Another racket. Hesiod heard it well enough even if he was a few levels up. He could feel the incongruous thump of commotion, and could barely make out the echoes of effort as they shot up through the labyrinth of passages.
Standing on the hall just outside his room, he blinked bleary eyes at the others standing there with him, all of them in their night robes and about as sleep deprived, all of them equally confused and irritated that they’d been woken up for the second time on the same night for god knew what reason.
Hesiod in particular could've used the rest, after that incident with the intruder. He'd been taken to the infirmary and the healers had done their work, but although his chin didn’t hurt anymore, his neck sure felt stiff.
Just then, Marcus came striding from around the corner, followed by a small gang of other Seedlings. "Hess!" he said, walking over to the satyr. "You're awake. Good! Come on, we need to go."
Rubbing one of his eyes, Hesiod couldn’t help his frown—even if Marcus wasn’t to blame for what had happened to them, he wasn't exactly in the mood to see the guy. "What are you talking about…"
"You hear it, don't you?" Marcus said, his goat ears twitching. Raising his voice, he glanced around at the other Greenkin in the hall. "You all hear it! Can't you tell that we're being invaded?"
"I thought it was just those Scouts playing a prank," said a nearby beastman, horse lips opening in a wide yawn.
"Oh, it’s more than just a prank," Marcus said, his Seedling followers nodding. "Those Scouts are traitors! I heard it from one of the guards. They got beat off earlier, but now some other human outsiders must’ve started attacking. Security's fighting them right now down by the entrance!" He raised a tightening fist. "I knew that kid from earlier was part of something big! He must've been sent to make contact with the Scouts, get them ready for this!"
The theory rang a bit hollow to Hesiod—too conspiratorial—but there was definitely something going on downstairs. A few of the other Greenkin rolled their eyes and went back into their rooms, curtains closing behind them, but most drew close if only out of curiosity.
"Gee, Marky," Hesiod said, "what are we supposed to do about all that?"
Marcus looked back at him like a reproving parent. "Obviously we should help, don't you think?"
"I’m no fighter…"
"Neither am I, but you don't see me cowering, now do you?" Marcus looked back at his gang and then over Hesiod at the other recent sleepers. "This is our home! I don't know about the rest of you, but I'm not sitting by and letting some humans kill our own like last time!"
That clinched it. A few of the Greenkin scowled, remembering, and others straightened in sudden terror, faces slackening with its weight. Even Hesiod clenched his teeth, admitting that, tired or not, it wouldn't hurt to at least make sure things weren't as bad as all that.
Watching them, Marcus nodded, seemingly satisfied. "We got taken by surprise then, but it won't turn out the same here if we fight. Now come on. We’ll get as many as we can on the way to help."
So they went, and they did gather more, and the growing crowd of volunteers made its way down the World Tree toward the sounds of combat.
- - - — MKII — - - -
They were forced back almost immediately. Lorcana watched it happen with grim acceptance, a product of surprise and sheer numbers; in other words, shock and awe.
Her blue-clad guards were overwhelmed by a sea of beasts, and soon she found herself stabbing into animal after animal, silver lance dabbing like a quill leaving bursts of red ink. It was frantic work, and each body that fell was followed by two more, all varying in size but all aligned in their direction: forward.
It was an unpleasant feeling, the brief resistance of her spear against what Lorcana knew to be innocent flesh. Daphne would have to pay for turning these wild creatures against their own forest cousins, and particularly for setting Khurang against the very Greenkin he'd been trained to defend.
Lorcana could see her chimeric partner in the mass of bodies, swiping claws and swishing his tail like a bludgeon into rows of spearbearers, eyes out of focus. Hand tightening on her lance, she tried making her way over, pushing against the other guards, but she flinched when a swarm of rats stampeded up to her and began climbing up her legs.
"Damn vermin!" she said, swiping down with her arms and pushing them off by the dozen. A bear and a bobcat came forward, teeth snapping, and Lorcana had to step back.
It was impossible to get anywhere in all this chaos. Glaring up, Lorcana saw it wasn't just her—the rest of the guards were just as confused and even hesitant, mingled with the attacking animals in half-broken lines. Up in the air she saw Daphne on a flapping griffin, looking down right at her.
This wasn't working. "Regroup!" she shouted, blocking the bear with her lance. "Back inside! To the entrance chamber!"
Daphne's thralls might've taken them by surprise, but they weren't any sort of organized force. If they could just retreat back into the Tree, the bottleneck would let the guards reset their lines.
Some heeded her, stepping backwards into the arching entrance, but Lorcana clicked her tongue when she saw most stay in place. It wasn't their fault—surrounded as they were by a discordant brawl, it was hard to find an opening for retreat. Even she found herself too harassed for it, slapping the bobcat away with the butt of her lance and facing the bear, which had stood on its hindquarters and clearly planned on holding her under its weight.
Frustrated, she stabbed the bear dead through the chest, kicking the large body off her weapon with a bloody shunk, and glanced toward Khurang again. Her Talisman's ability would've been perfect for picking off the animals during flight, but on the ground any extension of the lance might stab into one of her own.
Plenty of the animals were dead already—Lorcana saw the fighters have to step over their littered bodies—but the guards had taken their share of damage too. More than a few looked wounded, slick blood running down their skin or splotching their togas. Some were downed, crawling back toward safety or surrounded by defending comrades. Others were entirely motionless, and Lorcana grew angrier the more of those she spotted on the ground. The longer this went on, the worse it got.
And then Jahdiel appeared at her side, wading through the crowd and swinging a pair of amber swords. "Boss!" he said, ducking under a pair of flying squirrels. "We got here as soon as we could!"
"Captain, we need to retreat," Lorcana said, not bothering with the niceties.
Her tone infected the elf, and in an instant he was similarly all business. "Councilman Silviamon should be here soon," Jahdiel said.
"We need to do it now."
"And we will." Jahdiel looked over his shoulder. "After the distraction, of course."
Lorcana followed his gaze, eyes settling on the mass of animals that had yet to even reach them—a big crowd that must've taken up half the clearing—and before she could despair she saw beasts thrown in waves up into the air as something seemed to carve right into their flank.
"We decided to take the back exit," Jahdiel explained. "It took longer, but as you can see, it was well worth it."
Alexander rammed through the mass of fauna like a train at full speed, hands clasped together and great horns pointed low. Their tips stabbed into the occasional beast, but mostly they served to scoop bodies up and over through sheer force and speed.
He made a few passes, animals flying this way and that with each until finally Daphne had to take notice. Lorcana saw the Head Scout double back, drawn to the sudden strike behind her, and at that moment knew they had their opening.
"Back now!" she shouted, lance pointed at the sky. There wasn't much light yet, but what little there was shone from its silver surface and caught plenty of eyes. "Into the Tree!"
The bulk of her remaining guards did as ordered, hooting in exultation and relief, while she and a handful of Changelings stayed behind to cover their escape. They came together in a tight wall to weather the constant assault of fang and claw.
"Once we're inside," Lorcana said to Jahdiel, "use your Art to form a wall. Give us time to reset our lines."
The elf nodded, slashing away at a pouncing wolf, and once they'd shuffled back close enough to the World Tree's trunk he tossed his blades away, empty hands clapping. "Stand back!" he told the others, waiting just long enough for Lorcana and the rest to throw themselves through the entrance before summoning a bulging mass of sap from the Tree's creases.
Its slimy orange bulk ran down the trunk like an avalanche, pooling at the bottom just before the opening. It started hardening, bubbles and ripples smoothening out or freezing in place, and the few animals that hadn't flinched back at this stream of honeyed liquid found themselves trapped completely in its viscous embrace.
It almost worked. Jahdiel could see his wall forming, a gigantic version of the same amber doorway he'd used to imprison the Scouts, but then something other than a wild beast emerged from the attackers.
"You!" Jahdiel said, glaring at the advancing Malcolm. He could see that the human, splattered in mud and fur and riding a moose of all things, had already brought his own hands together.
The elf knew from their previous encounter exactly what would come next, So he dove away, landing roughly on his side just before Malcolm blew a titanic ball of fire right at his newly built wall. Much of the amber disintegrated on contact, melting into thick smoke, while the rest broke apart from the force of the subsequent explosion. The smell hit Jahdiel even before the trembling of the ground, a pungent and weighty aroma that slammed into him along with the plumes of cinder.
The boom rang loud and long, a sound joined by the barking of wolves and braying of ruminants. Jahdiel stood up, coughing, covered in soot, and looked at the entrance. Already he saw the animal army passing through with ravenous frenzy, heard the slice and dice of cutting flesh coming from inside.
Snarling, Jahdiel put his hands on the World Tree's trunk, drawing out another pair of amber blades before running right back into the fray. The fire user might be Alexander's prey, but that didn't mean the minotaur needed him whole.
- - - — MKII — - - -
Malcolm held his neck, gulping what little saliva he could find and feeling it almost scratch against the dryness of his throat.
"You okay?" Clover asked, sitting behind him.
Malcolm forced himself to nod. "I can't do big ones like that too often," he said, voice hoarse. He had enough Spirit to do it, but not enough to protect his body in the process. He'd sooner burn himself from the inside out trying.
Plus, while the moose they rode was large, with two of them on its back there wasn't exactly a lot of space for him to heat up in earnest without hurting Clover too. They'd have chosen separate mounts, but Daphne had made them promise to stick together. A fair enough request, Malcolm thought, seeing the smoke thinning ahead as they rode right into the mass of guards.
Already some of the other animals had reached the blue-clad warriors, pushing at their renewed formations, and among them Malcolm saw the glint of something silver, something that seemed to—
"Move!" Clover shouted, and without waiting for a response she grabbed him and threw both of them off the moose.
A second later a metal beam shot through the air, piercing a hole of displaced air in the wall of smoke behind them. Landing roughly on his back, Malcolm looked up just in time to see the silver rod retract just as fast as it had burst forth, snapping like a yo-yo back to the beastwoman who'd thrust it from across the room.
"Lorcana," Clover said, getting to her feet and grabbing some seeds from her pocket. "I was hoping she'd stay down for the count."
"We're clearly not that lucky," Malcolm muttered, standing.
Animals kept running around them straight into the guards, knowing not to target the humans. It was, like much of what Malcolm had witnessed during the last day, a truly bizarre sight—like a whole zoo had broken out and decided to rampage together. He kept an eye out for Lorcana, but was relieved to see the beastwoman now had her hands full like the other guards.
Malcolm used the respite to steel his nerves, letting down his guard, which turned out to be a mistake since that's when Jahdiel chose to break through the smoke himself. Leaping with amber blades raised overhead, the elf slashed down across Malcolm's back, cutting in with a string of blood.
Gasping, Malcolm turned around, sucking air through his teeth, feeling his Spirit rise to the occasion, but Clover beat him to it. Her hand swiped through the air, seeds shooting out, and with a clap of her hands they landed and exploded into a blooming mass of flowers and roots.
Jahdiel sidestepped them, dashing off as the coiling plantlife grew on the ground, vines reaching out in all directions and digging into the wooden floor with creaking ruptures.
Love this story? Find the genuine version on the author's preferred platform and support their work!
The elf threw his blades at them, orange discs slicing through the air, and while both humans dodged he used the distraction to clap his hands and stomp in their direction. A wave of sap rose up and threatened to crash down on them, but Malcolm breathed out steam, skin boiling red, and ran right into the mass of orange liquid, evaporating a gap large enough to shield Clover behind him.
"That's quite the frustrating Art you've learned," Jahdiel said, reaching out as an amber spear rose into his grip. He leveled it at Malcolm, glare as sharp as the tip of his weapon. "I'll enjoy putting you in your place."
Great, another one with a vendetta. Malcolm flexed his hands, trying to ignore the sting of his back. "Get in line, jerk," he said.
Clover stepped up beside him, just as ready for a fight, and Jahdiel crouched, about to dart forward. But before he could, something else shot through the smoke cloud nearby: Daphne on her griffin, wings flapping wide. With a glance she spotted them, and the griffin dove toward Jahdiel, who flinched and tried defending with his spear. The griffin's kick—powered by the strong muscles of a lion's legs—hit the amber construct into the elf's chest, sending him back in a tumble.
"We have to find Harmony!" Daphne said, slipping down from the griffin's back. The beast went on to assault Jahdiel who'd only barely recovered his bearings, putting the elf on the defensive. "She has to be upstairs somewhere!"
Malcolm and Clover ran to meet her, and soon the three were jogging toward the heart of the battle. Across the room, the guards had stabilized their position, drawing tight lines and walling up the sloping passage upstairs. Before them, animals pounded again and again on their formation, pushing with consistent ferocity. But now, their flanks secured by the hallway walls, the security forces could meet the beasts head-on, spears stabbing in compact rows, Changelings teaming up to hold down the larger bodies so that their smaller comrades could aim for the eyes.
"I don't think we're getting through," Clover said. They passed by Halcyon's great stem at the center of the room, the light of its firefly blanket almost blinding—the insects seemed to thrum at all the excitement, glowing more brightly than ever. "Unless you have any other animals you've been holding back."
"That's all of them," Daphne said, voice grim.
Their chances were never high to begin with, so Malcolm focused on more immediate matters. He let his body cool as they ran, and tried to center his Spirit on the cut in his back, feeling it numb somewhat.
"At least you dealt with Alexander," he said, not seeing the minotaur anywhere. "That's a load off my mind."
Running in front of him, Daphne sent the boy a look over her shoulder. Then, her eyes shifted ever so slightly to stare behind him. "About that..."
Skin curling with dread, Malcolm turned his head and saw Alexander blast through the smoke at the exit, practically dissipating the remnants through the sheer force of his massive body. The minotaur looked around, saw Jahdiel engaged with the griffin, clapped his hands, and promptly tackled the beast in an instant. Large as it was, the winged monster got tossed aside like a bowling pin, landing dazed and in a heap on the ground, limbs moving uselessly.
Well, shit. Malcolm ran faster, not wanting any part of that.
"What do we do, Mom?" Clover asked. Now they ran into the mass of beasts, which thankfully hid them from sight if only for a short while.
"We could try flying over them," Daphne said, though she didn't sound particularly confident. The one other griffin in their retinue was currently engaged ahead, and even if it hadn't been it likely wouldn't have been able to carry all three of them.
"They're all close together," Malcolm said. "It wouldn't be pretty, but a big enough fireball would do the trick."
Clover and Daphne both grimaced at that. Dire as the situation was, that avenue felt too close to the exact event that had caused all this in the first place. They could see a few dead guards already littered around the chamber, which was bad enough. Turning the rest to ash seemed like a bit much.
That said, there were millions of lives at stake already. Clover glanced at her mother, noting how the older woman examined the guards before them, eyes calculating. Enemies before and behind them, and they'd wasted enough time here as it was...
Before they could come to a decision, all three of them perked up when discord seemed to ripple through the crowd of guards. Those at the front remained as they were, shielding against and stabbing into the attacking animals, but some behind them started turning around, weapons raised in the air, and hurried shouts rang out among them. Orders.
All of a sudden, the Changelings at the front all came together and began pushing against the beasts with newfound strength, carving a path into the makeshift animal battalion. Daphne, Clover, and Malcolm allowed themselves to move with this shifting of bodies, thoroughly confused; in making this bold assault and stepping fully back into the chamber, the guards were opening up their flanks once more, advancing like a needle into enemy territory.
It was a baffling choice. Except, there was one possible explanation.
"Someone's attacking them from behind!" Malcolm said.
Daphne saw them before Malcolm or Clover, being the tallest of the three. Sparks of electricity and beams of light shot up into the air, and all at once the guards seemed to bulge into the chamber, hammering back at the mass of animals to make space, suddenly sandwiched by the same force they'd been fighting already and this new one that had snuck up behind them. Malcolm stumbled back, getting on his tiptoes to see over the endless sea of heads and furred backs.
"The other Scouts!" Clover said, smiling wide.
The Scouts, all the ones they'd been forced to leave behind, now pressed against the guards, punching and kicking and shooting all manner of projectiles. More than that, Malcolm saw too that they were not alone in these endeavors. Alongside them were other Greenkin, ones not donned in blue. Some two dozen nymphs and dryads, fauns and satyrs, pixies, gnomes, beastmen of all sorts, some in what looked like long pajamas, others wearing thick leather or even cheap armor made from planks of wood, wielding thick tree branches like clubs or shooting stones with spinning slings.
The guards found themselves surrounded, clumping together in a thick circle, spears pointed out, archers shooting from the center. Some of the Scouts spotted Daphne and ran over to her, Lila among them, and once they came close enough Clover threw herself at the smaller girl, hugging her tight enough to knock the breath right out of her lungs.
"You came!" Clover said. "I can't believe it!"
The Scouts smiled, though they remained tense, attention drawn to the battle happening just a few feet away. Daphne nodded at them, holding her own strained frown, and looking at her Malcolm realized she must've been using her Trick, sending her animal army orders to not attack this new allied force.
"How'd you guys even break out again?" Malcolm said, and it was a fair question seeing as he'd been the only reason they'd managed it the first time.
Lila stepped back from Clover's grasp and adjusted her round glasses. "We didn't. These Seedlings came along and helped. Told us someone started up a fight down here and it was about as good a time as any to get us out. Guess that was you, huh?"
"Sure was," Clover said. "But now we need to find Harmony. Did you see them anywhere on your way down?"
A dryad with orange eyes and hair made of brown vines stepped in, having thrown her last rock at the circle of guards. "If we'd seen Harmony, we wouldn't be here right now. Heard they're in the pavilion, so we made sure not to go anywhere near there."
Daphne's eyes regained their focus, though she brought a hand up to her head. "It makes sense they'd be there with Halcyon's head. Harmony might not show it, but they do have a sentimental side."
The dryad scowled at that. "We heard about what Harmony's been planning. If that's how they want to make the world whole again, they really are crazy. That's not what Halcyon's promise means to me. To any of us." She nodded at Daphne. "We're with you, Councilwoman. Er, if you still go by that."
"I appreciate it," Daphne said. She narrowed her eyes down at the nymph, roaming her thin face. "Your name is Jennifer, isn't it?"
Jenny blinked, surprised. "You... know my name?"
Daphne smiled wryly. "I try to know everyone's name. Thank you for your help." She sighed now, glancing at the nearby battle.
The guards seemed more and more desperate, though there was no telling how things would go. They still had the numbers advantage, but Scouts were a lot harder to kill than wild animals. Some had even gone to engage Alexander and Jahdiel across the room, a brave if foolhardy choice.
There would be no better opportunity than this.
"Clover, Malcolm, let's go," she said, then turned to Lila, Jenny, and the other listening Scouts. "The rest of you, give us as much time as you can. I can't explain everything, but if Harmony falls, all this can end. We'll go fight her, and we'll win."
Her voice, though weary, carried confidence. Malcolm couldn't tell whether or not it was real confidence, and looking at the others he could see they struggled to believe it too. But Daphne had said it, and now she walked away, and he supposed it was the best they could do so he started to follow her.
Then, the other shoe dropped. Out from the same passage that the Scouts had come now stepped another group.
Daphne stopped, Malcolm and Clover behind her, and the three watched as this group—all of them Greenkin like those who'd come with the Scouts, though more numerous and looking back at them with decidedly less than friendly expressions—assessed the situation.
At their head was a faun, one carrying a thick plank of wood he must've salvaged from broken furniture. He palmed it, playing with its weight, then looked back at the four dozen Greenkin behind him, raising the plank high in the air. "No time to waste! Let's get down there and knock some heads!"
The Greenkin gave a furious shout, and then they all were running down the slope and into the chamber, wading right into unexpecting Scouts. It was enough to force the Scouts back into the guards they'd been attacking, a rather fortunate turn of events for the latter, who took the opportunity to push and link up with these new allies.
Then the animals, who these Greenkin had overlooked, started attacking them as much as they had been attacking the guards, and the situation spiraled completely out of control from there.
Daphne, Clover, and Malcolm watched as what had been a relatively organized if violent clash between two broad lines dissolved into a senseless brawl of all against all. Scouts, Greenkin, guards, and animals all fought one another, shooting, stabbing, batting, drawing blood, knocking down, sometimes in small groups, sometimes one-on-one, sometimes having to pause mid-fight with the sudden realization that they were actually on the same side before sheepishly yet decidedly attacking the closest possible enemy.
And then, Alexander finally broke through the crowd that had been stalling him.
"You!" he shouted, making Malcolm turn. What the boy saw was a minotaur covered in cuts and bruises but heaving with rage rather than exhaustion, eyes dilated and shaking as he stomped across the battlefield, arms sweeping people away as if they were bugs rather than full-grown combatants. "You fire-spitting devil, don't you dare run from me!"
Malcolm looked at the exit passage and found the journey to it completely covered in an assortment of battles. He looked at a fearful Clover and a drained Daphne, seeing in them the same shattered hopes he now felt settling into his gut. With one long breath, he turned back to the coming minotaur, hands ready.
- - - — MKII — - - -
Outside, the twilight haze of just-before morning had started seeping into the sky, purpling its pitch-black dark. Silviamon looked up at it as he walked around the World Tree's trunk, flanked by two guards, hearing all along the sounds of battle inside.
It certainly sounded like things had gone about as terribly as they possibly could have. Silviamon shook his head, tutting to himself for what felt like the hundredth time since he'd been so rudely shaken awake. Not four hours of sleep and already things were unraveling. He should've seen it coming, honestly. Harmony would have to be reminded of how crucial he was to this whole operation once it was over.
But before that, it was time to earn his keep once more. Silviamon turned a corner and saw the entrance, or more like its blown-out remains. Ash covered the ground, melted sap still steaming with cinders around the lip of the giant opening into the tree hollow.
Walking a bit further, he saw that, just as he'd thought, things were quite out of control. Guards fought what seemed a completely baffling assortment of Scouts—who had apparently escaped for the second time—Greenkin—who had apparently betrayed them by the dozens—and a veritable menagerie of wild animals.
"I don't know who, but someone is getting fired for this," Silviamon said. The guards standing with him fidgeted, clearly torn between sticking to his side and joining their fellows in the brawl. "Oh, calm down, you two. Let me handle this."
It was his job, after all. The back exit was a hassle to use, being a bit more out of the way, but it came in handy now. His Art was the sort that benefited from the element of surprise.
Bringing his hands together—all four of them—Silviamon narrowed his slitted eyes, trying to decide what area of the room he should target. Freezing everyone there in place was out of the question—even with both pairs of hands, he couldn't manage what seemed like a good four hundred bodies—but if he froze the right people, then everyone else could safely stab them dead or beat their heads silly or whatever it was they were doing. Some guards would fall victim to it, unfortunately, but he'd quickly determined that was unavoidable with how disorganized the battle was.
He'd have to try and target an area with the least amount of guards, and hopefully their comrades would defend the few who'd been frozen even as they also used the time to finish off their similarly frozen enemies.
Deciding on a direction, Silviamon closed his eyes, breathed in, and when he opened his eyes again everyone in his field of vision stopped cold. It was a shock to everyone else, and for a brief moment the entire chamber paused to look at all the unmoving bodies in one corner of the room. Get to it, you dolts, Silviamon thought, unable to glance over at the guards he knew must be standing close enough to these frozen bodies to play their part.
"It's Councilman Silviamon!" one of them said, and it sure took them long enough.
A victorious roar echoed through the chamber, and soon guards began their work, beating and stabbing and shooting at the frozen combatants. Some of the Scouts tried getting at Silviamon, having finally seen him standing at the Tree's entrance, but another set of guards got in between him and them, blocking any approach.
Silviamon smirked. As always, he was the deciding factor.
"C-Councilman!"
Silviamon frowned. The guard beside him tugged at his robe, but couldn't the idiot see that he was in the middle of something?
"Holy— Watch out! Incoming!"
The tugging stopped, and Silviamon could hear both his guards step away to do who knew what, and now he felt a sharp and sudden burst of panic. His instincts blared, pounded, screamed that something dangerous bit at his heels. The feeling grew and grew, so much that Silviamon had to blink, undoing his Art and turning around to see what in the hell was going on.
When he did, he saw a riding snail of all things crawling speedily across the clearing, and on its saddle he saw the sniveling minotaur nephew of Alexander of all people, and sitting behind that sniveling minotaur, covered in dirty bandages, grin wide and free, was that damn boy with the damn red striped mark on his cheek.
Riding fast right towards the forest demon, Red whooped and propped himself on a knee atop the saddle. "OUTTA THE WAY, FOUR ARMS!"
Silviamon clapped both pairs of hands, stumbling back. "How are you alive?!"
Like before, he tried his Art on the boy—specifically the boy, because he couldn't help the narrowing of his focus—and, like before, it didn't work at all. This time, there was hardly any resistance. With only a brief moment of pause, Red simply broke right through the invisible force of Silviamon's Evil Eye, arm curling back, hand closed in a tight ball.
Bessie reached Silviamon, both his hands clasped uselessly, face slack with shock. The snail passed him, and just then Red released a jubilant shout, fist plowing through the air directly into his waiting nose.
The punch rang out like a booming drumbeat. Silviamon's nose shattered immediately, and his body rose into the air, limbs flopping flaccidly with the momentum of his flight as he traveled ten, thirty, fifty yards across the entrance chamber.
He landed, eyes blanked out, right in the middle of a fight between two Scouts and a changeling, all three of whom paused to look first at the fainted Councilman and then at where he'd flown in from. Others around them did the same, and soon they all looked to see Red and Dimple atop Bessie at the entrance.
Bessie mewed. Dimple gulped at the attention. Red just laughed, staring back and showing them all the same fist he'd just used to pound Silviamon into unconsciousness. He shouted into the room, voice echoing through the silence.
"Who's gonna take me to Harmony?!"