Reaver’s Song

This was not part of the plan at all, I thought bitterly, Ashvallen’s body deftly skipping out of range of the misshapen personification of hate which had recently been a lanky old elf. I slashed with my dagger, slicing deep into its arm before dropping back into a defensive crouch, eyes studying its movements carefully.

I’d gone with the plan because, honestly, I had nothing of my own. It had seemed like a decent concept, but this was not what was supposed to have happened. Carrisyn, even weakened, was still a tricky bitch. She had posited the idea that the Ri had been responsible for or at least present at the death of the previous queen. Using a list of supplies the carriage master had given her the previous day for horse food and repairs Lyrei was to pass it off as a letter from King Rhade to the Ri. I glanced at the discarded list being trampled in the dirt by rampaging demons and sighed. It should have been so simple.

The Ri would panic, call his guards and loyal followers and the royalist insurrectionists would descend and capture them all, trussing them up. The Ri would be made to abdicate, I’d do a few benevolent-ish ruler like things such as send the Ri to prison to prepare for trial, order people to prepare a victory feast and all that, maybe even score a massage and some private bath time with some grateful royal subjects, then we’d decide what to do next.

Of course, no one could have known the Ri and at least half his most ardent followers would be demons. Even the Ri’s private guard seemed unsure of what to do. Captain Othorion, after his initial reaction seemed rather at a loss as to who to attack, now. The Ri’s guards battled demons, insurrectionists, even each other in one chaotic instance, as confused as their captain by the unexpected turn of events.

Meanwhile the insurrectionists, led by Zelaeryn bearing her massive sword fought back against the crush of demons, guards, and anything else coming their way. Battling individually or in small knots the royalists pushed forward on some fronts while giving ground on others. The stillness of the Mahaxanar from yesterday was now a chaotic battlefront, rent with the clash of steel on steel and scream of combatants.

A giant white panther leapt from the underbrush, tearing into a demon as the hellish creature bore down on two poorly armed royalists. The panther stood over the fallen demon, raised its mighty head into the sky and let out an underwhelming “mew”. Sayuri evidently hadn’t mastered the intimidation end game, yet. The prince’s fiancée or… former fiancée? I wasn’t sure what she actually was at this point, pelted demons with bolts of magic while Carrisyn leaned against a tree nearby directing her actions.

The Ri or, well, the demon dressed in Ri skin, battled Lyrei and several of her lieutenants a few meters away while I and the demon who’d been in the torture room when I first entered this shitshow of a world were facing each other like two gunfighters at high noon. In short, the entire situation was a confused clusterfuck.

The demon leapt forward once again aggressively; claws outstretched. I dodged to the side, wincing in pain as its talons raked across my exposed belly. I gave as good as I got, however. My dagger ripped along its grey side, opening a gash easily a meter long. With Ashvallen’s nearly preternatural instincts I ducked low and rolled backward as yet another demon rushed in to try to finish me off.

Thrown off balance by my sudden movement the creature stumbled before turning back in my direction. The demon seemed quite surprised when I flung both of my daggers, both burying themselves in the hideous face. I yanked the chains securing the daggers to my wrists, jerking the demon in my direction. I leapt backward, bringing my right leg up in a kick. The kick struck the demon under its grotesque chin, snapping the head back, pulling the daggers free in the process. The demon spun to the ground, dead before hitting the dirt.

As soon as I landed Ashvallen’s body took over and I launched myself into a forward leap, spinning in mid air before flinging both daggers toward the demon from the torture chamber. One dagger embedded into the demon’s chest while the other passed through its bony arm. The demon attempted to close the distance to lessen the tension on the daggers and was surprised when I ran straight forward. I feinted to the right and the demon reacted by crouching down defensively. A second later I leapt over its bulbous head in yet another spinning arc, ripping upwards with both chains as I did. The daggers pulled free, tearing muscle and tendon. Before the demon could react, I landed behind the staggered beast and pulled the crossbow up. The bolt landed between its eyes as it turned to face me. A moment later the demon sagged to the ground, the hellish light in its eyes flickering and dying.

Minutes seemed like hours as I waded through the battlefield toward Lyrei. As more demons poured from the caves of the warrens into the Mahaxanar captain Othorion appeared to have made his choice. The Ri’s guard drew up into ranks and were now pressing forward as a group against the demon onslaught. Between the stands leading to the northern exit of the Mahaxanar where I’d entered the day before Zelaeryn had similarly drawn up a skirmish line with herself occupying the center and had begun to push the demons back.

Lyrei, however, was in deep trouble. The Ri and his former council were pushing her back. Many of her lieutenants lay dead or dying and the entire group was in desperate straits. I was battling my way through a bizarrely loyal knot of elves toward her when I saw her go down under a demon onslaught.  The Ri leapt forward to finish her as I finally made my way through and narrowly blocked the strike. Lyrei lay motionless in the dirt behind me as I set my feet resolutely.

“It’s unconscionable to hurt cute girls,” I snarled.

“You weren’t supposed to be killed,” the demon hissed back, looking pleased. “But his highness will forgive me, I think.”

“Come on, then, chuckles,” I taunted.

He leapt toward me with a speed I was wholly unprepared for. Using his superior weight he drove me backwards, causing me to trip over Lyrei and go down hard. I screamed in agony as his clawed hands ripped into my shoulder, the talons bouncing off the bone while his teeth ripped at my neck, going for my jugular. Had it not been for Ashvallen’s instincts that would have been the end. My body continued to roll backward from the fall while brining my legs up and kicking, sending the Ri over me. I was back on my feet in an instant and moving forward.

My shoulder refused to cooperate properly, there was no doubt it was shattered. Blood ran in a river down my chest from where his teeth had dug furrows in my skin. The Ri was back up as well, my blood ringing his mouth like grisly lipstick. My uninjured arm pulled a vial from one of the pouches and flung it at the Ri all in the blink of an eye. Almost too late the demon saw the vial and managed to raise his hand to fend off the attack. The vial shattered on the spindly arm and the acid within splashed over his face, causing him to stagger backward in surprise and pain.

I was on him in a second, willing my broken shoulder to action. I buried both my daggers into his forehead and propelled myself forward in an instant, seeking to end the battle there. I had gone no more than a meter when the chains grew taut. The Ri had grabbed them and yanked backward. I tumbled to the ground and the Ri leapt forward, once again tearing with his claws and teeth.

My left shoulder was useless, the sudden jerk of the chain had finished what his claws started, and my arm hung limp at my side. He tore into the forearm of my right arm when I brought it up to block his advance. I kicked at him desperately, but his fangs tore into my calf as I’d managed a glancing blow. I stared up at the demonic visage and realized I was beaten.

My body felt like it was on fire, every muscle screamed in resistance. I couldn’t figure out what the issue was at first until some dim realization kicked in. The Ri’s saliva was poisonous. I could feel it coursing through my veins, the muscles cramping agonizingly. More disturbing, perhaps of all, was the lack of response from my body. I had grown rather used to the squirmy, unnatural mending of tissue and bone but that response was absent. I was, actually, dying.

I’d gone fishing once with my father and I’d caught a fish against all expectations. The wriggling creature had been small and, though rather unlikely given the size of its mouth had swallowed the hook. I remember staring into its eyes as my father told me the fish was going to die and there was nothing which could be done. I had cried inconsolably as the poor fish flopped weakly on the ground. I had tried to make it as comfortable as I could. I wasn’t sure what comforts besides a cool stream a fish enjoyed so I’d tried to swaddle the small body in a rag we’d brought. I rocked the fish while I sobbed, apologizing over and over again until it eventually lay still. That had been the first and last time I’d ever been fishing.

I gasped desperately as the muscles around my lungs began to cramp from the poison, my breath growing shorter and shorter. I opened my mouth wider reflexively to get more oxygen into my blood, but it was useless. I felt it was somehow poetic justice that I had now become the fish. I knew it had suffered. I simply hadn’t been able to wrap my mind around the extent of that suffering until that moment. The end was going to come laying here on the ground in the middle of a war I’d been dragged into.

Of course, most soldiers through history had most likely felt the same. They answered the drums of war for their country with little understanding of the conflict itself or its ramifications. They were called, told it was for their fellow citizens and marched forward through hell to protect the way of life their leaders told them was in danger.

“The King will still be pleased,” the Ri murmured, coming close to my face, as if he could smell the fear and desperation emanating from my dying body. “I want you to die knowing you’ve doomed the elves to the same fate. The King’s army marches even now to this place for the sole purpose of erasing it from the world. Everyone here will be slaughtered. The notion of a ‘free’ elf dies today.”

The Ri seemed surprised as my dagger tore into the side of its head. The disgusting creature stumbled back in shock, reaching for the hilt now sticking from its skull. A volley of magical bolts ripped into it from the princess, staggering him.

“Should have just killed me, fuckwit,” I gasped as the Ri stumbled, alternately trying to pull free the dagger and protect itself from the magical bolts tearing into it.

“No,” The Ri protested weakly, raising its hands as if to ward off the inevitable. A moment later he was gone, buried beneath what seemed like a white, furry, mewing mountain. My vision darkened and blurred and the void I’d been perched on the precipice of opened and swallowed me.