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Irwin's Journey 419: Last command
🕑 Added 2025-05-03 19:51:39 +0000 UTCIrwin hummed happily as he felt the final part of the card come together. Because of Ambraz's warnings, he'd worried initially, afraid it would be something horribly difficult.
It hadn't been.
More the opposite if he had to be true. The resonating song from ruby to diamond had been difficult, of course, but it had almost felt as if the card wanted to move forward. If Irwin had to give it a name, it felt almost as if the card had been done with waiting in some family library of cards for hundreds, if not thousands of years, and was ready for something new.
That made no sense because cards didn't really think.
Unless they have titan slivers or some other ancient entity inside of them, Irwin thought as he continued singing.
He almost wanted to prod the card to see if it would react but held back. As weirdly easy as the reforge was going, he couldn't risk that. Failure to reforge this card meant he'd ruin something priceless.
Minutes passed by, and as he finally struck the final hit, it resonated completely in a loud cacophony of what Irwin could only think of as joy.
"Okay… what was that?" he asked while the card's border was still slowly settling on its new, beautiful, pale diamond color. "We have reforged emerald cards more difficult than this!"
Ambraz didn't react, his lips in a tight line.
"Ambraz?"
"I don't know. But I'm wondering if you should even slot it," he snapped, sounding angry.
"What? Why?" Irwin asked.
"Because that wasn't normal! Cards that have a direction still require us to methodically and skillfully follow along and resonate your soulcards in line. You know this. Done it many times by now. But this… That card just… pulled us along in the direction it wanted. I've never-"
"Irwin?"
Irwin blinked as there was a knock on the door, and he heard Scintilla's voice. There was a strain in it, her voice tight.
Something is wrong.
Irwin rushed to the door, pulling it open. Scintilla's face was almost emotionless, her hand a few inches above where her sword hilt would be if she had it equipped. Irwin had seen her like this before. It was moments before she went to battle.
"Are the children alright?" he asked, his worry and anger rising and fading rapidly as he knew they would be, or Scintilla wouldn't have been here.
"They are, that's not the problem," she said. "A fleet of ships is heading for the exit portal. There's a teleporter waiting at the-"
"Coal! Get Greldo," Irwin hissed in a whisper.
"-door…" Scintilla ended.
"Did he say anything else?" Irwin asked as he stepped forward, putting a hand on Scintilla's arm. "Color of their sails?"
"No," Scintilla said, her eyes narrowing. "I can't come."
It wasn't a question, but Irwin sensed something underneath it, and he wasn't surprised when she continued.
"I need to become stronger," Scintilla said.
"You and me both," a grumpy voice said as Greldo and Dahlia appeared inside the smithy.
Their hair was untidy, and Dahlia was pulling her shirt into order, throwing a glare at Greldo.
"You could have given me a few seconds," she complained.
Greldo put an arm around her but looked at Irwin.
"What's wrong?"
"There's a fleet approaching the exit portal," Irwin said.
Greldo rolled his eyes. "Seriously? We can't even get a full year of peace and quiet?"
Scintilla snorted. "That's exactly what I thought," she said.
Greldo cracked his neck as he turned to Irwin.
"What's the plan?"
"We are going to assume Basil and the others are still holding out," Irwin said. "But need our help. Let's get there as fast as possible."
"Just us three?" Greldo asked, gesturing at Irwin and Dahlia.
Irwin hesitated for only a moment, then shook his head. "No. Remember Daubutim's plan?"
"Alright, that might be the best idea," Greldo said as he walked forward.
Irwin looked at Dahlia. "Are you sure you want to come?"
Dahlia raised her eyebrows. "Think I'll leave Greldo alone again?"
"Guess not," Irwin said, turning to Scintilla. There was barely any worry in her eyes, but she walked forward and dragged him into a kiss before whispering- "stay safe."
"I will," Irwin said, turning to Greldo. "Let's go."
Greldo nodded, waved at Scintilla, and grabbed his shoulder.
A moment later, the world changed to a swirling vortex of shadowy darkness. It lasted for a breath, then they stood in a courtyard with guards everywhere, training. They looked up at their arrival, and Irwin stepped forward.
"The exit portal is under attack. You have five minutes to gather the others."
It was as if a shock ran through the assembled men and women, and a moment later, they sprinted in all directions.
"Think I need to warn your brother?" Greldo whispered.
"Might be a good idea," Irwin said.
Greldo nodded, and he and Dahlia vanished again, leaving Irwin in a central courtyard with guards sprinting around, either to get others or to start gearing up.
"So…" Irwin said, looking at his shoulder where Ambraz sat. "What do we do with the card?"
"I'm not sure. I don't like the fact that it's different from all other cards, but…" Ambraz hesitated.
Irwin had a feeling he knew what was bothering Ambraz.
"But because we have never seen any similar cards, it might just be normal for these types," he said.
"Exactly," Ambraz said.
"Show me the changes it got from the reforging," Irwin said.
Ambraz snorted.
"Sure, but it's barely noticeable."
Irwin frowned at that. He held up the booklet for Ambraz to sit on and waited for it to flash brightly. He didn't know what he expected, but as he looked at the page, he knew this hadn't been it.
Card: Greater Emnon Body Split
Type: True Clone, Diamond, Reforged by Irwin Roddington
Owner: -
The wielder of this card will have their body split into two. As long as either of the two bodies remains, the other will reform. Beware: having both bodies out will cause minor stress on the wielder's mind as it will temporarily be split into two.
Passive: A true clone of the wielder's body
"... Just that?" he muttered. "Greater was added to the name, and stress became minor stress?"
"It might be why it was so easy," Ambraz said. "The only real change is in the soulforce capacity, which increased massively."
Irwin sensed what Ambraz meant. He noticed from the corner of his eye that people were starting to gather, guards ready for combat, weapons out.
"Everyone who is ready, move forward," he said, glancing up.
The guards quickly moved forward, and with little effort, Irwin began pulling them into his soulscape.
A minute later, most of the grouped guards were gone, but more kept pouring in.
"Should I slot it then…?" Irwin muttered, more to himself than to Ambraz.
Why did this have to be so annoying? He'd gone through a lot of effort to get the card, and it was supposed to be something special. It still was, but not nearly what he'd expected.
"Let me think on it while you gather the rest. There will be plenty of time as long as you slot it before we reach the corridor," Ambraz said thoughtfully. "Put it in your soulscape and let me and your giantself examine it a bit more."
Irwin nodded, and a moment later, both the Ganvil and the card were gone, leaving him alone with the rest of the assembled guards.
In the end, it took a bit more than five minutes for the guards to gather. Just as the final ones disappeared, Greldo showed up, looking harried.
"Grell, what's wrong?" Irwin asked.
“Bronwyn already knew. Another messenger had been sent to him shortly after. Basil, Doomblade, and the guards are currently fighting. Scariander tried to help, but one of the attackers had one of those hypnotic song cards," Greldo said, looking around nervously. "Let's go. The rangers should be ready now, and let's hope the Shadow Scouts have moved out."
Irwin frowned. "Hope… what do you mean?"
Greldo sighed. "Let's just say that I've been avoiding them since we returned because some of them reacted… similar to how Gloom did."
Irwin grimaced just as Greldo grabbed his shoulder. The world spun in shadows, and the next thing he knew, he was standing in a large open plane beside the main ranger's tower just outside of New Malorin. Hundreds of rangers stood in small groups while Bronwyn stood nearby.
"Everyone move to Irwin," he shouted immediately, jogging over.
The groups of rangers did as asked, and for the next few minutes, Irwin began moving rangers into his soulscape. Bronwyn was the last one.
Irwin felt conflicted as he pulled his brother into his soulscape. Without knowing what would happen, he might just be bringing him along to his death, but he also knew there was no way Bronwyn would stay behind.
"Alright, I'll bring us to the exit portal," Greldo said, looking around, almost harried.
"Everything alright?"
Greldo shrugged. "There are a couple of the Shadow Scouts still around here."
Irwin frowned. "Is this going to be a problem?"
"I… no. I'll wait at the exit portal and command to remain behind for now," Greldo said with a grimace. "Gloom took those that were alright ahead and will keep them away from me."
Irwin looked at his friend. How had he missed all this?
Because I was busy with the academy and reforging, he told himself.
"Don't bother," Greldo said with a grimace. "It's my fault, not yours or anyone else's. Daubutim and Lysbeth asked me to find a solution or train them, but I… I was happy to be back and kept telling myself we would have more time. The thing is, I just didn't want to deal with it. Having them all bow and scrape makes me feel like I'm one of those… nobles."
Irwin saw the annoyance in his friend's eyes and knew he would need to find time to talk with him soon.
"Alright," he said. "Nothing we can do about that now. I'm sure beating up some Guidar army will make you feel better."
Greldo snorted, and the world changed to shadows to be replaced by the exit portal room.
Irwin looked around to find only a minimal number of guards, all on high alert, while the doors were closed. As soon as they appeared, one of the guards moved forward.
"Cardsmith Irwin, as soon as you are through, we will activate all runes. The others have all gone through. Good luck!"
Irwin nodded and headed to the portal before stopping. His otherself and Ambraz had come to a decision, and the new card appeared in his hand. He glanced at the card for a moment before holding it above his left hand's slot, ignoring Greldo, who was looking at him in curious surprise.
I wonder if their conclusion is correct, he wondered, feeling his anticipation grow.
As the card slid into his hand, Irwin felt an instant change as his entire body began to itch.
"Irwin… what?"
"Give me a minute," Irwin grunted as his body shook and shivered.
It wasn't just his outside self either, as his giantself had dropped to the ground in his smithy. Soon, both of him were writhing on the ground, drawing in ragged breaths as an insane amount of soulforce was condensing beside them.
Irwin had no idea how long it took, but at some point, he felt a similar pain he'd felt long ago when his soul had been split. This time, however, it wasn't that bad, and the loss of control over his body faded. In its place, he felt… split. It wasn't like with his two selves, who were both him but still themselves. Both of those were themselves but with a shared memory and sense of identity. Now he felt… as if each of those parts of him was split apart, and as he rose himself up on his elbows, he looked into his own eyes.
"Well… that's interesting," Greldo said.
Both parts of Irwin that were outside looked up at the same time, and he felt the headache grow.
"Okay, let's change this," he muttered, designating one part of himself as the main part.
He pulled the other part of himself back into his soulscape, which worked without an issue, and as soon as he did, three things happened at the same time.
The headache he had felt faded immediately, and with it the sense of being… split.
The other part of him appeared within his soulscape and just lay there, unmoving.
His giantself somehow… pulled itself together, causing one of the two giant bodies that had appeared in his soulscape to drop to the ground, unmoving.
"Right," Irwin muttered, looking at Greldo, not sure what to think about what had just happened. "Let's go. I'll try to explain as we move."
Greldo nodded, and the two of them jumped into the portal.
--
"Stop that one," Basil roared.
He swung his sword sideways, and a rippling wave of lightning crackled through the air. It struck the blueish defense barrier of one of the attacking vessels, causing it to dim. Sadly, it didn't break.
Basil quickly looked around, noticing that the two most powerful ships they had available, The Concerto and The Ruby's Revenge, were moving to intercept the ship he'd attacked.
'They can't reach the calves!'
"I know already," Basil roared in answer to Scariander's worried imagery and emotions.
He looked around to make sure the largest of the ships, the one that had almost managed to harm Scariander, was still far enough away. He was almost grateful when he saw Doomblade rampaging on its decks.
Sadly, not everything was going as well.
They were outnumbered three to one, with only ten of their number currently in the conflict. The others were lying still in the harbor, though Galubs were rushing onto one of them.
"Lord Basil, the guards from the other side have arrived!" a voice shouted over the roaring battle that raged around him.
Basil snapped to the side where a hooded figure stood, hands-on Scariander's harness.
"Are there enough to man another ship?" he shouted back.
"Yes, my lord!"
"Then tell them to bloody well find a ship and get into this fight," Basil roared. "And if more arrive, don't come yanking me about it! Get them on those ships!"
The shadowy figure nodded and vanished while Basil looked around, his visor barely any obstruction to his view.
Why are you not helping the others, he thought, watching how ten of the enemy ships had remained far away. Where were they planning on fleeing in case things went wrong? He didn't know, but the only reason they weren't being overrun was due to it. Well, that and Doomblade. He snorted as he saw the enormous Galub slash apart the mainmast of the ship he was on, either ignoring or blocking the attacks shot his way. It helped that there were a few shadowy Galubs appearing and disappearing across the deck, quickly taking care of anything that might cause issues.
'Wooden thing breaking to the left! We go?!'
Basil growled as he glanced in the direction that came, almost embedded within the message.
One of their ships was being harried by three of the enemies. It was trying to get away, but a long tendril of what looked like lightning was wrapped around the shield, its origin one of the other enemies.
"Yes, go there!"
Scariander didn't need any more motivation, as Basil felt a sense of hate blossom within the enormous Chaos Whale. It barrelled forward, ignoring any glancing blows thrown its way, while Basil kept glancing around.
Where are you… I know you're out here somewhere…
They were halfway to the ship when a pink-haired women in a long flowing dress appeared before them, almost as if she stepped out of midair. She opened her mouth, and a beautiful song seemed to dampen the horrors of the battle around them.
Scariander's movement became sluggish, but Basil had been ready for it.
He drew on the well of power Scariander's presence brought him, knowing he'd pay for this afterward with a massive headache, listlessness, and other things. It didn't matter now. He pointed his blade at the woman, and a thin, almost solid-looking bolt of electricity coursed through the air.
The power was a factor more than he could do by himself, and the speed even more. Any normal person would have been too late, as there was barely any time between the moment he pointed and the arrival of the beam.
Sadly, as he'd already figured out before, he wasn't dealing with a normal enemy.
The woman vanished instantly, reappearing a dozen yards to the side, a scowl on her face and dangerously gleaming purple eyes.
Still, she'd had to stop singing, giving Scariander the time to speed up again. Basil wasn't going to give her another chance, so he shot another lightning bolt at her. She vanished again, her lips moving, probably screaming a curse at him.
A dull thud was followed by the sound of something screeching apart, and Basil barely clung on as Scariander slammed through a barrier. He caught a single, stunned look from the purple-eyed man behind the helm before Scariander side-slammed the ship. Amidst the cracking of wood, the sail ripped apart while the small mast splintered like a twig. People were hurled from the ship in a cloud of wood dust, shrapnel, and larger chunks of the hull.
"NO!"
The scream seemed supercharged as it hit Basil, and he barely managed to keep one hand clutching the metal chain. His other clasped at his head, and he only faintly sensed how Scariander sent him waves of worry.
It took precious seconds for him to regain his clarity, and as he looked around, he froze in shock. The pink-haired woman was appearing and disappearing all over the place, snatching the crew of the ship out of midair and bringing them to other ships. It was happening so fast that it almost looked like there were dozens of her.
"I guess she atleast has some feelings for her own people," Basil muttered, his head still throbbing from the scream.
He glanced around, then searched for the next of their ships that might require help.
--
Cish'Ranzina felt her three skills drain what remained of her soulforce as if she were draining a tub. She knew if she kept going, she'd have nothing left for the battle, but what else could she do?
That monster!
Why had that golden warrior had to interrupt her? They would have won with minimal losses like this! How was he even controlling that beast? Was it the harness it was wearing?
As Cish'Ranzina landed on the deck, time moved slowly around her, and she saw her next target, a young Acenti sailor a few dozen feet from the ground. She triggered her soulskill, feeling it squeeze more soulforce out of her already nearly empty domain.
Why did he force me to use it? she thought, feeling her worry grow.
She could only use it once every few days, and she'd planned to keep it in case those soulsuckers would try to backstab them. With only two of the ships of her tribe having survived the storm, she'd already started losing her position. The soulsuckers had been the first to demand she prove the mettle of her people, but now… she'd lost her tribe's price, the one ship that had carried them through storm, death, and bondage.
Before she could think further, her soulforce completed building up, and she moved.
The world around her flickered and changed, and she reappeared midair beside the sailor. The girl's eyes were squeezed shut, her mouth open in a scream. Although in reality, she was probably falling close to terminal velocity, to Cish'Ranzina, she seemed to be hanging almost motionless in midair. She mentally reached out to draw the sailor into the supercharge pocket of sped-up soulforce around her, feeling only a marginal resistance.
Before the sailor could panic, she triggered the return point, moving back there.
As she reached the deck, she looked around. Had she gotten them all? There were so few of her tribe alive, and-
A shudder ran through her as the last dregs of her soulforce drained, and movement returned to her body and the world. She thudded on the deck, feeling the jolt run through her spine while the sounds of the ongoing battle washed over her.
Pain coursed through her head and neck as she felt both the onset of having used the least favorite part of her soulskill and having nothing but a few fumes of soulforce left.
"Captain!"
She felt a set of hands pull her upright, and she looked at one of the sailors she'd saved.
"The Ranzina… she was destroyed," the young woman whispered, her eyes filled with horror.
"I know," Cish'Ranzina said before realizing that wasn't her name anymore.
From now on, until she claimed a new ship, she would just be Cish, as she had been a decade ago.
A part of her wanted to scream and cry, but she knew she couldn't. Even with one ship left, her tribe was alive.
"Are those soul-suckers moving yet?" she hissed.
The young woman shivered, then shook his head. “No, Captain… and those scrapmetals, they… they…”
Cish forced herself to her feet, trying to ignore the dizziness. She saw that of the over twenty ships that had engaged the enemy, fifteen were rapidly disengaging, heading back to the ten that had wanted.
"No!" she shouted, clenching the railing.
They are leaving us… to die!
She knew it and also knew it was likely what those soulsuckers had wanted all along. They had been annoyed with her, how she'd been elected leader of their small forward force. Now, with The Ranzina gone, she had no more sway, no more say. But that wasn't enough. They would pull back, wait for what remained of the Accenti to be destroyed, and then rush in to clear the scraps.
They are almost as bad as the-
She held back her thoughts, focusing on an old meditation technique her grandfather had taught her. Picturing the soft swaying of a ship, the ticking of the constant rain of the Flareld Branch she'd not seen in decades.
It was barely in time as she felt the chains tightening around her soulskill before slowly releasing again.
We can't even think our own thoughts, she thought, turning to look around.
Two other Accenti captained ships, both from another tribe, were still fighting, but with the losses her people had already suffered and the backstab?
"Captain?"
Cish clenched the railing harder, noticing that the beast with the monstrous armored warrior was heading back to her. They would finish the rest of her tribe, and that meant the legacy of her people would die. Die with her.
I have failed…
She turned to the others on the ship, the hope in their eyes as they watched her slowly fade.
As if she'd not been shocked enough, a loud horn came from the other two tribe ships.
Cish spun around again, the world spinning with her as her headache grew. The two ships had begun going down to the swampy ground below…
"They are surrendering," she muttered.
As she said it, she saw a few figures jump from the ships, headfirst. The few elders, those who had been doubly-chained, making sure those holding the leashes couldn't blow them up to take the others along. A rumor or truth, nobody knew what the Guidar could do.
She shuddered as they plummeted down to their deaths.
"Cish… it is time."
Cish turned to see an older man walk to her—Noumizakar, an old friend of her late grandfather and the only elder left of her tribe. He had been the captain until he became too strong and was doubly-chained.
"Noumizakar, you… can't," she said, her voice raw with emotion. "They will lose either way! What use is there to this?"
"Any chance is better than no chance. Make the sign, and go down. If these black and red-sailed soulthieves have any honor…" the older man snorted and shook his head. "Well, you know what they say. Better a choice unknown than death by soulsucker."
Cish wanted to cry and laugh at the same time. "Nobody says that! You just made it up."
Noumizakar moved to the railing beside her and looked down.
"That beast is almost here," he said, sitting on the railing and smoothly swinging his legs over the edge. "My last command. Blow the horn. They might win… who knows? If they don't, well… the soulsuckers will kill you anyway. Fight them after these people softened them up."
Cish wanted to reject the idiotic logic, but she knew there was no way she could. Noumizakar had enacted his final command, the one thing every old captain was granted after they relinquished control.
"Goodbye, Cish. Survive. Be tenacious."
Before Cish could respond, the old man pushed himself away and over the edge.
"Honor to the elders!"
A roar came from the crew, and Cish barely managed to join as he turned to the helmsman.
"Horn! Blow it," she snapped.
The horn was blown almost instantly, showing someone had been waiting. Ready. Knowing it would come.
The pain, the loss, seemed to grow unbearable, but Cish forced it away. She looked at the enemy ships, noting they seemed… Uncertain. Only six remained, four brought down in the battle, though she saw two more fly towards them. The red- and black-sailed ones were the only two undamaged, the others showing clear signs of trouble staying afloat.
They will not win what comes, she thought, turning to look at the ships of the soulsuckers.
The fourteen that had fled were slowly turning, while the ten that had waited were now flying forward in groups of three, with one hovering behind.
"Captain, the beast is moving alongside!"
Cish looked around to see that he was right. The monstrous thing scarred, and one of the larger ones she knew of, was close enough to make her shiver. On its side, the golden-armored man was glaring at her through his visor.
"What are you doing?"
She blinked as the shouted question bridged the few dozen yards with ease. Did they not have this custom? A sudden worry grew. What if they attacked her now? She had two sets of crews on one ship, and they had the high ground.
"Surrender!" she shouted back, though even she could hear it was more a question than a response.
The golden helmet vanished, and she looked into a rugged, bearded face. The oddly oval pupils glowed with a silver light.
"What? Why?"
The question was so silly she would have laughed if she didn't feel like crying.
"They will kill us," she shouted, waving at the incoming ships. "Perhaps you won't."
The incredulity on his face was almost enough to make it worth it.
Comments
Antony Claughton
to the ten that had wanted. ==> to the ten that had waited.
Mariusz Klimczak
the ten that had wanted => ... waited
Mariusz Klimczak
Nice chapter! A very small nitpick: "...with guards sprinting around, either to get others or ..." - with history of constant warfare on Giard and Daubutim in overall command, I would expect them to have an alarm bell and at least basic alarm procedure in place.
