Chapter Forty Two: Familiar Issues (Part one)
The night was calm and peaceful, the walking hut brooding over the members of the King's Special and their allies, watching the play of moonlight and cloud shadow over the ruins until the sky began to lightning with the first shifting colours of dawn.
"Whoop," it muttered, putting its head under its own wings, "Whoop."
Thorian snorted, sniffed, rolled over and stretched. Scratching he sat up and looked around. Quenril and the other Ash Elves were already rising, hurrying to roll up their sleeping bags and get out from under the walking hut's wing. The changing sky was a fascination to them and they were developing a habit of making sure they could watch the sunrise before they had to pull down the brims of their hats to protect their eyes against the glare. Used to the dim lights of the Underworlds, the hats that the dwergs had made them had proved invaluable, shielding their eyes as they adjusted to living top side of the world.
"Sir Ulrich?" Quenril called softly, "Will you be joining us?"
"Ummmm," Ulrich rolled over with a yawn, "In a minute, you go on ahead." He started to relax again... and then a lump under his legs humped. "Er what," Ulrich mumbled. The lump humped again and wriggled, bouncing up and down until Tikrumpdel's many chinned face snuffled and snorted out from under the now folded over bed roll. His yellow eyes glared and he snorted a puff of smoke. With a sigh he wiggled and heaved until he managed to get one clawed, tubby paw out from under the sleeping bag. He paused, puffing, and then wriggled again, reaching with his one free paw, digging his claws into the turf to gain purchase and until his could yank the other leg free. He paused again, glaring over at Ulrich's sleeping bulk.
"When I'm back to my more normal size I'm going to lay on you and find out if you like it," he grumbled and then set to wriggling again. With a final heave he popped free of the smothering folds, chin smearing the floor, wings flapping out and back feet and tubby tail winding up in the air.
"I hate you," he grumbled and galumphed round to wrinkled his snout at Ulrich. Ulrich dozed on, unperturbed by the dragon's ire. Tikrumpdel sniffed and wriggled his snout as he considered it. He could bite Ulrich, he could indeed but at his present size that could end poorly for him. At his present size? Something about that thought tapped the back of his brain. At his present size? At his present size he could...
Tikrumpdel grinned, stretching and flexing his wings. Ulrich mumbled and pulled the sleeping bag up to his nose as the breeze ran chill little claws round his chin.
"Five more minutes," he mumbled rolling on to his back, pulling the bed roll higher and the breeze didn't give up. He frowned in his dozing state, a strange flapping, almost clapping noise echoing under the wings of the walking hut.
The weight crashed into his breast bone, driving the air from his lungs and startling him awake with a smack. His eyes flew open as he tried and failed, to sit up. Tikrumpdel's snout filled his vision as the dragon puffed smoke straight in his face.
"Tikrumpdel," Ulrich coughed, waving a hand to try and disperse the vapours, "As much as I appreciate the wake up call..." He dissolved into another fit of coughing. "As much as I appreciate the help getting up, I don't need a cigar this early in the morning." He coughed again.
"Oh? Are you awake?" Tikrumpdel asked, head cocked on one side, "Oh goody. And here I was thinking that you rolled on me because you were still asleep."
"Wait what?" Ulrich asked, still trying to make all the gears line up in his head. Too late. Tikrumpdel galumphed off of him, taking the longest route to do so and somehow smacking Ulrich in the face with his tail as he turned round on Ulrich's chest. By the time he was off and away Ulrich was fighting to get his breath back and wondering if he had a cracked rib or two.
"Whoop?" the walking hut asked, looking in at him, "Whoop?"
"Yeah, some watch dog you are," Ulrich muttered, struggling out of his bed roll.
"Whoop," the walking hut sounded reproachful and withdraw, shuffling but not standing as Ulrich struggled to roll up his sleeping bag.
Outside, as the sky lightened towards the misty purple of dawn, Tikrumpdel galumphed across the ground and eyed up the still empty fire pit. He belched quietly and started sniffing the rocks that had been placed in a line around the outer edge. He knocked one, two, three into the middle of the fire blackened circle and then knocked one the other way.
Kaelin came winging down out of the tree where she had spent the night, shaking her pinions straight as she watched Tikrumpdel start circling wider and wider around the fire pit.
"What are you doing?" she asked as he started scratching at the dirty.
"More," he muttered, "Need more." He clawed up a sone and sniffed it. He snorted and rolled it away. Kaelin watched him for a few more moments and then started gathering stones for him to sniff.
Altan was walking down the wing vanes of the walking hut, tugging his shirt straight even as he frowned at the vaguely flat topped pile of rocks that had taken the place of fire wood in the fire pit, when Tikrumpdel decided that he'd found enough. The miniature lava dragon started sucking air like he was trying to inflate himself and then stretched his jaws wide. The flame roared in the early morning air, dancing in the colours of a bright Sunset Daylily over his pile of selected stones. Tikrumpdel kept exhaling, eyes narrowed, throat flexing as the beam of flame narrowed and brightened, shifting through yellow to white to blue, the noise of it going high and thin, almost a whistle.
Tikrumpdel clacked his teeth together and shook, dog like. The stones in the pit glowed a dull orange and the heat shimmered in the air above them.
"Alina?" Altan called, half turning the to walking hut but Alina was already coming down the wooden vane steps, Ulrich's kettle held in one hand. Altan held up a finger and quick stepped back up into the walking hut, emerging a moment later with a pair of long handled tongs.
"Is it not up to standard?" Tikrumpdel sniffed, eyes unhappy.
"Up to standard?" Altan asked, "Oh, it is up to standard, but if we put the kettle on any of these rocks directly it will melt the bottom out of the metal. We need to put something of a buffer in for it." He carefully lifted a rock out of the centre of the mass and replaced it with a cold one. A few minutes after Alina had carefully set the kettle on it the steam started pouring from the spout and the whistle started building.
"Now for that sound I will admit that I am awake," Ulrich emerged from under the wings of the walking hut, "I am awake. Repeat until convinced.... I'm not convinced."
Altan on the other hand was looking at Tikrumpdel.
"Told you that you might want a better version of your old forge," Tikrumpdel beamed.
"I'm convinced," Altan smiled, "The question remains though over payment and the going market rate of where we are heading."
"I've been thinking of that as well," Tikrumpdel stretched with a satisfied roll of his shoulders, "It seems to me that this King must have a fairly good grasp of logistics and strategy. Therefore he must have some sort of defensive force and Ulrich did mention something about the Northern Cuirassiers. Where there are soldiers there must be a need for equipment and where there is a need for equipment..."
"There's the need for a blacksmith," Altan smiled back, "And a blacksmith who can forge dragon tempered weapons can state his price and someone will pay it."
"And I'm sure that you will share your rewards with your draconic partner," Tikrumpdel stated, tongue flickering and tasting the air.
"Only a fool would try to make it another way," Altan inclined his head as he stabbed a slice of bread on to a toasting fork and held it out to the glowing rocks.
"Um," Ulrich frowned as he sipped his cup of tea, "Aren't you a little small to be guarding a hoard?"
"I won't always be small," Tikrumpdel flumped around to look up at him, "And even if I am, it might actually be an advantage, I'll be able to hide my hoard in a smaller space and if I can't guard it on my own, I'll hire some guards to help me out. It will be a wrench to have to pay them but if I consider that to not be a proper part of my hoard I might be able to do it. There is something to be said to having small people on your side, many eyes and all that."
"You could try hiring out some of your hoard to people on the understanding that they have to give it back within a certain time frame, with interest, or they become your servants and have to work for you," Jeremiah suggested.
"Oh lord," Ulrich put a hand up to his forehead, "Don't tell him about interest and what you just described is slavery, not servitude."
"Interest?" Tikrumpdel asked, "What is interest?"
"Oh lord," Ulrich muttered, "Here we go." But Jeremiah was leaning in with a smile and exampling about simple interest and compound interest, principal amounts and the tactics that could be used to keep someone in debt and therefore paying perpetually. By the time he'd finished, Tikrumpdel's thick tail was beating a tattoo on the soil while his eyes shone and sparkled.
"To start this off I'm going to need some extra money, aren't I?" he asked, "I can't barter a loan, can I? From what you are saying people want gold coins when they are negotiating a loan, not a barrel of cinnamon."
Ulrich choked and spat his tea across the heat rocks. Thorian frowned and shock tea off his hand but didn't say anything as Ulrich continued to cough and choke while Estella pounded him on the back.
"Oh, is cinnamon important?" Tikrumpdel blinked innocently. Ulrich tried to answer but turned red and started coughing again.
"You might as well ask if gold is important," Kaelin said wryly.
"Oh," Tikrumpdel lengthened his neck as much as possible, wings twitching, "Is cinnamon really that valuable to you little folk?"
"Let's put it this way," Kaelin folded her arms, "I once stole a handful of cinnamon sticks and I traded them two at a time to several different merchants. The money I got fed me for a month."
"And that from a handful?" Tikrumpdel's tail wasn't just beating on the ground, his whole body was bouncing up and down, his eyes seeming to whirl with colours.
"Just..." Ulrich began, coughed, swallowed a mouthful of tea and tried again, "Just be careful to not flood the market in one area or the price will go down. Kaelin did right be selling off her... supply a little at a time."
"This does bare thinking about," Tikrumpdel rumbled, "This does bare thinking about a lot." He wriggled around a little.
"I still would wonder how you are going to protect your gains if you remain this small," Jeremiah noted.
"I'll figure something out," Tikrumpdel shrugged and galumphed at the same time, making his body move in interesting ways as he rippled towards Estella. "Beside," he crawled into her lap and rolled over, "I'm beginning to enjoy being this size, it certainly has its advantages." He half closed his eyes as Estella scratched his tummy. "I don't suppose you'd consider sharing this one?"
Estella's left eye turned black.
"Would you consider sharing your barrels of cinnamon?" Valodrael asked flatly. Tikrumpdel made a show of considering it as Estella's right hand continued scratching his belly scales.
"I guess not," he sighed, "Still, I don't suppose you'd consider employment?"
"Meaning?" Valodrael asked, cocking Estella's eyebrow.
"Well, whether or not you regain your own flesh and blood, you could really do with a place to settle your hoard," Tikrumpdel stretched and shifted so Estella could more easily reach a particular itch, "To do that among the small people you need some money. If I employ you to guard my hoard you'd have some money and I wouldn't ask that many questions about how you kept the thieves away or how you disposed of any, ha, inconveniences, shall we say."
"You do know that would be obstructing the course of justice," Jeremiah smiled nastily, "King Tatsuya has a dim view of such things, though I'm sure that Lady Estella would make a delightful permanent addition to the King's Special."
"And why would King Tatsuya be worried about a few low lives suddenly no longer bothering the kingdom?" Tikrumpdel rolled over and yawned, stretching luxuriantly as Estella scratched between his wings, his eyes half lidded as every muscle unwound, "After all if there is no trace of them trying to break and enter my hoard then, well, plausible deniability is a wonderful thing, quite... delicious."
Above him, on Estella's face, a smile that was all dragon and all hunger twisted her mouth. Valodrael hadn't had breakfast the previous day, in fact he hadn't eaten the previous day.
"Now I'm just plain worried," Ulrich muttered.
"You don't have to be, as long as you are not planning to steal from me," Tikrumpdel seemed on the verge of going to sleep again, "I may even be willing to give you a loan towards future expenses, though we'd have to work out how you were going to get the repayments back to me. Hum...." He seemed to drift further off, eyes almost covered by the nictitating membrane nearly covering them. "Maybe a courier service, armoured carriages, heavily armed guards, that sort of thing. If all their arms and armour belong to me as well then, that would be even more of my hoard and an advertisement of mine and Altan's craft work..."
"Why are you thinking of working as a blacksmith's bellows if you are running a money racket?" Jeremiah demanded, shocked.
"Because I want to do something where I can earn the money as a piece of the hoard that is never loaned out," Tikrumpdel's eyes opened up more, "Because I want to see if I can. Because it will be good advertising for my services. And because, unbelievable to some though it is, if I work my flame, I may just lose some of this flubber!"
He bounced slightly in Estella's lap and Valodrael's darkness faded from her eye as she winced. There was a cheep and Tikrumpdel squeaked, trying to twist his head over his shoulder to glare at whatever had just nipped his tail tip. He lifted a wing, scowling.
Estella's red cardinal talisman cheeped again, hopping in the dust. Tikrumpdel swished his tail further away from it and then yipped, twisting to give the evils below his other wing. The black Devil Flower Mantis talisman reared high, arms up, wings out, quick stepping from side to side and rubbing her knee joints against her thorax to make a high buzzing sound, not unlike a cricket.
Tikrumpdel went to swish his tail away from her and hesitated. The black Devil Flower Mantis darted in and punched with one arm before darting back, straining her arms high and shaking back and forth. Tikrumpdel twisted, turned and galumphed round in Estella's lap. The black Devil's Flower Mantis backed up, her arms still high, fizzing her wings.
Tikrumpdel narrowed his eyes. The way the black Devil's Flower Mantis was tapping her antenna and flicking her mouth parts made it look as if she was rasping her tongue at him while knocking herself on the head.
Tikrumpdel bunched and then threw himself off of Estella's lap,thumping into the dust and charging off on his belly after the talismans. The black Devil's Flower Mantis jumped and fluttered backwards towards the wooden wing vanes of the walking hut and then jumped again, dancing lightly over the dust that Tikrumpdel had to charge through. He was faster than expected but his endurance wasn't up to much. He stopped, panting, glaring at the little wooden figurine as she flitted over the ground. He squeaked and glared round as the bat cat nipped at a wing tip before bounding away to her insect sister. Tikrumpdel snorted and puffed smoke, hot eyes regarding the two teasing talismans before flinging himself forward again. Watching him struggle up the stairs trying to get at them was entertainment in itself, although a few of them were nursing sore ribs by the end of it, having nearly cracked them trying to not laugh out loud at the tiny dragon's predicament. He had said that he wanted to lose some of the blubber and it appeared that the talismans had taken his words to heart. The rest of the day passed with a fair number of smiles as the King's Special and their allies tried to travel and do their chores while also trying to watch a small, over weight and under fit dragon chase half a dozen flying wooden animals who were all only six inches tall. Every time Tikrumpdel gave up the chase, putting his chin down on the boards of the circular walkways to lay panting and flapping his wings slowly, flushed with the efforts of his exertions, the talismans would give him made five minutes peace and quiet at the most before one of them would nip at his tail or wing tips again. With a squeak or a squeal Tikrumpdel would round on them again, snapping and growling as he tried to catch them, claws gouging at the planks as he hauled his weight after them. Under the cloudy sky it was something to brighten the day and made everyone feel just that little more relaxed as they pushed on away from the ancient ruins towards the last few passes that would lead them home to Nether Wallop.
By the mid morning drink stop Tikrumpdel seemed to be reaching the end of his endurance as the phoenix hovered just before him but he barely lifted a head to look at its flaring wings, all eyelids closed. He didn't even flinch as the purple toad flicked its long tongue on his ear fin, just grumbled and rocked his head slightly. Altan's staff came tap, tap, tapping, along the balcony floor. Altan's staff came rap, rap, rapping, along the wooden boards. Tikrumpdel paid it no mind, apparently going to sleep. It was strange how Altan's staff could apply the boot without having a foot to wear it upon. Tikrumpdel grunted, snorted and rumbled, a little volcano getting ready for some serious action. Altan's staff tapped away, hop-scotching from one board to the one beside it. Tikrumpdel glared as he shuffled round, snorting like a stallion in a fighting mood. The staff landed and leaned from side to side. Tikrumpdel did the biggest push up they had ever seen him do and trashed his wings, rearing up until he was on his back feet, paunch hanging to his knees. The staff wavered and then began retreating as Tikrumpdel started jumping after it, wobbling and bouncing but still jumping, glaring after his wooden adversary as his weight thumped and bumped along the walk way as the walking hut started pacing forward again, wings buzzing with the noise of the frantic bee in their efforts to hold him up right so he wasn't galumphing but rather bumping along with a bizarre jumping gait.
However, after lunch the talismans and their big brother finally relented and allowed the tubby little dragon to curl up among the plants growing from the walking hut's china sides and sleep, smoke coiling lazily from his nostrils. Whether he was any thinner was anybody's guess but he was certainly worn out as he slept without twitching.
Kaelin flapped off ahead, watching the road. Nothing seemed out of place, as such, even as the drizzle set in but something, something was nagging at her. She landed in a tree and spread her wings to the rain, having a good preen as she watched. Something, something was off and she couldn't work out what. She watched as she ran her fingers over each and every feather, making sure the rain gave each one a good clean. By the time the others had caught up with her the drizzle had stopped but the nagging feeling hadn't left her.
As the sun set that evening, Yaga Tuf lifted her hooked nose and sniffed.
"Leaves will be turning soon," she stated as Tikrumpdel managed to drum up the energy to crawl down the wing vane steps and curl up in Estella's lap.
"Surely you jest," Ulrich noted.
"Nope," Kaelin agreed with the witch of the mountains, "The world is turning again, I can... smell it." Her eyes went wide as her nose finally told her brain what she'd been picking up on all afternoon. Ulrich frowned at her as Kaelin stood and walked away from the fire, nose going hyper active as her hackles rose, the wolf bubbling just under the surface.
"Kaelin is there something the matter?" he called.
"Family," was all Kaelin said and then she spread her wings, beating up into the tree tops, balancing somehow in the very top most branches, her weight somehow held up by twigs.
"Is there something we need to know?" Yaga Tuf asked, gnarled hands knotting on her stick, her eyes sharp in the fire light.
"Yeah," Thorian stood and pulled his sword from his scabbard, resting the flat on his shoulder, "Trouble."
"I'm afraid that Kaelin has some interesting family problems," Ulrich admitted, "She's blood to the one leading the pack of werewolves allied to the Bat Clan Ash Elves. Her grandfather is a less than pleasant creature and I for one would not be surprised if he turns traitor on his allies."
Altan didn't wait for his mother-in-law to say a word, standing to help his wife and daughter to their feet and get them back inside the walking hut.
"Whoop?" it called, head twisting back and forth, quicker and quicker, "Whoop?"
"I see," Yaga Tuf noted, flicking her fingers at the fire, causing it to sink and extinguish, "In that case I suggest that you bed down on the walk ways of the hut. It won't be as warm and it has no shelter if it decides to ran but it will give you the high ground, if family comes calling tonight. We can serve food inside the house. Good job none of you went hunting tonight, we don't have anything too big to try and cook in the oven."
"Thank you for your hospitality, great lady," Ulrich stood also. Peter rippled over and attached himself to a wing of the walking hut as they all started up the steps. Unfortunately there really wasn't anywhere that Weatherall and Marmaduke could either fit on or in the walking hut or not break the walkways with their weight in Marmaduke's case. Once they were all on board the walking hut stood but did not walk, standing guard as it waited further instructions.
Nanny Tatters also seemed affected by the werewolf pack in the area. As they sat crowded round the table inside the walking hut to have dinner Nanny Tatters paced and shifted outside. Jeremiah frowned, catching glimpses of her activities through the window as he ate. She stood up, turned round, sat down, rocked from side to side, stood up again, turned the other way, sat down again. She stood up, turned round and laid down but her tail beat an unsteady rhythm against the dirt as her head wavered on the end of her neck. Her great single, goggling eye blinked and rolled in her head as she stood up again and paced round the walking hut. It turned its head watching her, flapping its wings restlessly, Peter moving to its stumping fail with a whistle of protest. Kaelin, perched in her tree, spared Nanny Tatters a glance but was too focused on trying to pin point which direction her else while family was lurking in to pay it much mind.
Nanny Tatters sat down and bum shuffled about before standing up and pacing more.
"What's up with you?" Kaelin muttered, trying to concentrate, "You got worms or something?"
Inside the walking hut Estella had also noticed Nanny Tatters' twitchy behaviour.
"Do you think she sat on a thistle?" she whispered to Alina.
"That or a hedgehog," Alina whispered back, watching Nanny Tatters standing up again, "A frowning hedgehog."
Jeremiah frowned some more, not quite hearing what the girls were whispering about but casting a glance at his fidgeting puppet out of the window. He wondered what had got up her tail but shrugged it off. After all they didn't call them the unquiet dead for nothing.
After dinner, Jeremiah went back to his lounge chair, which had the added advantage of being at the highest point of the walking hut's back. If Kaelin's family did come a calling then he'd be the safest out of the lot. That and it meant that the others had to spread their bedrolls of the wooden boards below him so he was going to be the most comfortable out of the lot.
Kaelin did not join them, eyes narrowed as she peered at a patch of forest about quarter of a mile distant. There was something about that area that was tickling the back of her brain. She had learnt to listen to her brain tickles. As she peered at it, she sensed a large presence walk up to her shoulder. Nanny Tatters stood there, almost still at last but rocking slightly like... Like someone listening to music.
"Um," Kaelin said, looking from Nanny Tatters and back to the patch of forest that she was now sure was beginning to glow with a blue radiance that echoed the colour of Nanny Tatters undead eye.
Kaelin spread her wings and flitted to another tree, slightly deeper into the forest and more importantly out of the direct line of sight between Nanny Tatters and that blue glow. There was something going on here that Kaelin didn't like and it wasn't just missing her dinner. She shifted Haggis and held his bag up against her throat, humming into his soft grey fur. He seemed to take her meaning though as a shiver passed over her skin and when she glanced down at her hands she could barely see her outline in the dark.
She was just in time.
The crash shattered the peace of the night sending birds shrieking into the dark and bats skimming away like stones flicked across a pond. Underground was trampled, branches shattered, trees smashed to the ground.
"What! Where?" Ulrich jolted awake as Jeremiah fell off of his lounge chair just in time to see Nanny Tatters tail tip snake off into the dark. Standing with a huff, he tugged his robes straight and glided down to the broad path of destruction Nanny Tatters was cutting into the forest, wings cupping the air and then folding away into place. She wasn't that far ahead as she thrash through the undergrowth, not taking the easiest route but the straightest towards... where ever she was going. Jeremiah started strolling along the edge of the trampled line of destruction, tugging at his beard as he pondered a proper punishment for running away from the disciple of the One True God.
"Oh dat not good!" Thorian exclaimed, vaulting the railing and dropping to the road below, hurrying to catch up with Jeremiah and his run away dragon.
"Where is she going?" Jeremiah muttered as he paced along, wings occasional to keep his balance as he picked his way over the wreckage of the forest Nanny Tatters was leaving in her wake.
Ulrich took a little longer to survey the problem before he acted, which gave time for Yaga Tuf to join him.
"Oh gods," he muttered, "We're all going to die." He whistled and Peter came scurrying. Ulrich swung on to his back.
"Down!" Yaga Tuf snapped to the walking hut as Peter flowed over the rail and down its wing vanes. There wasn't much of a drop thanks to Yaga Tuf's reaction but it still made Ulrich's stomach lurch as they took it, the Ash Elf kin running after them, landing lightly on their feet, Estella following with Tikrumpdel in her arms, ignoring Alina's cry. Perhaps it was Estella's cry to Weatherall that distracted Ulrich from the pray he was forming as they plunged into the dark.
"Trakanhini," he whispered in his mind, "Please, we need your help. We run to face that which is unknown and I believe to be uncaring. Guard us this night and guide us true. Steady our hearts and keep us safe from that which would attack our minds. Keep us calm in the face fear and guard our minds against the horrors that would take them."
He wasn't not sure if his knew goddess had heard him as the clouds obscuring the stars above rolled and curled but it made him feel better for the trying. Perhaps that was all that was really needed.
Their destination was revealed rather suddenly, the forest falling back into a wide circle, boarding the smaller space contained with in the pillars of white stone.
Weatherall waved his eye stalks as he scuttled to stop at the edge of the trees, just behind the rest of the King's Special. Estella stood up on his shell and stared at the circle of ground within the standing stones that had been scrapped clear and then cut with lines and runes, the bare soil weeping blue light as the white werewolves balanced on the top of the stones whimpered and twitched their claws.
"Pretty colour," Thorian noted.
"I thought we'd killed him," Ulrich gulped as on the far side of the circle of standing stones, Greely grinned and barked the incantation, claws spread wide as he bared his fangs.
"Apparently I didn't throw hard enough," Kaelin spat as she landed beside him. Greely grinned but didn't grin at the same time, the blue light around him twisting in odd ways, as if a second face was laid over his own, a face with a noble baring twisted into cold arrogance and scorn.
"Isn't that...?" Ulrich began.
"The Domilli!" Valodrael's voice ripped from Estella's throat, her face warped with a hatred not her own. She leapt from Weatherall's back and deposited Tikrumpdel on the ground, a terrible snarl echoing from her, a sound her body should not have been able to produce.
Nanny Tatters had slowed now but was still marching forward, her gait unsteady but with the slow determination of a glacier heading towards the sea.
"Nanny Tatters, come here," Jeremiah said, eyes narrowed.
She stumbled a little but stepped towards the circle.
"Nanny Tatters, come here!" Jeremiah demanded, glaring at the werewolves.
She shook her head, still stepping towards the muttering, snarling werewolves and the magic they were channelling.
"Nanny Tatters, COME HERE!" Jeremiah commanded. She shuddered down the entire length of her body but only faltered for a moment. Greely threw back his head and barked a series of sounds that were not quite words but a second voice spoke with him, the polished tone of a public speaker weaving into the base animals growls to create something that was both civilised and primal, a calling to the ancient magics that formed the bedrock of the world. Nanny Tatters kept walking towards the circle.
Jeremiah drew himself up and raised both hands. He clicked his fingers and Nanny Tatters thudded to the dirt, a horrible rattle resonating within her as blue light spilled from her gapping jaws, coiling through the air, pooling in Jeremiah's eyes. He smiled as the blue light faded, absorbed within him. Then his smile faltered as Nanny Tatters creaked to her knees. Her hide, scaleless and smooth, was split and rent but she stood and resumed her walk.
"Oh poo," Jeremiah muttered the crude expletive as the blue face over laying Greely's smiled at him.
"She's not mine any more!" he yelled to the rest of the King's Special, "I can't control her!"
"And what gave you that hint?" Kaelin snarled, fingernails pushed aside as her claws erupted out of her fingers.
"Oh gods," Ulrich muttered and then corrected himself, "Oh Lady of Moonlight."
He pushed Peter sideways with a knee and scooped Tikrumpdel up off the ground, tucking him under an arm.
"Sorry chum," he cried, "I know you don't like this but needs must."
Tikrumpdel growled but Ulrich ignored it, turning to keep his eyes open whilst trying to compose a prayer to Trakanhini.
"Oh glorious Lady of Midnight," he began. The growling, snarling chanting of the werewolves interrupted his thought train.
"Oh glorious Lady of Midnight," he tried again. There was something in the bushes crashing towards them.
"Oh glorious Lady of Midnight," Ulrich frowned, trying to find the next words and squeezing Tikrumpdel in his frustration. The fat, little dragon squeaked and started leaking flame, bright yellow light battling with the sickly blue glow leaking from the runic circle of the werewolves.
"Oh... oh blast," Ulrich admitted, reaching for one of his swords as Peter reared and shrilled a challenge to the night and the werewolves.
Kaelin pocked haggis' blow stick into her mouth and puffed, cheeks swelling as did Haggis' furry wind bag, the tartan pattern in the brindle swelling as she blew. Haggis roared. It wasn't quite as deafening as it had been when they were underground as they were not enclosed but it still rang through the air, nighttime creatures of the forest fleeing in panic as the sound shattered the quite of the night. On the tops of the pillars the white werewolves lost the unified chant, whimpering and squealing, tugging at their ears in pain as Haggis' droning thunder sawed through the air and shook their brains.
"Keep the spell!" Greely barked but it was not his voice that issued from his throat, the polished voice becoming more pronounced, "Focus your minds. Prove that you are worthy of being pack."
The blue face was becoming more pronounced, over laying Greely's more completely, the werewolf becoming lost in the glow. Valodrael snarled as his one time tormentor drilled into Greely like a screw worm in the heart of a deer. The desire to throw himself forward, to charge, to rip and to tear boiled through the pain wracking him, the need to feel the Domilii bend beneath his teeth and claws was almost overwhelming but he felt Estella's whimper as her knowledge of his pain peaked and reined it back in. If he charged, if he threw her forward or worse, left her and charged in, she would be vulnerable. A true dragon would never leave his horde. He may have had his wings cut but he was still a true dragon, still a dragon and vengeance was not more important than his horde.
"Ready?" he asked in the vaults of her mind as they turned and looked to the forest, the smell of something rotten and vile coming to them.
"Ready," Estella steeled herself, bracing for the coming contraction. It always hurt but there was always an end in sight and if she concentrated on that then she could manage it. The harder she pushed the sooner it was done.
"It's Thorian Time!" Thorian bellowed, a huge grin spread across his face as he limbered up his arm. He didn't understand what the hairy, ugly boogers were doing, he didn't understand what all the blue glow was about and the strange sounding words. He did understand that Kaelin didn't like them, that they were doing stuff that was making everyone afraid and that the funny man, made out of blue light, was not a nice man. He also understood that he might not know the words to stop the funny blue light but he could stop it any way, he could make it stop by shutting up the big white, ugly dogs standing on the top of these big rocks. The easiest way to shut them up was to hit them, hit them real hard. He could do that, he could do that real good.
"It's Thorian Time!" he roared again and charged, club like sword raised above his head. Sparks flew as the edge crashed down on rock of the nearest pillar, gouging the rock and making the white werewolf on the top yip and turn its head. A second later Thorian's shoulder slammed into the rock, making it wobble and rock in its earthy socket. The werewolf yelped and crouched to grip the pillar top tight.
"Focus on the spell!" Greely the Domilii commanded, "Keep the chant going. Let the others deal with these insects." The sneer was surprisingly impressive, seeing as it was twisted through wolf muzzle and human lip.
"Others?" Tasnar asked, staring round at the dark forest, elegant fingers in their gloves dropping the bolt into the grove of his handbow even as he spoke, "What others?"
Quenril turned his head, skin turning dark as he concentrated on listening, not with his ears but the other listening ability he now had.
"Here they come!" he called, bolt skimming off into the dark. Something yelped but it was drowned out by the howls that rent the night air, echoing and rebounding from the trees, making small creatures that could not flee cower in their holes and whimper under the leaf litter.
"You just had to ask," Ulrich noted.
The horrors came snarling out of the undergrowth, slimy hides glistening and disjointed limbs churning up leaf litter, the smell of them gag inducing.
Ulrich's brain clicked into military thinking. Four squads, two from the north, two from the east, the front running squad of each platoon made of the five limbed Abominations, slick black hides rippling in the glow. The following squads where the Mutants that looked like werewolves that had been crossed with bullmastiffs, their heavy shoulders surging, their claws punching holes in the forest forest as they charged.
"Thorian, Valodrael," Ulrich ordered, "Take east. Everyone who hasn't got wings with me to the north! Air force, targets of opportunity! Take them out before they complete the ritual."
Estella took a deep breath as Valodrael stepped back from dual control, her eyes half closed as the Abominations attacking from the east charged towards her. Despite what was coming she smiled slightly as they charged, seeing nothing but easy prey. It was so like the attack in the prison of the Citadel of the Snake Clan she nearly laughed. Instead, she opened her mouth and heaved. The thick, oily rush spilled from her, the Abominations slowing, some skidding as they slammed the brakes on, their three feet scrabbling in the loam of the forest floor. The mound of gloop twisted and writhed, wrapping about itself, thick worm like tendrils spiralling and branching, embracing each other, smoothing out into limbs and wings and scales. Valodrael's eyes, the colour of dying stars, shone at the werewolves as his maw opened and his tongue flicked over rippling gums. The noise he produced was the sound of hunger. The smarter of the Abominations took a step back. Valodrael grinned at them and then swung his head.
"I heard that you were still alive," Valodrael 's tongue lolled and his claws flexed, gouging deep wounds in the forest floor, "Let's fix that, shall we?"
The look on the Domilii's face was some what sick, the startled recognition shifting towards a worry that he was trying to mask. Valodrael grinned, an expression that promised the Domilii a return, in full, of the pain he had inflicted. Behind him, Estella settled her stance, her talismans whirling around her head, helping to channel the sparkles that fell from her hands and drifted in the wake of her motions. The circle shimmered into being before her. Estella punched through the centre of the circle and it rushed forward, splashing against the front rank of the Abominations and fading in a burst. One of them sneezed, shaking his head.
"Oh bother," Estella muttered.
"Hold the spell!" Greely the Domilii commanded the white werewolves, "Hold it! Or I swear by the wilds you worship I will kill you myself!"
They flinched from his snarl and then straightened. One of them darted its eyes at the forest, its gaze calculating the distance between the drop and the edge of the trees. Greely the Domilii hooked the claws of his right hand and the doubtful one choked, hands going to its neck where nothing was seen but its breath came short and hard as if a noose had suddenly tightened round its throat.
"Hold the spell!" Greely the Domilii snarled again, the werewolf briefly rising in the ire but quickly subdued by the entity riding within his shell.
As one the unpunished white werewolves lifted their heads and howled. Nanny Tatters lifted her head higher at the sound, great single eye blinking as she paced forward again.
Under Ulrich's arm, Tikrumpdel sucked in breath after breath, his tubby body growing hot.
"Ah!" Ulrich cried out as the hair on his arm started to curl in the heat coming through his clothes, "Tikrumpdel! Now is not a good time to distract me!"
The front rank of the Abominations coming from the north reared back to put their whole weight behind the blow.
Tikrumpdel's jaws opened and the flame roared in the night, a bonfire, a forest ablaze, the heat scorching air and blistering loam. The Abominations screamed, the squad, mob, pack, Ulrich still couldn't decide what to call them, reeling back, four of their number caught in the inferno, shrieking, spinning, cracking, crumbling, falling to the ground. Their still living kin, drew back on either side of the path of destruction, whimpering and wet, eyes wide, claws raised in panic.
"I still got it!" Tikrumpdel grinned, smoke curling between his teeth.
Still blinking dots from before his eyes Tasnar levelled his handbow and pulled the trigger but the shot went wide and thudded into the leaf litter.
"Blast," he muttered, working the lever to recock the weapon. A blast of wind did indeed rock him as Kaelin's pinions lifted and then she slammed into the air, wings pumping to lift her high. As her momentum ran out she rolled over and dropped, claws leading as the air screamed over her feathers.
The white werewolf, crouched on the top of the pillar that Thorian had attacked, looked up at precisely the wrong moment. Kaelin's claws struck, their split flesh, they passed through. The white werewolf toppled backwards off the pillar, claws trying to stem the flood erupting from the second mouth Kaelin had carved across his neck.
"I'll say this only once more Greely," Kaelin shouted as she came to the top of her spiralling climb and hovered, "I already have a pack and IT IS NOT YOURS!"
Greely the werewolf managed to shoulder aside the control the Domilii had on him.
"Stupid bitch!" he bark, "You are mine! You have been mine since you were born! You only lived because I chose you to be mine! You are mine and if you won't accept that like the good bitch your Grandfather taught you to be then I'll make you choke on it the way your mother did until she learnt her place! You'll scream one way or another!"
"Rut you Greely!" Kaelin screamed back, "Rut you with a barge pole! Rut you with dragon fire! Rut you 'til you choke!"
"Ulrich," Jeremiah shouted, "Throw the dragon!"
"What?" Ulrich blinked, twisting his head to glance at Jeremiah.
"Throw the dragon at her," Jeremiah pointed, his other hand already twisting the ribbons of power round his fingers.
"Gotta!" Ulrich nodded, grabbing hold of one of Peter's antennae. The giant centipede whistled in shock as Ulrich performed a little hop to get both feet under himself and stand on his mounts back.
"What are you doing?" Tikrumpdel demanded as Ulrich hefted him like a rugby ball.
"Time to use those wings old chum!" Ulrich grinned and lobbed Tikrumpdel in an over hand throw. The little dragon squealed like a punctured tire but his wings buzzed like an angered hornet and he smacked down in the centre of Nanny Tatters' back. She didn't even notice him dig his claws in.
Jeremiah grinned and gestured with his other hand as well.
Tikrumpdel shuddered and gasped as he went from the size of a small house cat to a large hunting dog.
"Now that's a little better," he grunted, bracing his feet either side of Nanny Tatters' spine.
The Domilii forced Greely back into the shadows, his face of blue light overtaking the wolf's muzzle but now the mask of culture and refinement was beginning to crack, the eyes flashing with anger, the mouth tight with frustration, the truth bubbling behind the control. He spat a stream of words, sharper than swords, faster than arrows, hooking into what was left of Nanny Tatters' mind, dragging her forward.
Sabal took aim and pulled the trigger, the quarrel thudding home in an Abomination's chest. It reeled back but then grasped the bolt and yanked it free of its flesh. Surprisingly little blood flowed and it snarled.
"Begetters damn you," Sabal flicked his fingers in the motions of a curse.
"Meatshield, come here," Jeremiah commanded, beckoning his undead Ash Elf puppet in front of him as the werewolves closed the distance. There was no need to be unprotected.
The werewolf mutants attacking from the east crashed into Thorian like a wave breaking but if they were the ocean then Thorian was the lighthouse standing firm upon its rock. He swung his sword in one glittering lateral blow. Two of the mutants became four, their pieces landing over there and over there.
"It's Thorian Time!" Thorian bellowed again as the mutant pack broke in two.
Quenril's finger tightened on the trigger and the bolt thudded home into an Abomination. This one didn't even bother to pull it out, roaring out its anger at being hurt and charging on.
"This can't be good," Quenril muttered.
One half of the Mutant pack that Thorian had battered turned aside and flung themselves into the air, teeth snapping at Kaelin's heels, clawed hands grasping and grabbing at the air but failing to make contact. They snarled as their feet thumped on to the dirt again.
Thorian's back swing whipped passed the noses of the rest of the Mutant pack that had attacked him. They flinched back, claws swiping out at him but their fear of his strength had opened up too much of a distance between them and they batted ineffectively at each other like cats having a game of patty paws.
Peter tugged against Ulrich's grip on his antenna. Ulrich glanced round to see that Weatherall was hesitating to join the battle.
"Are you going to be good?" he asked his bug. Peter whistled and tugged towards the werewolf Mutants that were bringing up the rear rank of the northern attack.
"Alright," Ulrich yelled, "Go to it! Marmaduke, help him out!" And threw himself off of Peter's back, dashing across and swinging up on to Weatherall's shell.
"Alright, old chum?" he asked, "You seem a little lost so I'll help you out. The battle's that way!"
Free of his burden, Peter charged forward, rearing up so that his mandibles clashed and sheared a hairs breath from a Mutant's face but it held him at bay, head twisting from side to side to avoid his venomous bites. Beside Peter Marmaduke was also having trouble, the werewolf Mutants moving too fast for him to hit. And then he stumbled as the second group of the Abominations left from the pack that had charged from the north slammed into him. Something in his knee popped and ground and then talons punctured his chest plate with a steely rasp, the metal crumpling like foil. Marmaduke staggered and whirred in distress, things sparking and fizzing inside of his mechanisms.
The werewolf abominations attacking from the east slammed into Thorian and the first one that jumped was faster than he expected. Thorian staggered back, yelling as its jaws closed around his wrist and its teeth dug in. His bones creaked under the force of it, feathering towards the cracks that would herald the breaks as its claws sort and found the elbow joint of his armour, piercing into the joint. However, his other hand was still free.
"Get! Off!" he roared, punching it in the ribs over and over again. Something inside cracked and it backed off, growling and snarling.
Beside him Valodrael's breath rattled as he sucked in a breath, eyes locked on the Mutants that had survived Thorian's attack. They were beginning to rally, clustering for another charge in two smaller groups. Valodrael smiled as he stepped forward, focused on the nearer group and then his jaws opened. The sound was the Arctic gale as it cut over the ice sheet, driving all warmth before it, burying all life below it.
The nearest of the groups of Mutants reeled back a step but a step was all they got. The front rank died without a sound, daggers of ice erupting from within their ears and noses. The second rank fell, screaming and gagging on the ice crystals clogging their throats before the Chill of the Void ruptured their lungs with red ice and their feet stopped kicking in the dirt. Only the one furtherest back survived, sheltered by the bodies of his pack mates. He crouched, belly to the earth, whimpering in submission.
"You, Karma!" Jeremiah ordered, "Do something useful, find us a light stick."
Karma the Vigor pack barer swung down his heavy load and opened the pack, rooting through it slowly until it extracted one of the long cylinders marked 'Light-Emergency'. Eyes half closed, it seized the string at one end of the cylinder and yanked. The orb of chemical light exploded from the end of the cylinder and... Thudded into the forest floor fizzing and popping and smoking, the light half buried in the leaf litter.
"Oh can't you do anything right?" Jeremiah snarled, snatching the empty cylinder from Karma and only just stopping short of beating him over the head with it, "Klu'ga-nath remind me why I keep you!"
The werewolves, both Mutants and Abominations alike, whimpered and cringed back as the glow of the spell stuttered and turned a sickly yellow. Even the Domilii reeled, face warping as if nausea was vicing his internals, the white werewolves screaming with pain.
"Trakanhini protect us!" Ulrich cried out as the hideous unlight of Jeremiah's god flared and danced across the clearing. The clouds above shifted and roiled as if they were about to part but then Greely the Domilii straightened and lifted a hand. The words that dripped from his lips made the teeth buzz and the skin crawl, no, the skin ran screaming for the door and didn't care if the rest of the body came with it. The clouds settled and the white werewolves straightened up again, picking up the chant to keep Nanny Tatters walking.
The other werewolves straightened up as well, snarls rippling their lips back from their teeth. The Abomination that had injured Thorian took a step forward and then stopped, nose twitching. The blood pouring from the elbow joint of Thorian's armour had slowed to a tickle and then to a drip and then stopped all together.
"Gotta!" Thorian grinned and then brought his sword crashing down, wounded wrist ignored as the blade jarred as it bit through bone, shattered the skull, split the neck and sheared the shoulder off. A second Abomination reeled back, blood running from a deep gouge on its leg where the tip of Thorian's sword had scored it. The Abominations parted before him, dividing into two groups in their desperation to avoid his swinging blade.
Greely the Domilii muttered and beckoned Nanny Tatters. She lifted her head as she stepped between two of the stone pillars, her massive single eye seeming to finally focus on what was before her.
"Oh shite!" Estella muttered, "This can't be good!"
"Did you just say 'shite'?" Valodrael asked over his shoulder, even as he weighed up what should be his next target.
"Yes! Yes, I said shite!" Estella snapped, the sparks of her power dancing around her as they grew brighter, "Shite buckets butt slap shite! I was the good girl, I was the one who never fought back, I was the one who froze and held still whenever father was angry and what did it rutting well get me? I'm in the middle of trying to save the world when I'd much rather be at home with my family because some selfish jackass who wants to burn the world to hell has to fiddle with an undead dragon, which isn't just stupid, its also outright perverted!" A werewolf Mutant growled at her.
"I was talking!" Estella screeched, the punch echoing in the air and in the ground. Her knuckles didn't physically connect but the water in the forest floor did, smacking it in the face before being reabsorbed by the leaf litter. It wasn't enough to do damage but it was enough to make it gasp.
"Er?" Thorian asked as the Werewolf Mutants from the north ground their teeth on Marmaduke, "Have you got her in the family way?"
"Hardly," Valodrael flashed him a look, "I'd need my own flesh and blood for such an activity. Just one more thing I owe his lordship up there. I'll get to him in a moment." He slinked off after the werewolf Mutants that had fled from him. The group of them that had avoided the freezing touch of the Chill of the Void had dashed off, following Kaelin on the ground. She spiralled higher into the air as they leapt and snapped at her, trying to climb up each other to get to her. She avoided them all and stuck her tongue out at them while waggling her fingers on either side of her head to infuriate them as much as possible.
The Mutant on its own suddenly burst out of the dark, having circled back and round to get to him once Valodrael was out of the way. It leaped, Thorian swung. It landed and skidded in the leaf little, claws raking up twigs as it twisted to face him.
"You're good," Thorian admitted, settling his stance and lifting his sword over his shoulder, "Let's see how good you are." The Mutant snarled.
Jeremiah rolled his eyes. Really, despite all their time on the road and their training in the city of the dwergs his companions could still only be described as rank amateurs, especially that giant crab who seemed to be trying to pat the werewolves on their heads rather than crushing them to pieces. It was embarrassing, especially before a fellow devotee of the higher path.
"Find me another light stick," he commanded Karma and snatched it from the Vigor's hand before the little freak could miss use it again, his draconic wings flicking open, cupping the air to drive him into the sky. He yanked the string free and tossed the light stick to the right of the pack of Mutants that had come down out of the north, only to then swoop to the left of them, muttering the prayer to Klu'ga-nath as he did so. His path took him over one half of the diminished pack of Abominations that had been charging a head of the Mutants. Remembering how beautiful it had been in the city of the dwergs, Jeremiah opened his mouth and let loose the full glory of his god.
The noise destroyed the world, or did the world destroy the noise? It was hard to tell as reality buckled and distorted around the light that should not be. The Abominations he targets opened their mouths to scream but their cries were silenced by the light that left only pure statues of perfect salt, mouths open, eyes wide, every rippling hair intact until the damp of the forest floor dissolved their feet and sent the statues crashing to the ground, bursting in sprays of white that sank into the ground and vanished as if they had never been. The Mutants, warned of Jeremiah's approach, dived out of the way but then the strategy of his throw seconds before was revealed, the light stick exploding in their midst, blinding and shunning them, leaving them reeling and distracted.
Quenril ducked and turned under the attack of an Abomination, jerking his arm back to crack his elbow against the back of its head. He slashed out at another and turned the blow into a spin that planted his boot in the stomach of another. A cut at a foot made another flinch back. Quenril heard, saw but every whip, every spin, every slash and cut was part of the flow. It was beautiful and it was deadly. A kestrel in flight among falcons would have understood this dance between life and death in a heartbeat. They were both predators and only skill, speed and luck would decide who was the alpha and who was the meal.
Peter shrilled and snapped his jaws again but the Mutants were blinking the spots from in front of their eyes. They also had their noses and their ears. To them it was easy enough to keep away from Peter's snapping jaws.
A second was all it took. Quenril gasped and stumbled, pain, bright and lancing, burning across his stomach muscles, not quite deep enough to gut him but deep enough to hurt, his skin becoming a kaleidoscope of green fear and white pain. Behind him Sabal cried out as a werewolf's teeth buried into his shoulder. He gritted his teeth and managed to wrap his free arm round up and round the werewolf's back, an embrace almost like a lover's only this end with his thumb buried in the flesh behind the werewolf's ear, grinding into the beast's nervous system, shorting it out. The claws went slack, jaws sprang open, dropping Sabal to stumble back, clutching his bleeding shoulder. Only then Sabal's head came up, his eyes beginning to glitter, the colours of his irises intensifying, seeming to spin. And he was looking directly at the werewolves, not down at their feet, not at their hands and chests, which was what had betrayed his skill and left him open to being bitten in the first place. He was looking at them and something was stirring in the depth of his gaze, a hatred that hadn't seen the light of day since the Matriarch burned in the burial chamber of the Citadel and it was focused. Before Sabal had hated anything that was not Ash Elf, the emotion had been spread thing. Now? Now it was channelled, hardened, focused, forged into a precision weapon for use against targets that truly deserved it... and it had found its first target.
To the east, one of the groups of Abominations targeted Thorian, thinking he was distracted by the Mutant that faced him. They charged at his blind side. Thorian's ear flicked. The Abomination raised its claws to strike... Thorian span, his sword flashed, the Mutant twitched, the instinct to leap pulled back in. Thorian was already facing it again while behind him the Abomination's body hit the forest floor, its head landing six feet away and its surviving kin falling back in shock.
The other half of the surviving Abominations from the east tried to swarm Valodrael, biting, clawing, kicking, tearing. They may as well have been punching water or worse. The claws that gouged at his hide pulled away slowly, the teeth struggled to release, the black tar of his form sticking to teeth, wiggling over tongues, trying to force its way down throats. He grinned as they reeled back, clawing and spitting, trying to dislodge him before he could begin to colonise them and devour from the inside out.
The vigor pack bearer, left to his own devises, followed the last orders he had been given, digging through the pack again, though whether through bad luck or some attempt at disobedience, what it drew forth was not a light stick but a globe of glass, within which swirl a yellowish gas, marked 'for bugs'. The Vigor threw it with no direction in mind, the glass shattering near one of the pillars but too far away from anyone to do any real damage.
Thorian sniffed and wriggled his nose.
"Did one of you just fart?" he demanded. The Mutant he was facing looked confused. "Dear Gods, man!... Wolf!... Thing!... Smells like something up yah butt!"
The Mutant growled.
Tasnar whirled through the pace of the battle, one step ahead but struggling to match the Abominations that clawed after him. The length of steal in his grip didn't feel any where near enough. The gloves weren't helping either. He hadn't really had time to get used to fighting in gloves and the difference it made in the feel of the hilt was messing with his concentration. He had a bad feeling that he wasn't getting out of this one unscathed. He ducked and turned and kept them at bay but his breath was coming short and hard.
Valodrael had plenty of breath and the will to use it on the fools that had attacked him. The death cold rattle of the Chill of the Void scored across the forest floor, edging every fallen leaf in daggers of frost that pierced flesh like thorns. The five limbs of the Abominations twisted as ice ruptured muscle cells and cracked open joints. Valodrael's world ending eyes focused on the last Abomination, where it whimpered and shook, backing away from the tortured ice statues that were what were left of its pack. Valodrael slowly lifted a clawed hand and smashed one of the frozen Abominations with a casual flick of his wrist, grinning at the still living one's terror.
Kaelin rolled in the air, gazing down at the battle field. The white werewolves were struggling to keep the chant going, their minds torn between what they had been commanded to do and what they wanted to do, their feral instincts distracted by the battle. Kaelin considered and then tried something she had never attempted air born. Her flight wobbled and wavered as she let the wolf out fully, her skull bones bubbling and warping, jaws lengthening, fangs springing forward with the sound of nails being slammed through a plank. She tilted forward and dived.
Greely the Domilii looked up at the sound of the wind over her pinions. The crunch and rip of flesh was defeated only by the twin voiced scream of pain. Kaelin pulled up as Greely turned on his pillar, one werewolf eye glaring, the other side of his face a ruin of torn tissue. The Domilii's face of blue light was flickering in and out of focus on that side as well, magical feedback having lashed his real form. As Kaelin spat Greely's blood from her mouth she realised that the Domilii wasn't out of focus, he was flicking between two forms on that side, his human face and something else that was so far from human she didn't have a name for it. The sight of it made her stomach roil, the wolf groaning with the sensation that it as just not used to. Wolves see meat or threat, they don't understand horror or disgust, Kaelin's human mind understood horror only too well and she floundered in the air as her wing beats went all off.
"Oh Greely," she muttered, "Just what have you bargained with this time?"
Estella turned away and drew a deep breath, counting on her fingers to control her stomach. She'd figured that the Domilii was not a good man, who ever could do what he had done to her Valodrael could not have done the Day of Detonation by accident but actually seeing his outer appearance become as ugly as he was on the inside was enough to turn her stomach. She was quick on the recovery, having a pack of werewolves howling for your blood kind of does that for you and settled her stance as though she was riding a horse. Her hands traced the circle, her talisman helping to channel the power. This time the Mutants reeled back, snapping and snarling at things that were not there, the sparkles in their eyes blinding them to reality, making them see enemies that were not there. Estella grinned, fists shadow boxing, keeping the spell going, water rippling, rising, falling, flowing round her feet as it responded to her will, her motion, her power. This was what she was born for, shite to being small, shite to being the quiet one, shite to being the one that held still while she was punished for her existence. She was done with being small, she would be as big as she wanted to be. Valodrael smiled as he looked back to his host, she was magnificent, she was perfect, her broken edges just made her all the more beautiful where they caught the light. As much as he would fight Tikrumpdel to the death over her, he could understand why the older dragon wanted her in his hoard.
The Tikrumpdel in question was scrabbling about on Nanny Tatters back. No matter what was going on, he was fairly sure that it would do his health no good if she crossed into the circle and she was ignoring all his efforts to try and get her attention and turn her around. He did consider using his fire but on a fellow dragon that was unlikely to have much effect.
"Just what do you want me to do up here?" he squeak, "Just what am I supposed to do?"
"Grow you draft thing, grow!" shouted Ulrich.
"Well how can I? I... Oh doh!" Tikrumpdel slapped himself on the head with his own wing. He had not done this to himself but he did remember a fairly universal breaking enchantment spell that had the potiential to work. Why hadn't he thought of that before? He slapped himself again. Those four centuries asleep hadn't done his brain any good at all. He started muttered, eyes screwed shut as he dug through his memory library. It had to be in there somewhere. He belched as his bones grew and stretched and the rest of him filled out to take up the right proportion of space. It made a cracker sized bang as he was suddenly the size of a Great Dane rather than a German Shepherd. Nanny Tatters stumbled, the sudden weight in the middle of her back making it bow and creak.
Marmaduke brought his buckler shield up and Mutant claws raked off it. He lashed out with his sword, leading more with the fist that held it. The Mutants dodged back, snarling and rippling their lips at him. Speechless and impassive, Marmaduke stamped after them, even as things glowed and sparked within his metal chest.
Facing the Abomination that had bitten him Sabal dropped his sword and it lunged with a triumphant bark. Sabal caught the hilt in his other hand and slapped it across the muzzle. It reared back and he slapped it again, driving it back until he stood beside Quenril, helping to defend his side as his cousin fought to catch his breath through the pain. Behind them an Ash Elf handbow twanged but it was Jeremiah's undead puppet trying and failing, to hit the last of the Abominations that face Thorian and Valodrael.
"Tally-ho!" Ulrich hefted his sword as he guided Weatherall into the stumbling group of Abominations that faced his Ash Elf friends. His sword flickered in the blue light, shining darts of glory round the clearing, dazzling his foes but the results were some how lack luster.
"If the Favourite of the Matriarch is willing to listen to advice," Sabal called, voice tight with pain, "More substance! Less flare!"
It was advice Ulrich could have done with listening to as a scream rang out. Tasnar stumbled back, one hand holding the side of his face together as an Abominations claws raked down it and nearly took his eye out. It was only by chance and quick reactions that he managed to dodge the follow up attack that nearly tore his throat out.
However, that was the only Abomination that managed to do damage at that moment. One of the last groups of those that had attacked from the East threw themselves at Thorian screaming and howling. Thorian shrugged and stepped and turned back to watching the pacing Mutant that faced him. The Abominations climbed to their feet spitting mud. Their last pack mate whimpered and crouched down, trying to press its belly to the ground in submission but its triple legs were getting in the way. Valodrael's world ending eyes had it locked in place, even as its mind screamed to run. Its mismatched limbs wouldn't response, its central nervous system locked in place as the Void Dragon padded closer and smiled at it.
Nanny Tatters slowed her pacing, her head trying to turn, trying to fight the spells control over her to see what it was on her back that was weighing her down. It was hurting her back and it was distracting. She had to know what it was to try and tell it to push off. Her tail twitched with frustration.
"Karma? Karma give Estella that globe please," Jeremiah suddenly called, "Karma? Karma do as you are told! Karma don't make me... There's a good boy."
Estella took the globe with a frown and held it up to eye level, watching the yellowish mist swirl within it. She gave it a good shake and then looked away from its turning shades, nose pulled over sideways as she wondered which one of their enemies she should throw it at.
Greely the Domilii spat a series of words that curdled in the air like venom in milk. Nanny Tatters head was yanked round like a dog on a chain and she shuddered, shaking her chin, trying to throw off the control. The words would not let her go, pulling on her, reeling her in as the glow brightened.
Estella leaned back, bent her knees, held the globe marked 'For Bugs' by her jaw, lifted her left hand straight out before her with two fingers pointing, took two hopping stepping forward and lobbed the globe as hard as she could towards the group of Werewolf Mutants that threatened to catch Ulrich broad side. They screamed as the globe shattered in their midst, some jumping one way, others jumping the other way, leaving the one whom had been at the epicentre of the burst writhing and choking on the forest floor, shards of glass imbedded in him were he had fallen on the broken globe. Lungs full of the gas, he foamed at the mouth and lay still.
"Nice one!" Ulrich congratulated as the Mutants stumbled and swirled, disorientated by the attack.
Grinning fit to split at hearing his Estella praised by another, Valodrael lunged on the trembling Abomination before him, jaws opening wide. The Abomination screamed and then its legs kicked in the air as Valodrael lifted his head and gulped, the Abomination sliding by degrees down his throat, its last struggles visible through the oily substance of his flesh. Its feet were still kicking as they disappeared between his teeth, their spasmodic twitches visible in his throat. He grinned as he turned his eyes on Greely the Domilii.
"You think that you can harm me?" Greely the Domilii spat, "You are pathetic! You should be grovelling for my mercy!"
"What mercy?" Valodrael snarled, "Do you think I was deaf when you ordered the total destruction of your own army because Hartseer finally realised who you truly were? You think I don't remember the pain when the God Device activated? HELL has more mercy than you!"
"I made you!" the Domilii spat, "You wouldn't exist if it wasn't for me. You are immortal because of me! You exist because of me!"
"If this is immortality then you can keep it!" Valodrael spat back, "I'd rather have a limited life than this eternal pain!"
"You ungrateful aberration!" the Domilii flared.
"It is fairly common around here I am afraid," Jeremiah noted, hovering above the battle, "None of my creations are as grateful as they should be."
"You, you dare speak to me?" the Domilii sneered up at him, one half of his face, still flicking in and out of the two forms, human and something else.
"Well seeing as we are the only two here who understand that what others call morality is just a chain, I thought we could swoop notes," Jeremiah some how managed to hover and shrug at the same time, palms open, "So what do you say?"
"You really think that you are my equal," the Domilii mocked, "You are nothing, a broken god's plaything, the pathetic servant of a prisoner. You don't even realise what you've sold your soul to. You are a speck, a mote, a bit of dust in your god's eye, here and gone in a blink. I? I am a god! I never sold my soul for power, I took it! I seized power by the strength of my hand and arm alone! I never bargained with the useless remains of a past world, I ripped what I wanted from its rotted heart and it begged me to stop before the end. I do not kneel to worthless leeches sucking off the worship of their followers, I make them bow before me and they cower at the very mention of me!"
"Yes of course," Jeremiah looked away, twitching his fingers, "That's why the Tomb Dragon who destroyed the Isles of Albion is remembered and still feared and you are nothing by a minor foot note in history, ignored by everyone save the Tiansin Empire and even they fear the storm clouds more than you."
"What!" the Domilii roared. Jeremiah whipped his hand up and unleashed the pray at Tikrumpdel. The thunder rolled this time, it rolled an eleven, as Tikrumpdel swelled in an instance until he was as tall at the shoulder as a Prizzly bear and even heavier. He probably weighed the same as one of the long toothed seal that Prizzly bears where known to hunt. Nanny Tatters' grunted and bent to her unbooted knees.
"Now this is what I'm talking about," Tikrumpdel galumphed around on her back to drive even more of the air from her lungs and made her bones creak even more, "That's for shrinking me, Witch!"
The Domilii lifted a hand, human half of his face twisting as he muttered words that made the grass around the base of the pillar wither and die...
Kaelin smacked into him from behind, nearly knocking him off the top of the pillar and rattling his control. When he straightened up Greely's face was showing through the blue again.
"You dare shrike me/a God?" the twin voices of Greely and the Domilii demanded.
"I don't need anyone's permission to wipe up filth," Kaelin could sneer as well as the Domilii.
Tikrumpdel gave her a nod of approval and then galumphed about on Nanny Tatters back a little more, surveying the battle field as she grunted and groaned. Jeremiah's puppet and Marmaduke were continuing their streaks of not being able to hit for toffee, the puppet's bolt burying itself in the loam and Marmaduke's blows keeping the Mutants at bay but failing to thin out their numbers. Tikrumpdel considered it but not only Marmaduke but Ulrich as well were in his line of fire, whereas on the other side the pack of Mutants that had attacked from the East were leaving off trying to pull Kaelin out of the sky and looked like they were going to try and swamp Estella under by sheer force of numbers. Tikrumpdel liked Estella, she gave good belly scratches. He opened his jaws and a roar that sounded like a mountain exploding echoed through the night as the fire bleached the blue light to insipid drips. The Mutants didn't even have the chance to scream, they didn't even char they vanished in stinking smoke and dusty ash, their bones cracking with the heat and their fangs blackening. The last of their mortal remains crumpled to the floor, held together by black gristle, their heads smoking through the holes were the skull plates had been forced apart by the temperature within. Tikrumpdel nodded with satisfaction as the fire calmed down to a trickle between his fangs.
Unfortunately, the burst of light had distracted Weatherall so once again his blow went a rye and missed the Mutant he was aiming at.
The Abominations that was spitting mud turned and tried again to slam into Thorian, claws spread wide as they howled. Thorian sighed and swung his sword. One of the Abominations stumbled to a halt and looked back over its shoulder in time to see its pack mate crumple to the floor and its head roll off into the under brush at the edge of the clearing. It whimpered as it realised that it was finally on its own.
Ulrich also finally managed to up his game, smacking two of the Abominations that had come from the North over their heads and making them stumble back, shaking and snorting as they tried to see in a straight line. Peter shrilled at his side as he still couldn't land a good hit on the Mutants trying to flank the Ulrich. Peter reared up and shrilled his temper at them.
Wounded, bleeding and gasping for breath, Quenril, Sabal and Tasnar folded their battle line, elbow to elbow, forming a triangle, protecting each other's injures and guarding their backs.
"This does not look like we will be making it out this night," Sabal observed, the arm hanging limp from his bittern shoulder.
"It does not," Quenril agreed, one hand holding his stomach, "So we may as well die expensive. Sabal, look at them, let your eyes do their work. Tasnar? Take off your glove if you can."
"My glove?" Tasnar questioned, "Oh of course, my glove!" He gasped as he lowered his hand, his face flapping open, but then he had the cuff of his glove between his teeth and he yanked it off his fingers, spitting the glove away. "Come to Tasnar now, you stupid beasts." The Abominations snarled.
"Hold the spell!" Greely the Domilii commanded.
"I really wish he'd stop saying that," Ulrich observed.
