As with all written projects, it's necessary for it to through some sort of editorial process, and as a contracted writer, I had little involvement in that, which may or may not explain the weird tone or transitions volume 2 may have had at points. This is likely a bit on me, but because of word budgeting, some scenes had to be cut, so there is a bit of context going into Requiem which was lost, which is a pity, but to be expected (though given the manner of release, one would have hoped it could be included, but it was not to be).
That said, it was nice to involve the Ordic Army directly and give some otherwise unnotable names which only appeared in IKRPG material some screen time and dialogue, even if not much could ultimately be made of it (and to be honest, I thought part of those scenes would end up on the cutting floor).
Henge Hold Scrolls - Summation Part 10
(first published @hengeholdscroll on Twitter, January 2022)
(story by Jason Soles & Matt Wilson, creative direction by Matt Wilson, additional direction by Matt Goetz)
“We are ready, my Queen.” Ashlynn d’Elyse bowed before Kaetlyn.
“Are we?” Llael’s monarch replied as best she could. “We leave our homeland for a place unknown. War brought on by powers who would seek to take what is not theirs. What is there we can truly be ready for?”
***
“I will not die here!” Ashlynn shouted as her sword lashed out at another infernal demon.
Even here, away from the cities of Llael, they had to contend with this threat. The Queen’s guards formed a protective ring around the royal carriage. They were pressed, retreating inward until all were shoulder to shoulder. All around were the victims of the infernals who tried to flee but were not quick enough.
“I fear we will not be given that choice,” di Brascio growled as he emptied his pistols into a tormentor.
“Soldiers of Llael!” an officer hailed them.
“General Gervasio Cabral, the Thorn Division is most welcome here.” Ashlynn saluted him, before quickly adding, “If perhaps under less than ideal circumstances.”
***
“We thank the King for the aid of his armies,” Kaetlyn nodded stiffly to the general.
“All nations do their part. All nations have taken their share of suffering and loss, Your Majesty.”
The combined Ordic-Llaelese camp was more a large field hospital. In defense of Ord’s eastern border, the Thorn Division had fought tirelessly against the infernals. They ventured abroad only after securing the safety of the nation. Upon making camp, it was clear to the Llaelese there were no few injured among the ranks of their saviors.
“You journey toward Cygnar and Henge Hold?” Cabral asked.
“We heard the allies from across the Iron Kingdoms converged there to make a stand,” Ashlynn replied.
Kaetlyn added, “And that Cyrissists had discovered a way to escape Immoren if humanity fell to the invaders.”
“We have heard such also, but we also know the roads leading south are infested with more of this infernal menace.”
This new council regarded one another with resignation.
“You are but a few hundred strong altogether,” Cabral continued diplomatically, “I cannot spare enough soldiers to reinforce you, not with the wounded I must take care of.”
“What do you propose?”
“I have an invitation to extend to you from King Baird. For the safety of the Llaelese throne, he offers the protection of all the forces Ord may command.”
“Much reduced though we are, we will aid in the security of Llaelese lands when the infernal threat is no more and ensure you will survive to sit upon your throne.”
There was a sorrowful reluctance during which Ashlynn and Kaetlyn looked at each other. Many unspoken words passed between the two, the displaced queen and her champion. Eventually, the Queen of Llael turned to address Cabral directly, taking courage from Ashlynn beside her.
***
“Caine!” Gunnbjorn yelled, “Took you long enough.” “What is it?” Allister Caine asked, seeing the trollkin looking over his shoulder. “Just checking you’re not being chased by an army of angry Cryxians.” “Admiral Skarre is unsettlingly friendly when she needs to be.”
Caine added, “She dropped me off to—” He was interrupted by a distant boom. A salvo from naval artillery soared over their heads, fired from the Cryxian fleet’s broadsides. They watched the cannonade as it blasted the nearest concentrations of infernal forces. “That’s her now, I’m guessing. Hope she picks her aim this carefully all afternoon.” the gun mage turned back. “I can’t stay here for long.” “What? Why?” He stepped aside and Gunnbjorn saw her, the Hellslinger’s daughter. “Dhunia’s teat, she’s real!” Dozer and Smigg’s sudden and gleeful bombardment drowned out Caine’s retort. He settled for glowering at his counterpart, who raised his free hand, palm out in apology, despite the smirk. “I need to get her out of here,” Caine put a hand on Cynthia’s shoulder. “Then I can join in the dirty work.” The trollkin nodded. “Ace isn’t going anywhere, and neither are we.” “Ryan and Watts?” The trollkin pointed toward a battery of barrage teams who were directed by the remaining members of the Black 13th. Caine nodded in satisfaction.
***
Father Lucant’s rear-right leg could no longer support his weight except for the briefest of moments. The oncoming colossal horror seemed unstoppable. Even all of his calculations and the Forge Master’s perfectly executed tactics seemed insufficient. Sebastian Nemo, Aurora, and the detachments under their commands were almost defeated. The Iron Mother prevented their retreat from turning into a flight, and only Lucant’s timely arrival prevented their total destruction.
All agreed for the Artificer Prime and his daughter to retire through the gate before they were overcome, too injured to continue the struggle. As for those who remained…
Syntherion watched as the line of reciprocators withdrew. Lucant noted his colleague’s quirk of reverting to formal modes of address as his mind raced to seek a solution. The Forge Master’s vessel was spattered with ichor that had melted away a part of his intricate tools. The senior priest was none too clean himself. His symbol of office, Apogee, had been broken and lost during the struggle, replaced with a lowly enumerator’s staff. He felt the weight of even that rank’s responsibilities.
“With the disposable forces at this time, the colossal beast will be within striking distance of the gate in but an hour, Father Lucant.”
“An hour we do not have, and it is too much to demand the Cygnaran maintain her efforts for all our followers to make the transition.”
The Divinity Architect leaned on the staff to remain fully upright.
“However, we will need—”
Lucant’s raised hand stopped Syntherion mid-sentence.
“You must sense it also.”
“Iron Mother stands true to her word.”
“And not a moment late.”
As one, the two priests of Cyriss looked off into the distance. Sure enough, the familiar silhouettes of a phalanx of heavy vectors came into view, Iron Mother Directrix leading them toward battle.
***
Hugging Cynthia close to him, Caine made his way through the throng of refugees. The skyship that had been relief to so many thousands of souls that day was within reach.
“Magnus?” Their last jump brought them face to face with the crusty warcaster.
“Never heard of queuing, huh?” he sized Caine up.
“If it means she’s safe, I’m willing to risk it.”
Magnus looked down and noticed the girl clinging to the gun mage’s side. He sucked a breath between his teeth.
“Take care of her for me, please.”
“What…?!”
“Please, Magnus.”
The two men looked at each other, grim faced. Magnus finally nodded and flicked his head toward one side. Caine quickly gathered up his daughter and backed away. If his time on Skarre’s ship meant anything, he guessed quarters suitable for a young girl would be toward the rear.
“Yer pa’s gotta go help his friends now,” he said, kneeling before his daughter. “Ye’ll be safe here. Magnus is a grumpy old stick, but he’s a good man.”
Cynthia took a breath but stopped.
“What is it?”
“I don’t…”
“Want me to go? I know, but I want to do right by yeh and make sure yeh live like I should’a done for yer ma.”
***
Zaateroth was furious. So many souls were escaping. And by means that defied expectation. The extent of the Nonokrion’s gift to the humans did not include this. But she could not deny what was happening before her. Massive ships, first empty, then filled with fleeing lambs ripe for the taking, winked in and out of existence, not just view. Zaateroth scanned the battlefield to confirm the location of the time-witch. There had been too many distractions so far. Enough was enough. Not another soul of the debt owed would be lost. She must die next.
“Not so fast, bookworm!” A pistoleer suddenly came into view.
“Hang in there, Haley!” Caine saw the major’s strength wane just as he felt himself weakening.
Except she was oblivious to all else around her. Almost too late, he saw a lamenter barreling toward him. He swung one of his Spellstorms to fire off a shot. Before he could pull the trigger, a thunderous shot from Ace brought the lamenter to a halt. Then came another chorus of broadsides from Skarre’s ships. Caine was taken by surprise by a sudden blast of arcane energy that delivered the killing blow. As its corpse dropped to the ground, he glanced over his shoulder.
“Oh, Magnus’s gonna love this,” he groaned.
“You ain’t leaving me, Pa!” Cynthia cried, runes of casting swirling clear and bright around her.
“But I…”
“I don’t care. Ma got taken from me, and so did you before. I don’t want it to happen again.”
Caine turned back to the battlefield, looking upon it with a father’s eyes. His mind raced, wondering what best to do even as his pistols brought down more infernal beasts. Directing Ace to cover him, he lowered his guns, and looked to his daughter again.
“I wish to protect yeh, but I can’t do that here, yeh hear?” He sighed. “But if I know anything, yer gonna be as mulish as me."
“Ye’ll need to learn quick, but it’ll help me some if Ace here helps protect you, too.”
Hearing him, the warjack gave a metallic grunt as it slowly made its way to father and daughter. Ace paused every few steps to fire again.
“Come ‘ere,” Caine gestured for his daughter to touch the warjack’s armour, above its head.
For Allister and Cynthia, for just a brief moment, this was not a battlefield and they were not in a fight for their very existence.
***
“How many times do I need to kill ye?” Caine shouted in frustration.
He had fired more rounds and faster than he ever thought possible. He teleported from vantage point to vantage point, looking to destroy the infernal master. His bullets never failed to find their mark, yet the Weaver of Shadows’ form seemed indestructible as shorn limbs reformed and wounds closed unnaturally. As soon as she recovered, a fresh cohort of her minions appeared to spirit her away. And attack anew.
***
The newly arrived vectors intercepted the Guardian of Souls. Sure they could withstand the horror’s attacks, if temporarily, Iron Mother convened the leaders of the priesthood to the Convergence’s barricade before the gate. She was troubled by the damage they had suffered.
“The Major Prime is weakening,” she stated without preamble. “We must find a solution to the problem posed by the infernal master and that…thing, or we risk everything we have accomplished up to this point.”
“That is not good enough!” the Directrix snapped, “We do not know if that estimate will change even if we defeat that monstrosity.”
She took a moment to calm herself, “More important, we do not know if another may be unleashed upon us.”
“Indeed,” Lucant agreed. “It is clear it and the host accompanying it are commanded by the master we’ve lost many allies among the other nations to.
“Were we to have any chance of prevailing, she must be dealt with.”
“The pistoleer has apparently killed her no few times already to no permanent effect.”
“Bullets of Cygnaran manufacture are apparently not enough, then,” the Directrix observed.
“He should support my vectors.”
A brief silence followed during which minds processed information and calculated solutions.
“The gate can be reconfigured,” Syntherion noted. “I am certain there are settings to allow us to change the location of emergence.”
“For how long?” Lucant asked.
“That would need to be tested,” the Forge Master’s reply was slow and careful.
The practical reality of being engaged in the largest battle ever witnessed on Immoren went unsaid.
“Great risk comes with such a course,” Iron Mother said, “if need be, the gate’s destruction might preserve refugees who succeed in reaching Cyriss.”
“No other choice currently presents itself,” the Divinity Architect responded, assessing the situation on the battlefield.
“We will invest everything necessary to bring down the demon. It seems to be a cornerstone of the infernal forces. As for the infernal master, I am in no position to deal with it. Neither is Syntherion, and Orion is indisposed, too far to aid us in time.”
“It will take too long to apprise him of our plans. He must be left to his own devices at this time.”
“Very well. If there is no other option, I will confront the infernal master, then,” Directrix said.
“It is not your duty to do so,” Lucant said. “If it is for furthering the Great Work, then it must be done, whether by me or another among us.”
Her counterpart nodded in concession.
“Syntherion knows the mechanisms of the gate and will remain to operate it and ensure its destruction,” she added. “You, however, must be among those who depart through the gate before it is reconfigured.”
Father Lucant adjusted his legs, mindful of the damage suffered.
“They require a leader,” she said, cutting off any objection.
“An indisputable leader. They will be before Cyriss as never before, and as the first priest of the Convergence…”
“This I know,” he conceded, nodding. “Your fate here is uncertain. I wished to step down soon, in any event.”
“And Orion is most suited to continuing the Great Work for those who remain. The followers of Cyriss must establish themselves in the world beyond the gate. It seems most…logical.”
The others nodded in agreement.
“And in case of our defeat…” Iron Mother seemed unsure.
“There is but one recourse,” Syntherion said, “to ensure the infernal master’s absence remains a weakness to their presence here.”
Both Directrix and Lucant regarded each other with silent determination that the Forge Master knew to be acknowledgement.
“They do not share our ultimate goals,” he continued, indicating the small force commanded by the druids of the wilds, “but they do fight toward the same end for Immoren.”
***
“Stormlord,” Kaya appeared alongside Laris, close to Krueger’s position.
The Circle Orboros’ contingent, though small, gave ground slower than any other. The Stormlord’s constructs proved a formidable barrier against the infernal forces. The two regarded each other coolly.
“What draws you away?”
“Our allies convene without us,” Kaya pointed toward the gate.
There, the druids saw the distinct forms of the Convergence’s most senior priests. Krueger swept his hand at the approaching line of horrors, bolts of lightning striking them down. He took the measure of Kaya.
“Indeed. I will go and learn what they scheme and relay it as swiftly as I can.”
The Stormlord noted Laris had already run far ahead. Moments later, Kaya disappeared.
***
Caine materialized just paces away from Ace and his daughter. He fell to the ground, exhausted, worn to his limit. Barely able to focus, he checked his pistols, took a breath, and took a moment to watch his daughter. Cynthia controlled Ace from pure instinct. There was little skill and even less finesse, but there was power and potential. Only a fool would not be able to see it, how Ace was imbued with different ability. The warjack devastated enemy after enemy with the same raw power and lack of guile as its new controller.
I should know I got other kids, he thought to himself. I hope an’ pray they’re safe from this mess, wherever they are. Shame crept in. He was never a good partner and often a worse father. But he looked at Cynthia and could not suppress his pride.
“Look at me, gettin’ all weepy,” he smirked.
“What?” Her eyes were fixed firmly on the enemy before them.
Ace’s long arm resounded, bringing its mark down with two quick shots.
“Leave some for yer pa, eh?” Caine said, raised his pistols, and took aim.
***
“Inform him of this,” the Forge Master said, his mechanical tools chittering away at the console.
“What of the rest of us?” Kaya asked.
“You will need to assume the Stormlord’s battle duties when he comes to aid us. The enemy will not sit idle while we carry out this plan, and it is likely you will come under fierce attack. Your soldiers and beasts must hold.”
“Our calculations, based on our mortal limitations, deem this the best course. Go now. Time wastes.”
Bristling at being commanded by the metal priest, Kaya left in silent fury, though she knew he spoke the truth. *** “What delays your decision?” Syntherion asked. Asphyxious did not answer straight away. Instead, the former Lich Lord looked back at the expanse of carnage before the gate.
“Make it soon, or it will be made for you!” the Forge Master warned.
“Our plan…is before you.”
Indeed, so much was clear to Asphyxious. Lucant was organizing a final line of defense while a strike force under Iron Mother had but one goal: Zaateroth, the infernal master. The Guardian was slowed by the Convergence’s vectors but not stopped, and Syntherion himself was awaiting a signal at the controls of the gate. It seemed all of Immoren’s hopes lay in this one effort. It was going to fail.
“I foresee a scorched ruin of this land.”
“We would certainly forestall such an end with your strength. The odds would be in our favor if you give it.”
“Thou sayest forestall, not ‘prevent.’”
“That fight is beyond my ability to calculate to its conclusion, but we have every potential to bring the horror down.”
The former Cryxian slowly shook his head as he watched another vector fall to the Guardian’s thundering claws. None looked ready to take its place. Syntherion paused, as though he were about to speak again, but Asphyxious waved him to silence.
“Worry not, artificer of Cyriss, I decided ere I came here.” He spread his wings. “Fare thee well, Immoren, for what little time remains to thee.”
***
Time seemed to slow for all who witnessed it, but the Guardian of Souls, upon defeating the last vector barring its way, bellowed with inhuman triumph. Yet its victory was costly. One claw hung almost useless at its side while the other had been sheared off by assimilators. It was covered in its own hideous viscera, due to many huge gashes across its body. All eyes were upon it as it heaved itself toward the gate, raising its remaining claw to attack the construct and its last defenders. Exultant, Zaateroth ordered the attack.
She heard a metallic shout from nearby. “You will not have your prize!”
***
Haley flinched as she felt a touch on her shoulder. She knew her expression must have been pained. She felt the reluctance with which the Divinity Architect had come to her.
“Once more. Just once more, Major Prime,” his voice was oddly muted.
“And you?”
“My efforts will begin anew on the other side. For all those you save.”
“Your goddess is not mine, though.”
“Yet you continue to expend your strength to save her followers as well as those of your god.” For several moments, Haley closed her eyes and focused. She exhaled almost violently when an empty skyship faded into existence close by, pulled from a near past made distant. Awaiting refugees clambered aboard. “Go,” Haley whispered hoarsely, “Your people await you.”