Millennial Mage

Tala saw the oncoming disaster in almost slow motion, her threefold perception picking up the charging Forest Spirit a bare heartbeat before it reached Anatalis.

While the arch-beasts of the Pack were moving forward to engage the Forest Spirit’s offspring as they began to appear, the great wolf himself had stayed back, stayed out of the fight to prevent exactly this potential from happening. He’d obviously made other preparations as well, but it seemed that they weren’t quite enough. Anatalis had stated that the Forest Spirit would be more powerful, more capable within his own domain than he had been when the wolf and elk had clashed before, but apparently even that prediction hadn’t been enough.

It was only by sheer chance that the obliterating path of the Forest Spirit hadn’t gone through more of their army—or worse, Lea’s position—as Tala doubted anyone would have been fast enough to prevent complete disaster.

Tala hoped that she would have sensed imminent danger to her daughter more readily than that to the god-beast Anatalis, but she wasn’t absolutely sure.

As to that danger, Terry had sensed the threat fractionally earlier, flickering away from his clash with the Leshkin prince.

Tala and Terry weren’t the only people to notice the sudden appearance of the Forest Spirit.

Talons retreated from within his path, dragging nearby allies with them into Ironhold or the sanctum, but most arcanes and gated humans were simply too slow to get out of the way.

Eskau Pallaun exploded into darkness, beheading the commander he’d been clashing with before fully disengaging.

Tala and Alat stretched out their will, trying to pull more of their allies away to safety, but that was an exercise of authority, and that of the Forest Spirit rose up and slapped her attempts aside, choosing to directly oppose her rather than blanketly suppress everything in the area.

That made her attempts impossible but allowed the others to continue their frantic second of work.

She did briefly feel Anatalis and his Pack attempt to join her in the effort, but this was his forest still.

Tala watched as Terry appeared directly in front of the Forest Spirit, his dimensional magics bypassing the clash of authority.

The terror bird shared Tala’s unusual metaphysical weight through their soul bond, that of a Reforged with Hallowed leanings. Even so, he had no hope of harming or stopping a being that was god-beast and Sovereign in one. Yet, Tala sensed it more clearly than she’d ever been able to before: Terry was right where he needed to be.

The avian was crouched down until he was the height of a child while being far more massive.

Anatalis had barely begun to turn, crouching low to leap away, but he would be too slow. Tala felt a colossal clashing of wills, authority, and magics, as the two pinnacle beings strove mightily against one another, ironically resulting in no mundanely discernable effect.

He’d held back to avoid just this eventuality, but the elk had been cunning. The wolf had likely even tried to bait out this exact course of events, but the elk seemed faster than expected.

His god-beast sirelings weren’t in evidence, likely hiding to pincer the Forest Spirit, but Tala didn’t think they would be quick enough either.

The only thing between the Forest Spirit and its ancient enemy was a tiny terror bird of no real consequence in a battle between god-beasts.

Tala felt her bonded’s emotions, his determination, and she felt her heart swell in response.

Terry didn’t put himself in the way of the antlers—Tala thought doing so might even have disrupted her ability to bring him back as the attack of a Sovereign was nothing to disregard—instead appearing directly in front of and beneath the left front leg just as it lifted from the ground to come forward once more.

He grew in size as he appeared, swelling upward—one talon flaring with void-magic lifted before him—and attempting to knock the elk off his stride. Terry was clad in white steel–growing and thickening even as he increased in size—but he clearly didn’t see that armor as sufficient. As such, the avian pulled from Tala, and Tala enacted her magics as never before, placing an existence shield around Terry instead of herself.

The existence shield fully manifested, but the will of a Sovereign god-beast was not easy to challenge.

The Forest Spirit was set upon his charge, his entire being focused on skewering his ancient enemy, hence why nothing else had slowed him in the least.

But Terry was different. He was a Reforged level being, and arch-beast in his own right, wrapped in armor and power and authority.

Even so, the gulf between the two beings was not one that could be overcome. Terry couldn’t hope to harm the elk, not really, but he hadn’t planned on direct harm.

The simple physical movement of the cervid foreleg hit Terry’s upraised void-talons with such metaphysical weight that the existence shield shattered, his armor didn’t have time to bend, and the terror bird turned to a mist of white steel, blood, bone, and viscera as the forelimb passed through him, only gaining the slightest slice through the cervid hide, the barest bit of blood beginning to drip out and stain the fur where Terry’s hadn’t found purchase.

Tala didn’t even have time to cry out for her friend, but she felt the tearing and obliteration of her familiar in her very soul, the sensation unfathomably worse than the last time he had died. As she struggled not to lose focus on her task, she couldn’t tell if her senses had heightened or something else had gone wrong.

Still, Terry was no fool, and he had done much to put his impediment above that of those trampled underhoof before him. Even the smallest disruption could prove to be an issue in a flat out charge.

The leg that blew through Terry was slowed minusculely by his gathered defensive might—that exacerbated by a slight flinching away from the void-talon wrought pain—and the Forest Spirit couldn’t compensate in time. More than that, Tala felt the barest echoes of the recently devoured elk from within Terry’s remains, giving the predator a momentary anchor of intent, will, and authority with which to affect the prey. This was further heightened by the razor’s edge that the Forest Spirit was charging across. His attack was decided change, moreso if he succeeded, and that put the charge at cross purposes with his concept even if not directly opposed.

The hoof landed wrong, and Forest Spirit tripped, the head dipping and driving most of the antlers straight into the ground. Only the very top, back of the rack sunk into Anatalis’s side as the wolf leapt away.

Lupine blood painted the ground for a brief instant before the energy of the elk’s charge fully transferred to the ground and everything—in a cone radiating out from the point of impact—was obliterated.

Anatalis had been near the middle of the army—both in the narrow depth and the strung out length—but the Forest Spirit had come from the back at an angle. Thus the cone of devastation only barely clipped the front right of their forces

Darkness had swept through and whisked some to safety before the concussive blast. And even so, hundreds of allied fighters died instantly, along with the Black Legion Leshkin they’d been fighting.

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Eskau Meallain was almost missed, but the front of her left shoulder was in the arc of destruction.

Her armor shattered as she was tossed away, much of the flesh on the front-left of her body turning to ribbons.

The ground was destroyed as well, sending dirt and shards of rock tearing outward from the cone of obliteration.

Those grazed by the power were flung aside or dropped, regardless of allegiance, but before they hit the dirt, Botulf was there, lunging in to savage the momentarily stunned and grounded Forest Spirit.

His teeth tore into the cervid, struggling to do more than superficial damage to the powerful beast.

Black Legion captains and lieutenants hurled swords, spears, and axes at the god-beast to try to distract the massive wolf, but weapons may as well have been the wind.

On the other side, his brother likewise tried to take advantage, to attack the flank of the elk-beast.

Both wolves spun up magics free-form, raking the hide with fire, lightning, rot, ice, and even void.

It was a vicious attack, and one that was almost entirely unopposed.

At the same time, Walden’s domain extended through the destroyed cone, using the violation that such a destruction was as a crack in the Forest Spirit’s hold on the forest, subverting a fraction of the other elk’s hold on that small area, even as he clashed antlers with a larger—if weaker—sibling.

Anatalis lunged off of the air, trying to come around the antlers as they began to shift, aiming for the great beast’s throat.

Barely a second had passed since the Forest Spirit had been spotted, but everything had changed.

Tala had to turn a portion of her attention to the two senior commanders that were bearing down on her, but even as she martially clashed with the automata, she kept her focus on the clash of god-beasts. Flow knocked aside an incoming spear thrust, and a white steel and reality iron shield sprang up to deflect the blow of a pole-axe.

The Forest Spirit tore his antlers from the ground, sending a spray of rocks through the nearby forces—allied and enemy alike—warding off Anatalis long enough to let the elk turn and lunge at Conri.

The bone-white wolf ducked and sprang out of the way, rolling to avoid the thundering hooves… as the Forest Spirit charged back into the forest, fleeing the battlefield.

Botulf and Conri howled, even as they charged after the retreating god-beast.

Anatalis moved to follow, but stumbled, blood continuing to pour from the three deep holes punctured in his side.

He growled, spinning to glare at the arch-beasts that remained, and the offspring of the Forest Spirit trembled.

A moment later, and they were all in full retreat, leaving the Black Legion on their own. The only one left was that with which Walden was actively clashing horns.

The arch-beasts of the Pack took off after the elk and elk-like magical creatures, maintaining at least three to each hunting group, even if that meant some of the prey weren’t pursued.

Of the twelve offspring of the Forest Spirit that fled, only eight were chased, which meant that if the other four were smart, they might circle back around and try to strike at the remaining forces.

Walden wouldn’t be directly helping if that happened, not until the one he was already driving back was fully dealt with.

Alat pinged the most powerful of the allied fighters to be aware of that possibility, but that’s all the brainpower Tala had free.

First, she verified that Lea was still safe. Then, she bent her will to the fight with the two senior commanders.

A staccato of tungsten spheres cracked out, slamming into one of the two, driving it back and forcing it to rebuild from its stoneward mass.

Flow swept in great arcs even as Tala flickered around, clashing with the second automaton more than a dozen times in a breath of time.

Tala halfway expected the Black Legion to retreat immediately as well—now that their god-beast protector had retreated—but whether it was because they were disorganizedly dispersed throughout the allied forces by Tala’s emptying of the Doman-Imithe or something more base to their nature, they didn’t look to be interested in withdrawing.

The chaos wrought by the brief exchange of god-beasts turned out to be a boon for the more scattered, more clinical automata, and they were taking advantage.

Arcanes and gated humans were falling before swarms of the legionnaires, even as others rallied. Tala was able to see that many who fell were simply gravely injured rather than dead, and Tala left it to Alat to decide on priorities.

They could bring some to healers, but doing so would reduce the number of soul-cores they could permanently end.

Tala couldn’t do the calculation or take time to decide who was injured enough to warrant that.

She was focused on the senior commanders.

A strategic pair of siege-orbs destroyed the footing of one, while she kicked away the other, giving her a moment to focus on the first once more, slicing at the back-pedalling midnight black figure over and over again with her blade

* * *

Rane grinned in feral satisfaction as his wife settled into her rhythm. She was now very familiar with the way the automata fought, and they were little more than challenging sparring partners for her at this point.

Tala and he knew that there was at least one stage above these that they’d have to face, but these? It would take more than two to take her down.

Their daughter was safe, fate or chance having kept her from the path of the elk god-beast’s charge. She was among allies and could take care of herself when Sovereigns weren’t involved.

His own fight had changed from one of hampering the Leshkin prince, keeping it from attacking Tala to pinning it down and preventing its retreat. Unfortunately, despite his barely contained anger, that meant that he couldn’t destroy it, as doing that would free its spirit to get away.

Rane’s aura and will—empowered by his roiling soul—-were already preventing a voluntary departure, but he didn’t have the strength or skill to keep it in place if its physical form were destroyed.

They both knew the state of things, and that made for an… interesting encounter. It didn’t want to heal, because it wanted to be slain, but if it let itself be too injured, it could be restrained fully.

Leshkin prince screamed, blasting Rane with a tearing torrent of magic, but he was a rock in the middle of a river—his anger restrained like a spirited horse, drawing him forth as he chose—and he spun forward to cut off an arm, when taking off the head would have been an easier blow.

Measured responses… I am in command, not the rage.

The thing tore at him, fracturing broken lines down his chest plate, but only barely scratching his skin underneath.

Even so, the claws carried an acid venom that sought to burrow into Rane.

He denied it purchase. He was stone.

The acid burned at his stone, causing him to snarl.

He was living, flesh and blood to deny the attack.

The venom sought to eat away at his life. His snarl grew to a defiant roar.

He was enduring.

The foreign liquid was expelled, his bone armor pulling back together over healed flesh.

Unfortunately, the internal exchange hadn’t been costless, and his armor had barely saved him from more than a half-dozen punishing strikes in his moment of narrowed attention.

The bone was cracked and crumbling all across his body, and far more of the acidic venom was within the material than had been in his wound, only barely kept back from reaching his skin beneath.

Rust this. His rage rose up, and his armor detonated off of his body, all the shards focused forward, tearing through the Leshkin before him.

The back pieces fell free, turning to dust before they hit the ground.

He struck forward, seizing the prince by the throat and tearing it up off the ground.

The thing’s blood poured over its body, making trails down Rane’s flesh, its blood the same acid venom.

He didn’t care. His rage only mounted.

It scrabbled and scratched at his arm, leaving long sizzling gashes.

They were inconsequential.

His soul swelled with power as he bent his will toward the spirits within.

At any other time, what he was about to do would have been monumentally foolish, bringing the ire of the Forest Spirit down upon him.

His rage distorted features twisted further into a malevolent, predatory grin. That caravan had well and truly left the city. Moreover, the Forest Spirit was in full flight last he’d seen.

It was now or never.

Rane’s soul boiled with power, and he felt the flecks of reality and void built into his being through his connection to his wife and made his own upon Reforging.

With a scream of rage that mirrored the Leshkin's earlier attack, he struck forth with his very soul, guided by his magic, power, and will.

There in that clearing, the soul of man tore asunder the lingering spirits of the Mezzani before him, dispersing the fragments of the Leshkin within into the void.

Their departure was accompanied by a dark, resonating laugh.