Bog Standard Isekai

Book 6 - Fowler Interlude Part 2 of 2

The Westward Daughters were quiet now as they strode across the staging field, aiming for another larger group across the way. That was their habit when it was time for business, and it was the first habit he meant to break them of when he had his own Karth. Some people thought that it was a bad idea to shout your orders in a battle so that your enemies wouldn't know what you were up to. A good number of those people had tasted the edge of Fowler's Six-Cut Saber. It was nonsense.

The army they'd gathered was impressive. Every single Westward Daughter was a fighting force unto herself, but they didn't do large numbers. Not usually, but today seemed to be an exception. Three hundred daughters lined up and ready to go, so Fowler took his place next to Void Treader.

Greenstone stood in front of him, looking bold and proud. She already had her weapons in her hand, the scythe in one and the orb in another, leaving her other two hands free. The orb let her administer their teleportation power and acted as a focus for the Crystal Tower, but mostly it symbolized her authority as a Karthwatcher. Now that the idea was in his head, Fowler really wanted one.

Looking at it now, there were a full ten [Brightspace Casters] in addition to Greenstone. There were three [Considerers of Emptiness] with fully black carapace and eyes that seemed darker than black. He'd only ever seen one of those before, and never on a raid. Maybe most surprising were the [Farther Summoners], a full seven of them. They wore gray helmets, the only armor he'd ever seen on a Westward Daughter. They specialized in stealth missions, and he bet even a single one of them would be enough to steal the crown off the head of [King Lancarote]. What were they going to do with seven of them?

The leader was a Harrowkind, so she had the little spikes at the edges of her shell and the blue of her carapace was dye rather than nature. Her shoulder-horns were decorated in gold, and rather than a scythe, she just had gloves that made her natural claws longer. The Class was something he'd definitely never seen before: [Knight of the Green Mother].

It was an intimidating throng, and Fowler wasn't intimidated lightly. He'd been a part of a pirate fleet that had broken the main mast of an [Admiral's] flagship back when he'd served under Elmer Tattersall. He'd rather fight that battle again a dozen times rather than face this army.

Just when he thought this force couldn’t get any mightier, the leader unfolded from her shell and rose to her full height, nearly nine feet tall. The rest of the Westward Daughters immediately followed suit. They stood uncovered in full battle mode, ready to take this foe seriously before they ever saw them.

So what were they going up against?

Greenstone spoke up, "Sing us into battle, He Who Was Born Under The Fourth Planet That Is Associated With Reckless Bravery Who Fights Like A Thousand Cutting Sabers And Who Sings Sweetly In The Darkness With A Gentle And Sublime Melody."

Fowler gulped and glanced around nervously, because that was not a thing they did here. Silence was the order of the day during a fight. Still, he couldn't disobey an order like that with all these eyes on him, not if he wanted that Karth she promised.

He didn't have a great singing voice, not exactly, but you learn to work with what you have on the long days crossing the great blue. It was that or go mad. People underestimated how stir crazy men would get when you squashed them all together on a ship for months at a time; he bet boredom killed more pirates than navies ever could. So while he didn't have a great voice, it was passable, and since the Westward Lothkind and Harrowkind couldn't sing at all, that meant he was probably the best singer in this entire world. Now, tell the System that, because he figured he deserved an Achievement.

He cleared his voice, and sang,

"Leave your sorrow and cast away care,

There are none can ever find us there,

Follow me to sights so fair,

On Babus deep blue body.

You and I can never die,

Like birds and bats can never fly,

And never can I tell a lie,

On Babus deep blue body.

The bells will ring out bold and bright,

And moon and stars will cast their light,

Before the good wife sets us right,

On–”

The lightning struck and the world shifted all at once, but at the same time there was a process. He knew that from the other side it looked like they appeared out of nowhere, but on this side you could feel the movement and see the shift between places and unplaces, for lack of a better word. It was liable to drive a man mad and he didn’t understand the experience at all, but at the same time, the teleportation Skill Greenstone granted him came a little bit easier every raid.

There was a brief moment where they could see ahead into what they were jumping into. It was a nice formal hall, the kind that he imagined rich people liked to dance in, only this one also sort of looked like a warehouse, because there were loads of crates and possibly some sort of device being set up in the middle. It was the kind of spellwork you just didn’t see out on the fringes where men like Fowler made their fortunes. He grinned, because he didn’t need to know what it did. He just knew he aimed to steal it.

The room wasn’t empty of people, either. Lots of men and women bustled about, carrying things, unpacking things... completely unaware they were experiencing their last moments in this life. They weren’t what he expected [Mages] to look like. These wore mostly black and white, and those in color wore livery. Servants.

“Servants!” he shouted. “These are servants! They’ll try to flee! Kill them all before they sound the alarm!”

The second half of his warning was audible to all as he entered real space, but his words had the effect of motivating the Westward Daughters. Normally, they’d wait around a little bit at the start to see what the enemy would do, but they hated cowardice. They launched themselves into the fray at full speed, showing no hesitation or mercy.

Fowler ran forward as well, past the bulk of the servants in the middle of the room, and when he saw he wouldn’t make it in time, he shifted to close the distance. He came from the east, and kicked closed the heavy doors that one poor girl had been wrestling open. A swing from his saber cut her into four pieces, and he followed it up by swiping straight through the serving man on his right along with the truncheon he’d raised.

Fowler’s Six-Cut Saber did just what it sounded. One swing of the saber cut six times, and when you added that to [Senseless Battery] from his old [Marauder] Class, it meant there was little he couldn’t take apart with a single swing.

Screams filled the air, and for once Fowler was spared the sight of their victims looking to him to beg for mercy–the Westward Daughters slaughtered everyone before they could do more than shout in surprise.

“It’s a wretched and reprehensible falsehood! Fake!” shouted a [Brightspace Caster], already latched on to the magical and mechanical device in the middle of the room. “The eye is not here!”

“Find it!” shouted the [Knight of the Green Mother].

Then the Westward Daughters were running again, following the lead [Brightspace Caster]. They burst through the door that Fowler had just shut, and ran into a curving hallway. This one had a window, and Fowler couldn’t have been more surprised at what he saw if it had been another alien world.

First, they were high, high up in the air. And was that the ocean? No, just an extremely large lake. Even though he couldn’t see the other side of it, Fowler knew the sea and that was not it. The murky fog in the air, the shape of the buildings below... he knew this place. They were in Steamshield.

“This is the Tower!” he burst out in raucous laughter. “We’re so dead!”

Some of the Westward Daughters whistled cheerily alongside him, sharing in the joyous folly. This was ruinously foolish, but it sure would make a good story.

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[Mages] passed them in the hall, and the [Farther Summoners] protected them so that even when the [Mages] were only a few feet away in the hallway, the Westward Daughters were too far away for their spells to reach. They ran right by without stopping.

They reached a curving stairwell, and the Westward Daughters shifted to the top rather than climbing. Something must’ve dispelled the [Farther Summoners’] protection, because an explosion of air and flame burst two Westward Daughters into confetti. The projecting scythes of a dozen Daughters destroyed the offending [Grand Magus] who’d caught them unaware, but then two statues, each twenty feet tall, stepped away from the wall and began slashing into the Westward Daughters with axes the size of barges.

The [Knight of the Green Mother] rose to meet one of them, her claws immediately gouged thick furrows into the stone, but the other statue tore through them unimpeded. Not even the shining nothingness of the [Brightspace Casters] made a dent.

Fowler shifted, appearing from the east, which just so happened to be straight in front of the terrible statue. He jumped, avoiding a swing of the massive axe, and then slammed his [Six-Cut Saber] down on the statue’s arm.

It barely left a scratch. He swung again and again, in a frenzy. He dodged a grabbing hand from the statue, thanking himself for every point he ever put in Dexterity, and swung again, always at the same spot.

On the sixth swing, he finally broke through the statue’s arm. He better break it. That counted as thirty-six swings of a sword, using [Senseless Battery] that multiplied the force on each successive blow. That should be enough to break the spine of the world.

The statue was still a threat, and now it only had eyes for Fowler, careful not to let him hit it any more. They sacrificed another dozen Westward Daughters before he finally knocked the thing down.

You have defeated: Tristan’s Living Stone Defender (50)

Experience has been split between party members, based on contribution.

The [Knight of the Green Mother] roared in triumph as they destroyed another. A group of six or seven [Mages] appeared around a bend, but the [Farther Summoners] had their shield working again, and the group ran past without engaging. He knew it bothered the Westward Daughters to not give every foe a fair showing, but they would follow the [Knight].

The marbled hallway was lined on either side by great works of art that nearly forced him to look and be lost in the beauty for hours. Each of these pieces were valuable enough that Fowler could retire on them alone, if he could find a seller, which wouldn’t be easy. It would be easier to sell a [Princess].

They were distracting enough that he almost missed it. “Trap!”

Most of the Westward Daughters froze in place at his warning, but ten ran too far ahead before stopping and a rigged floor tile exploded, vaporizing the lot of them on the spot.

The hallway ended abruptly a little further on, but the [Brightspace Caster] leading pointed forward. “This way! We are nearly upon it!”

Were they going to go through the wall? But from looking at the windows, that would just send them tumbling off the edge of the Tower. Only, no, that wasn’t what was happening at all.

“Illusion!” he shouted.

“They do not fool our eyes. I will guide you,” said Greenstone, and held Fowler’s arm, urging him forward with the rest.

They ran straight through the wall, and then they were plunged into perfect, unnatural darkness that muted even the feeling of vibrations on the ground. He had a [Rogue’s] senses, but now he could barely even feel Greenstone's hand on his arm.

He was ready to throw down an Eveladis, but a [Brightspace Caster] threw an orb of dazzling light into the air, and it chased away all shadow.

The chamber they’d entered was domed like the top of a lighthouse. There was a woman in red, and behind her was their prize. It was as tall as him, a dazzling green gemstone that reflected with a mirror shine.

The [Knight of the Green Mother] held up a claw to tell them to hold. “I sense that this one is a worthy opponent. Human, do you recognize her? Tell her that I will do her the honor of facing her alone, with the eye as our prize.”

Fowler made sure with an [Inspect], but he’d had an inkling regardless. “I do. That’s the one we call Lumina, the light of humanity. [Archmage of the Mystical Elements].”

Lumina said, “They’ve arrived, Master. Cast it now.”

Fowler cursed himself for hesitating and slung the Eveladis. “She’s using illusion to call for help! Take her down now! And find that [Illusionist]!”

Lumina flung out her hand and deflected the first volley with a wave of air. The shifted strikes of their scythes and the dazzling spells from their caster met with shields of air, flame, earth, and other elements he didn’t recognize.

Lumina flinched and stepped back under the tremendous onslaught, but she held and protected both herself and the eye.

The [Knight of the Green Mother] leapt forward.

Then everything devolved into chaos. A massive, writhing tentacle of muscle and stone pushed from the ground and blasted the [Knight] up through the roof. The tentacle swelled, then blisters formed, then popped, and thousands of glowing spiders burst from the blisters. They jumped, and each one that landed on a Westward Daughter exploded, spraying them into fine dust.

The [Farther Summoners] cast their defenses, and now the mere feet of distance between the Daughters and the spiders now acted as if miles separated them. It didn’t slow them for long. The spiders grew wings and traversed the distance in seconds.

The Westward Daughters fought with full abandon now, tearing five out of the sky for every one that landed on a Daughter, but the flying spiders could bear those odds all day. Fowler danced around like a maniac, dodging every spider while flinging knives and smoke bombs at them, not trusting his saber against their explosive magic.

The [Considerers of Darkness] chose that moment to make their move. They cast a blanketing spell that fell on the world like an ocean falls on a matchstick and for a moment, the horrible chaotic monstrosities froze. The Daughters cut them down, rushing to eliminate as many as they could while the spell held. They cut a hundred out of the air, then a thousand, and Fowler rushed forward to try his saber against Lumina, who was also frozen in place, but she quickly burst free of the darkness in a flash of light and rocketed away. He swung instead against the tree-sized tentacle. He struck it five times to no effect, and then he saw a wiggle. The spiders still unharmed began to glow in the darkness.

That spell, whatever it was, was starting to break free. They writhed, they vibrated, and then they exploded in a flash of burning hatred. He could feel that the magic hated him, now. It hated all of them, personally.

The bright spots that had once been flying spiders now splashed down on the ground. Even the ones they’d cut in half were still moving, and they spilled to the floor, liquid, to rise up again in the form of Harrowkind.

That was a clue. It had to be. Humans didn’t randomly make their spells into the form of Easterlings; the magic had to be reacting to the enemies. It was turning into what they feared? Or maybe what they expected. Despite the way they tried to free themselves from prejudice, in their hearts, Lothkind expected worthy adversaries to look like Harrowkind.

Fowler used his long experience of resisting mental effects and cleared his mind. The last thing they needed right now was to face the kind of leviathans that lived in his nightmares.

The Westward Daughters fought, and they fell by the score. [Brightspace Casters] screamed their fury as the evil golden Harrowkind shrugged off their strongest spells and tore through their sisters a piranha-shark through sardines. The [Farther Summoners] fell to flying creatures that crossed long distances faster than they could grow them. The [Considerers of Darkness] reduced their protective spells to cover only their own chitin, so could only watch uselessly as the enemies destroyed their fellows.

Fowler fought one of the golden Harrowkind. He used his Skills to get in close and deliver soft and teasing blows just to get his [Sensless Battery] counter up, and then blew his one last-resort Skill [One More Last Time] to tank a blow and give him a chance at a final, perfect swing. He decapitated the Harrowkind, but it just spilled into fluid again and then reformed as two smaller enemies.

The [Knight of the Green Mother] slammed down on the ground in front of them. She was torn and bleeding from a dozen places, missing an entire arm on the right side. Still, she stood proud and fierce, ready to go down fighting. “We have failed. Flee, all of you.”

How bitter it must have been for the Westward Daughters to hear the order to retreat. Fowler didn’t mind at all.

Lumina returned, flying back in a storm cloud to plant herself between the [Knight] and the eye. She obviously didn’t understand the speech of Westward Daughters, because she said, “I don’t believe I will need my Master to cast a second spell. But you should know he’s on his way here and he’s quite cross.”

The [Knight of the Green Mother] leapt forward, her remaining claws glowing and ready to strike. All of the remaining [Considerers of Darkness] followed close behind. Lumina charged to meet them, eyes glowing with mystical fire, hair swirling in the wind, and trails of red lightning forming behind her staff.

Greenstone grabbed him, pulling him away. Away away, as in away from this world, through that weird everything and nothingness, and back into the Liminate.

Even now it wasn’t quite over. Even now, pieces of that horrible first spell remained. Panicked, Fowler used the last dregs of his strength to swat away four dozen flying needles as Death Sense warned him that a single one touching him would seal his doom.

Wheezing with fear and laughter, and slapped them all away until Westward Daughters from the surrounding Karths swarmed in and finally stamped them out.

He kept laughing, delirious and giddy the way he always got when he was still alive and knew he really shouldn’t be. “Well, now we know what to expect for next time!” he wheezed out.

Greenstone didn’t respond. He glanced over, and... oh.

Greenstone was a head, half of a chest, and a single remaining arm. She still clenched the orb in her claw, which was the only way she’d managed to get them back here, but she was a goner.

The Westward Daughters were no great healers, and this was beyond any healer Fowler had ever heard of.

He removed his hat, and then knelt down and pulled her into his lap. She shivered, and then pressed the orb into his hands. She met his eyes, and he saw that she had enough left for just one phrase, one last word with as much meaning as she could pack into it.

She spoke. “Sing for me. When the rain falls, not hard or soft, but a steady stream that calls to peace and silence and mutes the world without oppressing it, my spirit will be with you and among you. Sing for me, then, and I will hear it and you will send my soul to peace in the Green Mother. Promise it.”

“I promise,” said Fowler.

Greenstone died.

He held her, resolving in his heart that he’d keep that promise. Fowler wasn’t a religious man. He didn’t pray to Babus or any of the gods, and certainly not the Great Green Mother. But some things were sacred, and he’d never once failed to keep one of these promises.

This one would be tricky because it never rained in the Liminate, but he’d find a way.

He took in a deep breath, and let out a sigh. Then he stood, and put his hat back on. “Alright then. Now, about that Karth she promised me...”