Chapter 7
Dawn was only just breaking as they departed Immil Vale. Blake and Gann had slept longer than it had seemed for them in the dream but, notwithstanding Okku's grousing over the tedium, had not slept that long. What had delayed them though was Blake catching a whiff of himself. Travelling through snowy mountains and resting in caves and hollows carved from snow banks had not encouraged much undressing. Immil Vale was more temperate though and perhaps because his nose had thawed Blake suddenly realised the evidence of their travels.
Things would have been simpler if the water in the bubbling pools had been just a little cooler or less laden with mineral. Fortunately there were a few metal buckets to be found at the mine and the, now unfrozen, stream had some good clean water to rinse these out with and fill them. The water was still rather cold but the magic that had worked on the lake water worked here as well to take the chill off. One good strip wash each, clean underwear, and a small amount of armour maintenance went a long way towards making them fresher for the return journey down through the mountains.
This was a little easier as though steep slopes were almost as hard to descend as to climb they did know now where good places to camp were and discussing the full details of the Mosstone dream with Neeshka and Okku had given some extra conversation the first night. As they reached the edges of the burnt forest though this looked even worse by comparison with their fairly fresh memories of the lushness of Immil Vale. It was hard to resist the temptation to increase their pace despite knowing that if they were to fight they needed to not arrive exhausted. The final stage of their journey ended as the grove and the burning, but not burning, trees came into sight and they saw a flicker of movement amongst those.
"Back again," commented Neeshka, "and he's still here."
"Which is lucky," Blake replied, "means he has not burned any further afield, or if he has and then returned it does at least save us hunting him down."
"I had rather hoped he'd have been drawn back to his plane of Fire," complained Gann, "this could be unpleasant."
"We are lucky," Blake mused, unslinging and buckling on his shield, "but not that lucky. Gann…you take the left, I'll take the right." Gann nodded as Blake continued, "I think a simple Ray of Frost might work on the fires, but we'd need more against the shape."
"It is fortunate then that we do both have more," smiled Gann.
They retreated a short distance to make a few preparations that would them against the fire and aid them in extinguishing it. Then they advanced and the two spots of brightness that served the Shape of Fire as eyes turned towards them. The pattern of its flickering and the colour of its flames shifted as it saw they had returned and as it watched to see what they were going to do.
Blake gathered his strength from the weave as Gann beseeched the spirits for aid in lending him their power. Then almost simultaneously Blake sent a Ray of Frost into one burning tree while Gann struck another with Creeping Cold. Blake's spell was less powerful than what the spirits had granted Gann. The ray struck the trunk of the tree and ice radiated out from where it struck, but this ice almost instantly hissed away into steam as it took the flames with it. The tree struck by Gann was more thoroughly dealt with as first ice formed and hissed away, as with Blake's spell extinguishing the flames, but then another thicker layer of ice formed. This melted rather than hissed and then a third coating of ice was created by the spirit-power and remained coating the tree trunk.
"Leave my Fires," the Shape of Fire demanded.
Gann and Blake ignored him and struck another pair of trees with magics of cold. Blake glanced at the ice-encrusted trees Gann was leaving and considered whether he needed to use a second Ray of Frost or a more powerful spell. One Ray of Frost did seem enough to put out the fires though and to anger the Shape of Fire.
"Leave my Fires," the Shape of Fire repeated, its flickering growing more violent and its colours more bright.
This demand was no more effective than its first, though Blake and Gann did exchange a glance to warn each other to be ready. Neeshka and Okku also tensed where they were waiting to react. Two more trees were struck, the fires on the trunk replaced for a moment by ice before that disappeared or was twice replaced by fresh ice. The Shape of Fire flared up strongly enough to briefly cast shadows across the snow as it screamed.
"LEAVE MY FIRES!" the Shape of Fire howled, charging towards Blake. "You will suffer, you will pay. You will suffer, I will slay! Burn you!"
Blake turned slightly to bring his shield in line. That was why he had taken the right hand side, so the Shape of Fire would be approaching from his left where his shield was. Before the Shape of Fire could reach him though Okku had sprung forward and swept one great paw across what would have been its stomach. This had little effect though and neither did Neeshka's rapier, despite the discharging magic, as it passed through what would have been its neck.
"Damn," Blake muttered, seeing this, "but at least we have drawn him into this plane."
The Shape of Fire had been distracted by the attacks and by cackling at Okku and Neeshka about how ineffective they had been. Blake gathered more arcane power from the Weave and unleashed it in a more powerful spell. A great plume of white appeared in front of him as the little moisture that had not already frozen out of the forest air condensed within the effect of his Cone of Cold. The Shape of Fire staggered as this played across him and his heat carved a 'shadow' into the cone. This was both satisfying and frustrating for Blake as there was an even more powerful spell he could have learned.
Gann concentrated and asked the spirits for yet more power. They granted his request for a request of the most powerful level he could cast and the incredible cold of a Burst of Glacial Wrath engulfed the Shape of Fire. This could sometimes literally freeze an enemy solid and the Shape of Fire visibly dimmed under the effect. "That worked," Gann commented, "but… I don't have many."
"Hey!" complained Neeshka. She had been circling around the Shape of Fire to try to keep its attention and only her Tymorra blessed reflexes had let her jump back in time to avoid Gann's magic.
"Hmm," Gann mused, "my apologies, a wider effect than I had thought."
Okku just growled in response as fresh energy flowed into him from the spirits to replace that stolen by the cold. Channelled by the unmatchable will of a bear-god this power let his spirit form shift and heal. Whether his growling was directed at Gann for making him chilled or at the Shape of Fire that was still cackling as its form also recovered was not clear.
"Not kill me, not kill me, I kill you," taunted the Shape of Fire, "stay close, you hurt each other, you hurt, you hurt!"
Blake took a few steps sideways to get a slightly different angle and subtly gestured to Neeshka who nodded just as subtly back. The love they shared and the battles they had been through gave them an almost telepathic bond and as she flung herself sideways Blake was finishing casting another Cone of Cold. The edge of the cone barely missed Neeshka but this was deliberate. She had moved just in time and he had aimed just enough the other side of the Shape of Fire.
"Aaaahhhh, you trick, you trick, trick you," the Shape of Fire protested, as it recoiled from the cold, "trick you, bear not dodge, claws not hurt, I burn, you touch, you burn."
Okku snarled and ripped his claws through the Shape of Fire again, his spirit-flesh almost impervious to the heat but the Shape of Fire just reforming behind his paw rather than being torn apart by the blow. The Shape of Fire gave the impression of capering about as Okku roared again in frustration. "Ha ha, not hurt me, I hurt you, I burn, you burn," it taunted.
Gann tried Creeping Cold as, unlike the Burst of Glacial Wrath, that would not affect Okku but, unlike against the trees, this did not affect the Shape of Fire either. A Ray of Frost from Blake also met with a distinct lack of success. The Shape of Fire's capering increased as it danced around near Okku and tried to provoke him into more useless paw swings or bites.
"Red Knight curse it," Blake hissed, annoyed at how his plans had gone wrong, "there is a spell called Polar Ray that could be aimed precisely enough, but that had not seemed a priority to learn as it would only affect one target."
"If you have to injure me to destroy this abomination little-one," rumbled Okku, "then so be it."
"Hmm, maybe not…" Neeshka said, her eyes narrowing slightly in thought, "give me those Orglash Essences harbour-boy."
Blake glanced to his darling. He didn't know what she was thinking, but he did know that he loved and trusted her so his right hand went into his pack and the magic of the bag let him find the jar almost at once. A low fast underhand sent the, thankfully firmly sealed, jar to Neeshka who deftly snatched it from the air. Finding and throwing the jar had distracted Blake for a moment and he had to quickly draw his sword and send it through the Shape of Fire. The magic on his blade discharged but seemed to affect the Shape of Fire as little as the metal did or as Okku's claws had.
"Blast," snarled Blake, putting a great deal of feeling into that one word.
"You can put that away again," Neeshka called. "Use this."
Blake glanced at her again and saw to his surprise that she was holding a longsword that was dripping snow as moisture condensed on it into ice and fell in tiny fragments from it. Okku roared and charged, interposing himself between Blake and the Shape of Fire as Blake scabbarded his sword and half jogged over to his sweetheart. "Where did you get that?" he asked in bafflement.
"The longsword was in the mines with the Bheur," Neeshka explained as Blake took it, and waggled it a little to test the weight and balance. "You are lucky I brought it, not very magical and not very valuable."
"It looks…" Gann began, breaking off to concentrate and beseech the spirits for another Creeping Cold, "quite magical to me, and rather cold."
"That would be the Orglash Essence I sprinkled on it," replied Neeshka with a smile of pride at her own cleverness.
"Then I suggest little-one," Okku rumbled, "that if this lets you hurt this thing then we 'sprinkle' your other weapons."
"I think not," said Blake, circling around to find a good angle to attack the Shape of Fire and trying to get used to the lighter sword. "Beneath your barrow were some ruins with animated weapons. When I made them hot and then very cold they became brittle and easily shattered…"
"But if that sword breaks," Neeshka interrupted, "we have not lost much."
Okku rumbled and nodded. These creatures of flesh could not equal his might, or the effectiveness of his claws and teeth, but the magic of their weapons did at least allow them, all combined, to nearly come close. Best to not risk them being reduced to less 'powerful' weapons or that gap would widen and they would become even more just spectators to the glory of the bear-god's victories.
Blake saw his opening and thrust forward with the longsword, leaving a trail of frozen moisture in the air behind it, and through the Shape of Fire. As when he struck it with his own sword this was like waving a hand through the smoke of an attempt at cooking but this time the Shape of Fire recoiled in shock. A small patch of dimness formed in its flames and then brightened again as it flickered away.
"Aaaah, is cold, cold burns burning fire," the Shape of Fire protested, "away, away, go away. I burn, not burn with cold, burn with fire, burn, burn the grove."
Pressing the attack Blake began sweeping the longsword through the shape of fire in long quick movements. These barely had any power in them but there was no resistance to overcome so speed and repetition were more important. Dim trails criss-crossed the Shape of Fire's form as the longsword swept back through it before the effects of the previous sweep had faded. The Shape of Fire flickering and the speed with which the dimness brightened began to slow as it was driven back away from Okku.
"Now!" Gann called.
Blake hesitated a moment before realising and stepping back. Gann completed his appeal to the spirits and another Burst of Glacial Wrath erupted around and through the Shape of Fire. It dimmed greatly and if a form of flames could stagger then this one did. Glancing at the ground where ice had formed and at where the edge of that ice was compared with his boot Blake saw that had been quite close.
"Freeze me?" said the Shape of Fire in shock before rallying. "No! Burn you! Burn, Shape of Fire, fire burns, burn you, burn the grove, burn you, burn the grove."
With that the Shape of Fire summoned some reserve of strength and flared up. It was still dim by comparison with when the fight had begun but that just meant its flames were as intense as a campfire rather than a furnace. Fixing the patches of brightness that seemed to serve as eyes on Blake it charged at him. Blake glared back and stood his ground as he could see there was none of his companions behind the Shape of Fire. With speed rather than haste he called on the weave and muttered the invocation to create a Cone of Cold. This played over the Shape of Fire but did not stop it. Determination or anger carried the burning spirit of the tracker forward through the cone and Blake found himself engulfed in flames.
His magical warding protected him but Blake still squeezed his eyes shut to further protect them and held his breath to avoid breathing in flame. He waved the longsword about in front of his body and hoped this was passing through the Shape of Fire. There was brightness through his closed eyelids as the fire persisted around him and he knew as the tightness in his chest grew that soon he might drown in flames. Suddenly heat was replaced by cold that seemed to strike Blake to the bone and he staggered back as his legs became weak. There was a thump as his back and Okku's side met and then he felt a slim hand come in under his armpit to help steady him upright against the bear-god's support.
"I know how I'd warm you up…" Neeshka whispered with a smile as Blake looked at her, "if Gann and Okku weren't here at least."
With an effort Blake managed to smile in return before looking to where the Shape of Fire was, lacking friends to catch it, collapsed on the ground of the grove. Gann was looking a little contrite and Blake's brain was not frozen enough to not make the connection. He resolved to not make Gann angry unless he had a spell of immunity to cold, rather than one against fire, in place as even if he was not literally frozen he did feel figuratively chilled to the bone by that Burst of Glacial Wrath.
"Sorry," Gann said, noticing Blake was looking at him, "there seemed no other way."
"A… a… agr… greed," replied Blake, his teeth chattering a little.
"It seems to be brightening again," Gann commented, gesturing at the very dim Shape of Fire, "and though another Burst of Glacial Wrath might finish it that would leave me without power for other requests we might need before day's-end."
"Aaaah, where my flames," howled the Shape of Fire as it writhed a little, "flames to burn, burn the grove, burn those that make me cold."
"St… st…" Blake began, before clenching his jaw and trying to speak slower but clearer, "stab… this… into… it… please… sweet… heart."
Neeshka took the longsword from Blake's rather drooping hand and with a worried look removed her support. After hesitating a moment to see if Blake was going to keel over to one side she stepped quickly over to the Shape of Fire and plunged the sword down through it and into the support of the ground beneath. As she returned to Blake's side a dimness appeared in the Shape of Fire's form from the prolonged contact with the sword, but the leather over the wire of the hilt slowly began to smoulder as this same contact began to overcome the Orglash Essences and heat the sword.
Blake concentrated his cold-numbed thoughts and, while still leaning on Okku, managed to summon enough power from the weave and chant clearly enough to send a Ray of Frost across into the Shape of Fire. A tiny patch of extra dimness appeared so the Shape of Fire had been weakened enough to be affected by such a simple spell but only weakened enough for it to be almost rather than totally ineffective. With another effort Blake lurched upwards and away from Okku's support.
"Okku, Neeshka," Blake said, his tone nearly normal, "stay back a little please."
"Very well little-one," rumbled Okku, while Neeshka didn't reply. She was too busy watching her harbour-boy in case he was not as steady on his feet as he hoped.
A staggering step or two and Blake looked down at the Shape of Fire that turned its patches of brightness up to meet his gaze. "You tried to drown me in flame," Blake said, "so now drown in ice."
Blake chanted and as this incantation was completed a spell of Cone of Cold spewed from his hands and over the Shape of Fire. This drove it down but Blake was continuing to chant and to repeat himself and another Cone of Cold spewed forth. The Shape of Fire struggled to rise as it realised Blake was still chanting but as the third and final Cone of Cold was cast it was left sprawled flat in the mud that was drying out in the heat beneath it. Blake resisted the temptation to kick it in the ribs as even if he knew the fire immunity meant he'd not burn his foot he also knew the shape no longer had any ribs. Neeshka moved to join him, her grace making her seem to glide across the short distance, and they looked down with him at the Shape of Fire.
"Is it dead yet?" Neeshka asked.
"Unable to fight," replied Blake, looking at it in assessment, "but still burning and recovering."
"We should finish it," Gann said firmly. "Even if it does not recover enough to start setting fires deliberately again." Gann pointed. "Look, the mere heat of its presence is enough to be troublesome."
Blake followed Gann's gesture and nodded as he saw the nearer trees drying out and a suggestion of smoke. It was hard to tell how hot something was when you had shielded yourself against its effects but it looked like the Shape of Fire was still hot enough to be a danger. "Yes," Blake mused, "but will Orglash Essences kill it or simply drive it back to the Plane of Fire?"
"Does it make a difference?" Neeshka commented.
"Not to us, or to the forest," admitted Blake, before continuing, "but would death be a more merciful fate than being returned to torment? If we can't be sure these will kill it would it be better to use my Curse and make sure it dies?"
"I think you know the answer to that, little one," Okku rumbled, "or you would have devoured it when we were here last rather than risk it burning more of this forest in the delay."
"If eternal torment is what we return it to," added Gann, "then that is the justice the Wood Man meted out for the betrayal committed. You becoming accursed let the tracker escape that for a time so, perhaps, that was mercy enough."
Blake slowly nodded. "Very well."
Making his decision he recovered the Orglash Essences from Neeshka and moved to stand over the Shape of Fire. It was too weak to look at him and a moment of pity stilled Blake's hand before he uncapped the jar and began sprinkling the essences over it. The Shape of Fire howled at the contact as wherever the dust touched its form it dimmed. Blake hardened his heart and continued until the jar was empty, the Shape of Fire had vanished, and rather than screaming the silence of the grove was broken only by the sound of the over-heated longsword shattering in the sudden cold.
Blake dropped the jar by the shards of the longsword and onto the patch of scorched earth where the Shape of Fire had been. "I am glad that I didn't use that on my sword."
Gann looked at Blake for a moment as if he was expecting more, some speech on how justice had been done or what a heavy burden that judgement had been, but saw that all that needed to be said could be read in Blake's face. He had done what was needed and that was the end of the matter.
By a few hours into the journey Neeshka's presence had managed to draw a smile back onto Blake's face. The joy he felt in her presence was enough to overcome or at least submerge his woes. Her love and support was so important to Blake that he, again, wondered how he could ever repay her. As they had travelled through Rashemen though he had been plagued with strange doubts. Or rather found the concern he'd always had feeling far stronger.
As cheerfully as she had recounted her life Blake had noticed the events were less cheery than her voice. She had at least been abandoned at an Orphanage rather than in the Wilderness like Gann but she'd only mentioned rules and punishment and warnings from the Priests of Hel rather than any affection. That did not seem as bad to Blake as he knew it might to some as Daeghun had a similar attitude. But Blake had had the comfort of friends and Neeshka had not mentioned any. It seemed as if her Infernal ancestry had set her apart at the Orphanage as well as, probably, being why she had been raised there.
Then when she had left there she had continued to suffer prejudice with people being more willing to insult her and call her 'Goat Girl' or 'Cursed One' than her name. Blake had always been concerned that her 'love' might only be gratitude as when they first met he had saved her life and almost the first thing she'd said to him after the fight was her surprise that he was nice as nice people generally didn't treat her politely. He was sure of his feelings for her but there was the worry there might be a truer soul mate for her somewhere. That she was only with him because he seemed to be almost the first person to treat her with some kindness rather than this being the love she deserved to feel.
This concern and worry had never been very great but now something inside him was telling him that she and he were not meant to be together. That his soul mate was waiting for him elsewhere on his journey through life, and if Neeshka was not his soul mate then he could not be hers. It was strange how these doubts had increased in this land where Blake had seen even more proof of Neeshka's devotion by her very presence. He stole another long look at Neeshka, who smiled uncertainly at the look on her harbour-boy's face, and reminded himself of how she had followed him here to rescue him and give her support. To aid him with the curse… wait, 'something inside him' was telling him? 'Something inside him'?
"Harbour-boy?" Neeshka asked as Blake stopped dead and cursed briefly but intensely.
"That Red Wizard should have died slower," growled Blake, one hand touching the centre of his chest.
"Perhaps," Okku murmured, as softly as a god of bears could, "but what brought that to mind now little-one?"
"We have learned this curse comes with memories," said Blake, trying to organise his thoughts without betraying too much or lying, "echoes of past spirit-eaters and their actions. I have doubted something and I just realised those doubts were this curse, not my own fears."
"What were you doubting?" Neeshka asked, reasonably.
Blake hesitated, how could he say he had doubted their love without planting seeds of doubt in her mind? "It does not matter," he said finally, "I know better now and can tell the source and discount those feelings."
Neeshka frowned at Blake but decided to not demand to know what he was hiding. She had her own doubts and fears that she would rather not admit to and demanding total honesty from him might lead to him demanding the same from her. On general principles though she held the frown and glare for long enough to make Blake squirm in the embarrassed harbour-boy fashion she found so cute.
They continued on back into the Ashenwood where the only trail was the one Okku was breaking for them through the snow. His chest was broad and his stamina almost endless so this trail was wide and continued on through the day. Night's fall brought rest for the mortals and continued vigilance for the god-of-bears before dawn came and another day of travelling. As picturesque as snow on bare branches could be and as pleasant as Neeshka's company was, and also he supposed Gann and Okku's, by the time they reached the area of woods near the Lake of Tears Blake was becoming rather sick of the sight of those trees.
"Okku, Gann," Blake asked, glancing around, "what does your nose and connections with the spirits tell you, has the blight worsened?"
"Its stench still hangs on the forest little-one," rumbled Okku, "but more than that somehow."
"Old father bear is correct," Gann added, "something lies across the spirit of the Ashenwood, dimming it, and it is not the blight. I can feel it like a mist, there is a patch of clarity where the sanctuary was restored and a knot of pus around that great Treant, but it is that mist that surrounds and tries to taint them both."
Blake nodded. "That 'mist' might be what Imsha suggested," he mused, "some other aspect of these woods trying to replace the absent Wood Man."
"Enough talk," murmured Okku, "let us see if your prayers were answered and if we can cure this blight."
Nodding again Blake hoped he was heading in the right direction. To his relief there seemed to have not been any heavy snowfall and the corpses of the hunting party still stuck out from the snow and marked a path they had taken. There was no sign of the dog though and Blake allowed himself a moment of concern as they had seen so few living creatures that the dog might have been able to eat. With luck it would have found its way to the garrison and the Berserkers would have welcomed it despite him forgetting to mention it to Yurkov.
The trees with the unsavoury green vapours rising about them came into view and then the pool with the great Treant still lying there beside it. The scene seemed not to have changed though the Treant was still enough as they approached that Blake wondered if they were too late. With a slight rustle of leaves and branches though the Treant stirred and its great woody eyes opened and gazed at them.
"Is that you, little sapling?" asked the Treant, trying to focus on Blake through its illness.
"Yes," Blake replied simply. "Chauntea answered the plea and I have a salve here that will heal you."
"She did?" the Treant said, sounding unflatteringly surprised at Blake's success before recovering. "Well, don't waste it on me, little one. Just see the other trees in this glade are restored. Place your gift in the pond here…their roots will drink from it."
Blake frowned. "But you have the blight too," he pointed out.
"I have, little one, but it is not right for me to fight it," the Treant replied. "When I was first stricken with this blight all those years ago it happened because I had cheated death. That I survived the draining of my own life was an affront to the natural order. I suffered long for it, but such was my penance and it was necessary."
"Not right?" repeated Blake. "I disagree, you cheated death only in the sense that anyone who prevails against a fearsome adversary does. That anyone who suffers a grievous wound and through determination survives does…" Neeshka placed a slim hand on Blake's arm as he began to rant. He glanced at her and nodded. "But if you are sure about this I shall respect your wishes."
"I am sure," the Treant replied calmly. "For me the time has come for a peaceful and long-overdue slumber. I trust you will tend the younglings and see them healed, which means I can stop clinging at last. Good night and farewell little one."
With that the Treant died and Blake could not stop himself from glaring a moment at the corpse. He was beating this curse through sheer bloody-mindedness so surrendering to death rather than raging against it was something he found… irritating. That Treant seemed to have been blessed greatly by Jergal with fatalism and not blessed enough by Ilmater with perseverance. However much he wanted death, after waiting those days for their return, he could have clung to life for a few minutes more to see if the cure worked and to suggest another idea if it did not. Neeshka smiled at Blake and he closed his eyes for a moment to calm himself before opening them and smiling back at her.
"We should go now and see that his wishes are honoured," rumbled Okku as the mated-pair showed no signs of moving.
Blake nodded and gave Neeshka's hand a gentle squeeze before removing it from his arm. Reaching into his pack he removed the beautiful crystal bottle of the cure and moved across to the pond. He crouched and unstoppered the bottle, and then submerged it and began swirling it around so that the contents of the bottle and the pond water would mix. A slight glittering in the water spread out from the swirling and Blake twitched as it felt he was losing his grip on the bottle. As he pulled his hand out of the water though he saw it was that the bottle was fading away and becoming more ethereal.
"No fair," protested Neeshka as the bottle vanished, "I wanted to keep that."
"Aye," Blake agreed, standing and looking at his damp gauntlet, "would have been a nice memento…"
There was a creaking as some trees revealed themselves as Treants. They hesitated a moment, shuddering as the water passed up their trunks from where their roots had drunk it, and then these roots ripped and retracted from the soil as they began towards Blake and the others. Blake looked at them and drew his sword, cursing silently that he did not have time to pull up his chainmail hood to place his helmet over it, though at least his shield was on his arm.
"And these do not seem grateful for our efforts," Blake commented as the metal of his sword hissed over the metal mouth of his scabbard.
"These saplings are too far gone," growled Okku, tensing his great haunches to spring, "the blight maddens them so the cure is just a change to be fought."
"Hah, a shame they do not have the same placid acceptance of 'fate' as the large one did," Blake couldn't stop himself saying sourly as he gathered some power of the Weave to himself. "Or a shame it did not have the same determination as they do to fight rather than surrender."
Neeshka smiled and drew her rapier to follow up the attack as she recognised what Blake was beginning to chant. Then he stopped and cursed. "Blake?" she asked with some puzzlement.
"We have been to the trouble of curing this grove," Blake growled, "so we don't want to burn these trees, or any others, by having burning Treants stumble into them."
"Perhaps… I can help," said Gann, sounding rather less sure of himself than normal.
Gann looked around at the approaching Treants, at how far they were from other trees and his comrades, and with a slight frown drew on the power of the spirits. Out of the clear sky Lightning struck down and into the Treants, sending bark and smaller branches flying as the electricity heated the sap within them. Gann's expression remained dubious even as he saw the success of his appeal to let the spirits allow him to cast Call Lightning Storm.
"Impressive," Blake said, sounding surprised before he chanted and used how the Treants had been staggered back to pepper them with a Greater Missile Storm.
"Mmm-hmmm," agreed Okku, sounding less surprised and less sure of there having been any need for magic or strength from spirits other than himself. He charged forward, as the only tactic befitting a god-of-bears, and sprang at one Treant to bowl it over backwards and begin to shred at its trunk with digging motions of his back paws. Wood chips flew.
"So if you can do that then…" asked Neeshka, sliding to one side of a Treant's attempt to swat her into the ground.
"Then why have I not before?" Gann finished, considering his answer as best he could while also trying to not get killed. "Like our fearless leader, but unlike the Druid he took me for at first, my choice of magic is limited."
Blake sheered away the pointed branch fingers on one hand of a Treant as it tried to stab him with those and instead met a sweep of his sword. The Treant howled a little and recoiled and Blake struck a deliberately glancing blow against its trunk to chop away a sliver and weaken it without getting his blade trapped. "And that choice did not seem to please you my friend."
"No," Gann replied simply. He stabbed at the eyes of another Treant and succeeded in dislodging one. The hard sphere of wood clattered against the bark as its weight drew the vine like nerve out of the socket and it dangled and swung on this. Okku took advantage of the Treant's distraction and that its attention was very much on Gann and did his very best attempt at stalking something from behind.
Okku sprang again and Gann barely managed to sidestep as the Treant was knocked down and almost onto him. Okku began rending at the wood of the back of the Treant and Gann tried to help by stabbing his spear at where the branches of the Treant's limbs bent. This was unspectacular compared with what the bear-god was doing but each time the spearhead sank into those branches it spoiled an attempt by the Treant to push off the ground and twist to try to fight back.
Cutting another chunk away from the trunk of the Treant he faced Blake decided to take a chance and swung his sword in a long horizontal arc. For a moment as his sword sank deep into the wood and stuck fast this seemed to have been a mistake. Then as the Treant's weight shifted the cut opened and spread and with a crack any lumberjack would recognise the trunk split, freeing Blake's sword and sending the Treant's upper body crashing to the ground of the Ashenwood. Blake pulled his sword back and raised it into a fencing position, pointing it out in line with his arm and allowing himself to both be ready for the next attack and look down the line of the blade and see if it had been bent at all.
Thankfully it had not and as Okku finished his second kill Blake hurried to join Neeshka. She was running circles around the Treant that had tried to swat her, stabbing it in the sides and rear with her rapier, inflicting small wounds that became painful as the magic of her sword discharged each time. As maddened as this Treant was with the blight it was becoming even more so with the pain and the frustration of being too slow to catch the source of this pain. Its woody eyes fixed on Blake as he clanked towards it and it took a long stride towards this slower looking enemy. Neeshka stabbed at it some more but the Treant was not to be distracted from the thought that perhaps this was a foe he was fast enough to hit.
Blake considered his magic and wished Qara were here. Certainly that would have led to the entire grove being aflame but the Sorceress' self-righteousness would have shielded her from accepting that was a mistake or in any way wrong. At times like this, where restraint made things more difficult, he envied the simplicity of just burning everything and not even bothering to apologise over the ashes later. Discounting his spells Blake moved to use his sword, surprising the Treant with his speed and hacking a great chunk away from the hand reaching down at him.
The impact of the Treant hand moving one way and his sword the other staggered Blake a little but then Okku was there and springing forward. This spring did not meet with the same success as his previous two though as the Treant managed to bring its other hand across in a backhanded slap and sent the bear-god tumbling to one side. A sharp crack of splintering wood accompanied this however as the power of Okku's charge proved greater than the strength of the Treant wood. The limb sagged as it bent where there was no joint and the Treant hesitated a moment.
This was enough for Neeshka. Now the Treant was not moving she slid her rapier back into its scabbard and sprang. Compared with the tower at the Thayan Mage Academy it was incredibly easy to climb the back of a Treant, her boot soles and her strong fingers clinging to the bark as she swarmed upwards. Feeling this the Treant began swaying and twisting to throw her off but Neeshka got a firm grip with her left hand and by wrapping her legs a little around the trunk. She pulled her right arm back a little and then began chopping at what would have been the back the Treant's head with the blade on that forearm bracer. Punching movements to draw the edge of the blade across the wood alternated with downward chops into those grooves to whittle away chunks of wood.
Feeling this the Treant flung itself backwards to try to crush the Tiefling under its weight and branches but before it was halfway to the ground Neeshka had reacted and was already springing away from it. She landed and rolled to absorb the landing and was back onto to her feet before the last of the Treant's branches had finished shaking from its own landing. The Treant began to rise as it realised it had not succeeded but then a weight crushed its crown of branches back into the forest floor. It could just see a glimmer of colour and this with the rumble of satisfaction it heard from there told it the weight was the spirit bear.
Blake jumped and landed on the Treant's trunk as it twisted and turned to try to dislodge Okku or break off and sacrifice the branches he was on. This footing was not certain and Blake swayed for a moment before he stabbed his sword down and back between his feet. The tip of his sword gouged a channel into the bark and Blake did it again and again as if he was carving out a log canoe. This would naturally have been easier with an Adze and if he was carving an unmoving log but soon there was quite a hollow and the Treant stopped moving in death.
"Hrmm," said Blake, hopping down from the carved out corpse and looking around. "Well…at least they are not blighted, so as they rot they will not poison the ground and… er… hollowed out logs do make good homes for little creatures… hrmm."
"Searching for a bright side harbour-boy?" Neeshka smiled at him.
"The fact you," replied Blake, before hurriedly adding, "and Gann and Okku of course, are still alive and uninjured is enough of a bright side. But I dislike killing where I was hoping to cure."
"A feeling I share," Gann commented, "and which answers your ladies earlier question too. And is why did my 'choice' did not please me."
"You prefer to cure or to aid," nodded Blake.
"The spirits nurtured me," Gann said with a rueful smile, "to me that is their nature. To use their power for destruction was never something I favoured even when other Shamans insisted I learn at least a few of those ways."
"I am certainly glad you learned to channel the cold to aid against the Shape of Fire and I envy you in a way," admitted Blake. "The arcane does have its gentler uses but my skills have never lent themselves to healing people and easing their pain, which is something I sometimes regret. My skills do lend themselves though to honouring Helm, acting as a protector, and defending those people to help them have the security and prosperity to afford what medicines they require."
There was a short silence as Gann nodded and Blake thought whether to continue and how to continue. Gann smiled and broke this silence. "I know what else you would say," he said. "You would point out that I have been willing to have the strength of the spirits enhance my own and my fighting with my spear."
"I had thought to say that, yes," Blake admitted.
"Then I shall say what I have said to others," continued Gann, "that to me it is like the difference between asking the spirits for a knife and asking them to stab someone for me. They and I might know the knife is so I can stab, but the knife itself… their gift… is neutral and it is my choice to use it that way."
"That makes sense," Blake replied, frowning slightly, "though the 'someone' is still stabbed either way. I'd ask that if you see an opportunity…"
"Do not worry," Gann interrupted, "it has been more lack of such opportunity than my qualms. We have been in places or situations where the few ways that I know for the spirits to 'stab someone' would not be useful. Old father bear here, for example, tends to be chewing or clawing out the throats of our foes before I could ask the spirits to hurt all in their area."
"Something I did not notice you complaining about at the time," Okku growled.
"Very well," nodded Blake, "your inclination and your talents are to heal rather than hurt. I would rather you use the power the spirits grant you in the way your conscience dictates and rather I had to cast another spell of injury than you be lacking the ability to heal."
"So what now harbour-boy?" Neeshka asked.
"Almost certainly a waste of time," Blake grumbled, "but let us report our successes to that Witch Dalenka."
Neeshka giggled a little at the emphasis her sweetheart had placed on that word as she shared those feelings. The path from the previously blighted grove to the lakeshore and the garrison was not a long one but as they travelled Blake noticed Okku's great head beginning to twitch one way and then the other. The bear-god seemed to be sniffing the air and becoming as close to uneasy as it was possible for him to be. Blake kept walking for a while longer but as Okku remained silent Blake decided to speak.
"Is there a problem my friend?" Blake gently asked.
"No, maybe," replied Okku, frowning as he sniffed again, "the smell of the 'mist' the Hagspawn mentioned seems to be getting stronger. Maybe it is easier to smell now the stench of the blight no longer fills my nostrils, or maybe…"
"Halt! Who goes…" demanded the Berserker guard before relaxing and adding, with a sneer at Blake, "oh, it's you is it?"
"Yes," Okku rumbled, angered by the disrespect and the interruption, "it is us!"
"My friend meant no insult mighty god-of-bears," the other Berserker hurried to say, "and we welcome you back to our humble stockade."
"Yes, yes, welcome," said the first Berserker as he felt Okku's baleful yellow eyes fixed on him.
Blake looked at Okku's expression as the Berserkers pushed the gates open and wondered if the bear-god was considering whether flesh of man would take the taste of wood from his mouth. They entered the area enclosed by the stockade and Blake relaxed very slightly as he saw this had not changed much if at all. The buildings still stood, there seemed the same number of Berserkers, and over the pointed tips of the logs opposite he could see the mast-top of the Witchboat so that had not been stolen or sunk. He resolved though to check the supplies for tampering before they left as poison would not affect Okku even if he still ate and he did not trust Dalenka to have not added such to the food and water.
"What was it you were saying?" Blake asked Okku as he noticed Nadaj speaking to a Berserker.
"When?"
Blake gave Okku a glance and then nodded back to Nadaj as she noticed their arrival and nodded to him. "As we were approaching the gate… you thought a second reason why the smell of the 'mist' was getting stronger…" Blake prompted.
"It was a fleeting thought," frowned Okku, "gone like birds at the roar of my anger."
"If those birds settle again my friend," Blake smiled, "then please let me know."
Okku nodded and Blake dropped the subject. There was a temptation to ignore Dalenka and speak only to her subordinate Nadaj, or at least speak to Nadaj first, but both would be near as impolite to Dalenka as she had been to them. That Nadaj was busy speaking with that Berserker did lessen that temptation though the thought still occurred that lingering over removing his shield from his arm, pretending maybe a buckle on a strap was jammed, could take long enough for Nadaj to finish her conversation. With a strong sense of foreboding and that however much Milil blessed him with eloquence it would be useless Blake led the way into the house whose warmth so contrasted with the welcome he expected within.
"I bid you farewell, those days ago," Dalenka said, her voice and expression as cold as before, "yet here you return expectant of help I am not bound to give."
'Or we could have returned to fulfil good manners and bid you farewell on our way back to our Witchboat, which if you have been out of this cosy nest of yours at all you would have noticed was still there' Blake thought before speaking. "Nadaj told me of the problems within the forest and I have solved those she mentioned." Dalenka just stared at Blake so he continued, "The Frost Giants have been slain and a new guardian spirit now protects the Telthor sanctuary…"
"And what poor spirit did you devour to gain its essence that you had one to place in the pool there?" Dalenka snapped.
"None," replied Blake, ignoring the snort of derision. "I aided the ghost of the last High Priest of Myrkul to move on and cease haunting the Furnace of his master."
"I can assure you Madame that the spirit was eased into the rest it deserved," Gann added smoothly, "not devoured, despite it leaving an essence."
"You can assure me," sneered Dalenka, "but that does not mean you are not lying or mistaken."
"In any case, it is secure now," Blake continued, trying to keep his tone reasonable. "Nadaj also mentioned a great fire. The cause of this has been either slain or banished back to the Plane of Fire where he had been imprisoned. There was also a blight but this has been cured thanks to the advice of a huge Treant on the proper ritual and the mercy of Chauntea in responding to this plea."
"And do you expect gratitude?" asked Dalenka incredulously.
"I had the hope that as well as blessing us with victory Tymorra might also bless us with that good fortune," Blake said, his diplomacy beginning to fray, "though I knew it unlikely. What I did expect was some lessening of your hostility now I have worked to prove my good intent."
"Why? I knew those problems spirit-eater and I know their cause," replied Dalenka, looking down her nose at Blake despite being near a foot shorter than him. "The Telthor sanctuary would not have been vulnerable if not for you having devoured its guardian. Gnarlthorn would not have suffered the blight if not for you trying and failing to devour him…"
"And if not for a previous spirit-eater," Blake interrupted with some emphasis, "as in the other cases, the tracker would not have been condemned by the Wood Man to the Plane of Fire from which he returned to seek revenge by channelling those flames into the Ashenwood."
"Then why expect me to be less hostile?" said Dalenka condescendingly, further testing Blake's calm. "All you have done is correct the crimes you committed. That does not erase the fact you committed them."
Blake looked at Dalenka for a moment as his jaw and sword-arm tensed. He had gone through a lot of trouble aiding Khelgar with the 'Trial of the Even-Handed' so his friend could learn to judge people fairly as Tyr would require. This Witch though would not have passed as, unlike Khelgar, she was unwilling to look past her first impressions. Unwilling to admit that there was more to Blake than the fact he had been cursed rather than assuming that was all that mattered. Unwilling to look at Blake's actions or consider that perhaps her judgement rather than that of the God-of-Bears trying to aid this curse-bearer was at fault.
"Madame," Blake began, before stopping and shaking his head as he gave up, "no… you are unwilling or unable to make a distinction between previous victims of this curse and myself."
"Why should I with the pain your kind has brought?" sneered Dalenka again, coming close to death. "Your intentions mean nothing against that."
"Maybe not," Blake sighed, his hand quivering slightly as he struggled to keep it away from his sword. "But if I fail due to your lack of aid then on your conscience be it if the next bearer of this curse thinks it a Gift to be revelled in rather than to be cured, and if their intentions bring more pain rather than attempts to avoid it."
Dalenka just bestowed another look of disdain on Blake rather than bothering to reply. Remembering his manners Blake gave the abbreviated bow that was as much as he could manage in this circumstance and walked away and outside. He was too tired and too angry to care anymore whether the others followed him at once or if one of them decided the stone walls of that house needed to be decorated with Dalenka's blood as well as her tapestries and painting. To his vague relief they did seem to have forgone that pleasure, or at least not lingered over it, as they soon joined him.
"Tell me again why we haven't just stabbed her?" Neeshka demanded, to a grunt of agreement from Okku and a small noise that showed even Gann's smooth courtesy had been worn rough by that Witch.
"Because we would have to kill the Berserkers as well," Blake replied, letting some of his anger show in his eyes and voice. "That would be bad both for their sakes and because Nadaj has been helpful and deserves at least some sort of garrison to command. She may also be more receptive of our news."
"She could hardly be less so," commented Gann.
Fortunately Nadaj had finished her talk with the Berserker and seemed to have been watching for them to emerge. She approached with a welcoming smile visible below her half-face mask though Blake noticed this smile did not completely reach what he could see of her eyes through her mask's eyeholes. At least she was making the effort to act the good hostess though and this effort deserved some appreciation.
"What can I do for you?" Nadaj asked, looking around the surly group.
Blake made an effort and smiled back before replying in an almost normal tone, "Though Dalenka was not grateful to hear it we have dealt with the problems in the wood as you asked," he said. "Okku and Gann do feel there is something still amiss though."
"This is the first good news in some time, even if that news is mixed," said Nadaj. "I am greatly relieved that you were able to do this and you have my gratitude if not, as you said, that of Dalenka."
"The Wood Man is worth aiding," Blake politely responded, remembering Gann reminding him of this when he had groused over having to help.
"Indeed, and you must forgive me," replied Nadaj, "but there is one further matter in which I need your aid."
Blake paused, thinking of Captain Brelaina and her ever-increasing list of tasks. "As long as it is one further matter and preferably relevant to my own need to speak to the Wood Man."
"I am sorry, it was not something I could speak of freely to an outsider," Nadaj said, sounding apologetic before her tone changed. "But I see now that you are true to your word and capable of great things. It cannot be coincidence that brought us together."
"Oooh, flattery," commented Neeshka quietly.
Blake nodded slightly to his darling. That had not been subtle and even without Neeshka's prompting he would have doubted the sincerity. "Please," Blake said, finding an excuse for being blunt, "this curse makes me impatient."
"Let me speak plainly then," replied Nadaj, her voice becoming more businesslike again. "My garrison has been betrayed, my Berserkers were sent to their deaths in the forest. It will only be a few more attacks before the garrison falls. This happens because Dalenka wills it."
"Dalenka? I do not think highly of her…" Blake began to say.
"To say the least…" muttered Neeshka.
"But why should she betray her own garrison," continued Blake, "unless you mean through incompetence rather than malice."
"I mean malice. Dalenka is not who she appears to be. She is a Durthan spy, here to weaken Hathran influence on this place."
"And you know this how?" Blake asked after a moment of trying to think without his logic being tainted by his dislike for the older witch.
"It is why I am here," continued Nadaj calmly. "My sisters suspected her and I, an Ethran, was sent because it would be less obvious than having a second Hathran looking over the same garrison."
Blake nodded, that made sense and if Nadaj had been chosen for this task that explained why she seemed so competent and intelligent. They'd have wanted the very best candidate rather than her being a more normal Ethran. Nadaj had seen Blake nodding and had paused but Blake gestured for her to go on.
"For a long time I noticed nothing, then one night I saw her sneak into the forest. She returned every night for a tenday but before I could report this the attacks started."
"What is so special about this garrison that it demands the attention of a spy?" asked Blake, not sure if he was speaking of Dalenka spying on the Hathran or of Nadaj spying on Dalenka.
"The Wood Man is a powerful ally of the Hathrans and a great provider of counsel. Our presence here protects the Ashenwood as much as it does the rest of the land. The Durthans would gain much power if they could freely access the forest."
Again Blake nodded as again that made sense. "So, I take it the 'one further matter' is to prevent this?"
"I do not wish my Berserkers to come to any more harm," replied Nadaj, some sadness in her voice, "but they will do as Dalenka says, this is our law."
"Is there not also a law to relieve her of this command?"
"There is, but that requires the chance to speak," said Nadaj ruefully. "Our Berserkers are swift to obey and to act, so if she says 'kill the traitor' then they might make that attempt. If they die in her defence she will have done what she intended here. The only way to prevent this is to convince them to unite against her. I do not expect them all to join but for what lives you could save in this way I would be grateful."
"I could save?" Blake asked and protested. "Surely it is down to you to convince them. You are a Witch, all be it a junior one, second in command here, and it is you who would be taking command of this place and you who know them personally."
"Just as I have been watching Dalenka so has she watched me," replied Nadaj. "If I were to meet with all of my soldiers she would know. On the other hand you have been wandering freely about our garrison." Blake noticed that Nadaj was already referring to 'her' soldiers and that sounded like the Royal 'Our'. "For you to speak to each of the soldiers would not seem so strange," Nadaj continued, "at least not from one who Dalenka already considers a very strange person."
"Strange enough to be forcing conversation on Berserkers who would be happy to try to kill me?" Blake protested again. "I don't think so."
"This is true," admitted Nadaj, "but of all the things she would be watching you for starting a revolt would not be one of them. Your curse and status as an outsider would make it inconceivable to her that you would be able to influence the loyalty of her troops."
"Not surprising, since it makes it pretty inconceivable to me as well," Blake chuckled, "and you have not explained what, if anything, this has to do with the Wood Man."
"The Wood Man has been weak for a long time now," Nadaj replied. "However his disappearance from the Ashenwood is recent. Whatever Dalenka has been doing in the woods at night this disappearance is tied to it and as long as she is here he will remain hidden."
"Maybe so, but this is still your responsibility and not mine," Blake said, suppressing his tendency to helpfulness. "I will support you if you wish to confront Dalenka, so you may make your accusations without being silenced, but I will not otherwise take sides in this. The Berserkers are yours to command and you should start as you mean to go on."
"You are sure this is how you feel?" asked Nadaj, her tone hardening in disappointment at Blake's words. "I know I ask much but this is the only way we may contact the Wood Man."
Blake smiled despite how old Nadaj was making him feel. As much as he had gone through since the attack on West Harbour there was still a part of him that thought he should be the one being given sage advice rather than the 'old timer' handing it out. It was tempting personally to help her but he'd learned enough from Georg in the West Harbour Militia and from Kana and Katriona at Crossroad Keep to know this would be a bad idea professionally. What authority would Nadaj have if an outsider handed this garrison to her?
"I am sure. Convincing them would be your first test as a commander. If you have evidence let the Berserkers hear it from your lips and make their decision based on their trust in you."
"So be it," said Nadaj, turning away from them. Blake considered some words of encouragement for the difficult task but this was interrupted as Nadaj suddenly shouted. "Berserkers! Behold the source of the attacks! This foreigner has brought blight and fire to the forest, and we have paid for it! Destroy him!"
"What?" Blake said in shock as Nadaj began to run towards the gate for the path to the Ashenwood.
Neeshka sent curses after the fleeing Ethran but Blake needed more concentration than he could spare to send a spell after her. They were being rushed by Berserkers from all sides, the two abandoning their post at the gate, the merchant abandoning his wagon, and two others approaching from near the other building. The only Berserker not charging was the one wearing a wolf-hat and that was because he was rapidly cranking his crossbow instead. It looked like another fight without his helmet on.
Okku roared, shaking the doors of the buildings and shaking the confidence of the shopkeeper whose charge faltered a moment. "You attack a God of Bears? The crows will feast on your entrails!"
"…lying…diseased…goat-fuc…" Neeshka grumbled, her curses winding down as she shrugged her cloak off her shoulders.
"Aye," Blake replied, his voice almost as fast as his magic-enhanced motions as he shoved his tower shield suddenly across in front of Neeshka. Or rather in front of where Neeshka had been a moment ago as she had already moved to dodge the crossbow bolt he was blocking. There was a thump as this hit his shield and then, the tip having barely pierced into the wood, a smaller thump as it fell out and into the snow. "She lied. Unfortunately not about Berserkers and their response to 'kill the traitors' it seems."
"Watch yourself harbour-boy," Neeshka said, peevish with the over-protectiveness and that Blake had turned his back on a Berserker to do it. She continued moving and met that Berserker's attack. The man's face was so purple with rage that Neeshka had the fleeing hope that he would die of anger and save her the trouble. The speed of his blows as he struck with both Longsword and Shortsword was impressive but she was able to dodge and inflict a shallow cut along the back of one of his arms. He barely seemed to feel this in his rage and Neeshka frowned as she saw how close the two Berserkers with even bigger clumsier swords than her harbour boy were getting.
Okku also saw this and charged at one of them, trusting in his own fury to outmatch that of a mere mortal man, but this Berserker's eyes were clear. He moved with skill rather than just power and his Greatsword sliced across Okku's flank as he used the bear-god's momentum against him. Okku rumbled as he felt this surprisingly large wound and felt his spirit form knitting back together. If this man was going to use his wits against him then Okku would return the favour and prove his skill, as well as his strength and anger, was the greater. More cautiously Okku moved back to the attack.
Gann meanwhile had taken advantage of the shopkeeper's reaction to Okku's roar. It had only been a brief hesitation but it had robbed the Rashemeni of some speed and shown he was not as berserk as his comrades were. However, as Gann stabbed his spear out to keep this foe on the defensive, the shopkeeper swung his Morningstar and showed also that he was not to be taken as easy prey. Gann was not sure if his intent had been to batter his spear aside or try to wrap the chain of his weapon around it to yank it from his hands but he barely avoided either.
The other Greatsword armed Berserker had reached where Neeshka was holding her dual-wielding opponent back and away from Blake. The Berserker swung his huge sword in and Neeshka had to dance back out of range. She couldn't parry any blows from that as it would break her rapier or break her shield and the arm beneath and the length of the blade gave the Berserker a longer reach then her. The length of the blade also meant it was nearly impossible to move it as fast as hers though and Neeshka was confident she'd have been able to taunt the Berserker into an attack that she could avoid and which would let her stab him before he could bring his sword back into position. The problem was the other Berserker who was, literally, screaming back in for another flurry of blows against her.
Blake had managed to draw his sword and glanced across to where the Berserker in the wolf-hat had stopped cranking his crossbow for a second shot and had begun to swing his spear off from where it was slung across his back. That man made a tempting target as none of Blake's friends were close enough to him to be endangered by a spell but Blake knew where his attention needed to be. "Be ready to dodge," he called to Neeshka.
She glanced at him as by warning her he had also warned the Berserkers and as much as she appreciated the former she was confident enough in her reactions to think her harbour-boy was being too cautious. However as Blake began to chant and draw on the power of the Weave this did seem to distract the Berserkers a little and so them being warned was not all bad. Neeshka heard the chanting stop and even as the Fireball formed and streaked away from her harbour-boy's hands she was moving.
The fireball exploded between the Berserkers. The one with the Greatsword stepped back a little as his hairs singed a little and some of the damp his leather armour had absorbed from air and wind-borne snow steamed away. He was barely injured but, even with the warning, he needed a moment to recover and blink away his shock. His more frenzied comrade had not been fazed by the fireball exploding almost in his face and had continued on through the flames to keep on attacking Neeshka. This was what Blake had expected though, that they would react differently and this would separate them a little and break their co-ordination.
Shortsword met Bastard Sword with a slight clang as Blake blocked a blow against the slightly off-balance Neeshka with his own larger sword. "Yours," Blake said tersely as the Berserker stumbled backwards to avoid his counterattack. Then Blake nodded at the one with the Greatsword. "Mine."
Neeshka frowned a little. She could see why her harbour-boy was suggesting meeting speed with speed and strength with strength but she was not sure she agreed that was best. Blake was already moving to meet his chosen foe though and the other one had recovered from being staggered so there was no time to protest. With a slight pout Neeshka bounded forward, her rapier licking out in front of her and drawing a snarl from the purple-faced Berserker as he parried.
The shopkeeper retreated another step as Gann's spear stabbed out at him. He swung his Morningstar in a counterblow but the Hagspawn was out of range and showed no inclination to come within it. Gann's mouth tightened with irritation as he pulled his spear back and then sent another unsuccessful thrust at his foe. They were evenly enough matched that Gann had not been able to land a blow but neither had the shopkeeper managed to get past the longer reach of Gann's spear. He was managing to keep this fellow away from the others and the main fight but this was keeping him away as well.
Okku could scent victory on the air. Neither the Greatsword nor his teeth and claws had managed to bite home but the stamina of a bear-god was tireless. There was a fine sheen of sweat appearing on the man's face despite the cool air of the Lake of Tears as Okku kept attacking relentlessly. In some ways it was beneath his dignity to play the wolf snapping at and taunting the deer into exhaustion but Okku had no interest in a dignified defeat. He also had no interest in being stabbed in the side with a spear as he remembered having the Hagspawn hanging off him. As the man in a wolf-hat attacked Okku whirled and swept a great paw, avoiding the blow and causing that attacker to have to dodge. This did give a little respite to his comrade though and Okku rumbled a curse as he realised that he would not be able to press that man as hard while also dealing with the other foe.
Despite his fury making him faster Neeshka had the speed and grace to match this and as she was not in the grip of a Berserker rage she had the advantage of being able to fight smarter. She brought her small shield up at an angle to deflect a longsword blow to one side and then seemed to have not realised how this had exposed her other side to his shortsword as she curved into a rapier thrust. As the Berserker saw this and his shortsword stabbed in towards her Neeshka twisted and dropped her arm so that blade met the blade on her sword-arm bracer. For a moment the two blades ground together, holding their arms still, and Neeshka flicked her wrist and the tip of her rapier barely grazed across the Berserker's face. The smiths Blake had given so much gold to had done work that was as fine as the edge they had created on this blade and even this light contact drew a shallow cut through the Berserker's upper lip and the underside of his nose. This was enough pain to be noticed even through a frenzy and as the Berserker sneezed blood out of his sliced together nostrils Neeshka began pressing him back.
Blake turned and sidestepped as the Greatsword swung down to try to catch him at the juncture of neck and shoulder. The Berserker kept his sword going through the clean miss and used this to help bring his sword curving back up and briefly into a high-guard position before bringing it around in a more horizontal blow. This Blake stepped into and angled his shield so the edge of the sword would meet its face across the whole width at once to spread the power of the blow rather than his shield being more edge on and the sword cutting into it. It was a good shield and especially magically resilient to being cut or slashed so he trusted it to hold. The force of the blow still staggered Blake though as his shield was driven back against him.
However taking that blow had robbed the Greatsword of its momentum and as the Berserker tried to pull his sword back like a woodsman pulling his axe back from a tree Blake pivoted on his near foot and stabbed out with his own slightly smaller sword. This was a hurried blow and Blake was still off balance so it was not perfectly aimed but he managed to connect. The leather armour did not provide much resistance as Blake's sword stabbed off-centre into one side of the Berserker's stomach and as the Berserker's own movement made this slice out of that side. The wound and the magic discharging from Blake's sword as it cut through him was enough that the Berserker collapsed, grabbing at his own side to hold his sliced guts in. Blake hesitated and then decided to take a chance and leave his foe rather than finish him. He would far rather these people died than his friends were injured but if there was a chance he did not want to kill these people.
"Keep back the bear-god," ordered the Berserker in the wolf-hat as he saw his comrade wounded but not dead and the over-armoured foe moving away. With that he began running towards his fallen friend though he had to circle around wide. The Berserker being given that order did not look pleased however to be fighting Okku alone again.
Neeshka's foe was having trouble as the damn Tiefling was pressing him too hard for him to be able to take the few seconds he'd need to shove a rag against his face to sop up the blood. It was nearly impossible to breathe through his nose and, without the rag, there was enough blood coming from there and his upper lip it was hard to breathe through his mouth without also inhaling that. Her rapier parried his shortsword thrust but a forehand horizontal swing with his longsword did make her step back. He brought his longsword backhanded at more neck level so the same twist of his body could allow another shortsword strike, but then in mid-twist he finally choked.
The longsword went wide as he coughed and stumbled, his eyes watering so Neeshka was little more than a blur as she moved. He still managed to stab out with his shortsword but his stumble and her shift in position meant he was stabbing out to one side rather than with how he was moving. Neeshka deflected this blow with her shield, trying to give the Berserker some extra forward momentum as well in the process, and continued moving and turning so she was behind him. Before the Berserker could twist around she stabbed her rapier between his shoulder blades. The tip of this only just protruded out his chest before his stumble became a forward fall and this drew him back off her sword, but it was enough. His heart had been pierced and the magic discharging from the blade had further ruptured it.
Blake skidded to a halt. He'd been coming to aid his sweetheart and now this was unnecessary. Glancing back around he saw the man in the wolf-hat had also been running and then the sound of chanting reached his ears as that man reached the Berserker that Blake had disabled. Something about the chanting was familiar and Blake cursed as he recognised, from experience with Zhjave and Elanee, it as a prayer of healing. Sure enough the fallen Berserker seemed to relax as if pain had left him and then groaned and began to sit up.
"Darling," Blake called, seeing the wolf-hat turn and start to move towards him as the other Berserker began to slowly painfully get up, "help Okku."
"I can't do much…" Neeshka began to protest, but then she saw the look in her harbour-boy's eyes and simply nodded and loped off.
This was annoying, Blake decided. He'd hoped to avoid killing but Neeshka had already killed one and if they had a cleric or someone with at least some healing magic then it was dangerous to just leave them wounded. The two Berserkers, the one that had healed and the one that had been healed, were still close together and Blake concentrated and drew power from the weave and with a muttered incantation managed to catch them both with the same Horrid Wilting. The mist and illusionary plants flared up in a circle around them and, as the plants spewed their deadly pollen, leeched at the fluids of their flesh to dry and parch it. The injured Berserker collapsed back to the ground but the healer in the wolf-hat managed to keep his feet, though he staggered. Blake charged to deny him the chance to rally and heal himself or his comrade.
Gann meanwhile was wondering how far he was going to have to chase his opponent. The longer reach of his spear had been driving the shopkeeper back but Gann had been unable to steer this retreat towards any fences or buildings. Eventually he might manage to corner the Rashemeni or he might stumble but until then they seemed locked in this dance of thrust and retreat and thrust and retreat.
Despite her doubts about how much she would be able to do against this foe Neeshka was having fun with the dangerous game of skipping in and out of his reach. Another long sweep from his Greatsword drove her back before she could get close enough to use her rapier but Neeshka just grinned wider at him. The Berserker looked far less happy as he turned and swung at Okku. The bear-god's attacks had slowed but this was to make them more measured and controlled now he had the Tiefling to aid him keep the tempo and the pressure up.
As the bear-god pulled back from his paw-swing the Berserker felt with the instinct of training and experience movement behind him. He brought his sword vertical as he twisted, holding it in front of his body as he turned and deflecting the rapier thrust with a light glancing impact. Letting his sword fall to a more horizontal position the Berserker twisted back and this backhanded sweep forced the Tiefling back but there was a slight thudding of paws as the bear-god charged again. Continuing his turn he tried to change the swing into a thrust and succeeded well enough that his Greatsword sliced along Okku's flank. The wound was long but fairly shallow and not enough to stop Okku as he drove one great paw into the Berserker's side. Spirit-claws of sharpness undulled by wear sliced through leather and flesh as ribs shattered and the Berserker was smashed off his feet. The man had just enough time to tumble to a stop, for the pain of the chunk missing from his side to begin to register, and wonder vaguely where his sword was before his vision filled with teeth as Okku's jaws closed on his face.
Blake met the wolf-hat. The Berserker had hesitated over whether he had time to try another prayer of healing before deciding against it. That might have been a mistake as even with magical haste speeding him Blake was not moving that fast and the Berserker's injuries did seem to slow his spear thrust as he met Blake's charge. With that slowing and Blake's skill Blake was able to step slightly to one side and bring his sword up and into the shaft of the spear. This was quite a light impact so the blade did not dig in, but the spear shaft did slide down the angle of it and into the 'corner' between blade and crossguard.
As the Berserker drew his spear back Blake kept moving forward, turning to slide this 'corner' back along the spear shaft against the direction he and it were moving. Then the spear ran out of shaft as the 'corner' met the spearhead. For a moment the spear was trapped, one end to Blake's right, the shaft passing across in front of him, and the Berserker's lead hand within reach for Blake to punch his shield forward against it. There was a slight crunch as one or more fingers broke between the edge of Blake's shield and where they were wrapped around the hard wood of the spear shaft and the Berserker lost his grip.
He was also losing control of his spear with only one hand on it and one end still trapped. Blake twisted his sword to disengage it and then brought it in a stabbing motion across his body at the Berserker's gut. This blow was avoided as the wolf-hat stumbled back but in some ways it was more a preparation than an attack. Having twisted himself one way with the stabbing motion, and got a little more room by the Berserker stumbling back, Blake swung his sword in a horizontal backhand arc. The Berserker flung his rear hand up, angling the spear shaft down and in front of his body as a barrier. This did block the sword but it was a far more solid impact, with one end braced by the Berserker's hand and the other where the spearhead was knocked into the ground, and nearly cut through the spear shaft.
It would have been better for the Berserker if it had been completely cut through as then he might have had at least a club. As it was the portion of spear shaft he had in his hand was hampered by the front part still dangling from it by splintered wood. Blake made a quick short stabbing movement at the Berserker's calf and managed to move just fast enough that the blade cut in and almost caused the Berserker to fall. Wolf-hat dropped his ruined spear and tried to draw his dagger as he hopped on his good leg to regain his balance a little. This took long enough though for Blake to be able to draw his sword back again and swing it a little to the side to bring it back in with an upward diagonal slice. The blade met the Berserker's waist just below his ribcage. With its magical sharpness and Blake's enhanced strength, and the lack of resistance of leather armour compared with a metal breastplate, it kept on cutting upwards through flesh and bone to almost the middle of the Berserker's chest. Blake pulled his sword straight back, slamming his shield into the fresh corpse to knock it back as it started to come with the blade.
The shopkeeper with the Morningstar was seriously beginning to consider surrendering. He would not have been assigned to the Lake of Tears garrison if he was unwilling to die in defence of his homeland but there was an awful lot of blood and all of it had belonged to friends or allies. Blood on the blades of the enemies, blood staining the snow around the bodies of his friends, and blood around the muzzle of the bear-god where his spirit form had not yet shed it. These thoughts though were enough distraction that Gann finally managed to strike home and bury his spearhead in the centre of the shopkeeper's chest. There was barely a crunch as the tip pierced the breastbone and went on through to briefly appear between the shopkeeper's shoulder blades before Gann pulled his spear back again. As he fell forward and died both the ground and blackness rushed towards the Berserker.
Blake glanced across as the last of the Berserkers slumped to the ground and then looked back at the Berserker he had tried to leave wounded. He walked a little closer to be sure and then his mouth tightened as he saw the healing that man had been given had not been enough to compensate for then being hit by a Horrid Wilting. That Berserker was dead like the other four.
"This was not what I wanted," Blake growled, angry with Nadaj for her lies and a little annoyed the others had not even attempted to disable rather than kill, "but maybe this waste of life will count as a valiant fight in defence of their land."
"Hrm," Okku mused. "At least they will have a sanctuary to go to if they do become Telthor, thanks to you little-one."