Chapter 25
"Escape plan?"
"Mine-Marauders will join you and infiltrate the city, but will only go so far. The Cabal will have set Arc-sensors within."
Ikharos nodded. "That sounds like them. How long have they been here?"
"Not long. Since the season turned."
"Barely even a month." He looked over the hologram once more. The archaic wood and stone walls bore damage from a recent assault. The five city gates were intact, though he suspected that was because the Cabal attacked from the air. Miniscule figures patrolled the perimeter of the city, easily identifiable by their heavy suits of armour. "Any idea where they keep their prisoners?"
"Nama. We suspect the keep," Sundrass pointed with a claw to the stone castle in the centre of the city, "But we cannot be sure. They have erected shielded bunkers throughout the city."
Ikharos studied the map closely. "You getting this?" He asked Xiān.
She sent him reassuring pulse. "Downloading it now. Do you think the Cabal will execute everyone inside? Like they did at home?"
"Maybe. Let's hope not. I'm not sure how we could free a city on our lonesome." He shifted and asked aloud, "What's the situation with the civilians?"
Sundrass sent him an indecipherable look. "What about them?"
"Any plan to... never mind, you don't care." Ikharos scowled. He broached another topic. "I don't know the city. There could bunkers running underneath the earth for all I know. Or the Cabal could have shipped their prisoners off. They do have another camp, right?"
"You are correct."
Ikharos shook his head. "This isn't enough. I need more information. I refuse to go in blind." A thought struck him. "Formora must know the city." He met Sundrass' eyes. "My friend. I'm pretty sure she's been here before."
"She is native to this world?"
"Eia."
"Treskis!" The Captain called out to one of her guards. The Vandal stood to attention. "Bring the other prisoner. And hold a blade to her neck!" When Ikharos gave a start, Sundrass settled him with a cold look. "I do not trust you not to try and trick me, Light-Thief. This mission is your chance for survival and freedom. Do not squander it, or you will be delivered to the Baron - alone."
The guard left. Ikharos' fists shook by his sides, but he didn't dare strike out. Sundrass wasn't like any of the Devils or Scorn, all of whom were prone to brash action. She was shrewd and ruthless, the most dangerous sort of Fallen, like those of House Kings. He was surprised she was only a Captain. Surely she could have killed her way up to the rank of Baron.
Formora walked in stiffly only moments later, Moliko by her side. His shock sword was activated, Arc crackling down the deadly sharp blade. The Marauder glared at Ikharos. "Psekiskar!" He spat.
Ikharos ignored him and spoke directly to the elf in English. "Time is of the essence. They're willing to give us freedom if I do something for them."
"Do what, exactly?"
"Rescue friends of theirs from the Cabal. There's reason to believe those friends are being held in Ceunon. If there's anything you can tell me about the city, it would be a huge help. Where they would keep prisoners, hiding places, secret passages, that sort." He motioned to the model of Ceunon on the holotable.
Formora raised an eyebrow at the sight of the hologram of the city, but the surprise wore off quickly. They'd come across a lot of strange things in the past few weeks. She pointed to the keep. "This has a strategic value. It signifies the power of Ceunon. The noble family of Tarrant rules, or ruled, from there."
"Cabal won't care about symbols. Is there any place with large open rooms? Any subterranean chambers?"
"I don't..." Formora paused and frowned. "There is the siege tunnel."
"Where?"
She pointed to a small building situated smack bang in the inner city, not far from the keep. "Here. It leads out north along the fjord around here." She pointed to a location miles outside the city. Both locations were automatically highlighted in blue.
"How large is it?"
"Barely enough to fit a human male walking upright. Not a large chamber, but it may be of some interest."
"Perfect," Ikharos nodded. He looked back to Sundrass and said in low Eliksni, "There's a siege tunnel running outside the city. That's our escape route. It's too narrow for Uluru."
Sundrass seemingly agreed. "I will have a cloaked Skiff waiting for you. If you do not bring me my kin or betray me, then your companion will die."
"I understand the consequences," Ikharos growled. "You've only said it five times now."
"Then you will not forget."
"There's another thing," Formora cut in. Though the Fallen couldn't understand her, they all still looked at her. She stoically ignored them. "I used to know someone who lived in the city. He might still be there, if these Cabal haven't killed everyone."
"What about him?"
"He's a werecat. His kind go unnoticed whenever trouble brews. They learn all sorts of secrets without even trying."
"I know werecats," Ikharos sighed. "How do I find him?"
"There's a bakery towards the east." Formora picked out an unextraordinary building. "Leave a trio of scratches in the brickwork, like claw marks. He'll find you before the hour is out."
Ikharos groaned. "I'll be dancing with Psions. I won't have an hour."
"He'll know where your prisoners are, that I promise you. Just... hide until then."
"Can I rely on him?"
"He's a friend." When Ikharos gave her a disbelieving look, Formora glared back. "Yes, I have a few of those. I'm not entirely without connections."
"I thought you..." He trailed off, noticing the dangerous expression on her face. "Nevermind."
"Thought I what?" Her eyes narrowed suspiciously.
"It's nothing," Ikharos backpedaled. He switched to Eliksni. "We may have an agent on the inside. I'll need my weapons and helmet back."
Sundrass barked to one of her underlings. The Dreg fetched Ikharos' seized belongings and handed them back with care. The Eliksni looked over each piece with appreciation - they respected advanced and well-crafted tech.
"Bring it away!" Sundrass ordered, pointing at Formora. Moliko pulled the elf out of the chamber and assumedly went back to where she and Ikharos had been kept earlier. The Captain turned to face the Warlock. "Are you prepared?"
"Don't have a choice, do I?" He asked bitterly.
"No."
The difficulty began before he even reached the city walls. Ceunon was surrounded by miles of farmland that used to feed the city. The open fields spelled trouble. Ikharos and the three accompanying Marauders set out near midday, as the night would only make the Cabal more alert. They cloaked themselves, through Void or Arc generator, and followed small beaten paths, avoiding the roads upon which Cabal patrols routinely marched. They sighted smaller humanlike figures working over the innermost farms under close watch, while the rest of the land was given over to pests and weeds.
The infiltrators remained totally silent, practically crawling along the trails and eyeing the walls nervously. Ikharos was not exempt from this. He led the way, keeping the veil of Void pulled tightly over him no matter how hard it tried to tug away. His Light didn't normally conform that way, especially for elongated periods of time. He was a Warlock, not a Hunter, though circumstances had forced him to reach out to unorthodox methods.
That said, his veil held and the Cabal were none the wiser. It had taken the infiltrators some time, but they eventually reached the bottom of the stone walls. The foundations had been set deep into the earth, and they bore the marks of a hundred different battles from centuries past. They were ancient, and Ikharos didn't doubt for a second that the city had been founded the moment humans arrived in the area, all those thousands of years ago.
One of the Marauders chittered impatiently. Ikharos felt his hackles rise at the familiar sound. Talking with them was one thing, and he had enjoyed speaking with the likes of Variks and Misraaks in the past, but fighting alongside them was another story. He still remembered the sudden fury of Devils descending upon London, the barbaric acts they committed on his Ghostless, and the sheer hate they exuded during Twilight Gap. They deserved to be called 'Fallen.' The red cloaks sported by the Scars did little to put him at ease.
As quickly as his anger rose, it gave way to a solemn truth. Recent decades had seen a rise in complicated relations between humanity and Eliksni, which he'd seen first hand. They could bicker and quarrel all they liked, but the hard truth was that they were stranded on the same sinking ship and the sharks were circling ever closer. And they were noticing it far too slowly.
Ikharos Blinked up onto the top of the stone wall and crouched motionless atop a merlon as a Legionary garbed in red and green armour marched past, a slug rifle lazily resting in its heavy hands. Once it was past, Ikharos dropped a pebble behind him. He could only just hear the subsequent scrabbling of claws piercing the smooth stone wall. It did not take long for the Marauders to join him, the soft buzzing of their cloaking generators filling his ears.
"We will travel around the city's edge and watch over you." One or more of the Fallen had stepped down onto the rampart's walkway if the origin of the voice was any indication. It was hard to tell when all four of them were invisible to every visual sensor. "Do you have a radio?"
"I do." They quickly found a channel to share. "If anything looks off, tell me immediately."
"Understood. Fortune with you." The crackling faded away as the Marauders leapt down into the city. Ikharos pretended he could see them scurrying across the rooftops and streets, his eyes following along the predetermined paths he imagined they would take.
"That was tense." Xiān shivered
"Which part?" He innocently asked.
"All of it? I thought we weren't going to see any of this crap again for a long time. Or forever."
That caught his attention. "You think we'd stay here?"
He felt the mental impression of a shrug. "Kinda? Everything here is alive. Mostly. Apart from the things that are dead. You know what I mean."
"No ruins. No mass graves. No relics to remind us of a bygone age. There's the Exodus Prime, but apart from that... Still, we're doing the same thing we always do; fight the Darkness."
"I'd take Frames and Troubleshooter Exos over Hive any day of the week."
Ikharos agreed, for the most part. "Do you think they're alive? The Exos. Do you think they're people? Or like the Taken?"
"They spoke," Xiān pointed out. "That's a sign of life, right?"
"It could have been Nezarec's voice."
"Don't say things like that. It freaks me out."
Ikharos rolled his eyes. "I mean that the Exos could be empty of independent thought. Extensions of his will."
"They're too weak. If they were the extended will of an Ascendant, then they'd be more powerful, right? They're probably just working for the ExSec Submind and you're overthinking it all."
"But why would they work for Nezarec if they're truly sapient?"
"Easy. He convinced them to help him. Or infected them, whatever. Creatures like Oryx and Crota had followers, why not Nezarec?"
"Scipio said Nezarec is Harmony. In that case, wouldn't he use his own kind?"
"Hiraks used Hive more than his own Scorn," Xiān stated.
"But he still used Scorn regardless. We've seen no sign of other Harmony."
"You think they're dead."
"The local records state that the Grey Folk, who designed the magic employed by humans, went extinct. Humans never discover such things on their own. There's always something to push them paracausality. For Guardians, it's our Ghosts. For the Awoken, it was probably both the Traveler and Darkness both. I'm willing to bet that the Grey Folk weren't human, but they gave the people of this world the know-how on magic. The extinction of Grey Folk, the cause of which is clouded with mystery, and the absence of Harmony is too much of a coincidence. Everything here is connected, in some way. It's not like the outer galaxy. Everything draws its roots from the meeting between colonists and the Harmony." He paused. "The Books of Sorrow explicitly show the destruction of the Harmony's grand civilization through the culminated efforts of the Hive triumvirate. It's been some time since I've looked at it, but I remember that much."
"What do you think they came here for?"
"I don't know, but if I were them, I'd want vengeance. And I'd go by any means to do so."
"So Nezarec wants vengeance?"
"Maybe. I don't know. What made him so Dark? If he does, then... it does explain why he doesn't want prying eyes onto his project here. He doesn't want rivals to know what he's doing. He could be building up power to fight the Hive. Or even us and the Traveler, who knows." Ikharos fell silent, admiring the city below. Even though it was scarred by recent battle and the sight of Cabal ships overhead, it was a simple homely place full of sturdy wooden buildings, each fitted with blue shingled roofs. Painted patterns of knots, hounds, and dragons were displayed across doors and walls. High bell towers dotted the city, surrounding the simlarly towering keep. He could see the great fjord in the distance, sparkling with the afternoon light. It was easy to imagine all the boats that would have set out to catch fish, but none so much as floated with the Cabal about. He wondered how the people were being fed. It wouldn't surprise him if the Cabal were starving them.
It was a surprise, however, to see civilians in the streets. A subdued atmosphere had taken them all, and most stayed inside whenever possible, quietly going about their business. Their eyes were downcast and their heads were bowed; they moved aside whenever a hulking Cabal soldier marched past.
That said, life continued. The Cabal had been in a merciful mood to allow them to keep their lives.
Ikharos avoided everything when he moved through the city, slipping through alleys or scaling over buildings. He limited every use of power to only those necessary for him to remain hidden. An energy surge of any form - even in Light - would draw the attention of the Psion metaconcert, which would in turn alert the Battlenet. He'd be discovered within moments of using all but the weakest of abilities.
A scene by a marketplace caught his eye, and Ikharos regarded the single Uluru curiously. The alien soldier browsed the market stalls set in the main street and inspected the odd product with passing interest. He stopped by a merchant who sold freshly baked bread and looked over the foods for sale with what Ikharos assumed was hunger. The elder manning the stall stiffened as the giant paused before his wares, and averted his eyes when the invader removed helmet helmets with a hiss. The features of Uluru were not beautiful or fair in any way, what with their thick leathery skin, eyes set on the sides of their face, cleft upper lip and numerous small fangs. This one in particular was a hardy creature, bearing scars from previous battles and a little metal nub on the side of his head to signify the presence of cybernetic implants. His armour was different from the other soldiers, coloured cream and yellow, and he was leaner than most Uluru, though still a hulking behemoth by human standards.
"Food?" The soldier rumbled hopefully in smooth English.
"Yes!" The old man replied hurriedly. "It is, uh, yours, m'lord!"
The Uluru grunted and picked out a loaf before wandering off. Ikharos watched the Cabal soldier walk away until the invader turned a corner and disappeared from view. The difference in armour colouring worried him. Additional sublegions would make evicting the invaders all the more difficult.
Ikharos made his way to the east side of the city, the part facing inland from the Fjord, and watched for the presence of Psions. The moment he or Xiān located one, Ikharos ensured that he stayed out of their spheres of influence. Their presence was heavy, like a slight pressure in the air. The Warlock darted between them and hid if they were too numerous, never taking a chance. If they noticed him, then they'd label him as too dangerous to be left alive and act accordingly.
He found the bakery at the end of a street, completely deserted. A part of it had collapsed under a stray artillery shell. The shot must have pierced right through to the street, because the stone road behind him was torn apart. It looked just like the Last City had after the Red War.
Ikharos glanced about. No one was nearby. He used his clawed gauntlet to scratch a mark into the brickwork of the bakery's remaining walls and retreated into an alley across the street. He doubted it would amount to much. Formora's friend could have easily died in the attack, or might not even be in Ceunon. She'd said it before that it had been decades since she'd last been on the mainland. The werecat could have moved on in that time. Even so, a slim chance for valuable intel was worth chasing when he had nothing else to work on.
Only fifteen minutes later, a wildcat stalked into the alley, sniffing the air hesitantly and peering into the darkness with startling green eyes. Its flank was marked by dried blood, and one of its ears had been torn. It looked like it had been through hell. Ikharos stiffened and stood straight. "She was right..." He dropped the Void covering him. The cat jumped with fright and hissed, arching its back and baring its fangs. Ikharos lifted his empty hands. "Relax. I'm not here to fight. I've got bigger worries at the moment."
"Who are you?" A youthful voice demanded from within his own mind. Ikharos flinched. He'd forgotten about that.
"I'm not your enemy," he began cautiously. He'd freely admit that werecats unnerved him. Normal felines were never capable of anything close to what their Kepler cousins could do, but he was thinking of cats on Earth. Maybe here the cats evolved just like the humans had. That was his only theory, and he knew it was weak. Telepathy was not a natural byproduct of evolution, Psions notwithstanding. "Formora sent me."
The cat's eyes narrowed. "She's dead."
"Very much alive, actually." Ikharos switched to the ancient language. The words he was looking for were easy to put together. "Eka eddyr aí fricai abr Formora."
The werecat stopped hissing. It was remarkably expressive for something so inhuman. "She's alive?"
"She is."
The animal sat down on its hind legs. "That's good. That's more than good. Is she nearby?"
"Somewhat. She's... occupied, though."
The cat slunk forward and peered up at him. "Why are you here, friend of Formora?" It stopped only a couple of paces away. "You are not human, are you? I can smell it. I can see it. You are different. What are you, stranger?"
"We'll get to that," Ikharos said. He knelt down. The werecat warily backed away. "How did all this happen?"
"Metal beasts roared through the air and descended on the city as if they were raging dragons. They dropped the giants down to annihilate the Imperial soldiers and capture the keep. Lord Tarrant surrendered within the hour." The wildcat glanced back to the alley's entrance. "They've assumed control over every part of the city in a day. Any sign of resistance is met with a brutal punishment. They're worse than the king. Especially the small ones."
"Psions. What are they doing here?"
"I don't know. They demand answers from Tarrant and his officials everyday, but he cannot answer them." The cat shivered. "They captured the king's spellcasters and put them on their great beasts to be flown across the water. I don't think they're alive anymore."
"They're dead," Ikharos confirmed. "They'd have been tortured for information and eventually executed."
"They speak the human language well."
"Their Psions are resourceful. What are they asking Lord Tarrant?"
"How to speak to the stars. I don't understand it."
Ikharos nodded understandingly. "They're stranded here. They want to send word home."
"Why?"
"For more soldiers. They would conquer all of Alagaësia - and then the world."
The cat tilted its head. "That is quite a claim."
"It's the truth. I've seen it before." He moved onto his next question. "Are they killing people yet?"
"Yet?"
"Have they begun executing civilians?"
"No. Only those who fought. They began by sweeping through streets, dragging people out of their homes. Those soldiers they captured in battle were publicly executed. Their message was very clear. They have since strangled trade and let no one leave. Only the nearest farms may be worked, as long as the farmers do so within sight of the giants. What does the rest empire think of Ceunon's silence?"
"I don't know. I haven't been to the empire recently." There was a brief silence. "How did you survive?"
"I avoided the hellfire raining from the skies and hid away for the rest of the brief battle. The little ones noticed me not long after they captured the city. They've instructed their hounds to chase me down." The werecat turned and pushed its nose into its wounded side. "They gave me this."
"Warbeasts," Ikharos sighed. "Damn. That only makes this more difficult."
"What more difficult?"
"I need your help. Formora said that you notice things. A sort of information dealer, right?"
"I have happened across secrets, yes," the werecat cautiously admitted. "Is there something you seek?"
"The Cabal captured prisoners from outside the city. The prisoners aren't... local. They aren't human or anything like that. They have four arms, four eyes, and-"
"Smell like clean sugar?" The werecat asked.
Ikharos nodded eagerly. "Yeah. Them. You've seen them?"
"The invaders smuggled them in under the cover of night, but I could see them. The prisoners looked just as unusual as their captors. One of your friends bit a giant. They must be brave." The cat paused. "I know where they are. But I need something in return."
The Warlock groaned. "I'm on a tight schedule. Make it quick."
"I want out of this city. I can barely find enough food, I don't have any place to safely sleep, I... I need out."
"Why don't you just climb over the... I see your problem now." Ikharos grimaced. Even a cat wouldn't be able to escape the attention of Uluru. There wouldn't be anywhere to hide in the open fields surrounding the city, not with gunners at the walls. "I've got a plan to get out. You can tag along if you want, but you'll have to keep up. And keep out of sight. If you expose us, we're dead."
"Then it is settled. The giants brought them to the former Imperial barracks under the cover of darkness. It is heavily fortified, and manned by more giants. Your prisoners may be beyond saving. Can we go now?" The werecat asked hopefully.
"Can't." Ikharos shook his head. "I need them alive and free."
"Why? Are they friends of yours?"
"Friends? No. But if we don't extract them Formora will die."
"Oh."
"Yeah."
"How?"
"Friends of those I'm here to save."
The cat made an unhappy chuffing noise. "The giants guard those prisoners. We won't be able to slip past them."
"Then we won't. I'll kill them."
"A direct assault will attract the attention of their brethren."
"I'll kill them quietly."
The cat quietly absorbed that. "The giants cannot be felled. Not one was brought down by the Imperial soldiers."
"I'm different. I've killed Cabal before."
The feline grunted. "I hope so. For both our sakes." It didn't blink once as it looked up into his shaded visor. "I am Alfr."
"Ikharos."
"I hope you're capable, Ikharos. Or we will both die in this forsaken city."
Security around the barracks was heavy. Ikharos saw fifteen Uluru soldiers milling about the squat rectangular building. Two Psions spoke to one another in the middle of the street before the building. Scorpius turrets had been set up on each corner of the roof. It was locked up tight.
Ikharos finished looking it over, then slipped back behind the piled rubble of what used to be a grand house. The werecat looked up expectantly as he withdrew his cloak of Void. "There's too many Cabal," he assessed.
"Told you," Alfr tiredly told him.
Ikharos ignored the cat and activated the radio in his helmet, speaking Eliksni. "Velask. I've found where your kin are kept."
"Eia? This is good." The Marauder on the other side sounded ecstatic.
"It's too heavily guarded. I can handle a few guards without raising the alarm, but not this many. I need a distraction."
There was a brief period of silence. "Eia, I can give you one. It will make them alert, though. Move quickly, Light-Thief."
Ikharos scowled. "Son of a tech witch..." He switched off the radio. Alfr looked up at him questioningly. Before he could even answer, the distant, though unmistakable, sound of an explosion filled the air. The cat yelped and twirled about.
"That was quick," Xiān noted. "You gotta give them that, at least. Fallen work fast."
"What was that?!" Alfr asked urgently.
Ikharos blinked. He didn't like it when more than one person was speaking directly into his mind. It was disorientating. "An opportunity," he answered gruffly. He could hear the shouts in Ulurant; the soldiers had noticed it too. It was not long before he next heard the clatter of heavy boots on cobbled streets. A group of Cabal pelted past the Warlock and werecat. The two Psions sprinted with them, outrunning their larger comrades. Ikharos pulled in his consciousness and Light, and doused it in Void to mask his presence. It did the trick, and not one soldier turned to look their way.
When the Cabal were long gone, Alfr said, "That can't be all of them."
"I'll deal with whatever's left. Come on." Ikharos ran around the corner. The cat ran to keep up.
Two Legionaries remained, within the courtyard of the barracks and guarding the entrance. Ikharos slowed to stroll, and when he was in range, he Blinked in front of them, Orúm in hand. With one sweeping arc he decapitated them both. As the heavy bodies fell, Xiān suppressed the active signals sent to the Battlenet, making it appear as if nothing had happened to the pair.
Their pressurized armour hadn't given him much issue, Ikharos was glad to see. The longsword had torn through the reinforced metal like a hot knife through butter.
Alfr wordlessly joined him, looking between the Uluru bodies and wrinkling his nose in disgust. The scent of their blood mixed with black oil from their suits was heavy. Ikharos activated a filter in his helmet to avoid catching a whiff of the stench.
He pushed open the wide double doors and slipped inside. The barracks were large, but only a few rooms were sizable enough for Cabal, so he followed the main corridor to the back of the building. The rug and stone floor was muddied and burnt. It must have been a temporary base, given the lack of appropriate equipment. They likely had plans to move elsewhere.
Another set of double doors rested at the end of the corridor. Ikharos could hear a mechanical hum from inside. Someone talking. A sharp retort from another. He didn't need to listen any longer, and he crashed through the doors.
Two cells had been cordoned off with energy barriers, and each held a pair of Fallen prisoners. The last pair of the set were in the centre of the room, one lying dead on the floor and the other held up by chains connected to the ceiling. That Marauder, the one still breathing, was beaten and bloodied, though he still had the strength to snarl at his interrogator. The torturer - a Centurion - twirled around, blood-drenched knife in hand, and stared at Ikharos.
"What are you do-" It began in Ulurant, but Orúm had pierced the Cabal's throat before it could finish its sentence.
Ikharos coldly shoved the corpse aside and sheathed the longsword. The Fallen all looked at him with puzzlement clear in their glowing eyes, but every one of them had a stubborn fire in their eyes. Their armour and weapons had been taken from them, and each bore wounds of some kind, though the one in the centre of the room was the worst by far. He was a grievous sight, missing an eye and one hand, and some of the exoskeleton plates on his chest and his wounded arm had been pried off, revealing ragged pink flesh beneath. Ether and blood leaked from his injuries, and what eyes he had left glowed with a dim, subdued light. Without help he wouldn't be last very long.
Ikharos hesitated. All his instincts told him to kill the captured Marauder. It would have been a mercy. It would have been the right thing to do. On Earth he wouldn't have thought twice about it and shot the pirate immediately.
But this isn't Earth, he reminded himself. He tugged out his knife and sliced through the links of the chains. It took every shred of willpower he had to resist turning the blade on the Marauder's throat.
"Who... are you?" The Marauder coughed.
"Your Captain wants you back." Ikharos didn't meet the Fallen's eyes. He could deal with their scribes without issue, but their kind's warriors always brought out the killer in him. Courtesy of the House of Devils, of course. They'd ruined the entire species for Ikharos. Not that the other Houses had done much to fix that.
"Sundrass?" The Marauder asked hopefully.
"Just shut up and accept your rescue."
000
"You oaf!" Tlac laughed over the radio. It was a good sound. Cadon appreciated the chance to hear it once more. He sat back against the wall of the abandoned cathedral and smiled within the stifling confines of his helmet.
"He just offered it to me. What am I supposed to do?" Zhonoch's voice was muffled, coming through the radio with a buzz. Stuffing his face with... what had they called it? Bread? An odd word for an odd thing. Cadon hadn't tried any of the food that the native species hoarded. He didn't trust that they wouldn't poison it. Or that it was even suitable for consumption.
"How goes it on your end?" The sniper asked. He regretted it immediately. He could feel the grimace coming through his bond with his brother, even miles apart. The distance diminished the sensation and kept him from tasting their thoughts, but emotions were harder to suppress.
"The prisoners bring with them further complications," Tlac reported bitterly. "Their abilities stem from a language-based paracausality. Each word has power over what it describes, not unlike the glyphs of Hive language. It converts raw energy from the user's own body. It is impure, yet the possibilities it presents us with are nearly limitless."
"Sounds... semi-useful," Zhonoch commented. Cadon felt a faint wave of warmth from Tlac's end of the bond; the gladiator brought out the best in him.
"That's not all."
"There's more magic?"
"No, worse than... 'magic'," Tlac spat out the word. "I've scrounged all I could from their minds and I've found mentionings of… dragons."
"Ahamkara," Zhonoch growled darkly.
"That's not going to be fun," Cadon noted. He couldn't remember when it had been, but his first and only Ahamkara sighting had been a tense moment. The beast had colossal, and paid the Cabal guns aimed at it no mind.
"No, it isn't." Tlac took a breath. "If we sight one, the Primus wants us to pull back immediately. Then hit it with all we've got."
"Might not work," the Vigilant said. "Those things know how to fight back. Ahamkara are a matter for Flayers, not soldiers."
"That's what I've told him. He's not listening. He seems to think that artillery will fix the problem. He pays no mind to the importance of the non-causal." Tlac's voice fell to a hushed whisper. "But he doesn't command the Soulrazers."
"What are you saying?" Cadon asked suspiciously.
"Zhonoch is the highest-ranking Soulrazer present. In truth, he commands our subcohort, not the Primus. We were sent to accompany, not join, the Worldbreakers. We are another legion, not a subdivision."
"This is treasonous," Cadon warned.
"It's the truth," Tlac shot back.
Zhonoch growled. "I will not split apart our ranks on a hypothetical matter."
Tlac quickly responded. "I'm not saying you should. We might not find a living, or dead, Ahamakra, but if we do..."
"... I'll think about it."
"I won't ask for any more than that."
Cadon released a breath. "You could get yourself killed saying such things."
"I'm just taking after Zhonoch."
"Yeah, it's making me nervous," the Vigilant murmured.
Cadon keenly felt the disappointment, the crashed hope. He sent a pulse of sympathy his brother's way, but it went unnoticed.
He could hear the defeat in Tlac's voice. "Oh. I'll be more careful next time."
A sudden noise echoed through the air, rocking the ground. Cadon surged to his feet. He heard Zhonoch crashing into something hard through the radio and the muffled curse that followed.
"What's happening?!" Tlac asked sharply, assuming a professional demeanor. He sounded like an officer with his authoritative tone.
"Grrrgh," Zhonoch growled. At least he was alive.
"Explosion," Cadon barked back. He grabbed his headhunter rifle. "Tell the Primus. I'm switching to local comms."
The sniper left the call and dipped into the Battlenet radio. Val Brutis was already bellowing orders. "-looks like Eliksni handiwork! Get over there and put out the fires, now! Before they reach the ammunition!"
"On it!" A Centurion answered. "Pulling first and fourth squadrons with me!"
"Prepare for cloaked attacks! They're in the city!"
"Deploying sensors," another Psion reported. "Nothing here. Seventh maniple will sweep northwards."
"Get them!" Brutis ordered brusquely. "Inform me of their locations immediately! We will strike with the fury of true Cabal!"
A howl accompanied her words, the combined support of all those listening in. Cadon wordlessly sprinted to the stairs of the cathedral and used his jump-pack to speed his flight to the top of the bell tower. Once he reached the summit, he activated every sensor on his headhunter and peered through the scope, his single eye roving over the signatures of hundreds of cowering natives hidden in their fragile homes. The streets had cleared within moments after the explosion. They understood the sounds of warfare, even if the lesson was only recently taught.
His attention was soon drawn to the smoke cloud billowing up, lightning crackling within the column of mist. He knew, from hard-earned experience, how much the Eliksni liked Arc weaponry. They must have dropped a dozen grenades into the storehouse. Cadon cursed. The use of human buildings was supposed to be a temporary thing, and now they reaped the benefits of using flimsy wooden and stone structures. The explosion must have consumed at least half their black oil supply.
A blue flash. Cadon barely ducked in time to avoid the Arc shot. He leapt back to his feet, but the sniper had already jumped from his perch down into the maze of streets and activated his cloaking device. Cadon activated his radio.
"Soulrazer Specialist LXV reporting. Marauder sighting in sector IV. I've just lost him. I believe he's heading north-west."
"Acknowledged, Weaver," came a Centurion's reply. "Fifth squadron en route. Check for hostiles."
"Checking," Cadon swept his gaze around, but he couldn't pick anything. He doubted the sniper was working alone. Eliksni were cunning creatures. There was a fair chance that this too was a ploy. "Negative on visual. Possibly a trap. Watch yourselves."
"Understood."
He looked around and around... and there, movement. Brief, yet important all the same. He'd been in the legions too long already; he knew what to look for.
It was only a human with one of their trained animals. The bright colours of the human's garb held Cadon's attention, but not for long - only fool disregarded the dangers posed by Marauders. He was just about to turn away when he saw them.
"Soulrazer Specialist LXV reporting. Eliksni prisoners have breached captivity! I've got sights on them!"
"What? How?!" The Val bellowed.
"Prisoners are being accompanied and aided by a human." He zoomed in with the headhunter's scope. "Human is armed! I repeat, human is armed! He has a firearm! Location is sector II, heading east!"
"Ninth and third squadrons, converge! The attack on the storehouse was a distraction! Kill them all!"
"What about second and eighth?" Another officer asked.
Brutis didn't take long to answer. "Hold. This may be another distraction. Weaver, open fire. Pin them down!"
"Understood." Cadon picked his target, took aim, and fired.
000
"Come, Erdriks!" One of the Fallen cried out. "We must move quickly!"
Erdriks, whom had suffered terribly under the Centurion's knife, groaned and stumbled. He couldn't keep up. Blood dripped down from his fingers, leaving a clear wine-coloured trail that even a child could follow.
"Quickly!" Alfr urged Ikharos. "Before they discover us!"
Ikharos would have replied if a Solar shot hadn't slammed into his shields and sent him skidding across the road. He picked himself up within a moment and looked around for the origin of the shot. The telltale smoke trail of a headhunter slug led directly to a bell tower miles away.
Ikharos glared at in the sniper's direction and summoned the raging Arc within. Too long had it been suppressed, and given this chance, it bucked against his grip, yet Ikharos held on and slowly raised his arm, exercising his control. When it had built up into a destructive force that threatened to pull him apart, he let go. A beam of crackling Arc flew from his palm and crashed through the bell tower.
000
Cadon didn't anticipate the human to have a personal energy shield. He didn't anticipate the human to survive the heavy Solar-infused slug hitting him with enough force to shatter a Hive knight's carapace. And he would never have anticipated the human to respond in such a destructive manner. The Arc beam tore through the tower below and sliced diagonally through the strictly, bisecting through the stonework with surgical precision. The floor below the sniper's feet groaned and buckled, and inevitably tipped to the side. Cadon had little time to comprehend what had just happened, and even less to face the growing problem of the collapsing bell tower. His growing panic must have alerted his brothers for he could feel Tlac's and Orche's growing concern through their stretched concert. He didn't have enough time to send a message back.
Cadon leapt from the falling tower and activated his jump-jets, which momentarily slowed his fall. Unfortunately, the fuel counter on his HUD told him with frightening clarity how fast what black oil he had was being burnt up. Jump-packs were designed for brief jumps or to speed their sprints, not keep them in the air. Those modifications were reserved for officers only. Cadon strafed down, getting dangerously close to the collapsing human cathedral beneath, but he wasn't fast enough. His jump-jets ran out, and he plummeted into the chaos below
000
When the Arc fizzled out, Ikharos twirled around and approached Erdriks. The Eliksni, and accompanying werecat, stared at him in blatant terror. Ignoring the snarls of protest and yips of alarm, the Warlock gathered the residual energy and formed it into a handheld rift, which he pushed onto the wounded Eliksni's chest. The wounds healed almost immediately, and new chitin grew to cover the places missing their exoskeleton shell. Erdriks looked as good as new.
Ikharos felt drained, exhausted of all his gathered Arc. He tiredly looked at Alfr and said, "Get them to the siege tunnel, and fast."
"What about you?" The werecat asked fearfully. Alfr kept his distance from the Warlock.
"Doesn't matter about me!" Ikharos snapped. "Just go!" He grabbed Erdriks shoulder in a tight grip the Fallen was sure to feel and hissed, "Tell Sundrass to keep her word. Or I will repay the debt in kind."
The healed Marauder nodded numbly. When Ikharos let go, the band scampered off. When they were gone and out of sight, Ikharos breathed in deeply.
"You know we just alerted about every Psion in the city, right?"
"I know." He checked his Lumina, his fingers sliding across the smooth ivory barrel. It was his beast, and it hungered for the chance to roar. "They'll be too busy with us to even think about chasing down the others."
He felt Xiān smile. "You've done a good thing."
"Are we back to the old days? Where you celebrate my every good deed?"
"These aren't the old days anymore. These are the now days. We're going to have to change."
"Change how?" Ikharos asked. He could hear the thrum of engines. The crash of heavy soldiers running across the stone roads, tearing through the city to get to him.
"This world isn't Earth. It isn't Sol. This is Kepler, and it doesn't need a Guardian. It needs a Warlord."
A brief silence stretched out between them.
Xiān laughed. "That was the corniest thing I've ever said."
Ikharos grinned. "I liked it."
"Of course you liked it. I'm praising you, after all."
A Thresher soared up from the horizon, lifting away from the rooftops of the city, and it headed straight his way. The cannon beneath its hull whirred to life.
Ikharos Blinked aside and began running towards the gunship. He holstered his hand cannon and Blinked again as the stream of Solar rounds tore through the pavement.. He jumped and propelled himself with a glide, and the Thresher slowed to a stop, and fired homing missiles. Once more, Ikharos Blinked out of danger, warping straight in front of the gunship and planting the Orúm into its hull. The Uluru gaped at him through the glass of the cockpit.
Ikharos focused his grenade energy into a supernova and slammed his palm into the ship. He leapt back as the Void hungrily tore the gunship apart, and glided down safely. The Thresher, consumed by indigo flames, collapsed on the road before him.
A microrocket whizzed by his head, and a second slug glanced off his shield. Ikharos twirled around, drew his Lumina, and dropped the five approaching Legionaries. Three Phalanx, bearing shields of solid metal as opposed to the lighter - and weaker - energy barriers used by the Red Leigon, scarcely managed to avoid the fate of their comrades. Ikharos fixed that by Blinking behind them and putting three bullets in each of the Cabal's jump-paths. Only charred carcasses remained.
Another squadron charged around the street corner behind him and opened fire, their Centurion loudly bellowing orders over the roar of rifles.. Ikharos put the last bullet in Lumina's chamber into the officer's skull. His soldiers, trained professionals, only paused momentarily and resumed their barrage.
Ikharos dove aside and waited until his shield had recharged, then Blinked into their ranks and struck out with his longsword. He was rewarded with an agonized howl, and kept slashing. The Cabal caught on quickly and tried to back away and space out, but Ikharos moved too fast. He danced around the clumsy Uluru, used them as barriers against the guns of their allies, and left them no time to change tactics.
With a free hand he smashed a fist into a Psion's head. The alien's skull released a violet puff and it slumped over, and the next moment he impaled an Incendior with his sword, lit up its fuel tanks, and tossed it towards its still living comrades with a mix of his own strength and the use of his mind. Four more were consumed in the explosion.
One of the soldiers struck lucky and managed to grab Ikharos' arm. He rewarded its efforts by kicking it hard enough in the chest for its armour to buckle and cave in, killing it instantly, but it achieved its purpose. Microrockets assailed his shield and shattered it, then proceeded to rip through him.
Ikharos gritted his teeth and audibly snarled. Undeterred, he Blinked again and sliced one of the gunners in two, beheading the next. He tossed his knife between the eyes of a third, then tore it back out with his mind and returned it to his hand to be used again.
The last of the squadron, two Psions and a Legionary, kept up their assault. The larger of the three cracked its fist against Ikharos, and the colossal force of the blow tossed him to the ground. The Warlock turned the tumble into a roll, and he projected Orúm forward to run the Cabal through. The Uluru was thrown against the wall and skewered upon the longsword, while Ikharos teleported to one of the Psions and snapped its neck with his bare hands. The last he destroyed with a lazy wave of his hand, tearing it apart in a contained shockwave of Void.
Pain forced him to his knees. "Xiān..." He gasped.
"More incoming!"
With a roar, Ikharos forced himself to stand and tossed a Voidwall grenade. The new group Cabal turned to find their way blocked by fierce purple flames. Xiān felt safe enough to briefly appear and heal him.
The downed Thresher behind them blew apart in a flash of scarlet fire. Beyond it, halfway-obscured by the smoke, a Goliath hovertank floated with its energy cannon glowing with heat.
"Psesiskars!" Ikharos cursed. The tank fired again so he sidestepped the shot. The planet-cracker shell zipped past him, crashing into the squadron beyond the Voidwall. The tank resorted to its flak cannons after that.
Ikharos ducked behind the shield of a Phalanx he'd slain and said, "I need heavy ordnance for this!"
Xiān wordlessly dropped a rocket launcher. Ikharos hefted the familiar weight of the Gjallarhorn onto his shoulders, darted out of cover, and let loose a Wolfpack round. The rocket split into half a dozen missiles and struck true. The Goliath shuddered; one of its thrusters flickered out, forcing it down onto the ground at one end. The previously pristine front of the hovertank had been slagged to hell and back.
Ikharos ran past the red-hot remains of the Thresher, jumped up, and tossed a Nova Bomb down onto the vulnerable war machine. It came apart in a swirling vortex of ravenous antimatter.
He was left with a solid twenty seconds to catch his breath and recover a fraction of Light. A trio of Interceptors, with two more Goliaths behind them, entered his sight and surged towards him from further down the street And behind them, more squadrons marched past the corpses of their comrades and over the dying Void flames.
"It's going to be a long day." Xiān swapped his Gjallarhorn for a Winterwolf.
"It is."
000
"Mine-Captain, good news!" A Splicer ran in. Sundrass' eyes darted up from the sword she had been sharpening.
"Yes?" She demanded. "What is it?"
"Iriikas-Marauder has reported in! They have our kin!"
"All of them?" Sundrass asked. She hadn't dared to think it possible.
"Ah, no." The Splicer fidgeted uncomfortably. "Muerniks was killed by the Cabal, but the rest live."
"He didn't save them all." She stood up. "I will gift him a fraction of the punishment. Where is the Light-Thief?"
"In the city, mine-Captain. Erdriks has informed us that the human remained to cover their escape."
Sundrass chuckled darkly. "He dies, then. The Cabal will rip him limb from limb."
"Captain?"
"When our foes fight one another, wherein is the risk to us?"
"Y-yes, Captain, it is as you say." The Splicer bowed.
She brushed past him. "Come. We will gather our Skiffs and free our kind of their pursuers."
"No pursuers, mine-Captain."
"... None?" She paused by the exit of the underground chamber, all of her eyes narrowed. "Cabal are not easy to shake. Surely you are mistaken."
"Iriikas reported otherwise, mine-Captain." The Splicer, a non-combatant, touched his forehead to the rocky ground in a display of humility. "They did not detect the waiting Skiff. He says that the Cabal vessels stayed to fight the human."
"A lone human? Iriikas must be mistaken. We must ensure that-"
At that moment Moliko rushed into sight, eyes widened. "Mine-Captain!" He cried out. He gave a brief warrior's salute that contrasted wildly with the Splicer's bow and swiftly said, "Tarrhis-Baron has sent out word. He flies to join us and regather the loyalists of Scar!"
Sundrass' hearts lifted. It was like the universe was moving events to support her climb up the ladder. More of this, and by the war's end she would be a Baron. "Then we will welcome him!" She announced. "Gather ether! We will have much to celebrate!"
Sundrass wore her best cloak and donned polished armour as she waited in the largest chamber of the cave, standing by the deactivated holotable and beside a Servitor primed for ether production. She'd ordered that all her crews rouse themselves and stand at attention as an honour-guard for their commanding Baron.
When Tarrhis stalked in, with Kiphoris trailing behind, and behind him followed Raksil, the Baron's heir, with their young Kell cradled in the Vandal's arms. Sundrass brightened her eyes and happily greeted them. "Velask, Tarrhis-Mrelliks! Velask, Kiphoris-Veskirisk! It is good to see you both strong and bright-eyed!"
"Velask, Sundrass-Veskirisk." Tarrhis closed his outer eyes. "I am happy to join together mine-crews once more."
"You have called to regather our strength?" Now was not the time to reveal her success. It would make her appear as nothing more than a child eager to impress a parent. Sundrass wanted her reputation of strength and stern authority to remain unchecked. She glanced at Kiphoris warmly; his armour had been shined, just as she asked. She clicked appreciatively. Perhaps, if the celebrations for her cunning victory went to plan, she could reach out and bestow a token upon the fellow Captain and begin courtship. The former Wolf did not meet her gaze, however. He looked about the chamber with a puzzled air.
"I smell humans," he said suddenly.
Sundrass chirped. "Ah, yes. Mine-Baron, I have great news to deliver. When your call went out to alert us of the grave threat posed by the-"
"I know this scent!" Kiphoris gasped. He removed his grand winged helmet, allowing his plumage of deep blue hair to stand on end. He locked eyes with their Baron. "I know this scent from wars-past!"
"What matters have you conducted with humans?" Tarrhis rumbled suspiciously, closing his inner eyes and settling his powerful gaze on Sundrass. The cheer had been stripped from his voice, replaced by the iron-whip tone of a battle-hardened warrior.
Sundrass felt as if her success was slipping away from her. She strived to regain control before it spiraled out of her grasp. "I outwitted the Light-Thief!" She crowed. "And he will die to Cabal guns before the rotation is out!"
Both Kiphoris and Tarrhis froze.
"What?" The Baron asked very quietly. Sundrass' instincts flared up; she knew something was amiss.
She paused and stopped to take stock of the situation. She couldn't understand what had happened. She'd not only enacted the Baron's will, but weakened and distracted their enemies. The Cabal would be distracted! They could strike and achieve an incredible victory that future generations of Scar would gush over for hundreds of Riis-years! "I, ah, set the Light-Thief to battle the Cabal. They captured a human city, stationing many of their soldiers there to hold it. I tricked the Light-Thief to go to them!"
Tarrhis loomed over her. "That was not what I wanted. I demanded that the Light-Thief be brought before me."
"But... it was said he was no friend to Eliksni! He even admitted to warring with other banners, killing Kells!" Sundrass' stance loosened and she began to hunch over, giving in to ancient primal instincts tied to her growing confusion and fear.
Kiphoris snapped his teeth impatiently. He looked to be on the verge of panic. Which was impossible. Kiphoris was steadfast, unfazed by any development no matter how worrying. "Name?! What was the Light-Thief's name?!"
"He called himself Ikha Riis."
"Oh..." She'd never seen Kiphoris made speechless. Sundrass gawked as the other Captain looked as if he had been struck, had the ether ripped straight out of him. "Oh, psekisk."
"Kiphoris?" Tarrhis asked. "What is wrong? You know this creature?"
"Eia, I have heard of it. From briefly-allied Devils, from turncloak Kings, from captured Captains and Barons sent to Judgement's prison, I have heard of it." Kiphoris shuddered. "Light-Thieves are strong, always, and it is healthy to know fear of them. Some are known as great slayers of all those who trespass on the lands of their House. Ikharos, the one spoken of, is among those great slayers. I've heard talk that he was Kell from the time before the banner of Light-Thieves was woven. He killed Draksis, Winter-Kell, and news spread throughout the Houses within the system. When Wolves rebelled against our human Kell, he hunted us across a jungle world. And when Skolas-kel, undeserving of station, contracted for Taniks, the Scarred, to gather strength on behalf of Wolves, Ikharos was there to bring down the traitor's Ketch."
"He killed Taniks?" Tarrhis asked, leaning over the Captain. "Taniks is dead?"
"Eia, perhaps." Kiphoris was not quite as ecstatic about it as the Baron. "Taniks may be dead. I do not know whether this Light-Thief killed Taniks or it was one of his packmates, but Ikharos was there and chased the mercenary's crew into the Freelance Kell's ship. Mine-Baron, this Light-Thief is a killer of Ketches. Cabal will not destroy him. He will turn to fight us. We should not have revealed ourselves to him!"
"Why didn't you tell me of Taniks' fate before?" Tarrhis growled dangerously
"It... was not the time," Kiphoris mumbled, shamefaced.
"Gah! Where is this slayer-of-traitors?" Tarrhis demanded, turning his gaze back to Sundrass.
"The human city..." Sundrass glanced between Baron and fellow Captain. Her victory had turned to ash, that much was clear to her. "I sent him into the city to die."
"Show me."
Sundrass activated the holotable. An orange light filtered upwards to form the city. The first thing she noted were the Cabal ships darting above the streets in a confused manner. Not one dipped lower, circling like birds whose nest had been taken over by a voracious predator. The next was the warzone below, situated in what had formerly been a wide city street. The buildings in the immediate vicinity had been broken apart or flattened, and the husks of many Cabal war machines rested in burning piles of scrap metal. She saw the tiny figures that were the Caball scurry about the area like panicked insects.
Her blood ran cold as the form of yet another Goliath was abruptly broken apart with ruthless efficiency. A miniscule shape, barely recognizable as sharing the basic shape of humans, leapt away from the wreckage.
"This is the power of the Great Machine's Light?" Tarrhis breathed, studying the same scene. "Incredible. Imagine what a true-spirited Kell might do with that might…"
"They will slow him, they will hurt him, but they will not gift him true death," Kiphoris solemnly vowed. "Light-Thieves are mighty warriors, despite their frail bodies."
"How is it you convinced him to walk into the Cabal's territory?" Raksil inquired, who had been up that moment completely silent.
Sundrass never let her eyes move from the battle. "I threatened the life of another human. A comrade of his."
"Another Light-Thief?" Kiphoris asked, surprised. He was terrified.
"No!" Sundrass denied quickly. "Not a Light-Thief, a mere human!"
"Is it still here?" Tarrhis asked her.
"Eia."
"Bring it, quickly!"
"Moliko!" Sundrass called. Her brother's heir nodded and scurried away. She turned back. "What are your wishes, mine-Baron?"
Tarrhis looked at her with a stern gaze. "Sundrass-Veskirisk, you have worked against my wishes. There may be some merit to your actions, if we can salvage this. I have come to attack the Cabal with our gathered numbers and use their machines to enhance our ether production and to further strengthen our warriors." He paused. "I would have waited for Palkra to join us with his crews, but now the Cabal are distracted. Weakened. Spread thin. We must strike before they rally themselves!" Tarrhis lifted himself up to his full height and roared, shaking the very walls of the cave. "We strike! Quick, mine-Eliksni, bring forth your courage and ready your swords! Ready your Arcarms! Ready your Skiffs and your love for combat, for we fly to war!"
Invigorated, those of Sundrass' crews, along with those accompanying both Kiphoris and their Baron, echoed the call and drew their many weapons. The noise was deafening, and on any other time Sundrass would have joined in.
Now, instead, she felt as if she had made a fatal mistake.
"What of the Light-Thief, mine-Baron?!" Kiphoris shouted to be heard.
Tarrhis laughed. "Long have I waited to hear of Taniks' demise, and now I may reach his slayer! I must meet this warrior, who purged the traitor from our banner's history and congratulate him! He has done me a great service, a service to all Scars!"
"He is dangerous, mine-Baron!" Kiphoris argued. His eyes narrowed. "I call upon the right to enact a duel with the Light-Thief."
Silence fell over the cave within moments. Tarrhis faced the Captain and asked, dangerously, "On what grounds?"
"On grounds of honour. He hunted my kin and I when we followed Skolas. I lost my chance to battle with him before, so I must do so now!" Kiphoris growled out the words. "I must face him, to satisfy the legacy of Mraskilaasan!"
"Denied." Tarrhis told him firmly. "You are of Kalakhselen. You are of Scar."
"But, mine-Baron-!"
"Enough," Tarrhis ordered. "You have heard my decree. Kiphoris, you will join me on my Skiff and translate the words of the human Sundrass gifts us. Then, when we meet him, you will translate the words of the traitor-slayer. There will be no duel."
"But… he stole the Great Machine's gift!"
"That is a grievous slight against all Eliksni if true, and I will investigate it further, but I will not deliver death upon one who cleansed our banner of rot without knowing the truth of the matter."
"I... yes, mine-Baron." Kiphoris bowed his head.
The Baron turned back to Sundrass. "And you... when the battle is over, and we are victorious, you will apologize to the traitor-slayer, should he prove no foe. You will make amends." His eyes narrowed to dangerous slits. "Am I clear?"
"You are clear, mine-Baron." Sundrass dipped her head, hearts hammering in her chest. Her gaze kept returning to the hologram. I have unleashed a monster.
000
Ikharos grunted as he emptied his cannon into Colossus, and Xiān refilled it with bullets. He'd long since stopped using comprehensible words, saving his breath. Every movement was a calculated risk. How much effort should I expend on taking down that Phalanx? How can I kill that Psion with the least effort? Can I use that Legionary's gun to kill the rest of his squad? Can I throw that Incendior onto that Interceptor?
Every step spelled death for yet another alien. Every leap, every Blink, every use of Void Light, it always ended in Ikharos killing and maiming, in spreading as much chaos as he could. His body was battered, bruised in too many places to count, and he sported wounds that would have crippled ordinary humans. The pain was a constant, and unwanted, companion. It was the complaint of his body screaming at him that he was mortal, he was vulnerable, and he was being damaged. He ignored it. Death didn't scare him; he'd get back up again.
His biggest worry was how much ammunition he was working through and the state of his armour. He'd already used up most of the weapons Scipio supplied him with, wielding them as impromptu clubs when the bullets ran dry. Beating an armour-clad Uluru to death with the butt of a sidearm had been more than difficult, but he did it anyways. He hoped Wei Ning approved, wherever she was.
The Cabal had begun to learn, bit by bit, and pulled back to fire at him at range, but he solved that issue by Blinking into their midst. They used heavily armoured vehicles, he used what little Light he had left to take them apart. Now they'd set up firing lines to shot him down, with Psions blocking his attempts to teleport into their ranks with the combined might of their minds. Ikharos dipped out, Blinking out of the ragged street, and he tried to make his escape.
They used Warbeasts to corral him into a narrow alley, with nowhere left to go. The soldiers quickly closed in as the hounds snapped and ripped at the Warlock, and they waited for the moment he'd be brought low. Ikharos responded by punching and kicking, killing the warbeasts as quickly as he could. His sword was too large for such close-quarters, so he made do with what he had.
One of the beasts broke through his shield - which had been shattered at least a hundred times by that point - and clamped its mouth down on his leg. In a fit of brutality spurred by hot anger, Ikharos grasped its jaws and forced them apart through sheer strength, not stopping until he heard a snap and the animal went limp.
The other Warbeasts whimpered and fled. Their masters fell silent, yet they did not budge. Their courage was to be commended, Ikharos would give them that.
Ikharos shouted obscenities at the Cabal, glaring through the shattered visor of his helmet, and emptied a final magazine's worth of submachine gun rounds into their mass, forcing them back to find cover behind Phalanx shields.. After that he was down to his knife and sword. Ikharos grinned maniacally, as blood streamed from his nose, and dared the brutes to come closer.
A huge Uluru tore past the rest and let loose a booming war cry. It, or rather she if the tusks were any indication, rose up into the air on a modified jump-pack he'd only ever seen once before. Ikharos cursed and scarcely managed to jump out of the way as the huge Cabal, an officer of some kind, slammed down on his position with a Solar-powered gauntlet. The tusked Uluru wasn't finished, however, and activated a jet boost once more to crash into him and smash through the abandoned building beyond. Wood shattered and snapped around them as they crashed through too many walls to count, and they broke through the opposite side of the - thankfully - uninhabited house.
Ikharos was sent tumbling across the cobbled road next street over, and he lurched to his feet the moment he recovered. His opponent was already up by then and running straight for him. He dimly thought, in the back of his mind, that the jetpack made her look like an airplane just before she hit him.
For a second time they flew, and when they touched down, the Cabal had slammed Ikharos against a heavy stone wall. The wall could have been the barrier surrounding the keep, but Ikharos was too preoccupied with the Uluru pinning him against the stone to care. She didn't waste any time with talk or threats, instead jutting her head forward and ramming one of her tusks through his torso with a sickening crunch.
Not to be outdone, Ikharos gritted his teeth so hard he was sure they would shatter and swung Orúm into the Cabal's neck, sawing almost halfway through before his strength abandoned him. The damage was done, though, and the Uluru gave one last gurgling grunt before buckling and falling back, taking her tusks with her. Ikharos cried out as the spiked appendage tore out of his stomach with a spray of blood, and he fell hard onto the stone floor below.
"Xi... ān..." He croaked.
"I'll... I'll try to heal you..." A warmth spread through him, not quite numbing the pain, and it ended a second later. Ikharos felt as weak as before, and when he touched his wound, he found it only partially mended. Ikharos grimaced. As long as he wasn't bleeding to death, he didn't really care. The scars didn't bother him.
"We need to go!" An edge of panic had entered Xiān's voice
A row of Legionaries, each one of them armed with slug rifles, marched into view and took aim. Ikharos didn't have the power left to Blink. Not even the physical energy to take another step. "Psekisk..." He muttered, and closed his eyes.
A sudden inhuman screech forced his eyes to shoot open again, and just in time to see a smoking Harvester crash down just behind the Legionaries. They lowered their guns and looked up. Ikharos followed their lead. The half-cloaked form of a Fallen Skiff flitted close-by overhead.
Ikharos smiled, his every breath ragged. "Here come the vultures."
Another Fallen vessel strafed overhead and tore apart the Legionaries with a burst of concentrated Arc blasts. More Skiffs fell out of cloaking and began to rain hell down on the Cabal formations below or shoot down every Thresher they could find. Ikharos gave up on the task of standing up and fell back, content to watch the Fallen at work. He wondered when they'd turn those guns of theirs on him.
Ikharos weakly crawled back to the wall of the keep and sat with his back to the cold stone wall. His eyes closed halfway; he felt like he could sleep for a week straight. Even as exhausted as he was, he couldn't stop watching the battle. It was clearly going the way of the Fallen, as the Skiffs took advantage of the chaos and ripped into the disorganized Cabal. The quicker Eliksni vessels would dart down and litter the air with Arc blasts or missiles in bursts, pounding Cabal positions mercilessly.
A Skiff - painted with elegant red and gold patterns over the bronze hull - lowered not far from him - swept down not far from him, joined by another pair of more simplistic designs. One of the Skiffs dropped down a Walker with a heavy clang that resounded throughout the street, and another only stayed long enough for a band of Pikes to detach and blast away with mechanical screams. The Walker didn't move, only activated its weapons, and faced away from the keep. Away from Ikharos.
The painted Skiff remained and extended insect-like legs to gently land. The rear of it opened up for a gang of Fallen armed to the teeth to scurry out and take positions around the vessel. Ikharos met their eyes, but not one tried to kill him. That was more than disconcerting. It took a huge effort to shoot them.
A flurry of motion brought him back to a half-sober state, and Ikharos found himself looking down the barrel of an Arc pistol held by a furious Captain. If looks could kill, Ikharos would be dead a hundred times over.
"Sha'ir psekiskar," the Captain growled
AN: I see the Cabal empire as a mirror of the Roman empire, which is, I think, what the folks behind Destiny intended them to be. When I say Cabal, I refer to those of the empire in a broad term including the numerous species under the empire's banner. Like Calus said... at one point, not sure, but he said it.
The Uluru, the dominant species of the empire, are automatically citizens of this empire their ancestors created. Other client species are not, and most are part of a slave caste. However, since the military is the pride and joy of the empire, those who join can receive a full citizenship after a full term of military service. That term being up to two thousand years. Aliens in Destiny can live a looong time. This opportunity is a chance for many a Psion to receive the rights of Uluru, and the army would be only too glad to have the little blighters. A slave-soldier with no hope will fight reluctantly, if they try at all, but if a reward like freedom waits at the end of their career, then they'll be more inclined to serve their overlords faithfully. That's my take on why we don't see widespread Psion desertion in Destiny. That or they have bombs implanted in their skulls, but hey, I'd like there to be a couple rays of sunshine in this grim fictional universe.
On the Eliksni side of things, they're a very feudalism-orientated culture similar to Europe of the Middle Ages. Kells are like monarchs, Barons are vassals to those Kells similar to lords, Captains are lesser nobles who serve both Kells and Barons, and then there's the other warrior castes that bear similarities. Vandals and Marauders are trained men-at-arms, while Dregs are a general militia made up of commoners. Usually there'd be noncombatants, but I'd doubt that would be the case with the Fallen, considering the state of their civilization.
Dregs are sometimes dishonoured warriors. Removing arms is a harsh punishment to endure for already proven warriors, but the Fallen do it ritualistically, likely not only to punish, but to convey loyalty to the House they serve. Most Eliksni will go through it, aside from highborn heirs to aristocrats.
Wretches, however, are solely those who have committed great acts of dishonour and aren't even allowed a firearm because their shame is so great. Maybe those ranking above the Wretches just don't trust them with a gun.
Honour is a tricky subject when the culture is based on ruthless pirate aliens, but again I'll draw connections to codes of chivalry. The Eliksni of House Scar had standards, but rules are a bit... iffy. The things knights of old could get away with...
Suffice to say I enjoy history.