***
The earth reared up around Stehlen, blocking the Geborene priests from sight. Rocks screamed their hate and ranted of memories of mountain and the time before cockroach humanity. They spoke in stone voices of infestation, of crushing the surface bugs. Stehlen fled, ducking and spinning away from arms of earth and rock. She was surrounded, there were too many to escape.
Kill the Geisteskranken manifesting them. It was her only hope.
Stehlen ducked around a lumbering behemoth of stone. The bodies of crushed soldiers stuck to it like squashed insects. Two smaller, more agile earthen creatures protected the Geborene priestess. They’d crush Stehlen in an instant.
If she wanted to kill the woman bad enough, nothing could stop her. She’d slide, unseen, past these monsters, her own delusions protecting her. She was torn. More than she wanted this woman dead, she wanted to rush to Lebendig’s side to save her or make sure she didn’t kill Wichtig. Above all else Stehlen craved punishment for her crimes. The Geborene priest, the man who freed his victim’s inner demons, could he do that for her? Could he punish her for everything she ever did? Could she finally get what she long deserved?
I’d be free.
Lebendig. Wichtig. They’ll kill each other unless I stop them. Stehlen laughed as she realized she loved the big Swordswoman more than she hated herself. It was a revelation.
Dead men and women surged around Stehlen, attacking the creatures of earth and stone, and with them came hordes of smoky spectres. In each she saw the manifestation of something someone hated about themselves. Sometimes it was simple physical imperfections and the wraiths bore hooked noses or crooked teeth. More often they reflected some deep-seated self-loathing or an atrocious act someone could never forgive themselves for. These were the freed inner demons of the men and women of the Gottlos army. But who then were these dead hurling themselves against the manifestations of the Geborene Geisteskranken?
A familiar roar split the air and Stehlen saw Bedeckt, beset on all sides by monsters of mud and tree and rock, standing over a young woman,. The dead fought at his side.
The big man stumbled, dropped to a knee. A colossal horror of stone and pulverised bodies reared over him, seeking to crush him beneath its weight. Bedeckt rolled away and it followed, smashing the earth where he had been. He was a mess of blood. One of his arms dangled useless at his side, the bone shattered and jutting through torn flesh.
Lebendig and Wichtig forgotten, Stehlen knew she had to save him. She wanted that more than anything. She loved him, always had. She wouldn’t let him die. Couldn’t.
Stehlen returned her attention to the Geborene Geisteskranken.
She wanted to kill them.
Nothing could stop her.
CHAPTER FORTY
There are no myths or monsters, just things people haven’t hallucinated recently.
—Opportun, Verzweiflung Banking Conglomerate Historian
Wichtig and Opferlamm fled into the farmhouse, the apprentice ducking to ride through the front door and only dismounting to draw her sword once within. The door swung closed behind her. The two stood shoulder to shoulder, weapons drawn. Wichtig gasped for air, his many still-healing wounds feeling like he’d torn them open. Both were covered in horse blood and guts, dripping gore from their hair.
Opferlamm wiped the blood from her eyes and glanced at the roof. Water poured in everywhere.
“Was that a dragon?” Opferlamm whispered, eyes darting between the door and the rickety roof above.
“Quiet.”
“Sticking well knows we’re in here,” hissed Opferlamm.
“Quiet.”
They waited.
Lightning split the sky above, lighting the inside of the room through the many gaps in the ceiling. Against one wall, Wichtig saw a fireplace, filled with bricks where the chimney fell in. The walls, equal parts hewn logs and clay pressed into the cracks, were covered in grey mould. A table stood in one corner, lilting drunkenly, one of the four legs missing. Spider webs clogged every corner and countless bright eyes stared from every nook and cranny. If he could, he’d climb in one of those holes and hide alongside the rats.
Several minutes passed, Wichtig and Opferlamm never lowering their guard. Where was the damned dragon? Why didn’t it tear the roof off this wreck and devour them both?
“Go see if it’s out there,” said Wichtig, nudging his apprentice with his half hand.
“Rut yourself.”
They waited longer, Wichtig’s legs cramping in the cold.
“Fine,” said Wichtig. “Coward.”
Gripping his sword, he shuffled forward, pausing at the door to listen. Made of rotting planks, it rattled and banged in the wind. Pushing it open with the tip of his sword, Wichtig peered outside.
It was too dark to see anything. He didn’t know if he wanted lightning to illuminate the world or to remain in blissful ignorance.
Wichtig retreated from the door.
“Too dark,” he said.