XII. The winds picked up, scattering pieces of trash and detritus across the asphalt lot. The Door glimmered faintly, a metaphysical outline branded upon the ground.
Fynn Elenium stood waiting, his entire body coiled tight like a spring as he studied the two men. One of them, with brushed-up black hair, was holding out a silver Door Charm, his oily goatee framing a malicious sneer. The other, shorter and definitely still in his teens, stood a couple of paces behind the first, leaning upon an oaken staff.
The first man lowered the Door Charm and chuckled, "Not that it'll work anyway. This Door's a failure. Here, let me show you." And with that, he raised the silver amulet. Magical energy coalesced upon the charm, arcing along the man's metal arm.
Fynn braced himself. If this one functioned like his did....
But it did not.
The charm's dancing light faded as the man lowered it. "See?" he said, "no spawn for it to summo--!!"
The shanties around them suddenly burst and half a dozen people swayed out of them, zombie-like. It was horrifying: here, an old man, shambling along, drool hanging like a sticky rope from his mouth; there, a woman dressed in rags, moaning as she jerked awkwardly forward as if she was just now learning how to walk; and a couple of dirty street urchins whose eyes blazed with an inner malevolent light.
"Zombies?" Fynn asked, puzzled, as he took a step back from the advancing mob. His hands reflexively shot towards the handles of his twin katars, ready to defend himself. He noticed that the steel-armed man was just as surprised at this sudden turn of events.
"Not undead," said Dylan, laying a steadying hand upon his shoulder. "They're...possessed."
Beside him, Maraksus knuckled his forehead. "Of course! The absence of monsters emerging from an open Door, the mysterious appearance of an incurable plague that turns out to be possessions!" said the silver-haired priest in a torrent. "Dylan...."
"I know," Dylan said simply.
"Well, whatever they are, here they come," warned Fynn, crossing his twin katars before him in battle stance. He mentally prepared for the coming fight. The Assassins of the Temple were trained to flow through combat, their consciousness flying free as their bodies did. It was like a dance.
"They're possessed, assassin," Maraksus said urgently. "Do not hurt them."
"Huh?" Fynn snapped back from his killing stance.
"Yes, we'd need a couple of minutes to complete the ritual," Dylan said as he circled around the oncoming mob.
"I'll take care of Hesper," Sevrin suddenly whispered to him as she passed, her claymore in hand.
"Who's Hesper?" But Sevrin just shook her head, as she started to sprint towards the metal-armed man. She moved with blurring speed, whipping her blade up and around as she leapt at the man--Did she call him Hesper? Fynn thought. Sparks flew as Hesper turned Sevrin's claymore aside with his metallic palm.
Fynn turned his attention on the possessed mob, ducking and weaving through their attacks. They carried no weapons, but Fynn staggered as one of their flailing arms caught his side, knocking the air out of him. Damn, he cursed mentally, they're strong!
He backpedaled nimbly away, turning to see one of the priests gesturing past him towards the far end of the lot. Glancing that way, he saw the young mage, staff held before him, an arm across his forehead, and eyes closed in concentration. He felt the hairs on his nape rise as static from a revolving arcane circle charged the air around them.
"We're the targets!" he cried. "Everyone, scatter!"
With that, he dived away; the slow-moving possessed tried to claw at him as he rolled back to his feet outside the casting circle. The priests had not budged an inch.
Maraksus was smirking at him, hands on his hips. "Really, now. There's no cause for panic. The kid won't complete whatever blasted spell he's trying."
Sure enough, the young mage had stopped casting, his hands clutched his throat as he tried to mouthed out words. But no sound came from his frantically working lips. The revolving arcane circle had also vanished. Good thing these priests are good for something.
"Keep 'em busy, assassin!" Maraksus gestured at him. Fynn felt his body go light, his movement faster. Priests were invaluable in battle because of this. Their prayers increased a combatant's performance and such support could well provide enough advantage to win a fight. In this case, Fynn evaded the four possessed attacks much more effectively with his increased speed.
Dylan's right hand extended towards Fynn. "Kyrie Eleison!"
And Fynn felt an invisible barrier sheathing his entire body with warmth. Fynn returned his attention towards the mob too late. The drooling old man has just delivered him a powerful uppercut. Fynn flinched reflexively but found that he was unhurt. The barrier had absorbed the brunt of the punch. Fynn crouched and spun, catching the back of the man's legs with his own and taking him down. He dove sideways to avoid the stumbling woman's haymaker. As he regained his feet, the pair of children tried to claw ineffectively through his barrier, causing a gritting noise like nails scratching a blackboard. Fynn gagged as he retreated: the mob's odor was overpowering as if they had not bathed in days.
Across the lot, Sevrin was fighting her own battle. Hesper had drawn his own weapon, Haedonggum, a one-handed sword with a long slim blade. The air around the sword seemed to hum, and Sevrin knew that the sword was said to control minds to a degree. She herself had fallen under the sword's thrall several times in the past.
Sparks flew once more as their blades met and slid down against each other, finally locking at the hilts. For a moment, Hesper stared into her eyes, and then there was recognition.
"Why, Venris Dastonia," he exclaimed, "of all the places to finally meet again!"
Sevrin pushed, separating their locked blades. "Damn you, Hesper!" she screamed, twisted her grip on her two-handed sword, and brought it down in a mighty downward swing. Almost idly, Hesper crossed his metallic arm across his face, blocking the claymore's descent with a bone-jarring clang.
"Now, now," Hesper admonished, "is that a way to greet a former teacher and lover?"
Sevrin staggered back, breathing hard. Her arms hurt from the elbows. She eased her grip on her claymore, flexing her arms. She would not let Hesper get to her. Anger clouds the mind and loses the battle, that was another of Sir Valcrist's standby sayings for the Sword of Valor. Yes, she definitely does not want to lose this one. The man practically raped her during their sword-fighting lessons and for that, she cut off his arm when she has had enough.
Hesper saluted her with Haedonggum, touching his forehead to the upright blade. He held the sword in his good right arm, leaving his metallic left arm free to fend off attacks. Like a shield, Sevrin thought. Only the arm seems to be made of tougher material than a normal shield, else my claymore would have battered through it. She brandished her claymore once more, leveled the point at Hesper.
"Really," Hesper taunted. "Do you really want to fight here? Or shall we get a bed somewhere?"
Sevrin's cheeks flushed scarlet and she was thankful for the iron cain she wore across the lower part of her face. Taking quick light steps, she advanced on Hesper, swinging her claymore again and again. Hesper began to fall back as he fended each ringing blow with his metallic arm.
Hesper started to laugh as Sevrin pressed her attack on. "I'm sure you miss me as much as I do you."
That was the last straw.
Sevrin yelled out as she released her most powerful strike, and Hesper's steel arm was thrown aside with the impact. She stepped inside the opening, her claymore arcing from the side. She felt her blade's contact with his chest.
Hesper slid across the lot, his silk shirt ripped open. He dug his metal arm into the ground, ripping out slivers of asphalt as he stopped his slide.
"That's new," Hesper said as he shrugged off his torn shirt, revealing the silver chainmail shirt he wore beneath. "So you're a knight now. And you've learned the quickening aura."
"Just shut up, Hesper," she suggested, leveling her claymore once more at the knight. "Or better yet, tell us what you know of the Doors." And she launched herself towards him again.
But this time, Hesper did not block with his steel arm. Instead, his Haedonggum clashed with Sevrin's claymore, steel angrily scratching against steel. With a twist, he drove both blades to the ground. Before Sevrin could pull her weapon free, Hesper's steel arm came flying in, knockng the wind out of her. She landed in a heap a few paces away.
Through the cloud of pain, she was thankful to feel that her grip on her claymore had not been broken. Hands began to pull her up.
"Sev? Are you okay?" came Fynn's voice, tinged with worry. "The priests, they freed the possessed...."
Dazedly, she stood, supported by the assassin's strong arms.
Hesper was leering at both of them, leaning casually on his fencing blade. "So they did," the knight said idly, eyes flicking towards the area where the two priests were helping the four newly-exorcised people. "But I'm sure there are more." He was raising the Door Charm and it was starting to shine with light.
Sevrin felt Fynn release his hold on her, and in an instant the assassin faded from view. Another moment passed before she heard the faintly whispered word "Grimtooth!!", which was immediately followed by stone spears erupting from the ground, piercing a spiky path towards Hesper.
"Oh, please," Hesper muttered lightly. He drove his metal fist into the ground as the stone spikes rushed at him. The shockwave spread outward from the knight, cracking the asphalt pavement. The earthen teeth shattered as the smashed against the rippling ground. Hesper still held the Door Charm, and lurid light was streaming from it. "Come, Doorspawn!" he cried. "Come and destroy my enemies!"
From the twisting streets around the lot came a collective roar like an army of thousands called to battle. The inhabitants of the slums, fallen prey to the invisible possessing Doorspawn of the Pronteran Door, now swarmed into the lot from all directions.
"He's summoning every possessed victim!" cried Maraksus, hastily taking his place on the ritual circle, which was still glowing faintly with mystical might.
"Assassin!" Dylan shouted over the sudden noise of the summoned crowd. "The ritual is still in effect! Lure them inside the circle! We will maintain the exorcism!"
Fynn and Sevrin dashed towards the nearest throng of possessed. There were so many, clawing, biting, punching at them. But as each victim stepped into the priest's ritual circle, he or she collapsed and recovered control of his body. One by one, the possessing Doorspawn was driven out of its host, shrieking as it fried in the purifying light of the Magnus Exorcimus.
Hesper watched with interest. His summoned army would eventually lose. Already, recovered people were staggering out of the lot and the more able-bodied ones helping Sevrin and the assassin push more possessed into the circle. His partner, Electic, was standing useless beside him. Damn kid, he cursed as he tried to think of a way to win. The actual Doorspawn possessed victims....
Yes! For the third time, he activated the Door Charm, not to summon the possessed--for every one of them were now here--but to force the Doorspawn out of their hosts. And then, I'll command them to possess these meddlers!
Energy from the Door Charm crackled down the length of his metal arm as he forced his will on the Doorspawn. Moans poured forth from the crowd as the Doorspawn left their respective hosts. They were not invisible now, as they hovered, charged up by the energy from the Charm. Hesper could faintly see hints of tentacles from the formless glowing clouds that began to mass above him. And then the amulet in his hand shattered, exploding with such force that took him off his feet. He recovered just in time to see the glowing Doorspawn diving for him.
Instinctively, he tried to fend them off with Haedonggum, which was also glowing. Strange, it never did that before. The Doorspawn were now upon him. Nooo!
To his amazement, the mass of cloudy Doorspawn merged into his glowing blade, as if Haedonggum was absorbing each and every one of them. He watched in awe as each Doorspawn was sucked into the blade until finally none was left. Spidery cracks now appeared upon the slender blade. Pieces of metal began to peel off, clattering to the ground, leaving a glowing blade of energy in its place. Within this blade of pure energy swam the horde of Doorspawn he had summoned.
An immaterial blade! he thought wildly, as he felt the sword send alien thoughts into his mind. It felt like a few drops at first, then immediately become a torrent. Only his sheer force of will prevented him from going mad then and there.
"Electic," he managed to gasp, crawling over to where the young mage stood. "Call Hell Vortex. We must escape."
Fynn Elenium, Sevrin Astergarden, Maraksus Aralnae, and Dylan Garwood, along with the newly-exorcised crowd--all of them were swallowed up by massive explosions, as the airship Hell Vortex dropped its cloaking and brought its cannons to bear upon the slums of Prontera. Buildings collapsed, burying everything in chunks of masonry.
Electic helped Hesper up the ramp and into Hell Vortex's loading bay. As the hatch closed, Electic wondered if anyone survived Hell Vortex's onslaught. He shivered. This was his job, as a wizard of the Black Circle, but why did he suddenly hate himself?
