In some ways, Brother Tacitus was to blame for what was about to happen. It was him who suggested this cult was too dangerous and that lethal force was a necessary measure, especially if a hostage situation were to occur. Fifteen didn’t like it, but she trusted his expert judgment and approved the escalation. The decision was made shortly before the rescue team infiltrated the asylum’s main building, and had been in the back of everyone’s minds since. That was why nobody hesitated when they found the four tortured survivors upstairs. Similarly, everyone knew what needed to happen the instant Fifteen mentioned the chained-up sacrifices in the basement. By eliminating the heretics with extreme prejudice, their vile ritual was interrupted and all of the hostages – afflicted though they were – were spared. Though not the ideal outcome, the witch hunter had performed his duties splendidly. However, by striking down the earth mage who had claimed control over this place of power, Brother Tacitus unwittingly allowed someone else to tap into its now-orphaned energies.
Though petrified, the dwarf was very much conscious, and he did not miss this rare chance to finally break free of his bonds. What should have been a cause for celebration was immediately soured by the torrent of flames conjured by a descendant of his ancient, pointy-eared enemies. He did not need to know Fifteen’s genealogy to sense the fey influence in her spell, and he wasn’t in the most cooperative of moods to begin with. Who would be, after spending four centuries imprisoned with nothing but their thoughts as he was? So, he lashed out with a concentrated torrent of wind that blew the human’s flames aside with such speed and force it was as if he’d fired a ballista. The sorceress was barely able to dodge the worst of it, though it still grazed her shoulder and in the process ripped off her robe’s fabric, the chainmail underneath, and enough skin to produce a spray of blood. The spear-like wind went on to utterly demolish the doorway behind her, making it three times wider. There was no question she’d be turned to chunky soup if she took that directly.
For better or worse, her battle-trance kept her from losing focus. The lingering light of her dispersed flamethrower spell gave a brief yet solid look at the new threat. The dwarf was a full head shorter than the average midlander, around 150 centimeters if one were to ignore the horns of his helmet. He wore full-body plate armor that was generously proportioned around the gut section, but if the stories were true then that bulbous belly was full of muscle, not fat. His gray beard hung low enough to reach his head-sized belt buckle, which looked like a much smaller version of the round shield strapped to his left arm. The dwarf’s right hand held a peculiar short-handled hammer with a vaguely cone-shaped head – flat on one end and pointy on the other – though it looked more like an artisan’s tool than a weapon of war. Naturally, all the metal he wore gleamed with an eerie glow and was inscribed with various runes and geometric patterns.
There was no mistaking it. This man was a remnant of the War of the Ancients and regardless of how he wound up in this situation, he was now Fifteen’s problem. Thankfully, she wasn’t alone in this.
“Think fast!”
Brother Tacitus decided he wanted a piece of this portly pie and threw out some smoke bombs that instantly filled the chamber with a dense smog. The dwarf silently summoned the wind once more, this time to disperse the thick gas. There wasn’t really anywhere for the smoke to go in this enclosed space, so no matter how much the air swirled around him he was unable to see more than a few paces away. The witch hunter pounced on him from above and behind, an angle drastically different from the position he was in moments ago. Though surprised by the human’s unnatural speed, the dwarf was able to turn around and block the downward slash of the knight’s greatsword. A gong-like sound was heard as metal clashed against metal and sparks spewed out from the point of contact. It would appear the shield was indeed as magical as it seemed, though whatever effect it wanted to produce wasn’t working right due to the blade’s lead lining interfering with it.
The two warriors remained locked in place like that for a second or two before the ancient soldier forced the witch hunter back with pure muscle. He swung down with his artsy-looking hammer, but not at the knight. When that deceptively tiny weapon struck the ground, it sent out a wave cascading stone spikes that erupted from the brick-lined floor. The witch hunter leapt up and over the attack while holding the flat of his blade in front just in time to deflect a bolt of lightning that jumped from the horns on the dwarf’s helmet. In all honesty, it was pure luck he managed to defend against that. Tacitus could plainly tell his opponent was only just warming up, and when the geometric grooves on the dwarf’s shield lit up with a telltale red glow, he only had a moment to wonder if he’d live long enough to land on the ground.
Luckily for the witch hunter, he was friends with someone who excelled in turning an opponent’s flame against them.
“Ignum fortis decantus trionis.”
Fifteen’s obscured sight didn’t stop her from unleashing the same spell that had detonated an adult red dragon. It caused the dwarf’s gathering magic to burst from the shield’s inner side like a shaped charge. The blast was so potent that it threw the rampaging ancient through the solid stone wall and into the adjacent room – an alchemical lab of some kind. The bearded shorty lay on the ground stunned, though not from the force of the explosion. When he stood up a few seconds later it was plain as day that he was largely uninjured. He glanced around at all the vats, vials, and cauldrons lining the lab’s walls, then looked to the cracked shield hanging off his arm. His gaze was then pointed at the dwarf-shaped hole in the wall. This new chamber was much wider and had ample ventilation, so that smoke cover was actively getting dispersed by the strong draft coursing through the new opening. It was only when he was able to lay eyes on the human mage once again that he began to piece together exactly what happened. She had deployed her amplification ritual circle, had smoke pouring out from under her robes, an exploded staff rolled on the ground next to her, and her sizzling hands gripped around the shaft of a replacement.
“Buh… Buhah. BUHAHAHAHA!”
The dwarf finally let his voice be heard in the shape of a deep and boisterous laugh.
“Grad. Graaad! Tho monlegr ur gjilth burbur jektor lurlom!”
Though his words were foreign, his tone made it abundantly clear that he was enjoying this. Despite that generous opening, however, Fifteen did not interrupt his monologue. Even in her hyper-focused state she was unable to determine an effective way to destroy her target. Sure, her last spell blasted him through a wall and broke his shield, but the dwarf was perfectly fine and instantly mended the damage with a tap of his hammer. There was not a single doubt in her logical-to-a-fault state of mind that she was severely outclassed. Her inner fire was severely depleted by now, and her opponent didn’t have such concerns. Things like chanting spells, being limited to a single element, and having to fret over magical backlash or running out of energy were all human failings – side-effects of a cheap knock-off. Those who originally had the gift of magic could wield it as much and as often as they pleased, with greater potency and rapidity as well. To make matters worse this dwarf was both a veteran combatant and fully decked out in enchanted equipment that was far more powerful than anything humanity could produce. One tired mage, one loony witch hunter, and three terrified guards were far too few to take on that monstrous midget.
“Kjom thuu! Jina mikk ar! Buhahaha!”
And if that wasn’t bad enough, the way he charged in laughing made it clear he was the worst kind of battle-maniac. He reminded Fifteen so much of Azyra that she definitely would’ve lost her cool if not for the geas affecting her actions. Ironically, it was that very same spell that kept her from doing anything. She only had one big spell left in her, and if that ‘dragon popper’ wasn’t enough to leave a scratch, then what was the point in struggling further?
“The Prophet has witnessed thy – Aheh! – service!”
The meathead on her side noticed her inaction and figured out what was causing it, so he spoke the code phrase to lift the geas as he moved in to body-block the shorter warrior. It worked despite his inability to suppress his involuntary giggles. It took a few seconds for the fog to lift from Fifteen’s mind, and by the time she was back to her usual self the witch hunter and the dwarf were busy demolishing half the lab. The knight’s decision to undo her battle-trance in this sort of situation was definitely questionable, but not without merit. Though the sorceress wouldn’t be as focused or unflinching as before, she was free to use her imagination and look for an unorthodox solution to this dwarf-shaped problem. Something so crazy that it just might work.
For instance, the matter of her dwindling inner flame now seemed a lot more flexible. Sure, she only had one big spell left in her, but she could probably squeeze in a small one before that and worry about the freezing backlash later. More importantly, her partner was almost at the scene, and his strength would be a welcome addition. It still wouldn’t be enough to overcome this foe, so Fifteen decided to take a gamble that her earlier self formulated and then immediately rejected. The sorceress held out a vial of shimmering blue liquid just as the saber-tooth bounded through the widened doorway to the sacrificial chamber. He gobbled it up whole – almost biting her hand off in the process – and kept running for the hole in the opposite wall. Fifteen took a moment to inform the stupefied guards that they’d best evacuate, then started preparing for her next move. The timing was crucial, and if it worked, this plan of hers might just do enough damage to alleviate the dwarf of his thick skull.
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Speaking of, the two meatheads were having a jolly old time giggling and laughing as they thrashed each other. The ancient had transmuted his dainty-looking hammer into a proper battleaxe and was engaging the knight in semi-martial combat. Sparks flew everywhere as metal clashed against metal and witch-hunting tricks went up against dwarven spells. It would seem the short one had learned his lesson and avoided trying to conjure flames again, instead sticking to only wind, lightning, and stone-bending magic. He likely had water magic as well as some other elements that were normally impossible for mere humans to tap into, but as a battle-mage he clearly prioritized fast and destructive spells. Brother Tacitus was used to dealing with these, and though there were no chants for him to work with, he got plenty of hints from watching various pieces of his opponent’s equipment light up a split-second before activation. It would seem the dwarf had lightning in his helmet, wind in his belt buckle, fire in his shield, and earth in his weapon, along with a few other, less offensive enchantments on his armor, gloves, and boots.
Still, it was taking everything the witch hunter had just to keep up with the dwarf. The ground was already littered with tiny lead balls, darts, throwing knives, a few empty potion vials, and several failed alchemical surprises. Neither the glue bomb nor the anesthetic gas had slowed down the ancient warrior in the slightest, and his physical prowess was easily a match if not superior to the super-soldier’s. All of this amused the dwarf greatly, and his sporadic bursts of laughter easily drowned out the knight’s incessant giggling. This didn’t change much when Bahm joined the fray, burn scars already ablaze with the light of his innate magic. The saber-tooth pounced on the dwarf from behind, but was easily shoved aside with a full-body shield-tackle that sent the feline rolling across the lab’s littered floor.
Undeterred in the slightest, Bahm gave pursuit with fang and claw while Tacitus added to the pressure with his greatsword. The two were far from in sync, but it wasn’t difficult to attack the same target from opposite sides. The dwarf was forced to put in a bit more effort as he coaxed the stonework under his feet into walls and barricades that covered his blind spot. Man and monster alike were more than strong enough to break down those thin obstacles with a single strike, but it was enough to keep them from taking advantage of an opening made by the other. Whether it was because the ancient warrior had sufficiently warmed up after his centuries-long time-out or he was finally taking things a bit more seriously, he was every bit as untouchable as before despite being suddenly outnumbered.
He did a lot more than defend, of course. Both Bahm and Tacitus took a few shallow hits from that enchanted axe of his. It cleaved through the knight’s slash-resistant leathers and the beast’s fur hide with eerie ease, causing both of them to bleed heavily. Not for long, though. The man’s alchemically altered biology helped his wounds clot in seconds and the monster’s burning blood achieved a similar albeit more painful result. The axe was dangerous for sure, but they’d be fine so long as they didn’t take a blow to a vital area or lose a limb. The seamless discharges of harmful magic between each of the dwarf’s swings were a bigger issue. With the witch hunter’s training and the saber-tooth’s feral instincts they were just barely able to avoid getting struck by lightning, skewered by stone, or ripped to shreds by winds. They were getting grazed constantly, however, and much like Fifteen’s shoulder, the magic shaved away at their defenses and steadily built up injuries.
Sensing where this was going and secretly hoping that the sorceress had one last trick up her sleeve, Brother Tacitus threw caution to the wind and put all his trust in that brilliant mind of hers. He waited for an opportune moment when the dwarf was preoccupied fending off a barrage of claw attacks from Bahm, then lunged at his backside with a full-power swing. Like before, a wall of wrangled bricks sprang up to blunt the force of his strike, but once he was through the witch hunter simply let go of his lead-lined greatsword and went for a grapple. The dwarf wasn’t expecting such a bold move and failed to stop the human from wrapping one arm around his barely-there neck while the other seized his axe-hand from behind. A wave of electricity ran along the exterior of his bulbous armor, not potent enough to kill but plenty to paralyze or otherwise incapacitate the stubborn knight. It was certainly effective, yet the man stubbornly clung to him. If he could talk, he’d quip something about how muscles actually tensed when subjected to an electric current, so if anything this self-defense measure was only making him hold on tighter.
Regardless, Tacitus had succeeded in immobilizing the target – however briefly – and he prayed to the Prophet that the sorceress would not fail to seize upon this opening. And she did, though not right away. It was Bahm who made the next move, throwing his entire weight against the ancient warrior and finally pinning him to the ground while the limp witch hunter was thrown to the side. Monster and dwarf struggled furiously against one another for several brutal moments until the latter proved triumphant. Despite his vulnerable position, he was able to spring forth a stone pillar that practically punched Bahm in the jaw to force him off. There was no sign of movement from the clingy knight, so the dwarf made use of his barrel-like physique and rolled sideways to get some momentum before springing onto his feet. Only then did he notice a strange blue liquid trickling down his helmet and into his eyes. He was deeply puzzled as to where such a thing had come from, as he hadn’t noticed the muffled crunch of the crystal vial that Bahm had tucked away in a corner of his mouth. He was equally clueless regarding the mental go-ahead the familiar sent to his partner.
“Ignum adcurata expulso dionis.”
The dwarf’s focus instantly sharpened as he heel-turned towards the source of that chant just in time to witness something that yet again defied his expectations. While the guys were wrestling, Fifteen had run up to the waist-high altar the previously petrified dwarf had been on, climbed over it, and pressed her brass leg against its bottom corner at an angle. The spell she used summoned a pillar-shaped explosion under her metallic heel, the force of which launched her through the hole and straight at the stunned dwarf. It was the new technique she’d been practicing in secret ever since those northlanders gave her the idea, and also what allowed her to pull off the mid-air interception on the cultist in the old chapel. Though it was hard to call it flight per se, there was no denying that the fire mage had figured out a way to make herself airborne with her magic purely out of spite for Azyra.
Her boom-jump ended a fraction of a second later as she drop-kicked into the dwarf’s raised shield. Her prosthetic leg took the brunt of the impact just as it bore the force and heat of the spell that launched her, causing its ankle joint to break and collapse from the cumulative stress placed upon it. Despite the powerful blow, the dwarf didn’t budge or stagger in the slightest. It was as if she’d just tried to kick a mountain, though knocking him over was far from her main goal. This next spell she intended to use had a very short range, and she needed to close the distance before she lost the lingering benefits of her amplification circle. It was now or never, and she correctly anticipated she didn’t have time for a full chant, so even if it would significantly reduce the power of her spell, she had no choice but to shorten the incantation.
“Ig-dec-un!”
The warrior forced her off in the next instant, and she crashed into a stack of crates hard enough to make her broken metal leg fall off entirely, but it was too late. The small copper wand that she was holding just moments ago now rolled across the cluttered floor with a slight sizzle, having instantly turned boiling hot after she used to channel the last of her inner fire into the ashplume extract splattered over the dwarf’s helmet. The highly volatile mixture wasn’t just a super-spicy potion, but could also be used as a slow-burning fuel. If it was ignited normally, then the dwarf’s helmet would burn like a torch for half a day. However, the particular way that Fifteen set it ablaze with a supercharged ignition spell forced out all of its potential energy in a matter of seconds.
The result was that the proud ancient warrior’s head disappeared in a blinding blue blaze so intense that it made strange sparks fly out in every direction. He screamed in pain for the first time since this battle started, as he had no defense against this heat. Sure, he likely had all kinds of countermeasures or resistances against magical flames, but even though a spell triggered it, this attack was ultimately a form of chemical warfare that bypassed those defenses. It took him several agonizing seconds to finally get that helmet off, which crumpled into a pile of half-molten slag the instant it touched the ground. The dwarf’s head was left in a horrible state. If he wasn’t bald before, he certainly was now, and his entire scalp was seared a bloody red. His pride had likely been scarred as well, seeing as his magnificent beard was reduced to a few smoldering whiskers.
Yet despite all that, the dwarf still stood as strong as ever. Though now ruined beyond even his ability to mend it, the helmet had absorbed much of that steel-melting intensity. If Bahm, Fifteen, and Tacitus were to pull that trick off again, then it was safe to assume there’d be nothing left of his head. However, the odds of that happening were zero. The witch hunter was still unable to move and the sorceress was curled up in a ball trying desperately not to freeze to death after overworking her inner fire. Only the saber-tooth remained on his feet, though in his exhausted and wounded state he could do nothing but stand between his partner and the dwarf and growl menacingly. The team was clearly in no shape to put up a fight, and even if they were, Fifteen was out of magic and ashplume vials both. Much like her battle-trance self deduced, victory against the ancient warrior was impossible, but she was at least able to give him one hell of a black eye.
“Grad zarkh. Obbrithar voth briggast bavta.”
Yet despite having his enemies at his mercy after suffering such a humiliating blow, the dwarf merely offered some parting words before vanishing with a loud crackle.