Vol. 2, Ch. 100: A King of Broken Hearts
Fiona realized there were two major problems with this development. Both of them were now ramping this task of keeping Fiefdala solvent from challenging, to straight-up nightmare difficulty.
Her first, and probably not her biggest worry, was that Barry was in danger; the second word of what was happening here got back to Salipol, he'd be at risk. This had been orchestrated, and Barry might have a security detail, but he was in Varith's backyard. It would be about as awful as the fool's mate in Chess–except with actual kings.
The second problem: Varith might pose a sizably bigger threat than he let on, and she needed to end this fight swiftly. That meant this fight could pull no punches.
Varith's men drew swords and charged at her. In the confines of this workshop, they were at an equal disadvantage–except for one small problem, for Varith.
Fiona didn't have to hold back anymore, and she grabbed several gold coins off her belt, slipping several between her fingers. She waited until the first one was within ten feet, then flicked the coins like ninja stars.
She expected the coin storm to bludgeon them senseless. The hulking brute's armor flared with a dim golden light–and the coins shattered on impact in tiny golden shards! The impact staggered him and stopped his momentum.
Energy barrier. Need to think, what's the workaround? She knew from her prior reading that some classes had defensive abilities like this. But almost universally, they followed a few rules.
She swerved and dodged past a rain of strikes from the other man, blocking and shoving aside his weapon. He was a brute and left himself open more than once. She took those opportunities and clanged against his armor like ringing a bell, landing a heavy blow on his torso. Like his counterpart, he too had a barrier of protection, this one flaring with blue light. Varith stood poised and calm, even as smoke filtered in from the hall.
"Might want to hurry this up, Swiftheart. Where are your friends now? Slowly roasting, since you aren't there to help them?"
She ignored the creep's taunt. The second guard's barrier reacted to her weapon swing, fully forming just before impact, but the blow still knocked him backward. Okay, different barriers. The first reacted to the coins. Time for a different attack.
She switched tactics and grabbed another fistful of coins from her pouch, flinging them at the barrier. This time the barrier reacted, but the coins still dented his helmet and breastplate, leaving him doubled over in pain.
It was only blocking some of the blows. Meanwhile the other man tried to bulldoze her, glancing off, and she lost positioning for a second. While she was able to recover and force him to give space with a sweeping strike, the second soldier launched a flurry of attacks, all coming in low to avoid clipping on the ceiling. She barely blocked the blows, and the other man was slow, but coming around to flank.
She grabbed a coin and channeled her energy into making it shine. Even though she turned away from the glare of the impossible glow, she still had lovely sunspots in her eyes from the maneuver. Both men flailed blindly, holding their eyes and trying to swing to where they thought she was.
But with a sidestep and mighty wind-up, she was right where they didn't want her, and she swung for a line drive to the cheap seats of Fenway park. Her theory was right, based on her quick observations.
The barrier was directional. Or, he needed a line of sight to see where the strike was coming from. And this guy would need sunshades to see anything for a good while.
The blow connected with a mighty clang. And not only did it connect, she heard ribs crack under the immense blow, and sheer momentum sent the first man smashing into the second one like she'd just knocked them out of the ballpark. They both smashed into the wall, cracking the stone and splintering wood.
The one who had taken the secondary blow struggled to rise and tried to grab his weapon. One boot stomp down crunched his fingers, and he screamed in pain. The other man did not rise, but he wheezed weakly.
Both of them were combat ineffective, now. "Pick yourselves off the floor. Get out, or I'll kill you before the fire will." She destroyed both of their weapons, shattering the blades with the hammer blows. Metal fragments rebounded across the slab tile floor.
But there was still one more threat: Varith. He had been watching this whole time, as if bored. "Fancy tricks…for a merchant."
"Merchant of fortune, actually." She didn't know why she bothered to correct him. More smoke drifted in, and she heard glass shatter nearby–the fire was spreading, and her potion still protected her from the light fumes. For now. "Doesn't look like yours is getting any better, Varith. Don't get between me and people who need help, or it will end badly for you."
"You think you could strike a king?" The sneer he wore and the confidence he had in his words felt off. But not arrogant. He extended his hands, showing his lack of weapons. She wouldn't be fooled by that.
"I think I could kill a king, if I had to. The title doesn't change what you are: a monster. And I have plenty of practice slaying those." The gold shone brightly on her hammer head, illuminating on its own. "You're a summoned, aren't you?"
It was a guess, and she knew it. But there was something about him, the way he moved, the way he gestured, the way he talked, that rang with familiarity. An accent that was closer to home than here in Cepalune. She didn't know why she didn't pick it up sooner.
"Now, how did you guess that?" The smile returned to his face, and he kept his hands extended, pacing back and forth, despite the imminent danger. His posture was too calm for this to be a good sign. But despite his amusement…the sadness was still etched in his eyes. "Oh, you caught on quickly. After all, it takes one, to know one. But what gave it away?"
"Because we all go unhinged, in our own way." The soft-spoken line brought to life an uncomfortable truth. Every summons she'd heard about became an engine of destruction, or they decided it was their divine right to assert their power, no matter who it hurt. Bonnie hadn't been wrong with her assessment. "Summons get all messed up. I was already messed up before, so not much changed there."
He raised an eyebrow at this. He didn't deny it, and she continued to assess the other discomforting observations. "The way you talk…it's an accent from home. Someone told me it was similar to the accents from the Aegortin empire, but I couldn't help but feel the familiarity."
This gig was up.
Somehow, he knew she was summoned, too. It wasn't a terrible secret, but he seemed to know a lot. "I was born and raised on Earth. Amherst, actually." He bowed mockingly. "But you know that already."
"Excuse me?" This statement befuddled her. "Varith, we've never met before I came to Vale, you're completely mad. And you're still in my way," she added in a low, menacing tone.
"Oh, we've met." Accusing eyes matched his tense voice, and his limbs quivered with fury. "Really, Fiona? Eight months here, and you've forgotten your entire life there! Everything that was, everyone that died with the world we called our home. Did nothing matter to you?!" His fists clenched, and posture tensed, angling to loom over the room.
She'd heard that tone before. It reminded her of that night.
The escalation. The angry worded bills piled on the kitchen table, and bubbling emotions rose to a boil. But this was not the same person. "Varith, I get it. Getting flung across the cosmos breaks people. But I broke down long before that." She glanced at the missing band on her left hand…a phantom from another life.
"Not nearly so broken that you can't remember." He gazed at her with scorn, and pointed at her. "Before you arrived in Salipol, I heard reports about a candy corn colored elf with manic energy, a penchant for making deals. I was so sure it couldn't be you. But when I met you, it was. Here, on Cepalune. I thought to myself, why did she not change…but I did?"
"I changed." Her voice lost momentum and strength. There was something very wrong with Varith. But she couldn't figure out what. "Everyone changes when everything you had is gone. But you? You changed for the worse, whoever you were before. You took power here by force, and kept the city suppressed." Lani's words echoed in her mind, of the chaos and violence that plagued the city for weeks, and she bit her lip gently, shaking her head. "The only thing we have in common is where we were born. Being from Earth never made you special. Actions do."
Varith shook his head, and almost seemed disappointed. "You keep telling yourself that, Fi. Even now, you're deluding yourself. Just like you always did."
Wingding, this guy is an enigma. I don't have a clue who he is! I need a hint! She should stop debating this jackass and just barrel through him. Or, end the threat to home…which could carry consequences.
Killing him carried immense risk, not just to her. It would drive all of Vale into a murderous rage, and their army size and variety were significant. The Adventurer's Guild could not fill the gap to bolster Rikkard's defensive army against an attack, against a country that had difficulty with a smaller internal issue. And if Fiefdala were viewed as the aggressors, the Unified Kingdoms wouldn't lift a finger to come to their defense.
Especially since there was a massive debt on the table, and tossing more to hold onto it, might not be so appealing anymore. But while she mulled the least bad option, Wingding telegraphed a single word.
[Heartbroken.]
She blinked. What does that even mean? Was he some poor soul I dated once and ghosted him? Damn, that might be a long list. A more ominous thought crossed her mind:
This was someone she knew. When they were brought here, they changed so much, she couldn't recognize them. Every word Varith uttered, dripped with bitterness. He wanted her to put the pieces together. What did I do to hurt this guy? Who is he?
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The answer would have to wait. She chose the moment to rush past him–and was slammed backward by a blast of energy, full in the chest. If it weren't for the enchanted runes on her armor, it would have crushed her body, and she slammed backward into a wooden beam supporting the room, cracking it from the impact.
She was dazed, but only for a split second. Varith loomed before her, an ominous purple glow wrapped around his gauntleted hand, his face twisted in fervor. But his eyes…Why were they so sad? "Bulldoze right through me? Really?"
She brought her weapon to bear, golden light gleaming off the hammer's surface. She didn't have to beat him. He was content on dragging this out and letting the place fall down around them, and she heard Doug getting frantic on the relay.
"Fi, we can't keep this position, it's getting a little too hot!"
Her response was to swerve, and hurl her hammer at the weakened section of the wall where Varith's bodyguards had damaged it already. The wall splintered in a spray of stone and wood shards, revealing a narrow opening. "You know what Varith, you're small time. In the words of my generation, kay-thanks-"
Varith cast out another blast of violet energy that nearly crushed her, and the room shook under the impact–only a last-second roll kept her from receiving the worst of it, but it left her gasping in pain. She cast a glance at Varith before sprinting toward the jagged opening, bracing herself for the impact with her shoulder.
She hated running. But she told herself that round two with this creep would come, as soon as she got everyone out of here. She tumbled to the first floor, bruised and groaning from the blow–not even the armor stopped the impact this time. Ow. My Aurelium armor shook off more blows than that–
She heard a sound of clanking boots, and Varith leaped out of the opening, already casting another blast, and this time, trying to lead where she was running; it was a narrow miss. The blast splintered a workbench, casting wooden shards in all directions. A small piece sliced across her cheek, stinging fiercely, but she kept on running, past the foundry floor. Her momentum took her toward a large set of metal bay doors. Just on the other side, should be Doug and the others.
A blast of violet energy impacted the structure of metal and steel by the bay doors, shattering the masonry and bringing a chunk of the ceiling down, blocking the door. Varith advanced, a short curved blade in hand, and that deadly energy wrapped around his open hand.
She reached out for her hammer, and it landed in her outstretched grasp with the lightest of tucks from the powerful recall enchantment. "What is your major malfunction, Varith!? There are people trapped on the other side!"
"Good. Maybe it'll mean something when you realize their death is on your shoulders." It was then that she saw his mark, his sleeve torn from the dive out of the second floor.
It was the most ominous mark she'd ever seen–even Greg's enforcer mark couldn't come close. Barry's mark was just some mutated house plant.
But Varith's mark…bled. It wept blood, and if black was a color that could glow, that was exactly what it did. The outline of the shape caused her to suck in her breath sharply.
A mark of a blackened blade, stabbed through a humanoid heart. She felt Wingding shudder on her own wrist. The first time she'd ever sensed her mark was afraid.
Fiona glanced around, looking for an easy way through. Varith was insanely powerful, just one of those blasts had sapped most of the protective energy out of her armor. Another blow would likely crush her body. She flung out the last of her coinukens, and Varith braced his arms together, a shield of violet energy flared to life and protected him from the deadly projectiles.
And they were, indeed, deadly. She flung them with as much force as she could muster, teeth gritted in concentration, her heart beating like a hummingbird in her chest. And yet he still withstood the onslaught.
He surged forward, using his power to blast toward her like a human rocket pack, catching her on the shoulder and sending them both skidding to the ground. She nearly got her head taken off by the blade, and the edge slid millimeters above her. She came out of the impact into a roll, sprang up, and took his off-balanced stance to strike at his weapon with a mighty swing , knocking the blade out of his hands.
He aimed a point-blank blast of energy at her, crackling violet energy surging up his arm. The intent was clearly telegraphed with the arcing tracing along his body, and she managed to deflect his aim with the edge of her hammer, taking out a chunk of the roof. Corrugated steel sheeting and crumbling ceramic tiles rained down; Varith had blasted a hole clean through the roof. She took the opening as he stumbled and bulldozed him, pinning him against a steel pillar. She smashed him with her gauntleted fist, again and again, her blood boiling in fury.
This was the first foe she'd faced since arriving on Cepalune who stood on an equal power footing, or even more-so. He was dangerous, driven by vengeance–against her, against Vale, against the whole world, maybe.
His body just tanked those hits, and he smiled through bleeding lips. Varith finally broke away from her grapple, and swung low, deflecting off the armor but landing a cut on her flank, stinging with nettle-like pain that dug into her leg and torso. It hurt, but it didn't slow her mobility.
She kept that deadly blade deflected away with carefully placed strikes, building momentum and hoping to win this out with one clean strike. But Varith was relentless. And worse, he was trained. He knew how to use his power and that blade.
He'd probably had a lot of practice, like her. Except instead of fighting monsters…he used his powers on others. That thought sickened her.
He flexed his hand, face contorted and teeth gnashing. "C'mon, Fiona! Where's that cocksure attitude I remember?!" Varith feinted and came in low, and she stalled her momentum to flare her protective shield to life on her bracer. The golden bindings gleaming brightly, even with the raging inferno around them, while Varith leered at her, testing her defenses. "Where's the fervor?! Where's the zany person I knew who never ran out of energy, no matter what battle she fought?"
Fiona surged forward, swinging mightily and keeping that blade on the defense at all times. Her normal tried-and-true tactic of landing the deciding hit first wasn't going to cut it. This monster was fast, and deadly. "I've been here, Varith! Fighting and nearly dying for six months! And I did it without a mark to fall back on!"
He shoved her weapon aside with enough force it dislodged from her hand. She blocked the follow-up strike by deflecting it off her heart shield. He reacted instantly, reversing his swing to try and catch an opening. She pivoted to catch the blow on the bracer again, but the blow still rattled her. He was relentless, casting down his blade again and again, until he put himself off-balance, his foot too far forward. A well placed kick snapped him backward, and a armored gauntlet to the face finally sent him reeling.
She summoned the hammer back to her hand. He sneered at her, spitting a trickle of blood out.
"Is that all you've got?! Where's the woman who picked a hill to die on, and wounded a god before she checked out?!"
What?!
Only five people knew how, exactly, she'd met her end. Three of them were in the other room, warding off the deadly flames. Darla was likely at home, unaware of the danger they faced. Kali was likely at the orphanage, counting coins and studying so he could build a better future.
Varith had to have been there. He must have been there when she died. One of the soldiers? Her old commanding officer? Or someone else had been watching.
Varith cast out a lance of that deadly energy, darting toward her with blurring speed, and Fiona's shield barely held. The golden barrier cracked from the onslaught, the sheer torrent of energy slipping past and stinging her skin, while she desperately fought for a plan. The structure of the building creaked and cracked as the fire spread. Fiona gritted her teeth and her voice strained as she took a risk.
She threw her hammer one-handed with all her might while bracing the barrier, forcing Varith to swerve. The weapon smashed into the side of one of the smelters, cracking into the side, and a trickle of molten gold flowed out, seeping across the floor like the world's most inconvenient lava flow. This gold glowed with energy, not just its current on fire state.
Even with the chaos around them, she heard the cries of a dead goddess, whispers on the edge of her hearing. She heard it, even with flames cracking and metal groaning under increasing duress. What it meant, she had no idea. She still had a foe to get through.
She used her protective barrier to smash into Varith like a battering ram, knocking his weapon aside. She grabbed him and slammed him into the side of a machine, bashing him repeatedly with body blows from her mailed fists. Even with her kicking the crap out of him, and him struggling to block, she screamed out in fury. "How do you know me, Varith?! Who are you?!"
He responded with a point-blank blast of energy that overwhelmed her shield, and she spun to the ground, crying in pain as her tumble was stopped by a steel girder. Scrapes and scratches protested against her motion to pick herself up off the floor. She wiped her lip–a trickle of blood smeared on her gauntlet. She summoned her hammer with her outstretched arm, and caught it with expert timing. Varith stood there, waiting with his weapon poised, and crackling energy tracing along his arm and coursed along it like writhing ants.
"You know me. You just don't have the courage to say it." Even as he sneered at her, she saw a trickle of moisture that steamed away from his eyes. Tears, of all things, trickled down his face, and his breath ran ragged. "How long was it before you cast away your memories of your home? How long did it take you to forget, after you came here to Cepalune? This was the greatest thing to ever happen to you, the greatest fortune of all! You got to live out a fantasy of being something you're not: a heroine! Everything always somehow worked out for you, no matter how much of a screw-up you were!"
Varith charged again, but she was ready for it. He couldn't change momentum mid-strike, and she deftly swerved and used her weapon swing to deflect him off course. His energy barrier flared with the impact into a press machine used to stamp marks into the finished metal products. He groaned and righted himself in an instant, ready for more.
"You don't know me, Varith!" She challenged. "You don't know how much I felt every failure! But I picked myself up every time, and vowed to keep doing better!"
Those first two months on Cepalune had been brutal. She'd nearly died half a dozen times. Bones broken, flesh scarred by fire and acid, and unkind claws had torn through her. But nothing stopped her; she learned and adapted. She endured.
Others hadn't, and there had been more than a few somber gatherings in the guild hall, as they memorialized those who perished in their first missions. Fiona let out a primal growl. "But by the Fates, if you try to stop me from saving those people, I will kill you."
Varith scoffed, and pointed at the blocked doorway, his face contorted in fury. "They really mean that much to you? People you've known for so short a time, or the criminals pilfering in stolen gold? What about those you left behind? Did you ever think about them–"
"Every day!" power boiled through her veins, and this raging inferno in the building was still somehow cooler than what coursed through her. "Every day I look in the mirror and see someone who isn't me! Every day I remind myself that my fight isn't done! Earth may be gone, but I'm not, and I keep asking myself why. Now I finally know the answer: to stop monsters like you. What do you see in the mirror, Varith?!"
And instead of attacking, Varith stopped. His jaw trembled at the question, and that sadness in his eyes returned.
She'd seen that look before. A sad kind of happiness, with a bittersweet smile on his face that felt genuine, for the first time.
"What do I see, Fiona? I see a king of broken hearts. And I'll break yours before this is done."
She wanted to go after this fiend with all her might. To know who wanted to tear her down through two lifetimes, and put other lives in danger without an ounce of hesitation. She wanted to bring her hammer down on his body and hear that satisfying and final crack as justice was delivered for so many others.
But she had something far more important to do, first. And that whisper of molten aurelium puddling on the ground gave her an idea.
A really dangerous idea.