fic - the faithful and the brave : 41 [novella]
Title: The Faithful and the Brave
Part: 41
The Faithful and the Brave
Part 41
There was a moment of disorientation as they crossed the threshold, a quick feeling of falling before their feet hit the rough ground on the other side. It was a huge, unnatural space, with filigreed rock-like formations sweeping majestically across a sky painted with shimmering ribbons, and yet the atmosphere pressed heavily down upon them with an almost claustrophobic feeling.
It wasn't difficult to spot them, a short distance from the gate. Before two great spires, Sylvia was pounding a hand against a transparent barrier dome that closed her in, not even large enough for her to allow her to stand. It held her confined to a ring of symbols on the ground, around which swirled lazy eddies of energy. Not far from her, the Knight Commander of the Templars stood watch.
The rapturous look slid off Dermail's face when he spotted them. "You!" he roared. "You dare continue to stand in the way of his return?!" His expression contorted in rage -- no, his face was transforming, his whole body was transforming as they approached, into something that seemed half man, half lion.
"Hashmal," Heero growled, a visceral loathing of the beast welling up within him.
Heero and Trowa led the charge, with Duo wide on their flank to play to his own strengths. Heero glanced past Hashmal to Sylvia, who watched them with a fierce confidence underlined with fear and worry. He blinked away from her and back to the demon in front of them. In a split second of eye contact, he saw in that flat black glare a flash of smug satisfaction. He knew a moment of doubt, a quiver of indecision as to whether to stop, but then the wave swept over them, cold terror that paralyzed them all and brought them to their knees.
Hashmal laughed at them, a low harsh rumble of a sound. "You will not stop this. You can not. His time has finally come. You channelers were the key. We tried once with Ajora as host, but it became clear quickly that a mere human body could not possibly hope to host the glory that is Epyon. But with you... we can simply open the door and allow our lord to come through in his own form!"
He gestured grandly at the two spires in front of them. With his attention properly focused, Heero could see now that the flickers between the rocks were no trick of the light, no weird effect of the sparkles in the sky, but glimpses into another plane where Epyon awaited his freedom. The silhouette was distorted, making it difficult to perceive the demon's form. No, those were wings spreading from his back. And by the same flash of intuition, Heero understood that Epyon strained impatiently at his bonds, that he was chained to those two great spires somehow, and that the power of all the death Hashmal had caused in Epyon's name was now being funneled into breaking those bonds.
The sight of this great demon -- no, Esper, leader of the so-called scions of dark, looming ominously over him played into the paralysis holding him back but for a moment. It was soon replaced with a surge of determination, a sharp stab of anticipation, a demand for release.
He sensed a weakness in the power pressing down on them. They had seen this kind of power before. Tsuberov had wielded it against them. Though this was stronger, familiarity lent Quatre and Wufei an advantage in attempting to deconstruct it. Heero wedged his defiant spike of energy into the crack his friends made and jammed it through, splitting the oppressive aura wide open.
Hashmal roared his anger. He charged them before they could recover themselves. Heero barely managed to roll out of the way of the sweep of one of Hashmal's mighty paws. The creature whirled on Trowa next, slicing into his position with gleaming claws. The dragoon gathered himself into a clumsy jump over the attack and landed with uncharacteristic heaviness at a safe distance. The former Knight Commander continued his rush past them, on toward their unprotected mages. A throwing knife gave chase from Duo's hand and hit the back of his shoulder, through his thick mane. Hashmal slowed only long enough to shrug his shoulders and shake his head and the knife fell from him, though the blood on its tip showed it did succeed in piercing the demon's tawny skin.
The slight delay allowed opportunity for Trowa to catch him with another jump, though again without much height and therefore power, but an attack was an attack. Hashmal twisted aside at the last moment, batting aside the glaive as it drove past, leaving a long graze down his forearm. Heero followed up immediately from the other side, pushing Hashmal back a few steps before the demon put together a counter-offensive.
Being mages, Quatre and Wufei felt the effects of such spells more keenly, but with the extra few seconds bought them by the others, they shook off the remnants of the power that had frozen them in place and got to work. Wufei began preparing a flame attack while Quatre started in on the defensive spells.
Heero pressed back against Hashmal's attacks even as he resisted the voice inside his head that dismissed Hashmal as nothing more than a foolish upstart that would soon learn his place. Heero had confidence in his skills and faith in his team's collective abilities, but was wary of what unexpected power Hashmal might wield against them. He felt there was nothing to fear, that Hashmal had never been one for subtlety or creativity, that Epyon did not much value those traits in his followers, but he did not know where this familiarity came from and did not trust it. He opted instead to focus on the fight in front of him. As unsubtle and uncreative as Hashmal may have been, his claws were still sharp, his strikes powerful, his speed swift.
A benign tingle across his skin alerted him that Wufei's spell was ready. He disengaged and pulled back, and immediately Hashmal was wreathed in flames. The Esper stumbled back a mere step before recovering, batting at the flames as if he could swat them away. Wufei's fire was more tenacious than that, though they could see it was not burning the Esper as fiercely as it would a man.
Quatre spelled Trowa's glaive, and the dragoon moved forward carefully, judged his strike, and with the reach of his weapon keeping him at a safe distance, jabbed his glaive through the fire and pierced the Esper's breast.
Hashmal howled, and with the howl came a blast of power that sent Trowa flying back, the glaive with him. The flames dispersed as well, showing the Esper bleeding freely from the wound, though it did not seem a fatal blow. Heat still rose from his body, and here and there were patches of burnt flesh. "You accomplish nothing," he growled, flexing his limbs as if to demonstrate how much more fight he had still left within. "Epyon shall..."
The Esper paused, and glanced to the side.
They all looked as well at the spires, at the image of Epyon between them that was starting to stabilize. He appeared to have one arm free, but he yet tore at the binding that held him to the second spire. The ground trembled, and though the ethereal image made no sound, it felt as though the Esper was venting his fury.
"No," Hashmal rumbled to himself, then louder. "No, what have you done?!" He rushed Duo, the closest target. "Why? Why is there not enough --?"
Duo dodged one swipe, then another, and sensing rock at his back, ducked under a third, flicking out his knife as he passed under Hashmal's arm, scoring him in the side. "Oh, the mossfungus thing, you mean?"
"You --!" Hashmal spun, but Duo was safely away at that point. "You delay the inevitable."
Trowa came at him, pushing him back toward Heero's waiting sword, and between the two of them they delivered another handful of cuts to the beast's tough hide. The Esper fell back a few steps, gaining himself some space, and the two were content to let him flee for the moment, for behind them, they could feel Quatre gathering holy power into a spell. Hashmal sensed it, too, and his eyes narrowed for a moment before his expression twisted into one of triumph. "You think you can stop this? You are wrong."
His leonine grin put them on guard. Several seconds before Quatre could unleash his attack, Hashmal put his own hand to his neck and tore his own throat open. "For you, Epyon!" he gurgled.
Quatre let loose with the holy magic, but it was too late. Hashmal's life force had already fled toward Epyon's bindings, the great power of the Esper able to make up the difference of the lives not lost to the mossfungus. The air shivered, the rocks shook, and then with a sharp crack like thunder, Epyon tore free at last of his bindings. The two great pillars crumbled as the shadowy form stretched his wings and tested his freedom.
There was a soft cry from Sylvia as the barrier holding her prisoner collapsed with the removal of Hashmal's influence. She shuffled quickly to the side to avoid some falling debris, and then pushed herself to her feet and started running. "Heero!"
"Sylvia!" He, too, started running toward her.
She made it only a few steps before she was jerked back, pulled off her feet and suspended a few feet above the ground in front of Epyon.
"No!"
She gasped. Her head lolled back and then to the side as Epyon's image dissolved into inky wisps and flew into her. Her body spasmed. There was a flash of light and a boom that knocked them all off their feet, and when they recovered, Sylvia lay crumpled on the ground. Before her, Epyon made flesh, if flesh was what made up the Esper. Standing near twice as tall as any of them, he was heavily armored, whether as natural defense or separate covering, one could not tell. His protections were the color of dark bruises. Beneath what appeared to be a helm, there were only shadows for a face, but for the blazing of two unnaturally lit green eyes. From his back spread wings like a bat's, spanning twice his width. In his right hand, a greatsword swirling with that same green energy. In his left hand, a segmented whip, the ebon pieces rattling like a bag of bones as he exercised his limbs.
"Fuck," Duo whispered, echoing the thoughts of the others.
Epyon, High Esper, shook the earth with his triumphant cry. He flew at them, zigzagging across the ground to bowl them each over again before rising into the air to hover above them, surveying their fear with satisfaction. Except for Heero, who stared at him, blood pounding in his ears like an insistent thumping upon a door, each beat of his heart pumping a thrill of exhilaration from somewhere deep within straight into his brain.
Epyon noticed his defiance and fixed him with a baleful glare. Slowly, with grandiose solemnity, he descended, deigned to touch his feet to the earth like a mortal. The world held its breath. And then he moved, with no regard for the forces of inertia and the mathematics of acceleration. He was at full speed in the blink of an eye.
With pure, blind reflex, Heero put his sword up, flat side out, pushing against it with his other hand as Epyon rammed into him with his own greatsword leading the way. The Esper was such a solid mass that Heero was pushed along helplessly before him. The aura of Epyon's sword spilled around his own, licking at his fingers with a cold so intense it burned. With a shout of effort, Heero shifted his weight and rolled to the side. He impacted against Epyon's elbow along the way and lost his weapon as he tumbled past, skipping across the ground as he was accustomed to skipping stones across a lake.
Fire had not been effective against Hashmal. Wufei tried ice, drawing large icicles out of the air and flinging them in Epyon's direction. Though aimed at his back, the High Esper must have sensed them coming, for they lost speed in their flight and came to a stop, hovering in the air a comfortable distance away from Epyon as he turned, swept his gaze across them, and commandeered the icicles for his own use. They flipped neatly around, and flew back the way they came.
Wufei held a hand out, mere human futility or perhaps something more as he exerted his will upon the ice that once was his. They could not be moved from their course, but he could dispel them, vaporize them back into their raw form. Too slow, too late, they were significantly thinned by the time several of them pierced his body.
Trowa fell from the apex of his dragoon's jump. Epyon looked up, exposing the deep shadow of his face to the well-aimed point of Trowa's glaive. The weapon never hit its mark. Epyon snatched the dragoon out of the air with his whip and threw him to the side. Trowa clipped a few rock formations before coming to a rest on the ground.
Holy magic would not be so easily brushed aside by the High Esper. But it took time to call upon that power. Epyon turned his attention next to Quatre. With a mighty sweep of his sword, he sent a shockwave toward the mage, a distortion in the air that traveled with alarming speed. Quatre flinched, the spell lost, dissipating in a flare of holy energy that deflected the force when the opposing magicks collided. He was knocked off his feet, and the spill of power rammed into a spire of rock behind him. Stone fell and he was lost to sight seconds later.
Epyon turned back to Heero, observing him dispassionately as he struggled back to his feet in defiance of both the High Esper and his injuries. He was hurt, he knew that for certain, but he couldn't know more than that it was taking a lot of effort to stand right now. The steady drumbeat filling his ears drowned out all else besides the fact that Epyon was right there, so close, right there, must fight, right there....
Heero watched dumbly as Epyon's whip snapped out and grabbed him around his waist, pinning one arm to his side. The barbs on the weapon dug into him, several of them getting past his chain mail to catch in his flesh. There was a jerk on the whip, and Heero grunted as he stumbled down to his knees. The whip pulled a second time, and he yelped as he was dragged sideways, his free arm attempting to protect his head from the ground and the wild slithering of the whip.
The first tug had been intentional. The second was not. It was a mere reaction of the High Esper to having Duo jump suddenly onto his back, clambering up with a rogue's cleverness to plant his knife in a gap between the armor scales, where they layered to allow movement of the right arm. He lost his grip on the knife when Epyon reared back, but the blade stayed where it was while Duo scrambled, finding a hold on the top edge of one of the High Esper's great wings.
Epyon spun, flapping his wings trying to dislodge the pest clinging desperately to his back in perhaps the one craziest safest place there was at this particular time. The embrace of the whip only tightened as Heero was pulled along for the ride. All thoughts jarred loose as he thudded and skidded and slid across the earth. And within that blur of violence, the mad thumping in his head grew ever louder. So close, right there, must fight, my nemesis, my fight, my right...
And at last, comprehension. The voice in his sleep that he couldn't quite remember upon waking. The knowledge of Espers that he had no reason to know. The steady anticipation of this confrontation. The relentless drive to confront Epyon. That which had been waiting for him to acknowledge it with growing impatience since that day at Yardrow, where he had first come to its attention when he redirected the power from the other side that Trant had called upon.
Call upon me.
When the gods had punished Epyon for his rebellion and exiled him beyond reach of both friend and foe, it had been an unsatisfactory conclusion to their rivalry.
Call me forth.
The way Sylvia had served as conduit for Epyon. But Heero could not be similarly forced. The sacrifice of many had broken Epyon's chains and fueled his entrance into this world, the end result of much groundwork laid down by his minions.
Open the door.
I'm not sure that's a good idea. He had no sense of 'good' from that voice. No light, no mercy, no compassion. It was cold, it was arrogant, it was other. But it was not hostile.
Duo leapt from Epyon's back before he was thrown. Epyon whirled around quickly and caught him mid-air with his wingtip. Heero missed what happened next as the whip snapped him around in the shadow of Epyon's movement, but Duo must have landed on his feet somehow, for now he was running for Epyon once more.
My fight is with Epyon.
They weren't going to win this fight against Epyon on their own. It was not too unreasonable to say that they had already lost this fight with Epyon, and it had only taken, what, less than a minute? And only because Epyon seemed to be just warming up. Duo had managed not to die quite yet, he wasn't entirely sure about the others, but they were clearly outclassed.
Ah, the reason behind Duo's mad charge became clear. Epyon's options were limited at very close range. Duo chose to stay as close to Epyon as he could, just behind him, and it kept him safe for a few seconds. And then Epyon managed to kick him away.
Time grows short.
Epyon stepped toward Duo and raised his sword.
Whatever happened, it seemed like it could only be an improvement upon the situation.
Heero opened the door.
That which passed through him scorched him, left him gasping and struggling for a sense of here and now, but it came and it went and the whip tossed him one final time before he rolled to a stop, freed from the thing at last. He forced his eyes open to see what he had wrought.
There was Zeromus, hovering high in the air in judgment, as Epyon had at first. In form, he was not dissimilar to Epyon, though his armor sparkled in rich jewel tones on a gleaming white background. His great sword also blazed with emerald green fire, but he bore a shield on his other arm. Ancient myth said the gods had created the pair in opposition to each other. It was little wonder the Church made no mention of ancient myth, for one could look upon these two and see divine majesty in their creation, but one would doubt such benevolence in the gods as the Church claimed. The air between these two unearthly creatures crackled with fury, with righteousness, with a primal delight, as they stood silently staring at each other, communicating on some level beyond human perception.
Without warning, Epyon shot up into the sky, and Zeromus dove to meet him, and there was a great, momentous noise as battle was joined. Knowing that he had done what he could, and that he could do no more, Heero let his eyes fall shut and released his hold on consciousness.
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This entry was originally posted at https://turnippatch.dreamwidth.org/162987.html.
Part: 41
The Faithful and the Brave
Part 41
There was a moment of disorientation as they crossed the threshold, a quick feeling of falling before their feet hit the rough ground on the other side. It was a huge, unnatural space, with filigreed rock-like formations sweeping majestically across a sky painted with shimmering ribbons, and yet the atmosphere pressed heavily down upon them with an almost claustrophobic feeling.
It wasn't difficult to spot them, a short distance from the gate. Before two great spires, Sylvia was pounding a hand against a transparent barrier dome that closed her in, not even large enough for her to allow her to stand. It held her confined to a ring of symbols on the ground, around which swirled lazy eddies of energy. Not far from her, the Knight Commander of the Templars stood watch.
The rapturous look slid off Dermail's face when he spotted them. "You!" he roared. "You dare continue to stand in the way of his return?!" His expression contorted in rage -- no, his face was transforming, his whole body was transforming as they approached, into something that seemed half man, half lion.
"Hashmal," Heero growled, a visceral loathing of the beast welling up within him.
Heero and Trowa led the charge, with Duo wide on their flank to play to his own strengths. Heero glanced past Hashmal to Sylvia, who watched them with a fierce confidence underlined with fear and worry. He blinked away from her and back to the demon in front of them. In a split second of eye contact, he saw in that flat black glare a flash of smug satisfaction. He knew a moment of doubt, a quiver of indecision as to whether to stop, but then the wave swept over them, cold terror that paralyzed them all and brought them to their knees.
Hashmal laughed at them, a low harsh rumble of a sound. "You will not stop this. You can not. His time has finally come. You channelers were the key. We tried once with Ajora as host, but it became clear quickly that a mere human body could not possibly hope to host the glory that is Epyon. But with you... we can simply open the door and allow our lord to come through in his own form!"
He gestured grandly at the two spires in front of them. With his attention properly focused, Heero could see now that the flickers between the rocks were no trick of the light, no weird effect of the sparkles in the sky, but glimpses into another plane where Epyon awaited his freedom. The silhouette was distorted, making it difficult to perceive the demon's form. No, those were wings spreading from his back. And by the same flash of intuition, Heero understood that Epyon strained impatiently at his bonds, that he was chained to those two great spires somehow, and that the power of all the death Hashmal had caused in Epyon's name was now being funneled into breaking those bonds.
The sight of this great demon -- no, Esper, leader of the so-called scions of dark, looming ominously over him played into the paralysis holding him back but for a moment. It was soon replaced with a surge of determination, a sharp stab of anticipation, a demand for release.
He sensed a weakness in the power pressing down on them. They had seen this kind of power before. Tsuberov had wielded it against them. Though this was stronger, familiarity lent Quatre and Wufei an advantage in attempting to deconstruct it. Heero wedged his defiant spike of energy into the crack his friends made and jammed it through, splitting the oppressive aura wide open.
Hashmal roared his anger. He charged them before they could recover themselves. Heero barely managed to roll out of the way of the sweep of one of Hashmal's mighty paws. The creature whirled on Trowa next, slicing into his position with gleaming claws. The dragoon gathered himself into a clumsy jump over the attack and landed with uncharacteristic heaviness at a safe distance. The former Knight Commander continued his rush past them, on toward their unprotected mages. A throwing knife gave chase from Duo's hand and hit the back of his shoulder, through his thick mane. Hashmal slowed only long enough to shrug his shoulders and shake his head and the knife fell from him, though the blood on its tip showed it did succeed in piercing the demon's tawny skin.
The slight delay allowed opportunity for Trowa to catch him with another jump, though again without much height and therefore power, but an attack was an attack. Hashmal twisted aside at the last moment, batting aside the glaive as it drove past, leaving a long graze down his forearm. Heero followed up immediately from the other side, pushing Hashmal back a few steps before the demon put together a counter-offensive.
Being mages, Quatre and Wufei felt the effects of such spells more keenly, but with the extra few seconds bought them by the others, they shook off the remnants of the power that had frozen them in place and got to work. Wufei began preparing a flame attack while Quatre started in on the defensive spells.
Heero pressed back against Hashmal's attacks even as he resisted the voice inside his head that dismissed Hashmal as nothing more than a foolish upstart that would soon learn his place. Heero had confidence in his skills and faith in his team's collective abilities, but was wary of what unexpected power Hashmal might wield against them. He felt there was nothing to fear, that Hashmal had never been one for subtlety or creativity, that Epyon did not much value those traits in his followers, but he did not know where this familiarity came from and did not trust it. He opted instead to focus on the fight in front of him. As unsubtle and uncreative as Hashmal may have been, his claws were still sharp, his strikes powerful, his speed swift.
A benign tingle across his skin alerted him that Wufei's spell was ready. He disengaged and pulled back, and immediately Hashmal was wreathed in flames. The Esper stumbled back a mere step before recovering, batting at the flames as if he could swat them away. Wufei's fire was more tenacious than that, though they could see it was not burning the Esper as fiercely as it would a man.
Quatre spelled Trowa's glaive, and the dragoon moved forward carefully, judged his strike, and with the reach of his weapon keeping him at a safe distance, jabbed his glaive through the fire and pierced the Esper's breast.
Hashmal howled, and with the howl came a blast of power that sent Trowa flying back, the glaive with him. The flames dispersed as well, showing the Esper bleeding freely from the wound, though it did not seem a fatal blow. Heat still rose from his body, and here and there were patches of burnt flesh. "You accomplish nothing," he growled, flexing his limbs as if to demonstrate how much more fight he had still left within. "Epyon shall..."
The Esper paused, and glanced to the side.
They all looked as well at the spires, at the image of Epyon between them that was starting to stabilize. He appeared to have one arm free, but he yet tore at the binding that held him to the second spire. The ground trembled, and though the ethereal image made no sound, it felt as though the Esper was venting his fury.
"No," Hashmal rumbled to himself, then louder. "No, what have you done?!" He rushed Duo, the closest target. "Why? Why is there not enough --?"
Duo dodged one swipe, then another, and sensing rock at his back, ducked under a third, flicking out his knife as he passed under Hashmal's arm, scoring him in the side. "Oh, the mossfungus thing, you mean?"
"You --!" Hashmal spun, but Duo was safely away at that point. "You delay the inevitable."
Trowa came at him, pushing him back toward Heero's waiting sword, and between the two of them they delivered another handful of cuts to the beast's tough hide. The Esper fell back a few steps, gaining himself some space, and the two were content to let him flee for the moment, for behind them, they could feel Quatre gathering holy power into a spell. Hashmal sensed it, too, and his eyes narrowed for a moment before his expression twisted into one of triumph. "You think you can stop this? You are wrong."
His leonine grin put them on guard. Several seconds before Quatre could unleash his attack, Hashmal put his own hand to his neck and tore his own throat open. "For you, Epyon!" he gurgled.
Quatre let loose with the holy magic, but it was too late. Hashmal's life force had already fled toward Epyon's bindings, the great power of the Esper able to make up the difference of the lives not lost to the mossfungus. The air shivered, the rocks shook, and then with a sharp crack like thunder, Epyon tore free at last of his bindings. The two great pillars crumbled as the shadowy form stretched his wings and tested his freedom.
There was a soft cry from Sylvia as the barrier holding her prisoner collapsed with the removal of Hashmal's influence. She shuffled quickly to the side to avoid some falling debris, and then pushed herself to her feet and started running. "Heero!"
"Sylvia!" He, too, started running toward her.
She made it only a few steps before she was jerked back, pulled off her feet and suspended a few feet above the ground in front of Epyon.
"No!"
She gasped. Her head lolled back and then to the side as Epyon's image dissolved into inky wisps and flew into her. Her body spasmed. There was a flash of light and a boom that knocked them all off their feet, and when they recovered, Sylvia lay crumpled on the ground. Before her, Epyon made flesh, if flesh was what made up the Esper. Standing near twice as tall as any of them, he was heavily armored, whether as natural defense or separate covering, one could not tell. His protections were the color of dark bruises. Beneath what appeared to be a helm, there were only shadows for a face, but for the blazing of two unnaturally lit green eyes. From his back spread wings like a bat's, spanning twice his width. In his right hand, a greatsword swirling with that same green energy. In his left hand, a segmented whip, the ebon pieces rattling like a bag of bones as he exercised his limbs.
"Fuck," Duo whispered, echoing the thoughts of the others.
Epyon, High Esper, shook the earth with his triumphant cry. He flew at them, zigzagging across the ground to bowl them each over again before rising into the air to hover above them, surveying their fear with satisfaction. Except for Heero, who stared at him, blood pounding in his ears like an insistent thumping upon a door, each beat of his heart pumping a thrill of exhilaration from somewhere deep within straight into his brain.
Epyon noticed his defiance and fixed him with a baleful glare. Slowly, with grandiose solemnity, he descended, deigned to touch his feet to the earth like a mortal. The world held its breath. And then he moved, with no regard for the forces of inertia and the mathematics of acceleration. He was at full speed in the blink of an eye.
With pure, blind reflex, Heero put his sword up, flat side out, pushing against it with his other hand as Epyon rammed into him with his own greatsword leading the way. The Esper was such a solid mass that Heero was pushed along helplessly before him. The aura of Epyon's sword spilled around his own, licking at his fingers with a cold so intense it burned. With a shout of effort, Heero shifted his weight and rolled to the side. He impacted against Epyon's elbow along the way and lost his weapon as he tumbled past, skipping across the ground as he was accustomed to skipping stones across a lake.
Fire had not been effective against Hashmal. Wufei tried ice, drawing large icicles out of the air and flinging them in Epyon's direction. Though aimed at his back, the High Esper must have sensed them coming, for they lost speed in their flight and came to a stop, hovering in the air a comfortable distance away from Epyon as he turned, swept his gaze across them, and commandeered the icicles for his own use. They flipped neatly around, and flew back the way they came.
Wufei held a hand out, mere human futility or perhaps something more as he exerted his will upon the ice that once was his. They could not be moved from their course, but he could dispel them, vaporize them back into their raw form. Too slow, too late, they were significantly thinned by the time several of them pierced his body.
Trowa fell from the apex of his dragoon's jump. Epyon looked up, exposing the deep shadow of his face to the well-aimed point of Trowa's glaive. The weapon never hit its mark. Epyon snatched the dragoon out of the air with his whip and threw him to the side. Trowa clipped a few rock formations before coming to a rest on the ground.
Holy magic would not be so easily brushed aside by the High Esper. But it took time to call upon that power. Epyon turned his attention next to Quatre. With a mighty sweep of his sword, he sent a shockwave toward the mage, a distortion in the air that traveled with alarming speed. Quatre flinched, the spell lost, dissipating in a flare of holy energy that deflected the force when the opposing magicks collided. He was knocked off his feet, and the spill of power rammed into a spire of rock behind him. Stone fell and he was lost to sight seconds later.
Epyon turned back to Heero, observing him dispassionately as he struggled back to his feet in defiance of both the High Esper and his injuries. He was hurt, he knew that for certain, but he couldn't know more than that it was taking a lot of effort to stand right now. The steady drumbeat filling his ears drowned out all else besides the fact that Epyon was right there, so close, right there, must fight, right there....
Heero watched dumbly as Epyon's whip snapped out and grabbed him around his waist, pinning one arm to his side. The barbs on the weapon dug into him, several of them getting past his chain mail to catch in his flesh. There was a jerk on the whip, and Heero grunted as he stumbled down to his knees. The whip pulled a second time, and he yelped as he was dragged sideways, his free arm attempting to protect his head from the ground and the wild slithering of the whip.
The first tug had been intentional. The second was not. It was a mere reaction of the High Esper to having Duo jump suddenly onto his back, clambering up with a rogue's cleverness to plant his knife in a gap between the armor scales, where they layered to allow movement of the right arm. He lost his grip on the knife when Epyon reared back, but the blade stayed where it was while Duo scrambled, finding a hold on the top edge of one of the High Esper's great wings.
Epyon spun, flapping his wings trying to dislodge the pest clinging desperately to his back in perhaps the one craziest safest place there was at this particular time. The embrace of the whip only tightened as Heero was pulled along for the ride. All thoughts jarred loose as he thudded and skidded and slid across the earth. And within that blur of violence, the mad thumping in his head grew ever louder. So close, right there, must fight, my nemesis, my fight, my right...
And at last, comprehension. The voice in his sleep that he couldn't quite remember upon waking. The knowledge of Espers that he had no reason to know. The steady anticipation of this confrontation. The relentless drive to confront Epyon. That which had been waiting for him to acknowledge it with growing impatience since that day at Yardrow, where he had first come to its attention when he redirected the power from the other side that Trant had called upon.
Call upon me.
When the gods had punished Epyon for his rebellion and exiled him beyond reach of both friend and foe, it had been an unsatisfactory conclusion to their rivalry.
Call me forth.
The way Sylvia had served as conduit for Epyon. But Heero could not be similarly forced. The sacrifice of many had broken Epyon's chains and fueled his entrance into this world, the end result of much groundwork laid down by his minions.
Open the door.
I'm not sure that's a good idea. He had no sense of 'good' from that voice. No light, no mercy, no compassion. It was cold, it was arrogant, it was other. But it was not hostile.
Duo leapt from Epyon's back before he was thrown. Epyon whirled around quickly and caught him mid-air with his wingtip. Heero missed what happened next as the whip snapped him around in the shadow of Epyon's movement, but Duo must have landed on his feet somehow, for now he was running for Epyon once more.
My fight is with Epyon.
They weren't going to win this fight against Epyon on their own. It was not too unreasonable to say that they had already lost this fight with Epyon, and it had only taken, what, less than a minute? And only because Epyon seemed to be just warming up. Duo had managed not to die quite yet, he wasn't entirely sure about the others, but they were clearly outclassed.
Ah, the reason behind Duo's mad charge became clear. Epyon's options were limited at very close range. Duo chose to stay as close to Epyon as he could, just behind him, and it kept him safe for a few seconds. And then Epyon managed to kick him away.
Time grows short.
Epyon stepped toward Duo and raised his sword.
Whatever happened, it seemed like it could only be an improvement upon the situation.
Heero opened the door.
That which passed through him scorched him, left him gasping and struggling for a sense of here and now, but it came and it went and the whip tossed him one final time before he rolled to a stop, freed from the thing at last. He forced his eyes open to see what he had wrought.
There was Zeromus, hovering high in the air in judgment, as Epyon had at first. In form, he was not dissimilar to Epyon, though his armor sparkled in rich jewel tones on a gleaming white background. His great sword also blazed with emerald green fire, but he bore a shield on his other arm. Ancient myth said the gods had created the pair in opposition to each other. It was little wonder the Church made no mention of ancient myth, for one could look upon these two and see divine majesty in their creation, but one would doubt such benevolence in the gods as the Church claimed. The air between these two unearthly creatures crackled with fury, with righteousness, with a primal delight, as they stood silently staring at each other, communicating on some level beyond human perception.
Without warning, Epyon shot up into the sky, and Zeromus dove to meet him, and there was a great, momentous noise as battle was joined. Knowing that he had done what he could, and that he could do no more, Heero let his eyes fall shut and released his hold on consciousness.
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