Chapter 18: Deathsinger

Even with the Battle Mind, Aven could barely process the storm. Nothing but flashes. Leaping insectile lesser spawn, pincers snapping at his face. Logash’s shield sweeping in to catch a speartail spine before it hit. The ground tremoring before Ouron could catch a burrower aiming for his legs. Shad bashing in a beast’s head. Aven could only hope to survive, shield in his right hand while the left swung out his voidhand with abandon, smashing, slashing, ripping at the monsters.

The wave was relentless, the voidspawn attacking without heed of their lives. Step by step, the line fell back. Commands vaguely made it through the haze of battle, orders from Akra to hold the line as they retreated. Only desperation kept the retreat from turning into a rout. Turning away from the tide of monsters for even a second would be death.

“Burrower left flank!” Ouran roared, too far away to intercept the monster with his own power.

The fighters on that flank backed away as the ground rippled beneath their feet. The instant the burrower emerged, the frostfangs were upon it.

A charging spawn drew Aven’s attention back. He thrust out, voidhand spearing it through open jaws. A lesser spawn was already climbing the corpse, leaping up over his shield. Rani’s spear skewered it right over Aven’s head, showering him in black blood.

“Now that’s a better look for you!” she cackled, shaking the corpse over him.

A simultaneous volley from archers and the vis among their number with ranged abilities slammed into the voidspawn mob. A quintet of spirits led by Vili shredded a lesser voidspawn in front of him. A lance of light shot from Akra’s hand to pierce a speartail’s eye.

It wasn’t only voidspawn that died. A guard to Aven’s left fell with a speartail spine in his chest, and when another guard tried to drag the fallen comrade back, another spine took a second life. The leader of the quarry chain team fell screaming with a trio of lesser spawn on his shoulders.

The deathsinger was coming closer. Slowly, step by step, every mouth deliberate and pondering. Yet the approach was inexorable. Arrows shot towards it, joined by a light spear from Akra, but the monster’s wings jerked as if they had minds of their own, slapping away projectiles like insects.

It called out another song of death and destruction.

Aven’s voidhand spasmed, jerked into the side of the guard to his left. The soldier backed away in alarm, and a voidspawn took his head.

Aven yanked his power back, clamping down on the void’s impulses and ripping the voidhand through another spawn.

“Shut the fuck up,” Aven hissed. “This power is mine!” The void within roiled, but Aven was its master. It would bend to him.

Another song, and the sea of voidspawn parted. Aven felt the meaning as the deathsinger’s trio of empty black eyes turned to face him.

Mine.

The deathsinger stepped forward, and a clawed hand lashed out. Talons like sickles swept out. Aven met the blow with his voidhand. The talons caught the mass of black voidmist.

Pain roared through Aven’s arm. Sharp pain of talons tearing at flesh. The screaming in his shoulder from the impact.

The deathsinger’s claws tore Aven’s voidhand in half, the construct exploding into smoke. Aven shoved down the pain and poured more power in, forming another voidhand to strike before the deathsinger could counter. His claws struck, but couldn’t break through the thick masses of black hair covering the monster’s hide.

The deathsinger’s maw opened wide and a new song sounded. A howling shriek. Not one directed at the other voidspawn but at Aven.

The song resonated inside him, screaming into his mind and rattling his very skull. As his ears rang, Aven realized those around him were falling back, covering their ears. His vision swam, and he stumbled back. The deathsinger swung, heedless that its wild blows were tearing apart the voidspawn around it as well. The talons tore his shield in half, flinging the splinters away.

Talons lifted again. Aven stared into a face of pure death.

In the slowness of the Battle Mind, a black flicker entered his vision. The spirit Vili. Floating in the air in front of him, arms outstretched as if to ward him from the deathsinger.

Absurd. It was like a sparrow challenging a lion. Yet in that absurdity, that sight, the ringing in his ears cleared. It was no more absurd than a mere human challenging the voidspawn.

Aven dove deeper into the Battle Mind, slowing time around him to a crawl, the deathsinger’s claws hanging suspended in midair. The voidhand vanished as Aven poured the strength of the void into his mind domain.

He saw it. In that instant, the possibilities flickered.

One where the talons tore right through is chest. Another where they caught his leg, ripping it clean off. Another where he raised his arms in vain to stop the blow, and they were both torn at the elbows.

Aven rejected those realities.

He felt himself split. As if half his body remained still while the other half launched to the left.

When the talons descended, they slashed not through flesh but through black smoke.

The deathsinger paused, talons imbedded into the torn earth, three great eyes locked where Aven had been a second before, then swiveling to where he was now rolling away.

Vili struck, launching like a dagger at its eye, joined by the other spirits at Katrin’s command. The deathsinger snarled in annoyance and swatted, much as one might wave away a buzzing fly. The spirits rushed back to Katrin’s hands, latching onto her arms and drawing energy from her. In the space as the spirits retreated, the deathsinger took a step back towards Aven.

He tried to rise, but his legs failed him. His vision swam. Bile rose up in his mouth. Trying to reach back into the well of power failed, the vis energy slipping away like sand pouring between his fingers.

Arms gripped Aven’s shoulders and dragged him back. When his vision cleared, Aven saw a wave of arrows far thicker than before, accompanied by blasts of flame and light that sent even the deathsinger staggering back.

“’Bout damn time the reserves showed,” Ko’jan muttered by his ear while hauling him back.

Logash chuckled from the other side, “Better late than never, eh?”

With their help, Aven managed to stagger to his feet and see the new arrivals. Nearly a hundred soldiers marching into the field. At their head, a canin beastkin man in a captain’s armor, roaring commands. Behind that group, another cluster followed, led by a human captain on horseback. Two companies mobilized hastily, most only with spear, shield, and helm rather than full armor.

The lead company met the mass of voidspawn. With the fresh line of fighters and the relief of pressure from the rear, Akra’s line of exhausted guards and prisoners reformed back away. The difference between a full company and the ragtag group was clear. The legionaries were a machine, moving in perfect coordination with their captain’s shouts. Shields halted the assaulted. Spears drove the voidspawn back. Archers and vis combined to rain death.

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Aven could only watch, legs wobbling beneath him even with Ko’jan and Logash’s support. Even with the superior training, tactics, and discipline of the legions, still warriors fell before the voidspawn, the monsters spurred on by the deathsinger’s echoing voice. The deathsinger approached the shield wall, pressing forward even as arrows and blasts of power slamming into its wings. Even as the call resonated within Aven, the well was too dry to even be a danger to others.

Behind, a figure broke free from the second approaching company, dashing forward faster than any of the others. Erdrak. The ogre moved faster than Aven had ever seen anything on two legs run, halberd in hand. He roared, the challenge echoing out over the noise of the battle.

The deathsinger swatted aside a trio of shield-bearing legionaries and turned to glare at Erdrak. It let loose a new cry. The meaning rang out in Aven’s mind: Come.

Erdrak leaped right over the twin lines of shield and spear, slamming into the deathsinger with an impact almost tangible to Aven. The monster staggered back, flailing to ward away the ogre. Erdrak leaped back, past the wild swings of the claws. He met the next strike head on, halberd against claws. Black blood sprayed, a severed claw tip flying out with enough force to skewer an unfortunate spawn trying to scramble away from the melee.

Aven watched in amazement as Erdrak matched the deathsinger, step for step, strike for strike. He’d seen vis of the 3rd circle battle before, back in Father’s prime. Father had been all grace and speed, striking like the wind. Deadly, but a precise death that could slay exactly the intended target and leave all else untouched. This was different. This was a storm of rage that didn’t care what it destroyed. When Erdrak’s roar shook the air, Aven found himself wondering which was really the monster. With claws and halberd whirling, any lesser spawn that came between the battle were ripped apart, their bodies adding to a growing mass of corpses.

The clash sped up, too fast for Aven to clearly see. He reached into the Battle Mind to enhance his senses, only for another wave of vertigo to nearly bring him crashing to his knees again. Instead, he could only watch the storm, seeing the splattered gore, severed limbs, and the impacts shuddering the ground as one or the other was hurled away and crashed into the ground.

When a blow of the halberd rent one of the wings apart, the deathsinger finally began to retreat. A command from the captain, and a wave of arrows and vis power blasted the deathsinger right on the side the torn wing could no longer protect. It shrieked. This one was no command, only rage and pain. All other spawn had scattered or died, the deathsinger now alone.

It charged Erdrak in its frenzy, jaws opened wide. Edrak’s halberd blade slammed into its open mouth, splitting the jaws. The claws lashed out, tearing into Erdrak and sending him reeling back, but the damage was done. The deathsinger’s mouth hung open further, black blood gushing out onto the snow.

It looked at Edrak, eyes full of hate. One of those eyes shifted to focus on Aven.

The deathsinger lifted its head, open mouth raised to the sky. The neck expanded as if gathering air. The three eyes bulged and the veins in its throat swelled.

The sound that tore from the deathsinger’s throat shattered the air. The impact hit Aven like a blow to the chest. Something in his ears broke at the sound. The world trembled. The sound reverberated through his bones and his skull, shaking him down to his soul. And there the sound reached. To the void within, that same void that the deathsinger had been calling. The darkness that hungered, and hungered.

Even in that skull-shaking cacophony, the meaning resonated.

I am gone. But we will return.

The sound ended.

The creature swayed, then collapsed.

A hush fell over the battlefield.

Two hundred soldiers, prisoners, and guards slowly picked themselves up. Many of those in the front line, closest to the monster, had blood running down from their ears.

Slowly, cheers began to echo out. Sounds of laughter, disbelief, amazement, joy. The voidspawn were vanquished. Those that hadn’t died were scattered, fled. They had lived. A victory.

Aven’s ears rang, the cheers and shouts of victory muted and distant. Ko’jan’s rather too vigorous back slaps brought him back down to earth. Aven smiled, and the feeling of that motion was like a crack through the fog of his mind, a spark of joy breaking through.

Rani glared at Aven from amidst the celebrating figures, “So, you’re still alive.” She shrugged. “Well, maybe the next time will be better.” The pirate cackled, and Aven’s smile widened to a laugh.

The beastkin captain’s voice broke through the cheers, “Enough of that! Gather the wounded! Anyone who got the black blood! We’ll need the healers quick!”

The legionaries moved into action, followed by the guards and prisoners. Some of those now wielding spears and shields had been among the fleeing farmers.

Aven approached the captain, “You’re in charge here?”

The canin glared at Aven, “Captain Wulfred Frostclaw, 32nd legion reserves. You...” he paused, eyes narrowing. “You’re the voidtouched.”

Aven’s reputation had reached even the soldiers of the town below the keep. How flattering.

“I can help those touched by the black blood,” Aven said. “I can draw in the corruption.”

The human captain dismounted from his horse and walked over, “Well, get to it then!”

With those orders, Aven approached the first wounded, a prisoner who had been part of the hunting party. Not one who’d been a hunter at the same time as Aven, though. The man had a speartail spine through his shoulder.

“Can’t help the puncture,” Aven said, placing his hand on the spine. “I can do something about the corruption.”

Part of him had been worried that as exhausted as he’d been, drawing out the corruption of the void would be impossible. To the contrary, the moment he began drawing on the tainted wound, the void within him responded like a desert wanderer at last finding water. Guzzling that corruption barely whetted the appetite.

With the man’s mumbled thanks, Aven moved on to the next wounded. A soldier, this time. She was clutching her hand, black blood dripping from a tear on the back. Aven grasped her arm, and again the void within greedily drank in the energy. And the next. And the next. Some were wounded, others simply soaked in the black blood from the fight. Some were already dead by the time Aven got there.

A few he recognized. Remos, one of the hunters who’d joined their group just before Aven had been sent to the quarries. Boss himself, the team leader’s whole leg tore off by a burrower. One other member of the chain team in the quarry, an ogre whose name Aven hadn’t caught. Always a quiet type, but active in the gambling games and growling curses under his breath with every loss to Rani and Shad. Speaking of Shad. The ogre was next in line, a gash in his side that he held closed with a hand, black blood oozing from beneath his fingers.

“Hold the wound closed,” Aven ordered, pressing his palm over the hand. The hunger within roared, drinking in the black energy. The flow ceased as the energy dissipated. When Shad uncovered the wound, it was a normal injury.

“You sure I ain’t gonna turn into a spawn?” Shad asked.

“No promises,” Aven grinned. “But don’t worry. If you do, I’ll kill you before Rani gets her hands on you.”

Shad grunted, and Aven moved on.

Behind, there was some sort of argument breaking out between Erdrak and the other captains. He tried to listen while keeping half his attention drawing out the corruption from the next wounded soldier.

“-get them back in the keep!” Erdrak was shouting. “At least get the godsdamned chains back on ‘em!”

The human captain waved a hand to indicate the wounded, “We need manpower to get the wounded back. We’ll deliver your prisoners back when it’s done.”

Erdrak stepped in close, looming over the smaller man, “Who do you fucking think is in charge here?”

“I’d say it’s the one leading the charge into battle,” Captain Frostclaw growled. “That wasn’t you.”

Erdrak growled back, “I killed the godsdamned deathsinger. You saw it.”

“Aye,” Frostclaw responded, eyes narrowed. “And I saw you running from it first. Leaving good people to die.”

“Prisoners,” Erdrak sneered, “and godsdamned idiots charging against orders.”

“How in the hells did this even happen?” the human captain asked. “Where did you find this many spawn? And you led them back to Hellfrost?”

The argument rose higher. The wounded still waited. On to the next. Guard Akra.

When Aven put a hand on her wounded shoulder, the guard muttered, “I won’t forget this Aven. None of us will.” Her eyes flicked to Erdrak, “And we won’t forget he ran either.”

A group of farmers approached from Hellfrost. Among them, the sandy-haired man who’d called out to Akra while fleeing back to the town. He ran towards her, crying out. The instant Aven withdrew, work on her shoulder finished, Akra practically hurled herself at the sandy-haired man, embracing him.

Erdrak grabbed Aven’s shoulder, yanking him away.

“Real healers are here,” Erdrak jerked a head towards some of the arriving townsfolk, already kneeling to tend to some of the wounded, “You’re done here. Back in your chains, voidtouched.”

Aven allowed himself to be chained up. His gaze drifted across the field of battle, at the dead bodies of soldiers, guards, and prisoners. Of the voidspawn. Of the fallen farmers and the surviving ones rushing into the arms of family and lovers. Some, Aven knew, would not find those they sought, would see their loved ones in the heaps of corpses.

The legionaries could have been the ones out there fighting voidspawn from the beginning. Instead, they threw prisoners in to be slaughtered. Only at the last, desperate moment did they march in. Erdrak was the most obvious coward, fleeing from the initial wave, only to return and try to claim glory. Were the ones who waited so long any better than the ones who fled?

Not yet. Esharah wasn’t here to whisper that reminder, so Aven had to remind himself.

Not yet.

But soon.

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