Chapter 5: Part 9 - Steel

It was the greatest feeling in the world to know they’d made Artair angry. Oska watched as the portal at the end of the deck opened and the sylvari stepped out of it, a crowd of Talons at his back. He was no longer carrying his usual greatsword, but instead a sleek rifle that somehow looked all the more dangerous for being so subtle.

Erin strode forwards, her heavy footsteps making the deck creak. Oska couldn’t hear what she said, but he could guess at the gist of it. She was offering Artair an ultimatum. Light’s Memory had taken the ship and she was giving Artair a chance to surrender gracefully.

Oska could admit to himself, if no one else, that he was glad the sylvari didn’t take it.

The Talons surged forwards. There were dozens of them and more portals were lighting up along the shore all the time. Erin retreated, blocking a flurry of blows with her greatsword, but most of the Talons streamed past her. Oska drew back, cloaking himself in shadow. He could take out three of them before they even knew he was there, but he wanted to hear Erin’s orders first.

She finally reached him as Roan and Ivar plunged into the melee, keeping the Talons at bay. Oska dropped his invisibility and caught Erin’s arm. “What do you need me to do?”

“Take control of the wheel and hold it for as long as you can,” she said, with a glance back at the fight now spiralling across the deck. Artair hung back, giving out orders of his own, but he surely wouldn’t stay out of combat forever.

“And then?” Oska asked.

Erin just shook her head. “Hold the main cabin, Oska. Help is on its way.”

Was it, or was that only wishful thinking? For a moment, Oska wavered, but he had to believe Erin knew what she was doing. He nodded and swung back towards the main cabin.

He found it already mired in chaos. A dozen Talons fought to regain control of the wheel, but Light’s Memory wasn’t giving in easily. Jean and Vasha were already there, fighting back to back. Auri stood on the raised rear platform, holding her staff like a lance and spraying enough ice to keep an entire army at bay. And Marissa held the centre of the cabin as though the wheel belonged to her and her alone.

Oska dived towards her, sliding under the swinging hammer of a norn guardian and shadowstepping past the minions of a necromancer. When he emerged, a thief’s twin blades flashed towards his own. Oska dodged sideways, bringing up his daggers to parry and feeling the kiss of steel against his forearm. He hissed in pain and swept his daggers round, sending the other thief back with a grunt.

Marissa stepped into the gap he’d left. She held a sceptre in one hand and a dagger in the other. Magic flashed around her in a rippling wave, sending the norn who’d been swinging for her head stumbling back. Oska swept after him, neatly hooking a foot under the guardian’s flailing hammer and sending it spinning into a corner.

But the fight was relentless. For every Talon he forced back, two more seemed to take their place. Oska turned so that the airship’s wheel was behind him, trying to use it for cover. Marissa stood on his other side, shimmering in and out of existence as her cloud of illusions fluttered through the chaos.

The real Marissa appeared in front of Oska just as he was stabbing a blade towards a sylvari’s gut. Marissa jammed the haft of her sceptre into the sylvari’s head, throwing him backwards and into another Talon. They went down in a tangle of limbs and in the sudden reprieve, Marissa grabbed Oska’s shoulder.

“What’s the plan? What does our glorious leader want us to do?” There was a bite to her words, but it hardly mattered if she was polite. Oska was just glad she was following orders.

“We hold the cabin,” Oska shot back.

“Then what?”

It was the same question Oska had asked, but Erin’s reply turned to ash on his tongue. What help could possibly be coming? They were alone out here. No one even knew they’d set this ambush.

Except even as Oska thought as much, the blast of a horn filled the air. It seemed to come from far away, yet it was so piercing that the tumult around him seemed to fall away. That was their help, he knew. Someone was coming.

The ship lurched. Oska stumbled, righted himself, then spun to find Amber had appeared behind him. She was hauling on the ship’s wheel, dragging it hard to the left. It seemed to be fighting her, though, until she was almost lifted off her feet. Oska leapt forwards, adding his weight to hers. The wheel pulled to the left and jammed. Slowly, so slowly, the Victory began to turn.

There were shouts from the deck. The ship began to turn faster and he grabbed the wheel to hold himself upright. Jean and Vasha were clinging to one another, Auri had her feet encased in ice to steady herself, and Talons were stumbling over one another as they fought for something to hold onto.

The shouts were broken by a howl of fury that made Oska’s blood run cold. He stumbled away from the wheel, returning to the deck in time to see the help Erin had promised. More portals were flashing into life all along the shore and, with the Victory leaning so much, grappling hooks were beginning to catch against the railings. A moment later, the first fighter in Priory uniform clambered onto the deck.

A boom shook the sky and Oska ducked instinctively. Low cloud had settled over the darkened shoreline, but it was being lit up by eerie flashes on all sides. There were more airships out there, he realised, but they didn’t all belong to Artair. The Priory had brought a whole army of reinforcements.

And yet, as the chaos intensified, Oska wasn’t sure it would be enough. Fighters surged across the deck with wild cries, Priory and Talons and Light’s Memory. Weapons clashed all around him, magic flashing like firecrackers. He couldn’t see Erin, couldn’t see his family, and he certainly couldn’t tell who was winning.

The shot that rang out was, somehow, even louder than the blasts from the nearby airships. Oska flinched backwards, but could see nothing through the press of bodies. Bodies that were now scrambling sideways, pushing and shoving one another as they fought to escape something Oska couldn’t see.

Not fast enough. Another shot rang out, accompanied by a blinding flash of light. There was a wave of panicked shouts. Oska lifted his daggers, but he couldn’t seem to move. Ahead of him, a Priory elementalist lunged forwards, lifting his staff defensively. There was another flash and he was flung backwards, skidding across the deck and landing in a crumpled heap.

As the flash of light faded, so did Oska’s resolve. The elementalist had come to a stop not far away, his chest still rising and falling. But there was something as blank as death in his staring eyes, as though he was looking into a world no mortal was ever supposed to see.

Or, Oska thought, as though the very essence of him had been stripped right out, leaving nothing but an empty husk behind.

He found, quite suddenly, that he felt very calm. The battle was falling apart, fighters fleeing in all directions. Artair appeared between them. The rifle cradled in the sylvari’s hands was glowing hot enough to scorch the very flesh from Artair’s hands, but he gave no sign that he’d noticed.

He stopped in a patch of empty deck and Oska saw the trail of fallen bodies left behind him. Two were Priory, though Oska thought the last was one of Artair’s own Talons, as though the sylvari didn’t care who he hit.

“Interesting.” Artair’s voice was soft as he nudged the slumped elementalist with his foot. “What marvels men create ‒ or, in this case, charr.”

Oska’s stomach seemed to turn over. Marvels? There was, he realised, nothing left in Artair but madness.

Artair looked up, meeting Oska’s gaze with an odd little smile. “Shall we end this, my friend? You have been a thorn in my side since the day we met ‒ but perhaps it is time to pluck you out by the roots.”

All Oska could think about, in that moment, was Auri. If he failed here, Artair would kill everyone aboard the ship and then he’d take Auri hostage again.

Except he wouldn’t, because Oska wouldn’t let him. He wouldn’t fail, no matter how scared he felt, no matter how unprepared. Light’s Memory had forged him into purest steel and the only thing steel knew was how to fight.

As Artair raised the rifle, Oska brought his own daggers up and went for the sylvari’s throat.