Yelena
As a barrage of claws and fangs descended on the North wall of Yarruk, Yelena brought up her sword and positioned its tip at the eye of the storm.
She thrust out and caught one wolf in its crying eye and ripped through its cranium, throwing it over the wall into the town below, dead. Cynthia’s arrows sang through the air and found their mark between the eyes of two more beats as the first of the brood’s claws reached them. Yelena blocked their strikes with blade and gauntlet, their piercing attacks bouncing off but knocking her back with each bounding assault. Six of them had made it to the wall and flanked them on either side. The warriors pressed their backs against each other and felt their ragged breaths reverberate through each other’s spines.
"Come on then!" yelled Cynthia.
Her taunt was lost in the collective roar that erupted from the creature’s mouths, and her arrow caught one in its knee as Yelana’s sword curved through the air and sliced through the rest of the wolf’s leg. It tumbled down and tripped one of its comapanions who was bounding from behind. Yelena twisted her sword in the air and thrust forward – impaling the creature through its open mouth.
Her luck ran out there. As she kicked off from the creature to dislodge the blade she felt claws rake through the armor at her back. She screamed, and turned to see a set of rabid fangs dripping saliva and blood on her neck. She grabbed the beast just as it shot forward to make the bite that would have killed her, holding its snapping jaws with her hand while her other worked to bring her longsword down on its head.
Too late, even as Cynthia’s arrow impacted another beast and she heard its dying wail, the final creature smashed into her back and she fell face first into one of the wall turrets. She rolled on the ground, tasting blood, and stared into the eyes of both wolves as their gnashing jaws came towards her. On instinct she brought her sword up and held it at both ends, feeling the blade’s tip cut into her gauntlet. Both wolves jaws lurched towards her but were stopped by the cold steel of her blade. Yet still they kept up their attack. They let the blade cut into them and kept her pinned. She couldn’t shake them, but neither could she kill them.
Then she saw four others sail through the air with a feral warcry on their lips. Cynthia screeced as she fired another arrow – sending one wolf crashing to the ground. The others had thrown her to the ground and were about to make their final attack.
"Cynthia!" Yelena roared. She turned her head away from the spittle and black, bloodied bile trailing from the teeth that dominated her sight. Cynthia was pinned to the stone floor of the wall using two tiny daggers to stab at the throat of her assailants. Her screams were shrill, and harsh, and mixed with the roar of the wolves in the night it produced a deafening cacophony. Then Yelena saw one wolf sink its teeth into Cynthia’s shoulder, tearing through her leather guards and receiving a brutal stab through its own neck for its trouble.
Their strength was failing. Yelena knew it. And something else knew it too. As darkness began to creep towards her eyes, and her arms started falling towards her face, something within her started to grow.
Class ability: Searing Strike
GLANCE type: LGHT
DMG: 10 pts (x2 vs VOI)
Activate?
No, she thought against all hope. No.
Still the vision of Cynthia’s shoulder being chewed on by the beasts assailed her mind. The thought became like a siren – calling something deep within her bosom to rise up, and take charge.
Activate?
Unlawfully taken from Royal Road, this story should be reported if seen on Amazon.
The word seared into her brain, like a descending knife cutting the flesh on the inside of her skull. A teasing. A calling.
"Not again," Yelena growled through gritted teeth. "Not again!"
Suddenly both wolves’ eyes went wild as something slice through the air with the speed of a hurricane. Both Yelena’s attackers’ heads left their shoulders, exploding in a haze of crimson that hailed down on her face.
She rose, disoriented, to see arcs of silver cut through the air and the bodies of the wolves. Each silver line tore through their flesh with the ease of a child tearing the legs off an insect. They slumped down without even twitching, and only then did a tall form wielding an unseemly greatsword materialize in front of her.
"Sorry I’m late," Dimedrious huffed. "I had a date with a politician."
Yelena took his furry hand and struggled to her feet, before immediately running to Cynthia and checking her wounded shoulder.
"I’m fine," the Tilonxeel squeaked through pain. "Little bastard just nicked me."
"More than a nick," Dimedrious spat. "That wound needs dressing. Can you stand?"
"It’ll take more than that to kill me," Cynthia replied, smiling at Yelena and gesturing to the felled foes. "Ninety percent headshots, just so you know."
Yelena smirked back despite herself, cleaning the blood from her face and blade. Dimedrious was focused on the forest outside, his canine eyes scanning the foliage.
"They’ve moved," he growled. "Why…"
"Di," Yelena breathed. "They’re Voidspawn – all of them."
The warriors all shared a sharp intake of cold air as they looked at the dead around them and took in the notion. They all bore the mark of possession.
"Why?" Cynthia had to ask. "Why so many? Why here – now?"
At that moment they heard the sounds of melee sing through the air from the South wall where Virtir and her squad were stationed.
"Damnit!" Demedrious yelled. "Both of you, on me. Don’t fall behind."
And as they raced back into the town they left the bodies of the slaughtered wolves where they lay. For a moment, Dimedrious’ gaze focused on the black-bleeding rivers that dripped from their eyes like a grisly tattoo. Then he quickened his pace.
…
The pawns are dead.
The thought rebounds off your head till it aches, till it burns.
The clan is dying.
You watch them being sliced apart by the snake-woman and the devilish cat. You feel their cries of pain as their souls leave their body, just like when those children had perished at the North wall. You had been averse to leave them as a distraction. But the voice knew best. Didn’t it?
So why are you watching your family die?
They are weak, the voice says. They don’t believe, like you do.
There was wisdom in that. Yes. Maybe the family was supposed to die. Maybe you are to be more than just the pack Alpha. You are to become something greater than all of them. You have to.
The voice senses your desire, the growing certainty that you need this.
Do you desire power?
You feel tears stain your cheeks as the females throw themselves forward with their pups to die on the blades of the unnatural hybrid army.
Yes, you say.
And you know in your heart that your course is now irreversible. That the being that is looking through your eyes now has its claws around your limbs and stretches them beyond their limits, beyond anything that makes biological sense.
You are becoming…greater.
…
Virtir slashed through another wolf without much effort, keeping her steel capped boot on his companion that was still thrashing around pathetically. She withdrew her rapier from her felled prey’s torso and quickly thrust the thin silver blade through the trapped wolf’s open jaw. It speared through the back of its head and the creature’s twitching body was still.
"Filthy little beasts," Virtir murmured. She readied herself for the next wave that was waiting on the perimeter of the forest. She spared a look at her squad’s defensive line. Most of the men were holding up well. A few scratches, but nothing they weren’t trained to deal with.
Then her serpent eyes settled on one warrior in particular.
"Tigran!" she shouted to the girl who had delivered them warning of the impending attack. "Have you not a weapon?"
Agathae was grappling with a wolf – hands around its neck, struggling with it in the snow. Suddenly she brought one hand round to its eyeball, and a set of razor sharp claws shot out of her paw. She kept her hand there while the creature spasmed, while her other arm tightened around the beast’s throat. When it stopped moving, she dropped it into the bloodied snow and shot Virtir a dismissive look before assuming her battle stance again.
"You really think I need a weapon?"
Virtir smiled. What they said about her was true – that kitty had claws.
"Push forward!" she called to all of them. "Don’t give them time to lick their wounds!"
The company surged towards the forest. And yet, with each step they took, the beasts slowly retreated back into the darkness of the trees. It was possible they knew they were beaten, but something didn’t sit right with her. The wolves of this region were not mindless, but uncoordinated. The fact they could organize such a two-pronged attack on Yarruck meant something – something they’d have to look into once the battle was over.
Just as her mind recalled the black, tear-shaped scars under the creature's eyes, the earth shook.
And something big pushed passed the trees above them, ripping them from their very roots.
"What…is…that?"