The Homunculus Knight

Chapter 27: On Time to the Victory

“Alchemy isn’t quite so magical as those stodgy old bastards at the guild would like you to think. Much of the art exploits natural processes and reactions without even a lick of spellcraft. Of course, combining those same processes with magic is where things get fun, but that’s dangerous for all manner of reasons. Chief among them is the sort of Beyonder attention you can attract by systematically mixing Mundane and Aetheric phenomena.” - Paladin Mak Murtery.

Cole brought Requiem down on a thrashing Wight’s head. The halberd’s armor-piercing beak tore through metal and bone, spilling rotting brains into the fouled pond. Moving to the next Wight, Cole decapitated this one before severing another’s spine. Maybe fifteen of the twenty Wights rode into the blessed pool, and a third of that number were destroyed outright by the holy water, leaving Cole to finish the other ten. Even with the prayer beads to help, Cole couldn’t bless the pool for much longer than a few seconds. Still, a handful of moments exposed to sanctified water was enough to maim the Wights.

Wights are intelligent and worryingly lethal undead created from an enslaved soul and preserved flesh. Capable of some independent thought and remembering echoes of their life, Wights made perfect lieutenants for Necromancers. The bodies and souls of dead soldiers, in particular, could be crafted into ghastly parodies of what they’d been in life. While not much more durable than a Ghoul, Wights could use weapons, wear armor, and make crude plans, putting them head-and-shoulders above most lesser undead in terms of danger.

That being said, after a soak in caustic sanctity, even a troop of Wight knights wasn’t much of a match for the Homunculus Paladin. Methodically, Cole ended the charade of chivalric prowess, tearing through the Wights heading for the pond's bank. Despite their numbers and equipment, the corpse soldiers weren’t anything close to the true threat Cole needed to face that night. Charging towards him across muddy ground stirred up by iron-shod hooves was an undead Dire Bear.

Easily the size of a barn, with thick metal plates bolted to its flesh, the bear filled Cole’s vision. Yanking Requiem out a Wight’s skull, Cole stared up at the coming avalanche of dead muscle and called on his power. Frost billowed out from Cole, spreading over the dirty pond he stood in, covering it like fresh winter snow. Holding his halberd in a low guard, Cole let its head dip into the water as he prepared to do something extremely risky.

Paladins grow stronger in the face of adversity. A Paladin becomes greater by using their gifts and exhausting the piece of their soul invested with divinity. In the years before meeting Natalie, Cole neglected these gifts, letting them wither. Over the past six months, Cole finally grew into his mantle, becoming more than a jumped-up Restbringer and, instead, a true Paladin. At the winter solstice, with a Shaman’s aid, Cole reached heights not yet within his grasp to face Dietrich, the Scarlet Knight. Now, facing down a behemoth of ursine rot in the middle of a war between the living and the dead, Cole touched the very edge of the power Kistine Shohgard helped him reach.

The water around Requiem’s head froze, and Cole swept his weapon up and towards the approaching Dire Bear. Half the pond followed the strike, surging forward in a great phalanx of cold spikes. Like frozen waves layered upon each other, the mass of ice stretched up and outward, becoming a jagged outcropping of spell-wrought rime. Just as a panicked horse might skewer itself on rows of braced halberds, the charging Dire Bear smashed into the sharp ice. Long, sharp icicles carved by Cole’s magic stabbed into the monster’s rotten flesh and broke its momentum. But a slowed behemoth was still a behemoth; Cole swore as the rotting hill of fur and rage smashed through the ice and kept coming right for him.

A familiar scream cut through the night, and Cole’s attention was divided at that desperate moment. Turning around, just as the bear reached him, Cole saw one of Natalie’s arms sail through the air, severed by a flashing partizan. Distracted by his earlier preparations and the ensuing battle, Cole hadn’t realized a pedigree Vampire was among the rear guard. Torn between two fights, Cole suffered for his mistake.

Jaws large enough to swallow a man whole came for the Paladin. The Ghoul Dire Bear snapped its mouth shut around Cole. Rotting muscle empowered by Necromancy caught Cole at a bad angle, and Requiem was twisted from his grip as tusk-sized fangs scrapped against Hakon steel. Caught with his upper torso in the monster’s maw, Cole screamed into the damp, stinking cavern of the bear’s mouth. By luck or divine providence, Cole fit between the bear’s canines, spared impalement on those yellow bone stalactites. Instead, he just faced rows of cruel incisors grinding against Emma of Stonebone’s handiwork.

In a testament to the smiths’ skill, the armor groaned under incredible force instead of shearing apart like any mundane metal. Still, Cole’s cuirass bent under the force, slowly crushing the Paladin inside his armor. The magic of Hakon steel wasn’t suited for long periods of stress; it could fend off a war hammer’s strike but not the pressing weight of a Dire beast’s jaws. Feeling his ribs creak under the horrible stress, Cole ignored his rising claustrophobia and tried to find breath as a mixture of fetid saliva and dead blood drowned him. He’d used up too much of his power, blessing the pond and creating the ice; unless Cole was willing to sacrifice himself for a final miracle, he couldn’t rely on his Paladin gifts. The threat facing Natalie meant he couldn’t just die slaying the Bear and wait to resurrect with whatever new mutation such an end ‘gifted’ him. No, Cole needed to try something else and quick.

Focusing on his wrist and the enchanted quartz bound there, Cole triggered the spell and yanked his left arm upward. He only held the vaguest idea where his halberd fell, but considering how damn big the Bear was, a blind shot still had decent odds of hitting. Ignoring the crushing pain engulfing his torso, Cole felt a phantom weight settle on his arm as Requiem met some form of resistance. Praying he’d struck some part of the Bear, Cole hauled on his arm with every drop of strength remaining. The sound of ripping flesh and a spray of gore answered Cole’s silent hopes in a way far closer than he’d expected. Requiem’s head erupted out of the bear’s tongue, a handspan in front of Cole’s face.

Reaching out, Cole gripped the blood-slick axe-head, silently thanking Master Time and whoever else sculpted fortune in his favor. As Cole’s hands slipped around the tiny part of the halberd shaft accessible, the Ghoul Bear made its wrath known. With horrible force, the Bear shook its head back and forth, grinding Cole between its incisors and bouncing him off its canines. Three of the Paladin’s ribs cracked as Cole’s world shifted. Rearing up on its hind legs, the Bear intended to thrash Cole until his spine snapped.

Cole found his chance to survive as the Bear’s head arced to the sky. Requiem had torn through the Ghoul Bear’s neck muscles on its journey to Cole’s hand. By flexing its damaged neck, the Bear loosened its grip on Cole enough for him to haul himself out of its jaws and into its mouth. Hanging onto Requiem for dear life, fearing an acidic end in the belly of the beast, Cole tumbled head over heels. Barely changing his grip in time to save his shoulders, Cole kicked out and felt the roof of the Bear’s mouth. Desperately, Cole braced his legs against the monster’s palate and avoided being swallowed.

Whatever remained of the Bear’s mind understood the intrusion in its mouth, and Cole suffered through the beast thrashing its head about in every direction, slamming wagon-sized paws against its rotting muzzle. As the constant jerky movement made Cole light-headed, he let Requiem kiss his hand and change shape. With his back to the Bear’s tongue and his feet on the roof of its mouth, Cole felt secure enough to reclaim his weapon. Now shaped like an axe, Requiem fit into Cole’s hand, and the Paladin got to his grim work.

Swinging the axe at the monster’s pale gums, Cole hacked away at the roots of teeth, trying to cut himself a hole to escape from. When the first cracked molar broke free, gravity shifted yet again, and Cole felt himself sliding back toward the Bear’s front fangs. Feet slipping on rotting palate, Cole realized the Bear was opening its mouth. Frantically, Cole sank Requiem into the beast’s upper gums and turned his attention to the widening exit of the fleshy cave surrounding him. Moonlight from the world beyond the Bear’s jaw quickly died as the beast thrust one of its coach-sized paws into its mouth.

“OH SHIT!” swore Cole as claws big enough to cut down trees surged toward him. Heedless of its own body, the Bear dug those claws into its tongue, trying to remove the Paladin. Pulling back, Cole managed to stand up. One hand still on Requiem, the other grabbing onto a flap of dead flesh for balance, Cole stayed beyond the paw’s touch. As those terrible claws dug into dead flesh, an insane idea struck Cole. Freeing Requiem, Cole smeared his blood on the weapon and stabbed it forward into the Bear’s paw like a fisherman’s harpoon. Except, instead of releasing the end of the axe, Cole willed his weapon’s shaft to grow. Putting both hands on the halberd’s haft, Cole lengthened the polearm until its butt pressed into the hard palate above him.

Shifting the halberd's metal so it's spear tip punched through the Bear’s paw and into its throat, Cole trapped the beast’s limb in its own mouth. Gazing out at the night beyond the monster’s teeth, Cole decided leaving Requim for now would be worth getting to Natalie’s side. If he could get between her and the Vampire and Bear, a final miracle might finish this fight in their favor.

But just as those plans were laid, the Bear dashed them with unthinking rage. Cole once heard a wolf would gnaw off its foot to escape a trap; he’d never heard mention of a bear ripping off its own jaw to do the same. Muscle ripped, cartilage snapped, and the flesh Cole stood on started to give way. Hauling downwards with its impaled paw, the Bear yanked its lower jaw from its socket and kept pulling. Gripping onto Requiem like a sailor clutching the main mast, Cole became weightless.

“FUCK!” Cole roared as the final tendons and bits of taught skin broke, letting the bear’s jaw tumble to the ground nearly four meters below. Freeing Requiem just in time, Cole watched as the giant paw retreated and the cold earth approached. Paladin and severed jaw landed with a mixture of crunch and splat. The impact forced Cole to his knees, and shots of pain erupted up his legs. Forcing himself back to his feet, Cole tried to find Natalie before the Bear struck again.

:: A few minutes before ::

Baron Stelian Sicar’s expression of rage turned into something infinitely more distressing for Natalie. He laughed, an ugly snort escaping the Vampire’s pale lips. “You are just some landless, titleless, houseless feral with an enthralled Priest! I’ve been killing and binding vermin longer than your mortal lineage can be traced! For your arrogance and foolishness, I’ll rip whatever paltry secrets you hold from the meat of your brain and twist what's left into an eager pet!”

Snarling in fury, Natalie charged towards the Vampire, coming in low, her short sword ready to pierce the Baron’s heart. “I’m going to make you eat those words, jagger!”

Twelve of Natalie’s wolves were busy dealing with the rest of the knights. The Wights were strong and fast, raining down blows on the wolfpack. But glutted on a lesser Vampire’s essence, Natalie could afford to keep reforming her familiars. A Wight might bisect a leaping wolf just to watch it reassemble mid-air, still seeking the Wight’s throat. With four wolves and Grist, Natalie challenged the Baron, eager to end the fight quickly.

The Baron thrust his spear forward with a sound like a whip crack. Twisting her waist, Natalie spun out of harm’s way and commanded two of her wolves to strike. Coming from behind, the wolves tried to bite the Baron’s hamstrings. Solid armor and sturdier flesh resisted the attack, but the wolves’s impact was still enough to disrupt Baron Sicar’s balance. Natalie rushed forward, eager to exploit this weakness, and took the spear’s haft on her ribs.

Knocked down but quickly rolling to her feet, Natalie was assailed by a storm of steel lightning strikes. The Baron’s spear was everywhere, lashing out towards Natalie like a furious serpent. Backstepping, Natalie worked to keep clear of the questing polearm. The wolves and singular dog threw themselves at Baron Sicar with feral intensity, failing to do more than annoy the older Vampire. Sicar learned from his earlier mistakes and kept a solid stance even as he advanced on Natalie. His armor and blood-strengthened body rendered five sets of gnashing fangs toothless.

Feeling ribs heal, Natalie realized her error; she’d sparred plenty of times against skilled spear users, but they’d been mortals. Natalie was used to being head and shoulders faster than her foe, and while she was still quicker than the Baron, it wasn’t enough to negate his sizable reach advantage. True to Cole, Bruto, and Morri’s lessons, longer arms and longer weapons counted for much in battle.

Natalie called the wolves to her and changed strategy; using them to harry her foe wasn’t working, so she’d try something else. Charging forward, Natalie and her five familiars danced back and forth, trying to close the distance between them. The Baron Sicar’s cruel spear licked out and tore into the wolves and dog, spilling clouds of ectoplasm into the night. Feeding blood to her familiars, Natalie didn’t heal them but stabilized their injuries, letting the grey fog of their innards become confounding smoke. Wreathed in ectoplasm and seeing through six pairs of eyes, Natalie slithered closer to Sicar, ready to introduce the Misoria blade to his spine.

As she attacked from behind, Natalie sent two wolves to strike the Baron from the front. Sicar’s spear flicked out and tore through both wolves, and he turned on Natalie when she was barely a meter away. Shockingly fast, Sicar lashed out with one hand, claws of hardened blood enclosing his armored fingers. Pushing herself backward, Natalie saved her life but not her arm. Terrible monstrous claws driven by inhuman strength ripped Natalie’s arm off at the elbow.

Shrieking in pain, Natalie landed hard, sliding a little along the ground as she desperately tried to regenerate the lost limb. The shock of injury was enough to break Natalie’s concentration, and her wolves dissipated. Staring down at her stump, she forced black blood to well up from the injury and congeal into fresh tissue. Baron Sicar advanced on Natalie, then, spear held at his side, a cruel smile on his face. Glancing in Cole’s direction, desperate for aid, Natalie watched him be swallowed whole by the Ghoul Bear. In a very small voice, Natalie whispered. “Oh jag…”

Sicar leaped forward, landing right before Natalie, looming over her, and stabbing down with his spear. Frantically, Natalie rolled to evade, and Sicar stomped one armored foot onto her leg. Another horrible scream escaped Natalie before she could compartmentalize the pain. Sicar’s armored hand came down and grabbed Natalie’s face, forcing her to look at him. Realizing what he was about to do, Natalie mustered her psychic defenses.

The vampires met each other's eyes, and Natalie felt Sicar’s focused hate strike her. But in testament to Natalie’s skill and training, her consciousness withstood the strike easily. As the Baron martialed his will for a second attack, Natalie realized a few things about her opponents, both past and present. The Dame’s assault earlier was like a flood of water, smashing into Natalie’s defenses and seeping into places it couldn’t reach with brute force. By contrast, the Baron’s attack was a battering ram aimed at a castle gate, dangerous but not insidious like the Dame’s strategy. Natalie didn’t know if this difference was caused by personality, training, or the fact that Sicar was a Wyrmoi, not a Moroi. She did know the strong but simple strikes of Sicar left a weakness she could exploit.

As the second blow rattled Natalie’s mind, she poured her will into the psychic bridge connecting them. Slipping past the metaphorical battering ram as it was hauled back for another strike, Natalie realized the truth of what Pryia said about people exposing themselves while conducting Psychic attacks. To strike Natalie, Sicar needed not just to form a connection but open himself to his victim, an inevitable side effect of the link.

Quick as falling night, Natalie entered Sicar’s mind, easily avoiding his secondary layer of psychic defenses. In less time than a mortal might take a breath, Natalie penetrated her foe’s mindscape. Sicar’s consciousness was shaped like a grand mausoleum, with branching hallways and high ceilings lit by braziers of cold fire. Reaching one of the braziers, Natalie struck back against her attacker. Natalie put her hands into the flame and with them an ugly memory.

Natalie’s mind palace wasn’t much good for shaping the Aether, but it could store information and experiences to a superhuman degree. A knack Isabelle disparagingly compared to a barmaid’s ability to flit between customers and memorize orders. Even if Isabelle’s snark-drenched theory on the origin of the skill was true, it didn’t stop Natalie from using her honed talent effectively. Grabbing onto the memory of a Gallarwyll exploding in her hands back in Rihan’s lab, Natalie shoved it into Sicar’s mind. Striking the Baron with all the pain, shock, and disorientation she felt in that moment.

Returning to her mind as Sicar let the connection falter, Natalie couldn’t help but smile as the Baron screamed in pain. Dropping his spear and staring down at his hands, the Baron’s mind wrestled with the contradicting sensations assaulting him. Reaching up with her stump, Natalie gave the black blood rebuilding her limb a new task. Three hooked blades grew from Natalie’s unfinished forearm, and she slashed them across Sicar’s armored belly. Enchanted steel and undead flesh repelled the strike, so Natalie changed tactics with her next attack. Kicking out with her undamaged leg, she borrowed one of Cole’s moves and snapped the Baron’s knee.

Recovering from the psychic attack he’d clearly never expected from a ‘feral’ like Natalie, Sicar caught himself mid-fall, landing on his hands and knees. Surging forward with her shortsword, Natalie prepared to finish this hunt as she’d done so many times before. Aiming for the Baron’s exposed armpit, Natalie drove her shortsword through her enemy’s mail shirt and into his flesh. Silver burned and steel cut, Natalie thrusting the blade into the Vampire’s blood-forged body. Now it was Sicar’s turn to roll away in fright; scrabbling along the ground, he escaped Natalie, her shortsword sticking into him, barely a handspan from his heart.

Proving his age and experience, Sicar managed to rise before Natalie did, pulling the Misoria blade free with a roar of pain. Barely able to put weight on one foot, Natalie grew claws from her intact hand and spat. “How did you like being skewered? I know you prefer proper impalements for your victims, but I’m not a butchering bastard like you, Sicar.”

A huge roar and the crunch of tearing flesh caught both Vampires' attention. Somehow, in their frantic melee, both Natalie and the Baron forgot about the Dire Bear, which just ripped off its own jagging jaw. As the severed body part crashed into the ground, Cole appeared, covered in a collection of fluids Natalie didn’t even want to guess at. Stumbling off the Bear’s severed jaw, Requiem clutched in his hands, Cole looked angry. As a great bubbling bellow escaped the Bear, Cole ran towards Natalie and Sicar, uncaring of the behemoth chasing after him.

Hobbling towards his spear, Baron Sicar picked it up and moved to meet Cole’s charge. Following after him, feeling the bones in her feet finish healing, Natalie grabbed her own weapon and watched as her knight was caught between two monsters. But instead of clashing steel with Cole, Sicar leaped into the air, a pained howl escaping him as he did. Sailing over Cole, the Baron landed on the Dire Bear, gripping its fur and hauling himself up the beast’s flank. As the Vampire and ghoul beast came into contact, the Bear changed direction. Nearly trampling Cole, the Bear swung about like a war galleon and started to flee. Watching with genuine shock as the pair of adversaries literally turned tail and ran, Natalie let out a pointless breath she’d been holding.

Running over as fast as she could, Natalie wrapped her arms around Cole and let out a noise halfway between a sob and a laugh. Before Cole could return the gesture, the nightmarish stink of a dead Dire Beast’s maw struck Natalie, and she recoiled. “Oh Gods, that’s horrible!”

Instead of responding, Cole turned and raised his halberd into a sturdy guard. His reason became clear as the surviving Wight knights charged towards them. Natalie’s wolves did an excellent job distracting and harassing the undead cavalry, but they’d not won their battle outright. Growing her claws for what felt like the hundredth time and glancing at her regenerating wrist, Natalie swore. “Fire-in-iron…”

Cole destroyed the last Wight with a brutal stomp, crushing its helmet and skull beneath his armored foot. Panting with exhaustion, Cole looked towards the tracks left by the Dire Bear and said. “We need to go after him.”

Natalie flexed the fingers of her newly healed arm and held it up in the moonlight. The limb was missing fat and muscle tone, giving it a withered look. Her fingers were slender to the point of sickly, and the fingernails were little more than nubs sticking out of the cuticles. Regenerating a severed limb was a new experience for Natalie, and she’d rushed the process.

Looking from her fingers to Cole, Natalie said. “I don’t know if I have enough blood to take wolf from and fight again.”

Nodding, Cole checked himself over. His torso was one massive bruise, and Cole knew he’d cracked ribs. Ironically, the armor squeezing his chest was probably helping Cole’s situation; he had enough room to breathe, but the slightly crushed breastplate kept things where they should be. “We can go on foot; I need some time to recover my power, and you need to finish regenerating.”

Grunting her agreement, Natalie picked something off the ground and made a disgusted noise. It was her arm, or at least a collection of ash-covered bones that were once her arm. Gingerly pulling the sleeve off the remains, Natalie made a noise of disgust. “Yughh!”

Shaking the leather sleeve, scattering a plume of soot, Natalie added. “Sowing this back on is going to be a pain.”

Checking over the Wights, ensuring their souls were freed, Cole said. “I can commiserate; it's one of the reasons I’ve not invested in good armor until now. Trying to explain why there is a fist-sized hole in your breastplate, and you’re still alive isn’t easy. But I have plenty of experience patching leather; I’ll help you later if you want.”

Calling up four of her wolves, Natalie looked at the severed jaw of the Dire Bear, realizing the damn thing was the size of her and Cole’s bed back in Vindabon. “Do you think we can actually kill the Baron and his Bear? I’m starting to think we bit off more than we can chew.”

Silver light burned in Cole’s eyes as he stared in the direction the Bear fled. “We have to try. A battle still rages nearby, and even if injured, our opponents can easily shift the balance.”

Shutting his lids and letting glowing tears flow down his cheeks, Cole looked at Natalie with his normal blue eyes. “But…I am torn; you needed my help earlier, and I couldn’t-”

Natalie cut Cole off by putting a finger to his lips. “Stop that. I’m choosing to fight, and I know what risks there are. Now, let's go kill this bastard.”

Taking Natalie’s hand and gently squeezing it, Cole nodded in understanding. He heard what Natalie said but also saw the truth behind her words. The tiny tremble in her voice and the slight increase in volume were enough to tell Cole she was rattled. Still, the duties of a Paladin weighed on Cole, and Natalie was set in her course. They’d keep fighting the darkness together, and Cole would just need to get strong enough to keep her safe.

Wrinkling her nose, Natalie pulled herself free from Cole’s grip. “But let's see if we can find a stream or pond on the way, though, you stink like…”

“...Like someone who was swallowed by a Dire Bear?” Cole offered, looking down at his gore and gunk-dressed self.

The couple started to follow the monster’s tracks, moving slowly as they recovered from the fight. Thankfully for Natalie, they found another sheep pond, and Cole managed to scrape off the worst of the foulness coating him. Despite his now superhuman sense of smell, Cole wasn’t particularly bothered by the stink, an inevitable adaptation after years of hunting the undead. But still, Cole had to admit he felt better without a layer of filth sticking to him.

Moving faster, they eventually saw signs of the battle Cole sensed in the Aether—a bright light in the distance, accompanied by booming explosions and the low melody of clashing steel. Sending her wolves ahead of them, Natalie drew her shortsword and said. “I don’t think the garrison will be too happy to see me.”

Feeling his power, sensing its slow but untenable return, Cole breathed icy fog. “I think my mantle and the Baron’s head will be enough to smooth things over.”

As they got closer, Cole could see Fort Carnum, its walls bathed in glowlight, illuminating the fierce battle raging between living and dead. To Cole’s horror, the Dire Bear had broken into the fort but seemed slowed down by gouts of fire and something strong enough to stagger it. Great throngs of dead flesh pressed against the walls, Ghouls clambering over each other to strike the ramparts, while a swirling cloud of bats mobbed the overwhelmed defenders.

Grabbing Cole’s arm and pulling him to a stop, Natalie pointed towards a spot maybe fifty meters away. “A group of Rattlers over there, with two Vampires, the Baron is one of them.”

Frowning, Cole asked. “Any scouts, more knights or outriders?”

Shutting her eyes and sniffing the air, unconsciously mimicking the wolf she controlled, Natalie answered. “Not that I can sense. Just thirty Eternal Soldiers and the two Leechs.”

Accepting this, Cole reached to his bandolier and fished out a few objects. First was a potion contained in a metal vial. Uncapping the potion, he downed the alchemical mixture faster than he could taste it. The combat drug would dull his pain and sharpen his reflexes. Cole generally disliked using such concoctions; he had too many bad memories associated with them. Second, he pulled out a roughly pear-sized and shaped object. Thick waxed paper covered the outside of the object, and its stem was made of treated fiber. That stem led into the false pear’s innards, connected to a small pouch of spark powder. Between that internal pouch and the outer layer of waxed paper was a salt and garlic mixture. Roadmeat wasn’t the only thing Cole learned to make from Paladin Mak Murtery.

Linking the bomb to his telekine quartz, Cole said, “This thing will make a loud bang and cover anything close to it in salt and garlic. I will drop it in the middle of that group and strike while they are disoriented. Stay a little back so the garlic doesn’t affect you, but kill anything that flees.”

Eyeing the palm-sized explosive warily, Natalie asked. “Isn’t that the thing the Alchemist Guild sent you an angry letter about back in Chillheart month?”

Nodding, Cole said. “They don’t like it when people outside their organization know how to make spark powder, and they especially didn’t like the fact I’d learned the recipe from a disgraced former member. It's why I need to be sparing with these; not many people will sell me the ingredients.”

Lighting the stem-shaped fuse, Cole carefully tossed the bane bomb toward his enemies. Running after the explosive, Cole maneuvered his hand and, by extension, the linked explosive, helping it fly farther and more accurately than mundanely possible. Counting the seconds before the fuse reached the spark powder, Cole cut the magical connection and let the bomb drop into the cluster of Rattlers standing around the two Vampires. Like an overripe fruit dropping from a tree, the bomb struck one of the armored skeletons on the head right before it exploded.

With a crack like a snapping branch, the bomb detonated, spreading a cloud of garlic and salt over the undead. Putting on a burst of speed, Cole let cold numbing power flood his limbs and, more importantly, senses; just because his skin wouldn’t burn on touching garlic didn’t mean getting it in his eyes would be pleasant.

Reaching the edge of the Rattler circle, Cole brought Requiem down on the undead soldier’s head, splitting its helm and skull with a single strike. The nearby Rattlers turned, trying to track Cole, but couldn’t see him, their senses obscured by the salt dust filling the air. Tearing through two more blinded Rattlers, Cole followed the pained screams of the Vampires. Squinting through the stinging air, Cole found his prey. Baron Sicar was covering his face, roaring in agony, and beside him was a heavily armored warrior lashing out at the air around her with whip-crack sword strikes.

Wearing a heavy helmet but clearly still affected by Cole’s trick, the Vampire knight moved towards Cole, blindly slashing out, trying to use overwhelming force to triumph over subterfuge. As one of the female Vampires' rogue strikes tore an Eternal Soldier right in half, Cole had to admit it wasn’t the worst option available to her. Behind the advancing knight, Cole saw Baron Sicar stumble away, groping his way through the Rattlers, fleeing the fight like a beaten dog.

Skirting around the blinded Vampire, Cole tried to pursue the Baron, but this close, the noise of his armor alerted the female Leech to his presence. Dodging a wild strike and throwing a paralyzed Rattler into the Vampire’s path, Cole looked towards the Baron. A pack of wolves descended on the Baron, harrying him as he tried to flee towards the fort and his main army. Natalie materialized out of the dark then, eager to settle her score with the Baron.

Returning his attention to the Vampire knight, Cole realized the Rattler he’d sent her way hadn’t been torn apart like he’d expected. Instead, it moved aside and now took up position next to his opponent. Slowly, other Rattlers were doing the same, being forced into action by an unliving will that Cole could guess the source of. With a few Rattlers at her flank, the Vampire knight calmed her attacks, clearly feeling safer with soldiers to command. If Cole had to guess, his foe was the martial mind behind this battle; the Vampire left to control the main force while the Baron gallivanted off with his cavalry and monsters. Dispatching the Vampire would hopefully turn the tide of battle in the Carnum garrison’s favor.

Speaking loudly to be heard over the distant din of battle, Cole said. “I am Paladin Cole, servant of Master Time. A debt of stolen life is owed, and you will pay it!”

The barest flicker of surprise and fear passed over the Vampire, and Cole struck. Dashing forward, letting ice coat his armor and blade, Cole brought Requiem down in a brutal overhand blow. The Vampire caught the strike on her own sword, but Cole felt the inferior blade chip against Requiem’s magically reinforced edge. Pulling back, Cole swung out with his weapon’s haft. The Vampire ducked, but the nearest Rattler didn’t, taking the strike full on and falling to the ground.

Spears and swords bristled out from the Eternal Soldiers and quested for Cole in slow, methodical strikes. Stepping back out of range, Cole tossed a gout of fire at the Vampire and her bodyguards. The worst of the salt dust was settling, and the Rattlers could see but had difficulty moving, their animus reluctant to step anywhere with salt, which happened to be everywhere around them. Heavily armored, the Rattlers were forced to weather the flames while their officer escaped them. Vampires burned easily, and more than that, they suffered a mild phobia of fire—a gift from Sister Sun in payment for the Rabisu’s betrayal.

Swinging Requiem with one hand and spraying fire with the other, Cole battered his way through the Rattlers and pursued the Vampire knight. Separating his prey from her bodyguards, Cole prepared to finish the Vampire. Realizing what he was doing, the Vampire tried to circle around Cole and return to her escort; Requiem's long reach and whips of roiling flame stymied that plan.

Adapting quickly, the Vampire changed tactics and surged toward Cole, ducking underneath a scything strike from Requiem and breaching Cole’s guard. With the halberd in one hand, Cole wasn’t fast enough to intercept the longsword coming for him. Trying to twist away from the blow, Cole only managed to catch it on his injured ribs. The air in Cole’s lungs fled in a pained shout as the chipped blade snapped on his armor. Fighting to suck in a breath, Cole lunged forward with his free hand and caught the Vampire’s wrist.

The knight tried to pull back, but Cole’s grip was like iron. Hurting badly, doing everything he could to ignore the stabbing pain in his side, Cole yanked on the Vampire, pulling her towards him. Lowering his head and focusing on the hourglass engraved on the forehead of his helmet, Cole improvised a weapon and a holy sigil. Emma of Stonebone’s little decorative flourish shone bright silver, making the trapped Vampire flinch away, opening herself up to a now poleaxe-sized Requiem.

Cole let go of the Vampire’s wrist as her severed head hit the ground with a metallic clunk. The dead Vampire collapsed into ash, armor, and bones as Cole got to work cutting through the remaining Rattlers. Without a commander and surrounded by salt dust, the Eternal Soldiers were slow and easily dispatched.

Pulling off his helmet, thankful the magically chilled metal didn’t stick to his flesh, Cole let out a tired groan. Breathing heavily, clutching his side, Cole stepped over the last Rattler and headed in the direction Natalie and the Baron went. Focusing on the horrible pain, Cole tried to hold the snapped rib in place while he poured icy power into the injury. The pain dulled beneath the cold, and gingerly pressing on the spot, Cole felt his actual skin and muscles harden, freezing into something unnaturally tough. Hoping it would be enough to prevent a rib from puncturing his lung, Cole set out to help finish the fight.