General Ghaulos had brought in siege equipment of various kinds, ladders, shovels, battering rams, and catapults. His plan for the assault, since they didn''t want to delay any longer in storming the castle, had Lars as the head of one of many teams of Haverdash. Lars raised issue with this, but Ghaulos wouldn''t discuss it. Lars thought he should break down the walls as he had many times before, but Ghaulos didn''t seem to trust him with important tasks. Lars still intended to shatter the walls when he got close, but Ghaulos''s plan was an insult.
They would have used gas bombs, but the wind was against them. Going to the other side and using them there would take too long since mountains rose up quickly behind the castle.
A horn blew, and the first attacking teams rushed the walls. Lars ran to the front of the pack with a ladder strapped over his left shoulder, not wanting to act as slowly as he would have to if he stuck to the plan. An elderly man on the wall suddenly leapt in surprise, pointing at Lars and exclaiming something Lars was too far away to hear. A beam of light from a high tower in the middle of the castle grounds struck Lars in the face, brighter than the sun, and almost bright enough to make him look away. Then Lars felt a change in the air around him, and the snowy dirt under his feet changed to cut stone.
He was in the high tower, with a circle of older men and women in robes standing by the walls. Lars looked at their sullen faces, "What is this? Are you wizards who think you can blast me away now that you''ve surrounded me?"
"Wizards we are, Haverdash, and more! This order, this bastion of Tubarai, has heard enough of your terrors, and we know you to be one of humanity''s great enemies! Know that we make this choice with a heavy heart, knowing the darkness we bring upon the world, but knowing better how much darkness is in you!"
Lars had a hurt look, "I don''t consider myself an enemy of humanity."
Another elder scoffed, "A friend, are you? Is that why you break our walls and subjugate our people?"
"I''m only doing what I understand that I should do; I was human once myself!"
"Impossible!" The first elder sneered, "Call the darkness, brethren!"
"No!" A third elder interrupted, "Young Haverdash, do you consent to being under a charm of truth?"
"I don''t ever recall lying, so maybe I''m already under one!"
"I need verbal consent. Yes or no?"
"Then yes," Lars answered, "I consent."
The elder made a flourish with his hands, and Lars glowed for a second. "Now repeat yourself, Haverdash, were you once human?"
"I was. When I was thirteen years old the Haverdash landed at my village and I first drank their wine."
A shudder went throughout the elders, "And drinking this wine, and surviving, turned you into a Haverdash?"
"I think so, it wasn''t explained to me in such a black and white way."
"But why, if you were raised in a human family, are you so willing to slaughter us?"
"Well, I''d have to pick a side, right? It''s a war and all. I would have to fight you or the Haverdash, and I feel like I''m better with the Haverdash, like I''m improving."
"You don''t sound so convinced; how are you better?"
"I''m more powerful for sure, and I have way more willpower. I could only dream of being this strong before, but a Haverdash named Moxey took me under his wing, and he told me things that I would never have believed if they weren''t producing a change in me!"
The first elder barked at the others, "Moxey! You know that name, it is said in the streets that he performs experiments on captive humans!"
The third elder, who had the charm of truth on Lars, demanded of him, "Denounce Moxey now! Say you see the wickedness of his ways and want nothing to do with him, or any chance of redemption will pass you by!"
Lars furrowed his brow. "I can''t do that. He definitely does things that I am uncomfortable with, but he has always been good to me, and he''s made sense of a confusing world."
The first elder crossed his arms, "Now that we''re done with that…"
They all crossed their arms in unison, and began chanting. "Arulbaro civeshelm, arulbaro rotunis."
The room went dark, and a glowing red figure rose out of the floor. He was over twenty feet tall, with an ambiguous shape and shifting claws.
The mages all collapsed, worn out by the difficulty of the spell, and the creature lashed out at Lars.
Lars saw the massless particles, as he had many times before, and the paths they took that gave all things form. Though, this shadowy creature had no particles, and none moved through the space that it took up. It was like a void in the middle of a connected world, made of something entirely different and alien.
Lars had to wonder if the particles couldn''t go where it was at all, and flicked one towards it. The particle rammed into the creature like a rocket, knocking it backward into the wall.
Lars grinned. However strong this creature may be, it has a distinct weakness. That is, it doesn''t belong here. He blew towards it, sending a wave of massless particles at it as only he could, which smashed it against the wall and blasted it out the other side.Unauthorized use of content: if you find this story on Amazon, report the violation.
Lars looked back at an elder who was looking up in shock, and winked. Then he ran to the hole he''d just made in the wall and looked down. The creature hadn''t wasted any time once it landed, and was rampaging in the streets. It went into a house and blew the roof off, tearing apart the inhabitants just by touching them.
A boy ran out of the house to get away, and a jolt went through Lars like a deep memory reawakening. Here helpless people were being preyed upon by a literal monster, and he had to help. He jumped through the hole and slammed into the ground at an alarming speed, landing on the creature. He raised his fist, and the massless particles in the area raised with it, then brought it down on the creature, and the particles around him converged. The creature was squished into nothingness by the physical world it had tried to invade, and was no more.
*
Trots floated over the plain of Tiermac, less than a mile from the city. His powerful glow had certainly been noticed by now, but he was not concerned.
Wanrod rode out of the city to meet him, "Glorious Haverdash! I am our representative. We are willing to oppose you if it must come to that, but if not, why have you come here?"
Trots landed in front of him, making Wanrod turn his head to avoid the painful light of Trots''s glow. "Who was your diplomat, and who went with him?
"Wha- oh. Uh, why would you be wondering that? I assure you those we sent were honorable, and they would never attack a diplomat unless provoked!"
"I see," Trots nodded, "Tyrene, Andal, and Jeva."
"I didn''t answer you!"
"Where are they now?"
"I want to know why you''re asking, so that we can have a proper discussion."
"You don''t know?"
"I didn''t say that, I just want to know why you''re asking."
"But you do not know. Do you know who would?"
Wanrod didn''t say anything, unsure of how he was giving away information.
"You don''t know even that. Very well."
Trots walked past him, but on his way he grabbed Wanrod''s lower jaw with his right hand, pulling it open, tapped his tongue with his pointer finger, and shoved his mouth closed again.
Wanrod felt something sprout on his tongue, shoving its way down his throat and filling his stomach. It went up through his sinuses, and the inner pressure became too much.
Alarms sounded throughout the city when they saw Wanrod''s body fall. Archers targeted Trots from every side, but the arrows fell short.
Trots landed on a high tower. He didn''t raise his voice, but it could be clearly heard by all those beneath him, "I am looking for Tyrene, Andal, and Jeva. Does anyone here know where they are?"
Hanyr''s booming voice could be just as well heard as he shouted, "We wouldn''t tell the likes of you, if you want trouble, face us like Manier did so we can cut you down!"
Trots scanned the faces of those beneath him, "None of you know? Ridiculous, now I''m left to search blindly from place to place."
Hanyr shot an arrow that was just short of Trots, hitting the stone beneath his feet.
Trots looked down at him and said, "Though, you are the ones who killed Manier. I would be amiss to let you live.”
As if in response, the tower shuddered. Trots leaned over the edge to see the base, and saw that the foundation to the tower was crumbling. Rumberal gave it a hefty swing with his mace, making it shudder again, and the tower fell forward. At the same time, the world turned silver.
Trots turned to blast a hole in the back of the tower that he would fly out of, but found himself unable to. He ran to the hole in the front and leaped out past the tip of the tower, tucking and rolling when he hit the ground.
Nalia rose from the ground and cut at Trots while he was still trapped in his momentum, but Trots extended his body and kicked the ground to soar over her. She rose higher and swung again, but Trots flipped in the air to put his arms next to the ground and caught her by the wrist. He yanked her out of the ground with one arm and punched across her jaw with the other, knocking her unconscious and ending the silver effect.
By then others had time to react, so Rumberal put armor over Nalia, but it did nothing when something invisible sprang from the ground and impaled her. Trots looked around for the others who had been attacking him, but didn’t see anyone. Though, there were an awful lot of dead chickens on the ground, evenly spaced out like it was intentional.
An invisible arrow went through his chest and out the other side, then what felt like a mace slammed into his side and sent him flying across the yard. He halted his momentum by taking flight, and all who looked on him were surprised to see no sign of injury.
The dead chickens rose, and black chords attached them. Just as Vicid had done when they attacked Shrodac, a huge rectangular field became filled with death energy. Trots was at the center, and it was all directed at him. His skin decayed rapidly under the torrent, but he only reacted with a slight smile, and by opening a bottle of wine.
Rather than raising it to drink, the liquid flew out to coat him. It sucked into his lacerations, not to heal them, but to inflame them and incite puss to bubble up. The chords broke as the spell ended, slamming Trots and the dead chickens against the ground.
As he stood, he commented, “That was not unlike the conditions I worship under. You almost distracted me.” He looked around, “But I am focused, and I will find you.”
A force moved through Tiermac like a flood, breaking down weak structures and carrying away anything smaller to slam it against the closest obstacle and trap it there. The force moved through Trots as if he wasn’t there, but the nominees, who had been invisible thanks to potions from Grendala, were caught up in it. Trots saw where the force moved around their invisible bodies, ending the spell.
“There you are.”
The flood came to an end, and the pressure on them let up so that they could fall to the ground and catch their breath. Hanyr shouted to the group, “We have to beat him like Manier!”
Trots cocked his head, “Do you now? Do you think I’ve seen his visions, and he’s seen mine? If it is Manier in front of you then you are wise, but I’m afraid not.”
Something drove through the back of Hanyr’s head, and Rumberal cried out in grief, “Hanyr!” He looked back at the building as if addressing someone hiding, “What is happening? Nothing makes sense this time!”
Something grabbed Rumberal by each arm and lifted him, pinning him against the wall. His head was yanked back to look at Trots, who told him, “You are blind, but I will let you see. It is common among the Haverdash for their hallucinations to be visible to all. This is not natural, it is a development that most enjoy. It is not important to me if mine are seen or unseen, so they have remained unseen. But, here they are.”
What was pinning Rumberal against the wall were two Haverdash, one on either side of him, and one was standing over Hanyr with a spear in his head. On the ground was a shallow layer of what had been the flood, which was dark like the deep ocean in the dead of night. The liquid hadn’t just pushed against him either, it had absorbed into him. His skin and armor were colored by a swirling darkness that slowly moved deeper into him, and he became aware that an ache he felt inside of him wasn’t from being thrown around.
His eyes were drawn upward, but then he had to suddenly look away. Far in the distance, but somehow near, was a great tree. It was like a mountain in height, and its leaves could shade a city. It glowed with the same painful glow that surrounded the glorious Haverdash, but brighter still. One root of the tree had pierced Nalia, and another had broken the ground violently behind Trots to make a wide fissure that was leaking the floodwaters.
Rumberal gestured up at the tree with his head, but avoided looking at it, “What is it?”
“Haverdash,” Trots answered, “Our collective soul. At least, as I have seen it. But, I see that you don’t understand it, since you are looking away.”
A fiery explosion came out of the building Rumberal was pinned against, filled with every energy Grendala was familiar with from cauldrons of potions they’d saved up in preparation. The Haverdash around Rumberal and Hanyr were dissolved, and Hanyr’s wound was healed. He sprung up with new energy, grabbing an arrow and hurling it at Trots like a javelin.
Trots leaned to the side and let it pass, then noticed Vicid coming in behind him as a shadow. He simply watched in confusion as Vicid entered his aura of light and dissolved, much to the dismay of those watching. “What a strange little shadow, to come into the light.” He turned back to Hanyr and Rumberal, “No matter.”
The shallow water at their feet opened up, and they fell into it as if it was deep water. Haverdash with spears formed above each of them and stabbed down as they tried to come up for air, taking great joy in pushing the spears directly down their throats.
The waters climbed over the burning building behind them, dissolving a wall and revealing Grendala trembling. Trots made a flick with his finger, and a root of the tree came up out of the ground to impale her.
The water dried up, becoming a host of Haverdash. Trots commanded them, “This city is in disarray, keep it that way until occupiers come for it.” He leapt off the ground and flew away, with the host bowing behind him.