Chapter XLI: (Cont. IX)

Baen, seeing his opponent weak, lunged, bringing his sword around again and again, knocking Vigile backwards as the Xul’Nue tried to regain control of his limbs. Soon both his swords were batted away and his forearms were a patch of cuts from Baen’s screaming sword. Finally, Baen brought his staff around and caught Vigile in the temple, sending the Xul’Nue stumbling through the fire and collapsing just beyond in the sand. The figure made no move to rise, lying with his eyes glazed slightly.

The Watcher smiled, looking to the sky, “YOU SEE GOD?! ARE YOU WATCHING NOW? PARADE MORE WARRIORS BEFORE ME! PARADE THEM AND LET ME SLAY THEM TOO!” His voice boomed through the sands and beckoned the thunder that was rising on the horizon.

Baen smiled deep inside and closed his eyes, listening to the voices that floated on the breeze. He could hear Vigile’s mind dying away, he could hear the minds of Azurat city– they all were unknowing of the darkness coming. He could hear the Watchers watching with fear as he marched back through the flames and drew Adelia up and guided her zombie-like form down the opening hallway of Cion Sky.

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“Hurry!” Shaw began to gather his things as he urged Forte to get up. He had watched the sun go down and now knew that soon Baen would have breached Cion Sky. Shaw grabbed hold of a small bundle of things and turned for the door.

“You are not going anywhere,” Forte said after a moment, looking up from the tome he was reading carefully.

Shaw stopped and turned around, “What?”

“Listen to me very carefully, Shaw…our role is not to follow Baen out into the darkness. In fact, we must in fact believe that our job is done and wish him well. Not out loud, though it may help, but at least in thought.”

“What are you talking about?” Shaw’s eyes arched as he watched Forte set his book down slowly. “What about those two mercenaries….what about Ermine?”

“Shaw, Shaw……you don’t get it at all, do you? Oh, you get some of it for certain….but not all of it. Let me explain……”

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Blackheart stood before the awe-inspiring Cion Sky, his eyes rising up to the great dome. Within, he could see Baen standing at the very door to the great room, his staff pounding on the doors reinforced by magic. “He’s almost in…..it’s time we finish this.”

“Wait!” The group turned to see two figures racing across the sands, one dressed in a thick grey armor from head to toe, the other dressed in barely anything at all. Both were armed well and marched up to the group. “We’ve come to help, you.”

“By whose order?” West eyed the two suspciously, he thought he recognized something familiar in the bald man with the tattoos all over him.

“By….” the bald man began.

He was stopped by his armored associate, “By our own order. We have learned of what Baen intends to do and have come to help.” The voice was mechanical and gave away no clue as to who breathed beneath the armor.

West glanced over at Blackheart who eyed them carefully, “Very well. We can use all the help we can get.” The rogue glanced at his rag-tag group of eight. There was himself, a rogue and gambler who was only slightly skilled with blade. There was the burly Preston of the Azurat military, the crazy reclusive inventor and wizard, a den-mother fairy, a young dream-filled elf, a beautiful healer, and now an ambiguously-voiced assassin and mercenary. “Well, I guess this as good as it’s going to get.”

Eight….not quite nine….but it will have to do…..to save Adelia.

Blackheart turned and stared down the hallway as the doors began to crack under Baen’s magic attacks. “Let’s go then!”