Chương 101: Rampage

Miriam felt good. Her Fetid Swamp was doing extremely well in keeping back the Iron Dead, even though she'd been forced to shove cloth ripped from her shirt into her nose to survive the stench. The Crockern soldiers had all backed up, none with the stomach to handle the carnage her Blight Nature was inflicting. This would never be as effective on any other opponents, she mused.

The Iron Dead were so singularly mindless that they couldn't recognize the threat right in front of them, even as they waded through the decaying bodies of their kindred. In the future, this would be an effective trap to the unsuspecting, but not the killbox it was now. Behind her she heard Eoin shout. She turned just in time to see Róise fall, blood spraying from what looked at this distance like invisible weapons. She saw Sol skewer Onóra with a giant icicle - where had he found that technique?

Then, as she was fighting every instinct to run over to Róise, she saw Sol wrap his hand around the Heart of Iron. Relief flooded through her. If he commanded the Iron Dead to stand down, she could help Róise.

"Burrow," Sol said softly, but with an accent not his own. One very familiar.

"No," Miriam said in horror. The Iron Dead stopped trying to power through the Fetid Swamp. They turned and began clawing frantically at the tunnel wall. Miriam panicked and threw a Waterfall at them. This had the effect of washing away her swamp, but it didn't matter anyway. So tightly packed into the tunnel, the Iron Dead barely even noticed the pressure from Miriam, and they continued clawing at the walls until only iron-laced bones remained of their hands in some places.

Miriam decided her crowd control was no longer effective and sprinted back through the Crockern soldiers, all of whom seemed paralyzed, not knowing what to do. She didn't spare them a moment's thought as she dashed through them. Her target was Sol. She had to get the Heart of Iron back from him. From Solas. She wasn't the only one with that plan, it seemed. Eoin shoved Sol aside roughly, grabbing the Heart in his own hand. Miriam skidded to a stop as Eoin spoke.

"Rest," he said, and the scratching and tearing from the walls ceased.

"Thank the gods," Miriam sighed. Wait.

"Róise!" She scrambled over to where her friend lay, cradled by Cormac, who had abandoned the fight entirely when she fell.

"She's ok," Cormac said, emotion choking his throat.

"Seems like she used Róisín Dubh before she got hit. It healed her a bit before she blacked out. As soon as she wakes up I think she'll be ok."

"Eoin?" Miriam turned to ask the Selkie about Onóra, but as she turned the blood drained from her face. Eoin still had his hand on the Heart, but a two-foot long blade was protruding from his stomach. He was screaming noiselessly, his throat closed up from the pain. Snaking over his shoulder from behind, Onóra chuckled.

"Always so over-confident, teacher! You should know I'm not so easy to kill!" Eoin fell, his hand pulling free of the Heart. Miriam stood, her hands clenched by her side. What could she do? She had to stop that Banshee's hand from touching the Heart again. Miriam flung a Raging Spear, but it proved no more a threat than it had the first time she'd tried it.

"Please, little Dryad," Onóra said mockingly.

"You're out of your league." The author's narrative has been misappropriated; report any instances of this story on Amazon. Miriam threw everything she could at Onóra - Waterfall, Entangle, Blight-slicked knives, but nothing even came close to touching her. The Banshee shook her head.

"It's incredible. For a Second, you have so much power… but so little ability to use it. It's a little sad, really." She set her fingers against the Heart again.

"Let them through," she said. What? Miriam looked back at the tunnel, but no Iron Dead came through. After a few moments, someone else did. Caolán Séarlait.

"Thank you, Onóra," Caolán said, flanked by Keavy and the Curse Adept Jarlath. Behind him an entire squadron of Séarlait Consortium troops. Miriam sank to the floor in exhaustion. They had lost.

"Caolán Séarlait!" Ferris Einion's voice echoed through the grotto.

"You're trespassing in Teilgcheárta. If you remove yourself from these premises, I will not retaliate."

"Retaliate?" Caolán snorted.

"With what? This handful of Crockern? Teilgcheárta is no different than those poor souls wandering the tunnels. Dead, but somehow still moving. No, I think you'll find that Teilgcheárta is gone. Only the Séarlait Foundry remains." Ferris lumbered down where he'd been fighting at the altar, approaching the pixie. The difference in size was astounding.

"Not with this 'handful of Crockern.' With the might of the entire nation of Shorinu. Go on, boys." At his word, each of the Crockern guards pulled a badge from their pockets and affixed it to their breastplates. At the same time Ferris pulled a medal from his robe and pulled it over his head.

"You are ordered to depart by the duly appointed Grand Overseer of Teilgcheárta, by order of the High Council of Shorinu." Caolán's eyes shot wide open.

"The crest of the Shorinu Revolutionary Guard? You sold Teilgcheárta to the country this place has held off for hundreds of years?" Ferris shrugged.

"It wasn't really much of a choice. After the Heart was fractured, the city was empty. I didn't know if it would be you or Shorinu, but I knew someone would eventually waltz in here and take it. I needed men, and resources. They get what they would have gotten anyway and I keep this place running as best as I could. That was very important to me at the time, though I admit now it seems foolish. They only demanded one thing of me."

"And what's that?" Caolán asked.

"You." Ferris pointed.

"Take him!" The Crockern roared to life, descending on the Séarlait company troops. Miriam watched, agape, as a battle on a larger scale than she'd ever seen in the Tír erupted. Fórsa manifestations flew - Water, Fire, Earth, plus any number of other constructs she couldn't name on sight. The Séarlaits were taken by surprise, and they had their backs to the tunnel. Miriam glared over at the Heart, and Onóra guarding it. If she could get her hands on that, the fight would be over.

As if reading her mind, Onóra looked at Miriam and grinned.

"Rampage." The wall separating the tunnel and the grotto collapsed and the Iron Dead surged forward, a mass of dry-rotted, iron-cursed flesh just following orders. They ignored the Séarlait troops - apparently the Heart read more to the intent of the command than just the letter of the instruction itself.

"Cormac!" Miriam called.

"We have to get the Heart." The Bodac looked up from where he was still holding Róise. He set his jaw and nodded. He tore a web of threads out of the air and Miriam jumped into his Luck Armor. She'd never experienced it for herself, but she felt instantly lighter and more confident. How could they possibly lose? The two of them charged for Onóra. She couldn't have endless power. The incredible fight she'd put up so far must have cost her. Perhaps enough that a Fourth and an overpowered Second could do some damage.

Miriam threw some vine knives with her left hand as Cormac run up after them. Onóra sent a flock of water needles his way but all but two happened to miss. Those two thudded into his shoulder - painful, but not damaging. Miriam took the instant Onóra's attention was turned to Cormac to slam a Raging Current into her with as much power as she could force into the technique without shattering it.

Onóra was taken off her feet, shoved by the force of Miriam's River Adept skill at just the right angle, but she retained her grip on the Heart, flapping like a flag in the current. Cormac closed the distance and began throwing punches. To Miriam's eye, his attacks still looked clumsy and amateurish, but they were backed by his Fourth strength and his inescapable Luck. Several blows landed hard, but Onóra just growled and shrugged them off.

Miriam slid behind Onóra, lining up vine spears against her back like nails and using the kinetic force of her River specialization to hammer them in. To her shock, the spears passed right through without spilling a drop of blood. Onóra turned to Miriam.

"You don't know much about Banshees, do you?" Cormac groaned.

"That's right. When they get older they can make parts of their body ethereal. That's how she survived Sol's ice spear."

"He almost got me," Onóra said, grinning.

"Took me by surprise. Lucky me, I'm pretty fast. And pretty hard to surprise." She gathered up a hundred droplets of water from the invisible mist surrounding her, forming them all into needles. They all aimed dramatically towards both Miriam and Cormac. Onóra grinned at them, though she seemed a little unsteady herself. Was the fight finally getting to her? Her eyes seemed to be having difficulty focusing.

"Surprise," Róise said, burying her knives deep into Onóra's back.