After breaking through the gate I passed into the artificial tunnels which lead up to the fortress of Northastr. Sprinting up the dusty cut stone I had left the horrific Formorians behind as they battled the defenses at the gate. The last I saw of it, their grotesque titan had been tearing into the metal barrier, but unlike simple rock the Pharyes structure seemed more resistant to its horns.
Close as I was to my goal I had no chance to relax – in mere seconds I found myself under attack from all sides, Varangians, golems and various built-in defenses all focused entirely on me.
With each stride my skin met hardened rock, suffused with the ambient energy that bubbled up throughout the Underworld, and like a flash the landscape underfoot was illuminated to me, radiant pockets of essence revealed. The very tunnel itself was my enemy too. Leaping, dodging and ducking through the storm of lightning, flame and metal I’d whipped up by my intrusion I wove through the minefield, evading each explosive charge by the breadth of a hair.
Rounding a corner, still ascending, I finally had the breather I’d desired, as I found myself in a clear, smooth stretch of tunnel, climbing steeply without walkways or gantries to line it.
It soon became clear why, as metal doors high above at the head of the slope slowly spun open.
With a deep rumble that I felt as much as heard the spheres within the trap began to move, hundreds of giant round orbs of many sizes cascading down the slope, a wall of metal spheres that rampaged towards me with frightful speed, thousands of tons all aiming right for me in an artificial avalanche.
This was not at all the simplistic, trivial obstacle Ivaldi had described!
“A rare tactic,” the aulogemscire had told me, “useful only in the rather uncommon situation of attempting to defend a higher position against attacks from below.”
“It seems effective to me,” I’d argued. “It was rock slides that let the others commandeer a crawler and save me.”
“Well, yes, that is true, but such tactics can only succeed with great luck or extensive preparation, and at great damage to the vehicles involved each time,” Ivaldi had replied. “Uncontrolled weapons such as these must be deployed in clear spaces shaped to accurately funnel them towards an attacker, leaving no path to escape and no cover in reach – making them trivial to foresee. There is also the matter of elevation – it would be quite foolish indeed to give up the safety of the depths simply to allow us to drop weights on our foes you know!”
It had become apparent over our interactions that the Pharyes placed great importance on depth, not just as a form of safety but as a type of primacy and status too. They were always uneasy if they allowed others to undermine their positions, and it seemed to be almost a humiliation to be ‘on top’ in their society. Strange, and a cause of more than a few misunderstandings as we had tried to learn to communicate, but given the many miles of Formorian hives above us even now I could understand how their culture might come to see height as exposure and danger rather than superiority.
They certainly found other ways to seem quite superior after all. I could still hear Uldmar’s haughty, self-satisfied tone as he had dismissed the threat of the traps I would face.
“Nothing for a creature such as you to fear,” he had assured me, “they are a primitive weapon, seldom used nowadays. They are effective only in repulsing against intruders of great brawn and small intellect…. You ought fare well against them, provided you aren’t fool enough to break any.”
The sense of being mildly insulted had become a certainty now, as I frantically wove between the huge orbs hurtling down at me.
Every time I dodged one two more flew at me from new directions, and before I knew it I was up against the right side of the tunnel.
With nowhere to go I was forced to kick aside an orb the size of a car, lest it crush me against the wall.
My toes sank into the metal casing with an unpleasant sensation like treading on eggshell, then I felt something deeper within the fragile ball crack.
With a rush air entered, followed by a scream of combustion that tore back out, turning the weapon into a hail of flaming shrapnel and spraying liquid fire!
I had already ducked behind another ball, but still a metallic shard raked my leg, the trailing fiery tendril burning my ankle as I ran.
More were detonating as the shrapnel struck them, releasing the liquid fuel within to ignite explosively on contact with air, but all I could do was to sprint uphill, to try to outpace the spreading explosions.
Ivaldi had warned me well that water couldn’t douse these flames, but in my desperation I began a chant all the same.
Ahead of me the random motions formed a solid wall of metal, with no path through I could detect.
At the last moment two of the largest obstacles collided, and as they bounced apart again there was a glimmer of light. I was almost out of the avalanche.
Completing my spell I forced the orbs apart with the pressurized gouts, using the water to spread the force across the large surfaces.
Leaping over the river of smaller balls I pressed my arms to my sides and shot through the gap, flames held at bay by the pillars of cool, clean water summoned by my magic.
Descending towards the floor on the far side I jumped carefully off another moving ball, only to realize that one the size of a house was looming over me.
The flood of water pouring from my hands crashed against the giant mass, and forcibly shifted its course.
As it shot past me I turned the twin fountains on the devastation behind me, a sea of fire rocked by explosions.
The waters I poured down upon the scene were just barely enough to hold back the flames as I ran for higher ground.
I didn’t like to imagine the scene which would play out when the formorians inevitably reached this twist in the tunnel and encountered a flood carrying unquenchable burning oil down upon their heads.
There was no time to wait and see how that might play out anyway.
It was only as I started moving again that I realized how painful the red patch on my ankle was – resistant as I was to fire, the aulogemscic admixture the Pharyes used to fuel their flamethrowers burned incredibly hot, enough to give me a nasty welt where the mixture had clung to me.
Worse yet, it had singed the hem of my trousers!
But I was already running again, towards the light above me, and the fortress waiting there. I couldn’t apologize to Patch if she and the others were captured after all.
~~~
Reaching the end of the passage I lurched to a halt as the light shifted from gloom to piercing brilliance.
The Formorians were somewhere behind me, as were the equally enraged Pharyes defenders, but the chaos of the explosive boulder trap meant neither would catch up for a minute at least.
The ground leveled out ahead, the walls falling away as I passed out into a rounded chamber multiple miles long, vaulted with metal reinforcements, rising up thousands of feet above to coat the roof of the cavity like a cobweb.
Before me was the great fortress of Northastr, floodlights shining out from within the armored walls in brilliant white that dazzled the eye and cast long, harsh shadows wherever they stuck the stone outcrops that dotted the floor of the chamber.
The structure of the fortress itself was spherical, but the surface before me had a curve so slight as to be near imperceptible – it simply looked as though the cave was cut in half at the far end by a metal sheet, its surface bumped and bulbous.
Along the centre of the space, a roadway wound gently about the greatest obstacles like a river, tributaries joining occasionally where other paths connected up from tunnels above and to either side. The route was broad enough for multiple crawlers to pass, yet the shape seemed to shrink away to a mere line before reaching the far end of the chamber.
Such was the scale of the base the Pharyes had created, layering armor and defenses into a carefully excavated space to create a structure they could access and defend from any direction. The bulges were weapon turrets the size of battleship cannons, each clad in thick metal plate like a turtle shell that integrated it into the armored wall. These clustered most densely around the pits that were giant circular gates, the entrances into the docks beyond.
Narrow aspect and sheer scale made the line of apertures seem small; a thin dotted mouth that ran along the bottom of the wall, but each was the scale of the gate I’d broken through. Were all to open hundreds of machines could pass though at once.
All that was as Ivaldi had described, however no part of our planning sessions had included an army of Varangians and golems ready to receive me.
The defenders possessed many times the numbers we had anticipated, massed Skidbladnir and Triskelions supported by giant crawlers arrayed on the higher slopes at the sides of the ground.
Already the turrets lining the wall ahead were moving.
At this range the lightning cannons would be unusable, their shots losing coherence and arcing to strike whatever conductors they might pass, but the bolt launchers were already opening up.
Overhead the saturated white of the floodlights darkened, metal blotting out their glow and plunging me into night.
Standing watching, I felt a curious sense of wonderment at the sight, as though it were really all someone else’s problem.
It was like something out of a movie.
The sight of a dart thicker than my arm hurtling down towards me broke the spell, and I threw myself forward to dodge the shot.
It hammered into the stone just behind me, throwing up dust and fragments, but my focus was already elsewhere – as I came down on my hands I felt the rock of the well-worn roadway yielding under my weight.
Without time to think, I focused all the essence I could to anchor myself, then pivoted forward and flipped over, pushing off with all my strength.
As I tumbled forwards I felt the heat of an intense blast of fire licking my hands.
I was outraged more than injured – Ivaldi had been certain there would be no mines in the final chamber, as explosions so close to the fortress could create deadly cave-ins.
It seemed that the defenders had chosen instead to install firebombs to greet any attacker breaching the tunnels and assaulting the walls.
Flicking the scalding napalm from my stinging fingertips I righted myself and spread out my awareness.
It wasn’t enough just to see and dodge the bolts overhead, I had to feel the traps beneath me too.
Splitting my concentration without letting anything slip by my senses or allowing my body to overbalance or undershoot in any of my movements seemed impossible, and the challenge grew all the greater as I tried also to think, to strategize and look for ways through the barrage.
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Each slip or lapse was quickly punished. Too late I recognized a huge spear’s trajectory would place it mere paces in front of me, and as I tried to arrest my momentum my toes impinged too far upon the edge of a bomb beneath.
Shifting essence alerted me to my error, the rock crumbling and the shifting pressure triggering the detonation. Before I could regain balance the mine expelled a blazing eruption of incendiary fluids right at my face.
Snatching a falling spear from the air I anchored my feet and thrust the projectile tip-first into the stone, pushing myself back and deflecting away the eruption with its shaft.
More firebombs were detonating all around as the forest of metal fell atop me, but the spouts were like geysers, directed upwards rather than outwards. I just had to avoid stepping on them directly.
Pushing my senses and focus I kicked off once more, hurling myself forwards and carrying the burning hot bolt with me in my aching hands, batting away those smaller shots I couldn’t dodge.
I barely felt the pain, my consciousness entirely devoted to overcoming this obstacle.
One mistake could be all it took to stop me in my tracks long enough for ten tons of metal to be rained down on my head, yet as my movements flowed together and my senses surpassed their limits everything seemed to make sense. There was a beautiful simplicity to it all; just me, my body, and the shapes and energies around and within me. Everything else had dropped away.
Rather than thousands of grey needles in a chaotic storm overhead, falling down upon a chaotic sea of traps below, I started to see instead the gaps, the paths that might lead me through the shifting mass and the spaces into which I could escape.
Magic came to me, as my eyes scanned for routes through the hail, and my mouth moved with the words even as I gathered my mana.
In some distant, tranquil recess of my mind, I wondered when I’d grown so skilled in commanding my essence – Shukra would have laughed at the waste, at the monumental excess of power I called upon to shape even a simple spell, yet clumsy as it might be the power was moving by my will all the same. Perhaps I could even learn more advanced magic when I returned to the Eyrie.
Ahead and above a dense cluster of shots had gathered, the fire more intense and accurate the closer got to the fortress, until now it was a solid wall.
There was no dodging this.
Instead I leapt up to meet the attack, flying headlong towards a spear many times my size.
At the last moment I gripped the air, essence fixing my hands in place.
Pivoting my body about the twin anchors I coiled my legs before the impact, then kicked with all my might.
Pressure resisted my strike as though I were trying to move in deep water, yet after a moment I felt the tension break, my foot lancing out with a crack as my essence-infused strike left streaks of energy in the cavern sky.
The solid form splashed against the ball of my foot as I plunged through the spearhead, metal flowing around and between my toes, the rest of the mass piling up before me as the giant metal pole crumpled and bunched together, only to shatter to pieces as I forced my way through.
Emerging from the wall of steel I pushed off against the air with all four limbs anchored, falling like a meteor back towards the ground far below.
The fine control of essence throughout my body was still a challenge, and I almost lost my spell as I pulled off the trick, however the reward was well worth the risk. For a moment the guns had lost me, my rapid descent putting me ahead of the carpet of shots, and in that hard-won calm I completed my incantation.
“Water, cleanse all!”
It was a true flood, in volumes incomparable to those I’d conjured in the tunnels, pouring forth from my hands as I forced all the mana I could into the magic I’d formed.
At first the immense, expanding mass gathered around me like a colossal raindrop, a liquid comet falling to the ground with me, but as I struck land it broke. The waters hammered into the stone and flashed out in all directions, rupturing and drowning the mines all about in instants, countless belching jets of flames snuffed out.
Thrilled with my own tactics and confident that the worst obstacles were behind me, I was riding high as I half-ran half-surfed atop the waves towards the gates.
With the way cleared and the spear-guns still turning to track me at close range, there was nothing to stop me reaching them, and I was already incanting another spell in readiness to punch through the barrier ahead.
Surging energy ahead snapped me out of that delusion, and just barely in time I adjusted my mana flow as lightning cascaded down from all about.
Power enough for a whole storm crackled over and through my body, the charge tingling in my teeth and bones as I caught the incoming bolts in my left hand and guided them around to the right, where it thundered back out in a huge tail behind me, forking tongues licking eagerly at the metal in the ceiling above and the spreading water below.
I could have aimed the discharge back at the defenders – a tempting thought after the hard time they’d given me – but it was far too much power to send at living people.
Even if I could be sure I wouldn’t kill anyone, the defenders had another battle ahead of them, and given the massive Formorian response I suspected they would need every Skidbladnir, golem and crawler they had.
All the more reason I needed to break through quickly, before it became a three-way melee.
With their lightning barrage defeated the Pharyes forces were quick to give up and conserve power, and as the last of the dazzling arcs of energy cut out I expected to see a wave of fire coming my way instead, already tensing myself to push my body down into the spreading wave under me.
What I was entirely unprepared for was the sight of a distortion in space dead ahead, where even the walls of the cavern seemed to twist and curve. The anomalous space was growing rapidly, a huge mass of turbulent essence, and though it was warped and bulbous I could see a figure emerging from inside it. It looked like a balding human, clad in simple brown leather and tan cloth, missing shoes….
The realization struck me just as my own reflection did the same, the mirrored surface slamming into me like a freight train, barely slowing as it drove me down into the water.
Hammered against the rock beneath, I felt the stone giving way under the sheer force of my impact.
Air emptied from my lungs, a horrible echo of my battle with the Demoniac filling my mind even as water did my mouth.
With a drowned shout I loosed my unraveling spell, energy exploding from my fist as I struck at the giant weight atop me, yet both impact and discharge seemed to rebound, the mass atop me only moving a few inches while my arm recoiled painfully, the electricity spreading over the surface, boiling the water all around yet leaving the dome unperturbed.
It was just like my own energy redirection, but this mirrored attacker could resist even physical force.
I was saved from the flood as the waters continued to spread, the level diminishing quickly to that of a mere puddle, however the bizarre mass was still pinning me down in the furrow gouged by my torso. All around I felt energies moving, my foes gathering around, essence focusing, ready to take advantage of my immobilization.
Despite the dire circumstances, I felt myself grinning.
This wasn’t the first time the Pharyes had trapped me under a huge metal weight, but this half-hearted attempt couldn’t compare to the many tons of lead they’d encased me in. They hadn’t even pinned my arms or legs.
Rock was too soft to give purchase here, so instead I anchored my chest in place.
Perhaps sensing danger, my attacker increased the pressure weighing down upon me in an instant, but they were already too late.
My knees and hands pressed to the surface of the dome atop me and I tensed my every muscle to the limit. With a roaring shout I forced the mass up until my legs could bend under it. Planting both feet on the smooth surface let me put the power of my entire body into moving the weight, and kicking off with my legs I threw it high into the air.
As my enemy tumbled through the air I saw that it was in fact a Skidbladnir, the machine’s heavily armored limbs visible as it spun, the dome it carried a greatshield of some sort.
Flames screeched towards me from all around, and I paid no further heed to the shieldbearer.
With so many sources ahead there was only one way I could escape the blaze, and I plunged headlong into the ranks of the Varangians and Triskelions ahead without a second thought.
Blades, spears, shots and lightning were everywhere as I danced between enemies, however the focused attacks of a moment ago were impossible now, their own massed forces granting me cover for the approach to the fortress.
Leaping through the tangled legs of a cluster of tripods I knocked aside a sword with the edge of my palm and with my other hand drove a blow deep into the core of the intruding Skidbladnir, hydraulic gore drenching my forearm.
Without checking its status I moved on, using the falling mass for another moment of cover against the lightning that its allies unleashed at me.
Before I would have feared for the life of the pharyes pilot within, but Ivaldi had taught me about what the production models could endure, and where to find the cockpit, located in the upper chest. As long as I didn’t pierce the armored shell in which the pilot sat there was no need for concern. My opponents would suffer bruises, perhaps a broken bone or two, but they would recover.
Provided we weren’t all overwhelmed in the coming Formorian assault at least.
Such thoughts came and went in a mere fraction of a second, but that lapse in focus proved a dire error.
Rounding another body of Triskelions I saw a twinkle through the metallic throng, then burning, blinding white scoured my eyes and drowned out my surroundings.
Dazzled and stunned I tripped on some leg or weapon and tumbled forward blindly, crashing into another production model at high speed.
Blinking I struggled back to my feet, my vision still washed out by the afterglow of the attack. I could still feel essence all about me, but in the dense, churning chaos of the melee it was impossible to sense everything. I ducked some sort of spear, then swayed around a club as it threatened to knock me back against the cavern floor, but as I moved something fast and powerful came from outside of my awareness to tear into my back like a thousand blades all at once.
Reeling from the strike and the pain, I was powerless to evade the subsequent attacks, even if I could feel them coming.
The first few I turned into glancing blows, but the sheer number were overwhelming.
Heavy and sharp, an essence infused blade raked across my side with another hot flash of pain.
The blow split fabric and skin, biting at my muscle but unable to cut through, but while it couldn’t bisect me the impact carried all the force of a ten-foot war robot behind it, hurling me through the air.
Splashing down into the residue of puddles from my earlier spell I skidded several yards before I struck something solid.
Rolling away by pure instinct I narrowly evaded an axe attempting to cleave open my throat, and managed to leap back upright.
Disorientated, shaken and still struggling to visually distinguish anything beyond a soupy haze of metal and lightning, I barely heard the shriek of flamethrowers in time.
Unable to see enough to dodge, I grabbed hold of the arm of the nearest Triskelion as it was trying to pull back.
The machines were mindless, automatons controlled by complex systems of gemstones and hydraulic pressure – which meant there was no need to fret for their well-being – but all the same I felt a pang of guilt.
Guilt would be nothing next to the agony of fire however, as I’d learned well.
My outstretched fingers stabbed into the domed body of the tripod, my other hand following just behind. With both arms driven in up to the elbows I raised the broken golem, gripped and tore, opening my foe up, metal wailing as it split apart like an overripe tomato, spatters gushing out where cylinders burst and pistons overloaded.
The hydraulic fluids drenched me instantly, not a moment too soon, dousing the flames already attacking my flesh.
Pulling the improvised shelter down around me the destroyed device formed the perfect barrier against the onslaught.
Of course I wasn’t idle in my temporary refuge.
The metal couldn’t last long against the sustained blaze, accompanied by lightning and shot, however I could only imagine with glee the looks on the Varangians faces as my refuge collapsed into molten slag to reveal… nothing.
Clawing my way through the crater left by one of the mines, I’d found the pipeline through which they were powered and controlled, a weakness that let me start to dig. The rock through which it had been bored proved difficult to break apart with just my bare hands; however the flames licking at my heels had proven potent motivation for me to half tear, half kick through the disintegrating stone.
Bursting out into the light of the cavern once more I found my sight wholly recovered in the intervening moments, however what greeted me was not the clear run to the gates that I’d been hoping for.
It had been mere seconds, yet it seemed the Varangians had picked up my signal before I could emerge – three ancestral weapons were arrayed before me, ready for my appearance.
I really had to learn to hold in my mana.
~~~
Lord Uldmar’s mind was blank as he stared at Lady Idavoll.
His surroundings seemed frozen as he took in the sight of her Skidbladnir, in the act of triggering the alarm.
Nothing made sense.
The hiss of the door by his right side set time into motion once more, and his noble entourage were set upon in a moment by Varangian guards, sallying from the rooms within.
Before his eyes, Slettr’s machine was impaled by the precise, merciless thrust of a true warrior’s spear, the young man crying out in shock over voice as he staggered back.
Lady Knall came to his aid, forcing the attacker away with a bolt of lightning, but their small group had lost their tactical advantage. They were eight young scions of noble houses, armed with the latest production designs, but already four Varangians had emerged from the jail complex, with as many again sure to appear – all hardened, devout warriors, who lived for the King and died before they would fail in their duty. His force couldn’t hope to win in a fair combat of equal numbers… and yet Idavoll stood there, making no move to bring the great power of Rikvidjur to their aid.
Somewhere below them another impact shook Northastr, and the lights flared, then burst with jets of glittering liquid. The corridor was plunged into darkness, lit only by the blinding lightning and scorching flames all around.
Faintly, at the back of his mind, Lord Uldmar realized that Knall was shouting his name. Her urgent voice was resounding in his ears, yet somehow he couldn’t parse the words.
This wasn’t right. There had to be some mistake.
Idavoll couldn’t have been the one to trigger the alarm. Not her.
“Northastr Control!”
It was her voice, he realized suddenly, the familiar, refined and elegant tone of the young woman he knew better than any other. Idavoll’s Skidbladnir had activated the voice gem next to the alarm, and she was speaking to the fortress control room.
“Emergency in the jail complex! The Chief Aulogemscire has betrayed us!”
“Idavoll, no!” Uldmar exclaimed in a breathless gasp, stirred from inaction by his horror.
Knall and Tomsk lunged at her, but the smaller Skidbladnir were hurled aside by the weight and power of the magnificent weapon that was Rikvidjur.
“He’s tapped into the golems and started a breakout! Send help before the prisoners escape!”
Releasing the gemstone and turning, the towering figure lined up alongside the Varangians as the second wave emerged into the halls.
Lady Idavoll’s glaive struck out at her own allies, cleaving through the arm of the laggardly old Tomsk’s vehicle and splattering her with the spitting green gushes of mechanical blood.
It had been less than a wheel ago that Idavoll had been making light of his first grey hairs, and she, Hlesey and Uldmar had shared a chuckle at the man’s expense.
Lady Knall’s voice screamed through the chaos of overcrowded voice frequencies. “My lord, stop her! You’re the only one who can!”
It was true.
Idavoll was one of their best, even without Rikvidjur… and this disaster… it was his mistake, and his responsibility. Only he had the heirloom weapon needed to put matters right.
Striding forward through the chaos of the melee, Uldmar raised his blades once more.
“Idavoll stop! What are you doing?!”
All around them Varangians were assaulting their friends and followers, the two sides locked in deadly struggle, yet Idavoll’s machine turned and raised her glaive with a placidity of motion that belied the dire circumstance.
“I’m stopping you! I’m stopping you from- from making the worst mistake of your life!”
Uldmar flinched at the fury in her answer, clear even through the transmission, yet he could hear woe too, grief and guilt all in turmoil as the woman choked out her words.
“Put it down, my lady, I command you! Whatever madness has taken you, I… I have no wish to harm you!”
“Then surrender! I’ll take no orders from a traitor!”
As she spoke the words, Idavoll closed in a flash, and Uldmar just barely raised his arm-blades in time to catch the impact of her glaive on their crossed edges.
Brilliant sparks sprang to life between them, illuminating the clash.
They had sparred so many times, yet it was all different that wheel. Idavoll meant to cut him down. He could feel it in the intense pressure from her Skidbladnir, and the thick essence filling her polearm.
“Don’t do this, Idavoll!” he insisted.
Even he could hear that he was crying, so Idavoll must surely have known, but she just gave a sad laugh.
In that moment he could see her face as though she were sat at his side, recall the girlish tears which had rolled down her cheeks that wheel, when Lord Tomsk had turned down the foolhardy advance of a young noblewoman….
She had been too inept and inexperienced to turn the eye of the grown man, and she had tried her hardest to brush off the humiliation as nothing to her concerned friend….
Embarrassment had turned to something else as his hand brushed her cheek, and the two had shared a momentary indiscretion, their lips meeting as two hearts raced together.
The sound of screaming metal shattered the illusion, as he felt the cutting edges of their blades grinding together, each trying to saw through the other.
“You still don’t see it…,” she said.
He could see her shaking her head as though they were face to face.
Suddenly her voice was shrill once more, strained and bitter. “You told me yourself, Lord Uldmar, you meant to bear it all, the blame, the shame, the disgrace! You were going to throw everything away, your position, your house, even your honor! I have to do this, to protect you!”
“Protect me?!” he asked, aghast at the absurd suggestion. “You mean my protection by this betrayal?!” Uldmar demanded.
Uldmar tried to slip to one side of the weapon, still pressing down on his arms, but Idavoll caught his leg with her own as he moved and his machine stumbled, the weight of the glaive pushing him back against the wall.
He trusted Idavoll with his life, just as he had Hlesey. He, Lord Uldmar had chosen them both – for their faults they had ever been the truest of friends and allies, character unimpeachable and loyalty unshaking. How had it all gone so wrong? How could he have been so terribly mistaken?
Blinding lightning raked Gres-Jarn a moment later, the merciless attack boring into his armor, scrambling his systems and boiling the fluid in his hydraulics.
“You dare speak of betrayal?!” Idavoll retorted, her rejoinder as furious as her assault. “This plan is treason! Betrayal of everything we stand for, of the King and the kingdom, of our own houses!”
“There is more at stake here than honor or house, Idavoll! This war is a betrayal, of all Pharyes! It is our duty to prevent it, no matter what it may cost us!” Uldmar answered, as he wrestled with his malfunctioning controls.
Thrusting out his hand he broke the contract using his own lightning-gem, but the glaive was already coming again.
Humming through the air the edge deflected off his guard and gouged a deep gash Gres-Jarn’s pauldron, then plunged into the wall behind.
“You fool,” Idavoll spat, “don’t you see that they’ve poisoned your mind?! Ivaldi and the surfacers have lied to us, manipulated us… deceived us into betraying the Justicar and King! But it’s not too late! You need only tell them how the aulogemscire tricked us – blackmailed us even – and together we will stop this madness!”
With her weapon embedded in the metal surface at his back, Uldmar threw himself forward. The spiked tip of his elbow extended, whining with a glow of essence as he slammed the point into Rikvidjur’s chest.
Idavoll turned with the strike, releasing her glaive to let the impact glance off her chest plate.
He was off-balance once more, Uldmar realized too late, and Idavoll’s sweeping leg sent him sprawling forwards, while she spun around and snatched her weapon from the wall.
The blade was leveled at his cockpit once more by the time he had turned himself over on the floor.
“Idavoll… please… ”