Call of the Abyss [Book 2 Complete]

Ravina stared at Julia before sheathing her sword in a huff and wrapping her in a hug. This girl was so small! She was just a kid—she didn't belong in war.

It was far too late for any banal sentimentalities, though. War was here, whether anyone belonged or not.

She let Julia down—who looked a mixture of relieved, excited, tired, and confused—and put her hand on her shoulder.

"Ya done good, kid. Fate ain't dealt you a winning hand, but ya managed to not lose yet. Odds're against ya, but it ain't a loss till ya give up," she said warmly.

Of course a student of hers would do well—it was to be expected—but Julia had managed to hold the line against a force that was…Ravina actually didn't even know how outnumbered the elves were.

There seemed to be fewer than a hundred in the vicinity, so Julia had potentially held out with tens of times fewer soldiers—impressive work.

"Form up! Cut those bastards on the walls down! No more get past us, neither by land nor wall!" Ravina yelled, drawing her sword again and motioning to the Ghûls who, even now, swarmed across the walls of the divot and toward Veshari.

She turned back around and looked Julia in the eye.

"Go on—get! Yer the one leadin' this rabble, yeah? Ya can't lead from down in a hole. They need ya up there, so get!" Ravina ordered, shooing Julia away casually.

Julia opened and closed her mouth several times before she smiled and nodded.

"Zahranûn, with me!" she shouted, floating off the ground and ascending slowly, talking into…a piece of bark?

Ravina just shook her head—magic nonsense, no doubt.

"Oi, girl! I saw what ya did to them bone spheres. Powerful magic. I know yer swordwork's improved just as much, aye?" she shouted with a raised eyebrow.

"Just hit Level 7!" Julia yelled back with a smile.

"That so, sounds 'bout right," Ravina chuckled, turning back toward the Nashiin side, where the last of the adventurers were skirmishing with the undead's frontline as they backed into the divot.

"Well, well, well! Looks like things ain't so different from fightin' in them Durthangrim tunnels! Time we get back, those crawlers ain't gonna stand a fuckin' chance!" Ravina bellowed.

Adventurers laughed and roared battle cries, all adopting a combat stance.

"Don't get too excited, now. We're brash, but we ain't stupid. Line up in rows! Each row will fight and swap with the row behind when they need a rest or are injured!

"We got nearly a million civilians behind us! Not a single one a these shitheads gets through!" she roared, accompanied by the sound of steel being drawn and boots hitting the dirt.

"Reinforcements from outside the marsh have arrived!" Julia shouted into her slate.

She floated up to the top of the wall, keeping pace with her squad as they jumped, climbed, or found the nearest stairs.

"Around a thousand adventurers from a neighboring city have arrived to hold the breach in the wall! The secondary defensive line should advance to assist.

"Know that the Ghûls are not infinite! Their advance has been halted by the adventurers! The secondary line need only clean up the ones that already broke through!" Julia said confidently, dropping the slate again.

She felt its warmth as it slapped against her leg—it was nearing the end of its life. She'd thought it would last at least a few days, but she also hadn't estimated to be using it as much as she was, nor blasting her messages out to all the other slates constantly.

She should actually be thankful it lasted even this long. It was a pretty successful prototype.

Julia touched down on the top of the wall and stared in shock at the carnage.

More soldiers were present than when she left, which she figured must mean that a good portion of the other east quadrant squads had converged on this location—that was good. However, the floor was littered with corpses.

Most were pierced by arrows wherever skin was exposed, some had bolts that punched through their armor, and some even looked like they had their very lives drained away.

She grimaced as her squad assembled behind her. These were soldiers under her command—a command she didn't ask for, but one she took regardless.

These deaths weren't like the sacrifices to the bone horrors—those were awful, yes, but they hadn't been hers. They'd died following Avelrûn's orders. These soldiers had died following hers.

She shook her head to rid herself of unhelpful thoughts. There'd be time for guilt later—if she survived long enough to carry it. The only thing she could do was continue trying to limit the casualties as much as possible.

Her Sight picked up wriggling tendrils of purple crawling up the face of the wall, and she didn't need to see them in action to know their aim.

"Ithshar—there are tendrils of Nashiin magic climbing the wall. They're coming for the corpses. We need to…make sure they can't be reanimated," Julia explained sadly.

"I will handle it. Save your strength for when it is needed. This has always been one of my duties," Ithshar said, nodding seriously.

She held her hands out to both sides, open palms facing forward, and she began to sing.

For the brave souls

Who gave their breath,

In Mother's Flame

You rise from death.

Become the Root,

The Song, the Whole—

That when we fall,

We hear your call.

Gentle white flames scattered from her outstretched hands. They flowed across the wall in both directions, somehow invoking the gentle heat of a fireplace rather than any sort of destructive inferno.

The flames passed over the living, feeling only like a gentle summer breeze, while the dead were enveloped in a bright, white pyre.

The bodies burned away quickly and cleanly, with nothing left behind, and the bright white light blocked the view of their forms as they were consumed. They were simply there, and after a dazzling conflagration, they were gone.

Julia saw the looks on the faces of the soldiers as the song closed, only its echo lingering in the air. They still shot their bows and cast their magic, but eyes glistened, jaws were set with a steely determination.

No one questioned why such a thing was necessary, and there were many who even seemed grateful. No one relished the idea of fighting the corpse of a comrade.

Julia was roused from her thoughts by the sudden appearance of both Nadhrûn and Nadhem, who dropped what appeared to be a sack on the ground before them.

Closer inspection revealed the "sack" to be Yathil, wrapped in some sort of vines—possibly a personal creation of Selûneth. He was wrapped so thoroughly that only his face above the nose was visible—the fire in his eyes the only indication of his current mood.

Looking up, Julia was alarmed to see Nadhrûn leaning against Nadhem, his arm around Nadhem's shoulders. Nadhem slowly lowered him to the ground, where he sat with a heavy sigh. He had blood dripping from a small wound on his abdomen—a hole in his leather chestpiece.

"What happened?" she asked, crouching down to look him over better.

Nadhem stood up straight and reported in a professional manner. Julia did her best to listen, but between inspecting the both of them for injuries, she only caught the most important bits and pieces.

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Nadhem was covered in scratches and scrapes himself, though no serious wounds. Nadhrûn, other than the one wound on his abdomen, appeared to be uninjured.

Nadhem's report boiled down to the two of them following Yathil for a solid journey along the wall before finally catching him. He didn't make it to any other Roots, fortunately.

They were locked in combat for many minutes, as they discovered his weapons were coated in the Nashiin's taint. A single scratch could become grievous, if given enough time.

The situation changed when Nadhem took his first wound. Yathil was a skilled and experienced swordsman, and he quickly caught on to their caution around his cursed blade.

He used their caution against them and began to nick and scratch Nadhem. Though they were only minor wounds, he needed only to hold out until the corruption did its work, and then it would be one-on-one.

To break the stalemate, and get his son treated for his wounds, Nadhrûn accepted a stab to his gut. When the blade was buried in his body, he grabbed Yathil and used his Weaved Vines to tie him up, immobilizing him and taking him out of the fight.

Nadhrûn managed to aim himself at the blade such that it avoided his major organs, but the fact remained that he had the entirety of Yathil's blade sheathed within his body.

The corruption quickly spread from its entry point, and he was now breathing heavily and sweating—his body likely thinking he had an infection that needed fighting.

"Tsk, reckless fools. It's my fault, though. I should've told you not to risk your lives just to bring him in alive," Julia sighed.

She put her hand to Nadhrûn's chest and cycled her mana through the wound. It was…not good. She scoured the corruption out, but the already-infected tissue couldn't be saved. Most of his organs were fine, but a small section of his liver had to be severed, lest the corruption linger.

She withdrew her hand after sealing the wound shut and looked Nadhrûn in the eyes.

"You'll live, but you're out of this fight. I'm not a healer, but I'm pretty sure the small portion of your liver you lost will regenerate.

"However, you cannot continue fighting. Retreat to the Veshari interior. If you must continue to assist, help manage the logistics. No heavy lifting or strenuous exercise, got it?" she said seriously.

Nadhrûn opened his mouth—likely to object, but Julia cut him off.

"Don't make me ask Sahmira's opinion on this matter," she threatened, motioning with her head to the side, where Sahmira glowered at him with an arched brow.

"Ha…very well. I will assist where I can in Veshari," he relented.

Nadhem helped him to his feet, and he began his slow walk to the city.

"Now, what did our prisoner have to say?" Julia asked, looking in Yathil's direction.

She placed a hand on Nadhem's shoulder and scoured the corruption from his wounds. They were all minor, and he returned to her quickly enough that the corruption hadn't spread very much, as it was only surface-deep.

"He said nothing the entire time—even after we captured him. Though we bound his mouth, he did not try to communicate at all," Nadhem said, the anger and frustration clear in his tone.

"Uncover his mouth. Let's hear his excuses," Julia ordered.

Selûneth bent down and released the vines covering the bottom of his face with just a wave of their hand—clearly the vines were their handiwork.

When Yathil didn't speak, Julia began questioning.

"Let's hear it. Surely you didn't betray your people for no reason. What was it they promised you? Money? Power?" Julia baited.

She suspected Yathil wouldn't talk even under torture, but he was still an elf. Honor was likely instilled in him just as much as any other marsh-folk. Her baiting was for naught, as he seemed more than happy to explain himself.

"How dare you insult my work! What I have done is not betray my people but preserve them! My arrangement with the Nashiin would have saved lives had you simply stood aside!" he growled.

Julia looked around, genuinely taken aback by his reply. In her mind's eye, she saw the corpses that had littered the wall just moments ago, the soldiers screaming as they were crushed under piles of bones or had their lives drained from them. Saving lives?! Are you serious?!

Julia's face was likely broadcasting her thoughts, as before she could unleash her fury, Yathil plowed ahead.

"We had it all figured out! I provide the Nashiin with priority targets, they strike where it hurts most! Yes, this leads to loss of life, but by striking precisely where I instruct, we only sacrifice those lives—no more!

"The Nashiin would win the war with minimal casualties to the Jadhariin, and the marsh would come under new management! All of us would end the war in a better place than we started, and with only minimal sacrifices!" he screamed, spittle flying, as though trying to convince himself as much as anyone else.

"How…why in the world would you ever think that the Nashiin want to rule the marsh? Have you seen nothing of what they've done?! They don't care about you, Yathil! They don't care about your people!

"You're just as useful to them dead, and you're much less trouble that way! Why the fuck would you ever think that they would bargain or negotiate?!" Julia yelled, teetering between fury and bewilderment.

"You fool! You and everyone like you are the problem! Everything is a binary to you! One or the other, life or death, yes or no—things aren't always a one or a zero!

"I spoke with them, they parlayed with me! Gohlmer hates this land—he wants his business over with as quickly as possible, even to the point that he'd negotiate with me if I could expedite their conquest!

"If it weren't for you drawing them into a war, the Molrekh would never have been unleashed! The soldiers lost to those death spheres are your fault, Dahm'Zahra! All this bloodshed is on your head!" he screeched.

Julia reeled back in horror. She knew it wasn't true, but he'd driven his blade straight into an already-open wound.

"Julia did not order those men to their deaths, scum—you did. Do not project your own inadequacies and failings on others. You may scream your condemnations externally, but it is painfully obvious that those very indictments are aimed at yourself," Ithshar spat.

Julia had never heard her speak that way—to anyone.

"Stuck up, old fuck! You're the reason this land is so broken and divided! My brother and sister, years younger than I, did not receive the Mother's Class, while I did. You know what that means? We were separated!

"They tried to live in the marsh, but my brother was killed by a Ghamhûr, and my sister left the marsh entirely, lest she suffer the same fate! We are forced to choose as children whether to be bound to this autocratic dictatorship of the Mother, or be forever exiled from our homeland!

"What right does the Mother have to rule us?! Maybe she created the marsh, but we live in it—it's as much our home as Hers! Without Her inane Song and its abominable teachings, our military could keep the wild beasts' populations controlled with trivial ease! We could trim their numbers down such that anyone could live in our lands comfortably, special Class or no!

"It's you and Avelrûn, that fucking snake, and people like you that are the true villains in this story! You hold society back so you can pathetically cling to whatever power you already have!

"So die! Do the only thing that you can to make up for the evils you have brought on this land and FUCKING DIE!" he screamed, his eyes bloodshot, spittle flying, and the vines holding him creaking with the strain of his struggling.

Julia was so shocked that she could barely think straight. Yathil had told her once that his family had left the marsh, but she hadn't detected any of the venom he now possessed. And 'possessed' was the operative word, as he seemed a completely different man to the one she'd met at Tirn'Aleya.

Her stomach twisted, her mind struggling to process, but the roar of battle didn't consider her thoughts or feelings. A shockwave cracked the air—Boom!—and she turned sharply toward the breach.

The adventurers seemed to have launched some kind of magical attack that blasted the Nashiin from the entrance. There was now a small clearing directly in front of the wall, but Julia also spotted all three Barrowlords and their retinues approaching. They seemed poised to become personally involved.

"We do not have the spare time or resources to hold him, Julia," Nadhem whispered from beside her, motioning to Yathil with his head.

He was still screaming and shouting and spitting, potentially completely delirious, judging from the look on his face.

Nadhem was right, of course. She couldn't trust the vines to hold him forever, and she couldn't spare any soldiers to watch him. All hands were needed in this battle—what could she do?

"YOU—AAAAGGGHHH!" Yathil shouted, cutting off his deranged diatribe with a strangled screech.

His eyes bubbled, white flames bursting from his pupils. They shot out of his nose, ears, and mouth, and his skin began to blacken and char.

Before the sight could become even more gruesome, a white light surrounded him, hiding him from view. His vocal cords seemed to have been seared as well, as there was no sound beyond the crackle of hidden flames.

The light disappeared after just a couple seconds, and nothing but a black mark on the ground remained of Yathil the Traitor.

Julia hadn't even seen Ithshar move. The flame had come and gone like a breath—and with it, Yathil. A part of her wanted to feel relieved. Another part wanted to throw up.

Julia looked to Ithshar in shock. She stood silently, arms clasped behind her back, eyes closed—as if praying or meditating.

"This is a lesson I hope you will never have to practice, Julia: sometimes a leader must do evil herself to prevent a greater evil," she said.

She opened her eyes, staring at Julia's. Her gaze was heavy, as though not looking at Julia but through her.

"When faced with a choice between two evils, a leader must have the courage to choose the lesser of them, damning herself personally. There is no path to remaining a wholly good person as a leader.

"She must not think in terms of good and evil—only what it takes to secure her people a better future," she said solemnly, closing her eyes again and falling silent.

That silence lingered across the wall, with only the twangs of bows being loosed and booms of spells impacting their targets to break it.