Chris Huisjen
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Stormblade B2 C35: The White Sands (2)
🕑 Added 2025-08-20 13:00:10 +0000 UTC35 - The White Sands (2) Derrick’s question echoed through the static as a half-dozen different voices all repeated the same thing. “Could C
35 - The White Sands (2)
Derrick’s question echoed through the static as a half-dozen different voices all repeated the same thing.
“Could Carlsbad have cleared it?”
“What about the Monster Eaters?”
“Are there any other cities operating here?”
I already knew the answer.
In one of my last games of chess, I’d played Dad to a standstill. Piece for piece, move for move, I’d fought viciously for control over the center of the board—and won. Then I’d gradually tightened the noose around his king. I’d had him exactly where I wanted him.
Then he’d thrown a bishop across the entire board and into my back line, and within three turns, I was mated. I hadn’t seen it coming. Not that time.
But this time? This time, I saw it. The strike team was out of position. They’d taken the bait of an easy check against the White Sands portal break. And nine out of ten times, that would have been the right choice. In fact, I doubted this was Deborah’s strategy at all; this was just how convoys crossed the desert every time.
This time, something had changed. And I was the only one who saw it.
“Quiet, everyone.” No, not the only one. Angelo’s voice cut across the radio. He didn’t raise his voice, but his aura almost seemed to come from the speaker on Ellen’s belt, silencing the myriad voices. “Convoy escort teams, prepare for an assault from the east. It will most likely be C and B-Rank monsters. If there are A or S-Ranks, report them. Otherwise, fight hard. The strike team is repositioning to the correct front. Five minutes.”
It was quiet—as quiet as two dozen repositioning diesel trucks could be, at least—for almost thirty seconds as we dismounted, wove between the convoy’s tractor-trailers, and readied our weapons.
The first scream hit me a moment later.
Then the second and third.
It wasn’t spiders. That was the only good news.
Fallen Hurricane Legionnaire: B-Rank
The monsters stood a solid nine feet tall. They were almost impossibly slender, with four arms that hung from a double pair of shoulders halfway up their semi-skeletal, semi-insectoid bodies. Their skin and armor seemed almost wet, and the spears and shields they carried were made from portal metal and bone and churning storms. Insectlike eyes locked onto us, and a half-dozen of the thin, hunched monsters separated from the swarm pressing toward the other combined team.
Behind them, a tidal wave of C-Rank monsters—similar to the Legionnaires, but twisted and broken, with names like Corrupted Hurricane Guardsman and Defiled Hurricane Archer—pressed down on us.
The tsunami hit. Our formation wasn’t ready.
Jeff taunted and used Retaliate. Shadow Boxing rippled across the front line of Legionnaires. The northeast guard truck went under in a boiling mass of monsters. And I threw myself at the closest B-Rank Legionnaire. My thrust ricocheted harmlessly off its shield. The Ariette’s Razor I summoned in my off-hand didn’t; it bypassed the blocking spear and scoured a thin cut on the monster’s head.
It chittered. Wind picked up behind it, and I threw the air dagger right into its shield and dropped into a solid defensive stance. Then I used Gustrunner. I had a full set of Yasmin’s Scripts running. The B-Rank monster kept up with me easily, even through that. Its spear shot toward my face; I parried, but the tip cut a thin groove through my hair.
The fight around me had dissolved into a confused mess of swords, spears, and spells. There were no formations; two of the trucks were submerged in a swarm of skeletal bugs. “Ellen, portal type?!” I yelled as I dodged a thrust that would have taken me in the stomach.
“No clue!” Ellen cast an Orb of Darkness. It hit the monster I was fighting as she Shadestuttered behind me. Jeff’s sword thrust through one C-Rank’s chest and into the monster behind it.
Someone screamed. It cut off as suddenly as it had started.
We had to get control of this before we lost another truck. But I couldn’t take control. No one could. The B-Rank monster I was up against was just too fast—every attempt to go on the offensive ended up with its spear scoring another glancing hit.
I focused in. Let the monster become the only thing that mattered. All the desperate fights around me weren’t important. I had to beat the Legionnaire. But I didn’t have to do it alone. I couldn’t take the offensive. But I could open up a window for Ellen.
So I rotated. And I used Mistform as quickly as I could, letting the monster’s shield and spear both punch through me as I faded to nothing. It did something similar; I held my sword inside the ethereal enemy until it reformed, then pulled it free with a jerk that sprayed ichor across the battlefield.
The monster roared. I blocked the spear aimed at my throat. Shadow Boxing ripped across it, and I quickly adjusted my grip and followed Ellen’s attack with Rain-Slicked Blade. All I’d had the opportunity to do was defend. All I had were Rainfall Charges. But that was all I needed.
My sword blew through the shield and cut into a part of the monster’s chest where Ellen’s attack had already shredded its flesh. It cut through the thing’s spine, and it crumpled. The top half was still fighting, but a handful of spells and a few quick thrusts later, it stopped, too.
“Ellen, cover me!” I yelled. Then I dashed toward the lead truck—and toward Derrick.
He had to learn what was going on. And I needed that driver to change plans.
We’d never make it to Alamogordo. Not driving into the eye of the storm.
◄▼►
“You want us to what?” Derrick asked incredulously.
“I want us to turn east.” I glared at him. If I’d had an aura like a B-Ranker’s, I’d be crushing him with it right now. As it stood, all I could do was try to breathe as the sounds of battle—and of slaughter—kept up. Try to breathe…and try to explain.
“The monsters are coming from the south and east,” he said.
“No, they’re coming from the south, and a few of them are circling east to attack us from that direction. Most of the B and C-Rank ones are surging from the south, though. We don’t know anything about them, but I’d be willing to bet we won’t make it to Alamogordo, Derrick. Tell the driver to turn back and head east.”
“Not without—“
Derrick didn’t get to finish. Tallas’s Dueling Blade whipped out. It caught a D-Rank monster—a Misbegotten Servitor—in the throat, and I held it in the air by the hilt while it died. “We’re drowning, Derrick. Change the plan. Now! Tell Angelo when you can!”
The GC rep stared at the twitching monster. Then he seemed to make up his mind. “All trucks, turn back toward 380 East. Delver Kade Noelstra is taking over command of the convoy. Strike Team, the convoy is going to attempt to break through toward Roswell.”
The strike team didn’t respond as the trucks slowly, ponderously turned around and started rolling behind the ragged line of delvers out there. I wanted nothing more than to rejoin the fight—especially because I knew why Derrick had passed command over to me. It was so that this wouldn’t be his fault.
And my friends were out there. Sophia was probably covered in delvers’ blood, and Ellen and Jeff were fighting for their lives. I wanted to be out there.
But the fight didn’t matter. What I wanted didn’t matter, either. I needed to be here.
I pushed the battle trance down and focused on the map Derrick had pinned on a crate in the middle of the truck.
Roswell looked like it was a long way away. To get there, I’d need to be a chessmaster.
“Okay.” I grabbed the radio from him. He squawked in indignation, but I ignored that as I called out commands. All B-Rankers, try to break free to the south. They’ll have A-Rank monsters coming up soon. Regroup together. C-Rank teams, tighten up around the tail trucks. Independent delvers cover the east flank. Strike Team, where are you?”
The radio triggered. Then it went quiet, and when it came back on, Deborah’s voice echoed across it. She sounded cold and clipped. “Delver Noelstra, be advised that the Light of Dawn is beginning an eighty-percent assault run to your south and east. Keep all teams at least half a mile upwind from him. The Spark of Life will correct any of your errors, but it will take time. The rest of us are attempting to adjust to your new travel plan.”
I took a deep breath. Then I looked at the map. If the Light of Dawn was going nuclear anywhere near the road, that was just one more complication.
“Okay. Delver Callahan, can you reinforce our B-Rank screen?” I asked.
“Yes.”
Good enough. I looked at the map as Derrick shoved pins into it to show the new array of forces around the convoy. Then I nodded. “Okay, Derrick, we’re out of reserves, and everyone’s committed. I’m passing command back to you.”
“What?” he squawked again.
I ignored him. The gambit was set. The moves were obvious given the pieces on the board, and there wasn’t any other line of play. I’d been the best chessmaster I could be.
Instead of playing strategist and watching the map and radio, I threw myself into a swarm of hideously twisted, insectlike monsters. Not one of them was over D-Rank, and the dueling blade and Razor I’d summoned sliced through them like a scythe through the harvest. In less than half a minute, the side of the lead truck was covered in gore and ichor. Then I raced back toward the defensive line.
Ellen was running toward me. I ignored her and thrust into the monster following her. The C-Rank didn’t drop like the D-Ranks had, but it did die after a second and third stab—and an Orb of Darkness that consumed its head. Sophia knelt in the middle of healing someone. I parried a spear as it sliced through the air toward her back. She flinched, but kept healing. Tears ran down her face.
And ahead of me, a tank stood in the middle of a lake of blood, ichor, and monster chunks.
I threw the Razor at the nearest monster, shifted my grip, and used Howling Gale as I ran toward him. My next attack cleaved across the swarm, slicing into dozens of enemies. A Lightning Charge appeared, and I switched back to Cyclone stance. Then I cast Thunder Wave and doubled it with Lightning Strikes Twice.
Now wasn’t the time to worry about Jeff. He could handle it.
Dozens of tendrils of lightning connected with every monster around me, and Jeff braced himself against the electrical storm. Then it happened a second time, covering the monsters with burns and scorching the cuts Jeff’s Retaliate and my Howling Gale had left in them. It was an impressive display of power.
So impressive that when the monsters froze, I thought it was because of me for a moment.
Then, a mile away to the southeast, the sky opened its eye. It looked at the swarm of monsters below it, and it must have been displeased. Fire erupted from nothing—a wall of fire almost three hundred yards high. The shockwave rocked the convoy’s trucks behind us. Then the wall of heat blistered my face even as my delver’s fast healing kicked in to repair it. It was as if all the force of a tornado had met with the concentrated power of the sun. Nothing could possibly be alive over there, where a mushroom cloud quickly rocketed toward the sky.
And behind that, the Light of Dawn’s aura pressed down like a thousand-ton weight. For a moment, the entire fight went still as delvers and monsters alike struggled to recover from it.
We moved first. The gambit paid off, and the few seconds that Angelo’s spell had bought us were enough to cut some breathing room.
Ellen’s radio crackled a moment later. Deborah’s voice came across it. “Be advised that the Light of Dawn is moving south and repeating his eighty-percent-power bombardment. Keep moving east. Don’t worry about taking rads; we’ll get everyone cleaned up at Capitan.”
I nodded. The fight wasn’t over—not by a long shot—but the B-Rank teams were turning around and heading to the south and east points of the convoy, and far to the south, the strike team had finally engaged something. Things were starting to look more controlled.
◄▼►
It took an hour to roll into the small, abandoned town of Capitan.
The whole time, we fought for our lives against all the D, C, and B-Ranked monsters that the strike team and Angelo had no choice but to let through. They couldn’t be everywhere, and they prioritized the A-Rank monsters that could easily wash over us without a problem.
A hundred yards west of the town, we fought our first A-Rank monster—a Corrupted Hurricane Warlord.
It took a full B-Rank team and two C-Rank ones—or what was left of us, since we were tapped dry—to bring the small, thin monster down. It was fast. So fast that we lost another truck to it when it ripped the tractor apart and gutted the GC rep driving it. All I did the entire fight was try to protect Ellen while she tried to protect Sophia.
And then, mercifully, it was quiet.
Four delvers were dead. Another six were too wounded to fight for at least a day, even with healing. The Spark of Life could probably get them up and running more quickly, but for now, they were clinging to life.
Raul was one of them.
I waited near Sophia as she used the last of her Mana to heal him. His stomach was tattered, even with her magic, and one arm was twisted like wires had wrapped around it a dozen times before cutting into it.
Ellen touched my shoulder. I jumped, then took a deep breath. She kept her hand on it. “It’s not your fault,” she said quietly.
“I don’t know. I was in command.”
“Let’s see what Deborah Callahan says. If she says it’s not your fault, it’s not your fault,” Ellen retaliated.
I nodded. But inside, I couldn’t help but hold on to the guilt. I’d never been in command of a disaster, even temporarily. Jeff had—and he’d survived it.
“Take a deep breath,” Ellen said.
I did. And it helped. Then I waited for the strike team to return so we could figure out our next move.
◄▼►
Queen Mother Yalerox, Paragon of the Hurricane, wept.
She’d emerged from the purple gate in her birthing room to summon storms against the stronghold her children still hadn’t conquered in her name, to break its walls and scatter its defenses. It had been her third in as many nights.
Summoning a storm was no small task, and if she wanted a good one by the evening, she’d have to start in the morning. Even for the Paragon of the Hurricane, the effort was taxing. She’d been halfway through her spell when something had crushed her.
An aura. In the distance. It flared brighter than the sun and interrupted her storm-spell; only Yalerox’s full concentration prevented her from losing control of the winds and rain overhead. A moment later, the deaths of hundreds of her offspring hit her.
She’d been losing them for days. Today’s skirmishes were, she assumed, the mop-up of the survivors from the portal world she’d invaded two days ago. Yalerox hadn’t wanted to end the A-Rank monsters to her northwest, but they hadn’t had the wisdom to know that they were in her world now. They’d fought against her, and the punishment for that was death. Queen Mother Yalerox wanted this world. If they chose to stand against her, that was on them.
But to have hundreds upon hundreds of her children die all at once…something was coming. Something bad.
She poured her efforts into finishing the stormcasting, then redoubled them into a second, even stronger one. That it would drain her dry tonight and leave her too exhausted to birth another generation of her twisted children was irrelevant. She’d been birthing them for weeks now, and she had too many to know what to do with.
It wasn’t her children’s deaths that disturbed and enraged Yalerox. It was that something had possessed the temerity to kill them in such numbers.
The stronghold would fall. And then she’d turn her sights on whoever—or whatever—had dared to attack her brood.
As was her right.
Comments
Stephen Pearson
Great chapter, thanks very much! :-)
