Chapter 195 - Eclipse

“There’s something in there,” Celaine said, nodding toward a ruined manor a dozen paces further up the street. “It’ll see us if we keep going.”

She’d stopped up ahead, while Patrick circled around the ruined house for a better look.

A strange, slurping sound escaped from inside, though Hump couldn’t make anything out in the shadows of the building.

“Better we take it out first then,” Hump said. “Corvin, can you get us sight on it?”

“No problem.” Corvin turned to his sorcerer. “Emery, be ready to light them up.”

“You got it,” Emery said.

Corvin stepped forward, his body starting to glow, his armour shimmer. A beam of light shone forward, pushing back the darkness of the room and filling it with light.

Four creatures turned to face them, reacting with a screeching hiss. They were close together, the four legged creatures hunched over three bodies. They stood as large as a bear, though they were lean in build. They were unlike any beasts Hump had seen or read about. Twisting branches coated formed their bodies, tightly woven together to form a skin. Sickly green light glowed from within, pulsing out between the branches in the rhythm of a heartstone. Vine like tendrils protruded from their gaping, tooth-filled maws, latching onto the bodies like suckers. They bulged as fluid moved through them, slurping up the insides of the dead.

The suckers released from their victims, reddish-brown coagulated fluid escaping from the wound where they were attacked. The creatures screamed again, moving until they stood together, hopping back and forth on agile legs despite their size, the limbs almost stretching or growing much like Dylan’s grasping vines.

They screeched again. The light within pulsed brighter. Their necks bulged, filling with liquid.

“Acid,” Celaine called.

Hump was thinking the same thing.

“Get behind me!” He shouted, stepping forward with his staff, taking out his spellbook from his belt and letting the pages fly open. The creatures looked his way and spat a stream of acid in their direction.

Hump hammered the butt of his staff with a crack. He hardened his will, envisioning a large, curved barrier before them. “Shield,” he barked.

His essence poured from his staff, stretching into a wall before them, lines of essence adding support to his spell. The acid broke against it, splattering it with the thick, green liquid. It bubbled, droplets of the green sludge slowly trickling across the surface to the ground, where trails of smoke rose up. He felt it eating away at his Shield and threw more essence into it, relying on the formation in his spellbook to increase his efficiency.

Around him, the others were already moving to the two edges of his spell. Corvin’s party broke left, while Bud and the others went right. The creatures turned away from Hump in favour of the more vulnerable targets.

He dropped his Shield and levelled his staff in the direction of the most central of the beasts. “Fire Blast.”

A cone of fire erupted, bathing his target in fire. It reared up, screeching in pain. Around it, the other creatures cried out, retreating from the heat and light.

“They can’t take the light,” Dylan said.

Corvin increased the power of his own blessing, shining the light of Ordana into the faces of the beasts. They retreated further, making a sound that was almost like hissing. Before they could control themselves, Corvin and Krenton, his cleric, had closed the distance to the left most one.

The two warriors held its attention—Corvin cutting into it with his sword while Krenton bashed at it with his shield and mace. Patrick dropped from somewhere above, landing behind the creature and binding its legs in some shadow blessing, preventing it from retreating further. Further back, Kesha drew twin arrows on her bow, losing them at the front legs where they pinned each of them to the ground.

Unable to move, the creature screeched and fought against its bindings. Given time, perhaps it would break free, but Emery had already levelled his wand, the wind and fire sorcerer barely two paces from the creature’s face. The wind howled as a ray of fire erupted, pouring down the creature’s mouth. Its branch-made body filled with red light, and the smell of burning wood and flesh filled the air. It died screaming, collapsing to the ground in a flailing heap before finally going still.

To the right, Dylan had already bound one of the creatures in vines and was bashing it to the ground with his staff, holding it at bay alone while the others dealt with the final creature.

Bud held its attention, his frostfire cutting apart its branches faster than it could regrow them. Emilia’s rapier was a blur of red trails as she cut at its sides and limbs, eventually finding her moment to close the distance. She lunged, rapier flashing bright red before piercing the beast through the chest. It went still, its heartstone shattered. An arrow flashed to the right, and Celaine’s arrow pierced the beast held by Dylan, shattering its heartstone too.

“Are there more?” Hump asked.

“I don’t think so,” Celaine said.

“I searched behind the building,” Patrick added. “I think we’re in the clear, though there are monsters and warlocks in the area. We’ll have drawn some attention.”

“Then we need to keep moving,” Hump said.

“One moment,” Krenton said. The cleric rushed into the house.

“What is it?” Corvin asked. “We have no time.”

“I sense something,” Krenton lifted up some of the building’s rubble, chucking it to the side. “Help me here.”

Dylan, Bud, and Corvin hurried to his aid, pulling bricks and planks of wood off a pile until they found a person underneath. They carried him out, and Krenton lay a hand on his head.

“Still alive,” he said. He let his blessing flow, and the man glowed with its light.

“You can sense life?” Dylan asked.

The man nodded. “Sort of. I can sense waning life. So, if you’re ever mortally wounded, I’ll find you.”

Hump’s attention was drawn back to the battlefield as he sensed a great power from that direction. He found a gap around the side of the ruined manor and watched the unfolding battle as the cleric worked.

Amongst the shattered buildings and devastation, he spotted Roderick with ease. The man towered as tall as a troll, swinging his sceptre with one hand, sweeping through enemies with ease. He was a beacon of light, empowered by the blessings of Lady Light. Vivienne faced off against two warlocks nearby, wielding her wand like a whip as she parried them both, retaliating with her own torrents of water. The jets shot forward like coiling snakes, twisting through the air in search of her foes.

But that was not the power he felt. It was something else. Something building. He spotted Countess Daston and Ricard fighting side by side, facing off against the man that had introduced himself as Anthony—the one Hump took to be the leader of the warlocks. He’d fought them to a standstill, his sinister magic manifesting as swords of blood before him. They danced to his will, keeping the two Chosen at bay without him lifting a finger.

It shouldn’t have been possible. Practitioners couldn’t contend with Chosen—that was a fact—especially once they reached such strength. Yet this man fought two of the strongest Chosen in the kingdom at once. Countess Daston was at the very peak of the sixth circle, one step away from her next major blessing, yet it wasn’t enough.

The only explanation Hump could think of was that the warlocks were somehow empowered by the dungeon essence. How they wielded it without losing themselves, however, Hump didn’t understand.

Something was changing though. Countess Daston was becoming faster, or rather, it was as if she could see Anthony’s attacks coming. Silver mist spread from her body, forming a layer over the ground that constantly grew thicker until it was as if she were standing on a cloud. Above, a shadow moved across the sky, a sliver of something shifting over the edge of the sun and slowly encroaching further.

Even in its current form, Hump felt the weight of it on his soul in a way that only Soul Manifestation could achieve. This was Countess Daston’s power, he realised. A manifested moon to block out the sun. An eclipse brought about by her power alone, slowly shifting across the sun. And as it did, Countess Daston grew faster still. Her blade shone with a silver light, her eyes radiated with it.

“Hump, we’re ready,” Bud called.

Hump tore his eyes from the battle, focusing on the task at hand.

Krenton’s blessing had faded. He looked over the person one last time. “I think this fellow will live.”

“Then we best keep going so he’s still got a place worth living in once he wakes up,” Corvin said.

They followed Cliffside Road, a street lined with fine manors along the edge of the cliff. It was as far from the main battle as they could get, but it was still impossible to escape the constant blasts of power emanating from within. The cliff still shook with them, or whatever other dark power the warlocks had called upon for this unnatural strength. And the city slowly darkened as Countess Daston’s moon blocked out more and more of the sun.

Occasionally, they caught sight of people watching from their windows. Other than that, the Upper City was empty. Those who could not fight were in hiding. Hump wished he could do the same.

They rounded a corner and soon the tree was fully in view. It stood where the House of Stone had once been, and now lay in ruins, torn apart by its giant trunk and the monsters that have rampaged from its rift. Staring up at it, Hump felt dwarfed. It crossed his mind that even with the power of a gold ranker he didn’t think he could destroy this monstrosity, but he was thinking to large. What he needed to destroy was the core. Once that was gone, the rest of the tree would go with it.

Like that sounds any easier, Hump thought.

His thoughts were interrupted by a howling wind that exploded from the battlefield. Hump braced against his staff, turning in time to see Sir Ricard clash with Anthony. They all looked. Streaks of wind essence still streaked from Ricard’s spear. It was the mightiest thrust Hump have ever seen, like a storm compressed and given directive, yet it was Ricard’s throat that turned red. He fell to his knees, then slumped over.

Countess Daston extended a hand toward him immediately, silver light shining from Ricard’s wound. A healing blessing perhaps, though Ricard didn’t stir.

She readied her sword. Above, her moon finally fell completely into place, eclipsing the sun. A blinding halo surrounded the small moon. Moonlight rained over the battlefield, and even from where Hump watched, he could feel its reinvigorating powers at work.

The area around Countess Daston was cast in shadow. The ground was completely hidden beneath her silver mist now, and the moonlight cast a wide ray down upon their fight. The world within that zone had turned to black and silver, broken only by Anthony’s gleaming, bloodred blades.

Countess Daston reengaged with a vengence. Anthony directed his swords forward, and she shattered them with slashes imbued with Imira’s essence. His gaze was unchanged, bored even. He watched her scramble to survive and didn’t even twitch as he drew upon the blood around him to form more of his swords. They were a blur. Countess Daston blocked with impeccable speed and precision. Anthony’s red blades carved lines through the moonlit space, but it was the sword in his hand that radiated the most sinister power.

He stepped toward her; his sword held casually out at his side. To the right, Roderick and Vivienne fought to reach her, but the other warlocks kept them at bay. Ricard was still unmoving.

They were losing. Worse than that, they were barely holding on.

Hump saw Countess Daston’s lips move but it was impossible for him to make out her words. Anthony simply smiled, his eyes cold and untouched. The moonlight above seemed to shine brighter, and Countess Daston held her sword out before her, gripped in both hands, the curved edge gleaming white.

She slashed at him but he parried, catching her blade on his before twisting it upward. He stepped into her guard before she could retreat, using his free hand to grab her by the wrist of her sword-arm. He jerked it up, then plunged his own blade into her stomach, piercing through to the other side. Her mouth gaped, her eyes widened. Anthony stared into her eyes, his expression unchanged, as if she were nothing but another obstacle he had to pass.

Hump’s stomach twisted. He couldn’t look away as Anthony pushed Countess Daston from his blade, tossing her aside and pulling his sword free with a slash, spraying blood across the white doors of the Shrine of Osidium. It wasn’t just any blood though. It was Daston blood.

The moon shifted above, and the eclipse broke. The afternoon sun once more illuminated the battleground.

“No!” Marcela’s cry carried through the battlefield, resonating with the power of Sumi, the water goddess.

Marcela slashed out with her own blade; a water blade so sharp Hump could sense it from just the sight of it. It was nothing to Anthony, however. He blocked it with ease, turning his cold gaze over her.

Countess Daston took the moment to plunge her sword deep into his thigh. Rays of ethereal moonlight poured from the wound, brighter than the sun.  Now Anthony’s expression changed as he screamed. Essence exploded from the wound, blasting Countess Daston and sending her tumbling back. She tried to push herself up, but there was no strength left in her. As she fell, Hump swore her eyes found him.

He watched as Anthony walked up to the white doors of the shrine, gesturing for someone to join him. Someone Hump recognised. Lord Ferrand stepped out from the crowd of warlocks and went to Anthony’s side. He pressed his hand against the doors, the blood shone, sinking into them, and then just like the secret entrance Marcela had used to take them to the Upper City, the doors turned to sand.

“Gods mercy,” Corvin whispered. “That’s… how? What do we do?”

“Traitorous scum,” Bud snarled. He screamed, kicking a wooden scrap nearby, fury in his voice. “That bastard! I’ll kill him.”

“How is it even possible?” Emilia murmured. “He’s Chosen. How could he betray Sheercliff for warlocks?”

Hump bit back the words he wanted to say. The truth he knew in his heart.

The gods did not care.