120 Reminiscence II (1/2)
Ivo pressed forwards. Each of his footsteps felt heavier than any he had ever taken before. His entire body seemed to dull with aches and alight with fiery pain at the same time. His vision blurred in regular intervals, his muscles trembling as they struggled to fuel themselves through blood loss. He had started the march again, leading it with Bernard, the strongest and youngest of them all, right behind him.
The Violetwoods felt like a maze of death growing all around him. What was once a comforting, familiar haven of green and life was wreathed with an icy, dark fog that shot visibility down, making every single step a venture into the dangerous depths of the unknown.
Ivo never looked back. He had steeled his heart with Bernard's words. He would not let second thoughts rule his head and make him look back at those that died behind him. He could hear the endless clashes of farming implements against claws, screams of the dying, the echoing, shrill laughter of imps, the droning and rumbling howls of hellhounds, and the skittering chatter of monstrous bebeliths.
But he did not look back. If he hesitated even a little with his body and mind so battered right now, he might never be able to look forwards again. He followed his heart just as he always had ever since he had devoted himself to Morrigan's graces when he was but a young boy, when the great lady had removed the growth rooted in his brain, the growth that no temple healer nor arcana scholar said could be treated.
Ivo could still feel Morrigan's life pulsing in his heart. It was faint, but it still pulsed, and that sound gave him direction. He knew where to go even through this demonic fog. That unearthly rhythm had always led him through his lowest of lows and highest of highs, and he had not lost faith in it yet.
Ivo passed by a thicket of oaks. He heard a rustle, and his instincts flared, making him raise his rake overhead, but too late. He grunted in pain as a club of blackened wood cracked into his shoulder, forcing him to his knees.
There was an ugly snapping sound, but by this point, with the adrenaline of every single farmer fueling him, Ivo felt nothing. But his body could not keep up.
An imp floated above him, its bat-like wings flapping to keep its wart infested, black skinned and port bellied figure in the air. It was half his size, but its grotesquely oversized arms so densely laden with muscle made it obvious it had the power to crush human skulls to a pulp with a single swing of its brutish club.
The imp smiled, revealing white hot tusks, curls of smoke billowing from its mouth. Its big red eyes squinting in revelry as it prepared to club Ivo's head off his shoulders.
”[Nature's Grasp!]” said Bernard as he waved his free arm. He knew the Violetwoods like the back of his hand. Here, the oaks grew short and squat, keeping their branches low. Low enough that [Nature's Grasp] made their branches curve downwards in time to grab the imp's arm, holding it in place.
The imp growled as it struggled, trying to tug its club arm back. Ivo saw the imp's defenseless back and tried to raise his rake, but his shoulder must have been broken: his arm did not move. But just as he could sense Morrigan in front of him, he was also now bound to all those behind him, and he knew that he was safe.
Bernard rushed forwards, and, with a roar just as fierce as the imp's, swung a scythe straight into the demon's back. The imp seized up before going limp, the oak branch holding its corpse up like a trophy.
'Thank ye, lad,” said Ivo as Bernard helped him to stand. Ivo watched as Bernard withdrew the scythe from the imp's back with a sickening squelch, a spurt of obsidian blood spattering on the soil. ”A blow that struck the heart true and clean. Commendable.”
”All cause' o' yer special sight,” said Bernard. ”I know the great lady'd blessed yer eyes, but didn't know what it meant til' now.”
”It is not meant to be used to take lives.” Ivo got back to trudging forwards, shifting his rake to his free hand. With a connection now established to everyone, he could share his life sensing sight, which also made up for the fact that they were near blind in this fog laden forest. ”But for this night, I am sure the great lady would forgive us.”
”She better,” said Bernard. ”We're savin' her after all.”
”It is your words you should save. The Violet Grove is near.”
Ivo had half a mind to reprimand the young man for his disrespect to the great lady, but he had no energy in him left to do so. Instead, he wordlessly pushed forwards. So far, he could sense their numbers had not fallen too much. At this point, everyone's survival instincts were operating at max capacity, reaching heights reserved only for creatures that did not even have the luxury of choosing between fight or flight.
There was only to fight.
But soon, they encountered an insurmountable wall that no amount of fighting could topple.
The Violet Grove was a great clearing surrounded by enchanted willows with a spring located at its center. It was one of many created by Morrigan as spots of healing for weary mortals during their weary travels. Each was manned by one of her Roots, and so Ivo had thought this would be an opportune point to reach to perhaps recoup with a Root and their greater power.
Ivo and the crowd of farmers behind him froze as they locked eyes with a monstrosity they had never before witnessed. Though the war with the demons had raged for the better part of two years now, the fiends had never targeted Riviera with their forces.
It was only after when Duvin, a stronghold for grain production, fell to the demons that King Beaumont had called upon Riviera, specifically the followers of the Violet Lady, to beg the lady to accelerate their harvests.
She had done so, and thus, the demons finally directed their wrath upon Riviera. Until now, Ivo had heard tell of imps and hellhounds, the likes of which sometimes forayed into their lands even before the war, but they had never laid eyes on a real demon until now.
A Hell Knight stood tall in front of the grove's spring. He was armored in fire blackened metal fashioned with pure brutality in mind, cruel spikes warped into the shoulder pads, gauntlets, and greaves. Blood red fire pulsed from every single open space in the armor, warping the very air around the demon through the sheer intensity of the heat. Beneath one of his blazing feet lay sprawled the Root, a handsome young man who appeared no older than twenty, his hair and skin laden with withering vines.
The cause of the Root's death was brutally obvious: a flame wreathed battle axe of gleaming obsidian lay embedded in his back.
”Here I was waiting bored to catch that mongrel of a guardian in her retreat. But to think I would see humans?” said the hell knight.
His face was impossible to perceive through his helmet as it was covered in a roaring fire, but his eyes were starkly visible as two glowing dots of black, two concentrated points of raw malevolence.
”You all should have hidden behind your walls. Or perhaps you grew tired of waiting to be slaughtered?”
Ivo trembled for but a single moment before he steeled himself. If he let fear leech into his heart, it would spread to everyone behind him, and he could not let that happen. Instead, he stepped forwards, willing as much bravery as he could into his heart, enough to give everyone the will to follow him.
”Hoh? You dare to step forwards?” The hell knight pulled the battle axe from the Root's body. ”Wrath bade me to end all human lives I encountered quickly, but I can smell not the slightest stench of fear from any of you. And I do despise the taste of humans without the spice of despair. I will take my time to make you all far more appetizing.”
The hell knight approached slowly, intentionally making each of his steps as intimidating as possible. His heated greaves left scorch marks on the ground. As he drew nearer, Ivo began to see just how large the demon was. It must have been three meters tall, maybe more. A single swipe of that fiery battle axe would cleave apart a dozen of them, he was sure of it.
Ivo charged, and he knew that every single one of his brothers and sisters behind him would follow. If this demon wanted fear, he would not get it. The monstrous brute could never understand the faith that pushed their legs to take steps forward despite knowing they were sprinting into the jaws of death. The faith that made it impossible for them to hesitate, for them to fear.
The hell knight laughed as he casually lifted his axe in the air, ready to send heads flying.
Ivo froze, witnessing not the black blade descending on his head, but the hell knight flying in the air.