Chapter 414: Bloodfang

“Rise, Lord Veres,” Stryga’s voice resounded clear in Stryg’s ears as if she was sitting next to him.

Warmth trickled into Stryg’s hands from the steel-white hilt of Krikolm. The parallel magestones in the pommel glowed black and white respectively. The scarlet blade hummed with power, its red hue shining in the dim blue light of the throne room.

Stryg gripped the hilt tightly and clenched his teeth. He steadied his shivering arms and slowly staggered to his feet.

The warmth emanating from the blade had dispelled the cold within his veins and he was able to stabilize his mana flow. The pain of his wounds still ached all across his body and his will was exhausted from his previous spells, but his mind was clear and his eyes focused.

Shards of giant rocks splintered off the ceiling and fell to the floor in ground-shaking crashes. The after-effects of Stryg’s green spell were weakening the foundations of the throne room, yet King Alok took no notice, his attention fully on the scarlet blade in the goblin’s hand.

“It’s not possible…” Alok muttered in disbelief. It couldn’t be Krikolm, the renowned ancestral blade of the Great House of Veres. “The sword was lost… It’s bound to the blood of Veres… You’re not even a vampire! So why… WHY! Why do you have Krikolm!” he screamed.

“Does it matter…?” Stryg asked.

“Of course, it matters! I have spent my life searching for the Frostveil armor, I sacrificed everything to find it! Even the lives of my people! And you—” Alok laughed hysterically, “You waltz into my mountain with Ebon Lord Koval’s masterpiece as if it were nothing! You don’t deserve that sword! You are unworthy to hold it in your grubby little hands!”

With his free hand, Stryg wiped the blood off his lips and rubbed it between his fingers. “Blood…” he whispered, the memories of Krikolm had shown him still fresh in his mind. “Blood is what binds us. Blood is the one thing that echoes through time.”

“What are you saying?” Alok frowned in confusion.

The corpses of the slain frost troll guards began to spasm as the blood in their bodies began to rise from the ground in streams of brilliant scarlet. The ribbons of blood flowed through the sky and swirled around Stryg like a whirlpool, Krikolm at its center. Stryg stared in awe at the scarlet threads surrounding him.

“W-What are you doing!?” Alok stumbled back a step in bewilderment.

Stryg glanced at Alok, his lilac eyes thoughtful. “What are you so afraid of? Did you not want to test your Frostveil armor against my sword?”

The troll king snarled from underneath his helm. “Koval was never able to surpass any of Parathyan’s works.”

Stryg cocked his head to the side, “Then why do you look afraid?”

“Afraid…?” Alok stiffened. “You think… me? Afraid? How dare you—!”

Stryg dashed at him before he had finished speaking. Alok raised his arms to defend himself and the parallel magestones in Frostveil’s pauldrons flared with power. A wave of cold blue energy exploded outwards from the armor. Stryg’s instincts screamed for him to dodge, but he silenced the thoughts and placed his faith in his sword.

Stryg raised Krikolm high and the blood followed, like a scarlet banner of strands trailing behind the blade. He slashed down as the frost wave struck and cleaved the wave’s power in two. Using the momentum of the slash, he stepped forward and swung Krikolm up in a large arc. The Frostveil armor glowed with an outline of protective blue energy as Krikolm struck. The blade flared a bright rose-red and sliced through the protective energy and armor in one smooth swing.

Alok cried out in pain as his left arm fell unceremoniously to the ground. The frost troll king staggered backwards and held his bloody stump with a mournful groan. Blood flowed out from the severed arm and joined the other scarlet strands swirling around Krikolm.

“S-Stop! Agh, stop!” Alok yelled pleadingly. “I concede! I concede! I’ll tell you where your friends are, just stop!”

“I told you, no matter what you say—” Stryg flipped Krikolm into a reverse grip, pulled his arm back, and threw the sword like a spear. The scarlet blade streaked through the air and stabbed through Frostveil’s chest plate and out the back.

Alok gasped a hollow noise and clutched at Krikolm helplessly as he collapsed to his knees. Yet no matter how he tried, he couldn’t seem to grasp the white-steel hilt. Krikolm’s blade burned a dark red and greedily drank the frost troll’s blood. In a span of three breaths, Alok’s panicked convulsions stopped and his body shriveled to a husk.

Large fragments of rock fell from the ceiling all around them as the throne room began to crumble apart. Stryg dragged his feet towards the king’s corpse, his body suddenly feeling sluggish as the adrenaline died off. His vision began to swim and his hearing became fuzzy.

Can’t stop… Stryg dimly thought to himself.

He needed to find the others. He had sent Plum on ahead but she was counting on him, they were all counting on him. He couldn’t stop now… not… now.

Stryg crumbled to the ground. Yellow scales tried to form around his skin but crumbled apart as his mind grew hazy. He stared up at the ceiling, the edges of his vision darkening, and watched as the ceiling fell on top of him.

~~~

Plum ran through the ice-covered tunnels of Grimstone, searching for Tauri and the others.

She had cast several illusions of herself and had sent them running into other tunnels, while she had cast a camouflage spell over herself. She had waited until the guards were well on their way to nowhere before she released the camouflage and kept searching.

She tried to backtrack the way they had first come into the mountain, but she quickly changed her direction when she heard the clamor of battle from afar. Plum ran with all the strength her sore legs could carry her, silently regretting her lax exercise regimen. Her lungs burned and her feet ached from the uneven rocky and ice-patched ground but still, she ran, desperation pushing her onward. Her illusions would have fallen apart by now. The guards were probably on her trail, attracted by the sounds of battle.

Plum turned a corner and was flung backwards by a powerful gale as a blurred figure flew past her. She gasped in quick breaths, the air knocked out of her, and scrambled to her feet as best she could.

The flying figure stopped in mid-air and slowly returned, hovering over the dazed drow. “Plum…? What are you doing here? Where is Stryg?”

Plum squinted her blue eyes and looked at the floating woman. Her black robes billowed and snow-white hair slowly flowed around her as if she was underwater. Furious yellow eyes and narrow slit pupils stared down at Plum impatiently.

“Where is Stryg?” the woman asked once more, her tone ice-cold.

“...F-First Mother…?” Plum asked hesitantly. “Is that you…?”

“Why aren’t you with Stryg?” Aurelia asked irritatedly. “You were supposed to be with him.”

Plum could hardly recognize the woman flying before her, but the displeased frigid voice was unmistakable. “Stryg, he… It was a trap. King Alok attacked us. Stryg helped me escape and told me to warn everyone. We’re in danger. We need to find the others and escape.”

Aurelia’s eyes hardened and she clenched her fists tight. “The danger has already come. Several of my people were killed in the ambush at the bridge. The rest will survive, my brother will ensure it.”

“Tauri, is she—” Plum swallowed the lump in her throat, “Is Tauri—?”

“Your friend will be fine, which is a lot more than many of my hunters can say.”

Plum bowed her head, “I’m sorry, I—”

“Where is Stryg? Is he still in the throne room?”

Plum grimaced with uncertainty, “I don’t know. He was supposed to have caught up with me by now.”

“I see.” Aurelia headed down the tunnel where Plum came from.

“W-Wait, I’m coming with you!” she called out and struggled to her feet.

“You can hardly stand, stay where you are.”

Plum shook her head and gripped the edge of her shirt. “No. Stryg is my friend. If the others are safe, then I’m coming with you. …I gave up on him once, I’m not doing it again.”

Aurelia stared at her in pensive silence. “...I don’t have time to waste.” She turned her back to Plum.

“Wait, please— agh!?” Plum yelped in surprise as shadow tendrils shot out from Aurelia’s silhouette and grabbed her by the waist.

Aurelia ignored her cries and flew down the tunnel, dragging Plum behind her. The ice-covered walls blew past them in a blur as the winds swirling Aurelia grew stronger and carried her faster through the tunnels.

Frost trolls came upon them by chance as they flew by only to get scorched by lightning bolts. Aurelia’s fingers moved with small flicks, lightning crackling over her arms, dispensing bolts of death in the blink of an eye.

Plum watched in amazement, never had she seen a mage cast storm spells with such speed and efficiency save for the Tempest Archmage Ismene.

Suddenly the powerful gales slowed to a halt and Aurelia landed on the ground running. They had arrived at the throne room but the giant doorway had been blocked off by large rocks.

“No!” Aurelia growled. Green mana surged into her hands. She plunged her hands into the boulder as if it were soft clay. She threw her hands apart and the rocks parted in large rumbling waves in front of her.

Aurelia ran into the large chamber without hesitation, her head snapping back and forth, searching for any sign of life. Her hands flung back and forth, tossing boulders and fragments of rock away as if they were pebbles.

“Over there!” Plum called out from behind her.

A small white smudge peeked out from beneath a fairly large mound of rocks.

Aurelia slammed her feet into the ground and poured green mana into the mound. She thrust her outstretched hand forward and flung it to the side. The mound broke apart into a thousand small splinters and flew across the room in a deadly volley of shrapnel.

Aurelia ignored the destruction behind her and called out a single word breathlessly, “Stryg!” She ran across the room to the small white figure hidden underneath the mound.

Blossom’s petals had puffed up and folded over one another, like hardened scales forming a cocoon of protection. As Aurelia neared, Blossom’s petals unfurled and revealed its unconscious owner within.

Plum gasped quietly, she had never seen Stryg in such a miserable state. His body was battered, his blue skin was pale, his clothes were torn, and his breathing was shallow. The cloak hadn’t been able to protect him completely from the weight of the falling rocks.

Aurelia crumbled to her knees and shook his shoulders nervously, “Stryg, wake up!”

She shook him over and over but he did not respond. Aurelia placed her head over his chest and listened for his heartbeat. There was only a single heartbeat. It was faint and getting slower.

“No, no, no, no!” Aurelia muttered in a panic. She dug her claws into his tunic and ripped it apart.

Dark blue patches of skin covered Stryg’s chest from internal bleeding.

Aurelia gasped a weak painful noise at the sight. She poured white mana into her arms and placed her hands on his chest. Soft white light flowed into his body as Aurelia worked over him.

Plum sat beside them and stared at Stryg’s face in worried silence. She spotted teardrops falling on his cheeks and she furrowed her brow, confused. Plum slowly looked over to Aurelia and noticed the woman’s hands and shoulders were trembling uncontrollably. Yet it was First Mother’s tears streaming down her face that sent a shiver down Plum’s back.

Everything had happened so fast. The troll king and his guards had attacked them, Plum had run away at Stryg’s behest, then she had met this woman, who she had thought was simply a priestess of the Blood Fang tribe flying through the tunnels. Everything had happened in a blur, Plum hadn’t gotten a chance to fully grasp the situation… until now.

“...Why are your hands trembling?” Plum asked quietly.

“What?” Aurelia asked, though her eyes stayed on Stryg.

“A mage’s hands should be steady while casting, especially those of a healer.”

“I have spent more mana today than I have in the past several years combined. I’m suffering from mana exhaustion and overheating. But I don’t see any other white mages nearby, do you?”

“No.”

“Then shut up and let me focus,” she snapped.

“...Goblins don’t cry,” Plum mumbled.

Aurelia stiffened at her words, but she kept her eyes on Stryg and tried her best to steady her trembling hands to no avail.

“Stryg always told me that goblins don’t cry. You were the one who taught him that.” Plum stared at her with a steady gaze. “I have seen you kill enemy hunters without even blinking. I even saw you kill one of your own hunters when they threatened Stryg. Still, your composure didn’t break, not even for a moment. I thought you a perfect, terrifying Matriarch of Blood Fang.”

“Shut up,” Aurelia said in an angry, hoarse voice.

“Nothing could faze you… yet now you can’t stop crying or your hands from shaking. You aren’t just his First Mother, are you…? Stryg is your son.”