Michael Chatfield
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Four Horsemen Book 5 - Old Histories: Chapter 9
🕑 Added 2025-05-19 23:44:59 +0000 UTCPetor eased his pace as he crossed the temple's threshold. His boots crunched on broken glass and splintered wood. Bodies sprawled across the floor—champions, and undead defenders, their bodies intermixed with one another amongst the ruined temple.
Scorch marks, weapon attacks and bullet holes scarred the once-pristine walls. Shafts of dawn light pierced through ragged holes in the ceiling, cutting through the dusty air like divine spears. The light caught motes of stone dust and ash, creating an ethereal haze that drifted lazily through the sanctum.
His plants had already begun their inexorable spread. Everburning brambles crawled up the walls like veins of fire, their thorns wet with blood where champions had tried to tear them away.
The air hung heavy in his lungs, thick with the cloying smell of death. Blood pooled in the shallow depressions of the floor tiles, mixing with water from shattered fountains. The metallic tang mixed with the acrid stench of burnt flesh and powdered stone.
Broken pews lay scattered like discarded kindling. Desks were cracked and splintered, their contents strewn across the floor in tatters.
Papers and scrolls drifted in the slight breeze that whispered through the broken windows, dancing macabre pirouettes through the dawn light.
A section of ceiling creaked ominously above, sending a fresh shower of dust and small debris pattering down. Petor's plants shifted with his thoughts and adjusted their grip on the walls, helping to stabilize the damaged structure even as they continued their relentless advance through every crack and crevice.
Desari's sword flashed through the air, fire was drawn from the walls ot
Petor watched Desari take position at the temple's heart. Her katana sang through the air, each stroke ending a life with surgical precision. The elements bent to her command—earth erupted in protective barriers, water crashed through ranks of champions, fire leapt from the burning timbers to set champions alight, and wind cut like invisible blades.
She moved with lethal grace, her footwork carrying her through the chaos as naturally as breathing. The ground shuddered beneath her as stone spikes burst upward, skewering champions mid-charge. A torrential wave followed, dousing enemy spells before crystallizing into deadly ice shards that penetrated plate armor like paper.
A champion wielding a greatsword charged through the carnage. Desari's wrist flicked almost casually, and a gust of wind sent the massive blade wide. Her counter-thrust was lightning-quick, her katana piercing chest plate and flesh. Flames erupted along the blade's length, immolating the champion from the inside out as he screamed.
Despite the blood and dirt that marked her face, despite her heavy breathing, Desari's eyes remained sharp and focused. Each movement flowed into the next with practiced efficiency. Champions fell in waves before her onslaught, yet more rushed forward to take their place, as if drawn to their doom by her deadly display.
The elements themselves seemed to orbit around her like eager servants, ready to be unleashed at her command. Water pooled at her feet, earth trembled in anticipation, fire danced along her blade, and the air crackled with potential energy.
Petor's gaze tracked the brutal efficiency of Valter's armored constructs as they flanked Desari. The mithril plates, once gleaming and pristine, now bore the scars of countless impacts. Blackened craters pockmarked their surface where spells had struck home, and deep gouges carved paths across their breastplates and pauldrons.
The armor to Desari's left surged forward, its movements jerky but purposeful. It locked onto a charging champion, metal fingers digging into flesh and plate with equal disregard. The champion thrashed, trying to break free, but the construct's grip was absolute. With a sound like a smith's hammer striking anvil, the armor collapsed inward. Bones snapped and metal shrieked as the champion was crushed within the construct's embrace.
Valter's armor crumpled, its magic spent, scattering pieces across the temple floor. As Petor sprinted toward the fighting, a dimantium bracer whizzed past his head, spinning end over end toward where Valter ran behind him.
On Desari's right, the second construct stood its ground despite missing its sword arm and half its helm. It braced, raising a tower shield just as a juggernaut—easily twice the size of a normal champion—brought down a massive maul. The impact sent a thunderous boom echoing through the temple. Stone dust rained from the ceiling as the walls shuddered. Yet the construct held firm, its feet grinding shallow furrows in the floor as it absorbed the devastating blow.
The juggernaut's attack left him exposed. Desari didn't waste the opening, her katana already in motion as she darted past the shield wall.
The juggernaut turned and lowered his shoulder a spell lashing out at Desari that threw her back. She went through a column and hit the wall. Valter's armor pressed its shield to the juggernaut and activated the shield's enchantment.
The juggernaut was launched backwards and up, smashing through the champions behind as the ground cracked underneath the armor's feet.
Petor glimpsed Mya through the settling dust and debris. She flowed through the battlefield like water, each movement precise and calculated. Her pistols sang their deadly song, the reports echoing off the temple walls. A champion tried to circle behind Desari, but Mya's bullet found the gap in their visor. The champion crumpled, helm smoking where the enchanted round had punched through.
He hands flowed, drawing pistols from her storage or her holsters and dropping them back as they ran empty.
Another champion charged forward, axe raised high. Mya's pistol barked twice. The first shot shattered the champion's knee, sending them pitching forward. The second round took them in the throat before they hit the ground.
Golden runes flickered along her pistols' barrels with each shot, casting dancing shadows across her face. The enchanted bullets leaving a glowing path.
Despite the mayhem swirling around her, Mya's expression remained serene.
"Think you can come to my island, to my people and take our souls?" Her voice deepened with each word, as her power fluctuated and grew, the bracer's Valter had made for her glowing with power.
She held out her hand and two undead guardians appeared, the temple floor cracked under their massive forms.
They were as tall as Valter with armor bolted directly into their bones with cutlasses in each hand.
Runes flared to life upon their armor as attacks struck them.
The constructs lumbered forward, already starting to smoke and char as they engaged the champions. Their massive fists crushed armor and bone with equal ease, even as their own bodies began to burn from proximity to their divine-powered foes.
Petor stepped through the roots beneath his feet, emerging in the heart of the melee. His spear hummed with deadly intent as he materialized behind a champion raising their crossbow to shoot Desari.
They started to turn as he swept out with his spear, removing head from body.
He pivoted his spear caught another champion's helm in a vicious slash, the impact sending cracks spider-webbing across the blessed metal. The champion staggered, helm partially caved in.
A mace whistled toward his head. Petor dropped low, feeling the wind of its passage ruffle his hair. He thrust upward, finding the gap beneath the champion's arm where the plates met. Hot blood sprayed as he wrenched the spear free. The champion's death rattle was lost in the din of battle.
His boots slipped in the growing pool of blood beneath him. Petor planted his feet wider, adjusting his stance as another wave of champions pressed forward. A massive warrior charged, war axe held high.
Petor lunged forward and stabbed, driving through the man's armor into his heart, teleporting along the root road as the hammer smashed through the space he had occupied.
A glaive swept toward him in a deadly arc. Petor dropped to one knee, the blade passing harmlessly overhead. In one fluid motion, he drove his spear through the champion's knee joint. Armor crumpled and bone shattered. As the champion fell a gunshot hit the man in the head, ending him.
Petor rose, driving his spear into a champion's throat as he turned..
He felt the life force drain from the fallen champions, drawing it into himself. With practiced ease, he channeled the energy toward Desari, watching as her wounds began to close.
A gunshot cracked behind him, the sharp report echoing off the temple walls. A champion advancing on Petor jerked as a bullet struck their shoulder, staggering them.
"You're welcome!" Mya called out.
Petor stabbed through the opening in their armor—killing them. "Thank you!"
He summoned his magic. Roots burst from the ground, coiling around the legs of the champions in front of him.
A roar came from behind.
A wild Valter has entered the fray.
Petor's breath came in ragged gasps as Valter's shield crashed into an advancing champion with bone-crushing force, sending them staggering backward into their companions.
He stabbed outwards, unleashing a thrust of thermal energy that ended the champion he threw back.
"Petor, on your left!" Valter's warning came just in time.
Petor turned to see a spear thrust aimed at his ribs. Valter's armor stepped between them, his shield deflecting the strike with a resounding clang. The spearhead scraped across the metal with a shower of sparks.
A champion's armored fist slammed into his side. Pain exploded through his ribs as he hit the blood-slicked floor. He caught a glimpse of a blade descending toward his head and rolled. The blade struck stone, sending chips flying.
Plants grabbed the blade and swarmed up the attackers arm and legs, the everburning bramble stabbing into the champion as he tore his hand free.
Petor lashed out with his spear, ending the champions' life and multiplied into illusions, spreading throughout the temple to distract and confuse.
That makes things easier.
Petor kept the pressure on with his plants forcing them to divide their attention between defending against his plants and pressing their attack.
A champion's blessed blade sliced through his stormvine, the plant withering as divine energy coursed through it. Another champion's mace smashed his crystal-fall willow before it could fully manifest, crushing the delicate crystalline structure.
The champions advanced with grim efficiency, but their focus on destroying his plants left openings in their defense. Openings that his allies were quick to exploit.
Petor felt the pull as Desari drew power through their connection. His muscles burned with each thrust of his spear, but he didn't resist the drain. The familiar sensation of his energy flowing to her felt like a river rushing through his veins.
His spear found another gap in champion armor. As the enemy fell, that death too fueled whatever Desari was doing.
It wore on his own reserves, unable to keep controlling and growing all of the plants.
Mya fired her rifle. Two champions dropped, their blessed armor smoking where the ethereal rounds penetrated. But more pressed forward, forcing them back step by step.
Petor's arms felt heavy as he turned another attack, his spearhead cutting through flesh as the power rushed into him before Desari pulled that power too.
The temple stones trembled beneath his feet. Raw magic crackled through the air, making his hair stand on end. He could feel Desari behind him, her presence a growing storm of power that made his teeth ache and his bones vibrate.
Each breath felt like inhaling lightning. His lungs burned as he gasped for air, yet he kept fighting. Another champion fell to his spear. Then another. Each death feeding more power to Desari's building spell.
The very air grew thick and heavy, like trying to move through water. Petor's movements slowed as the magical pressure increased.
The world exploded. A deafening roar drowned out every other sound as Desari unleashed the spell. Fire, water, earth, and air combined into a singular, unstoppable force. A wave of superheated steam surged outward, ripping through the champions with unimaginable ferocity. The jagged spikes of stone shattered and re-formed mid-flight, turning into shrapnel that tore through armor and flesh alike.
Petor staggered under the force of the blast, his spear nearly ripped from his hands. Heat licked at his face, the air thick with the acrid stench of burning flesh and the metallic tang of blood. He threw an arm up to shield his eyes, but even through the chaos, he could see the destruction.
Champions screamed as the elements tore into them. Their blessed armor offered no protection against Desari's fury. Metal warped and melted, fusing to flesh. Stone spikes punched through breastplates. Those caught in the direct path of the steam simply... melted, their armor warping.
The storm settled and Petor regained his feet and reached out to the world and consumed.
Petor's body trembled as he drew upon the power concentrated in the area.
Life force of fallen champions healed his body and cleared his mind. His consciousness expanded, reaching for that power with desperate intensity.
It rushed into him—hot, metallic, and charged with divine essence.
The divine energy was being drawn away he snarled and dragged it to himself. The energy flooded his system, raw and potent. He had consumed a god's power directly. This power was ownerless, only having a slight connection with a god.
His depleted reserves filled rapidly. Warmth spread through his limbs, chasing away the bone-deep exhaustion. His breathing steadied, muscles unknotting as strength returned. The ache in his ribs faded to a dull throb.
He directed the overflow toward his companions. To Desari first, feeling her draw on it to replenish what her devastating spell had cost. The power flowed between them like a river finding its course, natural and smooth.
Mya's connection felt different—colder, touched by death's shadow. The energy he sent her way twisted slightly, taking on a spectral quality before she absorbed it. Her wounds sealed shut, flesh knitting together with unnatural speed.
Valter's armor gleamed as the power reached him, the dents and scratches in his dimantium plate smoothing out. His constructs straightened, red appearing between their broken plates as they fused back together—repairing themselves.
In the sweeping silence, among the debris falling there was one noise—a rythmic hammering—and cracking.
"Shit, we need to stop them before they break in," Mya looked around at the others.
Petor could pick out the noise of fighting at the front of the temple, fighters yelling out in pain and victory as metal clashed.
The gun crews must have made it.
"Ready?" She asked them.
Petor nodded and flicked his spear, cleaning it of blood somewhat.
"The armors aren't going to last much longer," Valter said but I'll do what I can.
"After you sister," Desari said.
Mya drew out her Drowned Captain's Requiem and started jogging towards the temple's heart at the rear of the building.
