gesture, horizontal with the ground. A blade of fire followed her movements, hitting Wvenweigard square in the chest and throwing him back into the Drav Cra trying to keep up.
Sora used the opportunity to rush toward the foothills where she could now see Whitney and Freydis squaring off. As expected, the Arch Warlock was toying with him. Five meters above the ground, Whitney hovered, due to her foul magic. Freydis swiped her bloody hand to the side, sending Whitney flying toward the jagged face of the lower rock hills.
Sora stretched out her own hand, palm flat and vertical. Another blast of wind sent Whitney onto softer ground, just stopping his head from splitting open on rock.
Freydis whipped around.
“You!” she cried.
Word of Truth Page 54
