"Are you mad? These people won't last more than a moment against them!" Trigorah protested.
"A moment is all that is required," Epidime stated.
With that, the general disappeared inside the tavern. Trigorah's eyes were drawn skyward. The air was scorching with the heat thrown off by the form that hung in the air just over the street. The burning white slits that served as eyes for the shapeshifter came to rest firmly on Trigorah. Pitchforks, random debris, and anything else that the maddened crowd could find were hurled fruitlessly at the powerful being. They merely passed through her form, momentarily disturbing it and taking to flame.
"You. Elf. Bring the malthrope here or perish," came Ether's command.
Trigorah held her tongue, instead raising her sword.
"So be it," Ether thundered.
In the blink of an eye, the fiery form launched itself earthward. The impact threw back the throng that had gathered beneath her. The light from the flames faded and the shapeshifter was hidden from sight by the mob. Trigorah issued swift orders to stand aside, but these were no soldiers. No heed was paid as half of the crowd climbed over themselves to get a taste of combat and the other half scrambled to escape. Hammering footsteps rang out even over the roar of the crowd. The now-stone form of Ether charged effortlessly through them, those who would stop her tossed aside like dried leaves.
Trigorah's weapon was expertly placed to block the attack, but the force was like that of a charging bull. Ether heaved a backhand, knocking the blade aside. She gripped the warrior by each arm, pinning them to her body and hoisting her in the air. Helpless, Trigorah was slammed against the wall of the tavern, the wind knocked from her lungs.
"REVEAL HER!" Ether demanded.
The wake Ether had left behind her slowly filled in again as the townsfolk flooded toward her. A hundred hands grasped at her, trying to pry her grip on their beloved general free.
Their combined strength barely gave the elemental pause. With another powerful thrust against the wall Ether repeated her demand.
"REVEAL HER!" she cried.
"You shall never have her," Trigorah replied weakly, gasping for breath.
With a cry of frustration, Ether turned, hurling Trigorah into the crowd. The swiftness of the motion scattered the other attackers.
"Careful, shapeshifter, I have use for her yet," came the voice of Epidime from above.
Ether's eyes shot to the roof of the tavern, where Epidime stood smugly.
"And I suspect you still have use for this little creature," he said, holding forth a sinewy arm and dangling the limp form of Ivy off the edge by her wrist.
As his fist tightened around the unconscious creature's wrist, the mark on Ether's head flared. She dropped to her knees. The crowd swarmed over her. Epidime smiled, heaving Ivy's form back onto the roof. He turned, holding his halberd high. A narrow ribbon of white-blue light tore upward. Below, Trigorah was helped to her feet and rushed quickly to the writhing mass of crowd. Whatever had stopped Ether in her tracks would not last long. She had to take full advantage.
"Stand aside! Quickly!" she ordered, pulling people away.
Reluctantly, the frenzied crowd began to spread out. Suddenly there was a brief, sharp burst of wind from inside the center of the tangle of humanity. When the crowd had finally parted completely, Ether was gone. The general gripped her weapon tightly. She'd escaped, taken the form of wind. There was no telling where she was, or even if she was still near.
"Spread out! If she is here I want her found!" Trigorah ordered. "But do not face her. Leave her to me!"
The townspeople swiftly obeyed. Trigorah turned to the roof to see if Epidime had seen where the shapeshifter had gone, but his eyes were fixed firmly on the northern horizon. Knowing it was pointless to ask him, she simply turned to the task herself.
On the rooftop, Epidime's smile broadened. Several dark forms had appeared on the horizon. He turned to the crowd below. The chaos had died down a bit. That was unfortunate. Chaos always made things more interesting. No matter--more was on its way. For the time being, more fruitful thoughts could be turned to the shapeshifter's reaction to the dangling of Demont's little project. The injury of one Chosen had shown a direct correlation to the pain of another. That was a theorized effect of a betrayal between Chosen, and if there was to be a betrayal, this was the most likely pair.
The immediate question was obvious. Did this transfer of punishment extend to the ultimate extreme? If he were to kill the creature at his feet, would the shapeshifter die as well?
The question was an intriguing one. Logic indicated that it would. Briefly, he considered testing the hypothesis. The thought was quickly abandoned. The only truly sound plan that had been developed for dealing with the Chosen hinged upon all of them being kept alive. For now, he would have to sate his curiosity with a second demonstration of the effect. He looked down on the creature. She was stirring weakly. Impressive that the beast could recover so swiftly. Impressive, but inconsequential, as subduing her once more was simple enough. He inverted his halberd, bringing the blade close to Ivy's head.
Suddenly there was a clash, and the weapon was nearly knocked from his hand. He regained his grip, but before he could identify the source of the attack, a second came. The bite of a blade stung his arm with force enough to rob a lesser man of the limb entirely. He merely jerked his arm free and turned to see who had wielded the offending weapon. It came as little surprise that it was Lain who stood before him. Now prepared, the assassin's next two attacks were blocked.
"The shapeshifter, this monstrosity here, and now you. That makes three Chosen in one place. I must take care to stay on my toes, lest I bring about something prematurely," Epidime quipped cryptically.
Lain paid no heed, instead hurling attack after attack at the general. Epidime proved more than able to deflect them despite the gaping wound in his arm.
On the ground below, Trigorah was drawn from the alley she was searching by the sound of combat on the tavern roof. She was about to rush to her current partner's aid when one of the townspeople hurried up to her.
"What? What is it?" Trigorah demanded.
"We found her!" cried the villager.
"Where? Show me!" Trigorah ordered.
He pointed excitedly down the street. The general rushed off in that direction. She didn't make it two steps. Something caught her foot and she tumbled forward. Before she could turn, the sword was pulled from her hand. When she rolled to face her attacker, it appeared that it was the same random villager, but the truth was all too clear. The now-pointless disguise dropped away quickly, the stone form of the shapeshifter replacing it. With a powerful heave, she hurled the crystal-studded weapon far down the street. A heavy backhand robbed Trigorah of her consciousness.
Ether felt a strong need to finish what she had started, but she had a more important task at hand. Ivy was still in their clutches, and so long as she was, her own death was a very real possibility. Her instincts told her to take to the air and surge up to the rooftop, but the wielders of the halberds had proven capable opponents in the past. Better to avoid the risk.
On the roof, weapon clashed with weapon. Slowly, the damage to the arm was beginning to slow Epidime's movements. Lain carefully angled himself, shuffling inch by inch until he had managed to position himself squarely between the general and his prize. With Ivy safely behind him, the ferocity of Lain's attacks intensified. Epidime shifted his focus to defense. Before long the only attacks thrown were Lain's, and more than a few tasted blood. Despite this, Epidime seemed unafraid, even amused.
"Such dedication. Such focus. And all for that little thing behind you? What is it that motivates you so? Is it preservation of the species? Or is it something stronger," Epidime mused out loud, as though the battle was the least of his worries.
Lain ignored his words. The motion near the northern horizon had grown. He knew what was coming. There was no time to waste. He pushed forward, inching Epidime closer to the edge of the roof,
limiting his options.
"Your composure is remarkable. Single-mindedness can be a virtue. I wonder, though. With such thought devoted to both your next move and mine, do you have any mind left to ask questions? Why does he insist on fighting on my terms when a simple spell would end the battle instantly?" Epidime taunted. "Is he toying with me? Is he stalling me? Is it a test? Part of some larger plan? Tell me, Lain, do these thoughts occur to you at all, or are you just a machine? Just a collection of parts working toward a single goal?"
Now Epidime could go no further. Snow fell at his heels as he reached the edge of the roof. Lain pushed harder, but the defense of his opponent did not falter.
"Well. I've got an answer for you. This is all just a pleasant distraction . . . until the real fun begins," Epidime said with a smile.
Almost as if on cue, a mixture of cries rose from the streets below. Some were cries of fear, others of excitement. The beating of leathery wings came next. Epidime leapt backward off of the roof, a blur of motion snatching him into the air. Shadows cast by the weak light of morning crisscrossed the ground.
Above, dragoyles circled, perhaps a dozen. One by one they landed in the streets and on roof tops, figures dropped from their backs. Some were nearmen, most armed as foot soldiers, but a handful carrying bows. Worse, more than a few carried bundles that seemed to split and multiply when they reached the ground. Cloaks. Dozens of them. Now high above, Epidime climbed to the beast's back.
"Fetch Demont's other toy. As long as we have her, we have them all!" He ordered.
The beasts and men alike obeyed immediately, though it was clear that it was not his voice that they obeyed. The gem of his weapon surged brightly before they took to action. A single nearman remained on the back of each dragoyle. The rest rushed the tavern. Ivy was struggling to rise as Lain reached her side. He pulled her to her feet.
"Can you run?" he asked, eyes trained on the beast that circled nearest.
"I . . . don't think so," Ivy slurred.
Three dragoyles now flew in a tight ring overhead. Lain silently weighed his options. He had his sword, two daggers, and nothing else. He couldn't fight them all off and protect her. Ivy was wavering. He could not carry her and hope to escape. There were no other options.
The creatures made their move. Two converged on Lain, the third lunged for Ivy. Lain dove toward her, grabbing her and forcing her out of the path of the attack. They rolled to a stop at the sloping edge of the roof. The two creatures collided, the first losing its rider, the second crashing to the roof. The beast that would have had Ivy instead struck the roof full force. Half-rotten shingles shattered. Ancient support beams groaned.
In an instant, Lain was on his feet. He took a dagger in his hand. These creatures had a weakness. Desmeres had learned it. The riderless creature dove to the street. Another thrashed wildly on the rapidly failing roof. One was on the verge of recovery. Its inhuman rider croaked a command in an unnatural language. The creature opened its mouth, ready to heave a breath of wretched black miasma at the heroes. A flash of steel later and the dagger was deep in the beast's throat. It released an earsplitting shriek, hacking and sputtering the corrosive breath on roof and rider.
Before any of the other beasts could mount an assault, Lain threw Ivy across his shoulders and leapt to the neighboring roof. As the stricken creature behind him seemed to come apart at the seams, oozing gouts of the horrid black poison, the ailing roof finally gave way, taking its occupants with it.
Lain's leap fell just short of its target and he collided painfully with the lower roof's edge. He held his grip, though barely, and dangled over the alleyway, which was now little more than a sea of nearmen and cloaks. The latter creatures swept high into the air, pitch-black talons manifesting from the empty cloth and clawing at Lain's legs.
In the streets, the last of the villagers abandoned the fight, running for the outskirts of the city and any shelter that could be found. The reinforcements called in by Epidime gave little consideration to the fleeing villagers, intent only on reaching their target. Only the unconscious body of Trigorah received any thought, a dragoyle swooping down and depositing her on the back of the creature ridden by Epidime. The general was watching with interest as Lain struggled to pull himself to the ledge when the stricken form of his partner was delivered.
"What is this? Interesting. That shapeshifter must still be about," Epidime said. His detached coolness persisted, as though through all of this he remained a casual observer. "I suppose I should flush her out. Now would be an unpleasant time for a surprise."
Ivy dizzily opened her eyes again, the leap having disoriented her. The sight before them shocked her to full consciousness. Just a few dozen feet below was a veritable ocean of nearmen and cloaks. She scrambled to get a grip on the ledge, pulling herself up as the blue aura quickly enveloped her. Had she not been so recently subdued, she would have been pushed over the edge already. For now, though, the terrified creature fell to a seat on the roof, her eyes darting up at the dawn sky speckled with more dragoyles than she'd ever hoped to see.
Lain pulled himself up behind her, screaming orders as he did.
"Stay down!" he commanded.
The words were far away, lost to Ivy in the cries of nearmen and shrieks of dragoyles. Lain ran to her, his eyes locked on one beast in particular that dove toward her. Time seemed to slow as the beast and the hero raced to their prize. Lain reached for his last dagger. There was no time to aim, no time to wait for an opening. He let it fly. The weapon soared heart-stoppingly close to Ivy, nearly grazing her ear. It met its target, plunging deep into the creature's hollow right eye socket, driving itself hilt-deep into the beast's skull. It screeched and veered away, the groping talons missing their mark. Instead of snatching her up into the air, the flailing claws raked down her arm. She cried out as she was thrown to the shingles. As she did, a second cry joined in agonized harmony.
The windy form of Ether launched up from the alley below. She had been among the creatures, silently striking them down as the others blindly fell over each other to reach the heroes above, but the time for that had passed. The force of her surge from below dragged cloaks and nearmen alike up behind her. Two more beasts dove at her allies.
Lain drew his sword and carved a long gash down the side of one, but the second was beyond his reach. Its claws clamped down on Ivy's shoulder. She was jerked into the air, screaming in pain and fear. The blue light about her was almost blinding, but it began to falter.
"We shall have none of that today, little prototype," Epidime remarked from his perch atop a nearby dragoyle, the gem of his weapon shining bright as he closed his will about her, flexing his potent spell again.
It snuffed away the aura, but only just. Ivy still struggled and screamed. In an instant, Ether was streaking to her, crying out as the pain inflicted on her ally was meted out as punishment upon her.
"Archers!" Epidime ordered.
Instantly, there was the twang of a dozen bow strings, but Ether paid no mind. She knew that arrows would have no effect on her. A sudden, searing pain tore through her, quickly surpassing that which her mark had dispensed and more. Her eyes turned to the radiant tip of an arrow as it tore through her windy form. Those blasted crystals. They'd tipped the arrows with them, just as some of Bagu's soldiers had! Ether was forced to waste precious time dodging the onslaught, but it was not long before she was back to her task, the skill of the bowmen woefully inadequate to properly strike her. A moment later she had reached her target. Epidime was not blind to this. He had planned for such a case. Ether shifted to stone the moment she was above the dragoyle, smashing down on the creature's back and knocking the rider to the ground far below. She then set about clawing and hammering at the black beast, its dark blood staining her hands.
"Release her!" Epidime ordered.
The dragoyle clutching Ivy obeyed. The hapless creature streaked earthward, her fear quickly taxing even the considerable efforts of Epidime's spell. Ether leapt from the d
ragoyle's back, plummeting like the stone she was before shifting again to wind. She swept around Ivy, slowing and guiding her descent. The young hero was scarcely comforted by this, the dizzying height and rushing wind doing little to settle her nerves.
"Quiet, you fool! You will be on solid ground again in a moment. I've saved you . . . I . . . I have saved you!" Ether began, suddenly realizing that for the first time since her betrayal she felt not the slightest pain of retribution. Her sin was absolved.
The respite from the pain was short-lived. Carrying her fellow Chosen slowed her and brought her back within the range of the archers, and they wasted little time in taking full advantage. The shapeshifter rushed to a rooftop with her precious cargo, but the closer she came, the closer the arrows came. More than one arrow whisked through her, missing the creature she carried by a hair.
Below, Lain leapt from roof to roof, staying ahead of the constant barrage of Dragoyles. His sword easily sliced through any nearmen who had made their way to the roof, and the cloaks that flitted about on all sides were too slow to catch him, though only just. Ether spotted him and hurried to the same roof he was headed to, the bell tower of a church toward the edge of the city. It was by far the highest part of the skyline, well out of reach of the nearmen. He climbed up the side of the tower as quickly as if it had been a ladder, and slipped in one of the windows. Ether swept in soon after, spilling Ivy to the floor.
"What is going on! Where were you? Why . . . ah!" Ivy began before the shock wore off enough to allow her mind to process the terrible pain in her shoulder.
"Clear a path. We need to get her to safety," Lain ordered.
"I've more important tasks at hand," Ether said, turning her eyes to the black form gliding toward them.
Lain didn't linger to attempt to convince her otherwise. Grabbing Ivy, he leapt down into the stairs of the bell tower and pulled the hatch closed above him, securing it with the brace that hung beside it. A heartbeat later, the walls shook as beasts battered it from all sides.
The Book of Deacon Anthology Page 84