The Great Serpent’s body bumped into Petyko as he continued leading it down the streets. It was a light touch, and probably not even intentional, but still easily enough to knock Savalan off his hooves. Petyko’s training let him free his legs of the stirrups and fling himself off the saddle before the horse could roll over him.
Petyko himself rolled five times before coming to a stop, and by the time he recovered his wits the Serpent had spotted its opportunity. The head came around, beginning the rather laborious process of almost completely shifting directions. The shadow-beasts that had done little more than watch the chase saw their chance as well, and several promptly lunged out of the surrounding dark places.
He’d just gotten up to one knee as the first one reached him. Petyko thrust the sword out from a rather awkward position. It was far from being his best attack, but given the power the weapon channelled it didn’t need to be. The beast perished and dispersed in a flash of blue and Petyko had time to get to his feet before the next one came. It scratched at his head, no doubt hoping to get its claws through to his face, but all Petyko had to do was tilt a little and the attack scraped off his helmet.
He cut the beast down, somewhere behind him Savalan reared up and kicked a third beast, and then the fourth one grabbed Petyko from behind. It trapped his right arm and lifted him in the air, and a fifth materialised and ripped off his helmet. He felt teeth snapping at the back of his head as he switched the sword to his left hand, but had to start by swinging against the claw-swipe that came from the front. It severed the limb, and Petyko thought he felt blood being drawn at the top of his neck.
Savalan chose that moment to smash into the maimed shadow-beast, and Petyko thrust the sword backwards over his shoulder. The point hit home and the monster dissipated as he dropped down to his feet. His faithful companion was savagely stomping the last monster in a morbidly delightful display. But the Great Serpent was now coming straight at them, eyes blazing with rage and mouth hanging open.
Petyko let out a specific whistle, the one that sent his friend running off by himself, and Petyko ran for the row of windows on his right. They were easily big enough to accommodate a man, but the glass had by some miracle survived the Serpent’s passing. He shielded his face as best he could, then leapt up and crashed through.
The Serpent was right behind him, but the building was both dark and as empty as they all were, so there was nothing at all stopping Petyko from simply running to the side. The Serpent smashed through blindly, tearing the wall like paper. Petyko forced himself to a screeching halt and bounded back. His enemy had just spotted him as he plunged the sword home. It went past those huge teeth and cut right into the sensitive flesh on the inside of its maw without having to pass through those iron-like scales.
The next roar was pure pain, without the rage, and a wild thrash sent Petyko flying backwards and into an uncontrolled roll. Perhaps it didn’t see that he was momentarily vulnerable. Perhaps it was in too much pain to seize upon an opportunity. Perhaps it had just decided to play it safe. Whatever the reason, the head withdrew from the building.
Petyko didn’t dare step up to one of the windows, for fear of it seeing him in turn and launching a more accurate attack. He simply stood at the ready and listened intently.
The monster moved, that much was clear, but it didn’t seem to be moving to anywhere. It was simply orienting itself. He’d only just realised this when the whole building shook with a terrible clatter. Enough light penetrated from the outside for him to make out the cracks that formed in the walls and the ceiling, and little flakes fell down on him like rain.
There was another hit and the building shook more, with an even more ominous roar of tortured stone. Petyko broke into a run towards the nearest flight of stairs, as he understood the whoosh that came just before the third hit; the Serpent was slapping its tail against the building. That third strike nearly knocked him off his feet, and the building seemed to roar in its aftermath.
He bounded up the stairs, then immediately hurried up another flight. The fourth strike just about shook the stairs apart and Petyko leapt the final distance for fear of the steps not carrying his weight.
There was a bit of a wait until the fifth hit, followed by a longer and more awful whoosh than before. It seemed little more than luck that he stayed on his feet during the sprint for the windows, as the building received its death blow. The deafening crack of that fifth hit simply never stopped, roaring and screaming as something vital gave way, and so everything began giving way. The floors collapsed up above him, one after the other, and it was with the strength of sheer frantic fear that he launched himself like never before, out through an already shattered window.
He flew through the air as the building finished collapsing behind him, and awaiting down below was a section of the Great Serpent’s body. He angled himself in the air and gripped the sword with both hands. He combined his strength, momentum and the power granted to him to drive the weapon straight down and through the scales as if they weren’t even there.
The Serpent howled in agony.
# # #
They were halfway up Sentinel Tower when the tendrils appeared up above. They emerged from the belfry that topped the structure; twisting, writhing, dark and only visible due to the searchlights shining from down on the ground. There was a facsimile of life to the way they moved, but that was all it was. Myrina recognised sorcery when she saw it. The Deceiver had chosen the place to make his stand.
She and Jonelik had reached a silent agreement to coordinate their leaps; whoever got into position first waited a moment for the other. This was far too important for any kind of glory-seeking. The rapid ascent past long, arched windows gave them only glimpses of what was going on within. As the building’s interior narrowed down to little more than the grand staircase to the top there was little to see save for the scrambling of shadow-beasts. Evidently the Deceiver had wagered on staging a more conventional defence and simply packed the way up with his minions. As the two of them headed to the top faster than feet could follow their foes were rushing up to be ready to meet them.
The implication of it all was simple: The Deceiver had to be defeated swiftly. The longer it took, the more of his forces would be able to finish the climb and aid their master.
Three leaps remained when the tendrils started striking. They moved individually, arching through the air to varying degrees before shooting at their targets like flexible lances.
“NO!” the Deceiver shouted from up in the belfry as Myrina dodged a sharp tendril. “NO! This was my masterpiece!”
She dodged another from on top of the third-last step, and it punched into the stone. Jonelik blasted a third one apart as it came his way.
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“You were to waste away!” their enemy went on. “In filth and cold and darkness and despair!”
One of the tendrils took another shot at her, and she hesitated just long enough to line up a shot and destroy it rather than dodge.
“You were to eat each other like rats! The human heart exposed for what it is!”
Her eyes met Jonelik’s, and then they leapt simultaneously. They reached the second step and the tendrils attacked again. The wicked things had an easier time of reaching them, but were now sacrificing accuracy for speed. It just about balanced out and Myrina had no harder a time dodging the ongoing attacks.
They each destroyed one more tendril; he through the radius of his blasts and she through the sheer speed of her lightning. Then they leapt again, up onto the second step. One of the already destroyed tendrils seemed to reforge, but it wasn’t quick enough to make any difference. They hopped up onto the first step, and now she could hear feet moving out in the belfry.
She and Jonelik shared one last look. He gripped his rod with a meaningful air of purpose, and she let the lightning come up out of her spirit and to the surface of her palm. Then, as the sky let out an awful crackle, they made the final leap.
The blessed bell hung where it always had, this ultimate protector of the city. Four-man heights, crafted with the finest artistry available, given the mightiest blessings each generation could bring forth, and ever-shining with a faint sky-blue colour regardless of lighting conditions. Its ringing drove away all evil. So naturally the Deceiver had bound the mechanism with more of his tendrils.
Still wearing the identity of Chief Matew, he stood by the centre of the huge belfry, by the bell itself. From his right hand emanated the dark tendrils that had been threatening them, and between them and him stood more shadow-beasts.
He opened his mouth to speak but Myrina acted immediately. She leapt straight up, high enough to have a clear shot at him over his minions, then loosed the lightning.
It immediately shot back as she was still suspended in the air. It hit her square in the chest with that crack she knew so very well, and her back slammed into one of the belfry’s outer columns. She fell down hard on the floor with no control, and by sheer chance her head lolled into position to see Jonelik fling a blast into the pack. It killed several, but the rest charged.
The Deceiver’s tendrils lashed out again, with three going for each of them. Myrina flipped herself to the side and the first one punctured rock. She continued flipping and the second missed as well. The third one slashed across her back. It wasn’t a perfect hit, but she still heard her coat tear and felt a hot streak of pain. Then the beasts were upon her. She shot the first one with lightning, but the second reached her and lashed out with a kick.
The coat absorbed some of the impact, but did nothing to stop her from flipping backwards and over the edge. She caught it with the fingertips of one hand, then the other, and managed to pull herself up into a peeping position. Thinking the job done, the beasts that had been coming for her had immediately turned their attention to Jonelik.
Her comrade got a momentary clear shot at the Deceiver and took it, flinging a green blast his way even as the beasts closed in around him from three directions. Myrina saw now that their enemy had the Shield of Kadigir in his left hand. How he’d gotten it she did not know, but as it was designed to do it flung the projectile right back where it had come from. Jonelik was saved by a beast intercepting the blast as it tried to get at him.
Myrina pulled herself further up and held her palm out. Her shot took out yet another shadow-beast, and alerted everyone to the fact that she was still in this fight. Jonelik took advantage of the momentary distraction by hitting several foes with a single blast, then kicking another one in the chest to gain a bit of distance.
The Deceiver turned his attention her way and sent his tendrils. Myrina flung herself up and got her feet back beneath her just in time to evade the strikes.
“This is my victory!” he shouted, looking pleased with himself from behind the stolen shield. More of his minions finally started coming up the stairs, as Jonelik desperately fought to thin them out. “The fall of this city! And the King Clad in Bones shall favour me, as this thorn is removed from his eye!”
Myrina dodged two more tendril-strikes as she circled around. The Deceiver followed her movements, Jonelik was being overwhelmed, and she ran out of space as the freshly arrived beasts now got in her way.
She leapt up again and brought lightning up into her hand. The Deceiver held the shield up, grinning wickedly. Myrina blasted the rope holding the bell. It was severed, and the enormous, blessed wonder immediately fell to the floor.
The near-deafening chime hit almost like a large ocean wave. But with the noise came blessings. Bound into it was a primordial song of purity and protection, the hopes and ideals of the city, and this was what washed over its enemies.
The Deceiver shrieked and collapsed to his knees. Most of the shadow-beasts were blown away like dust before a gale. Then the bell rolled across the floor and over the edge. It hit the first step and rang again, then again as it hit the second.
The beasts were utterly destroyed and the sound of the city’s salvation continued to ring out.
Two blocks away the Great Serpent shifted from its roars of anger and pain to one of pure dread and anguish. Petyko kept his sword up and his reflexes primed for another quick dodge, but his foe shrank away from the ongoing chimes and flattened itself on the ground in a vain attempt to shield itself. It shook its scarred head madly as forces utterly antithetical to the Abyss washed over it, and its only escape was to burrow back down, far, far down, into the darkness it had originally been confined to. Petyko shielded his head as rocks flew about, and only as it vanished from sight did he allow himself to acknowledge that they’d won.
Across the river Analia watched from her perch as the shadow army dissipated. She could finally stop her war song, and as her people switched from defiant cries of grim determination to disbelieving elation she joined them in her own fashion. She played. She played a tune of a beautiful triumph, of a flower rising from ashes. She brought the people’s emotions fully to the surface, with nothing held back. The city needed catharsis, and while some cheered with unrestrained passion others cried with relief or simply hugged their dear ones. The bell continued its descent, ringing out with each step along the way, purifying all that had been tainted, and the final illusions and lies fell away.
Myrina stood on the edge of the belfry floor. The great city of Sahasalon was back. The gloomy colours were gone, as was the pollution, replaced by white stone. The grand spires once again reached for the skies. Myrina stood within the Circle of Spirit, with its temples and institutions of learning, beyond it lay the Circle of Water, the area of healing and beauty and the gardens that fed the people, and finally there was the Circle of Stone, whose fortifications had only been breached once in all of their history. Champion’s Bridge led across the river as it always had, save now the Arch of Protection was where it ought to be at the end of it.
The bell had finally reached the ground and fallen silent. She peeked down and spotted it. It was undamaged, of course, but getting it back up would be quite a task.
But never mind that. She simply allowed herself to savour this moment. They were free. She’d woken from the nightmare. And now the sun finally rose. To the east rose that ring of fire whose beauty and wonderful kiss she’d essentially forgotten. The long night was over.
Myrina closed her eyes and quietly delighted in that warm feeling on her face. She took one deep breath, then turned on her heel. This wasn’t entirely over.
Jonelik stood over the Deceiver. He had his rod at the ready, but the bastard was defeated. The great spell he’d cast, which had given him such power over the city, had been utterly dissipated, as had every other iota of magic his body had held. Separated from all of his lies, what was left was a bleached, shrivelled thing gasping weakly where it lay prone.
“It’s a shame you didn’t think to just stack mattresses beneath the bell,” Myrina commented with no small amount of satisfaction as she strode over to him. “Have you ever wondered why you never win?”
She put the toe of her boot under his sunken chest and flipped him over onto his back. He had neither the strength nor the spirit for any words of defiance. Myrina aimed her hand at his face.
“You... are under arrest. Chief.”