Chapter 38: Skittering Monster

Note: Thanks to WRC 264 for beta reading this!

Aingeal

“Cernere’s black fingers!” I hissed. “Master mage! We’re in trouble!”

Zanyia sprang past me. Her jump carried her over the Paragon and the Monster, her tail swishing behind her. She threw a look over her shoulder at me, her eyes twitching, an excited glint in her cat-slitted eyes.

“Deal with him!” she hissed. “I got the soldiers!”

I summoned abjuration spirits. The blue balls of ethereal energy, the tangible forces of creation, surged around me. They danced around me before diving for the feet of Sven and my wives trapped by the hill’s soil. Wreathed in the purple energy, the manifestation of my will, the abjuration spirits slammed into the ground, disrupting the earth magic.

Sven burst free as Prince Meinard and the Paragon closed the distance. Blurring like shadows, my husband didn’t so much as charge down the hill at Meinard but flowed. Umbral vapor poured off of Sven. He roared, a sound of pure hatred distilled into a physical rage. Light exploded from Ealaín as she rushed at the Paragon. Water and flames swept from Greta and Nathalie.

The wave crashed into the Paragon. The hulking, mismatch monstrosity battered through it with no effort. The muscles of her thick, corded limbs flexed as she kept barreling up the hill, her strange, misshapen face twisted with a clash of emotions, forming a riotous, brutal expression of pure drive, her hands forming massive fists. Prince Meinard ducked beneath the wave, scuttling on his belly like a four-legged centipede, his limbs looking oddly jointed.

He rose upright in time to meet Sven’s attack.

At the base of the hill, Greta’s wave swept into the soldiers on their horses. Some were thrown down, their horses screaming and kicking. Others gripped the reins. The water flowed around the mage, channeled by the force of his magic.

I focused on him, gathering my spirits, my wings fluttering. Did I have the strength to battle a master mage?

I pointed my finger and fired a beam of evocation spirits at him.

Ealaín

A beam of purple energy lanced over the air as I closed in on the Paragon. Water dripped from the patchwork thing. She was hideous. The Biomancer had formed this thing from a dozen different humanoid creatures. I could see human, dwarf, orc, elf, goblin, ogre, halfling, and more in her features. She had breasts and a cock bouncing before her. A nauseating writhe rippled through my stomach.

Vebrin had fashioned her by despoiling a dozen different works of art, living creatures all, and stitching them together. It horrified me. It was like he’d taken a dozen priceless statues carved with exquisite care, hacked them to pieces, then stuck them together and declared that he had created something better. That he’d distilled the very essence of art.

A paragon.

My hammer and ax blazed with light. My armor strengthened my limbs. I would slay this thing for my divine mother. This thing was an affront to all Rithi stood for. I howled as I raised my weapons, Greta charging at my side.

The Paragon grinned, the mongrel features of her face twisting as the mismatched features clashed with each other. Her pace slowed. Her muscles bulged in her arm as she flexed her fist. I reached her, swinging with my hammer, my momentum impelling force into it.

She raised her arm and took my blow. Light burst from my hammer. It surged around the Paragon, illuminating every wrinkle and crag of her features. The handle shook in my hand as she swept her arm before her, knocking back my weapon, her fist flying at my armor.

Droplets shimmered before me. A shield of water sprang up. The Paragon’s fist slammed into it. Waves rippled across the disc. It faded into mist as I swung my ax. My blow hacked through the dissipating defense. The Paragon pivoted and deflected my swing with her other forearm, sending my blow slashing into the hill.

The Paragon laughed, her fist blurring down at my head.

So fast.

Light burst from armor. A great flash of sunlight striking Paragon in the face. She cursed, flinching, her blow going wide. It missed my head by inches. A rush of air rippled over me. A nervous twinge ran through me. I felt the power of her blow.

Did I have the strength to fight her?

Greta shouted beside me, stabbing with her watery blade. I couldn’t afford doubts. I would beat her.

Sven Falk

“Did you think turning into a monster would get your daughter wet for you instead of me?” I demanded as I thrust my shadowy rapier at the carapaces chest of Meinard.

He scuttled to my right, scurrying sideways with speed. His skin had an oily sheen about it, rippling in the sunlight. I could see his cold features in the twisted face. He had mandibles thrusting out of his mouth, his eyes almost all black. Segmented plates covered his entire body. It ripped out of his skin. Small bits of it could be seen at the joints, pale flesh clinging to his new body. He had a knot in his central chest, a round bulge dug into this thorax.

What had he done to himself?

I followed his scuttle. He dropped to all four, his mandibles clicking. My skin crawled. This thing touched my wife. He used her. He tried to make her into his whore. I pivoted as he circled me, drawing in the shadows to enhance my speed.

I stabbed.

He twisted his body out of the way. My sword buried into the ground. He swiped at me. I leaped back as the claws slashed before me. From the other side, Nathalie’s fiery sword swept down at him, the young girl’s face twisted in revulsion as she let out a loud screech.

Her crackling blade slammed into the ground, missing Prince Meinard. Grass crisped black, smoking from the heat. Her armor wavered and danced, heat bleeding off of her, spilling through the air. She felt like a walking furnace. She ripped up her sword, pivoted and—

Prince Meinard struck her in the chest. She gasped, stumbling back up the hill, her armor rattling. I growled, thrust hard at Prince Meinard’s back. He flattened his body to the ground. My blade hissed over his form.

“Do you think Ava will welcome you to her bed?” I asked. Then I snorted. “Do you even have a cock any longer?”

“I think I’ll just eat her,” Prince Meinard answered, his mandibles clacking as he rose to his feet, his limbs twisted and segmented in strange ways, fingers ending in sharp claws.

“I left her pussy full of my cum,” I said, giving him a mocking grin. “It was a lot of fun cucking you, your Highness.”

Prince Meinard let out a clicking, hissing sound. Laughter. The sound skittered through my ears, my spine shivering. It sounded like a thousand beetles scurrying through dead leaves, a hideous sound. “No, not her pussy. Her flesh. That scrumptious, warm flesh.”

My stomach tightened.

“I’ll pull apart her bit by bit, watching her sinews stretch. I’ll feast on her entrails as they spill out of her torn skin.” His mandibles quivered. A look of almost ecstatic lust rippled across his insectoid face. “My little sweetling will be so salty and rich.”

I wanted to vomit. Just picturing this thing ripping into my Ava with those mandibles, tearing into her flesh, ripping her apart punched me in the guts. My stomach acids churned and boiled. I hated this man, but now ... Now he disgusted me. Made me feel dirty just standing by him.

He glanced at Nathalie. My blood chilled.

“Maybe I’ll eat her first,” he said. “She smells ... succulent.”

He pivoted and lunged at her. Nathalie squeaked. She swung her sword. He battered her clumsy blow aside and seized her. I cursed and charged at his back. His mandibles spread wide as he lunged his head down for the rune-carved breastplate, heat dancing around the pair.