Chapter 96: Until Last Blood (Patreon)

As Willem and Sarah approached the chamber that housed the Fount of Avaria, Sarah grew visibly restless.

“You’re twitching like a fiend.” Willem looked over to her. “Something wrong?”

Sarah shook her head in fierce denial. “No, it’s just… just the feeling of unease that comes after coming close to a goal you’ve been seeking for so long. Maybe my sisters have other plans, or… something will come up, stop me. I don’t know. Until it’s in my hand, I won’t stop being nervous.”

Willem nodded in sympathy and said nothing more, walking on with the greatsword leaning on his shoulder and the crossbow dangling from his grip.

“Why did you do this?” Sarah suddenly asked, coming to a stop a fair distance away from the grand double doors leading to the chamber.

Willem stopped as well. “Come with you?” he tried to confirm. “I believe I’ve explained myself—”

“Don’t feed me half-truths. None have ever gone to such lengths for me, not even my kin, without expectation of reciprocation.” She walked up to loom over him. “I want to know why before we step foot in that chamber. I need to be sure you won’t… won’t reveal another motive,” she said, clearly distraught. “You’ve overturned your life for this.”

“A choice that people can afford to make when they’re young,” Willem said.

“And those vows you made?” Sarah asked.

“They were made from love, not moral character,” Willem pointed out, walking nearer. “And I’ll break them for similar reasons if the need arises.”

Sarah shifted uneasily, clearly made uncomfortable by the implication. “You expect me to be assured by the notion the whims of your affection dictate your decisions?”

“I stayed fixated on the ghost of Anya for nearly sixty years after she died,” Willem said with a gaze of stone. “And you’re still alive. If you’re looking for good betting odds, I’d say this is it.” He turned and walked, refusing to say anything further on the subject.

Sarah watched after him for a moment, and then followed with a pensive expression on her face.

“You never said her name,” Sarah reflected as she caught up.

“Because I disliked crying. Works for children, not people in positions of immense power and privilege like myself.”

They finally made it to the gigantic ceremonial doors of the Fount. Sarah stepped forward and placed both her hands upon them, pushing them open with little effort. A wave of hot air erupted out, surging past them as the chamber revealed itself.

The chamber was enormous. It consisted of several wide, circular platforms suspended over a pit of molten lava. Each platform was held in place by thick iron chains anchored into the ceiling and walls, forming a descending spiral toward the center. The air was hot and dry, filled with the occasional hiss of gas escaping from cracks below.

At the center of the room, a larger circular altar platform hovered alone, connected to the others by narrow metal bridges. The altar was made of black stone, reinforced with gold sigils that pulsed with magical energy. Above it hung a massive statue of a serpent, mouth facing toward the altar. It had seemingly been carved out of the ceiling. Glass windows in the serpent’s body revealed that it was packed with strange-looking magma.

Someone was sitting on the altar. Willem stepped deeper inside, craning to see past the haze of heat that disturbed the air. When he recognized who it was, he couldn’t help but inhale sharply.

“Took you long enough.” Raphael thumbed the tip of one of his sabers, pricking himself lightly. He set his saber down, grabbed something round beside him, and held it up. “It seems like one of your sisters made it here first, Sarah. She had designs on the Fount of Avaria—tried to bind it to her blood, just like those oligarchs. You should be pleased to learn I stopped her.”

Willem took a step forward, but Sarah blocked his path with one of her wings. “Don’t approach. He’s trying to goad us,” she muttered low.

Suddenly, there was a flash of movement and something erupted from the shadows. A lance of maroon energy thrust toward Sarah, aiming right at her neck. Though she moved to react, Willem sensed danger, and quickly turned his crossbow and fired wildly. It proved a warranted defense, as the attack broke past Sarah’s hastily constructed magic defenses and nearly struck her neck before the figure retreating from the ferocity of Willem’s attack.

Duke Leonardo jumped across the various platforms leading to the altar, rejoining Raphael before they could punish him for his attack. He held a lance in his hand.

“He’s using poison. I recognize its smell,” Sarah said. “Clatgrass—the very same poison that brought your father low.”

“Do you know a cure?” Willem asked uneasily.

“Amputate the affected limb within a minute,” Sarah said.

“Hmm,” Willem noted, looking at the pair. “I think that I’d like to run.”

Sarah said nothing for a minute, scanning the room as the two stood in front of the altar. They were being sized up in turn.

“Do you trust me?” Sarah asked.

“For important things, sure,” Willem said.

“I’ll fight Leonardo. You take Raphael.”

Willem look over to her skeptically. “Usually when someone asks if they trust them, it’s because they have a plan. That doesn’t sound like a plan. That just sounds like fighting.”

“Well… trust that I can handle Leonardo,” Sarah said, bracing herself. “And his target is clearly me.”

“And if Raphael is using poison?” Willem asked.

“He can’t. Aura typically can’t transmit poison. Leonardo learned the Villamar techniques, which can deliver poison. Raphael didn’t.” She looked over. “Junior should know that fact if you doubt me.”

Willem hefted the greatsword. “Let’s hope so,” he said. “Fine. If I die… I want you to dedicate the rest of your life to resurrecting me.” He grabbed a crossbow magazine from her and reloaded just in case.

“Wouldn’t take me but a fortnight to do that,” she promised.

Sarah started moving to left, and Leonardo followed her movements, verifying the fact that she was the one that he was interested in. Willem also stepped forward, and Raphael callously dropped the head he was carrying, drawing his other saber. Willem Jansen ceded control to Willem van Brugh.

Junior crouched at the edge of the outer platform, muscles coiled, the heat from the magma below making him sweat. His greatsword rested against his shoulder, crossbow gripped in his left hand. Across the bridge, Raphael stood on the altar platform, sabers loose in his hands. Both men walked slowly toward each other, veering right.

Then Raphael moved.

He crossed the bridge in a blur—low, fast, bladed whips already unraveling. Junior stepped forward to meet him. Metal whistled through the air as the whips lashed out—one high, one low. Junior ducked under the first, leapt the second. He thrust with his sword in the same motion, but Raphael expertly veered rightward, reforming the sabers and slashing at Willem’s side. Junior landed and twisted, his blade raised. Golden and crimson sparks scattered alongside the embers as aura met aura.

They traded blows. Fast, hard, relentless. The terrain prohibited Raphael’s strategy from their last fight, but hindered Junior’s incredible maneuverability all the same. Junior fought with heavy swings, every one meant to sunder bone. Raphael moved like a striking snake—fluid, precise, cutting for joints and tendons. Neither landed a hit as aura clashed against aura. Chained blades snapped through empty air. The platform trembled with each step, until an awkward parry allowed Junior to disengage. He ceded control to Senior.

Senior fired a quarrel of golden power. Raphael seemed to be awaiting this moment, and lunged low. Willem merely fired again, and the bolt scraped Raphael’s shoulder. He surged forward as Senior gave control to Junior, who swung the greatsword like a cleaver immediately. One of Raphael’s sabers parried while the other cut. Junior kneed Raphael’s wrist hard to block the slash, and the two shoved each other away.

Raphael lashed a saber whip at Willem’s throat immediately, refusing to allow him to use the crossbow. Willem jerked back, receiving a slash across his face that stole vision from his left eye. Junior ceded control to Senior once more, and though the man was surprised at this play, old discipline won out. Senior crouched to stabilize his aim and fired. One, two, three bolts—fast, desperate. The first missed. The second grazed Raphael’s shoulder. The third punched clean through Raphael’s right hand.

Raphael dropped one saber. He staggered back, blood dripping down his wrist. With the crossbow’s magazine empty, Senior allowed Junior to stand tall again, breathing hard, eyes locked. The sword in his hand hummed with golden light.

Meanwhile, Sarah circled Leonardo on the outer platform, claws grinding against the stone. Her red eyes were locked on the lance he carried. Clatgrass was intended for aura users, but it wrecked those that employed magic just as well—the only benefit magic-users had was the ability to purge their magic, avoiding death.

Leonardo lunged without warning. The poisoned lance shot forward, barely visible. Sarah twisted her forequarters, just enough to slip it past her ribs. She struck low with one talon, aiming to sever the weapon at its base, but he pivoted, dragging the shaft back in a sweeping arc that forced her to leap away.

She didn’t land. She took to the air instead, wings beating hard. Leonardo backed toward the center of the platform, eyes up, aura flaring around him. Sarah dove but pulled up short, faking the strike. He stabbed upward, wasting the motion, and she spun around behind him, a blast of warped magic erupting from her palm. It struck his back and staggered him forward. She followed up instantly, four legs pounding against the stone and rattling the chains that suspended the platform as she closed the distance.

She slashed for his side. He turned just in time, taking the hit across his vambrace rather than his ribs. The metal groaned under her strength. His counterstrike came low and fast, the poisoned lance cutting for her underbelly. She threw herself sideways, but not cleanly—the edge scraped across her flank. The feathers there rotted instantly, but her flesh was spared.

Sarah recoiled in fear of the poison. The tail behind her lashed wildly, the eyeless snake flicking through the air as an expression of her uneasiness. Her breathing grew heavier, but she didn’t slow. Instead, she circled again, warier now, human arms raised and glowing with building spellwork.

Leonardo adjusted his stance, dragging the poisoned tip across the ground as if to remind her what touching it meant. They moved again, and Sarah opened with an illusion—five copies of herself rushing in, wings outstretched, talons bared. Leonardo swept the lance through two, and they vanished into smoke. Time enough for her to act, at least.

Her claws slammed into his shoulder and pinned him to the stone. She raised one talon to strike again, but he freed one hand and retrieved a hidden dagger. Sarah tried to twist and avoid it, but he struck fast and true, and from the sheer pain, knew he’d used an unordinary poison. It weakened her enough for Leonardo to burst free from under her, staggering away. He seemed so badly broken he could barely stand, but Sarah already felt woozy from what he’d hit her with.

“I’ve won,” Leonardo said, his mouth bleeding copiously. He held up the knife. “Do you know what poison—”

Leonardo staggered, his foot slipping. Sarah lunged without hesitation.

Her wings snapped open, flinging her forward in a single powerful bound. Talons slammed into his chest before he could finish the sentence. The dagger clattered from his hand, skidding across the stone and tumbling into the lava below. He tried to brace against her, but his balance was already gone. The platform tilted slightly under their combined weight, and with a grunt, she threw everything into the push—shoulders, claws, the full weight of her lion’s body.

Leonardo’s boots lost purchase. His arms flailed once, reaching for her or the platform—he didn’t know which. His maroon aura flared in panic, then flickered out like a candle in the wind. He fell. Sarah nearly followed after him accidentally, so intense was the poison. Even as her vision swam, she didn’t panic. So long as Willem placed her upon the altar and rejuvenated her lava, the Fount of Avaria would wash away the poison. And with that thought in mind, Sarah collapsed backward, ensuring she stayed on the platform.

Willem saw her fall.

After, he didn’t think. Senior seized control forcibly from Junior, rushed toward Raphael, the repeating crossbow just clenched like a club as aura flared around him. Raphael slashed—a little slower, but still potent. The saber came down fast, aimed for Willem’s neck. Raphael expected rationality, and that was a mistake. Willem didn’t dodge, didn’t even slow. He dropped the greatsword, raised his forearm and let the blade clash against raw, berserk aura. Raphael’s saber broke past and struck true. Blood spilled down his arm, but Willem didn’t flinch. He wrapped his wounded arm around Raphael’s, overpowering him for the first time.

Willem locked his arm, grip unbreakable even despite the wound, and brought the crossbow down like a hammer as Raphael watched in utter confusion.

One strike shattered Raphael’s nose. The second crushed his cheekbone. The third cast him to the ground. Willem descended with him, and the metal stock of the crossbow crunched against Raphael’s jaw. Willem silenced him with another blow. Then another. And another.

When he finally rose, the crossbow was bent nearly in half and Raphael wasn’t moving. Willem dropped the weapon beside the ruined body and turned for Sarah. He ran toward her as fast as he could, his blood dripping down into the lava below. He came to her side. Her eyes fluttered in her head, unstable.

“Sarah. Sarah!” Willem shouted right into her ear.

When he did, Sarah’s chimera form converted to her humanoid one, and she stumbled into his arms. He caught her.

“Altar,” she whispered, clutching him. “Place me beneath the serpent’s mouth…”

Willem scooped her up in his arms and bounded across the platforms as quickly as he could. It seemed like it took only an instant before he was there. He placed her down. She immediately sculpted her flesh aside, revealing the lava within. Thereafter she reached up toward the serpent, touching it. The moment she did… it began to pour, coursing into her chest.

Even amidst this, all Willem could think was that it looked like the least appetizing soft-serve ice-cream Willem had ever seen.

“If you’re to betray me… now’s the time,” Sarah said, her voice already regaining some vigor.

Willem surveyed the rest of the room for enemies. When he noticed there weren’t any, he kneeled beside her. “I should patrol the area, make sure no one sneaks up.”

“No,” Sarah said, grabbing his hand. “Stay.”

Willem felt tense beyond compare… but he leaned against the altar, holding her hand without another word.

<Previous      -Table of Contents-     Next>