Chapter Thirty-Six.

I’ve mentioned before how the passage of time can be such a subjective experience. Very contextual. Take, for example, the humble ‘minute’. If you’re enjoying yourself, a minute can flash by almost faster than you can count the seconds. If you’re charging headfirst at a kaiju-sized, [Blight] infested, flying snake-monster, a minute is suddenly a loooooong time to consider your life choices.

What the hell am I doing? I need to get away from this thing.

And yet, despite the protests of my own inner monologue, my course doesn’t change. I’m charging at this enormous monster and the only thing I can think of is that— for the first time in a while— I’m afraid of a fight. Not because I’m worried about dying, even if I’m sure that it’ll be painful, but because I suddenly have other people to worry about. If I go down, everyone else is going to be right behind. Teadran wouldn’t have tried to summon me like that if he thought we had a chance. I’m not sure how he was planning to get Shani up to his quarters, but my gut told me it wouldn’t be voluntary on her part. She wouldn’t leave without a fight.

The village flotilla couldn’t outrun this thing either. They had a hard enough time just keeping up with the caravan, and none of their ships were exactly new or in very good shape. If I did what Teadran wanted me to do, if I took Shani and just… flew away, then they were all going to die. When I first arrived here I wouldn’t have cared, but now… I’ve been with them. Among them. Maybe I’m being naive for not keeping my distance from people who basically foisted themselves on me but… When I look at them, when I see them desperately hoping I’m going to protect them somehow, I feel so angry. Because they shouldn’t need me. Because I’ve seen magic and technology on this world that could have easily kept them safe, but instead they live on scavenged wrecks in a monster-infested swamp.

It doesn’t help that I can’t stop remembering the last time I ran away, and what it cost me. Yeah, it wasn’t exactly voluntary, but my brain refuses to see the difference. I think of running, and all I can see is tunnel walls rushing past me as I claw desperately to no avail, every second compounding my failure as I’m pulled farther and farther away. The parallels scream out in my subconscious, and the feeling is like a lead weight in my chest.

I have something to lose again if I die. Something more than just my revenge to care about, and fills my heart with terror that I’m about to lose it all.

Which sucks, because I could really use some reckless bravery right now.

My moment of introspection ended with a thunderous rush of air as Telm An’Kaa’s enormous head surged into view like an oncoming freight train, and I frantically dodged rather than risk getting splattered like a bug on a windshield. In an instant he blew right past me with speed that sent me tumbling along in his wake, and I desperately tried to reorient myself and grab onto the side of the speeding monster. I scrabbled along the creature’s scaled hide for dozens of meters, the hooks on my tentacled limbs screeching like nails on chalk across scales the size of dinner plates while the wind buffeted me with screaming pressure. Every undulation of the serpent’s body slammed into me and I tumbled along nearly a third of its body length until I could finally latch on to a tuft of feathers with a yank that would have ripped a normal human’s arms out of socket. I hung there for a moment, shaking my head to clear it after the rough landing.

Holy shit it’s like someone threw a skyscraper at me!

The pressure I felt from Telm An’Kaa at this range was immense and restrictive, weighing me down just like my fight with the Windstalker but unbelievably stronger. I didn’t think I had time for anything more complicated, so I let go with one hand and summoned [Stellar Flame]. Wrenching downward, I blasted the side of the giant serpent with everything I had. The white fire roared in my ears loud enough to compete with the howling wind, dragging backwards along the snake's body in a comet-like trail as I poured my magic into the scales beneath me. I didn't let up until the heat was bad enough to almost sear my own body.

And it did absolutely nothing.

The edges of the jade-green scales glowed for a couple seconds, but Telm An'kaa hadn't even flinched. I thought I actually might have burned myself just from residual heat more than my target. My claws slid off the scales without leaving a mark. The hooks of my tentacles could grip them, but every ounce of strength I could bring wouldn't pry one of them up. Even the damn feathers that I was clinging to refused to so much as singe when I tried to burn them. I roared in frustration and slammed my fist against the monster's side as the sum total of my efforts didn't even seem to get noticed by Telm An'kaa, who continued to fly straight towards the caravan.

How?? How do I fight this?

A sharp sting came from the chitin on my right shoulder, and I glanced down to see an oily black spot that was bubbling angrily. Reflexively, I doused the area in [Stellar Flame] to burn away the fleck of [Blight] before it could do more damage, grimacing as the liquid combusted in a cloud of acrid smoke.

How did— wait…

My eyes shot up to the serpent's head, where ruined eyes wept a filthy waterfall of [Blight] that now ran down the creature's sides like an inky stain— kept from falling to the ground by the force of the howling wind. Scattered droplets sprayed backwards with every undulation of the immense serpentine body, and the tiniest spark of a plan formed in my head.

His body is resistant to my attacks… but the [Blight] isn't part of his body.

I didn’t know if this would work, but we were already almost to the caravan so I didn’t have time to second-guess. Abandoning caution, I poured energy into my [Flight] spell to lighten myself and clawed desperately along the serpent's body, fighting my way towards the spreading stain of [Blight]. Every second I saw the ships getting closer, and I could feel power inside the giant serpent gathering in preparation for… something. The mist coming off its feathers roiled, pulling against the wind to gather in front of Telm An’Kaa’s head. I reached the edge of the [Blight] and with a snarl, I shoved in my hand and burned.

It went up with a violent blast that hurled me off the creature’s side, briefly turning me into a living meteorite until I could get my body back under control. Fire raced along the serpent’s length until it reached the eye, and then went inside, where it exploded violently with enough force to shove the monster’s head aside.

Telm An’Kaa screeched in pain and surprise, abruptly coiling on itself in mid-air. The mist that had been gathering for an attack surged towards its burning eye, smothering the fire even as the serpentine monster shook its head and let out pain-filled, angry shrieks.

Oh shit! That worked!

For a minute I hoped that might have been enough to buy us some breathing room— right up until the mist cleared and revealed a slightly scorched but much angrier Telm An’Kaa looking straight at me. Its lips peeled back, and it let out a titanic hiss that my instincts interpreted as ‘very bad news’.

Oh shit, that worked.

The serpent lunged through the air straight at me, and I dodged narrowly by cutting my [Flight] spell and dropping down beneath the snapping jaws of the hurtling kaiju. I re-engaged it the moment I was clear before shooting off to the side directly away from the caravan.

Just gotta buy time. Just—

The shouts had awakened her from a fitful, slightly feverish slumber. Lyr'Rael's body still felt like a unified, enormous bruise— with her chest, stomach and back almost completely covered in ugly blotches that filled even the slightest movement with pain. Her ribcage had been compressed by the heavy blow that had finally taken her down, and many of her ribs had cracked from the impact. Despite Lyr'Rael's protests, she couldn't help but agree with Wyydam's assessment that her body needed rest, and she'd barely been able to leave the bed of her nominal chambers for almost two days now.

So when the titanic pressure of an attacking Beast Lord slammed into her semi-conscious body like an enormous fist, it was all she could do not to scream out in agony. In her weakened state, there was pitifully little she could do to resist the fury of a land-god— even a minor one. The force of its presence weighed on the entirety of her being in a choking mass that stifled her efforts to draw breath. She gasped weakly, pulling against the suffocating air and clawing at her bedding as darkness crept along the edges of her vision.

No… not like this… I want to live!

Lyr’Rael struggled against unconsciousness futilely, but just as she felt herself about to black out, a shimmer of golden light flashed from under her doorway. The pressure crushing her evaporated, and she abruptly wrenched herself upward, heaving for air with all the panicked desperation of the nearly-drowned. The light faded and the pressure quickly returned, but she found herself able to bear it— to her confusion.

What was that light?

Shoving aside the terror still flooding her body, she snatched up her glaive from where she’d propped it beside her bed and used it to haul herself upright. The oddness continued, as the pain she braced herself for was… oddly muted, as if she’d been healing for weeks instead of days. Her bruises had receded, and the former emissary couldn’t help taking stock of herself with suspicion even as her racing heart slowly cooled.

Healing magic, and strong. But…

If you come across this story on Amazon, it's taken without permission from the author. Report it.

A distant explosion rocked the vessel, followed by beastly howls of pain that made Lyr'Rael grit her teeth. The wooden floorboards creaked in front of her door, followed by the sound of heavy footsteps retreating down the hall. Brief indecision made her hesitate before she banished it with a shake of her head that flicked her sweat-dampened hair into her face very unpleasantly. Grimacing in distaste, she quickly limped her way over and opened the door. A fleeting shadow was all she caught a glimpse of, but she stubbornly set her shoulders and followed.

The figure stayed frustratingly just beyond her vision, leading her on a circuitous meander through the cramped confines of the repurposed old galleon while the sounds of distant combat trickled in through gaps in the planks. She quickened her pace as the sound of shouting broke out up ahead, straining her ears to catch what was being said.

“—requires our strength! We must—”

The words faded as her quarry closed the door up ahead, and a feeling of deep unease swept through her. Refusing to hesitate further, she dashed forward and pushed through the doorway, finding herself blinking in the sudden light on the ship's deck.

The former Emissary felt her jaw drop involuntarily at the massive form of an ancient Couatl twisting violently through the sky above them. Even at her old strength prior to her exile, Lyr'Rael knew that fighting such a creature would have been extremely dangerous. Currently? She— and most everyone in the flotilla— were more likely to cause indigestion than so much as chip the Beast Lord's scales. Which is why she found her attention snapping to the old shaman when she made out his next words.

“Together we can join with the Great One, and defeat Telm An’Kaa!”

Are they insane?? How do they intend to—

The shaman raised his arm, a dagger glinting in his wizened fingers. Several of the villagers came forward bearing a stretcher with an unconscious— and heavily injured— man lying on it. Hesitantly, they set the stretcher at the shaman's feet and backed away, reluctance and fear evident in their body language even with their faces obscured. The shaman's eyes were wild behind his mask, and his voice was almost feral as he knelt.

“For the good of the many…” he hissed out, and struck downwards.

Lyr'Rael reacted without thinking, her glaive snapping out with the speed and precision of a lightning strike to send the dagger flying from the shaman's grip. Reversing her grip, she used the butt of the glaive's staff to shove the old man back before taking a defensive posture over the injured figure. Her mind suddenly caught up with her body as she read the shocked reactions of the crowded villagers.

“What are you doing?!” Nezzick snarled as he hauled himself upright to face her.

“Stopping this.” She declared, injecting more confidence into her voice than she actually felt. Lyr'Rael barely understood what was happening around them, but her every instinct was screaming that whatever this… sacrifice was, it could not be allowed to proceed.

“You…” The shaman stuttered, his fists clenching as his whole body trembled with rage. “Fools and imbeciles. You will doom us all!”

The air seemed to darken around the old man, the wooden boards of the ship creaking ominously at his feet.

“At every turn, my warnings have been disregarded. My words of caution fallen upon deaf ears. The wisdom of my people, earned through the blood and death of thousands, dismissed out of hand. Every opportunity to avert this course before it was necessary was summarily ignored. Now, in this final hour, you think you will stop me from doing what must be done to save my people?”

The shaman's voice began to distort, his limbs stretching with grotesque popping noises as the wiry flesh of an old man was quickly replaced by something… other. In moments he towered over her, limbs elongated and misshapen, eyes now black as a shark's glaring from the depths of his hooded mask.

“No.” Nezzick’s voice was now deep and gutteral, an animalistic growl underlying his words. “The godling cannot defeat the King of all Rivers as he is. But our souls will empower him, and I will give him as many as he needs to save the rest.”

Lyr'Rael felt a chill crawl up her spine as the shaman gestured at the glowing origin rune etched into the deck. The villagers nearby cowered in fear as he loomed over her, his transformed body quivering in near-madness.

“Stand… Aside.”

There was force behind his words, insidious and malevolent. She felt it creeping into her mind with tendrils of violation, pushing away conscious thought and demanding she obey. Her own subconscious seemed to join it, whispering doubts that weakened her will.

She was a stranger here, an outsider. They were already gracious to welcome her in, is this how she showed her gratitude? She knew they didn't stand a chance against the Couatl, and she was so very afraid. She should let Nezzick—

Roaring defiantly, she slashed her glaive's enchanted blade straight through the glowing rune on the deck, shattering it in a burst of fractal light.

“Never!”

Teadran had rushed through the bowels of his ship to get to the core room before the Couatl reached the caravan. Ordinarily it would be an ill-advised thing for the captain to be seen running through the corridors during an emergency, but he didn't have time to care right now.

Have to get her out. I promised Iphrahim I'd keep her safe.

Even so, he couldn't help pausing outside the core room at the sound of frantic steps and shouting from inside.

“—come on girl, work, damn it!”

The sound of a muffled explosion sent a spike of anxiety through him, and he barreled into the room to find Shani pulling herself up from the ground and waving away a cloud of acrid smoke. She made an inarticulate growl of rage before flinging some nearby tools at the core.

“Rrrragh! You stubborn piece of— Uncle Miles!” Shani's face lit up in a way that had melted his old heart since she was a toddler. “Here, hold this.”

She thrust an unidentifiable piece of machinery into his arms so quickly he almost fumbled it, leaving him struggling to stay upright while she dashed around the room making frantic adjustments to the core's controls.

“Esshani, wha—” he began, but was quickly interrupted by a series of squealing alarms from one of the control banks.

“Shut up! I know we're over the thresholds you useless—” the girl shouted before giving the tool in her hand a considering look. Then with a malicious grin she smashed the alarm repeatedly until it trailed off with a distorted whimper.

“I always wanted to do that. Okay, bring that over here!” She said, pulling on her tinted goggles and rummaging through a nearby toolbox.

With growing concern for niece's mental health (and the condition of his ship) the captain complied, hoisting up the part at her request while she used a needle-tipped tool to inscribe something on the side of it with nauseating flashes of rainbow sparks.

“Esshani, what in blazes are you doing!?” He shouted to be heard over her work.

“Huh?” She paused, raising the goggles quizzically before glancing back at the damaged console with a shrug. “That? Don't worry about it; either this works or none of us are gonna be around long enough for it to matter.”

“No, Esshani, I don't care about the damned console.” He growled out, unable to keep the exasperation out of his voice. “Why are you still here? I told you to get to the skip if something like this happened!”

“And I told you there wasn't a chance in hell I'd be doing that. We both saw the readings, I know what we're up against. You think a skip is going to outrun a god any better than the Duchess, especially without me here on the core? We need everyone we can to fight something like that.”

“No, we don't.” Teadran said, any semblance of anger draining out and leaving him feeling nothing more than tired.

Esshani stared at him, suddenly looking uncertain in a way that made his gut clench.

“You don't think we can win… but we're still…” Her beautiful golden eyes suddenly blazed with anger, and Teadran had to flinch back as she aggressively shook the pointed inscription tool in his face. “And you think I'm gonna leave you behind!?”

“Shani—” he began,

“Don't ‘Shani’ me, Uncle Miles! I'm not leaving. Now if we want to have an actual chance here, then I need to get back to work.” She huffed, and the captain surreptitiously saw her scrub tears from the corner of her eyes.

“Shani, I promised your papa I would keep you safe.” He said, pleadingly, setting down the strange part in his arms and stepping forward to give her a hug in a rare display of emotion. “We already lost your mother to that damned crusade of his, we can't lose you too. All of us knew something like this could happen on the caravan, and our luck has run out. Go, please, Shani. I already asked him, and Baines will be able to fly you to safety.”

She trembled for a moment, and then shoved his arms apart, turning on him with a defiant look.

“Ray won't do that. He won't run. If I know him at all, then he's already doing something idiotically brave, and he needs my help if he's going to win. I'm going to help him, and we're going to kick that monster's ass whether you believe we can or not. Now you can either help me, or get out of my way.”

Teadran could only look at her with his heart plummeting in his chest. He was so damn proud of Esshani in that moment, but it only made the cold weight of the stun-bar in his sleeve all the heavier until it rivaled even his booklet of names.

I don't want to do this. But I can't let her—

“Captain!” A voice shouted from the hallway, and he spun around.

“Report from Mr Grafton! Baines has engaged the River King, an’ he looks like he's trying to draw the bloody thing off, sir!”

Teadran felt his eye twitch involuntarily as his fists clenched in apoplectic rage, before he let out an enormous sigh and visibly deflated.

“Gods damn that fool boy.” He swore under his breath. “And how did Mr Baines's efforts look to you?”

The crewman scratched his chin thoughtfully.

“D'you remember that fly in Delmoth that hounded Mr Grafton for near three days straight Cap'n? Powerful resemblance there I says.”

Teadran felt a chuckle escape him involuntarily, dismissing the crewman with a wave before turning back to Shani.

“You really believe in him that much?”

“Absolutely.” She stated, lifting her chin in a way that dared him to argue further.

“Alright then.” He shrugged off his overcoat and quickly started rolling up his sleeves. “The hell are we standing around for! Where do you need me?”

The captain quickly found himself bracing against parts for his niece. And if he was quietly relieved that Baines had taken the choice from his hands? Well, that was one secret he'd be taking to his grave.