Alchimia Rex

The bombardment began cautiously, falling upon the eastern edge of the trenches not through explosions of fire and death but wind and water. Elspeth watched the assault as she marched towards it and victory she was no longer certain would be theirs. Twice they had attacked, and twice they had been rebuffed, each time returning with little to show for their efforts.

That kind of hesitation was something she would never allow others to see, however. Today was the day the lords had promised victory, and today they would rip it out of their enemy’s hands.

The Sparkanine hefted her massive warhammer, marching towards the trenches for the third time. “Knights!” she roared, moving to take position ahead of their force. “Today we show them our murisium!”

Elspeth took her place at the front alongside the other knights, ignoring the deathly silence and stench of fear. No one said anything, but they were all thinking, wondering whether this time would prove to be another trap.

They had changed formations from the previous assault; this time, the knights would lead peasant units. With three knights per unit, it would keep them relatively scattered and hard to hit by any explosives while remaining able to regroup and amass where necessary on the frontline.

It was a necessary strategy against the Orcs. The green maidens could outlast them in any measure of endurance, and remaining capable of stepping back while someone fresher took the front was crucial. As were their fire-enchanted blades, to sear and burn and deny the maidens their regeneration.

Elspeth held her breath as she stepped onto the land of death the Alchemist had made.

The ground was stained with blood and fire, upturned and destroyed, irregular holes making every step a tripping hazard. After nothing happened, Elspeth’s steps became more reassured, moving from a forced march into a slight jog. The sound of boots pounding the dirt followed her, militia and knights alike gaining some confidence as they began to gain momentum.

Halfway through the death-land, Elspeth heard it—the whistling scream of enemy bombardment. A dozen trails of smoke rose from amongst the trees ahead, arching over the air in their direction. The Sparkanine felt a mild sense of guilty relief; they had been aimed to hit the thick of their charge, not her unit. The explosions rang out behind them like bells, unleashing wrath upon anyone unfortunate enough to get caught in the blast.

“Charge!” she roared, raising her hammer in preparation as they reached the wood and dirt fortifications.

With a swing of her mighty weapon, lightning was unleashed upon the ground ahead of them, destroying barricades and paving the way forward. From up above, their Sorceress proved ever-useful, launching a cluster of water-spells on the trenches closest to Elspeth.

Fully expecting a flurry of spears, the Sparkanine charged herself with lightning, hurrying ahead of her group, weaving through the protections and raising her hammer. With the thunderous power of a champion, she struck the earth, releasing upon the trenches a veritable storm.

The forest exploded in flames, the winds from the aerial-knights turning them into an inferno.

Before the enemy could potentially regain their wits, she threw herself forward over the lip of the ditch, breaking the pitiful, useless covers that had been laid atop the trenches, ready to...

There was nothing there.

A sense of foreboding danger swept through her; the veteran knight knew well the smell of a trap even if she could not discern its nature. With swings of her hammer, she removed more and more of the planks used to cover the trenches, finding nothing but deep, empty pits twice the depth she was tall. Wooden planks kept the deep gouges standing, but the mud was already starting to seep through while overhead the trees burned.

“Halt!” she commanded her forces, roaring as loudly as she could, pointing at one of the militia. “Jump down.”

The maiden hesitated, terrified of what might be waiting for her down below. But her fear of angering Elspeth was far greater, so she obeyed quickly.

“Nothing here, knight,” she proclaimed once she’d stepped on the planks at the bottom, looking around, holding her spear with trepidation.

“Search these pits!” Elspeth roared so that all could hear. “Turn every plank if you must. The enemy cannot have just vanished!”

She could see that the same scene was unfolding across the frontline: the knights leading the troops found no resistance nor enemy forces. They would send down a handful of militia while keeping everyone else in an advantageous position above ground where they held a height advantage.

Deeper into enemy territory they went, the trenches a veritable maze of twists, turns, and dead ends. There were tunnels connecting different parts, clearly designed for small maidens to quickly move from one end to the other. The bombardment from the Sorceress had come to a halt; only the shuffling of maidens and barking of commands could be heard.

The burning forest cast flickering shadows around her, making it nearly impossible to see beyond a dozen meters. Elspeth’s hackles were raised, every step tentative, expecting an ambush from any direction, her hammer at the ready.

Yet, as she reached where the trenches began, where the forest came to an end, they found nothing.

“Prepare to…” Turning around to command her militia, she found only silence.

With the shifting of the wind, she caught the faintest scent of blood.

“Enemies in the trenches!” she roared, realizing that far fewer maiden members were coming out from the holes than had gone in. She prepared to blow the horn when she caught sight of the Sorceress above, shooting out three red flares.

Elspeth’s blood ran cold.

That could only mean their lordships were under attack and all troops were to pull back.

But how?

No time to think as something lunged at her from the shadows.

Instincts and years of experience saved her life as she raised the hammer to block two bloodied claws. The blow still carried enough power to launch her toward the trenches, with screams of knights rushing to her aid.

A bone-white figure emerged, with bloodied claws and a blood-curdling growl, eyes a cold blue death. Elspeth raised her hammer, preparing herself to fight the Sabertooth champion, lightning crackling all around her.

The feline’s ear twitched once, her head snapping toward the trenches.

The next moment, she was gone back into the darkness.

Elspeth cursed under her breath as screams began to ring out throughout the trenches.

They’d been so preoccupied with the Alchemist’s ploys they’d been blind to the simplest rule of engagement: deny the enemy champion every advantage possible. And they’d just stepped right into the Sabertooth’s hunting ground.

Cecilia had watched it all go down with a sense of foreboding as the aerial knights remained at the ready, circling overhead the enemy position. The plan had been to be ready to bombard enemies or swoop down if they spotted any, but they had found nothing.

At first, they had thought it was merely the enemy moving positions to better-protected locations, but then the Darkton’s fighters found no resistance in the enemy fortifications.

Nearly eight hundred strong, they poured into a forest raised upon a labyrinth of trenches, with their largest obstacle being the earthwork itself.

The Mikilia had counted the minutes, circling overhead in her massive bird form, hoping, praying that her concerns were unfounded. It was impossible to tell what was going on under the canopy, and it didn’t help that some of the trees had been set alight. Smoke rose, but there were no flares to indicate the defeat of the enemy troops.

“Captain!”

Turning towards the north, she saw smoke and a rising red flare where there should not have been one.

She could not believe what she was seeing.

They had left the noble lords safe, protected by the cavalry alongside a token fighting force, with traps ready in the event that the Sabertooth would be deployed to attempt an assassination. A hundred maidens in total, equipped with protections against slashing and stealth, were more than enough to face down a champion who was outside their element.

If the worst came to it, the nobles would flee with the cavalry.

Yet they were boxed in, surrounded by Orcs from all sides and quickly losing. Even as they watched, more enemy combatants were pouring out of holes in the ground, joining the Orcs and bolstering their strength.

“Send the flare! Fly to protect our lords!” Cecilia screeched, already flapping her powerful wings to gain momentum. The bond screamed in panic—would they kill the Viscount? She couldn’t let it happen.

Her mind spun from the incomprehensible nature of what was happening.

The first time the army had marched upon them, they had checked the underground; there had been no tunnels. How could they have made one this long this quickly? The earthwork had been constructed too fast, too far; no team of maidens should have been able to do this unless they had...

Terrielles.

Dawning horror swept over Cecilia as she could only watch. While the Orcs and the militia hammered at the cavalry, a team of canine maidens was lifting the earth and creating fortifications. They were moving the earth as if it were liquid, raising it in what could only be an effort to stall or hinder the return of the main Aubrian force.

Sinco didn’t have Terrielles; it shouldn’t have had more than maybe one. From where had so many sprung up!? Cecilia flapped harder, ignoring the complaints of her passengers. They needed to reach—

BANG

There was a solid impact against Cecilia’s right wing, powerful enough to break her rhythm. “We’re being attacked!” she screamed out, fighting to regain her balance while her passengers held on, screaming.

BANG

The shot missed, but Mikilia heard the disturbance in the air as it flew past her head. Craning her neck, she looked for the source while the other aerial knights spread out to make themselves harder targets.

“Above, you idiot!” the Sorceress screamed.

There, in the sky, plunging out of a low cloud, was a shimmer of metal, one that let out gouts of fire and smoke. It was a design not unlike the weird self-propelled explosives used by the Alchemist, but almost as large as two wagons.

BANG

The side of the weird contraption let out an explosion, and a moment later, one of the flying militia screamed, falling in a spray of blood, wings torn cleanly off. It had been so fast she had not managed to see more than a blur of motion before the impact.

“Stay steady!” their passenger declared, elemental energy swirling around her staff. The spell finished within a heartbeat, and she launched the attack, a whistling fireball that shot straight towards the contraption.

But just as it was about to hit, the fireball vanished as if it had never been there.

“They can counterspell!?”

“I—”

“Attack it!” Cecilia screamed, not at the spellcasters but at every aerial knight under her command. “We cannot waste time, our lord needs us! Engage!” Immediately, those with the capacity for ranged attacks began to prepare for the assault, while the rest began to fly faster, gaining altitude to get closer to their assailant.

The contraption let out one more shot before something shifted.

Suddenly the gout of smoke and fire redoubled with an almost ear-splitting screech, and it began to climb at an incredible speed, gaining distance from their pursuers. Thrice the spell-slingers launched attacks, and thrice they vanished into nothing before reaching the wretched machine.

Then, the nose of the machine pointed downwards, and it began to accelerate.

Embla clenched the guard-rail inside the tiny metal cabin so tightly that it screamed in complaint. Her knees were pressed against her chest; there wasn’t any room to sit. All she could see was the blue sky outside and the ground so far below that trees were no more than toothpicks.

“Nonononononononono!”

“Do not fear!” The crazy Metalmouse screamed over the deafening roar of the fire that kept pushing them onwards. “Safety is first.”

The “plane” tilted downwards, and her stomach lurched. They were gaining speed, metal and glass rattling as wind whipped all around them. Levers were pulled, and there was another horrifying 'click.'

Everything rattled all around her, ready to come apart at the seams at the slightest provocation. The Malumari barely noticed the next wave of attacks in time to launch a wave of dispelling power.

The rodent let out a mad screeching sound.

The previously “deafening” roar of the engine turned into an explosive scream, thrusting Embla into her seat, both of them rocketing straight towards the massive stone bird.

They were going to die, they were going to smash headlong into a Mikilia, the flying fortress, and turn into paste! Nononononono-

BOOM

The cannon at the side of the plane burst out, practically shoving them sideways as they avoided crashing by a hair. Raphaella pulled on more levers, and their near vertical downward dive turned into a sharp upwards curve. Embla threw dispel after dispel as she could neither hear nor see properly enough to know if they were about to get shot down.

“Death to the stone bird!” The mouse squealed in a high-pitched warcry.

Above them, Embla realized the Mikilia was tumbling down, a smoldering wound upon the side of her massive avian head. The Sorceress and the other spellcasters had been flung off, the aerial knights scrambling to catch them… but they’d been further up than the Mikilia.

Those that attempted to cast something found their spells fizzling out under the high-density disrupting assault Embla was unleashing in every direction.

The few that weren’t caught on time met a swift and brutal end against the ground.

“Victory!” The pilot declared.

“She’s not dead!” Embla warned, seeing the metamorphosed unleash a rain of stone feathers.

Raphaella swerved, wings creaking ominously in complaint.

And then there was a horrible grinding sound, rattling the plane as the world began to spin out of control.

“Oh,” Raphaella said with the calmness of someone that was leisurely talking about the weather, “That is not good.”