Furious Scribe
patreon
39. Hull - Into the Fray
🕑 Added 2025-09-10 02:28:22 +0000 UTC
Chapter 39
Into the Fray
We thundered down the main avenue watching cobbles shake loose and windows crack at every step. I laughed at the feeling of the wind whistling through my Iron Maiden Plate. I’d never been up so high before. I clutched the spike that was supporting me tightly. I had little Hull summoned, and he clung to my leg. I kept him out all the time just to have him around. He reminded me that I was still alive, no matter what tearing pain I was feeling inside. I felt a tad less weak with my armor on and my Talisman of Spite charged, but my body still knew it was dying, and it was telling me in no uncertain terms that even if I thought this whole thing was thrilling, it was not at all interested in a hundred-foot drop onto the pavers. Well, the ride would be over soon enough… I patted the pillar neck nearby. “I told you I’d get around to it.”
“I feared you would be a liar like your mother,” the massive Soul said, its low-pitched voice still a boom in my ears. “I stand thoroughly corrected.” His head now towered a good third higher than it had been when he’d been Epic. I still didn’t know exactly what the Oversize keyword on his card meant, and neither did he yet, but apparently part of it was being really damn big. We stood taller than everything in the city except the top spires of the palace itself. Even the Colosseum only came up to his neck.
“The way you look now, you can stand however you please and nobody can say much of anything about it,” I said.
His answering chuckle was a minor earthquake underfoot to those of us standing on him. “Sweeping new vistas of blood and suffering open before me. I will make you such an offering of horror that generations not yet born will weep.”
He was a sick bastard, but he meant it in the kindest way possible: he wanted to give me the kind of gift he’d like to receive himself. I’d tell him we were going to keep the killing confined to a very specific set of circumstances later – his enthusiasm was a joy to see after all the time he’d spent shrunken and ashamed. With how massive he was now, he could keep pace with the Flying Ice Wyrm that Basil and Esmi were riding without even having to run.
Esmi’s Soul apparently leaned the Death way now, ever since coming back, and with that Water fabricator Basil had scrounged up, she’d been able to summon the Undead beastie to carry them. She thought it best for us to have more than one mount just in case something happened along the way. She’d always been the most strategic one of us, and whatever else had changed since her resurrection, that part of her hadn’t.
Our other companions traveled with me. Morgane was wedged a few feet away between Segruval’s shoulder and the massive horn that rose from his back. “Next time I say I’m going with you somewhere, please just punch me in the face instead.” He looked a little green and was very obviously trying not to look down.
“No promises,” I said.
“Get used to it,” little Hull chimed in. “Grow strong or die.”
Morgane rolled his eyes and jerked a thumb at our last passenger. “What are you going to do about him?”
Warrick was huddled on the far side of the huge demon’s neck, clinging to a hank of head hair thick enough to be a rope. He didn’t look sick; he just looked scared. I’d have felt bad for him if I didn’t know what a piece of shit he was. Before we’d set out for the palace Basil had told me privately that Warrick had only offered to set off the Queen’s bomb so he could strong-arm Afi into finally marrying him. It was just one more reason not to let him do it. “I’ll get the bomb from him once we get there,” I said quietly enough so that my voice wouldn’t carry too far and give away my plans. “We tie him up, maybe, or just break all his fingers.” Little Hull snorted a laugh. There was no way I was going to torture Warrick, as much as I might have liked to – if I so much as bent back a pinky, he’d squeal and curl into a ball. “A stiff threat or two and he’ll shit his pants and stay out of our way.”
As I scanned the streets, which were empty but for patrols of Undead that Segruval was able to step on without slowing, I saw a patch of dark purple clustering around a grate that could only let down to the sewers. “Stop for a second,” I told Segruval. I peered into the shadows of the street far below, trying to be sure I was seeing what I thought I was seeing. A smile grew on my face as I realized that I was . “Hey!” I yelled down below. “It’s me. Climb on up, and bring everyone you’ve got!”
The patch of purple expanded and flowed toward Segruval’s great taloned foot. The metal grate on the street disappeared as more of the distant purple mass boiled up from below street level. The swarm spread up the huge demon’s leg and onto his torso. He watched the advancing figures without concern. These demons knew each other. They both lived in my Mind Home.
The foremost members of the overwhelming army of copies of Yveda the Endless reached where I stood on Segruval’s shoulders. Morgane and Warrick were both stock-still in fear. “About time,” the closest Yveda said. “It’s gotten boring sitting in the dark multiplying. I was considering burning the city down just to entertain myself.”
“Still plenty of you to help in the Lows?” I asked.
He rolled his eyes and snapped his razor teeth together. “Yes, yes, fine. There are more than enough of me coddling the weakling humans. Please tell me you made this idiot big so we can break something important.”
“Say that to my face,” Segruval rumbled. “We’re both Mythic now, little one.”
Yveda showed his teeth. More of him continued to pile onto Segruval’s body from below, clinging on like a purple pelt. “Idiot,” one of them said.
“Later, both of you,” little Hull said impatiently. It was strange to think he was on the same footing as them. Yveda huffed and Segruval grumbled, but they both listened to him for some reason.
“Get as many of you on board as possible, and let’s get to the palace,” I told Yveda.
A few minutes later the palace was growing near in the evening gloom, glimmering lights shining from its many windows. I focused in on the wide opening at the highest level where the throne room let out onto open air. It’d be insane to mount an attack directly on the throne room itself, so of course, that was exactly what we were going to do.
“That should be close enough,” Warrick shouted over at me, pointing down to an alley just outside the palace walls. “Set me down there.”
I gestured to Segruval to bring Warrick closer. With a grin, the huge demon plucked the boy off his neck with two tree-sized fingers and brought him shrieking around to face me. All around us, Yvedas chuckled and leered.
“Make him put me down!” he shrilled.
“That’s the plan,” I said, pretending indifference. “Hand me the bomb and once you’re on the ground he’ll hand it down to you. Don’t want you to drop it.”
Dangling in the air a hundred feet up with only a wide finger under each armpit, surrounded by terrifying demons on all sides, Warrick didn’t have the spare thinking power to wonder if I was up to something. He just held out the strange metal sphere gingerly, and little Hull reached out to snag it for me. He gave me a smirk and a nod once he had it in hand.
“Make him be gentle,” Warrick hissed, his eyes wide.
“Oh, he will be,” I said. Turning to Segruval, I gave the big guy a smile. “Time to go. The big opening up top. Drop us there.”
“Wait,” Warrick shrilled. “He’s supposed to put me down first.”
“He’s not,” I said. “He was just supposed to scare you enough to get the bomb away from you, and then you’re going to stay where I can keep an eye on you.”
Warrick was white in the face already, but now he went completely bloodless pale. “You betray the Queen!”
“It’s not betrayal to save people,” I said. “The Queen’ll get what she wants, just not in the way she thinks.”
“She’ll have you beheaded!” the boy shouted, clutching desperately at the huge fingers holding him.
“If the people of the city live through this, I’ll let her and call it a bargain,” I shot back. I wasn’t nearly as sure about that as I sounded, but some things just had to be done. “Now listen, shrivel-dick: when we get there, you stay in a corner and out of my way or I’ll break your bones one at a time, you get me?”
He gaped at me. “You’re going into the palace without setting off the bomb? Are you mad?! I can’t! You’re supposed to keep me safe!”
“Believe me, if I thought it were safe to drop you off in the streets, I would,” I told him. “There are demons and Undead everywhere. If you’re with us, at least you’ve got people to do the fighting for you.”
“You’ll kill us all!” he screamed. “Let me go!”
“Shhhh,” I said. “Don’t make the big guy nervous. When he gets jumpy sometimes he squeezes things.”
Warrick went deathly still and limp in Segruval’s hand. The massive demon gave an evil, delighted laugh.
“Remind me not to get on your bad side,” Morgane said.
“That’s where you started off,” I reminded him. “Though I do have to admit it’s a more dangerous place than it used to be.”
“Good,” little Hull said fiercely. “People should fear us.”
Then there was no more time for talking as Segruval stepped over the palace wall and approached the heights of the throne room from outside. Shouts and shrieks filled the air as Undead and demon defenders within brought their cards to bear on our party. Spells hammered into my giant demon and flying Souls swooped in from all sides to attack, but the thick skin of Yveda bodies served as both cannon fodder and armor as we approached, absorbing hit after hit. Segruval grunted once or twice as he took damage despite all the covering, but he soldiered on, crushing an entire inner building underfoot as we got close.
The throne room loomed into view. It was strange to look at the back of the throne – oddly unadorned – and to peer into the room that I’d previously only peered out of. A single figure stepped out from behind the throne as my huge demon gently lifted me from his neck and into the room. Xemris stood before me looking strangely satisfied as the rest of us tumbled into the room. I heard claws scrabbling on the roof overhead and knew that Basil and Esmi were dismounting their Wyrm and would be with me in seconds. Morgane took a position guarding my right flank, and little Hull covered my left. Warrick scuttled immediately into the farthest corner, true to his nature. Yvedas were already climbing in as well.
“You’ve come just in time,” Xemris said. “I hoped you would.”
I opened my mouth to say something like, Listen, lady, I can’t deny that you’re sexy, but if you think I’m here for a good time, this is gonna be a weird conversation, but the words died in my throat. The door to Xemris’s antechamber crashed open, and a hulking, winged figure stepped through, backlit by the vivid purple Nether flames bursting from the open portal within.
“Weep, mortals,” boomed a grinding basso voice. “Your realm falls now. I, Primarch of the Netherwell, declare it is so.”
Comments
BLead Irish ambassador
Is this new demon, legendary, do we think? Or is he a god from another dimension/world? Any thoughts?
Siany
Brilliant Chapter! Really love where everything is going 😆
