Chapter 105 - Stand Together or Not At All

Notes : Chapter 404 of The Fallen World has been written and added to the queue !

Apologies for the late chapter upload. I had a ping warning about it on discord. I...well, I was vague about it on discord (though I did ask everyone to wish me good luck), but I did my coming out to my parents, with the help of my big brother and his wife. It was extremely stressful and I was terrified things would end badly, but it went well !

Anyway, I hope you'll enjoy this chapter ! I had a lot of fun writing it, I've been told that I've still got it for battle chapters, and I hope you guys will agree.

Chapter 105

Starborn Mountains, Starfire Valley

Starfire Pass

The Hand had to stop themselves from hitting the deck as the shells whistled overhead, and their bodyguards only avoided tackling them down thanks to some urgent orders not to.

Sarcher disliked the legions' battle language. Thought it was stupidity to rely on it, and preferred to work through officers and subordinates. But they couldn't deny it had its uses.

WHAM

The ground erupted. Not in twin geysers, but a single one. Had the new gun not fired?

It had an effect. Though it didn't hit one of the trenches head on, it hit close enough. Stone chips flew like shrapnel, as the wall of a trench flew apart under the impact, scything down zombies.

There was the briefest of pauses.

Then, more trumpets sounded.

Zombies rose from the trenchwork like a rising tide of meat, and they howled as they began to charge. Or at least as close as they could come to.

Ghouls darted between the slower undead, sometimes knocking a few down in their rush to pull ahead of the pack and come to contact.

The Hand looked at the...thing by their side.

Damn it. She actually looked the part. Had they encountered an officer like that, they would have nodded in appreciation. Calm and cool before combat, yet keen and aware.

...She was the kind of people the Emperor would have made into a Dominion.

That realization shook them. Deeply.

"If you could focus on the ghouls, I would appreciate it. Though, fair warning, they are fast and hard to kill."

The abomination looked at them like she was going to ask a question, then nodded.

Somehow, they were able to communicate with the artillery. The Hand was pretty sure the devices on top of the tower at the outpost were observing her, and she had a sign language of some kind.

Clever. it was kind of like a semaphore. Rapid battlefield communications, so long as the weather remained clear. Perhaps she could even chain towers together for long range communications.

"I'll do so. Anything I should know?"

"They regenerate. If they're wounded, they'll just get back up."

"Alright. I can't guarantee direct hits."

"Your artillery is digging craters into solid rock. You don't need a direct hit."

She was probably smiling, though the illusion remained impassive.

It was getting harder and harder to think of this thing as some kind of unfeeling automata. She'd kissed a woman in front of the Hand by the throne! She had a face, lips, everything. Not just a block of metal.

What the hell was she?

"A fair point. And the shockwave should wound a fair few. Even if they don't go down, dispersing them is a worthy endeavor." The abomation froze. "Uh...Sarcher?"

"Hand Sarcher, Hand of Dominion of-"

"They're using illusions. The zombies just accelerated."

The Hand looked at the battlefield.

WHAM

The shell landed in the middle of the ghouls. A handful were obliterated, reduced to a fine red mist even they couldn't regenerate from, but most were simply thrown around, writhing on the ground as flesh and bone knitted themselves back together, hopping back onto their feet and rushing forward.

The Hand gazed at the zombies. They were still lumbering forward. But there were inconsistencies. Some of them were colliding with each other, and phasing through.

Damn it.

Well, it shouldn't be too much of a surprise. And it explained the presence of the mages.

"Let's not advertise our knowledge of that. Focus on the ghouls for now. Whittle them down a bit more. Then fire on the zombies. Can you see the mages?"

Sarcher didn't like to admit it, but their greatest weakness was their lack of proficiency in divination. They had never gotten the 'feel' for it. Couldn't make head or tails of the impressions given by the spells. They were a little better with the art of a Magister, but not by much.

"Not yet." The abomination leaned forward slightly, their...fellow leader? Bodyguard? Calling the former legionnaire traitor, even in the sanctity of their own mind probably wasn't wise, in case something sipped out. Their Risen moved from behind the Hand, and by her side. Preparing to catch her if she pitched over the side?

No. Trying to hold her back if she jumped down.

The Hand had to hold back a smile. They were reminded of the legate, for a brief second.

WHAM

Another shell landed in the ghouls, this time on their right flank. Several were reduced to little more than greasy stains, and a few were pelted with so many fragments of rocks they twitched and laid still.

The rest were getting into arrow range however, their muscles constantly tearing and regenerating from their mad dash.

The Hand gestured, and the archers drew their bows.

"You may retarget your artillery." Said Sarcher, and a second later the air was filled with the twang of bows and the whistling of arrows.

About two thirds of the ghouls remained. But true to the abomination's prediction, they were widely dispersed.

The few remaining at the helm, mostly on the left flank, were reduced to pincushions, and even their regeneration had its limts as they collapsed in a twitching heap.

"Roger that. You got them?"

"A few will make it to the wall. But yes. I 'have' them. Just make sure your artillery shots land on the actual zombies." The Hand closed their mouth. Damn it, they hadn't talked to an equal in so long they were starting to get snippy, just like with the legate.

...When had they started to think of the abomination as an equal?

"I will, don't worry."

The Hand didn't react as the rebel Risen started moving to cover the abomination. Their bodyguards had just arrived, and were rushing into place around them.

They had been delayed so long because of the need to make sure the illusion making it seem like the Hand was in their tent was shut down properly. And brought some...extra equipment.

Just in case.

WHAM

Visually, it almost looked like reality wavered, and then shattered as the shell hit. A geyser of flickering flesh and bone erupted, until the illusion collapsed.

Ranks of zombies appeared, rushing forward with speed the Hand didn't know they were capable of, as their more leisurely paced counterparts behind flickered and vanished.

There was a gaping hole in the formation, where the shell had hit and pulverized part of it, but it continued rushing forward unabashed. The zombies that stumbled from the shockwave were simply reduced to a pulp under the feet of their brethren, as they rushed forward.

Then the Hand snapped back to a much more immediate problem as the ghouls started to reach the wall.

Given how dispersed they were, they had been easy prey for the archers and the remaining slingers. Corpses littered the old first and second defensive lines.

But they required such a staggering amount of concentrated fire that some made it through, usually sporting a fair few arrow shafts and craters from sling bullets.

They howled, and threw themselves up the wall, scaling it by digging their deformed claws into it.

The legionnaires on top responded with a most straightforward fashion, dropping stones down onto the attackers.

Some of the ghouls dodged the projectiles, but most simply earned an express ticket down, being reduced to a steaming pulp in short order as more projectiles followed the first.

One of the lucky ones hopped up onto the parapet mere meters away, and locked eyes with the Hand.

Oh yeah. Those things were absolutely instructed to take them out first.

Then an almost comical expression of confusion appeared onto the ghoul's face, as it collapsed, the handle of a dagger protruding from between its eyes, the Hand's bodyguards falling onto of it and hacking it to pieces.

Sarcher looked at the rebel skeleton, who simply fetched another dagger from their belt. Why weren't they using their firearm?

"I want that one back." Casually said the former legionnaire.

"You'll get it." The Hand looked back at the advancing infantry, and addressed the abomination. "If they're going to do something about your artillery, it'll be during this next volley."

"I'll keep an eye out."

The shell whistled overhead.

There was a crackle of energy, and a bolt of lightning rose into the sky.

The shell exploded, high in the air. But not quite high enough, and zombies scattered around, thrown about by the shockwave.

"I thought you were going to counter their magic?" Said the abomination, and the Hand plucked a few crystals from their pouch.

"I am. I thought you were going to fully participate, and not hold back your second howitzer?"

The abomination didn't even seem phased.

"Don't worry. It'll start to sing."

The Hand nodded, and held out the crystals.

Power coursed through their arm, the one still flesh, and exited through the skeletal one.

A globe of acid erupted from their palm, and flew through the air. Another lightning bolt came to meet it, from another location.

The second mage.

Unfortunately for them, lightning was not a very good way to stop a ball of acid. It did disperse it...into a rain of equally lethal droplets, sprinkling the area.

The arcane acid hissed and bubbled as it melted through flesh, and in one spot, bones, the illusion collapsing as the mage writhed under the attack.

The Hand braced for the counter attack, and-

A shell whistled overhead, and lightning spoke from the second mage.

This time it exploded further up, barely having any effect.

Then another one whistled through the air, a second later.

And a new geyser of offal and bone erupted. And then that geyser came alive, flames roaring through as the mage and their crystals were destroyed, releasing the mana into air.

The aberration was short lived. But it didn't need to be very long. The entire right flank of the zombie tide caught fire.

And no one sought to extinguish it.

"They're keeping the third mage hidden of the final assault." Warned the Hand, and the abomination nodded.

"What do you think, something to try to bring the wall down?"

The Hand tilted their head, then shook it.

"No. They can do that through more conventional means. I'm going to guess they'll come for me."

"I'll try to keep you alive. Errr, unalive?"

"Animate." Corrected the Hand. "And I thought you'd rather see me fall."

"Hey, we need you, as you so kindly outlined."

"Are you accepting my offer?"

"The Empire seems to be undergoing some trouble we are involving ourselves in. It seems that joining it while it is undergoing significant internal strife is not advisable, so we will regrettably have to decline."

Wow. Even the legate would have been proud of that one.

"Of course."

WHAM WHAM

This time another pair of shells landed. Twin geysers exploded, and the formation of zombies began to look more threadbare by the second, instead devolving into a vague horde, trying to clamber over the craters and bodies of the others.

The Hand fetched more crystals from their pouch, and plucked a totem from their belt.

They didn't have to wait long. The abomination's arm snapped up.

"There!" She called out.

Sarcher looked...and the Nineteenth mage realized they were made.

There was a burst of power, and the illusion of the tottering zombie collapsed, revealing a skeleton wrapped in armored robes, sailing through the air like a bullet.

Sarcher triggered the totem, and a wall of force appeared in the path of the mage. But a burst of their own magic punched a hole through, allowing them to continue unimpeded.

The mage went straight for the wall, a glittering blade in hand, clearly intended to break through the Hand's wards.

Unfortunately, these kind of weapons usually precluded using wards of your own. And the assassin screeched as bullets screamed through the air, denting armor plates and lucky shots shattering bones.

The rebel skeleton was using their weapon at last.

The assassin landed lithely on the crenellations.

Only to promptly explode, as a fireball impacted their head square on.

The Hand quickly threw up a barrier, deflecting the wave of heat and flames, and stared at the abomination, who smiled, putting her remaining mana crystals back into some kind of armored compartment.

"I'd rather keep my primary weapon secret from them a bit longer, if at all possible."

The Hand continued staring, then slowly nodded.

Of course. And doing that 'just happened' to show the other side of their negotiations that she had access to magic, and enough expertise to throw combat spells at a moment's notice.

If nothing else, that would throw the Nineteenth for a loop again. Howitzers and extra mages? They'd have to restrategize.

On the Hand's side...

Well, the calculus had changed again.

Just what was below that mountain? And what the hell had the rebels allied themselves with?