Delve - 167: Cracked
Author: SenescentSoul

167: Cracked - Delve | Royal Road

Somewhere on the road between Essed and Fel Sadanis, an armored figure walked unhurriedly through the increasingly bizarre landscape. Ameliah had her bow hooked through her arm, disguised by its upgraded enchantments to look and feel like it had been fashioned from wood, rather than adamant. She wore quivers on both hips, having moved the one she’d been wearing on her back to accommodate her cloak. The placement was growing on her, she’d found. The right-hand quiver was full of finely crafted wooden arrows, which had proven sufficient so far. Tallheart’s arrows were housed in the other quiver, which wasn’t really a quiver at all, but rather a sealed metal case, offering some measure of security. Getting Endless Quiver to accept it as a valid place to store arrows had required some mental acrobatics, but she’d managed it in the end.

Popping a honeyed almond into her mouth, Ameliah chewed contentedly. Rain had packed her lunch. She’d been expecting a sandwich or something, but when she’d opened the cloth-wrapped box, she’d discovered an entire chicken pie from the Half-Pint Bakers—who had been safe in Vestvall the whole time, it turned out—and a thermos of coffee, enchanted to remain hot. And the packet of honeyed nuts, of course. Where Rain had found those, she had no idea. Such luxuries were growing exceptionally scarce. The fact that he’d tracked them down for her wasn’t even the most touching gesture. That had been the coffee. He’d sweetened it just the way she liked, even though doing so must have physically hurt him.

Popping the last almond into her mouth, Ameliah looked down at the empty paper packet, marked with the tiny red symbol Rain claimed was a heart. Smiling, she folded it neatly, then tucked it into a pocket. She wasn’t being sentimental—well, maybe a little—it was just that she wasn’t a big fan of littering. Not that it would have made much of a difference.

Sucking the lingering honey from her armored fingers, Ameliah looked around with a sigh. The corrupted landscape really wasn’t pleasant to look at, which had made it difficult to enjoy her meal, exceptional as it had been. She wasn’t quite sure where she was, but she knew she had to be approaching the city now, simply by the mushrooms. The surrounding forest was being rapidly consumed, shelf-like fungus protruding every-which-way from the rotting trunks of dead trees. The pines looked particularly odd, husks of themselves after losing their needles. Those had clearly been appreciated by the toxic moss, which carpeted the forest floor like a thick, disgusting rug, with yet more mushrooms poking through it here and there.

Fortunately for Ameliah, the road was more or less clear, the hard-packed dirt and gravel somehow resisting the growth. That wouldn’t last, she was sure, not as winter faded into spring. Here and there, there was an occasional patch of dirty snow, but for the most part it had all melted.

It won’t be long now.

A gust of wind ruffled Ameliah’s cloak, and she wrinkled her nose, then closed her visor. The air was heavy with the scent of rot, and increasingly, a slight odor of char. She assumed the latter was just the Watch fighting back against the corruption with cleansing fire. That’s what she’d have done if she were them. It wasn’t like there were any animals to worry about. The forest was deathly silent, and with the clouds that had been steadily rolling in, quite oppressive, really.

Gods, I miss Purify. I should have taken it before I left. I’ll swap it in once I get to the city, I guess. Actually, I’d better do that before I need to figure out how to open this armor…or how to go at all. It’s been…a while.

Maybe I shouldn’t have had all that coffee.

Blinking, Ameliah sped back up to an urgent jog, but she didn’t make it more than a dozen steps before a whisper of sound from the road ahead made her come to a stop. Silently, she slipped an arrow from her quiver and nocked it. She didn’t draw, however. It was probably just a monster, but now that she was nearing the city, there was a chance that it was a Watch patrol. If that was the case, it would be best to avoid any misunderstandings. In the wilds, people tended to get a little jumpy—as in ‘Fireball first, hello later’ jumpy. As she waited, the sound came again, gradually resolving itself into approaching footsteps.

Ameliah wasn’t quite sure why she decided to leave the road. Perhaps it was an accumulation of little things that put her on edge. Something off about the hurried cadence of the footsteps, maybe. It could also have been some lingering unease from passing through Essed. Seeing the graves again had affected her more strongly than she’d expected. Whatever the reason, she was feeling slightly foolish as she scurried back a little way to duck behind a patch of brambles that was mostly free of corruption.

The footsteps gradually grew clearer, along with the faint clink of armor.

Ameliah grimaced. What am I doing? It’s just the Watch on a patrol. What is my plan here, exactly? Jump out at them and say ‘boo’?

Moments from standing, Ameliah’s breath caught. A figure had rounded the bend. Through the brambles, she could see that it was a warrior, wearing full plate and bearing a rectangular tower shield. Both his armor and shield were gray, and emblazoned upon the shield was a symbol. Two vertical lines. Black. Styled like nails.

The Empire!

Ameliah’s grip tightened on her bow as her heart attempted to climb into her throat. Had the weapon been made of wood as it seemed to be, it would have splintered from the force. Not daring to move, not even to breathe, she watched as more figures came around the bend. First came a second shield-bearer, then a man wearing loose half-plate, with a ludicrously oversized sword propped against his shoulder. A man with a bow wearing gray leather was next, his eyes scanning the forest from beneath an armored cap. Behind him was another man in similar armor but with no apparent weapons. Last came three women in gray robes, two of which carried crystal-tipped staffs. Mages. Eight people in total, soldiers, all in imperial gray. A full party.

What are they doing here?

As Ameliah’s blood pounded in her ears, the soldiers drew steadily nearer. From their alert gazes and steady pace, it didn’t strike her that this was a random occurrence. They were clearly looking for something. No. For someone. They were looking for her.

Fuck! They must have a Diviner!

Suddenly, the man with the bow stopped. “Got something,” he said, kneeling to touch the ground.

“Halt!” the Swordsman shouted, and the others immediately took defensive positions. He hefted his ridiculous sword, adjusting its position against his chest, then turned to face the archer. “What is it?”

“Tracks, sir,” replied the first man, looking up the road in the direction Ameliah had come. “Armored boots. They’re close.”

Time seemed to slow. The dirt road was frozen too hard to take a bootprint, which meant the archer was actually a Tracker. Even if Ameliah had trusted her flimsy cover to shield her from regular eyes, his would pick her out easily. She had only an instant, and in that instant, she had to make a choice.

Ameliah’s eyes darted over the party’s equipment. Judging. Weighing. She had the advantage now, but it wouldn’t last. One of the mages was looking back toward the city, and to Ameliah’s horror, she realized that the woman’s lips were moving. Ameliah had needed to move her lips too when she’d first learned Message. It was a bad habit that had taken her a long time to break.

Mentalist!

Slowly, the Tracker’s head began turning in Ameliah’s direction.

In a flash, she was on her feet, decision made. An arrow sprung from her bow as she drew and loosed in the same motion. The wooden projectile blazed into flames, curving unerringly toward the Mentalist’s skull.

As fast as Ameliah had moved, the nearer of the two Defenders moved faster. The man practically flew through the air, interposing his shield between the projectile and the vulnerable Mage. The bolt struck, detonating in a fiery explosion. The speaking woman glanced in Ameliah’s direction as the Defender grunted, staggering to the side while flaming splinters ricocheted everywhere.

Not surprised that the wooden arrow had failed, Ameliah loosed again, this time using a far deadlier projectile. It was the second Defender’s turn to fly through the air, and from the unnaturalness of the movement, Ameliah deduced that some skill must be at play—one she wasn’t familiar with. The arrow struck his shield with a resounding ping, punching through metal and flesh alike. Flames erupted over the Defender’s body as he was forced backward by the impact. The bolt continued on through him, seeking its primary target. It struck the Mentalist in the temple, then exploded a second time. The woman didn’t scream, crumpling silently as a fireball consumed her head.

Ameliah had already loosed again before the body hit the ground, not wanting to leave anything to chance, but as she did, a translucent wall of magic shimmered into existence. Her arrow punched straight through the purple barrier with a puff of flame, and the first Defender lurched to intercept it once again. The pair seemed to be taking turns. Weakened after its passage through the Arcane Bulwark, the arrow didn’t pierce this time. It still exploded, but once the flames cleared, the adamant shaft remained lodged in the man’s shield—and arm, judging from the scream. The Mentalist was still down, unmoving despite her head being on fire.

As Ameliah readied another arrow, one of the remaining Mages touched her staff to the Arcane Bulwark. The barrier shimmered, then tripled in size. The final Mage was busy chanting, the tip of her staff pressed to the Swordsman’s back as the man grinned confidently at Ameliah. Not even a second later, the Mage finished her chant, and the Swordsman began to grow. His muscles bulged as his height increased, chain clinking while armored plates shifted to accommodate his rapidly developing bulk. The two Defenders had meanwhile formed ranks, though both looked considerably worse for wear. Blood was veritably pouring from behind the shield of the one with the arrow lodged in his arm, forming a growing puddle at his feet. The other seemed to have stopped his bleeding somehow, for all that he’d been punctured clear through. As for the unarmed member of the Adamant party, he hadn’t been idle. Beside him, standing on all fours was…something. It looked like a cross between a bear, a horse, a bird, and a snake…or maybe a lizard. It didn’t matter.

Ameliah loosed. She used Multishot this time, less interested in punching through the barrier and more in bringing it down completely. Her view was consumed by a curtain of fire as the twenty arrows struck, then exploded. With the aid of Airwalk, she launched herself to the left, then forward, intending to get around the wall if it still stood. She made it to the road, but had to change direction suddenly as a colossal sword scythed across her path, trailing brilliant white light.

A roar from the Chimera made her shift her gaze, seeing that the thing had reared up to stand on its hind legs. The Tamer pointed, and the monster opened its beak, unleashing a pencil-thin beam of azure light that instantly crossed the distance to strike Ameliah’s shoulder. She could feel her armor begin drinking in the magic, warming to tell her that the spell was Heat-aspected. The damage was low, but that didn’t seem to be the point. Almost immediately, the Chimera had shifted its head so the beam struck her visor, partially blinding her.

Cursing, Ameliah raised a hand to shield her eyes as she backpedaled, barely escaping another slice from the hulking Swordsman. The man had practically doubled in size at this point and was still growing. His enormous blade didn’t look quite so ridiculous now that he was swinging it around with a single hand.

Zigging and zagging to keep the beam off of her as much as possible, Ameliah returned fire at the Tamer, using Multishot again. The barrier, which had fallen with her last shot, sprang back into existence only to shatter again as her arrows detonated. Undeterred, she fired again. And then again. On the fourth try, the barrier didn’t come back, and her next volley hammered into one of the Defenders as he lurched to intercept. When the flames cleared, she saw that the man had fallen. So too had the other Defender, she now saw, Bleeder Shot having taken its toll. The Barrier Mage had collapsed from overdraw and was clutching at her head. Ameliah targeted her again, intending to finish her off, but twitched as she heard a bowstring that wasn’t her own.

She’d lost track of the archer in the chaos, and although that should have given him an easy shot, the arrow came nowhere close to hitting her. Her eyes darted to him, and the man paled.

Not a fighter.

Ameliah aimed, then shot him with a full volley anyway before returning her attention to the Barrier Mage, who was fumbling with a potion. She loosed again, and the woman was obliterated.

Ameliah didn’t pause to celebrate the abrupt removal of two more enemies. Instead, she cursed, having noticed the remaining Mage sprinting back the way the party had come. The woman was already at the bend, vanishing around it before Ameliah could get off another shot.

Ameliah kicked herself back into the air, staying low and taking a glancing hit from the Swordsman as she accelerated past him. His blade screeched as it traced a line along her armor, sparks trailing harmlessly from the contact. Now that the barrier was gone, the Chimera had gotten its beam on her again, but she didn’t pay it any mind other than to note the smell of burning cloth and to lament the damage to her cloak.

This fight was hers. She knew that beyond a doubt. The thing that she couldn’t allow was for anyone to escape. There were more Adamants around, and if word of her capabilities got back to them, she’d really be in the depths. They already knew of her existence, and thanks to the Mentalist, probably her approximate position. Given that she was still alive, her armor’s enchantments had already proven their worth in muddling Divinations, but they couldn’t stop someone from simply sweeping a Scrying Pool along the road.

Hells, they might have done that already. I would have.

Ameliah clenched her teeth. She couldn’t do anything about it if they had. All she could hope was that she’d gotten the Mentalist in time.

Spinning through the air as she rounded the bend, Ameliah loosed her readied shot. Twenty flaming arrows spread in a fan, then curved back together to strike the fleeing woman in the center of her back, right where the Empire’s symbol had been stitched into her robe. The subsequent detonation blasted the woman’s torso apart, almost cutting her in half.

Ameliah looked away, less because she was disturbed by the gore, though there was that, but more from the necessity of shooting someone in the back. As the fear of her opponents began to fade, it was leaving room for her to second-guess herself. She wouldn’t let something like that stop her, though. Showing mercy here would risk not only her own life, but also the lives of everyone she cared about.

As Ameliah completed her rotation, she caught herself with Airwalk, seeing that the road beyond the bend was empty of other threats. Balancing half a meter in the air, she turned, seeing the Swordsman barreling toward her. She ignored him, targeting the Tamer. Her arrows took him before he managed to duck behind his Chimera, which dissolved into motes of light moments after its summoner’s fiery death. That brought the number of remaining enemies down to one.

Her boots thudding against the ground, Ameliah reached for another arrow. The hulking Warrior had slowed, glancing over his shoulder before turning back to her. He spread his arms wide, a smile on his face as he spoke with a deep voice, booming from expanded lungs. “Well fought, my enemy. Tell me—“

Ameliah loosed. The man attempted a dodge, but it did him no good. The initial explosion didn’t kill him. The arrows, rather than winking out after the blast, curved up over him to strike again, detonating once more. The man fell to his knees, then slumped to the side, beginning to shrink as his sword clattered to the ground.

Sorry, but I don’t have the time to be stalled.

Ameliah lowered her bow, listening hard as silence fell but for the crackling of flames. After glancing over the bodies to make sure none had survived, she looked down the road, then up at the sky. She knew she had to risk taking a look over the trees, but doing so here would be idiotic.

She cursed, thinking as she darted off into the trees. She had no doubt that the Watch wouldn’t just let the Empire skulk around. That meant either they didn’t know they were here, or that they did and couldn’t do anything about it.

If it’s the first one, this might not be so bad. If I can get past them to the city, I can get help, and then the Watch can drive them off.

Thoroughly lost in the trees at this point and spattered with filth from plowing through the corrupted underbrush, Ameliah slowed, judging the distance sufficient. She leapt into the air, and with a few steps, made it to a high branch of an ancient-looking tree. The rotting wood creaked beneath her feet, but held. Turning, she searched for the city through the skeletal branches.

She almost fell when she saw it, or rather, what was left of it.

Not a single structure remained in Fel Sadanis, including the citadel the Watch had been building. Everything had been flattened as if swatted by an enormous hand, and then the rubble burned almost beyond recognition. The scent of char came even stronger to Ameliah’s nose now that she was less sheltered from the wind, but she barely even noticed. The devastation that had been wrought upon the city was mild compared to what had been done to the surrounding land.

The shattered corpse of Fel Sadanis now sat on a perfectly circular mesa, marking where the barrier had once ended. Surrounding the mesa was a crater. There was no sign of the stone outcrop that had once leaned against the barrier. It had been obliterated, as had the others like it, raised in the Citizens’ battle with the Empire. The very hills had been blasted apart, the dirt gouged away down to shattered bedrock. The Sadanis river was pooling at the bottom of the crater around the mesa’s base, promising one day to be an enormous lake with an island at its center.

Ameliah reached out to steady herself against the trunk of the tree, finding that she couldn’t breathe. Destruction like this simply couldn’t happen. The world didn’t allow it.

A few moments passed while she simply stared, a cold certainty falling over her. As the spell began to break, she took a ragged breath, then, though it was unwise, raised her visor. Squinting, she could just barely make out the tiny black threads, spreading like frozen lightning from the sky. Not threads. Cracks. Cracks in reality. She’d never seen their like, but she’d heard them described. The world hadn’t allowed this. The damage had simply been done anyway.

Ameliah tightened her grip on the tree, bark splintering beneath her fingers. Fecht. Fecht did this. He caused the earthquake.

A flash of light from the corner of her eye sent a spike of terror through Ameliah’s mind, bringing her attention back to her present situation. She turned her head sharply, the bottom dropping out of her stomach all over again.

There, at the southern edge of the crater, was an army. Thousands strong. Rank after rank of gray-armored soldiers, distorted behind a many-layered barrier of magic. Carefully nudging aside a branch to get a better view, Ameliah took in the details. The army was far from her position, but it was clear enough that they were readying themselves for an assault. Another bubble of force sprang up around them as she watched, adding another layer to their defenses and making it even harder to make out individual soldiers.

They’re turtling up. I must have got the Mentalist in time, then. They must think I’m a Citizen or something. That won’t last. Eventually, they’ll realize— Ameliah squeezed her eyes shut, suddenly clinging to the tree trunk for support. I left tracks. They’ll follow them….

Wait, I can still fix this! With Mask Trail, I could—

Ameliah stopped, then took a deep breath. She let it out slowly, sealing away the nonsense ramblings of her panicked mind.

There’s no time. It wouldn’t even help. They already know I came from the east. All they’d need to do would be to follow the road.

She closed her eyes.

I can’t fix this.

With wooden fingers, she reached up, then closed her visor. She held out her hand. A metal plate appeared, then vanished. The message was sent.

Letting herself fall from the tree, Ameliah landed heavily. And then she ran.

Gravel crunched as Dominus Alarus dismounted. Passing the reins to an attendant, he turned, then walked past the ranks of scouts standing stiffly at attention. Stopping before the mostly-intact body of a Shield Defender, he knelt and extended two fingers to touch a hole that had been punched through the man’s shield. He pushed them deeper, feeling around the edges and stopping only when he felt cooling flesh on the other side. Retracting his fingers, he idly rubbed at the blood with his thumb, little warmth remaining in the sticky liquid. The arrow that had made the hole was gone, of course, having been a construct, but the scouts had found this place before it had been too late.

Wordlessly, the Dominus raised his hand over his shoulder. There was a clomp of boots as a soldier stepped smartly forward, then placed a scrap of paper into his waiting hand. Bringing it before his eyes, he moved his thumb, leaving a crimson smear on the sketch. The shape of the arrowhead could have been a coincidence, but the old wound in his shoulder ached in recognition. There were also a few lines of text, noting the material and the details of the spent enchantment. He glanced over these briefly, certainty forming in his mind as he connected them to dozens of reports, stretching back for years.

The slaughtered Mentalist hadn’t mentioned the antlers before she’d been silenced, but the Dominus knew. He knew the evil that she had faced. He had faced it himself, emerging victorious even though he’d yet to be Called. Back when he’d been the nothing commander of a nothing garrison along the frontier.

Standing, Alarus let the scrap of paper flutter to the ground, his eyes following the road to the east. “So. They are back.”

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