Thursday, January 16, 2020

Dark Armor 005

He passed through the outer line of watchfires at a full gallop, and only heard them cry out as he reached the inner ring. He'd chosen a path empty of watchers or patrols; he didn't care to shed blood yet. The alarms, and the chaos they would raise behind him, would only be of help. Black's hooves were a muffled thunder on the sandy ground.

Arrows pierced the night, but none of them came close to him. Then he was among the tents, and the killing began. A soldier staggered out, still pulling on his armor, but Black shouldered him aside with enough force to send him flying; the impact of his body collapsed another tent. More cries were rising, and somewhere someone began to ring a bell; but by then Pallian was deep inside the camp. He touched Black's flank and gave a silent command, and flames rose and spread in his wake as he aimed for the command tents at its heart.

The guards here wore heavy plate, their enchantments flickering and sparking in the view provided by Pallian's visor. They raised shields and tried to set spears, but their speartips shattered on Black's barding and Pallian drove his lance through the guard on the right. The remaining guard struggled back and drew her sword, but Black was already rearing, lashing out with his hooves... the woman went down.

An arrow slammed into his back, then another and another, but Pallian ignored them. A figure was pushing its way out of the command tent, fully armored, lifting a blade in one hand as it shaped a spell in the other. Pallian turned the reins and threw his lance like a spear, his strength amplified by the dark armor that protected him. The weapon stabbed through the armor and impaled the figure against the ground.

Another arrow smashed into his back, and he felt armor strain to absorb the impact. That's new, at least. Until now he'd only ever felt the armor struggle against magics. Still... He slammed his fist against his shield and sent a massive thunderclap through the camp, then dropped a ball of fire atop the command tent before wrenching his lance loose from body it had pierced. Black turned, whinnied, and turned again, and another arrow skipped off his half-raised shield.

Through his visor, he could see the archer: a woman, unarmored, and staggering from the thunderclap even as she drew another arrow.

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