That One Time I Went on a Quest

Ironclad (2/2)

With the Thralls gone, soldiers are rushing into the courtyard from all sides, weapons drawn. Kathanhiel stops them all with a feral scream.

'BACK! HE IS MINE!'

Two try to throw their weapons at her, but Talu's sabre, rising to meet them higher and faster, cuts them in half.

'The grand finale!' He too screams, half-delirious. 'Come, everyone! Let us paint the night!'

His shrill voice, carrying above the storm, echoes between the walls magnified tenfold. Two seconds later –

The western tower explodes in a fury of white light, raining mortar pulverised by the force of dry powder.

As everyone looks up in stunned silence, chaos breaks out on the walls, the courtyard, the cliff-side corridors, everywhere and all at once. Two fall from the outer wall, backstabbed by one of their own. By the gatehouse a white flame burns into the night, streaking up like fallen lightning.

The soldiers around us break rank. There's yelling and jostling in the back lines, followed by another great flare that sends bodies flying in every direction. Bolts begin flying every which way, giant bolts meant for dragons. One zooms by so close its tailwind rips three red streaks on my cheek.

Instantly, the wound begins to burn.

Someone charges at me, from the left. A spear he's holding...I think; merely two steps later he's cut down by six different swords. A ballistae on the inner wall sends a bolt shrieking into the crowds below, pinning five armoured soldiers like bugs on a wall. Then towards me it swings, but before its arms could be rewound a flurry of bolts buries its crew.

This is way more than a dozen lackeys.

Move! Move, idiot!

I try to throw it again, and again. The handle wouldn't come off. Several insane ideas zoom through my head – bone saws, giant scissors, a guillotine – but there's only one solution, really.

Kneeling, I raise Kaishen in honour guard. My voice sounds hollow and tinny, like speaking through a metal tube.

'Thank you, but she needs you more than I do, so please let go.'

The fire...gone so quickly, the heat vanished without warning.

Ah...falling again...

Kaishen sails through the air. Talu raises his sabre in an attempt to intercept but Kathanhiel's pick is in the way, latching onto its hilt and refusing to let go. In doing so, she has left her body exposed. With terrifying speed Talu sends his dagger flying over her outstretched arm and that poisonous little tooth, unfit for even the dirtiest of deeds, eviscerates her from shoulder to waist.

A tearing sound, of flesh parting bone, lasting two whole seconds.

Talu's cry is piercing and full of tears.

'I WIN!!'

As the pick falls from her hand, Kaishen takes its place.

Soldiers and cultists alike scatter every which way, the previous chaos utterly dwarfed by the fiery cataclysm of Kaishen's light. Before the torrent of dragon fire sprouting from her wound there remains only Talukiel and I, one unable to move, the other...looks to be unwilling to.

'Yes, yes! Drown your soul in the balefire!' Raising his dark sabre in defiance, Talu yells with glee. 'Too bad the Scouring doesn't make you forget – if only it did!'