The ground shook with the stampede of the thunder bulls. Iron Lord led his forces through the weakened underbelly, widening the gap in the inner defensive lines positioned inside Houstad, accompanied by his children and recently elevated bodyguards. Inside his helmet, cords snaked around his head, entering his temples and establishing a neuro-link that connected him to the helmet’s lenses, slowing everything down and buying him precious seconds. His scuffle with Janine had been a valuable experience, and Iron Lord would not be found wanting again.
Time slowed to a crawl, and he swatted bullets from the air. The usual perception resumed, and his steed smeared four soldiers. The fifth lost his face to the passing disruption field of his give as the shoulder cannons hissed, spewing sizzling orbs detonating pillboxes. Mechanical tendrils uncoiled, grasping Wolfkins and the regurs alike, breaking the former and murdering the tter. His troops got the cue, avoiding the wounded and firing on the fortifications ahead.
In their wake, the Horde streamed in, flooding the exposed trenches, breaking into the building, and wreaking havoc. A steady flow of information poured directly into Iron Lord’s brain, letting him immediately correct the little foibles caused by the overzealousness or arrogance of his followers.
That was his hour. The artillery batteries at the airport were his current target. Silence them, wreck the crawler, and the Third Army’s ability to resist them will be greatly diminished.
Everyone understood that much. Soldiers, volunteers, mercenaries, and even some conscripted criminals gathered to try to stop his force. None of them succeeded. Thunder bulls shoved themselves through the defenses, their hides shrugging off grenades and bullets. His own force shield kept those at the front safe from energy weapons. Gives, spears, and axes murdered the nearest enemies, and discharges of their ranged weapons dissuaded any prolonged combat.
They came to an abrupt halt at Verevarsk Square. Once bustling with tens of thousands of citizens hurrying about their businesses, two figures now waited for the hordemen. One was undeniably Warlord Onyxia. Shadows, thick and impenetrable even to augmented vision, drifted from her joints. Near her was a female standing upside down on one arm, her legs dangling nonchantly. The top of her helmet was tinted white, and her size matched that of her mistress. Corpses of the Horde infiltrators, each blinded to preserve the sanctity of this pce, hung from the statue of Houstad’s first mayor, which stood opposite Iron Lord. The khan scowled and fired his cannon, forever ruining the chiseling features and freeing the useless failures from further humiliation.
He kicked his thunder bull, slowly entering the square alone. Something was off. A single dividing line separated three halves of the square from the rest. His lenses picked out craters, picked up traces of exploded missiles, and calcuted firing ranges based on the melted roofs of the buildings. A trap. A warlord to hold while they gut us… Onyxia walked to face him, hands on hips.
Onyxia, the stealth killer of the Wolf Tribe, was known for breaking entire armies. Driven into a delirious state by the careful use of stimunts and drugs, the doggie prisoners had revealed enough of her. A x commander overly reliant on her officers to command her troops. Of which there was one present here, meaning the rest fought elsewhere, lest his sensors fail to locate them.
Her style relied on psychological intimidation, combining lethality and speed. Soldiers standing in orderly ranks would suddenly notice a missing comrade. The situation repeated itself during the search. Blink and find that your childhood friend went missing. Blink and you would find that the strongest champion had fallen, his spine severed. A base commander would disappear from the circle of his bodyguards or from his toilet, silently and without a trace.
Entire armies surrendered, unable to withstand such psychological pressure, but Iron Lord was calm. What passed for armies in the north must’ve been either critically pathetic, stupid, or far too small. He was made of sturdier stuff and had already figured out her trick.
Blinking. Every Wolfkin mentioned it in one variation or another. The light of his lenses intensified. She won’t have such luck here.
“Your lenses will rey our position to the crawler. As soon as we cross that line, all hell will break loose. Is that right?” Iron Lord asked mundanely.
“Perhaps,” Onyxia replied, stopping a hundred paces from the line.
“Then I’ll rip them out.” Iron Lord passed the line and spread his arms in anticipation of hearing the missiles. His cannons took aim.
A blow jolted him back in his seat, too fast even for his shield to activate in time. He heard the screech of torn metal and the explosion of stone. Onyxia had vanished, reappearing behind him, almost completely shrouded in shadows. Both of his cannons fell to the ground, and the cws of her second hand gouged gashes into his pte near his waist.
Fast! Outpaced my optical zoom!
Patience 2 struck back, its end spearing through the dark veil and scraping against her side. Onyxia reached out and grabbed his shoulder, and Iron Lord activated his field, shoving the woman down. He spun his give, bringing the shimmering edge down, and his tendrils whipped, seeking, if not to harm, then to entangle.
The give missed, sending cracks across the stone and severing the tip of a tendril. Onyxia bounced off the ground and nded on the thunder bull. The swipes of her cws split his pauldron and scratched his helmet.
“You blinked,” she whispered, and cold sweat rolled down Ismaeel’s back.
Impossible! She can’t see my face. My voice is synthesized. Steel betrays no emotion.
Blink. A wolf hag among the captives had expined it, whispering its secrets as he grafted the lips of her ghastly wound together. People assumed Onyxia wielded some power, based solely on the strange phenomena that manifested in the strange dark vapors emanating from her pores and fur. But if the prisoner was to be believed, Onyxia had developed an uncanny ability to read the twitching of the tiniest muscles, unmistakably guessing the exact movements of her prey. Paired with unnatural precision and processing capabilities, it was an annoying style to fight against, as she struck during the slightest distractions, catching her prey unaware.
Onyxia expressed increasing frustration toward the Tribe’s so-called ‘ranking matches,’ hating them with a passion. As the wolf hag expined, when an opponent focused on the shadow warlord, she wasn’t overly difficult to defeat, but as soon as a challenger blinked, Onyxia always went for the jugur, bleeding out the opposition. Even after her occasional defeats, victors often had to spend days or weeks beside her in the emergency room, and what kind of triumph was that? Such victories did not entice the Wolf Tribe, as Iron Lord had learned.
It was a body-reading technique that had no right to work on him!
His tendrils whipped again, and the Wolfkin, wearing several tons of steel, disappeared from his cameras, leaving bloody footprints on his steed and weaving around the give’s swing. Her cws sunk into his shield generator, disabling it. A pang of pain grazed Iron Lord, and the ughing woman rolled off the bull, waving a bloody paw at him.
The khan gnced down. She had attacked him in the exact spot where she had left gashes in his armor during the first attack, cutting through the weakened parts to reach his body.
“Blinked again. Tsk, tsk. Are you really the one who killed the Berserker?” Onyxia grinned. “Oh, how I will tease her on the other side.”
“You seem to be eager to join her,” Iron Lord said dryly, releasing a burst of code.
It was foolish to argue against reality. Whether or not he accepted it, continuing to fight individually brought a certain element of uncertainty into his pns, and he was not going to let the situation go awry.
Zulfiya. Marduk. On my mark…
“No,” Zulfiya said aloud, and his systems activated, erasing the immobilization command from his armor.
“What is the meaning of it?” Iron Lord demanded to know as several of his offspring held their immobilized retives inside their suits. “A betrayal?”
“A response to your actions,” Zulfiya answered, nodding to Onyxia. “This line was not drawn for you. It was for us.”
“And you seem to…”
“Shut up,” Zulfiya told the warlord. “A Recimer contacted me, and I listened…”
“Listened?” Iron Lord ughed incredulously. “Daughter, you ought to be wiser than that. They’ll spin any story in an attempt to change their fate! Their words are nothing but lies.”
“Sure they are. But not Mehmed’s,” Zulfiya said. “Father, I know what you did to him. You condemned him to a fate worse than death, trapping him in a suit…”
“Don’t you judge me when you are doing the same to your siblings to usurp my position!”
“A pox on your position! I am saving my family! I don’t want any more of them to die or end up like Mehmed! We don’t need that kind of strength!” Zulfiya snarled, pointing her spear at Iron Lord. She lowered it. “Dad. We are not going to fight against you. We are heading to the uncle. If you ever cared or felt anything for us, join us! What are your conquests for? What good will they bring you, except a dead family? Look at you, experimenting on your own children! Lying to them! You have become another Brood Lord. Is that what you wanted? Where is the father I was always proud of? Where is the man who protected me, read me bedtime stories, and taught me how to fight? I want him back! It’s not too te. We can mend things! Let Mad Hatter choke on her war; I want my family to live!”
“Daughter. Don’t worry. I am not angry. It is normal to have a mental breakdown under pressure. It will pass; you will recover. We will talk after the city falls,” Iron Lord answered calmly.
“No.” She shook her head, moving the steed away. Those of his children who had sided against him formed a circle around their immobilized siblings and led them to the breach. He motioned for the arriving infantry to let them pass. “I don’t think we will. Good health to you, Iron Lord Khan. Goodbye.”
Any mistake, loss, or trouble was the commander’s fault. Iron Lord adhered to this rule and did not bme Zulfiya in the least. She was bright, and perhaps he had indeed overstepped reasonable bounds and treated the failure too harshly. And the comparison to Brood Lord. It stung more than he wanted to admit. He should have ridden the Golden Horde of the tainting element, regardless of the man’s usefulness.
“Ha. What sort of ruthless moron are you if even your cubs abandon you?” mocked Onyxia.
“I am the grand commander of the Gilded Horde. Iron Lord Khan.” He pressed the hand holding the give against the wound, shielding the vulnerability, and closed his fingers around the distant sor orb, not looking at Onyxia. Zulfiya didn’t reveal anything about the code. He still had the advantage. “The one who trampled nations. The one responsible for defeating your miserable armies. And you are…” Onyxia disappeared as his eyelids dropped. “…a gullible fool.”
The cws barely touched him as the gunfire engulfed them both. His bodyguards opened fire on his previous command, and both mass-reactive rounds and ser beams scarred the fighters. Where his suit was thick enough to withstand the hail of death with a minimum of discomfort, Onyxia’s armor cracked, and her backpack spewed fire as a blow from his give sent her sprawling, shearing off a strip of flesh, including a finger.
“Did you seriously assume that you had enough brains to corner me?” Iron Lord thundered, advancing upon her. “Fool! While you were wasting opportunities and doing nothing, I was positioning my troops. If you had the artillery to spare, you would have used it to eliminate me by now. No, you wanted me to divert my forces, to take the long way around the square, where ambushes or mines awaited them. Now learn, mutant. Learn the difference between a leader and a brute!”
“Why…” Onyxia croaked, rolling on all fours. “Why not both?”
“Fall back!” Ismaeel yelled.
Too te. The crawler diverted its light artillery and unched a full-scale bombardment at the entering hordemen, murdering dozens and driving the rest back. Even power armor could do little against the raining hell. The shell bent and twisted limbs, shattered skulls, and set the area abze, denying the wounded a chance to escape. Iron Lord remained unharmed, standing too close to Onyxia, but the cohesion of his forces was broken, and Marduk’s icon disappeared from his HUD. He immediately named his repcement and ordered him to restore order in case of a sudden attack.
But that will take time.
“It’s true.” Onyxia dropped low. “The Third’s infantry rarely see action because of us, but our artillery is second to none, boy! Every warlord reveres our thunder from above. Sure, you were a tough bugger, that shield and all. Why waste the effort to scratch you when we could’ve thinned out the litter you lead?” She ughed. “It didn’t matter to me what your choice was! Go the long way around, face my ambushers, and ter us. Take my bait and die. Either way, we’ll win! We are Pack Onyxia, and we are hunting you!”
“You dare assume this changes anything?” Iron Lord asked, leaning forward. Rotary cannons slid from the secure casings in his arms to his wrists. An extra yer of metal closed the wound as his internal systems worked to stop the bleeding. The shield generator reactivated with a low hum. “I alone am enough to change the situation. Keep her in your sights.” He patted his steed and sent the fierce beast into a gallop.
“Anji! Showtime!” Onyxia said.
“I thought you’d never ask, Warlord!” The wolf hag cheered.
She hurled a fshbang that exploded before his face, filling his ocurs with a bright white fsh and hiding the sounds behind the loud noise. Iron Lord fired, missing Onyxia, who closed the distance, zigzagging and dodging the incoming projectiles. He could barely see her form and swung his give, knowing he would miss. His shield formed around him, but the damned mutie aimed at his steed, cutting the leg’s artery.
A grenade nded at his shield a moment ter, distracting Iron Lord long enough for the warlord to gain distance. The enraged beast stomped, bulging out chunks of stone and widening cracks; it snorted, blinked to clear its vision, and charged after the warlord. The wolf hag leapt from behind a stone, firing once at Iron Lord’s cannon, jamming it, and then ducked under a swing. Two shots to the chest sent her back, but the cursed woman wanted it, relying on armor to survive and using the impact to gain distance, and Onyxia sshed at Iron Lord from behind.
The hunt was on, and he intended to gut these wretches for stalling him.
****
Lacerated One turned to the door, drawn by the approaching murmur, and prepared to shield the operators from any harm. Fat, muscled fingers crumpled the meter-thick titanium, widening the gap to fit an entire arm inside. It tched onto the rest of the door and ripped it free, shaking the room. The huge New Breed stepped in; recently healed scars covered the rough sbs of his body. He dragged Sughterer’s head with him, wielding it like a battering ram.
“You are tall. A warlord?” Drozna breathed.
“Can you hear them?” inquired Lacerated One, stepping closer to the intense wailing. Cubs’ cries, males’ curses, wailing of desperate females… I’ll bring you succor. She promised, folding her arms in prayer.
“What are you talking about, whore?” Drozna asked, raising the head.
Sughterer had lost his appendages, and most of his eyes were missing, but she spotted a single, convulsive sucking of air, a desperate act of the anguished soul trying to survive. That complicated things.
“The ghosts of those whom you killed. I see them around you, a great whirlwind of grudges and curses.” The supreme shaman walked toward him, rexed, addressing Drozna the same way she would address a member of her flock or a misbehaving cub. “My kin, the state’s soldiers, the civilians of this and other nds. Tortured and murdered at the behest of your misbegotten master. Can’t you hear them? Have you forgotten the pleas for mercy you denied? Do you not feel the cold grip of their inevitable retribution closing on you at long st?”
“A whirlwind of souls.” Drozna smiled. “Around me? I like it. But all I hear is the whining of a soon-to-be-dead bitch…”
Distracted. For a breath, but it was enough. Lacerated One assumed Onyxia’s persona, kicking as his eyelids closed for a blink. The trick stank of Onyxia, but the attack itself belonged undeniably to Eled, who enjoyed adding extra to everything. It nded on Drozna’s belly, knocking him back a dozen steps and creating a shockwave that spttered the workers against their consoles.
In a single smooth motion, the shaman closed the gap between them, dropped to her knees to dodge the swipe with the head, and greeted Martyshkina. She punched at Drozna’s talus bone in his right foot, knocking him off bance. Ashbringer brought her up, and Alpha directed the cws at the exposed lower jaw, but she abandoned the stab as her opponent moved a hand to block. It was Janine’s hold that closed around the elbow of the arm holding Sughterer, pinching the nerve with Terrific’s technique. She tackled the man, following Predaig’s advice on grappling. Her own elbow smmed into Drozna’s sor plexus, as Janine would have done, and the man wheezed for air, instinctively letting go of the hostage.
Drozna erupted in violence; his fist sliced across Lacerated One’s forearm, tearing a chunk out of it. He spun off the ground and brought an apocalyptic kick to the shaman’s shoulder. There was no time to dodge, and she cked the strength to block it completely, so she welcomed the blow instead, going limp as Dragena occasionally did. The kick nded on her rexed shoulder and brought her down. Had the floor and Drozna’s legs been of equal durability, her trick would not have worked, but her body broke through the floor, and she grabbed the edge of the hole, pulling herself up and dancing away from the incoming blows, cheered on by Fatima.
The light in the room changed, illuminating it in every color of the rainbow, from chrome to green to carmine red. She heard a chorus as the Spirits, both big and small, stepped into reality, calling to the souls orbiting Drozna. The dead didn’t oblige; they weighed down the wicked, desperate to spare others the fate they had suffered, and Lacerated One recognized Bogdan among them, so uncharacteristically serious.
“Poor sweeties. It is okay,” Lacerated One said, tossing the wounded Sughterer to safety.
“Have you gone mad?” Drozna asked, and she heard murmurs behind.
“Do you not hear them?” she asked sadly, addressing both Drozna and the working crew. A simir cloud cloaked Sughterer, but the souls splintered from it, indicating that the man was on the right track. The guilt will remain; it will never be completely erased, but his victims no longer saw any point in lingering in this realm. “I see, I understand. Spare him, protect them, and cull this one.” Her cws scratched down her shoulders, damaging the armor, reopening the healed wounds, and spshing the blessed waters to celebrate the passing. The hiss of sparks from the severed cables delighted her ravaged body.
“I told you, all I hear is the buzz of a crazy chick,” Drozna said. “Are you pnning to skin yourself to save yourself the pain?”
“Cubs of the other gods,” the shaman said kindly, no longer bothering to address the lost one. His salvation will be on the other side. The helmet slipped from her head, and she scarred herself. “The Spirits are already beside you. Take their paws; they will safeguard your journey to the realms of your masters, or to a new life if you are faithless. Have no fear, be at ease, be at peace. I shall see to the retribution myself.”
“S-shut up. Shut. Up!” Drozna passed the hole, clenching and unclenching his hands. “You are weirding me out. There are no gods or ghosts to help you!”
“Help me?” The shaman snorted as the room returned to its original colors and the chorus faded. “Silly boy. The Spirits tend to the divine. Only humans are here, and humans are fallible, often unable to forgive. You showed no mercy. Expect none in return.”
“As if I’ll ever need it!”
The two collided, grappling, trying to take each other down. Kicks bruised reinforced abdomens and pelvises, cws gouged deep wounds, their maws opened, biting and tearing flesh from the opponent. Lacerated One fully embraced Eled and Predaig, fusing the two inside herself, using Drozna’s violent and highly contagious rage to fuel her own berserker fury as she dug her cws under his ribs, head-butted the man, and licked the blood from her own broken nose.
****
Note from the author: That is all for today. I hope you are all happy and healthy. See you next time and thank you for reading!
