Chapter 3 - The Bridge

  Reygel swung his spear through empty air. No flames trailed behind the blade. No heat lingered where it passed. He tried again, this time visualizing fire spiraling from the weapon's tip the way it had when the warrior wielded it. Nothing. Unlike summoning the Arbiter itself—which had responded to pure intent—this required something he didn't yet possess.

  "What are you doing?" Grelchn's voice cut through his concentration.

  She stood twenty feet away, simultaneously watching him and bending metal to her will. Materials lifted from the pile the Aids had assembled, flowing through the air like water finding its course. Reygel had been observing the Laderos workers since arriving at the canyon floor, cataloging the differences between Aids and Formwrights. Both manipulated objects without touch, but where the Aids worked close to their materials—hands hovering inches away, feet positioning components with balletic precision—Grelchn commanded from a distance. Her telekinesis required no proximity, no physical choreography. Just will, and the world obeyed.

  Perhaps all Formwrights began as Aids, he thought. Years of practice compressing into mastery, the need for movement gradually falling away.

  "The previous owner could leave flames hanging in the air," Reygel said. "Just by swinging."

  Grelchn didn't look at him. A steel beam rotated midair, slotting into place. "That's not how Arbiters work. They reset when ownership changes. Without runes, your spear has nothing but its default ability."

  "Runes?"

  "We don't have time." She gestured toward the advancing Minmors without breaking her rhythm. "Try to kill one or two before you die."

  Fair enough. He couldn't fault her assessment—it matched his own.

  "At least tell me the default ability."

  A new voice answered before Grelchn could respond. "Your Arbiter is the Red Cardinal."

  Reygel turned to find a Laderos approaching, her scales an unsettling blend of red, black, and yellow that seemed to shift in the crimson sunlight. Her expression carried open contempt.

  "It's the only Arbiter whose ability changes based on your strongest elemental connection," she continued. "Useful if you're bound to fire, water, lightning, or air. Probably one of the worst if you're tied to anything else." Her eyes traveled down his body and back up, cataloging his worth in a single dismissive sweep. "You look worthless, so I'm inclined to believe you're stuck with one of the lesser four."

  "Damn it, Sinsgridt." Grelchn's hands paused mid-gesture. "Go cause problems somewhere else."

  "As usual, a Formwright commands fighters without fighting herself." Sinsgridt's smile contained no warmth. "I wasn't planning to stay here guarding your construction project. A few other Engineers are coming to babysit you. I prefer the front lines."

  The air between them crystallized with old resentments. Reygel recognized the particular weight of long-standing grievances, the kind that couldn't be resolved with a single conversation or apology.

  "Take the Deathless with you," Grelchn said. Her tone remained neutral, but the command landed like a thrown blade. "He needs experience. Your recklessness should provide plenty."

  Sinsgridt's scales seemed to darken. Fury rolled off her in waves, but she stood frozen—bound by hierarchy or protocol or some other invisible chain. Whatever freedom she possessed as an Engineer, it didn't extend to refusing a Formwright's direct order.

  "Fine." The word came out sharp enough to draw blood. She turned to Reygel. "What are you waiting for? Move."

  "Wait—how do I use the default ability?" Reygel called after her. "You said it changes based on my element, but—"

  "Figure it out in battle," Sinsgridt snapped without slowing.

  Reygel turned back to Grelchn, hoping for something more useful.

  "Don't look at me," Grelchn said, already bending another steel beam into place. "We don't have time for training sessions. You're Deathless—you'll resurrect if you fail. Now go."

  She was already striding toward the town's center before he could respond.

  Reygel followed Sinsgridt toward one of the larger bridges spanning the massive lava river that split the settlement. On the far side, Minmors swarmed over a defensive line that was visibly crumbling. The Laderos there fought with desperate precision, but numbers were overwhelming them.

  Sinsgridt crossed the bridge at a full sprint, words spilling from her mouth in a language Reygel didn't recognize. Blue lights ignited across her body—not from her scales, he realized after a moment, but over them. She wore armor so translucent it was nearly invisible, its presence only betrayed by the energy flowing through it. Light streamed from her torso down into her hands in branching rivers.

  The glow faded. In her palm sat a sphere of liquid water, shot through with crackling electricity. The sphere held its shape despite the lightning dancing inside it, neither splashing apart nor evaporating. She pressed it against her chest.

  A bubble erupted outward with Sinsgridt at its center, expanding until it enclosed them both. Reygel tensed, expecting to be pushed back or burned, but the barrier passed through him as though he were smoke. Some kind of selective permeability, then. It would stop projectiles but allow allies through.

  "Stay close, Deathless." Her condescending tone had vanished, replaced by cold focus. "From outside they can't see us clearly. The closer we stay to the Sanctuary's center, the more we blur."

  "Sanctuary?" Reygel moved up beside her. "So it's not a shield—it's camouflage?"

  To his surprise, she smiled. "Actually, it's more shield than camouflage."

  Light streamed from her armor again. The bubble expanded dramatically, stretching until it spanned the bridge's entire width—at least twenty feet.

  "If it's a shield, how did I pass through?"

  "I adjusted the parameters before deploying it." She spoke while walking, her attention split between him and their surroundings. "I made an exception for you."

  Impressive, though Reygel couldn't fathom what she hoped to accomplish. Two fighters—one completely untrained—crossing a bridge to flank an army. Suicide dressed up as tactics.

  Then he looked around and understood.

  On this side of the bridge—the side they were leaving—buildings clustered tightly together, narrow streets forming natural choke points. Perfect terrain for the Laderos, where a handful of armored defenders backed by rooftop snipers could hold against overwhelming numbers. Across the bridge, where the Minmors had positioned themselves, the streets opened wider. Open ground favored the Minmors' numbers and mobility. The Laderos had deliberately left their end of the bridge undefended, making it look like an easy route for the Minmors to cross into the Laderos' preferred terrain. He could see the trap clearly now—lure the enemy into the choke points where their numbers meant nothing.

  The analysis came effortlessly, as if reading terrain were as natural as breathing. Strange, that he couldn't remember his own name but could instantly recognize a tactical stalemate.

  The enemy had recognized the trap and refused to take it. Both sides had claimed their optimal ground, which meant neither would willingly cross.

  As they approached the bridge's center, Sinsgridt's armor blazed red. A rod formed in her hand—liquid like the sphere before, streaked with crimson lightning. She knelt, studying the bridge's width with intense concentration. The rod expanded. Contracted. Expanded again to a different size. She made four separate adjustments before the light finally faded.

  She placed the rod on the bridge's metal surface. Red light spread from both ends, racing toward the bridge's edges before stopping just short and disappearing.

  Reygel glanced at her and found her smiling. Whatever calculation she'd been making, the result satisfied her completely.

  "Is it a trap?" Reygel studied the bridge but saw nothing unusual. "Will they burn when they cross?"

  "You'll find out soon enough." Sinsgridt's tone had shifted—no mockery, no contempt. Just cold focus.

  Reygel blinked at the change. Away from Grelchn, she'd transformed entirely. The Engineer who'd dripped venom moments ago now spoke with pure professionalism. It was unsettling, like watching someone slip on a different skin.

  He looked down at where she'd placed the rod. A thin red line marked the spot, visible but faint—like chalk on dark stone. He tried to scrape it away with his boot. The line remained.

  Sinsgridt rose and began walking toward the far side with deliberate slowness. Needles struck the force field in a sudden volley, creating ripples of blue light across its surface. The shield held. Most needles fell into the lava below; those that landed in front of the barrier were pushed forward as Sinsgridt advanced.

  Smart. If the shield only stopped fast-moving objects, an enemy could simply walk through. But a design that recognized all threats regardless of speed—that required sophisticated engineering.

  This story originates from Royal Road. Ensure the author gets the support they deserve by reading it there.

  "Listen carefully, Deathless." Sinsgridt's voice carried over the hiss of distant lava. "When the Sanctuary reaches the bridge's end, position yourself behind its edge and strike any Minmor that attacks. We need to hold. I'll make sure they have no choice but to engage us—if they abandon this position, we've already won. The moment I feel the shield failing, I'll give the word and we retreat. But first, kill as many as you can. Draw them in. Make them bloodthirsty. The more we pull from the front line, the better." She paused. "We have a time limit. Their Animists are casting Decay Clouds. Those bypass the shield entirely. One breath and you're dead."

  Reygel looked back and spotted them immediately—two growing masses of purple fog, channeled by the robed Minmors he'd noticed earlier. Shamans, he'd thought at first. But no—Animists. The terminology mattered.

  They worked with eerie patience, building the clouds slowly while maintaining their position 150 feet back. Why didn't the Laderos target them during the channel? It seemed wasteful to ignore such obvious—

  A plasma shot streaked past, detonating behind the Animists. The blast consumed at least a dozen Minmors. But the edge of the explosion touched one of the purple clouds and simply... ceased to exist. The blue sphere of energy vanished where it made contact, not exploding or rebounding but disintegrating instantly.

  Shields, then. But unlike the Sanctuary's clean deflection, these clouds unmade whatever they touched. That explained why the Laderos avoided shooting through them—not because they couldn't, but because their ammunition would be wasted, erased before impact. The channeling served double duty: offense and defense simultaneously.

  But the Minmors themselves weren't standing inside the clouds, which meant the decay would kill them too. And that raised another question—why weren't the buildings dissolving on contact?

  Too many unknowns. Too many questions. And he was about to fight an army with a weapon he didn't know how to use.

  Reygel moved past Sinsgridt, approaching the Sanctuary's leading edge with his spear gripped in both hands. The translucent barrier hovered inches from his face. He slowed his steps to match the Engineer's pace, maintaining his position at the bubble's front. When Sinsgridt stopped moving, the Sanctuary stopped with her.

  They'd reached the bridge's far end.

  Time to see if Sinsgridt's gambit would work. Reygel still wasn't certain what would compel the Minmors to attack before the Decay Clouds solved the problem for them, but the Engineer seemed confident. She'd proven capable so far, if undeniably reckless. After all, no one else was attempting to hold an entire battalion with just two fighters.

  To his left, the buildings stood farther apart than elsewhere in town, creating an unusually wide thoroughfare. At least a thousand Minmors pressed the attack there, facing a Laderos force maybe a fifth their size. Defenders lined the rooftops, the main avenue, and—Reygel was certain—the parallel side streets as well. Chaos and slaughter dominated the scene in equal measure.

  The Laderos' sole advantage lay in the network of lava rivers feeding into the massive flow beneath his feet. Fighting along those molten channels created barriers the Minmors struggled to cross. Even so, the numbers would eventually tell. This was the largest front, and the Laderos were losing.

  A deafening bang erupted behind him.

  Reygel ducked instinctively, hands flying to his ears. The spear clattered to the bridge. He spun to find a massive cylinder of liquid suspended in midair—nearly as wide as he was tall, hovering at head height. Lightning danced inside it like caged serpents. Then thunderbolts erupted outward in all directions, each several feet long and close enough to make his skin prickle.

  Five seconds later, another pulse. The bolts extended, twice as long as before. One passed directly through Reygel's chest.

  He'd closed his eyes, bracing for pain. None came. He opened them and stared at Sinsgridt with confusion.

  "The targeting isn't programmable," she explained, studying her creation with satisfaction. "You weren't hurt because the Sanctuary canceled the effect. It's one of my better pairings—Sanctuary and Pulse working together. The lightning isn't lethal, but it staggers enemies and makes their lives miserable every few seconds. We can adjust the range, though." She gestured toward the battlefield. "It'll stop short of our troops. Won't hit all the Minmors because of the circular distribution, but it should reach most of their ranged fighters. Without them, they can't win."

  Another wave of thunderbolts pulsed outward, extending past the Sanctuary's edge this time.

  Reygel processed the flood of information in silence. He retrieved his spear, straightened, and turned to face the enemy.

  Minmors were gathering outside the Sanctuary. Not attacking yet—waiting. More arrived with every passing second, accumulating in violent anticipation. They knew individual strikes wouldn't breach the barrier. But a coordinated assault from hundreds at once...

  That's why Sinsgridt wanted him killing as many as possible. Thin their numbers before the real push began.

  Reygel stepped forward, gripped the spear with both hands, and thrust at the nearest Minmor.

  The creature dodged with casual ease, slipping aside as though Reygel were moving through water. It repositioned, clearly expecting another clumsy attempt.

  Reygel struck again, faster this time.

  Thunderbolts erupted before his spear connected. The Minmor staggered, momentarily stunned. Reygel's blade punched through its neck.

  Blood poured from the wound. He wrenched the weapon free—harder than he'd expected, the blade catching on something inside—and the creature collapsed, eyes fixed on him as life drained away.

  The weight of what he'd done crashed over him without warning. Enemy or not, broken memory or not, he knew with absolute certainty: he was no killer. The feeling lodged in his chest like a stone, refusing to dislodge. His hands trembled around the spear's shaft.

  More Minmors hurled themselves at the barrier.

  "Attack them! What are you waiting for?" Sinsgridt's voice cut through his paralysis.

  Reygel snapped back to reality. The horde pressed forward, packed so tightly he couldn't miss. He began thrusting in rapid succession, the spear finding flesh again and again. They had no room to dodge, no space to maneuver.

  Minutes ago—was it only minutes?—he'd hoped to kill at least one before dying. Now he wished every life he took would be the last. Revulsion filled him with each strike, a toxin spreading through his veins.

  He almost wanted the shield to fail. To fall and end this misery—

  No.

  Something shifted in his mind. He thought of Grelchn and her Aids, fighting to give their people a chance at survival. Every Laderos on the battlefield, determined to push back the tide. And Sinsgridt, standing beside him—an Engineer willing to face an army with nothing but her inventions and a useless Deathless.

  The weight in his chest remained, but it no longer paralyzed him. This was about survival. The Laderos were dying because he'd resurrected at their Altar. He owed them his best effort, even if his best amounted to almost nothing. Even if—when—he fell, they would spend resources to protect that Altar, to bring him back.

  "That weapon does not belong to you, Deathless."

  The Minmor he'd been about to strike spoke clearly, its voice cutting through the chaos. Reygel's spear found its throat anyway, but the words lingered—not just their meaning, but the strangeness he'd been ignoring until now. The Minmor that had killed him spoke the same language. So did the Laderos. So did he, despite having no memory of learning it. Three completely different species, and he understood all of them perfectly, as if there were no barriers between them at all.

  How had he not questioned this before? In what world did humans, serpents, and canines all share a common tongue?

  The thought slipped away as another pressed forward, more immediate. They weren't after him. They wanted the Arbiter.

  "If the spear is all they want," Reygel called to Sinsgridt without breaking rhythm, "isn't there a way to give it to them?"

  The Minmors' laughter rippled through their ranks—a sound that raised the hair on his neck.

  "Giving away an Arbiter is no simple matter," Sinsgridt said, frustration bleeding into her voice. "But this isn't the time. For once we have a Deathless with an Arbiter—a combination we've never had before, a real chance at survival—and you want to throw it away?"

  She was right. Questions could wait. He needed all the facts before making that choice.

  The Sanctuary shuddered. A violent tremor ran through the barrier, accompanied by a sound like tearing metal. Reygel might not be an Engineer, but he could read the signs. Three, maybe four hundred Minmors pressed against the shield now, trampling each other in their frenzy to break through.

  They were succeeding.

  Reygel glanced right. The first Decay Cloud had drifted closer—less than a minute away.

  "Retreat!" Sinsgridt commanded.

  The Sanctuary wall lurched toward him. Reygel barely jumped back in time, the barrier nearly catching him off guard. He turned and followed Sinsgridt at a full sprint. Behind them, the Minmors' assault continued without pause, pursuing them onto the bridge.

  Sinsgridt reached the bridge's center when a screeching sound erupted, so sharp and sudden that Reygel's hands flew to his ears again. This time he managed to keep hold of the spear—a minor victory. He spun to locate the source.

  The cylindrical lightning device was gone. Minmors stood where it had been, finally free of the Sanctuary's protection. They tore at something on the ground, though Reygel couldn't see what. He cursed himself for not thinking to watch what would happen when the shield retreated past its position.

  The barrier closed in on him again. Sinsgridt had anticipated this outcome and never bothered looking back. The Minmors continued their pursuit, hammering at the weakening shield. Holes began appearing in the bubble's surface—small at first, then larger.

  From what Reygel could glimpse of the main battlefield, the conditions had reversed. The Laderos were advancing now, cutting through disorganized Minmor ranks. Sinsgridt's gambit had worked. The enemy's rear guard had broken formation to chase them, leaving the front line vulnerable.

  Reygel approached the bridge's end with Sinsgridt just ahead when he heard footsteps behind him—close and fast. He turned to find a Minmor that must have squeezed through one of the holes. Reygel gripped his spear with both hands, preparing to stop suddenly and swing. Surprise was his only advantage.

  The Sanctuary dissolved completely.

  Every Minmor that had been pressing against it surged forward in a sudden wave. Striking the one behind him would accomplish nothing now.

  A laser beam materialized from a rooftop ahead, growing thicker as it charged. The rooftops were packed with Laderos now, the streets below filled with armored troops. The laser flashed yellow.

  The Minmor behind Reygel dropped dead.

  He risked a glance back at the bridge. At least fifty Minmors had crossed the red line Sinsgridt had placed at the center. Nothing happened. No fire, no explosion, no trap springing shut. Had something gone wrong with her device?

  Sinsgridt reached the bridge's end and deployed a smaller Sanctuary—stationary this time, powered by a cube of liquid on the ground. It didn't cover her entire body, but it blocked the endless stream of needles striking her position. Reygel wondered briefly why they didn't target him instead.

  A needle punched through his right shoulder before he finished the thought.

  He tumbled forward, momentum carrying him through Sinsgridt's shield. He rolled to a stop at her feet, staring up at her profile. She didn't spare him a glance. Instead, her hand moved in a fluid gesture, producing a panel of light. Her other hand touched what appeared to be a virtual button.

  The explosion shattered the world.

  Reygel had never heard anything so loud. Metal and stone flew in all directions, accompanied by gouts of lava and billowing smoke. A red laser curtain had materialized from Sinsgridt's chalk line, stretching forty feet up and presumably forty feet down into the lava river. With each pulse, another explosion followed. Five in total, each one tearing the bridge apart.

  When the curtain finally vanished, debris rained down on both sides of town. Most of it fell into the lava river and was swallowed. Among the wreckage, countless Minmors burned. Many were still alive, their screams cutting through the aftermath.

  Then the Decay Clouds arrived. The purple fog drifted over what remained of the bridge's far side, consuming everything in its path. Minmors who'd survived the explosion now dissolved in the toxic mist, their bodies disintegrating where they stood. The Animists had been targeting Sinsgridt and Reygel, but with the bridge destroyed and their forces scattered in chaos, the weapon meant to kill two enemies was now erasing dozens of their own. The timing couldn't have been more catastrophic for them.

  Reygel looked at Sinsgridt, expecting triumph. Instead, she stared at the devastation with something close to horror.

  There was no question she'd saved the entire settlement. The Minmors had no way to recover from this. Reygel looked at the rooftops, now filled with ranged fighters no longer worried about needle volleys. The tide had turned completely. It was their time to rain destruction on a broken enemy.

  "What have you done?"

  Reygel turned to find Grelchn standing behind them, staring daggers at Sinsgridt.

  The Engineer continued gazing at the ruined bridge, her voice flat. "What I needed to."

  In that moment, Reygel understood. Sinsgridt's guilt had nothing to do with the lives she'd taken. It was the bridge—only the bridge—that weighed on her conscience.