“We have a situation.” One of Fortia’s Guardians came before his Goddess. A man in a simple shirt, she wasn’t so tyrannical as to make them wear the heavy bronze-gold plate when they were mere radio operators.
“What is it?” Fortia asked.
“Look at these images.” He spilled his folder out onto the table. It was satellite photos of the Kirinyaan jungle, the one just south of the Central Mountain range. “Let me arrange them, we are taking pictures every few minutes.”
Fortia saw the man arrange the photos, they were all dark, but there was a pattern. “Here.” The man said, he pointed to the furthest one on the left. “At night, we caught lights. Analysis suggests it campfires.” He moved his hand over to the next one. “And here again, campfires for cooking. They crossed some forty kilometres over the span of a day.” He extended his finger to each one. “And the pattern sticks, there’s been a slow recently, but we were looking at forty a day, now they’re close to Kassandora’s main base.”
“Elassa is there.” She thought for a moment. “It will just be beastmen, most likely led by Fer.” Against Elassa, Fer wasn’t a threat. The former could fly, the latter could not. That skewed the odds too far in the favour of Elassa, even if she had to Fer and Kassandora together, she would win.
“But that’s not all.” He brought out more images. “Here.” There were only three. Once again, it was the jungle at night, a black ocean on the ground, but the three photos had red flashes of light on them. “This is why we’re taking lots of images, these sights appear for only a few seconds, it’s pure luck we managed to catch these three.”
“How long did that take?” Fortia asked. This was an issue. Fer and Kassandora, not a threat whatsoever. But red flashes? There was only one answer.
“These were all taken last night. We don’t know where it is.” The man brought out a map from his folder, already marked with x’s of yellows and reds. “The yellows are the campfires, the three red x’s are the red flashes. I… well, it’s needless to say that there’s a pattern.”
Fortia slammed her hands down and shot out of her chair. Fer and Kassandora, add Iniri and Kavaa into it, it made no difference for Elassa.
But if those red flashes were what she thought they were, Elassa needed to retreat immediately.
She wished Leona was here to confirm.
Iliyal took a step backwards as Olonia shot past him. The first exchange of blows, he watched. Olonia said nothing, she didn’t scream, she didn’t shout, she didn’t roar, she didn’t so much as take a breath. Instead, her sabre raised, slammed from the side into Waramunt. The God merely tilted his sword upwards, he caught Olonia’s sabre and pressed forwards, until the hilt of his greatsword clicked against Olonia’s blade. With two hands on that massive blade, he pushed back, or tried to at least.
Olonia’s blow bounced off, she stepped around the God and swiped at him from the side again. He parried it faster this time, even managing to throw her sabre back from whence it came. She struck again, another blow, impossibly fast, from high up and cutting downwards as if to separate Waramunt into two perfect symmetrical pieces. He moved to the side, that heavy plate of his did nothing to slow him down and instead of parrying the blow, he merely twisted his own sword and swung towards Olonia’s chest.
Scale mail screamed as it stopped the blow, a cacophony of steel ripping apart steel as the Goddess was thrown a few steps to the side. She recovered quickly, he sabre once again taking to the air, slashing into Waramunt. The God held up his greatsword in a riposte as Iliyal turned from the scene and to his soldiers “Move!” He shouted. “Spread out, line the wall, don’t shoot.” Not yet, Olonia needed to crack that armour.
The men in black shirts and trousers started to spread out like the Paladins on the other side of the hall. Guns weren’t lowered, but some men knelt down, others leaned on the wall, the force that held the rear tunnel still let off small cascades of bullets to stop Iliyal’s force from being charged at from behind, but not a single drop of blood was spilled. Not yet. The Paladins started to rest too as they watched the fight, Maisara’s men through and through. Skilled in combat, but far too honourable. Far too bound by rules of their own morality to ever excel beyond simply overwhelming an opponent with strength or skill.
Kassandora had only one rule to war, and that was that the winner took all. Iliyal had long since accepted that rule. There was victory or defeat, nothing else mattered. “HOLD!” He shouted to his men as the Gods started to exchange blows again. Olonia jumped away to from Waramunt’s and slashed at the air. She was obviously faster and stronger, else she would be dead by now. But that strength and speed was merely a foundation, a man who could not kill would never win a duel no matter how many times he fought. “Olonia!” Iliyal shouted. “BREAK HIS SWORD!” She needed to be made aware of her own strength.
“HOW?” Olonia screamed back. White hair flew to the side as she made another dodge, those eyes were focusing on Waramunt’s blade again. That wasn’t good. It got even worse when Waramunt took a step forwards, his blade coming in a wide swing again, Iliyal saw it immediately. He was simply pushing the Goddess back, anyone versed in combat would closed the distance after that swing and stabbed from the other side. Olonia merely jumped back and Waramunt stepped forwards.
She would not break his blade, she would not crack his armour. She was, for all intents and purposes, useless. The only thing she could do was attract attention. Iliyal took a deep breath and stalked just in front of his men as he inspected Waramunt’s armour. Relatively, he was no Maisara, no Fortia or Kassandora. A comparison to Fer would be a comparison between a single brick and a fortress.
Waramunt spun the blade in his hand and repeated the swing, from one side to the other. Olonia was in full retreat now, her skirt bounced about as if it was a jingling chain of steel, her scale-mail was just as loud. White hair fled as Iliyal watched the blow. Waramunt wasn’t especially fast either. He was a Divine of course, so there was no comparison in mortals, but the Divines Iliyal was used to were simply a class above. Waramunt was the level of a regional-champion, he was not world-class.
And yet, Waramunt swung that blade again. Each time, Olonia dodged, the few times she managed to swing back, the God parried her blows with his sword. He threw her attacks away as if they were mere annoyances. Olonia was not putting enough strength into her blows, she simply did not the mentality to make a warrior, the ability to let oneself go and think in the heat of the moment rather than carefully thinking through the thousands of possibilities that the next instant could deviate in.
“Olonia!” Iliyal shouted. “Do you have a blessing?” Waramunt laughed as he eased up on the attacks.
“Are you planning to fight me yourself?” He swung his blade theatrically, it swished through the air as the Paladins remained grim-faced.
“You’re not Lubskan!” Olonia shouted back. She gingerly took another step back to put even more distance in between them.
“But you do!” Iliyal shouted back.
“I do!” Waramunt chuckled.
“Are you going to abandon Kassandora Iliyal?” He said mockingly. Iliyal silently made sure that the God would die with the elf’s hand. He had no right to even say the Goddess of War’s name.
“Take mine then!” Iliyal shouted and Olonia tilted her head at him. Blue eyes framed by snow-white hair blinked at him in confusion.
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“What?” Iliyal wanted to give up and die. How was she so useless? Could she not even bless? Kassandora’s blessing simply had to be grabbed. It was the essence of War for Divine’s sake! Everyone had a little bit of War within them. Waramunt laughed until his wheezing echoed around the hall. A man, one of Iliyal’s soldiers patted the elf on the shoulder and leaned in.
“Sir, there’s more coming from outside, we’re running out of ammunition.” Iliyal grimaced. A useless Goddess and now guns quickly becoming useless metal clubs.
“Understood.” He replied, he simply stood there, unmoving, rifle in his hands. “OLONIA!” He shouted. “YOU HAVE FAILED!” His voice boomed across the hall and into the hallway, the failed echoed several times. “WELL DONE!” He said sarcastically, she needed to get mad. She needed to put more of herself into the blows.
“What?!” Olonia shouted.
Waramunt threw his sword up into the air, it made a little spin and he caught it. “The battle was won before we even started Iliyal.” He said, then held to blade to the Goddess of Lubska. “She is simply not up to par to be on a battlefield.” Iliyal didn’t care for the words. He had seen it. The man’s gloves were unarmoured on the inside. And there was a sliver under the shoulder which revealed thick leather.
“OLONIA!” Iliyal shouted again, he didn’t bother keeping the anger out of his voice. “IF YOU DO NOT GIVE IT EVERYTHING YOU HAVE, YOU SHOULD HAVE NEVER COME HERE!” He took a step forwards. “YOU HAVE ALREADY DECLARED WAR ON THE PANTHEON, END IT.”
Waramunt said nothing, he merely turned to the Goddess as she stood there. Her fingers curled around the sabre and she threw herself at him again. It was a bad move against a long weapon like a greatsword, better to bait out a swing first and then close the gap. But what did she know? Iliyal merely sighed as he closed the gap between himself and Waramunt, the God didn’t even turn to look behind himself as he slammed his greatsword into Olonia’s side. She was thrown against the wall and Waramunt closed the gap quickly as Olonia pushed herself off.
A blow from above was blocked by the sabre. Iliyal saw red blood appear from where the God had struck her scale-mail, a few shards of the metal had fallen off as she scrambled underneath blow. That one she managed to block, but the fist slamming into her chest wasn’t dodged. Iliyal did not even bother to watch or listen to her scream of pain as she slid down the wall. He had heard tunes like that play more than enough to simply ignore them at this point.
“Olonia.” Waramunt said. “Your death here will cause an issue for everyone involved.” He spoke slowly and even took a step back. Iliyal saw the inside of the man’s thigh. It too had a gap were the man’s steel ended and give him some space to move. A train warrior would have taken advantage of the inflexibility of his armour already. “I am not here to kill you.”
Divines and their speeches. Iliyal had little to say about that, at least a tenth of his would be dedicated to merely listening to final words if he didn’t cut them short. He found a better angle, closer to his men and further from the Paladins. It would be a tough shot. “But what you did today cannot be simply wiped away.” Waramunt continued.
“I came for the good of my country.” Olonia said. She managed to pick herself up and swung the at Waramunt’s chest. Out of energy, her sabre harmlessly bounced off. Waramunt chuckled again as Iliyal stared at that gap in his thigh. Even for him, it would be a tight shot. But they were talking to each other now, it was another failure in Divinity. The Greatest of them wouldn’t make it, but the lower Gods would forget about the mortals around them. Iliyal had seen it happen too many times.
“You’ve won Waramunt.” Iliyal shouted from the side. If he could get theatrics now… The God laughed and then… and then he did the stupidest thing Iliyal could imagine. He threw his greatsword aside, spread his arms out, tilted his head back and laughed.
“I know Iliyal! A fortress-spirit defeating a national God?! Maisara would be prou-“ Iliyal did not let him finish. He saw the opening immediately. Underneath the arm, a small gap for the shoulder, where metal could not be placed else it would lock movement entirely. He pulled his rifle up, the red-dot set on that position, and he pulled the trigger.
“FIRE!” Iliyal shouted as he dived down to the ground. Behind him, the Legionnaires in black all hefted their rifles. Bullets passed over Iliyal’s head, and the hundred Paladins at the end of the corridor fell as lead tore steel apart. What hit Waramunt merely clinked off and harmlessly bounced into the ground. “HOLD!” Iliyal shouted and the bullets died down. He got to his feet just in time to avoid Waramunt’s greatsword slamming down on him. “SPREAD OUT! TO THE OTHER SIDE OF THE ROOM! SECURE THAT DOOR!” Iliyal shouted out order after order. “OLONIA! ON YOUR FEET!” Waramunt’s greatsword brushed his hair as he ducked and rolled to the side to put more distance between them. “OLONIA! UP!”
Iliyal’s eyes managed one glance at Olonia, she pulled her knees up to her chest and was silently crying to herself. “OLONIA! GET A HOLD!” He shouted and ducked through Waramunt’s blow again. His right arm swung to the side as the Legionnaires ran around the sides of the hall. He saw awed faces staring at him and the way he managed to keep dodging the Divine’s blows. “OF YOURSELF!” Iliyal finished. He was too slow, and the greatsword clipped the end of the rifle. It ripped out of Iliyal’s grip. A finger went with it.
If Kavaa was not back in Arika, maybe Iliyal would have regretted it. But the amount of scars he had on his chest had more than prepared him for losing half a finger. He rolled again, his arm flying up and spraying blood at the God’s helmet. He missed the visor, tough. “OLONIA!” Iliyal shouted as he dodged again and rolled to the side. Too close and Waramunt would grab him, too far and Waramunt would lunge with an undodgeable blow. This was the sweet spot. “MOVE YOU USELESS BITCH!”
It was the first time he had ever talked to a Divine like that. Something for the history books. Waramunt was recovering, the fingers on his right arm were starting flex as they tested their own strength again. Iliyal rolled to the side, then again, a third blow came, from above. One Iliyal would not be able to block, he dropped as low as possible and slid to the side. An arm given for survival was a fair trade.
But the trade never came. A sabre blocked Waramunt’s blow. It slid down to the hilt of the sword and threw it away. Iliyal rolled to the side, pulled his pistol out of its holster and took aim as Waramunt blocked another blow from Olonia. He lifted his arm. There! He pulled the trigger twice and Waramunt stopped. He coughed. Blood came out from the lip of helmet. Iliyal pulled the trigger again. Another bullet entered Waramunt. And another. Iliyal kept squeezing.
Waramunt took a step back and fell backwards. He looked lifted an armoured arm in disbelief. “No mortal can kill a God. Never happened. Never will.” He said to himself. It was feigned shock, or maybe the God was actually delusional. Iliyal did not care, he expected the former, that was the smart move in a situation like this.
“Not the first time Waramunt. It’s not the first time.” Iliyal said dryly, he winced as he pulled out a magazine from his belt and let the spent one drop to the ground. It clattered about on the cold tiles of the ground.
“GODSLAYER!” The Legionnaires shouted from behind. They erupted into a cheer as Iliyal walked around the God. He would not come close, too many times had he seen someone play dead. He bent down saw the opening. From above, the man had room to move his neck, his armour extended outwards to protect from downwards blows. But that did not matter when he was lying on the ground.
“I thought this was a duel.”
“The only in war is victory.” Iliyal said replied. “At the end of the day, you’re on the ground, I’m standing. I won Waramunt.” He pulled the trigger and shot into the man’s chest. The bullet penetrated through his neck and Iliyal heard it bounce off the inside of the God’s armour. He pulled the trigger again. And again. And he emptied the entire magazine into the Divine.
Iliyal looked to the entrance. There was a line of Paladins there, some had dropped their shields. Swords clattered on the ground as they took a step back. Their faces were covered by metal helmets, but Iliyal could see what they were thinking simply through the eyes: it was the strongest emotion of them all. Fear. Iliyal turned to his Legionnaires and took a step forwards. The Paladins would take a minute or two to recover, they could put space in-between themselves by then. If they managed to get into the Armoury, then Maisara could send a thousand Divines as reinforcements and it wouldn’t matter. Olonia’s hand caught his shoulder.
“You’re bleeding.” Her tone was filled with sorrow and hesitation.
“I’ll survive.” Iliyal said dryly as cut off a piece of his own shirt with his sword and wrapped it around the finger. He turned to the Goddess. She was a wreck. There was no other way to describe her. Scale mail was painted red with blood, her hair white hair was messed up, locks were missing were the Waramunt’s blade had given her a cut. Her legs were dirty too, and the scales over her chest were bent and disfigured. “Are you still bleeding?” She touched her side and shook her head. Iliyal finally let out a breath.
“Olonia, you fought brilliantly.” The Goddess wiped a tear away and shook her head.
“I did nothing.” She admitted quietly. Iliyal grabbed her hand and pulled her back towards the door, his men assembled as they prepared to breach. Several took positions facing backwards, but the lack of footsteps meant the Paladins weren’t coming close. The Legionnaires eyes flicked to Waramunt, dead on the ground, and to Iliyal. Faces were painted with wide smiles and eyes shone with pride.
“Olonia, you are not a little girl. You are a Goddess of a nation. Theatrics got Waramunt killed, save yours for when you’re with Paida and Saksma.” Iliyal said flatly. “PREPARE TO BREACH!” He shouted. “WE’RE NOT DONE HERE! ON MY MARK! WE’RE HEADING INTO THE ARMOURY!”
“I…” Olonia said timidly. Iliyal scowled as he watched the men assemble. This was no time for spillage of emotional baggage.
“Out with it.” But Olonia did not spill her heart out. In fact, she said the only thing that Iliyal would have surprised Iliyal.
“I wish to join.”