Chapter 2

Damen Hitema braced himself as Transport-1 banked through a tight turn.

The six members of the Lightbringer response squad were positioned on benches along the inside of the helicopter. Damen sat to the rear with the loading ramp on his right and the squad’s heavy gunner in front of him. Oathbinder Blythe sat behind the cockpit across from his second-in-command, Xi-Pen Lao.

Xi-Pen Lao had transferred in from Mashala, a nation far to the east of the Soelanar Empire. He too was a druid, though their training and roles on the team differed. Xi-Pen had a great deal of experience as a Lightbringer but this would be his first demonic incursion on Soelanaran soil.

At a nod from the Oathbinder, Xi-Pen raised his arm and pressed a button on his wristband radio. A metal bracelet with a small digital display, the advanced radios kept the squad in constant communication.

“Are you ready, Brother Hitema?” Xi-Pen asked in his habitually tranquil voice.

Despite the noise of the engines, Damen heard the question clearly through the earbud in his right ear. He checked that his wristband was set to voice-activated mode, then replied.

“I was born ready, Brother Lao,” Damen said lazily.

Xi-Pen nodded, confirmation that he’d heard Damen through his own earbud. If he was bothered by Damen’s irreverence it didn’t show - as always, his face remained expressionless. Traditionalists in Mashalan culture believed in maintaining a facade of impassivity. They held that strong emotions disrupted inner harmony.

“You sound half asleep there, Brother,” Blythe interjected via his own radio. “I could ask the stewardess for a coffee.”

“If it’s not too much trouble,” Damen replied and Blythe smiled.

The pilot reduced the helicopter’s speed until Transport-1 entered a hover. At the Oathbinder’s command, the rear loading ramp was lowered. Damen stood, stepped towards the opening and peered outside.

The town of Durant stretched out beneath him, lit by the afternoon sunlight, with the open field from the briefing directly below. Wind caused by the downdraft from rotors whipped through the cabin. The aircraft hovered higher than any buildings in the town, at least five storeys above the ground.

Damen placed his hands on his waist and arched his back, then tilted his head from side to side. Short popping noises escaped his joints as he worked out the kinks from the flight.

“Long flight, Brother Hitema?” Though Damen’s back was turned, the radio clearly conveyed the dryness of Oathbinder Blythe’s.

“Yeah it was - and I never did get that coffee,” Damen shrugged and leaped into the open air.

As he fell, Damen used his magic to summon his druidic armour. A dark cloud expanded out from his body, then sucked in close to solidify into a hardened outer layer. Mainly black but mottled with patterns of brown and mauve, the rocklike outer layer gave Damen the appearance of a weathered statue: a humanoid, ebon hued warrior carved from living stone.

Damen’s feet hit the grassy soil with an audible thud. His knees folded under him and armoured fists punched the ground as he bent into a crouch to help absorb the impact. Then he stood - unharmed after a heavy fall which should have shattered his legs. Protected by his druidic armour, Damen could carry on with his mission: to ensure the area was free of demons.

He raised his hands and focused to bring forth his bloodsword. Even absorbed within his body, the mystic weapon responded with an eager surge of magic. Like the vital fluid after which it was named, the bloodsword welled up from inside his body and covered his arms in luminous red liquid. The glowing mass drooped down from his hands - became flatter and thinner, then solidified - coagulating. Once again Damen held the legendary greatsword, Boetiadre’s Vengeful Wrath, Last Blade of the Red Sisters.

Angry Betty’s fierce crimson glow faded to a glimmer. With the ancient bloodsword in hand, Damen crisscrossed the field in a quick search pattern. He kept his senses attuned to the sword but as expected it relayed no warning of nearby voidspawn.

Damen came to a halt and rested Angry Betty on the ground. The razor sharp tip sank a finger’s length into the grassy soil under the bloodsword’s own weight. Damen tilted his head back to look up at the slowly circling form of Transport-1.

“The L.Z.’s clear,” Damen said. His microphone and wristband radio - still perfectly functional beneath his druidic armour - transmitted his words to the rest of the squad.

“Acknowledged,” the Oathbinder’s reply came through Damen’s earbud. “We spotted some vehicles approaching through the town. They should reach you just before we land.”

Damen turned to face the town. “Understood,” he said. “I’ll make sure they stay clear.”

Damen lifted Angry Betty to his shoulder and walked towards the field’s edge while Transport-1 began its descent. He heard the rumble of approaching vehicles, then a small convoy came into sight between the buildings and pulled up to the border between road and field. Damen planted himself before them and tried to look immovable - which, for a druid in full armour with a crystalline, two-handed bloodsword over his shoulder was very immovable indeed.

The incoming vehicles drove off the road and onto the grassy field. A pair of Imperial Ranger Force police cruisers escorted a range of civilian vehicles: generic compact cars, a luxury S.U.V. and even a yellow school bus.

They halted well short of Damen and he grinned under the armour’s facemask. The occupants debarked and milled about uncertainly the way civilians do. Damen got the impression that the more timid ones were reluctant to approach him but one woman showed no hesitation. She stepped forward confidently and the others trailed in her wake. As she drew closer, Damen recognized her face from the briefing.

Baroness Thérése Willowbrook’s clothing was well-made but not extravagant. A woman of average height with light skin and dark hair streaked with grey, she had a mature beauty made only more pronounced by her self-assured manner.

The Baroness stopped directly before Damen while her retinue remained respectfully behind. She took in Damen’s nearly two meter tall frame, completely encased in hardened druidic armour. Her gaze stopped at the idealized human face of Damen’s armour’s helmet and the stonelike orbs which covered his eyes.

“Greetings, Lightbringer,” she said. “Is there anything we should be concerned about?”

“Just following protocol,” Damen replied. “The area’s secure.”

Baroness Willowbrook nodded. “We are in good hands, I am sure. You look like you stepped right out of a legend, ready to take on a horde of voidspawn by yourself.”

Damen snorted. “And challenge the Avatar Empress to a duel right after,” he added.

“I would be obliged to discourage you from that course of action,” the Baroness smiled. “I am her sworn vassal, after all.”

“Then the Avatar has nothing to fear,” Damen said. He lowered Angry Betty from his shoulder to plant its tip into the ground. “You’ve disarmed me with your grace and beauty, Your Ladyship.”

The Baroness laughed but before she voiced a reply Damen’s earbud activated.

“You’re a regular Clément Vachon, aren’t you?” Oathbinder Blythe’s amused voice came through the radio. “You should see Brother Lao; he’s so astounded he can barely contain himself.”

“I just never realized that Brother Hitema was so smooth,” Xi-Pen deadpanned and Damen’s earbud exploded with laughter from what sounded like the entire squad.

He was glad the armour over his face was opaque as his cheeks heated. He hadn’t exactly forgotten his radio was on...

Unaware of the mockery at Damen’s expense, Baroness Willowbrook continued.

“Thank you,” she smiled. “But this is Merth, not the Imperial District of Astagar. ‘Lady Willowbrook’ will do if you must but I prefer Thérèse.”

Mildly embarrassed but able to appreciate the humour of the situation, Damen decided the only way through was forward. “A lovely name for a lovely lady, Thérèse,” he said magnanimously. The grilling on the comms redoubled.

Damen continued to openly flirt with Baroness Willowbrook as Transport-1 landed in the field behind him. He didn’t feel like his impromptu little game was at her expense. In fact, when the civilians behind her began to smile as well, he realized she was playing to an audience as much as he was.

Eventually, the rest of the Lightbringers exited the helicopter with their gear in tow. They came up behind Damen while Transport-1 took off and flew away.

The squad members made rather unsuccessful efforts to maintain straight faces. Xi-Pen - the master of expressionlessness - was the only one who truly succeeded. The other humans all had smiles on their faces and the troll gunner’s pointed ears twitched with suppressed amusement.

Blythe stepped forward. “We spoke on the phone, Your Ladyship,” he said. “Oathbinder Trevor Blythe.”

“Thank you for coming so swiftly, Oathbinder Blythe,” Baroness Willowbrook said.

Blythe bowed. “In the darkest Night, we are the Light,” he said, voicing the Lightbringer’s Oath.

The Baroness returned Blythe’s bow with a nod.

“I take it that our large but as yet unnamed statue has a communication device under all that armour?” she asked.

Damen shrugged mentally at being caught out.

The Oathbinder held up his arm and pointed to the wristband radio. “Indeed. One of these, Your Ladyship.”

“I thought as much,” the Baroness replied. “But as you surely heard me say to Sir Mountain earlier, please call me Thérèse.”

At the second offhand reference to his armour, Damen decided to dismiss it. Despite its solid, rocklike appearance, the druidic armour didn’t hinder him in the least. It was literally a part of him and felt as natural as his being in his own skin. To dismiss it, Damen had only to focus inwards and tap into his magic. The hardened carapace instantly dissolved into cloud of microscopic particles then disappeared, magically absorbed back into his body. He stood revealed in the white, form-fitting bodysuit which had remained unblemished underneath.

Freed of the armour, Damen pointedly switched his wristband radio off voice activated mode then shrugged.

“My name is Damen Hitema, Thérèse,” he said. “Please forgive my lack of introduction until now.”

Baroness Willowbrook and her retinue had observed the metamorphosis with interest. Outside of television or other video media, civilians rarely encountered druids skilled enough to manifest druidic armour.

“You are forgiven for that, Damen Hitema,” Baroness Willowbrook said. “I shall remember your name - and that you left your microphone open - when I share the details of our conversation with Baron Willowbrook.” She smiled brightly.

Damen shook his head ruefully as Blythe, the Lightbringers and even the civilians who’d arrived with Thérèse laughed. After the amusement died down, Baroness Willowbrook continued in a more serious tone.

“Durant’s resources are at your disposal, Lightbringers,” she said. “How may we aid you?”

Oathbinder Blythe put his levity aside as he moved on with the business of securing Durant. “We’ll need to visit the plantation that was attacked,” he said briskly. “From there, my druids will identify any blighted terrain and trace the voidspawn back to their origin.”

Baroness Willowbrook gestured behind her. “These vehicles are at your disposal; simply tell my drivers where you wish to go.”