Chapter 710 (Patreon)

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ToC


* * *


"That's the last of them," Bellar said, flicking blood from the end of his fullered blade.

No more Dwarves descended the mountain after them, and Imara let her awareness spread outward until it encompassed the bulk of her forces. There had been more than a few deaths among the weaker Inquisitors, but otherwise their strength was unmarred. She also could sense that the cavern to the Low Roads was now sealed shut. “They collapsed the tunnel.”

“Good. That should give us a reprieve from more of these things,” Bellar said, kicking the mound of rock and metal.

Imara found them fascinating. They were constructs, clearly devised by the Dwarves, and were odd for a number of reasons. Unlike Golems, these were bestial and moved on four or more legs at a pace beyond most of her Inquisitors. What’s more, each one was fitted with a recess where a Dwarven warrior sat, strapped down and covered by the construct’s stone and metal hide.

She stomped on the construct, crumbling its side and exposing a sparking cascade of sigaldry. It was colored a deep orange-crimson and smelled metallic. The Dwarven pilot was able to use the glyphs inside the recess to activate Skills through the constructs. A piece of her left leg was still caked in hardened stone from a lava cannon the beast before her had launched. It had been powerful enough to kill several of her Inquisitors outright, and though it hadn’t harmed her in the least, it was a devastating weapon.

"Elemental golems," Bellar said, standing carefully away from Imara and the sparking construct. "Powered by a lesser lava elemental, if I had to take a guess. Their power was nothing to scoff at, but compared to our elite, the Dwarves will need much more than this."

"No matter," Imara said. "They are dead, and we have won the day."

"That is true, Chosen. What does the Pathless desire us to do next?"

Imara stepped away from the construct’s remains, armored feet splashing through small rivulets of lava that poured from its carcass. "The visions he has sent me say we are to descend this mountain and into a swamp. From there, it seems a short distance to find our quarry."

"Perfect. I'll make sure we're all ready. If you'll excuse me, Chosen."

"You are excused, Bellar."

As soon as the man walked away, Imara's facade cracked. The weight of so many deaths, many at her hands, always seemed to claw at her the moment the battle was done. It was all she could do to maintain her normal indifference these past weeks, as the burden strained her Mind.

Pathless, aid me.

Each night she spent under the earth, she had been afflicted with terrible nightmares. Memories. She could no longer call them lies, for they seemed to crawl from the deepest parts of her. They were true. They had to be.

She recalled a place with sunshine and warm water. She was smaller there—not a child, though some of that seemed to drift in and out of her consciousness, but quite literally smaller. She had grown so big when she arrived upon the Continent. How had she forgotten that?

Chosen.

The words shocked Imara out of her reverie. "My Lord, what do you need from me?"

There Is Danger Ahead Of You, But Glory Awaits. Felix Nevarre Is Close.

“Across the swamp?”

Yes. And Through The Mountains. He Is On The Move Toward The Dragon.

"Pax’Vrell.”

The Pathless said nothing, but she felt His warm regard caress her Spirit. For a moment she lost all doubts.

Navarre Dabbles In Bargains Beyond Him. The Others Are A Threat To Our Plans. Kill Felix, And Find The Woman, Vessilia Dayne.

She Is To Be Made An Example Of.


* * *


Nearly a day later and hundreds of miles beyond Barden, Felix and his team stood around a stone table beneath a chitin hut. Outside their group, the officers of their small army stood, craning their necks to view the maps spread out before them. The time had come for their final preparations.

Pax’Vrell lay less than ten miles away.

"Let's go over it one more time," Felix said, tapping the map with his ebon claw. "We'll enter here, just before the gates close for the evening. Provided we aren't immediately attacked, we'll head into the city proper and split up here, at the statue of High Marshal Lenia."

"That is correct," Verona said.

"Why’re we splittin’ up again?" Evie asked. "Seems stone stupid to do that in enemy territory."

"Cause the Hierei’s got too many wards in place. You heard the Priest and the Paladin, and that one Inquisitor we found."

"When we draw closer, I'll be able to confirm the veracity of those claims," Laur added. "But Harn is correct. We have heard the same thing from too many Hierocratic officers to believe it to be falsehood."

Felix nodded along. They had stopped at several towns during their journey, each one suffering under the cleansing flame of the Pathless’ zealots. They ended them all, wiping them out to a man, but not before getting information. Details on their forces, on the defenses the Hierei might have put into place, everything and anything that might give them a window into the hornet’s nest they were diving into. With that reconnaissance in hand, they'd formed a plan that they were reasonably certain wouldn't result in the death of thousands.

He chewed his lip. A battle against the Hierei could result in a lot of innocent casualties if it spilled out into the city. If this was going to work, Felix needed to isolate him, and that meant splitting up.

"We have different tasks, too, Evie. Keep those in mind," Felix reminded her. "I'm headed for the Hierei. Verona and Patrim's group is headed to the Seal."

"And I will be rescuing my father," Vess said, her voice accompanied by a sudden Spiritual weight against all of them. It was gone in a second. "My apologies. I am…eager to reach the city."

"We all are, dear," Verona said. Patrim did not speak, only reached out and squeezed his niece's shoulder.

"With so many of their troops in the countryside scouring for sorcerers, we know that only a token force still resides in the city. Instead, the Dragoons are our biggest worry," Felix grimaced. "They're Oathbound to kill for the Hierei, so they cannot be trusted."

"I'll hold Abyssal Skein over the group for as long as I can, but I cannot promise it will remain as effective with distance.”

“We'll make our own way, dear. Your help has been astounding thus far," Verona said with a wide smile.

Felix tried to ignore the blush that crept up his face. "Yes. Well, you'll all be at risk once we split. We need to reach the tunnels quickly.”

“Enter the city, find the secret paths, find the Seal, and find the Duke. Those are our tasks," Vess repeated, much more succinctly. Felix gave her a lopsided smile.

"What of the Hierei?" Eagin asked. The four Eidolons were crowded into one corner of the chitin hut, dwarfed only by Beef and Yintarion.

Felix frowned at the map. "Leave him to me."

"Us," the Eidolon reminded him. "We stand with you, Colossus."

Frustration and appreciation warred inside of him, but Felix could only smile. "Us, then."

"The tunnel system beneath the city is expansive, but not all of them reach the citadel," Vess reminded them. "We need to access one of these three. The first is in the Glassworks, the second is in the Vrell Scriptum, the last is in the Wispwind Aviary." With each name, she tapped a different portion of the map.

"Vrell, as in Pax’Vrell?" Beef asked.

"Indeed. An old name for the Territory, before the Dragons fell and peace was founded. ‘Pax’ means ‘end’ in an old tongue," Tzfell offered.

"And what does ‘vrell’ mean?" Archie asked.

“‘Strife.’ Together the territory is ‘strife's end.’ It is the weapon placed atop a mantle when the conflict is done and all of us are too old and gray to fight. It is a lie," Vess said at last, drawing the attention of the officers and soldiers around the tent. "I was raised for battle, as were many of you. It is in our blood, the soil beneath our feet. The war never ended. It merely changed."

Vess swung her glaive up to her shoulder and locked eyes with the small crowd. "The old tongues are tricky. They can be interpreted many ways. Pax’Vrell can also be translated as ‘strife's home.’ We are those that defend the defenseless from monsters. Ours is to be their shield and their unbroken spear.

“I believe it is time we show the Hierocracy what war truly is."


* * *


From a few miles out, the first thing they could see of Pax’Vrell was a soaring structure occupying the top of a small mountain, and it looked like nothing so much as the crouching bulk of a Dragon.

"Scalebreaker Citadel," Vess said from Felix's left. "Home of the Dragoons and the Seat of my family."

She sounded almost terrified to see it, and a weeping anxiety was woven through her Spirit that set Felix’s teeth on edge.

The mountain was a lonely peak in relatively flat terrain, incredibly conspicuous as it rose perhaps a thousand feet into the air and dominated the horizon. The city itself was walled like most major cities, though Pax’Vrell’s were truly massive, taller even than the orichalcum Haargate. They topped out at five hundred strides tall, according to Vess, and with a little mental calculation, Felix figured that was a bit over seven hundred feet tall. Even from three miles away and his impressive vision, the walls blocked his view of all but the Citadel itself.

"The walls were designed to repel Dragons," Vess told him. “See the spikes? Forged of mithril and covered in enchantments. Nothing short of a Paragon beast could land on our walls and survive.”

"That won't keep us out," Felix said, and he gripped her hand tightly. She squeezed right back.

"No, it will not.”

At the city's heart, where the mountain rose above even the tall walls, the Scalebreaker Citadel was built of an ore Vess called Wyrmsheart, a material around the same strength as mithril. According to her, its natural patterning was reminiscent of scales, and the way the Citadel glimmered in the light of the setting sun made it truly seem alive. Surrounding it, and the last thing that could be seen above the tall walls, were thirteen towers, each and every one of them designed to look like an upthrust spear.

"The Spears of the First Dragoon," Verona said, coming to stand at Felix's right. "Laying low the Dragon. It is highly symbolic."

Felix grunted. He was more concerned with how tightly Vess clung to his hand as she stared into the dark. It was an intense gaze, as if she could pick out her father's location from sheer Will alone.

"We'll get him," Felix told her.

"We will.” Vess pulled her helmet down over her face, covering her features with a Dragon's snarling visage. “Or the Pathless will answer to me.”