The Forsaken Hero

Chapter 1105: Into the Fray

"We can’t kill him," I decided, looking down at Ronin’s limp body.

"Are you certain? Keeping him alive is incredibly risky, with nothing to gain," Bethiv asked, a hint of displeasure in his voice.

"Yes," I said, growing more sure of myself with every word. "Commander, please see him to Haven. I can’t believe the remnants wouldn’t have a way to restrain him there. Worse case, they give him to Emlica, who can study his heroic soul to her heart’s content."

For some reason, everyone shifted, giving me strange looks.

Bethiv cleared his throat. "And here I thought you were being merciful."

I started to smile, but it froze when no one else laughed. That had been a joke, hadn’t it?

"It’s not like that, "I said, clasping my hands together, feeling a little self-conscious. "He won’t be a threat there, and we’ll have the chance to learn everything he knows. My visions have shown that the heroes were part of almost every major war council. At the very least, he’ll know about the other heroes and their capabilities."

"I don’t like it, and still advise you to take care of this problem now, but I see your point," he murmured, rubbing his chin. "Very well. We’ll take him prisoner, and pray the remnants can cripple his mana or something. I’ll set some demons on interrogating him once he awakens. Turns out, some of them have thousands of years of experience getting one to talk."

I nodded, deciding not to think too much about it. After the last time Fyren and Luke had captured an enemy, I’d made peace with that aspect of war. But that didn’t mean I had to like it.

As the soldiers dragged him away, I returned my gaze to the battle far below. The mountains burned in the night. Miles of forest, scrub, and towns burned in the blaze set alight by the clash between R’lissea and Ronin. The towers and walls of Amberhold itself sagged despite their magical enhancements. Demons flew unchallenged over the sky, dropping atop soldiers and fleeing survivors, striking into the heart of the city.

But the real battle raged without the walls. Tens of thousands of demons and soldiers threw themselves into desperate conflict. Explosions rang up and down the battle lines. There was no clear advantage for either side, just death and destruction on a scale I hadn’t seen before. Neither demon nor human had any consideration for the casualties. There was no retreat or quarter, no honor or strategy.

between us and the war, Korra and Gayron still fought in the backlines of the city. The distance reduced them to flashes of blue and red magic, making it difficult to tell how things were going. But it was obvious they were hard-pressed. Several battalions had been diverted from Amberhold against them, forcing them on the back foot. The occasional flash of a mana cannon, little more than a pop in my ears, meant they hadn’t managed to complete their mission yet.

"We’ve secured the area," Bethiv said, coming up beside me.

"Were there any survivors?"

He shook his head, and I let out a sigh.

"Prepare to move," I said, resummoning my staff. "We’re going to help Korra."

He saluted and began barking orders. Fatesworn began to muster, numbering three hundred strong. They were the elite of demons and mortals, the weakest among them fifth level. Every one of them possessed a flying art of some kind, filling the air with shimmering arts. I settled for riding Fable, content to drop down the cliffs and ridges on foot.

It took only two minutes to reach the edge of the mountains, by which time we had our first scouting report. Bethiv flew alongside me, coordinating with the rangers through Jessia’s Whispering Winds ability.

"There are six battery positions scattered around the city. The hero and apostle managed to take out three of them, but are bogged down just beneath the fourth," he said.

I frowned, easily spotting exactly what he was talking about. The mana cannons were concentrated in heavily fortified outposts, numbering a dozen at each location. Constant streams of light erupted from their towers, raining into the battling armies below. Their effect on the battle was visible even to one as inexperienced as I. Any clump of demons that got in range was instantly obliterated, keeping the horde from closing in on the city or the rear flanks of the Enusian army. It guaranteed their mages and archers safety, allowing them to inflict maximum damage on the demons.

Korra and Gayron were trapped in a steep valley, surrounded by hundreds of soldiers. Most of their enemies held a perimeter, firing arrows and spells at the two, while a small squad fought them directly.

"What’s happening? Why aren’t they just breaking through?" I asked.

"They seem to be fighting a hero, as well as several powerful elites."

"Verity." I wasn’t asking. The instant he’d said that, I’d recognized her power emanating from below. "Bethiv, take your soldiers and take out those mana cannons. Luke needs us to clear the way."

"And you, my Lady?"

I gripped my staff a little tighter. He nodded, reading my face.

"Would you grant us reinforcements?"

I glanced around us at the gathered Fatesworn. After a moment’s thought, I cast a Grand Nexus, binding our souls together and letting the power of my ability flow through them.

"Call when you’re in position. I’ll open a gate wherever you need. Just stay within my aura," I said.

"You can do that?" He sounded surprised.

I flashed him a tight smile. "I hope so."

It shouldn’t have been an answer he’d accept, not with so many of our lives on the line, but he didn’t hesitate. "Be safe, my Lady. Luxxa, look after her."

"Of course, Commander."

He gave the order, and the Fatesworn split, streaking toward their targets. I watched them go, wincing as the cannons turned toward them. Fortunately, Adaptive Resistance proved strong enough, even split between so many, and they soared through the explosions unharmed.

"It really isn’t fair," Luxxa muttered, shaking her head.

Fair? No, it wasn’t, but neither was the path I’d been forced to walk. The suffering that had pushed my power this far.

"Let’s go," I said, patting Fable’s neck.

He lunged forward, and my heart dropped as we plunged over a cliff. A few bounds, each covering hundreds of feet, saw us to the edge of the encirclement. The Star Guard struck first, fast and hard. Jenna summoned several bolts of lightning that detonated as they struck the ground, opening a gaping hole in their ranks. Luxxa and Kahlen each chose a side, using arts to prevent them from closing ranks again, while Gith sniped the mages who tried to interfere with magic. Fable lunged through the break, and the Star guard closed in behind us, seeing us through encirclement in the blink of an eye.

Gayron fought against Verity, pressing her hard. The battle looked one-sided, yet neither had the advantage. He was everywhere, with more skill, power, and aggression, yet none of his fires, blades, or arts reached her. She moved as graceful as a dancer, dodging attacks before he even launched them. Her silver hair streamed out behind her like flowing starlight, and her sword trailed a ribbon of silver light that lingered in the air for several seconds before it began to fade. Her face was set with grim determination, her eyes burning furiously. But her passion was empty, smothered by the creeping tendrils of the heart crest set around her soul.

As our auras touched, I shivered, a chill running through my soul. For a split second, the world blurred. Every shape and soul diverged, splitting into several projections, each moving in different, unpredictable patterns. She attacked Gayron from a hundred directions, and he reacted a hundred times. He was stabbed, failed a counterattack, or managed to run her through the chest. Everything and anything that could happen did happen.

It wasn’t just the two of them, but every soldier, mage, and demon with a soul. Thousands, tens of thousands, of futures playing out at once.

A spike of pain stabbed in my head at the sheer sensory overload, and I doubled over, pressing a hand to my forehead. At the same time, Verity stumbled, and the apparitions vanished. Gayron lunged forward, and she threw herself out of the way, but one of his clones managed to score a long, bloody cut across her arm. She landed hard, spinning to face me, her eyes narrowed to slits.

"My Lady?" Luxxa called, deflecting the sword of a sixth-level soldier that was aimed at Fable’s flank.

"I’m fine," I mumbled, the headache subsiding. "Just...ow."

On the other side of the valley, a very different fight was taking place. Korra fought between four people, and I shuddered as I recognized them. Four women, each a member of a heroic party: Ronin’s harem of three, and Trithe.