Mildrith groaned not wanting to open her eyes. Her head hurt and whoever was screaming at her only made it worse. Her discomfort grew to new heights when she was forced from her slumber with a firm slap to the face.
She sputtered in surprise at seeing Alda, her hair and face drenched in sweat. “Wa, what’s going on? And how did I get here?”
Alda didn't bother answering and pulled Mildrith to her feet. “It's time to get out of here! You tried your best, but Brand is a lost cause.”
Mildrith’s eyes widened as she remembered the last few minutes, or was it hours, she couldn't tell. Osmund had attacked her. Actually, it felt more like he was trying to keep her out of the way and did a mighty fine job. It was to be expected of a Hall graduate not to mention a noble soldier who'd fought wars on the King's Road.
The walls of the decrepit house they were in shook as sounds of battle echoed in the distance. Mildrith turned away from Alda stepping through the hole she'd made with her body, not the least bit cowed. She needed to find Brand. Without her mana and protection, he was as good as dead. The mage craft he used to defend against magic but would be useless if he was crushed by one of Osmond's boulders.
Alda sped in front of Mildrith and dropped to her knees and retched. She'd pushed herself too far but her eyes held steel and she spoke, spitting away filth as she did. “We need to hide. Magni’s Thunderers are out there.”
Mildrith’s burning need to find Brand froze like a glacier. She stepped back into the building’s broken frame knowing full well it would not protect her from the berserkers. If one of them tapped into that divine power, she could only hope they attack each other instead of setting eyes on those around them.
Another explosion of sound rippled through the building causing both women to jump in fear. The sounds Mildrith had assumed to be battle could now clearly be heard as the whaling of thunderclaps. The midday sun quickly dimmed as dark clouds heralded Magni’s war priest gathered in the sky.
“Are you ok?” Garland said revealing his presence from a darkened corner in the room.
Mildrith turned, staring daggers at her friend whose concern only stoked her ire. She conjured blades around him as a cage that would slice the mage to ribbons if she moved more than a few inches.
“You better tell me what's going on right now,” she demanded. “Since when do you work for Osmund, or is it Aldhelm?”
Garland’s eyes dipped to the floor as he spoke. “It's Aldhelm, but Mildrith, do you really think I had a choice? He's named. People like us can't say no.”
Mildrith stomped forward, pointing a finger in Garland’s face. “You could have chosen to tell me. I could have talked Aldhelm out of doing this.”
“It might not be that simple,” Alda said in a sheepish voice. “Brand had an idea of why he's being hunted.” An embarrassed blush came to her cheeks as she spoke a bit defensively. “Some of it makes sense, but most of it is utterly ridiculous. I mean your brother and sister.”
“Just spit it out!” Mildrith shouted in a whisper, as if that would stop a thunderer from wipping them out and probably without even noticing.
Alda swallowed deeply before speaking. She told Mildrith of what Brand had discovered about Aldhelm's Valkyries. In a somber tone, she added how it made no sense to pay a fortune to discredit one man over what amounted to a brief moment of embarrassment. It could be that Osmund came to him for help, that he was the one that wanted Brand stripped of his magic. But Aldhelm was even less likely offer gold for a friend’s request.
Mildrith, of course, believed none of it, not until she saw Garland’s expression. His face grew more panicked as Alda went on slowly giving truth to the lie she must have been speaking. He even stepped back cutting himself on the blades at his back but was too alarmed by Alda puzzling out the truth to care.
“And why are the thunderers here?” Alda continued. “They should be far away killing beast kinfar beyond vellian boders.”
Mildrith, inches away from hysteria, pressed a blade against Garland’s throat drawing a thin line of blood. “You're going to answer truthfully, or I swear on Modi to carve you up.”
The ritual needed to call on the oath keeper god was not completed, but Mildrith’s voice held a promise of pain that loosened Garland’s words.
“Aldhelm called the thunderers.” He paused for a moment but continued when Mildrith dug her blade deeper into his throat. “They werent meant for Brand. They’re after that mutt of his.”
“Tanya?” Mildrith asked with bated breath. “You sent the thunderers after my sister,” Mildrith said now more as a statement of fact.
“Not me. Aldhelm doesn't want her in his family. I’m just here if she puts up too much of a fight or if someone needed healing.”
Alda sped up to Garland knocking the blades around him away in a flurry of motion and lifted him off the ground by his neck. “And that makes it just fine to you? Any named piece of shit can order you around like they’re nothing between your ears as long as you’re only helping assassins!”
“What the hells would you know!” Garland shouted as his mana flared to life pushing Alda back. “Both of you have no idea what it's like to be nameless.” He pointed an accusing finger at Mildrith. “Aldhelm may be disturbed, but he protects you! A pretty face like yours would be whored out by now if not for him. The same goes for you, Alda.” A tear rolled down his face as sobs muddled his words. “You’d be fighting in road wars if your family didn't care about you and I’d be there if not for Aldhelm, not Osmund who's my god's damned brother! But I don't have the family focus which means I’m not his brother. It means I’m just worthless. So yes, if they tell me to kill your friend, I’ll do it because you two can’t help me.”
Mildrith’s next words cut through the silence that followed like a knife. “Tanya can help us.”
"And what the fuck is some beats kin going to do for any of us," Osmond spat. "She might as well be nameless herself!"
"But she'd named." Saying to almost sting but Mildrith had no time for grudges or bitter rivalries. If she needed a named noble, Tanya was the only one that might help her. She was the king's daughter after all and the reason the crown went to him at all if the rumors were true.
“There’s no way she survives the night. The second she hears Brand is in the Nulls, she’ll follow. Then the thunderers will find her.”
“Or you tell us everything so we can save Brand and Tanya. She'll purchase your right to magic and if the Earhtbreaker refuses, our father can force their hand.”
Garland took a long minute to decide every second of which was torture to Mildrith. With relief, he finally faced her eying the jewels in her hair. “You're not going to like what I have to say.”
****
Brand surged to the side as a large boulder struck the ground right where he would have been. He tried to redouble his pace and cursed as he found no mana within his body to throttle. With his inner gates closed, he had no pool to contain his power. He had seconds before becoming again, so he grabbed another beast core and drained it.
“There goes another 20 gold.”
A strange rumbling sound alerted him to a wave of dirt rushing his way. Every few feet, a face formed in the river of soil moaning as if in pain. To avoid being buried, he sky-stepped, but the wave followed him upwards. It turned into a misshapen golem and forced Brand higher as it reached for him.
As soon as Brand cleared the rickety buildings he used for cover, a rocky fist slammed into his face. He was sent spinning across several rooftops seeming to strike the hardest part of every building before coming to a stop.
Brand coughed and gagged. He'd breathed some of the blood pooling in his mouth and swallowed one of the two teeth knocked loose from the blow. He turned and spat blood along with the remaining tooth.
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If that was the only injury, he felt lucky. Creating an aura to defend against the last attack used up too much mana. By the time he landed in a heap, he was once again mundane and so weak falling from this height would surely kill him.
Reaching into a pocket, Brand did not have the strength to even curse. He drained another beast core, then a second one pouring all its power into healing his injuries the slightest bit. Luckily, he’d broken no bones so he could continue to run towards the Dark Forest, hopefully not dying on the way.
Regardless of if he could heal himself completely, which he couldn't, Brand could not think of a way out of his situation. Alda ran off moments after Mildrith plummeted from the sky. He didn't blame her, but could really use the help right about now.
Trying to fight Osmund alone proved to be suicide. He employed stones of several sizes, some fist-shaped and some pointed like spears. With mana imbued within, they were harder than steel and flew faster than crossbow bolts making fighting airborne a painful lesson in futility. If Brand ducked behind cover, Osmund's golem would chase him out of it. This cycle of finding cover and being chased from it left Brand in a bloody mess and down a third of his beast cores.
The building he was on suddenly lurched and turned upwards as the land it was on began to flip. In seconds, Brand was upside down and about to be crushed by tons of dirt and debris. He ran for his life just barely saving himself by jumping the last few feet before being crushed. Unfortunately, as soon as he was clear, a stone spike stabbed into his stomach. His Ironsides spell once again saved his life, only allowing the spike to dig about an inch into his flesh.
Osmund had a knack for attacking only when he knew he’d land the hit. The bastard was clever even if his mage craft was nonexistent. He used no runes or spell circles. All he fought with was his focus and a large pool of mana which was all he seemed to need.
“You jotnar are made of tough stuff,” Osmund said from on top of his floating slab of stone surrounded by several chunks of earth flying around him.
“I'm not a fucking jötunn!” Brand shouted then doubled over in pain.
“Well, I don't know what you are exactly, but you're still not human. Now stop running and I’ll end this quickly.”
Osmund’s golem appeared once again with a thunderous boom. Then the clouds began darkening and Brand saw that the thunder came from lighting strikes that increased with every second. There was another sound in the distance, one that also gained the attention of Osmund and was very familiar to Brand.
Brand smiled as he felt the ground rumble to a familiar rhythm. From a higher point of view, Osmund could see what was coming for him. The golem charged in its direction and took on a more solidified state than before to battle with all its strength; not that it would matter.
A massive lion smashed through a building and onto the golem biting down on its neck. At the center was Tanya growling in righteous fury. She tore the golem to pieces with ease as if it was only made of sand then set her gaze on Brand. She smiled briefly but seeing his blood-drenched form brought rage back to her features.
Osmund began floating away, but his platform could not outrun Tanya. She swiped at him destroying his perch sending him hurtling to the ground. The mage managed to stop his fall with a cantrip but was too slow to avoid Tanya.
Right as Leo was about to bite down on the screaming mage, something flew through the air striking its midsection. The blow sent the massive lion barreling through several buildings as if it were a kitten kicked by a cruel child.
“Tanya!” Brand bellowed.
He ran towards her but was stopped when Osmund’s golem reformed with the noble riding on its shoulders. Brand reached into the bag on his back taking out three beast cores, stuffing one in his mouth, and draining the rest. He was sick to death of this noble being alive. Tanya needed help and he would not allow him to get in his way.
Brand sky-stepped to avoid the golem’s kick. He made his way up to its face and thrust his arm out crackling with red energy. “Let’s see you survive this asshole! Arc Blast!”
The air seemed to shake as an explosion escaped Brand’s hands. The blast tore through the golem and everything around it like a dragon’s roar. Worse than the destruction was the booming echoing all the way beyond Mur and into Vellia. The red flash that accompanied the spell was blinding as if looking into the sun forcing Brand to close his eyes.
He’d never used so much mana in the spell. Its power was unexpected and far too much to contain. The mana shields protecting Brand from his own attack shattered releasing a portion of the spell back in his direction slamming into him like a house-sized hammer just before his mana ran dry.
As mundane as a newborn, Brand sailed farther from Tanya thanks to his faulty magic. But there was no time to worry about her or the broken state he was in. With a quickly fading consciousness, he drained the beast core in his mouth filling his body with lifesaving mana before crashing into the ground in a roll, losing his bag of cores in the process.
Brand heard snapping his legs breaking more than felt it. His mind was so clouded he didn’t feel the pain of his injuries. He fought with himself to stay awake. Tanya was in trouble. He was in trouble, and there was no one coming to help.
****
Osmund saw the jötunn light up with red energy. In that split second, he dove into the center of his golem and hardened the soil around him. Brand had been chased by the giant for several minutes and never once did he charge in headfirst. Osmund’s experience from fighting in Vidar’s never-ending wars warned him something devastating was about to descend onto the battlefield.
His worries were confirmed when the golem shattered around him. All but the layer used to defend himself seemed to evaporate as the most violent explosion of mana he'd ever witnessed washed over him. Despite directing all his power towards holding his protective shell, cracks formed as it struck the ground and bounced against anything in its way.
Osmund held his mouth shut trying not to empty his stomach when he came to an abrupt stop. He immediately broke from his earthy sphere of protection and failed to keep his breakfast where it belonged. After the disgusting episode passed, he viewed his surroundings with astonishment.
Much of the area had been completely cleared of all structures. There was no rubble from the old buildings to indicate they ever stood. Even the weeds that decorated the Null streets were nowhere to be seen.
“Tell me mage,” said a deep male voice from behind Osmund. By the tone, it was clear being a mage was some kind of insult. “What kind of spell was that?”
Osmand turned to see several muscular men and women in garb he immediately recognized. His body shuddered in fear and excitement. These were the thunderes, Magni's war priest and the bulwark against beast kin, Jotnar and fel beast from beyond the rifts.
A thunderer walked from Osmond's spherical slap of mana-infused stone leaving a handprint on its surface. The woman stopped the boulder with a single hand showing just how powerful she was.
Each thunderer sported brightly dyed red hair and the runic symbols for lightning tattooed across their bodies and faces in an order that was obviously nonsensical to one even as magically ignorant as Osmond. They each hefted hammers. Some were as large as the men and women nonchalantly holding them without trouble. Others mirrored Mjolnir with their short handles and large heads.
More striking than the weapons they used was their apparel. Some only wore furs across bulging unprotected muscles. Others wore loose leather and chainmail each of a different design making the warriors look like a mismatched group of bandits. The shirtless ones looked even more intimidating with their sculpted physiques that far exceeded what most cultivators could tone.
“Looks like you broke him,” the woman said after Osmund held his tongue hostage for too long. She walked with confidence, only wearing a tightly wrapped cloth around her breast and a small hammer hanging on her belt. “There anything in that head of yours, Slinger?”
“Wa, what?” Osmund mumbled.
The thunderer woman surged at Osmund as a flash of white lightning struck the ground and danced around everyone present. She reappeared so close to Osmond their noses almost touched. “Well, what do you know, spell slinger?”
Osmund remained speechless. He was too shocked by the display of power to think straight causing the thunderer to frown.
She grabbed his neck faster than he could see and squeezed until he couldn't breathe. “I asked you a question, little spell slinger.”
She forced Osmund to his knees with such force his legs might as well have not been there. He clawed at her forearm but couldn't harm her skin in the least. Finally, he decided to defend himself in earnest.
Two stone spikes shot from the ground both pointed at the thunderer. She looked at them appraisingly with a smirk at the corner of her lips but did not release her grip. To Osmund’s surprise, when he closed his fist, the spikes did not miss. They burst from the woman’s chest and somehow turned her smirk into a gleeful smile.
The woman released Osmund and laughed as if there wasn't a gaping hole in each of her lungs. “Haha! The slinger has teeth!” Her demeanor turned friendly as she patted him on the shoulder. “You wouldn't believe how many spell slingers do nothing until they croak.”
“Thank you, Thunderer,” Osmund said between coughs. “And about that spell, I’ve never seen anything like it.” As Osmund spoke, he couldn't help but eye the spikes still jetting from the thunderer’s breast. It was now a safe bet that those without armor were lightning elementals and far beyond his ability to harm. “I bet that jötunn bastard can't do it again though.”
“I got a good look at that man and he’s not a jötunn, he's Jabari,” the woman said. “One so pure-blooded is rarely seen since Ragnarök, but they are human, so we won't be helping you kill him.”
“No human is born looking like that,” Osmund argued.
“Not anymore, their homeland was still in Midgard his kind were common enough. Just be sure to keep out of our way so we can deal with the little beasty. I hate killing our own kind when I’m by accident.”
“Enough of your dawdling, Thora. We should kill the beast before she summons a heathen god,” said a man that looked to be the oldest thunderer in the group and the band's leader. With a stern look, he made it clear the time for action was now.
Thora huffed then plucked the stone spikes from her chest giving no signs of pain as she did. They left holes in her body, each cracked with the lightning that made up most of her form and closed within a few seconds. She and her fellow cultist all looked to the path of broken buildings Tanya had been thrown through. At the end of the long path of destruction, something stirred. The snapping of wood and claws grinding into stone was heard before a roar echoed.
Thora smiled. “Now let’s go hunt a lion!”