Mori watched as the columns of sand and fire rose into the air in front of the fortress, rising over a hundred feet into the air. “That’s a big gun,” she remarked to VII, “What did Athy do to get that much bang?”
VII turned from her book-- the same revenge novel Mori managed to finish in two days-- and looked at the explosion, “Oh, we just use something other than gunpowder. I forgot what it was specifically, but it explodes a lot better than gunpowder. She also has those mana and echo-filled shells, but we’re saving those for the Hive proper.” She stood and walked over to the window. “When are you going to send your army in?”
Mori appraised the column of Clockwork armor, humming, “I don’t think I will for this battle. I think it’s best we keep our cards close to our chest, or else the Forgeheart will be able to counter the Talonecs,” she replied, leaning against the wall, “Do you know where Fara is?”
VII grinned, pointing at the door of their little commanders’ room, “Sleeping. Though, I doubt she still is with all the noise.” Mori smiled and turned back to the window. When Fara and ATHENA pitched the idea of putting the Kharon on the front of the inner spire of the keep, Mori was slightly suspicious. Not only would a number of changes need to be made to the internal portion of the skiff, but it would mean that they could not use the Kharon once it was grafted onto ATHENA’s body.
Mori’s worries were mollified by the fact that, once they left Granulous, they could not use the Kharon for its original purpose. There was little sand in the Rift, according to VII, and what little there was did not surround anything of importance. Mori was fine with the attachment of the Kharon to ATHENA’s body in the end, which let them connect the skiff to the dynamo room. The three of them had plenty of amenities in the skiff, though Mori rarely needed them and VII only used them for comfort.
After a moment, Mori heard the cannons roar once more, lighting up the, to her, bright night. She noticed beams of light fly from the husks of Clockwork armor, meeting the advancing forces but not being able to blunt their charge much. The shells that landed at that moment, however, were a different story. Holes appeared in the sand and the rushing Clockworks had to swerve around them to continue on their way. Some managed it. Others did not.
ATHENA was making good progress towards the battlefield, still firing her cannons at a regular interval. Mori tore her eye-flames from the battle on the ground and watched the dragons dance with the airships a thousand feet above the ground. Judging by the number of other torn-up airships thrown about, the Forgeheart wanted the dragons dead badly. Nevertheless, Mori could tell that the dragons held the advantage. Pink strands of mana circled their battle, cutting into the airships. Three copies of a single dragon plunged into the formation of airships and tore armor from their hulls. At the same time, a black dragon flapped its wings, sending clouds of black mist into the formation. Everything the mist touched seemed to rust, despite the fact that Clocksteel did not rust.
In the midst of the dragons, Mori noticed a singular flying silhouette taking cover behind the pink dragon. “Huh. Tisi’s helping the dragons,” she muttered. VII glanced over to the battlefield, then walked back to her desk. She picked up her book and sat down, ignoring the flashing lights in the night beyond, “Any reason why you’re ignoring the battle out there? You can read the book later, but something like this won’t come again for a while at least.”
VII shrugged, not turning from her book, “I’ve had enough of war, Mori. More than enough, actually. Another battle isn’t too interesting to me.” She did not elaborate, but Mori understood VII’s meaning. She thought it was a fair point, but still thought that the battle was more interesting than the revenge novel, especially after multiple readings of it.
As Mori deliberated, she felt something shift in the air beside her. As she expected, Aerolat condensed an inch above the ground, looking at her with an annoyed expression, “Judging by that pout, the dragons are pestering you about something?” Mori laughed, laughing harder as he nodded, “Alright, what do you need, Aerolat?”
“They want to fight out there,” he sighed, “And they have been bugging me to ask you and they finally wore me down.” He landed onto the floor and shook his head, “They are too eager, in my opinion. The others need the practice, not to mention that we would be tipping our hand a bit too much.”
Mori idly nodded as she thought, “You’ve got it in one, there… I want to have a few cards close to our chests, but I also don’t want to keep them while they want to fight… No, keeping cards hidden is better than indulging them. Tell them that I’m sorry, but they have to stay in.”
Aerolat nodded, evaporating into invisible mist once more. “Are you sure that’s alright? They might get huffy about it,” VII remarked. Mori turned to her and saw that she put the book to the side for the time being, focusing on Mori. “I mean, you made the right call in terms of tactics, but they might not see it that way. Might. They’re smart, but they’ve been cooped up for so long that just seeing something interesting happening out there might be too enticing.”
Mori shook her head, “No, they’re good children, VII. They won’t ignore it when I say that they have to stay in. I trust them.”
“I wasn’t saying otherwise,” VII replied, raising her hands, “But it’s always a good idea to plan for the worst in everything, Mori. In my experience, it could save your life. When applied to more pressing scenarios.”
Mori glanced at VII, then turned back to the battle lighting up the night, “There are some things you have to put your faith into, VII. Family is one of them. Be it your children, parents, or siblings.” VII gave Mori a hard look for a moment, then turned back to the window, looking out into the night. Mori followed suit, watching as the battle raged on.
The story has been illicitly taken; should you find it on Amazon, report the infringement.
*=====*
“So… you want to go down there?” Caleb offered, gesturing towards the field of broken husks littering the ground. He watched as Mark pursed his lips, really debating the idea, “Wait, that was supposed to be sarcastic. Please don’t actually go down there.”
“Agreed,” another man, a chimeric, added, “I don’t trust those damn undead. Nearly fuckin’ killed my company’s leader at that big meeting. She had to stay in her cot for two damn days after that. Worst part is, she’s got nearly bullet proof and magic proof skin. Those things should’ve been busted to shit before they so much as put a bruise on her.”
Another soldier, a human woman, snickered at the man, “Sounds like you’re worrying about your dear commander,” she laughed, “From what I heard, she was one of the idiots who wanted to arrest those undead. What did you expect to happen? For them to just let you arrest them? Without their precious mistress by their side?”
“It sounds like you know a lot about them,” Caleb commented as Mark continued to appear to contemplate his chances, “Are you close to them or something?”
The woman smiled, shaking her head, “Not really. It’s more like this: I’ve got a friend who’s sleeping with this lizardman girl-- she’s barely got a scale on her, but that’s beside the point-- who once fought against that lich in Green Oasis. According to her, those undead are loyal to the point of suicide for that lich. Hearsay, sure, but I believe it. They’ve got that undead feeling to them, and you don’t just send undead out into the desert without someone controlling them. Unless they were loyal.”
“That’s bullshit and you know it,” the man growled, “If that lich lady were actually able to make her undead loyal to her, then she might as well be a fucking angel. That’s sacrilegious at best and an insult to the gods and their angels at worst.”
Before the woman could reply, Mark nodded to himself, and holstered his gun. He then took a bundle of rope and a stake from his pouch. Caleb could tell what he was about to do, but did not stop Mark, watching as he, with a burst of some mana, buried the stake into the sandstone wall and threw the bundle of rope over the side, “Is this the best idea?” Caleb asked as Mark began to descend, “You could get yourself killed doing this, man.”
Mark paused for a moment, then continued down, “I’m not exactly afraid of death at this point.” Caleb wanted to point out that Eva would prefer her boyfriend alive rather than dead, but she had been a touchy subject with Mark over the previous weeks, so he refrained. As Mark descended, Caleb shook his head, tugged the stake to make sure it was in tight, and holstered his rifle as well.
As soon as the rope slackened, Caleb jumped over the side and began to slide down the length of the rope, going fast enough to give him friction burns through his clothing. He soon landed, ignoring the curses and protests of the two on the wall above them, and followed behind Mark. The man in question turned around to give him a questioning glance, “Friends do stupid shit for each other, Mark. We’re friends, so I do stupid shit for you. Like running into a battlefield with you. Any reason why you’re down here, by the way?”
A low whine came from somewhere ahead of them, within the field shattered Clockwork armor. Another whine followed, then a third, then a chorus of similar sounds. Light shined from the front of the field, giving them enough sight to see easily, “Because I’m pretty sure that Eva’s over there,” Mark replied, pointing at the massive thing rolling towards them and shooting shells at the Clockworks, “And I want to see her. If that means I fight a bit, then so be it.”
Caleb sighed, wondering how such a devoted man was also on board for polyamory as a concept. He shelved the thoughts, and rushed forward, weaving around the tanks and tractors and carriages until they found the source of the light. Hiding behind cover were small groups of the weird knight-like undead that definitely felt like such. They worked in oddly hypnotic cooperation, pairs firing and taking cover together and doing the opposite of other pairs, which put constant gunfire, or beam fire, out into the field.
The undead all glanced at them, some after firing and some as soon as they appeared, but they soon ignored them, going back to their task of battle. Mark ran up beside one pair of undead with Caleb en tow, waiting for them to kneel down before opening fire into the constantly-lit field. Caleb did the same.
Another curious glance came from the undead, but a pair kneeled down as if to add them to their ranks. Mark and Caleb fired into the night, flinching at every shot from the cannon-armed Clockworks ahead, and kneeled down when they each ran out of ammunition. The undead picked up where they left off, unloading shots into the night.
The cycle repeated over and over. By the time Caleb was almost out of bullets to blindly fire, yet another explosion erupted from the shattered remnants of the Clockwork armor, and the undead charged, bayonets raised. Caleb blinked in surprise, turning to Mark, who was equally confused.
They watched as the undead ran, sometimes evaporating into shadows, with blank stares. Then, something moved in the darkness. Caleb raised his gun, only to see the pale visage of a winged woman, holding one of the odd beam guns, “Oh, I remember you two. You’re Eva’s, aren’t you? Well, I don’t know if you can go over there now, but she should be on the Cyst.”
The woman, who Caleb was sure was Mae, walked away. He and Mark glanced at each other, then shrugged, turning back towards the fortress, only to be met with a wholly unfamiliar, but recognizable, visage. Walking across the sand, stood an armored figure. Except, she was not normal. The metal of her armor twisted and seemed to writhe on her body as she walked. Her helmet was something between a knight’s and a king’s crown, but the eye-flames were still quite recognizable. Caleb was so distracted with the lich that he almost missed the relatively normal woman walking beside her, but her blue skin and green nails were not that interesting in comparison to the lich.
In that moment, however, the woman and lich noticed them, “Oh, so you two were the ones brave enough to fight with my Talonecs,” Mori remarked, laughing a bit, “Well, either way, if you’re coming this way, you’re looking for a way back into the fortress. Come on, follow me,” she said as she walked away. Caleb gave a questioning glance at the woman-- a different person from Fara, he could tell-- who shrugged and walked along. Caleb and Mark followed behind. Caleb had a suspicion that Mark did not want trouble with the lich who, via polyamory, was his mother in law, but Caleb decided that he could tease Mark about it another time.
Soon enough, they reached the gate. Caleb watched as the lich stood tall, and crossed her arms, “My name is Mori Athanatos, and I’ve come to rejoin the battle against the Forgeheart! Open the gate!”