Chapter 16: The Summit

Deep in the dungeons below the ruins of the Andromeda Estate, Ragar snarled as the parasite fused with his spine, sending its tendrils digging deep into his nervous system. As a Profane, such a procedure shouldn’t have affected him, but his body didn’t know how to handle the sudden influx of parasite venom now flowing into him. Ragar’s breathing was heavy as he felt power sweep through him, threatening to completely take over his mind.

He had to struggle to remain conscious and not to black out. It was like he had suddenly grown a second heart, and it could not get into rhythm with the first, leaving him feeling like he was about to keel over. Beside him, Miasmarda was having a similar reaction. These parasites were still prototypes, and it was clear that a great deal of work remained to be done, but they were exactly what Ragar needed.

“Tysinger, are you sure you won’t take one yourself?” he asked as he sat up on the torture rack he had been using as a bed.

“Honestly, I find the whole parasite concept repulsive as a warrior. It’s one thing to become a Profane by receiving the venom, transforming into a superior life form, but to need one of those disgusting things clinging to you, constantly pumping in venom, it just seems like a crutch. Besides, using one after you’ve already been naturally turned is just an admission of failure.”

“We DID fail, and this is how we make it right. We’re going to take back the prince and exterminate his friends.”

“Well, if I’m not strong enough to defeat my foe, I’d rather just die with my dignity intact.”

“You’re not allowed to die,” said Ragar, putting on his shirt. “It is your job to kill the Wandering Spirit. He’s been a thorn in our side for far too long.”

“Gladly.”

The three ghouls left the dungeon and made their way up to the surface, where the moon dimly lit the landscape. Outside, Umbra and a small army of fiends were waiting.

“Are you sure this will be enough?” Tysinger asked. “Considering how Noah and his friends slaughtered everyone at the party, I’m not sure this meager group will be enough to get the job done.”

“Fear not, for these fiends are merely the tip of the iceberg. We have far more allies just waiting to be called upon.”

“Oh? Who’s that?”

“Andromeda’s mansion was originally a dwarven fortress, and all dwarven fortresses and settlements are built on top of mines. When she and her peerage would finish their meals, they’d use the mine as a waste chute, chucking the bones and unwanted remains into the deep, dark pit. For almost a thousand years, she and her peerage, as well as all our kin who passed through her doors, feasted upon the living and cast their bones into the mine, filling it to the brim. They served our race as food, and now, they will serve us as soldiers.” Ragar then bit into both his wrists and sent his blood pouring onto the ground. “Desanctified Burial. Macabre Craftwork.”

His blood spread through the dirt and rock, seemingly doubling in mass every second. Augmented by the parasite on his back, his powers bled down into the roots of the mountain and seeped into the ancient bones stored in the mine below. As a wielder of corrupted stone magic, he could summon the undead so long as they were buried in or stood upon his Cursed Earth, created by spilling his blood, and thanks to the parasite, he could now do both almost without limit. As his blood continued to splash on the ground, the entire mountain shook, with endless legions of skeletons beginning to shift. As one, the undead army lurched to serve the bidding of their master.

Around the base of the mountain, geysers of earth erupted, hurling dirt and rock into the air due to the pressure beneath. The skeletons forced their way to the surface, trampling Andromeda’s gardens and all the surrounding buildings as they dug themselves out of their mass grave. Bones that could not rejoin to form individual skeletons instead amalgamated to create hulking undead abominations. Thousands, tens of thousands, hundreds of thousands, they emerged, ready to serve Ragar.

“And now, we march, and may the mountains themselves quake in terror from our steps,” announced Ragar. With his wrists continuing to bleed, he descended to join his legion with his undead daughters always at his side. “PROFANE! MOVE OUT! TO THE EAST!” he shouted.

Tysinger and Miasmarda took to their mounts and flew overhead, with the army of fiends following while bringing Gradius’s coffin. They headed towards the Ashok Mountains, with the combined footfalls of all the skeletons and fiends shaking the ground. As dawn approached, Miasmarda shed his cloak and began pumping out black fumes with greater volume than ever before, blocking out the sun like a nuclear winter.

Ragar continued to spill his blood onto the ground, spreading his Cursed Earth in all directions to both maintain his army and to cultivate it. Wildlife that trampled on his territory had their life energy siphoned away and died, only to rise once more as new additions to his forces. The skeletons of animals and people, scattered across the wilderness and left to rot, pulled themselves together and began to march. Trees, killed by the corrupted soil, shed their leaves as their branches became like writhing black tentacles. They ripped themselves free of the earth, dragging themselves to join the ranks.

They marched without pause, continuing to move during both night and day. No obstacle could slow them down or hold them back, with the skeletons climbing over each other to scale the highest cliffs, or working together like ants to form bridges over ravines. As they marched, Umbra and other winged fiends hunted beyond Ragar’s Cursed Earth, collecting food to sustain him on this march, and also scouting ahead. It was only a matter of time before they closed in on the eagle tribe village.

“Noah!” Valia exclaimed, shaking him awake, but Noah was already aware before he heard her voice. His lungs and eyes were burning from the toxic vapor filling the air in their tent. Shannon was in the same condition, and as they staggered out into their campsite, everyone else was suffering as well, with the horses collapsing one after another. The entire mountain was shrouded in a thick layer of smog.

“Guys, Cyrilo’s not waking up!” Daniel shouted, dragging her outside. Sophia went to work trying to save her, but she was also succumbing to the fumes.

“Cynatas, get out here!” Noah shouted.

The tiny elf emerged from Roc’s yurt and looked around, realizing what was going on. “Cleansing Breath!” she cast, purifying the air around the yurt. Now able to breathe, Sophia started healing Cyrilo, who suddenly erupted into a coughing fit as her lungs resumed functioning.

“What’s going on?” Foley asked.

“The Profane are here. They’ve reached us,” said Noah. He could only see the area around the home of Roc’s family, as the rest was blocked off by a wall of smoke, but he could taste the lingering Profane malice. “We have to get all of the villagers into the valley below! It’s the only way they’ll make it!”

“No, we need to fly above the clouds! This poison could have filled the entire valley!” Roc argued. He was then silenced as Tican hit the ground beside them, his bones broken and his flesh torn to shreds. Drowning in his own blood, he gave a single pained gargle and then went silent.

“There are fiends above us. They won’t let anyone get above the cloud. We have to descend!” said Noah.

With Cynatas continuing to purify the air, Noah and the others rushed into the village, where the members of Roc’s tribe were dropping like flies as they were smothered by the miasma. Sophia tried to heal as many as she could, but people were dying faster than she could reach them. Again and again, Cynatas would blast away the fumes, but unless she maintained a barrier to hold them back, they would come rushing in. She recognized this poison gas as coming from the gangly ghoul she had encountered, but it was so much more powerful than before, pushing against her with the weight of the ocean. Seraph helped where he could, trying to burn away the fumes, but he encountered the same problem. No matter how much he erased, more was always closing in. Their only choice was to escape.

“Down into the valley! Everyone, move!” Noah shouted, trying to herd the villagers down the mountainside.

Wrapping their faces with wet scarves to try to block out the fumes, the men and women of the eagle tribe spread their wings and took flight, gliding down towards the lower areas, carrying infants and the sick with them. The children and elderly struggled to stay conscious, with the strongest trying to help the weakest reach safety. Noah and his friends, along with most of the villagers, managed to break free of the toxic cloud cover and escape to the valley below, only to find the true threat waiting. Ragar’s army was marching through the valley towards them like a slow-moving flood, toppling trees, flattening the landscape, and killing every creature that crossed their path. Overhead, winged fiends filled the sky, feeling right at home in the death cloud.

“Well, shit,” Noah muttered. “Valia, what do your elf eyes see?”

Valia studied the enemy force with a worried scowl. “I see the ghoul pumping out the smoke on top of one of those giant birds, with Tysinger on another. In the center of the army is that humungous moving pile of corpses, and I bet Ragar is sealed up inside for protection. There, towards the back, I see Gradius’s coffin on a big cart. They’re in the process of unlocking it.”

“Noah, what do we do?” Seraph asked.

“We need to escape this valley. We can’t fight them here.”

Despite Noah’s words, he wasn’t sure how to escape. The mountain ranges enclosing the valley were like two walls, and any openings were so high up that they were filled with gas, making them unpassable by wing or foot. For all intents and purposes, they were sealed in with sheer cliffs around them, the black sky above them, and an army of undead swarming towards them.

“Ralacad!” Hadat exclaimed, hobbling over to them. His steps were unsteady, and he was struggling to breathe, having inhaled too much gas. Sophia caught him before he collapsed and went to work healing him. “There is a tunnel that can get us out of here; a dwarven passage that leads in and out of the valley.” He pointed to the base of one of the mountains near the center of the valley, but it was awfully close to the undead army, with the distance closing with each passing moment.

“We need to hurry there before the undead overrun the area. Everyone, get moving!”

The members of the eagle tribe spread their wings and took flight, flying low to the ground. Several volunteers carried Noah and the others, just like Roc had carried Lupin, grabbing them by the shoulders and flying over the tops of the trees. However, they did not get far before the fiends made their move.

They fell from the black clouds like toxic rain, attacking the eagle tribe members. In the air, the fiends had the advantage, and the eagle warriors, despite their strength and training, stood no chance. They were all knocked out of the sky, many dying before they hit the ground. Everyone was forced to land, with the fiends circling overhead.

“Don’t stop! Keep moving!” Noah shouted. Everyone took off in a run, but at the pace they were going, there was little chance of reaching the tunnel before the undead, and everyone knew it. “We need to split up and take out the leaders! Roc and Cynatas, you deal with that poison ghoul! If we can clear the sky and bring in the sunlight, we’ll win! Cyrilo, Alexis, Sophia, and Daniel, you take care of Gradius!”

“How the fuck do you expect us to do that?!” Daniel exclaimed.

“Tarnas said that your music during the Red Revelry calmed him during the rampage! It may work again! Just pacify him while Sophia and Cyrilo bury him with earth magic! We just need him out of the picture until the sky is clear! Valia and I will take on Ragar!”

“What about my people?” Roc asked.

“Shannon, Seraph, and Foley will help protect the eagle tribe and clear a path to the tunnel! Lupin, go with them!”

“Roc, I swear this to you, I will not let history repeat itself!” Shannon promised.

Everyone split up to complete their tasks. Shannon, Seraph, and Foley remained with the eagle tribe, sprinting through the forest towards the dwarven tunnel. Fiends swooped down to attack, but as long as the eagle tribe stayed on the ground, so would their attackers.

“Aim for their heads!” Shannon yelled as she loaded her bow with three arrows and launched them, killing a trio of fiends with acid and explosions.

Amor and his warriors followed suit, unleashing their might and fury upon their monstrous foes. Seeing the fiends for the first time, they were understandably afraid, but they still remembered Daniel’s music and stories from the previous night. Fierce as their enemies were, at the end of the day, a monster was just a monster, and all monsters could be slain. With mana wrapped around their legs, they delivered devastating kicks that crushed ribcages and pulverized skulls, while their hands, similarly glowing and flattened like blades, slashed through muscle and flesh like sharpened swords.

The fiends, used to relying on brute strength and their savage instincts, were outmaneuvered by the honed combat techniques, for such was the purpose of their creation. Almost all schools of martial arts were born to help the weak defeat the strong, countering savagery with finesse and precision, and this was the perfect example. The easy, seductive power of Profane might was being overpowered by the legacy and discipline of the eagle tribe’s fighting style.

When martial arts failed and the size and strength of their foes left the eagle warriors unable to match up, Seraph and Foley jumped in to save them. With his family shield, Foley blocked every attack, no matter how strong, with fangs, claws, and all manner of evil breaking against his defenses like water on rock. As Foley played defense, Seraph’s hammer rained down upon the Profane menace. Each strike was fatal, setting off an explosion of light that fried the flesh of his enemies. Eventually, they encountered the wave of undead, and just like at the mansion, Seraph cleared them away with a burst of holy magic. However, no matter how many he destroyed, for every skeleton that turned to ash, a hundred more lunged for him.

With the eagle tribe being looked after, Roc was able to focus on Miasmarda, and with Cynatas at his side, he had nothing to worry about. They closed in on the ghoul, riding on the back of his Profane vulture just below the cloud cover. Seeing them approach, Miasmarda hissed in annoyance and swung his arm. The black clouds above him obeyed his will, twisting into a tornado that he then hurled at the two like a blast of death.