The Song of Roland Ch. 20

"You... you also said you despised me." She said, letting her long bangs cover her face as she shakily reached up to touch the warm blood dripping off her face and lip. The claws had cut her deep.

"I do." He said, striding around a row of reformed tools as he came to a stance above her. "-I also said I'd be back for you. The two ideas aren't so contradictory, as it turns out." Carl got down on one knee, supporting his weight with the lower limb of his bow, like a curved cane. "Seems the little Demons brought out the big, purple Demon in you. Might want to change back 'afore some poor, innocent fool spots you, no need to fuck everyone tonight, eh?"

"I- I will." She said, shaking her head from side to side. Why was her heart still beating so hard?

He peered more closely at her. "They got you but good, eh? Maybe the Imps are even testier than you." Carl Hale calmly pulled something from a pouch at his waist, drawing forth a small cloth. Upon her questioning look he grinned at her, "I like to polish my hunting knife from time to time." He held the little rag up to her face, and she grimaced as it made contact, wiping away the blood. He moved down to her shoulder blade, and soon the thing was red and dripping from the leaking blood.

There was more thudding, more scratching at the door. Kelsea glanced back anxiously as the hinges shifted in place, scattering a smattering of dust. Carl seemed unperturbed. "Well, you got your wish whore: weapons galore. Now we just need to get out of this box trap and out into open ground." He lightly tsked as he inspected his bow. "Katrine's no good in a crowded space. She's more of an 'arm's length' sort of lover."

When Kelsea didn't respond he glanced back at her, his green eyes settling on her shaking hands. "You're hurt." He said, taking her right hand in his, showing the bright red of it, the skin peeled and cracked and blistered from where she'd so unceremoniously driven the dog-faced Imp's head into the forge. Kelsea blinked, astonished that she hadn't noticed. Even as he showed it to her she felt the throb of an intense burn. She pulled her hand away from him nervously, feeling a strange welling in her chest as he looked at her with concern.

"I'm fine." She replied, turning away to avoid the stare he gave her. She wiped at her face in an attempt to feel the cut that had marred her complexion, but was astonished to feel the injuries receding. The gaping cavity of her wounds knitted themselves back together as her own body chemistry worked to remake her into the perfect image of sexual allure. She felt a gnawing hunger grow in the depths of her nethers in response to her loss of fluid.

"Ah." He said, letting out a low chuckle. "Good as new, I suppose." He stood up and strode away, tossing aside his bloody cleaning rag to splat upon the floor. "Guess I should have figured you'd-"

The front door suddenly burst open in a spray of snowfall and charging Demons. Carl let out a surprised shout, his hand subconsciously reaching for an arrow just as a new pack charged into the room. He caught the first devil full in the face, downing it before its brethren could so much as clear the entryway.

He had a second shot loosed in the space of a second, towing back the string with his muscled arm at the same time as a horse-faced Imp with a forked tongue ran up the narrow aisle at him, flashing its teeth. He fired but missed in the cramped confines, the arrow sailing over the creature's mane and striking the wall behind. Kelsea forced herself to her feet, watching with horror as Carl backpedaled rapidly, cursing as the Imp and his three companions overtook him.

They tackled him as a group, knocking the bow clean from his hands as he fumbled for his small hunting dagger. In seconds they had him pinned, two of the creatures eyeing a frozen Kelsea the next row over as they leapt the short distance to reach her. Unthinkingly she grabbed the first weapon off the rack she could get her hands on: a mundane maul, its flat head still coated with powdery white chalk from its use in a nearby quarry.

She lifted the hefty thing clear from its spot on the rack, holding it between two hands as she swung with all her might against the first porcine-visaged Imp that jumped in her path. The thing's head was knocked clean off in one blow, its body crumpling to the side like a tossed blanket from the momentum.

The second creature swept at her, but Kelsea used the momentum to smash the hammer down atop the crown of its skull, repeating the same process she had performed with the blacksmith's hammer outside, only on a more gruesome scale. The Imps entire body collapsed in on itself as the weapon's inexorable force turned it into a shoddy pile of mush upon the ground.

Kelsea ran around the racks, coming to the corridor where Carl was fighting for his life. He was half-shirtless, swinging wildly with his small knife at the two Imps which hooted and cackled at him, smacking their long lengths of cock against his bare skin as they nimbly avoided his clumsy swings. Spotting Kelsea however, the two turned their attention to her instead, making to head off her sudden onslaught with an attack of their own. Kelsea didn't give them the chance. Hefting the weapon like it was a mere stick in her hands, she smacked the first Imp hard in the sternum, its chest cavity caving to the sheer force applied against it. She pivoted, sticking the haft of the head in the other one's face, its nose popping like a balloon from the force of the strike.

Carl pulled his shirt down off his eyes, red-faced and filled with bloodlust as he lifted his paltry blade above his head. He drove the thing deep into the back of the stunned creature's neck, piercing its thin skin as it stuck out the opposite end. He let go of the handle as the thing gurgled and fell, twitching hard upon the ground, its red-rimmed eyes staring accusingly up at Kelsea's cold expression.

They'd survived. Something weak and terrified worked its way up Kelsea's spine as she gaped at the bloody swath she'd bludgeoned. Panting, she dropped the maul to the ground, the metallic hilt slipping through weakened fingers. The maul's solid metal head clapped hard against the floor, like a ringing echo. There was blood everywhere. She felt like she was drowning in it.

Kelsea offered her hand to Carl, her chest heaving as they met eyes. He stared at her for a long moment, breathless as she and covered in gore. Finally, he took it, grimacing as he was pulled bodily by the arm to his feet. He stepped a little too close to her as he righted himself. Kelsea felt a flutter in her chest.

"Well done." He said, attempting an affectation of nonchalance, though Kelsea could feel the alarm in his voice as he wiped at his face. "I... I told you Katrine hated close conflicts."

Kelsea didn't respond, her face flushing as she breathed his accosting scent. Carl seemed to notice this, his hand reaching down to unthinkingly touch her cheek. She sighed, closing her eyes as she tried to muddle through the haze that had settled over her. Her heart pumped liquefied lust across her form, her logic failing as she espied him leaning his face against her. In a rush his lips were upon her own, a fastidious avowal of attraction that burned between the two despite their mutual enmity.

In seconds she was in his arms, her mind going blank as she felt his hands upon her face and she draped her arms about his neck. She kissed him back, feeling the bloom of affection deep in her chest for this man who wasn't Roland. Not even that lingering thought could stop her from reaching down, her fingers nicking at the lip of his trousers as they slid down to cup his bare rear with her hands. He was so wiry, his skin so smooth. He reached down to grasp her nethers and she sighed, feeling the warmth of him as he idly toyed with her womanhood. His finger brushed against her clitoris and she let out a low gasp.

-And just like that, the moment passed. Carl pulled back, lowering his head as he expelled a huff of air from his nose in a single, concentrated burst. He shook his head, his lips pursing as he seemed to struggle with something deep within himself. Kelsea looked down in shock to realize that her tail was wrapped firmly around his waist, holding him tight against her.

"Fool." He said. She didn't know if he was referring to her, or himself. He pulled away, his hands moving about her tail and gently peeling it from his hips like a discarded belt. His face was as red as her own, and he refused to look at her as he turned away to retrieve his weapons. "C'mon, we've got an opening. You should bring that maul with you, you've got the arm for it." She stared wordlessly at him as he picked up a few discarded arrows that had been spilled from his quiver in the uproar.

"Carl-" She began, but trailed off. She did not know what to say. He brushed past her towards the entryway, his silhouette a slim shadow in the night before disappearing out the front door. She wasn't afraid of abandonment this time. Her hand reached out towards him, expressing an unspoken and repentant appeal. It lowered after a long moment. She picked up the hammer and followed him out, feeling a rumble at her feet again as she headed after her once-enthralled companion.

They were no more fortunate on the streets than they had been trapped in the smithy. As soon as Kelsea exited the building she heard the telltale sign of approaching Imps. She shot Carl a worried look, but he merely gritted his teeth and began to run down the street, back towards the southern gate in the direction of the graveyard. Hearing the onset of an infernal stampede, Kelsea gave chase, and together the two fled the approaching creatures.

"Seems they heard all the fighting, after all." He said, shouldering his bow as he sprinted down a narrow cleft between the buildings. "Guess we should feel lucky they've been so damned preoccupied raping these godly virgins." He shot a wry glance at her face as it shifted back to human features. "They might not have noticed us until you started yelling like a loon."

"I wasn't-!" She blurted out, before clamming up her mouth when he shot a sideways look at her. She let out an annoyed grunt; even after all that had happened he could still manage to fluster her. The insolent archer seemed to delight in her irritation, even as they fled into the darkness, a host of monsters in hot pursuit.

They came to a halt in front of the rusted posts of the Outer Cloister's graveyard. Beyond the open gate there lay an immense, impenetrable fog, like a wall of grey. It seemed to suck all of the vapor around it, diluting the fog that blanketed the rest of the village by focusing it specifically into this corner of it. Despite the relatively small size of the area, not a single tombstone or mausoleum could be seen through the gloom; only the work of magic could have done this, to be such an immediate barrier to their progress. As one, the human and the Succubus hesitated at the entryway.

"...You first." Carl remarked, turning around and casually drawing an arrow from his quiver in preparation for any Imps coming behind them.

"Don't be craven." Kelsea said, though even she knew that such words were empty platitudes in the face of this clear demarcation of unnaturally conjured weather. It was like looking into an endless grey pit: utterly inscrutable. But she had no choice. "F-follow me." She said, feeling not at all convinced of her own judgement. The Succubus hesitated.

"I insist you do something." He said, his voice lowering to a mutter. He did not turn back to look at her. "They'll be here any minute!"

Their mutual exchange was cut short when a strong vibration bisected the ground. It rippled out to them, like disturbed water in an otherwise glassy pond. The two lost their balance completely; what had been a breakneck flight through empty village avenues became a harrowing crawl as the very earth beneath them shook and heaved and rose in unnatural waves. The tremors from earlier had only gotten worse, more violent and abject in their impact.

"W-what's happening?" Carl shouted, clearly as taken aback as Kelsea was. Before either could respond to the other, the dirt beneath their feet burst asunder. A great gout of earth surged upwards, between the two shivering houses which formed a narrow avenue behind them. The icy ground cracked and ripped and shook; it looked like a combination of the cresting head of a tidal wave and a newly-birthed mountain roaring up to the heavens. In seconds their only alternate route around the graveyard was blocked off by a twenty foot high wall of solid earth.

"Deliv'rance." Said a voice, like rolling gravel ricocheting off the sides of a cliff. A thick hand burst forth from the earth beneath Carl's feet. He shouted in surprise, leaping back as it pulled itself free from the ground like a corpse that had emerged from its eternal slumber. For a moment Kelsea thought that it really was one of Bogdan's creations, but as it pulled itself free the truth became more self-evident.

Grey, granite skin ripped itself free from the ground, inch by inch. Flecks of dirt and clinging chips of stone came off as it struggled up from its earthly. Creaking limbs bent and crooked and cracked as a squat, hoary body struggled up out of the ground, blinking bits of rock from its eyes as it opened heavy, wrinkled eyelids to gaze in stiff dispassion at the two of them. Greyish hair with the consistency of gnarled cave lichen matted its lips and dripped down like a set of stalagmites past its unseen chin. It opened its mouth, an overlarge appendage for its small body, through which a booming voice proclaimed:

"Hum'ns. Two o' em." He grumbled. His head creaked as he squinted at them with silver pupils and irises like melting gold. What should have been the whites of his eyes were instead the color of sapphire gemstones, twinkling in the darkness. He bore a set of pale, yellow robes that stank of sulfur and were covered in dirt. They clung to him like torn fabric to a boulder. The thing blinked lethargically and then stared at them again. "Hrmm." He murmured, seeming to contemplate something.

"A Dwarf!" Carl blurted out, "What is a Dwarf doing here?"

The Dwarf shifted his stance with all the grace and fluidity of a shifting statute. "Mrrh, wha's a Hum'n doin' ere? Fight's onna wall." He squinted again. "Yer not with tha' Cult, aye? New'come men. Stra'ngers, aye?" He shook his head back and forth.

"Maghas." He growled. It took a moment for Kelsea to realize he had just abruptly given his name.

Her fingers loosened its iron grip upon the warhammer in her hands. She let the rounded pommel of it strike the ground as she leaned against it for support. Maghas noticed it immediately, his head turning to stare with unblinking focus upon her own. "I'm Kelsea," She said, not knowing what else to say to the unexpected sight. "This is Carl Hale." The mercenary next to her merely nodded, a nervous glance in his eye.

The Dwarf lifted his hands, bending them at a perfect angle with his fists clenched in front of him at an even level to his head, forming two standing pillars between which his eyes rested. It seemed almost a gesture of greeting. "Great Dorthanc bless ye' Kel'seh'a, Carl Hale. Gos'vn guide ye' too." Maghas' hands lowered. She noticed that clutched between them, in a rosary around each palm were a line of thin, rounded stones of multifaceted coloration. As he spoke he idly flicked them about his palm with his fingers. "Wha' ye' doin' ere?"

"We... we were just passing through the town, seeking shelter for the night." Kelsea said. Carl seemed content to allow her to speak for them both. "We arrived just this afternoon."

"Bad timin'." The Dwarf rolled his a's like a Magelander would roll their r's. "Worse luck, aye?" He clapped the palms of his hands together, and the rock wall behind them grew still larger. "Best ye' get back to high ground."

"We're trying to get to the southern gate." Kelsea said, indicating with the head of her hammer in the direction of the cemetery and its unnatural fog. Maghas turned to look before swiveling back to face her. "But..."

"Best not go tha' way." He rumbled, pointing at a spate of rough shadows, shifting in the tepid mists. "Tis a home o' Horax. Only ones tha' can walk there now 'r the Gruulki." He paused, seeming to search for the right words. "The... Alive'less." He finally translated. "Bog'dnn rules there, now."

Bogdan. Kelsea recalled the memory of the thin, cadaverous Volkhv, standing like an ashen jester as he gleefully compelled a horde of risen Imps to massacre their comrades. His dull grey eyes had been so vivacious: grimly animated in a way that caused her to shiver at the memory. "Even so, we have to get there." She said, gathering her composure. She felt far less certain of that fact thanks to Maghas' words.

"It's quite essential." Carl said, glancing back at the rock wall as the sound of scrabbling feet on the other side caught his attention. "...The eager little lass and myself aim to tip the balance in this battle singlehandedly."

"Hrrm." The Dwarf grumbled, contemplating. He did not seem to pick up at all on Carl's sarcasm, though Kelsea pinned him with an aggrieved look. Instead of answering, Maghas stomped his foot, and the earth trembled. "Ah, a sketch is comin'."

Kelsea watched in confusion as the stumpy humanoid strode to the steep slope of the Inner Cloisters ivory walls. "...A what?"

Maghas did not look back at them. "A sketch. A... a pah'tern. Design."

"You mean a 'plan?' You have a plan?"

The Dwarf nodded, absently placing his hand against the ancient stones as he rubbed slight friction against them. "Aye." He thrust his fist into the wall. It melded to his hand like it was made of porous sand. Kelsea noticed as he did so that the idle flicking of the stones on his open hand increased. Soon he was elbow deep, his eyes closing as he mumbled something low and unintelligible in a language that had the rhythmic cadence of a sculptor's tapping chisel.

A series of thick stones, like ascending steps emerged from the sturdy masonry, far out enough from the main wall line for a human to climb them. They rustled and jerked, but eventually all came loose. The Dwarf removed his arm and turned to look at them.

"Well, why didn't you just say you had a plan?" Carl grumbled, shouldering his bow as he eyed the steep climb for a long moment.

"Go." Maghas instructed, passionless but insistent. When they did not shift from their places he let out a loud harumph. "Wha' ye' waitin' fer? Fog's 'ere. The Arlken - hrm, the 'Imps' are gatherin'. Low places 'r no longer safe fer ye'. " He pointed upward with his finger. "Climb."

Carl took the bait first. He took a first, tentative step upon the block. Upon confirming that it was not about to give way under his weight her smiled and waved Kelsea on. She turned back to him, unsure how to express her gratitude. She finally settled on a small wave. "Thank you, Maghas."

The Dwarf's stoic expression didn't change. "S'fine. Tell Almy' t' stay safe." The Dwarf turned away, towards the artificial wall he had erected. He stopped one last time to glance at his momentary companions. He murmured a perfunctory prayer, one that sounded stilted and rehearsed. "May Dorthanc's peaks protect ye'."

It was only after several seconds of hard climbing that Carl deigned to turn back to her, his green eyes gleaming with amusement. "...'Almy?'"

For once, Kelsea just shook her head and pushed him forward. Inwardly, she smiled at the name as well, the momentary amusement tempered by the lingering worry in her chest for Roland. She wondered where he was right now. She hadn't seen him since all this madness had started.