Chapter One Hundred and Sixteen

Floodgates

Jack’s thick boots trudged through the mud as his coal-black eye watched the canvas doors of the black pavilion jostle in the wind. At his back were his five companions, and before him, dark tongues could be heard bickering in the shadows of the war tent.

“Nikereus!” Jack bellowed, laying his shield hand on his helmet.

The mutterings went quiet and bodies moved in flashes within.

The company levelled their weapons, nocked their arrows, and held their breath as a dark shape stepped into the opening of the command-tent.

A hand of pale stone reached out and pushed the door-canvas away, and Nikereus, plated in shadow-made armour, stepped into the midday light with a polite smile on their face. “Ah, the heroes. I’d suspected something of this ilk to arise.”

Michael looked over the tall Obthraie, and his gaze fell sharply on a beautiful, forward-weighted sword, dangling from their hip. Before he could stop himself, Michael seethed, “That sword doesn’t belong to you.”

Nikereus glanced down at it and drew the long, curving blade. “It’s a true work of art. I’ve renamed it, you know... Red Guardian.”

Jack listened to those words as he felt a pure and untampered rage flow through himself and his companions. He unclipped his helmet and pulled it onto his head, nodding. He wanted to give long, brutal speech, tearing into every possible facet of Nikereus’ choices, but time was running out, and his ability to hold back his rage had died with the blacksmith. “I’ll enjoy taking it from you.”

Nikereus’ smile grew slow and cold like ice, cracking across a frozen pond, and they turned idly to the tent door, muttering in Garganii, “Lieutenants?”

As the ocean-eyed Soiltorn turned back to face them, five more armoured Obthraie sauntered out from the pavilion, each cloaked in shadowy-greys with pale, wicked helmets on their heads. They all held single spears across all three of their right hands and one long sword in their central-left hand, leaning the blades lazily upon their shoulders.

Up close and absent of their brain-washed enchantment, their differences were just as clear as those of any Draendican. One was made from a kind of rough-stone, while another was smooth as marble. One had obsidian eyes with high cheekbones, and another was thicker of body, with small patches of moss in the shadows of its figure.

Michael had spent so much of his time fighting them that he’d been trying to ignore what made them individual. After all, when they were bewitched into trying to kill him, he didn’t win any points for compassion.

Nichole’s veins flared with power, and either side of her, the other Legacies were standing with their steel and magic ready, and for the space of a moment, Instinct flowed through them all.

“Remember the plan. Nikereus can’t die before we shatter the stone... but let’s rake this fucker through Enthall once we do,” Jack’s voice spoke, between the moments in time.

Michael’s eyes didn’t leave Nikereus.

The connection broke and Nikereus’ smile faltered as every Legacy nodded in response, then and the silence which lay over them was detonated under Jack’s war-crying charge.

*****

A dozen glistening spears came whistling passed the battlements, slamming into a pair of Legacies as Klaryah, Lain, and Aroha threw themselves to the floor.

The assassin heard the Legacies’ bodies hit the forum-grounds below, and glanced to her shoulder as her quiver spilt to the floor. Where the strap had sat there was now a gash in across the fabric and flesh. She touched it with bloodied fingers, knowing a miracle’s inch alone had just spared her from the same bone-shattering fate of being thrown to the forum.

“Time to go, I think.” She picked up her final quiver, throwing it over her good shoulder. “Ladies, after you. Paladin Alexander, we’re calling it!” she shouted down the line.

Flinn launched his loaded javelin into a Yiraa and let go of the handles, grabbing the rope dangling from the turret-bell. He began heaving it up and down, sending a series of gong-gong, gong-gong, gong-gong sounds across the valley. He turned and saw the remaining Legacies flood away from their posts as another Mountain Wolf began bounding toward the damaged gate, cursing as he ran.

Aroha, Lain, and Klaryah ran out into the forum to see the main gate so bent and warped that many Obthraie were able to clamber through the mangled gap in its centre, spilling onto allied ground.

Under the weight of the groaning door, two dozen Legacies were still barring it closed with their might, shouting in terror as others ran to fight the breaching foes.

Klaryah casually shot the first two who’d managed to scramble through, and Aroha shouted, “Could you be less relaxed, please!”

“Only if you want me to miss!” Klaryah shot a third arrow, and as the projectile landed, a Mountain Wolf blew through the entire left-door, peeling it off its hinges and sending it to ground.

A dozen of the Legacies who’d been attempting to hold the barricade were crushed beneath the piece of monolithic steel, while those lucky enough to be holding the other side merely abandoned their post in screams.

Dozens upon dozens of Soiltorn rushed in behind, immediately beginning to stream out toward the forum as Lain shouted, “Fall back! We are besieged! Fall back!” She ripped out her great broadsword and sprinted into the fray as the battering-ram Mountain Wolf tried to rise from its near-fatal head-injury. She cleaved her blade deep into its skull, turning it to dust and engaged the Soiltorn.

“Lain, get back here! We’re routed!” Klaryah picked off as many Obthraie as she could while stepping backward toward the keep. “Oswald, don’t you fuckin’ dare!” she barked, grabbing Aroha before she could join the warrior.

Aroha struggled against her but before she could blink again, two more Mountain Wolves bowled through the other door, whipping it back on its hinges against the wall with an ear-bleeding crack.

Lain was busy cutting down Obthraie when she looked up to see the two behemoths snarling at her.

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As screams filled the air and Legacies scattered passed Lain, one slipped to the ground and the left-most Mountain Wolf reared to pounce.

Lain threw herself forward, cleaving her massive blade through its jaw and sending it reeling in pain before twisting to face the other, shouting, “Get up!”

Klaryah screamed, “Lain! Run, for the love of the gods!”

Lain gripped her sword as the fallen soldier rose and limped away. She refused to move, even as the uninjured Mountain Wolf leapt, lashing out her sword to its skull before the weight of the stone beast crushed her into the ground, and wrapped its hideous jaws around her torso and head with a long, cracking mulch!

Klaryah grabbed Aroha by the wrist and pulled her back toward the keep as the ranger screamed and cried, knowing the monsters would be close behind.

Flinn barrelled through the shrieking crowd, skewering Soiltorn and Shade Hounds before slamming up against the keep doors and rending them open. “Inside! Now!”

Syon and Royston were the first in, followed by a thinning mass of soldiers, reared by Nydol as she struck down two Shade Hounds with her fishing spear, quick as a viper. Raeken roared and sent a wave of bright acid over the nearest Obthraie before gliding into the keep hall overhead and landed shakily on the marble floor.

Klaryah shoved the weeping ranger inside as more Legacies piled in, nocking arrows like bolts of lightning until her hand felt the last in her quiver. She cursed and sunk it into the eye of one of the Mountain Wolves, blinding the creature to a stumble.

She darted inside and Flinn looked out once more to see Carter, helping Avery toward the keep in a frantic limp. “Come on!”

The half-blind Yiraa came bounding up behind them as Flinn stepped out, brandished his bladed-spear and roared. A lightning-fork of bright white light blasted from his spear into the creature, driving it to a screeching halt as the young Legacies dove past him.

Flinn leapt back inside after them as Klaryah and Syon ripped the doors shut, right as the tide of monsters careened forward. They threw down the drop-bar and the ranks of Creations slammed into the barricade with Fiend-Speak screeches and a hurricane of stone-on-steel collisions.

Aroha let out wheezing breaths as she turned to see James running up to her, pale as a ghost, and Oliver sitting on the marble floor, leant up against a pillar, with Sarah unconscious in his arms.

James looked at her and Klaryah in disbelief as he counted the number of survivors. “It’s not possible.”

Aroha’s eyes swelled with tears as she pressed her head into his chest.

Carter helped Avery down the hall, whereupon he saw his Sarah and felt the breath taken from his lungs.

James held Aroha close, glancing to her uncertainly as he looked around the room. There were perhaps sixty or so Legacies inside the hold, and at least half were injured in different ways.

At the far end of the hall, leaning against Amekot’s office and the connecting wall were two dozen Legacies who’d been dragged from the med-bay earlier. Among them was Lillian, pale as a frost as she breathed weakly, stained with blood around her eyes, mouth and fingertips. Jordan was sat beside her, though also pale and pulsing with magical fatigue, looked in far better shape.

The keep door boomed and shuddered, sending a hideous groan through the metal as James backed away, tightening his grip on his claymore. “Come on, everyone up! We’re not finished here, yet!”

Aroha ran to Oliver’s side and fell to her knees, grimacing at Sarah’s swelled head. Blood stained her hair and her sword was nowhere to be seen. Aroha looked up to Oliver and saw him gently holding her, as though afraid to squeeze her too tight.

Klaryah winced as she sat down, tired and worn. She lifted up her leather chest-plate to see a small fragment of stone jutting out, just above her hip. The assassin gritted her teeth and pulled it out, wet with blood.

The noise of the army could be heard outside, roaring in victory as their chosen Mountain Wolf withdrew to charge the door again, and the countless Soiltorn cheered it in cold unison.

James was trying to the crowd to their feet, but they numbered only forty semi-abled-bodied soldiers, and nearly half of them began shifting away toward the end of the hall.

Syon stood in a rush, nursing her eye as she ran up to Royston, among the crowd. “Where are you going?”

Flinn, Aroha, and Klaryah turned to see the group heading toward the Wing-doors with their heads bowed. Many had their weapons sheathed or plainly left them on the floor discarded.

Klaryah shook her head, laughing grimly as James threw up his hands in fury. “What the fuck do you think you’re doing? This isn’t over!” he shouted, echoing off of the marble walls.

Jordan, the spindly witchdoctor, looked down at Lillian and touched her shoulder fondly before pushing himself up joining the leaving crowd.

Aroha stood too and yelled, “Jordan, Royston, Karmony! Get back here!”

On the other side of the hall, Marken and Kirkley sat exhausted. Kirkley was bruised on every piece of unarmoured skin and Marken’s shield-arm was wrapped tight in material he’d torn from his shirt.

James stormed down the hall as Carter laid Avery down, and grabbed Royston by his shirt, ripping him back around. “You’re going to abandon us?”

Royston swatted James’ hand off and shoved him hard in the chest. “It’s over!” He looked to Syon and his harshness fell away. “It’s over.”

Carter got up and forced himself between them as James yelled, “You gutless worm! There are wounded here who can’t run and you’re just going to leave them?”

Another enormous boom slightly concaved the door of the keep as more Creation chants could be heard outside. Royston let out a trembling breath. “Yes. We lost. I’m done. Frankly, I’d rather die in my room.”

James watched them all turn and leave and Carter held him in place, pushing his head to his friend’s chest. “It’s not worth it.”

James looked straight over his head as Jordan pulled open the Paladin-Wing door and they began filtering through. He began screaming, “You are not Legacies! You are not soldiers- you are not Draendicans!”

Jordan ignored him, casting one last look to Lillian before stepping through the door and letting it close with a soft click.

Oliver looked over the scene of those who remained and spotted Carlisla in the pile of wounded. Her left arm was completely severed above the elbow and wrapped tight with a tourniquet. Avery was beside her, with Arcancy fatigue so prominent that the young noble merely laid there twitching and convulsing, fading in and out of Dead Rest. Willem was sat beside them, barely able to keep his eyes open as he breathed faintly. Kirkley tended to Marken’s wounded arm further up the hall, and the young Haronian axeman watched his partner tenderly as he applied the bandage. Oliver watched Nydol prop herself up on her spear and hobble over to the young men where they greeted her kindly, offering a place beside them.

Another haunting impact sent a shudder throughout the keep, and a handful of Legacies began to weep, while those standing were unsure if they should continue to bother.

James and Carter made their way to Aroha, Oliver, and the unconscious baroness, when Magnus stepped out from the shadows with his scythe over his shoulder, and a long, dejected look on his face.

Oliver didn’t look up from Sarah’s face and sniffled, “Where’ve you been?”

Magnus made a show of pointing to his scythe, but the company merely looked at him in tired disbelief, and the paladin sighed, confessing, “You heard the surgeons. I’m Konakiian. Setheen. I needed a minute. Trust me, I still killed my fair share.”

James sat down on the polished floor and set down his sword, only then realising quite how heavy it was. “You’re really a Creation?”

Magnus gave James a hard look, though he knew the boy’s tone was too soft to be snide. “Half. Enough, so that I can’t be around Legacies too long, or I get...”

“Feral?” Aroha offered.

Magnus lowered his gaze. “Try another word please.”

Aroha blinked and nodded quickly, only then taking the time to think about it how must’ve sounded. “Sure. Sorry.”

“So, you’ve been what? Getting your head together?” asked Carter, looking Sarah over in gentle anguish.

“You could say that-”

Another monolithic smash rattled through the gate and the drop-bar bent inward by a good half-foot as many of the low hinges were ripped away from the wall. Pieces of metal clattered to the floor, and those nearest to the entrance moved further down the hall in panic.

James took Carter’s arm in one hand and his sword in the other. “Come on, Sparky, we need you.”