The Greatest Sin

Lyca stepped off the plane. The tarmac was cracked. The airport itself was small. The nearby town was maybe two dozen tall apartment blocks. Cars were cheap and old, clothes were dull and grey. The air was cold and the wind was starting to pick up.

Karaina B. In all its glory.

Ten days had passed. Ten slow days of preparation and watching the skies. Seven days of nature slowly crawling over the dwarf hold. It was not reclaimed into the ground, it had grown and evolved into a new beast. Passages would open and close for the beastmen, the moat had become a monstrosity and the trees were slowly retreating from the hold. Every half hour, another great pine would crack and collapse as the poisonous aura around the castle seeped deeper into the ground.

Fer wondered if she had made a mistake in bringing half her pack here. They could have ran further. Where though? Eventually the hunt would catch up, they flew where the pack marched. A river would take an hour to ford. The hawks chasing them wouldn’t even glance twice at the water.

The sun started to descend from its zenith. It peaked over a picturesque view of the Karainan tundra. All pine trees, topped off with snow. Mountains in the distance, birds circled around the farther mountains to keep watch. Wolves stalked the undergrowth as wardens, the rest of the large animals from nearby had been called to the hold. They had answered. A menagerie of fauna resided in those ruins devoured by twisting roots and vines. The rest of the animals were conscripted into the force. From fox and boar to squirrel and sparrow, even the tiniest rodent was called upon.

Fer squinted as the snow clouds started to clear. There it was. The hunt was upon them. A small dark dot on the horizon. As the hunters got closer, that dot started to fragment. Fer counted at least twenty different flags and then gave up, it was easily over a hundred cultivators. After a certain point, they may as well be fighting the entirety of Great Guguo.

Fer re-adjusted the bronze breastplate around her body. A centurion automaton had given its carcass to serve as her armour, too heavy even for minotaurs but light for Divines. She stood up and howled the war cry. The fort beneath answered as every beast dwelling added their own roar to her howl.

She hefted one of the bronze javelins. Logar had thought they were spears at first, they were bolts from a dwarven ballista. It was time to give them one last flight. She aimed, her stomach twisting, leaned back and then threw it forwards. Half a forest was nothing.

The bolt launched like a metallic shard of lightning, the boom came a second after. Swords flew to meet it, swords were blown away. One man fell towards the tree. Hawks and sparrows flew out to meet him and make sure he wouldn’t return to the air.

Fer bared her fangs. The wind picked up towards her and she smelled the fresh blood. Another throw, this one was dodged. The men in sky shot a red flare towards the sky as the clouds retreated further. More howls came from the forest. Ground troops. Another dot appeared in the North. Another in the South.

Two more throws, two more dead men fell out of the sky. The group stopped. She hit someone important. Vengeance. Fer felt her ears quiver and rolled to the side. A blade descended from the sky to the spot she was stood on. She grabbed it and smashed the steel sword in two over her knee. Blades didn’t bleed, but they could still be killed.

The shard was a throwing dagger. She launched it back at the group. They were close enough now for her to make out faces. Men standing on floating blades and spears. They’re own artefact weapons in their hands, more blades floating around them in circles. One sword came to meet the shard she threw and swatted it like a fly.

Howls came from the pines. Howls and screams and shouts and whimpers. “Pack Master.” Fer’s ears jumped in acknowledgement to the darkfur behind her, but she continued throwing. Half the dwarf-bronze bolts, six kills: Could be better, could be worse. “The animals from the forest are reporting about two thousand ground troops. Lesser practitioners and so on.”

“Yes.” Fer threw two more. One bolt cracked through a sword and sent the man behind spiralling to the ground, the other flew past them and disappeared into the perfect blue sky. Fer’s ears quivered again. “Dodge!” She shouted. The dark fur moved on pure instinct, rolling backwards and into a ball behind a ruined column.

A hailstorm of blades descended towards the roof they were stood on. The darkfur was hidden the by the column, Fer was too large to hide. The blades thudded against the dwarf-bronze on her chest and slit across arms and arms.

The pain faded quickly, the wounds closed quicker, but in that moment, Fer smelled her own blood. Time around her started to slow down, her vision went red. Her ears quivered as her nails grew into claws. A single swipe and she snapped half of the swords lodged into the ground.

The darkfur barged into her and roared his death howl. Fer recovered control as a beam of fire descended from the men into the air on the forest. Ice grew out of the ground around a tree and exploded into a thousand shards. The ground started to crack and shake as the cultivators reaped the woods like wheat. None of that was important, what was so important was the arrow sticking out of the darkfurs’ chest. It pierced his head, it would have hit her heart had he not knocked her over.

Golden shaft, white feathers.

Arrows made to hunt her.

Arrows only Gods used.

Atis’ arrows.

Fer rolled again as another golden flew were she was just standing. She crouched as if to jump and then pounced forwards. Two arrows followed her. Where? A blink was too much time. No. Don’t look.

Escape. Fer rolled like a snake, launched herself against the mountain edge, swung on a vine and jumped downwards, towards her roof as if she was about force a door open. The roof gave way under her and she disappeared into the fortress in a cloud of dust.

Two beastmen stared at her in the corridor, armed with bronze axes looted from the treasury. Fer let the cloud of dust clear as she recovered her breath. Two dozen arrows snaked across the mountain, buried deep into the stone and vines and roots as if it were all butter. They tracked her movements perfectly, a moment slower and she would have been dead.

“What is it Pack Master?” The took a step back as Fer finally stood up, her eyes led, her fangs exposed in a snarl.

“The Huntsmaster is here.”