A pungent odor of rotten eggs slithered into Valentin’s nose and pierced his brain. His eyes watered from the unpleasant smell. Not even the scarf he covered his face with could fully defend him from the offensive smoke. Warriors and druids of less robust constitutions gagged and retched on the rancid fumes. Some vomited off the sides of the path. The pulsing heat of the ground cooked and curdled the waste, compounding the displeasure.
Forests and fields grasped by the ruinous hands of the spirit crackled and emitted smoke from trunks made of charcoal and fissures in the ground. Streams steamed their final drops of water showing the scorched pebbles of the streambed.
A cave sat nestled in the bald topography. Thick black smoke billowed from the bellows of its rocky maw in a thick pillar that swirled up to the sky. Powerful gusts carried the choking substance to far reaching places. All that assembled knew the painful, lonely fates of those that had their lungs poisoned by the air.
The warriors and zhrets of Norzyet were already awaiting the arrival of their Strettian allies since daybreak. Small clusters of ice-imbued warriors and zhrets were arranged on various ridges around the fissure. Their weapons and armor were dipped in barrels of water and glistened with frost. It would be Valentin and his deg’s duty to protect the warriors of ice while they assaulted the fire with an incompatible element.
Valentin and his warriors followed Elder Onora and her small contingent of druids towards the position on the western flank of the cave. A deggan of Norzyet, garbed in armor of leathers, watched the approach of the newcomers. He stood in front of an open barrel of water, his hands hovering just above the water.
“Good day, Strettians,” the warrior greeted in the way that a senior might haze their new junior by welcoming them to the worst day of their lives. His mouth was turned downwards in displeasure and his eyes were cold. “My name is Vtorak, Guard Captain of Selvirna. I’ll be the one making sure that none of you melt.”
“Well met, Guard Captain Vtorak,” Elder Onora returned the greeting, undeterred by Vtorak’s inhospitable tone. “We all are counting on your unique blessings from our Mother to deliver us victory.”
“Sure,” Vtorak grunted. “Give us your shields, we will prepare them for you.”
One by one, Valentin’s warriors offered their shields to the Norzyetian’s. They submerged the shields in water. As they were pulled from the water, flecks of frost began to form on the surface. Crystalline patterns spread from these small spots until they merged with each other to create a mismatched mosaic of frost.
Valentin could feel the severe loss of temperature through the thick gloves that he wore. Guain and a handful of others who wore thinner gloves winced from the sharp pain that seeped into their fingers.
“Don’t you dare move from your position in front of us, dear Strettians,” Vtorak chuckled. “Otherwise, this will be the only time you receive our blessings.”
“Form up,” Valentin ordered, ignoring the pointless words leaving Vtorak’s mouth.
Valentin’s warriors would make the front line of the formation. Spears sat balanced unfamiliarly atop their shields. Prepared to replace any that fell in the front line the, warriors of Norzyet assembled their own line a few paces behind them.
Now, broke into groups mixed of warriors, druids, and Royal Morozian Guard, the subjugation began the encirclement of the spirit’s presumed lair.
“Forwards!” Prince Ostramir ordered from his place on the Northern Front while Marshal Flogoran marched from her position on the south.
They moved towards the cave with measured steps. Soil crackled beneath the weight of their boots and scorched vegetation was obliterated and turned to dust. The smell of brimstone penetrated their nostrils, searing their noses and caused them to involuntarily tear up. Without any free hands to wipe it away. The approaching troop appeared to be weeping as if they were in mourning, lamenting the fates given to them.
No reaction came from the cave despite the forces that encroached upon its land. Cold sweat beaded on their foreheads, the anxiety of unknowing compounding in their minds. However, it did not disrupt their pace. Compelled by their training and the consequences of the alternative, the steps continued mindlessly towards their destination.
“Halt!” Prince Ostramir called out, his hand raised in a closed fist above his head.
They stopped around two hundred a fifty paces away from the cave’s mouth. Any steps further would bring the subjugation dangerously close to the pillar of toxic mouth that continued to spill forth.
A zhret standing near the prince took several steps forwards. Valentin could not see their holy figure well through the distance and the smoke that danced in his vision. He could see the zhret raise something above their head.
“Oh spirit that dwells within the land,” the zhret called in the Diplomat’s Tongue. “My name is Oren. We have arrived to your abode to introduce ourselves and ask what it is that you desire.”
No answer rose from the cave. The smoke poured out undisturbed, ignoring whatever puny creatures that decided to encroach upon its lair. Prince Ostramir and the zhret seemed to exchange a few words, discussing as to what to do next.
“Oh nameless spirit,” Zhret Oren spoke again. “Your awestriking power has laid devastation to our homes and livelihoods. We have come to request that you cease your displays of strength and come to speak to us so that we can come to an agreement.”
“So, you wish to speak with spear tips,” a deep rumbling voice emanated from the cave. It shook the ground, causing all to feel each syllable and intonation deep within them.
“It is only for our self-preservation, Great One,” Zhret Oren spoke quickly in an attempt to assuage the spirit’s indignation. “Even if our intentions were not purely peaceful, there is little that we could do in the face of your overwhelming might. Please, speak your intentions to us and we will try to provide them to you without bloodshed.”
Silence once again settled over the cave as the spirit seemed to deliberate upon the offer. Unlike the previous silence, however, there were small amounts of hope held within. It could be spoken to, it could be reasoned with.
“Now that you’ve heard it, what situation are we in?” Valentin asked Elder Onora, who was currently pacing between the rows of warriors.
“Its power should be evident, even to one as spiritually dull as you,” Elder Onora answered, a worried look on her face. “Its choice of words is quite mature. There is no more doubt, we are dealing with a spirit that is near ascension. Wouldn’t you agree, Maeve?”
Maeve did not answer. Her eyes were focused intently on the entrance of the cave. Ripples of different emotions washed over her face and receded. Worry, fear, disgust, anger, and denial marched a parade through her mind. She placed her hand up to her mouth and drummed anxiously on her lips.
“Maeve?” Elder Onora asked again.
“I knew it,” Maeve finally said as she looked at Valentin with horrified eyes. “I knew that I had felt this feeling before. Valentin, do you recall it? A few cycles ago, near Sarcinel-”
“Very well,” the spirit replied, inadvertently cutting Maeve off. “If I wish to be a spirit worthy of veneration, I should at least be a good host to my first visitors. Stay there, I will come out to greet you shortly.”
As soon as the spirit finished speaking, the smoke ceased flowing from the cave mouth. The smoke that already escaped dispersed in the air and smothered the sky with unnatural clouds. Coughing and retching gripped the lungs of the subjugation. A few warriors in Valentin’s group dropped to one knee, their breathing ragged and their eyes watering.
Before they could return to their feet, a violent shaking began to emanate from beneath them. Elder Onora, multiple zhrets, and a few unprepared warriors tumbled to the ground. Valentin widened his stance and braced himself.
Crunching and cracking and breaking howled from the cave’s entrance as the spirit extracted itself from the depths of the ground. Waves of searing heat washed over the subjugation, sapping them of their strength. Valentin felt the splashing of water on the back of his neck as those behind him threw water on the warriors to keep them cool. The relief was short lived as the water almost instantly heated to match the temperature of the air.
A long arm, reddened by molten rock reached out from the depths. Its sharp fingers of stalactite pierced the ground. The limb flexed, pulling the arm slightly forward and slowly unearthing the rest of the body.
“It’s humanoid,” Valentin heard Elder Onora gasp to herself.
A second arm reached out from within. With a loud thud, both arms planted themselves into the ground to pry out the rest of it. Flames licked the cave wall as a torso made from boulders pushed and wriggled through the tiny opening, demolishing the structure entirely.
The subjugation could only watch this horrific birth in silence. Some gripped their weapons tighter while others took a step back. Their fear could not be faulted, for what spear as ever pierced a mountain?
Crawling on hands and knees, it finally pried itself free of its resting place. With the creaks and scrapes of stone upon stone, the spirit rose to its feet. It easily stood thrice the height of even the tallest man Valentin had ever met in his life. Thick slabs of stone hovered inside of torrents of angry flames. The rocky limbs were loosely formed to represent the arms and legs of a human. Its torso was covered in runic carvings that glowed red. Atop that torso rested the spirit’s head, a massive ball of fire.
“I can feel your enraptured silence towards my divine appearance,” the spirit remarked in a self-satisfied way, its voice vibrating from the torso. “Unfortunately, it is far from complete. One day, I will have fashioned myself a perfect body fitting of my future station. For now, this will need to do.”
“Oh, regal spirit,” Oren called out, his voice shaking from a mixture of awe and fear. “What name are you endowed with so that we may regard you with proper respect?”
“I am Aoire,” the spirit introduced, pebbles clattering down from his divine body. “Pray to me and I will burn your bodies and take them to your Great Spirit.”
“Forgive us, Great Aoire,” Oren apologized. “Despite your terrible power, we were unfamiliar with your existence. Have you dwelled here for long?”
Valentin heard the spirituals behind him discussing amongst themselves. They attempted to ascertain whether Aoire was a newer appearance or a deep slumbering titan who had recently been awoken. How benevolent were those words, truly?
“I have existed on this plane for time immemorial,” Aoire asserted indignantly. “Albeit, I was but a small ember for much of that time. It has only been in the last few cycles that I was finally made aware of my true purpose. Did you know that there was a violent war that existed to the north of here?”
“We know of it,” Zhret Oren answered. “Has the fighting disturbed you?”
“Far from it,” Aoire shook jubilantly. “For the past cycles, your northern lands have choked under the sheer quantities of corpses of dead human and animal. Not enough wood exists to burn all of them. The snow and the sleet and the coastal rains douse the flames. They begged and prayed for spirits to incinerate the bodies. But the domain of fire is weak there and only I could answer their prayers. They called for me over and over to bring their dead relief, but I was not powerful enough to answer all of their calls. I needed payment of my own if I was to be as powerful as they needed.”
Horrified silence spread amongst the subjugation. There was only one form of payment that a spirit could claim from a corpse. The only explanation for such rapid growth, the only explanation for the horrific plague that swept the lands.
“Did you siphon the souls?” Zhret Oren asked hesitantly, fearing the answer.
“I took a small piece of them, of course,” Aoire answered plainly. “No more than a sliver of their souls. They did not need all of it.”
“How could you?” Prince Ostramir demanded, not able to hold in his anger any longer.
“Does the ferryman not exact a toll when you cross the Verani?” Aoire questioned. “Does the owl not eat the mouse? You can live without limbs, yet, I only took the equivalent of a finger, a toe, a small chunk of flesh. I took them to the higher planes when they had no wood to burn their bodies with. I ended the lament of those that feared that the souls of their comrades was going to rot. And, when I exact some form of payment for my efforts, you call me thief? When I have watched you murder and mutilate and plunder from each other for far less. How incorrigible! How hypocritical!”
From behind him, Valentin could hear the rapid breathing of Maeve. She had her hand clutched to her chest as she hyperventilated. However, Valentin could not break from his position in the line. He had to hope that Elder Onora could resolve the situation on her own.
“Then, if you are so benevolent, why have you turned our lands to ash and created plague in our people?” Prince Ostramir demanded.
“It is a consequence of my beautiful power,” Aoire answered with a self-satisfied tone. “I am no longer suitable to exist on this plane. However, I am still not strong enough to break through the sky. I infused my essence into the earth and the sky. I would reap small amounts of the soul of those who succumbed to my power. The old, the infirm, those that were nearing death anyways. A small sacrifice to escape this place.”
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“You do not have the right to steal the lives of others, Aoire,” Zhret Oren scolded. “If you had settled down in a mountain, you could have eventually ascended without creating such suffering. This pollution, these killings are not welcome. Return what you have taken and start anew. We will build a shrine for you and add you to our prayers you that you may regrow in only a handful of generations.”
“You lecture me on what I have the right to do, but I have seen how humans treat those weaker than them,” Aoire argued, his fireball flaring in anger. “I burned the slave pyres, slain because their owner would rather kill them than set them free in the face of invading armies. I burned starved bodies during a siege. I saw their lords through the flames of the hearth, their tables full. I have burned entire villages who tried to resist, their bodies defiled and broken and their souls screaming in fear and agony. For what purpose was this war waged? What righteous cause do you rally behind to justify the horrors? Do not look at me and call me monster, for it is I who learned this from you.”
Silence fell over Prince Ostramir. Even if he had played no part in authorizing the Strettian nobles in their invasion of the Torgen, he still did nothing to remedy the suffering. Raiders some of them may be, those that were entirely unaffiliated suffered just the same.
“How about this,” Aoire suggested. “I will show you magnanimity if you are capable of showing the same. I will release what I have taken, but you must give yourselves to me in your totality. Your flesh, blood, and soul.”
Valentin could feel the eyes of his warriors look towards him. He shook his head to reassure them. He was not so selfless that he would obliterate himself, body and soul, for these people. If Echavin wished to sacrifice, they could offer themselves up first.
“We will not forsake the Great Spirit for you!” Prince Ostramir called out. “A being such as you is not worthy of our veneration! Be gone!”
“Get ready,” Valentin advised his warriors.
Shields were quickly raised to position. Renewed flashes of heat swept from the living inferno to cook the flesh of the humans that surrounded it. An infuriated reverberation shook from beneath Aoire, loosening the subjugations footing.
“Then you are my enemies,” Aoire bellowed, flames erupted from his body. His fireball head expanded in fury. “I will use you to complete my ascension! Call my name, pray to me! I will guide you home!”
Aoire lumbered forward, its heavy form anchoring the inferno near the ground. Each step brought forth a wave of heat that singed the nostrils of those that had to breathe. Warriors held up their shields to protect their faces, allowing their legs to be seared under the tremendous heat. Splashes of water from behind tried to relieve the front of the pain, but it would only succeed to drive away the pain for only a moment.
“Begin the chanting,” Elder Onora ordered after helping Maeve to her feet. “We need to cause it to rain before we can hope to harm it!”
A chorus of chants harmonized behind Valentin. Buried in the complex, ancient phrases was desperate begging. Any spirit of the wind and water needed to heed the call. Even a small storm could help to hem in the awful power of Aoire.
The spirit continued to move towards Prince Ostramir’s position. The zhrets and warriors that accompanied him retreated rapidly away from Aoire, the overwhelming heat of the creature was too potent for an average iceblood.
Only Prince Ostramir and his Royal Morozian Guards were able to stand within any proximity of Aoire. Steam billowed from their armor as the frozen water dumped on them rapidly evaporated. Luckily, Aoire’s lethargic movements did not make avoiding the attacks overly taxing. A rocky arm would slam into the ground without meeting a target.
They retreated near the dried stream bed. A few barrels of water were dumped into the stream. Dried soil failed to drink in the gift, allowing large puddles of water to form for Prince Ostramir to use. One barrel was left undrained, guarded fervently by the iceblood warriors. The leftover water would be a valuable resource, regardless of how little remained.
Unfortunately for the subjugation, a simple punch was not the limit of Aoire’s capability. On his subsequent attacks, a geyser of steam and flame would erupt from the impact to scorch anyone that stood too closely to it.
“March closer, we need to hem it in so that the storm will strike true,” Vtorak instructed Valentin from behind.
“Fuck,” Valentin spat. Even at this distance, the pain was difficult to manage. Heat that would blow in from the distant punches still reached them. “March towards the prince.”
Reluctant feet moved in unison towards the location of the fight. Only the promise of reward propelled them forwards. Each subsequent blast of heat tested the mettle over and over again, threatening to drive them towards surrender.
The moisture in their eyes evaporated. Every blink brought pain and discomfort. Every breath burned their lungs and made them feel lightheaded as though they were asphyxiating through full lungs. The bottoms of their feet ached and burned from the heat. Valentin watched his warriors struggle to maintain form. He spotted Renne temporarily dropping to one knee before the heat of the ground forced him to shoot back up to his feet.
Only Prince Ostramir was currently capable of mounting any semblance of counterattack. His axe, glistening with cold water struck Aoire in its rocky form. A blast of heat emanated from the impact, forcing Prince Ostramir to hop backwards.
Seeing their prince fight so hopelessly, a premature volley of arrows flew from the Norzyet positions. The wooden projectiles whistled through the air and collided uselessly against the craggy figure. The shafts caught alight upon impact and the flaming projectiles fell helplessly onto the ground.
“We’re reaching our limit, Onora,” Valentin called over his shoulder to the elder druid.
Elder Onora looked Valentin’s way for a brief moment, but did not respond to his status report. Her mouth was preoccupied with mantras and prayers and requests that could not be afforded to be interrupted.
One by one, the dry-mouthed druids collapsed from heat exhaustion, the words driving any of the remaining moisture from their mouths. Only Elder Onora, Maeve, and a handful of zhrets remained standing. Though he could not see, Valentin knew that the other areas were not faring any better.
Valentin began to calculate his limit. He was not so foolish as to stand in this oversized campfire and wait for the brief glimmer of hope that water would tumble down from above. If even Prince Ostramir’s ice-ladened axe could not make a dent in Aoire’s defense, a bunch of water logged arrows and javelins would accomplish far less.
Until Maeve fell he decided. He would endure it until she collapsed and lost consciousness. She could not hinder him in a weakened state. Even if she would resent him later, at least they would all still be alive.
Prince Ostramir continued his dutiful attacks upon Aoire. It was not difficult to strike the spirit. It made no moves to avoid any of the prince’s savage strikes. Even if the rocks cracked and crumbled, it was only the vain clothing of the fire that powered it. Fire that remained undaunted in the face of the assault.
“I can feel it,” Aoire called out towards Prince Ostramir. “I can feel the bonds that hold your followers to this plane grow thin. Give in, oh wayward creatures, oh pitiful beings of flesh. Have my name be the last thing that you speak and I will leave you intact to meet your god.”
Screams erupted from another position. An older druid could not endure the overwhelming heat and began to combust under Aoire’s sheer pressure. They did not bother to douse the flames, the precious resource was better served elsewhere.
“I claim you in your totality!” Aoire exclaimed towards the burning corpse. “Look upon the fate of your sibling and ask yourself: how much longer will you choose to resist inevitability?”
Valentin could hear arguing. The first waves of argumentation began to break out amongst those that lost confidence and those that knew that any desertion would doom them all. Valentin, too, was rapidly nearing his limit.
However, Maeve still clung to consciousness. Words spilled from her mouth endlessly in the hopes that something, somewhere would answer.
“You will not flee, will you?” Vtorak asked.
Valentin turned to face the captain that stood the row behind him. He had to suppress a short spurt of anger that penetrated his mind. He knew that it was the design of the plan that forced him to shield the capable warriors behind. However, that did not mean that he did not resent those that were protected, even slightly, by his deg’s suffering.
“If this is the extent of your prince’s abilities, then perhaps it is time to abandon this place and try again,” Valentin remarked.
Vtorak’s hand grip tighter around his spear. He would fight to contain Valentin if he had to. Both lines of warriors exchanged hostile gazes, prepared to cause a bloodbath if one side got in the way of the other.
“Try it,” Vtorak invited.
“Peace to both of you,” Maeve wheezed. “We’ve been answered by Telgrig.”
Everyone within earshot paused to look above them. The blackened sky filled with smoke offered no indication that anything had changed. Then, only seconds later, the needling feeling of a sudden change in the air gripped them all. Rainfall was coming, donated to them by the owner of the nearby lake.
Aoire stopped in its tracks and Prince Ostramir used the sudden break to attempt to catch his breathe. Though it lacked any facial features, they could tell that its attention floated upwards. One of its rocky arm pointed to the sky.
“Telgrig!” Aoire screamed, flames shooting towards the sky. “You old fool! You should have remained cowering within your depths!”
Telgrig’s answer was not one of words. Instead, a deluge of water came careening from the sky like a volley of javelins. Streams of water punctured the smoky clouds and pierced the ground. Plumes of dust and steam spurted for their dormant resting place.
The temperature began to fall rapidly. Oppressive heat finally released its all-encompassing grip from the flagging subjugation, allowing them to begin recovering their energy. Some stood with their mouths upturned and opened to the gift that was falling from the heavens. Anything that would be able to provide them with relief.
Aoire’s raging blaze would not be so easily quenched by the storm. A cloud of steam expanded from the spirit’s body, coating the entire battlefield dense fog.
“It’s time for the Prince to finally strike,” Vtorak announced with a level of pride that made Valentin question whether the irritable captain was a distant relative of the royal.
A wave of frigid cold spread from the stream bed. Hailstones crashed through the steam and exploded on the hard ground like a barrage of catapults. A sharp sound like a chandelier falling to the ground echoed from the direction of Aoire, scraping the inner ears of all that could hear it.
The steam temporarily dissipated to show the massive figure of Aoire take a step back in retreat. Prince Ostramir leapt through the distance, he body covered in frozen crystalline armor. His axe, now considerably longer with the addition of a thick layer of ice, howled in a devastating arc that dug into Aoire’s rocks. The stone, tempered by the rapid changes in temperature, finally showed a meaningful impact as a chunk snapped off Aoire’s left arm.
“How dare you, vermin!” Aoire bellowed in rage. “Who are you to mar my divine form?”
Aoire swung forwards but was dodged easily. Doused in water, Aoire seemed to move even slower that before as the flames that held the stones together began to weaken from the frigid strikes.
“Now,” Vtorak ordered. “Loose!”
Valentin jammed the base of his halberd into the ground. He grabbed a javelin and hurled it towards Aoire. As the projectile left his fingertips, he saw that the other positions surrounded the spirit do the same.
The coordinated volleys struck Aoire, continuing to chip away at and damage the rocks that constituted his form. Even his runic torso was not spared from the damage, spurt bursts of molten rock sprayed from the gaps created by the overwhelming barrage.
Aoire’s body wobbled from the sudden damage. Its fireball head crackled and shrunk, the water and the attacks finally seeming to gain some sort of effect on the behemoth. It swung its arm through the air, deflecting much of the remaining projectiles. However, much of the rock remained embedded with arrows and spears like an oversized pincushion.
Prince Ostramir moved in for another strike as the surrounding warriors prepared for their next volley. His axe rose above his head menacingly, ready to pummel the spirit into submission.
Tasting the weakened flames, it craved more. It screamed for more. To take one more bite from the flames, to savor the demise of its natural enemy. Ice crackled and hummed, imbued from the immense favor flowing from Prince Ostramir’s fingertips. His gloves were buried in ice, fused to the axe’s handle. Even if Aoire tried, it could not disarm the prince.
“Enough!” Aoire barked.
Its arms hammered the ground, releasing a ring of flames that forced Prince Ostramir to abort his attack. Then, a secondary blast of wind shot flames and rocks in every direction. The warriors scattered and were lifted from their feet by the blast.
Valentin dropped to one knee and held his held above his head to prevent himself from being swept away from the gust. Rocks pelted his shield, causing his wrist to throb from the withstanding the projectiles. Most of the warriors, save Cathmor, Caera, and Zoe, were pushed several paces backwards by the powerful wind.
“It cannot be!” Elder Onora screeched as she pointed towards the sky.
A winged woman descended from above. With a flap of its wings, rain and hail and smoke blew away. A massive pillar of untainted air now protected Aoire from the water. Her taloned feet dug into Aoire’s shoulder. No flames emitted from the rocks on Aoire’s left arm, allowing the creature to perch peacefully.
“There were two,” Vtorak lamented, his joyous expression now completely obliterated. “Why are there two of them?”
“Look at what you have done,” Aoire admonished the subjugation. “My darling Norbris was forced to intervene.”
“So that was how the smoke managed to reach so many places,” Elder Onora commented to herself. “We should have expected this.”
Norbris warbled a somber song into Aoire’s fireball.
“I see. I agree with you my love,” Aoire agreed with the woman-faced bird. “I will not delay our dream any longer.”
Aoire stomped its might legs and shook the world. Fissures formed in the ground and shot angry flames by the subjugation. The downpour was unaffected by Norbris here. Water fought flame and bursts of hot steam shot up into the sky.
Fissures opened up beneath Aoire, wreathing his body in even greater flames. The fires created a chorus of unnatural screams of agony as his stone frame glowed with the intense heat. Loose rocks collapsed off of its body and landed upon the ground. Norbris took flight from Aoire’s shoulder and hovered in the pillar of air she created. With a flap of her wide grey feathered wings, the rocks around Aoire began to hover and mix in with the inferno.
“Despite your hostility, I still wished that you would capitulate to me on your own,” Aoire barked, small spurts of fire leaving his wounds. “That I would not need consume you in your totality. But, my graciousness and patience has been met with violence and resistance. As such, we have decided that our kindness is wasted on the likes of you. Pray that your deaths are quick.”
Norbris’ wind shot the ring of fire and debris scattering in all directions. Aoire’s flames were now no longer affected by Telgrig’s rain. The intense fire pushed through the water and towards the subjugation.
“Shields!” Valentin howled his orders through the storm.
Boiling heat enveloped his body for a moment. His eyes seared with pain, threatening to burst in his skull. He felt every miniscule piece of exposed skin burn and char. He slammed his teeth together to keep from screaming out in pain.
The wind was too much for him, this time, as he slid and tumbled over the ground behind the wave of fire. He bounced and skipped across the heated ground until he managed to plant himself into the ground. He immediately placed his shield up in front of him and tried to blink the vision back into his throbbing eyes.
He heard anguished screams and cries all over the hill. However, he was in no position to investigate all of them. He could barely ascertain his own condition.
Fortunately, the focus of Aoire’s ire was focused in a different direction, and Valentin was able to collect himself somewhat underneath the soothing rain that fell upon him. He felt no sharp pains nor any reduction to his range of movement. However, small pains coated his entire body and his lungs continued to burn.
They needed to flee, now. He had to find his warriors and lead them back to Allbost. This had grown far beyond their abilities. No, it had always been outside of their abilities, they had just deluded themselves when Aoire had yet to show his true abilities. Worse still, they had no way of piercing Norbris’ wind to stage a counteroffensive.
“Valentin!” Maeve screamed through the wind to attract his attention. She had, somehow, managed to remain near him through the attack. “The mask!”
The wind had blown the tethered mask from its resting position against Valentin’s leg. Instead, his ancestor blew helplessly in the wind, unable to make contact with Valentin even if it tried. He reached down and fastened the mask to his face.
It’s about time you noticed, foolish descendant. Look at you, out here fighting forces of nature for no fucking reason. It’s a good thing that you bring that druid woman around with you or else you’d be pummeled to death by rocks.
“What is it that you want, Grandfather?” Valentin asked, ignoring the mask’s glib words. “Are you going to tell me how you would sprint down to it and beat it into submission?”
Don’t be petulant. Use Endless Hunger on that thing and I’ll curse you. However, there is a way for you to hurt it and earn that Gold Imperial that we deserve. Would you like me to teach you?
“Will it kill me?” Valentin asked.
If it kills you, then you were always worthless.
“Alright,” Valentin agreed. “What do I have to do to survive?”