SS - Chapter 4 (rewrite) - Canyon Conflict 

Rewrite didn't take as long as I expected, so I may start on next TBoB. I'm not going to spend all day on it, like yesterday, but I'll see how far I get.

“They weren’t exactly subtle were they?” Camille muttered as we followed the path of devastated vegetation deeper into the forest.

“I can’t really blame them, they were running for their lives. They probably wouldn’t even have escaped if it wasn’t for Ezra… I can’t imagine that woman destroyed a magical construct with nothing more than a sledgehammer,” I replied.

Camille just grunted in agreement. 

The two of us were moving swiftly, abandoning caution for speed. I wanted to catch the Skylians off guard, so we had to try and arrive before their fight with the refugees ended. If we couldn’t, it would be much harder to ambush the enemy soldiers.

Despite our quick pace, it still took us nearly twenty minutes to follow the path back to the canyon. We found the destroyed construct right at the treeline, one knee buckled and head caved in. Despite looking like it was made of glass, it’s body bent like some sort of metal.

Creeping forward we peeked over the edge of the canyon, at the battle below. The Skylian soldiers had apparently taken some serious casualties. There were only five of them left raining arrows, and magic, down into the canyon while the three constructs slowly moved to block the entrance.

“The refugees must have retreated into the canyon, and the Skylians are moving in for the kill.

“They have a mage, probably a noble, do you think you can hit him from here?” I asked quietly.

“Easily, but if I did that the rest of the squad will take cover, and return fire,” Camille replied, eyes narrowing. “Why?”

“Because I’m going after the constructs,” I explained. “I can take one down with my rifle, but we need to take down all three before the magic stone fades. We’ll never stop them otherwise.”

Camille stared daggers at me. “You’re going to charge straight down this hill, and try to engage both of those two constructs without backup?”

“I’m going to shoot one first,” I reminded her. “Otherwise it would be three.”

Camille just stared at me, unimpressed by my plan.

“If I get down there fast enough, I might be able to engage the constructs while they’re still distracted by the refugees. That’ll let me get the drop on them, maybe take one out before the other can react,” I said.

Camille snorted and pulled an arrow out of the quiver on her back and fit it into her massive longbow. “I still think it’s a stupid idea, but I already know there’s nothing I can say to make you change your mind, so get ready to make your move as soon as I fire.”

Despite her diminutive size Camille had no problem fully drawing the massive bow. She leaned forward, eyes furrowed with concentration, took a second to adjust her aim, and let the arrow fly.

The massive arrow punched straight through the back of the mage, causing him to stagger forward, the fire spell which had been forming dying in his hands. He clutched feebly at the arrowhead sticking out of his chest a couple times before toppling over, dead.

The rest of the soldiers wasted no time diving for cover behind the small rocky outcroppings dotted around the area. Camille calmly drew another arrow from her quiver and scanned the scattered group below. “I’ve got this, go!”

I didn’t argue, jumping off the side of the plateau and digging my heels into the side of the hill. The loose dirt and rocks gave way, causing me to slip rapidly down the slope. It wasn’t the most dignified, or controlled way to descend the hill, but it was by far the fastest. I grasped at whatever furled roots, and thin brush I could get my hands on. Not to stop my descent, but slow and control it enough to get to the bottom safely. 

A couple arrows did sail my way, I apparently didn’t manage to completely sneak by undetected, but every time one of the soldiers stepped out to take a shot Camille made swift work of them.

When I finally slid to a halt at the bottom of the slope, the two constructs had already entered the narrow canyon and disappeared from sight. The third paused, and turned my way, so I whipped the rifle off my back and aimed for center mass. 

As soon as I pulled the trigger the flash blinded me for a second, and the kickback nearly knocked me flat. 

The construct fared much worse. The ball had connected with the upper left part of its chest, causing that section to cave inwards. It staggered for a moment, tried to take a couple steps forward, then collapsed in a heap.

One down, two to go.

There was no way that I’d have enough time to reload, so I threw the rifle to the side before pushing myself to my feet and sprinting after them.

It took me less than a minute to make it to the gap, and turn the corner. What I saw there made my blood run cold. 

The long razor sharp fingers of the slender glass men ran red with blood, half a dozen bodies already lay at their feet. Further into the canyon one young woman was using a long stick to poke at the constructs like a staff, or spear. It was obvious she couldn’t hurt the magical monsters like that, but the action was keeping her just out of reach of the razor sharp fingers. It was a desperate last stand which gave the other survivors a few extra seconds to get further away.

Drawing my rapier I charged the nearest monstrosity, plunging the blade into its back. Unlike the blunt swords, and various long sticks that the refugees had been using, my magical blade bit deep.

The construct shuddered, and its head swirled around to look directly at me, but it didn’t go down. 

Before it could turn to engage me I sidestepped, and brought the sword around slamming it into the glass creature’s arm as hard as I could. It was like striking solid stone, and reverberations nearly caused me to drop the weapon as my hand went numb, but the desperate attack paid off. When the construct whirled about bringing the limb up to backhand me, there was a loud crack as the last thin bit of glass I’d failed to cut through snapped, causing the limb to fall away. As the magical creature stared at its fallen limb in confusion, I pushed forward smashing the blade of the rapier directly into its downturned face.

Unlike when I swung at the limb, the thrusting strike didn’t meet much resistance. Through a combination of luck and skill it slid right through the construct’s eye, sinking deep into the head.

Something audibly popped, and all the life ran out of the construct, causing it to crumple to the ground.

Its compatriot, realizing that I was some sort of threat, immediately turned on me. Backing away, staying as far away from its razor fingers as possible, I stared the construct in the face. Whether through design, or some screwed up coincidence in creation, this glass man had a wide slit straight across the bottom of its face. The glass around the slit had buckled in some places, and broken in others, making the thing look like it had some sort of multicolored rictus grin.

With slow, deliberate strides the tall artificial monster closed in on my position. Its fingers flicked back and forth, creating a constant low ‘snik’ noise as it leaned down and looked me in the face. It almost felt like the thing was sizing me up.

Even though I tried to maintain my distance, and maintain some sort of advantage, the construct struck first. Whipping its upper half forward it extended its arms as far forward as it could, shooting its fingers out like spears. Instead of dodging entirely to the side, I brought my blade up and stuck it between a couple of fingers on the left hand, twisting the blade to parry. I wasn’t able to fully redirect the hand, but the two middle fingers snapped off from the pressure. Slipping to the side at the last moment, and with my blade still caught between the final two fingers, I wrenched downward as the hand passed, severing the remaining digits.

Unlike the previous construct, this one did not pause and investigate the damage, instead the strange formation on its face opened and it screamed in rage. I nearly froze at that, because I’d never seen a construct that had unique features, never mind one that showed any emotion. The whole point of constructs was that they were reliable, uniform, disposable troops. This one almost seemed alive.

Thankfully I recovered from the shock before the second hand came around. The glass man swung its remaining talon with both extreme speed, and surprising skill. It probably would have been able to overwhelm most skilled swordsmen, but it wasn't going to be enough to save it. 

I waited until the construct committed to a massive swipe before stepping forward, closer to the main body and out of the way of the long lanky arm. Bracing myself as best I could, I brought the rapier down upon the construct’s elbow, using its own momentum to increase the damage of my blow.

When the two connected there was the sound of breaking glass, and huge shards exploded out of the wound. The limb didn’t fall away, like the last one, but it went limp.

The glassman reared back, like someone taking a deep breath, then bent forward and once again screamed in rage. Rather than stagger back, like I did last time, I slammed the blade deep into its artificial mouth.

It choked, turned its head slightly to the side, eyes glowing red. Putting more pressure on the blade I finally felt something give. Life immediately left the construct’s eyes, and it crumpled to the ground.

Breathing heavily, I turned to find the eyes of all the surviving refugees locked on me. Their expressions running the gambit from suspicion to wonder. No one spoke.

I slowly sheathed my sword and eyed up the group in return. “You’re welcome,” I grumbled.