Chương 48: 47 Walk and Talk

I skirted down the side of the pit, clawing at the wall and sending up cascading tracks of dust. Kicking desperately, rocks and debris shot up at me, impacting and jarring my shins and heels. In my panic, I glanced up, expecting to see my father hot in pursuit. I didn't. A ridge kicked me loose from the wall. Suddenly, I wasn't sliding; I was falling. My control and focus sharpened. I grinned, the wind buffering me. Aerial Combatant—the best unintentional feat I could have chosen. My HUD flashed.

<<System reconnect>> <<143 notifications>> Okay, I'd missed some stuff. I could catch up once I— The angle of the pit's wall caught me again, and I slid down the side. The wall dropped away into a tunnel mouth carved into the pit's side. I fell with nothing beneath me but open air. I gritted my teeth as my trajectory path stretched out below me, lengthening as I picked up velocity. My eyes darted wildly, searching for a soft landing. Rocks, steel, tools, slaves—this was going to hurt.

The flash of an intersecting light lit up my side. I barely had time to inhale before a winged Drake-kin slammed into me. Black and red scales flashed as we spiraled through the air. His full-plate arms wrapped around me, tight around the middle. With our combined weight, we twisted violently, more like a lateral fall than flying. His wings snapped out, wide and scaled, and we jerked upward, climbing.

"Back to daddy, Boy!" the winged Drake-kin hissed, breath hot on my face. Gunshots rang out below, but the entire landscape had become a vague blur of motion.

"Salt take you!" I hissed back. I reached up, fingers finding a horn that protruded from the brute's great helm, and I jerked his neck to the side. His shoulder blades twisted with his head, and our flight hooked sharply toward a low scaffolding built into the dig pit's wall. The Drake-kin snarled, and he got a hand on my face, trying to press me away. I held on iron-tight, craning my head and studying our trajectory as it raced out ahead of us.

Hissing through my teeth, I gave his horn a corrective yank, and we rolled. He slammed into the scaffolding, not head-on, but his helmet sparkled as it smashed through a dozen steel bars. Something hard slammed my shoulder, and we tore apart. I flailed through the air, the ground coming at me from a much lower altitude. It was still more than enough gravity to kill. My hand swiped once, missing a pole on the scaffolding. I flailed again; this time, my grip snagged a support bar. Shock and pain blasted my shoulder.

My body swung like a pendulum, my momentum snapping sideways. My head rapped against the wall, the world flashing red, then white. I collapsed to the planks, my weight sending a shiver through the scaffold.

"Hey!" A human slaver barked, rushing toward me, uncoiling a bull whip. Hissing through my teeth, I rolled up, rushing to meet him. He knew the whip well; even in the confined space, it whirled sharply. Reading the trajectory, I dipped my shoulder. Braided leather snapped beside my ear like a gunshot, and then I was on him. I snagged the whip, binding it in a tight fist. My forehead snapped down on his nose, and he jerked back, blood flowing from both nostrils.

Getting a hand on him, I heaved, looping the cord up and around his neck. He gagged, hands tearing at the line. Powerful wings beat overhead, blasting the scaffold with wind. The winged Drake-kin lowered, then slashed a gauntleted hand at me. I rolled, pulling the slaver tight to my back and putting him between me and the claw. Steel-clad talons raked across his chest, and he went limp. I dropped him, whipping a cutlass from the slaver's scabbard as he fell.

The Drake-kin swiped at me again, his wings snagging on the support rails. I threw myself off the scaffold, catching the catwalk below and swinging to the next level. A pair of Lizard-kin prisoners staggered back, ankles bound in shackles.

"Stop!" A half-Orc slaver rushed me, hand going to the pistol at his side. I lunged, blade flicking out once, and he fell. The Drake-kin followed, descending on wide wings. Gasping for breath, I fumbled the slaver's pistol from its holster. The Drake-kin pulled a lacquered handle from a harness on his back and curved blades scythed out from either end. Thrusting the pistol forward, I pulled the trigger. He snarled, throwing an armored forearm over his face. The bullet sparked off metal, and he swooped in.

I sprinted down the planks. With a Draconic snarl, my winged Pursuer detached from the scaffolding, flying parallel to me in the air. Sliding, I caught the edge of the catwalk and swung down another level. I swung like a monkey, senses and balance sharpening as my feet came off the ground. The Draconic hulk slammed down on the ground where I had been. Sweat poured down my face, my chest heaved with ragged breaths, and my arm flared with pain.

I sprinted another twenty meters down the scaffold, shoulder-checking chained laborers before I vaulted off the staging. I fell to the dig site's ground, rolling to break my fall, and flowing into a dead run down recently unearthed streets. Dust whipped up from the road as a shadow darkened the ground below me. Firelight washed the Drake-kin's shadow away, and heat flashed at my back. I threw myself sideways, colliding sharply with a wall. Green-tinged fire spewed from the Drake-kin's mouth, torching empty ground.

Scrambling back, I scanned the flying terror. <<Name: Bale Reteriol>> <<Race: Winged Drake-kin>> <<Class: Dread Knight>> <<Rank: Bloodwake Exploit>> <<Lvl: Martial-7; Hacker-3>> <<Total: 10>> A javelin winked into his hand, pulled from his inventory, and he hurled it. I cursed, scrambling away. It impacted the road, then detonated like a grenade. Flame and concussive force hurled me into the side of a building. My teeth flipped down on my tongue, and salty warmth filled my mouth.

"Come on, Cousin!" he snarled, wings beating powerfully around him. He spun his curved, double-sided blade.

"Show me what Paradise has to offer!" My hand tightened around my cutlass's handle as I scanned the streets like a rat, searching for a hole. A familiar cold cracking and snapping hit my ears like frost crawling across a windowpane. I grinned.

"I won't, but she will." Ingred, crouching in an excavated alleyway, thrust her hands forward. A chunk of hail the size of a cannonball streaked forward, trailing an icy comet tail of frost. The ball smashed into him, exploding into ice splinters, and he dropped with a snarl. He hit the road, his thick, armored body collapsing in on itself. He hissed as ice coalesced around the backplate of his armor. The massive wings shuddered as frost coated the scales.

"Hey, Wyrm," Ingred called, caging a frost bolt between her hands.

"Get off my friend." She thrust both hands forward, and a chilled lance of power darted at him. He cursed, throwing up an arm. The bolt impacted, blasting his hand aside. With a roar, he lunged, foot talons pounding the street. I bolted after him, cutlass held low. The Dread Knight inhaled, and Ingred focused, eyes blue as glaciers and glinting. He spat a cone of flame from his jaws, and she threw her hands forward, thumbs and forefingers forming a circle. Flame met sleet, and steam hissed in the middle.

I leaped, shadow darkening the Exploit knight. He tensed and rolled. Dropping fast, my cutlass blurred as I sheared the wing off. He shrieked, and Ingred's continuous gale blasted him in the back. He staggered forward, blades moving in a blur, trailing system white vapors. His sword rang against mine, knocking me back, and I activated Empowered Windmill Form. User met Exploit, each channeling Ourabora's power. Ingred grunted in concentration, and the Dread Knight's spine locked up, ice hardening on the plate.

I leaped, reading the trajectory of his blade and twisting in the air. My cutlass darted, snaking around his slowing defense, and the tip met scaled flesh at the neck of his armor. He tensed, then slumped. Bags, weapons, and potions slammed into me. I yelped, leaping back as a crowbar and rope dropped to the ground. His inventory—ejected from a multi-dimensional space that no longer existed. Stolen novel; please report. Ingred jerked her hands apart, leaving the street caked in ice.

I shivered, my breath coming as vapors.

"Sorry!" she winced. I dropped, scooping a frosty potion belt, a thick dragon bolt pistol, and a backpack, dismissing them into my inventory without further investigation.

"It's okay, you can come out!" Ingred called, and dozens of figures bled from the streets, some trailing broken chains. Most of them were Lizard-kin of a much smaller subspecies than Flast that resembled geckos. I rushed over, catching her in a tight hug.

"Thank Jorg, you're okay. He'd have killed me for sure!"

"What?" she exclaimed, face reddening. I sniffed and jerked my hand across my blurring vision.

"Oh, Tony," she said softly.

"No, I'm good." I cleared my throat forcefully.

"Must have got something in my eyes."

"Antonio," she said, eyes on my face—the scales. I turned away, hand coming up to cover them. Up on the edge of the dig pit, cannons roared, and the alarm bell continued to ring.

"Walk and talk," Ingred said, motioning for her rescued prisoners to follow.

"What's going on?" I pivoted on my heel, somehow needing to force myself to keep up with her despite her considerably shorter legs.

"Puppetmaster's here," I said.

"He's going to leverage an ancient weapon to finish breaking the sky and kill Granduncle at the same time."

"Oh," she said simply.

"Any idea what that weapon looks like?" I froze mid-stride.

"Probably that." Dead center of the massive dig pit, four obelisks stretched skyward, each one tilting slightly toward the center.

"Any idea how far it is from being ready?" Ingred asked.

"It's ready," a Lizard-kin gecko chirped, black spots breaking the yellow scales on the top of his head. I turned to the little guy, hoping for more.

"The overseer said they wanted to clean it first," he said.

"But it should be functional."

"Well, great," I said, eyes trailing up the monoliths.

"How do we destroy that?" A lone Drake-kin lancer spotted us and let out a panicked cry. Ingred and I started forward, over a dozen very disgruntled reptiles following behind. The Bloodwake soldier did the math, then turned and ran down a ruined alley. We didn't pursue.

"Where is everyone?" I asked, a nauseating pressure building in my gut.

"Puppetmaster was expecting an uprising. He has the manpower to put you down in seconds."

"Team, come in!" Naomi's voice pressed into my mind. Ingred flinched, and I let out a victorious whoop.

"We are so back!"

"Tony, where have you been? You're not answering your messages!" I grinned.

"Busy!" Bianca's voice cut in, a mental grunt of exertion.

"The top-side uprising isn't going so well."

"Puppetmaster's here," I said.

"The four towers in the city center are a weapon. We need to disable it now."

"Puppetmaster?" Naomi cursed.

"I've called for reinforcements. Aunt Tandy's coming from Floating Rock with a sky fleet; they're twelve hours out. Kerelev, Lance, and Bruk are eighteen hours away but sailing with all haste."

"Not good enough!" I pressed with my mind.

"The thing's on now. This could be the end of everything if they fire it."

"Oh," Naomi said simply. Dirt at my feet exploded, and my group scattered for cover. Three slavers took potshots at us from a lower observation tower.

"What's the situation up top?" Ingred asked, daring a peek around a corner.

"We landed on the backside of the Cay yesterday," Naomi explained.

"I'm with Elara and her squad near the dam. The fighting's bad." I turned my attention to the dam, a full eighth of the dig pit that was built of wood and stone, holding the sea at bay. I didn't have the firepower to destroy the weapon from land, but perhaps some heavy guns from the sea could open the floodwall.

"Bianca and I each started an uprising," Ingred explained.

"I found Tony. We're near the bottom." Bianca's thoughts came online next.

"My revolt isn't going so well. We're getting crushed. It's not just slavers. Bloodwake Dread Troopers, too. Heavy guns."

"Tony, Ingred, can you get up to her?" Naomi asked. I glanced at the Anti-Astral Defense System, unguarded. But what would I do, hit it with my sword? No, I could stop this—find some charges or dynamite. But it'd take time. My teeth clenched. Bianca was in trouble now. She didn't have time.

"We're on our way," I sent. Motioning for our Lizard-folk escort, we wove through the ruins, heading back up the hill.

"We need to shut this thing down," I sent to the team.

"I'm thinking we break the dam."

"Dam's way too busy," Naomi reported.

"We've got Deep Folk bubbling up and attacking the slavers everywhere."

"Deep ones?" I tuned my ears to the crack of rifles and the roar of cannons, and it all made sense. The might of the Bloodwake and the Guild hadn't come down and buried us yet because they were already tied up top.

"Tony," Naomi's voice came, softer, and across a private channel.

"Whatever's commanding these Deep Folk—it's the same voice I've been hearing. He's near, and he's angry."

"Dathurul," I said, recalling what Igor, the mutagenist, had told me.

"They're Black Trench."

"Why are they fighting Puppetmaster?" I stopped at a junction, checking that the broken streets were clear, before waving the escapees on.

"No idea. Any chance they're going to win?" I asked.

"I don't think so. They're frenzied. Like sharks smelling blood. This window's closing."

"Guys!" Bianca's voice cut in, urgent.

"I could really use some help here! We're pinned in the barracks." Ingred and I exchanged a glance, then we started running. After climbing several streets, I gasped for breath. When was the last time I'd eaten or gotten proper rest? Either way, I was running on fumes. Ingred's shoulders heaved as she struggled to keep up. I summoned the potion belt I'd looted from the Dread Knight. It contained a good twenty vials, all labeled in Drakish.

I selected a red potion, which was the furthest you could get from the blue of Paradise health potions. I usually carried more health potions than any others, and the red was the most numerous, so I took one. I downed it, bracing for the biting sting of poison. The taste was all wrong, but the familiar prickle of healing buzzed in my bruises.

"Here," I said, tossing the set into Ingred's hand. She tucked them away. I turned to the geckos.

"Anyone here, fighters?" The little one in front licked an eyelid.

"If we were fighters, we would not be here." Ingred panted.

"They're worker caste. All their warriors are dead." I nodded, glancing up the spiraled ramp that ringed the pit.

"Get up high and stay hidden," I ordered.

"You don't want to be down here for what's coming." They exchanged lizard-eyed looks, then scuttled away.

"We'll be faster unencumbered," I called, sinking the tip of my cutlass into the ground and buckling on the potion belt.

"Ready to run?" I asked.

"Hang in there, Bianca," Ingred sent.

"We're coming." We ran around the massive ramp, stopping at a lift. Iguana slaves operated it.

"Take us up," I barked.

"Now!" Waiting in the rattling lift, I rocked from toe to toe, wanting to contribute, to haul us up with my arms, but the descending counterweights did far better work than I ever would. The box came to a halt on a higher platform where two dozen slavers and Drake-kin riflemen were firing into a slave barracks. Ingred's hands came up, but I caught them, pushing them down. I held a finger to my lips, motioning for silence. Men barked orders, Drake-kin reloaded, but no one had identified us as enemies. Not yet.

"Bianca, are you in that shoot house?" I sent, hand tightening on the cutlass as I strode forward.

"Yeah!" she called back through the psychic channel.

"Bleeding. Pinned." I clapped my hand over the rearmost slaver's mouth, ramming my cutlass through his back. He tensed, then slumped.

"Almost to you!" Naomi's voice came. I stepped behind a Halfling and a Cind-Primord slaver. Two chops and they collapsed. A Drake-kin Dread Trooper in full plate turned to me, eyes going wide.

"Ingred now!" I ignited Empowered Windmill Form and lunged, cutting arcs of white light through the air. The cutlass sheared through the plate, and the Dread Trooper fell. I pushed into the rank from behind, hewing through unsuspecting riflemen with system-infused power. An ice blast detonated the barricade, throwing screaming men trailing vapors with freeze-burned skin. They whirled, still a dozen combatants lining me with trajectory paths.

I cursed, throwing myself to the side, catching myself on my palm, and twisting away as pistols and rifles discharged in my direction. Bullets zipped past, so close I felt the air buzz. I got my feet under me, but stumbled. A Drake-kin knight with a hammer charged. He drove his shoulder into my sternum, knocking me flat. A Frost Bolt impacted the knight, and he collapsed on himself, clutching at his frozen chest. The rest drew swords, letting out a war cry as they charged.

I scrambled back, palms and feet cycling beneath me. Their footfalls shook the dirt beneath me, and I thrust my cutlass forward—one blade against twelve. A line of trajectory paths painted the mob. A volley rumbled, and I flinched. The line sagged, four of the Slavers tumbling to the ground.

"Let them have it, Lads!" A familiar voice bellowed, and Elara sprinted past, her eight marines charging at her heels. Twenty telekinetically thrown jagged rocks peppered the remaining enemies, cutting flesh and shattering against armor, as Naomi stalked at the rear of the line, finger held tight to her temple. The remaining adversaries cried out, suddenly outnumbered, and they scattered. Felipe stood over me, his shock of white hair spilling over his eyes. The marine grinned at me as he offered a hand.

"Am I invited to this party?" he asked.

"Bianca," I gasped, taking his hand to pull myself up. I sprinted to the barracks.

"Friendlies," I called, so no one would take my head off as I passed the threshold, and I kicked the doors open. More figures flinched away from me, chameleon-based Lizard-kin, with eyes twitching asynchronously.

"Where is she?" I barked. One, a thin female in a dress, pointed. I stumbled into a darkened corner, stooping over Bianca. She wore an elongated form with a Doberman face and long, pointed ears.

"Here!" I said, unstopping two health potions. The whole front of her shirt was a mess of blood. I tipped her head, and she coughed weakly. I emptied both vials into her mouth at once.

"Drink," I said.

"Everything's going to be okay." Her core shuddered and constricted, a lead ball expelling from a wound as it began to close. These potions were working remarkably fast. Eyes so amber, they bordered on orange, opened.

"Tony?" Weak fingers graced the scales on my face, and I flinched. Her eyes gleamed, almost as if catching firelight.

"I see." Elara stuck her head in.

"Guys, something's happening!" I clasped Bianca's hand, helping her rise. She was heavy in whatever form this hound hybrid was. Hooking her arm around my shoulder, she walked back into the sunlight. Naomi and Ingred stood at the edge of the cliff, Naomi training a spyglass on the Anti-Astral Defense System. From here, I felt it, the pull, a light shift in magnetic force, but parasitic. We stepped to the edge, and even without a telescope, I saw the air blur between the monoliths.

Without a word, Naomi handed the spyglass over. Bianca, now steadier on her feet, let me go, and I peered through the optic. Puppetmaster stood at the base of the Anti-Astral Defense System, hand thrust into the haze. A white orb, glowing fiercely, burned in his grip as he concentrated.

"He's firing it up," I said through clenched teeth. Only he wasn't alone. A score of Slavers and Bloodwake soldiers established a defensive perimeter around him, and in the middle of it all, Thaddius and Lonnie.

"Where's the Raven Reaper?" I asked.

"Flying fellow dressed like a crow?" Elara guessed.

"Dealing with the fish topside." Still, the cries of battle and bark of gunfire echoed from further up.

"We have to stop him," Naomi said. I swallowed.

"I don't think we can. He's got Thaddius and Lonnie. She's a powerful psionic."

"We don't have to win," Ingred noted.

"Just disrupt the weapon; hold off until the cavalry can arrive."

"Look again," Naomi said.

"I think he's caught up in the ritual. This could be our chance to take him down." She glanced at me.

"And reclaim Prisoner's Retaliation." My hands tightened, and I found myself nodding. One decisive blow to bring an end to it all. The Anti-Astral Defense System began to hum, a dual-toned pulse that made my hair stand on end. Naomi turned to Elara.

"Lieutenant Stormsong, can you get the prisoners as far away from that thing as possible?" Elara offered a sharp salute.

"Ma'am." She jogged off and began triaging with her men. Once again. United. The four of us turned to the great pit. My party, my squad. We rushed for the lift. <<Time to Seal Collapse: 04: 00: 03: 21: 46: 17>>