Book 2 : Chapter 26

Jungfrau, Nussegrund

Mallorn the Elf

His head pounded, his muscles burned, his bones ached. There was no one part of him that did not feel pain. Exhausted lungs drew in short, gasping breaths and a slick layer of sweat clung to his skin. The coppery tang in the air told him he was bleeding, somewhere, but he had no idea where.

It had to be him that was bleeding, because he hadn’t landed a single hit yet.

“Your sister, Amaryllis requested that I go particularly harsh upon you.” The voice of his mentor calmly spoke above him, looming over his collapsed form with a passive expression.

His brows furrowed, considering that as he struggled to regain his stamina.

“I believe that by requesting such, she intends to discourage you.” His mentor tilted her head, and those cool, blank eyes stared down into his. “A sound enough thrashing that you will request the training with me to end, and you will be pushed towards other careers.”

Amaryllis the mage trying to get him to stop being a warrior. 

His face scrunched up with resentment. He sucked in heavy breaths and rolled across the ground, drained limbs forced to prop himself up, then heave into a standing position. He stumbled as he rose, slowly steadying himself.

With extreme effort, he stooped low, took up his training blade, and rose again.

He turned to point it at his mentor. 

“However hard she asked you to go on me- double it.” 

His voice was twisted and knotted with spite. His mentor tilted her head the other way, then slowly nodded.

“Very well.”

—

“Clumsy with that AXE, but your swordplay bears shades of a master.” 

He was in a good bit of pain, with a taste of blood on his lips and a throbbing agony behind his right eye. It was not the most pain he had ever been in- not by a good margin- but it was still enough to hamper his ability to fight.

He brought his shield up and angled to the side, sending the pale-blue blade off course from his shoulder and skipping off the flat of the immense scale. His own blade of cured bone recovered from its own deflection, twisting around in his grip and sending the pommel down to smash against his foe’s shoulder- uselessly, as that broad painted shield was there to ward against it yet again.

“Why use it, in that case?” 

He was fairly tired, having spent the earlier part of the day riding hard to reach here, immediately leaping into a battle, having a brief few hours to rest, and then leaping into another battle. He had fallen off the walls twice, ran across them twice, and climbed up their side once. It was not the most tired he had ever been, but it was enough to slow his sword-arm and legs.

The painted shield pressed forwards in a sudden, tremendous bash. Guarding against it only availed him slightly, as the immense foe pushed him back several feet with the blow. His feet slid against the ground, and his center of balance wavered-

He clenched his jaw hard enough to ache. 

-A hard stomp with his heel corrected his balance. He kicked off the battlements and forwards, immediately diving into knife-range melee with the massive dragon-rider. Shield rushing forwards in a return-bash, which was defended against in a similar manner.

The massive foe held his position briefly, then slid a half-foot backwards.

His sword flashed forwards in a motion he had performed a thousand-thousand times prior. The foe’s sword raised in a decisive parry. An immediate pivot of his wrist sent his blade twisting around his enemy’s sword like a viper, and sharply prodding into his inner arm.

He was moving fast but…

The painted shield smashed into his shoulder, sending him hard to the side to crash against the crackled battlement walls, and staggering him again. The foe followed, stepping forwards into a heavy thrust.

Mallorn’s shield raised in an instant, even as his arm protested. The blade skid sharply across its surface and into the battlement wall behind him, sinking into the stone and ripping a chunk of material off to tumble down the side of the walls. In the same motion, he thrust his arm forwards, and the edge of his shield crashed against the lower jaws of that equine helm.

The foe barely seemed to notice, falling back barely a foot, even as the jaw cracked through and loose teeth scattered through the air. 

For all of his rage-fueled strength, honed instinct, and harsh training, he was barely keeping pace with this immense general of the dead. Some distant, analytical part of him took note of that as the battle progressed. The dragon-rider was larger, stronger, and could ignore his injuries far better than Mallorn could. 

Every blow was titanic, every motion a blur, and every hit and counter-hit an upwards struggle. 

He was losing progress by the moment. He was wearing out, the enemy didn’t seem to be, and the heroine’s allies were bleeding out over there with hobbled legs or concussions. 

The massive dragonrider brought his shield to bear once more, slamming it against Mallorn’s raised guard and forcing him back against the walls, leaning forwards and bearing all of his weight down upon him. Mallorn snarled, arms struggling against the weight in an attempt to throw the foe off and away. 

The blue sword pulled back and rightened itself, readying a stab down at him. 

His weapons were pinned against him, his lower section was exposed, the enemy was readying a thrust- he’d be skewered if he didn’t do anything.

He let go of his sword, snaking his arm down to his belt, clutching hold of the handle and thrusting forwards in a motion drilled into him a thousand times. His torso twisted as he stabbed.

The blue blade stabbed into the side of his torso, skidding off the scales and going to the side again, punching into the stone walls once more.

His dagger impaled the dragonrider in the inner thigh, as deep into the left leg as it could go, stopping at the hilt. The leg lost its strength in an instant, the dragonrider faltering in his push against him.

Mallorn roared, shoving the rider back. The rider, one leg limp, staggered back a solid foot.

Mallorn kicked off the wall, pressing the advantage, and tackled the rider as hard as he could. Shield pressed against shield, gauntleted hand reaching down to grab the uninjured thigh and lift it from the ground.

Bone clad feet skid across the battlement floor, then to the thin wooden fencing that prevented men from falling off the interior side. The boards of the fencing cracked uneasily with the weight of their impact.

Mallorn locked eyes with the dragonrider.

He pulled his shield back, braced his legs, and slammed his entire weight into his opponent again. The thin planks of the interior fencing snapped and gave way.

Both of them began to tumble down, ushered by merciless gravity off the walls and to the ground below. For the third time, and first time deliberately, Mallorn fell from the battlements. 

Pale blue orbs pulsed beneath an equine skull as they fell, staring into his.

They smashed into the roof before they hit the ground, shattering through a layer of clay tiles, then wooden boards, then falling into a room below in a shower of dust and splinters. A sturdy wooden beam struck along the way separated them in their flight, and Mallorn’s vision swam as his back hit something solid and rolled.

Eventually he came to a stop. Pain wracked his body as wobbling limbs attempted to force him up again. He blinked rapidly, trying to correct his vision and orient himself. 

He was in horrible condition, but he had advanced their position. Now that the enemy was removed from the walls, the Heroine could heal her party and return them to the fight. 

A severed arm laid on the ground before him, clutching a long, pale blue blade. Mallorn lunged forwards, seizing the blade by the hilt and raising it before him. His vision continued to clear-

-A shield smashed into his guard, then continued to push, pressing him into something sturdy.

“Such rich MANA in those scales.” The dragonrider pushed harder, angling the shield to lift him entirely off the ground against the hard surface behind him. “Whose bones do you wear, reckless Elf?”

“D-do you ever shut up?” Mallorn hissed, bringing up both legs and kicking the dragonrider away, freeing him from the grip and making him fall to the floor. He rolled at once, as the dragonrider returned the kick. Bone clad foot smashed into the side of a wooden pillar and made the entire building quake as it cracked through. 

“I have no idea who you are, why would I have anything to say to you?!” He growled, swinging pale blue blade as he rose and forcing the dragonrider to defend with that same painted shield. The sword was heavy- clearly built with the stature of the dragonrider in mind, and his weary arms strained to swing it. 

It was not as heavy as his axe. He continued the pressure, feeling that if he allowed the dragonrider a moment of freedom he’d lose. 

The dragonrider no longer seemed to be hobbled from the dagger in his thigh, maintaining an impenetrable defense with his shield. Mallorn’s heavy swings pressed him as far back as a countertop- they were in some sort of bar he now realized.

A pale light grew from the stump that once held the dragonrider’s other arm. Dragonrider surged forwards, deflecting a thrust and slamming the rim of his shield into his shoulder in the same motion. Mallorn maintained his guard-

A pale, insubstantial hand passed right through his shield and slammed into his chest, palm glowing with the symbol of an abstract beetle. Mallorn staggered back but felt surprisingly little pain- the motion more of a shove than a proper blow.

What followed next was a proper blow, as the dragonrider charged him, shield slamming into his midsection and mighty legs carrying them a dozen feet. His back smashed against the door of the bar and broke through in an instant.

The dragonrider’s charge brought them as far as the brick walls of a building across a narrow street. Breath was forced from his lungs in a painful compression as his back crashed against the brick and cracked the wall. He raised his guard-

-The dragonrider’s massive knee slammed into his now-exposed midsection, driving the wind from his lungs again. Mallorn wheezed as he slid against the brick.

A shield slammed into his guard again before he could recover, driving him back against the wall.

Then another massive knee to his torso.

Then another smashing shield-blow. 

He barely had the sense of mind to adapt his guard. His pilfered sword went low this time, fending off the next knee before it could reach his gut. 

The shield came wide, practically scrapping him off the wall and throwing him bodily. Another dozen feet he flew, rolled, and then crashed into the back of something solid. 

He was in a prison of blows and staggers. His armor could hold, but the flesh beneath couldn’t. 

He pulled himself up along the low shelf of brick he had been thrown against- a well by the looks of it, staggering to his feet and raising the blade again. 

He needed an escape.

In desperation, he poured mana into his blade. A pale blue light shone forth. 

He glanced at it, vision blurred, then at the approaching dragonrider. He swung, timing a pulse of his mana into the blade with the apex of his swing. 

A crack-boom of pallid energy exploded forwards from the blade, blinding him briefly with its brilliant fury. It was surprisingly intuitive, or perhaps he was simply lucky, but his first attempt to wield the arcane properties of the blade bore fruit. A wave of destructive, unfocused energy followed the swing.

The pale wave splashed uselessly against a thin barrier of similarly hue-blue. A splash of energy rippled out to the sides, ripping up the ground and the walls of the buildings to either side of his target.

The dragonrider lowered his pristine painted shield. Pale blue orbs aglow beneath a cracked skull helm. “A curious hue, reckless elf.” The dragonrider continued to march forwards, relentlessly approaching even as Mallorn began to back away. 

That shield defended him from magic, including his own sword it looked like. Attacking him directly was useless. 

He charged the blade again and swung.

The pale wave smashed into the ground between them, kicking up a massive burst of dust, dirt, and rubble. The wave of dust engulfed both of them, cutting off any hope of using vision for a few moments. 

Mallorn couldn’t see a thing.

He could, however, clearly hear exactly where his enemy was and what they were doing by the rustle of their armor. He removed his helmet and tossed it gently to the side. It made a distinct thump as it landed, near enough to the enemy that a lunge would close the distance and skewer him.

The enemy rushed forwards in a heavy bash with his shield.

Mallorn wasn’t there. 

The dragonrider turned just in time to see a pale blue blade emerge from the dust and skewer him in the side. The glowing tip of the sword punching through a layer of weakened bone, into something dry and crunchy, then out the other side. 

“DIE!” Mallorn commanded, pulsing mana into the blade. 

He couldn’t miss if the blade was lodged in his target’s torso.

The torso burst open, splinters of bone, scraps of cloth, and specs of dried blood engulfing him, carried along by a rippling explosion of pale energy. 

The painted shield slammed into his face. A sharp crack followed, and blackness engulfed him.

His vision returned shortly after, a throbbing agony in his skull pulsing to the rhythm of his heartbeat. One of his eyes was obscured by the coppery wetness distinct to blood. He pushed up but lost his balance, collapsing again, the entire world tilting one way, then the other.

He snarled, slamming a fist into the ground and staggering to his feet regardless. 

The dragonrider was hunched over, entire body slouched to one side. A massive hole had been opened in his torso, tearing right through his side, spine, and whatever aged flesh might have once been there. It was a tear wide enough that Mallorn could’ve stuck his arm through and not hit the sides. 

Pale, blue, insubstantial bones supported a torso that should’ve collapsed long ago.

A frustrated scream bubbled up from his lungs. “Go back to being dead already!” 

The dragonrider turned to him, tilted his head, then began to walk forwards again. “You do not have what it takes to kill me, elf. None but my master do.” 

“Mastarma.” A voice called from above in flowing elvish.

The dragonrider raised his shield just in time to catch a brilliant pillar of scorching light and heat. A ray of burning light that banished every shadow from its vicinity and seared his vision. 

A ray of light that was pressed against a pale blue bubble, unable to press through. For all of the strength of the furious pillar, it could do no real harm to the warrior beneath that barrier. A lone arm raised above the dragonrider’s head holding back the wrath of the heavens.

Leaving him wide open for his wrath.

Mallorn threw himself forwards in a furious, stumbling charge. The horse-skull helm slowly turned to face him, but the shield could not move lest the column of radiance pass through and consume the defender. 

The dragonrider took a heavy step backwards. The pillar of light followed him. Mallorn’s charge continued dauntlessly. 

Soon, he was equally below the radiant pillar, sheltered only by that pale blue barrier projected by the shield. If the defense fell, Mallorn would likewise be consumed by the spell.

His eyes locked with the pale blue orbs of the dragonrider. He leapt forwards and up, arm pulled back.

The pale blue sword cleaved through the arm holding the shield up. 

The bubble flickered. Mallorn passed the dragonrider. The dragonrider’s foot raised, crashing into his midsection and sending him flying. 

Mallorn smirked through the pain. The fool just kicked him out of the way.

Just before he hit the ground, the pillar of light finally descended upon dragonrider and shield both. Hot, scalding, evaporative energy at once began to turn both into ash.

He landed on the ground and rolled to a slow stop, agony filling his body. He laid there for a few moments, pushing up just enough to watch the screaming tower of light erase any trace of the enemy, then any trace of the road beneath, and the nearby well, and the outer layer of nearby walls surrounding the point. A focused ray of utter annihilation, blinding to behold. 

Struggling to breathe through the torment in his chest, he managed a victorious smirk. He slowly pulled himself up on hands and knees, almost retching as every motion brought renewed pain. 

Blood was dripping from his head, landing on the ground in steady droplets. He watched them fall for a few moments, briefly fascinated by how they landed and splattered across the cobbled road. The screaming pillar of light cut out, and the world returned to the darkness of a normal evening light.

A pale blue light caught his attention. His lone open eye slowly fell down towards the source.

A symbol burned on the center of his scaled tunic.

“You were a fool to wield BONE against us.” A voice whispered without presence, words appearing in his thoughts. 

Some terrible force seized hold of his limbs, yanking them into position in spite of his pains and commands, forcing him up as a puppet on a string. 

He strained and thrashed in his armor, but the armor continued to step forwards, seizing hold of the pale blue sword and his discarded helmet again. 

The gauntlets, moving of their own accord and keeping his hands trapped within them, slipped the helmet over his head and fastened the strap to secure it once more. 

“We will have plenty of time to talk as I finish my mission, elf.”

Against his will, his head turned up to look upon the battlements. The Chosen Heroine looked down from across the edge, flanked by her newly-healed companions. 

His armor took one step forwards, carrying him along with it. 

The helm locked tight against his jaw, straps pressing into his throat from below. Teeth clenched, he strained out a warning as loudly as he could. “My armor! He’s possessing my armor!”

A blistering, impotent rage bloomed in his breast as he tried to work out a means of escape.

All the while, his armor walked.