Chapter 226: The Night of Fire

Viv used her dregs of willpower to assume the [Aspect of the Paragon], feeling her people with the confidence she felt. As planned, the Sword of Neriad beached itself with a thud and a dull shock. Viv sent people across the railing and onto the sandy beach beyond. It was low tide, from what she could tell.

 

The sailors left wielding weapons and a determined air, jumping down the four meters or so with their awesome physical stats while the yries had simply brought a rope because they had a brain. Even Bes slid down the rope with quiet dignity. Sidjin was the only one who almost crashed and that was because he was dead tired. Viv was the last one to jump down (everyone already knew she didn’t have much brains), leading the small band up the gentle slope towards where her shield and crown were. The cliff above shone gently in her mana perception, but she had to admit there wasn’t that much to be seen.

 

“We stop there,” she said.

 

The sailors formed a battle line — bless their courageous arses — though Viv knew that it would be pointless. The distant shape of the Nemeti flagship approached at good speed.

 

“Milady? This position is very exposed,” Sin whispered. “Perhaps we could go up the ramp?”

 

“That won’t be necessary. They’re going to come very close to us to try and finish me off. They will fail, of course.”

 

It was clear that Sin didn’t share her confidence. He could feel hers, but the evidence of his eyes didn’t back her story. He didn’t know her well enough yet. To be fair, she had failed to save Ravinport and Sandsong.

 

“Are you sure they will come close?”

 

“Yes, they have to be decisive because I won the game.”

 

“What?” the captain asked her.

 

“I won the race. I reached the shore before they could kill me, therefore I escaped. Their only path to victory is to kill me now at my moment of triumph.”

 

“I am not sure I enjoy fate magic very much,” the old man said. “It sounds too much like gambling and tales.”

 

“You are more correct than you seem to believe and… Hey! Are you dropping honey now?” Viv yelled at the yries.

 

“Battle is finished for us,” one of them said, pupils already dilated.

 

“No more shells!” another added.

 

“We wait. We watch.”

 

“The Lunatic has come tonight!”

 

“The Old One will observe.”

 

“It will be glorious.”

 

“For fuck sake I already told you not to get high in battle. Even if you don’t have your guns anymore. At least maintain discipline. This is unacceptable.”

 

“Want some too?”

 

“Extra glorious!”

 

Viv rolled her eyes but she didn’t intervene, though she’d have a talk with Lak-Tak later. Couldn’t have the assistant deputy war criminals give a bad example.

 

Meanwhile, Sin wasn’t done.

 

“Milady, if we should fall tonight, I want to say that it has been my honor and pleasure to fight alongside you. Your duel against the dragon was the stuff of legends, a battle I was privileged to witness, and only wish I could convey in poetry for future generations to learn.”

 

His voice rose, heartfelt and genuine.

 

“I regret not being stronger so that I may be a worthy blade to your magic,” he finished with a genuine affection and respect that shut down any temptation she had to tease him. Bes turned to him, spine straight and arms folded behind his back like they were in the throne room and not some beach at night.

 

“Janar Sin, I believe you may be premature in your farewell. I am sure the lady has a plan. This shall not be our last stand.”

 

“We don’t do last stands,” Sidjin said sleepily.

 

He yawned like he was trying to pop out his jaw.

 

“He’s right,” Viv said. “We don’t do last stands. As for my plan. I am going to sit on my ass and do absolutely nothing.”

 

“Milady…”

 

Viv raised a hand to preclude any unfun whining. The Nemeti flagship had accelerated again and now the escorts were fanning out behind it. They were almost on the beach. For some reason, they hadn’t fired their spell artillery yet. Viv could only assume the archpriest was waiting until all three were in range and possibly the rest of the ships too. Or maybe it was a fate-related setup since she had already won — she couldn’t be sure. Her instincts remained quiet for now. Soon, the first of the Nemeti ships beached themselves as well, their squat shape allowing their warriors to jump down from up high. It was the absolute perfect time to gloat.

 

“See, you saw me defeat a dragon so you know I’m a good duelist, and I am. And I can do plenty of other useful stuff, like portals, and regrowing limbs which I’ll do with our new friends. That is not how I got the title of empress.”

 

She strapped her shield on, seeing the innumerable sigils layered on each other like Frankenstein’s banner. The lowest, yries-made layer was here alongside her first sigils: the yries themselves, the Temple of Neriad, Kazar. They couldn’t be seen but they were there. She could almost feel them.

 

“I got that title because I have never been alone. I have gathered the very best with me, and they are with me because they want to be: Sidjin here, Bes, you, and many, many others… and they’re here tonight. Harrak is here.”

 

Sin looked around which only made Viv smile. He had good instincts but his mana perception could use some work.

 

“Milady, I thought we were in Zazas’ territory.”

 

“Harrak is its people. Am I not right? HARRAKANS!”

 

The night lit up beautifully, bathing the approaching Nemeti in a red light. Surging from a recess in the dunes dug with brown mana and hidden by a trick of perspective, the heavies stood, some carrying the portable shield arrays on their backs. The top of the cliff fell off like sand blown in the wind, false walls made by siege specialists to hide fortifications. Torches, thousands of torches and braziers formed constellations of crimson reflected on the barbed ends of bolts, the shining maws of cannons, the steel frames of liberators. Mages and archmages lit up more shields and in the middle, a massive mast rose. It towered over the entire formation, and from it enfolded a flag as large as a sail: black, with a white pyramid, and dragon wings. The two notes of the war horns rang ominously, joined by drums. Most of the time they were used for communications but now they were just sending a message. That message was a threat.

 

“AH! AH! AH!”

 

“Harrakans, I have three orders for you. Kill everyone. Burn Everything. Go home!”

 

Over ten thousand throats repeated that order with a fervor boosted by her [Aspect of the Paragon]. What had been a peaceful, night beach was now a vision of death: steel, fire, and magic in the hands of trained killers and a wave of intimidation and rage so potent it was almost physical pushed against Viv’s back. She didn’t have to give an order to start. Her people knew exactly what to do. They were more than ready.

 

Fate thickened around her like a storm. She resisted the urge to grab those massive strands with her fingers. Idiots relied on fate, idiots covered their ships with bullshit protections, but fate was fickle. Capricious. Truly controlling it was like trying to ride a hurricane. The best path forward would always be to surf the tide and allow it to lead her wherever she wanted to be. And she was where she wanted to be. And the Nemeti were where she wanted them to be: facing a forest of spears, boxed in, and downrange from point-blank cannons and crossbows. A perfect killing field. She couldn’t have done it any better.

 

Almost everyone fired at once, deafening her and making her wince despite her defenses. The flames of hell bloomed over the enemy fleet while above them, the night sky was striated with sizzling bolts because of course everyone had used enchanted, flammable projectiles. The flagship’s shield activated and, for a moment, it looked like it was going to hold as so many of the projectiles disappeared without touching it, but then the rest broke through, sent forth by yries, and the floating mountain groaned. Splinters and embers filled the air. Fire spread over the deck with ever-growing hunger. Lak-Tak’s people still claimed they didn’t enjoy war but Viv was starting to think the maniacal little shit was widely infectious.

 

The rest of the fleet and those who had already landed fared far more poorly. The first ranks died, pierced, burnt, exploded. It was hell unleashed, and it was fucking beautiful.

 

“Finally, I am done running!” Viv roared. “I am back! I am complete. I have joined the war on Evil… ON THE SIDE OF EVIL!”

 

Nobody listened but then, she was just having a blast anyway. Hundreds of surviving Nemeti surged over the corpses of their brethren to die on heavy spears. A wild scream pierced through the monstrous noise from the far end of the beach to her right.

 

“You have sinned!” an insane voice claimed.

 

The zealots entered the fray, flanking the Nemeti as if it was even needed. It was a slaughter. Yet, despite their losses, the Nemeti fought back with everything they had. More troops charged down with abandon, all aiming for her. Dozens of artillery spells went up in the air. The largest one was intercepted and extinguished by a powerful blue bubble. Others were broken down by black mana interceptors cast by Rakan’s students. Frosthawk was leading wings of gray mages to disrupt the projectiles at their apex, when they were the easiest to intercept. The deluge of magic joined the roaring projectiles. This wasn’t a battle of maneuverability and endurance as were quite common in Viv’s career. This was an ambush, and the Harrakans were sending everything they had.

Unauthorized duplication: this narrative has been taken without consent. Report sightings.

 

Sin, by Viv’s side, was just standing there with his mouth open. Only Bes remained impassive as a gargoyle while thick ranks of heavies flowed around them like the tide embracing a boulder. Before another volley of Nemeti strikes could trigger, the arc of Harrakan shells changed. Rather than the normal blast, the explosions caused expanding, rising clouds of gray smoke. The sails of the lesser ships were caught in a blaze while on their decks, the Nemeti sailors fell, bodies still whole but dead as doornails. Viv nodded to herself. She was observing the latest entry in the yries’ mad pursuit for the Geneva checklist completion speedrun.

 

Thermobaric bombs. Vacuum explosions. Hulls and the Nemeti’s resilient exoskeleton would be of no use here as the air was violently ripped away from them. As expected, fate fuckery was no replacement for a pair of lungs.

 

Helping Lak-Tak design those was definitely a good idea and it would in no way attract the gaze of her patron god Neriad, the God of Righteous War. Could there even be human rights violations when your enemy wasn’t human? Wait, no, that was Pure League philosophy. But still. Viv sat back again to watch new troops arrive from her left: heavy cavalry, and Zazas’ javelin throwers were joining the crowded melee. At the same time, lights appeared on the sea behind the stranded Nemeti fleet. Allied ships.

 

***

 

“Sir the Harrakan ships are pulling out. They claim they are in range. They are offering their flanks.”

 

The Zazas captain shook his head. His elation at leading such a large and diverse group melted as the complete lack of discipline turned a key attack into a messy thrust. It was already dangerous enough to approach such a massive force with only thirty ships. It was all the Paramese alliance could muster without Helock, Baran, or the Pure League.

 

“Horseshit. Do they not care that their own troops are engaged?”

 

His eyes narrowed. White lights lit up over the four Harrakan frigates, as port opened on the flank. He paled when he saw the glowing maws of those freaky metal tubes.

 

Explosions rang across the night. Smoke rose, and in the distance, the Nemeti fleet burnt brighter.

 

“The light gods preserve us from the Outlander’s evil contraptions, and her mad servants.”

 

It would still take another five minutes before his own ballistas were in range. He calculated the odds of going against those frigates and realized naval warfare was going to have to change.

 

“Just bring us in. We will do what we can.”

 

***

 

Bes leaned forward, as prim as ever.

 

“Milady, victory is already achieved. Is this not overkill? Perhaps we should conserve some resources for the imminent and inevitable invasion of Oleander’s forces?”

 

Viv waved his concerns away.

 

“First, trust me, we have a lot of resources. I would rather have them fire everything they brought than lose a single life. In Harrak, iron is cheaper than blood. Second, this isn’t overkill.”

 

The skies roared. Two white shapes emerged from a portal in the air on their way to the battered but still defiant mothership, protected for now by its ‘no human allowed’ defenses. They were carrying heavy cubes.

 

“That, my dear Bes, is overkill.”

 

***

 

The threads of fate were slipping away from his grasping mind. Two shapes were making their way towards him now, and nothing could hold them. He didn’t blanch like his lesser brethren when the creatures roared, even though he recognized that terrifying noise. Dragons. The chosen ones. They were opposing them… but these were young. They were deluded.

 

The archpriest accepted his death. He had the moment the race was finished to the abomination’s hateful advantage. It didn’t matter. His mind was ice. The ship, and his own life, only had one purpose: to kill the aberration. The Empire of Dawn was the host of fate’s chosen. There could be no others. He would get her.

 

Breathed fire torched the right side of the ship, burning the forward battery. He had two left. Something heavy impacted the bridge in front of him in the dragons’ wake. It looked like a square lump of steel. Already, sailors rushed it to push it overboard. Another shape crashed down, going through the weakened planks.

 

The steel mass stirred. The archpriest directed his mind towards it.

 

No human may touch us.

 

The lump didn’t disappear. Instead, it enfolded in a smooth, lethal motion. The sailors around it just died as they were cut to pieces. A massive bipedal form rose over the archpriest, more than twice his size. It was barded with weapons that still dripped blood in the infernal radiance of the battlefield. The colossus shone of slick silverite. Baleful yellow eyes focused on him with crushing intensity.

 

//I AM NOT HUMAN.