The tall blonde man strode toward the two dead gods with utter unconcern, with his hands in his pockets and a swagger to his steps. Indeed, if it wasn’t for the strange, sci-fi-esque suit he wore, he could have easily been mistaken for a man on a stroll through the park.
Pivoting sharply on his heels, turned toward the closest of the two, the wounded Mwyranni that leaned against the hewn pillars of the temple. The creature’s mumbled, incoherent rambling grew louder, spit spewing from its mouth as it screamed invectives at the approaching Sidhe. “Gawrusha Ky’therak ag Nash. Ish Yrgh Awwerda.” Sidestepping the gross projectiles, the man paused about fifty feet away from the beast and squared up against him like a cowboy in the Wild West.
His hands twitched at his sides, and a glowing blade of light descended from his right hand. Sparks radiated off of it, blue surges of electricity that crawled up his arms and side, but the Sidhe showed no signs of pain.
With an angry roar, the undead Mwyranni lurched off of the pillar it leaned against and shot toward the Sidhe. Between its enormous size and wounded condition, Jasper had expected the creature to favor power over speed, but his assumption was promptly shattered.
The Mwyranni surged forward in a blur of blue. Dust erupted from the ground as it landed before the Sidhe and its massive arms windmilled through the place where he had stood. But the Sidhe had already moved.
Dodging toward the Mwyranni, he ducked beneath its blows and slashed out with his glowing sword. Bone and flesh melted beneath its power, and the creature howled. It lashed out again, each of its four arms aimed in another direction and this time it connected.
A translucent shield sprang in place as the creature’s hand swept toward the Sidhe’s neck, stopping the blow in its track. He darted forward, slashing at the creature’s wrist, but the Sidhe had miscalculated. With the barrier still erect around him, another hand smashed into his back. Cracks radiated across the barrier’s face as he was flung through the air toward one of the temple pillars.
The barrier failed as it collided with the pillar, leaving his body to bear the brunt of the blow. Flesh and stone clashed and, surprisingly, it was the flesh that came away the victor. The pillar collapsed in a pile of rubble, spilling the Sidhe to the floor. Landing nimbly on his feet, the Sidhe darted to the side as the blue blur surged toward him again. Another pillar was demolished beneath its attack, but its prey was not there.
Dodging to the side, the Sidhe raked its radiant blade down the creature’s flank and darted behind it. It spun around, slamming its fist into the ground where he’d been, but he’d already moved.
Jasper watched in fascination as the two gods traded blows, moving at speeds to great for his eye to consistently track. The Mwyranni was fast - shockingly fast - but it quickly became clear that the Sidhe was faster. Again and again, his sword found its target, carving deep ravines into the creature’s flesh and spilling forth more of its silver blood on the ruined street. And though the Mwyranni barely reacted to its wounds, its demise seemed all but certain when the second - the one lurking in the darkness of the lower road - suddenly entered the battle.
“Iryakath Denir.” Its harsh, guttural voice rose above the fray.
A scream of pain tore from his lips as Jasper was driven to his knees. The others fell to the ground beside him, with only Barbartu managing to remain on her feet - though from the strain on her face, he could tell it was no easy task.
But they were not the focus of the spell.
For a brief second, the Sidhe froze in mid-leap, electricity arcing of the sword he’d aimed at the dead god’s head. Then, he was driven into the ground. With a howl, the Mwyranni leapt on top of him, its four arms pummeling the ground like a jackhammer gone crazy.
The whole street quaked beneath the force of its blows, and cracks began to spider their way along the ledge. The whole damn thing’s going to fall and take us with it. He fought against the pull of gravity, his muscles straining with every fibre of his unearned strength, but it was not enough. He hadn’t noticed Barbartu move, but her hand closed around his collar and slowly she began to drag him behind her, one painstaking step after another.
“Stop! We can’t just abandon them,” he yelled at her. But she ignored him, dragging him away from the scene. Unable to stop her, he could only watch as the dead god whaled on the prostrate form of the Sidhe. He couldn’t see the man, but surely, he was dead.
The air on his arms pricked up slowly as something changed in the air. The suffocating heat of the city eased as a soft breeze began to circulate through the pit, picking up force with unnatural speed. Something wet splashed on his cheeks, and Jasper stared up in surprise as a cold, bitter rain began to fall.
A blinding flash of light banished the darkness in the cursed city, followed by a crack of thunder that left his ears ring, and Imhullu rose. More light than flesh, he flowed around the Mwyranni like a whirlpool. Lightning rained down on them, bolt after bolt as he bludgeoned the creature with his bare hands, the sword laying on the ground forgotten.
The Mwyranni, already grievously wounded, crumpled beneath the renewed attack. One arm fell limp, another was torn from its socket, another’s flesh was charred like charcoal. It raised its last arm protectively above its head, but it was not enough. Imhullu descended upon him, and tearing the arm aside, pressed his hand to its throat. Wind flashed from his hands, shearing skull from spine. A bolt of lightning followed, searing the wound shut.
Imhullu didn’t stop. The rain pelted down harder as he surged toward the second dead god, who stood still hidden in the shadows.
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“Iryakath Denir.” The creature’s gravelly voice rumbled, and Jasper was pressed flat to the ground again. But the gravity barely slowed the maelstrom of light and wind that descended upon it. A column of lightning poured from Imhullu’s hands, breaking off in frenzied arcs that shot off in every direction, but the shadows around the second Mwyranni refused to budge.
“Arakkan ygalth egirna.” Imhullu’s lightning fizzled against the stoic Mwyranni as the shadows hardened around him, insulating him from the blow as effectively as a suit of armor. Undeterred Imhullu struck again; this time, his bolt of lightning was large enough to make the entire pit, for one brief moment, bright as day.
Yet, the Mwyranni emerged unscathed and stretched forth his hand toward Imhullu. “Ygalth enanna.”
A shadow not any cast by any man rose from the ground. It towered above Imhullu, its form a perfect silhouette of the Mwyranni, and raised its arms above its head. Imhullu blazed forward, lightning and wind swirling around him, as he struck at the shadow, but they passed through harmlessly.
“Erygath.” The Mwyranni commanded and the shadow flickered forward. Latching hold of Imhullu, it plastered itself to his body, transforming into a thick, black ooze that seeped down his form. He tried to shake it off, but the maelstrom of light and wind ground to a halt as the black ooze spread across his body, dragging him to the ground.
That was when the third dead god emerged.
*THUD*
Jasper barely registered the noise over the sound of Imhullu’s clash with the dead gods. Indeed, given the cold rain which still pounded against his head with a steady, staccato beat and the regular crack of thunder as Imhullu struggled with the Mwyranni, it was a miracle he heard anything at all. As it was, he almost didn’t turn to look but, if nothing else, the oppressive darkness of the city had engrained a sense of paranoia in him. Once he thought he’d heard something, he couldn’t bear to ignore it. Reluctantly, he tore his eyes away from the battle and craned his head around to see what had echoed behind them.
At first, his eyes could find nothing. Now that the cultists were either dead or bound, the braziers they had so carefully tended were slowly burning out. A few of the bronze braziers still glowed, their dim red coals pushing back the endless dark of the city, but the shadows had reclaimed much of the street.
*THUD*
This time, with his eyes already trained in the right direction, Jasper saw it. A large, dark hand with six fingers rose out of the darkness and clamped onto the edge of the street - to the section where the hanging road dropped off into the pit. What the hell?
*THUD*
Jasper’s blood ran cold as a third hand joined the first two. Spinning around, he grabbed Barbartu’s arm and tugged. “There’s another one of them!” he yelled.
Her body didn’t move, but her head swiveled around - far, far farther than it had any right to - and looked where he was pointing. With a muffled thud, a fourth hand joined the rest, and the arms flexed against the edge of the street.
Barbartu’s eyes flicked back to the still-raging battle between Imhullu and the undead Mwyranni. He’d managed to free himself of the black ooze, but he was too far away to intervene. “Crap,” she sighed. Her gaze turned back to the small group gathered around them, and she shook her head. “I can get you out of here,” she offered Jasper.
“All of us?” He questioned.
Her grimace was all the response he needed, and Jasper just shook his head. “I’m not abandoning them.”
She sighed again. “I was afraid of that. Fine.” Plunging her hand into the bag hanging from her side, she pulled out her weapon, a long double-bladed axe that had no business fitting in a bag that small. “Help if you can,” she ordered, “but try not to die. I can handle this.”
“Probably,” he heard her mutter beneath her breath.
Barbartu dashed toward the ledge, her axe held ready, but it was clear she wasn’t going to reach the dead god in time to send it tumbling back into the pit à la Mufasa. Already one leg was hooked over the edge, and its gaze rose to meet them.
Suppressing the chill that ran down his spine as the dead god leered at them, Jasper turned to rally the others. “Dead god,” he screamed. A crack of thunder cut off his message. “Behind us!”
Tsia and Rā’imu were slow to react, their impulses dulled by the injuries they had not truly recovered from, but Ihra and Nēs̆u spun around.
“Selene’s grace,” Ihra gasped. “There’s another of them?”
Barbartu soared into the air, her axe held above her head. Against the inky blackness of Naḫas̆s̆innu, the edges of the double blades glowed like molten metal as she struck down at the Mwyranni’s skull. But possessed of uncanny nimbleness, it rolled forward on the ground, dragging the rest of its body over the ledge and onto the street.
*CLANG*
Stone crumbled beneath her axe as she landed in the space the dead god had just been - a narrow stretch of street that now trapped her between the Mwyranni and the edge of the pit.
Though still lying on the ground, the two arms on its left side were free to swing at her. For a brief second, Barbartu struggled to drag the axe free of the rock it had embedded itself; then she bailed.
Throwing herself clear of the creature’s strike, she landed cleanly beside the Mwyranni and vaulted over its body. It turned rapidly, trying to snatch her out of the air, but she tucked herself in tight, and its hand whistled past her uselessly. And as her feet touched the ground, she disappeared.
“Kyrassa?” The dead god stared blankly at the place where she had vanished and waived a speculative arm in front of him. His hand found nothing and, grunting ignore, he shuffled forward, his arms windmilling through the space. He didn’t notice the axe behind him slowly slide out of the rock.
Clutched by unseen hands, the axe soared into the air and connected with the base of its skull.
“Gawrusha Ky’therak ag Nash.” The creature’s arm flailed behind it as the axe sank deep into its flesh. “Ish Yrgh Awwerda.”
Barbartu, still invisible, dodged its blows with ease, but she couldn’t stop one of its hands from connecting with the axe. The shaft shattered beneath the blow, but the creature kept fumbling until, with a mighty heave, it yanked the glowing axe head free.
A pair of bloody claw marks appeared on its chest, and it roared in rage. But the dead god’s intelligence, while fallen from what it once had been, was not altogether gone. Rather than blindly flail in front of it, the creature retreated and cast its spell. “Ygalth enanna.”
A shadow rose from the ground, one far taller than any man. Barbartu was still hidden, completely invisible to the naked eye, but the shadow did not need to see. It surged towards the left and leapt at a patch of empty space. It landed on its hands and feet, but its arm lashed out and an ankle appeared.
Barbartu yanked her leg out of its grasp, but it was already too late. The ooze followed her, exposing more and more of her body as it crept up her legs and torso. Her claws tore at the ooze, flinging it off in every direction, but nothing seemed to help. She tripped, falling on her knees, and the black substance stuck like glue. With a cry of victory, the dead god charged, murder in its eyes.
Crap.