Unbound

“There’s an attack?” Felix asked. All around him was chaos as warriors hustled to and fro, beckoned and dismissed by the various Witches. How the hell did his Hunger know?

“It appears so,” Kimaris said, and hissed when the horn ripped through the air again. “Two blasts means they’ve come with a significant force.”

The orb in the center of the room burst to life, its murky insides suddenly animated as the elderly Sitri laid her hands upon it. “It is a mighty host. It seems our sisters in Feldspear no longer wish to wait.”

“Of course not!” Vepar exclaimed. Her pale blue skin was patchy with bright purple spots across the wrinkles. “And they’ve come with all their might, which easily outstrips us, thanks to you Kimaris! Sitri, how many?

“I count…two hundred Risi Warriors…sixty Hoarhounds…fifty Berserkers—”

A screech emanated from the sky, far fainter than the horns, but it sent a cold thrill through Felix. He knew that sound. “Brumalbats.” He rushed to the windows overlooking the gates, blurring past dozens of Witches. They were specks in the sky, even to his vision, but they were coming toward Cold Rock at speed. “I count over a hundred.”

“Ooh. They taste good,” Pit said. A few Witches looked at him askance. “What? They only burn a little. Like that leafy thing. Felix, what’s that leafy thing called?”

“Mint?”

Pit trilled, happy to remember the word. “Mint! Yes. Their cores taste like mint.” He clacked his beak. “I would like some more.”

Felix tapped his lips while the Witches scrambled, issuing orders to knots of warriors. The tread of giant feet was a counter rhythm to the distant beat of Feldspear’s drums. He could see them, just beyond the lip of Cold Rock’s walls. Armored Risi Warriors lifted weapons into the air and shouted things in their language that drove their fellows to cheer. Hoarhounds snapped their jaws, eager to be released, big as horses and a thousand times meaner.

At the lead, a smaller selection of giants stood separate. They wore no armor, their blue skin totally bare save for the crimson-dyed furs wrapped around their shoulders and waists, and were unarmed but for their huge fists. Felix’s Eye tagged them as the Berserkers, which made sense. He focused on their entry, ignoring everything but their name and lore.

Name: Risi Berserker

Lore: An Evolved form of the Risi Warrior, Berserkers have learned to draw strength from the beasts around them, and have chosen a Path of Cold Rage. They can draw upon their anger to power their magic, supplementing their natural born gifts of ice and granting them a short term boost in Strength, Endurance, and Vitality.

They charged as one.

The unarmed giants hit the spike pits well before the larger force, and they proved ineffective. Crimson ice flashed around them, matched to their strange pelts, and formed a set of brutal armor. They leaped over the pits, ramming through the ice spikes without slowing. Arrows and rocky projectiles flew from atop the walls, impacting the raging Berserkers with even less effect. Seconds later, they hit the walls of the fortress town. Ice tumbled off of it as crimson light splashed into the defenses. They held, for the moment.

Mother Vepar was deep in conversation with Sitri and some other ancient-looking giants while the charismatic Naberius moved around the room, directing the flow of Witches and Warriors. “Mobilize everyone we can! Witches! To the walls! If Cold Rock falls, we will not survive the night!”

Down below, the gate trembled.

Their orders grew increasingly shrill as ice cracked and fell off Cold Rock’s walls. White-haired Frost Giants scurried out of the stave church, magic coiling about their hands and feet in equal measure.

They’re panicking, Felix realized. Ideas blossomed and wilted in rapid succession in his Mind. His Perception fed him countless bits of information, all of it chaotic and piecemeal, but there was something there. A Path forward, he knew it—his Perception snagged on something. Oh. Interesting.

Kimaris, at nine feet tall, easily watched out of the same window as Felix. “They won’t last. They’re too green. Vidar, can we bolster the defenders?”

The Battlelord shook his head slowly. “We can, but even we don’t match up against the Berserkers, not at those numbers.”

“We have to try,” Trond, his second-in-command, said. His Oathbound Frost Giants all watched with despairing expressions.

Harn drew close, his voice low. “Felix. What do you wanna do?”

Eat Them.

Felix ignored that. “We haven’t finalized any agreement, but Cold Rock is an ally. There’s only one thing we can do.” He bared his teeth. “Show Feldspear who they’re messing with.”

“Aye. Claw! Attend!” Harn stomped toward their company of fifty soldiers, axes leaping to his hands. “Autarch says we’re headed to the wall. Swords, Bones, and Fists with me. Arclights, Dawnwalkers, and Yttin Divers go with Captains Aren and Dayne. Do us proud.”

“Aye!” Feet stomped and bone plate clattered as the Fiend’s Claw saluted in confirmation before rapidly splitting up. Harn and his people headed out the doors immediately, leaving at a sprint, while the rest congregated around Evie and Vess.

“My Lord—” Kimaris started.

Felix cut her off, speaking to the warriors behind her. “The Claw will take the brunt of the attack, but I’ll need you and your Warriors to back them up. Are you up for that, Battlelord?”

“Tu falla Autarch. We serve.”

The giants saluted Felix, much as his Claw had, and followed them out on fast feet.

“And what if me?” Kimaris asked, her voice sharp. “Am I to remain here, held separate from my warriors?”

Beef raised a hand, three forms of Hallow peeking around his wide Body. “Uh, I’d like to help too.”

“You’re both with me.” Felix let his Perception swell, taking in as much of the battlefield as he could, sifting it all through his potent Mind. “We have a different task.”

Evie and Vess led their team onto the promontory just outside the fancy ice house, where the mages and ranged fighters started preparing their Skills. Arrows began to glow in quivers, hands were wreathed in elemental Mana, and a few of the Yttin even started praying. Something about a “beast.”

Weird, but if it helps, Evie thought with a shrug. The ice bats were coming into normal view now, almost reaching the walls of Cold Rock, and her heart started thudding in her chest.

“Flyin’ monsters.” Evie rubbed her hands, an eager grin stretching her lips. “Haven’t fought any sky creatures in a while. Eh, Vess?”

“It is a nice change of pace,” the prim warrior agreed.

She knew Lady Dayne better than most; they were best friends, after all. Vess was just as excited about the fight as Evie. Spears formed around her, conjured from metal and air and angled toward the oncoming threat. The Dragoon even brought out that pack of discs she’d gotten from the snakes. Evie hadn’t seen how effective they were, but she was really curious.

“Hm. Low Tier creatures,” Yintarion said, still lounging beneath Vess’ collar. “Not worth the effort to eat.”

Lazy lizard. Evie rolled her eyes. “Don’t let us interrupt your nap time.”

A small snort of smoke emerged from Vess’ shoulder. “You’re lucky you’re not worth the effort either.”

“Oh you little—”

“Enough. Focus on the Brumalbats. Take them down now, argue later.”

“No no, they’re mine,” Pit protested from behind them. He trotted forward into the sunlight, barding gleaming. “I called them already!”

Evie shrugged. “We’re just followin’ orders. Felix didn’t say nothin’ about you in the fight.”

Golden eyes glared at her so hard, Evie was afraid she would catch on fire. “Felix isn’t the boss of me.”

“You will fight with us, Beast?” one of the Yttins asked. Evie blinked. He was addressing Pit.

Pit puffed out his chest, the metal scales of his barding glinting further. “Of course. I’ll rip them apart.”

The Yttin Divers, ten in total, separated from the group and all bowed to the Chimera. “Lead us to the End.”

“Uh, that’s—do they mean the end of the battle?” Loquis asked her. He regarded the armored warriors with more than a little unease.

“Sure. Maybe. Don’t worry about it, Lightnin’ Boy.” The sound of screeches grew louder, and magic flickered across the blue sky. “Bat’s are closin’ in. Form up! The town ain’t too big! We can reach them from this ridge!”

Mages and Henaari hustled forward, lining the promontory edge before the ice house. To the side, Vess bowed to Pit. “I’d be proud to have you fight with us.”

Pit cooed. “Thank you. I can help.”

“I know you can.” Vess gestured to the Divers around him. “Please take the Yttin to the forefront, where your harpoons and Skills can have clearer shots.”

The lead Yttin saluted. “As you wish, Captain.”

Evie was barely listening. Leading was more boring than fighting, and her targets were coming into range now. She uncoiled her chain and felt the cold hands of her magic spreading outward around her like a cloak. She shivered.

Today was a good day.

The gates were bowing inward by the time Harn and his people got to them. He motioned furiously for the guards at the nearby winches. “Open the gates!”

“Raktu las! No! Crazy Human!” spat one of them. The rest just looked terrified; of him, and of the attacking army.

“Open the gates, young Warrior,” said a deeper voice behind him. Harn turned to find the looming form of Battlelord Vidar standing with his own warriors. The giant inclined his head toward Harn. “We will fight for Cold Rock today.”

The angry giant clenched his jaw several times before huffing a steaming breath. He kicked free the wedge holding the winch wheel in place, and dark metal chains started moving. At the same time, the gates themselves rocked as a crimson glint smashed into it from the other side.

“Hold formation,” Harn ordered.

The gates burst apart, and a twenty-foot tall red-armored giant marched through. Shouts rang out and ice-forged claws slashed out of the ground, while spears and throwing axes rained down from the young guards. The huge Berserker shrugged it all off, laughing viciously as he pushed into the town…and met Harn.

“Little Human with metal skin,” the Risi leaned forward, a sneer distorting his bearded face. His armor was made of red-tinted ice, and a mantle of similar colored fur framed him against the now-broken gates. More of his warriors were moving inward, but they slowed, eager grins on their faces. “Is this a treat for us, Cold Rock? Do you give us tribute to earn our mercy?”

“Blind gods, but you’re ugly,” Harn said.

“What?”

“Stupid too.”

The Berserker bellowed, and dropped an ice-coated fist atop of Harn. The stone around them cratered, deep fissures splitting in all directions before shards of rock were spat upward by the force of the blow. But there was no blood.

The giant goggled. “How—?”

Harn still stood, one arm upraised and holding the Berserker’s icy fist. He regarded it from beneath his visor. “That’s it? Wrath of the Twin Fangs!”

The giant stumbled back, his arm now fountaining a dark blue ichor onto the ground as he screamed. Harn clucked his tongue. “Too easy.” He pointed his sizzling axe forward, just as the other Berserkers started rushing the gate. “Forward all Talons!

“Kill ‘em all.”

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