Notes
Huge think you to all my reviewers. Desna, kmmcm, CanaryOfBlack, GlassMoutains. Thank you so much! Every comment an message means the absolute world to me!
Things are going to start winding up now for the finale! :) I genuinely didn't think this would ever wind up being so long.
Vander held out as long as he could, but a short mile from the airship, battered by high winds, thinning air and course sand, the cover on Puppu's chest evaporated suddenly and without warning; when Vander tried to put up another one, the world went momentarily black and he fell; Jera catching him by the shoulder before he stumbled from the statues palm, setting him on his knees.
He'd exhausted his magical reserves and as a result they were now hundreds of feet in the air with a mile of battle ground between the ex military craft and them.
Within moments, spotlights from the ship blinked on and the assault party were forced to cover their eyes as they were hit with streams of blinding light; the statues illuminated in the pitch black night sky.
Even at a distance they heard the screeching sounds of the ballista rotating and maneuvering into position; preparing to shoot them out of the sky while a high pitched alarm screamed their arrival.
Despite the calamity, Jera wasn't phased. Her father had thrown her into combat just like any other Atlan would have done their son, and she'd screwed up enough in her lifetime not to be dissuaded by a pearshaped plan. She shouted through the wind to the other sand mages; they'd made sure there was one in every group.
"SHIELDS! NOW!" She ordered and from the air and the dark ground below, pillars of sand formed and shaped themselves into enormous plates of stone, several meters thick; walls coming together in front of them; a hasty protection from the coming attack. The cannons were powerful but slow to charge, it could have been possible to outmaneuver them, but for the passengers in their hands, and they needed those numbers, every man and woman if they wanted to take the ship.
The first blast hit Peppe and pierced through the stone like it were made of nothing more than paper; punching through and leaving a gaping hole. The white beam struck the statue and tore the shoulder open at the joint. Stone and sand and dust exploded everywhere as the arm began to break away.
There was a second of panic; wide eyed terror in the men's faces before the entire limb fell into the darkness, taking the sand mage and three soldiers with it. Some of the luckier ones managed to jump to the other intact hand but already the cannon was recharging. They knew the minute that the mage hit the ground because the remnants of the broken wall in front of Peppe crumbled into dust at his death, the magic that created it, crumbling away.
Alma moved Pappa over and let the remaining soldiers move into his palm. Trading places with them on Peppe who was now no use as a transport.
"What the hell are you doing?" Bickslow growled from his position with the others on Poppo.
"TAKING OUT THAT FUCKING BALLISTA!" She snarled.
She climbed up to Peppe's head and the statue started crackling with blue energy. If there was any question as to how fast they could move without their passengers, there wasn't anymore as Peppe took off at speed. The spotlight suddenly straining to keep up; following them as they closed the distance.
The great cannon fired again and they watched the beam of light shoot forward, Peppe banked sharply to the right and the strike missed, barely singeing stone and disappearing off into the night sky. The statue stopped at about two hundred meters and raised its now free hand. Bickslow felt the draw of power, the immense pull, as energy crackled between Peppe's fingers and a blast the likes of which seemed to resemble an etherion cannon shot out and struck the airship... only to collide with an invisible barrier. They were close enough to feel it; the same kind of magic that protected Josta's palace. That's why Arlo hadn't left yet; he was too busy fitting shields to that airship, no doubt expecting resistance in Bosco.
The Sky Nymph's cannon struck again and this time hit it's mark, cutting a violent path through Peppe's abdomen, almost cutting the statue in two at the waist and sending stone in every direction. A large segment struck the surface of the airship and broke up and Bickslow cursed, knowing exactly what Alma was going to do next. Because while it was protected from magical energy, it was still apparently vulnerable to actual physical attack.
Alma growled under her breath.
"Let's take this thing apart!" She snarled.
The others watched on, dumbstruck as Peppe threw them against the airship, the force so great even a behemoth like it pitched dangerously to the side, steel screeching, before Peppe seized the cannon in an enormous stone fist, pulling it out of the ship and showering the darkness with sparks of white light, the noise of tearing metal echoing in the din among the premature cheers of King Baros's men.
As the cannon finally broke free it detonated, shattering the lacrima at Peppe's core. The stone warrior started coming asunder, unable to maintain its shape in the aftermath, too damaged to continue, and without the Lacrima, Peppe didn't have the power to keep them airborne. Pieces of the stone giant fell back to the earth and Bickslow wanted to shout, wanted to scream but there was only silence in his head, an echoing emptiness. Shock and fear rippling through the other souls. And then a sense of amusement and self satisfaction that could only have been her in the link.
"Alma..." Laxus started to say. Fear haunting his face.
"Is alive on the ship and probably laughing her ass off," Bickslow said with a grin. He pointed to the damaged ship, more particularly the hole in the hull. "And she's made us a door! Think you can zip in through there, boss?" The Seith said with a malicious grin.
Laxus was gone in a streak of lightning before anyone could say anything else to the contrary; the man smiling because suddenly, he was going to be useful.
The main cannon may have been gone, but the airship had a sizeable number of smaller, less powerful gun turrets and as close as they now were, the statues made enormous targets. Bullets and energy blasts started chipping away at them, targeting the lacrima cores in the remaining four having seen Peppe crumble without it. Stone showered then all as the shields began to get cut up by the hail of fire.
They used the remaining stone to provide cover as the statues, one after the other, deposited their cargo on the ship until only the King was left with his personal guard.
"Onto the ship! Quickly!" The King ordered, and men in armour, mages, started jumping in through the breach. He was the last one in and already he found evidence of Alma and Laxus's warpath. Bloody, singed bodies lay scattered around them. The steel door out of the cannon's control room had been literally torn off its hinges; the metal was warped and there were finger sized dents on its corners, too many for one person. Alma and Laxus had literally pulled the door away with their bare hands.
Bickslow stared out into the darkness as the statues fell away, finally succumbing to the gunfire, too damaged to remain in one piece. He felt the destruction of each lacrima like a knife to the chest; a sudden, sharp piercing pain. Each loss leaving him feeling weak and momentarily disorientated.
Someone clapped him on the shoulder, the King in fact, and Bickslow breathed a sigh of relief as he was spared the sensory shock he'd been experiencing.
"We need to go!" The King said drawing swords and straightening his helmet. He kept the armour of the city commander instead of Royal livery, unwilling to paint himself anymore of a target than he already was.
"Just give me a second," Bickslow pleaded, he wasn't sure his legs would work at the moment.
"Unfortunately, that is something we can't afford. If you can't walk, I will leave you," The King snapped.
Bickslow laughed. He was a good man...but he was still an Atlan soldier at heart. The Kings men had scattered under orders to secure the ship, but Bickslow knew Alma would go straight for Arlo. Straight to the bridge.
There was a sound like crunching bone and a green hue lit up the room. The King withdrew, wide eyed with swords raised as three of the corpses rose onto their feet; limbs dangling and dead eyes now glowing with otherworldly green light. The sight of it got Bickslow to his feet quickly, he recognised the presence of Puppu, Peppe and Poppo but the sight of the bodies they'd chosen made him pause. It was the first time he'd ever seen them possess a physical human body. The first time he'd ever seen them possess a corpse.
"Who told you to do this?"
"Alma," They all said in unison.
"Of course she did," His woman ...was not a squeamish woman. He'd never felt comfortable with the idea of his babies inhabiting the dead like that, but he could see the uses and now was not the time to be fighting.
The corridors of the ship would have presented a problem if Alma and Laxus hadn't left them a trail of destruction to follow. Even in a maze of corridors and passageways, she wouldn't get lost, she wouldn't be tricked by an illusion. And with Laxus following, Bickslow doubted that there would be many mages capable of standing up to them. He needed to remember she'd worked with Laxus in his absence; that this wasn't a foreign procedure for them. The pair had even managed to avoid killing the possessed Boscan crew where they could; leaving them unconscious and groaning, slumped in various positions of injury but otherwise still breathing.
The only people it seemed they were killing without mercy or hesitation were the fire mages; a group Bickslow doubted many would miss. If there were any left alive at the end of it, the chances were very high that the King would just have them killed himself. To be morbidly blunt, dying here was probably preferable to an Atlan public execution.
Jera and Vander's group were already ahead of them with the others and Bickslow could see disappointment in the Kings aura at the single fact that they'd yet to see a single living enemy so far. As it stood, if things continued, it was unlikely they'd see much of any at all.
The three corpses floated sinisterly down the hallway, oddly terrifyingly, somewhat vacant grins on their faces. Heads slack as though they couldn't be bothered keeping them uptight as well.
"No more possessing dead bodies for you guys..." Bickslow muttered, more than a little creeped out.
"Alma tells me that the Boscan's gave you that brand and exiled you as a child?" The King said suddenly and Bickslow sputtered. He wasn't comfortable knowing that she'd talk about his past like that, especially with people he didn't know.
"That's right..." The Seith hissed. The King reminding him just how much Arlo Basta had actually wronged him. A lifetime exiled from his very home. Separated from his family. "But they were afraid. People do stupid fucking things when they're afraid."
"Stupid and cruel," Baros added. "But hardship builds character...you may not be the kind of man you are if you hadn't lived through that. You may even have turned out like Basta if you hadn't been taught at a young age to use your magic responsibly. Bosco though, it cannot rule, if it's ruled by fear."
Bickslow almost snorted. City commander one day, King another. He couldn't work out if this was one or the other speaking. Maybe there wasn't that much difference. Kings were all eccentric though. At least all the ones Bickslow had met.
"Yeah, though they didn't seem all that frightened when they sent Arlo Basta here," Bickslow tone was almost sinister with hatred.
"Very true...your betrothed," The King smiled suddenly as Bickslow blanched, realizing in the midst of some kind of magical rush he'd managed to convince her to say yes to marriage in front of a few thousand people. Bosco had certain rules about marriage and accepting under duress. That might land him in some trouble later on. Baros continued. "Atla would have been lucky to have a Queen like her... periodically remember that," He said with humour in his tone. It was a clear implication in his words. To treat her like one.
"I will. Believe, me," And he meant that.
The three flying corpses up ahead stopped dead in their tracks and Bickslow felt a drain on his magic as they prepared to open fire on whatever had appeared up ahead.
He didn't have Alma's sight and his own was limited to what was in front of him, so he couldn't quite tell what had stalled them. The pair went completely silent, holding their breath, but the possessed bodies didn't move.
"Should I be worried?" Bickslow asked. "Arlo doesn't have any powerful mages or anything? Cause these guys are spooked."
They weren't able to tell him what was wrong, only that something was very far from right at the minute.
"There's one, my men tell me a green mage worked with the priests at the temple, I understand you sampled his handiwork?"
Bickslow winced at the memory of the crossbow bolt that Arlo made Jera shoot him with. The way it grew into him. The agony of that.
The Atlan armour the King wore wouldn't be pierced by anything as flimsy as an arrow, but Bickslow's leathers were not going to protect him. Even something as small as a nick in the skin the magic in the wood could use to grow.
The King saw the look on his face and stepped in front of him, one sword over his head in a position to strike and the second across his torso, guarding his chest. His armour was fire proof, and Bickslow was still weak, so the King slipped forward to stand with the corpses before lowering his swords, harrumphing thoughtfully. Crouching down he drew his hand along the ground and Bickslow saw the air ripple in front of him like water.
"Illusion," He said. When the King pushed his hand through the wall, the corridor ahead disappeared and opened up into a vast expanse of suspended walkways over an enormous storage bay filled with now open vats of water. The metal flooring just on the other side of the illusion had been destroyed and there was a twenty foot gap to the connecting walkway, and a very long drop down to the steel flooring of the warehouse below.
It was a trap designed to catch out those in a rush. Looking down, Bickslow saw the bloodied remains of three Atlan soldiers, already crumpled and broken at the bottom.
The King growled driving his swords into the floor where the illusion had materialized. Runes revealed themselves once he broke the steel, the spell shattering with it.
"This entire ship is fucking booby trapped," Bickslow whined.
"We should proceed carefully then..."
But Bickslow had already spotted the fight taking place at the other side of the expanse. Saw tentacle-like vines climbing out of some of the vats of water swiping at their group. Jera and Vander hacking away at the plants in a desperate attempt to get to the mage responsible; Laxus trapped in a mess of thick green cables lightning erupting in every direction, completely ineffective.
Bickslow grabbed hold of a leather strap across Puppu's bloodied back and the King did the same with Poppo. The corpses taking off at speed down the walkway, keeping both of them airborne in case of any more illusions; there feet mere inches from the ground.
When they were almost across, almost within reach of them, Bickslow watched a vine strike Alma painfully across the back while she was busy trying to free Laxus; the blow sending her careening over the railings and down into the storage bay below.
They were about eighty feet up over the floor of the hold, and Bickslow knew from experience that the fall probably wouldn't kill her, gravely injure her, break a lot of bones, but she frequently put herself back together again. He knew she'd survive hitting the ground...
...but she didn't hit the ground at all. Time slowed as she fell and he could see beforehand that she wasn't going to collide with a solid surface. Alma of course missed the ground completely and landed square in one of the open topped tanks, colliding with the edge on the way in with a sickening thunk, her head catching the rim, before disappearing under the rolling waves of water; the liquid disturbed by the pitching of the airship during their assault.
Bickslow let go of Puppu and crossed his arms over his chest, pointing his toes as he dropped, hoping when he hit the water he didn't accidentally collide with her. The impact may as well have been like hitting pavement, ripples of shock shooting up his legs and back before the cold water hit his face and forced its way up his nose as he battled the instinct to draw a breath.
It felt like a lifetime under the surface, quiet and still, a contrasting image of the total chaos above; where his friends were still fighting for their lives, battling that green mage. Underneath the surface, Bickslow had all the time in the world to see her floating there, lifelessly hovering, her hair fanning her head like some kind of halo. He allowed himself only a short breath when he finally broke the surface before diving down again. She'd moved, caught in some sort of current, or he had, he couldn't be sure but suddenly she wasn't as close as before. Despite the weight of his leathers he swam, reached out to her, kicking off his boots as we went deeper and deeper. He caught a hold of leather and pushed up toward the light and air. She was already turning blue, her skull split to the extent it showed bone and she wasn't breathing. To make matters worse when he glanced around he immediately realized that the edge of the tank was a clear six foot above the waterline, and there weren't any ladders out; they were both stuck in the churning waves with no way out. Now his tired limbs treaded water desperately to keep them both afloat. The ship seemed to shudder violently, whatever was going on, damage perhaps from their assault, who knew.
A newly formed wave caught them both and sent him surging against the edge of the vat. He managed to get himself between her and the steel rim but when they hit, the impact sent them both under; the weight of their gear now sinking them as Bickslow floundered.
For a moment, it crossed his mind that he was going to die, that they both were, and he wondered if he'd be able to find her again in whatever came after.
He wanted to think he would, but he doubted even she'd be certain, despite having been technically born in the land of the dead. All he did know, was that death wasn't the end, and if there was an even slim chance of finding her again, he'd take that.
Darkness swam at the edge of his vision but before it overtook him, cold hands broke through the waves and he was pulled up into the light and the noise, Alma followed moments later; his babies dragging them out of the tank and depositing them up to the walkway with the others. Bickslow landed on his knees coughing while a corpse he didn't recognize set Alma down gently, much like a child.
Laxus scrambled over to her and pressed his ear to her chest for a heartbeat, which only told Bickslow she didn't have one, because the man would have been able to hear it without needing to get so close...that's if it had been there.
Laxus growled and gave her a sudden sharp thump to the chest. Hard enough thatnit could have cracked a grown man's ribs, but the reaction was immediate as she rolled to the side and spewed what had to have been a litre of water at their feet before collapsing again.
"Bix, you okay?" A blood covered Vander asked, holding an injured Jera up, one arm slung over his shoulder. The woman's leg was a mess. From the looks of it a branch or something had gone right through her thigh.
Bickslow looked down at his bare feet; having lost his socks as well. He wriggled his toes in the air.
"Yeah, but I fucking loved those boots, man," He laughed looking at Alma who was finally stirring. "Ali? You alive again over there?" He joked. He was only now noticing that her arm was broken just below the elbow as well as that head injury. The worst of which had healed. Though not completely. She was too weak, too drained to heal any further. He put fingers to his own head that came back wet with fresh blood from where he'd hit the inside of the tank. He wasn't healing either.
The King noticed as well.
"It seems your brief spell of invincibility has passed, care to join us mere mortals as we introduce some more fools to the afterlife?" Baros's face was as happy as he imagined it could ever look. The man was actually smiling. To him? This was fun.
"All you Atla people are just fucking crazy, you know that?" Vander remarked.
"To me, you are the crazy ones. We're on a heavily defended battleship, fighting an enemy that outnumbers us all, and for the sake of two Kingdoms. This? This is glorious!" He seemed to sing, entire face animated.
Bickslow sat up laughing, climbing to his bare feet. The grate of the walkway biting into them painfully. He eyed the boots on the floating corpses feet but could already tell they'd be too small for him. One of the floating bodies reached down and picked up Alma, cradling her. The body opened its mouth and spoke.
"Hugs!"
That single word managed to chill everyone to the core. Half the man's face had been split open before he died.
"Yes, Pappa, hugs," Bickslow stared down into the water longingly. "Hey, you think one of you guys could..."
Two wet corpses appeared, one setting down his boots and the other Alma's treasured swords. Both already pulled from the water; easily done when the dead had no need of air.
Contact with Alma, with her magic made them stronger. More intelligent. More considerate. Independent. More human.
And Bickslow knew it was the same for him as well. They juat made each other better.
The thought came out of no where but once it landed, he couldn't shake it. He wanted children with her. He wanted this child; wanted to see her get old with him. Wanted to see her terrify children at Halloween, something she'd been looking forward to that he'd missed. He'd missed her first Christmas as well. She'd even chosen not to celebrate it, taking a mission instead of being with the guild. He suddenly recalled that her birthday would have been just the other day. It would have been the first one. The first birthday.
He was grateful that the water streaming down his face hid the tears that he shed, because he wept with the shame of it. The only one in the group that looked to have noticed was Laxus who gave his shoulder a firm shake. Some small reassurance.
Bickslow wiped the hair out of her eyes; his dying thoughts were about whether he'd be able to find her after death. Love, he knew, came in all forms...in a whole manner of intensities, but that was something new to him. This was something more than special.
"You okay there? You spaced out," Vander looked at him.
"Just wondering what to get her for her birthday...and Christmas. Kinda missed both," Bickslow lamented.
"Hah...you knocked her up on her birthday? Fuck," Vander wheezed "You may as well just empty that account of yours now, cause that's not going to be cheap," Vander stilled, realizing exactly what he'd just said, and to whom. There were a lot of shocked and unhappy faces around.
"And for all her preaching about adequate birth control? Hypocrite!" Jera laughed.
Bickslow glared at his brother.
"Remind me again what branch of the Boscan government you work for?"
Vander paled.
"The covert part..." He muttered sheepishly.
The Kings eyes zeroed in on him carefully. Vander caught the suspicion in his eyes.
"This was my first visit here. Believe me, if I'd been before, I probably wouldn't be here now," He held up a hand in surrender. "Seriously...no knowledge of this stuff whatsoever!"
The King looked at him quizzically.
"I'll accept that," He said, tone humourless.
"You know..." Vander added in tone that instantly made Bickslow and Laxus suddenly concerned for his safety. "...in Bosco its drilled into us not to throw our swords. Bad form," He said, Bickslow his his face in his hands while Jera elbowed Vander with a disbelieving sneer. The plant mage was dead at the King's hands; Baros having thrown a sword that had taken the man clean off his feet and pinned him to the wall by his chest.
The King looked blankly at Vander for a moment.
"Maybe Boscan military should follow Atlan tradition, and make sure their soldiers carry more than one," He deadpanned. Expression flatter than a week old half tanker of beer.
Laxus sighed. Both in exhaustion and relief. If only he'd brought tape, Vander would be silent for the remainder of the mission.
"If you're done insulting foreign royalty, we need to keep moving. Bickslow and Alma to the rear. Corpses guarding our flank. Vander and Jera behind us...stick to the center," Laxus flashed an elongated canine at the King. "We'll take up the front position,"
King Baros took off his helmet completely and cast it over the side. Sweat was dripping off the red ring in his nose, blood off his swords. The King looked to Laxus pleased with the suggestion.
"You know, we don't see many Florian's here, you might consider visiting in the future with your guild," He calmly suggested.
Laxus looked to Bickslow, about to laugh.
"Oh...no...believe me. You don't want that."