Chapter 67: Conflagration

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"We've got them by the balls now, lad!" Regis roared at the top of his lungs. He stood on Beslog's shoulder, one hand holding on for dear life, the other resting on Brand's arm for support. His legs felt like jelly with every subtle shift, each new step from the giant reminding him just how far off the ground they really were.

And yet he couldn't stop himself from grinning. Like there was a thrill in the air. The battle below was beyond one sided. Beslog's children were stamping and crushing what remained of Raylein's forces, the rest being mopped up by both the Vangen and the Chainbreakers. For a citizen's militia, they were profoundly good at holding their ground.

"It'll all be over soon. Captain should be finishing up that bastard uncle of yours." Regis glanced down at the boy hoping for a response, but something in his eye made him pause. He was staring slack jawed up at the sky seconds before a monstrous scream tore the world apart. It was like a shield being rented open, the twisting, jarring, squealing sensation of tortured metal to the human mind.

Regis clapped one hand over his ear, his head ringing from the sound. He looked up, saw what Brand was seeing, and nearly soiled himself. A massive, metal creature flapped down past a misty cloud top, bursting into view with another mind numbing screech that swallowed the battlefield in terror. Men and Jotun alike tried to run as the inside of the creature's mouth began to glow bright red.

"Oh gods," Regis murmured, terror creeping into him like a knife between the ribs. "It can't be. And here I thought I'd killed the last."

"What is that?" Brand asked, eyes wide at the sight of the creature."

"A Wyrm. Said to contain the seven hells within their bellies." As if on cue the creature stretched out its long neck and let out another roar. Fire belched from its mouth in great, coiling gouts, swallowing up the nearest men. Their screams were cut short as shimmering heat and flame overtook them, splashing onto the stones and spraying out like a tidal wave.

"That creature is an abomination!" Beslog's hair bristled as she clenched one massive fist. "My children were forced to make it for the Stelecasters! I shall see it broken!"

"Let us help you!" Brand said, much to Regis' discomfort. Luckily, the Jotun was much more reasonable, or unreasonable given the case, swiping the air with a palm.

"No, child. This one I must take alone." Beslog knelt beside one of the Keep's outer walls, giving the two of them a chance to jump down. "Find shelter! Tell your honey-black guardsmen to flee while they still can!"

Regis dared another glance over the battlefield. Raylein's soldiers and Rune's Chainbreakers were falling over themselves trying to run away, but the Vangen were not so easily swayed. They surrounded the Wyrm, jabbing at it with spears and pikes. A herd of them were swatted away for the effort, but they kept on coming. Brave until the very end.

"Unlikely," he muttered. "But I'll try."

"Good enough." Beslog rose, the muscles in her body straining. She may have been powerful, but she was old. Time was not kind to the strong. Regis knew this well.

"Please, Beslog. There has to be something we can do." Brand reached out to the Jotun, hand trembling, and she took it with one, delicate finger.

"Live for me then and tell my story. That the Mother of Jotuns, last of her kind, died free." The hair around her face parted, revealing Beslog's face for the first time. A smile cracked across it, jagged and brimming with yellowish teeth, and yet it was warmer than a summer sun, overflowing with an unparalleled aura of love. "Goodbye, Brand."

And then she was gone. Regis could only stand there helpless as the boy cried out. Beslog turned, ran charging towards the massive, metal Wyrm. It noticed her immediately, sizing her up as it swatted away a host of fleeing guardsmen. It kicked its back claws, started into a waddling gallop. They met in a booming thunder of metal and flesh. Beslog's fist clanged into the creature's rib cage as it jumped on her, fangs sinking into the meat of her shoulder. She cried out, tried to grab it by the throat, but the Wyrm was too quick. It yanked back, lifted Beslog by the balls of her feet, and threw her back.

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