“W-what others?” Mark stammered, his gaze fixating on the sword tip held just beneath his chin by the hooded figure.
“The three whose gear you stole!” the woman screamed.
Sharp pain seared across Mark’s neck as he felt the sword break through his skin. “I don’t know!” he groaned, his voice choking as he backed his head as far back into the ground as he could. “I found two bodies in a cavern, just a couple of days ago. B-but they were already dead! I swear!”
“Helena, we don’t have time for this!” another figure urged, prompting the woman to pull her blade away from Mark’s neck.
Kneeling next to the bulwark’s ledge, he saw a man inching away slowly. “Oh, gods,” the man whispered. “The Ashen King’s down there…”
With Helena’s back turned to him, Mark got up and froze the moment he glanced at the storm below. Within the raging sands, two bright, cobalt eyes stared back at him, irradiating the same vicious malice that he had felt before.
“Shit, he’s spotted us…” she muttered as the cloaked apparition raised a hand.
Three obsidian whirlwinds rose up in front of the Ashen King. And as the fine sand morphed to take on the shapes of huge, wolf-like creatures, Mark read the crimson letters floating next to them.
Lesser Blacksand Wraith (Level 5).
The wraiths’ bodies ebbed and flowed as they instantly bolted towards the cliff, dispersing into blackened clouds that flew up the bulwark, straight at them.
“What’re you doing?!” the woman yelled, pushing Mark away from the edge and moving in front of him. “Do you have a death wish or something? Get back and stay behind us!”
Dumbfounded, he nodded and retreated several steps. Not even facing him anymore, Helena then turned towards the ledge as the spine of her blade began to redden.
Shooting up the precipice, the three clouds swirled around the man, surrounding him as they regained their lupine form. The one behind him pounced, but the man dodged and aimed his arm at the wraith. A blast of air scattered the sand beast as the other two lunged at him.
At the last second, the hooded man blasted off the ground, causing the wraiths to crash into one another. Landing next to Mark and Helena, the man looked on as all three reformed mere moments later at the bulwark’s edge. The wraiths stared them down, the sound of grating sand filling the air whenever they moved.
“Cassius, we have to run,” Helena whispered as they all stepped back. “You can’t do anything against them, and I don’t know if I can take them all out.”
“I know,” he said, dust swirling around him as he launched himself into the air again. “I’ll hold them off! You go and–”
His words trailed off as an obsidian lance pierced through him, knocking him out of the sky. Tumbling to the ground, the man’s body came to a halt between them and the wraiths.
“Cassius?” Helena mumbled, stumbling a step forward while Mark watched how a pair of cobalt eyes rose above the bulwark’s edge. “No!” she screamed as she then burst into a sprint towards the motionless man. But the woman came to an immediate stop once the Ashen King threw another sand lance into the ground before her feet. However, before she could do anything else, the three wraiths descended upon Cassius.
A short, garbled shriek ripped through the sandstorm’s ceaseless howl as the sand beasts tore the man to shreds beneath their master’s frigid gaze. And as he drifted towards the ledge, the Ashen King collided against a shimmering wall of orange light which blew him back.
Seeing this, Mark fought through the dread and ran next to Helena, grabbing her by the arm. “Come on!” he begged, trying to pull her away. But the woman didn’t budge. “Unless you want his sacrifice to be for nothing, we need to go! Please!”
His words finally seemed to register as Helena turned to follow him into a field of dried saplings. Mark glanced back, only to see the wraiths rapidly gaining on them. Their meager head start had all but disappeared as the sand beasts’ grating warble became louder and louder.
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But just as Mark began to picture the wraiths’ teeth sinking into him, Helena wrenched her arm away from him and stopped. She spun around, tears streaming down her face as she raised her hands and screamed.
“Aernor take you, you damned monsters!”
Searing heat erupted from her palms as Helena unleashed a wave of blue flames in front of her, forcing Mark to squint. The wraiths’ unholy shrieks faded within moments as the infernal torrent washed over the field, setting the dead trees aflame.
Seconds later, through tear-filled eyes and stifling smoke, Mark beheld the devastation. He then froze as his gaze happened upon the three glass statues cowering in front of Helena, their obsidian likeness capturing the sand beasts’ final moments.
And amid the bright, blue flames, his savior collapsed.
----------------------------------------
Mark could still see the blue light coming from the field burning in the distance, underneath the evening sky. He groaned and leaned his back against the outcrop that served as the basis for their shelter. On the other side of a crackling campfire, laid Helena, her freckled cheeks illuminated by the dancing flames between them.
After Mark had pulled her away from the conflagration, he had searched for a place where they could set up camp. But apart from the faint outline of a mountain range far to the south of them, he couldn’t see anything within the arid fields atop the bulwark. So, using one of his tarps as a makeshift stretcher, he had managed to drag her all the way here, next to a stony outcrop.
A warm gust brushed past his face, staving off the twilight’s rising cold, as Mark threw another stick into the fire. Compared to the desert, the temperatures here had started to drop a lot faster the moment the sun had begun to set.
He glanced at Helena as she stirred, still unconscious after having used that ability of hers. Parting a stray lock of orange hair out of her face, his eyes fell upon her singed, blistered hands. They were still alive, thanks to her.
However, Mark had never seen burns as bad as that before. Not even when one of the novice prep cooks had carelessly picked up a searing baking stone had the burns been that severe. For now, all he could do was hope that the cool, damp blanket he had placed around Helena’s hands would at least help soothe her pain.
Mark closed his lids as the scene of Cassius being torn limb from limb flashed before him, causing his eyes to jerk wide open. He shuddered, pulling his blanket closer.
Aernor had technically killed him over and over back in that mindscape of his. And one could even make the argument that he had already been dead. But he had never seen someone else die right before his eyes.
And speaking of Aernor, Helena had yelled out the titan’s name right before incinerating those wraiths. Did she also draw her powers from him? Or did this world consider him as evil personified?
Whatever the case, Mark hoped that she would wake up soon. He had no idea where to go and, more importantly, his rations wouldn’t last forever. Shuddering, he rubbed his arms to try and fight the cold. He then fed the fire a couple more logs when, suddenly, he felt a faint, distant tremor.
Quietly, he got up and grabbed his axe and short sword. Mark sat there listening and, for a while, he could only hear the crackling of the fire behind him. But he soon felt that same tremor again. And again. The vibrations continued to grow in intensity up until the point where Mark could also hear the steps of whatever was approaching.
Pulse racing, he waited, straining his eyes to see beyond the campfire’s fading circle of light. Like an unnatural heartbeat, the tremors came closer and closer, as a three-legged monstrosity stepped out of the shadows.
Centered around its uneven, circular body, were three spider-like legs. With a crystalline orb embedded into the sphere at its core, the creature reached almost as high as Mark’s waist. The only actual indication that this… thing was alive, and not just some sort of magical construct, was the red sinew visible along the joints of its armored legs.
Thrummer Drone (Level 4).
Mark felt the beads of sweat rolling down his spine as he frowned, picturing the unconscious woman resting behind him. Exhaling slowly, he sheathed his short sword, so he could better grip the axe’s wooden handle. The moment Mark steeled his resolve, he felt Aernor’s power well inside him, setting his veins alight with liquid might.
In front of him, the drone remained perfectly still. Until he took a single step.
The thrummer rushed him, slamming one of its legs down. The dried earth cracked, releasing clouds of dust as Mark dodged to the side and swung. The axehead’s blade bit into the creature’s rocky armor, chipping away at it as the thrummer lashed another leg into his side.
Mark staggered back and coughed, pain radiating from his ribs with every breath he took. A low drumming reverberated from deep within the creature as it charged again. He weaved in and out of the thrummer’s range, trying his best to ignore the pain in his side.
The drone’s leg brushed past his side, the mere contact enough to send another wave of agony through Mark’s torso. Gritting his teeth, he grabbed the creature’s leg and pulled, coiling every fiber of his being as he then twisted his entire body.
He heard a wet crunch, followed by a loud thud as the drone’s core crashed against the ground. Black liquid squirted from the stump of the creature’s missing leg as it released a loud thrumming noise. And with a swing of his axe, Mark shattered the crystal orb atop the drone’s core, putting an end to its vibrations.
Clutching his side, Mark took another look at the alien creature. The thing’s raw power had been no laughing matter. A few more blows and the thrummer would have likely crushed his bones to pieces. A soft sigh left Mark’s lips as he headed towards the fire, only for him to come to a sudden stop. He felt more tremors in the distance.
They were growing stronger.