Chapter 52: Concepts and Principles. (1/2)
Two hours later.
Arthur found her next victim.
It was another of her human’s companions who had stepped outside of their building to keep an eye out on the wall. This one had long fur that extended to its chin and was probably hard to digest. It saw her come and fearfully hid its jerky in its pocket. As if it would help. Arthur stalked and watched the human squirm.
She was very close now.
Then, suddenly, the door behind her groaned and she felt a presence. It was the powerful black monochrome of her human. A feeling washed over Arthur, and it was quite unpleasant. In her mind, it compared to having claws around her neck. It did not anger her but she still felt bad.
She was not used to feeling bad because of her human.
Arthur’s scarlet gaze traveled to the two-legged’s unique emerald orbs and she could see that the tall one was… thinking. It made it worse. Arthur was more instinctual. Delayed punishment was worse than real punishment.
Instead of punishing, her human moved forward.
“Come with me.”
Arthur did not follow. The metaphorical grip on her neck was still there.
“Come on, Arthur, just there.”
Her human sat a bit far away while the furry one left with his snack. Arthur hesitated. She started to turn away.
“No.”
Arthur froze.
“Come to me, I will not bite you.”
The dragonling approached. The human grabbed her with a grunt and deposited her noble form on a stone wall.
“Listen. You and I… we are a family.”
Arthur tilted her head.
“We are a family, and a family works on principles. One of those is honesty. That means that we do not hide or trick each other. Another is respect. There are only a few things you must respect.”
“Squee.”
“I know that you are smart and that you understand. Here are the three things you must respect. Number one, respect the other person. Number two, respect property. That means that you do not take meat from the drawer or from my allies.”
“Squee.”
“Just as I would not take your meat.”
Arthur’s hand gathered around the small pouch around her neck.
“I would never take your gold either. It is yours. Last rule is that you respect authority, more specifically mine while I take care of you.”
“Squee.”
“You broke rule number two, respect property. You did it yesterday and you were about to do it again.”
“Squeeeeeee.”
“We respect that rule so that our allies remain on our side.”
Arthur hissed and growled. She did not care about allies. She was mighty and deadly and far superior to those borgling four-limbed smooth-skinned primates. Except for her human who was a special case.
“Do it for me so that I have an easier time getting us food. Please.”
“Squeeeee.”
Annoying!
But.
She understood.
Taking was a hostile act. The other humans protected ‘Viv’. They could stop doing it if Arthur was too… aggressive. Even if they were simple creatures. Arthur remembered a time when she was starving and hiding, and did not want to risk it again, for her or for her human. She could be patient.
“Squee.”
“Thank you. Here, have a snack to reward you for listening, but remember, no stealing.”
Viv watched the dragonette trot away with her new prize and sighed. With a human child, she would have demanded that they make up for their fault by providing restitution, but she did not dare do it with Arthur. The little one was different, with a haughty edge that she did not dare poke at too much. It would take all her efforts to steer the powerful predator in the right direction. Arthur was cute but she was still a fricking dragon.
Viv’s train of thought stuttered to a halt, and a deep anguish inflated her chest, forcing the tiniest sob. It crashed on her by surprise like an unexpected rain. It froze her to the bone. She had meant it when she had talked about family.
“I’m never going back, am I?”
She would stay here on this alien world until the day she died. She would never see her parents or brother again.
“No. No… at least I will find a way. Find a way to let them know that I’m still alive. I can do it. Messages are probably easier to send back than a full Viv minus hair and stomach content. Ok, ok. Fix my soul, find why I’m here, then we plan for more. Okay, okay.”
The unease faded, and she returned her attention to the wall where light had turned dim and red. The undead were coming soon and she should eat and drink before it happened. And pee. Home was faraway. These people were here now and she could help them so she would. That was all there was to it.
Viv smacked her cheeks once, ignored the befuddled Yries staring at her, and went back in.
The expedition gathered when a Yries with a name like someone coughed out a ball of cat hair informed them that it was time. They packed up and made their way to the wall where most of the fighters were already standing, trying their best to look busy and rested. It was not a convincing performance. Many were young, casting shifty glances aside when they thought no one was paying attention. There were a lot of bandages and broken gear, and it did not take an expert in xenobiology to see that they were on their last leg. Lorn led the small column up for a short conversation with Gar-Gar, then they took the central portion of the fortification. The stone weaver called Lak-Tak moved her spindly arms around for a while and the rock flowed, slowly, with the liquid grace of a snake. Openings popped on the wall at man height and the temple guard lined against it in rows two deep. Viv went to stand by Marruk’s side.
“What’s the plan?” she asked Lorn, “Do you want me to hold onto spells until the enemy caster shows up?”
The captain smoothed his greying beard, weighing his options.
“No, I don’t think so. As things are, we will fall without the enemy leader taking any risk. You have a mainstay spell, right? One that you can cast almost effortlessly? Do witches have it so early on their path?”
“Yes.”
It was not a matter of path but of practice, but Viv did not feel like lecturing the commander.
“Then use that and relieve the pressure on our flanks. The revenants will converge to the path of least resistance. That’s us. They will be thickest on the sides, and that’s where Koro and I will be staying. As long as we don’t get overwhelmed by more dangerous creatures, we’ll be fine.”
“Sounds good to me.”
“Then we shall do it. Oh, and one last thing. I appreciate you working with us. Not just, you know, next to us.”
The comment was unexpected but genuine if Lorn’s embarrassed face was any indication.
“You’re welcome,” she answered, “do war mages usually not communicate with officers?”
“They do it in the best armies, but there is always politics and power plays. And pride. You are easy to work with and I wanted to thank you for that. We could not do this without you.”
“Stop, you’re going to make me blush. Alright, enough of this. Let's kill ourselves some more revenants.”
A cheer rose from the human defenders and the waiting began. The last hints of red disappeared from the small window of sky up ahead and Viv found herself grateful for her skinsuit once again as the temperature dropped precipitously.
“You think revenants smell better when it’s so cold?” someone asked in a low voice.
“I wouldn’t count on it,” someone replied.
“It’s the moisture,” a third voice said, “makes them rot instead of dry up. They’re the least stinky in the deadlands because of that.”
“Ooooh.”
The group fell silent as tension rose. The temple guards were not new to facing the undead, if the zeal they had displayed in the previous battle was any indication. The soldiery of Kazar was specialized in revenant disposal. Every battle was a gruelling, uphill slog where the living had to finish off the enemy force before the first slain could rise again, or at least Viv assumed that it would be the case if they did not have her. They did, and still decades of collective experience could not be offset so readily. The men were scared.
It only took a few minutes of terse quiet before the first revenants showed up. They glutted the edge of the tunnel, barely out of range of the crossbows. Whatever cold intelligence drove them forward waited until a sufficient mass had gathered before unleashing them upon the fortifications. Rows of undead, some still blueish as if carved out from the very ice, stumbled down the slope and into the waiting lines of the living. The Yries leader screamed a guttural cry and his kin released a volley. The bolts tore through the hostile ranks with limited success. Many of the contraptions lacked the power to inflict the kind of catastrophic damage required to take down a revenant. Another volley flew, then the Yries reloaded and waited. Viv realized that they had merely thinned the horde to blunt its impact, saving their most dangerous constructs for later.
The revenants hit the barrier in clumps and the temple guard cut them down. Under Lorn’s command, the powerful fighters fought conservatively, employing no skills and using small movements. Soldiers and militias were more fitting to holding the line, but she knew that the guard’s training and equipment would help them compensate.
As for Viv, she simply threw one yoink after another. It took so little effort and focus on her part that she simply stopped saying the spell’s name. It was no longer really needed if she had nothing else to do.
Spear after spear of shaped mana erupted from around her, not even from her hand, and went to skewer revenants at the speed of one every two seconds. She prioritized the fresher, meatier specimen, especially those who still wore the decayed remnants of armor. She felt no presence while turning her foes to ash.
This went on for a few minutes. The fallen started to form a pile but it was slow going and the guards were in a higher position anyway. On occasion, the Yries would shoot at denser groups of enemies to turn them into manageable numbers. The scent of spoiled meat invaded everyone’s nostrils and Viv was grateful for the mask provided by her hood, without which she would have been barfing right now. It was that bad.
Arthur had squeaked her boredom and was gripping Viv’s shoulder, keeping a lazy eye on the slog.
“First rank back, second rank you’re up!” Lorn said.
With speed and precision, the temple guard switched warriors to allow the exhausted ones to rest. Stamina was really an issue. Despite higher stats, humans were simply not built to fight at full potential for an hour on end.
Finally, after fifteen minutes of slaughter, the first change occurred. A group of elites followed a denser pack of armored revenants. Viv saw them and was not impressed. Those were mostly small crawlers with long simian limbs, their uneven gait made more alien by the fact that they were sticking to the ceiling. Like really ugly bats. It made them really good targets though.
An Yries released a bolt at a good range and it hit the closest walker in the eye. The projectile burst into flames and provoked a cry of agony.
“Not bad,” Viv whispered. She waited until the group was closer, during which an Yries sharpshooter took down two other foes.
“True mass yoink.”
The shadow ball flew between the armored revenants below and walkers above, then exploded into a hell of questing tendrils, then those sought more victims in turn. Viv felt the barest presence behind the elite directing their step, but it was weak and pathetic. Eventually, a rush of power bounced back to flood her conduits.
The attacking group collectively fell in piles of ash and bone.
It felt great.
Viv focused destructive power in her hand and stepped forward, showing her palm to the mob of creatures even now pressing on the walls. The temple guards stepped aside to let her through, though they remained close enough to cover her.
“Werfer.”
The tunnel went upward and Viv was not entirely confident with the effect of gravity, so she had chosen a smaller spell for now. It still wreaked havoc on the tightly packed revenants. Their flesh hissed and melted under the fiery dark waves until only pieces of corrugated equipment were left on the floor. The growing pile of bodies was reduced to a sharp field of jagged bones.
In the aftermath of the slaughter, the silence was deafening. Or at least it was for two seconds, until something screamed.
Viv had never heard something so blood-curdling in her entire damn life. It forced a powerful reaction of shock and disgust in her, doubled with fear. A few of the younger Yries blanched and took a few steps back while the entire row of guards shone a dull gold.
Then Viv rallied when her own soul fought back the influence, motivated not by courage but by pride. It was the side-effect of having intimidation as a skill, she thought. It certainly came from the same place.
She still believed that she could be the greatest threat.