Chapter Eleven (Wind & Smoke)
The air reeked. It was an unpleasant mix of ozone, his own sweat, and the unforgettable stench of Beast. Beast alone smells like the unholy union of musky rotten leaves, fetid blood, and wet soot to his senses.
He still couldn’t believe he had lost control like that. Breathing heavily as he dashes over to wear Grimrider is fighting the knights.
No, he doesn't need to lie to himself. He's better than that. Lantos can believe it. The mere idea of a paladin, of anyone of authority abusing their power to harm those they should be protecting, boils his blood. How many people died due to this man's blatant disregard for what should be common sense?
Not to mention if this information spreads the deterioration in faith in the paladins, it would cause. It would be worse than what happened with the Outriders; at least they just refused to fight the Trow. Paladins take the knight's preterhuman strength and senses, are given even more challenging and more stringent training, and then pointed toward the Empire's more human enemies. To do what the Knights refused to. Each one could kill scores of soldiers and possibly even a few magi if they were quick enough.
The idea of rouge paladins must be unthinkable. The consequences of it not being… Lantos prefers not to think about it.
Pausing to catch his breath, the air tasting foul, the fatigue of the rapid departure of magical energy still weighing on him. Lantos took stock of the situation. The three knights of order tempest, Vinsar, Teson, and Hudon, had corralled Grimrider between themselves. One knight on each of the Beast's flanks and Vinsar positioned directly in front of the Beast.
The Beast could not face any of them without exposing its side to at least one.
That doesn't mean Grimrider made it easy for them. Trashing its long bladed tail in a carefully chaotic pattern around itself, keeping the knights at bay. Making use of its recent experience fighting knights and backing up to try and gather the Outrider in front of it.
Reaching toward his belt, lightly tapping his now-only amel, Lantos quickly sent a small pulse of magical energy into it. He could feel the cool glass even through his glove. It soothed his still-stinging fingers as the magic bounced around the glass orb and pushed back against him. Calculating how many burns were left was nearly instant, having done this countless times despite his youth. Three burns of zephyr remain; it will have to be enough.
Once more, taking a deep breath, Lantos ran a finger down the length of his wand. The air twisted and rippled in his finger's wake before extending forward three feet off the end of the wand. Two burns left. Shifting his grasp into a practiced loose dueler’s grip, he moved.
His wind blade hummed slightly as he quietly moved around Grimrider. He can't match the Beast in melee but also can't risk missing if he tries to kill it at range. He'll have to do this in one decisive strike.
He just needed to wait for an opportunity.
Lantos wasn’t patient by nature. His master had to pound the skill into him. It was something he hated at the time and became a skill he appreciated learning even if he doesn't use it all the time. What he is doing is an extreme exercise in it. He faded into the background, manipulating his internal energies to circulate the air touching his skin, creating a sphere of both silence and scentlessness.
And slowly, he crept forward. He had to concisely control his breathing and direct the wind around him so it still sounds like the wind blowing through the tallgrass to mask the obvious absence of sound where he stood, needing to make himself as small a presence as he could to an inherently magical creature while using magic. The level of focus he had to dedicate to just walking while doing all that felt like pushing a boulder up a slick slope. Where one lapse of control and you’ll end up crushed.
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Its chest burns. Grimrider leaped back, finally backing out of the blaze-like soul’s cordon. The fog of lightning's lingering touch finally begins to clear. Its simple mind whirling in thought as it worked through the fading pain. It allows a blaze to strike it with its metal stick, taking it in the bone plate covering the left side of its barrel. The weapon slid off, scoring the plate. The force of the blow caused it to stumble.
Another of the blazes tried to capitalize, ducking down to get an angle and staying upward at Grimrider's unprotected underside, the fool. They believed it was still vulnerable.
But Grimrider had evolved. The attack made contact with bone wear there wasn't before. It shifted a plate there a moment before.
It had learned from its previous battles with both the fuel and the Goddess' devoted that it needed more protection. It tried just increasing the area its plate covered, but that made it too slow a season the devoted one beat into it. So it found a more elegant solution. If it couldn't have more plates, it would move the ones it has.
And the idiot blaze fell into its trap. As quick as light, Grimrider's tail lashed out. Pushing through the thin metal of the blazes' sight holes and piercing into the fuel's head. Drinking in the heat of the fuel's soul as its life ceased.
The two remaining pieces of fuel began to yell. Their high-pitched animal noises grated on Grimrider. She wished they would either stop their useless mewing or speak the proper language of the Goddess, like the devoted can.
The fuel cautiously backed away, one clearly more reluctant than the other, their soul flaring in rage. It only made them alluring to the Beast, idling, wondering how their soul will "taste" as she circled around the two.
She could afford to play around with them, couldn't she? The stinging of the lighting was gone. Glancing toward the devoted one, he lorded over the combat with the diminished one and the young blaze. And the young female bonfire-like soul sat knelt in the grass uselessly.
Yes, playfully, she refocused on the two in front of her. If she could smile, she would be, with victory assured, she can stroke their souls into greater and greater heights- wait.
Grimrider's mind paused, she recounted. One bonfire, three blazes, one diminished, one cooling corpse. There's one missing. Where's the second bonfire?
Whipping her head around frantically, she couldn't sense him. She didn't understand. He was next to the young female moments ago. Uncovering her ears and blocking out the sound of the nearby combat, she tried to listen for him rustling in the grass but was only met with the ambient sound of the plain and the deep breaths of the two in front of her.
This is the one who blinded her, who delivered upon her the painful touch of lighting. She felt this to be true. She could not risk him remaining unseen. Falling on instinct, she covered as much of herself in armor. She did not know when or where the attack would come. She felt vulnerable within her armor. But without knowing where he was, there was not much she can do. Not with a more active threat before her.
They were quickly gathering their senses, their souls compressing into bright balls within their chests, peaking out of the gaps in their armor and silhouetting their weapons. She bounded forward, following out the inside of her armor for ease of movement.
Then it was like staring into the sun, brilliant and scorching. She lost her footing and couldn't look away from the spot the young female was. Grimrider fell over herself, knocking into then rolling past the two distractions in an unmajestic heap.
How could she not see it before that raging inferno that even now shone through its thin, brittle skin? It was beautiful and glorious, almost divine, as it flared in vivid reds and golds.
She had to taste it!
Snapping to her hooves, she ran towa-
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With a quick motion, Grimrider's head fell from her neck. With a flourish Adept, Alexander Lantos watched as it hit the ground, bouncing then coming to a rolling stop at his feet. Knowing what came next, he tightly closed his eyes, covered his nose with a hand, and turned away. The Beast's body fell back to its knees, the neck stump becoming a fountain of steaming toxic black blood drenching Lantos.
Frowning, he glazed past the body at the two knights picking themselves up from nearly being trampled. "Why do I smell something burning?"