Four Horsemen Book 5 - Old Histories: Chapter 2

Petor disembarked from the Mesurial, his dimantium armor gleaming in the sunlight. He adjusted the straps, ensuring a snug fit, and checked his weapons. The Spear of the Mirage Mariner felt perfectly balanced in his hand, its power thrumming through his veins. His sling and seed-shots were secured at his side, ready for the chaos he would unleash upon their foes.

Valter and Desari joined him on the dock, their own gear and weapons being meticulously inspected. Valter's Sword of the Thermal Revenant hung at his waist, while his arbalest was slung across his back. Desari's Bow of the Legend's Wake seemed to pulse with elemental energy, eager for the coming battle.

Desari withdrew the planar gem with one hand and poured out cores with the other. They disintegrated as the planar gem greedily drew in the mana, the remaining fine dust, scattering in the breeze.

Mya stepped off the ship last, her cutlass on her hip, pistols festooned across her gambeson. She held the Mesurial's bottle in her hand. As she stepped ashore the ship was sucked into the bottle. With a deft motion, she stored the bottle away, her eyes scanning the horizon.

A man approached them, slightly out of breath. "Lady Delmara offers refreshment to you and your companions," he said, bowing his head respectfully.

Mya shook her head, a wry smile on her lips. "Not today, though hopefully on the morrow."

Valter extended his hand to the side, withdrawing four sets of mithril armor. A single piece of dimantium armor each. the opposite mithril pieces he wore personally. Each set of armor was armed with a different weapon, Arbalest, bow spear, sword, hammer.

Mya checked her lever-action rifle, the Drowned Captain's Requiem, its ethereal bullets ready to sap the life force from their targets. The cores stopped turning to dust before Desari, the planar gem pulsing with the immense power it had absorbed.

"To Irdun," Desari said.

Petor turned, facing outward, going back to back with the others.

Petor's stomach lurched as reality twisted and warped around them. The familiar sensation of teleportation magic gripped his body, and in an instant, the docks vanished. When his vision cleared, they stood atop the northern ridge of Osola, overlooking the hidden harbor below.

Night hung over the isle with the brightening promise of early morning alighting the sky.

The raised freshwater lake spread out behind them, its crystal-clear waters feeding the network of streams that sustained the island. Below, the inland bay stretched along the southern coast, sheltered from prying eyes by the natural formation of the peninsula. The small inlet to the southwest, barely visible from their vantage point, provided the only safe passage for ships.

His boots crunched on the rocky soil as he oriented himself. The elevation gave them a commanding view of both the harbor and the fertile fields that covered the eastern half of the island. A cool breeze carried the salt tang of the ocean, rustling through the vegetation that helped conceal Osola's true nature from passing ships.

The Four Horsemen maintained their defensive formation even after the teleport completed, each scanning different sectors for potential threats.

Desari tucked the planar gem away and drawing her bow in one fluid motion. The Bow of the Legend's Wake hummed with anticipation, elemental energy crackling along its length.

Petor felt the life force of every plant around him, the energy ready to be tapped if needed. His fingers brushed against the seed-shots at his belt, already calculating optimal positions for deployment.

Through gaps in the foliage, he caught glimpses of the hidden city below, its structures masterfully integrated into the natural landscape. The Mardun traders had chosen their refuge well - the island was a fortress disguised as paradise.

Petor's instincts drew his attention to the nearby tree-line. He tapped his thigh to get the others attention, then pointed to the tree line.

He had felt the plants moving around them as they crept forward in the darkness.

Leaves shifted, reflecting the moon's light as they crept deeper into Osola.

Petor tracked the oddities in the forest back to a cliff.

He looked to Mya with the others.

She locked eyes with Petor and Valter raising a finger to her lips and tilting her chin in the direction of the enemy before nodding at Desari, tapping her rifle and pointing to the ground.

They'll stay here and give us ranged cover while we close with them.

Petor lifted his spear, and jogged forward, neither his armor or his footfalls making a noise as he activated its illusions, that would hide him from sight.

Valter and his armor's spread out, each terrifyingly silent.

Petor was in his element among the jungle, it wasn't the forests of home, different but also a close cousin.

They descended through the forest like ghosts, boots finding purchase on silent earth, avoiding loose stones and dry branches. The champions ahead remained unaware, focused on their own advance through the darkness. Valter's armor sets moved independently yet coordinated, spreading out to create a net of steel and magic that would soon close around their targets.

Petor felt it all through the forest, connected to the life there.

The distance closed. Fifty meters. Forty. Thirty.

Light caught Valter's silvered armor he'd worked to darken it but it had been a hasty job.

Petor caught the glint of metal as two champions snapped their heads toward Valter's set of mostly silvered armor that caught the moonlight. A disturbance of air brushed his cheek like a butterfly's wing, Desari's arrow passing Petor. He traced its trajectory, understanding Desari's target.

He channeled his magic into the roots beneath his feet, activating Root Road. Space twisted, and he emerged behind the other champion. His spear drove through the gap between armor plates at the base of the spine. The champion's body went rigid, a gasp escaping his lips as mana and essence flowed through Petor's body, his senses alight with power as his fatigue was washed away.

The other champion that had turned to look caught Desari's silent arrow through the neck.

Petor called on vines that caught the other falling champion, lowering his body to the forest floor, leaves and branches shifting to conceal the evidence, without so much of the noise of a disturbed leaf. Petor lowered his own victim to the ground, the forest covering them too.

Petor checked his core, it was still Yellow Mixed Green though it was now over four fifths filled with green.

With this much essence and mana—they're probably on the same level as me.

"Did anyone hear that?" One of the remaining champions whispered, his hand tightening on his weapon as he tried to peer through the darkness.

Petor melted back into the shadows, feeling the pulse of life from every tree and plant around him. He traced the root network spreading beneath the soil, identifying his next position.

Another surge of magic, and Root Road carried him to the edge of the group. The champion never saw him coming. Petor's spear found the gap between helmet and gorget, ending the fight before it began.

The forest claimed the body as he harvested lives.

A shout pierced the night - cut brutally short.

Petor wove his illusions through the forest, conjuring images of himself charging through the undergrowth. His duplicates screamed war cries that echoed from a dozen different directions, the cacophony drowning out any attempt at coordination among the champions.

Valter's animated armor sets burst from the foliage like demons of steel and shadow. The first set drove its spear through a champion's chest while another swung its hammer in a devastating arc, catching a warrior trying to backpedal. The crack of Mya's rifle split the night, the ethereal bullets finding gaps in armor with supernatural precision. Two more champions dropped.

Desari's arrows whistled through the trees, each shot multiplying in flight. The elemental projectiles curved around obstacles, seeking their targets with deadly accuracy. Three champions fell in rapid succession, their bodies pierced by arrows that crackled with energy.

Petor channeled power into the surrounding vegetation. Vines erupted from the ground, wrapping around legs and arms. Thorny branches whipped down from above, forcing champions to hack desperately at the endless growth. His illusions darted between the real threats, drawing wild swings that left openings for Valter's armor to exploit.

A champion managed to cut himself free, only to find himself facing three identical versions of Petor. As a cloak unfurled from his shoulders, his speed doubling.

"Fucker!" The warrior hesitated for a crucial second, and dashed towards and illusion, the two others closing in on him.

Petor's spear took him through the armpit and into the chest, another life feeding his power.

The forest tripped those who tried to retreat, branches snagging limbs and blocking escape routes.

The enemy was strong enough to tear their way out of the impeding limbs, but it gave them pause. Pause that Petor used to deadly effect. He teleported through the forest striking at openings as the champions used techniques to try and save their lives, altering his position when it was dangerous.

He flashed through the forest, no longer relying on his eyes, the world around him, the trees, the fines, the shrubs, they were his senses, allowing him to move faster than it would allow his eyes to capture movement.

A sword would cut through the air, the force pushing against  a bush as he read the path, altered his position even as he stabbed out with his spear, going through mana barrier hastily erected through armor and into the enemy's body.

High mythic for the win.

Petor tore free the weapon, disappearing as spells tore through the space he had been.

Petor tracked the champions' desperate attempts to organize through the vibrations in the root network beneath his feet. Their voices carried through the darkness, each call revealing their positions.

"Form up! Back to back!"

"Where are they coming from?"

"Watch the trees! They're using the—"

The crack of Mya's rifle cut through the night. A champion's body crumpled, but before his corpse could twitch with undeath, holy energy seared through the fallen warrior's soul, denying Mya's necromancy.

Mya and Desari flitted through the trees, firing arrow and shot as they caught sight of the champions.

A champion let out a yell, fires spread from him in a wall, tearing apart the trees and scorching the earth, creating a clearing in the midst of the jungle.

"Group up!" The champion yelled as others cut their way to the opening.

Petor selected hellfire thistle seeds first. He slung them in a wide arc, the seeds striking the scorched earth. The burning ground provided perfect nutrients, and within seconds, red spiky plants erupted through the ash, their thorny seeds exploding outward to strike armor and flesh before taking root and growing anew.

Champions raised shields and magical barriers, but the constant barrage forced them to maintain defensive positions.

He turned around a tree, an arrow blasting through it, he came around in the spray of shrapnel and threw ever burning bramble at the champion's feet.

He pushed off of the remains off the falling tree, and arrow blasting past him into the distance.

Petor stepped on the ground, root road taking him around the clearing, he threw out stormvine seeds, infusing them with power and commanding them to grow.

Root Road took him across the clearing, he repeated the process, seeding the new clearing with dozens of stormvine seeds.

Dark, gnarled branches burst from the ground, leaves shimmering with blue-green energy. The first arcs of electricity sparked between the closest vines, growing stronger with each new stormvine.

Desari's arrows split and multiplied, forcing the champions to choose between blocking lightning or arrows. Mya's rifle cracked steadily, ethereal bullets seeking gaps in their defenses. Every time a champion tried to counter-attack.

Petor backed away, storing his spear and hurling his sling, the loaded hellfire detonating against shields and armor. Just not strong enough to pierce through anymore.

Petor kept funneling power through the roots underground into the stormvines that were now reaching knee height and surrounding the enemy.

Blue-white bolts jumped between vines with increasing frequency, the air filling with the sharp scent of ozone.

A champion raised his sword to cast a spell or call upon his god but lightning struck him mid-motion. The bolt chained through his armor to the nearest warrior, then bounced to another. More lightning strikes followed, each more powerful than the last.

The stormvines acted like a cat with its tail stepped on, lashing at the champions within their border.

The champions' armor, meant to protect them, became deadly conductors as electricity arced between them.

One by one, they fell. Some tried to break free of the killing zone, only to be caught by even stronger bolts as they moved. Mya, Desari and Petor kept up their attacks, Valter's ranged armor adding to the toll as well.

The last champion's barrier, shattered like glass. The final bolt lifted him off his feet, his armor glowing white-hot before he collapsed.

Petor stopped the stormvines from attacking, power running through their vines instead.

Silence fell over the clearing, broken only by the steady crackle of electricity between the stormvines and the soft patter of ash falling from burned armor.

Valter walked out with his armors towards the other three. His eyes glowed molten red, as well as the enchantments upon all of his armors.

Petor's head twitched towards the sounds of fighting across the island.

"Looks like the others picked up on us," Desari said, here eyes moving around the area, searching for threats, purple wreathing her form and weapon as it filled her eyes as well.

"We'll go for the nearest ritual site, make sure its secure and get in contact with my people, we need to protect as many of the sites as possible," Mya said, her eyes burning soul-fire.

Valter's armors pivoted in perfect synchronization, their enchanted plates moving without a whisper despite the ash and debris littering the forest floor.

The horsemen followed.