Malachi Armstrong

Cleansing the dead-end tunnels that branched off the Dying Grounds went smoothly. The normal amount of freakish Ratsins were found and slain. There was even one of the giant bloated rats. The sword acolyte couldn’t quite free himself of the sensation of slicing through the congealed flesh. Something about the nature of their size made their bodies less than solid.

Their backtrail would once again be clear and everyone returned to the junction. The Sixty were ready to head up the third path. At the entrance of the third tunnel, the way up, they gathered and stared mutely. Each of the Sixty appeared withdrawn in their own fears, but none even glimpsed at the downwards tunnel. Refusing the idea of retreat. The resolve to continue was strong, even if the path to take was dreadful.

Death’s Way some called it in whispers. The name sent a chill up his spine. Melodramatic, but too fitting. It was where the only deaths they had experienced began. Just up that very tunnel before him. He felt the same trepidation they did. Malachi’s hand fidgeted over the hilt of his sword. A tingle of Mana at the fingertips, ready and expecting the worst.

The azure gloom was thick and the distant rumble echoed louder than ever before. Malachi stared up the tunnel, worried. Trying not to, but worried all the same. The dread in the pit of his stomach refused to fade. He took a deep breath and took a step forward while waving the others with him.

They marched in a tense silence. Eyes darted and feet padded softly. Weapon gleamed and the first words of spells lay ready to be freed.

His sense of the crowd had become a supernatural ability since embracing the strange silver Mana. Through it he felt the Sixty as a breathing organism. He felt the rise and fall of their emotions as battles flamed or dimmed. It also had the downside of reinforcing any feelings that matched his own. Currently, their nerves bled into his mind. Malachi had to try twice as hard to keep calm as they traveled Death’s Way. He didn’t begrudge the struggle, it was a good reminder to stay conscious of his people.

Sticking to the protocols, the acolytes Damian and Anastasia swept the hollow walls. Their Mana constructed eyes dove in and out of the holes. Little balls of light popping up out of random spots in the darkness. The whole process was moving quite fast and the Sixty marched quickly as the all-clear was continually given. An itch broke out on the back of the sword acolyte’s neck.

They haven’t called out a mark, realized Malachi. Not a single one. Calling for a halt, he turned to the searching acolytes. “Damian, Anastasia, what are you seeing?”

“Nothing,” said Damian simply.

“Uh um, there’s uh no rats um in the walls,” clarified Anastasia, nervously. Her eyes kept darting upwards to the alcove ahead. The place where Phelain died.

“Empty?” frowned their leader. “As in no mutants at all? Any signs at all?”

“I do not know what Anastasia's side is like, but I have not seen even the stains of their passing,” offered Damian. Then after weighing a thought, added, “I did find several instances of claw gouging. Even a new looking tunnel. Those were new sights.”

Looking over to the blond woman, the nervous acolyte confirmed to Malachi that she had seen the same with a frantic nod. Her eyes darted ahead again. He couldn’t help his own eyes following hers. The Sixty all followed suit. Their faces carried the same concerns about how many more Dead Things there were. A chill ran through the crowd, the silver Mana allowing him to feel it like a slap. A decision had to be made soon or panic might soak in.

Steeling his resolve, Malachi pulled the mantle of leadership thickly over his own emotions. The details and odds passed through his mind in a flash. Weighing everything was done almost immediately. He needed only to recall the protocols and trust in his people. The Council had been very thorough in predicting disasters.

“Execute Storm Prediction, Alert Level Red,” boomed their one-armed leader. The noise might draw attention quicker, but decided the speed of his orders was a more commanding concern. The attack was coming and he wanted the Sixty ready. When hell broke loose they would be a worthy bulwark. “I want All Eyes and Wall Protocols enacted! We don’t need a hammer swing to take a hint! Acolytes prepare for a call of Eye Of The Storm! Party Leaders prepare for Splitter or Hold Out Maneuvers. Reuben, to me!”

At the first note of his voice, the Sixty came to a froze and lent an ear to the sky. Taking in every order before shifting like a well-oiled machine. While some of the protocols were newer, they were built off the original ones. It hadn’t taken everyone long to learn them.

The previous formation had been a little loose and relaxed. Melee on the outside and everyone else inside. No other deciding factors beyond the current tasks being done. A few kept watch of the flanks and rear, but mostly the Sixty would look in the direction they marched. The core principle stayed the same. Melee made the outer layer, but now they faced outwards with shield-bearers interspaced evenly among them. Behind them came the archers following suit on where to face and the acolytes made up the third layer. The very center held the healers.

Their movement in the new formation would be very slow, but it allowed multiple eyes to be on every direction. Each person was expected to make sure those around them kept the pace. A slow, safe crawl. Once the Sixty was in positions, healer and buffing acolytes cast protections. White and gold lit up the azure gloom as they prepared for walking into an ambush.

Malachi positioned himself next to Julia who had taken point. Their eyes met when they took a place beside each other, but the one-armed man didn’t allow himself the moment. The mantle laid cooly over his heart and the weight of duty kept him focused. Later, part of him whispered. A bittersweet promise.

“Alright, what ya got for me?” asked Reuben with mild cheer. He had left the formation to meet Malachi at the front. Porsche and Francisco shadowing him, their eyes on the surroundings.

“Simple job, we’re gonna be rolling slow, but I want a better idea of what's ahead,” began Malachi. “The three of you head up to the alcove we know about, let me know what’s waiting for us. In and out, even if you get some tails, just come back.”

“Aye,” nodded Reuben. The scout leaned back and spoke to his two proteges. They all nodded and faded from perception. Even focusing on the effect, Malachi lost them quickly.

With the scouts out, the sword acolyte called for a march. As expected, it was a lethargic shift upwards. Damian and Anastasia returned to exploring the wall crevices, but there was still nothing reported. The air was tense as everyone concentrated on their feet and surroundings. When Reuben suddenly appeared at his side, the scout didn’t show any kind of smile for spooking him.

“Pure gobblers up ahead, but they’re dead,” said a pale Reuben. “Something tore ‘em apart.”

“No dusting at all?” asked Malachi with half-interested curiosity. His mind was busier working out the reason why.

“None, kinda creepy to see long-lasting corpses now…” answered the scout. “Didn’t stick around too long to check it out, but it looked like a pretty short struggle. The blue shit was barely disturbed.”

“That confirms what we thought… only the monsters we kill turn into cores,” said Malachi, thinking it through out loud. “So these are rats killed by rats, that’s not really important though… what strikes me is the question, why are the corpses still there? The mutants should’ve devoured them wholesale…”

“They aren’t in the walls either,” noted Reuben.

“Yeah, two different events, but they add up to the same question,” concluded their leader. “Why is this tunnel empty? I think we’ll know very soon.”

“But, what killed the Pure bastards?”

“I think the answer to your question is the same as the main one. We have a Dead Thing problem. One already came down, but we’re not going to be so lucky that it was the only one left. Join the formation, but close in case we need a look-see again. Nothing to do, but keep marching. They’ll make an appearance.”

Eyes peeled, the Sixty began moving upwards. Slowly they reached the alcove. It was, of course, as described. A typical field of fauna where the tunnel stretched out. An almost new branch that never would be. Scattered across were the tenderized chunks of the Ratsins, their purplish blood pooling. It gave Malachi the impression of ice melting into water. A grotesque image that he blanched at and tried to laugh himself free of. It echoed uglily in the silence.

They pushed on. Leaving the bloody sight, even the possibility of Mana crystals in the azure fungi wasn’t worth risking a break in formation. Malachi felt pressure on them as the Sixty followed the curve upwards. Hateful eyes from the dark. When the alcove was out of sight, but no view of the end, the first sighting of the Dead Things happened.

First Anastasia called out and soon after Damian harumphed. Word was passed to him that for both of them, something had destroyed their Eyes. Upon hearing, Malachi called for a halt. Absolute silence fell again as the sounds of footsteps echoed away. Only the distant rumble from ahead remained. A soft sound like the scrap of knives on stone came to their ears harshly in the hush. It echoed out of the wall holes from multiple directions.

A decrepit hand rose from the darkness behind them on their left. Bladed claws grating against the stone as the beast put their weight on it to slink out of the wall. A hateful hiss escaped the snaggle of teeth as the red pinpricks in the eyes sockets fell on the Sixty. The call was echoed on the other side of the formation. Another of the Dead Things lifted itself free of a hole in the wall. A snarl brought everyone’s attention to the first one. A larger skeletal rat exited and tossed the other to the side. They both hissed at each other, but like clockwork, their attention slowly pulled away from each other.

The Sixty twitched and looked at Malachi. He saw and felt the urgency that they all felt to attack the monsters. A feeling whispered to hold. To wait a little more time. It seemed madness, but the sword acolyte knew to trust the instinct. The risk made him swallow, but followed through anyway. Shaking his head sent a ripple through the formation. Everyone waited. Acolytes stained to hold the last words of their spells. Weapons were raised to rest where they could be brought into the fight immediately. When the hissing arrived from the front, the one-armed man knew he was right to wait.

Three Dead Things slunk into the opening and prowled forward. They hissed at one another to create space while heading towards the living. There were now six emaciated Ratsin closing in on the Sixty from either side. They didn’t make any moves to support each other. At most the beasts just moved in pace with each other. Hatred poured out of them in equal measure. Their attention on the living and staying clear of their own. A hissing chorus of warning and anger.

“Eye Of The Storm!” roared Malachi. Behind him, lights and voices rose from the third layer. Acolytes cried out over each other, their voices scrambling together in an unintelligible babel. Mana shook the air as several spells took form at once.

Earth shook and rippled. Spikes of earth burst from the stone floor into the Dead Things. Once through the dried flesh, the stone stuttered and formed rough manacles to hold them in place. Their hideous claws were disabled by softening of rock. Sinking just enough before hardening. The beasts hissed, but were unable to get free. They were at the mercy of the Sixty.

Four violet orbs appeared and began to spin. Shards the size of arrows began to splinter off and launch towards the Ratsins. Before long they were turning like buzz saw while firing off a blitz of arcane glass. Two hailing arcs of magical projectiles covered three monsters on either end of the Sixty. The violet shards pierced the leathery skin before exploding in small intense burns. A noxious odor of cooked flesh filled the air.

The temperature of the tunnel skyrocketed as an orange light shone. A fountain of liquid flame spurted into the air and split several times before creating six separate streams. Arcing through the air, the thick flames gushed all over the Dead Things. Shrieking hisses escaped the devilish jaws as the ashy flesh sizzled.

Six loud pops echoed in the air as orbs of deep shadows formed in the air. A gray outline shimmered around them, but couldn’t hide the darkness behind. As they passed through the air there was a sandy “shhh” sound. Homing in on a Ratsin each at a steady pace. In response, each monster’s red aura burst to life. The two forces slammed together, the orb growing slowly closer. Flesh flaked away where the dark was close enough.

Purple lines snaked along the ground, charging straight for the Dead Things. Like non-euclidean snakes, the leading points lifted up and dove into whatever openings were available. A jerk snapped all the limbs of the monsters, but no other obvious effect. Here and there, where bones were exposed there was a slight glow of lavender.

Archers on the second ring lifted their bows and fired onto the Ratsins. Taking the few moments they had to fire two volleys of pure Mana arrows into the pandemonium of spells. Explosions and piercing shots added to the mounting damage.

A great wall of electrified wind rose in a great circle around the Sixty. It rose upwards as it spread away from the formation. Before long it looked like they were in the center of a ginormous tornado. The howls of the Dead Things could be heard over the howl of the wrathful winds. Once the thunderous air pressure reached the ceiling, it started to fall away as it poured up and down the tunnel.

There was a loud crack and a fissure appeared in the ceiling. A tumble of dust and rock alerted the Sixty upwards. Boney claws ripped aside stones to reveal a Dead Thing. It hung only by a grip and leaned forward as stared down with a hiss. The crowd quivered at the thought of the monster dropping onto them when they were packed in so tight. Archers tried taking a bead, but the Ratsin let go. Tumbling downwards claws thrashing to be in the lead.

Leon’s voice bellowed and there was a burst of white light. A sphere of translucent golden energy encapsulated the Ratsin. It went immediately into a berserker rage at the containment. Wrath red light edged its sharp claws and the barrier began to crack. The barrier acolyte took a deep breath and launched the sphere as the gray-green wind dropped to reveal the stone walls. Just before impact the front half of the sphere dissolved so that the back half could slam the Dead Thing into the rock. The tunnel shook with the impact. A hail of fire from the archers followed up when the last half of the barrier dropped. Mana arrows exploded within the crater made in the wall.

Dust and spells cleared away to reveal the changed battlefield. Two of the Dead Things in the back were already disintegrating. An angry red cores forming in the center of the mess that was left of them. Only the big one was left for the rear to contend with. The Ratsin hissed as the red aura dragged its skeletal remains out of the charred stone. All that was intact of the bone structure were the ribs and skull. Rough limbs were formed out of the splinters of bone.

The three ahead were made of sterner stuff. Skin and flesh had been flayed clean off, but their skeletons were whole. The wrathful bones burst their constraints and continued their march. A fleshless hiss echoed from nowhere. Four Dead Things in their last stage converged on the living. A terrifying sight.

Malachi’s eyes darted to the four targets spaced around them and thanked his lucky stars that only one was rearward. The stronger parties were positioned in the front to tangle with those ahead. The rest could take one, if not delay it long enough. He looked to the crater, but there was no sign of movement. While the creatures were on the back foot, the leader of the Sixty called out, “Splitter Charge!”

Julia and the sword acolyte charged step by step towards the Dead Thing directly ahead. Not even wasting the time to see if the rest of their part would follow. They always did. Damian lifted his staff as he ran, violet light taking form above it. Laughing at the thrill of danger came Clarissa, firing as she ran. Following in their wake was Harken, his words gathering white light in his hands.

Warner took his team right. Molly snapped her fingers and purple veins on the bones of every Ratsin grew rapidly. They began weaving themselves together, slowing at least the bone part of the monsters. Zachariah and Elena charged on either side of their orange-fisted leader. A whisper of a storm blew behind Jorgenson as she prepared a spell for their monstrous foe. Their healer Colin followed behind them all with a prideful smile.

The left forward Dead Thing was tackled by Phelain’s party. Hector and the arisen warrior lead their close-knit crew. The acolyte couple, Vivian and Kai, hurried along. One looked furious and the other looked maliciously charmed. Around both of them white and golden flames began to burn. Amiyah walked slowly behind, firing a slick gray arrow at a steady beat. A gathering of shadow orbs swirled about Analia as she shifted to the side for a clear shot.

In the distance, Malachi could hear Vincent leading a charge for the remaining Dead Thing. He sent one fervent wish that they could take care of it or hold out. Then his will locked down on the wrathful wraith before him. The leader of the Sixty was determined to see this fight be a win.

And so, off we go to put done evil, thought Malachi with a smile. Enjoying the romance of the sentiment.