Eckert put a boot up on the lip of the roof and leaned forward. “I'll be down in just a moment! I just thought that beforehand, you might like to know that I brought my friends this time!” He held up a hand and snapped his fingers.
A portal of swirling darkness opened behind him, through which hurried a score of armed and armored soldiers wearing northern heraldry. A moment later, from over the treeline, a massive craft made of metal rumbled into view, the leaves in the tree canopies buckling under the downdraft of the propellers keeping it aloft.
“Holy shit,” Rorzan said, as they all gaped up at the airship. “I want one of those.”
Chapter Ten – History's Refrain
“Behind us!” Ori yelled.
Vann spun as a cry of shock went up from the gathering of satyrs around them. Emerging from another vortex of shadow behind them were more figures in armor, with a particularly notable one at their head.
“Vann Fyfe!” bellowed Lord MacAngus of Tyraan. He hefted a massive mace as thick as his thigh and planted the end of it in the dirt. A loud bong echoed through the clearing as a clapper in the head of the mace rang against the inside. “We are here to bring you back to Papreon!”
“Probably would've had a lot more success with that if you just snuck up on us, asshole!” Rorzan shouted.
Vann's mind raced, already trying to form a plan. Escape was looking tricky, with soldiers to their front and their rear. The satyrs were scrambling for cover, parents hugging their children close as they fled the soon to be battlefield. They would have to fight, but he couldn't be sure of their odds against the force of trained and armored northerner soldiers.
And then things got even more complicated.
“Vann!” shouted a voice he never thought he'd hear again.
Vann almost dropped the guitar in shock as Yilon Branna, Lord-to-be of Papreon, darted through the portal just before it closed, scooting past Lord MacAngus to stand in the middle of the two groups. His hair had grown out a little, hanging in tousled locks down to his neck. He looked surprisingly ragged and worn, circles under his eyes indicating he hadn't slept much recently.
“Yilon?” Vann said.
“I told you to wait on the Seraph!” MacAngus yelled at him.
But Yilon ignored him, his eyes locked on Vann.
“Yilon, what are you doing here?” Vann asked gently.
“I came to try to find you,” Yilon said. “I wanted to see for myself.” He swallowed. “When you left I was on the other side of the palace with some of the kids, and all I heard was destruction and shouting.”
“I didn't get time for much else,” Vann said. “Your father tried to kill me!”
“I know,” Yilon said, his jaw tightening. “He sent Ansel after you through the mountains. I'm sure you'll be happy to know that after he failed he became a destitute drunkard.”
“Good riddance,” Janaza muttered.
“But I know that given time I can convince my father to put this behind us!” Yilon's fists clenched and shook slightly, as if he was trying to psyche himself up for what he had to say. “You can come home, and everything will go back to normal.”
Vann blinked and looked around them. “Is that what you really think, Yilon? That we can just go back to the way things were?” He hefted the guitar and shook it at Yilon. “This lets me perform magic! You think I'm just going to get to keep it if I go back?”
“If that thing can let you, there has to be something else out there that will too!” Yilon said, chopping the air with his hand. “I know it!”
“It doesn't matter. I've found someone the likes of which I never would in Papreon.” Vann took a protective step in front of Janaza, who hummed appreciatively and ruffled his hair. “Nobody gave me a second glance in Papreon because of my scars, my voice. Out here, in the wild, I feel alive for the first time in years!” He spread his feet wide and tapped the blade end of the guitar on the dirt, defiance burning in his gut. Who was Yilon to just emerge in the company of those who had been sent to hunt him down, and act like nothing had changed at all? Despite their shared childhoods, their long-term friendship, he felt real anger.
Then he saw the look on Yilon's face. It was fearful, to the point where he actually took a step back. “Vann, I...”
He clamped down on his anger enough to breathe out, a shaky breath that carried a lot of weight with it. “It's not happening, Yilon,” he said slowly. “I'm sorry.”
“All I needed to hear,” Lorc MacAngus said. “Eckert!”
There was a snap from behind him as that sword-wire was plucked. A moment later, said wire hooked around and dug into the meat of Vann's throat. “Now where did we leave off last time?” Eckert purred from behind him.
“Right here,” Janaza growled. “Vann, duck!”
Vann did as she commanded, falling like a ragdoll backwards so that the wire on Eckert's sword rolled off his chin. The moment after he did, the bladed edge of Janaza's bass whipped through the air at Eckert. The wiry man ducked the blow and planted his boot in Janaza’s midriff, knocking her back. A loud bong sounded as MacAngus signaled his soldiers to attack with his mace, and the battle began in earnest.
“Everyone scatter, don't get pinned together!” Rorzan yelled.
Vann took off running, aiming for a side alley. He didn't know where it led, but he figured anywhere was better than where he was. As he did, a couple of the northern soldiers moved to intercept him, each holding a short sword and a heavy net. It seemed their job really was to capture him, although the same likely wasn't true for his allies. Just as he was about to turn to make sure they were okay, the soldiers shoved themselves into his guard, swinging the nets above their heads like lassos.
“Out of my way!” Vann yelled. He swung with the bladed edge of the guitar, making the soldiers scramble backwards. He spun, planted his foot, and conjured a wave of force with a power chord that bowled the two of them over.
The center of the square had descended into chaos, each of his allies beset by several soldiers. It seemed that few of them were versed in magic – if they had been, the fight likely already would have been lost. Arielle was keeping Eckert busy, manipulating her omnichord as if it were a deadly web of razor wire that whipped and snapped at the Avatarian, keeping him on his toes. Janaza had chosen Lord MacAngus as her target, bass and mace ringing as they collided in thunderous blows. Ori and Cel fought back to back, holding their own against the soldiers. The satyr had produced two long daggers from somewhere, the obsidian blades winking as they deflected longswords and sought vital bits to stab.
Rorzan floated over to him hurriedly. “Okay, okay. I know this looks bad,” he said. “But I have a plan, if you just-”
“No time for that!” Vann said, planting his feet and racing to join the melee. Rorzan's grand plan was cut off in a choked curse as Vann went for the easiest targets first. His fingers flew across the guitar frets, summoning magic missiles that shot towards the soldiers hemming in Ori and Cel. They struck true, bowling over several and creating an opening from him to join the fray. The blade of his guitar crunched into the breastplate of one of the soldiers, the force of the swing bowling him over. He pivoted and swung again, braining another with the blunt reverse side.
“We were doing just fine!” Ori yelled at him. Her face was streaked with blood, but whether is was hers, Vann couldn't tell.
“Yeah, I can totally see that!” Vann said. Another soldier rushed him, a little more wary than the others. Vann swung his guitar up diagonally in an attempt to cut into the man's hip, but the soldier blocked the swing and punched Vann in the face with a gauntleted hand. The metal bit hard into Vann's cheek, cutting it open. Vann reeled, lashing out with a wild kick in an attempt to create some distance. The soldier's sword streaked towards his shoulder.
A dagger flashed into his vision, blocking the sword and turning it aside. Cel blurred into the space between them, faster than Vann had seen her move before. She drilled the soldier in the side of the neck with the pommel
of one of her daggers, then spun and tried to stab him in the gaps of his plate armor. The soldier quickly pivoted and stabbed. Cel twisted at the last moment to avoid taking the blade right to the heart, the edge instead slicing a shallow groove into her side and cutting a large slice in her top. Cel's stab didn't miss, her dagger goring the soldier through the eye slit in his helmet. She drew back and wrenched the blade free, sending the man toppling to the ground.
“Thanks for the save,” Vann said, wincing as blood trickled down his cheek from the gauntlet punch.
Cel nodded quickly, then looked down at the side of her chest where the small injury was. Vann became acutely aware of the fact that her top was practically hanging free owing to the dagger strike slicing it through. “Really liked this one,” Cel muttered, before reaching up and tearing the shirt off her torso.
Despite the brawl around them, Vann couldn't help but stare. Cel's breasts were perky, round and supple, bouncing a little in time with her breathing. The muscles of her torso were whipcord strong, much more lean than Janaza. On the other side of her, Ori's eyes went wide as well.
“Hey, pay attention!”
Rorzan's voice cut through to him. Vann turned around in time to catch a sword blade on the neck of his guitar, the metal squealing against the magically reinforced strings. He booted the soldier away from him, and flattened him with another concussive power chord. “You can oogle the satyr later!” the ghost said, pointing frantically across the square. “Arielle needs help. Go!”
Arielle was getting hammered on two fronts, both Eckert and Lord MacAngus taking her to task. Janaza was nowhere to be seen, and a moment of panic seized Vann. He spared a moment to look around, and saw the orc slowly getting to her feet in front of a building that she'd been tossed against, the wall spiderwebbed with cracks from her impact. Her leather tunic had been split in twain down the seam, hanging tattered off her torso, nasty gash cutting a diagonal line from her clavicle down to her hip between her breasts. Despite that, she didn't look worse for wear, merely pissed off.
Vann moved to help the elf, Cel and Ori with him. More soldiers moved to head them off, only to be scattered like flower petals in a gale by the combined power chords of Vann and Ori. They leaped at Eckert, only for him to spin and slash with his sword. A wave of wind and force swatted them out of the air, sending Vann flying one way and Ori the other. He hit the ground hard, rolling a few times before he stopped, wincing at the sight of blood on his chest. Whatever spell Eckert had thrown at him it had cut him deep like a knife across his chest. “Ah, crap.”
Northern soldiers descended immediately, throwing three weighted nets over him. Vann began to scramble to try to break free, which only entangled him in the heavy fibers more. “We got him!” one of the soldiers yelled.
A loud whoop sounded out, and the soldier turned, only for two dense satyr hooves to smash into his helmet. The buck satyrs, many of whom were completely unarmed, rushed the soldiers, bowling them over under their weight and stomping on their armor with their hooves. Others came to Vann's aid, untangling the nets from around him. “Come on, you layabouts!” Marebaas said, his fingers undoing knots hurriedly by Vann's head. “Get him free! The others need him!”
Through the gaps in the nets, Vann watched as his friends fought Eckert and MacAngus. The Lord and his head hunter were back to back, the reverse of the earlier situation with Ori and Cel. However, they seemed to be holding their own far better. MacAngus swung his bell mace in wide sweeping arcs, and with each clang of the clapper in the mace head, another scything gust of wind arced out, though his were much more powerful than Eckert's. Their force was so great that they carved furrows in the ground and sliced into nearby buildings, putting dents in the thick tree trunks.
Eckert was playing defense, sticking close to his Lord and turning away any attack that got remotely close with his strange sword. He moved like water, still with that smile on his face as he swatted aside Arielle's omnichord wires, Janaza's bass, Ori's guitar and Cel's daggers. None of them came even close to touching either man, and Janaza and Ori were getting visibly frustrated. Both of them rushed the pair at once, from either side. Eckert pivoted and flicked his sword tip into the ground. A moment later, a magic missile drilled Ori in the gut, spinning her on her foot. MacAngus's next wind blast actually curled around in an arc before taking the shape of a fist and slamming into Janaza.
“-uuuuuuuck!” the orc yelled as she flew through the air and crashed down next to Vann. She landed atop several buck satyrs before rolling and popping back up. The impact had given her top the last it could take, and she ripped it off in annoyance. “Thanks for breaking my fall, boys,” she said to the satyrs, most of whom were gawking up at her big orange tits. Then she winced and clutched her belly for a moment. Ugly bruises were starting to purple her skin where the wind blast had hit her. “Think that broke something. Damn,” she winced. “You okay, Vann?”
“Feeling useless is what I am,” Vann said as Marebaas got him free of the net. He got to his feet and one of the bucks passed him his guitar. “You guys have been getting creamed and here I am taking a nap in the net!”
Janaza rolled her shoulders, and Vann heard something pop. “You can pay me back later by giving me another type of cream.”
“Okay, that was so low-hanging.”
She stuck her tongue out at him. “You know I had to.”
Rorzan darted out of a nearby wall to hover in front of them. “Less flirty!” he yelled. “More fighty!”
Quickly, Vann and Janaza harmonized, their magic pooling together before they charged back into the fray. Ori was now in full berserk mode, recklessly charging in only for Eckert to swat her away. It was only Cel keeping the Avatarian busy with her more measured dagger strikes that was keeping her alive. MacAngus was advancing on Arielle, a crackling shielded around him that turned her magic missiles aside.
“Get Ori and Cel, I've got Arielle!” Vann yelled to Janaza. The orc nodded and bulldozed her way back into the fight. She swung with the blunt end of her bass and actually scored a hit on Eckert, the blow knocking him bodily into the air before he twisted impossibly in the air and landed on his feet like a cat.
Vann blocked that out and focused on his own task. He had to go toe to toe with one of the High Lords. No big deal.
He played a long series of notes, gathering up some of his own magic and bolstering it with Janaza's. The resulting bolt of lightning that shot out of his guitar punched a neat hole through MacAngus's shield and made the Lord take notice. He adjusted his position, taking a few steps back so as not to be pinned between Arielle and Vann. “Lord Branna wasn't kidding about that thing,” he said, nodding to the guitar in Vann's hands. “I wasn't expecting there to be two of them, though. Evidently his ancestor missed a few.”
Vann menaced him with the edge. “You can leave any time you like, Lord MacAngus. I won't stop you.”
Out of the corner of his eye, Vann spotted Yilon, hovering at the edge of the fight, his eyes flicking between Lord and renegade. He tensed. What was Yilon thinking?
Then he felt the dagger plunge into his back.
***
Janaza felt the shock of pain reverberate along the harmonic connection she had with Vann. She spun around, her magical senses zeroing in on him like a compass.
Both Vann's one time friend Yilon and the beefy northern Lord stared wide-eyed at the sight. One of the soldiers had snuck up behind Vann and sank a dagger deep into the meat of his shoulder. “What are you doing?” the Lord roared, sounding completely irate. “We need him alive, you fool! Stand down!”
Janaza was already moving as the soldier yanked the dagger free to stab again. Janaza didn't think, merely acted – she swung the guitar around and hurled it like a bola. It spun in the air around and around, her aim deadly accurate. The bladed edge crunched into the neck of the soldier and sent him spinning to the ground. She was at Vann's side in a moment. “Vann!”
“Sonofabitch, that hurts,” Vann muttered, hands
scrabbling behind him to try to yank the knife out.
“Don't do that,” Janaza said, taking hold of the head of her bass. She yanked it free, then ran her fingers over the strings, playing with one thumb while using her free hand to take hold of the dagger. “Easy, easy...”
Vann yowled in pain as she slowly extracted the dagger, directing the magic to heal the wound behind the point of the blade as it slid free of his flesh. She felt his muscles, the ones she'd grown so familiar with over the last month, pressing to them in pleasure and feeling them flex under her fingers, tense up and seize in pain. A pain that had nothing to do with the aches in her muscles and the long gash between her breasts seized her gut, almost making her sick. “Almost there, Vann, almost there.”
Another soldier darted out from behind a nearby building, dagger raised to finish the job that his companion had started. But before Janaza could react to stop him, Lord MacAngus's bell-mace clanged, and a blast of air knocked the man off his feet. “I said, stand down!” the human Lord roared.
Janaza finished, Vann's flesh knitting shut underneath her fingers. “Vann, get up, get up.”
It took a moment before Vann heeded her, his fingers digging into the dirt as he propped himself up slowly. “Thanks,” he panted, sweat dripping down his nose. “I can't keep this up much longer.”
“It is getting a little taxing,” Janaza admitted.
The soldier who had attempted to rush them groaned and rolled over, slowly picking himself up as well. He reached up and ripped his helmet off, exposing a head of curly brown hair cut short, the ends just above his ears. He fixed his gaze upon them, his eyes searching, thinking, pondering what he could do when face by two dangerous quarry.
Then Vann tensed. “Wait a minute. I know you!”
“What?” Janaza looked between Vann and the soldier.
“He's one of Branna's men!” Vann grabbed his guitar by the neck. “He's part of the palace guard!”
Refrain Page 16