10. Gabriel Asher - Writhing Death

Chapter 8: Writhing Death

The Wrackspawn had no form, yet it had all forms. It was a writhing forest of limbs, orphaned hands reaching out from its blistered black bulk to wedge and stabilize its weight. It rilled as it moved, black flies buzzing around it like a halo.

In a few seconds, the clouds of them had become unbearably thick, swirling into nostrils, ears and eyes.

Like a miasma.

Like a black damnation-cloud.

But there was one more quality to it, one worse than all the others put together:

It was fast.

In the first seconds after its manifestation - still smoking with vapor, the hellish black liquor of the aether sloughing from its horrific form - the Wrackspawn lunged forward, and bit the nearest priest's head off.

Blood sprayed. The wretched man didn't even have time to scream, as the chittering mandibles closed around his skull. There was a wet crunch, like biting into a ripe, juicy apple - and then it whipped its neck to hurl his headless corpse away, as it came swarming down the dias on a hundred scythe-tipped limbs.

Pandemonium erupted.

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I was reaching for the torc, when the killing began. With the Staff of the Waning Moon in one hand, it felt like the next, most natural thing to take up - I mean, the book looked heavy, and I wasn't quite sure what I was supposed to do with it, then and there.

When Lady Seraphine's head came up, when the Saintess's amber eyes went wide - first with shock, then with horror - I didn't think. I moved.

"Look out-"

She cried out when I slammed into her, not understanding. Her ceremonial staff clattered from one hand, her arms flailing as I took both of us down the steps in a desperate, clawing leap.

Because the Wrackspawn was going for her. Directly.

Jaws clattering, scythe-tipped limbs striking sparks from the stone on all sides, it churned straight towards her - towards us - as I pulled her down under me. I had a vague idea of shielding her with my body, and fuck this was going to hurt…

There was a bang like a sonic boom, and a tremendous impact tore her from my grasp. I felt the terrible force of the blow, a great, soundless concussion that flung me away like a toy - Then my body slammed down onto the cold marble of the steps, and I felt every one of them and I rolled to a skidding, bruising stop.

Pain shone through me. I gasped, fighting for breath that wouldn't come, the numbness that came before agony coursing through me.

Oh God, how bad is it-

I'd been hit, and hard. The insectile horror's chilling screech rang in my ears, as if denied: I knew it'd ploughed into me, knew that kind of collision came with broken bones and ruptured organs, and…

And I was hurt to hell, but I was still alive.

How-

The torc shimmered. At some point, it'd locked around my wrist, segments cinching tight like the links of a chain. A long line of letters glowed brightly along its twisted strands - Sputtering around, fading into darkness, their magic gone dead.

I felt the pulse of [Arcane Attunement], and the blessed knowledge flowed through me like blood.

Bound Items:

c) Gnosis:

Crafted from a fragment of the Goddess's legendary shield, this talisman turns aside the first blow received by the bearer, no matter how lethal. Once expended, the enchantment requires time and moonlight to renew itself.

The first blow.

I'd been lucky. But even then - gasping for air, my heart bursting inside me - I knew I would never be quite so lucky again.

The noises of pure, unhinged panic were all around me, deafening and clear. Sprawled on my side, I saw the Silentii charging forward, silver spears leveled as they lunged-

The first spear stabbed into the lurching horror's side, black ichor spewing forth. In response, one scything limb - a long, attenuated claw of jointed bone - lashed out, and chopped through the Warden's spear and arms, in a single lightning-quick motion.

I heard the man's shriek of pain as he fell back, blood gushing from the stumps. Then the crash of a body - headless, decapitated almost in passing - tumbling down with a dull clatter of armor, as the Wrackspawn swung its hideous head around, the battering-ram impact swatting the maimed wretch aside with a brutal crack.

"Protect the Saintess!" someone was shouting. As priests and acolytes fled in every direction at once, wailing and screaming, I caught a glimpse of the Saintess being hauled back, two grim-faced Silentii manhandling her towards the distant door.

The chaos was all around me now, deafening and clear. Everyone was fleeing, screaming, overturning the pews in their desperate need to get away from the thing that was slaughtering them: No order, no plan, just pure unhinged terror.

In truth, I didn't blame them. I felt like screaming and crying myself, too - But something kept me from doing so. I knew, instinctively, that I should've been terrified; Terrified beyond belief, too choked-up with horror and sheer, malfunctioning shock to do anything…

Instead, I felt…clear. Clearer, now, than I had ever been in my entire life.

It's the Aegis, I thought. The Aegis is doing this-

Even as a cold little voice whispered within me:

Get up, Gabriel.

Get up, or you're dead.

I tried - Hands and feet slipping beneath me, willing my aching limbs to move. I felt so painfully slow, so sluggish, everything around me seemed sped-up, accelerated: the Wrackspawn's bulk surged across the hall in a single horrific motion, crushing the living and dead alike in a chitinous smear of blackness and bone limbs.

The Mark pulsed, hot against my skin, and I knew I was next. Gasping, trying to refill my lungs, knowing I had seconds - seconds - before…

Blue-blinding light exploded. Like a flash of soundless lightning - then a terrible, bubbling screech of agony, one that went on and on and on. Lines of azure plasma, trails of ghostly fire, tore into the Wrackspawn: I heard shouting voices, saw a small, terrified cadre of men and women in heavy robes being ushered forward behind a ragged line of knights, small fires cupped in their hands.

They were gesturing, incanting, in words that almost made sense - and each time, filaments of blue incandescence seared out, bright and lethal. The grotesquerie convulsed, hammered by the killing lights; it juddered back, wounds stippling the face of it, ichor gushing from the holes blasted into its carapace as it scuttled away-

"With me!" the Knight-Commander was shouting, her voice muffled, tinny, through her gleaming visor. "Knights of the Eclipse, at my side! The rest, fall back!"

Her bright sword gleamed in one hand, as men rallied to meet the attack.

But only the armored would stand a chance - the Wrackspawn would tear through the rest in seconds. She had a half-dozen knights with her, marshaled into a bristling line; As spells arched and seared overhead, they shouted themselves into order, shields and swords at the ready as they advanced-

"Protect the Chosen! Get him out of-"

All of a sudden, there were hands on me. An acolyte, grey-faced from fear, was pulling at me to move. With a shock, I realized he couldn't be older than I was - One of the Wardens, spear gripped in his fists, stood over me, looking like he'd rather be anywhere else in the entire world.

I knew that feeling.

Dazed, I began to roll to my feet.

"I'm-" I managed, dimly aware that I'd managed to keep hold of the Staff throughout all this. It felt like my fingers were locked around the haft, like I couldn't let go - It pulsed in my grip, like a living thing, as I got my legs under me.

"I'm all ri-"

The boy pulling at me smiled, through his terror. His lips moved, like he was about to say something. But behind him, the horror was reeling back - furious, agonized, like a dog stung by hornets - mouth yawning open, impossibly wide.

A blot of unutterable blackness gathered before it. It was cold, deathly cold, sucking heat and light from the world, swelling as it did.

No, I thought. No.

"Get down-"

But I was too late.

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A line of black fire spewed forth. It sheared two knights in half, ripping right through them in a shearing line. One exploded when he was hit, blood and bone shrapnel hurtling out in every direction at once; the other simply fell apart, writhing, screaming, as everything within him spilled out in a bloody tumble.

I heard Lyssa cry out, knocked flat by the explosion. The killing fires had seared right past her, missing her by mere inches - the Knight-Commander went down, painted with gore, matchless armor clattering against the stone as a great hole was torn in the line of the defenders.

In front of me, the acolyte vanished from the chest-up, in a boiling cloud of blood and tissue. His ruined corpse toppled to the side, utterly dead, but still holding my hand. I felt his fingers twitch against mine - just a spasm, the last signals coursing through a body already blasted apart - before his hand fell away, slipping through my nerveless grip.

I flinched as an abrupt welter of gore hit me, like a whip. Hot, so hot it burned; the hideous stench hit me, all at once, as I scrambled to my feet - the worst, most hideous thing you could imagine, so thick and choking I almost gagged.

But if I screamed, no-one heard.

I wanted to run, believe me. Just run, and never look back. In the stands above, the crowd - dozens strong - was doing exactly that, trampling each other in blind panic. For one frozen moment, it reminded me of Earth, after the Broadcast; the desperation, the horror, the cries of a great mass of people lurching from shock to pure, unalloyed terror.

And yet-

If I ran, how many more would the Wrackspawn kill? The guards, the knights - they were no match for it. That, I could see, even as a trio charged forward, maces and axes swinging. They looked so small in the face of it, in their hopeless defiance; When the half-insect horror lashed out with its armored head - a monstrous burst of speed - it surged up with a man's severed arm flopping in its jaws, with the same effortless spite of a child pulling the wings from a fly.

I could feel it in my bones: If I failed here, they'd never accept me as Minerva's Chosen. Not now, not ever.

And then who would save Justin?

I had to stop it. I had to kill it, somehow, even if just looking at the hideous, misbegotten thing was a shattering experience.

I had to-

But how?

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Suddenly, there was smoke. Suddenly, there was fire - a bright gout of it, licking hungrily at the tapestries and pennants that hung from the walls. I don't know what had done it; the Wrackspawn's death-blast, maybe, or the blue magic that sizzled through the air in arching bolts, or even some knocked-over lantern or discarded torch-

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But the ritual chamber was on fire, and the wooden bleachers and prayer-seats were already burning.

A man blundered past me, his robe alight. I stumbled past him, nearly tripping over the debris strewn across the stony floor - My foot caught on a discarded shield, and I nearly went over before I found my footing.

The Staff of the Waning Moon hummed in my hand, tasting the magic in the air. One of the crystals bristling from the haft were glowing, faintly, even as I staggered towards the fight. [Arcane Attunement] or not, I only had a vague idea of what to do with it, half-dragging it behind me with each lurching step-

A knight went flying past me, like an armored comet. He'd been hit, swatted aside by a blow of such singular force that he was hurled headlong into the stalls, which splintered beneath his flailing weight like tinder.

I ducked, instinctively. Thinking Me, that could've been me as blood trickled from the gaps in his silver-white plate. Across a carpet of broken and bleeding bodies, I fumbled for a weapon, any weapon at all.

A spear? No, I didn't have the strength to drive it home.

A sword? I didn't know how to use one.

Casting around wildly amid the debris, I saw a fallen battle-axe, the half-moon blade gleaming amid the carnage. Stepping over a lattice of tangled limbs, I got one hand around the grip - tacky with cooked blood - hauling it up from where it lay…

A hiss of effort sawed from my throat. It was heavy; a weight that impressed, that let you know exactly what it'd take to lift and swing. I felt my heart sink, at the thought - There was no way, no way the axe would ever be enough.

But it was all I had. The only thing I had, and I gritted my teeth as I tottered towards the aether-spawned horror, the vast tonnage of its bulk grinding and scraping off the crushed stones. The knights and wizards were retreating from it, shouting garbled battle-cries as they gave ground - A mantle of blue flame clung to its carapace, and that had to have distressed it, because it was weaving back and forth as if drunk.

Blowfiles swarmed around the Wrackspawn like a storm of buzzing ash, as it tore the altar down with one great shove of its many-eyed head; I heard the crash as the great symbol of Minerva toppled, the blessed font fouled with unspeakable fluids.

More cries of dismay.

Foul black liquor drooled from the piranha-jaws of the wretched, humped-back thing, as it slammed into the wall. The world shook; A torrent of stonework and plaster rained down, like fist-sized hail. I had no doubt, none at all, that - given time - it would bring the entire building down on us.

I drew up short. What was I supposed to do, against something like that?

What could I d-

"Gabriel!"

Not champion or even chosen. Gabriel. My head snapped round; The Saintess was on her feet, hurrying forward, her devoted bodyguards around her. Her robes were askew, her veil tattered and rent from the extremity of the moment-

In her arms, clutched to her chest like a talisman, she held the book.

The Wrackspawn heard, too. Driven by some sense beyond sense, it coiled upon itself, like a serpent - blade-arms drawing back - yellow eyes glaring, as flames ate away at its thorax-armor like a burning shroud.

But before it could lunge, before it could strike, Lady Seraphine - her feet slipping on gore-slick tiles - hurled the great tome at me.

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I remember thinking Wait- as the book tumbled towards me, carried by more-than-natural force. Even with all the Saintess's strength behind it, it had a great distance to cover; the metal-bound volume, heavy as any shield, bounced off a column near me and landed on the floor, steel bindings scraping against the tiles.

I dove for it. I had no idea what it was for, no idea what it could do - Only that I was all out of options, and it was the only chance I had left.

The Wrackspawn lunged. It became a hyperkinetic blur, all gnashing teeth and carving limbs. Some buried, forward part of it tore up the ground as it came on, kicking up a lethal spray of stone as it surged towards me, quivering limb-blades slicing the air…

But Lyssa was in the way. Battered, the cuirass and vambraces of her plate gouged and stripped back to bare metal, she leapt, blade clenched in a defiant two-handed grip. Like a darting flame, her sword speared out-

The point went into one glassy, staring eye, and burst it like an overripe fruit. The unholy horror's high, keening shriek blitzed the air, made the waters of the font shudder - It tried to turn its injured head away, rank fluid gushing from the hideous wound as the Knight-Commander twisted the blade, slicing it back and forth in the socket…

But it had many, many more eyes. She'd only blinded one.

Flies swarmed across her. Going for her face, for her vulnerable flesh, biting and gnawing. I heard her cry out, as the Wrackspawn convulsed - wrenching her clean off her feet, one hand desperately trying to shield herself as the writhing weight of insects blotted out her visor and swamped her vision.

"Lyssa-!" I heard Seraphine call out, hopelessly, a sick dread in her voice. For she knew, like I did, that Lyssa would be crushed in seconds instead of moments, but crushed all the same-

But this - all of this - was a blur to me, as I went skidding across the last few feet.

As my hands closed on the tome.

Bound Items:

e) Unsided:

A gift from Minerva to Her most loyal worshippers, the Codex is infused with the essence of magic itself.

When invoked, the bearer may learn spells up to the sum total of his Virtues. The rate of learning may be accelerated, if the bearer is capable of enduring the grimoire's insights.

The Codex is a potent aid to casters, and grants them Her grace as they work their craft.

With a grinding whirr of tiny, secret mechanisms, the clasp unwound. The great, steel-bound volume swung open: an invisible wind riffled the brass pages, as light - pale, all-consuming - spilled out from within.

So bright. So terribly bright, it ate the world.

Everything slowed to a crawl. I felt reality stutter, felt it skip a frame. I tried to turn away, tried to shield my eyes from the blinding, burning radiance-

But there was no escape.

Time…stopped.

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The first glyph was hooked like a crescent moon, but coiled, somehow - Like a spiral, or a snake devouring its own tail.

The second was a fragmented thing, like the pattern a spider's weightless steps made in dust.

The third was like the shards of a broken mirror, arrayed in an imperfect mosaic, but somehow also like the patterns half-glimpsed in the veins of a dying leaf.

There was no order to the runes, no arrangement for they were ever-shifting, ever-changing. More than three and less than one; an infinite multitude of forms, twisted into a single fathomless light.

A blizzard of pages fluttered around me, close enough to slice my skin. The Mark for [Arcane Attunement] burned like a brand, hot enough to make me gasp: I could hear them murmuring, whispering as they whirred through the narrow space - A swarm of moths, startled into flurrying flight.

I could hear-

Whispers.

Words that made.

Words that un-made.

The magics of a thousand years, set down into immortal and imperishable brass. The insight of the Goddess, shared not over the course of a lifetime, but in the span of moments. Swirling around me, in burning threads of spidery golden script; a thousand fragmentary insights, waiting to be seized.

There were more than a thousand spells in the grimoire. More than a thousand voices, all fighting to be heard at once. Just touching the Codex was enough to begin my study - I could feel their meanings hammering against me, fighting for purchase. Coursing through every fiber and shred of my being, stealing from me all sense of the outside world.

The world that was - slowly, inexorably - crawling forward, one fraction of a second at a time. Where I was locked, held rigid, frozen in the act of understanding.

For visions of each spell, each possibility, was flooding my mind. Assailing me, with images of what they could do.

There - [Ferryman's Blindness], a spell to strike the sight from an enemy, and [Mists of Eventide] to sap their will. [Elemental Bolt], the basis of offense, and its more precise but less potent refinement, [Scourging]. The enfolding [Ramparts of Cocytus] and its cousin, the [Silver Portcullis], both extrapolations of the baroque but limited [Gate of Ghoragga].

[Searing Gaze], to incinerate the enemy from without. [Inner Flame], to burn them from within. [Hailfire], to do both at the same time.

The [Fulminating Spike], to smash down defenses, and the [Scripture of Steel] to storm them. [Crown of Corposant] to smite the foe with lightning, and [Pyroclast Shell] to make the attempt survivable.

[Wraithgrasp]-

[Invisible Hand]-

It was too much. It was far too much.

I fell, plummeting through history, through the secrets stored within the Codex. Distantly, I felt the pulse at my temples, tasted the ink-black blood welling from my nose - It felt like my brain was boiling, as the visions skittered across my field of vision.

[Green Venom]-

[The Quickening]-

Faster. Faster.

[CloakofFireGiftofArgosHowlingDarkShatterVileClutchGuardian'sFilamentConcussiveShoutWyldfire-]

Each one was like a knife in the eye, now. I tried to close my eyes, tried to turn my head, but the flood of images was unending - They became a blur, the tendons in my neck drawing taut as I felt the scream scraping at the back of my throat…

"Pledger three-eight-seven-five-four-one."

The voice rose out of the tumult.

Cool. Affectless. Utterly without emotion.

What- I thought, through the pounding in my skull. What are y…?

"Pledger three-eight-seven-five-four-one. You may select up to four options, at your current Rank of Renown."

Dimly, I wondered if I'd gone insane. Everything before my eyes was a blurred smear of color; I tasted iron in my mouth, on my tongue, as blood and tears ran down my face.

Select…? That made sense to someone, I knew. I couldn't make sense of what I was seeing, let alone choose - the pain in my skull blotted out all thought.

"Pledger three-eight-seven-five-four-one."

Calmly, like it had all the time in the world.

"Selection is required. Failure to choose will result in default allocation."

Please, I thought. Please, just make it stop-

"Elevated stress levels detected. Do you wish to prioritize mission continuity?"

And, like the sun breaking through the clouds, a ray of hope appeared.

As my pulse thudded in my ears, as I felt the pressure of the vise clenching down around my heart, I seized the lifeline I'd been offered.

Yes, I thought. Yes-

"Selection confirmed. Calibrating…"

Slowly, blessedly, the rush of visions faded. The agony receded to a faint ache in my temples, the absence of pain so profound, so all-consuming, I could have wept with relief.

Thank God, thank God, thank God-

The hungering voices were dying away, the blinding light relaxing its grip. Darkness, blessed darkness, was plunging in once again. My limbs twitched, once - I could feel sigils moving across my skin, with each pulse of my Mark. Sketching out the choices that had been made for me, filling them in with starlight.

Already, I could feel the meaning of them inside myself. The power they would grant, even as the final markings took shape.

Thaumaturgy:

a) Arete:

: Freely manipulate an unattended object at a distance.

b) Essence:

: Summons a radiant shield around caster or an ally, burning foes on contact. The presence of moonlight further strengthens the shield.

c) Gnosis:

: Augments the caster's movement through levitation.

d) Wisdom:

: Temporarily banishes a target. Banished targets are inviolable for the duration.

I can work with this, I told myself, as the world sped up. As time found its rhythm, once again.

I can-

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Sound flooded back first, in a rush. The echo of distant screams - the thunder of demolition, masonry raining down beneath the Wrackspawn's thrashing fury - the frantic shouts and cries of the fleeing retinues and massing knights.

Calling for aid, for order, for everything in between.

"Lyssa-!"

The Wrackspawn swung its head, like a bull bedeviled by flies, and the Knight-Captain's blade tore free. I heard the sharp chuff of her breath, as she began to tumble. As the flat arrow-shaped head of the horror swept in towards her, ready to snap her out of the air.

She didn't scream.

Not even as the wretched vapor streaming from the creature's maw engulfed her.

Not even as those nightmare jaws yawned open to devour her whole.

Gauss light flared, leaping across the crystals of my staff. I raised it high, as a knot of frail glyphs sketched themselves into the air before me: For one transcendent moment, silver radiance snapped into place around Lyssa's form, a heartbeat ahead of the translucent, chattering fangs closing around her-

There was a crack, when it bit down. A sound like glass shattering, shards of glimmering radiance spiraling through the air. The Wrackspawn wrenched back, agonized, blitzing the air with its chattering shriek - I could see smoke rising from its mouthparts, fragments of the bright against its suppurating flesh.

But I wasn't done, not yet.

I don't know how much the fallen column weighed, other than a lot. When I turned my will on it, traceries of pale fire darted across the carved stone like lightning, sizzling around it as took hold like a crackling fist-

I pulled, with everything I had.

So hard my ears popped, so hard my heart roared in protest. My jaw locked, teeth clenched so hard I thought they would shatter, that my bones would explode-

The great pillar rose. It heaved itself into the air, shedding debris as it rotated with glacial slowness, the ground trembling as wreckage sloughed from it. Floating, impossibly, as if in the grip of some invisible giant.

And before the crushing weight could pull free, I hurled it like a spear.

There was a crash, as the jagged column slammed into the Wrackspawn like a battering ram. Great chunks of stone bounded out, as the pillar shattered on impact; I felt the entire ritual chamber shake, the pop of overpressure sending cracks skittering up the walls-

There was a crunch of carapace breaking, the squelch of rancid meat impaled by spikes of stone. Chips of shrapnel bounced off the walls and the high-vaulted ceiling, raining to the ground around us, with a sound like hail against a tin roof.

"Gods-"

Half-crushed, the great arthropod horror thrashed, flailing in agony.

Scythe-limbs spasmed, scouring deep gouges in the stone as it tried to pull itself upright, head half-obliterated in a shower of grey paste and black shards. Its legs stumbled and scrabbled, fighting for purchase, laying waste to everything around it in its blind convulsions-

I'd fallen over, at the buffeting shock of the impact. There was a ringing in my ears, blood streaming freely from my nose. At some point, I'd split my lower lip, but - compared to the bone-deep ache in every fiber of my being - it was hardly worth mention.

"," I said. Rasped, rather, as the weaving, glittering motes of illumination gathered around me, each spark dragging a luminous trail. Felt myself rise - an inch, another, more - off the floor, so my feet no longer touched the stone.

My hand closed around the Staff of the Waning Moon, holding it fast.

Silent lightning streamed between the sapphire lodestone, and the crystals that glowed beneath it.

Justin, I thought, as I sucked in breath through my bleeding nose, slow. Filled my lungs, steeling myself for what was to come.

The Saintess's wardens were picking themselves off the floor. They'd shielded her, instinctively, when the great tremor had shook the room, but a falling stone had gashed her forehead, dyeing her veil red.

For one moment, through the limbs and spears of her protectors, our eyes met. I could see the belief in her gaze, the awe, that cut through the pain-

That all that had been made wrong could yet be made right.

That Endoria, with all its wonder and horror, could be saved.

"Don't worry," I said, like I knew what I was doing.

"-this will only take a moment."

And I went to war.

TO BE CONTINUED