Interlude 3 - The Spoils of War (2/2)

Mastoya reigned up. Had one of the giants survived and wrecked the wagons?

Then Reason brought its fist down to hover meters above Goliathan’s helm. “Yield, Genya,” Cecelia’s small, muffled voice spoke. “I don’t want to kill you.”

It’s silent, Mastoya realized. The engine’s silent. That’s what was wrong with it!

“I yield!” Genya called, from what was left of her cockpit, laying in the remnants of her green armor.

Reason turned then, back to the wagons as it lifted its blade and started moving forward…

I am betrayed, Mastoya realized. The daemons have betrayed me! She felt rage curdle in her heart...

But she knew how to fight this foe, now didn’t she?

She spurred Petunia, and chanted as she went. “Divine Conduit. Unyielding. Back You Fiend! Charge…”

And the minute before she hit, “Twisted Rage!”

Oh, it felt good.

She snapped the lance in Reason’s leg, making it stumble… and from aboard it, she heard screams. Many many screams. Oddly different from the last time she’d killed it, but she was too busy to think about it, too filled with the red anger, and she leaped from Petunia’s back and drew her sword, beating the thing over and over again, hacking chunks of metal free, chopping without a heed for defense. The Divine Conduit healed the wounds she took as it struck back, draining her fortune to give her the smallest bit of power from her goddess.

But Reason was healing too.

As fast as she chopped, it mended. And it wasn’t burning.

Something inside was, smoke was leaking out…

…and between hacks, as time dilated and stretched while adrenaline thundered through her, she saw the hatch in the back open and flaming teddy bears drop out.

The rage paused.

She stared, open mouthed.

And Reason backhanded her away. The teddy bears stopped burning, kept running. Someone was shouting. What were they shouting? The words blurred, the rage distorted them.

Mastoya fought it back, bottled it up.

“…go help Graves! Keep clear of her!”

A tiny red-headed doll, mildly burned, hopped out of the hatch. She was wearing a replica of Dame Ragandor’s armor. And talking in her voice.

Mastoya blinked again. Then she grunted, and dashed forward, hacking into Reason. The details didn’t matter. The goal was the same. Protect the siege engines or lose.

Then her world turned to fire.

“Give it up Nasty Masty!” She heard from above, as she leaped out of the dragonfire. Garon? Then that means…

“I can’t!” She said, taking Reason’s sword on her shield, and returning its strikes fourfold. Its healing was slowing, she WAS having some effect. But her fortune was draining so very fast…

“Stubborn girl!” She heard from behind her, and froze.

Reason fell back.

“You… I killed you,” she said, turning, the goddess’ light filling her eyes and blazing forth.

“Yeah. Killed Zuula fair and square. But Zuula cheat,” said the little half-orc doll, waving a spear at its wayward daughter. “Sorry.”

“I’ll kill you again!” Mastoya roared…

…and her heart skipped a beat, as the air rippled next to her mother, and Mordecai faded in.

“Dad?” She whispered.

He looked old.

“That’ll be quite ‘nuff out of ya, Mastoya Skunkthumper,” said her Father. “Yer on the wrong side and yer beat fair an’ square.”

The Divine Conduit flickered. One of its conditions, one of its drawbacks, was that you had to align yourself, your being, your purpose with the work of the deity you called upon. And Ritaxis wanted only war.

Ritaxis did NOT do domestic disputes.

“I…” she said, and willed the buff away. “I can’t.”

“Yes you can,” Garon said, as his dragon beat its wings, hovering with unnatural wooden grace. “Look behind you.”

She turned, whipping her shield up, expecting Reason to pummel her down-

-and saw blue forms chasing after the siege engines, loping along, snarling. The giants! But no, they weren’t moving like giants. And a lot of them were wounded, bloody, and… undead.

“Even if you get through the armor golem, you want get through the giants that Graves just animated. And all the while we’ll be on your back, harassing you, hindering you, but NOT killing you,” Garon continued. “And it’ll be the whole family, save for Jarrik and Bak’shaz, against you. But hey, if you wanna go for a threefer and take down Dad, too, now’s your chance. Bad odds. Wanna do it anyway?”

The sword fell from Mastoya’s hands.

“I hate you, Mother,” she told Zuula.

“She know… Zuula is…” The half-orc shook her head. “Sorry. Was stupid to beat you. Was bad to hurt you. Was… trying orc parenting on half-orc. Bad t’ing to do to little girl. Never did it again.”

“I will never forgive you for it,” Mastoya told the doll.

“Okay. Is fair.”

Mastoya picked up her sword and sheathed it with a snap, reached up to the ring of beads around her neck, and ground one to dust between her metal-clad fingers. “Retreat,” she said. “Surrender where retreat is impossible. We’ve lost. We’re done.” She spoke, and the enchantment whispered the command through six more officers. They had their own beads. The command would echo down, she knew. The General of the Crown’s army bowed her head.

“Oh no.” A strange voice said from behind her, and she turned to see a little bear, a sharply-dressed bear clambering out of Reason’s hatch, pulling a charred form behind it. “No, no… I’m sorry Celia, I didn’t even notice.”

The form wore Dame Ragandor’s armor, a full-sized version of it.

With sudden understanding, Mastoya dropped her buffs, and clapped her hand over her mouth, eyes going wide. The daemon princess had been in Reason, and I was fighting it with Back You Fiend up for… how long? Long enough, evidently.

“Oh. Well. I guess that settles that,” The doll-sized version of the princess said. “No going back to my old body now. If it was even possible.”

“I didn’t even notice she was dying. Everything smelled like burning and I was healing Reason,” The teddy bear said, staring forlornly down at the meaty lump.

“No. It’s not your fault. And it was the right choice. Messing around with daemons at the last minute was how my father fumped everything up. Come on, it’s better this way.” The doll moved forward to hug the teddy bear.

And goddamned, if it wasn’t as adorable as it was tragic.

Masoya pulled her hand from her mouth. It still took two tries to wet her lips and whistle, until Petunia returned. Then it was up, up and to the front lines, to get her troops in safe.

“See ya soon girl,” Mordecai drawled, and faded from view.

She got up to the lines, to find one of Tane’s subordinates leading the withdrawal. Lana? Kara? No, Kara was the shorter one. “Status?”

“Bad. The dwarves let us go, but… the golem…”

“They killed him? How?”

“Not them. The Inquisitor.”

“What?”

“He was too thick in the fight to retreat. He surrendered. The Inquisitor looked furious. She… she punched right through him. Then she ripped his helm off, ripped it clean off. I don’t know how!” The blonde woman shook as she recounted the betrayal.

Mastoya closed her eyes. My last ally is dead I told him to surrender if I ordered it, and he followed my orders into death. “Back. We need to get back to Fort Bronze. The King needs to hear this. From your lips, right away.”

It took two hours to get back to the gates of Fort Bronze.

They were closed.

And the Crown flag no longer flew from its towers.

“Told yer we’d see yer again,” Mordecai said, fading in next to her. Without Zuula around, this time, thankfully. Mastoya thought that if she had been, there would have been nothing on Heaven or Generica that would have stopped her from trying to kill her Mother. Again.

“How?” Mastoya whispered. “The garrison…”

“Fell ta Jericho and tha rest o’ tha Rangers when ya were far enough away. Our fort now.”

Mastoya looked at him. In front of her, her army stood, staring at the gates, not quite comprehending what was wrong yet. Lines of dwarven captives stood off to the side, staring silently. Staring at her.

“Ma’am?” Sir Renick asked, riding up, eyeing Mordecai. “Everything all right?”

“No.” Mastoya said, and she drew her blade. The nearest soldiers called out in alarm, but she waved them down, as she eased off Petunia. She was tired, so tired, as she walked forward, walked to stand in front of the gates, and whirled to face her troops.

“Soldiers of the Crown!” She said, using the final charge for the day on her helm’s giant voice. “You fought well. You fought hard. You fought with honor. But you lost. We lost.” She said, feeling her eyes burn, fighting the tears. “This war is over. We fight no more.” She took a breath, turned to the gate again. “This war is over. I order all of you to stand down. I order every prisoner freed. And I surrender unconditionally.”

We’re done, Mastoya thought, bowing her head.

And may the victors be kinder to us, then we would have been to them.