Icarus Awakens

Tak had barely caught the end of the transmission Lograve put out after the teleport before being isolated. He landed mid-sandstorm, north of where the others had been guessing by how worse the wind had suddenly gotten. The nares above his beak couldn’t filter out dirty air as well, though you didn’t live this long in a desert as an avianoid without the means to protect against that. A perk of avian over human biology was that masks did not have to cover the entire lower face. Instead, Tak put on something like a vertical bandana that could stretch whenever his face morphed into combat form. Whether that would work when he managed to call on the not-rage power was a question for another time.

That settled, Tak went about trying not to be lost. Lograve had said to go for the Spires, but where were they? If he were Daniel, he might have known that storms of all kinds followed a prevailing wind, guessed that this was blowing at a southerly to southwesterly direction based on the direction it had come from, and used that plus a rough guess as to how far he’d traveled to make for the nearest one.

Being smart was, unfortunately, never Tak’s strength. As the old joke went, that was strength. He was working on it and relieving his level disparity had helped greatly! He was still hurt by the poor education growing up. Attributes enhanced and improved natural ability. Like Bards and Hunter, they had to work with what they were given.

Tak was not very smart, but he was observant. For instance, he’d already figured out he was on a main road. It was far too wide to be anything less. Already he’d cut down the direction he needed to go from any to two. Unfortunately, choosing the wrong one meant he was walking in the exact opposite direction. If he were Daniel, he might have agonized over the problem before figuring out that the direction with more painted brick was the right way.

A very nervous woman opened her front door to the insistent knocking. “Hello?” she shouted into the storm winds. Someone was standing at her door in the middle of the worst sandstorm she’d ever seen. A lone man in armor, but not that of the guard. Hopefully a hunter, but you could never be sure. Usually that put people on edge, but there was a kind of open honesty to the stranger.

“Hello! Do you know which way the Spires are?” he asked like the sky wasn’t actively trying to erode the city.

“Oh no, are you caught out in the storm?” She pointed one way down the street. “They’re that way. You can normally see them from here, but it’s a ten minute run on the best day. You shouldn’t be out there that long. Do you need somewhere to shelter?”

“No thank you. And thank you!” Tak replied brightly. “There are monsters in the city. Not in this part, but they may be coming. Could you tell everyone? It would probably be better if you stayed together for now, but that is just a guess.” He gave her what was somehow a sheepish look. “If my friends were here, they’d have a better idea. Sorry.”

“Monsters in the city?” The young woman’s heart almost stopped. “Where are the guards!?”

“They were trying to arrest us, but I think they did not know what was going on. Stupid sandstorm.”

“What?”

“I’m sorry, I need to go. Please tell everyone. Thank you!” Tak took off running down the street, keeping the side of the buildings in sight as the storm grew worse. It wasn’t long until he ran into a crowd, though for some reason people screamed as they saw him.

“Another one!”

A sword flashed towards him from a hand he could barely see. Tak was just able to step out of the way, and that was because the aim had been slightly off. The throw was familiar to him, and the return arc didn’t pose a threat. A clear, practiced voice cut through the storm. “Everyone stand back! I’ll deal with it.”

“It is you! And Gadriel. It is me!”

“Tak? Stay your song, Belonna.” The Hero drew close enough to be recognizable, cape pulling overtime in the wind.

“You know her name? Oh, I see why you wanted to stay.”

“We cannot delay, Tak,” Gadriel said, quickly changing the topic. “We make for the Spires. Something is in the storm, taking people like the monster at the lake. Where are the others?”

“Also going to the Spire, although we were separated.” Tak had been affable, even after having a sword thrown at him, right up until Gadriel brought up that day. He could sense the barest edges of something within him perk up and take notice. “Someone is in the ground. They were at Arpan’s, who has taken Daniel. Then Lograve was attacked and he had to teleport everyone away.”

“Sir Lograve can teleport?”

“Not well.”

The songbird, Belonna, was looking concerned. So were anyone else that heard the report. “How do we fight someone in the ground?”

“Depending on what it is, exactly, there are a number of ways. You, incidentally, are well suited for this task. Considering it is a Blessed, our best approach would be to-”

“Awk!” Tak suddenly cried out, clutching at his leg.

“Enemy! Where?” Gadriel’s sword was out, Belonna’s hand to her neck, and the cluster of people they were shepherding huddled together. Blood was flowing from somewhere near Tak’s waist, though the flow was quickly diminishing as his wounds healed.

“It’s, it’s not here?” Tak looked confused, and more strangely, unconcerned about the surroundings. “It hit me, but not here? Or, not me?” Realization broke across his face. ”Oh. That is what it is.” He smiled, despite the pain. “Of course.”

…

The dusker pulled at Hunter’s leg, yanking him off the ground before snapping him over its shoulder. Its other arm was shot, but this would dislocate if not tear off his limb. Hardened to pain as he was, Hunter was shocked by the raw strength in this strange creature and despaired. If this only immobilized his leg, he could limp on it and prolong his life for a good minute. If he lost it, it was even odds blood loss would kill him before the duskers despite his Regeneration.

Arpan got off another crippling shot, taking a blow himself in exchange, though this only prevented the dusker holding Hunter from slamming him back on the ground. The ringcat went flying, colliding with a far wall. The feeling in his leg was gone. It was dead. He could tell he still had it, but something had gone terribly wrong with it. Otherwise, he would be in overwhelming pain.

Instead there was only some pain. And he could move it? What? The realization hit him later, with the same impact as the initial throw. A moment of clarity, not like Daniel’s power but an observation into one’s self. Remembering something on the tip of your tongue that you’d never spoken before. Awakening. With it came the innate sense of the power fully realized, as well as its name. Share Your Pain, the latest gift from his greatest friend. Hunter stood, leg healing and far more functional than it would have been with the critical damage being blunted.

Now he understood. Even apart, Tak was with him. As his healing wounds attested, so was his best friend. He smiled despite the pain. With both at his back, it was time to go all out.

…

Spinner was the least bothered by the sandstorm out of everyone. Well, her and the earth gestalt she supposed. It was an odd sensation, higher order thought. Something she was still getting used to. Helpfully, her improved mind improved backward as well. Retroactively? That felt like the right word. Not that the actual intelligence went back in time to inform her decisions, she could just appreciate her memories in a new light.

That was another thing. Her. Spinner didn’t know why but that felt right. Was it due to the influence of her mistress, or just random? Or- Spinner’s spirits sank as she unintentionally reminded herself that her mistress was dead.

Tlara herself was also very unhappy about that. The soul of the Beastmaster within her was in turmoil because of it, and Spinner was trying anything she could think of to comfort her. She hated how her injuries made them so vulnerable because this was otherwise an incredible honor.

There was a constant ache there. And the sluggishness. Spinner understood that with only one heart, her blood couldn’t get around as fast which caused problems. Her body could survive that injury, it was already attempting to heal the wound, though it couldn’t replace the organ as easily. Perhaps with time.

Un-deading Tlara would also help so she could better use her powers. It was apparently possible, though the Beastmaster didn’t have much in the way of advice. Her mistress could barely do anything in the state she was in. However, going into the large walls in the distance was impossible. Spinner didn’t want to risk it despite the cover of the sandstorm. Mortals had been looking for her ever since her mistress died, and without any direct guidance from Tlara she felt it best to avoid contact with those that would pose a threat.

One such very strong threat was flying quickly towards the walls. The webs she’d laced throughout the sands could sense the air around them, and the disturbance from that one was clear. As for the second intercepting them, they were very hard to detect. Spinner was unsure if she could call the second a person as while the currents running off the webbing could detect well in the space around them, the one moving at ground level was fuzzy. Not undetectable, but also not always in the same form. It reminded her of the one that had killed her mistress.

All that told Spinner was to stay far away from both. Since they were the only other things not sheltering from the storm, though, she might as well watch what happened when they met.

…

Though Rasalia had been minutes away from the city when she’d been alerted, that was still a fair distance to cover through a storm. An ultimately useless outing, especially as it appeared her targets had gotten into the city. Was this planned for? She used her time in flight to try and make sense of all this. Was the storm the doing of the Mirage? Or, no, could this be Rikendia itself finally stepping in to re-establish proper order so that the kingdom’s border wouldn’t be further weakened? Rasalia might not have protested that, if not for the methods employed.

She decided that if this was a higher authority coming down on the Council, it had better well announce itself if it expected her cooperation. Otherwise, Rasalia was going to get mad, and nothing less than a full member of an Incursion Army could beat her in the short run.

Speak of the Crest-damned. The Champion slowed, sensing something through the storm. With half boosts to her dexterity and wisdom, best to make it through concealed terrain quickly, she was able to react before the air around her turned to death.

Rasalia dove while above her, jagged splinters formed from the swirling sand. Each moved at the speed the storm propelled them at, making for a true hazard at that quantity while being mostly hidden. Lesser Blessed would be picked off by that attack, and the maneuver made it clear that the assailants were attempting to kill Aughal’s Commander on sight. She mentally adjusted her willingness to cooperate with whoever this was.

Strangely, as the Champion hovered low above the ground, a space cleared in the storm. Her mana sense was still developing to full maturity, though with the boost to wisdom from internal mana manipulation she could tell her enemy was making a physical connection with the entire half-sphere. Instead of stable mana of a set and forget power, the sand at the edges fluctuated with its controller’s natural rhythms. In fact, they hadn’t stopped the storm here but created a temporary shelter from it. They didn’t have active control over the storm itself? Then who-

“Commander.” She turned at the voice but didn’t move as a figure rose from the sands. It was too smooth of a motion, like a sword being pulled from a quench rather than someone picking themselves up out of hiding. They matched the description of one of the kidnappers though. Female avianoid like herself and covered in robes the color and visual consistency of sand. The only reason Rasalia didn’t attack was that they’d spoken before appearing. Also, she was getting a weird sense from them. Rasalia’s seventh sense picked up the mana flow, giving her the sense this individual was roughly on par with her when it came to level, but that was the only thing she could understand about them.

“Are you here to surrender?” Rasalia asked blithely. Her combat form made the words echo slightly, as if through a poor fitting helmet.

“I’m here to ask you to leave.” The kidnapper held a hand out, palm up, towards Rasalia. “You know what we’re trying to do. We will succeed. While you pose enough of a threat to warrant my attention, it is also true that you aren’t strong enough to kill me. Abandon this place.”

“Heh. Maybe. First, why don’t you tell me where your hostages are?”

“Oh?”

Rasalia frowned. She was playing dumb? “Willow and Tlara Seliri, and the rest. You were scried taking them. I want them, and the other noble children you’re using to keep the Council neutered.”

“Is that what you think is happening?” The woman laughed. “Oh, I appear to have overestimated you. You are mistaken.” Her form began to shift, putting Rasalia on edge until she realized there was no active mana surge belying a power. The kidnapper could manipulate the sand around them without actively using mana, suggesting it was a passive power. Instead of another attack, the front of the hood shifted and recessed until a face was visible. The cloth moved perfectly with it, like a death mask given life. “Do you know who I am?”

“...no?” That seemed to irk the woman. “Look, if this is part of your confession, I’d be happy to take it but we really should have someone from the guard here.”

“I am Casia Seliri.” Rasalia raised a metallic eyebrow as she tried to square that information with what was going on. That did mollify this supposed Casia, a little. “There is more to death than you know. More to this world, but all I shall say now is that you are in the wrong. This world would rebel against you if it had but the chance. In its place, we shall.”

“Ok,” Rasalia dragged the word out. “We’ll establish your identity later. Damn, I’ve wasted too much time. Look, at our levels coming quietly isn’t really an option, so if you just stand there while I knock you out I’ll take it into consideration.”

‘Casia’s’ face returned to its blank state. “You are welcome to try.”

Rasalia spread out her arms, a cocky grin forming. “Know why they sent me to out a desert? I’m the Ironrush Ravager. Didn’t plan on it, but collateral damage kind of comes with the powers. The good ones, anyway. Normally, I have to hold back. Not here.” In her mind, she flicked on a few features she normally kept suppressed. Concussive Shockflight. Explosive Steel. Heck, even Molten Talons. She hoped she wasn’t overdoing it. Rasalia was going to take this woman, whoever she was, alive if possible. But the city was also in danger.

She dove, the air rippling around her. Concussive Shockflight built up energy as she moved which would detonate upon landing. Explosive Steel modified this and any similar effect she produced to also generate shrapnel spontaneously, making for a lethal, very unfriendly fire combo. Molten Talons just made her hands extremely hot, though under the right circumstances that too could cause an explosion. The Ironrush Ravager, someone you’d be glad to both have on your side, but perhaps not quite so close to you.

‘Casia’ was about to find that out. It was definitely someone standing there. The real woman posing as the deceased noble, that was. The mana flow in the figure made that unmistakable. However, she wasn’t doing anything other than reform a hand into a claw which was still concealed by the robes. Odd. They were hiding something, whether it be poison, enchanted weapons, or a body morph like hers. Probably the latter, though they didn’t know who they were dealing with. Even if this woman was planning to collapse the sand wall into her it wouldn’t work. Rasalia had adopted her combat form and summoned armor before leaving the walls. Right now, she was more metal than flesh. More magic than mortal.

A single attack could do nothing to her. Not even were she facing herself would Rasalia fear one strike. The air erupted with her cast-off mana, divoting the ground where she landed. Only, her opponent had vanished. Rasalia, clad in summoned metallic armor, drew her wings towards her before sharply sending them out. They shattered into sparking metal that was also affected by Explosive Steel. That combination could level a village if unleashed in the center, and she was confident that she could tell where ‘Casia’ was when one of the fragments struck.

The surrounding dunes were pitted from the various impacts, but nothing else happened. Rasalia grew new wings, almost as an afterthought, as she considered the earth beneath her. The desert wasn’t that deep, sand would eventually become sandstone and firmer bedrock. Her opponent was some kind of elementally attuned evolution class. They were probably using a power to blend in with all this sand.

Well, in that case she just had to make sure there wasn’t any. Rasalia flew up, making very sure there was no one else in her target area while at the same dodging more attacks sent her way. She could trace the mana leading to the attacks and knew ‘Casia’ was still somewhere below her. Cracking her knuckles, Rasalia heightened Concussive Shockflight. Doing this would prevent her from disabling it later and slow her return to the city, but taking out one of the elite invaders in turn would be worth the delay.

That wasn’t it, though. Rasalia was level 5, she had a myriad of options to choose from, several practiced dual-channeling combinations and other gimmicks she’d developed over her career. She needed maximum destruction now and went all out. Metal bled from her armor as she traced patterns in the air, summoning more material that would explode on landing. As this technically came from the armor around her talons, it was affected by Molten Talons, and the sizzling in the air grew as more sand in the storm contacted the burning metal.

In the largest sections she planted a feather quickly plucked from her body, the end spontaneously lighting to act as a fuse. This would further increase the explosive potential, though the object would explode if the feather fully burned out before being used. Finally, Rasalia used an ability she couldn’t stack with another without dual-channeling: Multiply Explosions. With a momentous amount of will she seized the stream of mana responsible for writing the power into reality and forced it to both split and flow back onto itself. This didn’t allow her to combine it with another active ability. No, it used the power again.

Rasalia couldn’t help but smile. She really, really liked it when she didn’t have to worry about damaging anything important. The only things below her were an enemy and a lot of sand. This would create one Crest of a crater, but the desert would fill itself back in eventually. She dove down, carrying the chained explosives with her to magnify the effect even more now that Concussive Shockflight was heightened. She would be in the center of the explosive, but her battle form combined with some protective features would mitigate most of the damage to herself.

The sound produced by her impact with the ground could only have been rivaled by one of the Spires breaking in half. Rasalia’s senses shifted with the explosion surrounding her and knowing this was a moment of weakness, didn’t try anything aggressive. Eventually the last of the chained explosions ended, and Rasalia looked around. There should be at least enough of a scrap left to-

“Impressive.” ‘Casia’ appeared a few meters away. The temporary hole in the storm made by vaporized sand was filling back in, and to Rasalia’s disbelief, her enemy didn’t seem damaged in the slightest. Even a power granting momentary invincibility shouldn’t have let her avoid all this damage as the progressive nature of that combo left lingering explosions after the initial impact.

She had to ask. “How did you do that?”

“I did warn you, you can’t kill me.” Casia spread out her arms. “Feel free to try. I won’t move again.”

The Ironrush Ravager was smart enough to know this was a trap. She had no idea what kind of powers her enemy was using, but the more she saw, the greater the chance she could find a weakness. Accepting a hit was worth the risk. Rasalia prepared the charge, safe in the knowledge that at their level, you couldn’t kill someone with just one shot.

…

Spinner’s view of the battle cut off as the winged woman ripped the air around her, and a large destructive force was transmitted through her webs. Even the influence she had on the energy running through her body was disrupted and, thus, her senses. It was like a flash of light on the horizon so bright it blinded distant observers. That troubled Spinner, for she had never considered her webs to have such a weakness. The second devastation that followed obliterated a large swath and would have permanently harmed her sensory organs if not for the fact that she’d disconnected from the network already.

After metaphorically blinking her eyes and realizing the danger was over, Spinner found most of the web was undamaged. Parts were buried, of course, although the turbulence had also unearthed some of the older sections. Seeing into the area of the fight was more difficult, those webs had been destroyed, though Spinner had experience with controlling her webs both before and after her mistress had found her. Signals could be sent across the space so long as she had something to detect with on the other side. This took active charge, rather than the passive current running through her webs. Still, a trick she was proud of.

A few passes through the region were needed for the full picture. She needed to see from all angles. It wouldn’t be perfect since the two would be moving, but this was now a threat she registered to both herself and her mistress. More by instinct than her new intelligence, Spinner knew that people that powerful could be upon her in moments. She’d see what was going on and if another one of those explosions seemed likely, she’d cut and run.

Instead, she grew confused. The two she saw were both standing still, and the robed one had her arm through the winged one’s chest.