With everyone secured, Anissa jumped into the second, picking up the two wounded instructors she and Kalaisa had found on their way down. Holding them under one armpit and gently carrying Marco in another, Anissa kept retreating to the roof, ignoring the cubs' frightened yelps.
My son is alive. Bless you, Anissa. Thank you, Spirits. Elated, Janine blocked the blow with the shaft of her axe and ended up buried in the road up to her knees. Adrenaline coursed through her veins, her heart racing, the blood pumping faster and faster. She broke free of the trap, dodging the spike aimed at her mouth, and the Taleteller kissed it, shearing it clean. The kiss continued, taking the broken finger next and landing on his breastplate.
"Sword Saint, be careful not to break your claws!" Albert cried the warning as she stabbed with her paw, hooking Iron Lord's arm to keep the field of destruction from touching her head.
"Relax!" She laughed in the opponent's face, closing in on him and getting behind the khan, brutally tearing her claws free. "Even if they break, they'll grow back!"
"You are acting too brazen all of a sudden," Albert remarked. "Don't risk it, please."
Iron Lord's upper body spun, but she ducked under the elbow and slashed at his damaged chest, then at his legs, before the downward swing of his glaive drove her back. Shards of broken iron rang out on the ground.
"Risk it?" Her joy filled the battlefield, seeping into the packs. "The mission was a success!" My son lives. He'll run again, I promise! She would rather die than admit it to her soldiers, but the sight of her, weaving and cutting back with renewed energy, advancing akin to a sandstorm at its peak, formless and deadly, unencumbered and radiant, motivated them to push through the exhaustion and beyond.
"Reclaim! Retaliate! Reconquer!" They howled the motto of the First, the oldest of the state's war cries. No one forced them, no one taught them; the Ice Fangs and the Wolfkins just felt like it, abandoning their own traditions in favor of something shared and cherished from the days when they had toppled the vilest of scum.
One hordeman dismounted his dying steed and raised an axe while the rotating cannon on his shoulder was busy ripping wide gashes in the Wolfkins before him. The intense fire was blocked by a brave defender, and the soldiers used the respite to hurl grenades at their enemy, forcing him to curse as his vision was impaired by acid melting his lenses. Together, the group focused fire on his leg joints, bringing him to his knees, and a knight-captain thrust himself forward, ramming a sword into the bastard's neck.
Even that wasn't enough to kill the hordeman, as his swing ruined the knight-captain's hastily raised shield in a single blow. But his fate was sealed; the scout destroyed the cannon, and the mass of troops pushed him to the ground, working their way through the suit.
Impatient One broke Zulfiya's arm and ripped the helmet from the woman's head, lacerating her round and wide face with a single slash, avoiding the clumsy counterattacks. Martyshkina fired, landing six bullets in a single point on another hordeman's chest. The hypersonic bullets pierced their way to the heart, and the body slumped from the surprised bull, who paused, unsure of what to do. Marty reloaded her revolver, licking her lips hungrily, and the animal turned tail to her mockery.
Six legs burst from the wall of the Knight Academy, widening the gap and sending debris everywhere. The fortress, which had withstood both energy and projectile bombardment, gave way, and the four-armed body emerged from the crack in a wave of devastation. Brood Lord spun in the air and smiled at the surprised troops.
"Mine, mine, that incubator is mine!" He landed on the road, slicing through the Ice Fang at his waist and ramming his pincer into the open mouth of a Wolfkin, opening it inside and popping the male's head. "Out of my way, corpses! It's your queen I'm after!"
Janine saw him out of the corner of her eye through the visor of her armor, still locked in battle with Iron Lord, and understood that she wouldn't be able to block both. Brood Lord didn't care about anyone but her; his legs knocked the soldiers out of the way, and she turned to face his blade. His sword screeched, drawing sparks across Taleteller's haft, and the mocking face closed in.
"Nice to meet you again, Janine. It seems my hospitality wasn't up to your liking. You took something from me." His smile changed to a grin full of needle teeth. "But that's okay. I sense the traitors."
"Good," Janine growled. "Then you can seethe knowing that you will never lay a finger on them again, shit pot."
"Never say never! Life is full of little unexpected surprises. Like the one I met in that ditch of yours here." Acid bubbled behind his teeth.
"That's true if you are alive to experience these surprises." Janine pushed against his clench, trying to shove him away. "You are done. Dead man walking."
"His name is Marco? My bad. His name was Marco." Brood Lord smiled, slightly opening his mouth. "Know that as we work through each other's families, I enjoyed watching you squirm in anguish. The question is, do you experience the same, woman? Do it now, Iron Lord!"
Janine worriedly glanced back, expecting to be cut between the shoulder blades when the fist the size of her head flew past her, smashing into Brood Lord's face, and paws rose behind her, blocking the pincers aimed at her sides. The punch was hard enough to send the reeling khan off the warlord, and she found Impatient One beside herself.
"Not the place for switching sides, Rust Lord." Brood Lord wiped his mouth. "Then again, you never were a bright spark. Your own sons and daughters are lying dead. Don't you care? Don't you even care?!"
"Betrayer!" Iron Lord roared. "This was my operation! Those puppies in the academy should have been smuggled out of the town long ago to be used as hostages or raised as my future soldiers. This place is mine; you agreed to it! How dare you deny me my spoils! How dare your degenerate filth harm the future servants of my... Khatun's army! Worse, you failed to achieve even that! We conquer and rule; what do you think you are doing, massacring children?!"
"And rule we will! Over those who are left. No need to be so stingy over useless dregs. Plenty of those around." He swung his head to Impatient One, nodding at her wound. "Why push your luck?" He asked with genuine curiosity. "I am after someone else today, and this hunk here is a much more affordable target."
"You touched the warlord's son." Impatient One unleashed her claws to the fullest, stretching the skin on her fingers to the point of tearing. "No mercy."
"He is mine," Janine said.
"Almost forgot about you, my dear. Here, this is yours, I believe." Brood Lord tossed something in her face.
A strip of Marco's torn skin.