Chapter 49: Rescue Mission!
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Though Vengarl had lived a long time and fought countless foes, he would be the first to admit he had never seen anyone set on fire then instantly frozen. Or that when said person was on fire, the flames were frozen as well, creating bizarre shapes and making a mockery of the known laws of magic and nature.
No, Vengarl had never seen anything like it, and that such a sight had come from the smallest member of their party only clinched it as being in his Top 5 Most Amazing Battle Scenes.
"So, you have the ring?" Shalquoir asked, flickering her tail. Erik nodded, and held out the rather small accessory carved from Titanite. Upon the surface the emblem of Vendrick's court had been carved, and a faint hum of magic nestled deep inside.
The chef was wearing it on his left hand, and he could feel his Fire Seeds reacting to the ring's power. In a good way. The innocuous piece of jewelry had been forged inside the First Flame, and the flames inside Erik's palm recognized their primogenitor.
Erik had also ripped the crown from Vendrick's head at the Sister's urging. He could feel its power throbbing deep in the metal, seeking out the essence of the other crowns he possessed.
"Very well then, we must hurry. I will take you to the bonfire and direct us all to the closest exit to Aldia's mansion. The seal used by Vendrick can only be opened by his ring, so there's that problem solved." The talking cat spared a look at the frozen remains of the King of Souls and winced.
In a burst of power that made even Gods look puny, Erik had single handedly vanquished the legendary king. Burnt to a crisp with Pyromancy then frozen with Cryomancy, what remained of him was a charred black shape trapped in sparkling blue ice with strange red and orange distortions trapped here and there.
The chef had become so powerful as to freeze fire itself. He was not to be underestimated. And all that power displayed when he learned about a threat to Shanalotte's life.
"You must be very eager to save your paramour," Elana said with a nod of approval.
Erik blushed. "She's not! She's just a good friend."
Nadalia, Alsanna, and Mytha rolled their eyes in the background while the Squalid Queen peered at Erik suspiciously, as if trying to see if he was joking or not. A look of disbelief slowly crept onto her expression, and she shared a look with the other females of the party. As one, they all snorted and uttered "Men!" before following after Shalquoir to the Crypt's bonfire.
"It was a pleasure to meet you, Monarch Candidate Potts," Agadyne said with a bow as he greeted the party.
"The same to you," Erik said with a polite nod of head. He stepped up to the bonfire and reached out to it, feeling the powers within coil about his body.
"I shall prepare what father asked of us. When the time comes to light the First Flame, we shall be ready."
"My thanks," Erik replied a trifle indistinctly, focused on the mission at hand.
"I know that Donovan and your mother are very proud of you," the Gravewarden said under his breath, the chef barely detecting it. His head snapped around to stare at the Fenito, but swallowed his desires and looked back into the flames.
"Let's go," Erik said softly and the cat nodded. Mystical flames consumed the group, and they went rushing across time and space to be deposited in a very family spot, at least for the chef and Benhart. It was the old ruins near the Shaded Woods where they had encountered Creighton, and where the group had marched through to reach Castle Drangleic.
Heart aching with the memory of the soldier from Mirrah, Erik looked around for Shalquoir. Spotting her near the entrance they had not gone through before, Erik felt a twinge of pain as souls within him clamored.
"Aldia is down that way?"
"His mansion is. Where he performed outrageous experiments on unwilling souls, seeking to ascend beyond what was possible," Shalquoir said sadly.
She led through the area, the landscape becoming bleaker the further they went. Even the plants and earth recoiled from the demesne of this wretched man.
At length they came to a large, black gate, wrought from solid Titanite and inscribed with the emblem of the royal family of Drangleic; a massive tree with roots wrapping around a flame.
"Use the King's Ring to open the way," Shalquoir commanded, and Erik oblidged. Raising his right hand to show the simple ring to the gate was enough, and it creaked open, revealing a dead, twisted woodland with a mansion in the distance.
"Impressive fortifications. How do they keep someone from going around the long way, though?" Mytha asked, looking at the superb craftsmanship of the structure.
"This is one of Vendrick's greatest creations; artificial Fog Gates." The talking cat's words stunned the group as they entered the area.
"I know not how he did it, but Vendrick was far more attuned to souls than people realize. Somehow, he was able to emulate their ability to seal of regions of space inside specially crafted materials. In that way, even if someone were to climb or fly over, or just go around another way, they would find themselves back here at the gates. Same for trying to leave. They'd wind up trapped inside, unable to escape. A bonfire might work, but would be fickle at best."
"Fascinating!" Nadalia murmured, her sisters nodding in agreement.
"Let's go, we don't have much time to waste," Shalquoir said. They all hurried after that, simply ignoring the gremlin-like creatures that prowled the dead grass around the duke's home.
The mansion itself was vast, and nestled against the mountains that made up the eastern border of the continent of Drangleic. Few knew what lay beyond them, for the skies and crags were ruled by Wyverns and lesser drakes, while the land was roamed by trees that walked like men and other strange monsters that kept even the largest armies out. The seas were also not an option, for whirlpools and storms wracked the waters.
"This way!" the cat ordered, bounding up the stairs to the mansion. Caged wagons rattled ominously, but they were ignored.
A giant, headless dragon skeleton lay before them, but it was ignored. Another King Basilisk and a bunch of Ogres and white robed hollows? Plowed through and slaughtered.
"Where exactly is the Emerald Herald?" Erik asked, looking around the stained and darkened cells and chambers with disgust. His souls screamed in hatred and pain towards the demented duke.
"To the duke's secret laboratory, and the place I freed her," Shalquoir explained as they ran towards what appeared to be a massive aviary.
Inside, past a Fog Gate, a bright red Wyvern waited for them, snarling as they entered. But to the beast's immense surprise, none of the puny creatures before it quailed in fear. Even the group before this one had been worried about facing the lesser dragon that had guarded the domain before it had. Instead, these visitors were talking among themselves.
"So, who wants to kill it?"
"I took on an Ancient Stone Dragon, so none for me, thanks. It wouldn't nearly be as amazing if I did it."
"Can I be the one, then? I haven't killed such a creature in ages."
"Are you going to suplex this one too?"
"I've never fought a flying foe before. This could be fun."
In the end, Erik and Mytha were the two to challenge the impure Dragon, the rest standing on the sidelines.
"You aim for the wings with your sorcery, and I'll keep the flames off you. When it's down, we'll both go for the head!"
"Got it!" The former Queen of Alken exclaimed, shooting off a volley of Soul Spears. The Wyvern dodged easily and released a burst of flaming breath, but the stream of fire was diverted away by Erik who was manipulating the attack with his Pyromancy.
"Now!" Erik cried, and Mytha released a painful Soul Shower that shredded its wings. Instead of plunging to its death though, the Wyvern latched onto the lattice walls with its talons, acting more like a lizard than a noble descendant of draconic stock.
"Take this!" the chef called out, raising a hand and freezing the metal it clung to. Finding its perch colder and more slippery, the Wyvern tumbled down onto a handful of Heavy Souls Spears that gouged chunks out of it.
"And now, for the finishing blow!" Working in tandem, Erik and Mytha rushed the fallen beast and plunged their weapons into its head. The brain was pierced, and the creature trembled before lying still.
"Excellent! Now, everyone, help me butcher the carcass! With this I can finally make one of Donovan's Divine Dishes, Dragon Steak!"
"Do we really have time for this?" Shalquoir asked as she watched the Undead and Dark Ones descend onto the Wyvern's body like a swarm of lesser beasts that tore it apart.
"Shalquoir, when else am I going to get a chance to obtain prime Wyvern meat?"
The Memory Watcher just huffed and waited, inwardly hoping that the chef would cook it up for dinner soon. As much as she loved Shanalotte, she was still a cat. And cats liked their food.
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"How long had Aldia kept this place hidden?" Erik wondered in awe. At the moment, he was stepping off the elevator that had taken them to the tops of the peaks the mansion nestled against. His companions were just as shocked, at least, though who were on the lift with him and the kitty merchant. It wasn't big enough for many people, so the rest would be coming up shortly.
"A long while. Shortly after his brother was crowned king, in fact," Shalquoir admitted, looking over the vista. "Here, where the Wyvern's roost, he found an ancient palace, seat of the original gods, and claimed it as his own. Of course, such arrogance was not taken lightly, as the keeper of this place was not amused. The two have fought ever since."
"Do you mean the Darksun?" the chef asked, and Shalquoir nodded.
"Youngest and last remaining child of Gwyn, he had sat in this place since the First Cycle, even as it crumbled around him over the ages. But Aldia was strong, and had a connection with Dragons and their kin. He used the Wyverns to drive away the Darksun and his court, but they have tried to reclaim their home ever since."
"What was this place called?"
"Anor Londo."
As Shalquoir spoke, Erik's soul burned, the gods within him recalling the name with fondness and loss. But most of all, whispered conversations drifted to his ears from the depths of his soul.
"…If not for me, what beacon would there be in this lost city? Am I lonely? Not at all. I have my master, my Darksun. What more would I want?"
"…Oh-ho! So you bested those knights, I see. Not bad, not bad. Here, have this ring. What? No, I'm not sad. What do you mean, don't hold back the tears?! I resent that! I merely look like an onion, not act like one! I mean! Gah!"
"…M-my tail! Please stop touching my tail! I don't care if it's the fluffiest thing you've ever felt! Please- ahhhn~! No, not there~!"
"Oh my, if I didn't know any better, I'd say you had feelings for me?"
"Erik, are you alright?"
"Huh, what?" Erik asked, jolting out of his daydreams. He looked over to see Benhart looking worriedly at him, the rest of the group all assembled and ready to tackle the rickety bridges and Wyvern infested peaks.
"Yes, I'm fine. Caught up in memories, I think."
"If that's all, then we must make our way to the palace up ahead. I can sense the Emerald Herald near one of the inner courtyards," Shalquoir revealed.
"Do we really have to cross these bridges?" Vengarl asked, looking at them apprehensively.
Raime and Benhart nodded. They would not support their weight. Not for long, at least.
"Yes, we must," the magical cat said in an annoyed tone.
"Couldn't we just grab one of those Wyverns and fly to it that way?" Mytha suggested, watching one of the lesser drakes perform aerial displays.
"No! Are you crazy?! They're dragonkin! They'd never let you ride one! Even the Dragonriders of Heide had to trains years for that! Impossible!" Elana argued.
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"I cannot believe this is happening!" The Squalid Queen cried out, clinging to Vengarl. Both of them were on the back of a lithe red Wyvern, riding it into the distant ruined city.
"I know, isn't this amazing?!" the rusted knight called out.
In fact, all of the group were riding Wyverns. In defiance to Elana's knowledge, Erik, Mytha, and Nadalia used a Pyromancy known as Undead Rapport, but modified on the spot to tame animals. It had taken a lot of effort and power to bend the mighty drakes to their whims, but now they were cruising through the sky towards ruined Anor Londo, where the sounds of battle could be faintly heard as they drew closer.
On a wide platform hanging off the edge of the structure that was led up to by a long staircase, a vicious battle was unfolding. Large, ruined suits of armor lay about, evidence of ancient Golems smashed to pieces earlier.
Amid the carnage a gargantuan dragon roared and batted at the countless foes that swarmed it. At first the Lord Souls throbbed in surprise, but settled down for some reason, the Pale Drake even scoffing in disgust at the being. The chef wasn't sure why the words 'fake' echoed in his mind, but he ignored them, peering down to check on the other combatants.
About a dozen Blue Phantoms were down there as well, fending off nearly a hundred people in dragon-shaped armor or the white robes of Aldia's acolytes who tossing Lightning Spears. The blue protectors were in a circle protecting five non-Phantoms, most of them fairly familiar…
"Is that… Lucatiel and Rosanne?" Erik asked, peering down into the melee.
Indeed it was, the Knightess of Mirrah swinging her blade alongside the dark skinned Pyromancer. There was an unknown figure in nigh identical armor to Lucatiel as well as an oddly familiar feminine form clad in brass armor, and the four were working with the Blue Phantoms to protect none other than the Emerald Herald, who was hunched over protecting something in her hands.
"We need to get down there!" Erik cried, a sudden pang of terror rising in his soul at the thought of losing her.
"How?! None of the areas nearby are open enough to land!" Mytha shouted back from her seat behind him. A mad plan appeared in the chef's mind, and he grinned wickedly.
"Follow my lead!"
"Wait, what… Erik, don't you dare!" Mytha shouted, staring in shock as the chef angled their Wyvern downwards towards the steps.
"No, no, no, no!" the former queen squealed, clenching her eyes tight.
Down below, the combatants paused briefly as a shrill cry from a Wyvern echoed about. Not uncommon up here, but this one seemed rather close…
A Dragon Knight on the edge of the battle on the stairs looked up, eyes widening in the helm. Before it could cry out, almost a dozen tons of raw muscle and scales slammed into it.
Erik had forced his Wyvern into a kamikaze attack, smashing it into the ground. Of course, he did not go down with his steed. That would be silly. Instead, Erik, dragging Mytha by the arm, had jumped from the back mere seconds before the Wyvern crashed.
Sword drawn and Cryomancy crackling in his hands, he landed amidst the stunned Dragon Knights and gave a jaunty wave over to Lucatiel and the Firekeeper.
"Lovely day for a rescue, isn't it?" Behind him, more shrieks could be heard as his companions refused to be shown up by their leader and did similar fool hardy maneuvers to reach the platform.
In the shocked silence Shanalotte began to laugh, softly at first, then louder, with tears streaming down her face.
"Took you long enough!"