Chapter 14: Broken Helm
The battlements were a wall-lined platform which ran around the entirety of the helm, usually fortified with thick walls and Blacklight Casters to ward off attempts to damage the helm itself.
Yet in spite of the dark clouds obscuring things, Cross could easily see that much of the Battlements were in ruins. Most of the stone walls lining it were big piles of rubble, with broken Blacklight Casters mixed in with the regular Blackstone.
It didn’t make walking any easier for Cole, who had stumbled more than once after the battle down in the workshop. Wristy had to make him stop so she could check the progression of the haze, with Fetcher occasionally glancing their direction as he searched the rubble for a working Blacklight Caster.
When Cross had emerged, he’d expected them all to be making a beeline for the helm. Instead, even Misser was simply scanning the darkened skyline for enemies. Cross wanted to shout for them to hurry into the helm, but his words died in his throat upon noting more piles of debris clogging the nearest two entrances fairly thoroughly.
If the rest of the entrances were clogged in a similar manner, they’d have to dig through them. Not an impossibility, but time was already against them.
Cross turned his gaze to Armel, who was staring at the very stairs they’d emerged from. His good hand was still molding Blackstone to his stump of an arm as Cross approached.
“Why are we slowing down?” he asked before gesturing towards the helm “Formal should be in there and those Blanken downstairs should be right on top of us.”
“That’s the problem, comrade.” Armel looked to him “With how much time we wasted on that Templar, they should’a damn well caught up by now. Meanin’ they’s holdin’ back on purpose.”
“Even more reason why we should be finding a way in.” Cross stepped closer “There’s no way every entry’s clogged. If they are, we should be digging by now.”
Armel looked back to the stairs for a moment before shaking his head.
“Right… no, you’s right.” He turned away before raising his voice “Oi Fetcher, Cole! Keep diggin’ through this junk ‘n see if we got’s a workin’ Blacklight Caster. Wristy, keep ya eye on the sky case them Kiddies try pullin’ somethin’.”
He reached over and clapped Misser on the shoulder, who went still with a grunt.
“I’l take the Newbloods and find us a way in.” Armel broke into a jog “lug it over when-”
A tremor struck, making them all lock up as the tower shook.
“That’s still happening?” Misser grumbled as it passed “Thought that was the Blanken breaking in?”
“Could be anything goin’ on down there.” Armel snapped before breaking into a run “Move it, comrades!”
Fetcher shared a look with Cole before shoving aside the pile he’d been digging through and moving on. Cole looked back to Wristy and gave a nod before moving to join Fetcher.
Cross and Misser ran after Armel, with Cross looking back to see the trio disappearing around the curve of the helm as they moved.
“Looks like the battlements were destroyed just to block the helm.” Misser noted as they passed filled door after filled door “But why? Who would-?”
“Give ya one guess.” Armel came to a sudden stop that forced Cross and Misser to pull back.
But by the time they looked past him, they could see scattered rubble in front of the only open entry they could find. The Blackstone rubble around it had been cut cleanly with the same deep, familiar grooves carved into the battlements around it.
Lady Khullic had torn through long ago.
A clash of weapons echoed from within, silencing all three of them before any could comment. Armel raised a finger to his lips before crouching low and moving towards the entrance with Cross and Misser following close behind.
The entry shaft was short, quickly leading into the large circular room that was the helm. Or at least, something that had once been the helm. The floor was cracked and broken, covered in the same scars of battle that marred the walls ceilings and several broken terminals.
“Bored with the poker, eh?” a deep chuckle echoed from the center “Guess it lost ya interest.”
The source was obvious.
Lumbering across that torn up floor was a familiar giant, a hulking being of black armor that sported the same kinds of battle damage as the rest of the room. Heavy blast plates covered in grooves that almost obscured the glowing purple lines running along his suit. He dragged a massive black spear behind him for a moment before pausing.
Rising up behind him was a massive shaper built into the back of his armor, the three fingers clenching tightly together as their tips sparked with purple energy. The Shaper pointed in one direction, then another as the titanic figure it was attached to scanned the room around him.
Many of the spherical lights dotting his spherical helmet were broken, their purple glow dark and dead as he searched for something
Cross was frozen in place in the entry hall, along with Armel and Misser.
It was Formal, their Captain and Knight who was said to have never failed a mission. Yet right then and there his steps looked heavy, his gait uneven.
Misser spoke first, in a hushed whisper that Cross could barely hear.
“What is he-?”
Formal suddenly whipped his spear up into both of his hands, his massive form spinning as a flash of white sped towards him. The sound of clashing weapons echoed out as Formal spun around, whipping his spear after the flash as it darted around the room.
It was too fast for Cross to make out, even when he narrowed his eye he could only barely make out a pale figure crossing the entirety of the helm several times in quick succession. Each time it did, Formal was somehow able to shift his spear in time to deflect it.
Armel was quick to shove Cross and Misser down behind some of the rubble left in the entry hall. Though Misser shot a glare his way, all three wound up transfixed by the sight of Formal fending off the unseen enemy over and over.
Formal’s Shaper whipped around as its fingers sparked again, arcs of purple energy stretching from each met in the center of its palm before forming a fizzling sphere which fired towards the speeding figure.
The figure was easily able to alter its course, speeding away as the fizzling ball of energy sank into the torn blackstone floor and caused the surface to glow. But Formal was already leaping, his entire frame launching into the air before his armor lit up.
Suddenly he sped downwards with the force of thunder and crashed into the floor. The Moment his spear touched the floor, it erupted in a shockwave of purple which lit up the darkened room in a myriad of pinks and purples.
The entire structure shook from the impact, the rumbling forcing Cross to press himself down in order to not slam against his companions. When he wound up bracing himself against Armel anyway, Cross felt him lock up.
Cross glanced over in confusion, only to notice her.
Standing between them and Formal with her back to them was a figure in pearlglass armor.
Jagged pale armor with spiky pauldrons covered in blue runes, linked to them were several chains of Pearlglass shards which floated behind her aimlessly. They obscured much of her back, but Cross immediately recognized the cutlass in her grasp. Its blade shined with golden runes that matched the glow emanating from the jagged vents of her dented helmet.
Despite being a fraction of Formal’s size, Lady Khullic had clearly suffered far less damage in their fight.
“Not bored, my love.” Her voice laced with longing “Just Eager. We only have so much time to enjoy this after all.”
Cross remembered it clearly. That manic voice as he was slung into the air, a fresh wound ripped through his armor and shell as if they were nothing. The twisted joy his assailant showed as she carved a mirroring groove before he could even hit the ground.
Lady Khullic’s chittering laugh was unmistakable, rising in pitch and volume as she casually waved her rune covered sword through the air at Formal. Yet he merely rose up with spear in hand and shook his head as he turned to face her.
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“Then why ya holdin’ back?” Formal’s rumbling voice was followed by a breathy sigh “Seen’ runes like yours before. You ain’t got em glowin right.”
Khullic released a pleased giggle as she began casually strolling along the edge of the helm. Those floating shards followed behind her as if they were flowing through water,
“Are you really lecturing me on holding back, Good Sir?” she asked before pausing as she pointed her cutlass towards him “I know my enemy, can feel their attacks coursing through me with every clash. You have not gifted me a full battle, I was simply acting in kind.”
Another deep sigh emanated from within Formal’s helmet as he stood tall and reached up for his busted helmet. He jerked it roughly to the side before slowly sliding it off. Lady Khullic cooed as he pried it off, revealing a pair of tired eyes underneath.
Those glowing pools of purple turned to Khullic as he gestured towards her with his helmet.
“Never did say how a fleet like yours ends up pullin’ patrol duty.” Formal grunted “Warriors like you belong on the frontlines, not pickin’ through a quadrant’s outer edges.”
Lady Khullic actually lowered her blade at that, glancing towards the ceiling as she gave a hum.
“It is unimportant, my love.” She shook her head before raising her cutlass again “Perhaps I saw it as misfortune before this.”
She vanished in a flash a moment after she spoke, Formal already had his spear up in time to catch the oncoming blade, his shaper lunging just too late to catch their quarry as lady Khullic skidded to a stop far behind them.
Standing tall, she raised her sword and whined at the sight of his discarded helmet impaled on it.
“But it brought us together.” She whipped her sword to the side and sent the helmet clattering along the floor “I must thank Mother for allowing me to indulge in battle with a legendary foe.”
“That legend ain’t done me much good lately.” Formal hefted his spear in both hands as he adopted a stance “Convinced the bishops I could pull a stunt like this, risk be damned.”
“Oh! It had to have been Bishop Carimoore, no?” Lady Khullic caught herself before clutching her sword in both hands and chittering again “Or maybe… Ah, only one as lively as Bishop Saulten would try sneaking a Rook into enemy territory!”
Cross’s eye widened.
She knew about the plan. It was a problem they had all recognized as a possibility, but that didn’t stop the hard confirmation from affixing them to the spot. It wasn’t the only thing keeping them from intervening, as Cross could see Misser raising and lowering his Caster with a grumble.
Because what could they do, really?
With how fast Lady Khullic was, anything less than catching her completely by surprise would be evaded. Even if Formal distracted her enough for them to pull off an ambush, Knights were a durable lot. Even if she didn’t have the sheer amount of armor that Formal was sporting, a Caster wouldn’t do the trick quick enough, especially one like Misser’s.
Cross glanced back outside as Khullic resumed circling Formal. They’d need that Blacklight Caster after all. Without it, the best they could hope for was that a surprise attack threw her off just enough for Formal to finish things.
He wanted to say he was thinking through their options as well as Armel seemed to be, but he couldn’t. His mind was too transfixed by the Knights before him.
Their movements were absurd. Lady Khullic was one thing, but the fact that Formal could even keep pace with something going as fast as she was whilst encased in that much armor defied all he’d assumed of their hulking superior.
It made the tales of knights carving their way through armies and single-handedly turning the tides of war seem far less of an exaggeration.
Not just impressive, but inspiring.
Lady Khullic dove towards Formal in another flash, only for his shaper to launch into the floor and grab hold once again. In a stunning display of strength, that over-sized shaper managed to haul the entirety of Formal’s bulky form back out of reach of Khullic’s blade, with her slowing down only briefly to coo in delight before vanishing in yet another flash.
The Shaper arm flung Formal forward in a spin, swinging his spear in wide arcs that tore from one side of the helm to the other and forcing Khullic to slow down once again to slither under its massive arcs.
She was ready for the shaper this time, dancing out of the way as it lunged for her. Its fingers dug into the floor and yanked Formal into the air towards her. It swung him down, sending him crashing into the floor spear-first with another ear-shattering impact that traveled throughout the entire structure.
“Listen, I get that you’s an old-school warrior-type” Formal rose from the now-glowing floor and glanced to the side “But ya know where we are, right? This fight ain’t nothing.”
“Hold your tongue, my love!” Lady Khullic spun away before pointing her sword at him again “The Sovereigns made us for each other, cherish each strike! I would not sully your victory with anything less than a true fight!”
“Victory?” Misser grumbled, gaze darting between the two as he tried to piece together what exactly he was seeing.
If Cross wasn’t so awed by their duel, he’d probably be just as floored by the nonsense leaving their mouths.
Formal was too casual, Khullic was speaking nonsense, and the damage all over the room indicated they had been fighting for a good while. None of it made sense, leading Misser look to Armel for any indication of him having a plan.
Instead, Armel had turned to look back to the front of the entry hall.
It was Wristy, waving towards them whilst keeping barely out of sight.
Armel was quick to nudge both Misser and Cross before nodding towards her.
“We’re leaving him?” Misser whispered, only for Armel to shake his head and nod at Wristy again.
But Cross couldn’t help it. The moment he rose, the sounds of clashing weapons drew his gaze to the Knights once more. No matter the absurdity of the scene itself, their displays of finesse and power sank into his thoughts. They had once been pawns like any other Blanken or Noirite, and yet they’d acquired weapons and abilities that put any footsoldier to shame.
Those thoughts only ended when Armel grabbed his shoulder and all but hauled him back.
By the time they stepped back onto the battlements, they found that Fetcher and Cole were working to haul a working Blacklight Caster over to them.
“Had another with a charge, but was still all busted.” Cole grunted upon seeing Armel “What you plannin’ on shootin? Brighthomes or-?”
“Looks like Khullic and the Captain been goin at it a while.” Armel nodded at the entry way just as another trembling crash shook the structure “Might actually kill him if we don’t get in there.”
“What?” Cole fought to steady himself “But he’s Formal. Ain’t no way some patrol boss is takin’ him down.”
“What about the tracker?!?” Misser demanded before gesturing to the helm “Isn’t that why we came up here? Without it, we’ve got a whole planet to pick through before we can find our Cargo.”
“Ain’t hard.” Wristy said as she placed a hand on her hip “Rooks tear up plenty, we’ll find it.”
Misser fumed as Wristy and Armel moved to help the others with the Blacklight Caster. Cross was quick to reach out and give him a pat on the shoulder before nodding towards the others. Despite how much of a problem it was, Cross wasn’t about to get stuck on it like Misser was.
If they could aid Formal, then any engagements with average Pawns would be a cake-walk going forward. He hadn’t seen much of his combat prowess up until then, but there was no way a Blessed Beam, Crusader blade or even a Templar’s mace was breaking armor like that.
Misser glared at him, but held his tongue as he moved to help the others.
But they both froze upon spotting something moving in the clouds ahead.
Something big, something pale.
“Brighthome!” Cross shouted towards the others, prompting all heads to whip up just as broken fingers emerged from the dark clouds.
Despite severe damage all across its form, it still managed to produce enough white clouds to keep it aloft. But it only needed its offensive capabilities to prove itself still a threat, and two broken fingers had already slid open by the time it pulled free from the darkness around it.
Fetcher was first to act, whipping up his weapon and firing upon the Brighthome as the others moved to twist the Blacklight Caster towards it. It spun as his caster shattered several fingers, but the burning golden glow within grew in an instant.
Cross moved as he realized he was in the path of its assault, only to note Misser raising his Caster instead of dodging. Grinding his teeth, Cross lunged forward and tackled Misser from behind, sending them both rolling near the walls of the helm as a massive Blessed Beam tore along the Battlements.
The structure hadn’t even stopped shaking before Misser whipped his head back around to snarl at Cross.
“What are you-?”
“Fetcher!” Wristy’s scream interrupted him.
They turned to see Fetcher stumbling back.
At least, what was left of him.
Most of his upper half had been completely destroyed by the blast, broken pieces of armor falling from the half of a torso left behind as it spewed ichor along the battlements.
None of them rushed as the brutalized chunk of the battlements gave way beneath him. There was no point, the damage was just too much.
He only had seconds left as the majority of his ichor spewed free. And those seconds he spent raising his caster, only to toss it towards Cross and Misser before he fell with an entire portion of the battlements.
The feeling of the caster slamming into the side of his leg made Misser jolt up, his anger at Cross seemingly forgotten as he whipped forward to snatch it up with his free hand.
“Come on!” he shouted to Cross as he raced to join Wristy in firing on the Brighthome.
Hefting his own Caster and lurching to his feet, Cross ignored the crashing sounds of pieces of the battlements tumbling to the mountains below. Instead, he tried taking aim with the others as the Brighthome circled and charged up another blast.
But before he could fire, he noticed Cole and Armel still moving to angle the Blacklight caster at the target. Even with its slow movements, the Brighthome was just able to outpace their targeting.
It was a split-second decision. Even with the Brighthome in such a battered state, their Casters wouldn’t be able to tear it from the skies before it could rip apart even more of the Battlements. He charged towards the Blacklight Caster instead, lowering his shoulder as he picked up speed.
“Fire!” he shouted as he drew near, with Armel noting him just in time to rear back with his good hand and drive it into the side of the Blacklight Caster.
Cole wasn’t even able to glance over in confusion before Cross slammed into the Blacklight Caster shoulder-first. Between the three of them and the impact itself, the caster jerked suddenly just as its purple glow focused to the tip of the barrel before exploding forth, tearing through the air and ripping through the Brighthome.
The battered vessel couldn’t hold up. Cross could see its numerous fingers fragmenting as the arcing purple energy ripped through them. It tore through its entire hull and burst from the rear as the white cloud the Brighthome floated on began to fade.
“Finally sank ya, eh?!?” Cole laughed as he raised his fists to the sky.
And though Cross cheered with him and the others, their voices died as the Brighthome’s broken remains began to fall.
The fracturing wreck careening directly towards them.