Chapter 5

Hell's Bells


X Beacon X

After spending twenty minutes with the men, hammering in the wood fence around their camp at dusk, Malthon made his way to his tent. Someone had already erected it for him; he felt confident he knew who. One of the men had offered to squire for him – a paladin, a squire! Despite him laughing away the notion, he suspected the man might have raised his tent anyways.

Regardless of the man's choice, Malthon was grateful, still wiping the sweat from his brow after the manual labor. He pulled away the flap from the tent and stepped inside. The man had even lit his candles for him! They were placed perfectly beside his map, with the markers already in place, and... he was sitting in his chair?

Malthon stopped there, recognizing first the wavy brown hair, then the blocky shoulders with inscripted holy wards. Crimson armor, silver trim, and aged parchment wards – stylized after the powerful Judgment armor. The paladin was also female, and she did not raise her head from the map at his entrance. "You truly do need the touch of a woman in your life, Malthon. I still don't know how the ties of your armor get done without one."

"Balinda. What a... pleasant surprise." He nearly cringed at the stumble of words, advancing further into the room. Setting down his mace and hammer, he said, "Don't tell me it was you who raised my tent for me?"

She still did not look at him. "Regulation. All tents up before nightfall, with a torch mounted outside. Apparently you missed the order, for your space was flat ground in the final minutes of twilight."

"I had half a mind to sleep under the stars," he replied quickly. It wasn't quite a lie. He had liked the idea, even if he wasn't to implement it.

Balinda steepled her fingers before her, elbows on the table, and finally fixed him under her stare. "You do not need to be so defensive, Malthon. This is not the churchyard, and we aren't children anymore."

"Says the woman who's only purpose in life to to matronize me," he mumbled under his breath.

The woman was hard and sharp as a war axe, and straight and narrow as the sword she carried at her hip. Once the drive was found, her focus was unrelenting and unshakable, to the extent of unsettling even him. Her brown hair reached just past her shoulders, always brushed and immaculate when her helmet was off, and since the fall of Lordaeron, a lock of silver could be found mixed with her bangs. Broad forehead, but button nose and round cheeks that never quite finished disappearing as she aged from girl into woman.

Despite the grey in her hair, Balinda was as youthful as he was – nearly exactly so, off by one week and two days. Their estates had been in close proximity, sent to churchyard together to be trained as paladins, and... their parents had once arranged a marriage between them, to closer bring the Eyenhart and Crowngarde families together. That had all changed when the Scourge attacked.

Balinda had sworn herself to celibacy until their kingdom was returned, and Malthon had found himself quickly filling the void of Lordaeron nobility left in the wake. He came into his inheritance in the worst of ways, without any guidance, but with time and necessity, he managed. Though they remained friends after, differences had opened between them, until now he felt they could only be called comrades. It was difficult to recall the days when they'd both be sent into brilliant crimson blushes and goofy smiles at the reminders of their eventual marriage.

"Between you running off to play working man and Jayce avoiding me, I still do not know what the plan is for our march." She looked to the map again, glancing up the path they had set upon to Icecrown Glacier.

"Jayce is avoiding everyone. He doesn't do much more than brood within his tent at night and march by day," Malthon replied. He had already removed his armor to assist in the labor around the camp, finding it neatly arranged on a mat by his bedroll. Exactly how Balinda arranged her armor before bed. Presently, he pulled up his small chest and sat across from her at the fold table.

Jayce was right though. Should have left Balinda at New Hearthglen to oversee its reconstruction, he sighed within his mind. That way, at least, she'd be out of their hair. "You know that you are welcome to join us at the head of the march. I will always heed your wisdom in counsel." Not that I'll have much of a choice.

"You know that I have no desire to command and lead. I only wish to know the plan, to be better prepared. We march to the Onslaught Harbor, but there is a whole lot of Icecrown before then, including the vrykul city Ymirheim – the realm of champions. Do we hide at the skirts of the glacier by finding the tournament ruins first?"

It was a kickback to the distant past, pouring over the maps with her. Malthon placed a commanding Scourge insignia over the city at Icecrown's heart, then took a handful of small Scourge footmen markers and formed a large ring around the city, demonstrating the scope of the vrykul scouting parties. The ring was unusually wide, which only made sense.

The small wood squares for cities were placed at the old Argent Tournament grounds, then several others where Malthon had heard towns and camps had been raised. Two were within the vrykul ring, the one at the foot of Ymirheim's mountain and the other pressed against the gates of Corp'rethar. Catching on, Balinda took markers of her own, giving the commanding Scourge insignia to Jotunheim and the Citadel, then giving them their respective rings. Two more camps were suspended inside, though with the ally marked Shadow Vault and its own broad ring, the Quarry's occupation was again regarded as safe. Or at least contested.

"The death knights claimed the Fleshworks from the cult down here," she mentioned, grabbing ally markers. Malthon stopped her, adding, "And they razed it to the ground, not occupying it. Place them here, at the Vanguard. That is said to be our northernmost stronghold, and it is there we will stop first once we escape this forest of fae."

The final marker was the objective, a painted green circle piece, placed off the coast at the Onslaught Harbor. Malthon watched Balinda study the map now, knowing she would draw much of his own conclusions from it. Finally, she admitted, "I see. Had we been two hundred footmen, I'd call your plan ludicrous, but you have gathered only full-fledged paladins. Will we attempt to reach those inside enemy territory or do we consider them already lost? Have you word of regular Scourge movements or cultist activity?"

"Only the same we've all heard, that the war isn't over yet. I won't have details on where until we reach the Vanguard." Her sharp, green eyes narrowed with thought, but he picked up the small sack of Scourge footmen insignias and slowly began to dump them out over the entire territory, mixing with the regular rings until the only exceptions were strongholds and cities. "This is our assumption. We will try to reach each and every one of them."

Balinda leaned back and nodded. She knew their work well. The next point, Malthon hesitated to bring up, but he knew that of everyone gathered, she had the highest chance of knowing. "That isn't all. You recall that in training, the strength of the Light came easiest to me, while the arms favored you. Since the very start of this journey, the Light had warned me of something – something beyond the dark atrocities of the Scourge. I'm... unfamiliar with which its warning me, and that worries me more than the entire armies of the damned."

His fellow paladin gave no immediate reaction, regarding only the map, for a long moment. Then her eyes met his, and something softened in her expression, in the same way she did only when allowing herself vulnerable near him. She hadn't done that since their teenage years. "This feeling, it is not the usual righteous fury of the Light regarding the unnaturalness of undeath. The Light feels... nervous. Afraid, even. Something has unsettled even the Light – that is what you speak of, yes?"

"Indeed," he rumbled grimly. Thank the Light that he wasn't alone in feeling this. "And the feeling has only grown stronger the farther north we travel. Have you any idea what it is?" She said nothing, looking back to the map. "Balinda?"

There was the shifting of metal as her fist tightened, but she shook her head. "I do not. With your permission, I'd like to take a small team of ten paladins of my choice to find the source of this abomination."

Malthon did not even need to consult the Light to know his answer. "I have no doubt that you of all brothers and sisters would succeed in this task. However, Balinda, we need to keep all of our strength concentrated. I fear that I myself will be in need of a Crowngarde before long."

"You are no High General, no matter what those boys decide to call you behind your back, Malthon," Balinda chastised, reverting to her usual self. She stood up to the sound of her armor clunking. Always a strong woman, that one. After adjusting her sword and shield, she locked eyes with Malthon and stared, and with one hand on her hilt, she added, "But you'll always have my sword ready for your defense. I'll make sure these upstarts stay in line with the march, including our Scarlet zealots."

With a short huff, she turned and left the tent. Malthon watched until the flap fell closed behind her. Not for the first time, he wondered what his life might be like if they had kept on with the marriage. Eventually, he returned his attention to the map, revising his course in his mind and reminding himself of how many more days they had in this weird forest.

After a dinner of stale, unleavened bread and a goblet of wine, Malthon packed away the markers and map, then folded up the table and chair, placing it all inside his enchanted chest for the early march. Wizards had made it to hold far more than its size suggested, and it was light enough to be saddled on a horse without burden. All of his belongings, including bedroll and tent, could fit inside, if appropriately packed.

Lying down for sleep, Malthon reviewed his conversation with Balinda. It was plain enough that she still made him nervous, with her sharp wit and bold tongue. He thought of her call for a woman's touch in his life, yet the fulfillment of the role herself. The past was in the past though, and so his thoughts turned to her in the present, as a Crowngarde, and why he asked for her protection.

Before the first paladin had been trained, the Crowngarde line had been a long series of knights devoted to defending the king. It had earned them their noble family name, and they were among the first to enter the paladin order, to better serve in their duties. Malthon's own father had been a knight too, his mother a lady, but despite their families' closeness, they did not hold the same prestige as the Crowngarde's. Regardless, they, like all sons of knights, were offered entrance into the paladin order if they possessed the ability to speak to and channel the Holy Light.

Two hundred paladins, in one army. The possibility was awe inspiring, the potential earthshaking.

Pushing away the hounding thoughts of the day, the future, and other possibilities, Malthon resigned himself to sleep.

XxX

Malthon woke to soft touches. Someone caressed his chest, his hair, and he jolted awake at it, finding them unfamiliar. With wide eyes, he searched his dark tent, until he found a silhouette hovering at just a few feet from him. It was feminine, excessively so after so long exposed to women in the bulk of paladin armor. But rather than an underdressed paladin here, silver eyes shined from her head, with two long ears stretching back.

Malthon blinked and rubbed his eyes. Upon second glance, he saw a wispy nightgown over her, pale like moonlight. The realization had him groan.

"Malthon Eyenhart..." she purred, leaning closer. Her voice remained sultry and inviting, and a soft breath buffed against his neck as she closed in. She followed with whispers, each note of her voice melodic as a song, but all of it remained unintelligible in the elven tongue.

When she tried pressing her lips against his neck, Malthon grabbed her slender shoulders and gently forced her back. "Nope." The night elf's head cocked curiously, the outline of her lips pursing just so, and she murmured more soft words before leaning in again, this time aiming for his lips.

Malthon recognized the subtle work of magic, touching upon his mind. A glamor, he thought, as her visage began to change within his mind into something far more enchanting and beautiful, trying to coerce his acceptance of her. Malthon let their lips touch, recognizing how the spell solidified and strengthened tenfold, then he scooped up her lithe frame in his arms.

The elf broke the kiss to a small sound of surprise, while he began to carry her. But it was not to his bed that he moved. Malthon restrained himself from grumbling beneath his breath as he shouldered aside the flap of his tent's entrance and dropped the attempted temptress outside. "Nope," he repeated, then stepped back inside and let the flap close behind him.

Without another thought on it, Malthon returned to bed and slept.

XxX

The weird sounds of the forest were overrun by the thundering hooves of two hundred horses. It was the fourth day now, just barely reaching the half way point of the forest. They were making better time than assumed, though that would shorten their journey only by a day or two, if nothing unfortunate happened until then.

Malthon had a dwarf, Arvin Ironhawk, scouting ahead of them and guiding the party. The stout man was the son of a scout and marksman, but while training to be the same, found his true calling in the Light and Uther's order, now an Argent Crusader. While they were following the river, the soil was too soft for the horses, too prone to accident, so Arvin found the safe path for them. They trusted he would keep the river in mind for direction, even if it wasn't always in sight.

A few yards behind Arvin was Malthon, with Jayce following at the right hip. The main body moved as a two-man thick snake, spaced only enough to have the horses not interfere with each other.

Having traveled to Silvermoon and the land of the elves more than once in his life, Malthon knew fae. He always loved the forest that resided beside his estates, something simple and useful, and he remembered so starkly the different feeling when inside a forest of the elves – like eyes were always upon him, every shadow a trick of the mind or the eye, and the sounds both of mysterious beast or ranger call. He hated the paranoia and suspicion when inside it, with no appreciation for the wonders of arcane.

Only one human ever came to understand elven forests, and that was Nathanos Marris.

Despite his experience, Malthon found this forest of fae entirely different. Beautiful golds and strong trees filled the landscape, and more than once they've ran past the ruins of a kaldorei civilization. It was peaceful, and during the day it was even silent, but it seemed to him like the silence and peace of a graveyard. He felt like behind every tree and shadow was a mass grave, their hooves trampling over tombs unmarked, and the longer they remained here, the more disgruntled the dead became at the sacrilege.

History said that once, the Lich King tried expanding eastward from Icecrown. His armies had began to move through this forest... and none of it ever came back. Twice he tried, losing legions against something unseen and unknown, until even the Lich King was unnerved and suspicious of this seemingly normal forest. They say that was the reason he erected such a massive wall to separate the glacier from the forest, called Ironwall Dam.

"Whoa there!" Arvin cried, jolting Malthon from his reflections. His arm came up, signaling the rest of them to slow to a stop.

Unlike the the star-eyed boys and girls from the Scarlet Onslaught, Arvin recognized they were all brothers together, thus was unafraid to treat Malthon as an equal.

Malthon walked his horse the last of the way to Arvin, stopping beside the man and looking out into the forest with the scout. The Light within him remained queasy, but it warned of no immediate danger. Malthon was training himself to ignore the foreboding of the Light that had started with the journey. Presently, he saw nothing of immediate interest in the shadows of the forest before them.

"What do your eyes see?" he asked, voice low. Jayce followed behind them, watching with his hawk gaze.

Arvin grunted, angry. "Nay, my friend, its what they don't see. I noticed it first a few hundred strides back, but I'm only sure of it now, as sure as you can get in this wretched place."

With a deep frown under his aquiline nose, Jayce said, "Speak up, dwarf. What is it?"

Arvin's eyes never left the trees, and before replying his wiped a hand over his beard, ending in an angry slash. "I know forests, mountain paths, caves... I've seen and marked them all. But in this place, just look at them branches and leaves up yonder. Plain and normal as they come. In a normal forest, if you walk forward, keep yer eyes on them, and then turn around and look back at them, it's all the same branch, aye? Same position?"

Malthon and Jayce shared a look, then glanced back at the branches behind them. Arvin continued, "Aye, it's sure enough the same here. Branch now, and when we get past, it's still a branch there. But there's something different with them. Something wrong. Leaves don't let you see what's on the other side of the branch, but you can guess, you know what to expect. And damn near every time, it's not what I expect – it's right near all wrong from what I expect!"

"You sure you aren't coming down with elven madness?" Jayce asked thoughtfully.

Malthon was inclined to agree. "I've said it before, Arvin. You can't let the fine details get to you here – it's not a normal forest, and if you don't come to immediate terms with that, if you don't simply accept that rocks fall up here, you'll go mad."

Arvin growled, eyes still unmoving, but he finally nodded. "You say we shouldn't care unless its a threat to us, aye friend? Then let me speak to you as a brother of Light, not a scout. When I guide and scout, the Light has always shined the way for me. From caves of black, to foreign deeps and forgotten forests, the Light has always carried me to my destination. It knows where I want to go and will take me safely there."

"Such is the ways of the Light, unique within each man," Malthon agreed.

"When I marched up the mountains from Wrathgate onto that blasted glacier, the Light seemed glad to carry me to Scourgelands, filling me with purpose. I asked it now to guide me down the river, again to Icecrown. Do you know how its telling me to lead, Lord Eyenhart?" Malthon said nothing, while Arvin's frown deepened. His gloved hand raised and pointed. "It's telling me to lead us there. To reach the stranded men on Icecrown, it wants us to go that way."

Malthon and Jayce both followed the hand, pointing east towards the body of their brothers. It was telling them to go back.

Jayce nodded slowly. "The Light's warning should not go unheeded. Our journey is not without dangers, but even the Light accepts that and will lead us forward as we are needed, despite the risks to one's own life. However, dwarf, I too consult the Light daily, and it has told me only one thing: to follow the man beside you, into the maws of madness if necessary. Where does the Light take you, Malthon?"

To do what must be done. Malthon released a slow sigh. "I tell you honestly, as brothers: within me, the Light does not direct me to my course. It swells within me, blazes like the sun in the sky – brighter even – and fills me with strength and purpose. And with all that power and Light inside me, it tells me... nothing. I pray for guidance, and it gives me more Light inside, to illuminate farther not in one direction but all."

Jayce and Arvin stared at Malthon, blinking in surprise. The Scarlet Commander breathed, "Uther..."

"What does that mean then, Malthon?" Arvin asked, his frown disappearing into his beard again. "Do we continue on?"

Jayce shook his head, and for the first time since their reunion, Malthon caught him laughing. It came softly, almost beneath his breath, but Jayce showed honest joy. "It means, dwarf, that this man is the Light's direction. He is mortal, but he is of Light. His purpose coincides with the Light's such that his decisions can be trusted as the Light's own."

Long ago, when they were young and still discussing their new sensations of the Light, Balinda had once thought the same thing of Malthon.

"It means, friends, to keep yourself armed and the Light within your reach always. There are dangers all in the way of our path, but we must push through regardless, Light willing," Malthon told them, still denying within himself the theory. "We will keep on."

After taking in a deep breath, Arvin nodded, commanding his horse forward. Malthon waved their troops on again. He briefly wondered at the implications of what the dwarf said – that the Light wasn't guiding their path, but his own scouting skills were – before banishing the thought. The Light might not guide Malthon with arrows, but it had given him purpose, and he knew, reluctantly, that he could not afford for long to forget the feeling of dread that hung over the whole journey. That was the Light's true message to him, and the reason for investing him with such strength and armor.

XxX

As one of the most heavily armored soldiers in any army, the process of equipping and removing armor was slow and drawn out. If caught off-guard in an attack, it was commonly agreed that either the footmen delayed the threat while the paladins suited up, or they charged in with just their weapons and shield.

Malthon pulled at the laces of his boots, keeping them snug, and carefully tied the double knots that wouldn't slip in a fierce battle. His linen underarmor was tucked into his buckled pants, leaving him able to slip his silver breastplate over his head and begin doing the buckles that would hold it to him.

He was in a trance. The Light had woken Malthon in the mid of night and taken him from his bed. He didn't even look at his hands as his fingers worked and did the buckles and ties with no mistakes in the dark, trusting it would work as intended. He knew, knew from the very start, that gathering such a large force of so many brothers and sisters who could strongly touch the Light would lead to bizarre and unusual events among them. Paladins were often the beacon for large groups of common folk and soldiers – to make an army of beacons, such an event was unprecedented. And anomalies were sure to follow.

How long had it been since the Light actually made him act – at least, physically influenced? Since it controlled his actions? Not since he was a boy in the churchyard with fifty others, where the Light had taken him from his room to his mentor and they returned to see an assassin snooping about for the sons of knights.

All these discussions about the Light with his men, about its guidance and the meaning of visions and feelings, and here was Malthon under its direct control. What other occurrences would arise with this force?

The blue cloak fastened to his heavy spaulders, and Malthon found himself lifted towards his weapons and shield. The aegis weighed nearly fifty pounds of solid iron, but when the Light was with him, his body felt it as five or less. He remembered when the Light shone strong in battle and the Lordaeron insignia that it bore was overlay-ed with the dagger of Light, shaped like a cross. When that was the case, no matter the force that hit the shield, it was reflected with no effort.

The last was his mace, scooped up by his right hand, and as he straightened to his feet again, the Light relinquished its control back to Malthon, and he took in a slow breath, feeling the burden of armor upon his body. Just then, the tent flap was ripped aside, and there was the heavy clanking of a paladin rushing in several steps.

"Malthon!" Balinda cried, the hard tone laced with worry. She stopped, seeing him fully armed, and he caught her nodding at him. Softer, she explained, "Something has attacked the nightwatch. Two were down already when I heard. Come quickly." She was in her full regalia of armor as well, whether due to the Light's warning or that she rarely took it off was up for speculation.

When Malthon heard, he gave only a curt nod, and they both sprinted out of the tent, blue cloaks and metallic chiming mingling with the rush of wind. Immediately, Malthon caught the commotion breaking out among the camp, with the bright glow of fire near the northern end. Other paladins were stepping out of the tents, trying to catch word of what was happening, most in sleep wear and others half-armored.

Balinda hesitated none, taking off towards the north with Malthon at her side. Seals and prayers erupted around them as they held council with the Light, and the sudden brightness of them and in full armor caught the attention of the rest. That told them enough to start their own armoring. They were half-way there when a third armored and shining figure joined them: Jayce, his helmet already covering his hard face.

At the last line of tents before their picket wall, a terrible screech split the night. More than churn fear in his gut, the very sound sent the Light inside squirming and dimming. All three of them gasped at the sensation, before Jayce roared in rage, sprinting harder. Like Malthon, he carried a mace and shield, and both glowed bright with white Light.

Malthon saw then the ring of paladins encircling a massive, dark silhouette. Large bonfires had been tossed nearby for them to better see at night, but it gave no real color to the dark, oily skin of it. The paladins were illuminated by their blessings and the firelight, and it was clear the unnatural contrast between the two. Even a blast of Holy Shock did not give the creature color.

The fighting was fierce, in Malthon's brief analysis. This unnatural creature had a number of limbs more than even the insectoid races. A dark sweep of a blade was barely caught on their shields, while another two behind were tossed away with a whip of a tail. At first, Malthon thought there to be two tails – three even! – as similarly fluid limbs lashed about, strangling one man too until his Divine Shield forced them apart. Then he saw that from its back stretched long tentacles.

Just as the three of them were about to join the fray, Malthon saw a dwarf, built like a short orc with all his muscle, stepping up aggressively. The man was so large his armor had been cut at the shoulders to reveal the limbs. Just as his giant battleaxe was lifted for a powerful strike, Light pooling around the weapon with fury, the creature's head whipped towards him and it unleashed another dreadful shriek.

The Light flickered out as it did before, visibly so from the dwarf's axe, and he stumbled in disorientation for just a moment. In that span, a scythe-like arm ripped inside the dwarf's chest, impaling him, and it flung him away with the sound of his armor rending apart. The paladin hit the ground and stopped at once with a sickening impact, and he did not rise.

"Malthon!" Balinda shouted. She was pleading that he took command, trusting his experience.

What experience did he have against this?

"Someone Redeem those men!" Malthon roared, louder than the rest of the voices. The Light made his voice clear and strong. "And make way!"

The two just before him immediately stepped aside, clearing a path to the beast. It was only a few yards away now, stretching above him at a height of two stories or more.

The Light within him, that did nothing but empower, swelled like the start of a pressurized fountain. It sprang up with a mighty blast, spreading to his limbs and mind, and he knew from past recount that vapors of Light erupted out in an aura around him. Not even that faltering voice of the beast could halt this moment, a fact that became clear as it tried, and once Malthon planted his last step, he threw all his weight, strength, and Light into the opening blow.

Rather than slicing through like a hot knife through butter, as the mace head usually did in such a strike, it was like slashing water with a broad plank. The flesh of the creature, whether it was hide or carapace or scales or skin, refused to cut easy, and the motion was sluggish as the mace swept through, erupting thick, black ichor from the wound all the way through. His mace finished its arc, and the lack of resistance as it came out had him splash more of the black ooze at the snap.

Jayce hit next, crushing a back leg – Malthon didn't know how many of those there were – while Balinda lunged forward like a fencer and buried her sword deep into the broad chest of the creature. Recognizing that her attack didn't kill it, Balinda jumped back, whipping her sword out and splattering more black droplets, this time over Malthon by accident.

It was then that they realized that the blood was acid, sizzling away at everything that they touched. Malthon heard the hissing from even his enchanted breastplate and dropped to his knee, ramming the head of his mace into the soil and bowing his head. Internally, he opened his link to the Light, channeling it within himself and knowing it would hear his pleas.

LIGHT, shield us!

The Light's Intervention immediately cocooned around all who were affected, starting within and pushing out all foreign ails, including the black ichor. Malthon opened his eyes and stood, thanking the Light.

With wild shrieks, the creature stumbled about, clutching at the wounds at its belly and chest and clearly limping on that one leg. Under the yellow glow of his shield, Malthon received a better look at the beast, only to realize it wasn't a beast at all. It was humanoid, with the black flesh stretching over a largely muscles figure with two arms and two legs. Only, it was changed.

A moment later, he recognized that the starting shape was vaguely eredar, like his draenei brothers in Light. It was corrupted though, clear with its difference in shape and the growth in size, the tail stronger and touching the yellow grass. But even that demonic corruption wasn't enough. Scales had grown over parts of its frame like natural armor, and tentacles swung about from its back, strong and independent of the rest of its shape. It's body had morphed shape too, to give it four arms and four legs, stomping about like a magnataur.

Strangest of all, to Malthon, was its eyes, visible finally upon its face. Plainly, the eyes were missing. Gouged out in what must have been quite messy way. Why?

With breathing ragged, the... creature finally stopped thrashing and stood to its fully erected height. The eyeless gaze fixed upon Malthon, lips peeling back like a rabid dog's. One clawed hand was raised, and black magic began to gathered with pitch motes pooling in just as all of their shields dissipated and Forbearance settled upon their spirits.

Malthon's lips drew thin with his pensive frown and he shifted his stance to a more defensive one, raising his shield to catch the blast. The lull did not last though, as Jayce and others rushed again to the creature for further exchange. A sweep of a second hand sent them all tumbling back from a midnight wave of magic, while the thing's attention remained fastened on Malthon. Things had become personal, apparently, as the thick ooze still stained its oily stomach.

The seconds passed with agonizing slowness, and Malthon began to wonder if he could stop this attack with his shield at all. The eredar were known for their magical prowess, and this one seemed all the stronger than the usual. He knew better than to try to dodge too, as any wizard worth his salt always fixed their spells on a target, not a path, so it would simply follow him.

The creature sent the attack, lobbing it forward like a child would a play ball. Calling upon a queasy, nervous Light, Malthon was prepared for the hit, comforted by the presence of Balinda pressed against his shoulder. Before it could hit him though, a magically empowered shout split the night:

"Kal'do falah-dor!"

A bright spell of whites and light violets shot like a bullet over him and Balinda and crashed into the squirming black sphere. The reaction was violent, sending clouds and arcs of light and shadow cutting through the air with a roar like dynamite. The force of impact sent the both of them stumbling back, and even the monster rocked at it, hissing like a cat.

A waterfall of light-colored vapor poured from the collision point, the only trace of either spell. Malthon's attention fixed back on the eredar's through the motes, and the displeasure was mutual. Malthon made forward again, emboldened with a moment of confidence from the whimsical Light. The slash was deflected by his shield, as was the tentacle whip, and then Malthon smashed his mace into its hips. His attacks sent the creature reeling to the left, and then to the right, and its desperate counters were easily deflected by his Light-guided shield.

At the briefest pause, the monster sucked in a breath for a Light-quenching roar, and Malthon screamed a prayer of power to counter it. The Light swelled up and down like waves in an ocean, visible around him, and they engaged physically yet again. Barely, as if whispering reluctantly, the Light told Malthon when the eredar was sending spells at him, and he made his way forward reckfully.

With several more Light-blessed blows, the creature was finally slowing down, weakening, and the other paladins including Jayce and Balinda assisted in finally laying it low. When the last leg was rendered useless, it fell over onto its side. They tried to swarm it, but suddenly the four tentacles lashed out with tips first and impaled three of them clean through. Balinda caught her offender with her shield, then cut off the appendage before leaping upon the creature's chest.

There was a thrashing moment, but nimble Balinda avoided the desperate strikes and stomped her knee against its collar before sweeping her sword through its neck. It took three attempts, but then the snarling head rolled away in the dirt, leaving a sizzling trail of black blood behind it. Immediately, the headless body began to convulse and shudder, and Balinda fought to remain steady on it.

The Light's warning ripped through Malthon's mind. Without a thought, he leap up with unnatural strength and caught Balinda's heavily armored body in his arms. Heedless of the impact between them, he ripped her from her place on top and carried her down with him to the other side. They hit the ground rolling, and in a stroke of Light-blessed luck, they stopped in just the position where Malthon could throw his shield arm up and slam the heavy plate between the creature's body and them.

He noticed that despite the predicament, Balinda managed the same, slamming hers beside his and fully covering their bodies. "Cover!" they roared, synchronized.

There was a moment where they felt the ground begin to rumble, just before an ear-splitting explosion ripped through the night. Their shields were unhindered by the lash of the shockwave, but from the sound alone of heavy, plated bodies hitting the ground, Malthon knew that not everyone was so lucky.

Worst still, pieces of the freshly exploded corpse began to fall upon them, and wherever the meaty chunks touched, the sizzling blood followed. An acid bomb, upon death. Malthon's mind felt numb from the shock, and he half-wondered if he'd wake from a terrible dream when this was over. Never had he witnessed anything so atrocious and gruesome. The Light remained in a steadier state of confidence with the creature's death, but the mere fact that it had faltered told more than anything else.

When matters had cleared, Malthon and Balinda lifted their shields and stood to their feet. A crater remained where the creature had died, and steady clouds of steam rose from the area around them. Breathing hard, they shared a wide-eyed gaze, then looked to the men around them. Paladins from the camp were swarming forward, many already enveloped with Light as they worked Redemption for the slain. Others worked on cleansing the filth from the area, especially where the blood had touched a paladin.

The tip of Balinda's sword touched the ground, smoking with acid vapor, and she slowly shook her head. "Hell's Bells, Malthon. I don't... I..."

"Keep the Light close, sister," Malthon returned, keeping his emotion from his voice. They needed a steady image now, and at the tone, she looked over again before nodding. They didn't need words as she stepped aside: Crowngarde's were guardians, Eyenhart's were leaders. It was time for him to lead.

"I want the wounded taken to a shared tent. Get them food, water, and plenty of blankets. We triple the watch tonight, men; the rest of you, sleep if you still can." Malthon made his way through them, speaking boldly and letting himself be seen and heard. To those involved in the fighting, he stopped and spoke to personally, then helped carry the wounded into the quickly made hospital tent.

The creature, the Light, none of it would leave his head all the while. He was sure the rest felt the same. Hell's Bells indeed.


AN: By now, it's become essential that I stop writing in favor of reading. To read is to write well, to keep from falling into mediocracy, and I feel like my writing has become smeared in mediocracy of late. I need to start reading again, to recharge my batteries so to speak. In the meanwhile, I'll keep on updating with what I already have written, which is up to Chapter 10.