Alchimia Rex (104 & 105)

[BOOK 1][BOOK 2 START][PREVIOUS][NEXT]

AN: Joker voice "And here... we... go..."

PS-AN: With the upcoming writeathon right around the corner, and me wanting to submit a spanking new story (while also not wanting to burn myself out), throughout the month of November chapters will come one per week rather than two (So every chapter starting at 108 and moving until the end of November will come out one at a time).

On the flip-side, I will be throwing the majority of my grind towards "Aetherfall" until the Writeathon comes to an end (which, basing myself on previous events, should be roughly at the end of November).

All the fingers crossed!

--

[104] [Haste]

Rick hadn't known exactly how flawed their original plan was until now.

The tribe had geared itself with the purpose of fighting the Golden Elves. They'd known from the start that they could shoot arrows through trees, which in and of itself would be a massive advantage in a forest. Anyone else would be severely limited in how far they could attack anything.

Thus, their intended strategy had been a simple one: prepare shields to block the attacks and rush the shooters. Eva had confirmed it was a sound strategy. There were ways their foes could make things harder, such as how difficult it could be to track a Golden Elf down, but every book Eva had read on the subject confirmed they'd taken proper precautions.

And despite all their preparations, Monica's fear at the prospect of Rick entering the forest had only grown. From what Rick understood, she'd encountered the Golden Elves at some vague point in her past while feral. Seeing how she'd taken months free of the feral curse to half-remember the time she'd spent pregnant…

She'd intuited the crucial piece of the puzzle, the one thing they'd missed.

One they were seeing now in full display, forced into defensive positions as death rained from above onto any that slipped. It was one thing if the shooter stood a dozen meters off the ground; such a distance was spear-throwing distance for any Orc. It was another when the Golden Elves attacked them from at least a hundred meters overhead.

The titan-trees turned what could have been an arduous and risky fight into a battle where their opponents could not fear retaliation.

It was the damn Seraph situation all over again.

"We need to attack."

The only way forward was to turn the tables, to put the Golden Elves on the defensive. Rick didn't have any means to do that; their best hope for an even battle would be to get the tribe up to the branches that were thick enough to hold houses on them. But there was no way they'd be allowed to climb the tree; their enemy would no doubt focus fire and kill them while making their way up.

Their best hope were Monica, Captain Deneva, and perhaps Embla as well. None of the three could fly, but Monica's capability to straight-up use trees as surfaces to jump off of might as well mean she had wings inside this forest. Captain Deneva likely had a similar level of skill, strength, and agility, with the only unknown being Embla.

But Monica's bond needed to stop filling her with panic, and Captain Deneva was likely crucial as well.

"I need you to trust me."

He looked up to her, even as she held him tight. She'd tried to escape, and it hadn't worked out. Whatever goals the Golden Elves had in mind, it involved guaranteeing no one made it out. Or at least the three of them.

Looking down at him with those sapphire blue eyes, breath fast and short, every strand of fur on her body standing on edge, every muscle tense. She was a statue of barely contained panic, instincts screaming out to wrap herself around Rick and bolt out of there. Anything less would ensure his death at the hands of their unseen attackers.

"You tried to run; it didn't work. We're cornered," Rick squeezed her, pulling Dia close as well. "We have to fight."

It was unfair of him to ask it of her, to push her into this hole where there was only one escape.

"Trust in me," he told her, as if he didn't feel like he was the cause of them being in this situation to begin with. "Take us to the others."

"Ok," Monica spoke with a mix of defeat and desperation. "Ok," she said again, this time with a slight edge of hope. Not convinced, not certain, but better than outright panicked.

Who would've thought that all it would take was her running out of escape options?

This whole thing hinged on a plan Rick wasn't sure would work, one that placed Monica in way too much danger, that relied on assumptions he couldn't be sure of. This was all to say that the sliver of a chance relied on convincing the three most powerful maidens available that he knew what he was doing.

Or at least that they weren't doomed.

Monica's attention turned away from the deeper forest and toward the tribe, far off, closer to the palace. She focused; the air around her vibrating with darkened power. Rick felt something else in the air, but he noticed an instant too late as they'd already emerged at their destination.

Surrounded by Orcs, each of them armed with spears and shields, Urtha and Sheel standing among them. They'd hunkered down smack in the middle of the clearing, away from the houses, creating a canopy of metal. It was clear none of them trusted the fake safety of the tree-houses, not when their attackers could make their arrows phase through the outer wall with impunity.

For a moment, nothing seemed to happen. Yet that fake sense of calmness shattered when the assault came back renewed. The spear-sized arrows stopped trying to merely snipe anything that got out of cover and started to rain down on the larger group of Orcs, particularly those encumbered with protecting humans or weaker maidens.

The shields held, but Rick had the distinct impression it was a waiting game.

"Father!?" Urtha's voice came out with a snap, freezing mid-step as she met Monica's fierce gaze.

"We're not out of the woods yet," he warned them. They knew Monica was the worse for wear due to the bond, but Urtha's growing tension was proof she was not the only one. This wasn't a situation they could sustain. "We need Deneva as well."

The order got him severe nods; there were no questions to be had in that regard.

"Barry is causing a rampage," Eva rushed to speak, making her presence known as she emerged from the shadows. The maiden looked several shades paler, which was an odd thing, seeing how her skin was typically as white as porcelain.

She was also hurt; there were several holes and tears in her clothes, the flesh underneath sporting the tender rosy color of something freshly regenerated. The maiden was weakened, panting a little, and looking at the others with slightly bewildered eyes.

"You first."

"Something's affecting the human Embla is bonded to, and it's reaching out through the bond." Swallowing hard, the Vampire's ruby eyes lingered on Rick's throat before a growl from Monica hastily turned her attention downward. "We saw the Golden Elves shoot a flower through the palace's wall. It sounds like something the Pinielf would use to trigger the parasitic plant."

"You think Barry was infected?" Rick frowned.

"That's... unlikely," Dia quickly stepped forward. "The plant needs elemental energy to attune itself to the host. Someone as energy-deprived as Rick would be hard for it to dig into, not without outside help at least."

The idea felt sound but also needlessly complicated. "If enough infected maidens are pushed into a berserk state, Barry would be in a hard place to block it all out," Rick commented, meeting the looks from the others and shrugging. "At least that's what I'd imagine it to be like if it's similar to our bonds."

"I'd imagine someone or something is ensuring Barry can't be knocked out," Eva slowly nodded, her gaze flickering at Rick again. "And I doubt Dark Elves could easily dispel such an effect, seeing how it's physical."

"Stop looking at the Father like a slab of meat and drink," Urtha butted into the conversation, shoving her wrist in the Vampire's face and turning to look at him. The Orc didn't even flinch as the pale maiden bit down and greedily slurped. "Is there a way forward?"

Rick chewed the inside of his cheek at the question; something gnawed at him as he thought. "Eva, you mentioned Dark Elves can dispel stuff. Could they disrupt those goddamned arrows?"

The Vampire nodded a little. "The arrows are not made of any energy, so a direct attack is no less dangerous, but..." Speaking between slurps, her eyes slowly widened. With one last gulp, she licked her lips and pulled away from Urtha's offered limb. "It should be possible to disrupt the phasing properties. They wouldn't be able to shoot from behind cover or into the tree houses."

It was useful, incredibly useful; the Dark Elves could present them with the possibility of safety for the weaker members. The tribe couldn't afford splitting off, not if they wanted to stand a chance against their attackers. There was one gigantic problem, however: the knights weren't planning on taking prisoners.

A quick glance confirmed the knights had long since penetrated the palace. Whatever was going on inside, he could vaguely sense that the Golden Elves were actively targeting things that were happening inside as much as they were the people outside.

Rick tried to imagine the situation within, with frenzied maidens combined with three-meter-long arrows just randomly shooting through the walls. It had to be a hellhole by every measure, and one he couldn't even fathom how the knights were handling. Had Captain Deneva ordered all maidens under her to fight through the place while holding their shields against the walls?

"We need to stop the knights from slaughtering everyone in there. Shit," he sighed. "With a basic point of safety, we could begin a counter-attack. Hopefully find a way to get the tribe up into the higher branches," he glanced at Eva. "Thoughts on Deneva?"

"Thoughts!?" She startled. "They're in a battle; if I showed up, they'd cut me down."

"On how to stop them," he replied with a deadpan.

"Their mission is the retrieval of Barry and May. She is pragmatic; she didn't kill Eva on sight," Dia interrupted.

Eva quickly nodded. “If she has no effective way to fight the Golden Elves, then I’d imagine she is seeking to quickly get Barry and retreat.” She eyed Rick. “She’d likely also want to kill as many wildlings as possible, ensuring that when they return, they can more easily set a foothold.”

“It must be nice being able to just leave and come back with a different loadout to be better prepared to handle the bullshit,” Rick grit his teeth, glancing at each of them in turn. For once, he felt like there was something they could do, that there was a path forward. “I need you to get Barry first. Call it a gut feeling, but Deneva didn’t strike me as the sort who’d tolerate returning empty-handed.”

When he said this, Eva flinched.

All eyes turned to the vampire.

“Embla is inside the palace as well… or at least I’m mostly sure she is,” She pointed at the tears in her clothes. “I was a bit too distracted, trying to stay alive, but I’m mostly certain she managed to escape. The only place she’d go would be to get Barry.”

Rick ground his teeth. “Awesome,” he growled. “If she gets to him first, she’ll make a run for it. Fuck.”

This was a complete mess, but one they needed to tackle. His focus turned to Monica again. “You’re our best bet to get Barry out before anyone else.” He knew she didn’t like this; her eyes had remained laser-focused on him every instant of the conversation, and Rick got the impression she’d barely paid attention to anything else.

Monica frowned, the denial already clear in her eyes.

Yet before a single word was spoken, her head snapped upwards. “DANGER!”

She hadn’t even finished the word when a barrage began to rain down upon them. The shields the orcs held up rang like bells as dozens of spear-sized arrows began to strike each and every single shield. Rick’s ears were ringing; the air became thick with so much power his skin was tingling.

“SOMETHING IS—”

Whatever Eva was about to say was cut off as figures appeared between their ranks. At least twelve in number, each of them dressed from head to toe in bark-like armor, covering every inch of their bodies and hiding even their faces.

The maidens, for that was the only thing they could be, moved with perfect synchronicity; everything unfolded as if in slow motion. Four of them lunged at Rick, the other eight at either Monica or the space between her and the human. The feline reacted with ferocious speed, thrusting out her claw to get to him first.

One of the faceless maidens took the blow with her body. Three others dug their knives into Monica’s forearms, preventing her from moving an inch closer. Voices rang out; Eva, Dia, and Urtha reacted half a second later, throwing themselves at the attackers.

Where several of the masked maidens were needed to keep Monica back, only one of them was needed to shove Eva and Dia out of the way, while the third confronted Urtha directly.

A dagger found itself pressed against Rick’s throat.

And for half a heartbeat, every maiden froze.

For a split second, the world spun around Rick in a whirlpool of gray energy, strands of power connecting every one of the masked maidens with the one holding him in place.

The next, he was gone.

--

Captain Deneva: Swordmistress and the right-hand maiden of Earl Vittchat. She is known for her strict discipline and open contempt towards cruelty. As a Swordmistress, she can learn techniques from a blade if the weapon was wielded by other maidens before her. Her second ability allows her to summon or dismiss weapons on demand.

Sheel: A Hobgoblin, eldest maiden of the tribe. She is one of Urtha’s closest friends and advisors. Her powers lean into creating fire, but her specialty is in enchanting wood so that it gains explosive properties.

The Prisoner (Embla): A Malumari, daughter of the Warlock Dagmar. She was the unofficial strong-arm of the rebel group, and its most powerful asset on the field. Her specialty lies in her physical capabilities combined with her power to disrupt an enemy’s elemental energy.

--

[105] [Sacrifice (C8)]

“The target is moving. They are regrouping.”

The words came not through spoken language. It was a silent language, one built out of gestures and subtle shifts in elemental energy. The method of communication had been created seven hundred years ago, polished and perfected during the growth and rule of the Green Empire.

Every one of them had been exemplary in their service, over a hundred years as the elite of the elites. As Guardians, their task had been to ensure that the Empress and all the Queens loyal to her remained safe. The Guardians had once been powerful enough that, were they to gather into a singular unit, they could have been enough to conquer a nation.

Now they were barely a whisper.

Not even a sliver of their original numbers remained; even their gear was now something that would have made foot-soldiers scoff at it. It had been a slow fall through degradation, seven hundred years of the mightiest and most advanced enchantments wearing down.

Seven hundred years watching their Empress slumber, waiting for the day she would rise, silently catching glimpses of their glory erased bit by bit.

C8 had been among the few remaining Guardians who had served at the side of the Empress from the very start. She had been made specifically to keep her safe, and it had been a duty she had carried out since her very first steps.

Seven hundred years she had waited for the moment her charge would be awakened.

The others looked at her, none speaking a word, but everyone fully aware that the question now lingered over their heads. Was this it? Would this be when the Empress finally would open her eyes? It was not an insignificant question either, because there was a choice that needed to be made.

Under the suggestions of the researcher, they had kept one of their numbers observing the situation within the ruins of the winter palace. The group, made up mostly of Dark Elves, had holed up and triggered the safety mechanisms, while the armored slaves showed up to attempt to break inside.

It was a simple enough circumstance. The armored slaves had enough firepower to eventually break through and slaughter the Dark Elves.

Then the human came, with a Malumari in tow, one who had been a leader to the Dark Elves. At first, they had thought he would either gain control over the slaves or attack them, but instead he appeared to strike a deal of some sort.

With the Malumari a clear, willing prisoner, it could mean that the Dark Elves might join the human’s side.

Normally, the Guardians wouldn’t have cared how this unfolded; it was not their mission. But they now needed that human to use him as a bargaining chip against the Succubus, to move everything a step closer to the awakening of the Empress.

If the gathered forces joined up rather than fought, it would prove detrimental.

At C8’s command, they stepped in, triggering one of the ploys the researcher had set up before departing for the sacred grove. From there, it became a game of whittling them down, seeking an opportunity for an easy extraction of their target.

It would have been easy if the Sabertooth slave hadn’t held the target like a strangler fig.

The longer things went, the clearer it became that they would not be able to fulfill their objective easily. The Sabertooth would eventually find a gap and get the human outside their hunting range. C8 understood that they wouldn’t be able to deal with the slave safely; the engagement report from D7 had placed the Sabertooth as a reasonable threat, being particularly skilled in sensing danger.

A feralborn through and through. Obsessive, impulsive, and too dangerous to get close, too close to the target to eradicate without risking the life of the human.

It left them with two options.

Either they continued whittling down the opponents until they could be engaged directly, or they would have to engage the feralborn up close.

C8 knew how capable each and every one of them was. Hundreds of years of experience. The seven hundred years had not been spent idly; not one of them had slacked in their training.

She knew there was no way to engage the feral without someone dying.

Would their sacrifice be worth it? Would the hundreds of years, erased, be worth it?

Did C8 trust that the researcher was on the right track to awaken the Empress?

Closing her eyes, she laid down her bow on the bark road, carefully summoning moss to hide it so that another might pick it up if she didn’t return. She raised her hand to give the signal; nothing else needed to be said.

They prepared the spells as their companions prepared their shots.

The first spell was a two-part teleportation jump, with a keyed energy input so that it could be fed power through outside means. The weaving was complex, meant to play as a spell within a ritual that would collapse into the form of the second teleportation.

At its core, it was an in-and-out.

C8 hated the thing.

With her mask in place, she gazed at the target. C8's aura perception pierced through the tree, the branches, and even a little into the soil underneath. The world was a sea of ever-shifting colors. Their target was a pureblooded human, though, devoid of such energies, cut off from what empowered every maiden. It was easier to spot him through the void he occupied when surrounded by so many maidens.

A signal was given out; the countdown began.

Five.

She drew her blade and chose her exact infil location.

Four.

She focused on the target. The other Guardians began to rain down their attacks, uncaring of how many arrows they had left as they poured every single shot with the intent to punch through and kill everything except the human.

Three.

She pulled on the first spell, collapsing it. The world around her pulled in a field of grays, emerging surrounded by poorly-disciplined Orcs, right next to the target. The other Guardians were there with her, each of them aware of their task. Each of them jumped, pooling their power in preparation for the second phase.

Two.

C8, J3, and F3 were the designated carriers. F3 was closer to the Vampire, and C8 was faster. She could feel the energy from the others pouring into her now that it was clear she would make it to the target first. Her hand reached out, securing her grip as the knife rose to meet his throat.

One.

Four maidens twitched and reacted faster than the rest, clearly, they were the only ones bonded to the human. They twitched as the blade touched flesh; C8 stopped just shy of drawing blood. L9 had pinned the Sabertooth's arm, joined by three others.

The Sabertooth flared out with directed power straight at C8. Was it an instinctual attempt to disrupt the spell? But it was too late.

Zero.

A blast of energy coursed through the ritual, collapsing it. C8 could feel the not-yet-dispersed energy of the first teleportation lashing out, tearing at her insides right as she jumped alongside the target.

The instant they emerged on the other side, she twisted the human face down against the bark, knee on his back to keep him pinned. She ignored the searing pain within her, reaching for her bow, nocking an arrow, and shooting down to join the barrage.

After she'd made the jump, the others had empowered J3; her spell was the next to finish, taking half a second longer than C8's own return. She joined in the barrage.

Next came F3, her armor crushed in several spots, an arm hanging limply at her side. Her inability to shoot meant she was now on prisoner-transport duty and approached C8's location.

The barrage continued, C8 gritting her teeth as she could see the fight unfold. No more jumps occurred; the Sabertooth had figured out how to shatter the rituals. The nine remaining Guardians had switched to casting normal teleportation spells, trying to buy time.

If the barrage relented even an instant, the Orcs surrounding their brethren would be able to lower their shields, turn around, and crush the remaining Guardians. The only Orc not holding a shield was also troublesome but far more encumbered by the tight quarters.

The swirling elemental energy was becoming thick with dark power; the Sabertooth lashing out with brutality was forced to hold back to avoid disrupting the canopy of shields. The Guardians could not keep up with her speed and agility but could cover for one another. Whenever one was focused on by the Sabertooth, the rest would attack at openings to prevent her from committing.

Even then, only four others managed to escape, each more injured than the last.

The five remaining Guardians were not given the time to finish their spells. They'd be able to hold out, fight to the last minute, but escape was no longer possible for them.

Swallowing blood, C8 gave the silent command.

Neither she nor F3 were in condition to use the tree waylines; their energy and insides torn from the intense strain of a double teleportation. They were forced to use silk wire and hooks to swing their way forward. This was also why eight other Guardians accompanied them, ensuring a secure perimeter and overwatch.

The rest of their forces would begin pulling away, disengaging in groups of five. They already expected that Sabertooth would give chase, so they would spread out to guarantee a moving kill-corridor leading up to the prisoner. If the feralborn slave chased, they would ensure her death would be as brutal as that of their sisters.

C8’s gaze fell on the human, lips curling.

They'd paid four thousand years of experience for acquiring a human who wasn’t even halfway to a century.

If the researcher could not awaken the Empress, then C8 herself would make sure to add to the tally. She did not need to ask the others to know that it was a shared sentiment.

Five hours later, F3 hit her limit, vomiting blood as she collapsed atop a branch. The maiden put down the bound human and hastily began weaving a spell to stabilize herself. Five of their escorts spread out to form a perimeter; the other three and C8 converged to start emergency healing on the two heavily injured maidens.

“What’s your name?”

The human spoke, breaking the silence; his gaze firmly placed on C8.

She ignored the question, focused on the minor healing spell woven alongside that of another, trying to get her guts in proper order.

“I take it I’m alive because you need to use me to coerce Kiara into something… the Succubus.” His gaze wandered off to the forest floor below.

C8’s eyes narrowed underneath the mask; she glanced at the edge of the branch they were currently on and the drop. “You won’t make it in time to the bottom. The same goes if you choose to bite your tongue.”

The human scoffed. “If there’s anyone who looks suicidal here, it's you lot.” His gaze lingered on C8 before turning away. “How many would you leave to die if it means getting me to that crazy Pinielf?”

“Every one of us would lay their life down if it means the Empress will walk this world again,” F3 hissed, clutching her arm as steam rose from the open wound.

“She’s important to you, huh.”

They were simple words, directed not at F3 but at C8, eyes looking upon the blank bark of her mask as if he could peer directly through it. It happened quickly; the emotional stir within her abruptly lashed out like a vine hastily reaching for a branch. The bond latched into place, and C8 twitched as she could suddenly sense he was looking upon the depths of her emotions.

“Bonded.”

C8’s proclamation spurred the others into action, F3 being the first to place her hand against the human’s face, unleashing a wave of power that instantly knocked him out. “That was fast,” F3 muttered as the human slumped against the bark.

C8 didn’t answer, slowly casting the bond-break spell. Slowly it eroded away; C8 herself not fighting its effects while the human was now entirely unable to stop their link from crumbling apart.

After half an hour, the feral curse began to gnaw at the edges of her consciousness once more. “Perhaps the researcher is not as insane as we thought her to be,” she finally proclaimed, staring at their human prisoner.

“If there’s one thing I’d prefer, it's to never see a collar again,” F3 spat on the moss. “Can't wait until we can stop kidnapping and sharing some lowborn every handful of decades.”

“For the good old days,” C8 spoke, her voice carrying no humor, only determination.

--

Golden Elf: Highly capable combatants, the power they’re most known for is being able to make their arrows travel straight through a tree unhindered.

Sivent: Formerly a High Elf and a researcher of the Green Empire, specialized in plant-flesh melding under the command of the Emerald Empress. She was awakened by Barry, and promptly succeeded in ascending into a Pinielf.

[BOOK 1][BOOK 2 START][PREVIOUS][NEXT]