Chapter 753: Army's Completion

“Oh hells!” Birger hissed, frozen in place like a mouse before a snake.

“Beautiful…” his rune-marked son murmured, his voice a mix of awe and fear.

The mighty war-spirit—a creature of honed flesh and metal—looked at the giants, then back to Alex. Every single twitch of her body language spoke of violence.

Eyes of blood, molten metal and blue fire looked back at the young wizard. For the second time since he'd summoned a monster with a ninth-tier spell, he felt like an otherworldly entity was looking through his very soul.

“Blood. Battle,” she pronounced, looking at him closely.

Her tone was hard to read, but Alex could sense no derision toward him. He remembered how Professor Mangal’s war-spirit had sensed something in him that was counter to violence, and had resented him for it.

He was very glad that he no longer had the Mark of the Fool.

“Bargain, archwizard,” she said.

“I present you with these,” he said, pointing to Uldar’s weapons on the table behind him. “I seek to lead you into at least two battles. The first will be here, against opponents who are mighty, wielding the sort of violence that would make an entire army tremble. They will come here, bringing war to us.”

His jaw flexed. “I wish to show them what war truly is. The second battle will be greater: it will be fought against an ancient opponent, one that has caused endless war for thousands of years. Our battle against it will be the stuff of legends, and it will redefine the fate of a kingdom and an age of the world. I would not presume to call on your mighty talents for battles that are beneath you, and I believe these will match your appetite for destruction. I would also not presume to ask you to join me without payment: I am not some arrogant mortal who seeks to make a being as old as you bend the knee to him. I seek to establish a relation with you, one that could be of mutual benefit for a thousand years or more. To prove this, I would like to present you with these four gifts.”

He pointed to the divine weapons on the table behind him.

Asmaldestre’s eyes snapped to them.

“These arms were forged by a god—” Alex started.

Behind him, Bjorgrund sputtered. “What?” he gasped, looking at his new axe.

“—to be borne into battle as his personal weapons—”

Now it was Birger’s turn to cough. “You stole weapons from a god?”

Alex continued. “—but he no longer needs them. There is no reason for such weapons to lie useless in an armoury, I would see them in your capable hands. I only ask in return for your alliance, your friendship, and your loyalty. I offer the same in return. If you join me, then we will fight on each other's behalf. I will lead you into the great battles that I will no doubt fight over my lifetime. You will fight along my side—reaping blood and glory—while I will fight beside yours.”

The young wizard’s voice took on a quality of intimidating confidence: the same tone he’d used to terrify the giants of the firbolg village in Kymiland. “I have slain greater demons, slaughtered monsters and destroyed armies: though I know, I am only an infant compared to the violence that you have created. Still, I believe we can serve each other…and I would welcome your teaching me the true nature of war, for I am a General. So, I come to you with both pride and humility to propose an alliance.”

The war-spirit looked upon him, her eyes burning. “You have great pride in yourself and your prowess, mortal,” she said, her words slamming into him. The spirit watched him closely for signs of weakness, for any sign of him flinching back from the violence in her voice.

He showed none.

“Few are the archwizards that dare to summon me. Fewer are those that still live,” she pronounced.

Birger made a strangling noise.

Asmaldestre looked at the summoning circle around her, eyeing the gifts carefully. Her eyes shifted from the iron filings—glowing even now—to the blood in the chalice, which had begun to boil.

“Some wizards make mistakes in the spell, freeing me to slaughter them for their arrogance and incompetence. You have made none. Some seek to come to me, and elevate themselves as master, turning me into their slave. They wish for me to bend my knee to them.” She ground her teeth, metal scraping on metal. “Mortal arrogance. They think they know mastery and violence. They do not know the beginnings of such things, not in the way I do.”

A metallic talon scraped along the stone. “These ‘masters’ I shatter. Others come to me with sickening humbleness, begging and grovelling like soul-worms in devil’s soil. They forget one thing: I am no engeli. What would mortal weakness instil in me, save disgust? Others give pittances in the form of payment, or think battle is payment enough: but to battle constantly, why would I serve or ally to do something that I would do already? Others seek me for tasks beneath me. For violence suited for lesser things: an insult. You come with none of these things.”

She looked at Alex closely. “You bring proper payment. You offer an alliance, not slavery. You do not call yourself master, yet you do not grovel in a sickening manner like you mortals disgustingly do. You speak of battles that promise to be worth my attention, and I smell blood on you. The blood of many lives taken…including…”

She tilted her head to the side, the blades in her hair grinding against each other. “…a death that took place in your own soul…curious…You have done things correctly. Which is why you are not dead. But, why should I ally with a mortal? A bag of rotting, ageing flesh destined to be reaped by time. Dust that does not yet know that it is dust.”

“A demonstration, then,” Alex said. “To prove my prowess.” His thumb jerked toward Bjorgrund, as he then walked to a nearby wall and picked up his staff. Its top half was still wrapped in cloth. “I will spar with this rune-marked to show you my prowess for battle, and his.”

“Oh…oooooh…” Bjorgrund murmured.

Alex looked at Asmaldestre. “It's my hope that I can show you why you would want to ally with this…what did you call us? Dust that doesn't know it’s dust yet.”

“Acceptable. The rune-marked are an admirable creation. I would see how you do in battle against this one.”

“Alright, you're up Bjorgrund,” Alex said, spinning the staff in one hand and strolling to an empty part of the room. “Let's fight.”

The giant looked at the war-spirit, then back to the General of Thameland. “Fair enough. I think I see what's going on here. Let's give a proper show.”

With a roar, the rune-marked charged.

The wizard and the giant surge forward, weapons blurring in hand.

Alex muttered a haste spell beneath his breath, the world slowing around him, as he met Bjorgrund’s rush.

The aeld staff danced in his hand as he weaved around the giant.

Bjorgrund’s axe chased him, the weapon a blur of speed and crushing power. He danced beneath the giant’s strikes, spinning under Bjorgrund’s reach and moving into his guard.

But, the giant had learned his tricks, and slid back with an easy grace that he’d not displayed when they’d first begun sparring together. Still, Alex followed, and the two opponents whirled with massive strikes, swift dodges and quick steps.

They moved like liquid, attacks flashing between them.

Bjorgrund’s axe hissed through the air while Alex’s aeld staff crashed against Uldar’s breastplate. The giant was a wave of terrible force: a swift mountain that crushed all opponents before it. The General of Thameland was a flowing river, moving and dancing between his opponent’s blows.

Alex ducked one of Bjorgrund’s swings, snapping his staff across the metal of the giant’s breastplate. Bjorgrund's hand, releasing the haft of his axe, whipped out and grabbed Alex by the shirt, throwing the young wizard across the room.

Wind whistled in Alex's ears as he flew at horrifying speed, the wall of the chamber growing closer and closer. He reached into his soul, grasping the Traveller’s power and teleported behind his opponent, staff snapping against the giant’s leg.

With a grunt, Bjorgrund turned, his fist swinging. The young wizard teleported into the giant’s blindspot, striking at him. Bjorgrund became a blur of flowing blows, his axe carving figure-eights through the air. Alex teleported away faster than a heartbeat, appearing again and again in the giant’s blindspots, striking his larger opponent from all angles. The staff thrust from above, swung from below and struck from the side.

Even as the rune-marked weaved a storm of metal around himself, Alex responded, unleashing a hail of blows from his staff, connecting from all sides.

A swifter opponent might have been able to respond, but Bjorgrund was too slow to keep up with the General’s teleporting. He took dozens of blows, which turned to scores, then to hundreds.

His rune blazed, and he pushed himself, moving faster, but the young wizard adjusted, teleporting into his reach through his guard. None of Alex's blows were hard enough to actually hurt the giant—especially through Uldar’s armour—but they were enough to show one thing, and show it well.

In just a short while—by combining his dances, the preciseness of carving, his knowledge of anatomy, his augmenting spells and teleportation—he’d grown into the General, a deadly warrior, the Hero he was always meant to be.

“By my ancestors…” Birger murmured. “Incredible.”

“Enough,” Asmaldestre said.

The single word stopped the fight as both Alex and Bjorgrund froze, the war-spirit’s voice striking them like a blow.

Alex looked at the summoned being, his gaze levelled. “Before you say anything, I just want you to know that I didn't use most of the spells I’m capable of. If I could use all of the spells I've learned over the last few years, or even the combat spells I've learned over the last few days…this fight would've been very different.”

“He's right,” Bjorgrund said. “I saw him destroy an entire band of rune-marked, and he was a lot weaker then. Mighty war-spirit, he will make a good ally for you.”

Her eyes snapped to the giant. “You are a whelp of a rune-marked, with only one rune. But you have a good foundation. You will make a terrifying warrior one day, and as for you—” She looked at Alex. “—you are skilled in the art of violence. If you had unsheathed that weapon, your opponent would now be devastated.”

“I have a lot of room to grow. I'm new at this kind of fighting. But I intend to keep learning and grow even more,” the young wizard said. “Which brings me to a final point. If you ever plan on betraying me, then we should probably end this negotiation, and go our separate ways.”

He pointed to his chest. “I try to be fair, loyal, and kind to friends, companions, and allies. That said, I’m no doormat: I don't tolerate betrayal, and I've got something of a knack for vengeance. I may not have your skill with weapons, at least not now. I may not have your experience in battle, but I have taken the lives of enemies both ancient and strong. If you ever betray me, or harm my companions, then I won't rest until I find some way to make you wish that you’d died on a battlefield somewhere.”

“Arrogance? Now, you would threaten one such as I?” Asmaldestre asked.

The giants were making choking noises.

“Not arrogance. A promise. Everything I have stated is fact, nothing more nothing less. I was beginning to get a little annoyed that you were referring to us as ‘whelps’ and ‘dust’. I also don’t want you to have the wrong impression.”

“What wrong impression?” her words struck.

“That—you could take advantage of us—and even have a prayer of walking away from that betrayal alive,” he said, looking into her eyes.

The war-spirit watched him for a time.

Then her body began to shake.

She threw her head back, laughter tinged by fire spraying from her lips, exploded.

“Well done! I am amused and impressed, mortal! If your deeds are as strong as your words, then this will be a most pleasing alliance.”

Alex’s eyebrows raised. “Then that means—”

“I am Asmaldestre the Unmaker.” She slammed one of her front claws into the stone. “By the binding magic of this spell, I swear an oath and form an alliance with the archwizard, Alexander Roth. As long as our alliance is not broken by either party, I will follow you into battle as you might follow me.”

She grinned. “Hand me those weapons. And I will show your enemies a violence that they could never hope to understand.”

“We will,” Alex said. “We will show them a violence they can never hope to understand.”

And with that, Alex’s army was complete.

They were ready.

###

Author's Note

Hello FORTY-ONE cool fools, almighty chosen, wise sages, and mighty champions! Thank you for your support! WOW! Forty-one fools, that's awesome! Thank you all my generous friends :) It's lovely to see all the new faces.


And with this, we have ONE more chapter in book 8. Wild to think the penultimate book is almost done: it's the longest so far too.

Then we're onto the finals with everything set up! I'm excited. More tomorrow!

Cyu then!