Davinda whirled into action. She was even faster than the captain. Her blade flashed out, catching a limb that extended too far, sending it to the floor. She dodged a flurry of stone darts, which hit the concrete, ricocheting into the crown. People screamed, falling to the floor, stone shards in stomachs and limbs.
I ran as fast as I could, sliding down towards someone on the floor. I tried to put pressure on the wound. Blood was flowing out from between my fingers. I didn’t know what else to do, so I pressed harder, muttering re-assurances. The man looked up at me. He was older, hair graying, with scars on his face.
“I’ll be alright, lad. I’ve ‘ad worse before. Much worse in my time. You should see the shit I’ve been through.”
He laughed weakly. I told him not to waste his energy. I tried to drag him farther away from the fight. He was surprisingly heavy.
The fight raged on. No side seemed to be gaining an advantage. Aside from the first wound Davinda had inflicted, she seemed to be unable to meaningfully catch the constructs. Likewise, they were unable to piece her defense. Whenever they tried to attack, her blade would whirl like a tornado, whipping around in a silver blow, and the creatures would draw their limbs back. Likewise, all darts shot at her never landed, although, after the first time, she deflected them instead of dodging. The machines seemed to be calculating, trying to find a way to get past her defenses.
For her part, Davinda didn’t seem to be tiring. In fact, as the fight progressed, she moved faster than ever. Her blade struck out, scraping on stony exteriors, chipping away at slate armor, causing sparks and flashes of light, failing to sink in time and time again.
Her increased intensity wasn’t for nothing, however. The furious assault was pushing the golems back. Slowly, they were retreating.
The crown held their breath. They had learned from the last time that cheering was premature until victory was assured. They simply sat there, trying to stay unnoticed and out of sight.
Perhaps we could have gotten a clean victory had the captain and associated guards been fresh. Davinda surely would have been far more able to deal with two constructs while a group distracted the third. However, their injuries were two severe, and while she may be able to gain ground had they jumped in, they would pay with their lives. And if they failed to take down one, then their sacrifice would leave us in a far worse position than before.
The fight had started to wander further away from us. Davinda’s assault had started to wane, and it halted almost completely when they wandered into a cloud of smoke.
Coughing, Davinda barely managed to evade several piecing blows, rolling on the group until the air was free of impediment and soot. She was back on her feet and fighting like normal almost instantly, but that brief moment of distraction had allowed the golems to calculate a new strategy.
Locking onto a civilian, standing behind a crate a few meters away, it lunged forwards, arm outstretched, ready to crush him into pulp. Davinda turned, and, her feet leaving the ground, lept back and blocked the blow with a mighty clash.
Another construct turned, firing stone fléchettes at more onlookers. She once again changed positions to move her blade into their path, sparing the people behind them.
They kept this assault up, never letting her have a break, always trying to attack the people she was there to protect. She kept up with the incursions well, but this constant, swift movement was causing her to lose more energy than simply holding off three of the stone killing machines.
Again and again, they battered against her defenses, and she kept slowing. A dart she wasn’t able to deflect, thankfully skimming just above the head of a woman who was fortunate enough to be a scant few inches too short to be in its line of fire. A blow that clipped her shoulder when she was deflecting another attack aimed at an old man, cowering down by a wall.
And people were starting to get injured. Darts weren’t barely missing anymore. They were starting to take chunks of flesh. An unfortunate man had his chest caved in by a lashing limb, killing him.
With a measure of desperation, Davinda started lashing out with powerful, fast strikes, clearly using everything she had left to try and end the fight. Her sword was glowing again, with the same light as before. She focused on one of the constructs, slicing off limbs as she took blows in return, barely managing to avoid major damage. After a few swings, she reached its center of mass. It tried to backpedal, but she was too fast, slicing it into thirds with two smooth strokes. As the pieces fell to the floor, blue vapor pouring off of them, another golems' limb lashed, striking her, and knocking her to the floor. She cried out, rolling on the ground, quickly sweeping back to her feet, sliding back.
Not giving the construct a chance to advance, she sprung forwards, once again with laser focus, purely trying to destroy the machine in front of her. Her wounds dripped with blood, and she had been struck by what must have been nearly a dozen stone fléchettes, but she kept going. With a rage filled shout, she struck forwards, chopping the golem into two pieces,
Suddenly, her face tightened, into a rictus of agony. A stone limb, chipped and damaged, but still entirely deadly, protruded out of her chest. Blood flowed down her stained clothing, and it dribbled from the corners of her mouth as she spoke.
“Y-you need to run..”
With that final proclamation, she slumped to the ground. We stared in mounting horror. Blue flames started to spring up around her, searing the air. They kept appearing, shooting out of her eyes, mouth, pores. The fire grew and grew, its intense heat cracking the cobbles beneath her.
The construct tried to pull its limb out of her chest, but the heat started melting its joints. Its center core started to crack and fissure. Something oozed out of its joints, melted by the intense heat it was being subjected to.
Even 15 paces back, it was burning my face. I grabbed the old man, dragging him back until the pain subsided, shielding my eyes from the ever brightening glare. People cried out in pain, those able to move away in time stumbling back, skin reddened, eyes streaming, frantically trying to look away.
I felt the air rush away from me towards the burning blue blaze. My ears popped, and as I went to cover them, I saw----
FWOOOM
A huge gout of flame shot into the air, illuminating the area in a blue light for hundreds of feet all around. A huge wave of heat seared us, burning exposed skin, throwing clothes back. A few sparks caught on some unfortunate few’s clothing, setting them alight.
After a second of heat, it dissipated, disappearing into the air. My eyes, unable to see anything due to the sudden change in lightning, took a minute to adjust, The people set on fire were rolling around on the ground, trying to put out their clothes.
I went to check if the old man I was dragging was ok. He eyes were half open, glassy, staring at nothing. He had died, probably minutes ago, from the blood loss. With a sad sigh, I gently closed his eyelids, laying him down on the ground, crossing his arms over his neck.
Unauthorized duplication: this tale has been taken without consent. Report sightings.
With that done, and my eyes finally returning to normal, I surveyed the scene of the blaze. The ground, for meters from its epicenter, was scorched a deep black, cobblestones cracked and mishappen from the intense heat. The construct lay there, half it’s limbs melted and torn, half evaporated joint fluids pouring out of it. Its center core was dark, the ever present blue glow gone.
People started milling about, tending to the wounded as best they could, while the captain and his remaining guards tried to re-establish a semblance of order. People got back to their feet, supporting the wounded. Crates were smashed to create makeshift splits for broken legs, and clothes torn to create bandages for puncture wounds. The dead were put, as respectfully as possible, on the ground, arms crossed and eyes closed, but some were too badly mangled to move. Luckily, only a few people had died, including the old man I had been in charge of, but still, it was a grim lesson in how quickly things could go bad. One I wish I’d taken to heart.
As we were preparing to resume our march to the North gate, a shout rang out.
“It’s still moving!”
My head whipped around. The constructs center eye was flickering faintly with a weak blue glow. Its remaining limbs started moving. It was slowly but undeniably dragging itself to its feet. Without thinking, I sprung into action.
Pushing myself as fast as my tired body would allow, I jumped on top of one of its limbs. A few others had done the same. To my surprise, Ryan, the obnoxious merchant from earlier, was on another limb, using his weight to try and keep the construction from rising. Despite our best efforts, it was still struggling to its feet. Although we had slowed it down, it wouldn’t be enough. Ryan turned and looked back at the rest of our group, face straining.
“Come on, we need help here! Hold it down until someone can kill it!”
With a shock, the rest of the group sprung into motion. The guards that hadn’t been helping us hold it down were the first to come running at Ryan’s call for aide. They dove onto the struggling golem, using their not inconsiderable strength to help us hold it down.
Many citizens joined in to help. At some points, there were two people holding down one section. We started to understand just how dangerous these were when it still struggled to rise. Despite all the damage that had been inflicted upon it, if it got out, it might be able to kill the rest of us. It was still dangerous.
With a renewed effort, we strained, some yelling or grunting in an effort to hold it down. Its joints creaked, and I could hear a thrumming, almost like electricity, deep inside of it.
The captain, supported by the one guard not holding the thing down, walked over slowly. As he drew nearer, he drew his cracked and pitted sword. With a look of determination on his face and a shout, it started glowing with a faint white light as he thrust it down into the center mass of the construct. His sword struggled to piece the stone, deflecting off of its rocky exterior. Unfettered, he brought it up again, before thrusting downwards. This time, the blade caught in a crack left by the blade, and found purchase, stabbing about a third of its length down into its body. He took the blade up for one more strike, and the glow intensified, as he plunged it down with a scream of effort. It dug all the way in.
With a shudder, the construct’s eye went dark, and it fell to the ground. Cyan smoke rose from the gash on its center. The captain withdrew his blade from its head, before sheathing it, and leaning on the shoulder of his subordinate.
Everyone was slow to rise from the golem. It looked dead, but it looked the same last time, and we almost died because of it. Everyone was understandably wary.
After staring at it for a minute, no movement detected, people finally determined it wouldn’t be a threat. I started at it for another 30 seconds, still not truly sure it was dead. However, no movement was forthcoming, so I was forced to abandon my vigilant watch.
The captain cleared his throat loudly, calling for our attention.
“We will resume our march towards the North gate, as quickly as possible. If there are any more of these constructs in the city, then the mana burn produced by Davinda’s sacrifice will surely attract their attention. We must move as quickly and as quietly as possible”.
He entered a coughing fit as soon as he finished talking. The group set out a few seconds later, pace hampered by the multiple injured within our midst.
We trudged through the city, thankfully not encountering any more constructs. We found the gate open upon our arrival, portcullis drawn halfway up. We had passed few bodies on our way, most of them being further east. There was nobody else at the gate. Hopefully, they had all made it out.
As we started exiting the gate, we were greeted by a row of soldiers, spears leveled at us. They had deep maroon uniforms, and silvery helmets sat atop their heads. Their leather boots were covered in mud.
A man, with a regalia on his shoulder stepped forwards from the line. He cupped his hands around his mouth, shouting something that got lost in the wind. After seeing us, standing there, clueless, he waited a second before yelling again:
“Come through one at a time, and hold there. And get whoevers in charge out here to talk to me.”
I stood there, waiting to be further instructed. The captain, still supported by his subordinates, limped out of the gate, slowly approaching the line. They made a hole, allowing him to pass through and speak to the man in charge of the line.
As I stood there, I felt people start to bump into me. The people at the back of the group were trying to push forwards, running into the people in front of them in the process.
“Let us through! We don’t know when more of those things will come back. Hurry up!” somebody cried from behind us. The pushing intensified.
I tried to stay in position, as ordered, but the weight of the crowd was against me, and I didn’t have any way to fight it. I was slowly pushed forwards. As I got closer and closer to the spearline, I started to hear shouts from the soldiers.
“STAY BACK!”
That was the one message that wasn’t lost in the noise. I didn’t think many of the others heard them, in the rush to get out. It really would have helped them had they been more attentive.
I slipped back into the crowd, doing my best to let people flow around me, trying to fight the current. It was like rolling a boulder up a hill. Most of the progress I made was washed away as I was pushed back away from my destination, but I did make some progress. Enough progress.
When the first people reached the spear line, they weren’t shown much mercy. They were given warning jabs with the spears, which, even with low force, drew bloody furrows along arms and legs. People cried out in pain, some falling to the ground.
The shouts and screams were finally enough to get through to the crowed at the back. They started retreating, people in the front lines picking up those who had fallen on the ground and hauling them back.
There was one man who was pushed on a spear from the force of the people behind him. It had gone all the way through his body, and he died, curled up on the ground, writhing around in pain. I didn’t recognize him, but it was still painful to see someone who had just gone through so much be taken out by something so mundane as being pushed too far forwards by a crowd. While the soldiers didn’t seem happy about it, they didn’t seem too broken up about it, either. There were more shouts for us to stay back. My hands clenched into fists, nails digging into my palms.
We had to wait for what seemed like hours, but was probably closer to 15 minutes, for the lead soldier and the captain to finish talking. The head soldier walked forwards, and shouted his orders at us.
“Alright, refugees. We have sympathy for your plight. Come forwards, and we’ll let you through the line. Go one at a time, and keep your hands away from your body.”
They had the audacity to kill us and then claim to be sympathetic to our cause? I spat on the ground in disgust.
The line moved forwards rather quickly, with someone stepping through, being curiously inspected by a soldier to make sure they didn’t have any weapons. As I stepped through the impromptu checkpoint, I glared at the man who was in charge of ensuring I was safe. He took a glance at the sword at my hip, looked me up and down, before deciding that I wasn’t a threat. He was right, of course, but it still rankled me. Not being competent hurt, no matter how little chance I had had to actually learn.
By the time we made it through, the dark in the sky had deepened. I hadn’t noticed in the pandemonium, but it was freezing. The heat of the day had given way to an icy chill, and the frequent gusts of wind weren’t helping. Several people were shivering from the cold, arms wrapped around themselves.
After they had cleared everyone, we were sent off, towards the nearest city. It was about a 5 hour walk away. They sent a few soldiers to escort us, and a letter from their captain explaining our situation. Or at least, that was what I guessed to be going on. I had little way to know for sure, as they didn’t explain anything to us, besides pointing us in a direction down the road and telling us to get moving. I did see the head soldier hand the captain a sealed envelope, so hopefully that would tell the city we were heading to what was going on, and maybe even get us some help.
With the sorrow of the day finally starting to sink in, and the exhaustion and stress of the fight and flight for our lives settling deep into our bones, we set off, a weary line of damaged and grieving people, making their way towards the only glimmer of hope they had.