Chapter 737: Visitors (1/2)

Cold water collected on the stone ceiling, drops forming before they fell to collect in tiny unseen puddles. A single torch flickered, held by a man in a red robe, his face hidden behind a bloodied mask.

Millis watched from her dry corner. Her own face was covered too, not that she assumed anybody took note of her.

“We would like to see the demons,” the red robed man said to the woman standing opposite.

She wore two blades on her back, a brown duster protecting her against the cold southern climate. Her face was covered by a simple bandana.

Rogue. Millis hated them. Outlaws, deserters, cursed healers. Not for long, she told herself.

Two large men in plate armor opened a grated iron door, enchantments vanishing with the gesture. Scratching sounds came from within.

“Your rituals,” Rogue demanded. It was the name she had chosen for herself.

Millis was the Soldier. She had fought for Lord Harken in many battles, had waited for the scouts to return with news of their triumph but instead the army had been defeated. By Ravenhall and Riverwatch, by the creature that called itself Lilith. She accepted that the being was powerful, but she hadn’t been there, had not been subject to the illusion the other soldiers must have seen. The mind magic spells that affected Lord Harken himself. She had left that den of madness as soon as she understood the corruption their enemies had sewn within. And some came with her.

They had built what they could in Ravenhall and Morhill, had gathered all the information that was available. Yet they lacked the strength to strike against the Shadow’s Hand, or reveal themselves with an attack on the Medic Sentinels. She didn’t like the idea of using demons but the ploy made sense. With the upcoming tournament, thousands would be there. Chaos, to dethrone the shadowqueen of the south, to bait her out, and to kill her, and her followers.

But demons weren’t their only weapon. No. Against someone as powerful as Lilith, they had to employ everything and everyone they could find. It hadn’t come as a surprise to find out about other groups such as themselves. The Rogue had led a group of bandits near Riverwatch, her leader murdered by Lilith herself. She had sworn revenge on that day. The Faithful, wearing his red robes, had been part of the Order of Truth. The lies spread about their rituals made them hunted in their own lands, driven into the dark corners of the world, into exile. They have returned now, and they were prepared to show the visitors of Morhill what true blood magic looked like.

Various nobles and business owners that had been driven out by Lilith’s influence had joined their side, supplying them with mercenaries, weapons, plans, and information. Millis had seen better fighters in the slums of Wynehold but who remained to stand against the might of the south? Their corruption had already spread across the Plains. She herself had been instructed to form squads, choose officers, assign resources, and organize their logistics. What she had been doing with her troops already, now simply with the new additions brought into the mix.

“They’re in good health,” said a female voice. The Healer.

Millis doubted she had been from Baralia. The accent suggested something from the west. Dawntree, if she had to guess. There had been rumors about Lilith getting involved with the Corinth Order. She assumed it had something to do with them. Healers were always an asset of course, and they had been welcomed with open arms.

“The Shadows have dealt with demons before. How can we be sure they’re even a danger?” the Faithful asked.

“What do you mean? Have you seen one of them fight? These are near level one hundred and thirty. They will kill dozens of travelers, even adventurers, each one in turn summoned as one of theirs,” the Rogue said and spat into the darkness. “Horrible creatures.”

“Have you set up your rituals?” Millis asked.

The red robed man hissed and turned her way. “Our agents report that our runes are found and dealt with. It seems Ravenhall has learned from their summoning. It matters not. When the blood starts to flow, our priests will be unstoppable.”

“Quiet,” Rogue said and looked up.

Millis unsheathed her daggers without a sound, listening with her auras active. There was nothing. Nothing. She looked towards the ceiling and saw another drop collect, the water falling before it impacted into a dark puddle only visible to her enhanced eyes. It produced no sound.

She was about to call out when a swirl of motion moved through the room, a large scythe like blade glinting with reflected torchlight until darkness consumed all. Her body was tense, her magics active. She was hidden, her eyes seeing all three of her allies fall into pieces, blood spurting from severed arteries, all of it in perfect silence. The perpetrator she could not see, their form wreathed in shadow. Unfocused and unmoving. A dripping noise resounded, the scratching returned.

“Why don’t you take care of the demons,” a deep voice called out. Steps followed, a massive six legged being of nightmare rushed past on the ceiling. Something hit flesh a moment later, the scratching sounds gone.

“Four demons, all below one thirty,” a distorted voice spoke, green eyes flickering in the darkness, its hands moving with bladed fingers. It left a moment later, each step sending shivers down Millis’ spine.

She counted her heartbeats.

“I bet you’re wondering why I left you alive,” the deep voice said a few seconds later, turning to Millis as his form was revealed.

He saw me.

The man looked ordinary. Black hair, black eyes, muscular. Just like…

He smiled. “Yes, Millis. I’m really sorry,” he said and actually frowned. “I’m not really a former Baralia soldier. You didn’t do a half bad job organizing this thing but I must ask you about all the safe houses. I’m not sure if I got them all.”

“Who…” her voice was gone when something heavy impacted her chest.

“I’m sorry,” he said again, now standing above her form.

She couldn’t breathe, her daggers gone as a ringing came to her ears.

“Look. Lilith hates torture. So we’ll make this brief. I also understand that you were just a soldier in Wynehold, angry with what happened. One woman destroying an army, all that. Must’ve been tough. Hard to swallow. Now please cooperate. Your pathetic crew of thugs won’t do any serious damage but I have a reputation to uphold,” the man spoke and raised her with one hand to her skull.

____________________

“All I’m saying is that we could’ve brought a change of clothes if you had told me where we were going,” Jyraiu complained. He put both hands on his knees to get some rest. “Food and water’s been out for half a week for fuck’s sake.”

The noble just waved him off with the usual dismissive gesture. “Yadda yadda yadda, can you not shuuut up for one fucking hour. Edwin please, we have no water, Edwin, I need to pee, Edwin, I’m bleeding out, Edwin my fire is meant for performing, not for fighting roving groups of goblins. If I didn’t know better I’d think you some bloody princess.” He spread his arms, the empty bottle he held flinging out of his grip with the gesture. It shattered on a nearby rock. “This is a fucking adventure!”

“There were enough fucking adventures near the capital,” Jyraiu said. Felicia had instructed him to keep them close. Not that he had any tangible control over the swordmaster.

“Yeah,” Edwin said and held up a finger. “True.” He paused. “Yeah, that’s true. But a tournament!?” he smiled now and twirled around. “A tournament to celebrate the south, the independence of Ravenhall, all the trade they provide, all the allies they have. The goddess they look up to. All hail… Lilith,” he said and bowed.

“You’re still shit at bowing. How were you even educated?” Jyraiu asked, regretting his choice of words as they came out of his mouth.

“Beaten into me, in dark fucking cellars. Facilities made to toughen up the unwanted youth. A great noble fucking life that was, I tell you,” Edwin spat before he put down his pack and started rummaging through the pile.

Jyraiu didn’t hope for anything. Edwin mostly carried bottles. Fewer now, admittedly, but for this long journey he had prepared.

“Come. We got two days left or something. It’s still a way’s off,” the noble said.

“Do you even know where we are?” Jyraiu asked. There was no road anymore, just a slope leading up to a bunch of hills. A small patch of forest to the side, and a group of Drakkenboars staring them down. He froze instantly and continued in a calm voice. “We might… have a problem.”

“What do you mean?” Edwin asked.

“Drakkenboars. They’re about to ch-” Jyraiu said and spread his fiery wings.

One of the critters crashed into the noble, shattering his entire bottle collection and leaving the man rolling down a nearby hill.

Shit. If he dies I’m gonna be in trouble, he thought and looked around. His fire wasn’t enough to deal with the monsters. They were near Edwin’s level and had high resistances against common magics.

What should I do. He saw the silhouettes of wagons in the distance and decided to call for help. A bright plume of fire spread from his hand up into the sky. He waited for a moment, still unsure if he should help the noble directly or not. The man was too heavy to carry efficiently and he stank. At least it seemed they were going the right direction, snow covered mountains rising up in the distance.

Nothing came from the wagons which meant he had to do something himself. He landed near the boars who had ganged up on the noble, continuously slamming their skulls and tusks into his rolling form.

“I’m fine,” Edwin groaned as he raised himself up, only to be struck down again, his first sword clattering to the ground.

“Hold still, I’ll distract-” Jyraiu spoke when four people landed. Black wings, black armor. Ash. “Wh-” he nearly jumped when one of them appeared next to him, a warm feeling flowing through him before the being vanished once more.

The group spread out and attacked the boars with kicks, fiery magic spreading through the critters. One of them outright exploded. One of the armed ashen figures appeared next to Edwin, holding out a hand towards his crouched form.

“I said, I’m fine,” the man exclaimed. “Oh not you ag… now there’s four of you?”

The last two boars were dealt with and the group checked the vicinity.