Wheeze. Cough. Spray.
“We’ll give them a full review once we’re done. The blood will have cooled by then. Once the monster gets into you, the urge to fight is always there, after all.”
“Your sacrifice is honoured, Commander,” Titus said.
The once-human shrugged his massive, misshapen shoulders.
“It’s nothing. Not like I was doing anything worthwhile before I enlisted. No need for the title, just call me Ristos.”
“Ristos then. Your troops don’t appear to have listened closely to the briefing. I can see many moving to engage the abomination in direct combat. I believe they were instructed to avoid that target, it’s too strong for them.”
Wheeze. Cough. Spray.
“Some of us are a little hotter in the blood than others, shall we say. When they hear there’s a big bad monster out there, they want to show that they’re bigger and badder, you know? It’s something that happens. I’ve seen it a lot over the years. That’s why auxiliaries who can’t overcome the urge don’t last long. Oof. There goes another one.”
The ant in question had reared back and unleashed a brutal chomp, crunching his opponent into a mangled mess in an instant.
“Stupid waste of Biomass,” Ristos sighed. “Don’t matter how you warn them, some people are just too stupid to live.”
The commander rolled his shoulders and turned back to his own Legion. They continued to support the assault with long-range fire and medical assistance, dragging the wounded clear for healing and pounding the ant’s shields with an endless barrage of spells and arrow fire. It wasn’t like they could miss. There must have been twenty thousand ant monsters packed into the tunnel. The rows of the enemy were so densely packed from floor to ceiling, the imposing metal gate—the second damned gate!—was almost totally invisible.
He was still irritated by the existence of that imposing ant head studded metal monstrosity. If he’d known there was another, he’d have been more reluctant to step out of the battle. It wouldn’t have swayed his decision in the end. Morrelia had to survive, that was the end of it.
He could still feel his body protest when he recalled the blow he’d unleashed to damage what turned out to be the outer gate. It’d been a long time since he’d been forced to unleash his Master Axe Arts and the strain was severe. The Mana saturation in his cells was still too low to channel Skills of that magnitude, though age may have also played a factor. He wasn’t exactly in his prime anymore, and hadn’t been at his peak strength for some years. The surface would do that to a person. Not even the Mana tonics were enough to stave off the decay.
Almost by habit, he checked the ambient Mana and was forced to stifle a sigh. Still rising. The wave could come anytime now. Might be a few days, might be in an hour. The ants had done everything they could to delay the Legion advance, and if they were lucky, it might just pay off.
Titus pushed it from his mind, refusing to stress over things he couldn’t control; that was a quick way to burn out in the Legion. Besides, if the waves kept coming at this pace, everyone would have much bigger things to worry about than an ant colony. A second Cataclysm, the rising of the Ancients. If it came to pass as he suspected it might, he may just need to get back into top shape. Just the thought of baring his axe at one of the nineteen strongest monsters in the Dungeon was enough to get his blood pumping.
“Tell your people to push harder, Ristos,” Titus ordered. “In five minutes, I’m going to order my ranks forward and you’ll have a chance to rest before the next engagement.”
“Right you are then, Commander,” the half-monster saluted before he turned and loped through the column to relay his instructions.
An experienced and able ally was always welcome in Titus’ book, even if he threatened to melt your face off every time he laughed.
143. The Siege, Part 21
Coolant and Sloan were gobsmacked as the fight unfolded before them. At first, it seemed as though everything had gone well. After Grey had spoken with the golgari, the kneeling form of the Shaper, Granin, had risen to his feet, and his bindings were broken so he could painfully jog his way toward the gate.
It was clear at that point the negotiations had been a success. In the distance, the small camp the golgari had erected was disassembled by the mages while the two figures, the noble and Grey, stood a slight distance apart. Both watched as the newly freed Granin made his painful way to the nest.
When he arrived, the gate was pushed slightly open as a few ants emerged to welcome him. Mage ants, all of them, they reached out with their minds to reassure him before leading him inside where he was sure to be greeted and cared for by the two who pled so strongly for his life. Against the odds, their wishes had been granted and their mentor returned to them. All that was left was to witness the outcome of the battle.
“How do you think it will go?” Coolant asked her more martially knowledgeable sister.
Sloan started, her concentration broken. “Sorry, what?”
“Who do you think will win?” Coolant tried again with patience.
The general turned slightly toward her sister.
“How on Pangera am I supposed to know?” she sounded exasperated. “I don’t know their Levels or Skills even slightly! From what we know, they don’t even evolve. I can’t judge from their physical forms or mutations. What am I supposed to go on?”
“They have classes,” Coolant offered sagely. “Their species doesn’t change, but they have a ‘class’ that gives stats per Level. You should know this much.”
Sloan shrugged.
“I do, of course I do.” She jabbed a leg toward the two figures. “I just don’t know what their classes or stats are, so I can’t possibly make a prediction.”
“Does it really matter to us? Who wins, I mean.”
The thought hadn’t occurred to Sloan, and she contemplated for a moment as Grey and his opponent began to move, walking apart until there were five hatchling lengths between them.
Did it really matter? She obviously wanted Grey to win, since he was more or less on the colony’s side, though he had gone to some lengths to conceal his motives and opinions from the colony. They certainly knew nothing of his true strength. Ultimately though, with Granin released to their custody, the outcome of the duel didn’t seem to be all that important. The Shaper was only relevant to the colony because of his connection to the eldest, nothing their lives depended on.
If Grey could win, though… that might take an important piece for the golgari off the table. With this, the most powerful of their number removed from the battle, the odds of holding off the rock-people until the wave began improved dramatically.
“If Grey wins, our position will be stronger. Also, he is an ally, of a sort. It would obviously be better if our allies are stronger,” Sloan reasoned.
“That’s true,” her sister agreed. They settled in to watch as the distant figures bowed to one another in a strange display of etiquette before they both took a pose.
The golgari had dispensed with his sheath, the glittering blade of stone shining with the same potent energy that rippled through the hardened ‘skin’ that coated his body. No armour was worn for this duel, apparently. The noble had dispensed with it, revealing his true skin for all to see.
The stone was streaked with golden rivers of Mana that rippled and flowed as he moved, casting light around him in a dazzling display of power. Whatever mineral or ore had been used was clearly top shelf, Sloan had never seen anything like it. She wagered Smithant would give an antenna to study it for five minutes. The sword itself was slender and curved, but long, perhaps as much as two metres. Held in the grip of the giant warrior, it appeared sharp and deadly, a precision implement of death.