Chapter 29: And Longer Knives

"I count two. Exo and Shade"

"Three. I smell another of your Shades inside. With a prisoner." Kiphoris growled softly. "One of mine-banner."

"Hostage?"

"I do not think so."

"It's not torture. We would've heard screams by now. I wonder what they're up to..."

"Tell me about Shades."

Ikharos shrugged. "Strong, fast, and halfway immortal - kind of like me," he whispered. "Stab the heart and they die for good, otherwise they'll come back sooner or later. Best to kill them as quick as you can because... well, they know magic."

"Light?"

"No. Something else. It's in language form. They can kill with only a couple of words." Ikharos fidgeted; he was getting impatient. Kiphoris hobbled back behind the corner to where the Light-Thief hid and deactivated his cloaking device. "Fusion cannon probably won't kill them for good, but we might have time to catch our breath before they do."

"It would damage the Servitor," Kiphoris argued.

"I was about to say that. I could Blink in, but I'd be lucky to just kill one. The Exo would shoot me down, or the Shade'll use its sword. Could you cover me?"

"With a wire rifle, perhaps, but we do not possess one," Kiphoris grumbled. He'd have liked to have his own weapons, but they were in his personal Skiff. "Is your rifle accurate?"

"Not as much as I'd like. It's Golden Age. Anti-insurgency, not for creatures of Darkness. Or ExSec transhuman infantry, for that matter."

"Your other weapons?"

"Empty, or near enough. Apart from this." He held up a silenced pistol. "I don't know if it'll put down a Shade. Certainly not an Exo."

"Why is it humans always create the most irritating of monsters..." Kiphoris complained. "War machines, Light-Thieves, and now-"

"Don't call me that," Ikharos told him in a dark tone that brooked no argument. "Don't."

Kiphoris glared at him for a second, then went back to sorting through his weaponry. A pair of knives, three shock pistols and a few grenades. Aside from the explosives, the weapons were more suited for close-quarters. If only the Light-Thief hadn't broken his...

The idea struck him with all the clarity that the Great Machine could bestow. He swiftly turned to Ikharos and said, "Have you recovered your Light?"

"Not enough to kill, if that's what you're thinking. Anything substantial and any Shade in the area will pick up on it. I don't know how many there are, but I don't think we want to take that chance."

"Heal what you broke." Before Ikharos could respond, he continued. "If we ambush them together, there will only be one left. I will use my cloaking generator."

"That's... I suppose that's as good a plan as any," the human sighed. After a moment of conflicted hesitation, Ikharos held out a palm full of golden Light and pushed the essence in Kiphoris's direction. Kiphoris stiffened; magic never ceased to amaze and frighten him, be it Light, Awoken illusions, or Hive madness. He had to force himself to remain still as the golden energy reached him, but he was reassured when the warm presence permeated through his being without any ill results. He expected pain of some sort as chitin and bones were realigned and flesh repaired, but there was none of that. Not even a feeling of discomfort. It was a blissful sensation, and over quicker than he imagined possible.

"Don't make me regret this," Ikharos warned him.

Kiphoris narrowed his inner eyes, but refused to give the human what would have been a scathing retort. He was noble and above this pettiness. It stung to think that it had been the Light-Thief who taught him that valuable lesson. He removed his splint and gingerly move his leg. It felt as strong as ever. "I will strike first," Kiphoris grunted, and activated his cloaking generator.

Kiphoris slipped around the corner and slowly prowled down the hallway, making doubly sure that he breathed shallowly and his claws didn't clack against the floor. The two humanoid creatures didn't notice him, though from how they moved and looked around he knew they were on alert. The Exo idly cleaned its combat knife, which had been stained with Scar blood. The Shade started speaking in a low voice, and the words only just managed to reach Kiphoris. "Where's Verlaz? He should be here!"

"Maybe he got distracted," the Exo droned in a monotone voice. "I wouldn't be surprised."

The Shade turned on his companion. "Are you insinuating something?"

"Yes."

The Shade leaned dangerously close to the mechanical human. "Care to voice your concerns?"

The Exo glared right back. "We could have already been finished here, but instead your guys wanted to turn this into a bloodbath. It's unnecessary."

"It sends a message."

"Do we need to send a message? No. We wanted a controlled chaos, but instead we've got this wild mess."

The Shade glowered. "The Master's message must reach these vermin. And it will."

Kiphoris was close now. He inched closer and closer, almost in range, and... he pounced. His knife found the Shade's back and ripped through the inhuman creature's flesh, emerging from the other side with an eruption of dark mist.

"What the-" The Exo began, but Ikharos had blinked beside him and smashed his fist into the robot's sleek skull with a dull crunch. The metal buckled and cracked, and the shattered circuity beneath the ruptured outer-plate spat sparks. Ikharos caught the body and carefully lowered it to the floor.

Kiphoris would have done the same if the Shade hadn't begun to disintegrate on him. Slivers of smog darted out and flew down the hallway, but the rest of the creature fell apart into fine grains of disintegrating silvery dust.

He and the Light-Thief looked at one another and glanced to the storeroom's door. With a nod Ikharos led the way inside.

The Shade sat cross-legged in the middle of the room, her eyes shut and scrunched. She quietly chanted something that set Kiphoris's nerves on fire. It reminded him of the chatter of the screaming machines as they prostrated themselves before the fruits of their gardens. Before her, restrained to a chair, a Dreg shuddered and struggled against his bonds. He gave Kiphoris a desperate look. "Kiphoris-Veskirisk!"

The Shade's eyes shot open and she leapt to her feet, but it was too late. Ikharos had already plunged his own dagger into her heart and then ruthlessly kicked her aside.

"No!" The Shade cried out, even as she was in the midst of falling apart. "Waíse hérna, pessu! Eka hàvr vanta abr onr!"

And then, like her sibling outside, she crumbled away and dissipated into the air. Kiphoris stepped forward to release the Scar.

"Wait!" Ikharos hissed. Something in his voice gave Kiphoris pause. "Don't move!"

Kiphoris looked around. The storeroom was a mess. Bodies lined the floor and shrapnel had shredded almost everything else. The Servitor, to his dismay, lay broken at the very end. There was a steady purple glow in its unseeing eye, but Kiphoris knew it was gone. Perhaps even more worrying were the wisps of violet rising from its cracked shell. He checked that his rebreather was secure. It wouldn't do to choke on Void venom.

At that moment a small cluster of shining orbs raced into the room behind them, flitting over their shoulders and hovering up at the ceiling. They flew about and glowed angrily with an assortment of colour, but before Kiphoris could even ask the human what they were, an angry red - streaked with insidious black - enveloped the three orbs. A deep hum filled the air, and Kiphoris strained to hold still as the volume steadily increased. He grimaced as a taste like burning steel landed upon his tongue. Energy crackled in the air, threatening to fry them all, but Ikharos quickly held up a palm and warded it away with his Light.

The Dreg wasn't near as lucky as they - and yet he did not die. Not even when the orbs lowered and arrayed themselves around him. Before Kiphoris could shoot down the strange entities, before he could even cry out a warning, the orbs let loose a light too intense to look at directly. Kiphoris shielded his eyes with a raise arm. It lasted for all of three human seconds.

When it ended, the orbs were gone. And the Dreg stood upright, free of his restraints, and looked at Kiphoris with four glowing red eyes.

He smiled.

000

"This way," Formora muttered. The Psion gave no indication of having heard her.

The roars that had once been so distant were getting louder the closer they got to the main hall. They'd found more bodies along the way, a mix of human and Eliksni. Some had been slain by sword, leading her to believe that the Shade hadn't been alone, or gun, which was a startling and frankly disturbing revelation.

"Hold," the Psion whispered. They stood before a servant's entrance running alongside the great hall. There were sounds of struggle and gunfire within, muffled by stone. Every moment played at Formora's rekindled fear of Galbatorix's penchant for twisted servants.

"If something happens, I'll drop you a weapon," Xiān promised her. "Psions are fast. They'll dance circles around their foes, but they can't take a hit. Don't bother with magic; he's stronger than you in that respect."

"Have you encountered them before?"

"Ikharos and I have had... ample experience with Cabal. There's a reason why they have the largest empire around."

Formora could see it, watching the Psion approach the door to the outside - to their escape. He moved with an inhuman precision, easily as swift as Ikharos and Eliksni - and near enough to her own kind. Her people had held an advantage over all other races in Alagaësia - barring dragons - because of their natural gifts and prowess with magic, but it was not the same elsewhere. Weapons that killed from afar in an instant, metal vessels that flew effortlessly through the skies, and abilities the likes of which put her own magic to shame. It painted a brutal picture.

And now it was spreading to her own home.

Formora went still and listened carefully. She could hear something like... yes, the steady clicking of hooves on cobbled stone. It was remarkably familiar, but something was wrong, and she stopped in place.

Claws pierced through the door. Formora reeled back. The wood splintered and was almost effortlessly torn away. The light of moon and city lanterns filtered through, illuminating the frame of the creature before them. It held itself proudly, a creature of thick pelt and heavy muscle, and it easily stood as high as great Tarrhis had. It only had two arms, however, they were as thick as tree trunks and tipped with long, spindly claws. Its legs were digitigrade, with hooves, and looked powerful enough to crack stone. Its body was covered in thick, coarse fur that appeared to drink in the light around it, but it receded from its head to reveal a grotesque, long skull locked in an eternal grin. The eye sockets were shadowed, preventing her from knowing if it could even see her. Large antlers sprouted from the back of its skull like a terrible crown. A long, slimy tongue slithered out of its jagged fangs as it scrutinized the two before it.

It leaned a hand against the door frame and drummed its long fingers against the stonework. Each clack sent shivers down her spine.

It opened its maw and hissed, "I can taste your (dreams)."

Formora shuddered with fear. The last word had echoed within her very mind.

"Run!" Xiān cried out. Formora did exactly that, and the Psion followed suit. Behind her, the creature of nightmares laughed. She looked back to see it squeeze through the doorway and stomp after them.

000

"You've got to be joking," Ikharos growled. The Dreg lifted its hands before its eyes and seemed rather disappointed to find its lower pair docked. Its smile died away, and when it looked up it was glaring at them.

"He is a Shade." Beside him, Kiphoris stared in horror at the thing that had once been a Scar.

"Yeah," the Warlock agreed, and raised his pistol, but the Dreg was faster. It picked up the dead Shade's sword and barreled into him. Ikharos tumbled back and found his feet. When he looked up, Kiphoris was already locked in combat against his former comrade.

The new Shade was stronger than a Dreg had any right to be, and the Captain visibly struggled to hold him off with only a pair of knives - though he did far better than Ikharos would have expected of even a minor Fallen noble. Someone had trained Kiphoris, that was clear, and it looked like they were someone who knew their stuffe. Ikharos had noticed it during their earlier duel - the Captain was more than just skilled with a sword, it was like he was born to wield one.

Not that it mattered where a frenzied Shade was concerned. With a snarl the Dreg swept in with his broadsword at a savage angle, and though Kiphoris had raised his guard, the force of the blow knocked him off his feet and hurtled him against the storeroom wall.

Ikharos fired, but the Dreg had moved at the last moment and the bullet merely tore through the corrupted Eliksni's body instead of piercing a heart. The creature twirled around, a smoking hole in its chest, and with a wild cry it charged him. Ikharos dropped the Lumina and parried the first attack - aimed at his head - with his knife and with his other hand drew Orúm. The purple blade glittered in the dim light of the downed Servitor's eye, and it swayed beautifully when he moved. It was a writhing serpent, striking again and again with every thrust.

He employed every trick he had, though the Dreg was quick to adapt. Their swords clashed horribly, and Ikharos struggled to lock their guards together so he could grab a breath and think.

"We will flay the Light from your bones and devour it!" The Shade shrieked in Eliksni.

"Of course you will..." Ikharos muttered, grimacing. His muscles strained against the power of the Shade, so he allowed his defense to be swatted aside. In the split second before the Dreg ran him through, his knife darted between them. The Dreg gave a howl and stumbled back, the blade in its outer right eye. It didn't, however, leave it's defense open as he'd hoped, and when Ikharos thought to press the advantage, it recovered from the pain and parried his attack. The Dreg blocked his attacks and tore out the knife with a grunt. It glared at him with its remaining three red orbs. "We will make you-"

Kiphoris slammed into the Dreg with all his might, daggers stabbing and claws slashing. The Dreg recovered quickly and fought back just as savagely, tearing at the Wolf's armour and exposed chitin. They rolled across the floor. Ikharos struggled to keep up.

The Dreg was a storm of violence, one not even the Wolf could have hoped to contain. The larger Eliksni was thrown off the Shade and, with a groan, rose to his feet. Not quite finished, the Dreg screamed. "Jierda!"

A wave of energy shot forth and crashed into the Captain, smashing him against the far wall hard enough that the stone cracked. A huge cloud of dust was kicked up, and Ikharos, not for the last time, lamented the absence of a helmet.

"Now you!" The Dreg pointed the steel sword at him. Its edge had been notched and dulled, but he was under no illusions that it was harmless. The bastard could probably have pummeled him to death with it. His knife was... somewhere. Ikharos hesitated, not quite comfortable armed with a single weapon, and then drew the crystal dirk. It felt cold, despite his insulated gauntlets, and surged with potential power. Power that could kill even him.

The Dreg rushed him, sending out a flurry of blows. He deflected what he could and dodged away from the rest. His armour, damaged as it was, was invaluable on the occasions the Fallen broke through his defense. The resilient Reefborn woven fabric saved a couple of his organs, and provided him with the chances to recover and fall back.

Even so, he knew he was losing. The Dreg was simply too strong and he had too little Light. The glassy weapon came in handy, however, and he made strong use of it as a parrying dagger. It felt... good, somehow. Right. A thought affirmed itself in his mind: the dagger belonged in a fight. It grew through violence. That in itself triggered a couple of internal warnings, but with an Eliksni Shade tearing at him, he judged it unimportant.

The Dreg feinted and Ikharos never saw it coming. A fist collided with his side, forcing the breath out of him. His foe followed up with a knee to the stomach, and Ikharos collapsed. The Dreg grabbed him by the neck and slammed him against a pillar. He tried to retaliate with another stab to the head, but his foe anticipated it and slapped his hand aside, forcing the dirk from his grip. Not to be outdone, Ikharos brought down Orúm's pommel against the Dreg's shoulder with a satisfying crunch.

The Shade snarled and let go, just for a moment, and kicked him hard as he dropped. Ikharos grunted as his opponent placed another kick into his flank, and he felt like something inside was about to give. He brought Orúm about in a final, desperate attack, but again the Shade was prepared and it effortlessly disarmed him.

"Shit," Ikharos swore, before the Dreg lifted him up and forced its own steel blade between his ribs. It went right through and into the pillar behind him. It leaned in close, giving him the Fallen equivalent of a grin.

"You will feed us," it promised darkly, and it opened its fang-filled maw.

Ikharos grabbed its face with a hand full of purple fire. The Dreg screamed and scrambled away, bringing its sword with it. A spurt of blood followed the steel weapon and Ikharos dropped down. He was in the worst scenario possible - unarmed, low on Light, and bleeding out. And currently Ghostless. The last part scared him most. He crawled for his sword, and he heard the Dreg come after him. His fingers brushed against Orúm's quillon and... there!

He rolled over and thrust forward, right into the heart of the pouncing Dreg. The Shade shrieked, and loudly, but to Ikharos's utter dismay did not die. He only just caught sight of a ripple in the air behind the Shade before a glass blade poked through the Dreg, right where its second heart was located. The Shade gave him a three-eyed stared of disbelief before slumping over. It fell apart as mist and a cloud of fine particles.

Kiphoris uncloaked above him. The Captain held out one of his hands. Ikharos gladly took it. He hissed through clenched teeth as it jostled the hole in his chest. "Thanks," he breathed raggedly.

The Wolf gave him an almost imperceptible nod. "Hulunkles?"

"What does it look like?" He huffed and pressed a glowing hand against his open wound, then exhaled with relief as the pain receded. "That's better. You?"

"Nama. Only scratches and scars." Kiphoris closed his eyes. "Mine-House will tell me to bear them with pride."

"Pride? We killed a Dreg, and only just."

"... Pride isn't what matters here."

Ikharos chuckled. Shades made Fallen, even giants like the Captain, seem a lot less threatening. "Unsung heroes, the pair of us." He looked around. "Traveler above... this is a mess."

"Servitor's dead," Kiphoris reported bitterly. He held up the crystal dirk for a closer inspection. "You said you could do something?"

Ikharos groaned. "Yeah, I'll get on that. You'll have to help me, though. I have no idea how these things talk."

"H-e-l-p."

"U-m-i-t-r-e-k-s?"

"D-e-a-d. K-i-p-h-o-r-i-s. I-k-h-a-r-o-s."

"W-i-l-l s-p-e-a-k t-o N-y-r-e-k-s. B-a-r-r-i-e-r i-n p-l-a-c-e. C-a-n-n-o-t h-e-l-p. B-a-r-o-n?"

"U-n-k-n-o-w-n. M-a-n-y d-e-a-d. N-e-e-d h-e-l-p. B-e-w-a-r-e m-a-g-i-c."

"U-n-d-e-r-s-t-o-o-d."

Ikharos struggled to keep his messages on target. It was like trying to herd ripples on the surface of a lake - impossible, unless you had an intimate knowledge on the flow of Arc. Here he was using his Void to send out the Fallen equivalent of morse code over the nullscape in between the fabrics of reality. In short: it was difficult.

"I guess we wait for your friend to answer." Ikharos sat against the cold stone wall and tried to control his breathing. He clutched the Servitor's Void core and exulted in the power pulsing out from it. Often a great source of emergency Void Light for many a Hunter, or their socially-uncomfortable Warlock tagalongs. "I don't like the sound of 'barrier' though."

"Neither do I. But we will deal with it." Kiphoris still hadn't returned the glassy dagger. Ikharos eyed the Captain with a faint sense of worry, though he didn't voice it. He was more nervous that Kiphoris would figure out why he was so nervous. That, and he felt some gratitude towards the Wolf. Without a Ghost, his death would have meant full on RTL. Besides, dying a final death to a Dreg - even a Shade Dreg - would have been embarrassing.

"Confident, aren't you?"

"Determined."

Ikharos laid his head back, ignoring the sting from a dozen half-healed cuts. "Captains don't usually pack cloaking generators. That a Scar thing?"

"No. Tradition of mine-lineage."

"Why's that?"

Kiphoris exhaled and finally looked at him. "When mine-ancestor, Eiriver, the Unseen, fought in the Edge Wars, he ended battles before they even began. He saved Rain's prophetess from the First Exiles, killed the Rogue Reavers, and fought alongside the warrior sisters Daneks and Dareks for the Will of Judgement and Proclamation of Kings. He earned both a Baronhood and his Kell's trust. To save the lives of honourable warriors, he killed from the shadows. His heirs upheld that tradition throughout the ages, even to now. There is an honour in this dedication to one's people, even if the methods were... unseemly at the time. I admire his compassion, and his loyalty, towards his people."

"Sounds like a lot to live up to."

"It is. His stories gave rise to the ranks of Marauders."

"Your family were all Marauders?"

"No." Kiphoris sent Ikharos with an indecipherable look. "We were greater. Mine-sister took it as a challenge, and she tried to give life to his legend through cunning and trickery."

"Who was your sister?"

"Drevis, the Veiled."

"You mean...?" Ikharos eyes widened. His fingers tightened around the Void core.

"Eia."

"So you are a noble." The Warlock gave a brief, mirthless laugh. "Your family was the Silent Fang."

Kiphoris nodded, his eyes glowing sharply. "They were."

"Then... were you at Amethyst too? Did you help her slaughter innocent men, women, and children?"

"No," the Captain barked with a fury Ikharos didn't expect. "Your Earthen-people think that mine-kind are all monsters like Devils or plotters like Kings, but I am of the Wolves. I know, and agree, that Skolas was not a fitful Kell, and that atrocities were committed in his name, but we were driven to it. The Reef attacked first. They killed Virixas, who was stern but fair, who would have spared them. They killed many, including mine-father. Drevis wanted vengeance. Many others did too." Kiphoris leaned back. His voice grew quieter. "She lost sight of who deserved it, and who was blameless."

A long moment stretched out between them. Finally, Ikharos spoke up. "If the Awoken hadn't intervened, your House would have killed my people."

"You hoarded the Great Machine."

"Take it back," Ikharos retorted. "Please. Take it back, along with all the problems it drags behind it. We were all better off being dumb animals anyways..."

Another silence. At that point Ikharos was hoping Nyreks would respond, just to break through the awkwardness.

"Why do you hate us?" He finally asked.

Kiphoris didn't reply immediately. "We track our god for millennia, hunted by Hive and harried by Cabal, and arrive to find it in the possession of another people. A people who couldn't even defend it, who let it die."

"You think you'd do any better? Against the Darkness itself?"

"We would die trying. It is our duty-"

"Stuff your duty and think about the people," Ikharos shot back hotly. "We're killing each other over a silent ball in the sky, and it's done neither of us any favours. Look at us. Look at-"

The Void core pulsed in his hand.

"N-y-r-e-k-s h-e-r-e. F-a-r-e w-e-l-l?"

"W-e-l-l. B-a-r-r-i-e-r?"

"A-r-o-u-n-d k-e-e-p. W-i-s-h-e-d."

"Psekisk. The Ahamkara's responsible."

Kiphoris clicked his mandibles irritably. "They have a Wish-Beast?"

Ikharos nodded. "One of the Exos mentioned it earlier. I was hoping he was just exaggerating."

The Captain growled. "You spoke with one?"

"He and a Shade came to gloat about... capturing me? Or something like that." He shrugged. "They're dead now."

"Are they here because of you?" The Captain stood up and rolled his shoulders.

Ikharos scoffed. "If all they wanted was me, then I'd be dead and they'd have left. The Dreg confirms otherwise."

Kiphoris snarled. "If you are lying-"

"Save it for the dragon," Ikharos scowled.

"W-i-l-l h-u-n-t w-i-s-h."

"H-o-p-e w-e-l-l. W-i-l-l r-a-l-l-y w-a-r-r-i-o-r-s."

"Ask after the Kell."

Ikharos didn't argue.

"K-e-l-l?"

"A-l-i-v-e."

"I am satisfied." Kiphoris stepped away. "Now we hunt?"

"Now we hunt," Ikharos agreed.

000

The monster was relentless. Despite its hulking size, it managed to crawl through the halls of the keep with startling efficiency. Formora constantly heard its heavy breath right behind them, along with the leaden crash of its hooves on the stone floor, and even without looking she knew it was closing in. It could smell their fear, and more importantly hear their thoughts - at least until she remembered to fall back onto the 'nullscape'.

It was like standing in the middle of... nothing. An infinitely vast nothingness, a realm where existence was absent. Her thoughts were better secured in there than under the protection of simple mental blocks. Even the greatest of mental defenses faltered against Ahamkara, or so she'd been told, so the nullscape was all she had left to guard herself with. And this was an Ahamkara. Formora had no doubt about it. It exuded the same presence as Qortho, of being something unnatural and ill-suited to reality, but unlike the Gatekeeper this one was hungry.

Formora had no intention of becoming its next meal.

"Turn left!"

To say Xiān was helpful was a gross understatement. The Ghost knew the keep's layout on an intimate level that honestly surprised the elf. That, along with her ability to transport objects without any strain, explained just why Ikharos worked so closely with the spirit.

The next corner revealed a long hallway, each side lined with doors.

"Into the kitchens!"

Formora slipped into the room. She didn't know if the Psion was still with her or not; even when running, he was silent.

"Door, far side!"

She didn't hesitate and slammed against the wooden door, forcing it open. Another hallway stretched out on either side of her.

"Dammit, there's others closing in. Don't go-"

The monster roared. Formora went left. She darted around the corner at the end, and suddenly found herself grasped by her shoulders and plucked from the ground. Four fearsome blue orbs met her own fearful stare.

"There you are!" She gave a start when she heard Ikharos' voice, and found him standing beside the hulking Eliksni. The Scar - Kiphoris she quickly realized - made a strange clicking sound and put her down. "Where the hell have you-"

The Psion, behind her, finally caught up and slid to a stop. Not a moment later guns were raised and primed. The air chilled with the sudden hostility.

"Your prisoners got out?" Ikharos asked quietly. He sounded vaguely irritated.

"Eia, so it appears," Kiphoris muttered.

Formora looked between the two. Last she'd seen them together, they had been actively trying to rip each other to shreds. To hear them talk in an almost civil manner to one another was… unexpected.

The Psion didn't say a word, but his single eye darted between the two and his finger tightened around the rifle's trigger.

"There's a Wish-Dragon," she blurted. All three of them looked at her.

Ikharos gave her a strained half-smile. "We know. We're trying to find it."

"No, you don't understand!" Formora shook her head. Her heart hammered in her chest. Her blood roared in her ears. "It was right behind us!"

"That's... not good..." Ikharos didn't move, though. He kept his rifle - which she recognized was Kida's weapon - trained on the Psion.

"Tell him to stop acting like a moron," Xiān told her. Formora relayed the message, and the Risen chuckled.

"She's with you?"

"Yes."

"Thank goodness. Hey, you," he barked at the Psion. "Put down the gun."

"No." The one-eyed soldier replied.

"There's two of us."

"Then one of you will die."

"So we wait for the Ahamkara to catch up?" Ikharos raised an eyebrow. "Your choice."

The Psion looked pointedly at Kiphoris. "I won't give in to barbarians."

"You want to live?"

"You want to die?"

"I asked first."

The Psion didn't reply. Formora pressed herself against the wall, sure that one side or both would open fire at any moment.

Ikharos finally lowered his rifle and stepped aside. "Get out of here. Go on."

Kiphoris growled deeply and reluctantly did the same, but his claws clung tightly to his weapons. The Psion gave them each a careful, searching glance, then sped between them. They watched him run away until he disappeared through a doorway.

"Was that wise?" Kiphoris asked, his tone dangerously sharp.

Ikharos held out an empty hand. Xiān flew to it. "On the off chance that he did kill one of us, it'd make fighting the Ahamkara all that much harder. Are you alright?"

Formora realized he was asking her. "I... don't know. I'm not injured."

"Shaken?"

She could only nod in assent. "It's wrong."

"That's why we kill them at every given opportunity. They have no place in our universe." He looked at Kiphoris. "You know how to fight one?"

"Nama, but my desires are concealed."

"Why would... Oh. Riven."

Kiphoris nodded. "The Queen's pet."

Formora wondered what they were talking about, but other matters quickly stole her focus. "What do we do?"

Ikharos took off the strange tube-like object strapped to his back. "We kill it, however we can. You have your nullscape up?"

"I do."

"Good. You'll need to cover us. And warn us if any Shades show up."

"You've seen them?" Then she comprehended the real threat. "There's more?!"

"Yeah, but they won't bother anyone ever again. Yours?"

Formora closed her eyes. "Two. I killed the first," she explained. She was, in a way, proud of it, but neither Ikharos or Kiphoris appeared impressed by the claim. Then again, they had likely done the same. She continued. "The second was... displaced. By the Psion."

Ikharos cursed. "Dammit. So there's still at least one at large."

"Have you been to the hall?" Kiphoris asked her. "Seen Tarrhis?"

She shook her head. "No, but I heard fighting in the area."

The Eliksni narrowed his inner eyes. "They may yet live..."

"We'll find out soon enough." Ikharos passed the tube object over to Kiphoris and put Kida's rifle over his back. He drew Orúm and slid his hand against it, leaving a faint purple trail along its deadly edge.

Formora took control of her breathing. She couldn't hear the Ahamkara, and though she expected it lurked nearby, she felt reassured. She and Ikharos had killed Qortho, and now they had Kiphoris. They could do it again. Maybe.

"Come on." Ikharos led them on, holding Orúm in a firm grip and assuming a practiced battle stance. "Formora, what's it look like?"

"Different to Qortho," she told him. "Not quite as large. It walks like... like us. It has antlers, long claws, and a thick pelt. It has a skull for a head."

"Of course it does..." The Risen grumbled. "Any idea where it is?"

"It was right behind me. Or, it was, until we ran through the kitchens."

"Maybe he stopped for a snack," Xiān supplied. Kiphoris gave an amused grunt, which he quickly hid under a cough.

"Not now," Ikharos whispered, but Formora could hear the warmth in his voice. "Do you know where it is?"

Xiān moved her fins in an imitation of a shrug. "You know as well as I do that they can't be tracked like-"

"I am right (here)."

Formora drew her sword and looked up. A colossal shape, totally unlike the creature that had pursued her earlier, dropped down on Ikharos. The Risen only just managed to teleport out of the way of the huge white-shelled spider, as large as a bear, and Xiān safely disappeared with a flash of light. The Ahamkara turned all seventeen purple eyes to Formora. Its grotesque maw was stretched out into a fang-filled grin. "I found (you)."

It leapt onto the wall to avoid Ikharos's first cursory stab and glanced at him. "Your thoughts are (succulent), o Child of (Light). You are as a fresh catch from the lakes of (possibility)."

Kiphoris snarled and lobbed a spherical object at the spider. It spat a glob of hissing green liquid at it, which ate through the metal. What disintegrating shards remained clattered to the floor. "Your ideas are a warm basking place, o time-lost Wolf. I will lay upon your dead husk and drink in your people's (passions)."

"Stydja unin ília," Formora chanted. The spider gave a shriek as the magic gathered around its limbs. Ikharos rushed to take advantage, but the Ahamkara grew new limbs and caught the blow with a heavy pincer.

Formora strained to keep it in place, but it was for naught. The strength of the Ahamkara was phenomenal, many times more than even a creature of its size should have in any right possessed. She was forced to drop her spell, and with a roar that must have echoed throughout the castle, the Ahamkara launched itself at the Risen and caught him in another arm, smashing him against and through the wall behind him. They tumbled past, right into into the keep's deserted courtyard.

She and Kiphoris followed, but where Formora was hesitant, the Eliksni was determined. He launched himself at the back of the spider and snagged a limb. Exerting all his power, he managed to hold it in place - until the spider's leg popped off with a squelch.

The Ahamkara screamed and twirled around, tossing Ikharos into the Eliksni. "I will have your (minds)!"

Before her eyes, the Ahamkara began to assume a new form. Like before, it hefted its weight onto two powerful legs, but unlike earlier its new form was familiar. It was an Eliksni, though larger than even Tarrhis, and it bore a heavy helmet with glowing orange tubes trailing from the front of its mask. Two horns jutted from the heavy brown fur mantle it bore over its shoulders, one of which had its tip broken off. Its armour was heavier than any worn by Scars and of a deep navy blue, decorated with white runes she didn't recognize.

"RAHAHA!" It bellowed with deep laughter, flexing its fearsome claws. "Face me, o (hunters) mine!"

Kiphoris and Ikharos both froze in place, staring at the huge Eliksni with shock and... and yes, fear.

"Jierda!" Formora yelled. The force of the spell, strengthened through years of practice, only forced the Ahamkara to stumble a few huge paces back. It looked over to her with delight in its four bright eyes.

"Aha, you do not know me, o Forsworn mine," it cackled in a voice that belonged to dragons. "I am Kell of Kells, the Rabid, Eater of Wishes and last King of the Wolves! I am Skolas! And I will-"

Thunder echoed around the castle as a huge glowing pulse of green-red energy smacked into the Ahamkara and tossed it across the courtyard. Formora glanced over to her companions and found Kiphoris having hefted his tube weapon, the barrel smoking and glowing red-hot. He looked just as surprised as she was, and regarded the weapon with what she thought to be giddy approval.

Ikharos stood and once more assumed battle stance. Beside him, Kiphoris tossed aside the spent weapon and drew knives coated in lightning. Their weapons looked pitiful when one accounted for the sheer size of their opponent, but they weren't deterred in the slightest.

"Ne go yus!" Kiphoris roared furiously, his eyes shining like angry stars. "Ne kalakhselen! Ne frer!"

The Ahamkara climbed to his feet. Its armour was matted with a layer of ash, and molten steel dripped down its massive chest, but the gigantic Eliksni didn't appear to care. It laughed, a sound like an earthquake, and hunched over on all six limbs. It surged towards them with startling speed, and Formora dove to the ground as the monster bolted past.

Kiphoris jumped away and his armour crackled with a strange power. He disappeared into thin air without a trace. Ikharos, for his part, didn't even try to avoid the Ahamkara. He ran at it. The Void visibly gathered around him, surrounding him in an aura of violet energy, and likely saved him from being crushed as he collided with the Ahamkara. He shoved his longsword through the Wish-dragon's shoulder, even as the huge Eliksni grasped him in a bear-hug and raked his back with terrible claws.

Formora ran and sliced at the back of the Ahamkara's knees - the only thing she could feasibly reach. The Eliksni grunted and fell down, releasing its captive Risen. Ikharos tugged out his blade, even as blood ran in streams down from his grievous wounds, and slashed at the creature's face, eliciting a second snarl.

When it struck out, she dodged the claw strike, but she forgot to anticipate for the secondary limb. The huge hand grasped her and, with as much strength as it could summon, brought her down onto the ground. Formora gasped as something inside cracked. Her breath all but abandoned her. The follow-up attack to finish her off came in the form of a heavy fist falling down towards her, but a purple blast tossed the limb aside. Ikharos swept in with wide, powerful slashes that broke through the monster's armour but failed to finish it, and he too was eventually knocked aside with a swing of the creature's arms.

The Eliksni buckled as an unseen force fell upon its back and it struggled wildly until, inexplicably, a knife carved a bloody line across its throat. The Ahamkara reached up and grasped something, which instantly materialized into Kiphoris, and it tossed him aside. The Captain landed on his feet and rushed forward, but the Ahamkara, using its strange unexplainable magic, summoned an elegant sword out of thin air to deflect his attack. Kiphoris snarled, but try as he might, he couldn't break through with only knives.

Formora winced and rose to her feet. The monster before her tried to do the same, but with its hamstrings cut it found itself unable to do so. It glared at her, and her ears were filled with the sound of hissing as one of the orange pipes from its helmet - which had been cut free during Kiphoris's assault - flailed out and leaked a heavy white mist.

"Boetk istalrí," she muttered, and watched as the Ahamkara was engulfed in flames. At first it had little effect, unable to get through the armour of the creature, but then the gas from the pipe caught alight. The orange tube gleamed with the brightness of the sun, and the glaring light trailed directly to the Eliksni's mask. Its eyes widened with a sudden primal fear. Fire flickered out from the sides of its helmet as it screamed, and its body convulsed violently, smashing stone tiles and tossing sparks everywhere.

Finally, it looked at her as its eye sockets blazed with an unyielding inferno. Seconds later it collapsed bodily onto the middle of the courtyard. The Ahamkara didn't move after that, rendered into nothing more than a charred husk.

Ikharos limped over to stand beside her. "Yeah," he said hoarsely. "That'll do it."

Kiphoris joined them, his haggard breathing muffled by his helmet. He didn't say a word. All his eyes were transfixed on the dead beast.

000

Cadon ran, hid, and ran some more. Every corner could have disguised a new enemy. Every door could have tossed him into yet another hellhole. There were bodies everywhere he went, Eliksni and human. It no longer surprised him. Not after what he'd seen.

He finally found a way out: a window on the second floor, overlooking an empty plaza around the castle walls. The wooden shutters had been smashed open. Probably where those things had come from. He couldn't escape, though. An energy barrier of dancing colours had been built up, and it looked to cover the entire castle. He could keenly feel the potent power of it on the edge of his mind, taste the sweet paracausality of it, and he rapidly retreated back into the recesses of the room. He would rather have taken on a Darkblade than touch anything made by an Ahamkara. Their hunger was legendary. One had reached his people in the time before the Uluru found them, and it had been immortalized in nightmarish myth.

He barred the door behind him and huddled in the corner, eye wide open and rifle primed to fire. He didn't have to wait long. The barrier inexplicably disappeared. Cadon didn't wait around; he bolted.

He was already deeper into the maze of the city when he heard Tlac's panicked mind join with his. "Cadon!"

"DRAGON!" He yelled back. "THERE'S A WISH-DRAGON!"

"Where?!"

"In the keep!"

"Damn. Where are you?!"

Cadon sent him his location.

"Make your way to sector 18. We have to be quick, or the Eliksni will shoot us down."

"On my way." He looked around. No Eliksni in sight, but that didn't assure him. There could be cloaked shockshooters anywhere. "The human was there."

"The human?" He could feel Tlac's confusion, then the clarity of understanding. "Oh. Val Brutis's killer."

Cadon felt a sharp jolt of surprise. "She's dead?"

"Her and others. The human ripped through them like they weren't even there." Tlac went quiet. "We've just told the Primus about the dragon. Everyone's pulling back to the carrier."

"Are the Flayers organizing a plan of action?"

Tlac's presence felt bitter. "No. He's forbidden us. Something's wrong... It doesn't matter. We're almost at the extraction point. Seventeen second window. Move."

Cadon legged it. It was easier to run without the weight of armour, but the extra speed provided by jump-jets would have been more than welcome.

He made it to the city wall and climbed the stairs up to the ramparts. The moment he reached the top, a gold and white Harvester micro-warped to the space just beyond the stone, and he leapt as the hatches opened. Heavy hands grasped his own, and he was quickly tugged aboard. The hatches behind him closed, and the Harvester tore away from the city.

000

Tarrhis grimaced as his shattered arm whined like a needy hatchling. He tossed a second shock grenade over the fallen stone column he was using as cover. Of course, none of his opponents were caught in the blast, having expertly dodged or shielded themselves. They were skilled and, as much as he hated to admit it, better trained than his own soldiers. A half dozen dead Scars in the hall could attest to that.

"Here!" Sundrass tossed him another fusion disc. He nodded his thanks and reloaded his shock rifle, then opened fire on yet another of the enemy's drones. The robot shrieked and fell dead, finger still clutching the trigger. The wild spray of bullets went wide and caught a Dreg by the corner of the room.

His pillar was coming apart. It would only take mere minutes before the bullets found their way into his flesh. Sundrass's pile of rubble looked to last far longer, and there was yet room even with four Scars huddled behind it. The Captain noticed him looking, and then saw his growing problem. She beckoned him on.

Bullets tore past his vision. He shook his head.

"You must!" She snarled, barely audible over the sound of gunfire.

Tarrhis considered his options. The assassins were precise. There was no question of whether they would be able to shoot him or not. No, the question was if he would survive. His personal Arc shield was of a higher quality than most, courtesy of being a Baron, but it could not last a full barrage. His only hope lay in getting across, and to survive he had to be fast. Very fast. Or... maybe he could control how quickly they shot him.

He held out the tiny orb of his last grenade and took a deep, slow breath, calming himself and thinking of better days, when their numbers had spread across many Ketches. When the old Kell and his own father had been fast friends and steadfast allies, before the grand betrayal. His father had taught him about breath. How Eliksni, or even Cabal, would hold theirs when they were frightened, or take a sudden inhalation before they launched an attack. In one's self, it was a method of controlling fear. In one's enemy it was an opportunity. He took another slow breath and eased his hammering hearts.

Tarrhis rolled the grenade into the open and broke out into a run. Bullets immediately assailed his shield, rapidly depleting it, but then the web grenade activated and caught the rest, lashing them out of the air and freezing their momentum. He dropped into a sprawl behind the pile of rubble and swatted away the hands of his concerned soldiers. "I'm alive, I'm alive, cease your worrying."

"Yes, mine-Baron." The Vandals - and brave Dreg who Tarrhis had decided had earned the right to regrow her limbs, if they survived - retreated from him.

They kept firing on the enemy at every chance given to them, but their assailants were determined and well-coordinated.

One of the metal creatures - who looked to have been made in the imagery of humans - dove over the rubble and rushed Tarrhis's position. One of his Vandals rose to meet the assassin, but was effortlessly put down with a lethal clout to the side of his head, knocking the glow from his eyes. Tarrhis stood and tackled the creature, yet it expertly slipped out of his grip and managed to get behind him, shattering his personal shield with a roar from its shotgun. He rolled over and got a crippling kick to the stomach for his efforts. The cold muzzle settled beneath his chin, and his blue eyes met pink optics.

Its head came apart in an explosion of Arc. The robot slumped over on top of him. Tarrhis grunted and threw the corpse aside, then looked for his saviour. He found brave Kiphoris by the side door, emptying his shock pistols into the mass of metal. The humans, Ikharos and Formora, appeared beside him, firing upon the assassins with deadly accuracy. Their human guns, or at least Ikharos's weapon, roared furiously. Formora's must have been stolen from a robot, as it was almost too quiet to be heard, though no less effective because of it.

The flanking maneuver caught the assassins by surprise, and more than half their number died before they swiveled around to address, but then the heavy door to the hall was blown open. Scars poured in and the remaining robots were caught in a deadly crossfire. Not one survived.

Tarrhis stood on shaky legs and looked around to what remained of those who'd made a last stand with him. Four tired, but steadfast, Scar faces met his own, and he knew he would never been more proud of his people than at that moment.

"Tarrhis-Mrelliks!" Nyreks rushed in and looked for the Baron, finding him amidst the pile of rubble and bodies towards the back of the hall. "Mine-Baron, are you well?!"

"I am alive, Nyreks, and that is all that matters." Tarrhis swayed on his feet. "Where have you been?"

"Trapped outside, mine-Baron," the distinguished Vandal lowered his head shamefully. "These creatures had a Wish-Beast with them, and used its vile magic to entrap this castle and all inside."

"A Wish-Beast? Here?" Sundrass barked with disbelief. "And how, I wonder, was its magic defeated?" Her voice was just as empty as his, but she was as spirited as ever. The best Scar to have at your side.

"I believe Kiphoris-Veskirisk and Ikha Riis hunted it down." The Vandal glanced to the two he mentioned. "Magic is nothing to skilled swords, as we have seen time and again."

"Eia, we hunted it." Kiphoris's eyes were dimmed with pain and exhaustion, and his armour bore heavy damage. As did that of Ikharos, but the Light-Warrior's armour had been broken since the battle with the Cabal so Tarrhis didn't know how wounded the human was, though he slouched tiredly all the same. "However, Formora slew the beast with magic."

The second human looked at them with uncomprehending eyes, but she recognized when they spoke her name.

Tarrhis looked at her thoughtfully. "She did? Then I must congratulate her. Tell her that."

Kiphoris relayed the message in the human language. Formora dipped her head respectfully.

"Where is the beast now?" Tarrhis asked.

It was Ikharos who answered him. "In the courtyard. Don't let anyone in, or it might kill them and come back. It took the form of an Eliksni, so don't let the sight of it fool you."

Tarrhis narrowed his eyes. "That is... surprising. But not unheard of. Then... how could these creatures-" he gestured to the dead robots. "-control a Wish-beast? Or were they its thralls...?" He shook his head and stood as tall as he could. "Gah, these are questions for clearer minds. Mine-Scars, there are wounded who must be treated! Fetch the Splicers!" He looked around at those who'd saved him. "Where is Raksil? Where is my son?"

"We thought... he might be in here, mine-Baron," Nyreks answered.

Tarrhis's hearts jolted with fear. "Find him!"

Nyreks and his followers rushed to obey. Tarrhis exhaled, whether in relief or giving in to despair he did not know. It had been a long night, fraught with violence and horror. He found himself fearing the death toll. He looked down at the motionless robot at his feet and glared. He didn't know what it was, or why it had even attacked his people, but he swore it wouldn't go unanswered. "I will kill your kind for this," Tarrhis promised darkly. "I will have your steel and forge it into a monument dedicated to your extinction."

000

"What now?" Formora asked.

Ikharos felt a grin tugging at his lips, but he was too tired to humour it. "Now? Nothing. They have it from here."

"What if there are other Shades?" She pressed. "There's still that one the Psion failed to kill."

"Then it'll die. Easy to kill individual Fallen when you take them by surprise. Fighting an entire crew? That's something else. If the Shade's dumb enough to stick around, they'll kill it."

Kiphoris made a growling sound. "I must tell inform mine-people on how to slay them." He left them and approached Nyreks, dragging his feet. He lugged the Ahamkara's sword behind him, Ikharos noted with a frown. He'd have to talk to the Wolf about that.

"Later," Xiān said. "Find somewhere out of the way and grab some shut eye. I'll wake you up."

"Right. But... don't leave me on my own."

"You got it."

AN: Big thanks to Nomad Blue!