“Grímr, you look different.” Without a moment of hesitation, I’m already on top of him, inspecting the incredibly compact glowing markings that thread along his razor plumage.
He vibrates his feathers and they weave out of position, breaking the inscription and cutting the glow. When they lock back in place, another inscription illuminates, and a sudden gust launches me off his back.
I land on my feet as Grímr laughs an amused trill. “Yeah, Remus knew a guy,” he says as I gape.
He can change the inscription by rearranging the formation of his plumage? That’s amazing. Both inscriptions are incredibly detailed, almost to the extent of Henosis’ experimental weapon. How many forms can the inscription take?
It’s good to see Grímr fully recovered after our last fight with that Viisin. I’m not the only one that’s grown the capability to combat the decay those creatures can inflict. His talons would have pulverised if he’d tried the same thing last time, so I’m glad he has a means to defend his body now.
It is also relieving to see Kalma hasn’t hurt him, or messed with him in any apparent way. Maybe she thought I was the only one who brought the centzon. That doesn’t really make much sense, but I’m not about to question Grímr’s good fortune.
“That’s so cool. How many inscriptions can you make?” I ask.
Grímr stands tall, his beak rising high in the air at my praise. “It’s just the two, but the riparian said there was still room to fit another.”
He flutters his feathers and returns the inscription to an inactive state.
“The first makes my metal resistant to decay and supposedly increases its toughness. The other doesn’t help much in a fight, but it vastly improves my acceleration and manoeuvrability in the air,” he says. “Hop on, I’ll show you on our way to Remus.”
I don’t hesitate. There are still some Viisin in the area, but I’ve already killed so many of them and I need time to recover, anyway. The mindless creatures are nowhere near the difficulty they used to be to defeat, but it still takes it out of me to surpass their decay. At most, I can only kill a few before I need to recover for a dozen minutes.
My inner flames still have to be sacrificed to push past their decay, and it has become expensive on my energy reserves to recover. I’ve been trying to take what I can from each individual Viisin, but while I do feel my capacity increasing ever so minimally, the immediate energy I gain is not enough to recover my expenditure.
The wasteland that has become of the battlefield doesn’t provide much fuel either. Everything has either been frozen beyond reason, or bombarded into dust. There are still remnants of artillery shells that remain scattered across the land, but even those are rare because of the swathes of land now scarred from the Viisin’s involuntary decaying bodies.
I jump on Grímr’s back again, and with hardly a flap of his wings, we are airborne. It’s a far cry from the time it used to take. The glowing inscriptions over his body don’t so much as create air, but redirect it around his massive body. It’s somewhat similar to the manipulations I tried to do when I was carrying Leal, but clearly created by someone with a far better understanding of the principles than I.
Grímr tilts his wings and I’m almost crushed against his back as he turns at an unbelievably sharp angle. Even with the little weight I carry, I can barely make turns as fast as this. It reminds me of the first bird of prey to attack me over on the other side of the Alps; the enantiorn eagle.
The land below is a mess. It’s hard to spot any speck of earth that remains untouched. I wonder what this placed looked like before battle marred it? By the time I’d arrived, artillery bombardment already pockmarked the land. Since the arrival of the Order’s elite mage, it has only grown worse.
The Mercenaries and soldiers have been in retreat ever since the manifestation of the many new Viisin. Most flee in a disorganised mess, but there are plenty of more experienced and enhanced teams which hold the vanguard and protect their rear.
Those defending the retreat can’t do much to fight off the Viisin, but their experience fighting creatures on the Titan Alps gives them the skill to hold the mindless Viisin’s attention on themselves. Most teams have no method to beat them, but surviving long enough for the rest of the mercenaries to escape is possible.
It is possible, but even watching over the battle from the skies, I see many Luis mercenaries fall to the incredibly fast movements of their opponents.
Grímr takes us north. He quickly reaches his previous maximum speed and surpasses it. We don’t reach the same pace we did with Imiha’s support, but it’s an impressive improvement.
My portian friend favours the air above the pact nation’s side of battle as we fly. The number of combatants thins in places, and rises in others over the distance we travel, but the advantage toward the mermineae’s side is the same everywhere. The pact nations are pushed back no matter where I look.
At least, until we reach another section of immensely devastated land.
It looks like a herd of dahu went wild in the area. A massive forest of stone spikes, each the size of an ursu continae, spread for leagues outward in an arc. There is no sign of any mermineae in the area, or the mage who reshaped the land so totally. The only ones around are the mercenaries set up at the base of the expanse of towering stones.
Unauthorized duplication: this narrative has been taken without consent. Report sightings.
This is the first place I’ve seen where the pact nations not only have the advantage, but have complete control. Though they hesitate to capitalise and push into the stone forest, and I can understand; the immense jagged stones won’t make traversal easy.
Whatever mage inflicted such far-reaching damage is no longer around, but from how safe the people below are, it’s encouraging to see the elite mercenaries might not all care nothing for mass casualties. Well, assuming there was nobody besides the mermineae caught in such a devastating rush of rock.
Grímr and I continue flying for a while. We never stop to help those barely holding on under the assault of the mermineae. Knowing Grímr, I’m sure he hates to ignore them, but returning to Remus must be more important.
Beiths help the mercenaries below with the Viisin, but there is clearly not enough to go around. If we hadn’t lost so many to the other side of the Alps before this war ever started, there wouldn’t be nearly as much a problem. But what has come to pass cannot be changed. We can only make use of what we have and not regret what is lost.
“So, uh… you haven’t heard what happened, have you?” I ask, unsure of how wide Kalma’s effort to sabotage my coordination with the Mercenary Order has spread.
Grímr gives me a pitying side-eye glance. “I don’t think there’s a soul in the pact nations that hasn’t heard,” he says. “Remus filled us in about Kalma’s involvement, but you should probably keep your distance from anyone you’re not overly familiar with.”
I melt onto Grímr’s back. There was little chance it wouldn’t have spread, what with how many mercenaries were there to witness, but I’d still hoped. Being considered a criminal by the entire pact nations is definitely not going to be fun. It was fine when it was Joiak, as I had no reason to respect them after how they allowed my friends to be treated, but my life is already too bound to the pact nations.
At least Remus believed my message. I’m thankful he’s spread the word with Grímr and whoever else might be with him. Assuming they all believe him, I won’t be walking into a bunch of spiteful mercenaries.
Honestly, I didn’t even need to ask Grímr; I already knew the word had spread. The mercenary teams I’ve assisted have shown hesitance at my appearance, and while none have shown hostility — because that would be absolutely stupid with the power difference between us — they still didn’t trust me.
“Also, you should apologise to Remus as soon as you see him. He doesn’t like to show it, but he was pretty upset you didn’t wait for him.”
“Ah.” Right. I completely forgot how I abandoned our meeting point in my rush to get Tore. And what a waste that was. That giant better be doing something important, because if he’s not, I’ll be pissed. I’m coming back to Remus empty handed. “I will.”
We’ve been flying for not even an hour when Grímr drops our altitude. It wasn’t a long flight, but with Kalma pushing the fight ever closer to its end, every minute we waste makes me stress.
In the distance, the iconic centzon war machines roll across the earth unopposed. There aren’t nearly as many of them as there were across the Titan Alps, but even seeing them here means the centzon we left within the mountains made it across alive. A relief considering Kalma apparently destroyed their fortress herself.
“They’ve made more progress than I expected,” Grímr comments as he comes in to land amongst the siege engines.
I jump off as soon as Grímr’s talons touch the earth. Remus dismounts his moving machine to greet us. Jav, like he used to, rests on Remus’ head with a determined stance. It’s great to see him better. He hadn’t exactly been in a great mental state the last time I saw him, so I’m happy to see him back to his normal self despite the circumstances.
“Solvei!” Remus cheers, his signature eye smile directed my way. “Hope you’re not about to leave without a word again.”
“Sorry about that.” I cringe in regret. “I was in a hurry and I didn’t know how long you would be.”
Remus shakes his head with a chuckle. “Just be careful around Ossian when he finds out you burnt the wall of his cabin. He might be unenhanced, but he knows how to hold a grudge.”
Despite Remus’ jovial tone, he sounds serious, so I nod in acknowledgement before raising my eyes to the small volan on his head. “I’m glad you look well, Jav.”
He waves a small artificially winged arm dismissively. “Don’t worry about me. I’m done moping.” He gives off an awkward chuckle. “My old man made sure of it.”
With the four of us here, the team is almost back together. All we need now is Bunny, and we’d be back to how we started. I can’t help but look around in anticipation of the off chance that she is here somewhere.
“She’s not here,” Grímr says, stepping up beside me. “Sorry, but Bunny’s still defending her country from invasion on two fronts.”
“Do you know if she’s alright?”
“The Vanguard has held its ground through this entire war. Far from what can be said about the pact nations. There’s little to worry about.”
“Is this the one you told me about?” a voice completely unique to any I’ve heard before says. It sounds screechy, like the mermineae, but far too deep to be one of them.
I turn to face a strange three eyed creature looking down on me from hardly a metre away. How did I not notice him? A quick check with my thermal sense shows absolutely nothing. I can’t feel any heat coming from him.
I’ve never seen anything like him. He stands above two metres tall, but only because of a wooden brace holding his chest. Four symmetrical wooden legs extend out radially like a spider. The wood is absolutely brimming with dense inscriptions. A thousand individual lines carved into the wood glow with each tiny movement of the timber legs.
What is below his chest is obscured by the artificial appendages, but from his brown leather-like torso, extends four arms. Each of the creature’s hands has five long fingers and two thumbs.
“Solvei, this is my friend-” Remus starts.
“Friend?” Remus’ apparently not-friend questions.
“Business associate,” Remus tries, and the strange creature nods in acceptance. “Solon. He owes me a favour, so he’ll be helping us. Solon is a riparian and is one of the foremost experts on inscription engineering.”
“Yes, yes. That’s all very interesting, but I want to see if she can really do as you say.”
The strange riparian steps closer, his mechanical wooden legs moving in a way completely dissimilar to the centzon’s machinery. Unlike the loud grinding and clanking of theirs, his legs move with a fluidity I would expect from something alive. But I can see the joints. I can see nothing but timber and the glowing engravings which relight with each movement.
“Solvei, can you show him the ritual?” Remus asks.
I’m uncertain why this Solon wants to see it, but I decide not to question it for now and do as asked. There're no corpses around, but he just wants to see me make the inscription with my flames, right? No need to actually do anything but show I can make it work.
The floating ritual comes together quickly. Surprisingly fast, even for me. My focus must have improved more than I’d thought since the last time I created this inscription. With no material to target, the ritual can’t do much more than grasp at nothing, but it still operates properly.
“Satisfactory,” Solon says as he turns back to Remus. “I can work with this.”
“I still don’t know why you refuse to work with an áinfean,” Jav says. “We wouldn’t have needed Solvei if you’d just accepted Spenne while he was here.”
Solon says nothing, but Remus shakes his head. “Just leave it. Changing Solon’s mind once he’s made it is impossible.”
I glance between them curiously. What exactly do they need me for?