Heretic Spellblade 6 - Ch19

Chapter 19

“Oh, her head disappeared,” Tarako said, once Nathan dropped back down to the ivory platform.

“They do that,” Sunstorm said.

His Champions, save Seraph, assembled around him. The echo of rising cheers and whoops from the defenders stretched across the now-empty canyon, leaving them with what might be a picturesque scene if it weren’t for all the destruction.

Nathan had seen this more times than he cared to admit. The difference was that he rarely needed to take the fight to the Messenger.

He’d found the dominion more tedious than truly threatening. Could he have said the same a year ago?

Faced with an unending horde of elite demons, including flying ones, and a ceaseless barrage of powerful magical attacks that required powerful duogem abilities to deflect at a minimum, almost any Bastion would crumble. Slowly, but surely.

And how could most Bastions hope to fight the dominion? She hovered above her ivory tower, protected from ranged attacks and behind that same horde railing against one’s walls.

Nathan understood how different his capacity to handle Messengers had become. Not just the number of trigems available to him, but his own flexibility.

He could teleport across the battlefield instantly, use spatial attacks that carved apart elites and armies alike, and draw on an array of spells. His mental magic had proved itself an increasingly valuable weapon in almost every fight.

“This has been annoying me for ages,” Nurevia said as she shook out her hands, which were likely stiff after firing her crossbows for so long. “But you two!” She pointed at the Twins. “If you’re so all powerful, how come you can’t body any of the Messengers we fight?”

Both succubi sneered at the dark elf, but Nathan’s other Champions nodded in agreement.

“Oh, fuck off, don’t agree with the living body pillow,” Maura snapped. “Koji and the dominions have anti-hag measures, so our spatial techniques don’t work.”

“Why are they also immune to mental magic?” Nathan asked.

“They usually aren’t.” Laura grimaced. “But those stupid cultists specialize in crafting things, much like Koji, and would have been warned about us, so mental wards are go. They also likely know about Beatrice. With so much rogue succubi around, do you think the boss is going to take risks? That’s probably why he sent Bauer in first, instead of Shiva. Both you and the slut prophet have plenty of mental tricks up your sleeves.”

“I’ve noticed you’re calling Thanatos by his name now,” he pointed out.

“The joke got old.”

Somehow, he understood that.

“Shiva…” Tarako’s eyes narrowed. “You mean the fox-wolf.”

“Yeah.” The Twins nodded. “We haven’t met her since we got put on this job, but worked with her a few times before. She’s like the opposite of Siv. Views this whole shebang as one big vacation. Focuses on having the time of her life and living out her dreams.”

“Like Thanatos, if I recall his sob story,” Narime said.

A mixture of expressions rose to everyone’s faces. Mostly smirks and smiles.

After all, they’d heard Thanatos’s backstory during one of his greatest blunders.

“Nah. Koji thinks he’s some sort of dark lord become manifest.” Maura shook her hands beside her head, as if to emphasize how silly the idea was. “Shiva gives no shits. She’s here to fight, fuck, and drink, and not necessarily in that order.”

Nathan blinked, certain he’d misheard. “She’s not a succubus?”

“Hey, others can enjoy sex. You certainly do.” The succubus leaned against him and felt him up for good measure, her breasts crushing against his chest in the process.

In the background, Nurevia drummed her fingers against her thighs. Her expression grew more and more annoyed as the conversation drifted away from her question.

“You haven’t given me any reason to justify why you two don’t suck,” the dark elf said.

“Oh, come off it. If Nathan had let us take on Siv, we’d have delivered him a quadruple amputee to mount on his wall.” Maura leaned back and puffed out her chest. “And we’d have taken out Tomoe if Bauer didn’t intervene. All of you sucked against the evil titty kitty, so don’t give me shit over her.”

“Sounds like excuses to me.”

“No, I’ve been forcing them to hold back,” Nathan interrupted. “Which may not be wise anymore. Until now, allowing Messengers to carve apart armies or win major victories could harm our image in the eyes of our allies. That matters little in war against Falmir and with Trafaumh on the verge of collapse. If I need to have the twins obliterate Falmir’s army to make a point, I will.”

The ear-to-ear grins on the faces of the succubi suggested they strongly agreed with his idea. Yet his Champions did little more than nod.

What else could they do? This was war and they knew it.

“Let’s rejoin Seraph,” he said.

Once again, Tarako teleported away before he finished his own spell. He and his Champions appeared near the entrance to Doumahr. Somehow, the fox stood beside them.

How had she known exactly where he planned to teleport to?

He found himself without a chance to ask, as roars of approval washed over him. At first only a small number of soldiers spotted his return, but that soon turned into hundreds. Whatever differences there might typically be between the Empire and Trafaumh, the joint victory against the Messenger mattered more in the moment.

Aware of the attention she might attract, a spell shimmered over Tarako’s form and she returned to her six-tailed disguise. Sunstorm checked on Ciana, who glowered at her friend.

“I told you I’d be fine,” Ciana muttered.

“You’re wielding a sword as big as you are with one arm. You think I’m not going to worry?” Sunstorm patted the unicorn on the shoulder. “Sen and Fei aren’t here to worry at you, and I’m not the one to tell you to take it easy. Just make sure you don’t do something foolish in an attempt to prove yourself.”

“Like you would?”

“Exactly. I’ve gotten my shit kicked in a few times. That’s why Nathan gave me a gem ability so he didn’t need to keep nursing me back to health.”

An annoyed expression crossed Ciana’s face while Sunstorm grinned at her. Nathan pretended he wasn’t eavesdropping on the duo.

But he felt his heart swell at how close Ciana was to Sunstorm, Sen, and Fei. She’d always been a loner in his old world. Jafeila had joined too late to truly become close to many of his original Champions. Sen and Sunstorm had been close, but in a different way to their relationship in this world. That had left Ciana on the outside, as a woman who dedicated her soul to Nathan.

Here, she still dedicated herself to him, and somehow had gone even further. But her friends stood by her.

Speaking of friends, Nathan saw Deverese approaching through the ranks of his soldiers. Seraph accompanied him. Ester chattered with the much older Champion, and a relaxed smile graced Seraph’s face. The bitter smile on Ysabelle’s face suggested she regretted pulling back earlier. The amethyst Champion, Flavie, lagged behind, presumably due to her wounds.

The soldiers parted to let the two Bastions meet. Nathan had made sure to stand clear of the exit so that healers and others moving in and out could move freely. Many of the elites in the Inquisitorial Corps limped toward the exit. As the adrenaline from the battle wore off, their broken bodies and exhausted spirits caught up with them.

Yet few of them appeared willing to leave just yet. A huddle formed around Nathan and Deverese.

Narime frowned as she looked around them and her tails fanned out behind her. After crossing the invisible divide between the two Bastions, Seraph laid a hand on Narime’s shoulder. The two exchanged something inaudible and Narime nodded.

When had the two formed such a close bond? Or perhaps they’d always had it, hidden beneath their bickering.

“Honored Bastion, thank you for your assistance,” Deverese said, voice like gravel. “But I must ask what an Imperial Bastion and the Empress’s fiancé is doing in Trafaumh with an army of Champions.”

A hush fell over the soldiers surrounding them. Confusion reigned and some murmurs quickly filled the silence. More than a few officers traded glances, but Nathan noticed the older ones in the Inquisitorial Corps turning exhausted and battle-weary.

The problem was a subtle one, but obvious to anyone who had spent their life among the pomp and bureaucracy of Trafaumh.

Deverese had called Nathan by the wrong title, and in doing so, greatly insulted him.

There were three main terms for Bastions in Trafaumh: Regal, Revered, and Honored. Deverese was a Regal Bastion, because he served Baudelaire in the Regal Council. It was a position similar to being a Royal Champion or Royal Knight.

But the difference between Revered and Honored Bastions was one of status. Every Bastion served Omria, but the Order of Trafaumh wanted to make their own Bastions sound superior.

An Honored Bastion was the default, used to referr to almost every Bastion that didn’t serve Trafaumh. The Order felt it was the only true religion that served Omria, after all. So Bastions from other countries were “lesser.”

By contrast, a Revered Bastion was one in Omria’s good graces. Despite Trafaumh’s arrogance, they extended this title to Bastions they liked or, due to the current situation, those associated with Fyre.

Nathan was Fyre’s Bastion and publicly associated with her. The Inquisition even recognized Fyre as the true prophet of Omria. The idea that he wasn’t in Omria’s good graces, and therefore deserving of the Revered Bastion title, was absurd. Deverese had always used the title in the past.

Which meant Deverese was picking a fight. One that started with attacking Nathan’s status in the eyes of Trafaumh’s religious values.

Rising to this bait would only make matters worse. While most of Nathan’s Champions failed to notice the issue, both foxes and Seraph shot him concerned looks.

He shrugged. “As I’m sure you’ve noticed, there’s a cascade happening. Multiple, even. If Doumahr is in danger, it’s the role of Bastions to protect it. Especially given the magnitude of this threat.”

“Trafaumh doesn’t need the protective swaddle of an Empire we rejected centuries ago,” Deverese said. “I know that you entered our land without permission. This is tantamount to war, Honored Bastion. You disgrace Omria and—”

“Um, Deverese, you really shouldn’t—” Ester interrupted, her voice sharp even as her body shook.

Given her history, she must be torn between two conflicting sets of orders. Deverese was her Bastion and to be obeyed without question. Yet he was clearly disobeying the principles of the Order.

“We’ll talk later, Ester.” Deverese waved her off.

“No, she’s right,” Ysabelle said. “There is no later when it comes to sins, and while you may be my master and Bastion, you edge close to committing your own. Recall that you speak to ReveredBastion Nathan von Straub as a representative of the Regal Council, and that he acts on behalf of the prophet herself.”

Nathan swore that Deverese’s eyes were going to pop out of his skull. Several seconds passed as the monk took deep breaths and steadied himself.

“You are right. My apologies, Ester.” Deverese ran a hand down his scarred face. “Revered Bastion Nathan, you stand in a military fortress of the Inquisition and are trespassing on territory of the Order of Trafaumh. Given current circumstances, I am wont to grant you latitude for your good deeds, but I know you cannot have permission from the Regal Council.”

“Soreaux’s on the verge of riots, Deverese. The Regal Council is in no position to act,” Nathan replied, intentionally avoiding any use of the correct title. “More than that, your country’s being invaded.”

“By you!”

Whatever murmurs rippled through the soldiers vanished, as if swallowed up by the idiocy of Deverese’s statement.

“Marquise de Rosewald granted me emergency permission to cross the border, given the breakdown in communications and the current state of emergency,” Nathan said coldly. “So no, I’m not invading. Unlike you, I’m aware of what’s happening. Western Trafaumh is in open rebellion as its greedy nobles overthrow the Inquisition. Falmir’s armies have crossed your border en masse.”

“The heathens have what?” a soldier shouted.

“Heretics! They’ll burn for this!” an officer added.

Shouts of fury and shock rang out, while Deverese stared at Nathan dumbfounded. Seconds passed while the monk sorted out his feelings. He slowly straightened up, then looked around. Frustration built up in Deverese’s eyes.

“If a bunch of heretics have acted against Omria’s will, then they shall be suppressed by us as she wills,” he said. “Just as we are crushing demons in her name. Once we are finished here, Falmir shall understand the consequences for their misdeeds.”

“Which is why I’m here. I need your help to suppress the remaining invasions nearby, so that we can—”

“Help? I already told you that we will defend ourselves, as we always have,” Deverese slammed one boot into the ground. He turned while raising his arms into the air, clearly speaking to his soldiers. “Today and last night has been difficult. Demons have beset us in droves. Our will has been tested. But we are Omria’s chosen, and she stands among us once again. It is the Order that has been truly faithful, our rites returned her to us, and it will be by our swords that all heretics will be vanquished, just as we have for centuries past!”

His voice died away in echoes, bouncing off the valley walls of the portal world.

Ordinarily, powerful cheering should greet such an incredibly passionate and jingoistic speech. Deverese had given similar speeches in Nathan’s old world plenty of times. They were crowd pleasers. The soldiers loved to be reminded that they were stalwarts, the true faithful, the last thing that stood between good and evil.

No approval rose in response to Deverese’s speech. Many soldiers nodded grimly. A few clapped half-heartedly for a few moments, before giving up as they read the room.

Not a single member of the Inquisitorial Corps budged. Not out of disloyalty or a lack of zealotry. Nathan knew their type too well. They’d never disobey Deverese or the Inquisition.

The problem, once again, was that the soldiers understood Deverese’s intent. He was casting Nathan as the enemy, or at least rejecting his aid.

Right after they’d all nearly died fighting a Messenger, their commander spurned the Bastion who had turned up with a bunch of trigems and tamed Messengers of his own. A Bastion blessed by Omria herself, in their eyes and those of the Inquisition.

Hence the lack of support from the elites. Their training and loyalty prevented them from acting against Deverese, but their zealotry caused many of them to glare at their commander. He’d stated that Omria stood among them again, but pitted them against the people that the prophet stood among at this moment.

“Deverese, let’s take a break and talk,” Ester said. “I think we should wait until we hear from Inquisitor Baudelaire before making any rash decisions.”

“The wireless is out. We can’t wait,” Deverese said.

Nathan rubbed the bridge of his nose. He pushed down his frustration.

Had his old rival always been this frustrating? Or perhaps Nathan had simply been just as young and stupid, and therefore he hadn’t noticed.

“Your rites returned her to us?” Tarako said abruptly, her voice dripping with sarcasm. “Oh, yes, because the prophet would have been struck powerless had the Order of Trafaumh stated she wasn’t the reincarnation of our goddess. Just like what happened to Princess Charlotte. Oh, wait.”

Deverese snarled at the fox. “Silence, mutt. I won’t be spoken to like that from someone who only holds status due to her gems.”

While Nathan would love to say that his Champions’ expressions went blank with fury, the fact was that his present roster showed their anger more visibly. Only Seraph and Sunstorm kept their emotions hidden. Narime’s tails shot upright as her lips and eyes narrowed. Ciana and Nurevia showed their disgust openly.

Tarako merely cackled. “I’d love to test that when we reach Soreaux. Your mistress will surely recognize me. A word from me would have your head on a chopping block, given how she acted when we met briefly after the fall of Kurai.”

“Enough, Tarako,” Nathan muttered. “I’m trying to avoid picking a fight here.”

Despite how soft his intonation had been, he still knew he’d somehow hit her with mental magic. She appeared to shrug it off again.

“Tarako?” Deverese sneered. “You named one of your Champions after a fictional character? What nonsense is this?”

Unlike his past comments, this brought laughter to at least a few of his soldiers. The idea of a Champion named Tarako was truly absurd, especially as she’d hidden her tails and one of her gems by now. Far from everyone joined in.

Ester and Ysabelle in particular stared at the fox in shock. That told Nathan they’d seen her from afar in the battle and knew she was hiding her true form, even if they hadn’t recognized her for who she truly was. A few other soldiers seemed similarly starstruck.

“Look, Deverese, I don’t give a shit about any of this. There are countless invasions across Trafaumh and an army bearing down on Soreaux. Nobody wants to see a breach and the devastation it will wreak,” Nathan said, trying to cut through the bullshit. “I saw one months ago and don’t wish it even on Falmir. Help me, help Trafaumh. Especially as Rosewald already is.”

“Trafaumh doesn’t need your help. We will save our people and all the world, along with Omria herself, will see it and know our glory,” Deverese said.

“Glory? This isn’t about the glory, you idiot,” Nathan snapped, then paused—but only for a moment, as he didn’t want Deverese to interrupt him. “Would glory have helped you win this battle? Would you have crushed that Messenger and saved your soldiers and people?”

He knew the obvious answer. The fact Deverese hadn’t shut the portal meant he couldn’t, but it would probably still be the excuse.

“I would have fought to the end, ensuring that we did everything we could to stop the demonic Messenger,” Deverese proclaimed. “That is my duty to the Order, and I would have fought to the last to ensure its light shined brightly to my last breath. We can stand on our own, without the Empire’s overbearing aid.”

Utter, unrelenting anger bubbled up in Nathan.

“Deverese!” Ester shouted, taking a step forward as her diamonds glowed.

Deverese abruptly spun backward and slammed into the ground. His jaw and cheek reddened within seconds, even as he automatically reached up to them.

At the same time, a strangled squeal rose from Ester and she collapsed to the ground. Ysabelle caught her fellow Champion, panic in her eyes.

Almost every soldier flinched while reaching for their weapons, but they all held short. Fear filled the eyes of the ordinary ones. The elites waited for an order, aware this may be the end.

Nathan stood stock still, his arm outstretched, hand balled in a fist. He hadn’t felt a thing. It took him far too long to realize he’d knocked Deverese to the ground.

Memories of both of his fathers doing the same thing in the past bubbled up in his mind, and he straightened up. Frustration overwhelmed him as he waved his Champions down.

“You—How dare—” Deverese breathed out.

“Shut up,” Nathan said, aware that he should be trying to disarm the situation but unable to control his runaway anger. “How fucking stupid can you be? You’d rather fight and die against a Messenger than accept help? What about your soldiers? Your Champions? Fucking hell, do you know how many people would die if that Messenger breached because of your pride? All the glory in Doumahr won’t matter if everyone in Trafaumh is dead and the country is a ruined wasteland. As a Bastion, you serve Omria, you serve Doumahr, and you serve its people. How can you say you’ll leave them to die for your pride!”

He knew he’d said something he shouldn’t. Yet, even as that presence reached for him, he felt his own power and fury lash out in his mental world.

Fuck off! I don’t have time for you, he screamed at the presence. Mental magic poured off him, churning through his mental world and wards.

Somehow, the thing slowed. It seemed to weaken, even as it scratched and lashed at his mind. He felt it try to break through, but his anger held it at bay. Deverese needed to be put in his place, and like hell Nathan would let this annoying thing punish him for one minor slip up for doing so.

Then Fyre swept in and brushed away the presence. Concern flooded his mind. Likely because of how utterly furious he must feel.

Worried that she might get the wrong impression, he returned to reality.

Deverese stared up at him in shock. Maybe Nathan’s words had reached him.

“Tell me, Deverese, what do you fight for?” Nathan asked.

The younger Bastion gulped. He nearly glanced backward, but steeled himself. “I fight to protect Trafaumh.”

“Its image, or its people?”

“I fight to protect the country I grew up in. The country whose history I am deeply proud of, and that should never be washed away.”

“And do you think the people of that country would be happy to die for that? Or do you think they’d think of that as being ‘washed away?’”

“You’re putting words in my mouth—”

“Deverese, stop!” Ester shouted. “Just stop. This has gone long enough.”

“Indeed it has.” Ysabelle straightened up. “Whether we fight with Revered Bastion Nathan or not, he fights with the Prophet Fyre, who is recognized by the Inquisition. And if Marquise de Rosewald had granted him entry, then we have absolutely no authority to oppose him. Would it not be best to work with the Marquise, at least?”

Well, shit, Nathan had forgotten that Ysabelle was so adept at politics. She’d done as well as she did for a reason, after all. Wrangling her way into the upper spheres of nobility as a Champion despite being born as a commoner was no mean feat.

He judged her harshly due to her strange behavior, but both she and Ester were highly capable.

“Fine.” Deverese rose. “I will contact Marquise de Rosewald and—”

The corporal that stood guard outside the fort burst into the portal, along with several other soldiers.

“Regal Bastion Deverese, alarm!” the corporal screamed. “The signals are lit! There’s a breach along the mountains to the east. Demons are loose in Trafaumh!”

- - - - -

Commentary: Sometimes it feels kind of cheap to have moments like this, where Nathan is playing foil to an asshole, but Deverese has been building to this since he appeared. It's been a couple of books coming, unlike Tharban and Theus who acted like this from the very start.

Anyway, events keep rolling on, as I suggested they would.

As a sidenote, there's only a few chapters left before the end of Act 2, at which point I'll be posting the final chapters multiple per day (as I usually do, so there's not a huge gap before release). I didn't do this with Mob, because it's a patreon serial, but the final chapters will be Messenger only (as you can just read the final book a few days later to get the full version).