Born a Monster

Chapter 84

Sacked

He came to the gate that night, while we waited at the town center.

“He’s through.” Philecto said.

“How you know?” asked Dina. Yes, Dina learned the basics of Achean while I was fumbling behind on Kathani.

“The buildings inside have started to burn.”

.....

Indeed, there was an orange glow from the southeast. It might be cheery, except for what that glow meant.

It wasn’t long after that when we heard the sounds of approaching combat.

Rina talked with Awta. “Does it look like the left is burning faster than the right?”

Philecto squinted. “It does, indeed. It seems to be going left faster than it is coming straight for us.”

I blinked. “It’s hard for him to get lost, but not impossible.”

“Or he’s going elsewhere.” Philecto said, pulling out the map.

Awta saw it first. “How does Rakkal feel about you?”

“I have no clue, I doubt he even knows who I am.”

“Oh, he knows. He cares.”

“What do you mean?” Philecto asked.

“Guild of the Incredibly Long and Impractical Name.” she said, tapping on the map.

“What? There’s nothing there of any military value.” Philecto said.

Faraj laughed. “Cut the head off a snake. It will die. The coward wants to end our quest.”

Dina leaned on her spear, popped the vertebrae in her back. “I will be happy to wait here. He will come eventually.”

“Your city.” Philecto said. “Your guild. Your call.”

What? When did that become MY call? Why was that my responsibility? What idiot...

Breathe.

Just breathe.

“I am sworn to do all that I can to see this quest completed successfully.” I said. “If we wait here for Rakkal, are our odds that much greater than if we meet him at the Guild?”

Philecto looked uncertain.

Awta did not. “The trap is here. Our escape routes are here. We should fight the enemy here.”

Philecto nodded. “If anyone has any pre-battle prayers or preparations, now is the time.”

I took the time to pee in an alley, and made sure I had a good viewpoint.

The Uruk arrived well in advance of Rakkal; it seemed the lead warriors each had an assigned goblin. There were men and hobgoblins, but not in any meaningful numbers.

I’ve spoken of the carnage that heroes cause against those even half their level. The city militia kept the troops from encircling Philecto, Rina, and Dina. Where those three went, Uruk died.

The rest of the front, they fought. Two in ten of the militia died, an equal amount lay wounded.

The Uruk didn’t flee so much as back off and decide to fight their way toward the flames advancing from the guildhall.

Healing potions for each hero. Not the weak ones I could brew, actual fifteen or ten minute potions. The good stuff.

And then, Rakkal and his family were visible, all ... six? All six of those who remained able to fight.

#

“I curse the lack of magic arrows in this uncivilized land.” Faraj said. He and his sister were loosing arrows, but had yet to land a telling blow on any of the armor-clad minotaurs.

I had nothing I could... wait.

“Sandmen, spirit of dreams, heed my call, grant my request! It is I, Rhishisikk, Dreamwalker and Shaman who call upon you! Place my foe into a deep sleep. Slumber!”

One of Rakkal’s family snorted, shook her head, and glared right at me. Well... I tried.

A wave of pain shot up and down my shattered shield arm.

“Remember the plan!” Philecto called. “Focus on Rakkal!”

And it had been a good plan. Rakkal wasn’t covered in blood, but he wasn’t clean of it either.

In his left hand, he carried a sanguine-colored axe. A different one than before? The same? It seemed the same material, but a different shape. What did that mean?

What type of magic weapons did that?

“Philecto!” I shouted. “Philecto, fall back! The quest is lost!”

“Not while I live!” shouted Philecto.

“Philecto, that’s not just a magical axe!”

He had engaged Rakkal, Rina to his left, Dina to his right. They moved to interpose themselves between the family and the duel.

The family... formed a semicircle, and watched.

One gestured to Rina, then to Rakkal.

The Flurry of Blows between Rakkal and Philecto ended. Both of them were cut, perhaps Philecto getting the worst of it. Or maybe that’s just how it seemed to me.

“Philecto, I think that’s THE axe! The legendary axe. I don’t know how, but Rakkal is the Axe Hero!”

Rakkal shrugged. “It is true. Come, fight me all at once. Make this a challenge!”

“The ... the axe hero? Unending fame and glory! One of the twelve legendary heroes dies tonight by my hand!”

Philecto was an idiot.

Awta translated for the others, and I heard similar things, from the words I recognized.

The three melee people attacked him, surrounded him, even hurt him. Faraj and Awta assisted the militia in fighting the Uruk, taking pot shots at Rakkal when they could.

Rina died first, her leg severed. She screamed, and then murmured, and then bled out before I could even get on my crutch.

Rakkal laughed, twirling, parrying. Somehow, the arrows never seemed to strike his armor squarely, though one hit him in the back of a knee, and stuck there as the blood trickled.

Dina and Philecto redoubled their efforts.

“Yes! THIS IS BATTLE!” Rakkal then screamed some words in his own language, and his family cheered, took up weapons, and lay into the militia.

What? No, this.. this wasn’t the plan. None of this was the plan.

Rakkal was laughing so loud one of the archers was able to put an arrow into his mouth. He continued laughing through bubbles made of his own blood.

He landed a blow that split Philecto’s shield, though that and the armor beneath seemed to take much of the force of the blow.

When he raised his axe to finish Philecto, Dina rammed her spear into his armpit.

#

Rakkal looked stunned. For a moment, I dared to hope he was dead. Then he slammed his arm down with a force that shattered the spear haft.

Philecto was circling to get his spare shield, Dina her spare spear.

For an instant, just an instant, Rakkal was alone. “Flash step.” He said.

Then he was THERE, and neatly bisected pieces of Faraj were to the left and to the right of him.

“You bastard!” Philecto screamed. “I WILL END YOU!”

Rakkal looked first at Awta, who took a step back, but kept pelting arrows at him.

Philecto and Dina were on him then, getting in the path of any shots Awta could possibly take. They drove him clockwise around the town square.

Awta unstrung her bow.

“What are you doing?” I asked her.

She produced a tarp from her inventory. “I am burying my brother. I curse you, and I curse this quest, and I curse this entire backwater region.” She turned her head and spat.

Her curse had power, possibly fueled by her pain at losing her brother. I cast Soothing Water at it, and then attempted to invoke Purifying Water.

.....

“Spirits of water, of river and rain, hear me! I am Rhishisikk, blood of the Titans, and Protean creature of the seas! Wash clean this curse, this desire for ill things to happen. Purifying Water!”

From the clear night sky, Soothing droplets of water fell, coating everything in the square with a thin smattering of moist spots.

But I had erred, or at least not thought things through. Purifying water protected me, yes. But it had always been a single-target spell. The further from me, the thinner the drops fell.

The curse could not affect me. It had limited power over the quest. But it was a living thing, and until the dawn it had free reign in a city already suffering from bad things.

Gods, what had I done?

Rakkal had an excellent shot at the back of Awta’s neck as she knelt to collect her brother, first one half and then the other. He didn’t take it.

The Uruk troops were storming into buildings by then; there wasn’t enough of the militia company left to stop them.

“Bring me their leader!” Rakkal said. “I want him to witness this before it is over!”

Unhindered by the Uruk, Awta stored her brother’s corpse into her inventory, and walked away toward the town’s west gate.

I don’t know how, but I know she somehow got past the trenches, and did return to the Khanate and gave her brother a grand funeral.

Where once there had been five, only two remained – Philecto and Dina, striking together as best they could.

Rakkal was wounded and slowing, but one side of Philecto’s helmet was dented inward, holding his jaw at an un-natural angle. Dina, also, was both wounded and winded.

#

“Breath of the Desert!” Dina called.

“Second Wind!” Philecto said.

“Why not? Invigoration!” Rakkal intoned.

And then, they were back at it, to the cheers and hoots of Rakkal’s family.

Dina jammed her spear toward the joints of Rakkal’s armor, but always the Axe was there to push aside the point.

Philecto swung, both attacking and parrying with equal grim determination.

Rakkal was bleeding into his right eye, though I hadn’t seen any blow strike there. I figured it was a blow to his helmet, harsh enough to split open the flesh beneath.

Philecto and Dina tried to stay on that side of him, and he kept spinning to keep them in his sight.

And then Philecto slipped in someone’s blood. He only slammed down to one knee, but that was opening enough.

With a cry of triumph, Rakkal brought his axe down, splitting the mail links along the side of Philecto’s throat. The blood spurted further away than Rakkal was tall. Philecto gurgled, but did not die immediately.

He thrust with the point of his sword, knocking Rakkal off balance. As his leather belt and its pouches fell off him, Dina struck him in an ankle.

Philecto, who had sought immortality out of boredom, died there, drowning in his own blood. I moved to help him, but was restrained by a heavy hand in a plate gauntlet.

She whispered words to me that I did not understand.

One of her brothers translated. “Uma wants to know what sorcery you attempted to use against her.”

“Slumber.” I said, watching Philecto die. “I attempted to put her to sleep.”

With great pains, Rakkal rose, unsteady, but still able to stand.

Dina took a step back, raised her right hand, lowered her spear to the ground.

“My sister says your magic is weak, and she doesn’t know what her brother sees in you.”

“I’m not certain what people see in me.”

Dina backed another step, away from her spear.

“What are you doing?” Rakkal demanded. “Fight me! FIIGHT!”

Both of her hands were raised. Rakkal used his right hand, the one without the axe, the arm bearing the chipped shield, to grab her spear, to offer it to her butt first.

Rakkal turned his head to his left, spat up blood. “Fight me. I am wounded, and you may just win. I am closer to losing than ever before in my life. Try.”

She backed away from her spear, shook her head.

Rakkal snorted, and beheaded her with a single stroke.

“Well, that is done.” His shoulders sagged, and he slumped forward. I thought he might fall, but then he coughed blood again, and straightened. “Bring forth the master.”

Two hobgoblins dragged a beaten Reynald into the open, let him sag into a kneeling position.

Rakkal pulled a sack from one of the pouches of his severed belt, and threw it at Reynald’s knees.

“Thirty pieces of gold.” He said. “And your life, and the survival of your ... hall. In exchange, I want...”

He pointed directly at me. “That.”

“I’m not...” Why couldn’t I say the words? Was I actually worth thirty gold coins?

Reynald broke out in a fresh bout of tears, running down tracks earlier tears had made.

“I sell the remaining service contract of Rhishisikk to you, Lord Rakkal.”

“Ex. Cel. Lent.” Rakkal said, and coughed up blood.

#

For the last time, yes, translated through Awta.