God of Broken Things

Chapter 32

Our personal coteries were fresher than the Clansfolk warriors or Eva’s more numerous bloodied and battered heavily armoured wardens, so they moved forward to stiffen the line. Each of us kept only three by our sides to defend us – there wouldn’t be much hope if the line broke and the Skallgrim numbers were able to swarm us. I kept the most reliable of my people with me: Jovian, Vaughn and Coira. Diodorus and Adalwolf stayed back with their bows and poisoned arrows. Even a scratch would take something down frothing and spewing blood. Their task was to hunt for daemons, halrúna and fleshcrafted monstrosities rather than mere men.

Another explosion rent the darkness as the last of the wards we had set out detonated. Men burned, but the enemy advanced regardless, axes raised as they charged from the blizzard.

We threw them back the first time after a brief but vicious melee, the ragged holes in their lines telling of the death our wards had wrought. I felt a spear take Baldo in the gut and somebody dragged him back out of the way. His innards spilled between his clutching fingers like bloodied sausages as he tried to stuff them back into his belly. I slid Dissever into his skull so he didn’t linger in agony. It was all I could offer in return for his service.

The second time the Skallgrim came at us they had two halrúna behind them: a powerful pyromancer and a weak geomancer. I broke the geomancer’s mind before he could do too much damage and Vincent killed the pyromancer in a gruelling, protracted contest of magical mastery that lit up the swirling blizzard. With our magi distracted, their infantry managed to push our line back, breaking it in several places. Only Eva rampaging among them stopped the flow and allowed me to urge our exhausted forces to push them back once again into the neck of the valley.

It was three hours from dawn, and in a pause between assaults we remaining magi gathered on a rise. I slumped atop a rock and squinted through the swirling snowflakes. Secca and Vincent were on the edge of succumbing to the Worm, their Gifts badly strained from casting their magic across the entire battlefield. Bryden was faring only a little better. Eva and I were still in decent shape and good to fight on for a while yet. Knights’ Gifts seemed to require less magic to affect their bodies, and I… well, whatever I’d been through had apparently made me something between magus and elder.

“We must concede the field,” Eva said. She had finally voiced what we all knew to be true, but it was a bitter thing to swallow. Our camp to the south was burgeoning with wounded that now outnumbered the living. The dead now numbered more than both added together.

“One more attack may end us,” I conceded. Morale was about to break. Even I could not change so many minds in the face of reality, not unless I reverted to what I had been doing before and forced them into it.

Their war drums started up again, and the next wave of warriors began marching towards us.

Eva turned to two of her wardens. “Prepare for flight back to camp. We will throw them back at the narrows once more and then we run.” They sped off to organise it.

We all reluctantly got back onto aching feet. I was not built for war; I was made for soft beds and supping cold ales by crackling fires. Even Eva seemed wearied of slaughter.

Vincent grunted, falling backwards, staring in dumb shock at an arrow embedded in his knee. Another whooshed past my head.

Eva blurred and batted one, two, three from the air, all aimed at me with inhuman accuracy. “Up on the hill! Bring me my bow!” A warden peeled off to fetch it

I sought out the enemy minds and found nothing. Even my small skill at body magics that sharpened my vision proved insufficient in the dead of night during a blizzard. I dipped into Eva’s mind and saw shadowy shapes through her magic-enhanced eyes: several bowmen on inaccessible rocky ledges above us.

I reached out to them through her eyes and found Abrax-Masud wearing them like hollow shells. The dirty bastard was copying me! His control was strained from distance, but growing stronger all the time. I struck but he fended me off, albeit with great difficulty as he was trying to control several at once. We bit at each other’s magics, and finally I forced one of his men to step off the cliff face. He fell silently to splatter on the rocks below. Somebody handed Eva a strung bow and then two more fell with arrows in their chests.

Eva loosed another half dozen arrows in as many heartbeats, all but one finding purchase in Skallgrim flesh. Fleeing its dying hosts, Abrax-Masud’s mind snapped back northwards and I loosed a sigh of relief. He was so very strong even at this distance.

Vincent clutched his knee in agony. The flesh was swollen around the embedded arrowhead. There was no time for surgery so Eva wrenched the shaft free. The wood came loose leaving the head behind. She paused, and lifted the end to her mask, sniffing. “Ah.”

“What is it?” the pyromancer hissed, writhing in pain. “Poison. Magically enhanced from the swiftness of reaction and probably daemonic in origin.”

The wound was an angry red threaded with black even in the dim light of torches. He panted and looked at it with fury, tried to stand and failed. “Fetch me a stretcher.”

“There is no point,” Eva replied. “We have no healer able to deal with this. You will die unless we take the leg off.” She did not wait for permission. Her axe fell, cutting through flesh and bone. He screamed as his leg rolled free, severed a foot above the knee.

I deadened his pain. He looked up at me with gratitude and Eva with disbelief.

“Cauterise it,” she ordered, and Vincent obeyed, his flesh sizzling and smoking.

There was no time for feelings as another arrow zipped towards us. “How are they getting up there,” I snarled.

“I see huge wings through the snow,” Eva replied. “Two of those large flying beasts ferrying bowmen to the rise above us.”

Bryden stepped forward. “Where? I cannot see.”

I went into Eva’s mind, and Bryden’s too, linking them together. He gasped as he looked through her eye. “Your vision is incredible.”

An unearthly screech in the darkness signalled a large shape plummeting from the sky bearing screaming men to their deaths.

“It is done,” he said. “Though I imagine more will be on the way.” I broke the connection and he gazed at me with wonder. “That is an incredible Gift you have been given.”

I scratched my chin, stubble rasping. “Most do not think so, and for good reason.”

He shrugged. “Depends what use you put it to, same as with anything else.”

That was a rare opinion. One he likely wouldn’t have if he knew everything I had done with it.

Glinting mail and weapons appeared at the edge of my vision, and with them came three of those hulking fleshcrafted monstrosities with spiked steel balls for hands. Bows sang and peppered them with arrows but they continued unperturbed. One stumbled, then collapsed as poison coursed through its veins. The others broke into a lumbering jog on legs thick as tree trunks.

“Time to fell some timber,” Eva said, tightening her helmet strap. She dashed forward and swung, her hammer shattering an ankle and bringing one of the things down. Then she engaged the second, enemy arrows bouncing off steel and magic-infused skin like pine needles off a rock.

“Get me some help,” Vincent said, staring at his stump. “I can still fight!”

I summoned Nareene from the front lines. At least they would enjoy the company. She arrived with only a shield, her other arm a bleeding mess. “What have those evil bastards done!” she demanded. “You burn the fuckers, you hear me, my love?”

Vincent’s spine stiffened at her words and I left them to it. Who was I to stand in the way of insane arsonists at a time like this.

I reluctantly stood with Secca, and between us we managed to have the enemy attacking each other in the confusion of snow and night-fighting, assailed by illusions until the entire front was a churning mass of Skallgrim flailing at anything that moved.

Then I felt the elder tyrant’s power rolling over the battlefield, searching for me as he drew close to the front lines. He was coming for me, and so it was time for us to engage in the better part of valour.

Under the confusion caused by our trickery, our forces took the opportunity to flee back towards camp, an organised retreat that swiftly became a rout as Skallgrim and scaled dog-daemons finally gave chase. The wounded were left behind; slow in the panic.

Secca bravely stayed by my side, putting my arm around her shoulders as pain spiked between my ribs with every step. If only she knew it had been her that had shoved a length of steel into me, and why.

Eva was guarding our retreat, assailed on all sides, parrying, blocking, and killing too quickly for me to follow. Finally a lucky hit with a heavily enchanted axe evaded her guard to pierce her helm and knock her onto her back. She lay dazed as axes rose around her. Flame bloomed and they fell back shrieking, clutching burning faces.

“Get her out!” Vincent shouted. He had wrenched his Gift wide open and was pouring sheets of burning power all across the enemy front. He had gone too far. His Gift ripped asunder and he began to change, his flesh crawling with too much magic for it to handle. Nareene was at his side, shield up as arrows and axes thunked into it. She had no intention of leaving him to die alone. Vincent had always dreamed of being a hero, and now he was going to get his wish.

I summoned my magic and flooded muscles with power, more than I should have in truth. I shoved Secca off and ran for Eva, trying to ignore how close I too was coming to succumbing to the lures of the Worm myself. If I reached for more power I could turn the enemy upon themselves: Do it…. do it… do it… I grimaced and resisted the urge.

The inferno raging all around granted me time enough to haul Eva up onto her feet and lead her away.

Vincent and Nareene laughed as the narrows burned around them. Men and beasts and daemons were all consumed by their lust. This was why the Arcanum feared magi losing control, and this was also a display of how Setharis conquered almost every other city and nation it had come across over the centuries – what were mere mundane humans before such devastating magical might?

Eva regained some of her senses and we broke into a run, creating as much space as possible before Vincent really lost it. My wounds made it difficult. Eva wrapped a steel-clad arm around my waist to support me.

I risked a glance back. The flames raged on and Vincent now stood on two legs, his missing limb replaced with molten fire, and the other covered in bubbling blackened scales. A huge dark shape loomed through his inferno, a crown of dark iron atop a serpentine head slithering through the flames. Abrax-Masud had sent one of his ravak ahead of him.

We ducked our heads and ran into the safety of a snowy night, hoping that Vincent would prove strong enough to grant us enough time to escape. Ravak were fast and hunted by sight – this time darkness was our ally. Explosions thumped and light flashed behind us as the twisted magus unleashed his magic.

We ran on before the night sky caught fire, two pillers of incandescent flame rising, entwining in the moment Vincent and Nareene were butchered by the mighty daemon. Were we far enough away?

Again, I felt the distant presence that had been watching the battle unfold. With it came a blizzard howling across the valley, hiding us from any pursuit. I reached out to it but whoever, whatever, it was, they were not interested in communicating.

Then all was black, blind stumbling southwards towards Kil Noth.

We enhanced our night vision; about all our strained Gifts could manage. We fled until I collapsed; clutching my chest and heaving for breath. Eva slung me over her shoulder the rest of the way south back to our camp on its steep and defensive rise. Even without magic she was far stronger than me.

It took the Skallgrim some time to reorganise. We grabbed some vital food and rest while they prepared whatever new vileness they had in mind. As dawn arrived the blizzard eased off into a soft snowfall and the enemy were on the march again, and this time the elder tyrant himself was in the lead.

The sun was a burning red sliver rising above the hills as we few remaining defenders wearily prepared for another sortie. The wounded joined us, or were carried south to the perceived safety of Kil Noth, their absence replaced by a stream of new Clansfolk choosing to fight with us. Mothers wielding hunting spears and crafters with hatchets and barrel-top shields moved up to stand beside us. We all knew what was at stake here.

I sent Vaughn riding south on his damnable pony, Biter, to seek out the Free Towns Alliance. All we could do was hope our help would arrive first.

The air was charged with strange energy as we formed a ragged line in the snow. Again I felt something I couldn’t identify, that felt like the Shroud itself was straining and twisting in the whole area around us. Small crackles of lightning snapped from hair and steel, and the earth rumbled softly and rhythmically, a giant’s soft snore.

A dozen druí accompanied by a small warband arrived from Kil Noth and spoke only to Eva. They ignored my existence entirely; flinching from my gaze when they accidentally met it. They took up position on the right flank and readied to do battle. At this point anybody with a broken bottle and a bad attitude would do.

As the sun rose higher, the snow lessened to a few drifting flakes. My gut churned and my arse clenched at the sight of the enemy: a river of steel flowing down the valley behind a line of those huge fleshcrafed monstrosities, all led by an enormous glistening beetle accompanied by two huge ravak. Their magical presence was growing stronger, a dark miasma that threatened to choke us and force us to our knees, begging forgiveness.

A drumming of hooves from behind made me turn and I saw Vaughn riding his pony like a madman towards us. “They are here! Ten thousand men running at full speed only half an hour behind me!”

Yes! Fucking YES! All you bug-fucking bastards are about to burn! The Free Towns Alliance army would arrive before Abrax-Masud. We were going to win this battle and ram a rusty spike so far up his ancient arse he would choke on it. I nicked my thumb with one of Dissever’s barbs and it eagerly sucked up the blood.

Feed me his heart’s blood, it demanded.

Wouldn’t that be a sweet, sweet thing.