Seersucker
patreon
Penitent Book 3 Ch 39: Armed Captive
🕑 Added 2025-11-27 13:00:13 +0000 UTCThey were mounted and riding toward Hillbloom within minutes. Blake still had soap in her hair and Ollie was yawning having been woken up from a dead sleep to ride, but in spite of that they were all focused. Smoke came into view before the village did, and Michael could feel the anxiety and dread building in his gut as they rode toward the rift. This time it wasn’t only because he was sensing the rift itself, but it was also because of his concern for the village.
Soon flames were visible as the thatch roofs of Hillbloom seemed to all have caught fire. Villagers were fleeing onto the main road as their homes burnt around them with militia guarding the rear. Lance smoothly moved his horse around the militia, cutting down one of the horned men as it leapt for the line of militiamen. Laird trampled another one as they made it into the village.
Hillbloom was a village on the cusp of becoming a town. It was a sprawling thing with mostly wooden structures creating a number of small alleys and low archways. The main road was the only place wagons and horses could easily pass through. On that road were dozens of horned men engaged in pitched combat with a small contingent of soldiers and militia. The horned men had the advantage, and a number of lizardfolk were throwing spells, and even several silver winged harpies were diving into the narrow streets, screeching as they did so. Behind them was the rift and even as Michael watched them, the horned men dragged several men and women kicking and screaming into it.
Michael roared as he moved his horse toward the pitched battle. He raised his mace, lighting it with divine fire that burnt so bright it made the horned men facing them stumble. He leapt off of his horse as he was about to reach the line, created a series of barrier steps that he ran up to get past the regular soldiers, and jumped into the group of horned men that were reeling and screaming “Aur-ma!” at the sight of him.
Michael crashed into them, his mace crushing the skull of one, and his shield breaking the shoulder of another, golden fire exploding from each of them and burning other horned men nearby. He felt a half-dozen deeds kick on as he got near to the rift and entered pitched combat. He began to heal the soldiers behind him who began to rally as the horned men faltered from Michael’s attack.
He managed to drop two more before they were able to react to him, and by then the knights had joined him, their silver armored forms crashing into the horned men, Lance’s silver hilted sword slicing through them with Laird carefully advancing on one side of him, and Blake recklessly pushing forward on the other side. All three of them had collected a number of Titles and Deeds far beyond what they’d had before. It was a lot easier to take risks with Michael there to heal them when things went wrong, and they took heavy advantage of that.
The lizardmen threw some bolts of lightning and magically sped up rocks in their direction, but Ollie raised a barrier over all of them with a gesture with one hand while he threw lightning with the other, all while dodging silver winged harpies. The harpies were natural and fast fliers, but unfortunately for them they had to fly in a way that made sense. Ollie could stop, start, turn, and change direction at random, making it almost impossible for them to land a hit on him.
Michael pushed toward the rift, but didn’t start to close it, not after watching nearly a dozen people be dragged inside.
“I’m going to fight my way in!” he yelled back at the others.
“Don’t be a fool!” yelled Laird, catching a small firebolt from a lizardman on his shield.
“Michael, we can’t save them, they’re probably dead already.”
“Don’t bother!” yelled Ollie, throwing a firewall at the horned men between Michael and rift. “Either help him get it done quickly or get out of the way. He’s set on it!”
Michael launched himself through the flames left by Ollie's fireball.
A horned man tried to stop him, but was pierced through the heart by a spear thrown by Blake.
Michael leapt through the rift, feeling the same sensation as if he was jumping through glass that was shattering as he went through and the moment he arrived on the other side, he saw three large black shapes leap into the rift behind him.
He quickly assessed the situation and realized that something was very wrong. He was standing in some kind of fort, with horned men surrounding him in a semicircle, lizardfolk on high platforms facing him, and a few harpies circling above.
Being held by the horned men were a dozen terrified villagers, all of whom had long knives at their throats. All of them except for a single older man that was standing away from the prisoners, instead in the middle of the semi-circle, facing Michael directly. The man was dead. Michael could feel that through whatever senses told him of what injuries people had, but he was standing anyway, his eyes a milky white and his stance unnatural. On the top of his head was an insectoid creature with each of its limbs dug into his scalp, and a long scorpion-like tail embedded in the flesh at the base of his skull.
It was a trap. That much was immediately clear. What’s more was that it was a trap for him.
“Throw down your weapon,” said the body, its voice rasping, and the insect chittering in the same intonation of the voice. “If you do not, we shall kill these.” He gestured to the prisoners like a marionette.
“If I drop my weapon then they’ll have no chance. If I keep it, I may be able to save some of them.”
The insect cocked its head. “These are of no consequence to us. We will release half to show we deal…honorably.” It gestured at the horned men and they released half of the prisoners who went running for the rift. “Throw your weapon and shield to us and we shall release the other half.”
Michael frowned. He hadn’t expected them to let anyone go, but he was still hesitant to throw his weapon away. Could he buy some extra time until the others came through? Could he blind them and manage to reach the prisoners before they were killed? Could he-
“I will count to five. One prisoner’s throat will be slit when I reach the final number. Then I will count again.” The raspy voice paused as the dead body unnaturally forced air into its lungs to continue speaking. “One.”
Michael dismissed the smite on Ruin and threw in underhand toward the walking corpse in front of him. The Horned men actually staggered back a bit in fear of it, until one of them went forward and grabbed it. Michael noted which one, and followed where the mace went. Then he threw his shield as well.
There was a pause, and Michael wondered if he’d just doomed himself and the prisoners.
“Release the rest,” said the corpse, surprising him.
The other prisoners were released, and after they were through the rift, the semicircle closed around Michael. Then, the rift itself disappeared. Michael was alone, and all of the monsters that surrounded him took a step toward him.
“I’m surprised you let them go.”
The body laughed unnaturally and the chattering insect flared its wings a bit.
“Only temporarily. We will have them in time. You are what we desire most for now.”
“Why?”
“You have no need to know. I tire of speaking through this medium.” The creature pulled its tail from the man’s upper spine with a sickening squelch, letting the corpse drop to the ground as it stayed where it was by floating on dragonfly-like wings. It chittered at the horned men that surrounded Michael and they all began to approach him. He kept his eyes on the one that had his mace and shield, his vision still obscured by his helmet.
Michael couldn’t hear the gods' whispers at all in his ear. Couldn’t feel their warm presence as their attention turned to him. He could feel their divinity though. He could feel it within himself. He began to form barriers over his fists, shaping them into spiked knuckles. He’d spent the last month fighting non-stop and training, but even with all the healing and rift sealing he hadn’t felt the bottom of his energy. It looked like it was time to give it a real test.
As the horned men got closer he clenched his fists, feeling the barriers shift around them. He hadn’t tried this yet, as he’d never lost his weapon since he came up with the idea, but now seemed like the perfect time. He took a breath and as he exhaled, holy fire covered his fists.
Comments
JaegerMaxim
Fire Fist Ace has entered the chat.
Dominick Zimmerman
Bro is now a divine monk. The absolute ass kicking is going to be epic.
