The clouds hung heavy in the sky, obscuring the sun from view. The Dead stood on the rim of the cliff not moving, their eyes fixed on the sky. An hour passed, and then, the clouds broke. Shamsha blazed forth with light and the maryannu prostrated themselves before their god. Their strange, bird-like bodies begin to subtly glow as they embraced their lord's blessing. Then, they leapt off the cliff.
The maryannu soared through the air, their flimsy wings propelling them far beyond a normal jump, hundreds of feet out over the open caldera. At the apogee of their leap, they lingered for a moment. Their wings and weapons now blazed with a light so dazzling that Jasper was forced to avert his eyes. Then they plunged downwards, burning with golden light, as they accelerated straight into the ground. A shockwave ripped across the valley floor, pushing the queen's forces back. Without pausing for even a moment, the Dead charged into their ranks.
The maryannu's sudden attack left Aphora scrambling for a response. While the Dead were powerful, they were not invincible, and even a hundred elite troops would eventually be overwhelmed by the queen's thousands. There was still no path down into the caldera, but unable to waiter the rest of her army, she and the elite among her warriors - at least, those who were able to survive the fall - leapt over the edge, plummeting down three hundred feet. Taking advantage of the chaos the maryannu had spread in the queen's army, they were able to form a defensive line, slowly advancing against the foe, forcing the queen's army to turn their attention to the new threat while the maryannu rampaged through them.
The rest of the elves were left at the rim to find their own way down. Some begin climbing down the cliff face, their bodies looking like ants against the massive caldera walls, but most gathered around a group of three mages. Working together, the mages slowly shaped a mass of roots and earth into a ramp that trailed down into the depths of the caldera.
Jasper watched the furious battle below, a tinge of worry in his heart, as he saw the tiny knot of Aphora's warriors surrounded on all sides by a vast sea of wights. They're going to get overwhelmed before the rest of us get down there, he feared. The Victorious Dead, powerful warriors though they might be, had pretty much flushed all chance of a battle strategy down the toilet. He drummed his fingers against Dapplegrim's saddle, his eyes impatiently watching the incomplete bridge. Damn it. The start of an idea came to him.
“Ihra, how good are you at holding on tightly?”
A few minutes later, as Jasper stared nervously over the edge of the cliff, he deeply regretted mentioning his idea to Ihra. The combatants on the valley floor milled about like insects, and he peered over the edge, looking down the face of the towering buildings that lined the walls, he gained a new appreciation for their size. They are as tall as a small skyscraper, he realized. But when he looked at Ihra, he saw no signs of nervousness. She looked at him, her eyes burning with excitement. “You ready?”
He grabbed his glaive from Dapplegrim's saddle. The heavy weapon felt good in his grasp, the cold metal a welcome relief in the steamy jungle heat. Reaching into his bag, he slipped the horse a sugar cube, rubbing her nose. "Stay here, girl. I'll be back after the battle."
Then, feeling a little reassured by her faith in him, he nodded. “Hop on and hold tight.”
She hopped on his bag, wrapping her legs tightly around him. "I'm good."
He took one last glance at the mages, in the faint hope that their bridge was completed; the ramp still hung above the valley floor, no more than halfway to the bottom. A long line of elves and Fey were gathered behind them, waiting to enter the fray, but it was obvious to Jasper that they wouldn't be getting down that way any time soon. Shoving his hesitation aside, he reached for the spell. “Alright, here goes nothing.”
Jasper leapt off the rim of the caldera, his white boy jump falling far short of the distances the Dead, or even Aphora, had reached. As soon as their downward descent began, he cast the spell, not wanting to smash into the cliff walls. Seraph Burst. They shot further away from the walls, propelled through the empty air like a bat out of hell. The forward motion of the spell stopped, and they spun in the whirlwind of razor-sharp wings that was so effective at tearing through enemies. This was the part he had feared, but Ihra clung to his back for dear life, his ribs groaning from her iron embrace.
They fell through the air, spinning wildly, as he desperately tried to keep track of the direction of the queen’s forces. If he timed it wrong, they'd rocket into the cliff-face, and he was not eager to imitate a bug on a windshield. The moment came, and he cast the spell again. Their fall was arrested as they once again shot through the air, racing towards the battle below.
All too soon the spell's burst wore off, and they begin to fall. As the ground rushed up to meet them, he cursed himself. What the hell was I thinking? I could have stayed up on the cliff top, where it’s safe, but no, I just had to jump off the cliff. Despite the seriousness of the situation, he found himself laughing as he realized he finally had the answer to every parent’s question. Yes, mom, if my friends jump off a cliff, I’d follow them.
He held the spell on the tip of his fingers to the last possible moment. Shortly before they would have splattered on the ground in a bloody mist, Jasper released the last spell. Seraph Burst. Mere feet above the ground now, they zoomed straight towards a cluster of wights. Gripping his glaive tightly, Jasper held it out to his side as he prepared to smash into their ranks. The razor-sharp wings tore through their lines, sending them flying back in a shower of gore and blood. Seizing her chance, Ihra leapt off his back, vaulting high up through the air to land safely out of reach of the deadly whirlwind of wings. She fired a volley of arrows as she fell into their midst, drawing her daggers at the last possible moment.
Jasper had no time to watch her fight. Seraph Burst plowed through the wraiths like a bowling ball through pins, but when the spell ended, he was left on his own, surrounded on all sides by the enemy. He was slowly getting used to the disorienting spell, but his head still swam as he tried to find his bearings. Slashing at a wight that charged at him, he caught a glimpse over its shoulder of a shiny Corinthian helmet, the helmet Aphora’s troops wore, a hundred feet away.
A blade slashed at his throat, and he barely managed to block it on his glaive. Without thinking, he cast Purge, and kicked himself as he remembered how ineffective it had been in the city. To his surprise, the wraith attacking him fell to the ground, clutching its throat as fire spread through its semi-diaphanous body. “Huh. I guess even some of the ‘normal citizens’ were bad guys.”
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Looking up he realized that the creatures, who had been scattered by the force of his spell, were quickly closing in around him. Time to go. A wizened head rolled past his feet, the short horns clanking noisily against the ruined pavement, and he whirled to see Ihra had joined him. The front of her armor was covered in red mist, blood still dripping from the daggers clutched in her hands.
With a silent nod, the two sprinted forward, running toward the gleaming helmets of their allies. Their semi-controlled fall had landed them near the edge of the queen’s ranks, but a handful of wrights stood between them and the relative safety of Aphora's line.
As they ran, Ihra pulled an arrow out of her quiver and shot it at one of the monsters ahead of them. It missed, and she fired again. The arrow passed harmlessly by a wight, whistling past its head. “Damn it - the running is throwing off my aim. Catch me,” she yelled.
Jasper barely had time to react before a heavy weight landed on his back. He stumbled, almost face planting, but somehow stayed on his feet. Catching his balance, he charged toward the scattered foes while, perched on his back, Ihra peppered the wights with her arrows. Within seconds, she had decimated their ranks, and the few that didn’t fall before her deadly aim, scattered as the two ran past. She leapt off his back, resuming her run beside him with a long steady stride. "Thanks."
They broke through the unprotected flank of the queen's lines, and, running through the empty ruins of the city, swung in a wide arc around the side toward the small knoll where Aphora's troops had set up their defense. Lady Aphora floated in the air above her troops. The elf was all but nude, as her silver dress had unraveled into thousands of metallic strands with which she struck at the enemy, piercing through their armor with an unnatural sharpness. The leader of the Fey, Tes̆ha-Is̆tana, was no less impressive. The green-skinned woman had entered the battle with no armor at all. But within seconds of reaching the valley floor, she had encased herself in a suit of stone. Somehow, a thin layer of rock flowed over her, still allowing her to move with ease. She plowed through the enemy ranks, a statue come to life, leaving nothing but slaughter in her wake as the enemies' swords bounced off her stone skin.
But they were slowly losing the battle.
The small numbers of elves and Fey that had already reached the bottom were too few to deal with the thousands of undead warriors. The maryannu had devastated the queen’s ranks in their initial charge, but it soon turned out that their attention was solely focused on the queen, whom they surrounded all sides.
To his surprise, the queen was giving them a fight. Like a bear surrounded by a wolf pack, the queen was somehow keeping them at bay. The queen’s weapon constantly changed back and forth from a sword to a spear, the length altering to whatever she needed, as she deftly parried the blows of the marryannu. At the same time, she unleashed a never-ending barrage of spells, her body glowing brightly as she burned through her soul. A crescent moon hung upside down above her head, rivers of blood dripping from its ends, and any of the maryannu touched by its liquid screeched in agony as the caustic liquid burned through them. Slamming her spear into the ground, she drove them back with a shockwave, but in another instant, they closed in around her again. No, Jasper realized, the maryannu weren't going to save them from the wights.
He hung in the back of the line, slashing out with his glaive when an opening presented itself, saving his limited essence for a moment of great need. Ihra stood beside him, her arrows raining down new death on the undead. Despite their overwhelming numbers, morale amongst the queen's forces was beginning to break. For centuries they had been unable to die; now they were unprepared to stare death in the face.
A sharp cry rang out from his left, and Jasper spun in time to see one of the fey being dragged across the ground. A towering wight, much larger than most, stood over the fey, its sword resting against the screaming fey's neck. The creature laughed, apparently relishing the tears of the fey, as it dragged it back into the queen's ranks.
Seraph Burst. Without thinking, Jasper cast the spell. He shot past his line, tearing a hole through the ranks of the undead toward his target. He had aimed well, and his razor-sharp wings bisected the wight in half as he slowly spun to a halt above the fey. The fey stared up at him, wide-eyed, but wasted no time in scrambling to her feet. Snatching up her sword, she cast a grateful nod to Jasper, as she leapt. The fey gracefully soared over the heads of the wights, landing safely in a cloud of dust behind enemy ranks.
"Damn it." As Jasper spun around, he realized the spell had taken him a bit further away from the ranks of Aphora's troops than he had realized. Unable to match the Matrix-like leap of the fey, Jasper began to run back towards his allies, gripping his glaive tightly in hand.
But these wights must have been better trained than the previous ones. Although his Seraph Burst had torn through them, they quickly closed ranks around him, cutting him off from his allies. He shot two bursts of Shooting Star, killing ten of them outright, but more stepped in their place. He desperately fended off the flurry of blows that came toward him. Thankfully, the glaive’s extended reach afforded him some advantage over the creatures, as their crescent swords were not long enough to break past his guard. But it wasn't enough; the creatures were faster and better trained than him. He was simply outclassed.
Jasper found himself backpedaling, being pushed further away from the front lines, as he fought for his life. The battle seemed endless, although in all probability it was no more than a few minutes, but his backward flight was eventually halted when he staggered into the wall of a ruined building.
With his back to a wall, he was able to defend himself somewhat more easily, but as he surveyed the situation, he could see it was grim. The wights crowded around on him all sides, and although could cast Seraph Burst again, in the mayhem of the battle he had lost all track of where his allies were. He vainly searched for a glimpse of their gleaming helmets but saw nothing. Damn it - if I guess the wrong direction, Seraph Burst would just push me further behind enemy lines.
Distracted, Jasper failed to block one of the swift blows that arced toward him. A scream of pain burst through his lips as a wraith slipped its sword beneath his guard, slashing him across the ribs. The sharp weapon ripped through his leather armor, but its impact was dampened on his newly toughened skin, cutting far less deep than it should have. Roaring in anger, he kicked the creature away as he almost mindlessly cast a new spell. Scourge of Despair.
As soon as he spoke the words, a giant spectral flail materialized in his hands. The whip-like tendrils were so long they dragged across the ground, but when he swung his hands, there was no resistance to his movement. The flail carved a path of destruction through the frenzied mob, leaving in its wake a mass of burning corpses. For a second, the wights shrank back, giving him a little breathing room.
As the fiery whip disappeared, a bone-chilling howl of despair echoed in the air around them. Terrified for a moment, Jasper pressed tight against the wall as three specters appeared, only relaxing when he remembered they were from his spell. The specters materialized out of thin air, their visage the stuff of nightmares. Three rotting corpses floated in between him and the wights. Tattered robes covered their body, and long, wispy strands of hair floated behind them on an illusory wind, as they stretched their arms toward the wights. The specters howled again, and the queen’s forces stepped backward, fear evident on their faces.
Jasper didn't stick around to watch any further. The summons only lasted for fifteen seconds, and he had already used a lot of essence. A quick glance up showed him that the ruined building had a gap in the wall about ten feet above his head, opening onto a second floor. He heaved his glaive up through the hole and heard it almost immediately clank on the floor. Then he leapt up. His first jump missed, but on the second, his fingers managed to close on the ledge. Pushing off against the wall, he hauled himself up into the building. Wails and screams echoed behind him as the specters fed on the queen’s forces, but he knew their time was almost up. Moving quickly, he dove to the floor, out of sight of the hole in the wall.