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56. Hull - Apotheosis
🕑 Added 2024-11-24 02:37:39 +0000 UTC
Chapter 56
Apotheosis
Dear old Dad hung there in the sky looking like some god of judgment. Gone was the feckless, self-centered royal I’d seen him pretend to be in front of his nobles and subjects; in this moment Hestorus was a being of might, a central pillar of reality with more presence and vividness than the rarest of card summons. If a sculptor could have caught that face and wrought it in stone, they’d have hung up their hammer and chisels for good, knowing they could never again reach such heights.
“This is all it comes to?” he boomed, sounding aggrieved. “Is the world made of nothing larger than killing those who threaten my line? This cannot be the path forward.”
The Orc general Targu’Thal, still holding Gerad upright by his head, looked around as if wondering if Hestorus was speaking to him. There weren’t any other options – everyone was caught in some invisible grip as far as I could see, myself included – but apparently the great warrior expected threats or pleading from his enemy, not existential dissatisfaction. He shook the Prince in his grip, regaining his determination. “I challenge you, human,” he said. “I have bested your best and found them wanting. Face me, or I will kill your son.”
Hestorus merely stared and frowned, hardly seeming to see the scene in front of himself. My heart thudded in my chest. Would he really let Gerad die right in front of everyone? He’d told me he wouldn’t save me if I got myself in over my head, and I believed him, but surely his heir was a different story. I looked to Gerad. He’d regained consciousness, and an angry, self-loathing sneer painted his bloody face. Whatever the truth of things, he didn’t believe our father would intervene. Some tiny shred of me felt bad for him; I knew that despair, that abandonment. We’d been shaped by the same hand, he and I. The larger, meaner part of me couldn’t stop thinking about how much better my life would be if Gerad would do me the great favor of dying – the man hated me with a passion and would do his best to discredit and kill me if he lived.
The King threw his head back to the sky. “Who put you in charge? A child could design it better!” The defiant words rang out over the silent battlefield, and nothing but a hollow wind whistling through the hole in the city wall behind me answered. Hestorus gave a mighty sigh, shoulders slumping in apparent despair, but a moment later he fixed Targu’Thal with a gimlet stare. “If this is the game I must play, no matter how infantile, then fine. I bow to the inevitability of our blind, dead masters and accept your challenge.”
The heavens rang as if a gong the size of a mountain had just been struck, and Gerad was swept out of Targu’Thal’s hand by the same force that held the rest of us still. He sailed off into the air a hundred feet from our father and hung there, suspended, looking around wildly. Lines drew themselves in the air around him, sketching out a short wall in front of him and a transparent chair beneath him. The lines sped off in all directions, turning and veering with the precision of a dragonfly, leaving trails of light as they went. Color began to fill in around the lines like dyes dropped into water, and the little wall in front of Gared suddenly looked real. The outline of a massively tall arena was taking shape in the air.
“Twins twist my balls,” I whispered. “It’s apotheosis.” This wasn’t going to be some little box match like Gerad and I had been caught up in. This was the real deal, the full feast. Fate and Fortune had a top-tier exhibition match on their hands, and everyone on the battlefield had been given a compulsory invitation.
Others were caught up into the air on all sides one by one, spectators of the Twins’ great game. The dead bodies lying broken around us never stirred. Apparently the gods preferred a live audience. I heard a rustle of cloth somewhere near me and the crunch of feet in the dirt. I could only move my head, but I turned as best I could to see who was sneaking around. I saw no one, and a bare second later any confusion was driven from my mind as I got jerked into midair by the unseen hand that held me. I sped helplessly forward, then left, then down, then back, trying not to let the whine of fear growing in the back of my throat slip out. I settled into place in a chair that blossomed into reality underneath me, and suddenly I could move.
My source was gone, as were all my Souls and Relics, and when I mentally reached for my Mind Home, it was like bouncing off a brick wall. My brass knuckles still nestled in my hand – a comforting weight – but when I saw a rotting wight sail into place only a few seats away from me, my questing fingers found a smooth, invisible barrier less than an arm’s length away. I wasn’t a competitor here; I was meant to sit in the stands. Much as I’d have liked to take the time to thin the enemy ranks a little, it looked like the Twins kept a tight rein against brawling in the cheap seats.
Hestorus and Targu’Thal faced each other in a dueling box only a few rods below me. If this had been a real Coliseum match, I’d have had to spend a pretty penny to get seats this good. Apparently the Twins knew who was invested most in the match and arranged us accordingly. Gerad’s seat was even better than mine, the asshole. I looked around for Basil or Esmi and couldn’t see either of them. Real combatants seemed to be spaced evenly throughout the self-creating arena, with ghostly forms filling the seats between. I could hear ethereal cheers and chants that grew in volume as the godly arena became more and more solid. The space was ten times bigger than the Coliseum, an impossible structure.
I looked to the sky. The late afternoon sun warmed my face; we still had another three hours or more of daylight. I wonder how far the freezing effect goes. Looks like it covers the whole battle, but does it go farther than that? Depending on how long this lasts, it could be the difference between the whole city getting overrun and our army arriving to save our asses. The gods must know that; did they care? It wasn’t a thought a gutter rat like me was used to having.
I couldn’t go anywhere; all I could do was watch. However this turned out, I suspected that once it was over I’d get dumped right back where I’d been, hopefully with the same Relics and Summons I’d had before it all began. I settled into my chair and tried to shake off my battle focus. If I’d been in the Coliseum I’d have waved down a vendor for a sausage on a stick, but I doubted the Twins went in for finger foods. Besides, no matter how I fought before or after, I was pretty sure the battle on the floor of the gods’ arena would determine the outcome of the day. That thought made my stomach clench. Probably best I didn’t have anything to eat; I didn’t think Fate and Fortune would like me throwing up on their seats.
My father was talking to the empty air in front of him; likely the two contestants were going through some kind of preparation like I’d experienced when I fought Gerad this way. My hands clenched as I looked down at the man I’d hated so much for so long. All my life I’d thought I was destined to kill him; it wasn’t until I’d watched him take a killing blow from Lustra and turn it back on her that I’d realized how far from reality that goal was. Did I still want to kill him? I knew so much more now; I saw some shred of what it took to govern even a single neighborhood and how hard decisions had to be made even if someone got hurt by them. I’d seen what he meant to humankind and how he was trying in his own mad way to make us all more than we were. Could I hate the man? Would I kill him even if I could?
I didn’t know. Twins damn him for all he’d done, but I just didn’t know. It shook me to my boots to realize it. Who was I if I didn’t hate Hestorus? One thing I held for certain in my heart, though: there had to be a better way than the one he’d chosen. Civilization shouldn’t come at the cost of creating a place like the Lows, and a man shouldn’t abandon his children in the hopes it made them strong.
For all my conviction of his wrongness, we needed him now. “Make it a long fight, you son of a bitch,” I muttered down at him. “Play with him until the army gets here, and then put him down hard. Do this one thing right.”
If he heard, Hestorus showed no sign. For all that he said he’d watched over me all these years, had he ever heard me? I had the feeling I’d never know.
Then my lips started moving of their own accord, saying the sacred words. I heard the same from a hundred thousand voices all around, both real and ghostly. Some spoke languages I didn’t know, but somehow all the words resolved into a single, coherent voice. “Fate who guides and Fortune who saves, these your servants offer themselves in the sacred contest of will and skill. Seal this combat with your divine power and show them the cost of coming before their gods. So be it.”
Looking toward the tall tower at the far end of the arena and the two shining, indistinct figures who sat in the singular box within, I steeled myself for the match. So be it, indeed. Win this one for us, father.
* * *
Hestorus stilled the storm inside himself and let his heels settle to the arena floor as he faced the Orc who had killed his dear Juriss and nearly done the same to Gerad. The forms had been followed; the match had begun. His entire beloved city watched. He’d fought for so long against this inevitability, and a part of him railed against being forced into it now. How many of these gods’ games had he refused over the centuries? It had only happened more frequently since he’d attained Legendary, and always he’d felt sure that playing into Fate and Fortune’s hands was not his destiny.
But he’d worked so hard to arrange this war, to subtly influence the demons and undead into the alliance that would make the wandering Orcs a true threat to humanity, and this was the natural culmination of those events. How could he back away now? Perhaps this final demonstration of power would be what would finally entice someone – anyone – among his human kin to follow him into Legendary. Every other trail had been trod. The only reasonable path that led him past the end of the road was this one.
But how? his inner elevation cried. Is it another trick? Fate and Fortune are fools, simpletons who hoard power and see nothing beyond this mockery of a game. How can playing their damned match lead me higher? To have his own son dangled as bait was a trap so obvious that it must be something else; he’d scoured all sentimentality from himself ages ago in his quest to lift up humanity as a whole. And yet, and yet… in seeing the boy laid low he’d felt not the expected disappointment over yet another protégé who’d failed to perform, but instead some tremulous echo of the pain and rage he passed through watching that first family of his die at the hands of brigands so very, very long before. Was there some power he needed hidden in the dumb animal bond between parent and child? Had he missed some great secret dangling right in front of his face as he’d devoured the mysteries and occult teachings of the ancients?
And so, bewildered, he’d accepted the Twins’ invitation to fight despite the fact that this fool Orc had not so much as half the power of other foes he’d bested in times past. Pulling his thoughts back to the present, he saw that Targu’Thal had retreated to the far corner of the dueling box to sit cross-legged with his eyes closed. Hestorus remembered all the years he’d spent finding out the little ways to force-cycle so he could shave a fraction of a second off the time required to summon a source. The Orc was good at it; he already had 3 Chaos circling his head. Hestorus thought about pulling one of his own, but there was very little point in doing so. He’d moved beyond the need for source in most situations, especially those that required fighting. If the Twins found the fight boring or were annoyed that he’d violated the traditional opening gambit, so much the better.
“How do you think to kill me?” he asked Targu’Thal.
“The plan was to engage you from the front and let the others come in from the sides and back,” the Orc admitted, not opening his eyes nor moving from his seated meditation pose. “The Wills apparently had other ideas for us.”
Hestorus felt a stab of disappointment. Battlefield stratagems, nothing more. Perhaps if all of the enemy Mythics had swarmed him he’d have had to scramble, but now… “So instead you face me alone. What possessed you to accept? Are you mad or merely arrogant?”
A faint smile creased the warrior’s weathered face, puckering around his tusks. “Anyone must be a good deal of both to reach Mythic.”
Hestorus sat across from him, mirroring his pose. The distant roar of the crowd took on a note of confusion and disappointment, but he blocked it out. He had to feel his way carefully through this encounter if he was to discover some use in it. “Do you imagine that defeating me will vault you to Legendary? You must know it’s nowhere near that simple, even with the extra gifts the Twins' arena brings.”
“We had agreed to split your shards,” Targu’Thal said. “You are a stepping-stone, nothing more.”
Once he would have raged at the thought of someone breaking his card, but he’d done the same and far worse many times over. Instead, he chuckled. “I hope you didn’t put a blood oath on it. It would be a shame to shoulder all the risk and still have to split the spoils.”
The Orc’s smile widened into a fierce grin. He had eight source overhead. “Your shards will give me the power to take theirs. Legendary or no, I will be the mightiest being on the continent before the year turns.”
Feeling a hint of the old battle thrill, Hestorus returned the general’s smile. “Best start strong, then. I’m rather partial to the shards in question.”
“Then let us begin!” the Orc howled, launching himself from his seated position high into the air. Hestorus sat still, watching the powerful warrior reach the peak of his jump and begin to descend. An unexpected disturbance in the air to one side distracted him for a bare moment, bringing a distant chime of fear with it, but he refocused on the threat at hand. Targu’Thal was summoning, and he meant to hit hard.
It was an excellent combo. It made use of the inevitable fact that hitting a Legendary would cost a hefty amount of cards from the attacker and then used that – plus a truly magnificent weapon; incredible that Chaos should produce such an overpowered monster of a Relic – as the base of an impressive multiplier. One-shot tactics were the surest way to fell a foe above your own power level; he’d done similar things a few times himself in the distant past, though back then he’d never put together a combo that hit this hard. It might have even been enough to kill him a century or two ago. The addition of the deck-destruction Spell felt like a backup contingency; this was a blow meant to fell a mountain in a single strike.
He held up a fist as Targu’Thal descended in all his fury. As the Orc’s On the Chin Spell demanded, the fist landed first, sending a blizzard of card shreds into the air around the Orc. He had a heavy Armor ability, of course, but Hestorus’s bare knuckles had cost him no less than 10 cards, perhaps 12.
Then the massive axe rammed home atop Hestorus’s head. The impact was incredible, throwing up a ring of dust and dirt to wash over the stands. He couldn’t help but smirk. The Twins had made this arena from nothing; there was no actual dust to be found. They just liked the drama of it all.
Instead of the usual crunching impact Relics made, a crystalline crack resonated from the point of contact. If anyone in the stands had been holding a wineglass, it would have shattered. A gasp and a hush fell over the crowd as Targu’Thal flew backwards, flailing madly until he hit the invisible barrier surrounding the dueling box and tumbled to the ground.
Not a single card shred leaked from Hestorus. None could; his Mind Home didn’t work like that anymore. The Orc stared at him in gray-faced shock as Hestorus got to his feet. He scrabbled backward against the shield, seeing his own death advancing.
Hestorus ignored him. Turning to the Twins’ shining tower, he raised two forked fingers in an age-old gesture of disgust and defiance. “Is this all you have for me? Is there none who can challenge me now? Is this it?!” Chest heaving, mind awhirl, he spat on the stones. “Fight me yourselves if nothing else!”
Behind him, Targu’Thal was scrambling to recover, summoning whatever shreds of hope remained to him.
The summons barreled into him from the side, swinging a sword. Even if Targu’Thal had had the 5 Chaos needed for her devote ability it would have done nothing. As it stood, the Soul shattered at the point of impact, motes of light breaking apart from the sword backward until nothing remained.
Facing his felled enemy, Hestorus sought desperately for meaning. The war elevates us all; that much I know. Can stepping in to save Gerad really mean anything? He was a sweet child once; he might have been a good king if I’d had time to pay attention to him. How could he matter more than Juriss? She was on the edge of Mythic, and he has miles to go. Should I have saved her instead? How can any of them join me if I don’t let them stand or fall on their own?
Looking past Targu’Thal with eyes that saw beyond, he gazed through the illusion of the arena to his beloved city burning in the dying light. All my work, is it for naught? We won’t win this battle unless I do it, and then what’s the point? Rage and despair hit him harder than the Orc’s axe had. What more could I give? I have given my whole life to building us up! Everything! He’d discovered more than three hundred years before that the only way to elevate himself beyond what was known was to elevate his whole species; but the how of it eluded him even now.
His own thoughts rang back at him, and he suddenly realized he’d been lying to himself. Oh, Hest, my lad, how can you say you’ve given everything while you still stand? There was one thing left he could give in order to elevate humanity: his life. If it meant that Gerad and Hull, Bryll and Maisi, Rulon and Vetch and all the others, any of his brilliant children might follow in his steps… it might be worth it. Might it? The thoughts didn’t quite make sense, but they rang in his heart like a bell even so.
“How?” he yelled to the skies. “I’ll do it, but how?” He pointed at the cowering Targu’Thal. “With this?”
The Twins – or whoever it was up on that tower – said nothing. They never did, no matter how he searched and studied, prayed and sacrificed. The heavens were closed to him. If he wanted to take this step, the answer wouldn’t come from above.
He let the moment hang, but nothing happened. With a heavy heart, he faced the Orc. “I’m sorry. I thought this would go differently. I hoped. If it makes you feel any better, I did have a new thought as we fought. It might prove fruitful someday.”
Targu’Thal said nothing, but he climbed to his feet, holding his massive axe at the ready. His eyes were dull with despair, but he would meet his death on his feet. It was the most anyone could ask for. Hestorus gave him a nod of respect and reached forward to end him.
That errant breeze he’d felt before solidified right in front of him, turning into a human man with braids in the armor of a city guard. He had a mocking smirk on his face. Odd; he was obviously a Summoner, but Hestorus could see a full card as if he were a summons.
“Hello, sweetheart,” the man said, devoting the full circle of 10 Nether circling his head.
Hestorus felt a flash of confusion, but the tilt of that smile sparked a memory, and the resonance of the being behind that face was as familiar as his own despite the years that had separated them. Hello, Yveda, he might have said if he’d had time. I’ve missed you, you awful being. I’m not sure why you decided to commit suicide this way. Surely you remember that any blow that might kill me turns back on the one who dealt it?
In the dear demon’s eyes he saw that knowledge and plenty else besides. He marveled, wondering what he’d missed. He really should have had more children with her. It had felt important at the time to have a legitimate human heir, and he’d been so shocked to be tricked into a bastard that he’d had the woman thrown out before he even realized who she was, but his plans had taken many a turn since then. He almost wished he could stop the incredible 120 points of damage she was pouring down his throat from killing her. The conversations they’d once had!
The Spells thundered home into him, and he arched wildly, feeling the power like lightning surging through him, turning about and leaping back out through his mouth. What a shame, Goodbye, dearest enemy of mine.
But that knowing twinkle only grew, and in a flash she shifted form into someone else. Someone he knew. Someone he hadn’t seen look like this in a very long time.
If his mouth hadn’t been full of fire and lightning, he would have laughed. That’s my boy. Nearly twenty years this moment had been brewing, and he hadn’t even seen it coming. No canny Orc warrior would take him down, oh no. It would be the woman he hadn’t known he loved until she was gone, and the boy that had come from their brief time together. Hull had wanted to kill him all along, and it turned out he was going to, using the exact power Hestorus had blithely assumed would save him. Who would have guessed that this would be what I passed down to him?
The wash of flame and lightning entered the child and came right back out his mouth. Hestorus watched it come. He should have been scared, should have been raving at the collapse of a thousand years of progression, but instead he felt… peace. Joy, even. This felt right as rain. It was the solution he’d looked for all this time, right under his nose.
Ah, Hull. My brave, beautiful boy. I hope you get your card back.
It was his last thought.
Comments
Sharrif
Not necessarily. As Edaine described it: "Though it has many names, the phenomenon is one and the same. Should the Twins take an interest in a match between two Summoners, or more, a stage of sorts will form." It's whatever the Twins find entertaining, basically. For all we know, Felstrife was there too as a 3v1 but also chose to stay hidden/out of sight.
Sharrif
And so many more, too! Can't wait to learn all about them ahhhhhh!
Pils Christian
``An unexpected disturbance in the air to one side distracted him for a bare moment, bringing a distant chime of fear with it, but he refocused on the threat at hand. ´´ It was 2v1 from the start, but she had Stealth active
Knyko
Imagine that card combined with the intervene ability, crazy good! But im wondering how hes gonna get it back honestly, his mother doesnt exactly seem like the type to give it back to him…
Scarred Ragdoll
Interesting. Wonder if this means Hestorus got his final elevation and if this means he's going to experience a state change. Makes me wonder if the tree of the elves also resulted from an elevation experienced by the legendary elf rather than simply being buried there.
Knyko
Seems kinda busted yeah, but it surely has some limitations. And it seems to only be applicable in real combat. Also, Hull doesnt even have his card, so it doesnt matter (yet)
Hailhound
Eyy we got confirmation Bryll is also one of Hestorus’ bastards!
Joxter
Kinda confused as to how it became a 2 v 1 was it not supposed to be a 1 v 1 fight?
Karl
Assuming Hestorus's ability has the same wording, this chapter shows one way it can be worked around.
sam
Oh snap. Wonder what will happen to the city now!
Mogwai
Does Hull's card mean that he can't be killed? Or rather if he still had the card.
Death56
Hulls card was crazy
