Ch. 37
The Siege of Dzagon Pt. I
Sunrise over the Wilderness of Bahdza was a slow affair. The mountains in the east obscured the ascent of the sun, though they did nothing to hinder its heralds. The pale autumn sky was slowly turning blue as rays of gold began to streak the heavenly vault. On any other day, one might expect to hear the song of birds and the cries of moas, each announcing the coming of the morn. But this day was silent, and still. Black wings circled in the sky overhead, carrion fowl who smelled the coming of battle.
The sunrise was greeted by the polished armor and gleaming spears of soldiers on walls and archers at parapets. The bulwarks of the Citadel of Dzagon bristled with warriors standing at their posts, their eyes focused on the foothills of the mountains. Above them, high a top the battlements of the Prince's tower stood a crimson haired, pale skinned ranger, whose keen violet eyes swept the field before the Citadel.
The fortress was well prepared for war, and its defenses had been rolled out during the night. The moat bubbled with oil awaiting a flame, while iron capped spikes adorned the stonework of the walls themselves, discouraging any would-be climbers from raising ladders to the walls. A defensive line had been drawn in the dusty earth several yards from the moat, and sturdy fortifications had been set up to protect Dzagon's massive bombards. Heavy constructs of steel, wood and cord, the bombards possessed extreme range capabilities and were far too large to mount on the Citadel's walls. A single shell carried a heavy enough payload to decimate incoming forces before they ever reached the moat, much less touched the Citadel's walls. Around each bombard, soldiers stood guard while engineers bustled back and forth, awaiting the battle to come.
"This will be a day of days," spoke the deep tones of Ahmtur the Mighty.
Rakiv half turned her head toward the prince to find him leaning over a large stone table. His mesmers sat at the other corners, projecting an active map of the battlefield. The prince himself was bedecked in heavy armor, the highlights of which included gilded plate mail and a heavy crimson cloak. He raised his eyes to the ranger who stood clad in her usual leather armor, having accepted no substitutes for the gear that continued to serve her well.
"It'll be something alright," Rakiv responded as she turned her eyes back out to the field and crossed her arms over her chest.
"In a hundred years, no organized force has assaulted the bastion," Ahmtur stated, "Not since the time of my father's father's father has such a thing occurred. Today my men prove why we keep our vigil here in the east. It is a validation for which the Citadel has waited too long."
"I hope, your highness," Rakiv said pointedly, "That you are not under the impression that this will be any ordinary army. A single Margonite is worth a battalion of men on the field. This will be a brutal victory if it is not an outright crushing defeat."
"I have not made the mistake that my colleague Bokka did," Ahmtur reassured her evenly as he watched the mesmeric image track his soldiers as they fortified the defenses one last time, "Should the gates fall, I have already instructed several of my units to begin the evacuation of the Bastion. The civilian population here will at least survive, even if we fall."
Rakiv was silent, somewhat satisfied with that answer. Too many times their cause had been imperiled by a lack of contingency plans. Faith, it seemed, was a double edged sword.
"If you'll excuse me Guildmistress," the prince said, "I must see to my generals."
"Not a bad idea," Rakiv said as she mounted the parapet, "I'll do the same."
With uncanny ease and balance the ranger stepped off the edge of the tower, and strode out onto the tapestry rod that flew the colors of the Dzagonur flag. She took a stance at the end of the pole, where she could both see and be seen. The morning breezes whipped past her, lifting her hair into the wind as her guild cape furled and snapped behind her.
"This is Lone Ranger, all units report in," she ordered into her guild emblem.
-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x -x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-
Far below, Koss stood at the base of the center bombard, scanning the battlefield with his good eye. One hand rested on the hilt of his longsword as the other adjusted the weight of his shield. The warrior had already begun to regulate his breathing, pushing out air through his nose as he focused for the fight ahead. The steady slide and snap of Melonni running a sharpening stone across her scythe helped, and he turned to glance at his oldest friend. The dervish's eyes were locked on her blade, her thoughts obviously turned to battle though her lips moved in silent prayer.
"What are you saying?" Koss asked.
"Asking Melandru to keep our feet steady, to help us hold the high ground," Melonni responded to him without lifting her eyes, "Asking Dwayna to give us grace and speed. Asking Balthazar to guide our fire and our steel… and praying to Grenth, to receive our souls if we fall."
Koss nodded slowly and was silent for several moments. Though he'd always believed in the five, he'd never been a huge believer in prayer. The gods were there alright, so far as he was concerned. But he couldn't imagine that they had the time to listen to one beleaguered warrior's prayer. He chewed his lip thoughtfully before he turned fully to face the dervish beside him.
"Hey… Mel," he started a little awkwardly, "I uhm… I just wanted to say…"
The dervish's hand paused as she held the sharpening stone over her blade and then lifted her chocolate eyes to his. Koss found that words failed him, but nevertheless searched for what exactly he did want to say.
"I'm… I'm sorry," he finally finished lamely.
"For what?" Melonni asked evenly.
"I uh…ah gods dammit woman, I don't even know," he admitted with a note of frustration, "But I'm not letting things lie as they are. We've known each other too damn long, you mean too damn much to me for me to let us die while still fighting. So I'm saying I'm sorry. I don't want us to fight anymore and I want things to be… ya know, square between us."
Melonni studied the warrior for only a short moment before letting a wry little laugh pass her lips. She shook her head, sending her beaded braids bouncing with the movement as she pocketed her sharpening stone and turned away from him.
"You're an idiot," she sighed, though she still smiled a little.
"I know…" the warrior answered glumly, "But maybe you can forgive an idiot?"
"You don't get it Koss," Melonni said with another sigh, "It's not just something you did or didn't do."
"Then… what is it?" the warrior asked with a deeply furrowed brow.
"This is Lone Ranger," their guild emblems crackled with the guildmistress' voice, "All units report in."
Melonni only stared at Koss as she lifted her emblem to her lips and gave it a tap to activate its enchantment.
"Mother Earth and Big Daddy here," the dervish said, never taking her eyes from the warrior's confused expression, "We're on the center bombard and ready to hold the line. Standing ready for your orders guildmistress."
Koss continued to stare at her for a long moment before he grumbled and finally fumbled for his emblem.
"Ah yeah, Big Daddy and Mother Earth, standing by," he reported as well.
-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x -x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-
"So is the Disciple going to make it at all?" Alendra asked anxiously.
The pretty paragon stood on the defenses of the western bombard, her shield in hand and her spear stuck in the earth at her side. She half turned to survey the warriors behind her, stalwart defenders of Vabbi every one. But they were not the soldiers she was looking for.
"Perhaps he will, perhaps he will not," Dawn said with her usual half-smile, "One can never be sure with the Disciple of Whispers."
"And you think the forces we have here will be enough…?" Alendra asked.
If she squinted, really hard, she could just barely make out the bits of red robes behind the Vabbian soldiers. A battalion of the Whisper's finest hung at the edge of the moat, stationary and silent and almost completely out of view. Any advancing force would never know they were there until it was far too late, and by then Whisper swords would already be upon them.
"Oh not nearly," the Apprentice answered with a chuckle, "No, no no we haven't anything like the kind of force needed to hold off a demon army."
"So you think we're just going to die here…?" Alendra asked a little quietly.
"Oh I didn't say that either," Dawn smiled as she turned her lifeless eyes to the paragon, "And anyone who thinks that severely underestimates us."
"Then…?" the paragon began, her brow scrunching in confusion.
"Little one, there are more powers in heaven, on earth and under the earth than even Varesh dreams of," Dawn laughed lightly, "She brings demons true, but we've a handful of trump cards at our disposal. I only hope that this little band of misfits that we call 'a guild' will gain the impetus to use them."
"You mean like trying to force Anorah to…" Alendra began, her eyes growing cold.
"Never have I forced that woman to do anything, my sweet," Dawn smiled brightly, "But I think you will find that if we do not divorce ourselves of our qualms, we may not have the strength to last through this fight… much less this war."
"We cannot sacrifice who we are for this," Alendra protested immediately, "Otherwise we lose anyway."
"On the contrary," Dawn laughed, "It is because so many of you deny what you are that this war is not already won. Embrace yourself child, and the day may yet be yours."
Alendra frowned at that and was about to retort when her guild emblem crackled to life.
"This is Lone Ranger," came Rakiv's call, "All units report in."
"Gold Eagle and Apprentice of Whispers, reporting in," Alendra responded immediately, keeping her frustration out of her voice as she tried to refocus on the task at hand, "Standing watch at the western bombard and awaiting your order."
"Whispers standing ready for your order guildmistress," Dawn added, "Though I should very much like a better call sign, if that can be arranged."
-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x -x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-
The Eastern bombard held the most commanding view of the field, and the greatest range as well. From its position before the eastern gate of the Citadel, it could strike well into the foothills of the eastern mountains, and rain fire into the rocky crags where heket and harpy ambushes often took refuge. As its engineers scampered back and forth, checking lines and preparing shells, Margrid the Sly held the all-important job of spotter. The corsair's keen eyes stared far out into the foothills, scanning for any signs of life. The front had been quiet all morning, and that quiet had left her exceptionally restless.
"Be still, captain," the deep, smooth tones of Anorah Basilisk broke the pirate's focus.
"Wha'?" Margrid jumped, half turning her head toward the dervish who had climbed into the spotter's tower.
"Be still," Anorah instructed again, "The engineers asked that I speak with you. You've been rocking the tower back and forth."
Margrid paused and let go of the edge of the short wooden wall that surrounded the tower's platform. She leaned over and stared down at the worried Vabbians below. The tower itself was little more than scaffolding made of sturdy wood and taut rope lashings. Nothing that would withstand heavy assault, but it provided Margrid with the elevation needed to call out targets. Sure enough, the tower was slowly rocking back and forth, though its motion had begun to cease since the pirate had stopped shaking the spotter's nest from side to side.
"Hah, sorry shipmate, can't help meself," the corsair grinned sheepishly, "Yew land lubbers might be fine wiv steady ground, but stayin' still cin drive a body mad, says I."
"You wish for the pitch of a ship's deck," Anorah surmised quietly.
"Ship's deck?" Margrid laughed lightly, "I be wishin' fer the bob an' swng of the crows nest, mate. High atop the main mast, ye toss back n' forth like driftwood in surf. Most ain' got the stomach fer it, but when ye spent yer life at sea…"
Anorah nodded slowly as she leaned over the side of the tower and waved an all clear to the soldiers below. The dervish leaned against the wall as she searched for words.
"I spent much of my young life on the sea," she offered placidly, "I remember missing it as well."
"Well least ye know what's what then," the corsair nodded, "But gimme Grenth's truth now. When the blood gets ta flyin', an bodies get ta dyin', ye think ye'll 'ave yer head on straight?"
"I became Zaishen for a reason," Anorah assured the corsair, "To turn the evil that was done to me into good."
"An' ain' no better way than ta serve the five I hear," Margrid agreed, "But ye ain' answered me question shipmate."
Anorah was silent for several moments and then slightly chewed at her lip. The pirate arched an eyebrow curiously, finding the gesture to be perhaps the most human reaction she had ever seen from the stoic dervish.
"It will be a challenge," the Zaishen acknowledged, "But it is one that I have spent years training for. I dedicated my life to the war-god's service. If I cannot stand and wage war in his name, on his terms, in a great and glorious battle… then I am unworthy of the title Zaishen."
"So ya got more than jus' yer self-control ridin' on this huh?" Margrid noted.
"A good deal more," Anorah nodded slowly, "It may decide the fate of my very soul."
The pirate tilted her head at that as she studied the other woman. Anorah only adjusted her hood before turning her golden eyes eastward and squinted a little.
"Captain… do you see that?" she asked as she leaned forward.
Margrid whipped her head to stare in the direction the dervish indicated. It was faint, but her sight recognized the flash of sunlight on steel immediately. The captain placed a hand over her brow as she squinted, focusing intently on the spot where she had seen the blade touch sunlight. A moment later something moved amongst one of the far crags, a soldier in Kournan armor hiding at the edge of the badlands.
"Grenth, Dwayna an' Lyssa…" the captain swore.
"This is Lone Ranger," Rakiv's voice crackled over their guild emblems, "All units report in."
"Jolly Rodger an' Grim Reaper here guildmissus," Margrid said as she brought the emblem to her lips, "Reportin' movement in the southeastern badlands, jus' beyond the crags. Waitin' on yer order ta fire."
She paused as she turned her head and her vision swept the field ahead. The soldier was not alone. Here and there other flashes of steel caught her eye, and the occasional helmet that poked out of its hiding place.
"Melandru's milkers… I think this is it," the captain spoke.
"Grim Reaper to Lone Ranger," Anorah said into her emblem, "The moment of battle is upon us. The Kournan Army is here."
-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x -x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-
The lower battlements of the Citadel of Dzagon bustled with preparation and readiness. Platoon leaders strode across the paving stones, shouting orders to the archers who stood waiting to notch arrows to bowstrings. Amongst the soldiers stood groups of magicians, each squad consisting of representatives from all known schools of magic. Above the center gate, Kydar stood leaning against the wall top with his wands laid out before him. He listened as the Citadel's archmagus reiterated the casting pattern, ensuring that all the mages on the walltop would fire their spells in perfect synch. A slender figure stepped up to his side and the pyromancer only slightly turned his head to lay eyes on Anicara.
"This isn't like Gandara…" the hydromancer said quietly.
"The weather is considerably better," Kydar chuckled lightly.
Anicara gave a small chuckle at that as well, but the sound nearly died on her lips as she gave a soft sigh. She looked up at her mentor, who continued to stare out across the field. After a moment Kydar fully turned to face her, fixing her with an appraising stare.
"You remember your breathing?" he asked.
The younger elementalist nodded.
"You remember your attunements? Don't want to run dry in the middle of the fight," he reminded her.
"I've come a long way since Istan, Master Raelesin," she smiled a little weakly, "Don't worry. You can count on me."
"Oh, I know I can," Kydar said with a smile as he placed a hand on her shoulder, "I just want to remind you that you can count on you."
The blue eyed girl stared at him for a moment, holding his bright hazel gaze with her own before she finally gave a little nod and turned her head away. The pyromancer frowned as he tilted his head and clicked his tongue questioningly. Anicara held her peace for a few moments before her lips parted and she barely whispered.
"I'm sorry…" she managed, though the words were barely audible.
"No need to be," the older elementalist assured her immediately.
"But… I…" she began.
"Ani," Kydar silenced her, "You're fine. It's alright. If anything I should say I'm sorry. I should have handled this… thing, a little better."
"Hah… hah," she laughed joylessly, "You're not the one making stupid, impulsive moves that mess up everything."
"Maybe not," he agreed with a laugh of his own, "But you have hardly messed up everything. Look, I'm sorry I didn't say this sooner. I do care about you Anicara, you mean a lot to me."
"You just… don't care about me that way," she sighed softly as she finally looked up at him again.
Kydar was quiet for a moment before he gave a wry smile and a slow nod.
"And for that I am sorry," he said, "I would say that it's not you it's me, but it's actually someone else entirely," he added with a laugh.
"Yeah, I think we all know that," she laughed a little bit, before taking a deep breath to keep her eyes from watering.
"Not even what I'm talking about," he said with a shake of his head, "And you girls gotta stop gossiping like that," he added.
"Well what are you talking about?" she asked, her brow furrowing in curiosity.
"You… remind me of someone," he said after a moment's pause, "Someone I would, and have, done anything for. It's… it's a different kind of caring. But it's stronger than time and tides, I can tell you that."
Anicara was silent at that thought, a tumult of emotions cascading within her. She felt all at once let down, relieved and overjoyed and was finding trouble articulating anything else to say. She was saved from finding further speech when their emblems squeaked and the guildmistress' voice broke in.
"This is Lone Ranger," the red-head's order began, "All units report in."
Kydar lifted his emblem but held his peace as the other squads began to report back.
"Mother Earth and Big Daddy here," came Melonni's voice, "We're on the center bombard and ready to hold the line. Standing ready for your orders guildmistress."
"Ah yeah, Big Daddy and Mother Earth, standing by," Koss chimed in.
"Gold Eagle and Apprentice of Whispers, reporting in," Alendra responded a moment later, "Standing watch at the western bombard and awaiting your order."
"Whispers standing ready for your order guildmistress," Dawn intoned, "Though I should very much like a better call sign, if that can be arranged."
"Jolly Rodger an' Grim Reaper here guildmissus," Margrid reported, "Reportin' movement in the southeastern badlands, jus' beyond the crags. Waitin' on yer order ta fire."
"Grim Reaper to Lone Ranger," came Anorah's grim warning, "The moment of battle is upon us. The Kournan Army is here."
"Big Red and Baby Blue here," Kydar broke in, "We're on the walls and primed for bombardment."
"Lone Ranger copies all," Rakiv's voice came back to them, "Stand fast and get ready people. We're about to feel the full might of the Kournan army and all the demons they can muster. Until further notice, you are all to follow the orders of Prince Ahmtur. This is his defense plan, let's not muck it up. Understood?"
A plethora of affirmatives came back over the emblems and Rakiv gave a nod of satisfaction.
"Good," she agreed, "Then stand your ground and hold those lines. Let's show Varesh how you really defend a fortress under siege."
High atop her perch the ranger peered out at the badlands where Margrid had sighted movement. At this distance it was impossible to discern scrub from brush, and after a moment she gave up. She trusted the corsair's eyes. The Kournans were here.
"Prince Ahmtur," Rakiv said as she half turned on the long wooden rod that supported the prince's flag, "My team of well trained specialists are yours to command," she said as she flipped him an extra emblem, "Use us well."
"Have no fear guildmistress," the prince responded, raising an armored hand to catch the emblem, "I have plans for you. For now, I need you with the archers on the wall. I need your keen eyes to spot commanders and take them down before they reach the bombard fortifications."
"Understood," she said, a small smile crossing her face as she felt adrenaline start pumping through her veins, "I'll be in touch."
Without another word the ranger hopped once on the tapestry rod and then dove gracefully straight down. One gloved hand whipped out to grab the edge of the tapestry and she slid down the richly colored flag, descending toward the wall tops below. The tapestry ended and she dropped onto a parapet, her feet moving quickly as she leapt across the battlements and onto the steep slide of a stairway barrier. As the stair came to an end she jumped from the stonework and skid to a stop amongst the archers who stood in neat lines against the Citadel's crenelations. A welcoming croak sounded from her feet and she glanced down at the well-armored hide of her constant crocodile companion.
"Thanks," she responded to him before leaning down to rap her knuckles on the plate mail that covered his back, "I like the upgrade."
Butter gave a bob of his snout to affirm his approval as he shifted to show off. The crocodile had been strapped down with steel plate that covered his back and legs. A shiny helmet, complete with a serrated snout-guard protected his head, while chain-mail preserved the mobility of his tail.
"This is it boy," Rakiv breathed deeply as she took her place at the walltop, "This is it…"
"Atten-shun!" came a hearty shout from behind her.
At the loudly delivered order, every bowman on the wall snapped their limbs stiffly, holding their bows smartly at their sides. Rakiv listened to boots tromp behind her as she held her stance and waited patiently.
"I am Sergeant Bokkun," the officer shouted, "And I am in command of this battery. You will heed my voice and follow my orders. A Kournan legion descends upon us, but we will turn them back. Our bowstrings will spell death for any man fool enough to assault our walls. On my command you will rain whistling doom upon our enemies and they will learn to fear our skies! Am I understood!?"
"Sir, yes sir Sergeant Bokkun!" all archers shouted in unison.
"Then stand at the ready!" he snapped, "First volley, take your position at the wall. Second volley, stand by. Squires, ready with the arrows and pitch. Hold until my mark."
Rakiv spread her legs with instinctive form, leaning back in her stance as she held her bow low and rolled the arrow's end between her fingers. In every engagement this was the part she hated. The waiting was maddening, particularly while the arrow in her hand begged to be notched and shot. A handful of burly soldiers scurried across the wall top, setting down burning braziers between the archers that spit ash and embers but did not smoke. Rakiv inhaled the prickling scent of mage fire and for a moment, was wistful for the comforting presence of her own resident pyromancer. The warm wash of Kydar's magic at her back had become so familiar that she now keenly felt its absence. Against the last vestiges of her railing indignation, the red-head turned her head to peer down toward the lower walls where the mage squads stood, hoping to catch sight of the tall elementalist. Her gaze could not pick him out of the small crowds and she swallowed to refocus her mind on the task at hand.
Movement had finally registered far across the desert plain. Even at this distance, the sound of marching boots was great enough to echo off the Citadel walls, a testament to the sheer size of the force assembled against them. Troops clad in Kournan colors strode out of the jagged passes and stoney badlands, bearing standards of the Second Province high above their heads. Spear men came first, followed by brigades of swordsmen and units of dervishes. Steel shone brightly in the light of the golden sun that had finally begun its ascent toward the sky. Rakiv grimaced as she understood why the Kournans had waited so long. The morning sun hampered the vision of all on the walltop, aiming would be a dreadful affair.
A thunder of blades on shields echoed across the desert plain, followed by a challenging war cry and a trumpet blast from the Kournan army. An answering horn call came from the walls of Dzagon, the signal that Ahmtur would not yield. A moment of tense silence followed, tension so tight Rakiv felt that if she breathed she might burst.
And then the army charged. With terrible shouts and powerful yells the Kournan front line charged out of the southeastern mountains, racing across the desert sands and toward the lofty citadel that sat on the rocky high ground. Simultaneously, three thunderous booms issued forth from the bombards as the siege weapons loosed their payloads. Rakiv watched as the shells flew high, screaming against the winds as they arched and then plummeted down toward the center of the fields. Powerful reports blew from their impact sites as plumes of black rose high in the air and then blew outward. The ranger's brow furrowed at the lack of any discernible explosion, and then smiled as revelation spread across her features. The shells contained nothing more than black tar, highly flammable pitch that now barred most of the valley floor. Those soldiers who had not been immediately drowned by the blast were now hampered by the obstruction as they struggled through the sticky mess.
"First volley," Sergeant Bokkun's voice shouted, "Notch arrows!"
Rakiv snapped the shaft to her string and lifted her bow, aiming for the sun as it rose high over the mountains.
"Draw!" Bokkun ordered.
The familiar sound of well oiled wood bending to its task and tense yew strings pulled tight made Rakiv smile a little giddily. She'd always found the first shot to be the most satisfying, the declaration that death truly was on the wing. Her muscles corded as she held the string, waiting eagerly for the Sergeant's final order.
"Fire!" Bokkun screamed.
A rapid twang and whistle sounded from the walltop as hundreds of shafts were loosed to the sky. The volley disappeared into the golden light of the rising sun, only to reappear as a black rain that hurtled down toward the battle field. Rakiv spared no time to watch, quickly stepping aside and kneeling to reload as the second volley stepped up to the wall.
"Second volley!" Sergeant Bokkun ordered, "Notch arrows!"
Rakiv shut him out for the moment as a squire approached her with a bucket of pitch and offered it to her. The ranger arched an eyebrow but dipped her next couple arrows in the bucket and gave a nod of thanks to the Vabbian boy. The little soldier smiled at her before quickly moving on to provide the other reloading archers with pitch for their arrows. Rakiv rose again and watched as the second volley of arrows descended onto the field. While the first line of struggling Kournans had been mowed down by the first volley, the enemy soldiers had learned by the time the second round was on its way. Warriors and spear men banded together and raised their shields over their head, fending off the rain of death that descended upon them with wicked whistling. The bulk of the front line had made it out of the pitch and resumed their charge, rushing uphill toward the bombard bulwarks.
"First volley, light up!" Bokkun cried to the archers on the wall.
Rakiv followed the lead of the other archers, who thrust their pitch covered arrows into the burning braziers at the wall's edge. She raised the kindled arrow up and waited for the order to notch.
"Notch arrows," Bokkun's order roared across the walltop, "Draw!"
Again the sound of eager yew bending to its purpose made Rakiv's breath come in measured draws, her muscles tensing as she counted the seconds to the beat of her heart.
"Fire!" the sergeant shouted.
Plumes of black smoke ascended skywards as the volley of burning arrows arched wide and high. Rakiv watched with a note of minor dismay as the arrows fell. Surely Bokkun had given the order too late. Most of the first charge had made it out of the tar, and would never be caught in the rain of fire. Violet eyes scanned the battle field and revelation dawned upon her. Black tracks of muddy tar streaked the field, carried by the soldiers who had resumed their charge up the incline. As the arrows touched down, they brought with them a spectacle that was terrible to behold.
Like the roar of an angry behemoth, the tar took light and a curtain of flame washed across the field. Not satisfied with establishing the center of the wilderness as its domain, the conflagration scarred the field as it sent raging fingers of ravenous orange up the hillside, overtaking the running soldiers and setting their tar-covered armor ablaze. The screams were bloodcurdling, and reached even the archers ears, all of whom grimaced grimly at their handiwork.
"Archers hold fire," Bokkun ordered.
Rakiv chewed her lip thoughtfully as she watched the grizzly outcome of the first assault. It was a good tactic, against a mortal army. It would never hold demons for long though. Before she had time to ask herself the obvious question, Butter's croak made the very same inquiry.
"I don't know boy," she answered him, "That looked like an entirely human charge to me too. What is she waiting for?"
"Archers holding fire my lord," Bokkun spoke into the emblem at his shoulder, from which the colors of Ahmtur's flag lay across his back, "Orders?"
"Continue to hold Sergeant Bokkun," Ahmtur's voice drifted out of the emblem, "Sergeant Bolrob, give me mage fire on the stragglers. General Poruk, you have friendly mage fire incoming near your position. Danger close, I repeat, danger close."
"Aye milord!" came the response, "Battening down for friendly field sweep."
"As soon as the fire lifts General, loose the bombards on the southeastern badlands," Ahmtur instructed, "Two volleys should do it."
Bokkun wandered away from Rakiv, keeping the General's response from reaching her ears. The ranger dropped to a knee and lifted the her own emblem to her lips, giving the amulet a tap of her finger to activate the enchantment.
"Jolly Rodger, how's it look down there?" Rakiv inquired.
"Hell in a hawsehole cap'n!" Margrid's response came, "Couple o' the clod kickers made it o're the wall, but these boys made short work of 'em. Nary a scratch between us here."
"Hold fast," Rakiv responded to her, "Varesh hasn't even begun to fight us yet."
"Aye I'd wager my left foot on that one guildmissus," the corsair responded, "Pluggin' my ears now. These bombards are louder than a widow on a weeping walk."
Rakiv chuckled lightly at the pirate's alliteration and raised her head as the boom of the bombards sounded again and they sent shells flying into the badlands. The shells struck with terrific force, and Rakiv watched in awe as the mighty rock spires shuddered and began to shed their stony flesh. A cascade of debris fell into the passages between them, evidenced by the plumes of dust and sand that billowed out of the crags. The second volley struck with equal fury, delivering further death to anything that might have been lurking in the passages.
"Margrid! Northeast of us at nine-hundred yards! Can you confirm?" Melonni's urgent voice came over the comm.
Rakiv immediately turned her eyes to the northeastern wilds, rocky hills and flats that had hitherto been silent. A plume of dust was advancing quickly across the wild lands, and out of that plume came a new charge of enemies. The ranger narrowed her eyes and shielded her face against the sun as she made out wings on the wind. Harpies.
"Harpies n' heket charge incomin'!" Margrid shouted, "Somebody get us some bloomin' fire on that line. Bombard won't reposition in time!"
"You get that Ahmtur?" Rakiv asked immediately.
"I copy all," Ahmtur said, "Stand by and hold fast."
Rakiv ground her teeth impatiently as she watched the charge draw near to the eastern bombard. Harpies could cover ground very quickly. The bombard would likely be overrun if their numbers weren't thinned.
"Archers, rotate fire fifty degrees!" Bokkun's order echoed to them from the opposite end of the walltop, "Notch arrows and draw!"
Rakiv moved swiftly as she put arrow to string and aimed high. She waited tensely as she watched the charge approach the bombard. Flares of light erupted just ahead of the enemy line as the mage squads on the walls loosed a hellstorm on the front runners and Bokkun's next order rang in her ears.
"Fire!" the sergeant cried.
The arrows flew high and far and Rakiv ducked aside as the second volley stepped up.
"Notch arrows, draw, fire!" Bokkun shouted, barely waiting between each order.
The second volley flew out on the heels of the first, the fletched shafts whistling eagerly as they sought heket flesh and harpy wings. The charge stumbled as many of their members were born low by the attack The first line of harpies reached the eastern bombard's fortifications and dove over the wooden walls. Vabbian soldiers rose to meet them as the harpy flight crashed against the human defenses with keening shrieks and cries.
"This is Mother Earth," Melonni called into the emblem, "Hold the line at that bombard. You have reinforcements inbound!"
Rakiv watched as a detachment of Vabbian soldiers evacuated the central bombard and swept their way north to strike the flank of the harpy and heket charge. Several heket squads disengaged from the charge to meet them and soon swords flashed against shields on the battlefield.
"Lone Ranger, are your Whisper squads ready?" Ahmtur's voice came over Rakiv's emblem.
"Standing by for your order, highness," Rakiv confirmed.
"We're detecting magic spikes in the field," Ahmtur responded, "As soon as my spotters locate the mages, I need them taken out."
"Apprentice do you copy?" Rakiv demanded.
"Apprentice and Whispers standing by at the western bombard," Dawn replied, "Give the order and we will draw blood."
Rakiv narrowed her eyes as she gazed out beyond the men fighting at the edge of the bombards, to the cloud of dust that was picking up in the southeastern foothills. The wall was rising higher and higher, and billowing outward as it proceeded across the desert plain.
"Sandstorm…" Kydar's voice spoke, even as the thought crossed her mind, "It's a sandstorm!"
"Apprentice this is Ahmtur," the prince spoke up again, "Whispers are to circle south across the edge of the badlands. Spotters have eyes on the mage battery. Be advised they have elevation and will likely see you coming."
"Apprentice here," Dawn broke in, "Due respects your highness, but I assure you, they won't see this coming. Whispers going quiet. We will report when the battery is silenced."
"Gods speed," Ahmtur responded
Rakiv chewed her lip thoughtfully as she stared at the oncoming wall of sand that by now towered over the fortress. A storm like that could flay flesh from bone, but it was as likely to damage Varesh's forces as it was the Vabbians. The ranger scowled. Another ploy? A feint to test their defenses?
"Raise the bulwarks!" Sergeant Bokkun's order snapped Rakiv out of her reverie and she turned to watch as several burly soldiers rushed across the wall carrying heavy wooden barriers.
They erected the barriers at regular intervals along the parapet, supporting them with thick logs to keep them standing tall. Sergeant Bokkun followed them, giving specifics and corrections to the men while they worked.
"That storm will be on us in minutes," Bokkun shouted, "Everyone wrap up and bunker down!"
As the archers set to binding scarves around their exposed skin, Rakiv found reason to pull up her rarely used face mask. Her leathers would protect her from the worst of the sand, she reasoned, and besides there were still more dangerous things on the field headed their way.
"Lone Ranger to Grim Reaper," Rakiv said into her emblem as she knelt down behind the wooden barrier, "Status report!"
"The bombard is secure for now," Anorah responded after a moment, "The harpy charge failed when the heket pulled back. It was another feint guildmistress, the real charge has yet to come."
Too many feints, Rakiv considered. Something else was going on here.
"Harpies takin' wing cap'n," Margrid's voice broke in, "Somethin's got the heket spooked an' they're withdrawin' all the way to the wilds again! Looks like, skzzrt…on, rrkk…zzrrt…!"
"Say again Jolly Rodger?" Rakiv blinked as she tapped her emblem, "Did not copy!"
"Li,zzrt…up….look up!" Margrid's broken message came through.
Rakiv raised violet eyes as the storm loomed over them blotting out the sun. In the highest reaches of the storm, bolts of purple lightning streaked to and fro, carrying with them an ominous dread that crept down Rakiv's spine. The ranger cast her eyes down to the field where the tar fire raged, before the sandstorm swallowed it up and rolled uphill. Vabbian soldiers at the bombards threw their backs against the log defenses and raised their shields over their heads as the storm hit hard, obscuring all visibility of the Wilderness. With a terrible howl, screaming sands bit down on the Citadel walls and sent grit and dust streaking through every hole, passage and crevice. Rakiv shut her eyes against the initial blast as powerful winds drove the sandstorm forward.
"G-guild mistress," Kydar's voice sputtered before it came through clear and steady, "We've got a problem."
"Report Big Red," Rakiv ordered.
"Ani and I are both picking up torment energy in this storm," he said, "It's interfering with the emblem enchantments. I'm boosting the signal with arcane echoes, but it's taking a lot to power the emblems through this chaos storm."
"What about Ahmtur's communications?" Rakiv asked immediately.
"My mesmers are doing all they can," Ahmtur's voice interjected, "But our network is too vast. We have no communication with the bombards and my warmap is down."
"All guildsmen on the bombards, report!" Rakiv ordered.
Several affirmatives came from the six members aiding in the defense of the siege weapons and Rakiv breathed a sigh of relief.
"Alright, listen up," she said, "We're the only open line of communication in this storm. Be prepared to relay commands as given by the Prince. Shout threats as necessary and communicate orders to your commanding officers."
Several more affirmatives followed.
"We're at your disposal Ahmtur," Rakiv informed him.
"We can't make a move until this storm lifts, but neither can our enemy," Ahmtur responded, "Hunker down, weather it, and stand by for further orders."
Rakiv turned her eyes down to Butter, who shifted warily from foot to foot. The crocodile gave an uneasy croak as he slapped his tail against the cobblestones. Rakiv shared his discomfort but said nothing. The wind howled and the sand scraped and bit at the defenders as the army of Dzagon waited for the storm to dissolve. The barely visible, faint orange glow of the sun had just begun to pass it's noon position when Rakiv's emblem squawked again.
"Uh, Guildmistress…" Koss's voice came through, "This is Big Daddy. We may have a problem."
"Identify Big Daddy, what problem?" Rakiv asked.
"We have movement in the sand," he answered, "A lot of it… and almost all of it is glowing."
"How far?" Rakiv asked.
"Thirty meters and closing," Koss responded, "Ma'am… the glow is purple."
Rakiv ground her teeth and swore under her breath. It should have occurred to her earlier. No human army could move through the storm while it persisted like this. But demons could. Margonites could.
"Prince Ahmtur we're about to have Margonites on the center bombard," Rakiv reported, "Recommend immediate reinforcements to that position."
"Negative Lone Ranger," the prince responded, "Available reinforcements are tied up in the east and west. I try to move them in this storm and they'll be flayed alive."
"Sir without more soldiers in the center, that bombard will fall," Rakiv insisted.
"Big Daddy, Mother Earth," Ahmtur said, ignoring the ranger, "Inform General Poruk to prepare his men to hold that bombard."
"Sir, yes sir," Koss's snappy reply came.
"Big Red, Baby Blue," Rakiv quickly cut in, "Do you have eyes on the center bombard?"
"Negative guildmistress!" Anicara shouted over the howl of the storm, "Even if we did, we couldn't get off a cast in this mess!"
"Is anyone in a position to help the center?" Rakiv demanded.
The guildmistress received no responses. With a snarl under her breath, she slung her bow over her back and tapped on her crocodile's back.
"C'mon, we have to get down there," she snapped as she rushed across the parapet and pushed her way through the tower door.
The interior of the citadel was even more bewildering than the exterior. Rakiv raced her way down stairs and through passages as the reports rolled in through her emblem.
"Margonites on the bulwarks!" Koss shouted, "Defenses are coming down!"
"I cin see you Big Daddy!" Margrid shouted, "Spotting for fire right near ya!"
"Negative!" Ahmtur snapped over the comm., "That shell goes wide and you'll hit the bombard itself!"
"Bulwark has fallen, pulling back to the bombard!" Melonni cried, "Melandru's mercy, I've got a man down! Repeat, man down! I need a priest over here!"
"Hold the line guys," Alendra chimed in, "I've got a brigade with me. We're coming to you now!"
"Negative Gold Eagle!" Koss responded, "The storm will cut you to pieces and you'll never… gods, General Poruk is hit! I repeat, the General is hit!"
"Keep him covered Koss," Melonni cried, "We're making our way to you. Get him out of here!"
"I'm not leaving without you!" Koss's voice came with great strain.
"Will you get out of here, you stubborn dolyak!" Melonni fairly screamed.
"All forces at the center bombard, withdraw to the central gate," Ahmtur broke in grimly, "I say again. All forces at the center bombard retreat to the main gate."
"Sir, the bombard will…" Koss began.
"I gave you an order soldier," Ahmtur answered before the commander could finish.
"Sir, yes sir," Koss responded, "Evacuating the center bombard, sir."
"Big Red, prepare the mages to coordinate fire on the center bridge," Ahmtur ordered, "Set fire to the moat and wait for our forces to cross the chasm. The center gate must hold at all costs."
Rakiv swore angrily as she dashed down through the Citadel, jumping railings and skidding around corners. Butter kept pace with her, croaking at her though she seemed to be beyond hearing. They couldn't lose this easily, not now. The ranger drew her scythe from the heavy leather sheath at her back and gave the haft a quick flourish, snapping the blade into position. She burst through the gatehouse door to find two brigades of soldiers standing before the portcullis.
"Raise the gate!" she shouted at them, "We've got men incoming! Raise the gate now!"
Two guards rushed to the heavy cranks on either side of the archway and began to turn with all their might. Heavy chains clinked as they pulled tight and began to lift the iron grating up wards to open the way into the outer keep. Rakiv shielded her eyes against the grit of the storm as she peered into the raging sands, willing her guildsmen to appear. The tromp of boots finally reached her ears and she breathed a sigh of relief as she saw Vabbian and Sunspear armor charging across the bridge toward them. She sucked in the very same breath as an inhuman screech followed close behind them. The purple glow shone balefully through the spiraling sand as the Margonites chased the soldiers across the bridge.
"Open the lines! Let our men through!" Rakiv ordered.
The Vabbian soldiers stepped aside, opening a narrow aisle between them to allow their retreating forces into the keep. Koss rushed past her, bleeding heavily from a shoulder wound and ignoring a gash across his thigh that was filling his boot with blood. Over his shoulder he carried one of Ahmtur's General, Poruk, who clutched at the wicked looking spear that had been thrown through his chest plate. Melonni looked only slightly better for wear, as most of the blood in which she was covered did not appear to be her own. She brought up the rear, urging the fleeing soldiers into the keep before she stopped to stand beside her guildmistress.
"They're right behind us," she reported breathlessly, "Koss needs a priest. I'm standing with you."
Rakiv gave the dervish a firm nod, unprepared to argue at the moment. They would need every blade they had to hold this gate.
"Close ranks!" Rakiv shouted, "Shields up, and scythes ready! Spear men at my back, when you see black armor, throw for all you're worth!"
The Vabbian army braced their feet and held their shields steady. Fingers tightened around sword hilts as hands held fast to scythe snathes. The evil purple glow grew just as Rakiv's emblem squawked to her and Dawn's voice came through.
"Mage battery eliminated guildmistress," the Apprentice of Whispers reported, "Whispers returning to the Citadel. How do you fare?"
"We need you back here five minutes ago Dawn!" Rakiv cried as she watched the first Margonite break through the sand, "We need reinforcements at the center gate now!"
"On our way," Dawn replied simply.
The sand blew away from the stature of the demon as he clambered across the cobblestones. Black armor gleamed unnaturally in the dark orange light, his brilliant flesh hypnotic and eye-defying. His six evil eyes glowered at them with hatred so intense that the soldiers struggled beneath his very gaze. He was not alone. More came rushing out of the sand as they burst into the archway and charged the gate. As the first line reached them a burst of inspiration flew through Rakiv's mind and she quickly turned her head toward the gatesmen.
"Let go of the cranks!" she shrieked.
The guards blinked but each immediately released the crank and kicked out the metal brace that held the cogs in place. With a screech of iron on stone the portcullis fell, and the advancing Margonite line only had time to look up in dismay as the iron spikes impaled them and forced them into the stones.
"Finish them!" Rakiv ordered as she sprang forward and brought her scythe blade down hard on the demon before her.
The soldiers moved quickly, practiced form guiding their sword arms as they thrust their blades into the necks of their enemies and performed a savage twist meant to sever bone. The second line of Margonites paid no heed to the fall of their comrades as they struck the gate with all their might. With terrible high pitched sounds the iron bent and broke as the Margonites charged through. The soldiers held their shields up and braced themselves against the bone shaking blows that the demons rained upon them. A volley of spears flew overhead, launching into the glowing purple army and driving them back just enough for the Vabbian front line to counter attack.
"Charge!" Rakiv cried and the soldiers roared as they rushed into the fray.
The ranger was dimly aware of Melonni's prayers ringing in her ears, as the dervish cloaked herself in dust and rushed into the raging sands, her scythe blade following in wide, deadly arcs. The ranger spun and struck, savagely striking at anything that dared to glow before her. A crippling sweep took the legs of a nearby demon, who dealt her a hard blow with the brunt of its shield. A Vabbian soldier was immediately beside her, ducking to stab his sword up under the Margonite's defense. The demon delivered a savage headbutt to the soldier, crumpling his helmet and sending him to the ground.
"We have eyes on the bridge!" Kydar reported, "Beginning bombardment. If you can drive them into the moat, do it!"
Rakiv only barely heard the report as fire, ice and lightning descended upon the demon forces. To the horror of most present, the Margonites shrugged off the onslaught and pushed forward. The ranger's scythe swung up as her irresistible sweep bit deep into the demon's chest. In a moment two Vabbian soldiers joined her assault and between them they hacked the demon to death. No sooner than the Margonite lay still, two more rushed up to take its place. Rakiv swung and missed, crying aloud as the demon struck her ribs with the haft of its battlehammer. Its killing blow was only narrowly avoided when it was tackled by a brave soldier, whose comrades rushed into help him. The demon threw one unfortunate human into the nearby stone wall, where he hit the barrier with a crunch of bone and crumpled to the ground. A crippling strike from another soldier took the demon's knee, and as the Margonite stumbled back Rakiv roared and charged forward. She sprang high, planted both feet into its chest and pushed off hard, sending the Margonite tumbling backwards, over the edge of the bridge and into the hellstorm of the flaming moat below. Two down, dozens more to go.
The line of human soldiers fought a loosing battle, struggling to hold the demons as they were forced back out of the gate and into the keep. The warriors among them reformed their lines and raised their shields to hold off the next charge. Butter's croak at Rakiv's side warned her that help had finally arrived and she shouted aloud.
"Stand fast, brace for their charge!" she cried.
Somewhere over the din the beat of wings came to her ears, along with shouts to hold fire. The ranger had little time to pay attention to the cries as the Margonite charge bore down upon them. This time the line did not hold. Soldiers were battered aside by fell warhammers and wicked scythes that cut through their defenses. Rakiv and Melonni stood side by side, fiercely defending the soldiers around them even as the defense of the keep began to crumble. A hard boot to the chest sent Rakiv flying, and she hit the cobblestones with a grunt of pain. She raised her head, her face a mask of wrath as Butter exacted her revenge upon the offending Margonite by relieving it of its leg with a hefty chomp of his jaws. The demon screamed in agony and Rakiv pushed herself up and dashed forward. With a wild cry she buried her scythe blade in its chest and yanked hard, rending it in twain. Panting hard for breath she screamed for the lines to reform, even as the soldiers fought for their lives against vastly superior forces.
And then came the Whispers. The sound of wing beats echoed in the orange haze of the sandy sky and figures cloaked in red dropped from on high. No war cry or warning did they give, as they hurtled toward their demonic foes. Blades found glowing flesh with uncanny precision and the demons howled in anguish as their attackers bore them to the ground. The Whispers did not fight against the Margonites wicked strength, and rolled away after their initial strike. As the demons lashed out, the red-cloaked slayers deftly evaded and moved in for mortal blows. Rakiv was dimly aware of Melonni shouting at the Vabbian soldiers to rally. She half heard the sound of Butter chomping down on the helmet of a flailing demon and ending its life. But what overwhelmed her senses was the scent of battle, the taste of magic in the air, and the sound of a baying beast that barked loudly in her ears. The ranger struggled, shutting her eyes as her instincts told her to fight for control.
"Drive them back!" Melonni cried, "Push them back to the bridge!"
"Mother Earth this is Big Red," Kydar said, "Waiting on your word to loose hell on the bridge."
"Hold fire, hold fire!" Melonni responded, "Men, with me! Charge!"
The Whispers gracefully fell back into the ranks of the Vabbians, and the army of men raised their swords as they rushed forward. Melonni led the charge as human steel once again clashed with demon armor. The Margonite line faltered, and then broke as the demons were forced to withdraw from the keep.
"Kydar, now!" Melonni screamed.
As the humans retook the archway of the gate the front line dropped and raised their shields high. The Margonites began to regroup, until the barrage of magic struck them. A howling typhoon of lightning, fire, ice and stone assaulted them without mercy.
"All shields, wait for it to lift..." Melonni called out, "Wait for it… now!"
No sooner than the barrage had ended, the human line braced their arms against their shields and charged forward. Like a living battering ram they trampled the demon horde, forcing many of them off the sides and into the firestorm that was the moat below. Others were merely knocked to the stones, where the Whispers made short work of them. A rallying cheer went up from the Vabbian army as they secured the gate and the human line withdrew to the shattered remains of the portcullis.
"Gatehouse, I need an update," Ahmtur's voice came over the emblem.
"Center gate is secure your highness," Melonni reported, "Falling back to hold it."
"The sandstorm is lifting and I'll soon have communications again," the prince said, "My spotters are trying to get something across but we can't make much sense of it. Whatever it is, it's big and it's heading our way. Will you be able to hold?"
"Negative, your highness," Melonni said tiredly, "We can't take another charge like that one."
"Very well, routing wall guards to…" he began.
"Dwayna's knickers!" Margrid broke in over the emblem, "Jolly Rodger to… anybody! We've got the mother of all Margonites bearin' down on us! He's massive! Most of the prince's boys are down or dead an' we're barely holdin' this wall! We need some bloomin' back up!"
"Hold position Jolly Rodger," Ahmtur said, "Lone Ranger, do you have any available assets to send to the western bombard?"
No answer came over the emblem.
"Lone Ranger, respond," Ahmtur demanded.
"I'll find her, highness," Melonni said quickly, "I'll find… gods above…"
The dervish stopped in her tracks, having pushed her way through the Vabbian defenders to return to the outer keep in search of her guildmistress. In the middle of the keep courtyard, Rakiv knelt on all fours, her head down and her shoulders heaving. Beside her, placid and calm as always, stood the tall, statuesque form of the Apprentice of Whispers.
"How did you… rrrn, get here so fast!?" Rakiv was demanding.
"I have friends in strange places," Dawn responded musically, "Harpies and heket have their uses. I called in one of my… subordinates, and the Whispers were… understanding, given the circumstances."
"Ahmtur… hrrr, needs you!" the guildmistress grated, in a voice that was becoming less and less her own.
"Yes, but first I think, we need you," Dawn said.
A heavy crash from the gates warned that the assault had begun again. The Vabbian warriors gave their own battle cry as they struggled to hold their lines against the renewed demon attack. The sound of shattering shields and dying men only served as evidence that they were failing.
"Fall back!" someone cried, "Fall back into the keep!"
"Guildmistress!" Melonni shouted, when she finally found her voice again.
"I've got it… under, control!" Rakiv huffed painfully, ignoring Melonni's cry.
"And that, guildmistress, is the problem," Dawn answered her, "We face monsters this day. And a man cannot defeat a monster, if he is not willing to risk becoming one."
The ranger raised her head and Melonni almost stepped back. The woman's features had contorted with intense rage and anguish. Her eyes, slitted and yellow, fairly glowed with wrath and even her jaw seemed to be wider set as she breathed through teeth that had sharpened into rows of fangs.
"You, I think, need blood," Dawn said quietly
"N-no!" Rakiv snarled, "I don't need… nrrrn, your magic!"
"But of course you do," Dawn smiled broadly, "For we have not the power to stop these demons, much less the power to put us back on the offensive. If we wish to turn the tide of this battle, we need more power."
With a cry of dismay the Vabbian lines broke and once more the Margonites thundered in, intent on taking control of the center gate. The soldiers bravely flung themselves into the fray, striking at the demons however they could. Even the Whispers were forced to withdraw as their numbers began to dwindle. Rakiv looked up, her eyes going wide as she watched an enormous Margonite warrior march through the broken gate, bearing an even larger warhammer over his shoulder. He raised the weapon and shook it as he released a terrifying victory cry.
Dawn knelt beside the guildmistress, causing Rakiv to turn her trembling gaze to the beautiful necromancer. The Apprentice paused as she slipped a long bone knife from her belt and raised up her opposite hand. She slipped off her glove, revealing chocolate skin that bore a pale pallor and veins that lay lifeless beneath her flesh. With ritualistic care, she applied the knife to her skin and slowly drew it down her arm, opening a long cut that oozed dark red fluid.
"You need power, Rakiv," Dawn said firmly, "You need power and therefore you need blood, for after all…"
The necromancer raised her bleeding arm over the guildmistress' face and smiled triumphantly, her dead eyes alighting with interest and delight.
"Blood… is… power!" she declared.
Rakiv watched with slitted eyes as the first rivulets of blood trickled down from the dead woman's arm. The viscous fluid shimmered with a terrible green glow even as it splattered across her features and dribbled into her mouth. The barking at the edge of her consciousness turned to a howl as the ranger gave a hungry sound of her own and sprang up to lock her jaws around the necromancer's arm. Dawn showed no signs of alarm or pain, her smile never wavering even as the guildmistress drank deeply from her wound. After a moment she brushed the ranger's hair away from her ear and leaned down to quietly whisper.
"Your enemies are here," Dawn spoke softly.
With an alarmed snarl Rakiv raised her head, turning her gaze this way and that until she caught sight of the Margonites. A sound that would have defied normal human vocal chords rattled in her chest as her eyes narrowed and her muscles flexed beneath the leather of her field gear.
"Kill them," the Apprentice whispered.
There was no hesitation. Rakiv shoved the necromancer aside and took off like an arrow from the bow. Forsaking her normal two-legged run, the guildmistress ambled forward on all fours, the movement surprisingly graceful and terrifyingly swift. As she streaked across the keep her long red hair began to lash itself into thick cords, winding tightly as each individual lock seemed to grow scaly and prehensile. A howl that overwhelmed the sounds of battle tore from her maw as she launched herself into the first Margonite warrior. The guildmistress' disrupting lunge bore the demon sorcerer to the ground and the Margonite released a shriek of horror as he was torn to shreds. Rakiv spat out a chunk of glowing flesh and threw herself at the next enemy. It did not take long for the demons to take notice of the monster in their midst. As they advanced Rakiv thrust aside beleaguered Vabbian soldiers as adrenaline surged through her veins. In a whirling assault of claws and fangs the ranger struck down the demons with absolute savagery and brutality.
Melonni watched dumbstruck as the ranger rampaged across the keep. The redhead's strength was nothing short of abominable, and she watched a demon scream in pain as the ranger snapped its limbs and stomped it into the cobblestones.
"You may wish to tell the men to stand back," Dawn said quietly as she sidled up to the dervish, "This confrontation is likely to need some space."
Melonni turned to the necromancer, disgust and confusion on her face as Dawn drew her glove back up over the arm Rakiv had mauled. With a sneer at the Apprentice, Melonni turned to give the order.
"Everyone fall back!" she called out, "Fall back now!"
The soldiers drew back to reform their lines and the Whispers moved with them, covering their retreat. Only Rakiv pushed forward, even as the towering Margonite warrior advanced upon her.
"General Doriah claims this fortress in the name of Abbadon!" the Margonite shouted, swinging his warhammer over his head, "The day of man has come to an end!"
Rakiv looked up from the wrestling match in which she was engaged with a demon spearman. At the General's claim the ranger scornfully smashed her opponent into the cobblestones and rose to her feet. Her back hunched as the seams of her gear began to snap and split, the leather stitching no longer holding her straining musculature. Doriah advanced with a roar as he brought his fell hammer down, the obsidian head gleaming wickedly as he sought to smash the guildmistress with a single blow. Rakiv was swifter.
A quick hop forward and she raised her palms, catching the haft of the warhammer with a grunt and then snarling as she shoved it aside. She surged forward, rolling under a fist blow from the demon warrior as she delivered a maiming strike to his knee cap with a hard blow of her heel. As the warrior faltered the ranger sprang up to ram the top of her head into his chin, forcing him to stumble backwards. The warrior was no novice however, and made use of his momentum to lift his hammer again and give it a brutal swing. Rakiv was caught by surprise this time, and the heavy hammer head struck her hard, sending her flying across the gate arch to slam into the heavy bricks.
Mortar and stone crumbled underneath her as she fell to the ground and shook her head as debris rained around her. Her vision took a moment to clear as she felt cracked ribs shift in her side. Already she could feel them renewing themselves, a sensation not at all unlike the healing she felt when she drank a troll unguent. But her focus was not on her mending bones, but on the blade that lay on the cobblestones before her. Her scythe lay where she had dropped it, its snathe awaiting her grip once more. With a gruff sound she took hold of the weapon and used it to push herself to her feet once more. Doriah gave a roar as he thundered toward her, and Rakiv's too-wide, too-fang-filled mouth spread in a wicked grin.
Doriah never saw the blow coming. As he brought his hammer down the guildmistress seemed to simply slip aside, and her scythe swung up. With an eye defying pull she yanked the blade back to her, and with a song of steel neatly severed the general's hands from his arms. Doriah gave a cry of shock even as Rakiv twirled on her heel and spun the scythe blade again, this time puncturing his abdominal armor and impaling him on the blade. A savage sound rattled in her chest as she spun again, swinging her weapon up and hooking the blade behind the Margonite's head. A flash of steel removed the Margonite's head and General Doriah toppled to the ground with a heavy thud.
The Vabbian army watched with awe and horror, and the Margonite forces paused as their general fell dead. Rakiv sprang up onto the corpse and threw her head back, howling victoriously as the crimson tails that had once been her hair lashed angrily behind her back. She turned and huffed heavily, the heat of her breath steaming even in the warm autumn air. Clawed hands tightened around her scythe as she stared down the Margonties at the gate with baleful eyes, her stance spreading as she watched them with a predatory gaze.
"Kill them all!" Dawn shouted loudly.
And again Rakiv shot forward with a ravenous howl. Like a bolt of red with a swirling aura of silver the ranger tore her way through the demon horde, advancing down the bridge ever in search of the next Margonite to slay.
"Big Red to Mother Earth," Kydar's voice came over the emblem, "We're seeing a soldier break ranks and charge the Margonite line. Should we be coordinating fire?"
"A soldier broke rank?" Ahmtur inquired, "Who? Where?"
"It's... it's the guildmistress," Melonni reported, "Kydar she... something happened to her. The Apprentice did something... she changed, like in Farhanur. She changed again and she's... she's gone."
"What do you mean gone," Ahmtur demanded.
"She's the soldier on the bridge... and she's not stopping," Melonni said, "She killed a Margonite general like he was nothing... but she's going to get herself killed out there."
"I will have field communications back in three minutes," Ahmtur reported, "If the guildmistress is out there, I have nothing to send to back her up. The western bombard is going to fall if they aren't reinforced now."
"Whispers are moving to render aid at the western bombard," Dawn spoke up, "We will be there in moments."
"Mother Earth, stay where you are," Kydar spoke over the emblem, "Baby Blue and I are coming to you."
"What? Why?" Melonni asked, still too stunned to properly process the myriad orders that were flying over the guild's channel.
"Because we're going to go get our guildmistress back," he answered.