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Chapter 579
🕑 Added 2023-04-19 14:22:36 +0000 UTCEnjoy!
* * *
Evie landed in a roll, springing up to her feet as her spiked chain retracted into her hand. Behind, the last of the Brumalbats fell in gruesome pieces, their icy wings and dark ichor splattering the cliffs below. A Yttin harpoon speared the center of the nearest corpses and snapped back, snagging the majority of its guts. They splatted messily beside her.
“Gross.”
Pit landed beside her, his dark armor making him look far larger and more intimidating…were it not for his eagerly wagging tail. His icy maw was already greased by foul liquids. “No no, they taste good. You should try it.”
“I’m thinkin’ I’ll pass.”
Pit shrugged. “Your loss.” He chomped down, squirting ichor to either side as he happily munched away.
Evie grimaced and averted her eyes, for once not interested in the snacks she’d secreted away in her armor. In the distance, a bolt of lightning shot up into the sky, arcing back toward Cold Rock. “Felix is coming back,” she said.
“That looks bigger than normal,” Vess pointed out. “He’s carrying something…?”
“Oh. It’s done,” Pit said behind a mouthful of bat meat. “That took a while.”
“What is?” Mother Vepar asked. “What did your leader do?”
“Look.”
They followed the jut of Pit’s beak, where the lightning landed just inside the walls. Felix, his fur cloak fluttering all around him, had landed gracefully in the center of the courtyard. Seconds later, a cage of ice crashed next to him, kicking up a geyser of snow straight into the air. A blinding cloud spread everywhere before it reversed course, sucked back inward into Felix’s open maw. Inside the cage, tumbled onto their knees and backs, were dozens of Frost Giant Witches bound in blue-black manacles threaded with red-gold veins. None of them looked happy in the slightest.
Mother Vepar gasped. “He…captured them? That is not done. Their powers—our powers—cannot be held or restricted without an elision collar. I don’t suppose you have those with you?”
“We do not,” Vess said.
“Then it is pointless. Dangerous. They cannot be trusted, and we cannot hold them,” Mother Vepar said. “The moment they are free they will turn on us.”
“I hesitate to agree, but the Witch is right,” Tzfell said. “The Risi know only violence and the rule of might, but even that is trumped by an opportunity to weasel out of their given word.” She pointedly ignored the wrathful glare of Mother Vepar and looked back down at Felix. “They cannot be bargained with, no matter the level of one’s Diplomacy Skill.”
The Witches said something, but it was hard to hear over the constant wind. Felix responded, and the Witches flinched back as if he’d lunged at them. They didn’t say anything else. Felix, however, raised his head toward the Feldspear giants still fighting just beyond the gates. His voice rang out in peals of thunder. “It is over. Your Coven has surrendered. Lay down your weapons, silence your Skills, or die.”
The Feldspear forces, dwindled by half, breathed heavy, ragged steam into the air. Berserkers drenched in as much blood as ice, fondled their spiked fists with dire expressions, and the normal ranks weren’t much better.
Evie stared at them, and was surprised to find she had no rage left to burn. She only felt a pain in her lungs, as if she was being squeezed. C’mon. Listen to him. Surrender.
The giants made no move to drop their weapons, and Felix lifted a hand. Evie turned away, unable to watch the slaughter to come. Idiots!
“Beef!” Felix called.
Evie cracked her eyes. “What?”
Something very big and very wet crashed into the field beyond the gate. Someone nearby—a mage, probably—made a retching sound.
“I find Felix’s brand of Diplomacy to be quite effective,” Vess said after a moment. “Do you not agree, Chanter Tzfell?”
Pit let loose a screeching cry, blood flung from his icy jaws.
* * *
Mervin stood among the giants, staring at a corpse.
Moments ago, he’d been fighting the giants with everything he had; dodging huge weapons and conjured ice. He had just taken down two Risi Warriors before a Berserker had cornered him. Those crimson bastards were strong and fast, and Mervin had been forced to take one too many blows to his arm and shoulder.
Every bit of him was sore, but Mervin had plenty of fight left in him.
Then there was lightning, and the Autarch called for the enemy’s surrender. No one responded, and Mervin figured he had a long afternoon ahead of him…but then a crash sounded above him, followed by a bullish lowing.
A corpse as large as any Berserker had splattered onto the field, bursting like an overripe balloon. Mervin had tried to leap out of the way of the gunk, but it spread everywhere and drove the desperate battle to a sudden standstill. Now here he stood…and the Berserkers backed away, blue faces now several shades paler.
Mervin furrowed his brows. The immense thing was shredded and didn’t even have a head, but that only seemed to worsen the terror in the giants. He can hear it, dancing along their overlarge Spirits.
Lightning flashed above, and the furry body of Lord Hammer was suddenly atop the gates of Cold Rock, hands filled with a fang-filled skull as big as the Minotaur’s chest. He lifted it as high as he could before spearing the thing onto a black iron spike atop the gate tower.
“We killed your Destroyer!” Lord Hammer shouted, his voice loud but uncontrolled. It rattled Mervin’s eardrums painfully. “You wanna fight? You’re next.”
Lord Hammer’s words might have driven a nail into Mervin’s skull, but the effect on the giants was far more profound. All of them, Warrior, Berserker, and even Hoarhounds dropped to their knees and haunches. Weapons clattered into the hard-packed snow, and crimson ice crumbled from arms and chests.
“Thank the light,” Mervin gasped.
The battle was done.
* * *
After dragging their cage up to the ice fortress, Felix had only lingered long enough to remind the Feldspear Coven of their new Oath. They’d nodded, faces grim but resolute, and Felix had left Mother Vepar and her Witches to handle the battle’s aftermath.
Mostly.
Harn remained behind with half a Talon to guard the surviving Risi Warriors and Berserkers, which Felix had put up in a small enclosure he’d shaped from Fiendstone. The rest of the Claw were recovering in housing reserved for Cold Rock’s Warriors, most of which now stood empty. None of his people had been injured, thankfully, but quite a few had spent their Mana and Stamina on the attack, and Felix required them all to be ready to move at a moment’s notice. They were not staying in Cold Rock long.
The Witches granted Felix and his “retinue” the use of their own private grounds, located at the back of the ice church and built into the sturdy stone. Some hours after the battle’s end, Felix lounged there beside a crackling fire, seated upon a chair three times too large and staring into a comically oversized hearth. The fire barely filled up a third of it, but it banished the majority of the air’s chill.
Pit lounged by the flames, a book spread between his paws and a pair of small glasses perched atop his beak. According to his Companion, it was another book on tactics for fighting aerial enemies. He hadn't talked much about the fight against the Brumalbats, but it was clear that he was equal parts annoyed and excited about how it had gone. Felix didn’t push. He was feeling some very similar emotions, if for very different reasons—but the last thing he wanted to do was talk about them.
Instead, he sat in his huge chair and regarded a number of items spread out beside him. They were the objects taken from the ritual circle, collected into sacks and jars by Felix himself: bones, teeth, burning coals, a chunk of ice, and four colored powders. His Eye tagged the last as metal ore mixed with bone dust of several elementals. He had learned from Kimaris that the Brumalbats and the Superior Savage Therium were being beckoned by these reagents, and that the circle of sigaldry was a sort of agreement with the Frostfather. Both creatures were elementals, after all. Felix was annoyed that the Frostfather had sent his monsters after him, but Kimaris was quick to point out that no Witch spoke to their god…it was transactional. Items were laid out to create the connection and the power of a Witches’ circle powered the conjuration. What Feldspear had done was create a double circle, committing every single one of their mages to bringing forth that army of elementals.
Connections again. Felix ran his hands over a glass jar containing a pile of still-burning coals. They hadn’t dimmed in the slightest since he’d collected them. It keeps coming back to that.
Felix let Adamant Discord sing within him, and faint blue lines appeared to sprout from everything around him. He focused, narrowing his vision to the reagents, and studied the hazy lines they bore. The coals were the faintest, a braided cord leading off to the south for several yards before fading; its connection to the hearth fireplace was far stronger. Like called to like. The two sets of fangs, one ice and one metal, had more connections but they were diffuse and in all directions. According to his Eye, they were the teeth of a Brumalbat and a Savage Therium, so that made sense. Same with the bloody vertebrae, though it shared a sharp connection with the metal fangs; likely they were taken from the same beast. The four powders and chunk of dark ice had the strongest link back southward, toward the Domain where Felix had faced down the Frostfather. Ice and stone are the strongest link, clearly to attract their god’s interest. The organic parts are for specifying the particular creature they wish to summon. And the coals… Felix wasn’t sure about their purpose, and he returned to his memories of the ritual circle.
In his Mind’s eye, he traced out the shape and pattern of the Witches’ sigaldry. It was stranger than what he was used to; thicker and less nuanced than his own style, but filled with strange slashes and dashes, like claw marks. It was like reading English translated into Russian and then back into English. Legible, but hard to parse.
The coals seem to be another anchor for the summons. Representing their…hearts? No. Cores. Felix sat back, rubbing his chin. Hm. Interesting. It also is linked to the skull at the center. So a two-way anchor, maybe.
The skull itself, ominously called the Skull Of The Forsaken, was a potent device in and of itself. Though it had been situated at the center of the ritual circle, it didn’t have anything to do with the conjuration of monsters. The same thick sigaldry lined the Skull, but Felix was able to identify the root of what it did: scatter an echo of the user in multiple directions. It was a distraction, and it ran off blood.
Eat It.
I’m not going to eat it.
Skull Strong. I Hunger.
Felix felt a bit guilty. His Hunger had been salivating at the Witches from the moment they’d found them, and had been grumbling ever since he’d let them live. Felix never thought he’d see a living black hole sulk, but there it was. Something to cross off the bucket list.
I promise you’ll get something better soon. The way to Kingsrock is not going to be pretty, I can almost guarantee that.
Promise? The pause after that word felt like it was weighing something. Deal.
You Have Received A Quest!
Wait, what?
Delicious Devour I
Your Primordial Hunger has requested a reward for all of its hard work. Prey must be Tier V or higher if a monster, Master or greater if a mortal, or the equivalent in magical potency.
Rewards dependent upon prey devoured.
Reward(s): Doubled Significance, Varies
Accept?
Y/N
Felix lowered the skull into his lap. You can help me increase my store of significance?
A deep rumble shook him from within. Yes. Some.
He accepted it without hesitation. A Quest that would net him double the significance for doing something he was going to do anyway? And judging by the little “I” at the end of the Quest title, it was likely this was a chain of Quests. I’ll be sure to feed you very very soon, Hunger.
A low rumbling shook him from the inside out. Good.
Felix still had some time before they were due to set out with the Coven, and he considered going out hunting. He doubted, however, that he could simply stumble on something better than Master Tier in the wild Hoarfrost. He looked at the Skull in his hands again. It might be useful…but his Hunger wanted him to eat it.
“Well, let me try it out first.” He lifted his finger and with a sharp tug, slashed it open with his own claw. A small drop of ruby blood welled up before his regeneration closed the cut, and Felix quickly smeared it across the Skull of the Forsaken’s brow. Immediately, a connection between him and the Skull manifested—a thick, braided line of dark crimson, flecked with gold and blue.
He pressed his Intent into that connection, and shouts erupted from outside his rooms. They were muffled by stone and glass, but Felix jolted to his feet.
Pit peered out a window. “You’re sitting in the middle of the blacksmith’s forge, Felix.” He paused. “And on top of someone’s meal at the bar. Oh wait, now you’re walking.”
Felix dashed to the window and saw just that: down below, a copy of him marched forward before leaning as if to look through an imaginary window. Startled giants were everywhere, most of them running from his sudden appearance. A few of the blacksmith apprentices swung crude iron clubs at his illusory form, but the blows passed right through him. Felix immediately cut the connection between him and the Skull, and the illusions immediately disappeared.
Someone knocked on his door.
“Hey, sorry about that. It was just an illusion though—” he started, but cut himself off when he saw the two Chanters standing there. “Oh. What can I help you with?”
Laur craned his neck as if to see behind Felix. “Did something happen? We heard shouting, and now I can almost smell the expenditure of Mana.”
Felix gave a polite smile. “I wouldn’t be worried about it. What do you want?”
Tzfell looked as stoic as ever and ignored her associate. “Might we come in, Lord Autarch? I believe we have some things to discuss before our journey resumes.”
“Things?”
“Regarding the Kingsrock, and the dangers that lie ahead.”
“I’m quite aware of both, Tzfell,” Felix said, beginning to shut the door. “And I am quite busy this evening—”
“Kingsrock is a Nymean ruin.”
Felix stopped, the door half closed on the two Chanters. “Dammit. Come in.”
Comments
Josh N
TFTC!
