Things were surprisingly calm now as Priscilla and Coal ducked out an alley and out onto the open streets of Eitrivatnen. Dark smoke could still be seen rising into the sky from where the trireme still burned, billowing up over the rooftops of the harbor warehouses and blotting out the sun to cast the street in shade. Far away the battle could still be heard raging on, but for now Priscilla gave no thought to whether Herleif and his Vikings had made it past the barracks yet. She had her own mission to focus on now, and unlike the Jarl she didn't have an army to help back her up. All she had was one grumpy Conqueror.
"We need to get out of sight," Coal hissed as he ran after Priscilla down the long empty street. The place looked abandoned, with not a sign of a peasant or soldier in sight. Everyone had probably been evacuated prior to the attack, or worse, burned by the Pyre long ago for some drummed up act of heresy.
Priscilla ran quickly, leading on despite Coal's protests. "This is the quickest way, and we must hurry. Herleif is sure to have noticed our absence by now," she panted through her helmet, "If I were you, I'd save your breath and start thinking up a good excuse for when we regroup with the horde."
Whether Coal took her words to heart was unclear, but regardless the two traveled in silence past the closed doors of warehouses and cluttered apartments, running by stalls that had been cleared of all their wares and valuables before the Vikings had a chance of getting their hands on them. In a way Priscilla was surprised that the Divine Pyre hadn't just burned the entire harbor to the ground, and let the Vikings waste their time shifting through the ash. It certainly seemed their style, but she supposed that even fanatics needed a place to live.
Further up the street the sound of quick footsteps could be heard echoing off the stone walls. Priscilla skidded to a halt and ducked behind a market stall, with Coal quickly dropping down next to her. Steadying her breath, Priscilla glanced around the corner of the stall, spotting a column of Pyre foot soldiers running quickly across the lane towards the lake. They all carried shields and spears, and a Conqueror in a fine gambeson studded with metal plates and full helmet fashioned like a skull ran beside them.
"He has better armor then me," Coal complained over her shoulder, "This stuff Beaufort gave me when I got out isn't even half as good." His armor, though strong, was most definitely worn by someone else before him. Or a few people even. A tattered tabard, rough pants with little protection, and an old set of pauldrons that left the rest of his arms completely bare. At least his helmet seemed to be in good condition, hiding his face so completely that Priscilla wasn't sure she would be able to pick Coal out of a crowd without it.
"Would you like to go ask if you swap outfits, or would you rather let them all pass by?" Priscilla asked.
Coal didn't answer, and so they remained where they were and waited until the foot soldiers were out of sight and all was clear. Without a word Priscilla sprang out of cover and began to take off down the street again. Taking a right down the direction the Pyre Conqueror and soldiers had come from, she glanced up and spotted a large domed building rising above the rest. "There, that's where he is supposed to be. Let's go."
They ran on, across streets and through alley ways until they had reached the large building. Priscilla hugged the wall carefully, keeping a sharp eye for anyone who might be standing guard, and soon saw two figures at the building's entrance. A Lawbringer and a Warden, both looking off towards the direction of the battle that could be heard over the surrounding rooftops. "Come on. We can take them while their backs are turned," Coal said, inching forward past her to move towards the Pyre Knights. Before he got to far though she grabbed him by his arm, pointing over to a forgotten cart that was perfect for reaching the lower levels of windows along the building's sides. She tapped her head at him, and Coal yanked his arm out of her grip as they both ran low to the cart.
It was easy to work open the wooden panel that covered the window with her dagger, and with practiced ease she slipped inside and crouched low until she was sure the room was empty. It looked like a storage room, full of crates piled high up towards the ceiling, and she was thankful that whoever had filled it had decided to leave the window unblocked. Coal fumbled his way in after her, but managed to stay silent enough that she didn't feel the need to scold him like a child. Stepping out of the room, she found herself in a long hallway that stretched to the left and right. The walls were lined with doors that showed no numbers, or had any distinctive mark that would set one out from the other.
"Shit. Which one?" Coal asked when he came up behind her, turning to look one way down the hall and then the other, "He could be in any one of these rooms."
"Patience," Priscilla urged, "Keep a calm head, and think of another way to solve our problem other than just bashing down doors with your shield." Turning to the right, she took a few steps and then stopped. She turned back again, headed down the left side of the hall and nodded. "Smell that? That sting in the air?"
Coal tilted his head up and gave a couple of loud sniffs. "Yeah. Smells just like out on the dock, just before that ship caught fire and blew up."
"Right. And it's stronger in this direction. He's this way."
There was no one else in sight as they made their way down the hall, and with each step the acrid smell was growing stronger. Priscilla counted ten doors on either side before she bid Coal to stop, and pointed down to the bottom of the eleventh door to her right. There was a flickering of light coming through the space beneath the door, something the rest were clearly absent of.
Coal gripped his shield tight, and was about to drop the head of his flail when Priscilla stopped him. "Aren't we going in?" he asked in a hushed whisper just after the Peacekeeper put up a finger against her helmet for him to be quiet.
"I am," she said, pulling out a cloth and small vial of yellow venom from a pouch on her belt. She pulled a little cork from the bottle's top, then draped the cloth over it and turned the bottle up to let it soak. With that she capped the bottle and put it away, and proceeded to draw out her dagger and wipe the blade down with the wet cloth until it had a slick sheen over its metal surface. "You're staying here to guard the door. If anyone comes to get in, don't let them."
Coal looked her up and down as if he was offended to come all this way just to stand guard. "What are you going to do? Won't he know that you're not with the Pyre as soon as he looks at you?" he asked, gesturing at her colors of red and white.
Priscilla put the cloth away and angled her dagger blade up behind her wrist, hiding the pommel in the grip of her hand. "I have a feeling he won't. I think this man sees only what he wants to see. He's proud, too proud for his own good. And that is why he has to die." Then before Coal could protest further, she opened the door and slipped inside alone.
The room was lit by a dozen candles set upon wall fixtures about the place, giving it a rather cozy feel except for the sharp smell in the air that stung her nose. It was a large room, but the amount of clutter and equipment packed on tables and shelves that adorned the walls made it seem closed in. Priscilla saw stacks and stacks of noted paper and books all across the floor and stuck to the walls, and the ceiling was lined with dry herbs and flowers that hung upside down like withered bats. On the far wall were two open windows to try and air out the smell, and a long table topped with vials and beakers of all shapes and sizes. Most were full of bubbling liquid that flowed from one beaker to another.
There was a noise off to her left, and Priscilla looked to see a lone man dressed in ornate dark robes and a small breastplate of dark metal. He was busy packing equipment into a crate packed with straw, unaware that she had entered the room. The side of the crate was marked by lettering she did not understand, but knew it belonged to the people of the Wu Lin.
"Li Qiang?" Priscilla asked quietly, naming the man who had been listed in her correspondence with Beaufort as her latest target, and causing the Wu Lin man to snap up and whirl around to look at her. He looked younger then she had thought, with dark intelligent eyes and a neatly trimmed beard and mustache around his lips. His head was topped by a small round hat, that rose up in the back like some kind of ornamentation, no doubt to show some form of rank among his own people.
Li Qiang's eyes narrowed as he looked at Priscilla, and his hand went to the table to hover over the hilt of a long single edged blade, the sword given to all Wu Lin warriors of the Zhanhu warrior class. "Who are you?" he asked, his voice sharp with a foreign accent, and had the sense that he was one that felt comfortable giving commands to others.
"My commanders have bid me to come and fetch you," Priscilla answered with a curt bow of her head, choosing not to give her name, "The Vikings are pushing deeper into the city. We must make our escape."
The Zhanhu didn't move from where he was standing, and neither did his hand move away from the pommel of his sword. Priscilla waited for him to do something, to notice her colors and realize that she was not a member of the Divine Pyre come to escort him to safety, but that moment never came. "Have your leaders failed so completely in the defense of the harbor that they already flee in the face of contemptuous barbarians?" he spat, "Where are my guards?"
Priscilla imagined that he was used to low ranking Pyre soldiers crumbling under his wrath, but she stood unwavering against his venom. "They are still at their post keeping the watch, and I have my orders, sir. We must go."
Li Qiang stared at her for a moment longer, and she could tell by the look in his eyes that he wanted to take her remark as an insult to his authority. Within this personal sanctuary in a foreign land he would wield what power he could, and loathed the idea of anyone coming in and usurping that power away from him. But a great clamor arose from outside the window that took his attention, and a savage howling could be heard from not far off. Li Qiang let out a hiss of aggravation, but abandoned his sword and went back to packing the crate full of equipment. "Very well. But don't touch anything! Much of this equipment is unique and created only in my homeland. Here among you less enlightened lot it is all priceless."
In a way Priscilla couldn't help but think that Li Qiang was just boasting now, but since he was distracted by his work she casually walked over to the piles of notes that were spaced about. Picking one up, she was dismayed to find it all written in Wu Lin script, and had no idea what the notes said. Even if it had been what she was looking for, she would have no way of knowing for sure. "What about these?" she asked the Zhanhu, "I can help. Surely you don't mind me packing some paper away?"
"Do not touch!" Li Qiang spat again, standing up to glare at Priscilla angrily, "I do not know which of your commanders sent you, but I made it very clear when I arrived that this area was meant to be mine, for my work alone. Your hands are unworthy to touch it! I have spent my whole life on this endeavor, and I will not see it ruined now."
Priscilla dropped the note she had been holding and crossed the room to the Zhanhu. He stiffened up before her, not having expected her to stand against him so easily. "Listen. Do you hear that?" she asked, letting him take note of the sound of battle happening outside the window in the harbor, "That is the sound of a blood crazed Viking horde coming to desecrate everything you have worked for with their unworthy, filthy, vile hands. Yourself included. So if I were you, I would care a little less about your esteemed work, and tell me how I can help so we can get the fuck out of here before they arrive. Clear?" Her fingers tightened around the grip of her dagger still hidden against her arm, and it was hard not to drive the blade into the Zhanhu's stomach right then. But killing Li Qiang wasn't the only part of her mission just then. She still needed his notes, his formula for the fire that the Pyre had used out on the lake. If she didn't secure them first, there was no telling where they would end up, or if they could be deciphered by anyone else.
Li Qiang remained still as stone as they stared at each other. The room was filled only with the sound raging from outside the window, but soon he raised his hand and pointed over to a table of small chests before speaking. "Those need to go in a larger crate that you can carry. I will need them to continue what was started here. The rest can be left for the barbarians." The way he looked at Priscilla was as hard as and full of disdain as ever, but the tone in his voice had softened a bit. As she had expected, all it had taken to rob the man of his bravado was to come at him with some of her own.
Slowly backing away, Priscilla turned and was careful to keep her dagger hidden from view. She stepped over to the table with the crates, bringing one closer.. Taking a moment to glance over her shoulder, she saw that Li Qiang had gone back to packing, and so carefully opened the lid to examine what was inside. More notes, but this time not all of it was written just in Wu Lin characters. They had been translated so that the commanders of the Divine Pyre could understand them, and set their own alchemists and engineers to producing enough of the Zhanhu's fire to outfit all of their ships. "This is the formula for the weapon used out on the lake?" she asked, flipping through the notes and seeing that the rest were translated as well.
Li Qiang turned to look at her, but for once he didn't seem concerned that she was going through his things. "You were there? You saw the battle?" he asked quickly, a hint of excitement creeping up in his voice, "How did it go? The Vikings made landfall, but surely they took many casualties in the effort. Lost many ships." It was a statement of fact, not a question that he asked her. In his mind there was no way that his creation could fail at its terrible task.
"Yes, I saw it," Priscilla answered grimly, as the terrible memory was still fresh in her mind, "It was truly a wonder to behold, powerful and frightening. I would say that it was superior numbers that allowed the heathens to slip through, but surely even their gods suffered in pain as their men and ships burned upon the lake."
Li Qiang let out a hearty laugh and gave a quick clap of his hands, turning towards his equipment and opening his arms out wide. "What joyous news! May the Emperor and his sniveling dog Sun Da, wither and fade from history at my triumphant success! I told that fool Emperor that I would make him a weapon to lay waste to his enemies and conquer the world, but he would not listen. That snake Sun Da whispered in his master's ear, and bid him to cast me out because he was afraid of what I could accomplish. Oh how it tore at my soul to come crawling to these volcano worshipers, but it has been worth it in the end. My fire will burn and cleanse the world, and the Wu Lin will suffer for ever thinking that I was anything less then a genius!"
"So these are in fact the formula then?" Priscilla asked again.
"What?" Li Qiang snapped, confused as to how anyone would be anything less then struck dumb by the marvel that was his greatness. "Of course it is, you ignorant fool! Have you heard nothing I just said?"
Priscilla smiled, though it was hidden behind the face plate of her helm. "I think I've heard everything I needed to hear." Snapping the lid of the chest shut, she turned and threw herself at Li Qiang. He let out a yelp as she slammed him back against the table, sending priceless equipment crashing to the floor as she brought her dagger up and stabbed it between his ribs. Once, twice, three times she drove the poisoned blade into him, between the dark plates of his armor, sending hot blood spraying across the floor as Li Qiang screamed in pain. She shoved him against the table again as she backed away, letting him drop to the floor in a heap.
Li Qiang clutched his bloody side as he sat among his broken instruments, gasping to fill his lungs after all the air had been forced out of them. "You... you filthy... cretin..." he stammered, reaching up to grab the tables edge and try to pull himself up to his feet. He stumbled, hissing in pain as he clutched his side. "How dare you! Have you... no honor?"
"Honor is for fools. I find quick blades work better to get me what I want." Priscilla answered calmly as she turned back to the chests of formula and notes. Just as the Zhanhu had suggested, she began placing the chests into a larger crate to carry out of the room. That was when a shout from outside caught her attention, and she looked towards the door and heard the sound of clashing metal echo from out in the hall. They had been discovered, and Coal would have to hold out until she had everything packed and ready to go. She would have to be quick, and turned back to the table to put the last few crates away so she could make her escape.
The long edge of a Zhanhu's blade cleaved down onto a chest just as she was about to pick it up, causing her to yelp in surprise as she jumped away. Whirling around, she saw Li Qiang back on his feet, sword in hand. His face was covered in sweat as the wound and poison began to take its toll, but for now he still very much alive. "You will find... that I am much harder to kill... than that," he seethed at her through clenched teeth.
Priscilla began to back up to give herself room as Li Qiang pointed his elegant sword at her. She drew her own sword free of its scabbard, taking up a low guard with her dagger raised. "Are you sure you would not rather spend your last moments in peace?" she asked, looking at how Li Qiang was still clutching his wounded side even as he held up his sword, "I'm afraid you are not long for this world, and that sword of yours is going to take two hands to wield if you wish to fight."
A grimace flashed across Li Qiang's face, of pain or perhaps anger, and slowly he brought his shaking hand away from his bleeding side, bringing it up to grasp tightly the lower half of his sword grip despite all the blood. "I will not lay down and die... like a dog for who do not know their place before greatness. I... am Li Qiang, of the Zhanhu!"
"Have it your way then." Priscilla said, and rushed at Li Qiang. Striking with her sword from the right, she quickly feinted and gave a flourish to distract her dagger stabbing from above. For all the pain that Li Qiang was in, he still had the clarity to recognize the misdirection and block the dagger as it swiped at his head. He countered with swing of his own, not having the room to jab at her while she was so close. At the last second she ducked under the blade, stabbing her dagger at his knee, but he spun his long sword around in an arc to deflect her blade from landing. She was caught in a bad position, crouched low near the ground and unable to be as nimble. Li Qiang saw this, flicking his sword up towards the ceiling and striking the pommel into her face to send her dropping back on her rear.
"Die, you fool!" Li Qiang hissed, raising his sword above his head to bring it slicing down into her. Priscilla lifted herself and rolled out of the way just as the sword crashed into the floor. She had escaped death, but was still vulnerable as long as she remained off of her feet. Luckily her saving grace came as Li Qiang raised his sword for another strike, but over extended himself as the wound to his side caused him to gasp in pain and drop his stance. Priscilla scrambled back, rolled up onto her feet and pressed the attack. Her foe was wounded, but had proven that as long as he was alive he was still a threat.
Li Qiang stumbled backwards, doing what he could to dodge Priscilla's sword and dagger, but he could only go so far before he bumped into the long table behind him. He screamed in rage, and took a wild swing at Priscilla with none of the skill that he had shown before. His strength was failing him, his stamina spent, and Priscilla easily dodged out of the way of his blade, stepping in once she was clear to stab her sword into his thigh. The sharp metal cut cleanly through flesh and muscle to pierce out the other side of his leg. Li Qiang dropped, no longer having the ability to stand and slumped back against the table until he landed on the floor.
Priscilla withdrew her weapon, letting it drip crimson as she stood up straight and kicked Li Qiang's weapon from his hand. It clattered across the floor out of reach. Li Qiang watched it go, his fingers still twitching from where he had just gripped the pommel in his hand. Even in his weak state Priscilla could still see the fire in his eyes, the hate, an unflinching denial that this was in fact the end. He slowly turned his gaze up to her, face pale and covered with sweat from the poison coursing through his veins. A trickle of blood rolled down from within his nose until it slipped into his mustache and over his lips. "W-why...?" he gasped out, unable to understand why his dream of fame and glory was coming to an end in some unimportant room and at the hands of a faceless assassin without honor.
"Like I said, I have my orders," Priscilla answered, standing above Li Qiang now and waiting to see the light leave his eyes. She could still hear the fighting going on outside the door in the hall, but she would not turn her back on the Zhanhu again until she knew for certain that he was dead. It would have been easy to end it with another cut across his throat, or a stab into his skull, but after all the talk he had done she was happy just to watch and listen to him choke on his own blood. "Did you not know, in all of your infinite wisdom? When great men try to burn as brightly as the sun, there are always others who will seek to snuff him out."
Li Qiang gave a harsh cough, splattering bloody spittle all over his chin and chest. He took a wheezing breath and tried to push himself up from the floor, only to fall back again. The look of pain on his face, it was like he was wracked more by humiliation then actual pain. He slumped back against the table, panting as he draped an arm across himself to clutch at his wounded side.
"Your treachery... may have robbed me... of my rightful glory, assassin," he said, making his last words bite with his dying breaths, staring with a fiery hatred at his killer, "but know... that my work will never rest in the hands... of an unworthy... worm!"
All too late did Priscilla realize that Li Qiang wasn't pressing his hand to his side, but was instead reaching bloody fingers into a pouch hanging from his belt. With his last ounce of strength he hurled something unseen up towards the candles that hung over the table where the notes and formula sat. Priscilla saw what looked to be a black needle soar through the air and into the flickering flame with incredible accuracy, and everything became a blinding flash as the needle sparked and exploded before her eyes.
For a brief moment she was reminded of watching colorful fireworks flash and burst over the grand towers of Beaufort as a child. Back when her mother and father would take her to the spring festivals, and she would hold their hands as they all watched the delightful and dazzling lights burst and flicker, like glittering jewels in the night sky. It had been years since she had thought of such things, and it made her stomach twist now to think that it was only in the face of death that she would look back fondly on simpler times.
Now there was nothing dazzling or delightful about the soft candle light becoming a raging inferno through Wu Lin sorcery. Jumping backwards, she watched as fire flew outwards from the candle fixture, splashing against tables, notes and boxes like water upon rocks. Everything the fire touched instantly ignited, until half the room was burning as bright like a pyre, smoke billowing towards the open windows, and all while the needle in the candle was still sparking with deadly power.
"No!" Priscilla shouted, having to shield her eyes from the hot blaze, but knew that she had to do something to save the formula before they were all lost. The loose paper stacked around the table instantly blackened and burned to ash, but with any luck the wooden chests would at least protect the formula long enough to give her a chance to save them. The fire was spreading quickly, and it burned hot enough to make her eyes water beneath her helmet anytime she glanced at the bright flames. Summoning her courage, she took a breath to protect her lungs from the heat and then dashed forward into the fire, making a mad grab for the crate that she had been packing and pulled it off the table and onto the stone floor. It was already well engulfed by flame, and she hastily pulled her torn piece of tabard from around the neck and patted it over the chest to smother the flames.
To her dismay though, much of what was inside already looked to be charred and blackened, the pages of parchment and scrolls already brittle and crinkled. The precious translations had become faded or all together illegible, but as Priscilla dug through the pages she found some towards the bottom of the crate that were in better condition. She pulled them out of the smoking crate, and when she knew they would not crumble under her touch she folded them up and stuck them into a pouch on her belt. Then she took hold of her dagger again and rounded on Li Qiang, fully intent on making his last moments as painful as possible for the trouble he had caused.
"You arrogant bastard!" she snarled, but she soon realized that her insult was meaningless as she looked over Li Qiang's unmoving body. The Zhanhu had dealt with her treachery with one last trick of his own, one last weapon of his own creation, and then had slipped from this world with no more boasts to give. His eyes remained open, but lifeless, and Priscilla knew that he was dead.
Muttering another curse, Priscilla looked over towards the spreading fire and wondered if it was worth trying to grab anything else that might have been worth something to her superiors. Another violent spark from the hellish candle made her think twice about it though, so instead she gripped her sword and dagger and made a dash for the door, hearing that Coal was still in the middle of dealing with their uninvited guests.
She burst out of the door and back into the hallway, and found the Conqueror's flail on the floor absent it's wielder. Looking up, her heart dropped into her stomach as she spotted Coal across the hall fighting against a purple and gold Warden that had grappled him from behind, and had the deadly blade of his longsword tight across Coal's neck and threatening to take his head. She realized that it was the Warden who had been guarding the front entrance, but there was no sign of the Lawbringer around.
Coal was struggling to get the Warden off of him, but managed to look over and see that she had returned from her business with their target. "Priscilla... look out!" he grunted, forcing the words out as the Warden's weapon pressed against his throat.
Priscilla stiffened and quickly dropped into a defensive stance, but a flash of movement to her right soon alerted her to the source of his warning. Turning, she expected to see the Lawbringer from earlier coming at her with poleaxe in hand, but instead the image of a golden eagle wreathed in flame, the very symbol of the Divine Pyre, was rushing at her face.
The decorated shield hit her like a ship smashing against a rocky shore with the weight of the person behind it, and Priscilla flew off of her feet and fell to the ground hard on her shoulder. Her grip on her dagger failed, and it fell from her hand and clattered away, leaving her just with her narrow sword which she tried to bring up against whoever it was that that attacked her. But a heavy leather boot slammed down upon her wrist, pinning it to the ground and making her howl in pain, and she looked up to see the skull faced Conqueror that they had seen on the street earlier. He stood up above her, giving a wicked laugh that gave a hollow echo beneath his skull helm, but to her surprise, neither his diamond shaped shield or the metal ball of his flail came crashing down to cave in her head. Instead he lifted his boot and kicked it hard into her ribs, making her wheeze as the wind was driven from her, and then slammed his foot back down onto her chest to keep her pinned.
That was when she heard the wicked voice of the large figure coming closer with heavy clanking of armor echoing down the hall. "Hold her steady now. Wouldn't want to miss and chop off your leg, eh?" laughed the black armored Lawbringer, coming into view over Priscilla and looking down at her like she was a sick dog that needed to be put out of its misery.
One look at the sharp poleaxe in the Lawbringer's hand was all it took for Priscilla to begin fighting again. Winded as she was though from that kick to her ribs, she was too weak to do anything with her sword that the Conqueror wouldn't see coming and block with his shield, and so she did whatever she could to writhe and press against the man's weight to dislodge his boot. But the Conqueror just looked down at her and laughed again, lifting his boot for a brief moment only to slam it back down and make her cry out in pain. "She's a squirmer, alright," he said, the evil smile he wore clear in the sound of his voice, "just like all Peacekeepers. Small, nimble, and easy to fucking break!" His foot slammed down on her again, and again, and again, until Priscilla thought that her heart would burst within her rib cage before the Lawbringer's axe ever met her neck.
"Alright! Alright! Enough of your fun. Now get out of the way," the Lawbringer chastised, physically pushing the mad Conqueror back a bit just so he could get a chance of killing the Peacekeeper like he wanted. Taking his poleaxe in both hands, he braced his feet and then lowered the curved blade down across Priscilla's throat, taking the time to make a show of aiming his cut.
Coal screamed roughly against the blade at his throat, jabbing his elbow back into the Warden's ribs, but his captor weathered through the blows. "Bastards! Yellow livered shite eaters!" He howled, going so far as to grab the sharp sword at his neck and try and pull it away. Dark blood began to pool between his fingers as the blade cut through his gloves and into his skin, but still he didn't stop struggling, or hurling curses at his foes. "Two of you to kill one woman? You're all cowards! Face me like fucking men, and I'll show you why your fathers should have just spilled you into the dirt!"
"Oh no, you're going to stay right here and watch," laughed the Pyre Warden in Coal's ear, pulling his sword up tighter against his throat to silence him, "Her turn first, and then yours. Just like all you filthy heretics deserve. We're going to kill all of you, you hear me?" The eagerness in his voice spoke to his delight in the suffering of others, and he twisted Coal around so that he would have no choice but to watch as the Lawbringer took Priscilla's head, "You've already lost, and the world is now ours to burn!" How such a man could have worked his way up to the noble position of Warden was a sad mystery, but he was exactly the type to be attracted to the radical and violent ways of the Divine Pyre as they spread their wickedness across the land.
Priscilla never stopped fighting, never stopped clawing at the Conqueror's boot, or kicking out her legs to throw off his weight. But even with all of that effort, it never stopped the Lawbringer from raising his axe up into the air, or stopped her eyes squeezing shut as she thought that this might be her end. This wasn't how she wanted it to happen.
Not here. Not for this cause.
She knew it was unfair, given that she had just done the same thing to Li Qiang, whose lifeless body now burned in some unmarked storage room instead of enjoying the adoration of his peers. It wasn't fair, but it was the truth. Not that she would ever admit it openly before the end though. She couldn't give these Pyre bastards the satisfaction.
"May the fiery pits of Hell cleanse your soul forevermore, heretic," the Lawbringer announced, ushering in the moment of her doom. His poleaxe gave a slight sway in the air as he held it above his head, and he put all of his strength into the swing as he brought it rushing down for Priscilla's neck. Suddenly there was the great stomping of feet coming off from down the hall, and Priscilla saw the Lawbringer pull up his poleaxe short, that metal helmet turning to look at something she couldn't see.
"Odin!" Gunnar shouted with all the breath in his lungs as he came rushing at the Lawbringer, calling out for the one eyed god to witness him as he lowered his shoulders and charged like a raging bull. He slammed into the Lawbringer and took him off of his feet, then lifted himself upright and flipped the armored Knight up into the air. The Lawbringer tumbled ass over head, and landed with a great crash of clanking armor upon his back.
The thud with which he landed was so great that the Conqueror standing on top of Priscilla lost his footing, giving the small, nimble, and very angry Peacekeeper the ability to slip free and kick his other leg out from under him. The Conqueror fell backwards, but Priscilla was too winded to press the attack. Instead she retreated back, rolling up onto one knee and making a grab for her fallen dagger before rising to her feet.
Gunnar stopped his charge and pivoted on one foot, bringing his axe up over head and swinging it down into the Lawbringer's chest before he got the wind back into his lungs and get up again. The shining blade of the Dane axe chopped into the Lawbringer's breastplate, cleaving metal and driving through mail, cloth, muscle and bone. The Lawbringer yelled out with a sharp cry of pain that quickly turned into a wet gurgle. Gunnar laughed, and ripped his axe free of the dead man in a spray of gore and blood.
The sudden and deadly appearance of the Viking Raider was enough to distract the Pyre Warden long enough for Coal to pull the longsword away from his neck, and smack his head back into the Warden's helmet. There was a muffled grunt, and Coal felt the Warden's grip on the sword loosen. That was all he needed to pull the weapon away for himself, shoving the Warden away with a push of his shoulders, and spun around to spear the point of the sword through his enemy's gut. Hot blood spilled out over his hands as he drove the blade deep, and Coal growled in anger as he watched the Warden double over and die upon his own sword.
He would have liked to make it last, to see the Pyre bastard suffer. A twist of the blade to make him scream, or to let him bleed out slowly while holding his guts in. It was more than the Warden deserved, knowing what the Pyre had done to northern Ashfeld in the absence of law and order. It would have been justice, but Coal knew that not all who had done wrong received the sentence they deserved. So instead he angled the blade upward inside of the Warden, spearing his vital organs to help speed his way to whatever damnation awaited him in the next life. He tossed the Warden away with a sound of disgust, letting him fall in a heap upon the floor, already forgotten as Coal turned his attention to the other Conqueror getting back up onto his feet.
Coal ran at the Pyre Conqueror, for his flail still lay by the door near where the man stood. His shield would protect him, but if he hoped to take on this warrior of his own order, then he would need that weapon in his hand to win. He saw the skull helmet give a shake as the Conqueror cleared his head, and then their eyes met in a moment of clarity where each man knew only one of them would be walking away from this meeting. Coal charged on, and as the Pyre Knight whipped up his own flail to strike, Coal ducked under the metal ball and chain, hearing it rush past him as he hit the ground and rolled over to his dropped flail. His fingers curled around the wooden shaft, and as he got up to his feet he saw the swing from his enemy coming at him with deadly force. Coal hunkered down behind his shield, and when he felt the force of the contact between wood and metal he knocked the weapon away. Roaring like a god of war, he swung the heavy ball of his own flail upward with a powerful underhanded swing. The Pyre Conqueror had been knocked off balance by Coal's shield, and the skull face Knight was helpless to block the incoming attack as he caught the spiked flail just under his chin.
Coal felt the impact of metal against bone reverberate up his arm, and then he never stopped swinging. In a flurry of movement, he brought his flail back and forth across his enemy's head, until the skull shaped helmet scarcely resembled a human head at all. The Pyre Conqueror's face was left a mangled wreck of metal and glistening blood by Coal's flail, but still he was not done. Coal might think that he owed Beaufort very little after the years they had cast him away forgotten in a cell, but he was not one to sit idle and watch as the one person who was supposed to have his back was beaten and nearly killed right before his eyes. Whipping his flail around over his head, he caught the Conqueror in the side of the face, and sent him reeling like a spinning top.
The Pyre Conqueror whirled drunkenly on his feet, and spun around backwards straight into Gunnar's axe. The Raider had been waiting for him, and slammed his weapon straight into the Conqueror's stomach, forcing the Knight up off his feet with the power of the blow. Gunnar kept his momentum going strong, picking the Pyre Knight up and spinning him around on the blade of his axe, until he suddenly stopped with a jerk and sent the bloodied man flying off down the hall like a discarded doll. Gunnar roared with laughter to see him go, watching until the man crashed to the stone floor, and went still.
"Aah! What a fight! Too bad there was no one here to fucking see it!" Gunnar shouted, stomping a foot in frustration despite the gleeful smile spread across his lips, "How is a man supposed to be put into songs and legends if the only ones to witness him are a pair of half witted Knights too weak to save themselves? This is no way to fight a war."
Coal flashed the Raider an angry glare, having no time for his boasting or ego stroking, but doubtless the Viking did not see the look from beneath Coal's helmet. "Are you alright?" Coal asked, looking to Priscilla now. He was panting hard, shoulders heaving as the battle rage still clung to him, but his voice was thick with concern.
Priscilla didn't answer him at first. Even though she still gripped her dagger in her hand, she rubbed at her bruised chest and collarbone with her closed fist, feeling like it would be ages before she could breathe properly again. "I'm fine," she said quietly, swallowing hard as she pushed down the feeling of the Lawbringer's axe against her throat and willed herself to bury the memory. She was alive, and the Pyre Knights were all dead. There was no point now in thinking about what could have been. Instead she forced herself to focus on what was important, sheathing her blades and taking the opportunity to touch the pouch at her hip that contained the Zhanhu's formula. "I'm good. We should get moving before more arrive. Someone might have heard all of that."
"You want to go?" Gunnar asked mockingly, leaning forward and cocking his head like he hadn't heard Priscilla properly, "But I have only just arrived. And you two seemed so eager to run off by yourselves that I thought you must be on some great adventure, and I did not want to be left behind." He planted the end of his long axe against the ground, and leaned forward against it as he looked between the smaller Conqueror and Peacekeeper. "So please, be so kind as to tell me what in Hel's wicked name you two morons are doing here away from the rest of the fighting? In case you had forgotten, you're supposed to be guiding my brother to the center of the harbor!"
Priscilla didn't bother to look at Gunnar as he spoke. Her gaze was on the black armored Lawbringer who lay dead in a pool of dark blood. But Coal bristled under the Raider's question. "It is none of your concern, Viking. If we wanted to include you in our secret adventures, we would have asked."
Gunnar dropped his head and gave it a shake before looking at the pair of Knights again. Standing up straight, he brought up his axe behind his head and let the long haft rest across his shoulders. "And does the fire have anything to do with these secrets that you're hiding? Something you would rather Herleif and the other Jarls not see?" He gave a nod of his head towards one of the doors in the hall, bringing Coal's attention to the black smoke curling from the crack above the floor. "I saw the plume coming from one of the windows outside. You are lucky that I did, or else our dear Peacekeeper here would be even smaller by a head."
Coal wanted to kick himself for playing into Gunnar's games, and in the process giving away more than he should. It was such a little slip, but still the barbarian had pieced more together about what he and Priscilla were doing then he would have thought. "If your are expecting us to thank you, you would have better luck asking the Divine Pyre to surrender peacefully." Coal growled.
That cocky grin appeared on Gunnar's lips again, and his eyes narrowed beneath his helmet. "I expect answers, my friend. Now, you can either tell me here, or you can answer to the Jarls once the harbor is taken. I can already guess as to what Ivar the Red will ask once he learns of this. He will ask Erik why waste time trying to sort through lies, when we can just carve the eagle into your backs instead."
"We were here for him," Priscilla snapped, pointing down at the dead Lawbringer that she had been staring at for so long. Gunnar and Coal were both so surprised by her sudden outburst that neither of them could speak for a moment, but instead looked down at the Lawbringer to which Priscilla pointed and then back at her. Coal took a step back from the limp body, as if there was now something about it that he wasn't aware of.
"And who is he?" Gunnar asked, not sounding totally convinced by this news, "The King of Ashfeld perhaps? Or perhaps he was the god Loki, come in disguise to play tricks and make a mess of your schemes? Seems like just another cultist to me."
Priscilla looked at Gunnar for a long moment, and then her shoulder's slumped somehow admitting defeat. "Every cultist was once someone else, before the Pyre came. This one was my brother," she said quietly, her fits curling into tight balls at her side.
This caused the air to slip from Gunnar's sails for a moment. The grin he wore quickly vanished, and suddenly he didn't seem to stand so tall and imposing. "Your brother?" he answered back, that revelation being one of the last things he had been expecting.
Coal was just as surprised as the Raider was to hear this, only he kept that information to himself and did his best to keep his body calm and unflinching. If Priscilla had a tale to weave, then he was going to keep his mouth shut and leave her to her craft.
"Yes. My older brother, Gerard," Priscilla said, looking back down at the Lawbringer who was supposedly her kin, "Not that I see it being any of your business, but he joined with the Divine Pyre once the cult began to spread throughout the north. I do not know why he joined, or how they were able to sink their wickedness into his mind and ruin everything that was good in him, but he was lost to my family before we could even try to save him." Her head snapped back up to look at Gunnar, and her whole body went stiff as if she meant to take him down like a mighty oak. "And we did, Raider, we did try to save him! Or at least my parent's did. I was away on assignment when it happened, but I received the news not long after the fact. He killed them. Our parents. They were only trying to help him, to get him to see sense, and he butchered them like animals! Like criminals meant for the Lawbringer's block!"
She was shaking now, and even Coal had to admit that her performance was impressive. Given all that had happened with the Divine Pyre's rise to power, it was not far off to imagine that her story was indeed truth. It had after all happened to many families across the north, and Priscilla might have well taken the story from any one of them to fool Gunnar. To call her a liar would be to laugh at the suffering of thousands of innocent people and families, and Coal doubted that a bloodthirsty Viking could even be that cruel. Or at least he hoped so, for the sake of their mission.
Priscilla was not done yet selling her story, and she took a step closer to Gunnar, craning her neck up at him as she bit with steel in her voice. "I was told that later he displayed their heads in the village square, where the Pyre was dealing with all of those they found unworthy of the faith. Do you know what it was that he said, when he put their heads on stakes and let my mother and father rot in the sun?" Her voice trembled as she spoke, actually trembled, as if she were shedding real tears now beneath her helmet, "He said, 'Let the souls of these heretics burn, and feed the power of the holy mountain of fire. And let the world be better for it'. That is what my brother said, and I swore then that I would find him one day I would find him, and kill him for what he had done."
Gunnar held his gaze on Priscilla all through her story, and he did not say a word until she was done. His mouth was pressed into a hard line beneath his beard, his eyes little more then slits as he tried to find any hole or weakness in her tale. Dropping his axe from his shoulders, he slowly stroked the braid of his beard, the corners of his lips twitching before he spoke. "I heard him call you a heretic as I approached. He seemed to care little to have his sister's neck beneath his axe."
"We are all heretics in their eyes." Priscilla hissed, "There is no middle ground with these fanatics, no thought for the ways of others. You are either with them, or you are an enemy to be put down. You can not reason with them, not out of love, or a family's bond, or friendship. They are nothing but damned souls worshiping their God forsaken mountain, and they deserve nothing but a swift blade to put them down before their madness spreads further to destroy more lives."
This was all true, and was part of the reason that they were all here fighting for the harbor in the first place. Or at least it could be said for what remained of the Lion Flame Legion. For the Vikings of Valkenheim, they were here for plunder and riches, and the chance to spill some blood for their savage gods. Coal wondered if he and Priscilla could say that they belonged to either group, as the ones they would answered to when this was all over belonged to neither.
"But what of the fire?" Gunnar asked, trying to work out the connection between the burning room and the fight in the hall in his mind, "How did that get started?"
Priscilla knew better then to follow along with the Raider's line of questions, and instead turned things back around against him with a dismissive wave of her hand. "Look, I am sorry that we left, but I had business to deal with before we look to the volcano and the Walled City. I vowed to kill my brother for his crimes, and there was nothing that was going to stop me. Not you, not your brother, and sure as shit not some threat of having my back split open. I waited long enough for my revenge, and honestly I couldn't give two licks of a pigs ass as to what you and your brother think of it."
Gunnar blinked in surprised, but wouldn't be deterred so easily by a foul quip. "How did the fire start? What was in that room?" He growled, pointing over to the smoke still wafting out into the hall.
"Her family's things. Or what was left of them," Coal interjected, feeling like he should say something to make himself at least look somewhat included in Priscilla's plans. "Everything that Gerard had stolen from her. We found the room before the fight broke out. She wanted to get rid of it." he said, bowing his head a bit as if feeling a sense of reverence about such a noble decision. In truth he had no idea what had happened to start the flames burning inside the room, but he trusted that Gunnar wasn't about to go walking in to investigate himself. The hall was beginning to get hot from the fire behind the door, so the body of the target within had most likely burned to ash by now and was no longer of any consequence. "We need to get moving, before the fire burns down the door and we have a new problem on our hands."
Gunnar glowered at Coal, clearly wanting to argue the point more, but knew that he would gain no ground by himself against the both of them. They would each hold firm to the the story that they had told, and unless Gunnar had the ability to walk through flames or had the power to speak to the dead, there was nothing he could do to prove them wrong. He turned his stony gaze back on Priscilla, who had never turned away from him since their argument had begun. The corner's of his lips twitched again, and for the briefest of moments he seemed to squirm with the awkwardness of a youth witnessing death for the first time.
"To kill a brother must be no easy thing," he said calmly. His eyes seemed to lose a bit of their coldness, and perhaps he was thinking of his own brother as he spoke, though it did not last. "But if you are finished living in the past then perhaps you would care to help us win the battle today. Or have you forgotten your purpose here among my brother's crew?"
"Nothing would please me more, Gunnar," Priscilla said, her voice a mix of velvet and steel. She turned away from the Raider then, stepping over the dead Pyre Lawbringer without giving it another look.
Coal and Gunnar were left alone watching her go, and after a moment of silence between them the Raider looked to the Conqueror and asked, "Do you have family lurking somewhere around here too?"
"Nope. All dead." Coal said with a shake of his head, then turned to hurry off after Priscilla.
Gunnar nodded, giving one last look around at the bodies of the dead Pyre Knights and at the door that was beginning to burn with the flames licking from the other side. "Thank the gods," he mumbled, and ran after them to rejoin the battle that could still be heard off in the distance.