Chapter 73
A spiked shield in my left hand, the Axe of Khargan in my right, and a rank of four Druchii spearmen before me. Their marksmen were positioned on one flank, while the priest and a swordsman held the other.
The Acolyte of Khaine raised his ritual chalice above his head. Streams of reddish energy spiraled out from it toward his minions. Hold on...
"Hey, Loom-Pia, are these pointed-ears using the same kind of empowerment I am?"
"It is commendable that you are learning to distinguish the basic laws of the universe, warm-blood. Indeed, through sacrifice, this primitive priest has gathered the essence of others into that cult object, and now he shares that power with his allies."
Shit. On the other hand, if I take the energy from his chalice, I might fill my own to the brim.
Two clicks rang out. The marksmen discharged their repeaters at Liandra. The elf managed to deflect one bolt and dodge the other. But there was no time to relax. These Druchii used repeater crossbows. We couldn't let them pick us off at their leisure.
The Khainite priest raised his sword, and a dark crimson shimmer enveloped the blade. He was about to cast.
I lunged toward Liandra to shield her from the spell. I made it, but not entirely. A dark tentacle grazed the girl before I blocked its path. The spell dissipated. I felt a nasty, bone-chilling cold. Normal Winds of Magic empower me, but this filth brought nothing but discomfort.
Besides the priest, the crossbowmen remained a problem. Now they were firing at me. I took one bolt on the shield, but a second buried itself in my thigh.
Against the backdrop of the Khainite's foul magic, the pain felt especially sharp. I hadn't felt anything like it in a long while. I sensed that I wasn't absorbing life force right now; quite the opposite—I was losing it.
Should I use the Ash Whip? Or just charge the dagger with the Wind of Aqshy to snap myself out of it?
Suddenly, a projectile flew past us. Or rather, a massive object. Liandra was right. Cages are always useful in Clar Karond, especially when you have a giant crocodile who can hurl them at the enemy. A loud crash and a metallic clang followed. The thrown cage slammed onto the black cobblestones of the road leading to the city.
The Druchii managed to react, however. Out of the entire enemy squad, the cage only struck one spearman, knocking him flat. The others dove out of the way just in time. But it broke their formation. I had to exploit their hesitation and go on the offensive.
Or rather, I had to limp furiously toward the slaughter! The bolt in my left leg wasn't going anywhere. More sharpened iron might have joined it, but the Khainite barked a command.
"Shoot the girl and the lizards! I need the human alive!"
It's nice to know you're wanted by someone in this cold and gloomy world. Wanted alive, no less! By local standards, that's a luxury.
The crossbowmen switched their focus back to Liandra. I hoped she could react in time. There was no time to cover her. A spearman and a dual-wielding fighter were moving toward me. The Druchii acted with confidence. There was a lethal precision in his movements, bolstered by the priest's magic, while I couldn't fight at full speed.
"Time to show the beast its place," the elf smirked, pointing both blades at me.
In that stance, the Druchii slightly resembled a praying mantis. Two swords are a questionable choice in terms of functionality. Delivering a proper blow with them isn't that simple. In my home world, the dual-wielding style was the province of movie stuntmen or legendary figures like Miyamoto Musashi. However, in terms of reaction speed, coordination, and agility, the Druchii was a very unpleasant surprise. He unleashed a literal whirlwind of strikes from both sides. He had a perfect sense of distance, refusing to let me get close enough for an axe strike or a shield bash. He was landing three or four hits per second, alternating directions. I was forced to retreat, barely holding back the storm with my shield.
The spearman didn't even need to get involved. The swordsman was pressing me hard enough when suddenly...
Clink!
Focused entirely on me, the swordsman didn't notice a stone—likely thrown by the Skink—strike his helmet. The small projectile didn't cause serious damage, but it made him leap back in surprise.
I seized the moment. Dropping my shield, I drew the dagger with my left hand and activated the magic within. An Ash Whip tried to ensnare the swordsman, but several protective amulets on his person flared red and shattered. The Ash Whip lost its form, turning into a vortex. Nevertheless, even a parried spell caused harm. Dawi-Zharr quality remains top-tier! A whirlwind of ash and crimson sparks engulfed the swordsman, blinding him.
I lunged forward, pushing through the pain in my leg. I needed to cut the bastard down before he recovered, but the spearman stepped in my way. Dammit!
Rage gave me strength, but my mind remained cold. Provoking the enemy with a short step toward him, I caught the shaft of his spear between the spikes on the poll of the Axe of Khargan. Deflecting the elf's weapon, I closed the distance and drove the dagger into his neck with my left hand. He tried to cover himself with his shield, but he was too slow.
Blood at last!
The first drops fell into the bottom of my sacrificial chalice. Just over half of the first segment. Life became simpler and more pleasant.
However, that cursed swordsman had already recovered. The Skink threw another stone, but the Druchii dodged it. The swordsman was advancing on me again. Fortunately, he had jumped back to escape the spell, so there was some distance between us.
Now it was my turn to retreat. I tucked the discharged dagger into my belt and, backing away, retrieved my shield. The swordsman closed in.
The skirmish was proving harder than I had anticipated.
Out of the corner of my eye, I tried to see how the other members of the squad were faring.
Liandra was trying to dodge the spells being hurled at her by the Acolyte of Khaine. Shit! We should have swapped opponents! Give her the dual-wielding fop, and let me handle the sorcerer.
And where were the crossbowmen and spearmen? I couldn't lose sight of them.
The other Khainite lackeys were occupied with a game called "Run away from the Kroxigor." The crocodile-headed beast was enthusiastically trying to catch one Druchii, then another. Unfortunately, the rank-and-file Dark Elves were still managing to evade the lizard's grasping claws.
"Do you have any idea how much those charms cost?!" With those words, the swordsman launched a new, even more furious attack.
His blades darted forward in lightning-fast, precise, and calculated thrusts. No wasted movement. My attempts to catch one of the swords between the spikes of my shield didn't end well. I took a few superficial cuts on my forearms. It had been a long time since I had such a hard time against a single opponent. I had grown used to hacking crowds of small fry into mincemeat under blood buffs or surprising the enemy with dagger magic at the decisive moment. None of that was working here. I just had to fight. And the Dark Elf clearly had far more experience with his weapons.
However, I still had one more trump card. While the swordsman pressed his attack, the Skink had managed to reach the Druchii I killed and retrieve his spear. Holding the weapon in both hands, the small Lizardman moved behind the swordsman. The Druchii wore armor, but I was sure a weak spot could be found.
I just needed to hold on for a few more seconds and...
The Druchii suddenly leapt to the side, spun around, and dealt with the Skink in two motions. First, he deflected the spear thrust with the flat of the blade in his left hand, and then with the sword in his right, he slashed across the unfortunate lizard from neck to belly.
Bitch!
We just met!
I surged into the attack, drawing more drops of empowerment from the life force draining out of the Lizardman's horrific wound. I plowed straight into the swordsman. He didn't falter and tried to sweep my legs on the turn. However, I had enough reaction speed and resolve to block the first strike with my shield and take the second on my axe. Blocking isn't as reliable as dodging, but right now I had to pressure the enemy.
The swordsman made an attempt to break the distance. I literally jumped at him. Throwing my arms wide, I closed with the enemy and slammed my forehead into his. Not the best idea, considering the Dark Elf was wearing a helmet. Sparks flew before my eyes, but I managed to stagger an opponent who was noticeably lighter than me. After that, a single axe blow decided everything.
The swordsman tried to block it, but the Chaos-forged blade shattered his sword and bit deep into his neck. I might not have known how to fence like the experienced Druchii yet, but I had certainly learned how to hit hard.
I turned toward Liandra. She had already finished the priest. It wasn't an easy victory. The elf didn't seem to have any bleeding wounds, but she was deathly pale and could barely stand. The enemy had drained some of her life force, and Liandra had cut off his head. That proved more effective than Khainite sorcery.
In total, we laid down four Druchii bastards. The rest scattered. Without their leader and best fighter, they had no intention of returning to the fray.
I looked at the Skink. Was there still a chance to save him? No. He had been literally gutted.
Curled into a ball, the lizard was bleeding out onto the black stones of the Druchii road.
"Take the ritual chalice of the barbarian priest and hold it to the wounded servant."
"Can the Skink be saved with that?"
"Just follow my instructions, warm-blood. There is no time for long-winded explanations. Saving the life of this minor servant of the Old Ones requires speed."
While Loom-Pia "briefly" explained that we were short on time, I ripped the bolt out of my thigh and consumed the available segments of the blood chalice. There wasn't enough energy in it for full healing. The wound closed, but my leg continued to throb. With all the speed I could muster, I limped toward the dead Khainite. Liandra had slumped to the cobblestones beside him. Her lips had turned blue. I noticed the elf was shivering. I hoped she wasn't about to kick the bucket!
"Take the chalice to Tezal, split it in half with a single blow, and before the life force escaping the artifact dissipates, draw the symbols I show you in blood."
"Got it."
However, I also grabbed Liandra along with the chalice. I took her under the arm and dragged her to where the Skink was bleeding out. Laying the semi-conscious girl down nearby, I prepared to strike the ritual cup, which was decorated with sinister silver spikes along the rim.
"Are you trying to help the elven creature as well? Such an act may weaken the healing. This individual has exhausted her usefulness to our goal and is now creating problems. Set her aside, warm-blood."
"And stay alone surrounded by thousands of pointed-eared maniacs? No. For all her faults, Liandra is a devil I know. She can still be useful to us. I'm hitting the chalice."
While Pepe and I argued mentally, the Kroxigor approached, leaning over the dying Skink and gently placing a massive palm on him. A touching scene. With his other hand, the Kroxigor held half of a torn-apart elf and was eating him bit by bit. Sadness is sadness, but lunch is on schedule.
The Axe of Khargan easily split the decorated metal of the chalice. I heard groans and death rattles. I saw clouds of red haze erupt from the artifact, in which the silhouettes of humans, elves, orcs, and many other living beings could be discerned. These were likely the echoes of the souls of the unfortunate victims the Khainite had used to fill his blood cup.
I immediately set aside my weapon and nicked both my index fingers on the blade of one of my stilettos. I didn't want to spill my own blood with a Chaos weapon.
"Reproduce this as accurately as possible," the Hypnotoad commanded.
Vague images of geometric patterns began to appear before my eyes. As fast as I could, I transferred them onto Liandra's cheek and the Skink's side. I drew them with my own blood.
It seemed simple enough, but it was incredibly difficult given the haste and lack of practice. The last time I had redrawn anything was in school. Now I had to use both hands. I got lucky, though. The geometric patterns were reproducible even without experience in inscription.
"Now step back. Do not interfere with the magic."
My artwork flared crimson. The reddish mist from the broken chalice seemed to be sucked into them. My blood dried and vanished. Simultaneously, the Skink's wound healed, and Liandra regained consciousness.
"It's strange that I managed to cast sorcery," I thought.
"You did not cast it, warm-blood. If the ritual is performed correctly, the symbols should be activated by a consecrated priest. They only worked now because there is so much life force spilled around. It is not always easy to start a normal fire, but when the grass is dry or a flammable mixture has been spilled, a single small spark is enough for a great flame to erupt. I hope you can understand this analogy."
"Understand? Oh, perish the thought, Great One! It worked, and that's enough."
Both wounded began to recover. I also received a bit more life force. Two segments of the chalice filled, which I consumed, finally healing the wound on my thigh. How wonderful it feels when nothing hurts!
While Liandra and the Skink were coming to, I snatched the dead priest's purse. I also took whatever valuables I could find on the other Druchii during a quick search.
The Kroxigor, meanwhile, had stopped being sad and was devotedly devouring Dark Elf meat. Why not? It's fresh.
Liandra's gaze finally focused. She surveyed the site of the recent skirmish and tried to stand up abruptly, but nearly fell. I had to take her by the arm. It might have looked like a moment of intimacy. In romantic comedies and anime, relationships are built on this. However, the girl was in armor. So I couldn't count on any special closeness.
"We need to leave," the Dark Elf said, breathing heavily. "The survivors might return with reinforcements."
"Then to the gates?"
"No. That's the most dangerous place right now. We need to circle the city from the other side."
"Reasonable," I agreed, then turned to the Skink. "Tezal, how are you? Can you walk?"
The Skink had already started his meal by then. He had an appetite. That was good.
"Of course, Commander Jurg," the lizard replied with a bow. "My thanks to Lord Loom-Pia. I would have been very sad to die, knowing I had accomplished so little for him."
"Let's move," I ordered. "If more meat runs over, you might get indigestion, and I might get iron poisoning."
"Does your kind of warm-blood eat iron?" the Skink asked.
The local reptiloids have a poor sense of humor. Fine. Enough stand-up; time to get out.
We first headed away from the city along the road. The Kroxigor dragged his cage with one claw and chewed on the corpse of the over-eager swordsman with the other. Serves him right, the damned fop. I suffered enough from his feints and pirouettes. We tossed another corpse into the cage. For reserves, so to speak.
The road beneath our feet was smooth, wide, and built to last. A true transport artery. In the Empire of Sigmar, things were much worse. The transport arteries there suffered from chronic thrombosis, or even a full logistical stroke. I don't know if Malekith makes speeches to his people. If he does, he can certainly brag about the road construction.
However, I suspect so much effort wasn't put in for the comfort of the population. These roads would allow troops to be moved here quickly if a local Dreadlord started showing signs of defiance. In that case, many of Liandra's colleagues would march to the city walls and explain to everyone exactly why Malekith is the best king in the world.
Turning off the road, we took cover in a small grove.
"Tell the little lizard to try and cover our tracks," Liandra suggested. "If they manage to organize a pursuit, they will definitely hire a shade."
I passed her words to the Skink. He, of course, immediately set to work. The most obedient subordinate in my entire career as a commander.
"So, you're Tezal. Got it," I said to the Skink as he brushed away our tracks. "And what's the Kroxigor's name?"
"I don't know. We are not from the same spawning. We haven't worked together. Hey, Big Mouth, do you remember your name?"
"Na... me..." the crocodile repeated slowly, distracted from his meal.
"He might have forgotten it or never received one at all," the Skink explained.
"How can that be?" I asked, surprised. "Names make communication much easier."
"One does not need to communicate with everyone. There are Kroxigors who guard pools, hatcheries, and other important places. Names might not be useful there. But most likely, he simply forgot it. Right, Big Mouth? No one reminded you of it for a long time, and you just forgot. Or maybe you're flustered because of the elven creatures?"
"Name..." the crocodile repeated. "For... got..."
"Then you need a new name," I replied. "It's hard to communicate without one. What should I call you? Gena? Valera?"
A few more options flashed through my head, but I wanted something connected to the world I had landed in. And then a curious thought crossed my mind... and why not, actually?
"Hey, Big Mouth," I addressed the Kroxigor. "From now on, your name is Bone-render."