A Journey of Black and Red - Chapter 203: Red then Black

It was hot inside of the small cottage, hotter than it should reasonably be. Everard unconsciously patted down his red armored robe for specks of dust, conscious of the lush persian carpet lying near the clean hearth. From outside, the house had all the appearance of a cozy home for a bachelor, but inside the signs of wealth were much more obvious. So were the wards. Silvery engraved glyphs lined the windows.

His host cleared her throat and made him feel self-conscious. A question escaped his lips before his brain could catch up.

“Are you related to the Order Master?” Everard asked.

The older woman sat back in her chair, a cup of tea steaming gently in the late September light. Everard was young and rather inexperienced, but he had seen pyromancers at work before, heating their tea without a word. The woman’s control was impressive. That led credence to his idea.

“The Order Master, Oliver Merritt,” he insisted.

“Ah, yes. What makes you think that?”

Everard studied the woman. She had graying red hair and a sharp face that evoked mischief. Her posture was impeccable and relaxed at the same time. More importantly, he could hear something in her diction, a mix of accents he had heard from the Order Master himself on regular occasions. especially when he swore. The resemblance was uncanny. They were also both pyromancers of great talent.

“Oh, do not bother telling me. Yes, I am his mother. Alexandria Merritt.”

“Oh, so that’s why we were ordered to be stationed here. Had me wondering.”

“I am left with many questions as well. This village is a place of calm and retreat, not to be involved in conflict.”

“Well… what do you know about the skeleton mages and their minions? We call them liches now, or at least that’s the official definition.”

The woman took a sip of what should have clearly scalded her tongue.

“I know they raid. I know stopping them has been a topic of hot debate between the Republican and Integrist candidates in the last presidential elections. I know they are still out there and dangerous.”

“That’s correct. We are at war with them. The Speaker has come up with a… grid to detect them. We have an idea when a portal will form but they figured out we knew and they’re adapting as fast as we are.”

Merritt raised an eyebrow.

“It’s like this,” Everard continued. “They start rituals and suddenly stop them in spots where they have scouts to see how we react. Sometimes, they open decoy portals that spill out Merghol hounds and other horrors while the true raid takes place somewhere else. We know it costs them energy but if they can grab a whole village, it’s apparently worth it. They steal everything that’s not nailed down as well. They’re gone by nightfall, because, you know…”

“At night, the vampires come out to play, yes. So they will come around here?”

“Maybe. The liches are more careful now that they have lost some of their numbers. They still have a seemingly unlimited supply of goons and magic-eating wildlife.”

Everard shivered. He had faced them before. Against the hounds, his spells were useless. Only his trusty pistol could make a difference.

They just felt so wrong to him, like maws eating at the world.

“We can win. The Speaker is refining the process every day while our alliance is hard at work setting bases in sensitive spots. Soon, no settlement will be out of reach of a fast response group.”

“Tell me about the Red Cabal. I had no hand in its inception. That was between Ollie and Ariane.”

It felt strange to Everard, having the order master and the Hand referred to so casually. He assumed she had earned the right to do so.

“We are a mercenary and security group dedicated to eliminating the supernatural threat before they can become a danger to society,” Everard loudly claimed.

“Though we haven’t managed to do that too well,” he finished, a bit sheepish.

“I’m not sure anyone can blame you for the skeleton things.”

“The integrists sure can. They say before spell shops, flying ships and combat mages, there were no skeletons. Many believe them.”

“People will always look for knowledge that conforms to what they already believe, then dismiss the rest as enemy lies. But enough of my ramblings. Give me some news.”

“Well as I was saying, we have mundanes, mages like me, and werewolves. Sometimes, a vampire will join us for the most dangerous mission but it’s a rare occurrence.”

“Are the werewolves fitting in fine? It was always a concern for us.”

“There are accidents… but not a great many and we prefer to have the furballs on our side.”

Merritt huffed a tiny laugh.

“Furballs… I wouldn’t call them that.”

“They don’t like it much but we got to have fun the way we can. There’s been more of them recently. They’re all over Illinois now. There’s some coming from the north. Others have joined… more organically.”

“What do you mean?”

“Well…”

Everard hesitated, but that knowledge was common enough.

“It’s no secret being turned cures people of diseases. Lots of determined dying folks hear about it from a friend of a friend. They ask around and often the wish is granted. I hear survival is not that common though. And there is… Well, I heard from Amaruq — that’s our wolf — that hmmm.”

He leaned forward, speaking in a conspiratorial tone.

“The Hand gifted them with a unique thingamajig that lets them have kids. Trouble is, there’s only one so they have to take turns. They have a waiting list. Those who perform services for the pack…”

“I assumed the most aggressive leaders would have priority?”

Everard shook his head, suddenly very proud of his knowledge.

“The hierarchy is much more dynamic than what one would think and strength isn’t all that important. Even when they gather.”

He blushed.

“Or that’s what Amaruq said.”

“You seem to care about her a lot.”

“It’s not like that. She’s married. Her husband and her come from the far north. They want to start a family. It’s a noble goal! They work very hard, both of them.”

Everard felt protective of every member of his squad. The White Cabal had its fair share of purists but the red one wasn’t like that. It was all about what people did, not what they were. They even had a proper charter like the Knights of the Round Table. Or the Garter. Some fancy old world group.

“I see. And you have come to Freshspring because you expect an incursion?”

“There could be. The energies are all over the place so a portal could open nearby, or, as I said, it could not, or it could open and just send us hounds. Nasty critters are dangerous enough though.”

“I am familiar with them and the difficulty mages have in fighting them.”

“That’s why I got that pistol, mam. Good rounds!”

Everard patted the holster by his thigh. The handgun only contained five bullets, but those were designed to punch through thick hide or those strange armors the liches’ servants wore.

“As long as I land a good body shot or even better, hit the brain, the creature goes down. Did you know its brain was near the spine, on its back? The thing doesn’t even have eyes! If this isn’t a sign that they were not made by our good god, I don’t know what is. Too weird to be wholesome, those are.”

“I can only assume you have never encountered a platypus. But I digress. Should we not evacuate?”

“Thing is, Mam, we don’t know where exactly the portal will open, so we don’t know where we should evacuate you to. But don’t worry! There are four squads here, twenty-four of us. Wakowski is in charge of the explosives and he’s an expert. We have set up shop near the bridge, the mill, a sniper on the church belfry…”

“Should you be telling me that?” the woman asked.

“What do you mean?”

“You should not share your entire disposition with a civilian who has no need to learn it,” the woman gently chided.

“I just thought… with you being the mother…”

“Security comes when only those who need to know, know. It is not just about trust, young Everard. It is about making sure only the minimum amount of information can be retrieved from any single person.”

“Right, sorry.”

Everard passed a hand through his short hair. His armored robes felt cumbersome, suddenly, too hot to be indoor.

“Wait,” he said, frowning, “why did you ask me about the Red Cabal then?”

“I only asked about what should be common knowledge. If everyone in the Red Cabal knows then it cannot really count as a secret.”

“Hmmm.”

“Though you are right. I suppose even learning about the statue that lets wolf bear children could show a deep vulnerability. In any case, should we stay put then?”

“We are moving everyone into the church, not that those stopped the invaders before, but this one is made of stone for some reason and we expect, well, at least it won’t burn quick.”

“Very well. Give me a few minutes to prepare.”

Everard left the cottage behind. The weather was rather nice and the afternoon sun shone on several other comfortable houses with, he suspected, more wealth inside than there should be. He was starting to believe the place hid many secrets. In front of him, Gaelle was pushing a wheelchair upon which a wizened old man sat, clutching a fancy repeater between shaky fingers.

“You can’t even wield it, grampa,” the mage sighed, her pointy chin set in a stubborn scowl.

“Y’all better not try me, you little pissants. I was shooting hounds before you were a glint in your mama’s eyes!”

“Yes, Mr Sheridan, let’s get you to the church, alright?”

More people left, herded back by Red Cabal members mostly out of their depths. The village had no mayor. Instead, it was a collection of maimed or old folks and their attendants. There was a doctor as well, a tight-lipped yet well trained mage. Yep, definitely a weird place. Almost like a hidden refuge. That would explain why their squads had been deployed so quickly.

“Come on people, we don’t have all day!” their leader Lafayette said.

Lafayette was one of the shortest and also widest men Everard had ever met. He was also very, very loud.

“Alright folks, maybe tonight we sleep like little babies, or maybe a lich will come to tickle us. We don’t know yet. There isn’t enough able-bodied folks to fill sandbags like usual so I’m open for ideas.”

“Can’t the servants help?” someone asked.

“There are few of them and they are mostly medical personnel, not laborers. I asked them to fortify the gates of the church but that won’t stop a determined attack.”

“The river on the west side of the town only got a narrow bridge and the water’s deep.”

“How deep are we talking?”

“Deep enough to fish.”

“Would that be enough?”

“Merghols can’t swim,” Everard explained.

All eyes centered on him, which made him a little nervous.

“They’re too dense,” he continued. “If we make sure all the boats are on our side…”

“Good call. Squad one will do that upstream and downstream for a mile as soon as the briefing is over. Split in two groups. Alright. So the bridge is a defensible point.”

“Yes and it covers the place well. We don’t have the time to build real fortifications unless we use spells,”

“I’d rather save my mana,” Gaelle interrupted.

“You don’t have to remind me of protocol,” Lafayette retorted. “As I was about to say, the cottages all have stone walls around them. Squad two, find a place to deploy your machine gun crew, then switch to other sites. Alright, it’s very unlikely that the foe will come from the north according to intel, but if they do, we’ll face them at the church. The north side has plenty of murder holes and the view is clear for half a mile. South side?”

“The mill,” someone said.

“Good call, let’s go there, have a look.”

Everard sighed and followed. It was going to be a long afternoon.

***

The Red Cabal team worked hard to prepare as best as they could, creating spikes to slow down the hounds though they did not know yet where the creatures would be coming from. Hiding spots were selected around the village including fallback positions. The town doctor and two nurses volunteered to bring the wounded to safety, which was a relief. Squad one returned and confirmed that the lich folks wouldn’t get through the river except by swimming. Everyone had finally settled down for a quick meal when the news came. A squad two mage raced to Lafayette, pale.

“Sir. Multiple incursions across the board.”

The Red Cabal combatants gathered in a loose circle around the messenger.

“Spit it out then,” Lafayette ordered.

“At least six gates, multiple liches including a single numbered specimen. Everyone is mobilizing but… we have low priority. Scouts report our opponents are few. There could still be a lich with them.

“How many is few?”

“Thirty plus the beasts.”

Everard could tell Lafayette wanted to swear, but the man kept in control of his emotions by some miracle. The same could not be said about the rest of the team.

“Goddamn.”

“Simmer down, folks. Which side?”

“West, sir.”

“Well. At least it’s the more defensible one. Squad one mages, go to the edge of town and prepare a becalming ritual, gotta stop that lich from sucking us dry like a soda bottle. The rest of squad one will support the machine gun crew. Squad three will take point with Amaruq near the bridge. Wakowski?”

“I’ll set the explosives, sir. I have time to prepare some mines on the other side, catch a few without destroying the bridge. Two phases.”

“Do it then. Everyone finish eating first. This might be a long night.”

***

The minutes ticked away with the annoying slowness that came with nerves, as if time was stretching now, only to accelerate when the action would come. That way, Everard had all the time in the world to marinate in the juice of his fear so he would be well drenched by the time the lich came to roast him. Fantastic. Hurry up and wait was the name of the game.

He sighed and checked his powder charge for the thirty-seventh time. It was still within arm’s reach. It was still safe and secure. It would be his first time using explosives in battle now that he’d passed the accreditation.

Amaruq turned and growled. Her eyes reflected the late afternoon night.

“Cease.”

“Sorry, nervous.”

“I could not smell an army over the stink of your anxiety.”

“Sorry,” he replied with more bite than usual, “nervous.”

Amaruq huffed, her exotic traits hard to read for Everard. She’d mention her people were called Inuit that didn’t mean jack to him. He just wished she’d have a less sensitive nose.

“Good,” the she-wolf said, “afraid you’d lose your spine.”

“I’ll show you my spine.”

“Please don’t. It serves well where it is.”

A few men on the line smiled. Everard took solace in the fact that, at least, he had not failed to amuse. Squad three, of which he was part, waited by the edge of the bridge. It was long and made of stone, another curious choice in a country that heavily favored wood. The river flowed lazily under its two arches. In front of them, the path led to a deep thicket of oaks and other deciduous trees, some of their leaves starting to turn yellow. No one would see squat until the enemy were almost upon them, nullifying some of the advantage their weapons provided.

The machine gun waited in its nest a little back and up to Everard’s right along as well as a strong fire team of mages and riflemen. Squad two stretched to his left along a stone wall. A cottage and a shed anchored the formation on either side. They had been shut tight to avoid flanking but Everard could not stop but thinking those were all flimsy barriers against an old and malevolent enemy. More importantly, he wondered about the escalation. Five liches at once? That was unprecedented. The White Cabal scholars said that there used to be over seventy of the things during the first incursion, but that number had dropped after they took losses. Since then, the life forces of the captives might have been used to create more. And the dead ones were on the weaker end of the spectrum as well.

And even the weak ones were terrifying.

If one of them was here…

He shivered.

By his side, Amaruq sniffed the air. Everard half expected a jab but it never came. The wolf stood.

“I smell something.”

A mage from squad one removed an enchanted stick from his pocket. Everyone watched the small enchanted contraption in silence. The man held it between two delicate fingers.

It snapped.

“Ward breach.”

“Lock and load. Stay put until the beasts charge,” Lafayette ordered.

Everard chambered the first round in his pistol. Damn. He didn’t feel ready. Would have to, though.

“Changing,” Amaruq warned.

The men averted her eyes as she quickly disrobed. There were grunts of pain and cracks, but soon a hybrid monster crawled by their side, ready.

Silence fell over the forest. They waited. And waited. Everard’s breath steadied. Any second now.

Any second.

Now.

A wave of purple flesh raced across the path, trampling the overgrowth. Tentacle maws of solid bodies covered the grass. The machine gun opened immediately, punching holes in the thick wall of muscle as it approached. Mass fire was useless against the hounds. They had no morale, only hunger. Everard lined up a creature and shot, probably missing but it didn’t matter. There was not enough space to miss.

“Arm!” Lafayette screamed over the din of gunfire.

“Detonate!”

Wakowski did… something, and the far side of the shore exploded.

Everard barely ducked, then he was firing again. He could not care because the hounds didn’t. One by one, the surviving beasts were falling to the hail of bullets. No one was dumb enough to use spells on them. Eventually, people had to reload and the first wounded hound impaled itself on a nearby spike. Everard shot its brain out, but it was replaced by another.

Amaruq jumped into the fray. She was a whirlwind of claws, shredding and tossing the beasts like toys. Evererard lined up and shot more. His job now was to protect her flank. A werewolf could move faster than he could react, so squad members were trained to shoot where she would reasonably not be. Like that, Amaruq broke the tide and left them unscathed, but now they had more problems. A stone landed near Everard’s hand with a dull thud.

“Invaders!”

The metal clad servants of the liches had used the confusion to approach them from the other shore, forming a line parallel to their own. They had learnt as well that range was king now, and so the skeletons had granted their servants slings.

Bastards were pretty good with them. The only saving grace was that none of them had dared to put some of their strange magic on the stones. Everard wasn’t sure if they were simply too unimaginative or if the liches disliked the idea of mass producing explosives for their slaves.

Using the cover of a shield wall, the more daring servants were trying to cross the bridge.

“Switching to armor-piercing!” someone on the machine gun crew yelled.

The weapon fell silent for a few seconds, eliciting a cheer from their foe, but it did not last. The return fire was terrible and mowed down the attackers. At the same time, the mages, who had been quiet so far, unleashed their own spells. Everard held back. He had one job.

The servants were starting to fall. Someone cried in pain on his side, then another got hit on the helmet and lost consciousness, but most of the squad was still intact.

“It’s just a broken arm, I can still fight!” a woman yelled from his side.

“Why do you all have to be such hard cases,” the doctor replied.

Everard didn’t care. He was still waiting for one thing. Ah, there it was.

A servant officer took out one of the transparent orbs and approached, again under the cover of shields. Some of his men died but the gunners soon stopped, shaking their heads. Even far away, the orb’s fascinating aura was strong. The Red Cabal fighters averted their gazes. Amaruq turned and hid. She growled.

“Yes yes,” Everard said. “Just a little closer.”

He felt the orb come closer, its draw gaining in intensity. The return fire from the Red Cabal was only a shadow of what it was a minute earlier.

They came in range.

Everard never really had a knack for fire and all the showy stuff. It was fancy lights, powerful to be sure, just not his taste. He preferred his magic to be a little more… tactile.

“Pull.”

The servant officer lurched forward and fell, his armored hands slipping on the orb. The precious artifacts flew through the air under the consternated gaze of the opposition. Tough luck for them. It was Everard’s now.

The orb almost reached his side, then it abruptly stopped.

“Everard?” Lafayette asked.

“I’m trying! Something’s wrong!”

A voice erupted from the forest, a hissing tirade that set the Cabal fighters’ teeth on edge. Everard felt his face freeze into a scowl of despair and there was nothing he could do to push away the dread, nothing at all. The screeches, the cowering servants, all of this could only mean one thing.

A lich was here.

They were all dead.

The Red Cabal had confronted liches before. So had the White Cabal and the army. If no vampires were present, the result was always the same. People died, a lot of them. Sometimes, there were no survivors. Entire villages depopulated, entire squads gone, prisoners or sacrificed, their lives harvested. Even flying ships were at risk. They were that deadly.

This one was almost naked except for a thick mass of bands covering its waist. Some of the liches were mummified and still kept a modicum of flesh, but not this one. Horns of some long dead beast surged from its temples while its knuckles gripped a staff like a shepherd hook. From his boney ribs hung a necklace with three small orbs brimming with life force. It pointed at Wakowski and ignited the explosives the man was carrying.

Everard was thrown to the ground. A piece of ear landed on the earth in front of him. He wanted to retch. A sensation of oppression added to his dismay. The first squad had becalmed reality. Casting spells would be harder now, but at least the lich could not simply absorb their lifeforce with a wave of its will.

It wouldn’t save them though.

The lich forcefully levitated Amaruq, slowly bringing her to the end of its staff which started to glow an ominous green. Everard tried to fight it. He didn’t know what else to do. He was losing, but the lich still turned to him, bullets and spells pinging off a magical shell.

Gaelle stood in front of Everard and cast a powerful shield.

“Just keep doing what you’re doing. It doesn’t like —”

Gaelle stopped mid sentence to clutch her gut. She moaned, then collapsed. The lich had skewered her with a spell. It flicked a finger. Fire balls erupted on the house, the shed, the machine gun nest. The two crewmen went up like torches. Everard’s lungs burnt from the smoke. A ball aimed for him. This time, there were no shields.

The ball winked out.

Amaruq fell, changing back to her vulnerable human form. Everard rushed forward to bring her to cover. Someone was pushing the lich back. Spells landed on its shield, large ones, heavy ones that seemed to warp the word. It was Merritt, decked in an old battle robe and wielding an old-fashioned staff. She was fighting through the magic-inhibiting effect and holding back the skeleton.

“Evacuate the wounded,” she ordered. “Leave the village. We’ll hold them back as long as we can.

Everard helped the doctor and the survivors of squad two put the wounded on stretchers. Amaruq would probably make it. Gaelle would too, if the doctor could get time. Others had never stood a chance – like Kowalski. Lafayette coordinated their efforts while behind them, the retired archmage was fighting an impossible battle.

She did last for a while, with quick exchange of powerful spells and a generous use of disruptions. Merritt was an amazing pyromancer. It was just… not enough. It would never have been enough. The lich cast without pause, finding chinks in her defenses. It was only a matter of time before a spell sent her reeling on the ground.

Merritt moved painfully to her knees, then climbed back up with dignity, defeated yet unconquered.

“You wield powerful and cruel weapons, but I will still face you without fear, because I am not alone,” she claimed loudly, and her voice cut through Everard’s stupor.

“ALL OF YOU ARE ALONE.”

“…And also because night has fallen.”

The skeleton oriented its face west, towards where the setting sun had disappeared behind the hills. Enough light came from the burning village that even Everards had not seen it happen. It had, however, and now a ponderous step echoed through the mostly silent street, both sides silent on their respective shore.

A titan in black strode from a bend in the road with heavy steps. He wielded a tower shield covered in runes and a hammer of such massive proportions it could have come from the hand of Vulcan himself. A helmet covered his face, but there was no need for Everard to see him to recognize him. Only one of their regular allies fit that description. John Doe.

They had a vampire on their side.

“THE FREAK WILL NOT SAVE YOU!” the skeleton screeched.

For the first time, Everard thought he saw hesitation in the boney rictus.

The lich sent a plume of flame after the vampire. Doe dodged with easy elegance, disproving the legend that vampires feared fire most of all. Another spell followed, much faster this time. Homing red arrows tracked the titan as he stepped aside. Cold blue inscriptions ignited on the shield and the incendiary spell died on its dark surface. The skeleton conjured lightning in its hand. It hit the shield and dispersed on the ground, where the protection had been set.

The enemy mage suddenly veered away, moving back a good few yards in a terrible noise like a gong. Cracks appeared on its transparent shield. The vampire lifted his hand to recall his hammer, the thrown weapon landing a moment later.

A deadly dance started. The vampire dodged or countered most spells thrown at it. Waves of power were blocked and resisted square on. He tiptoed around earth changes, ignoring spikes and crushing others under steel boots. Lightning and fire dispersed on the surface of the shield with little effect. Strange black energy and ice were completely ignored. Meanwhile, the titan kept pummeling his opponent with careful throws of his hammer.

Annoyed, the skeleton screamed orders at its minions. Stones started to fall on the improvised fortifications again.

The human defenders had been content to take a break until now, especially because they had not stayed idle.

They had reloaded.

“Alright fellers, give those beasts hell!” Lafayette shouted.

With a roar, the earth defenders fought back with prejudice. The thunder of gunfire soon covered the deadly exchange occurring above and behind them, but Everard could not ignore the fight. He was having an epiphany.

Doe was moving before the skeleton could cast. His movements were too identical, too perfectly efficient. He was clearly anticipating the spells’ effects and adapting accordingly. Unfortunately, the lich came to the same conclusion.

“YOU ARE LIKE AN AUTOMATON, FREAK.”

Hr grabbed an orb hanging around his neck. Power filled its gaunt frame. A torrent of hexes flew towards Doe, many of which bore strange colors. Doe reacted immediately, dodging at great speed.

Everard found it impressive that the man had prepared himself to act when caught off guard.

Some spells turned to liquid and hissed as they burned through stone and grass alike. Another petrified a tree. A third rotted a shutter, causing it to fall in black, moldy fragments. Doe intercepted a fast, black bolt on the shield and gasped in pain. He fell to the ground. The skeleton hissed in triumph. A red bolt followed, but Doe was already back up and he stopped that one without issue.

“SURRENDER YOUR SECRETS, FREAK” the lich said.

It waved its staff around and Doe’s shield was seemingly caught, the heavy piece of equipment dragged across the ground, Doe, too, was pulled, though he left deep furrows in the mud. Everard expected him to let go of the possession. Instead, Doe seemed to fall on himself, crouching on the ground.

Everard heard a small cry, a ‘Ho!” of effort.

Suddenly, Doe was much farther away, standing again. The skeleton’s staff went flying through the air and away from its grip.

“Enough!”

The lich removed a second orb. It stretched its hand over its head and called a giant orb of scarlet energy. The orb sent spear after spear at the vampire.

“YOU HAVE FAILED, FREAK. I WILL KILL YOUR SLAVES WHILE YOU WATCH.”

“They are my charges, not slaves, and you will do no such things.”

Everard felt a chill down his spine, partly at how calm Doe was, partly because a cruel fighter would have used this opportunity to kill a few of the Red Cabal squad to make a point. Fortunately, the skeleton’s full attention was on the vampire. Perhaps the red orb was too difficult to control.

It was certainly efficient.

A cry of alarm forced his attention forward. A mana hound was closing in. Everard helped shoot it dead and reloaded, but then his attention returned to the duel that would decide all their fates.

It was not going well, and it did not take long to see why. The tower shield’s defenses were running out of energy, winking out one by one. Cruel spears of energy clanged against the armor, some of them drawing black blood. The titan was bleeding, and the bloody sun of the lich’s spell showed no signs of weakening. Everard wondered if he should try to distract the lich, knowing fully well that it would cost him his life.

“No,” a voice came from his side, and he realized Alexandria Merritt was sitting by his side. “Observe.”

“YOU BLEED, FREAK. I WILL BE REWARDED FOR SUCH A GOOD HARVEST.”

“You will not. I will stop you, because she ordered it.”

“YOUR WISHFUL THINKING DELIGHTS ME, FREAK”

Despite his many wounds, the titan kept dodging with calm. None of them were critical, Everard realized, and the more time passed and the more efficiently he dodged. He was learning. No, more than that.

He was going faster.

A strange hum like a distant whisper rang at the edge of Everard’s perception. It was merely a whisper and yet there was something accumulating here, a crescendo in the song of battle. Everard felt it come just as his strength returned. He realized he had one good spell left in him. And he had an idea. He just needed one good opening. The vampire would provide it. Somehow, he believed.

“There is no wishful thinking. She willed it, therefore it will be done. I will make it happen.”

“YOU WILL DIE.”

“No one can stop me. Not you, not the lords, not her sire. Not even the sun. I will make it happen. It will be done.”

The vampire dug in the earth with its gauntlet and threw a rock that intercepted a bolt mid-flight. Both exploded in a shower of incandescent stone.

“No matter what, it will be done. I am John Doe. YOU CANNOT STOP ME.”

The dance reached its paroxysm. The vampire’s eyes flashed violet and all the latent power accumulating around him from… somewhere, coalesced in its titanic frame. The energy filled him and cut him from outside at the same time. He stood, and he was whole.

The lich shrieked.

Doe smashed his blood-covered gauntlet on the tower shield, which flashed to life with blazing intensity. The runes shone the deep blue of primordial ice. It pushed the projectiles away with ease. Doe roared and sprinted forward, unstoppable.

“Get ready,” Merritt said. She had guessed Everard’s intention.

The skeleton moved backward, the red orb spitting energy as fast as it could. Doe was barrelling towards it like a locomotive at full speed. A dreadful crack echoed through the valley when the overcharged pavise smashed into the lich’s defense.

They both exploded.

Doe was thrown aside, though he recovered instantly. As for the mage, he reached for the last of three colorful spheres.

Everard knew this was his moment, the defining chapter of his life. Magic flowed through his veins and his mind when he extended his fingers, grasping at it. The orb slipped from the lich’s grasping claw with casual ease. Never had Everard felt so focused, so certain of his success. It was like watching a recording of him accomplishing the task.

The creature let out an ear-splitting screech. Its defenses were stripped.

“Oh it’s my turn,” Merritt said. “Infernal gaze.”

Everard’s world went very, very hot. He saw two bands of black crossed by a thinner band of red. It took a moment for his brain to register what was happening. Merritt was wielding a beam of the densest fire mana Everard had ever seen, and it stuck to the lich even as it tried to escape. The focused spell lasted only for a couple of seconds, but each one felt as long as a small eternity.

When the spell faded, there was nothing left of the lich but ashes and scorched bone fragments.

“And I believe this makes me the first archmage to kill a lich. Kindly wake me up for the ceremony,” Merritt calmly concluded.

Then she collapsed face first into the nearest barricade.

***

Amaruq grabbed the next corpse and fought the urge to growl. Stinky. Wrong. Hopefully the pyre would cleanse…

She scowled when she realized that this one did not show the massive throat damage the others shared. Lich servants all bore a death mark that would nearly decapitate them if their master fell. And yet this one… Amaruq placed her finger against the invader’s throat and felt the pulse her ears had detected. She poked the body. The male winced, then he moaned.

That was… good? Probably? It was most likely good. The cold ones would make him sing like a southern bird.

“Fellows? We got a live one.”