Ferez stood before the titanic doors leading into the Wail, Leo and Ingrid by his side and the troops arrayed in ready ranks at his back. He was feeling remarkably spry given his recent trip to death’s door, but Greg had done a wonderful job of patching both his and Leo’s injuries. If only they had regained all their Talent. Unfortunately, Ingrid did not have enough storage cubes left to refill everybody, and Ferez was barely at half strength. Leo was even emptier after dumping most of his allocation into the Resonance armour coating his arm stump.
Ingrid, he noted, had needed neither healing nor rejuvenation, simply taking tea on the docks while Gregory stitched her beau and his idiot best friend back together.
“He’s going to have every one of his battlemages waiting to tear us apart,” Ferez said. Though the statement seemed bleak, his tone did not echo the sentiment. No, it was more… thoughtful, than resigned. “How do we proceed?”
“We could change tack, go on the defensive here, and drive our forces down from above. It’ll be a hard fight, but it’s better to crack open the wedge we’ve already hammered home than drive in a new one,” Ingrid said.
Ferez shook his head. “That will take too long. If we were only concerned with Nezir’s death, I would agree, but we need to get in now. Strike hard and reach the slaves before they can be wielded as shields.”
Ingrid scoffed and turned her head away, but offered no further argument.
“You know? I reckon we don’t overthink this,” Leo said. “Go straight on in, hard and fast. Us three in the lead.”
“We’re tough, Leo, but even we can’t take a concentrated assault from half a dozen mages and the Crimson Blade,” Ferez replied.
Leo grinned and waved his stump in the air.
“Ah, but with this, I can!”
Ferez stared blankly at what remained of the appendage.
“I’m not sure I want to know what you’re planning to do with that.”
“Not the arm, smartarse, the armour.”
“No offence, Leo, but there is quite a large surface area they can still target. Quite large.”
“Yeah, right, give it a rest. We weren’t all blessed with an overactive metabolism like you. And not as it is now, but once I activate it, well, let’s just say you’ll be pleasantly surprised.”
“What makes you think it’ll work this time? You duelled Nezir very recently and barely survived,” Ferez replied, folding his arms over his chest.
“It’s because he saved the rest of us, the old fool,” Leanne called from behind him.
Unauthorized duplication: this narrative has been taken without consent. Report sightings.
He turned to find a trio of warriors approaching. Leanne was in the centre, striding forward with purpose. Asim walked on her left, halberd resting over his shoulder, while Reichblut stalked on her right. The Skjar’s eyes were bloodshot and puffy from tears shed freely and without shame, an unusual display for a Skjar. What was entirely expected, however, was the set of his jaw and the way his lips unconsciously pulled up in a snarl, an aura of menace and murder clinging to his frame like a cloak.
“That armour creates a suit of enchanted ice,” Leanne continued as the three of them came to a stop by the mages. “Harder than steel, heavy as sin, and yet he moves faster than a horse at full gallop. But, instead of using it to crush the Blade, he discharged most of it to scatter the pirates and give our forces breathing room to withdraw. The Crimson Blade hasn’t fought him at his best yet. If he did, there would be no contest.”
Ferez turned to Leo, an eyebrow cocked. “This true?”
The water mage shrugged. “Who can say about the latter, but the former, absolutely. I go through that door kitted up and they won’t be able to touch me. Don’t get me wrong, it won’t hold for long under a sustained assault, and I doubt I’ll be able to do much more than try to hold my ground while they wear me down, but I can give you and Ingrid an opening to duck in without being hit. You clear out his missile troops, my marines charge in with their crossbows and disrupt their melee combatants, then Reichblut leads the raiders in and smashes apart what’s left.”
“Oh! I like this idea,” Ingrid piped up.
“Is that because I’m the bait?” Leo asked.
“You know me well.”
“I wish I was surprised, but honestly? That’s about what I expected. So, old boy, we doing it this way, or do you have a better idea?”
Ferez frowned at his friend. He didn’t like this idea one bit. Leo was prone to exaggerating his own abilities, even deluding himself on many an occasion. Taking the brunt of a squad of battlemages by himself just wasn’t realistic.
“I know that look,” Leo said, breaking Ferez’s train of thought. “The clock is ticking. Five seconds to propose something better.”
“Wait, hold on, I’m-”
“Five.”
“I said hold on!”
“Four.”
“Leo!”
“Threetwoone alright, time’s up, let’s do this! LEOOOO TELRUSOOOOOOON!” he yelled as he sprinted at the giant wooden doors. As he did, the armour on his arm flared, throwing off a brilliant blue light as water broke through the surrounding planks, swirling around his body faster and faster until coalescing into a pristine suit of crystal armour.
In form, it looked to be the holy twin to his old suit of black steel armour, identical down to the jagged crown fashioned into the helm. But the black helm had looked fierce. Savage. When cast in pure, white ice, however, it looked regal. Like a true servant of the Pantheon, come down from on high to smite those unworthy of their grace. The other differences became evident when the armour reached his arms. A tower shield, taller than Leo, grew from his wrist, the head of a roaring lion embossed in furious glory on its face while on his other arm, the stump, his weapon of war sprung to life.
A long shaft grew from the limb’s end, longer and longer until it was six feet long. It stopped lengthening though ice still flowed into it, the new material coalescing into a mace head larger than a human skull, even before eight razor sharp flanges pressed through the smooth surface. Each edge was styled in a sweeping wave that spread outwards at the head of the weapon like a newly erupting geyser frozen in the throes of its explosive birth.
Leo planted his feet before the doors, swinging the huge mace into the solid oak and black iron structure. The formidable defences broke apart, metal warping and wood splintering apart as the hinges ripped out of the Wail’s sturdy walls and the rent debris flew into the stronghold.
Without skipping a beat, Leo charged through, his bellowed war cry somehow amplified by his magical helm.
He was immediately engulfed in a conflagration of magic that no living being could endure.