Prowlers in the Night: Final Part

The blood trail became thinner and thinner as we went after it, the Chevalier’s artificial body working tirelessly to mend itself. His path took him through several corridors, apparently at random, then up a flight of stairs for some reason. He could’ve finally lost his cool and made a panicked retreat, or he could’ve had another plan up his sleeve. I found both possibilities equally likely, and I steered myself toward the latter.

We caught up to him at a large terrace, Annabel breathing heavily from the sprint, where he was waiting patiently for us.

“Dead end?” I asked, my gun trained at him.

“Just a fitting place to conclude our fight, before further interlopers arrive”, he responded, “My torment is likely to come to an end soon, but I am still obliged to hunt you down. While I am badly injured, you will find I still pack quite a fight. I have no wish to harm you, but I have no choice but to come at you with all my might”.

And with that, he launched another fireball that I barely managed to dive under. It destroyed the door we came through, briefly forcing Annabel to retreat into a corridor. He was swinging at me with his sword by the time I got back to my feet. I blocked with my rifle, and then countered, holding the firearm like a club. The injuries had weakened him somewhat, and even though he blocked, the power of my attack made him flinch.

I swung at him several more times, managing to hit him in the injured arm, causing him to drop his guard. Following the success of my attack, I went for a heavy overhead swing. He dodged backwards, causing me to miss, and countered with a kick. Not expecting that sort of an attack, I barely managed to defend myself and got the rifle knocked out of my hands in the process. He followed up with a thrust, intending to skewer me. I retreated while dragging the sword and the dagger, and pushed his blade upwards. Instead of getting stabbed, I ended up with a matching shallow cut across the chest as the Chevalier.

Annabel walked out onto the terrace at this moment, chanting a spell. Knowing that letting her finish could easily spell doom for him, the knight became desperately aggressive, assaulting me with every inch of strength his injured body could muster. I dodged and parried for my dear life, his ferocity constantly keeping me slightly off-balance, barely redirecting thrusts aimed at my vitals with surgical precision. Annabel couldn’t have spent more than ten or so seconds preparing the spell, but it felt like eternity to me.

Then she released the magic, and it was a thing of beauty. Telekinesis has always been her strong suit, but displaying such fine control and surgical precision was a rare sight. All the straps keeping the Chevalier’s armor were undone in an instant, large plates of metal dropping from his body and crashing onto the floor with a loud clang, leaving him in the padded cloth he wore underneath.

I used his brief confusion to launch an attack, which he failed to fully block, and I managed to stab him in the gut. This was not immediately lethal, but he was now heavily injured. Nonetheless, the spell he was under wouldn’t allow him to give up on the obviously lost fight, and I was left with the grim task of finishing the job.

He made a feeble attempt to attack, to which I hit him across the hands and knocked the weapon out of his hands. Before he could make another shot at me with his bare hands, I went for another thrust and ran him through the chest. This time, it was fatal.

“I thank you for releasing me from this hell”, he managed to mutter before passing away, “You are likely to encounter more of my siblings, forced back to life against their will and damned to foul slavery. May you grant them swift death, and – even though I have scarce hope you can accomplish that – may you destroy the evil at its source, and slay the necromancer Arthacyros”.

With those words, he dropped to the floor, dead. “May you rest in peace”, I whispered before turning away. Some soldiers caught up to us soon enough, and the events of the night were getting wrapped up.

The King was barely injured, and the Princess was in stable condition, eventually making a full recovery. No further assassins were found, and none were captured alive. Claudia did an autopsy on the deceased knights, getting some new insight on the workings of his (and my own) body, and found out runes were engraved all over his internal organs, effectively enchanting the poor man with a geas he couldn’t remove without dying.

“Are you sure there isn’t such a thing in my own body?”, I asked her, reasonably worried.

“Certain”, she responded, “We would’ve detected magical energy if that was the case. Don’t worry, you’re clear”.

Things moved fast over the next few days. The King sent a letter to Arthacyros demanding an explanation of his actions, and immediately started mustering an army to invade the Sorcerous League, certain that no satisfactory reply would come. News of this impending new war was met with enthusiasm by the people. Some cooler heads thought that, while justified, starting an overseas war wouldn’t be wise, but sensing the atmosphere, decided not to speak up about it. Arthacyros had struck at the heart of Manea and couldn’t be let off the hook.

As for what remained of our Treasure Hunters group, we got a pardon for our role in saving the royal family’s life (Gandor got included, in spite of being prevented from helping out by his injuries). His Majesty delivered this pardon personally.

“You know, Clossar”, he remarked, “I toyed with the idea of making you Odelia’s bodyguard at some point. She didn’t seem to like you at all, however, and it did seem wiser at the time to keep you out of the palace as much as possible, since you were created by Arthacyros after all. Who knows, if I went with my original plan, perhaps none of this would have happened”.

And with that, we were free once again, though of course, returning to our Treasure Hunters duties was out of the question. Our skills would, after all, be needed for the war effort, and for that purpose, we would go our separate ways. Annabel was attached to the 3rd Wizards’ Battery, where her purpose was to provide support to our troops along with her colleagues. Gandor asked to be placed under the Duke of Tetrahendor’s command, and he got his request granted. He would be placed in the first line of battle whenever possible by the still-vengeful noble, but to my knowledge, he never complained about it, hoping to get killed to atone for his presumed failure, yet surviving time and time again. As for myself, I found myself serving under my old friend Spiridon Nixon, who had been promoted to captain in the meantime and led a company of light cavalry.

A month and a half after these events, a fleet disembarked from Hieropolis, carrying the punitive expedition east, accompanied by an ecstatically cheering crowd. The insolent sorcerer-king had resorted to cowardly means, sending assassins. We had no need for such underhanded tactics and would proudly face him on the field of battle, crushing him in retribution. That was the mood, anyway, but my heart was heavy. The things, I felt, would not go as smoothly as everyone had hoped.