Chapter 24
The party emerged from the stone cottage after some time, Twitcher leaning on the doorframe to watch their charges. Solvi didn’t so much as turn her head as she sat astride her vinthutir. Twitcher and Arthur as the strongest members remaining hauled the mighty frames of their charges over the wotlings, tying their hands to the reigns as they did so. After some trial and error with the Shoti who’d taken stones to the back, Arthur tied her arms about the wotling’s neck. With a few sarcastic farewells, Fred slapped the flanks of the wotlings in turn, sending them careening towards the base of the mountains and the distant speck of Lureaux. With any luck, they would get to the city before the harsh cold or wildlife got them. For good measure, Twitcher took Bruna’s hammer and flung it down the well. The less evidence of their passage for the Idharans, the better.
Once all had hopped on their transports, the gruelling ride up the mountain reconvened. With the cottage long behind them, the party slowly began to note the road’s disappearance as the old caprin droves and sparse trail markers vanished. Mara began to worry that they had taken a wrong turn as the sheets of spectral green light began to manifest above them. Arthur, however, seemed utterly resolute as he led their troupe through a mountain pass that perilously snaked above a valley carved by a jagged glacier.
“Funny place fer a temple!” Fred shouted over the whipping wind of their traversal, swearing after almost the third time he’d careened into the valley below. Most of the group took that as a sign to slow their roll. Mara briefly wondered whether she could give herself flight yet or if that still lay beyond her reach. One of many things Renaud could do that she could not. She hoped numbers would make up for her incompetence.
“If it’s a temple to the goddess I think it is, that’s the point.” Arthur replied over the quieted whirring of the engines. As they rounded a corner, they came upon in the distance a ruined arch that hung dangerously over the crumbling roadway. Arthur nodded, beard flapping wildly in the wind as it began to pick up. “Aye, that’s Cailleach’s symbol alright.” Arthur shouted over his shoulder, indicating to a snowflake cut from some ominous dark metal. A fitting symbol for the goddess many associated with the winter and all manner of emotional suffering. Few worshiped Cailleach. Fewer still could claim to know the source for her penchant for sadism where mortals were concerned. When Arawn went to war with his siblings, she was the first to ally with him. Some said it was to incite chaos, others that the coming devastation would feed her cruelty. Whatever her reasons, she skulked in the dark corners of the minds of the faithful. A goddess of punishment and pain inflicted on the deserving and innocent alike.
Such thoughts dominated the group as they steadily made their way through several more arches, a few hung with long-frozen skulls piled against the weathered stones. The bones of the condemned, left as an offering of appeasement. Mara could only think of the horror the Army’s victims must have felt as they were transported through this ravine. Eventually, like a protruding bone, the temple itself reared from the face of a nearby mountain plateau. What had once been a spacious Elysian courtyard had now become a crumbling shadow of itself, fully a third having fell into the valley below. The temple itself had been carved into the mountain, iconography of the Horned Goddess herself pointing imperiously to the supplicants who walked between her accusing likenesses. In one hand, she held the segaris staff of winter.
Content that they’d arrived, the party pulled into a sheltered alcove in the rock. Miraculously, one of the staves still had a blinking magical gem set within it. A tempestuous light that sporadically illuminated a ghastly robed figure, flanked by two curious creatures. Their backs, most visible, held two deep furrows of torn flesh through which golden bones could be seen. They emerged from the snowy white flesh of these creatures as they bent down, appearing to sniff at the floor. Their heads sat on elongated necks and once-humanoid skulls had been distorted to wolf-like approximations somewhere between the two. Behind their heads, a shattered glowing halo of golden light floated. Without mercy, the leftmost of the two dragged a man from the ground before flinging him into the valley below.
“Ranva.” Arthur snarled his eyes trained on the horrifying beasts that stood a goodly distance away. The group were thankful for the howling gales, masking their scent and sounds from the robed figure and her minions. “I had thought you low before, tragic even. But to consort with vemites is unforgivable. It is worse than a sin. It is sacrilege.” The cleric breathed haltingly as if true fear had entered his mind for the first time on their adventures. Such a novel moment sent shivers of dread through the group behind him. Solvi seemed to be the first to recover, a resolved expression taking the place of the haunted one she’d worn since the cottage.
“I am not familiar. What is a vemite?” Solvi asked the cleric, shimmying forward as her eyes never left the movements of their complication. Ranva, perhaps the only demonologist they knew, had moved on to another Army member, interrogating them. Her minions stood by gangly limbs and hooked claws at the ready.
“Devils of the most hideous type. They serve Archdevil Vema, she who forsook war and conquest. Instead, she seeks to bring about an end to all conflict. Even those conflicts within ourselves.” Arthur explained with hushed, almost reverent tones. “This filth will carve out your heart and leave you an empty husk. Incapable of emotion.” The cleric spat contemptuously his normally gentle face wrinkled with disgust. Solvi prepared the Guillotine, needing no further coaching on the correct course of action. With a sigh, Mara prepared to modify her rites of banishment for devils rather than the dead. She’d probably need Arthur’s holy symbol.
“Clever, conflicted minds.” A voice hissed above them. The party all simultaneously looked up to see another pale creature clinging to the cliffside. A creature that definitely had not been there before. It was different from its brethren, more serpentine in shape than humanoid. Yet the intelligence with which it spoke and the shattered golden rings that surrounded its body were unmistakable. Another devil. “The mistress will be with you shortly. You needn’t worry if mere interlopers. You are not the prey tonight.” The creature continued, speaking directly into their minds with a curiously emotionless voice. Mara had expected this from vemites but to hear it in her own mind was another thing entirely. A numbing effect that drove all fear from her, even the anger always with her seemed to dim.
The group sat in silence, waiting for Ranva to arrive. Their only company was each other and the whipping winds until another scream rent the air. For the first time, Solvi felt that the Army were not the most terrifying thing in their lives. She could not feel that fear though, merely perceive it as something to feel. She glowered at the serpent coiling above them, trying telepathically to get it out of her head. The fear was painful, yes, but she valued it. It had kept her alive and out of the clutches of her mother so far. Mara seemed to be having a worse time of it, her eyes shut against the influence. The uncomfortable silence continued until footsteps disturbed their mental incarceration. Shortly after, the heavily robed Ranva made her appearance. They knew her by the scars visible over her blind eye. Thankfully, she had covered the exposed teeth of her missing cheek with a scarf.
“You’re a fool if you think you can bind these devils for long.” Arthur spat at Ranva before a syllable left her lips. She regarded him with the cold, callous gaze of a woman on a mission. Her gloved hand withdrew a slender rod. Mara recognized it as a wand, a casting aid. Ranva surprised them all by offering it to Mara.
“I have not bound them. They work for me.” Ranva replied simply as she curled Mara’s hands about the wand of segaris wood. Dumbly, she took the implement with suspicious eyes. The maimed Espali met her gaze. One side of her scarf creased as if she were smiling. “Do not fear them. They should fear you.” The elf encouraged, confusing everyone further.
“Right. I’ll crack open the shaft. Wot is this?” Fred grunted, eyeing the serpent above them and the devils before them with a hand positioned over his rifle. Nobody thought they could take this fight but Fred, at least, was prepared to put Ranva in the ground for trying.
“It is a negotiation.” Ranva answered standing herself up and indicating to the wand she’d bequeathed. “A peace offering. You have arms and hatred of the Army. I too have unfinished business. We shall rid this temple of its vermin together.” The Espali made an ingratiating gesture towards the temple’s entrance, where the Army had presumably fortified to preserve their ill-gotten gains and prisoners. Arthur laughed derisively, as if the notion itself were absurd. The others were not so quick to give their answers. They knew the odds were stacked against them. At least with Ranva, numbers would be somewhat more in their favour. Ravenous devils could tear through mortals like an alleg through snow.
“Made deals with shady types ‘fore. Wa’s stop you Ledsburgin’ us once we’re done bein’ useful?” Fred countered, referring to the incident wherein the Unions had been betrayed by the myriad factions they’d welded together for the revolution. A bloody, drawn-out affair to say the least.
“The complex has many internal holdouts. I will send my devils to deal with one segment of the temple. We shall be attacking the teleportation nexus. To wit, I shall be as defenceless as any other mage whilst outnumbered.” Ranva explained with the same emotionally void voice that her devils had. Mara feared that the creatures had taken them but remembered the smile. Something easy to fake, to be sure, but why fake it at all? “If anything, I am trusting you not to kill me. Something I have trouble doing where Orsana are concerned.” Ranva levelled a gaze at Solvi, who returned it challengingly. The two locked eyes for the moment before something seemed to sooth the older elf. Mara made the connection and felt more morose for it. Had she resorted to such measures to cope?
“This group weak. We do not kill.” Twitcher scoffed, modifying their cuff with a negligent air. They probably thought nothing of dealing with demonologists, given the Elysian Empire’s stance on magic. An empire whose policy on magic could best be described as the phrase ‘why not?’.
“Speak for yourselves. I will put all enemies of the empire in the dirt.” Julie scorned as she awaited their next course of action. Solvi looked over with a measure of disappointment, which Julie narrowed her eyes at. Mara cleared her throat loudly before turning back to Ranva.
“It is not weakness to spare the life of your enemy. But I will do what I must.” The elf intoned gravely, drawing a blade of what appeared to be the same golden metal that made up her minions’ bones. Its very presence seemed to vex Arthur further, who stood up indignantly and hefted his mace. Mara raced over, calming the man as best she could before returning to the task at hand.
“We are here to save Renaud. If that means giving Ranva her revenge or…whatever it is she’s doing here, we must accept these terms.” The mage put her foot down as firmly as she dared, the teacher ebbing away to be replaced by the fearful authority of earlier. “Know this, Ranva. We do not approve of your methods. And if you betray us, I will hand you over to the Lord of the Gate myself.” The mage then pushed past her contemporary, leaving no more room for discussion as she began to walk briskly towards the ominous edifice before them. Doubts assailed her but the decision had been made. And the sooner Ranva sent her pets to clear out the rabble, the better. The teleportation nexus confused Mara somewhat. They were not sieging a hideout but a waystation, then. Hopefully, they had taken Renaud to somewhere warmer than this. Perhaps the inclusion of Ranva would throw a surprise element that would derail any traps they’d laid.
The party followed ruefully, some with more enthusiasm than others. Arthur looked positively apoplectic and poised to strike Ranva at any moment. Mara was thankful for his restraint, but hopeful that it would not last forever. And fail at the most convenient time. As they caught up, Mara had time to inspect the barricade the Army had hurriedly thrown together. It appeared to be made of empty food barrels and boxes stuffed with stones. Difficult for the devils and their wiry frames perhaps but not for a little elvish ingenuity. Once Twitcher had arrived, Mara excitedly explained her plan in Elysian. The engineer themselves rubbed their chin before agreeing and opening their abdomen once more. Within, what little spare rope they had was tied swiftly to the rope Ranva possessed. Mara then employed Fred’s slim arms to tie the rope about a particularly girthy barrel at the base of the barricade. The mage made doubly sure it was behind several other objects for maximum damage. More to distract him from his rage than anything, Mara instructed Arthur to tie the other end of the rope about a stout boulder perched precariously near the ruined precipice of the plateau.
“Make sure it takes up slack! I want a crane not a whip!” Mara shouted over the wind as Solvi, Twitcher and the devils coalesced about the boulder to move its ponderous weight. Ranva looked sceptically at the knots in the rope before kneeling and muttering words of magic. As she did so, she produced lengths of glowing golden chain that wound itself about the rope’s most fragile parts. The two mages nodded approvingly to each other, hoping what little devil’s chain Ranva had produced would be enough.
Fred, having soldered the knots shut with lead and a little magical aid from Mara, shouted all clear and ran for his life. The other party members heaved against the boulder, their bodies protesting against both the cold and strain. Mara shouted encouragement as the rock began to inch along the plateau towards a crumbled cliff face. Eventually, after a few excruciating moments for the warriors of the party, the boulder was sent clattering partially down the cliff. The rope which had been straining before now creaked and whined against the devil chain. The masked mage visibly deflated as her plan went awry. The barricade was ominously intransigent, the boxes before the barrel barely shifting. Twitcher took a few moments to check over the barricade before nodding to themselves. They seemed to take a moment to calculate before taking Fred’s rifle and firing a single shot at a spar of wood that seemed inconsequential to Mara’s eye. Yet as a hole was burned through it, the shriek of splintering wood and a shower of debris announced the barricade’s fall. Twitcher nodded approvingly as Mara crowed with delight.
“Save your jubilation. We have but crossed the first bridge. There are many more waterways yet before us.” Ranva silenced her associates, directing her devils to take the vanguard. They dutifully trudged towards the large archway. The party followed suit with grumbling and comments aplenty on Ranva’s sombre disposition.
Within the temple, the two great stone doors that once opened for petitioners had now been broken into piles of rubble. Ladders had been haphazardly tied to the pile to allow Army members up and over. Presumably, to allow their shackled prisoners to traverse the ruins. As they party followed in their footsteps, the grim statues of the goddess stared down imperiously at their progress. Mara couldn’t help her amateur archaeologist impulse, noting several features that dated the structure. Iconography and stylization of the frescos carved into the walls pointed to intermediate Miran period, making it older than the temple to Arawn. As the party traversed through another archway, Mara noticed the reptilian wings and horned heads of Cailleach’s personal dragons. The dragons were divine beings, beyond most mortals. She hoped to herself that there were no draconic visitations in their future. Particularly hers.
The group came to rest in a similar amphitheatre to the one at Arawn’s temple, where its two doors sat beside a great metal sculpture depicting a snowflake. Considerably more jagged and cruel looking than its cousin outside, the mage thought. While Ranva gave orders to her devilish familiars to search the quarters of the clergy, Mara looked over the paintings upon the walls. They depicted the goddess creating the unseelie fey, lending forbidden knowledge to mortals and holding back the winter when presented with offerings. Twitcher looked exceptionally concerned at the second painting, their eyes distant as if they were contemplating something. Perhaps unable to help her curiosity, Mara moved to the engineer’s side to join them in their contemplation.
“It has significance to you. Does it relate to Mira in some way?” Mara asked as she raked her eyes for any depiction of the blonde-haired Ir and her army of the dead. But no, this relic predated the Ir’s creation of necromancy. When she still had hope for the future of their empire.
“No. It is of the Solve Macht. Finn Ir created them. I joined them. We asked Cailleach for secret information. Zareth Van Farden, my mentor, he wanted to know how she created a realm from nothing.” Twitcher explained haltingly, as if recalling a memory that stirred a great many emotions in them. Mara found it hard to determine exactly which ones given the modulation of their voice. “She tormented him, as was her way. Told him how to make small spaces only. Almost drove himself mad trying to make bigger and bigger.” Twitcher chuckled as they recalled their mentor. Mara only knew of him from books. Depending on the author, Zareth was either saviour or cruel sinner. Polarizing in the extreme, even for an Elysian elf. His philosophies were borne out of desperation, which didn’t stop people appropriating them for the modern day. Though in fairness, things were quite desperate for most.
“I’m sorry for everything you’ve lost, Twitcher. We’re poor consolation.” Mara comforted with a sad voice. Twitcher shook their head vigorously, turning to face the party’s retreating backs as they followed Ranva towards what was presumably the teleportation nexus and fiercest Army resistance.
“I lost many. But you are not a consolation.” Twitcher spoke firmly before marching off without waiting for a reply. The denial had already started forming in the mage’s throat before the retreat cut her off. Instead, she could only smile at her fellow elf’s antics. Elves may not have horns, but Twitcher was every inch an elf. Even when shrouded in steel.
The group passed into what seemed to be a dimly lit refectory hung with red glowing lanterns the Army had procured. The pillars of the room made multiple arches. At the base of these arches, several stone tables carved with appropriate icons emerged in cardinal directions. Meals sat upon the tables half-eaten and abandoned, personal affects left out in the open. Fred pocketed a few of the more useful-looking ones. Experimentally, he sniffed some smoke leaves before pulling a disgusted face and returning them. Then, without missing a beat, the skitti casually shifted his rifle to point directly between the eyes of an elf cowering in the shadows.
“Sorry, chum. Woulda done me the same if I was slower.” Fred consoled in a gravelly voice. The lack of compassion in his eye alarmed Arthur, who laid a hand over the revolutionary’s own firmly.
“He’s unarmed. That’s not who we are.” Arthur snarled with perhaps more ferocity than Fred had displayed. Mara had seen men like that during the war. Men of such overwhelming principle that even their enemies were sacrosanct. She’d usually been treating them. Clearly, Fred shared her opinion for he bared his teeth in what appeared to be a smile. It wasn’t.
“Oh yeah? An’ what you know ‘bout me priest?” Fred challenged with a derisive tone. The young elf man saw the distraction and attempted to crawl away. He stopped dead as Fred worked the lever one-handed. “Put lotsa filth like this in the dirt. ‘Case you forgot, they set fire to the whole shop. Stole our mate’s uncle. I know the type and trus’ me. They’re happier with a Union special.” The skitti then adjusted his aim, placing the muzzle directly between the base of the elf’s skull and the top of his neck. Mara knew from her anatomy training that such a blow was invariably fatal.
“Don’t I get a vote?” Ranva interjected with a deadpan tone, sending Fred from the elf with a murmured spell. Mara had to admire the efficiency her contemporary cast with. Spells that took most seconds took her nothing more than a whisper. “I am loathe to take lives given the choice. But we cannot have him alerting his comrades. Therefore, the most economical solution.” The maimed woman then snapped her fingers. A rushing dark magic overtook the elf, eyes rolling into the back of his head. From the effect and words, Mara surmised it was some form of powerful sleep spell. It would have been kinder to kill him in this frozen place. “We shall return him to Lureaux on our return. Or perhaps his comrades can care for him.” Ranva suggested in her monotone voice as she placed the young man upright in a seat, leaning against the stone wall. Arthur’s consternation did not seem to diminish as his eyes bored into the back of Ranva’s head. Fred snorted and got to his feet, nudging the cleric on the waist.
“Mercy is the currency that buys mortals their souls.” Arthur quoted scripture as they resumed their journey. Now the group’s eyes were collectively peeled for any further laggards who hadn’t retreated to Army lines.
“Mercy’s what they count on. They fool ‘round doin’ whatever they wan’ but the second they get it back they whinge like an Idharan shopboy.” Fred retorted with a sombre expression, memories haunting him visibly as he scratched at the scrap of cloth that had replaced his eyepatch. “Gangrene was right. Line ‘em up. Only way to be sure.” The Cobbler continued, remembering well the ways Brother Gangrene had dealt with traitors and dissenters who dissented a little too aggressively.
“Gangrene is a cruel man. He shot Idharan soldiers while they surrendered.” Julie snorted as the group moved through a long corridor that Mara briefly suspected to be a firing line. Yet as no rifle fire came, nor even a bow string twang, the unease that she’d been feeling since the amphitheatre grew ever more urgent. This was not sound tactics and no matter what she thought of Albrecht’s martial skills, he was not this stupid. Had they vastly overestimated the numbers? Were they being played by Ranva?
“Oh yeah. ‘Member that. Port Regnant, buncha Veilans there too.” Fred nodded as if recalling said atrocity. From the account he’d given before, he was unlikely to have been there. Once Veilans were mentioned, Mara shuddered. An incident wherein the Idharan navy had massacred peoples across the sea. The commanding officer of that attack was now governor of Port Regnant. It seemed to have the desired effect on Julie, who went considerably quieter at the mention of it. Mara was simply thankful the politics had vanished from her ears. Renaud had to be close, if not in the temple, then at the destination for the nexus.
Their first taste of combat came at the end of the corridor, which opened out into some form of communal area for the clergy that once roamed the halls. A sharp round of fire came from the raised wooden platforms the Army had erected. Solvi and Arthur, who’d been heading up the vanguard, ducked over the fallen pillar that barred the entrance with surprising dexterity. Their heavy armour repelled most of the shots, Arthur hissing as one seared his cheek. Mara and Ranva, from their position in the back, prepared to deal with the scaffolding before four Army members leapt from the shadows to attack them. Julie leapt to Mara’s aid, using her dagger to redirect the blade headed to the mage’s throat. With her free hand, she jammed the dagger under the breastplate of their assailant. Ranva caught her enemy’s blade in an eerily reminiscent spell that transformed her arm into a devilish claw. She then pointed her finger at her attacker’s head, a bolt of flame searing their eye as it passed through them. The Espali elf fought with such disturbing calm that Fred didn’t feel the need to save her. Instead, he fired a round at the second of Mara’s assailants. They clearly had some magical skill, deflecting the shot and sending it screaming down the corridor.
It was then that the fight began in earnest with Arthur and Solvi holding the choke point from a wave of shots and martial fighters. Twitcher assisted, their arm sword drawing red spurts from any unfortunate who got too close to Arthur’s shield. Shaped like a tower as it was, he dropped his mace and devoted himself entirely to holding back the tide of elvish flesh and metal that threatened to overwhelm them. Solvi battered through armour and splintered shields with her Orsan might, eyes alight with battle fury.
While the assailants had expected Mara to be easy prey, she allowed the injured no respite. Julie’s antagonist, too soaked with adrenaline to notice the strike, swung their blade for Mara once more. She answered by animating the sickle at her hip to catch the blade. With a barked order, Armin emerged from the ruby to wrap the poor man in his terrifying embrace. Mara charged him with a spell which began to choke the Army member. Content that he and Julie could handle that problem, Mara turned to her secondary assailant and manifested her claws. The sword came for her regardless, which she caught with surprising ease. Her enemy had outwitted her as a stunning slam impacted the side of her head, sending the whole world swimming. A dazing spell, nonlethal to most. What were they playing at?
At the vanguard, Solvi began to shove back against the hedgerow of spears and swords. Her comrades watched with wide eyes as the Orsan roared against the odds, her halberd aglow as it swung from blow to blow. With every impact, the magic of the weapon flared and sent shockwaves through the bodies of her foes. They staggered back, Arthur pressing forward as weapons glanced off his grieves and any part, he dared expose. His shield now had a few holes, through which he breathed flames of radiant power.
“Mages, the platforms!” Arthur called between breaths. Ranva turned as a freshly summoned serpentine devil choked an Army member. She ran across the intervening space, a ball of white light gathering in her hand. Mara briefly recognized the spell, before her enemy bashed her once more with a dazing spell. She heard the infamous whistle before screams and shards of splintered wood filled the air. Mara turned to her opponent as Julie dispatched her own, turning with dreadful purpose towards her newest target.
“That was your job! You could have saved them!” Mara snarled as the sword came in for a clumsy stab. Her clawed hand grabbed the woman’s wrist. Fear filled the other elf’s eyes, hand raised for another dazing spell. With a negligent flick of her free hand, Mara countered the magic. “Relying on the same trick won’t win you any battles.” Mara grunted as Armin swooped in from the cadaver to their right. With a spell lent to him from his friend, the woman fell breathlessly into soundless sleep. She fell limp to the ground, sword clattering as Mara kicked it away.
Sensing the battle turning, those still able to run did so. They left a confused party in their wake. That had been too easy. And with no sign of Albrecht, there was only one conclusion. That this had been a diversion. It was a conclusion that sat ill with all of them for many different reasons. Ranva seemed least perturbed as she vaulted the fallen pillar. She picked through the debris until she found the stirring half-buried body of an Army member. By their face, young. By their abject fear, inexperienced in the ways of war.
“Where is Renaud, child?” Ranva asked in her neutral way, fingers tightening around the bloodstained tunic they wore. A tunic that bore the flames of Mira. Twitcher’s eyes narrowed, their bloodied blade coming up instinctually to punish this pretender. Arthur’s reassuring hand did much to stop any worse.
“D-Don’t know a Renaud.” The youth replied, wide eyes flicking to the array of terrifying figures before him. Not least of which was the skitti who even now pointed a rifle at his unprotected face. “If y-you’re looking for the prisoners, they’re in the nexus. W-with Albrecht. Sent us out here to s-stop the maimed elf.” He continued, babbling to protect himself in Mara’s view. If he was correct, then this had merely been a sacrifice. The true fighters would likely be with their master. Tactically intelligent, morally dubious. The Tuil family to a fault, Mara thought ruefully.
“Look about you. Memorize the faces of your comrades. Let them haunt you in the darkest places of your mind for centuries to come.” Ranva instructed as she looked over the mortal remains of several Army members. A few stirred but Mara knew from experience that several would not survive the hour. “Flee this place and carry them with you. Carry the faces of those you failed.” She continued darkly, standing and turning towards the rear of the chamber. Through a bulky pair of double doors, they could see a dull purple glow. Fred was the last to leave, pulling his rifle up and walking backwards. His last sight was of a young man overcome with fear and hysteria, bawling into his own knees whilst fingers threatened to tear out his hair. A sight he’d seen far too often.
Chapter 24
The party emerged from the stone cottage after some time, Twitcher leaning on the doorframe to watch their charges. Solvi didn’t so much as turn her head as she sat astride her vinthutir. Twitcher and Arthur as the strongest members remaining hauled the mighty frames of their charges over the wotlings, tying their hands to the reigns as they did so. After some trial and error with the Shoti who’d taken stones to the back, Arthur tied her arms about the wotling’s neck. With a few sarcastic farewells, Fred slapped the flanks of the wotlings in turn, sending them careening towards the base of the mountains and the distant speck of Lureaux. With any luck, they would get to the city before the harsh cold or wildlife got them. For good measure, Twitcher took Bruna’s hammer and flung it down the well. The less evidence of their passage for the Idharans, the better.
Once all had hopped on their transports, the gruelling ride up the mountain reconvened. With the cottage long behind them, the party slowly began to note the road’s disappearance as the old caprin droves and sparse trail markers vanished. Mara began to worry that they had taken a wrong turn as the sheets of spectral green light began to manifest above them. Arthur, however, seemed utterly resolute as he led their troupe through a mountain pass that perilously snaked above a valley carved by a jagged glacier.
“Funny place fer a temple!” Fred shouted over the whipping wind of their traversal, swearing after almost the third time he’d careened into the valley below. Most of the group took that as a sign to slow their roll. Mara briefly wondered whether she could give herself flight yet or if that still lay beyond her reach. One of many things Renaud could do that she could not. She hoped numbers would make up for her incompetence.
“If it’s a temple to the goddess I think it is, that’s the point.” Arthur replied over the quieted whirring of the engines. As they rounded a corner, they came upon in the distance a ruined arch that hung dangerously over the crumbling roadway. Arthur nodded, beard flapping wildly in the wind as it began to pick up. “Aye, that’s Cailleach’s symbol alright.” Arthur shouted over his shoulder, indicating to a snowflake cut from some ominous dark metal. A fitting symbol for the goddess many associated with the winter and all manner of emotional suffering. Few worshiped Cailleach. Fewer still could claim to know the source for her penchant for sadism where mortals were concerned. When Arawn went to war with his siblings, she was the first to ally with him. Some said it was to incite chaos, others that the coming devastation would feed her cruelty. Whatever her reasons, she skulked in the dark corners of the minds of the faithful. A goddess of punishment and pain inflicted on the deserving and innocent alike.
Such thoughts dominated the group as they steadily made their way through several more arches, a few hung with long-frozen skulls piled against the weathered stones. The bones of the condemned, left as an offering of appeasement. Mara could only think of the horror the Army’s victims must have felt as they were transported through this ravine. Eventually, like a protruding bone, the temple itself reared from the face of a nearby mountain plateau. What had once been a spacious Elysian courtyard had now become a crumbling shadow of itself, fully a third having fell into the valley below. The temple itself had been carved into the mountain, iconography of the Horned Goddess herself pointing imperiously to the supplicants who walked between her accusing likenesses. In one hand, she held the segaris staff of winter.
Content that they’d arrived, the party pulled into a sheltered alcove in the rock. Miraculously, one of the staves still had a blinking magical gem set within it. A tempestuous light that sporadically illuminated a ghastly robed figure, flanked by two curious creatures. Their backs, most visible, held two deep furrows of torn flesh through which golden bones could be seen. They emerged from the snowy white flesh of these creatures as they bent down, appearing to sniff at the floor. Their heads sat on elongated necks and once-humanoid skulls had been distorted to wolf-like approximations somewhere between the two. Behind their heads, a shattered glowing halo of golden light floated. Without mercy, the leftmost of the two dragged a man from the ground before flinging him into the valley below.
“Ranva.” Arthur snarled his eyes trained on the horrifying beasts that stood a goodly distance away. The group were thankful for the howling gales, masking their scent and sounds from the robed figure and her minions. “I had thought you low before, tragic even. But to consort with vemites is unforgivable. It is worse than a sin. It is sacrilege.” The cleric breathed haltingly as if true fear had entered his mind for the first time on their adventures. Such a novel moment sent shivers of dread through the group behind him. Solvi seemed to be the first to recover, a resolved expression taking the place of the haunted one she’d worn since the cottage.
“I am not familiar. What is a vemite?” Solvi asked the cleric, shimmying forward as her eyes never left the movements of their complication. Ranva, perhaps the only demonologist they knew, had moved on to another Army member, interrogating them. Her minions stood by gangly limbs and hooked claws at the ready.
“Devils of the most hideous type. They serve Archdevil Vema, she who forsook war and conquest. Instead, she seeks to bring about an end to all conflict. Even those conflicts within ourselves.” Arthur explained with hushed, almost reverent tones. “This filth will carve out your heart and leave you an empty husk. Incapable of emotion.” The cleric spat contemptuously his normally gentle face wrinkled with disgust. Solvi prepared the Guillotine, needing no further coaching on the correct course of action. With a sigh, Mara prepared to modify her rites of banishment for devils rather than the dead. She’d probably need Arthur’s holy symbol.
“Clever, conflicted minds.” A voice hissed above them. The party all simultaneously looked up to see another pale creature clinging to the cliffside. A creature that definitely had not been there before. It was different from its brethren, more serpentine in shape than humanoid. Yet the intelligence with which it spoke and the shattered golden rings that surrounded its body were unmistakable. Another devil. “The mistress will be with you shortly. You needn’t worry if mere interlopers. You are not the prey tonight.” The creature continued, speaking directly into their minds with a curiously emotionless voice. Mara had expected this from vemites but to hear it in her own mind was another thing entirely. A numbing effect that drove all fear from her, even the anger always with her seemed to dim.
The group sat in silence, waiting for Ranva to arrive. Their only company was each other and the whipping winds until another scream rent the air. For the first time, Solvi felt that the Army were not the most terrifying thing in their lives. She could not feel that fear though, merely perceive it as something to feel. She glowered at the serpent coiling above them, trying telepathically to get it out of her head. The fear was painful, yes, but she valued it. It had kept her alive and out of the clutches of her mother so far. Mara seemed to be having a worse time of it, her eyes shut against the influence. The uncomfortable silence continued until footsteps disturbed their mental incarceration. Shortly after, the heavily robed Ranva made her appearance. They knew her by the scars visible over her blind eye. Thankfully, she had covered the exposed teeth of her missing cheek with a scarf.
“You’re a fool if you think you can bind these devils for long.” Arthur spat at Ranva before a syllable left her lips. She regarded him with the cold, callous gaze of a woman on a mission. Her gloved hand withdrew a slender rod. Mara recognized it as a wand, a casting aid. Ranva surprised them all by offering it to Mara.
“I have not bound them. They work for me.” Ranva replied simply as she curled Mara’s hands about the wand of segaris wood. Dumbly, she took the implement with suspicious eyes. The maimed Espali met her gaze. One side of her scarf creased as if she were smiling. “Do not fear them. They should fear you.” The elf encouraged, confusing everyone further.
“Right. I’ll crack open the shaft. Wot is this?” Fred grunted, eyeing the serpent above them and the devils before them with a hand positioned over his rifle. Nobody thought they could take this fight but Fred, at least, was prepared to put Ranva in the ground for trying.
“It is a negotiation.” Ranva answered standing herself up and indicating to the wand she’d bequeathed. “A peace offering. You have arms and hatred of the Army. I too have unfinished business. We shall rid this temple of its vermin together.” The Espali made an ingratiating gesture towards the temple’s entrance, where the Army had presumably fortified to preserve their ill-gotten gains and prisoners. Arthur laughed derisively, as if the notion itself were absurd. The others were not so quick to give their answers. They knew the odds were stacked against them. At least with Ranva, numbers would be somewhat more in their favour. Ravenous devils could tear through mortals like an alleg through snow.
“Made deals with shady types ‘fore. Wa’s stop you Ledsburgin’ us once we’re done bein’ useful?” Fred countered, referring to the incident wherein the Unions had been betrayed by the myriad factions they’d welded together for the revolution. A bloody, drawn-out affair to say the least.
“The complex has many internal holdouts. I will send my devils to deal with one segment of the temple. We shall be attacking the teleportation nexus. To wit, I shall be as defenceless as any other mage whilst outnumbered.” Ranva explained with the same emotionally void voice that her devils had. Mara feared that the creatures had taken them but remembered the smile. Something easy to fake, to be sure, but why fake it at all? “If anything, I am trusting you not to kill me. Something I have trouble doing where Orsana are concerned.” Ranva levelled a gaze at Solvi, who returned it challengingly. The two locked eyes for the moment before something seemed to sooth the older elf. Mara made the connection and felt more morose for it. Had she resorted to such measures to cope?
“This group weak. We do not kill.” Twitcher scoffed, modifying their cuff with a negligent air. They probably thought nothing of dealing with demonologists, given the Elysian Empire’s stance on magic. An empire whose policy on magic could best be described as the phrase ‘why not?’.
“Speak for yourselves. I will put all enemies of the empire in the dirt.” Julie scorned as she awaited their next course of action. Solvi looked over with a measure of disappointment, which Julie narrowed her eyes at. Mara cleared her throat loudly before turning back to Ranva.
“It is not weakness to spare the life of your enemy. But I will do what I must.” The elf intoned gravely, drawing a blade of what appeared to be the same golden metal that made up her minions’ bones. Its very presence seemed to vex Arthur further, who stood up indignantly and hefted his mace. Mara raced over, calming the man as best she could before returning to the task at hand.
“We are here to save Renaud. If that means giving Ranva her revenge or…whatever it is she’s doing here, we must accept these terms.” The mage put her foot down as firmly as she dared, the teacher ebbing away to be replaced by the fearful authority of earlier. “Know this, Ranva. We do not approve of your methods. And if you betray us, I will hand you over to the Lord of the Gate myself.” The mage then pushed past her contemporary, leaving no more room for discussion as she began to walk briskly towards the ominous edifice before them. Doubts assailed her but the decision had been made. And the sooner Ranva sent her pets to clear out the rabble, the better. The teleportation nexus confused Mara somewhat. They were not sieging a hideout but a waystation, then. Hopefully, they had taken Renaud to somewhere warmer than this. Perhaps the inclusion of Ranva would throw a surprise element that would derail any traps they’d laid.
The party followed ruefully, some with more enthusiasm than others. Arthur looked positively apoplectic and poised to strike Ranva at any moment. Mara was thankful for his restraint, but hopeful that it would not last forever. And fail at the most convenient time. As they caught up, Mara had time to inspect the barricade the Army had hurriedly thrown together. It appeared to be made of empty food barrels and boxes stuffed with stones. Difficult for the devils and their wiry frames perhaps but not for a little elvish ingenuity. Once Twitcher had arrived, Mara excitedly explained her plan in Elysian. The engineer themselves rubbed their chin before agreeing and opening their abdomen once more. Within, what little spare rope they had was tied swiftly to the rope Ranva possessed. Mara then employed Fred’s slim arms to tie the rope about a particularly girthy barrel at the base of the barricade. The mage made doubly sure it was behind several other objects for maximum damage. More to distract him from his rage than anything, Mara instructed Arthur to tie the other end of the rope about a stout boulder perched precariously near the ruined precipice of the plateau.
“Make sure it takes up slack! I want a crane not a whip!” Mara shouted over the wind as Solvi, Twitcher and the devils coalesced about the boulder to move its ponderous weight. Ranva looked sceptically at the knots in the rope before kneeling and muttering words of magic. As she did so, she produced lengths of glowing golden chain that wound itself about the rope’s most fragile parts. The two mages nodded approvingly to each other, hoping what little devil’s chain Ranva had produced would be enough.
Fred, having soldered the knots shut with lead and a little magical aid from Mara, shouted all clear and ran for his life. The other party members heaved against the boulder, their bodies protesting against both the cold and strain. Mara shouted encouragement as the rock began to inch along the plateau towards a crumbled cliff face. Eventually, after a few excruciating moments for the warriors of the party, the boulder was sent clattering partially down the cliff. The rope which had been straining before now creaked and whined against the devil chain. The masked mage visibly deflated as her plan went awry. The barricade was ominously intransigent, the boxes before the barrel barely shifting. Twitcher took a few moments to check over the barricade before nodding to themselves. They seemed to take a moment to calculate before taking Fred’s rifle and firing a single shot at a spar of wood that seemed inconsequential to Mara’s eye. Yet as a hole was burned through it, the shriek of splintering wood and a shower of debris announced the barricade’s fall. Twitcher nodded approvingly as Mara crowed with delight.
“Save your jubilation. We have but crossed the first bridge. There are many more waterways yet before us.” Ranva silenced her associates, directing her devils to take the vanguard. They dutifully trudged towards the large archway. The party followed suit with grumbling and comments aplenty on Ranva’s sombre disposition.
Within the temple, the two great stone doors that once opened for petitioners had now been broken into piles of rubble. Ladders had been haphazardly tied to the pile to allow Army members up and over. Presumably, to allow their shackled prisoners to traverse the ruins. As they party followed in their footsteps, the grim statues of the goddess stared down imperiously at their progress. Mara couldn’t help her amateur archaeologist impulse, noting several features that dated the structure. Iconography and stylization of the frescos carved into the walls pointed to intermediate Miran period, making it older than the temple to Arawn. As the party traversed through another archway, Mara noticed the reptilian wings and horned heads of Cailleach’s personal dragons. The dragons were divine beings, beyond most mortals. She hoped to herself that there were no draconic visitations in their future. Particularly hers.
The group came to rest in a similar amphitheatre to the one at Arawn’s temple, where its two doors sat beside a great metal sculpture depicting a snowflake. Considerably more jagged and cruel looking than its cousin outside, the mage thought. While Ranva gave orders to her devilish familiars to search the quarters of the clergy, Mara looked over the paintings upon the walls. They depicted the goddess creating the unseelie fey, lending forbidden knowledge to mortals and holding back the winter when presented with offerings. Twitcher looked exceptionally concerned at the second painting, their eyes distant as if they were contemplating something. Perhaps unable to help her curiosity, Mara moved to the engineer’s side to join them in their contemplation.
“It has significance to you. Does it relate to Mira in some way?” Mara asked as she raked her eyes for any depiction of the blonde-haired Ir and her army of the dead. But no, this relic predated the Ir’s creation of necromancy. When she still had hope for the future of their empire.
“No. It is of the Solve Macht. Finn Ir created them. I joined them. We asked Cailleach for secret information. Zareth Van Farden, my mentor, he wanted to know how she created a realm from nothing.” Twitcher explained haltingly, as if recalling a memory that stirred a great many emotions in them. Mara found it hard to determine exactly which ones given the modulation of their voice. “She tormented him, as was her way. Told him how to make small spaces only. Almost drove himself mad trying to make bigger and bigger.” Twitcher chuckled as they recalled their mentor. Mara only knew of him from books. Depending on the author, Zareth was either saviour or cruel sinner. Polarizing in the extreme, even for an Elysian elf. His philosophies were borne out of desperation, which didn’t stop people appropriating them for the modern day. Though in fairness, things were quite desperate for most.
“I’m sorry for everything you’ve lost, Twitcher. We’re poor consolation.” Mara comforted with a sad voice. Twitcher shook their head vigorously, turning to face the party’s retreating backs as they followed Ranva towards what was presumably the teleportation nexus and fiercest Army resistance.
“I lost many. But you are not a consolation.” Twitcher spoke firmly before marching off without waiting for a reply. The denial had already started forming in the mage’s throat before the retreat cut her off. Instead, she could only smile at her fellow elf’s antics. Elves may not have horns, but Twitcher was every inch an elf. Even when shrouded in steel.
The group passed into what seemed to be a dimly lit refectory hung with red glowing lanterns the Army had procured. The pillars of the room made multiple arches. At the base of these arches, several stone tables carved with appropriate icons emerged in cardinal directions. Meals sat upon the tables half-eaten and abandoned, personal affects left out in the open. Fred pocketed a few of the more useful-looking ones. Experimentally, he sniffed some smoke leaves before pulling a disgusted face and returning them. Then, without missing a beat, the skitti casually shifted his rifle to point directly between the eyes of an elf cowering in the shadows.
“Sorry, chum. Woulda done me the same if I was slower.” Fred consoled in a gravelly voice. The lack of compassion in his eye alarmed Arthur, who laid a hand over the revolutionary’s own firmly.
“He’s unarmed. That’s not who we are.” Arthur snarled with perhaps more ferocity than Fred had displayed. Mara had seen men like that during the war. Men of such overwhelming principle that even their enemies were sacrosanct. She’d usually been treating them. Clearly, Fred shared her opinion for he bared his teeth in what appeared to be a smile. It wasn’t.
“Oh yeah? An’ what you know ‘bout me priest?” Fred challenged with a derisive tone. The young elf man saw the distraction and attempted to crawl away. He stopped dead as Fred worked the lever one-handed. “Put lotsa filth like this in the dirt. ‘Case you forgot, they set fire to the whole shop. Stole our mate’s uncle. I know the type and trus’ me. They’re happier with a Union special.” The skitti then adjusted his aim, placing the muzzle directly between the base of the elf’s skull and the top of his neck. Mara knew from her anatomy training that such a blow was invariably fatal.
“Don’t I get a vote?” Ranva interjected with a deadpan tone, sending Fred from the elf with a murmured spell. Mara had to admire the efficiency her contemporary cast with. Spells that took most seconds took her nothing more than a whisper. “I am loathe to take lives given the choice. But we cannot have him alerting his comrades. Therefore, the most economical solution.” The maimed woman then snapped her fingers. A rushing dark magic overtook the elf, eyes rolling into the back of his head. From the effect and words, Mara surmised it was some form of powerful sleep spell. It would have been kinder to kill him in this frozen place. “We shall return him to Lureaux on our return. Or perhaps his comrades can care for him.” Ranva suggested in her monotone voice as she placed the young man upright in a seat, leaning against the stone wall. Arthur’s consternation did not seem to diminish as his eyes bored into the back of Ranva’s head. Fred snorted and got to his feet, nudging the cleric on the waist.
“Mercy is the currency that buys mortals their souls.” Arthur quoted scripture as they resumed their journey. Now the group’s eyes were collectively peeled for any further laggards who hadn’t retreated to Army lines.
“Mercy’s what they count on. They fool ‘round doin’ whatever they wan’ but the second they get it back they whinge like an Idharan shopboy.” Fred retorted with a sombre expression, memories haunting him visibly as he scratched at the scrap of cloth that had replaced his eyepatch. “Gangrene was right. Line ‘em up. Only way to be sure.” The Cobbler continued, remembering well the ways Brother Gangrene had dealt with traitors and dissenters who dissented a little too aggressively.
“Gangrene is a cruel man. He shot Idharan soldiers while they surrendered.” Julie snorted as the group moved through a long corridor that Mara briefly suspected to be a firing line. Yet as no rifle fire came, nor even a bow string twang, the unease that she’d been feeling since the amphitheatre grew ever more urgent. This was not sound tactics and no matter what she thought of Albrecht’s martial skills, he was not this stupid. Had they vastly overestimated the numbers? Were they being played by Ranva?
“Oh yeah. ‘Member that. Port Regnant, buncha Veilans there too.” Fred nodded as if recalling said atrocity. From the account he’d given before, he was unlikely to have been there. Once Veilans were mentioned, Mara shuddered. An incident wherein the Idharan navy had massacred peoples across the sea. The commanding officer of that attack was now governor of Port Regnant. It seemed to have the desired effect on Julie, who went considerably quieter at the mention of it. Mara was simply thankful the politics had vanished from her ears. Renaud had to be close, if not in the temple, then at the destination for the nexus.
Their first taste of combat came at the end of the corridor, which opened out into some form of communal area for the clergy that once roamed the halls. A sharp round of fire came from the raised wooden platforms the Army had erected. Solvi and Arthur, who’d been heading up the vanguard, ducked over the fallen pillar that barred the entrance with surprising dexterity. Their heavy armour repelled most of the shots, Arthur hissing as one seared his cheek. Mara and Ranva, from their position in the back, prepared to deal with the scaffolding before four Army members leapt from the shadows to attack them. Julie leapt to Mara’s aid, using her dagger to redirect the blade headed to the mage’s throat. With her free hand, she jammed the dagger under the breastplate of their assailant. Ranva caught her enemy’s blade in an eerily reminiscent spell that transformed her arm into a devilish claw. She then pointed her finger at her attacker’s head, a bolt of flame searing their eye as it passed through them. The Espali elf fought with such disturbing calm that Fred didn’t feel the need to save her. Instead, he fired a round at the second of Mara’s assailants. They clearly had some magical skill, deflecting the shot and sending it screaming down the corridor.
It was then that the fight began in earnest with Arthur and Solvi holding the choke point from a wave of shots and martial fighters. Twitcher assisted, their arm sword drawing red spurts from any unfortunate who got too close to Arthur’s shield. Shaped like a tower as it was, he dropped his mace and devoted himself entirely to holding back the tide of elvish flesh and metal that threatened to overwhelm them. Solvi battered through armour and splintered shields with her Orsan might, eyes alight with battle fury.
While the assailants had expected Mara to be easy prey, she allowed the injured no respite. Julie’s antagonist, too soaked with adrenaline to notice the strike, swung their blade for Mara once more. She answered by animating the sickle at her hip to catch the blade. With a barked order, Armin emerged from the ruby to wrap the poor man in his terrifying embrace. Mara charged him with a spell which began to choke the Army member. Content that he and Julie could handle that problem, Mara turned to her secondary assailant and manifested her claws. The sword came for her regardless, which she caught with surprising ease. Her enemy had outwitted her as a stunning slam impacted the side of her head, sending the whole world swimming. A dazing spell, nonlethal to most. What were they playing at?
At the vanguard, Solvi began to shove back against the hedgerow of spears and swords. Her comrades watched with wide eyes as the Orsan roared against the odds, her halberd aglow as it swung from blow to blow. With every impact, the magic of the weapon flared and sent shockwaves through the bodies of her foes. They staggered back, Arthur pressing forward as weapons glanced off his grieves and any part, he dared expose. His shield now had a few holes, through which he breathed flames of radiant power.
“Mages, the platforms!” Arthur called between breaths. Ranva turned as a freshly summoned serpentine devil choked an Army member. She ran across the intervening space, a ball of white light gathering in her hand. Mara briefly recognized the spell, before her enemy bashed her once more with a dazing spell. She heard the infamous whistle before screams and shards of splintered wood filled the air. Mara turned to her opponent as Julie dispatched her own, turning with dreadful purpose towards her newest target.
“That was your job! You could have saved them!” Mara snarled as the sword came in for a clumsy stab. Her clawed hand grabbed the woman’s wrist. Fear filled the other elf’s eyes, hand raised for another dazing spell. With a negligent flick of her free hand, Mara countered the magic. “Relying on the same trick won’t win you any battles.” Mara grunted as Armin swooped in from the cadaver to their right. With a spell lent to him from his friend, the woman fell breathlessly into soundless sleep. She fell limp to the ground, sword clattering as Mara kicked it away.
Sensing the battle turning, those still able to run did so. They left a confused party in their wake. That had been too easy. And with no sign of Albrecht, there was only one conclusion. That this had been a diversion. It was a conclusion that sat ill with all of them for many different reasons. Ranva seemed least perturbed as she vaulted the fallen pillar. She picked through the debris until she found the stirring half-buried body of an Army member. By their face, young. By their abject fear, inexperienced in the ways of war.
“Where is Renaud, child?” Ranva asked in her neutral way, fingers tightening around the bloodstained tunic they wore. A tunic that bore the flames of Mira. Twitcher’s eyes narrowed, their bloodied blade coming up instinctually to punish this pretender. Arthur’s reassuring hand did much to stop any worse.
“D-Don’t know a Renaud.” The youth replied, wide eyes flicking to the array of terrifying figures before him. Not least of which was the skitti who even now pointed a rifle at his unprotected face. “If y-you’re looking for the prisoners, they’re in the nexus. W-with Albrecht. Sent us out here to s-stop the maimed elf.” He continued, babbling to protect himself in Mara’s view. If he was correct, then this had merely been a sacrifice. The true fighters would likely be with their master. Tactically intelligent, morally dubious. The Tuil family to a fault, Mara thought ruefully.
“Look about you. Memorize the faces of your comrades. Let them haunt you in the darkest places of your mind for centuries to come.” Ranva instructed as she looked over the mortal remains of several Army members. A few stirred but Mara knew from experience that several would not survive the hour. “Flee this place and carry them with you. Carry the faces of those you failed.” She continued darkly, standing and turning towards the rear of the chamber. Through a bulky pair of double doors, they could see a dull purple glow. Fred was the last to leave, pulling his rifle up and walking backwards. His last sight was of a young man overcome with fear and hysteria, bawling into his own knees whilst fingers threatened to tear out his hair. A sight he’d seen far too often.
