Chapter 143:
“Please forgive me, my King.” The mayor of Poisier begged, grovelling on his hands and knees.
He and several of his loyal retainers, who had tried to flee the battle but were caught by scouts, grovelled before King Leo. Leo stood in front of them, the mayoral build of Poisier burning behind them, with a look of complete indifference.
Overall the mayor was an unremarkable man of build and stature, but his near snivelling did not leave a good impression.
“You refused my summons,” Leo said softly.
He spared a glance to the prisoners, those that decided to fight against Leo’s army. A valiant and brave action to be sure but ultimately a pointless one. Anton and Cetina had done very little during the battle. Anton wasn’t about to risk his neck or Cetina’s, and Anton didn’t want to show off the full extent of his abilities to keep his own side guessing, so they remained near the rear and provided support with his lightning crows. The walls of Poisier held the tell-tale black marks of lightning strikes, even a few scorched outlines of what once a person. He didn’t attack indiscriminately, only the local commanders. Alfred and Marcus explained that it was the easiest way to break the enemy and they were more than likely the few people that actually obeyed the mayor’s actions.
“And you decided to fight me.” Leo shook his head, the mayor kept his nose planted firmly on the dusty cobblestone street. “You knew how this would end.”
A thunderous march of hundreds of Knights, their bright resplendent armour shining brightly in the sun, rode along the far edge of the central plaza. They marched clean through an iron gate blown inwards from magic. Not Anton’s magic, but a small team of Principle Mages. It was very similar to one of Anton’s fire Octahedron bombs, albeit with a longer range, but it produced the same results. They were arguably as strong as the Principle Mages in the forest, perhaps a little more. Anton knew he needed more training before fighting a truly skilled Principle Mage. At least if he wanted to not obliterate the nearby land.
“Forgive me, my King.” The mayor continued to grovel before Leo. “I was wrong. King Harold….I mean, the false King Harold sent envoys, ordering me to hold as long as I could.”
“Even a fool would know this city couldn’t be held against us for long,” Bernard grumbled. “You barely slowed us down.”
Bernard spared a glance to Anton, to the scorch marks and the six Large Lightning Crows resting on nearby rooves.
Definitely sizing me up in case I need to be taken out. If he gets in melee I’m done, maybe not with the Marble Spear, except it can’t pierce metal.
“They said the Royal Army is mobilising.” The mayor spared a glance at Leo. “They’ve gathered their forces and are marching to Poisier before attacking Castle Etoile. That’s all I know.”
“Throw them in a dungeon somewhere.” Leo dismissively waved his hand, turning his back on the mayor and his retainers. “And find me someone who will be loyal.”
“Please! Your Majesty!” The mayor kicked and screamed as Black Rider Knights dragged them away. “I can redeem myself. I swear it!”
Leo paid him no heed as his screams faded away to nothing.
“The poor fool should have just surrendered.” Marcus shook his head. “He might still be mayor.”
Bernard grumbled. “He defied the King’s will, twice. That sort of man has no place serving underneath a King.”
Marcus shrugged, not wanting to get into an argument. “At least most of the city and people were spared.”
“Indeed.” Leo looked to the small groups of disarmed Poisier soldiers.
Apart from removing their weapons and armour, they had been treated very well. Some of Leo’s very limited Life Principle Mages moved between the most heavily injured. A white glow covered the wounded as the mages chanted magic and the wounds began to slowly heal themselves.
“Couldn’t you do that?” Cetina asked softly. “You can heal much faster than them.”
Anton shook his head. “If they hear me using my magic, praising Tethra or simply not using the right chants, they’ll get suspicious. Remember, this whole thing started because of us. Sort of…”
“Will that be a problem later?” Cetina looked at Leo.
“Probably.” Anton sighed. “But a problem for another time. Keep your wits about you though, who knows what might happen.”
Cetina gripped the pommel of her sword hard and continued to scan their surroundings.
“Are we returning to Castle Etoile?” Anton asked. “Or is this going to be our new rallying point before moving on the capital?”
Leo rubbed his lightly bearded chin. “Any stragglers will regroup with our forces here. Though we have less than I’d like, we need to move on the capital now.” He gripped his fists hard and looked to the west. “There’s no way I’m letting Lila get to the throne first.”
Everyone fell silent. Marcus, and even Bernard to a lesser extent, appeared saddened by Leo’s seeming dismissive contempt for his sister. As the seconds dragged on Anton dared to ask the question.
“Beyond simply Lila receiving a little less than half of the Qaiviel Kingdom, is there a reason why you seem to dislike your sister so much?” Anton asked. “As an outsider, it looks like she’s the only one of your siblings that didn’t try to kill you.”
Leo stopped and stared at Anton. Finally, he relaxed and swayed his fist back and forth. “I never liked her. She was always so quiet, like a doll. We could never get her to smile or do anything really. I thought she was stupid. Apparently not. But that doesn’t matter now. I will be the King of Qaiviel, as my father intended, and she will not stop me.”
Marcus shot Anton a look. The war wasn’t going to end with Harold and Valérie’s death.
A Blue Firestorm Knight charged through the meandering crowds of soldiers and dismounted Knights, yelled and clamouring to be allowed through.
“The Royal Army is approaching!” The Knight hurriedly dismounted his panting horse. “They’ll be here any moment.”
“Numbers?” Marcus asked flatly, resting a hand on his sword.
“I don’t know, but more than ours. A small group, about thirty, have broken away from the main group and is heading here.”
“So they want to negotiate?” Leo nodded. “Send everyone we can to the western walls and ready for an attack. Bernard, see what they want.”
“At once.” Bernard bowed and summoned a horse.
Marcus approached Anton, Cetina’s grip tightened ever so slightly. “Don’t worry about the wall. You’d better come with us. Just in case we need to make a hasty getaway. You don’t need the time the Principle Mages need for their magic, yes?”
“Indeed. But if there’s a Principle Mage there it might be a problem.” Marcus frowned lightly. “They have a nasty way of unravelling our magic.”
“But you can still use those flame pillars?”
“Absolutely.” Anton smiled. “Last Principle Mages I fought against couldn’t stop it.”
---[]---
The Royal Army gave Anton no illusions that they were in serious trouble. They positioned themselves in front of Poisier, well outside of arrow or bolt range, and waited in silence. Every soldier was fully equipped in heavy armour, a mixture of gambeson and metal plate, some even with Bosciycium and Chelium swords and shields. Behind those were archers, also wearing heavy armour but equipped with large white bows, identical to the one Kal had been given by Castor. Anton couldn’t see any Principle Mages amongst them but it didn’t mean they weren’t just hiding; wearing normal armour with their charm hidden safely behind a thick shield.
“I wonder how much they cost,” Anton said softly. “I wonder if our silver mine is enough now.”
“Should be,” Verona replied, checking that no one nearby had heard. “You saw how much was in that place…But it’s probably close…Why are they all different?”
Verona spoke the truth, there were slight differences between each of the pieces of armour and weapons while still conforming to a standard. However, they didn’t have time to admire, or perhaps fear, the sight. A negotiation was taking place before them. Cetina and Verona had swapped positions; if there was to be a battle they’d definitely want Verona’s strength for the battle, no matter the potential political ramifications.
The Commander of the Royal Army, a large man, as tall and wide as Bernard with an impressive grey beard and moustache, sat opposite Leo. Both men had been provided camp chairs, situated across from one another as both sides arranged far behind their leaders. The Commander’s personal guard were all heavily armed soldiers. Compared to them Anton and Cetina looked thoroughly out of place. Perhaps Marcus wanted that too, keep them guessing as to their purpose. A distraction. Anton was impartial to being used as such.
“You’ve grown, Leo.” The Commander smiled. “When was the last time I saw you?”
“Just before the snows began to fall.” Leo chuckled. He patted the top of his helmet. “I don’t think I’ve grown much taller.”
“Not taller, but wider.” The Commander laughed. “But maybe that’s just the armour. You do look like you’re filling it up though.”
Leo leant forward, the smile slowly fading from his face. “I don’t want to fight you, Henri.”
Henri waved at his closest warrior. He, Anton presumed the soldier was a he, it was nearly impossible to tell, gave Henri a small hip flask.
“Neither do I, young Leo.” Henri downed the contents, a few droplets of a purple wine ran down his beard. “But I have my orders from the King. I’ve done everything I can but I have to follow them.”
He’s looking for a way out. If he wanted to he could fight us, possibly win too, but he didn’t. Let’s hope Leo is up to the task.
Leo quickly realised Henri’s intention. “You should join me. If you’ve come all this way, and aren’t planning to fight me right away, you obviously have plans greater than simply fighting and dying for a murderer.”
“To be fair, Queen Valérie killed your father and brother.” Henri smiled bitterly. “It is now an open secret in the capital. It was inevitable that someone would talk.”
“Regardless, will you not join me? Together we could easily defeat my brother and restore order to the kingdom.”
No mention of your sister…
“I cannot simply change my allegiance without my men deserting me.” Henri leant back, the chair groaning underneath his weight. “The Royal Army always follows the will of the King of Qaiviel. And right now that’s Harold, whether we like it or not.”
That’s quite obviously a lie, at least to some degree. I’m sure Harold and that Cardinal Abeau ordered you to march out right away but you admitted that you delayed as much as possible.
Leo tapped his leg. “If we were to fight there would be death. Too much death, with so many enemies that threaten the Kingdom. Our enemies would pounce upon us and tear us to shreds.”
“Indeed it would. Many more would suffer, beyond those present, if we were to fight. Surely you’ve heard of the mess in Bebbezzar? Already some are moving into Qaiviel territory and attempting to seize land.”
Henri took a deep breath, gently shaking his head. Anton was glad that Cetina wasn’t present.
“A contest of champions then,” Leo said, a faint smile crept up Henri’s lips. “Pit one of your warriors against one of mine. If he wins you will swear allegiance to me, the rightful King of Qaiviel. Not some imposter that took the throne through murder.”
Anton tapped Marcus’s shoulder. “Is that a tradition in Qaiviel?”
“There are…Precedents.” Marcus smiled faintly. “The first King of Qaiviel gained the allegiance of several rouge Lords and Barons by fighting them in personal combat. Then he went on to slay a Manticore by himself…Other Kings and lesser Lords have done that but it hasn’t happened in a long time. Looks like Henri knows a thing or two about history. We should just go along with this, it’ll make this official. Just bare with it.”
“Very well.” Henri nodded. “Save the bloodshed for another day. Who do you suggest to fight? No one with magic, mind you.” Henri glanced at Anton. “That would be cheating.”
“I nominate Bernard to fight in my stead.” The Black Rider Knight looked indifferent to his choosing.
“I nominate…I don’t know.” Henri looked back to the patient and silently waiting walls of Royal Army soldiers. He sighed and turned to the nearest soldier. “Where’s that idiotic nephew of mine?”
“At the rear of the army.” The soldier gruffly replied. “At least he was when we stopped.”
“Yes. He will do.” Henri smiled. “You remember Colin?”
Leo smiled. “I do. Stumpy little boy. If I remember his mother forced you to have him join the Royal Army.”
“And he’s been a little shit since then.” Henri laughed. “Keeps harassing the women. And the horses.”
I hope…I honestly pray…
Henri waved his hand to one of his soldiers. “Bring him here then. And let’s get this thing over with.”
Both stood up and shook each other’s hand. This was hardly a defection, rather a culmination of something long in the making. Was this Alfred’s work or perhaps Bernard’s? He operated far closer to the capital than Marcus or Alfred and certainly appeared to be trustworthy. A wink from Henri to Bernard all but confirmed his suspicions.
“Looks like we don’t really need to be here either.” Anton mused to Verona. “Maybe we could get back to what we had originally planned.”
“The…Dwarves?” Verona whispered into his ear. “Wilford’s still a few days off, isn’t he?”
“Indeed. We could use good builders. Then there’s the whole mess with Mount Aspire.”
Leo looked towards the rows of Royal Army soldiers. A lightly armoured scout ran through their numbers, the horse clearly struggling underneath the strain.
“That was too quick, wasn’t it?” Leo mused.
“For a moment I thought that he had been lashed to the back of his horse.” Henri chuckled. “No such luck it seems.”
The rider stopped only at the last second, the soldiers readied themselves to block an accidental charge.
“Commander Henri. A large Church force is approaching from the west. They’ll be on us in just a few moments.”
Leo looked at Henri with a flat expression. Anton saw the anger bubbling through his neck, for this to be a trap…
“We left in the dead of night,” Henri grumbled. “Not a torch to light our way. They shouldn’t be here until sometime this afternoon. Someone must have spotted us.” Henri turned to the rider. “How many?”
“Three times our force at least.” The rider spoked through short and laboured breaths. “It seems they’re bringing everyone they could muster. Though they’re poorly armed and equipped. Basically militia grade.”
Henri shook his head. “Using the people as fodder…”
Looks like King Lambert did a good job with his Kingdom. The usurpers don’t have that much support away from the Church. And even that’s limited, especially when you start conscripting every available man and boy into the army. Who’s going to harvest the fields? Keep the Kingdom working? Or does that not factor into their thinking.
“Commander Henri, they also have those strange creatures with them at the front. I counted at least five hundred.”
“Five hundred Stitch Soldiers?” Marcus asked. “There were only a few dozen when we fled the capital.”
“Obviously they’ve been continuing to create them,” Anton said. “We ran into some to the south-west of Maxill. Only a few but they were there.”
“People have started going missing in the capital.” Henri stroked his grey beard. “More so than usual.”
“Can we take them?” Leo asked Bernard and Marcus.
“We can.” Marcus looked at Henri. “But only one at a time.”
“Fantastic,” Leo grumbled.
---[]---
“You should have informed us that you were leaving the capital.” The Priest spoke heavily out of breath, his plump face red and wet with sweat. “King Harold has been ordering you for days and you’ve done nothing. Together our forces could have crushed the enemy and now…Now I find you cavorting with…”
“Bishop Moïse. King Leo has just challenged me to a contest of champions.” Henri smiled. “And I cannot back down. No one shall fight until the contest is complete, and that includes you attacking Leo. Do you wish me to besmirch my honour and strike my opponent in such a cowardly manner?”
Bishop Moïse’s eyes twitched. Henri intention was clearly to try and make Moïse snap and strike him or do something to besmirch his honour. That would give him all the excuse he needed to formally change sides, especially when honour was such an important part of his being. Allegedly. He could just be stirring.
“And he is right in front of you,” Moïse muttered.
Anton was certain he was speaking about Leo, but it might have included him.
“Cardinal Abeau and King Harold will not be pleased to hear this.”
“I serve King Harold. Not your Cardinal.” Henri spoke very softly. “Remember that.”
Moïse grumbled. “We shall see what the King has to say when we return with Leo in chains. So, who is your champion?”
He hasn’t asked what the contest was about. Is it just so obvious what he would do? Perhaps he thinks to the winner will take the other as a prisoner, or at least have Henri stand down.
Though Moïse was clearly agitated by Henri the other’s he brought were not. They had not spoken a word or even moved once they’d dismounted. Henri’s soldiers kept them well away and didn’t let them out of their sights. Anton’s tail tingled ever so slightly, not building up more of the charge but Anton didn’t need that to tell what these soldiers were.
“My nephew.”
Henri pointed behind the Royal Army soldiers. A short man struggled to equip a suit of armour clearly too large. His arms shook violently as he glanced up at Bernard.
“Against who?”
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“Bernard,” Leo said flatly. “Commander of the Black Riders.”
Moïse’s brow twitched. “That’s not a fair fight! Though I would expect nothing less from a traitor and apostate.”
Leo was unmoved by his words. Anton doubted he held much faith in their religion any more.
“Your nephew is clearly not worthy to fight against a Commander of a Knight Order.” Moïse’s dismissively waved his pudgy hand. “Or do you have so little honour that you are sending your nephew to his death.”
“The agreement has already been made,” Henri said adamantly.
“Ridiculous. I wish to put forward my own Champion.”
“Out of the question,” Leo said, dismissing Moïse’s words with a simple swish of his hand.
“Then it will be war.” Upon Moïse raising his hand the covered white soldiers readied to draw their blades. Anton saw a tiny patch of skin, where a piece of cloth and armour had separated. Though it didn’t glow purple a piece of the black stitches poke through, quickly covered by a shake of its wrist.
“Who is your champion then?” Henri asked.
“Our strongest warrior.” Moïse puffed out his chest. “A warrior who has received the touch of the Holy Father himself. Someone who could easily strike down anyone that opposes him.”
“That’s easy with magic,” Marcus said softly.
Moïse regarded the Blue Firestorm emblem with utter contempt. “You can check with your mages, I’m sure you have one or two, but he cannot use magic in any capacity. I am willing to stake my life upon it.”
“Is he here?” Henri asked. “I won’t be waiting for days for this mysterious champion...”
“He is.” Moïse snapped his finger at the shortest soldier present. He stepped forward, robotic in his movements, to stand next to Moïse.
Moïse placed his hands on his shoulders. “This warrior will defeat your champion.” A devious smiled crept over Moïse’s stretched face. “And then, King Leo, you will come back with us. To grovel before the true king.”
Moïse removed the hood covering his helmet, then lifted up the helm. Bernard stepped back, drawing his sword while Marcus looked horrified.
“What have you done to him now?” Marcus whispered.
What lay before them was a Stitch Soldier, but not one that Anton recognised. He had their defining facial features but this was far worse. The cheeks had been removed completely almost down to the bone, a thin gossamer purple skin covered the remaining scraps of flesh that pulsed with his slow heartbeat. Six deep scars ran from what remained of his eyes along his skull. These deep scars pulsed purple but also appeared to be weeping a faint purple liquid despite being bound tight. But it was his eyes that disturbed Anton the most.
There were no eyes. Not anymore.
The sunken remains had become riddled with the worm-like protrusions from the severed limbs that swirled around the iris. As the Stitch soldier’s eyes scanned those before him the worms constricted in a spiral, simulating the constriction of an iris. It was enough to almost make Anton sick. Those beside him were not doing much better. A hand grasped his tight. Verona, utterly stunned, grabbed his in a fit of fear, and she didn’t look like she was willing to let go.
“What have you done to Caiden?” Marcus asked.
“Who?” Anton asked. “You know…”
“Governor Eilis’s son.” Marcus could barely take his eyes off the monstrosity. “Of Nonbur’n. He was spared from the noose but…He returned as one of those…Things.”
Bernard regarded Caiden with a silent annoyance, of an undefeated foe returning once more.
“Caiden, his name before his ascension, has been improved with every blessing we could muster.” Moïse smiled at Caiden, utterly unconcerned with his horrific transformation. “Though you may mock his body he may soon even be able to become one of his angels. But, in the meantime, he is more than strong enough to kill your feeble champion.”
Henri grunted, drawing his blade and planting the tip in the ground. “Looks nothing like what I’ve seen in the churches and cathedrals. I’m sure if they knew what you wanted from them they’d run screaming. Especially...”
Moïse shrugged. “So will you fight our champion?”
“Our champion?” Henri raised a bushy white brow.
“Indeed. We both serve King Harold, yes?” Moïse waved towards Leo. “And though he may be a pretender King he still claims to be a King. Surely we should treat him as such?”
Leo looked at Bernard.
“I can win, your highness.” Bernard readied his longsword. “I beat him before, and I’ll do it again.”
“I think you’ll find him considerably stronger than last time.” Moïse chuckled. “But we accept. If you win we will return to the capital. If we win you, King Leo, will come with us and the rest return to their homes. Does that sound acceptable?”
He’s not completely stupid then. But if Bernard lost then it’s all over, especially us. I don’t think Leo or Henri have any desire to actually follow through with this plan.
Anton scanned the Church armies.
If it weren’t for those Stitch Soldiers we could probably take them just on our own. Who knows how many have been upgraded like Caiden.
Leo gave a curt nod. Moïse smirked, thinking he had won and motioned towards Henri’s nephew, now fully equipped. Henri waved him away.
“There is as good a spot as any,” Henri said.
“Indeed.” Moïse smiled. “Let this place forever be known as the site where the heretical king fell.”
Leo didn’t rise to the obvious and blunt provocation and kept his face flat. Moïse knew it probably wouldn’t work and began walking towards the centre of the two armies, his Stitch Soldiers in tow.
Verona relinquished her hold on his hand. “Crazy bastards. Promise me you’ll never do something like that to your people.”
“Never.” Anton kissed her forehead. “But I don’t know if Bernard can win against them. I’ve seen how strong the normal Stitch Soldiers are.”
“He is strong,” Marcus said softly. “Bernard struggled against him before. Before this…Imagine what he’s going to be like now.”
“Where do you think I should strike first?” Anton asked, making sure the Church and Royal army were well out of earshot.
“Rescue Bernard first, if you can. Then target the Stitch soldiers and their main force. Those giant pillars, right into the heart of their forces.”
“They have some sort of magical immunity.” Anton nodded to Caiden. “It’s only on them, but I’ll do my best.”
“Just a few moments later and none of this would have needed to happen.” Marcus shook his head. “Keep an eye on the main force too, just in case they try something.”
Anton nodded up. “My Lightning Crows are circling above us. They’ll take out anything that looks like a threat.”
“Good. Keep Leo safe, no matter what. That includes me and everyone else here.”
Marcus patted his shoulder and followed Leo. Anton motioned for Verona to follow as they moved to the rear of Leo’s entourage. Behind them, on Poisier’s walls, Leo’s forces gathered to watch the spectacle. Anton knew that Castor would all but certainly be preparing the Knights to charge out if true combat descended. The gate remained open but the Knights were out of sight, hopefully hiding just behind the wall.
A Principle Mage from Leo’s sidestepped before Bernard and waved a strange device around him. Satisfied he turned to the monstrosity that was Caiden. The mage could barely contain his stomach as he neared him. Caiden remained completely motionless as the Principle Mage performed his duties.
“I cannot detect any magic.” The Principle Mage quickly backed away. “Absolutely nothing.”
“It is not magic, as you know it, rather a blessing from The Holy Father.” Moïse smiled. “It is beyond such things as Principle or Glyphs magic.”
Like my tail…
Bernard drew his sword and readied himself. He didn’t have a shield, wielding such a large sword and trying to hold a shield, let alone effectively use, would have almost certainly been a death sentence. Moïse ordered Caiden to ready himself for combat and he obeyed. Caiden drew a short iron sword and a small shield, mimicking Bernard’s stance.
“Ready?” Henri asked, a slight tremor to his voice.
Bernard and Caiden returned a silent nod, neither were much for speaking.
Henri took a deep breath. “Begin.”
Immediately Bernard ran at Caiden, his sword held close to his body to thrust at Caiden. Caiden raised his shield and ran, both traversing the ground unbelievably quickly. Bernard’s sword tore through Caiden’s iron shield and dug deep into his arm. Caiden’s eyes contracted and glanced down to the sword. He dropped his own and gripped Bernard’s, the few muscles on his arm bulged at the metal sword began to groan. Bernard released his grip, Caiden began to fall forward underneath the newfound weight and drew another blade. He drove this straight into Caiden’s chest, with predictably little result. Caiden grabbed Bernard’s hand, still gripping the blade in an attempt to twist and expand the wound, and crushed down. Bernard shouted in pain and managed to rip himself free. As Caiden pulled the sword free Bernard barred his teeth at his metal gauntlet, it had completely crumpled tight around his hand. He couldn’t move his fingers, if they weren’t already broken.
Bernard wasn’t willing to wait for Caiden to attack. He lunged at him again and collided with Caiden. Caiden’s legs dug into the ground, the grass flying away but Caiden didn’t budge. Caiden’s eyes focused on Bernard as he gripped onto his arms and lifted the giant man into the air. Bernard’s face was drenched with fear as his heavy metal boots came free.
“How…” Bernard grunted and kicked Caiden’s chest.
Caiden’s fingers gripped into Bernard’s armour, crumpling lines into the black metal. Caiden let Bernard go but lunged at him in return, a fist smashing straight into Bernard’s chest. The giant man doubled over, blood seeping from his mouth as he struggled to breathe.
Bernard rose to his feet and began to circle around Caiden. Caiden continued to approach Bernard, unable to understand why his opponent was just walking away. Anton spied Moïse’s face contorted in annoyance, biting hard onto his fingers as his eyes trailed the emotionless Caiden.
Bernard managed to recover his sword, Caiden’s shield still embedded on the shaft and swung again. Caiden dodged the strike, dropping to just avoid the strike, grabbing his own downed sword and thrust it into Bernard’s leg. The iron bent and buckled upon Bernard’s armour but drove through. However, it was exactly what Bernard wanted, to a degree; now Caiden was committed to his attack and couldn’t retreat. Bernard stopped the swing and drove the sword hard into Caiden’s side. The sword ripped through Caiden’s armour and deep into his flesh. Caiden tried to back away but Bernard ripped his sword free and hacked again into Caiden’s side. A thousand purple fleshy worms flailed frantically and began to pull the knitted wound tight.
Caiden stood up as his wounds re-knit themselves, this time around the blade. Bernard clicked his head as Caiden ripped the sword free from his leg, a great spurt of blood covered the sword and he drove it back into his leg. Bernard spun on his wounded leg, ignoring the pain and sliced deep into Caiden’s chest, splitting Caiden nearly in two. Caiden flailed wildly with his arms, the force was so great that it began to rip his body apart faster than he could heal. Bernard swung again and cut him in two.
Caiden stumbled apart before lying broken before Bernard. He dragged his longsword with his crippled left hand and lifted it up. Caiden snarled at Bernard, the first sign of real emotion, a mottled tongue jutting out from his glowing purple teeth. Was there something left inside?
“Sorry kid,” Bernard mumbled. “But I’m ready this time.”
Caiden’s wounds were quickly healing themselves, his arms and torso were almost reattached, but it wasn’t enough. With a final screech Caiden tried to dodge the sword thrust into his skull but simply could not. The tip pierced through his skull. Somehow it wasn’t enough to kill him, Caiden thrashed about and kicked at Bernard’s legs. Bernard’s body twisted away, allowing the force of the impact to travel through his body rather than resist it, and spun out to one side. Caiden tried to stand but Bernard kept hold of the sword. With a final exertion, he drove the sword into the ground, gripped the sword hard and twisted, smashing apart his skull.
“How is he not dead yet?” Verona whispered to Anton.
Caiden still clung to life, thousands of worms frantically writhed from his open wound towards the sky. Some found one another and began to knit the wound close. An emotion graced Caiden’s face for the first time, a smirk. If that was possible. He was fine while Bernard was almost finished. Anton understood the true strength of these creatures; their sheer resilience.
“I have never failed the King until you monsters arrived.” Bernard forced himself to his feet. “And I will have my revenge.”
Bernard lifted his sword with what little remained of his strength and swung it down towards Caiden’s neck. The sword cleaved through his neck, embedding itself deep into the dry dirt. Bernard stumbled forward and kicked the head away. Dozens of worm protrusions had already formed to re-knit the wound close.
Caiden’s head, finally, lay lifeless and still some meters away. The worms frantic spasming slowly began to fade until they turned as lifeless as the rest of Caiden. Anton felt a surge force its way up his tail. With just one kill a fifth of his tail tingled. Verona noticed and held his side. Anton patted her hand to reassure her, everyone else was too distracted to pay much attention.
“Bernard wins!” Henri almost had a smile on his face.
A pair of Black Rider Knights rushed forward to retrieve their broken commander. He begrudgingly accepted their help. One pointed at Anton as they dragged him across the trampled grass.
“Such a pity.” Moïse held no such reservations in showing his delight. “He was one, true, and a strong one at that but there are more. Many more. Ones that have training…As per our agreement, we shall return to the capital without further hostilities. Henri, that means you too.”
“I made no such agreement.” Henri smiled.
Bernard was dropped in front of Anton. Anton knelt down and quickly chanted a healing prayer.
Moïse frowned. “Yes, you did. You said-”
“You didn’t check what I said. I said that if Bernard won against my champion I would join his forces.” Henri nodded to Caiden’s corpse. “And if that’s anything to go by I made the right choice.”
“When King Harold-“
“It matters not.” Henri waved his soldiers forward. “I have made my choice, if only he could have removed my nephew as well.”
“Your family-”
Henri raised his metal gauntlet to the Bishop. “Don’t. You ever threaten…What’s that noise?”
A squelching, cracking noise emenated from Caiden’s corpse. The purple hue leaking from his wounds, once all but faded away burst back into life, shining far more brilliantly light than ever before. The worm protrusions began to writhe and sought out the head, growing several meters from both ends.
“Overflow…” Dread and uncontrolled panic drenched Moïse’s face. His first concern was for the Stitch Soldiers around him. They appeared mostly unaffected, though their rigid stance had softened.
“Time to go!” Moïse yelled to the Church forces. “Retreat! Order a full retreat. Retreat to Clausonne with all speed. Now!”
A loud trumpet cut through the changing air as Moïse ran as fast as he could, the Stitch Soldiers in quick pursuit.
“Guess this is up to me now,” Anton said.
Caiden’s corpse lunged upward, the head dragging helplessly along the grass as the worms retracted it back to his neck. His muscles began to swell, the purple wounds erupted in more strange worms, now covered in pink crystal cysts tearing deep within.
Anton threw a Fire Lance at Caiden’s chest. The fire exploded but Anton felt the tell-tale signs that his magic had been reduced.
“Almost half.” Anton clicked his tongue. “This isn’t good.”
“Principle Mages!” Marcus yelled. “Attack with everything you have!”
As the brightly robed mages began their attacks, chanting while holding their hand over their staffs and charms, Marcus grabbed a horn blower tightly by the shoulder. Castor, obviously not understanding the situation, alongside most present, charged forth with their entire Knight Order forces in tow.
Anton wasn’t going to wait as the monstrosity only continued to grow. Moïse and his forces were making good on their promise to retreat, or were simply content to leave behind whatever magical abomination they had created. He threw more fire lances and ordered the Lightning Crows to attack from the sky. Thankfully lightning was accurate from all distances. A barrage of magic struck Caiden as his head snapped back onto his body. When the dust and smoke cleared Caiden was still standing but had taken some damage, though the worms were quickly restoring the damage. Caiden dropped to one knee and grunted loudly.
Marcus grabbed Leo and began dragging him away, ordering the remaining Knights and soldiers to cover the retreat. The Principle Mages unleashed another volley of magic but it had little effect this time. Caiden crouched into a ball and simply took the hits, even though chunks of flesh were being destroyed and torn apart.
“Not good.” Anton murmured, not that anyone needed such confirmation.
He threw another Fire Lance, thankfully the allied Principle Mages didn’t care about his Glyph magic, and a small volley of lightning bolts. Caiden pulled himself up, the worms from the wounds had tried to knit themselves and his limbs together. Those ripped free and began to flail wildly.
“All archers!” Henri bellowed over the explosions, now within the relative safety of the Royal Army. “Fire at the beast. Bring it down.”
Heavy bolts and arrows pierced Caiden’s fleshy, and disturbingly still growing hide, but did little other than annoy him. Caiden smashed the pieces of wood off his back with a wave of his hand. He turned his head, unaffected by the growth, the overflow, towards Henri and The Royal army. His jaw cracked and groaned as his mottled tongue licked at the air.
“Gr-Grekka.” Caiden snarled.
What?
The Principle Mages glanced at one another mid-chant. A smaller volley of magic struck his hide. Caiden angrily waved them away, like a child swatting at flies.
“Grekka!”
Caiden’s hand clawed deep into the flesh on his arm, hundreds of small worms erupted from the wound to claw at his fingers, and ripped free a hunk of flesh easily the size of a head. A bright purple hue covered the flesh as it constricted and healed itself, turning into something akin to a purple boil. He tossed it towards the Principle Mages before running towards the Royal Army, still peppering him with bolts and arrows.
Anton threw a fireball at the hunk of flesh, successfully striking it but unable to destroy it. Its intended target stopped his chant and furiously began chanting another spell. A wall of blue magic caught the ball of flesh mid-air. It writhed and twisted, the worms began to grow over the shield but couldn’t reach its target. At least that’s what the mage thought.
The flesh boil erupted a single worm protrusion, striking a nearby Mage in the chest. He screamed in his death throes as bones snapped and reformed, his exposed skin began to take on the same purple hue as Caiden. He gripped his staff tight, tight enough to break his hand, and began chanting something in a truly alien tongue.
Anton threw a Fire Lance at the corrupted Principle Mage’s head and another at the flesh boil. The corrupted mages head exploded and the boil exploded too. With a final twitch, the man fell down dead. The other Principle Mages quickly unleashed their magic again upon the body of their fallen comrade, burning what remained to ash.
“He’s doing it again.” Verona’s body glowed bright as she coiled the liquefied blood around her hands.
Another barrage of Lightning struck Caiden, now only a few meters away from the panicking Royal army, from above but he simply ignored the damage and pain. He clawed into his other arm and began to rip another boil free. The other arm had completely healed and was ripe for another. A brave soldier ran forward, a blue Chelium tipped halberd in his hands, and drove it into Caiden’s chest. Caiden stopped clawing at his arm. The soldier pushed the halberd deeper but it had no effect. Caiden grabbed the Halberd and drove it deeper, so he could reach the soldier and snapped him up in one hand. The soldier desperately pounded at his hand but to no avail. Caiden grunted lightly and crushed the soldier until his head popped off before dropping him lifelessly to the ground. The metal armour had buckled Caiden’s monstrous strength; the soldier’s body was now only a few inches thick and leaked only a little blood onto the ground, most remained on Caiden’s hand. The Royal Army soldiers began to back away from Caiden’s slow but unstoppable charge.
“Charge!” Castor yelled, wielding a long lance. “Strike down that monster in the name of King Leo.”
The Knights cheered and stepped up their pace, a small group peeled away to ensure Leo’s safety who was still retreating on foot alongside Marcus and several Knights.
Anton unleashed another barrage of fire and lightning magic, but Caiden’s regenerative abilities were too great and he was too close to the Royal army to use the fire rings without obliterating almost all of their supporting forces. Verona threw her shards at Caiden’s back. Each dug deep into his hid, cutting free pieces of flesh, one nearly severing his arm but the regeneration was just too quick. Verona squeaked in surprise as the regeneration completely consumed a blood shard. Verona tried to regain control, to send it through his body and rip him apart from the inside but it was hopeless; the red blood simply squirted out, under pressure, from within his body.
Caiden swung with his fist, pummelling soldiers and weapons deep into the ground. Those that resisted his swipes were broken or reduced to a mangled mess of metal and flesh. The soldiers attacked with everything they had but simply couldn’t land a lethal blow, not even stabbing his head had any effect. Verona tried her best to soften the blow but Caiden’s strikes were more than enough to break her shards. More worryingly each attack reduced the control over her magic, the blood began to liquefy and move slower, Verona bristled with annoyance.
“Verona.” Anton created the sphere of black lightning, taking half of his charge. “I need you to protect me.”
“Are you going to throw it?” Verona asked, using her blood to direct Caiden’s strike into the ground. “Can you throw it that far?”
“Not accurately…So I’ll need to get a lot closer.” Anton forced the black lightning in a spear. “And I don’t want to give this to anyone, just in case it makes the situation worse.”
Anton gripped the spear tight and began to run across the open ground towards Caiden. Anton wished that he had a horse, or even a baby Chirok to ride. Every second was torture, watching Caiden tear through the Royal Army like a child playing with leaves. Halfway, with Verona by his side, Castor and the Knights reached Caiden. They ploughed lance after lance into his swollen worm-riddled hide as they continued to ride past. Again it served nothing but to annoy Caiden. He swung a fist back, striking a Knight’s horse in the head and sending it careening into another four screaming horses.
“Peel off!” Castor yelled. The Knights obeyed, though a few attempted a final lance attack.
“Hey!” Anton yelled.
Caiden ignored him. Once he attacked with a barrage of Fire and Lightning Lances Caiden directed his attention to Anton. The soldier’s behind attempted one last attack, dodging the lances swinging over their heads, and retreated with their wounded and dead.
Anton wasn’t confident or brave enough to charge into Caiden’s chest in a mad, suicidal charge. Caiden raised his fists to strike Anton into the dirt but Verona directed her blood shards into his face. His worm-riddled eyes focused on the crystallised blood just before they struck his face. It wasn’t a lethal blow but enough to unsteady Caiden. Anton grit his teeth and threw the spear with everything he had. The Marble spear struck and dug into Caiden’s chest, disintegrating into tiny white cubes and falling away. Caiden’s skin began to turn white, just like the Goblins and Ghlotsm. Unlike those Anton felt rebellion through the thought tether. It fought against him even as something tried to consume Caiden, his thoughts of rebellion were slowly fading away, being eaten away by a black lightning.
“You did it.” Someone said, someone from the Royal Army.
The tether screamed in pain. Caiden dug his hand into his chest and ripped the spear tip free from his body, throwing it as far away as he could. The small lump continued to transform and turn white but unlike the fleshy boils this piece quickly died and fell limp. He felt nothing from the fragment.
Whatever the transformation had done to Caiden it had weakened him considerably. He staggered while holding one hand over his chest. The worms struggled to restore the wound, the Marble Spear’s infection had taken something more from him than just a hunk of flesh.
Verona threw more shards into Caiden, if nothing more than to immobilise as Anton created another Marble Spear. The wound didn’t reveal anything that looked like a weakness but Anton wanted to try again. The soldiers released another barrage of arrows into Caiden’s back as Anton completed his next Marble Spear. This was far longer than before, the blade wider while taking every ounce of charge in his tail. Caiden’s worm-riddled eyes snapped towards him, though his mind was consumed he understood a threat. He didn’t run but instead charged at Anton, intent on wiping him out in one hit.
Again Verona threw up blood shards to stop him, erupting from the ground to embed deep into his chest. Caiden stopped for a few brief seconds to swat them away, the wounds quickly healed but left his body exposed. Anton swung the long spear, the impossibly sharp edge cleanly cutting through Caiden’s head. The body shuddered as the white marks began to grow from every cut, quickly covering his face. Again Anton felt something through the tether, this time it was a panicked rage rather than simple anger.
“Get back!” Anton yelled.
The Royal Army obeyed as Caiden struggled with the corruption overcoming his face.
“Time for you to go.” Anton created a small but powerful fire ring underneath Caiden.
Anton’s Lightning Crows harassed the struggling creature even as he ripped out huge pieces of his corrupted flesh from his skull. Even the bone had begun to transform as the grass began to twist and smoulder before a column of flame consumed Caiden. When then flames receded Caiden remained, alive but his charred husk struggled to move. The worms pushed their way through his charred flesh with far less enthusiasm than before. Anton created another fire ring, then another and another. After five the ground was almost molten and yet Caiden struggled up. The charred skull looked up at Anton, nothing but sunken charred pits looked back at him. A bony, charred arm pointed towards Anton. Anton threw a large Octahedron Lightning bomb at his head. Caiden disintegrated in a flash of lightning.
“Fuck.” Anton doubled over as his tail stung with a new charge. Almost every part of his tail tingled, perhaps a few scales just at the base weren’t glowing.
A silence filled the air. No one was willing to speak a word, to break the illusion that the monster was finally gone. Verona tapped Anton’s side, he returned it to let her know he was fine.
“Is it dead?” Someone asked as Verona tried her best to lift him up.
“Should be.” Anton coughed. “Should be.”
Henri pushed his way through the soldiers to the front. He looked at the molten crater, holding his hand in front of his face to deflect the heat.
“Thank you.” Henri bowed. “I don’t know if we would have been able to defeat that…Thing.”
“It’s alright.” Anton pulled himself up but kept Verona’s support. “I trust that you’ll be joining King Leo now.” Anton summoned a small fireball. “I still have some magic in me.”
“We will.” Henri’s eyes snapped to Castor, leading a group of Knights towards them. He, like everyone else, had not said a word about Verona or her power. He was keeping an eye on her but he didn’t look ready to object to her presence. To keep the peace she might need to return to The Shadow Isles soon.
“Are you alright?” Castor asked. “We’ll take you back to Poisier for treatment, Grand Mage Anton.”
“Not if you’re going to sling me over the back of your horse.” Anton smiled. “Like a dead animal. I…I don’t know if I can ride properly right now.”
“Let’s just head back for now.” Verona patted his chest. “You can rest for a little bit, regain your strength.”
Anton silently agreed and allowed Verona to carry him back.