Evolve

by Derek Belfield

  Slate was startled by Shale's response. Up to now, they had been friendly with each other, even a bit flirtatious, but they had never been particularly romantic. The beginning of their relationship hadn't been a conventional one. Ignoring Slates reaction, Shale asked the obvious.

  "Who the fuck are you, Guardian?" she asked aggressively. The Guardian intentionally ignored the Consort's tone and visibly and reluctantly tore her eyes away from Slate. She saluted Shale. Somehow even the martial action took on a flirtatious tone. Once completed she looked back at Slate.

  "Guard Lieutenant Serena Winterborn, reporting for orders." She said seductively. She made orders sound like it carried a connotation that Shale wasn't comfortable accepting in Slate's presence. This interaction had become significantly more awkward. He figured the emotion was visible in his body language.

  Guard Lieutenant Winterborn didn't seem to mind her Lord's response and laughed musically while Shale put a hand over his face and looked down in an attempt to resist giving Slate any reason to rip out the woman's throat. He could feel the roiling rage coming through the Scourgemind in waves. It was a complicated cocktail of emotion. She was mad at the Winterborn, she was mad at him, and she was oddly angry with herself. It was a powder keg waiting to go off. He tried to intervene before the explosion.

  "Okay, a couple of things, Lieutenant Winterborn,” Slate started keeping his tone business-like, "Bastion has about two hundred and fifty defenders that we know about and about fifteen hundred normal civilians." As Slate spoke the rest of the Guardians filtered in and set up a perimeter around the trio. Some began to clear out a small camp while others went hunting, gathering water, and other necessities to create a temporary camp. It was highly efficient, and Slate could tell that they had been practicing for just this moment. Say what you want about Winterborn's evident desire to get herself killed, but she could definitely train her platoon.

  He continued. "We plan to keep the Guardians here tonight while we do one last raid on Bastion." Winterborn looked like she was about to protest, but Slate raised a hand to let him finish. "They have two hundred or so spirit-controlled armor. They're huge monstrosities that don't feel pain or tiredness and swing man-sized axes around. The guardians do not have a good way of defeating them, but my mate and I do. Our goal tonight will be to clear out most of them to limit the danger to your platoon. Your goal will be to kill or capture any Vallyr we come across. Once they're dead, it's likely the people will rally behind us."

  Now that they were talking business, Slate was pleased to see that all flirtations mannerism had utterly dropped off. Winterborn looked alert and intent. He could tell that she was absorbing the information as fast as he could provide it. It was no wonder she had been selected to lead the First. He went on, "It would be of great benefit if you and your men extoll the virtues of the Lord of Light when you defeat the Vallyr, there's no sense in starting the PsyOps late.”

  Winterborn coughed politely to interrupt. "PsyOps, Heritor? She asked, having difficulty with the unfamiliar word. It occurred to Slate that he would have to be careful using military terminology. Keep it Simple, Stupid, he reminded himself. "Psychological Operations," he said, "All it means is that we're here to convince these people to join us in our covenant with the Lord of Light, and if they don't, we kill them."

  Winterborn saluted again, and Slate caught her fist before it hit her chest. "Also, don't salute when we're out in the field. That kind of stuff is for parades, ceremonies, and garrisons. Out here I don't care how pretty you look, I care about how well you perform your job."

  Winterborn smiled widely and looked suggestively at Shale gripping her arm mid-salute. "I would be happy to show you how well, I perform the job."

  Slate dropped her hand as if scalded and Shale pushed him out of the way. She growled and picked up the lieutenant by her throat and held her in the air.

  Slate was impressed by the fact that Winterborn didn't make a single sign of distress at being hauled into the air. She maintained her smile and merely held onto Shale's hands to reduce the pressure on her throat. If anything, her eyes took on an icy chill. Slate decided that the wisest course of action was to leave the two women alone. It was likely that Shale didn't know why she was feeling so protective and was confused by the emotions themselves. She had never acted this way nor had she ever been a relationship. The Scourgemind and their budding relationship had to have been affecting her behavior. That would be the normal response.

  Slate watched the tableau as the two women met each other's eyes. Neither one said anything but Slate felt as if he could see visible sparks fly from their eyes. After a long moment, Shale placed Winterborn on the ground with a satisfied nod. He could feel the same sense of satisfaction through their bond and he was confused. The two women looked at him as if nothing had happened and Slate wondered if he had entered a universe stranger than he realized.

  "What else?" Winterborn asked calmly.

  After looking toward Shale in confusion, Slate answered awkwardly. "Rest your Guardians, you're to attack at first light as the sun crosses the horizon. By that time, we should have sowed enough confusion and damage to make it easy for you to clean up after us." The aura of command had returned to the air, and both the Guardians and Shale responded to it. The Guardians looked like they were grave and proud to finally have a mission that they felt they deserved.

  Shale, for her part, could feel herself swooning while watching her mate so easily take command of the platoon. She had to check herself mentally. Her emotions were acting like a drunken crow in midair. I do NOT swoon she reprimanded in her head. I kill things, and I kill them well. She grumbled. The time that she had spent with Slate had been enjoyable. Every day was new and full of excitement, even if it consisted of mostly planning or observing. She could feel herself refining her body and skills. Better yet, Slate almost always asked for her opinion.

  When they had started their journey, she didn't think that she would have as much input as she had. It made her feel valued and respected, a far sight from their initial meeting. Slate didn't necessarily take her opinion in every scenario, and quite often, she knew that she didn't have the experience to make many of the decisions that rested on his shoulders. However, if it came to single combat, hunting, or any other manner of murder-filled mayhem, he generally allowed her to take the lead. This was a new thing for her. In the days of the old forest, when someone had been conquered, they didn't get to have an opinion. The strong ruled the weak, and the Wyldwood was supposedly better for it. Now, she could sense that the Scourge was stronger as a direct reflection of the fact that they had differing expertise and opinions.

  For the first time in her life, she felt legitimately happy. She felt like her jealousy had come from an unconscious realization of that fact. She begrudgingly noted that even Merus added something to the team's dynamic. The Scourge were born for battle. Peace seemed as anathema to them as murder did to Merus. If Merus weren't there, he wouldn't provide an essential context for their decisions.

  She hadn't realized that at first, but Slate had seemed to see it intuitively. He removed the elders that were there for power's sake. Sure, Shale had asked him to, and there were logical reasons for killing them, but Shale was starting to realize that the Heritor had a plan for them even then. He was more interested in building a team, than he did wanting to fight for influence over the Guardians. Everyone was settling into a position.

  Shale increasingly found herself wanting to be better at the role she had found herself in. She had promised her loyalty for his. Until now, she hadn't realized that he was delivering on their exchange in a way she hadn't expected or even realized was possible. It was a quid pro quo type of arrangement, but the streak of jealousy made her realize that it was becoming something more than that for her.

  She knew that should she ever betray him, Slate wouldn't hesitate to kill her himself. Instead of that fact frightening her, that soothed her. Those rules were easy to follow. There was no complicated gam
e of love and manipulation. If she did her best to provide for him, he would do his best to provide for her, it really was that simple.

  Merus, Shale realized, was a different story. Slate and Merus had shared each other's minds. They had made a deal and Slate had followed through on it. Merus respected that and decided to devote himself to Slate as well. Now it was another exchange of loyalty for loyalty. The rules were simple with Slate, and they all knew it. Even Sumnu had been given his life in exchange for his loyalty.

  The knowledge of the rules trickled down to the troops as well. You could see it in the strengths of their backs and light in their eyes. They were willing to work, to fight, and to die for Slate and it was all because for them it was just as simple. When she had lifted Winterborn from her feet, she had seen the loyalty for Slate in the woman's eyes. Winterborn had been willing to die at that moment. She didn't beg for forgiveness, and she didn't try to make excuses for her actions. She had actedlike a warrior in a fair contest with Shale. The Consort could respect that. In fact, may the best woman win. Once the boundaries had been set, both women seemed satisfied.

  "My loyalty for yours," Shale whispered. Slate perked up as he heard the whisper and turned towards her from watching the activities around the camp. Shale hadn't realized she had said anything until Slate drew close and peered into her moonlight colored eyes.

  "...and mine for yours, until the end." He whispered.

  The whispered promise sent chills up Shale's back. She looked past Slate and at the Bastion glowing in the night behind him. Shall we kill our enemies, my Lord? She changed the subject.

  Yes, let's. He replied.

  They both turned and headed out into the night.

  ∆∆∆

  Inside of the city, shopkeepers locked up their stores and citizens hid underneath beds and in closets. Children were hushed, and even babies were reluctant to cry. Eerie silence fell over the entire town of Bastion. An early winter breeze blew through the city, crackling dead leaves and driving rodents underground with its chill. The soul-bound suits of armor couldn't feel the fear that percolated in the air, but the Vallyr could. The city reeked of fear. Usually, this would have excited them, terror was a source of power to them. On this night, however, the scent was muddied by their own fear.

  The forest had spat out creatures that they couldn't quite comprehend. The soldiers whispered to themselves that the Scourge of Lucidius had been released upon the world; their superiors shut down such talk. They didn't believe in ghost stories and fables. Lucidus had been sealed from this world long ago, and now only the creatures of darkness and shadow ruled over Somnium. Anything else was blasphemy to the black priests of the Collective.

  The admonishments did nothing to console the frightened Vallyrians. They could sense the monsters waiting in the shadows. They could feel the cold hands of death clutching its boney fingers around their hearts. They feared that the enemies of Lucidus wouldn't survive the sunrise. They were right.

  Chapter 19: Continue the Siege

  The night fell on Bastion, and the wolves were among the sheep. The two Scourge royalty had snuck onto the curtain wall as smoothly as they had the night before. There were no wards or magical barriers that had been erected to bar their passage. Slate wasn't sure whether their way of entering the city remained unnoticed or that it was difficult and expensive to place enough wards or barriers to keep people from sneaking in.

  As a former Governor of Texas with his own share of border security issues, he figured that it was a combination of both. The ability for desperate people to find their way to asylum and hope for a better life was magic all of its own. Granted, Slate wasn't invading Bastion to seek shelter or find a better life. He was looking to murder its defenders and enslave their people, but he figured the comparison was nearly the same.

  He smirked as he and his mate separated to clear out the wall once again. Instead of using their claws and tail to dispatch their enemies, they used short bursts of cleansing fire to destroy the armor and disperse the spirits that powered them. Now that they knew the trick, the process was easy. Unfortunately, their progress was noticed almost immediately, and horns sounded throughout the city, rousing the alarm.

  Most civilians stayed inside their homes which was a blessing to Slate and Shale. Uncharacteristically, Slate even gave a small prayer of thanks to Lucidus for their luck. This would make it easier to target only the Vallyrians and their minions instead of the people they were seeking to convert. Occasionally, bolts of purple lighting would spring from the wands of Vallyrian soldiers from the streets below. With their camouflage active, the attacks were poorly timed and had all the accuracy of an original trilogy stormtrooper.

  Any Vallyrian that made it up the wall became a target of opportunity. Both of the predators were wary of spending too much time on them. If an accurately timed claw, tooth, or tail to the throat could dispatch their foes, then they did so. But they avoided a protracted battle on the battlement. Their main objective was to destroy the possessed armor manning the gates and to close the portcullises at all three entrances to the city. Both goals required speed and overwhelming force, and the two monsters had plenty of both.

  One of the Vallyr had set himself in Slate's way with sword and shield to block his passage. He couldn't see Slate clearly, a combination of smoke from the melting stone and Slate's natural camouflage making it difficult, but the progress of dragon fire lit his way. Instead of slowing, Slate transitioned to running on all fours, set his shoulders, and plowed through the minor obstruction. He wouldn't have been surprised if every bone in the man's body had shattered on contact. The target was thrown from the top of the wall like a stone from a catapult.

  Out of the side of his eye, Slate watched him plummet fifteen feet and crash through the stone ceiling of a nearby building. He heard shrieks of fright from the denizens within. A deep, rumbling laugh issued from his belly as he reflected cheerfully that maybe raw power was good for something. He was rewarded with a system message for his efforts.

  You have defeated a level 35 Vallyr Soul Knight. You have earned 21,950 experience.

  It took about an hour for both of them to reach the opposite side of the city, goals accomplished. Looking through their system messages. It looked like they had killed close to half of the remaining armor in the town but only four soul knights. Slate had gained a single level and was edging closer to level 38. Otherwise, they weren't able to stop to collect biomass.

  The entire perimeter of the city was wreathed in cleansing fire like a holy crown. The sight kept the denizens of Bastion indoors, but the two Scourge could tell that it would go out soon, restoring the city to shadow. It was time for them to enter the city proper and hunt down the different Vallyrian enemies and their soul-powered defenders. This time they intended to stay together, keep to the shadows, and ambush the Vallyr handlers and Soulbound Armor at the same time.

  After only a few minutes of searching, they came upon a Soul Knight with a retinue of powered armor. They had both decided to ambush their enemies from the rooftops. The height afforded them better visibility, and most creatures didn't tend to look up while they were searching. For one, few enemies attacked from above, and two, it was an unnatural movement to scan above and below eye-level for an extended amount of time.

  Knowing this, the two predators waited for the knight and his clanking bodyguards to make their way down the street toward the exterior wall. As they neared the wall, the Soulbound Armor closed ranks around the knight. There were ten of them, and it was clear to Slate and Shale that the knight was afraid for his life. Clustering the armor together was a rookie mistake, and he could sense Shale's agreement through the Scourgemind. In a matter of moments, they had created a plan.

  Shale leapt up into the air, twenty feet like a professional diver. The creaking of the building alerted the knight to something wrong. The knight stopped and looked up at the roof of the domicile where Shale had previously crouched. Slate could see him squinting his eyes in th
e dark to determine whether the sound was an enemy or just the normal nighttime melody.

  At the arc of her leap, approximately thirty feet above the knight, Shale lithely twisted her body like a fish in a stream to point her body downward. Hurtling towards the ground, flame built in her jaws, and the Vallyrian below readied his sword as he tried to determine what he was seeing. White fire billowed around the Scourge Consort as she plummeted into the formation of enemies. At the last moment, the knight was able to place his shield above him and take cover from the coming explosion.

  Light and fire detonated against his shield and sent a wave of power through the formation. Pieces of armor were blown apparat from the center of the formation, and the knight was flung twenty feet away from the explosion. The blast was so intense that his shield and boots were left remaining at the site of the blast. Luckily his shield had been loosely strapped to his arm or that would have stayed behind as well.