Chapter 9:

Flaming Goddesses of War

Ladies and gentleman. It FINALLY happened. My patrons voted for me to update Recusant Successors, which I have been DYING to do since the last chapter. Buckle up folks, it's mostly action from here on out. At least for a while.

Fleur held onto her broom for dear life, her wand steady in front of her to help redirect the storm. The typhoon of Veela fire swirling through the air like a forming twister.

The hundreds of pureblood Veela flying in a corkscrew motion unleashing a steady stream of fire from their claws were equaled in number by the half and quarter Veela on brooms guiding the onslaught. it was a tricky spell, one requiring the user be part-Veela and a consistent circular motion, but it was worth it. As they traveled through the sky the walls of flame grew thicker and longer until a ten-meter thick wall of flames rivalling fiendfire enclosed them on all sides absorbing the bolts of crimson laser fired at them by these unwelcome visitors from the stars.

Finally, after agonizing minutes of flying in a circle around the city, their great war magic reached its maximum strength and descended in a pillar of fire greater than that they'd struck the Egyptians with at the command of the Hebrew god so many centuries ago.

Their descent opened them up to attack, as the mouth of the flaming pillar must remain wide open, and deep red bolts of light pelted the interior of the typhoon. A hail of tiny, bullet-sized ones and the occasional tank shell sized bolt flew past them. Fleur saw, in her peripheral vision, one of the larger bolts utterly erase an elder Veela, one of only a handful remaining from the 1800s, but she dared not break her concentration to look and see who it was.

Down and down they went, the stone streets and ancient French homes growing closer, until finally...

"CONTACT!" She yelled, and her sisters chorused with her.

She yanked the head of her broom upwards with both hands just before hitting the street at the edge of the bridge, letting her control over her section of the flaming pillar lax as it crashed to the earth.

Said flaming pillar expanded outwards in a sphere where it struck the earth as the Veela and witches ascended away from the combat. Upwards they went until they escaped the flaming storm into a sky of steam, smoke and laser fire. Those robots were still shooting at them? Right... robots. No pain, so they can still aim and shoot while being melted into scrap metal. Aim well too, by the look of the few of her sisters that had rested on their laurels and stopped fleeing from the impact after they escaped the vortex.

Big mistake, as they started falling from the sky like flies.

"Move!" Fleur's mother yelled over the rain of lasers and storm of fire. "Get to cover!"

They scattered to the wind as the maelstrom tore through and over the Drac river. They dove into the many side streets and back alleys of Grenoble to watch the storm tear through the alien machines and the half of the city not protected by the river and wall of fire. thank goodness those soldiers had mobilized so fast and evacuated the entire area. It would have been nice if they had homes to come back to though. But a nation does not call upon an army of Veela and their witch spawn when it wants to avoid collateral damage.

They kept low and skulked through the city cover, checking the faces of those that survived with mounting relief and dread with each person accounted for and those yet identified. All the while they remained focused on the task at hand, advancing back towards the Drac by whichever avenues guaranteed the most cover upon reaching the open.

The wall of fire faded as their purebred mothers and grandmothers grew exhausted. They had spent all they had on those flames, but the half and quarter bloods were still fresh and ready for a second wave if need be. And thus, when the last of the wall of fire faded, they saw the fading typhoon beyond and ruined, burned wreckages that were flash scorched into charcoal instead of ash, they were ready for the sight of the surviving machines.

None of the foot soldiers remained. They would be hard pressed to identify any of the humanoid robots amongst the bubbling massive of melted and burned metal littering the bridge and streets beyond, or at least, differentiate them from what were once automobiles. But the surviving tanks and larger transports had survived, if only barely in tact. Both still hovered above the ground but the crescent shaped tanks were so deformed that its wings and cannon barrels were left useless.

Fleur did wish they would try firing. Would it result in Looney Toons style barrel deformities, or the destruction of those within?

It was the larger hovering vehicles that were concerning. They appeared more like semi trucks crossed with submarines and had ship hatches on the front. These ones had fem small parts extruding, merely two small gun barrels in place of rear view mirrors on their fronts. Those were now nothing, made into nothing by their wrath. But they were otherwise unchanged by the fires save for the scorching and charring of their paint. Honesty? The black paint job made them significantly more indimidating.

And now they were opening.

Officer Emmanuel Laisne and his spotter, Jesper Hachée, of the French Foreign Legion finished setting up their rifle and scope in the hills overlooking Grenoble just as the firestorm faded and the flying women scattered into the streets.

"So... Broom riding witches?" Emmanual said.

"Yup." Said Jesper.

"And humanoid, flaming owl familiars?" Emmanuel clarified.

"That's my interpretation of what we just saw too, yes." Jesper confirmed.

"Hm." Emmanual said noncommittally.

"Hm." Jesper said equally noncommittally.

Emmanual loaded a 762 round into his recently dug up Boyes Anti-Tank rifle. Where the boys upstairs found this antique he had no idea, but when they all started loading up on any weapons capable of taking out walking, laser-wielding robots they needed something with a bit more penetrating power than standard old 556.

"What do you recon those big, penis-shaped ones are doing?" Jesper asked, indicating one of the large hovercrafts that did KINDA look like it had the head of a penis at the end.

Emmanuel put his eye to the scope and pointed his rifle towards one of said crafts. The hatch on the end had opened out and extended life a rifle's spring and piston housing, and all along its length were more of the tan-colored robots, and several of the spherical ones they had gotten reports on.

"They are troop transports." Jesper announced the obvious.

"I'm counting... about a hundred apiece." Emmanual said as the transports dropped their cargo and said cargo stood up. "And a good dozen of those rolling, invincible ones."

Emmanual turned around to the troops behind them.

"You guys about ready for a fight?!" He yelled back at them.

A series of clicks from rounds being put into the chamber answered him, and by the looks of things, the mortars were ready too.

"Good. Some of you have a bit of a trip to reach the battlefield. Load up and drive down there. We have some witches to help."

Darth Tyrannus watched the footage on his holoscreen with both concern and fascination.

Never had he witnessed sorcery like this before. Not from the Night Sisters. Not from his master. Sith legends spoke of lords capable of igniting stars into supernovae, and when masters of the dark side got together in great numbers, they could wield magics like the thought bomb. This? This was on that level and more.

"What delightfully furious creatures." He marveled to himself. "Such passion, lust and rage. The Force is silent here, but I can feel these beings. Many others too, similar but different, down below. What is this world?"

ST -856 stepped forward.

"Unknown, sir." Said the tactical droid. "This planetary systems and all star patterns analyzed match no known charts. We are either in an unexplored part of the galaxy, or..."

"In a different galaxy altogether." Tyrannus finished. "It would explain lack of the force."

Sith have long speculated that it was not fundamental to the universe itself, but possible a sentient being inhabiting just our galaxy. A living, feeling, thinking being. In need of BREAKING! This world must have a similar power. A similar sentient being of power, that selects few to grant power. If it is localized to this planet, that would explain it's devastating power. Not being spread thin across billions of stars and planets would keep it pure.

He felt like those lucky few brought by the Tho'Yor to Tython. The first to discover the Force and learn of its wonders. Except he already knew the Force and carried it with him. What secrets would this... sibling power reveal to him? It was time to start poking and prodding and learning of it's capability.

"Send in the new prototypes to the location of these flaming women." Tyrannus instructed. "And prepare my personal vessel."

"As you command, Count Dooku." ST-856 obeyed.

Fleur and her mother dived into the Drac river, bubblehead charms applied and breast strokes paddling along. Others along the beach did the same and thus the crossed around the bridge that the new troops, numbering in the hundreds, marched across it. These alien machines were none the wiser to their flanking strategy.

They all kept close to the loamy bed, to the point they more dived and crawled than swam, but the second task more than trained her for this. Was that entire blasted tournament just a wizarding war simulation? In hindsight the idea made a lot of sense. She'd have to think more on it later. Maybe write to leetle Harry about it since he hasn't yet obeyed her order to write to her? Her mother warned her about disobedient boys, but he was young, and he could learn.

She reached the far bank first and waited for her mother to arrive at her right, and the other distant relatives to line up along the bank up and down the length of the river. Hard to see in the murk, but again, second Triwizard task.

Her mother signaled to break the surface, slowly, in five seconds. Then counted down with her fingers. When none remained they crawled onto the dry land like a the crature of the black lagoon, slinking along the rocks and bushes like the predators they were. Fleur's eyes scanned every inch of smoke-filled sky for movement as she crawled along on all fours. No such movement came, save for those poor, poor robots marching into the mouth of the bridge.

They reached the crest, heads laid low so as not to be seen by those beyond and waited for the marching army to file across the bridge.

Thier companions on the other side of the river were putting on a light show, pot shots of piercers and stunners to keep the enemies focused on them. It worked beautifully, as none of their enemies paid any mind to the riverbank. They needed only wait a few more moments for the last of the walking machines to cross onto the bridge, with the spherical ones holding back near the tank, before they made their move.

Fleur, her mother and two other part-Veela she couldn't place in the heat of battle, to the left and began a complicated transfiguration to cooperatively raise a wall between themselves and the transport carriers and their bubble-protected guard. Oh, they fired at them, but their lasers hit enchanted stone. Meanwhile dozens of witches on both sides of the river unloaded every spell they knew in their pincer attack. Piercers, bludgeoners, lightning bolts, ice spears, and LOTS of leg-lockers. They must have all just outright assumed these fragile looking pieces of scrap metal were weak near the legs and easily tripped. They were right.

These alien machines dropped like flies by the hundreds. How they ever considered them a threat, hell, how these supposedly advanced aliens ever thought they'd be a threat to any enemy was beyond Fleur's comprehension. Now, those rolling droids on the other hand?

"Protego doesn't block the lasers!" Her mother yelled.

"Well, when they come in shots of four by twelve, of course not!" Fleur called back as the molded earth crumbled beneath her control.

Back over the riverbank edge they went as their companions on the other side picked off the last of the metal troops on the bridge. They were nothing. But those giant metal transport, seared black and guarded by pill-bug robots with energy shields? That was a problem.

Then came the mortars. And they weren't a problem anymore. There must me an upper limit to the amount of kinetic or heat energy those shields could protect them from. Most single-shot spells were below that threshold. Well-aimed mortar? Above said thresholds. Very much above that threshold as the dozen pill-bug robots were reduced to dust by the forty-second-long barrage.

"Is that the last of them?" Her mother asked as the bombardment stopped.

A thick cloud of dust and smoke from where the mortars landed joined the much larger, billowing clouds of ash from the earlier firestorm, so fleur couldn't see into the battlefield to tell one wa or the other. She wasn't keen on charging in their blind either. Luckily, the hundreds of fatigue-clad men armed to the teeth with firearms felt no such hesitance as they charged into the city checking every pile of rubble and metal slag.

The majority of these soldiers converged on the site of the mortar fire and the bridge, with the remaining seeking out the Veela and witches either injured or exhausted across the city. Shots rang out from the bridge as the soldiers double tapped the supposedly dead robots with trench guns as an extra precaution. Fleur didn't quite appreciate that. If they were injured, or um, damage doesn't that mean they're not combatants anymore but prisoners? Weren't there conventions about this sort of thing?

"Ladies. Are either of you injured?" A soldier asked them as he approached, medical kit in hand.

Fleur looked at the man with the first aid kit and tried to hide her smirk and laughter. It was ADORABLE that he thought Muggle medical techniques were worth anything here. But her grandmother chose that moment to drop from the sky in her full, fiery, feathered Veela form. Once again, Fleur had to hide her snickering at the adorable boy flinching away from her grandmother.

She zeroed in on the young EMT soldier and breathed out all of the rage, hatred and lust that fueled her transformation and reverted to the lovely forty-five-year-old - yes, she had her mother THAT young - and smiled at the man.

"My daughter and grand-daughter have suffered minor scrapes, burns and bruises. But I am near exhaustion and expect to collapse soon. Won't you take me to bed?" She said without a hint of innuendo.

"Mother! Behave!" Fleur's mother chided as Fleur herself said "Grandmother! Behave!"

The poor young man seemed even more frightened by her grandmothers blatant sexuality , something she always expressed, but opened his medical kit all the same.

"Minor cuts, burns and bruises, you say?" He clarified.

"Oh, there's no need for that." her mother said. "We are witches, or hadn't your superior officers told you? Magical healing is just as real as your... science. Would you like to see?"

It was a bit of a mean offer. Despite the ICW talks of coming out and ending the statute of secrecy, the wheels of law and international cooperate moved slowly. Much slower than obliviators. So yeah, he wouldn't remember any of this by evening.

"I think I would very much like to see that." He said, studiously ignoring Fleur's grandmother as she made a dramatic show of holding a backhand to her forehead as if she was woozy.

Fleur's mother withdrew her wand and cast an advanced cleaning conjuration. Imagine aquamenti crossed with a scourgify and you get the basic idea. The bright, white ball of water at the tip of her wand glistened and felt cool to the touch as her mother dragged it along the skin of her forearm and hand. The di9rt, ash and blood vanished into it and was portly obliterated. She did this to Fleur's arms, neck and legs, leaving her clothes untouched. Then a quick series of cut-closing charms, first-degree mending charms, and a regular scourgify to her clothes, and she was almost good as new. She would have to see a tailor about repairing the damaged clothing later.

"Wow." The soldier said, out of breath, too mesmerized by his first experience witnessing magic up close to notice Fleur's grandmother scooching close to him and wrapping two arms around his waist.

Fleur felt her grandmother unleash the full blast of her allure on the poor man and by the look on his face, he was particularly vulnerable to it.

She and her mother pried the woman away from him before this devolved into a sexual assault and as soon as that was done Fleur began to wield the same spell on her mother. Cleaning her body and wounds with the cleansing bubble charm. Then a series of simple cut and burn healing charms followed by a scourgify and she too was good as new.

"Say, what are those guys doing over there?" Her grandmother asked, pointing into the distance.

Fleur looked and saw that the smoke and dust of the mortar barrage had faded and the disarmed, defenseless transport tanks were still perfectly in tact. If a little worse for wear. Men, soldiers, were placing wires about it and a white substance upon its surface. They quickly fled from the vehicle and behind cover.

"Is that C fo..

KABOOM!

It was, indeed, C4. and it peeled open those transport vehicles like cans of sardines. Or... what was that canned meat given to soldiers? Vienna sausages? Yeah. Like that. so whatever metal they were made of. A Veela firestorm, mortar barrage and C4 demolitions team was up to the task of destroying them.

"Our enemies are formidable." Her mother expressed her own thoughts. "Or at least, some of them are. Hopefully only the weak, walking ones are so numerous."

Fleur very much wished she hadn't said that. She knew, somehow just knew, that the day would come where she would be forced to face the Pill-bug robots on her own without handsome French Legion soldiers there to blow them up. And in greater number. (A/N: 1)

A loud crack echoed from the sky above, drawing all of their attention. It proceeded to roar like a dragon and they all glanced heavenward to see what it was coming. Wands and rifles raised they watched the fireballs fall to the earth, long like cigars and burning far brighter, they descended to the French city of Grenoble.

"Everyone take cover!" Her mother commanded with a sonorus enhanced voice.

Veela a, witch and Muggle alike obeyed and dived into the nearest ditch, river or pile of rubble that was once a home as the crafts - for surely none were naive enough to think it was anything else - descended to the earth.

Fleur herself held her eyes shut and whispered a quiet prayer as she waited for the boom, stopping when three came instead of one alone. She listened to the tinkling of rubble fall to the ground and, when it stopped, dared to stand up from the ditch and gaze at the battlefield. It seemed completely unchanged. Save, of course, for the three metalic, ovalesce cylanders jutting out of the ear4th at different parts of the cities.

"Please don't let those be a new type of giant robot." The male soldier, whose name they still hadn't learned, pleaded.

Alas, his prayers fell onto the ears of a god who did not care for either his nor Fleur's pleadings, as those cigar-tubed vessels hissed open and spouted steam along with three, armored legs. The tripodal, spider-like robots, the size of skyscrapers, stretched their legs yonger and stood to their full height. They revealed large, bulbous heads with eyes and giant canons pointing in three directions giving them a field of view akin to the Argos Panoptes.

Three really was a mgic number today.

"Somebody call HG Wells." Her grandmother said.

"Who is HG Wells?" The soldier asked.

Her mother, blatantly losing all interest in the man, gave him a disgusted look and stepped away. Her feathers an beak returned soon after.

"But..." Fleur asked, hesitantly. "How do we..."

"However we can." Her mother said confidently.

Fleur was almost willing to believe in that faux confidence. But then the tripods opened fire, and their long, continuous laser beams reduced the mountains around Granoble to rubble.

(A/N: 1) I actually typed that on accident, realized while editing the reference it contained. Keeping it RIGHT where I put it.

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