Pain brought me back to my senses. Not just pain, but PAIN. Someone was digging into my wounds, extracting sharp shards, cutting through the flesh that covered them. I tried to summon the gift, but for the first time in a long time, I felt no sense of it. Phoenix, too, was silent, though I sensed its presence. Opening my eyes, I saw only Darkness. Elos appeared in my field of vision. Gathering all my strength, I whispered:
- Forgive me, my goddess, I was weak and self-confident... I was overcome with pride...
She places her finger on my lips, silencing me, and tilts her head to the side. As if to say, shut up and look over there. With difficulty, I turn my head in the indicated direction. A mutilated priestess lies on a stone pedestal. Is she really dead? No, she's breathing. So, did I succeed? I turn my head back – the goddess is gone. In her place is the worried face of Isites. Was Elos really here? Maybe it was all delirium? The sister says something to the side. The plucking of fragments has stopped. Concentrating, I begin to perceive the meaning of her words.
– …He came to his senses. – And to me: – Asheras, can you hear me?
"Yes." My whisper is quiet.
"Try to block out the pain. Wounds inflicted by protoforce don't respond to anesthesia."
- Fine…
Easy for her to say. The next hours felt like an eternity in the Hellish universe. The procedure was extremely painful. The thing is, numerous ice shards showed no signs of melting. What's more, they were encased in flesh. To locate them, they used a special artifact, similar in action to a magnet. When they passed it near a shard, it moved within my body, causing extremely painful spasms and internal bleeding. Then they cut through the flesh, removed the shard, and healed the incision. Everything would have been fine, but some of the pieces were very small and embedded deep. At times, I thought I couldn't bear it. But it was necessary—with each removed piece, I felt the phoenix and my gift more clearly. By the end of the procedure, I even humorously thought that torture wouldn't frighten me anymore.
Before I could close my eyes and dive into sleep, one of the Atretases ran up to Isites and quickly blurted out:
"Great Priestess! They're storming again! We might not be able to hold out!"
I wiggled my fingers, coming to my senses, and sat up abruptly. A phoenix rumbled contentedly within me. My sister was no longer nearby. The only guards were two pairs of Golden Atara.
- Bring me clothes and armor.
As I dressed, I noticed my skin was covered in thin threads of scars. Looking at my hands in surprise, I heard the elemental's voice: "Protoforce wounds heal very slowly. It will take a long time for the scars to fade, even for us." Us? "Now we are one... forever." Why am I not engulfed in flames? "I hold my aura within your gift." The phoenix's voice faded. Too bad this is neither the place nor the time to do anything with my clothes. They'll burn up again. As I stood up, the Golden Priestess knelt and held out a long black stick to me with her arms outstretched. Yes, that's my rancer! My spirits noticeably lifted. A bit clumsy, sure. But for a weapon made practically from scrap material, it's more than decent.
- How long was I unconscious?
- Three hours, lord.
I headed toward the exit of the small nook where I'd been treated. It was located in the wall of a not very high but wide cave, higher than Ishakshi, offering a view of the heavily damaged capital. The outskirts of the city closest to the cave were completely destroyed; only here and there, piles of smoldering rubble indicated where houses had once stood. Rarely were the ruins taller than a meter. The zone of almost complete devastation extended into the city for more than two kilometers. Only in the distance did I discern dilapidated stone buildings. About a hundred meters away stood the priestesses of the Golden Guard. From my vantage point, I saw that they were perched on the tips of a large, multi-pointed star, more than fifty meters in diameter. At its peaks lay solitary, motionless bodies. From where I stood, it was impossible to tell whether they were alive or not.
Movement near the distant ruins caught my attention. The enemy soldiers attacking us dispersed and ran in our direction. I chuckled: attacking powerful mages head-on was madness. My sister stepped into the pattern of the multi-pointed star—even at this distance, I recognized her. Drawing a wavy dagger and squatting, she dealt a swift blow to the central figure and, straightening up, extended her arm toward the advancing soldiers, bloodied to the elbow, palm open, upon which lay the still-fluttering heart of the victim. For a moment, nothing happened. And then, from the outer edge of the star, a wave of distorted air rushed toward the fleeing soldiers. Passing through the devastated territory, it instantly became saturated with ash and dust, gaining volume. A few moments—and enemy soldiers run into a black cloud of fast-moving, restless ash, never to emerge from the other side. The spell leaves behind a literal carpet of motionless bodies. Slowing noticeably, the cloud moves on and almost stops completely when it reaches the remaining buildings. A distant crackling and noise reaches my ears. The dust settles like coarse sand, and I see that several more buildings have been reduced to dust. Surveying the battlefield, I realize the attack has been repelled.
The sister barked orders confidently—the echo of her barked commands reached me. Several senior priestesses were dragging more struggling victims by the feet into the star—not even dust remained of the previous ones. After critically examining the ritual star and mentally reviewing almost every spell of similar magnitude I'd encountered in my library, I barely recognized "Wind of Devastation" from among the most powerful spells of the Death Force. In the distance, two dozen of my Atara, led by Arichitos, were drawing something else—another unknown to me. Glancing at the Atretases on their hisnas who had rushed onto the field littered with bodies, apparently rushing to search for the remaining survivors, I returned to the cave nook and asked the priestess guarding me:
- What about Elviaran?
– Recovery is underway, but very slowly.
Hmm, her body was truly a sad sight. A single, continuous scar. Her arms were gone below the elbows, and her legs below the knees. Fury and hatred surged within me, but quickly faded, leaving only compassion.
"The situation is exacerbated by severe exhaustion. Her body barely accepts food or water. She's essentially only alive thanks to her immense willpower. Her gift isn't recovering... We're afraid she's completely burned out..."
I walked up to her makeshift bed.
- How about forced filling of the gift?
"Right now, everyone's busy defending. The High Priestess managed to find time and energy only for you. Everyone else is busy maintaining the Canopy of Darkness."
- Bring me some food.
I placed my palm on the prostrate Atar's stomach and dove into the magical vision. Oh, goddess, what a ragged aura Elviaran has! I embedded my ter into her gift and began carefully siphoning mana. At first, it simply flowed out of her gift, but I didn't stop and began to notice that less and less mana was being lost. At the same time, I used the knowledge of the Life Force and connected our blood vessels. Perhaps such a trick wouldn't work on humans, but not on Atar from the same House. We are more than relatives. We are like parts of a single organism. Gradually, her aura was restored, and her poor blood was replaced with mine. When Elviaran's gift grew stronger, I severed our connection, casting a final medium "Healing."
I was swaying with weakness. The priestess appeared and, handing me a sealed ration pack, froze in anticipation. I sat down on my bed and leaned the ranser against the wall. I pulled a bhatell out of the ration pack, broke it open, and began chewing the granules. How it reminded me of my life! Bitter, sour, sweet, bitter again... My strength was quickly restored. Yes, it's not for nothing that bhatell is so famous... Recalling the details of the battle, I winced. By the way...
- And where is my prisoner?
- Along with the rest, lord.
- Did you open it?
- No. Commander Atere told us about her.
Atere came in and, seeing me, bowed his head and knelt down.
"You're already up, Asheras. I'm glad. You've inspired hope in the hearts of the Atretas."
"Please, Atere, don't do this homage. I have more than enough of my own atar."
My teacher stood up and walked towards Elviaran.
"She looks much better," he said in surprise. "Even her skin has started to return to its normal color. And her gift is being restored! It's almost full!"
"Do you think I swapped her blood for mine for nothing?" I finished chewing the bhatella granules and began to eat the carefully packed strips of dried meat.
However, you can eat on the road. Standing up, I stretched and cracked my joints. Grabbing my packed lunch and a runner, I turned to the priestess, who was still standing frozen:
- Take me to my captive.
Following her, I stumbled upon a huge pile of assorted loot. There was everything here! My gaze was drawn to gold jewelry and ingots, cutlery, various coins, and beautiful weapons. Separately, there were items inlaid with precious stones and all sorts of magical artifacts. I stood transfixed, gazing at this wealth. The priestess paused patiently:
"Ishakshi was a very large and rich city. It's a shame we simply don't have enough Eldar to even partially plunder it... All we could do was salvage what was lying around unnoticed."
- Will we be able to transport all this?
Atere, who was walking behind me, answered for her:
– I think so. But we'll slow down a lot anyway.
"You know as well as I do how dire the financial situation of our House is to throw away gold.
"Well, let's say our House isn't in poverty," he muttered more out of stubbornness than out of disagreement with me.
After walking a little further, we found ourselves in an artificial dead end, which had obviously served as a small barracks for the local guard before our attack. Inside were two-tiered narrow bunks—at least, they were hardly cots or beds. I'd only seen such squalor on Earth, on television. There was a shared open toilet and something vaguely resembling a makeshift shower—a bucket on a rope. In short, the conditions were more than Spartan. Between the bunks was a fairly wide central aisle, in which lay twelve bodies, wrapped in silk embroidered with the Khitan symbol, in a row.
I saw the aura of my Atar, but decided to look at the other prey as well. Besides, mine was the last one in the row. Atretas. Another one. And another. A Light Eldar?! I even rubbed my hands. What would become of her? So, I'll inflate her gift for Darkness and let her learn the Shadow. I smiled broadly and wasn't even upset when I didn't find a single other Lightfly. After looking at their faces again and finding nothing interesting, I turned my attention to my personal captive.
Crouching down, I unwrapped her face. Hm, still wearing the mask? Her thick white hair was pulled back into a tight ponytail—the traditional hairstyle of all Dark Eldar. The mask was badly cut and scratched—one might say she'd gotten off easy. I placed my palm on it and abruptly lifted the white mask onto her crown. A familiar face. Perhaps I'd seen it somewhere? Someone nearby sobbed and fell to their knees. Looking up, I saw Atere, in shock. On all fours, he crawled toward the prostrate Atar and, kneeling again, extended his hands toward her in an almost pleading gesture. With trembling fingers, he touched her face and suddenly burst into tears, whispering through his sobs:
– Mom, mom, ma…
Honestly, it threw me off balance. If it's his mother, then... It's my grandmother? Mmm-hmm. I felt like my brain was about to explode. Trying to maintain tact, I said quietly:
– Are you sure? So many years have passed… Maybe it's her daughter?
"No! I'm sure." He covered his face with his hands.
Well, that's right, we have too much firefly in our blood. Only they can howl their mournful songs at the moon and cry with or without reason. I was pulled out of my reverie by Atere starting to unravel his mother, freeing her from the sleeping cloth. I slapped him and wrapped the atar back in the silk. Atere sat there in shock. No, he was a real woman! Although for the Dark Eldar, being compared to a priestess is practically a compliment...
I grabbed my grandmother's terami and headed for the exit. Atere, who had lost all ability to think clearly, trailed after me as if tied to something.
Emerging from the barracks, I headed toward Isites, who was enthusiastically reprimanding a group of senior priestesses from her eash. Her barking voice carried far, but the meaning of her animated speech was lost. Descending from the dais, I found myself ankle-deep in a gray mixture of dust and ash. Trying to walk carefully, so as not to disturb it with my feet, I approached Isites, only making out the last few phrases:
"...It's good that we have the Hisni in the rear, and there were only a couple dozen attackers! But what if we had formed a crescent? What then? I'm asking you, idiots!"
The priestesses hummed something discordantly.
- Ah? Exactly! Double the rear guard immediately! Is everything clear?
The priestesses nodded and quickly dispersed, respectfully making way for me. The sister wasn't in the best mood, and apparently the lecture she gave her subordinates was giving her a migraine. When Isites saw us, her face brightened, and she visibly perked up.
"Brother! I'm glad you've come to your senses! The illithid slave counterattacks are growing in scale. We're finding it increasingly difficult to hold them back. I think we'll have to leave in a couple of hours." She sighed. "Oh-h-h! Such riches lie within reach! And we're simply short of Eldar." Isites noticed Atere's state. "And what happened to you?"
He only mumbled something unintelligible in response. Pulling the Atar's body closer, I uncovered her face, but Isites showed little interest in her.
- Atere says that this is Aerisnitari, our ancestor.
The sister turned her gaze to him:
- Is he sure?
"You can see for yourself what state he's in. Actually, I thought you were going to tell me who she is?"
"The fall of our House occurred eighty-three years ago. I'm only seventy-two. Naturally, I've never seen either Elviaran or Aerisnitari." The sister peered into the sleeping woman's face. "What are you planning to do?"
- Summon the Eternal?
"In this case, Elos is better. Atretases are one thing, but an ancient and powerful Athar is quite another... Especially from our House..."
– I've long wanted to ask, what is the difference between the Eternal Darkness and the Supreme Goddess?
"And this is what the one closest to these two asks?!" Isites laughed loudly. It seemed to me that crystal bells tinkled in her laughter. I waited patiently for her to calm down. "It's hard to explain. Mmm… Well, okay… Look! What is the sea and the Water Mage? A forest fire and a phoenix? A hurricane and a tornado? A mountain and a sandstorm? The wind and an eagle?.." All of Isites's amusement evaporated, leaving only a tired priestess. "The universe and the mind?" she whispered. "Atar and the Darkness in his ter…" As if frightened by her own words, she turned away abruptly and shouted to the Atretases dragging another wounded captive from the battlefield: "The Twelve-Pointed Star of 'Retention of Will'! When you finish, begin to call upon the supreme goddess of Darkness!" These prisoners - to the center! And those - there too!
Two Atretas arekas immediately rushed to carry out my sister's orders. They worked quickly. And a couple of minutes later, having finished pressing their teras into a twenty-meter star, they huddled outside it, kneeling. The Golden Priestesses stood on the tips, facing the center, and, kneeling, raised their right hands. In their palms, the priestesses created head-sized clumps of Darkness, from which pure mana flowed like a heavy black mist. It flowed down the priestesses' hands and fell from their slightly bent elbows onto the star pressed into the dust. The darkness, slowly flowing around the victims' bodies, converged toward the center, forming a huge black sphere hanging half a meter above the floor. Occasionally, waves seemed to ripple across the sphere's surface. The black sphere gave the impression of a butterfly's cocoon.
The ball's pull grew stronger. The darkness no longer spilled onto the floor, but directly onto its surface, thickening to the consistency of black bitumen.
Gradually, the Dark mana ceased to fall, having exhausted the summoning priestesses' gift. For half a minute, nothing happened. And then all the victims suddenly came to their senses and screamed in pain and horror. Frankly, I'd been taught not to feel compassion back on Earth, and the only thing I knew about the word "mercy" was that it existed. So I stared utterly indifferently at the captives' faces, distorted with agony. Atretases. A couple of people. They tried to cling to the ground and crawl out of the painted star, but its boundaries had the tangible force of stonework. Their crooked fingers clawed helplessly at the air. At some point, the captives began to be sucked into the Darkness. But they didn't fall into the black sphere; instead, they hit its surface and sprawled out. The sphere had a life of its own—moving, shifting the bodies that had fallen onto it so that they evenly covered its surface.
Suddenly, a loud, multi-voiced crunch of breaking bones was heard, and the prisoners' screams were cut off abruptly. Their bodies were crushed into a thin pancake in a second, washing the surface of the black sphere in blood.
For a moment I gazed upon this repulsive spectacle. And then the sphere became pristine once again. A few seconds later, ripples appeared across its surface, and the goddess's deep voice rang out. I, of all people, recognized her immediately.
- What do you need, my children?
Silence. I looked at my sister – she stood with her head down. It looked like I would be the one doing the talking.
"My goddess! I captured an Athar in the city. Atere believes it's Aerisnitari."
I heard a chuckle:
– Who should know better than him?
I don't understand. What's the point?
Meanwhile, the sphere began to thicken, taking the form of the goddess's body. I bowed my head respectfully, so I didn't see the moment Elos manifested. Bare feet and a hand came into my field of vision, taking my chin and lifting it. The goddess gazed into my eyes with interest:
"What do they say in your world? Scars adorn a man? Ha-ha-ha! What nonsense! Good thing they'll be gone in a couple of years. Too bad I have so little time. Give me your loot." Looking at the ruins of Ishakshi, she exclaimed, "Oh, how I'd love to kick Erruu's corpse!"
I felt the full power of the goddess when Elos yanked Aerisnitari from my teres. It was overwhelming and inescapable. My teres simply melted into space, like ice in the heat. Aerisnitari's body hung vertically before the goddess's face. The silk, unwinding, began to fall to the floor. The ancient Atar's closed eyes fluttered and opened. Her face twisted in a grimace of horror.
Elos floated effortlessly above the floor, hovering at the same level as Aerisnitari. I saw her try to turn away from the goddess's gaze, her muscles tensing: her fingers curling, her legs and arms bending slightly. All in vain.
The goddess's voice rang out. She didn't move her lips, but I heard every word:
– Hear me, my daughter! Accept my will! Return to my hand! Remember who you are!
Atar opened her mouth in a silent scream. I saw her eyes roll back in her head and her body spasm. But then the spasms began to subside, leaving behind an exhausted and limp body.
"I've finished. Now it's all up to her..."
Having spoken, the goddess melted into black mist. The force holding Aerisnitari in space vanished after her. I managed to catch the ancient's limp body near the floor with my teras. Her eyes were open, and bloody tears were streaming from the corners. Quickly casting "Cure," I cast it on my grandmother through the blood. After watching the spell for a few seconds, I handed the atar over to Ather, who was kneeling nearby. Taking a small piece of silk from his belt pocket, which served as a handkerchief, he carefully began wiping the bloodstains from his mother's face. A meaningful expression appeared in her eyes. Aerisnitari blinked a couple of times and moved her hand. Clearly, the ancient atar was very weak. She tried to speak, but only a weak groan escaped her lips. I looked at her with my magical vision and, finding nothing but slight exhaustion and the quickly disappearing effects of overexertion, I called out:
- Atere! Come to your senses! Take her away from here.
- W-where to?
I sighed. The last thing I needed was a feeble-minded Ariru commander... Turning to the Golden Guard priestesses, who stood frozen in anticipation, I asked:
- Where is Arichitos?
"She's in the rear, sir. Coordinating intelligence operations."
"Tell Arichitos she'll have to return. And keep an eye on these two. Send them to Elviaran."
The priestess bowed her head respectfully and departed, accompanying Atere and her burden. Isites stood next to me, watching them go.
"These are amazing times I live in..." Her voice was even cheerful. "Yes! I almost forgot, with all this! The dragons we shot down are alive. I've decided not to finish them off yet and wait for your decision. They want to talk."
"They're brainwashed! Why would I need Illiti servants?"
"Well, it's not that simple. The Eternal has already influenced them and restored their worldview. Come, you'll see – your priestesses from Sea and Lea are guarding them."
"Okay then." I followed my sister.
We walked through the dust and found ourselves in the next cave. Near one of the huge rocks at the entrance stood a group of blue-eyed Athar, quietly conversing with the scarlet-haired sisters. Only a soft whisper reached us. Seeing us, the priestesses bowed their heads and parted, letting my sister and me pass. Approaching a large black rock, Isites stopped, stepped aside, letting me pass, and called loudly:
- Keshrun! Akresht! I've brought my brother! Let him decide your fate!
These weren't rocks at all, but a pair of wounded dragons, smashed and smashed in dust! Even in defeat, the nearest dragon inspired, if not awe, then respect. Its body, lying on its side, towered over me, a full height of a grown priestess. The color of its large black scales was barely discernible under the thick layer of dust. The dragon sighed slowly and moved slightly. This part of its body was probably its head. As I approached it, it moved again, revealing a single eye with a vertical pupil. Blinking a couple of times without raising its head, the dragon looked at me. The other socket was empty and bleeding slightly, almost black blood. The dragon studied me for a few seconds, and then, turning its head with difficulty, it spoke in an unexpectedly deep and pleasant, but very tired voice:
"I ask... for mercy... for my... dragon... and... my... son..." He took a breath and added: "If possible, please spare their lives..." Keshrun closed his eyes and fell silent.
I turned to my sister:
- Can we help them?
Isites sighed:
"These are black dragons. A rather rare species. You see, they're practically immune to direct magic. This is both their advantage and their weakness. Yes, it's very difficult to damage them directly, but indirectly, it's easy... That would be fine, but healing is a very direct action, and the only hope is for the body's natural recovery. Theirs is very powerful, by the way. Broken legs and wings will heal in a couple of months, but we don't have that much time. You know, we need to retreat..."
- And what about the dragoness?
"She's unconscious, but her wounds aren't that serious. I think she'll be able to hobble along in the rearguard. But there's something else going on here... She's pregnant and due to lay an egg soon, and that's a problem... Perhaps that explains why Erruu only released them when it became clear there wouldn't be much bloodshed..."
I turned to the dragon:
"We'll do everything we can, but please understand—we can't sit here for long. Do you need water or food? I think we can give you some regular food. We also have a whole field littered with corpses."
- Thank you. If possible, give me everything.
"A true dragon's answer!" I laughed and felt his emotions: if a dragon could blush, he would turn crimson.
Turning away, I confirmed my order with a nod.
The dragon's voice came from behind:
- You didn't say what you would demand as payment...
Without turning around, I said:
- Service. Yours and your descendants'.
"We will not be slaves! I'd rather see my son die a thousand times than this!" Keshrun's roar echoed in the cave.
"I wasn't talking about slavery. I was talking about service. What about the status of the athars? In the House?"
- No!
– And me? Serving only me? For the rest of my life?
I felt the dragon shift slightly behind me, deep in thought. Without turning to face him, I waited for an answer. Suddenly, the dragoness stirred, and Keshrun exhaled:
- Agree.
"Well then, so be it," I whispered, looking at the ruins of Ishaksha.
The figures of enemy soldiers flickered again between the distant ruins of stone buildings. The illithid slaves would soon attack again.
The dragon stirred, and I turned to see its head raised on its long neck. Half of it was in terrible condition, but even seriously wounded, Keshrun was striking in its majesty and power. A crown of curved horns graced its head. The scales on its chest were the size of a palm and overlapped each other like those of a fish. The dragon moved closer to me. Its voice rumbled like the thunder of a distant storm:
– Place your palm on my heart and swear that you will save Akresht and my son!
The scales were hard to the touch and unexpectedly warm. I felt a heartbeat rhythmically beating deep within the enormous body.
– I swear that I will do everything in my power to save them!
Did it seem to me or did something really subtly change in me?
"You swore—I heard," the dragon rumbled, bowing his head. "Give me your palm—the ritual must be completed."
I cupped my hand and held it out to Keshrun. With visible effort, he lifted his paw above my hand. A drop of viscous, almost black blood fell from his half-meter-long claw and landed on my palm. The drop was so large that it filled it to the brim.
– Drink!
Gathering my courage, I poured it all into my mouth, surprised to see that the blood didn't wet my hand and acted like mercury. It sank heavily into my stomach and seemed to ignite there. A wave of weakness washed over me, and I leaned on the rancer to keep from falling. However, the weakness quickly passed. I turned my gaze to the dragoness. It seemed she had already regained consciousness and had only been feigning unconsciousness.
"Your dragon has awakened. Explain to her the essence of our agreement and my oath."
Turning, I headed for the cave exit. Past me, a pair of Atretas priestesses dragged a corpse toward the dragons. Isites and a squad of Athar followed me.
Approaching the star pressed into the ash and looking out over the city, I noticed that quite a few enemy soldiers had already gathered among the distant stone buildings. Among them, figures in gold-embroidered robes flitted about—the illithids had finally decided to join the attackers. They obviously wanted to shield their army from magic. Perhaps they thought I was dead? Or wounded? Fools... The goddess had made it clear she wouldn't let go of her toy and her slaying blade all rolled into one...
Having erected a wall of Darkness to prevent the enemy from seeing me and my preparations, I began to cast crimson fireballs with my teras. What else could I do? Native proto-power. Proto-power is there—no need for cleverness. That's me. I wonder if the Illiti will join the attack? Well, too bad for them. Having created a dozen fireballs, I began to wrap them in a shell. Meanwhile, Isites took up position at the center of the "Winds of Desolation" star. In the distance, I spotted the Ari of Kriata scurrying among the atara. Now that's interesting. Death again, controlling the "Raise the Fallen" star. The Higher Annals of Death mentioned that in the entire recorded history of Heiresh, this spell was cast just over thirty times. And not only because of its ergo-intensive nature. If I were asked what the most terrifying Death Force spell is, I'd probably name "Raise the Fallen" without a doubt... What I read about it in my library was terrifying. The star is constructed to limit the area of effect as much as possible. The caster must clearly visualize the target area, and that's not easy—the inner control circle must be filled with their own blood. And it's quite large. Once the circle is filled, the blood begins to die, coagulating. So, while immersed in this muck, reeling from blood loss (you can't cast any other spells inside the circle, nor can you consume potions), you must, through direct contact with the Force—which is insane in itself—clearly limit the area of effect. I couldn't have done it. Probably. Immediately afterward, the fallen rise. The spell doesn't care whether it's an elf, a dwarf, or a dragon. Everyone rises—no resistance, immunity, or immunity will work. Any number of dead in the affected area, be it a million or five, even animals and mice. Each fallen one completely loses their mind and memory. They move poorly, but are remarkably resilient. They forget to use weapons or spells. The spell indirectly controls them. It can be used to specify the area of attack and even the approximate target, preventing the dead from scattering across the battlefield. The worst thing about "Raise the Fallen" is that the place where it is cast becomes marked by the Force, and for hundreds of years, all the dying there will rise again, driven by only one desire: to kill. Over time, this residual effect will fade, of course, but that will take almost a thousand years... Well, we're not in Alveristas or even on our territory, so I approve of the priestesses' choice. I'll also see this spell in action—I doubt anyone here could boast of that.
Looking around, I realized that all the previous spells had been preparing the stage for this horrific finale: a flat field, piles of nearly intact corpses. Death, after all, has dozens of spells for destroying the corporeal shell: low-level ones like Rot, Ash, and Exhale; high-level ones like Extinction, Withering, Dispersion, Pestilence, Criata's Lament, Hand of Ahesh, Eshru's Manifestation... And that's just the ones I remembered off the top of my head. Almost all of them are mass-effect spells, meaning they affect (in this case, kill) many creatures, but Isites only used Wind of Devastation from this vast arsenal, which literally rips out the soul, severing all connections between it and the body, leaving the latter virtually intact. Hmm, a complex combo... Maybe I shouldn't engage in combat? In any case, now it's clear why I don't see a single incarnation or creation based on Death. Why bother with them if there's already a field of them? And a couple of "Dead Knights" or "Despairs" won't make a difference. Although... Or maybe no one wanted to bother with them? I'd have bothered... A few Higher Vampires—and we could forget about the enemy mages for at least the rest of the battle.
Speaking of vampires, I can't seem to see my creation. I hope my vampire didn't perish on the battlefield... Oh, no, there she is, bustling about with the Ariri of Kriata. Feeling my gaze, she turned to me. "Everything is fine," I said, signing. I listened to myself—wow, I'm worried about her. We are responsible for those we create...
The earring on the right ear of the nearby Athar, shaped like the House symbol, began to glow. One of the priestesses turned to me and said:
- Intelligence has made contact with the advance detachment of a large unit, presumably our House.
"Tell them to be extremely careful," I said, narrowing my eyes. How unfortunate! We simply can't sustain a two-way battle! A phoenix roared and hissed inside me like a dragon. "At the first sign of hostility, retreat immediately and defend ourselves, do everything we can to delay them for as long as possible."
"They exchanged the usual signals. These are the Atretases of House I'si'tor."
I met Isites's gaze, standing at the center of the star. Another atar stood frozen next to her. If our suspicions were correct, the Matriarch could have sent an army for my head. But what if not? Unexpected reinforcements? That would be a breath of fresh air.
The priestess continues to speak:
"We've made contact. Their commander is the high priestess Eltruun."
A wave of relief swept through those around me. I'd read something about her. The oldest priestess of the House. I don't remember anything specific. A master of weapons. Never met. I looked at Isites. She gestured, "Everything is fine. A reliable priestess. She'd rather try to kill the Matriarch than carry out an order to eliminate you."
I looked into the eyes of the Atar priestess standing next to me:
– Let them come here. It will soon be hot here.
Meanwhile, the illithids had brought their army out of the ruins and, quickly reorganizing it, were advancing in our direction. It was enormous—at least twenty thousand strong. The dwarves, bristling with spears, marched inexorably ahead. Behind them, in two ranks, were the Atretas and Light Eldar, intermingled, demonstrating unprecedented tolerance. At the center of their formation, hidden behind the backs and shields of their slave soldiers, illithids flitted about. They appeared to be fresh forces arriving from other borders—not a single enemy soldier was wounded or burned. They were fully equipped: the dwarves, clad in gleaming armor, held aloft genuine standards embroidered with symbols of some kind, while the Atretas and Light Eldar wore something resembling our armor, but their faces were unmasked, and runes were etched into their armor.
The enemy army advances slowly, carefully maintaining formation.
Our Athar erect a Darkness-based magical defense—something like a denser "Canopy"—and enemy spells begin to smash into it almost immediately. Nothing special or powerful. There are practically no Force-based forms, and the Elements are represented by only two circles. A couple of lightning bolts, ordinary fireballs of 50 ergs, an elongated piece of rock about four meters long—an Earth Element. I don't remember what it's called—I know little about Earth. Our rare responses also failed to penetrate the Illiti defense, melting harmlessly into thin air. The Athar deliberately avoid using powerful spells. What's the point of wasting mana?
Well, it's time.
A naked Arichitos suddenly stepped into the circle of the inscribed star, "Raise the Fallen." Ummm... She spread her arms wide, and crimson blood poured from her exposed wrists onto the circle pressed into the dust. Simultaneously, she began to construct a spell structure from the depths of the annals of Death with her teras. Constructs of this level are visible to normal vision. The priestess completed her actions by the time the enemy army had passed halfway to us. Swaying slightly, Arichitos abruptly brought her outstretched hands together and closed her eyes. I hadn't thought she was so powerful...
The ritual is complete. Now it will become clear whether she managed to confine its impact to this field or whether the entire city will rise up... In the book I read on the Power of Death, it was mentioned that five thousand years ago, during the last war of the nations, the spell failed to contain the battlefield, and the eastern part of our continent became uninhabitable for two thousand years...
A disturbance arose in the center of the enemy army, a ripple, a haze visible only to mages. It slowly began to spread in all directions. All the dead it touched began to stir and rise. The enemy soldiers stopped and, without missing a beat, began to hack at everything under their feet. But this was only a half-measure—just ten seconds later, the enemy army disappeared behind the corpses, now reanimated and rising to their feet. All I could hear was the clash of weapons and screams.
Dragging my magical constructs along, I ran up a rocky outcrop, where I could observe the battle unfolding. Most of the enemy army had survived and, having reformed, formed a large circle, protecting the mages and illithids. The dwarves, supported by the mages, had managed to organize an excellent defense. The army of corpses, like a shifting carpet, surrounded them on all sides, shattered helplessly against the dwarven axes. The mages doused the risen ones with fiery spells, several narrow tornado tubes moved quickly across the battlefield, scattering the dead in their path. The stone floor beneath the dwarves' feet buckled, forming a shallow ditch for now, and whips of water flashed over the heads of the enemy soldiers, easily slicing through the flesh of the reanimated corpses. But despite all this, the slave army suffered losses. Only it melted much more slowly than the mass of the dead. I saw the dwarves working in unison, cutting off the heads of their fallen. To make matters worse, the main group of illithids barely participated in the battle, but had gathered in the center, apparently preparing something suitable for us.
I turned my gaze to Isites - it turned out that she was looking at me.
"Let's strike at the same time," she signaled and leaned over her victim.
And just as the Wind of Devastation rushed toward its target, I unleashed my crimson fireballs. But our spells were powerless—the Wind, passing through the dead without any effect, crashed helplessly against the illithid defenses, melting and settling in the ditch like fog, while my fireballs, deflected, splashed across the ruins of the city. Phoenix roared with rage: "Pathetic creatures! Asheras! They can control our magic, our power, but not us! Erruu couldn't, and they won't be able to! We fly to them—my will is close, our will is stronger than theirs, which means—they will die in agony!" Let's begin!
Flame erupted from the core of my gift, engulfing first him, then me. It splashed furiously behind me, forming wings of pure fire. But before I could flap them even once, the illithids apparently accelerated their preparations, and a bright white-blue crack appeared in the air. I froze, staring in amazement at what was happening. The crack began to rapidly grow upward, and for a second it felt like a huge sheet of transparent glass was cracking. The crack suddenly widened, revealing another world—a variety of translucent monsters stood frozen in the midst of a smoky green plain, pressed against a black sky. The air howled, drawn into another world.
"Forward! Faster! Before they...!" the phoenix squealed like a wounded pig.
But I watched, spellbound, as an armored dwarf fearlessly stepped into the crack, only to be seized with a single jerk by the translucent creature and devoured in one fell swoop. The creature began to metamorphose—its flesh took on substance and weight, while its body began to sprout tentacles and claws, acquiring terrifying, monstrous features. This lasted for a second, and then the creature grabbed the edges of the crack with its tentacles and, with a single jerk, ejected itself into our world.
"Oh no!.. Kill the Devourer quickly before it eats anything else!" the elemental exhaled and shouted.
As if awakening from a dream, I flapped my wings, rushing toward the illithids. The world began to move—approaching rapidly, I saw an illithid dressed in rich robes raise his hand and point the creature at me. Rage surged within the gift, and the phoenix pumped its mana into my rancer. The Devourer is enormous, resembling a crab with a large maw and tentacles instead of claws. The creature turns to see me right in front of its muzzle. There is no fear—only rage. I grab my rancer by the very tip of its steel shaft. The Devourer opens its mouth carnivorously, but receives my white-hot spear right in the roof of its mouth. The rancer is almost completely immersed in the yielding flesh. I flap my wings, flying away. The creature howls in despair in pain. A second later, an internal explosion occurs—a veritable stream of green blood and viscera erupts from the crab's mouth. The Devourer collapses and dies. How disgusting.
"Don't let anyone else get through the portal!" The phoenix's cry tears me away from contemplating my fallen enemy.
Forming a fireball with a spin, I hurl it at another dwarf about to step into the crack. I miss, but the shockwave from the explosion sends him flying. "Kill the Illiti and close the crack!" Several spells flew at me from the left, narrowly missing. And I didn't bother defending myself. After all, Fire is so hard to defend against other people's spells.
Folding my wings, I fell directly onto a richly dressed illithid standing in a circle of his brethren. Grabbing the frail body by the shoulders, I watched as his clothes burned and his flesh charred from my mere proximity. His screeching filled me with almost joy. Having finished my execution, I looked back and saw the illithids scattering in all directions. Cowardly creatures! Spraying them generously with crimson Dragon's Breath, I blew their molten ashes onto the advancing squad of soldiers. The fissure began to close with a hiss. Before my eyes, several dwarves were sucked into it. Their fate was unenviable—the translucent creatures devoured them and, having regained reality, rushed toward the closing passage. One of them managed to squeeze half its body through the portal, but the abruptly closing walls first pinned it, then crunched, cutting it in half. After which the crack closes and disappears, dissolving into thin air, as if it had never been there.
The dwarf defensive line disintegrates into several large formations, practically ignoring me—a couple of crossbow bolts don't count. Soaring above the battlefield like a candle, I spot a large retreating detachment of mages. Its composition is mixed—Atretas and Light Eldar, a few dwarves, and, I think, dwarves. Suffering losses, they break through the thin rear encirclement of the dead and retreat back to the ruins of Ishakshi.
Looking around, I notice a rapidly advancing shock troop of my House's hisna-riding warriors. There are at least five hundred of them. Standing out against the priestesses is an unfamiliar warlord, richly adorned in gold-encrusted armor and harness, barking loudly to her atretas. This must be Eltruun. The warriors quickly form a long line and, lowering their scythes like pikes, charge forward. Their target is a formation of nearly fifteen hundred well-organized dwarves. In their path are only hordes of the dead, oblivious to the riders. The dwarves bristle with spears and cock their crossbows in anticipation of the blow. And Eltruun wants to attack them head-on? The losses will be enormous! No! I do not wish for needless losses on our side! These are soldiers of my House!
Intuitively, the super-dense clot of flame and mana that formed before me rushed at incredible speed toward the center of the armored formation. There was no explosion—the fire, like a brightly glowing vapor, flowed around the dwarves, blinding, burning, and igniting them. Seconds before the riders struck, the fire obediently vanished into thin air, leaving only chaos in its wake. After my magic, only the edges of the formation were able to hold the spears. But the Hisni were one leap away from colliding, and suddenly they leaped significantly higher than the few spears aimed at them. In the leap, the riders dangled from the sides of the Hisni, their long braids dropping almost vertically, and cleaved the dwarves' heads, helmets included. Thanks to this maneuver, just a couple of Hisni, who had unsuccessfully leaped over the remnants of the enemy formation, were impaled on the spears. The Hisn, finding themselves behind the few remaining Dwarves, leap again, this time back, and the horsewomen deliver another blow. And that's it—there are no more Dwarves standing. I survey the battlefield—our troops are in complete control. Here and there, small pockets of defenders remain, but the priestesses are herding all the remaining dead into them, who meekly move in the direction indicated. Noticing one of the Hisn pull a wounded Eldar, weakly resisting, from a pile of corpses, I, amplifying my voice with a spell, commanded:
"If possible, spare the wounded Eldar! I need prisoners! The more, the better! Organize a guard! For the mages, get terast collars or soporific silk!" Looking back, I saw my sister approaching, accompanied by a large detachment of converted Atara. "For more urgent matters, contact my sister Isites!" A contented phoenix roar mingled with my voice.
Noticing that Eltruun was looking at me, I flew closer to her.
"I, Eltruun, greet Asheras at I'si'tor!" she said, suddenly jumping off the large hisna male and kneeling.
Remembering the large detachment of retreating magicians, I said:
"Eltruun! You arrived just in time to ensure we didn't miss the fruits of our victory. How many Atretas came with you?"
"Seven Tatretts, lord!" And she hadn't even appeared yet, and she was already "lording" over me.
"Take half your army and a dozen Atara. Advance parallel to the rift. I've noticed a large group of enemy mages has managed to break through into the city. Try to take as many alive as possible. I'm primarily interested in the Eldar—both Light and Dark. The rest—as the situation dictates. Don't risk the Atretas needlessly! I'll stop them near the rift. Follow me as you move. Get some terast collars from our base. Move as quickly as you can. Any questions?" "They drilled into me back on Earth that a clear mission statement reduces accidental losses."
– A dozen… atar?
The corner of my mouth twitched in displeasure and I pointed at Isites:
- Check with my sister.
Eltruun bowed her head obediently. And I flew to Isites:
– Looks like we've won another victory?
"Yes, even the summoning of entities from another plane didn't help the illithids," she smiled.
"Pathetic creatures!" I waved my hand. "And how the illithids screamed as they burned! Unfortunately, I had to sacrifice my spear. What a loss!" I sighed, feigning sadness. Isites laughed loudly. It was a delight to listen to, but I had to get back to work. "Remember our skirmish with Khitan? And what I ordered done with the prisoners? Perhaps we'll have to do the same here. Try to gather more Eldar—our House will need the Athar. I'll persuade the goddess." "Did I imagine it, or did I really hear laughter coming from the gift?"
– Yes, brother.
I smiled:
"Well, I'll leave you to deal with the aftermath of our victory. Yes! I'm taking Eltruun and half her army—we need to intercept the mages who broke through. Otherwise, another battle in this ashen wasteland is inevitable. Give her our supply of terast collars and ten Golden Athars—I'll try to gather some prisoners, too."
- I will do it.
- That's it, I'm leaving to hunt fugitives.
- Good hunting, brother.