tiber: so do you think it’s a good idea to intentionally trigger visions?
rúth: no, don’t do that
tiber: i’m going to see if i can get some opium from vaska, she’s always up for a good deal
rúth: no, don’t do that, bad idea
tiber: i wonder if i can see my own death... if i get tadhg to draw a death card for me i might be able to purposefully alter my vision’s destination.
rúth: no
*approx. 1 day later*
tiber, post-vision, sobbing into rúth’s front: i didn’t... want to know any of that... i didn’t want to know... why didn’t you stop me..
rúth, patting him on the back comfortingly: you are so stupid. have a tissue
it’s time for the battle! robin and emiliano team up to beat rezann, but rezann has a few tricks up his sleeve. rúth and tiber each have a horrifying vision of the future that forces luke to Do Something Reckless. delta and neven have a Moment
also somebody dies idk
~
The command centre mounted on the first cannon still smelled faintly of toxic smoke. The blackened patch on the sofa had been impossible to get rid of and the ceiling and walls bore smudgy black marks. Rezann ran a finger along the stained back of the sofa, picking up a dark smear on his fingertip that burned like weak acid. He ignored it; his regeneration would kick in momentarily and fix any damage. Unfortunately, the memory of all the time he'd wasted on the creature known as Reginald was not nearly as ephemeral.
Zaer didn't comment on the stains. He sat opposite, sipping from a glass of wine, his gaze fixed on the distant citadel. The chunks of pink crystal floated serenely over the city, bathed in morning light.
“Well, well,” Zaer said, a sly grin crawling over his face. “You're preoccupied today, Commander. Bad night's rest?”
“What do I have to be preoccupied about?” Rezann said in a low tone.
“I could think of a few things,” Zaer said, swirling the wine in his glass and taking an appreciative sip. “Such as, for example, the army outside the city gates?”
The dark mass of Robin's troops had assembled the night before. To the surprise of no one, she'd rejected Rezann's terms and made it quite clear that she was prepared to fight. But her army was smaller than his, and less well-equipped. He had no reason to be worried.
And yet.
“I'll be finished with them by this afternoon,” Rezann said dismissively.
“I wish you the best of luck,” Zaer said. “I'll of course take my leave before any actual fighting breaks out, but you should see me again this evening. You'll need my merchants to recuperate.” He knocked back his glass and rose to his feet. “I'm getting too old for this wartime business.”
“My sympathies,” Rezann said, his eyes on the citadel.
“That's a rather hollow sentiment, coming from someone who doesn't age,” Zaer said cheerfully, moving to let himself out of the command centre. “Anyway, maybe one day soon you'll be seeing my son Andrei here in my place. He's a little impetuous, but he has charm, unlike the other two.”
“Join me for dinner later,” Rezann said. “Rebuilding the citadel will require some detailed planning.”
Zaer waved in acknowledgement over his shoulder, already out of the room. Once he was gone, and the metal door had swung shut in his wake, the third occupant of the room spoke.
“You know as well as I do that those city walls are impenetrable,” the creature said, seeming to un-peel itself from the shadows at the back of the room. “I could help you breach them, of course...”
It was a tempting offer, but then again every offer the creature made was tempting in some way. Rezann was used to it. He shook his head.
“Suit yourself.”
The creature vanished as someone pounded on the door from the outside. “Commander!” a voice said.
Rezann rose to open the door. The soldier outside saluted briefly before giving his report.
“A large number of troops have just uncloaked themselves in the east, sir. They're gathering behind us.”
“Under what banner?”
“Court Dorchadas, sir.”
That gave him pause. Rezann leant out of the door and face east, into the rising sun. Sure enough, a mass of dragons had camped out a scant two hundred metres from the rear-most troops of Rezann's own army. Black and gold banners streamed in the air.
With a jolt, Rezann realised that he'd been far too distracted by Robin's challenge. He hadn't kept tabs on Court Dorchadas and now he didn't know if the army had come to aid him or attack him. Surely Fain was still part of the Court? She was loyal to him.
But if that was the case, why had she not told him she was coming?
“Let Laete know that we’ll need Zeiya after all,” he said.
~
The Cú na Mara had been placed in dry dock for repairs. It was odd to sit on the edge of the deck and not see water beneath. Luke had been writing for hours now, drafting yet another healing spell at Fiach's request for John. In the distance, the streets of Hydriop were bright and busy, the morning markets flooded with shoppers. Most of Clan Fuil Darach had gone down to buy repair materials for the ship, but the healers were still on full-time duty.
Stifling a yawn, Luke flipped over the sheet and wrote on the back of the spell tag. With spells as complex and intense as these, the heat released by the spell could burn the patient. To ward against that, extra scripts had to be added on the side of the paper that came into contact with the patient that would dissipate the heat.
The morning sun grazed their face, warm and unspeakably welcome after a night spent at John's bedside.
They took up the finished stack of spell tags, then, regretfully turning their back on the sun, headed for the ship's surgery. Zeta was already there, nodding off over his desk. John sat upright in the single narrow bed, carefully reading over yet more spells.
“You've made a glyph error here, darling,” John said, his voice muffled by the bandages that covered most of his skin.
“Huh?” Zeta said sleepily. “Oh... I'll fix it.” Seeing Luke, his shoulders sagged with relief. “Thank the gods you're here. I'm spent.”
Luke waved him out, then set about pinning their spell-tags to John's bandages. His mismatched pink and yellow eyes gleamed from a slit in the bandage, tracking Luke's movements with suspicion.
“Sit still,” Luke said sharply, as John tried to read the tag attached to his sternum. “I'm not Zeta, I don't make mistakes.”
This elicited a thin giggle from John. “Says the dragon whose mistakes are literally written across their face.”
“Do you or do you not want these painkillers?”
With a stifled sigh, John nodded and sat still. “I like your new look, though,” he said charitably, his unsettling gaze skimming over the new, discoloured patches that had begun to bloom on Luke's exposed skin.
“Can't say the feeling's mutual,” Luke said, carefully unwrapping the bandage from John's hand to check on the status of the strange, hardened patches of pink and yellow scar tissue that had appeared following John's near-death experience. Touching the scars was almost like touching a live electric current; Luke withdrew with a hiss of pain.
“Sorry,” John said. “I can't regulate my energy so well any more.”
Shouts sounded outside. Luke glanced around just in time to see the door bounce open and fall off its hinges. Standing there, breathing hard, was Rúth. Black shade mist surrounded them like a stormcloud. Aside from a strategically-held bedsheet, they were naked, exactly how Luke had left them the evening before.
“R-”
“Luke!”
Zeta appeared behind Rúth, trying to pull them away from the infirmary. Rúth didn't even seem to notice him.
“You have to help him!” they said loudly. “He's – he is going to die, he needs help-”
“Who needs help?” Luke said, abandoning John.
“Delta,” Rúth said, knocking Zeta aside with an irritable shove. “He is there – and the army – there's a monster, I saw it.”
Luke knew better than to doubt Rúth. But before anything else could be said, a new voice rose through the air.
“Healer! I need a healer!”
Rúth glanced over their shoulder and quickly stood aside, allowing Rich into the infirmary (which was starting to become very cramped indeed). In Rich's arms was Tiberius, who lay as if dead, aside from the odd seizure-like tremor that gripped his limbs and tail.
“Please,” Rich said, his voice rusty from disuse. “I don't know what's wrong with him, he was getting ready for the wedding and then he just fell...”
“Put him in the chair,” Luke said. As Rich carefully set Tiberius down in the chair by the desk, Luke conducted a quick examination. All seemed fine, but Tiberius' eyes were moving rapidly beneath his eyelids, as if he was dreaming.
“Luke,” Rúth said urgently. “We have to go-”
“Wait,” Luke said, pausing for a moment to recollect themself. John was staring, Rich was on the verge of tears, Zeta was cursing, and it was all far too loud and distracting.
Just as Luke began to run through the various spells they could use to wake Tiberius up, the tremors stilled. Tiberius blinked, groaning loudly, and raised a trembling hand to brush his hair out of his eyes.
“Wh – Rich?” he said. “What happened? Where's the – there's an army...”
That caught Rúth's attention. They bore down on Tiberius, who flinched back weakly.
“You saw it!” Rúth said. “Yes? The army?”
“Yeah,” Tiberius said slowly. “I saw... something. There was, uh... there were these huge cannons, like the ones we saw in the bay.”
“What else did you see?” John said quietly.
Tiberius swallowed nervously, visibly uncomfortable with everyone staring down at him, but he couldn't seem to stand up. His formal suit was in disarray. “There were three armies,” he said, closing his eyes. “Everyone was fighting, but in the very middle there was a fae and a guardian and I think their fight was more important than the rest.”
“Describe the guardian,” Luke said, before John had a chance to interrogate Tiberius further about pointless details.
“Big,” Tiberius said. “He was young-looking... Light eyes, dark brown skin...” He winced, as if the memory of his vision pained him. “I don't think he was winning. He was bleeding a lot.”
Luke's wide-eyed gaze moved back to Rúth, who nodded to confirm this.
“Thank you, Tiberius,” John said gently. “One last thing. The cannons, were they operational?”
“I don't know? A few exploded. It looked like what you did the other night.” Tiberius shrugged helplessly. “Were you there?”
“It hasn't happened yet,” Rúth said. “You are seeing the future.” They glanced across at Luke and beckoned. “We have to help Delta.”
“And I'd better go too,” John said, which was downright laughable. He could barely sit up unassisted, let alone fly out to gods-knew-where. Not that Luke could fly anywhere, either.
“No, you're staying,” Zeta said firmly.
“Don't be silly, Zeta. I seem to be the only one who can destroy Commander Rezann's artillery, which means I have a responsibility to go there and do it. Also, I've never met a ward I couldn't beat, and I'd like to try again. This time, I'll get it right.”
“Can you fly?” Luke said. “No? Then you're staying.”
“Can you?” John said snidely. “Zeta, you can give us a lift.”
“Fine,” Rúth said, “whatever, we have to go.”
“What about me?” Tiberius said. “My parents are about to get married, I can't leave. They still have to meet Rich!”
“It's fine,” Luke said. “You two stay. Tell the others where we've gone. Zeta, grab some supplies and get ready to take off. John... are you sure you can do this?”
“I may not be able to walk,” John said, “but I can still cast. I've fought for Rezann's side before, this is my chance to make up for that. And, anyway, with you and Zeta with me I'll be fine.”
Zeta didn't look overly pleased at being forcibly drafted into this new service, but he didn't argue. As Rúth ran off to get dressed, he and Luke organised their healing supplies. Fiach was out in the city with Vaska – surely they would be fine on their own.
The group had left Hydriop far behind before the wedding had even started.
~
“Hiii, sweetheart. How's my little girl?”
Thea pressed a tiny hand against the surface of the scrying mirror, disrupting the signal for a moment. Her features swam back into focus a second later. Emiliano sighed happily and held out his hand as if to press it against hers.
It was the first time he'd ever left Dragonhome, and the distance between himself and his family was starting to sting. He'd kept in touch as often as possible, scrying Fallon and Thea and Iriangi to update them about his situation and reassure them that he'd be home soon.
He sat in a hastily-constructed command tent, surrounded by guards who seemed to grow more visibly uncomfortable by the second. He'd spent a lot of time gushing about his daughter to anyone who would listen, and apparently that wasn't appropriate for a battlefield. Or something. He hadn't listened to what they were saying about him – why would he? He was their king. He owned them.
Clangs and shouts filled the air. As he blew a kiss to Thea's image on the scrying mirror, the thunder of a cannon going off momentarily deafened him.
“What was that?” Fallon turned the mirror to face himself.
The ground shook. Emiliano's chair folded; he quickly leapt to his feet, trying to seem unruffled for Fallon's benefit. “Just one of those cannons. Nothing to worry about, they're not pointed at us.”
Fallon frowned. “You are staying away from the actual fighting, aren't you? You promised.”
“Yeah, yeah,” Emiliano said, picking up his chair and sitting again. He was wearing armour for the first time since his military training and his sword was ready at his waist, but he wasn't actually allowed into the battle. He had to sit here and wait for it all to blow over, then meet up with Robin.
It made sense, he supposed, to stay away from the fighting. He had no battlefield experience and didn't know how to command troops very well yet. But what little he had seen of the battle looked very exciting indeed.
“So who's winning?” Fallon said. He leant out-of-frame for a moment to catch Thea under the arms and hoist her up onto his lap, so that Emiliano could see them both. She waved at him.
“It's still too early to tell,” Emiliano said. “Robin and I have Rezann pinned between us, but unfortunately we didn't catch him by surprise like we planned.” He shrugged, with a little difficulty under the heavy leather armour. “It's been very-”
The cannons roared again, sending tremors through the earth. Unable to contain his curiosity, Emiliano went to the tent entrance and peered out.
“Your Majesty, please, stay inside,” one of the guards said. “It's not safe.”
“You don't tell me what to do,” Emiliano said, though by then he was shouting over the noise of the battle. “I'll have you hang-”
One of the cannons went off, and this time Emiliano actually saw the fallout. The thunder drowned out his words. The city walls, which had held fast against the assault so far, had started to crack. But that was all. Smoke rose in a thick column from the cannon to the far right. Sparks and flashes of light surrounded the enormous weapon, as Robin's soldiers attempted to put a dent in its magical wards.
“Emiliano?” Fallon's voice said faintly from back inside the tent. The mirror was on the ground, face-down.
He retrieved the mirror. “It's fine, I'm fine...” He blinked hard, trying to wipe away the afterimage of cannon-fire burned into the back of his eyelids. “So how's everything going over there? Heard from Renée at all?”
Fallon glanced surreptitiously over his shoulder, even though the room was clearly empty. 'Renée' was how they had been referring to Rosa. “No,” Fallon said. “But I keep expecting her to come marching in here. We're going to have to let her know about Corin somehow, Emilio.”
“Mm. Maybe we can hold out a little longer,” Emiliano said, a brazenly optimistic note in his voice. He propped the mirror back upright on the table and sat down. “If we can get him back soon enough, she won't be... quite so angry at us...”
He trailed off. A new noise had joined the cacophony outside; a low moaning rumble, louder than all the dragon roars combined. The ground was shaking again, and people were screaming – terrible screams, screams of fear and horror unlike anything Emiliano had ever heard before.
“Emiliano?” Fallon said. “What's that sound?”
Something caught the tent and ripped it away, leaving Emiliano bare to the sky, and the underside of the creature shambling overhead. The mirror shattered on the ground.
For the first time ever, Emiliano found that he literally could not move. Paralysed, rooted to the spot, he could only stare as the creature flicked one of its many paws irritably, unhooking the tent canopy from its enormous claws. The body of an imperial – laughably tiny beside this behemoth – dragged along in its wake, still gasping and struggling but already starting to fuse with the monster's rotting hide. An enormous purple banner streamed from the monster's antlers, wreathed with strange black mist. Thousands of vivid green eyes flashed and glittered in the air around the monster's main head.
The belly plates of its torso were directly above Emiliano's head, blotting out the harsh sunlight. He groped for the hilt of his sword, for comfort more than anything else. His knees threatened to fold. The monster hadn't noticed him yet.
A lesser head whipped around, howling in agony, and drew a breath. Clashing purple and yellow light streamed from cracks in its skin. Then its breath weapon razed the battlefield and the world turned white. Emiliano couldn't run – how could he? There was nowhere to go.
~
“Oh dear gods, what is that?”
The question repeated again and again as Delta shoved his way through the rear line of Robin's army. They'd fallen back into the city, trusting to the cracked walls to keep them safe, but some distant explosion had caught their attention. He finally found a vantage point with a view through the city gates and stared over the crowd, past the no-man's-land, past the melee, past the cannons and purple command tents, past all that, to the enormous thing on the horizon. A vaguely dragon-shaped mountain loomed over the Dorchadas army, too far away to really make out.
“What is it?” Neven said at his side, their ears rammed forward to catch the many-voiced, wheezing moan that washed over the battlefield.
“I don't know,” Delta said. “Some kind of monster?”
The tide of the battle changed rather abruptly. With the Dorchadas troops in disarray and the cannons continuing their unending assault of the city walls, Rezann's side had begun to recoup. They pressed forward, towards the gates.
Delta gripped the handle of his standard-issue glaive, shaking. This wasn't like anything he'd ever experienced – a few battles here and there were nothing compared to this. And seconds later he and Neven were caught in the skirmish by the gate, and there wasn't time to think. Neven fought bare-handed, with only the lightest armour so as not to impede their movements. As Delta hammered a soldier over the head inexpertly with his weapon, Neven blew a hole clean through the chest of a skydancer.
Neven in the midst of battle was almost hypnotic. Graceful, balletic, everything Delta wasn't. But he could take no joy or satisfaction from watching them effortlessly push back their opponents. With every breath he drew he could taste sweat and piss and gunpowder. Multicoloured blood ran down the haft of his glaive and congealed into a brownish mess on his knuckles. His hands were so numb that he doubted his ability to drop his weapon even if he tried. He hadn't suffered any injury more serious than a gash across his face, but under his awkward armour he was battered and bruised to the core.
He just wanted it all to end. It didn't matter to him who won or who lost.
The combatants on Rezann's side fell back again, nursing their wounds. Delta grabbed Neven's hand and dragged them back behind the row of spiked barriers that had been constructed in the street. Gasping, he looked Neven up and down while he caught his breath. They were uninjured, but their palms were very hot to the touch, and they flinched away when Delta tried to examine them.
“It's fine,” they insisted. “I just have not used this much magic in a long time, I'm not... not used to it.” They spread their fingers with a wince, and blood oozed up as their skin cracked.
“You should rest,” Delta said. “We're fine here without you-”
“No,” Neven said.
The moans of the distant monster sounded again, echoing Delta's own emotions. He couldn't hold Neven's hands, so he took their wrists instead and kissed them, mumbling an apology against their skin.
“Delta, what?” they said weakly. “What are you saying?”
“I'm sorry,” he said, a little louder this time. The other soldiers barely cast him a second glance, but he still blushed. “I'm sorry for dragging you out here and getting you involved in all this.”
Neven snorted, a tiny grin appearing on their grimy face. “As if I had no choice,” they said in a tone of gentle admonishment. “If I wanted to leave, nobody would be able to stop me. But I don't! I want to be here. Somebody has to keep you safe, and somebody has to kill Rezann.”
“Yeah, but... it's not like this is an ideal situation,” Delta said.
“Well, no,” Neven said, “but think about it like this. Once the Commander is dead, the world will be better – and we can go home without ever having to worry about somehow meeting him again.”
Delta nodded frantically. “Yes – oh, gods, I just want to go home, Neven. I want to go home.”
Neven had to pull Delta down to their level to kiss him. When they pulled back, he didn't want to let them go.
“Marry me,” he mumbled into their sweaty hair.
“Oh,” Neven said. “I wanted to be the one to ask-”
“Yes!” Delta said, before they'd even finished.
And Neven laughed, which was the most beautiful sound in the entire world. But before anything else could be said, the gates crashed open yet again and Delta and Neven were forced back into the fray.
~
The battlefield was easy enough to find. The magical echoes spanned the entire continent, and all Zeta had to do was follow. Soon enough, the battle itself appeared in the distance, a multi-coloured mess strewn about on the fields around the citadel.
Lost in Zeta's mane, Luke gave John a final once-over. As long as John stayed on Zeta while he cast his runes, then theoretically he would be able to strafe the cannons without once touching the ground, or having to walk unassisted. Luke was saving their paper, so they'd resorted to writing healing scripts directly onto John's bandages, tailoring them to activate if he was injured.
“I'm flattered that you care, sweetheart,” he said, casting a critical eye over the writing on his forearm, “but you needn't worry about me. Worry about your bother instead – I'd be heartbroken if I never saw poor Delta again.”
Luke peered over the side of Zeta's neck. The ground wheeled dizzyingly below, making their stomach turn. Flight hadn't appealed at all to them since becoming a bogsneak, and this was just torture. But even when Zeta flew as level as possible, the fact remained that there was no chance at all that Delta could be located in the tangled mess of fighters below.
A magical missile shot past on the left, burning through Zeta's mane. Luke didn't withdraw, still struggling to parse what was happening below. If not for the banners, it would have been impossible to tell which side was which, and who was fighting who. Rezann's army covered the bulk of the territory, pressing in to the citadel with all cannons trained on the walls. To the east, the scene was a little more confusing, the soldiers scattered, unable to present a unified force. Black and gold pennants hung on the backs of dragons struggling in the dirt to stand and fly, and it looked like-
Suddenly, Zeta veered. The ground rushed up far too fast. A ground which seemed to be moving, which sprouted heads and limbs and wings at odd angles. Which didn't look like the ground at all, actually.
“It's an emperor,” John said, his voice snatched away almost instantly by the howling wind.
Luke tapped Zeta's neck. “Hey! Zeta, pull up!”
“He's not listening, it's pulling him in.” John raised his hands, steam rising from the opalised tissue that the bandages did not cover. “He'll thank me later for this...” And he summoned an arcane rune to his fingertips and pressed it down against Zeta's scales.
Zeta yelped with pain and stalled, his wings thrashing, then seemed to regain his consciousness. He avoided one of the emperor's many wing-tips by a hair's width. It whistled past so close that Luke could smell the decay. The thing stank like a week-old corpse left out in the sun.
A twisting flash of orange, and now Rúth was coming in to land beside Luke and John.
“He is not here!” Rúth called above the noise. “Closer to the city, I think! Inside the gate! But I will have to leave you now.”
Zeta turned, winging his way towards the city as if the shade itself was snapping at his tail-plume.
“What? No,” Luke said sharply. “You have to lead us.”
“I have something else to do,” Rúth said. “But you will be fine! I promise! You will find him. Okay?” They lifted off again, wings spread to catch the wind. “Oh!” they said, just before taking flight, “and tell Delta congratulations from me!”
And then they were gone. Luke resisted the urge to wring the air out of a mixture of fear and frustration. They almost rose to their feet, trying to follow Rúth's progress, but one tiny orange spiral in a crowded sky was not easy to keep track of. Strangely enough, though, as Rúth flew back towards the emperor, several of its heads turned to follow them, as if it knew they were there.
That did not bode well. Luke put it out of their mind – they just had to trust that Rúth would come back alive.
Zeta bore down on the city walls and tried to land, but an invisible barrier surrounding the citadel repelled him. He circled, unable to land.
“What now?” he yelled back at Luke and John. The only space to land was behind the citadel, but that was too far away from the entrance gates. Luke stared down, still trying in vain to catch sight of Delta. There was a furious knot of activity just inside the gates, and no way for Zeta to land there.
“We can find him later,” John said, reading the desperation on Luke's face. “For now just stay here with us while we take out those cannons.” He set a hand on Luke's arm.
One of the cannons flashed and recoiled, and the city walls groaned. Chunks of stone rained down from the formerly-smooth surface. More cracks spread in thin air, glowing faintly as the invisible shield took the brunt of the cannon's force. There – a gap in the barrier, only large enough for a small dragon to pass through. An entrance.
Luke unclipped the makeshift leather harness keeping them firmly attached to Zeta's back. John sighed and rolled his eyes but did not argue as Luke stepped off Zeta's side.
It was not a pleasant drop. Fatal, for anyone else. But the wood curse had saved Luke from a fall once, and it could do it a second time. With a nasty, splintering crunch Luke landed on one of the roofs below the barrier. They lay there for a moment, reeling from the pain, then slowly rose to their feet again. Every cell in their body ached, but they'd made it. After that, it was a simply matter of skidding down the side of the steeply-sloped roof and dropping to the street below.
Immediately, they found themself lost in the chaos of soldiers falling back, rushing away from the breach in the city barrier. The houses attached to the wall itself were crumbling now shaking curtains of dust down onto the street.
Luke caught their breath behind one of the spiked roadblocks, their head swimming already from the stink filling the street, the sight of so much blood. They'd never considered themself a squeamish person, but this was something else.
Rezann's soldiers rushed in through the breach in winged and bipedal forms both. The flash and crack of magic echoed around the ruined market square. Cursing their diminutive height, Luke struggled to see over the crowd, but they didn't have to.
A hand landed on their shoulder and a familiar voice gasped, “Luke!”
“Delta!” Luke didn't know whether to hug him or punch him. He looked cut up, but not too badly hurt. At his side was Neven.
Delta didn't let Luke say anything else. He bundled them up in a hug so powerful that it lifted them off their feet and threatened to crack more of their ribs.
“Hey – hands off, you big idiot-” Luke fought their way free, their snarl softened slightly by the audible relief in their voice. “I've come to take you home, come on.”
Delta was already crying, because of course he was. “You're alive,” he said plaintively.
“Yes, and I'd like to stay that way, so can we please get out of here?”
“No,” Delta said. A magical projectile took out a chunk of masonry by his head and he yelped, grabbing Neven and dragging them behind a low wall. Luke followed, their ears aching from the noise of it all.
“What do you mean, no?” Luke said.
“We agreed to fight,” Neven said. “I have to kill Rezann. He'll be here soon.”
“You have to – excuse me?” Luke said, aghast. “Delta, there is an emperor out there. An emperor! We have to leave right now. This whole city's coming down around us. Rezann is the least of our worries right now.”
A deafening siren ripped through the air. Luke flinched, huddling behind Delta as a woman's voice, magically amplified, rang out over the entire battlefield.
“This is an order to all imperial dragons,” she said in ear-splitting tones, “fall back. Flee. Your services are no longer required. Any imperial left on the battlefield will be killed on sight, no matter your allegiance.”
“See!” Luke shouted. “Neven, you've got to understand – that's what they do when there are emperors around! They execute all nearby imperials, it's to prevent a disaster.”
“No!” Delta said. “We'll be fine, Neven, it's not near us.”
But Neven hesitated. They were shaking, now that Luke was close enough to actually examine them. Neven wasn't in good shape, and John wasn't here to snap them out of it if they chose to heed the emperor's call, as Zeta almost had.
“Neven?” Delta said.
The citadel wall shattered. Its grey stone cladding fell back, revealing the pink crystal within that powered the barrier. Crushed crystal fragments scattered over the cobblestones. Neven didn't even seem to react. Neither did they react when a single, short figure crested the pile of rubble, facing the city.
Commander Rezann held a spear loosely at his side. Blood had spattered his bare chest but there was no sign of any injury. He strode into the city as though he owned it – which he did, technically. Soldiers charged at him and he cast them aside almost without effort. A broad open square stood between him and the rest of the city, between him and the group huddled behind the wall.
“I can't...” Neven said weakly. “Delta, I can't... I can't think... I have to leave. Before I hurt anyone. But – he is there...”
“It's fine,” Delta said quickly, “it's fine, you can go. You don't have to stay, it's not safe for you. I'll, um. I guess I have to be the one to fight him. Luke, you can get Nev out of here, right?”
This was not going according to plan. Luke opened their mouth to issue a command that they knew Delta would not follow, then broke off with a sigh. “I'll get them out of the city, but I'm coming back for you.”
“Good, because I'll probably need the healing,” Delta said, peering over the wall. Nobody stood between him and the Commander now. “Oh, wait – before you go, um. Could you marry us?”
“Can I what?”
“Oh, yes,” Neven said. “Please? You are an emissary, yes?”
Rezann was walking at a leisurely pace, but the distance between him and Delta was dwindling. There was no time to argue. Luke grabbed one of Delta's hands and one of Neven's and stood between them.
“There's nothing to bind you with here, so you'll have to imagine it,” Luke said. “Lightweaver forgive me for what is probably an act of blasphemy but here goes...” They drew their fingers through a smear of blood left on the wall and used this impromptu ink to daub an illuminated emblem on the back of Neven's hand and a whirlwind emblem on Delta's. Luke stammered through the ceremony as fast as possible, pronouncing the two of them married under the gaze of the Lightweaver and Windsinger.
“And I now pronounce you-”
The spear whistled through the air and struck the wall, missing Neven by an inch. With a muffled oath Luke grabbed Neven and dragged them away, yelling the final words of the marriage.
“Just go!” Delta said. “I'll – I'll see you later, okay?” And as Luke and Neven fled from the city, Delta faced Rezann and raised his weapon one last time.
~
Clouds whirled dizzyingly below, intertwined with smoke and steam and the twisting shapes of dragons flying. Emiliano stared down at it all, utterly bewildered. Why were they under him? He appeared to be pressed to the ceiling of the world, spread-eagled, unable to move.
He struggled to draw a breath, and that slight movement caused the entire scene to spin and tip onto its side, so that he now was facing sideways, somehow, then up, then down, all without moving at all. It was nauseating, but he couldn't throw up any more than he already had. His front was soaked with bile.
Smoke drifted over the battlefield below him. Someone tapped the side of his face, as if to make sure he was still alive. He growled, weakly, and broke off with a start when he realised that he could not hear his own voice. The vibration was there, but the sound was gone.
An armoured woman leant over him, gesturing angrily. He stared at her, dazed. She grabbed his shoulder and pulled him into a sitting position. Behind her, soundless pink and yellow explosions tore the clouds. The cannons were burning. His head hurt.
The woman waved for his attention, then held up a piece of paper with some magic rune scribbled on it. She set it down on his chest. Immediately, the pain began to dissipate. The sound of the battle returned, but only on one side. Something hot and wet dripped down his neck from both ears.
“Emiliano!” the woman said, the sound of her voice wavering in and out of his hearing. “Hey. Stay with me.”
He knew that voice. “Rosa?” he croaked.
She tipped up her visor, revealing more of her face. “Oh, thank the gods. I don't know what I'd do if one more of my idiot siblings died. Hey. Wake up.” She snapped her fingers in front of his face. He hadn't even been aware he was drifting off again, but she had to pull him back upright.
“What happened?” he said. “Why are you here?”
“I'm a merc with Robin's troops,” she said. “I saw the emperor and came to get you.”
“Oh.” He realised, for the first time, that he had been dragged away from the burning, muddy wasteland that the emperor had left in its wake. Rosa had brought him a couple of hundred metres up the side of a hill. The hillside was bizarrely peaceful, wildflowers bowing in the wind while in the distance, the undead monster laid waste to the remainder of the Dorchadas armed forces.
“Can you stand?” Rosa said.
“Uh. Maybe.” He tried his best, but still had to lean heavily against her to get to his feet.
“That explosion must have blown out your inner ears,” Rosa said, almost sounding cheerful. “The tag should work, though. You're getting your colour back.”
“Thanks. Is my ear going to start working again?”
“Your what?”
“My right ear.” He gestured to it. “Not working.”
“I don't know. I had planned on visiting Corin with presents from the Saturnalia, but it looks like I'll be bringing his stupid injured uncle back home instead.”
“Rosa,” he said. “Corin's gone.”
She froze, glancing across at him. “Excuse me?”
“Atropa took him,” Emiliano said.
Rosa met his eyes, then stepped away from him. He fell instantly without her support, unable to find his balance.
“I'm sorry,” he said, using the ground as a guide to sit up again, “I had no way of contacting you. That's why I'm here, we have to beat Rezann to get to Zaer and Atropa.”
She stared hard at him, her eyes utterly cold. For a moment it looked like she would kick him. Then with a muted snarl she turned away, paced in a small circle, then rounded on him again. “You let Atropa take Corin?”
“I wasn't paying attention,” he said. Behind her, the emperor was clawing open one of the cannons, driven out of its mind by the combined thoughts and suffering of all the imperials it had absorbed. Rezann's army couldn't stop it any more. Nothing could.
And then... it stopped. Both Rosa and Emiliano stared as its thrashing and moaning quietened down. Something was going on down there, but Emiliano did not want to get any closer to the monster than he already had.
“We'll talk about this later,” Rosa said. “For now, just – just stay here, okay? Stay out of trouble.”
“Promise,” he said, with a smile that revealed several broken teeth.
“You'd better.” And with that she turned and marched right back to the battlefield, towards the emperor.
~
Several of the emperor's heads turned to follow Rúth, its eyes – hundreds of them, green and two-dimensional, surrounded by mist – flickering, as if it was blinking. It didn't roar or moan or attack. It simply watched.
Rúth wasn't totally sure what they were supposed to do here. All they knew was that they had to do something. Because the thing inside the emperor was as familiar to Rúth as their own face. It was their shade parasite, somehow. Rezann had captured it and put it into an imperial and used it as a weapon against the Court.
The explosions generated by John's rune casting had driven it wild for a few heart-stopping minutes, but once again it had calmed down. It watched Rúth, spellbound.
Unable to keep up their hovering, Rúth touched down on the very tip of the largest head, the bare skull surrounded by mist and eyes. The emperor did not move, observing Rúth with a calm curiosity.
Rúth hesitated for a moment, then copied the emperor. Flat green eyes winked into life in the air around their head. They saw the emperor from several different angles at once.
And they saw themself. If they closed their actual eyes, they saw a long, bony snout directly in front of them, with a bright orange spiral perched on the tip.
They blinked back into their own body, disoriented for a brief moment.
“Will you stop now?” they said. “Yes? You've made enough of a mess already.”
The emperor mantled its wings and grew still.
“Go away,” Rúth said, as firmly as they dared, their body shaking all over. “Leave this place. We don't want you here.”
And the emperor left.
~
Luckily, Delta had managed to remove Rezann's spear from the equation. Unluckily, he had done so by getting it lodged through his shoulder.
As expressionless as ever, Rezann closed in. Delta had no strength to dodge any more, and he wasn't supposed to actually attack until Eladrin showed up, but there was no sign of the skydancer.
Delta hurt all over, and the blood loss was starting to make his head spin. Black spots danced on the edge of his vision. He'd sagged back against the low wall. Rezann drew back his fist. And there, right behind the Commander, several paces away, was Eladrin. Delta didn't have time to verify his identity or condition – if he was there, that meant Delta could fight.
Not that Delta was in any kind of shape to fight back. With his last vestiges of strength he caught Rezann's fist with one hand, but the Commander was far stronger than he looked. Delta's wrist cracked. It still didn't hurt as much as the spear through his shoulder.
He swung blindly with his glaive and Rezann dodged as if fending off a toddler's blow. Delta's knees hit the cobblestones. He couldn't do it, but that was all right. He hadn't expected much success, anyway, but he'd bought Neven and Luke enough time to escape.
The Commander turned away, his dispassionate gaze elsewhere. That wouldn't do. Delta had to distract him as much as possible. So, every muscle screaming in pain, Delta somehow managed to stand again. He caught Rezann's side with the blade of his glaive, slicing a shallow cut across his front.
Rezann barely reacted. He grabbed the shaft of the glaive, tore it out of Delta's lax grip, and used it to knock him down to the ground again. Out of the corner of his eye Delta saw the blade of the glaive spin through the air, ready to impale him where the spear had missed. He closed his eyes, thought about Neven, and waited.
A searing heat grazed the side of his face. The Commander sure was taking his time with that glaive. With a slight frown, Delta opened his eyes and looked up.
Someone stood between him and the Commander, their back to Delta. Someone kind of short, wearing all black, a smoky void where their neck should have been.
The person's head turned all the way around. Delta almost collapsed again.
“Hi, Delta!” the creature said. “Hello! It's me, Reginald! We met before once.”
The point of the glaive passed right through Reginald's back and promptly burst into flames. With a start he glanced down and turned back to face the Commander.
“Fain told me you were dead,” Rezann said, taking a short step back. He raised his fists again.
“She was wrong,” Reginald said. The glaive dropped through his body as if he was completely insubstantial, breaking into burning fragments on the cobblestones.
“But – how?” Rezann said, the first shard of emotion shining through his tone. “You have no fuel source any more, you should be dead.”
“Well,” Reginald said, extending a hand. Poisonous-smelling black smoke threaded through his fingers, “it sounds like you need to expand your definition of living.”
And he tore the skein of smoke straight through Rezann's chest. Flames guttered out from the hideous wound, embers and sparks drifting to the ground.
Rezenn fell to one knee. Delta couldn't help but try to spot Eladrin, hardly daring to hope that the plan would somehow work, despite everything. And yes, there was Eladrin, standing to the right now, behind the Commander, his head bowed and his limbs twitching.
As Rezann struggled to draw a breath, Eladrin collapsed.
“Is he okay?” Reginald said, glancing back at Delta questioningly. “That looks... bad.”
Eladrin was frothing at the mouth now, his hands twisted and his limbs shuddering. A dark stain seemed to unfold in the air around him, lines of strange symbols flickering into life around his head.
And then Eladrin stood up, his movements horribly jerky and unnatural. Even the Commander seemed taken aback.
“I can't believe... you fell for it,” Eladrin said. His voice was low and strained, and there was another voice sounding above his, dissonant and unpleasant to listen to. “You stupid shade animal. You really are... as idiotic as you look...”
Both Rezann and Reginald seemed to recognise the second voice, but Delta had no clue. He sat back against the wall and took the opportunity to rest up while everyone else reacted to this new turn of events.
“I'm not an animal,” Reginald said sharply.
“But you still came, didn't you? Like a dog to its master.” Eladrin's features were all but erased by the black lines extending from the air around him. “You creatures are so easy to play. And now I'm really here, finally.”
Rezann stood up. The wound on his chest was already closing over. Delta would have sobbed if he'd had the strength.
“Talk straight, creature,” Rezann said. “Earlier this morning you offered to help me.”
“Me too,” Reginald said quietly. “You told me to come here to stop the Commander.”
Eladrin – or, rather, the creature possessing Eladrin – gave a laugh that sounded like a sealed tin of angry wasps.
“Because I needed you both together, in one place,” it said. “Two creatures as magically powerful as yourselves in one place? And an emperor? You were practically begging me to come through. But I won't monologue. The two of you are of no more use to me.”
Hard-edged black shadows struck out from Eladrin, impaling the Commander and Reginald at the same time. Rezann died instantly and fell to the ground, but Reginald lingered, flickering in and out of focus around the black spear, as if struggling to escape it. But he couldn't. He stared down at the shadow with a look of faint confusion, then began to dissolve.
Within a couple of seconds, Reginald's shape had broken down into a cloud of smoke. But it continued to break down, the smoke folding in on itself and thinning out until it was nothing at all, until the ember at its very heart finally winked out.
Eladrin turned and walked away.
Delta passed out. He didn't wake until several minutes later, when Luke had already pretty much covered him with spell tags. But when Luke asked him what he had seen, he didn't know what to say. He didn't know what he had seen.
rúth is just as unfriendly as usual when they look like this so it’s better to just avoid them... but at least now u can be sure you’ll see them coming
