Saithorthepyro
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Chapter 27 - Steel V
🕑 Added 2025-03-10 03:09:27 +0000 UTCI scrambled up the back of the carriage as fast as I could, hoof protesting with every step. Stone shards embedded dug deeper, shifting around as I pulled myself up. More rifle shots, splintering wood next to my hand. I bit down on a yelp as splinters shot into my injured fingers, some piercing the cuts already made by the devil’s teeth.
We veered to the right, and I held on as we sped around the street corner, the whinnying protests of the horses interrupted by the cracks of more gunshots. But as we cleared the corner, those halted. The ambushers had only set up on that street.
“Get us to the manor!” I yelled as I made it all the way to the top of the carriage.
“Wouldn’t a Watch house be safer?” Forcreek yelled as he handled the reins. Barely. The horses were only just within control, and I couldn’t blame them.
“Do you think this is the only street outside her manor with an ambush prepared?”
It could be, if they had known ahead of time the route, but if you had the manpower, never leave anything up to chance.
The streets were thoroughly empty now, nothing left but abandoned carriages and carts, scattered bits of paper and other refuse. Everyone had collectively decided to either get out of here or take shelter in one of the manors dotting the street.
I made it to the driver’s seat, groaning as my leg throbbed. I managed to bring the back of my calf into sight, ignoring Forcreek’s scandalized look as I pulled my pantleg up.
Shite. Most of it was just little pebbles and fragments driven just a bit into the skin, but some of those shards and chunks went deep. I winced as I tried to flex my hoof, feeling a dozen different pieces digging in my flesh.
“Bishop?” I called down to the carriage’s interior. “Slayer of the dead? You alright in there?”
For a few painstaking moments I couldn’t hear anything over the huffing of the horses and the carriage wheels across the street’s surface, not even a breath.
Finally a tired, agonized gasp answered me, barely audible. “Not well Miss Harrow. I…think I’ll live but there’s…a lot of blood.”
Shite.
“Can you heal her?” I said to Forcreek.
Eyes wide, he glanced from the horses to the carriage body. “Maybe? I can channel Halspus’ power of course but it’s not as simple as just-”
“Trust me, I know,” I said, reaching inside my coat. “I have one single potion I brought, because I thought it was going to be a simple meeting. My fault for being unprepared. Bishop, can you describe your injuries a little more?”
Silence from down in the carriage body. Shite.
“Get down there and give her the potion?” Forcreek suggested.
“Depends on if I want to be mobile,” I replied, grimacing as I pulled out one of the longer shards, pain coursing through me with every tug. One inch, two inches, fuck. Blood dribbled out as I finally slid the shard out, and now my leg felt like hell without even touching the floor.
“We left them behind, didn’t we?” Forcreek said, the quavering in his voice dying some as we put more distance behind us. His grip on the reins was still tight enough that his fingers were white. “Whoever was firing rifles?”
“We left that batch behind,” I corrected. “There might be other groups. More of those devils too, who knows. Hence why we need to get to her manor, and once we’re there? You can heal her. You can’t heal me.”
Halspus’ light didn’t have a function regarding Infernals besides ‘holy smiting’.
“Still-” he started, only for my hearing to catch something. Wheels. And..steam.
“Company,” I said, turning towards the noise.
A rumbling sound and something burst from the next street, skidding as it turned. It resembled a cart, but not a horse carried it, instead a central steam engine like they’d begun using in automatons. That wasn’t the important part though, instead the cargo of people with guns. All of them were currently aimed our way.
Shite. I downed the potion, and immediately the throbbing in my leg was replaced with an intense burning as it got to work trying to eject stone shards and closing skin. My first step nearly sent me to the carriage roof. I moved towards the back of the carriage, drawing my revolver.
My injured hand was healing from the potion as well, but until it had fully finished, I’d be relying on my left. And my tail, but that couldn’t pull a trigger or could grip a saber properly. Dagger-work only.
A steam carriage now, and no Infernals. Roughly dressed men and women, humans with a scattering of orcs. Ten in total. The Hells were these people? Two of them did have rifles aimed, and I dove down onto the roof, one hand roughly shoving Forecreek forward.
“What the fuck are you doing, your crazy Foulhorn-”
Whatever else he was going to call me was cut off by the crack of the rifles and the wood of the bench on the side shattering as a bullet blasted through. I slid down next to him, trying to use the carriage for cover.
Over in the carriage, another pair were aiming rifles while the first pair tried to reload. Smart.
“Just drive and keep your head low,” I yelled at him while aiming my revolver.
My finger squeezed the trigger when the carriage swerved, nearly sending me to the street below. A rifle fired, the bullet ramming into the carriage’s side just beneath me.
“Drive straight!” I screamed, and re-aimed.
The second riflewoman, a scarred half-orc in her mid-thirties, grinned as she aimed her rifle with her last remaining eye.
That grin vanished as my shot hit her forearm, bone shattering as it burst into gore, the rifle slipping from her grasp as she screamed.
Seven others in the cart, five bullets left.
An easy solution to that math. I shifted my aim to the cart’s driver.
The carriage swerved once again and my tail reflexively wrapped around Forcreek to keep myself from falling.
“Straight!” I said, only to get a panicked counter of “Devil!”
I glanced forward just in time to see another of those dog-like creatures ahead, sprinting towards us.
“Trade!” I yelled, scrambling to yank the reins out of his hand as he raised a hand towards the devil. “Warn me-”
His hand exploded into bright light and I shrieked as my eyeballs were set ablaze.
I held onto the reins though, even as the horses whinnyed and the carriage rolled over something that nearly sent me out of my seat. My tail wrapped tighter over the closest thing it could find, and Forcreek yelled at me to let go of his hand.
Blinking the spots out of my eyes, I passed the reins back. The steam carriage was catching up again, most of its occupants reloading their rifles.
I turned around, pulling the trigger again and again but the carriage pulled forward in a burst of speed.
Shite. They were going to shoot the horses. I dropped my revolver, pulling on diabolism. They weren’t firing, waiting till they could get a clear shot at our horses. The ones in the front even had improvised shields they were dragging out, probably enchanted, heavy metal plates that could only comfortably fit on the sides of their cart.
Good thing I wasn’t aiming at them.
Four gunshots echoed through the air as I sent a black tarry fireball towards the steam engine. The horses screamed, shrieked but continued forward, meanwhile the steam engine shrieked, metal ripping as the black fire punched a hole inside it.
It belched regular fire, the cart coming to a complete halt and the occupants leaping off as the steam engine continued to shudder, and I turned back to the driver’s seat.
The horses were wounded, but we just needed a few more blocks, and I relaxed a little as I got next to a visibly sweating forcreek.
My hoof hit something with a clack.
I looked down, to see a small iron ball, the fuse attached to it smoking as it ticked down.
“Shite, shite!” I screamed, scrambling to grab it with my fingers. Needed to rip the fuse out, throw it away, something!
I got it in my hands, but the fuse had already been eaten and all I could is throw it to the side.
It exploded in mid-air.
***
I woke up with a jolt as a horse screamed.
Something poked my chin, jutting into it as my eyes fluttered open. In front of me, a regal three-story manor stood, every window along its surface slammed shut along with the shutters. Something burned, and I could hear someone yelling for help.
I, I was on a row of hedges, sunk a foot into the vegetation that poked and prodded at me. I moved about slowly as my wits came back, trying to remember what had happened.
The grenade! Clearly packed with more than gunpowder to have flung me this far. Or had we been close to this when I’d tossed the grenade? That had all been a blur.
Good news, my leg was healed. Bad news, the rest of my hurt like I’d been kicked by a mule. At least I’d roasted that stupid beast after it had ruined the heist and nealy killed Govlar.
I groaned, forcing my mind away from those memories and I picked myself up. I’d landed among the hedges outside the manor, a hundred tiny little scratches across exposed skin from landing in them. They’d broken my fall at least. I untangled myself from them, branches scraping and scratching as I forced myself free.
Forcreek was nearby, tears welling up in his eyes as his hands were locked around his leg, a white glow that made my eyes ache emanating. The bottom of his calf was bent far beyond the point of a bone break. Damnations. Meanwhile no sign of Derrick, although the wreck of the carriage lay thirty or so feet further down the street.
One of the horses lay in the street, screaming as blood pumped out of its neck, while the second had vanished entirely.
I unsteadily hurried down the street, barely avoiding tripping as I got to Forcreek. He sputtered something, not able to form words till I got my hands under his shoulder and started dragging.
“Fucking foulhorn, what are you-fuck!” He screamed as I pulled him back, his broken leg dragging across the street surface.
Painful, but we needed to find cover. Even with their carriage blown up, the ambushers would catch up with us soon, and being in the open would be a death sentence. He struggled and screamed and my explanation did nothing to calm him down as I eventually got him over to the carriage.
“Derrick?” I called inside, and got a weak, pained groan in response from inside.
Forcreek went back to trying to heal his leg as I got on top of the carriage. Derrick lay on the floor, quick bindings done on an arm and leg, wrinkled leathery skin bleeding on both from holes punched through.
“Harrow,” she said weakly. “Please tell me we’re safe.”
“No such luck,” I said, looking down the street. Shite and double shite, I could see them coming.
“I do not want to die here,” she said grimly.
“Nobody does,” I told her. “Don’t move.”
I dropped back down, Forcreek having spotted the oncoming enemies as well and moved to the far side of the overturned carriage.
“The hedges,” I said, looking at the nearby estate. No sign of anyone living inside the three-story manor, but the walls of hedges around it was the nearest cover. They’d take time to work through, but it also meant you couldn’t see through then, and they were higher than our heads. A good wall.
“We cannot move Derrick,” Forcreek protested. “We can barely move me!”
True. True, and getting her through the hedges would be an additional challenge.
The ambushers approached, two of them sporting quickly bandaged arms. Taking their time. They probably thought we were still reeling from having crashed.
Oh what I would give for a vial of alchemist’s fire, but you made do with the tools you had, not the ones you wished for.
“Tell me Forcreek,” I said. “How good are you at handling the diabolic?”
He groaned as he inched a little further out of the wreckage. “Good when I’m not focused on driving a carriage at the same time. Why?”
“Damage control,” I told him. “Things will get messy.”
His eyes narrowed a little, that having roused a little more alertness out of him. “You are not-”
“No time,” I said, and then I was around the side of the carriage.
Oh, now you have use for my talents? The Imp teased.
I didn’t necessarily need the Imp and its catalogue of spells. I certainly didn’t need it having any control it might demand of me to cast them.
One hand free for casting, loaded revolver in the other, dagger gripped tightly by my tail. The saber was belted around my waist, just in case I needed it.
I darted off, and a bullet chased after me, a quick unready shot that sent stone flying behind me. Thank the Hells for that potion. Still ached, but I could run on it.
Firing twice quickly as I covered the open ground made them scatter. I didn’t hit anyone, but it kept them from firing more at me.
I made it to the hedges, forcing my way between them. They were so closely planted it felt like pushing through a wall, a thousand tiny branches scratching at me as I shoved my way through, emerging on the other side
I took a quick glance through the branches before getting on the move again.
Only two had followed me, one of them with an injured arm from before.
So. They were after the Bishop? Interesting. But to my advantage as that meant only two on me. Still a dangerous pair, even if one had a busted up arm.
Both of them fired at the hedges, bullets carving paths through the vegetation. Both off-target as I’d already hurried a dozen feet down. With both of them now reloading, I made my way back through the hedges.
One of them had taken cover behind a pair of barrels, crouched behind them as he reloaded. Good cover from a pistol shot, as the burly half-orc managed to hide all but a bit of his head. The other one was making her way towards the hedges herself, but I could handle them once they made it into melee range.
I pointed my hand that way, aiming high just in case.
Burn
A gout of black fire burst from my hands, spraying in a wild arc that consumed the barrels, splattering across them and the half-orc behind. He screamed, a high keening wail as he flailed, the fire quickly spreading across every inch of his body.
“It’s a fucking diabolist!” The survivor screeched as her friend screamed, the cry going from a wail to something barely audible as his flesh melted right off the bone. Fat bubbled and frothed while skin dissolved, everything underneath devoured in moments, leaving only a flaming, black skeleton stumbling about.
Oh? Had someone not bothered to do their research? Or worse, trusted their client to do it for them. Hopefully they’d re-evaluate me as a threat.
“Calico, take five, deal with that damn Helltaint!”
“Throw a fucking grenade!”
I didn’t burst out of the bushes at that, not getting flushed.
“Armed!”
Even if they had one, it was probably one of those cheap ones the army used, a finned thing that needed to land right on the plunger to arm itself. They probably used up the metal ones at the start.
“Throwing!”
I’d moved a bit, just a concession to unlikely realities. Not any actual worry.
A mechanical ball flew over the hedgerow, ticking ominously, and cursing I ran away from it.
Going to the other side would make better cover, but there were undoubtedly ambushers on the other side ready to pump me full of lea-
The explosion sent me off my feet, a blast of heat that sent me off my feet. My arms, my torso, pain pierced both as metal hit, then I hit the ground and I screamed as I skidded across the dirt around the hedges. Gritty dirt beneath my fingers, I forced myself off my feet as quickly as I could. Ignoring the tearing of metal inside my flesh, I forced myself back where the grenade had landed.
They would breach the hedges there, at least some, and I needed as many of them down as possible before they made it to the other side.
The hedges rustled near me, someone trying to press through, and I spared a half second to shove a hand into it and let loose another stream of fire.
Panicked screaming mixed with the smell of burning flesh told me one more was down. Six to go.
Two more burst through ahead, turning around with pistols raised. I had my own up, pulling the hammer back.
The second half-orc burst out of the hedges in front of me, a cudgel swinging down and knocking my revolver out of my hands, cuts reopening from the blow. I tried to grab his arm, but he countered with a second cudgel, whacking into my wrist with a thwack that sent a spasm of pain up it.
That only let him get more open as my tail darted in, stabbing my dagger right into his throat. It went deep, blood spurting as I sliced the jugular, but to my disbelief he didn’t go down, instead letting out a choked snarl and grasping at my tail.
I managed to get my tail free, but the dagger remained buried in his throat. Not wanting to shoot their comrade, the other two further down were coming in, drawing sabers. I drew my own, tail slapping away the half-orcs feeble attempt to grab me before gouging at one of his eyes.
That finally put him down, but no time to recover the dagger or the revolver. The first was one after me, fury in her eyes, but that didn’t unbalance her blows as she struck. We traded three, my parries were good, but she had the muscle advantage on me, and her friend was moving around.
On her next stab, my tail darted out, wrapping around her wrist and pulling her into her friend’s way. He faltered, stopped for a second, and my saber cut as her side, sliced deep. She screamed, cut back but my tail had already let go, and I moved backwards as she stumbled. My tail searched the insides of my coat as I met the blow of her friend next.
More parries, and as I barely matched each one, it was clear who the winner of even a one-on-one would be. Blade vs blade, he’d win, and he also kept distance from my free blade, only letting his own near me.
Well, if he insisted.
As he struck, I didn’t dodge it entirely, my hand intercepting it, a flash of pain as it cut into my hand, but I had him.
“Rot.”
Different words, same principle as rust formed on the blade, traveling up and down its length, metal shrieking as the diabolism took hold. Something began to grow out of the pommel, shrieking as it used the material to try and grow.
My next blow cut through the weakened blade as he tried to block, went through the blade into his chest, slicing into his stomach and severing bowls as I then kicked him back with my hoof. His wounded partner was moving as fast as she could manage to intercept, but my tail finally found a throwing dagger and launched it at her.
Too slow, her blade just missed before the dagger sank into her eye.
I whirled around, but no one was coming the other way. My hoof absent-mindedly squashed the forming miniature devil trying to crawl out of the broken sword, to the Imp’s howl of protest. Where were they?
The hedge next to me rustled, and I had just a second to block the hatchet blow. The wielder roared in my face, and I responded by fishing another dagger with my tail.
The dagger stabbed into their thigh, cutting up to the hip as that roar of defiance turned into a shriek of pain, and I drove in with the saber. Another one emerged just a little off from behind.
My tail wrapped around their throat, coiling around, and their hand grabbed at it in desperation.
I kept my attention on the other one, finishing the cut with the saber, letting their throat turn into a red ruin as I sliced to his windpipe and past. A second to make sure they were beyond saving.
A second too long, as a third made it through the hedges and seeing me strangling her friend, drove a hatchet into the base of my tail.
It slammed in, splitting flesh as she drove it in. The hatchet’s edge scraped along my bone, carving flesh off. I screamed, and even worse as they pulled it out, peeling my flesh back from bone and sending blood spraying. Ragged breaths, spots in my eyes as I made my tail let go of the other one, trying to pull it back even as every movement sent flashes of pain up my spine.
The ambusher grabbed my tail, pulled her hatchet back, ready to cut it off.
No rot, no flame, not blade nor bullet as I grabbed the side of her head, ignoring the bone as tail twisted in her grip, her hand lodged in the cut and tore peeling flesh further off.
Jaws open, I bit right into the front of her face.
She screamed, shrieked as my teeth cut deep, nose and eyes torn away as I bit. Punched through bone, sliced through a screaming tongue, severed optical nerves, then pull back, taking her face with me. The bloody, devastated ruin that was left behind collapsed to the ground, writhing.
My jaws closed, the taste of blood and a dozen other things filling my mouth as I stared down at her. My tail twitched, flesh flapping as it writhed, its state making my anger even higher.
Do not reject this, The Imp whispered. Claim from the ones who would claim from you. Take from them what they would take from you, claim it for your own. Why would you deny what you are? Deny what you could be?
I stood, paused with the mouthful of torn off head, tongue idly tasting it. Pain coursing through my, tiredness in my bones. Why not? It was all meat in the end, wasn’t it? What would be the harm if I partook?
A flash of Basand chewing on Morder’s face in my mind, then as my bile rose, I spat it all out onto the ground next to the dying ambusher.
“Never,” I whispered harshly. “Never you damned thing. I don’t care what you promise in return, I am never partaking in-”
Pain. A burning, heated sensation in my gut, an agonizing lance that dove into my back and through until a bloody sword tip pushed out of my belly. I coughed, specks of blood flying, then screamed as the blade twisted.
The ambusher I’d been strangling kicked me from behind, their blade pulling out as I collapsed on the ground. My saber had fallen from my hands. A boot rammed into my side, tearing out another scream and turning me over so I could see his purple face as he gulped for air, sword ready for the final blow.
I raised my hand, a last desperate attempt to flame this one before I died. The blade came down, piercing my forearms and pinning my limb to the ground.
I tried to each for it, only for the toe of a boot to ram into my face. I snarled, opened my mouth and tried to bite the booth only for the butt of a pistol to hit my face.
Something broke with a snap, and tears flooded my eyes as he kicked, again and again, tip of boot ramming into ribs again and again. I tried to get up, only for the heel of his boot to ram my head into the ground with a crack and my vision swam.
He stopped, my body broken underneath him. Vision teary, filling with blood, I lifted my head up just enough to see him.
“In the name of Halspus,” he snarled, cocking the flintlock.
Gunshot. His hand exploded into gore. My eyes darted, and there was Forcreek, having forced his way through, a stolen pistol in his hands. He looked beat up himself, half his ear missing, a cut above his head. The ambusher was already recovering, but the pain had brought him low, and with one last reserved I pushed myself up, hands latching around his head.
“Decay,” I hissed.
Flesh shriveled, skin dried out, eyes shrank as a scream turned to ash, as skin became tight against bone. Sunken, eyeless, his face frozen into an immortal scream as dust blew out of him, all that was left of his internals.
Skin and bones collapsed, and after a second, so did I.
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Saithor
Due to last chapter being delayed, decided to release this one should come out twelve hours early. Enjoy!
