Chapter 17: A Comrade Lost
Cross sorely underestimated just how tall the trees of the swamp were.
The moment he broke through the canopy he expected to crash right into the ground or some bushes. Instead, his vision was filled with immense twisting branches which ran from thick trunk to thick trunk, choking up the interior and only slightly breaking his fall as he tore through them.
The first impact spun him around, allowing him to see the canopy speed away as he struggled to orient himself. He struck a clump of vines next, which surprisingly held up despite his velocity, though many tore upon impact as his limbs were wedged through tangled, moist knots. The entire clump tore free as he sank into them, eventually joining him in plummeting to the ground.
A resounding splash sounded out right before everything was muted. His descent halted near instantly as he and the clump began to sink into a frothy brown pool.
Cross moved quickly, tearing an arm free and ripping the vines away in chunks as he struggled to pull away. He managed to raise his head above the brown slop, only to immediately plunge once he moved away from the sinking clump. The soggy floor of the pool gave way immediately under his weight, swallowing him up to his knees as he resisted the urge to grumble.
Instead, he waited, letting himself sink up to his waist until his foot finally came upon a hard surface underneath. Using it to push forward, he dug his free hand into the sloppy dirt and began hauling himself along the floor of the muck.
Eventually, he was able to scale up the side of the pool before spitting out the fluids which had managed to seep past his lips. Only after crawling through the mud and rolling over did he realize that he could barely see. Mud, water and debris had gotten stuck in both his helmet and eye. He pried the helmet off and scraped the surface of his eye clean whilst crawling away from the pool.
As he kicked against the floor to move, he noticed the slowly forming puddle of ichor near his feet. He hissed upon remembering the leg wound Holst had given him.
He looked around for any Blackstone that may have landed nearby, only for his gaze to land on the Caster in his grasp. Or rather, the lower two-thirds of his caster. In its current state he could kiss ranged combat goodbye, though the Obscuris Crystal still thrummed within under his touch.
He worked to pry off pieces of the broken barrel, drawing his wounded leg up under him as his back finally pressed against the root-covered trunk of a tree.
Even with his vision muddled, Cole found the patch job relatively simple. Holst’s shards had punctured deep, but the entrance wounds weren’t messy as a result. Soon he was stuffing crushed bits of blackstone into the wounds, not caring much for the ugly lumps such a patch job would leave in his shell.
He didn't stop until the leaking did. He’d have to hope there was enough Blackstone in the jungle for him to shape a new barrel out of. The thought led him to set aside his Caster, using one hand to smooth down his patch job while the other went to clearing the mud and swamp gunk from his eye.
Not that there was much to see.
Dripping leaves and massive vines seemed to dominate the area. Twisted shrubbery and the distant cacophony of lesser mortals made picking out sounds a challenge. He could barely tell if the sun was still out, given the densely packed canopy far above.
It was during this search that he saw movement nearby. A twisted shrub jerking as a figure moved through it.
He dug his hand into the tree behind him to yank himself to his feet, only briefly slamming his recently mended foot down as he spotted grey amongst the green.
He almost raised his caster out of instant, only to grit his teeth and instead tense up in preparation. Whether to flee or fight, he would act immediately.
That is, if the barely recognizable form of Cole hadn’t stumbled out of those ruins.
The Haze had spread to most parts of his body. Only a few parts of his chest piece and a good chunk of his head had refrained from going gray, the rest of his afflicted body had changed. The details of his armor was gone, the smooth plating changed to an assortment of jerky gray chunks melded together. His fingers were fused together into a single digit that ended up pointed directly at Cross.
“Ain’t gonna… help?” Cole asked, breaking Cross from his stupor.
But he didn’t move. At a certain phase Gray Haze became highly contagious. Moreso than just getting Blanken Blood in your system. The last thing they needed was a second afflicted Pawn.
“The Haze, comrade.” Cross cleared his throat as he nodded to him “It looks bad.”
“I know, sorry I asked.” Cole sighed as he swayed to the side “gettin’ weak’s just… annoying. Don’t get how mortals stand it.”
Cross pushed away from the tree, only to lock up and glance back at his hand. Dense moss clung to his fingers as he pulled away from the tree, making him grumble as he scanned their surroundings once more.
“So crowded…” he murmured as Cole lowered himself to one knee “Blanken bastards could ambush us from any direction.”
“That’s mortal lands for ya.” Cole grunted before nodding upwards “Gotta learn from the locals.”
Cross frowned before glancing up, finding some form of reptile scuttling up one of the nearest trees. It scanned its surroundings with hazy brown eyes before tightening its six legs close to its torso. With one quick motion, the reptile launched itself to a vine hanging nearby, sinking its claws into it before crawling up further.
Sighing, Cross slid his Caster onto his back before sinking his fingers into the tree as well. Climbing was a tenuous process; he could feel the bark of the tree threatening to give under the weight of his form. He had to drive his fingers deep every time he ascended just to keep himself rooted.
Despite that, he was eventually able to see over the sprawling assortment of vines and roots that made up the swamp’s floor.
The on and off rainstorms had left everything covered in moisture, save for certain parts of the floor. It was broken up by pools like the one Cross had plunged into, where the water accumulated. He could see creatures gathering at several pits further out, with some even fighting over access to the water.
But beyond any of that, he could easily see the distant flash of pure white. It stood out harshly against the greens of the swamp, more than a Noirite or even a Haze tainted pawn like Cole did.
Far in the distance he saw a Blanken Pawn pushing through the shrubbery. They paused upon seeing lesser mortals contesting for another pit, then turned around to call something back.
Cross couldn’t hear what was being said, but he could hear a response come from elsewhere. His eye snapped over towards what he initially thought was a trail of rocks laying cluttered through the swamp.
Upon closer inspection, he realized that it was Blackstone Debris.
He scaled the tree more, carefully digging his fingers in several more times before he was finally able to see it.
The Helm.
Far in the distance, the Helm had crashed straight into the side of the swamp and crushed several trees. Several larger trees had been uprooted entirely, leaving a notable gap in the canopy which lit up the edge as well as the rubble of the mountainside spilling into it. It wasn't just Blackstone and rocks scattered around the ruins of the helm.
Numerous white figures were searching the area around it.
Not many Blanken had moved from the helm, with some still searching the ruins as others tried to coordinate. But the fact that so many were already in the swamp was a problem. The fall of the helm had barely slowed them down.
Cross thought better of calling down to Cole, they once again had the advantage of secrecy. But just as he began letting go of the tree, he saw white in a different direction.
A Blanken was laying face down in one of the pits, body slowly going grey. On either side of him were dark figures whose details were hard to make out at such distance, save for one.
One of them was missing an arm.
It had to be their allies, but Cross wasn't given time to feel relieved. Those wandering Blanken would be on them soon enough, he would have to act quickly.
Cross immediately let go of the tree and let himself crash into the dirt-smeared roots at its base. His greaves crushed root and grass alike as he spun on Cole, only to find his Comrade squatting next to the water pit whilst rubbing his hands along his arms.
“Our comrades are near.” Cross gestured into the brush “Can you keep up or should I-?”
“Go.” Cole slowly struggled to his full height “Just give... a second.”
Cross didn’t have time to hesitate, so merely decided to put faith in Cole’s determination. He nodded before turning and taking off into the brush. His legs carried him over mud and root. Small insects scattered all over after he tore through a shrub, with Cross quickly batting them away as he heard voices up ahead.
A familiar annoyed groan reached him first.
“-knew it was nonsense.” Misser snapped “we should -”
“Comrades?” Cross hissed out to them, hoping the subtle cacophony of the swamp would keep his voice from travelling too far.
He pushed through another bush to find Misser and Wristy staring at him, between them Armel was kneeling with his back to him. Armel was looking over the grey corpse of a Blanken, drumming his fingers on the blackstone pad.
But Cross couldn’t even warn them of the other Blanken before Misser wheeled on him.
“You heard Formal, right?” he asked “This whole mission was insanity from the start!”
“We ain’t ditchin’ the cargo, Misser.” Wristy bit before looking to Cross “This one’s thinking o’ hookin’ up with Chance.”
“Why not?” Misser demanded “We cannot get a rook of the planet. Best case scenario is we go quiet and make the Blanken waste resources trying to wipe us out.”
“Its not going to matter much either way if they find us.” Cross nodded behind him “You realize the helm crashed not too far back there. They’ve already got some of theirs picking through the green.”
“Already?” Wristy flinched “Damn thing just finished crashing!”
“Just as feisty as their Knight.” Armel spoke up before looking to the Blackstone pad “Just means we gotta be feistier.”
Though Wristy nodded at his words, Cross could practically hear Misser grinding his teeth in annoyance.
“And the reason we aren’t doing that with Chance?” he asked, prompting Armel to look back at him.
“Without the Tower or the boss, Cargo’s the best weapon we could have right now.” His grin disappeared briefly, but returned as he nodded past them “Most of our crew’s as stubborn as he is, so they’ll be fine without us.”
Misser tilted his head at that, only to look back towards Cross and flinch. When Wristy did the same, she held back a gasp just as Cole finished pulling himself from the Shrub beside Cross.
“Newblood… says the kiddies are comin’ round…” Cole steadied himself as Wristy crept close to look him over “Why we ain’t… moving?”
Wristy immediately began stepping back after getting a good look at Cole, making Cross wordlessly follow in her example. If she was no longer comfortable being in close proximity, that meant it might have been worst than even Cross expected.
“Unhook yourself from that tank.” Misser pointed to it “In your state, you’re just wasting ichor.”
Cole narrowed his eye before holding a finger up to his lips. The gesture only seemed to infuriate Misser more.
“I’m not playing, Comrade.” He spat “Take that thing off before-”
“Wait.” Armel held up a hand, prompting Misser to go silent as they all listened closer to the sounds of the swamp.
Just under the chittering of insects was laughter.
Weak and rife with pain, yet they could all pinpoint the voice immediately.
Without words, they all crept past the dead Blanken and into the brush, pulling further from the helm as the laughter slowly died down.
“See… sister?” a voice weakly called out just as they peaked through another series of shrubbery.
“We are… her light… the happiness and joy all Mortals seek in their tiny little live.”
It was Holst, lying at the end of a trail of vitae that slowly pooled around him. His upper half was lazily leaned against a fallen tree, one of his legs submerged in another pool of water that grew milky with his blood. The giant chunk of Blackstone was still lodged firmly through his torso, though Cross quickly noted that the last of Holst’s shards had been wedged into several of the gaps around it. It was nowhere enough to stop him from bleeding out, but the fact he was lying there and not calling out in thoughtspeak gave Cross pause.
“Still kicking?” Misser grunted.
“Could be a trap.” Wristy voiced Cross's own suspicion “Bastard’s a crafty ole pawn.”
But they both went silent as a low clink sounded from beside them. They all looked over just in time to see Cole’s ichor tank fall to the swamp floor beside Misser.
“Mine…” Cole wheezed as he shoved himself forward out of the bush
If Holst was surprised by Misser’s sudden appearance, he sure didn’t show it. His smile was still gleamed brightly even as Cole shakily rose to his feet.
Cross looked from Wristy to Armel, but neither moved to stop Cole from making his way forwards. Once again, he found Misser to be the only one to mirror his confusion. Despite that, he put his faith in their seniority and kept quiet, watching as Holst just kept rambling.
“What of our foe… Sister?” Holst asked “The slaves know only conflict… competition. As if such fragile creatures could be satiated only with violence. Those that have taken their path… destroy themselves, eventually.”
“Even when… runnin’ dry.” Cole grunted as he drew closer “Still talking kiddie crap, eh?”
“See what loving each other can do… Sister No name?” Holst asked as Cole’s shadow fell over him “What mother’s happiness has taught us? What Genthol taught you? What I’ve taught you? Sister…. No Na-”
The moment Cole fell upon Holst, Cross saw it.
A brief glint of light from the bush he was laying against. It grew in an instant right before a blessed beam tore through its branches and ripped through Cole’s chest.
“Trap!” Misser hissed as he rolled out of the way of the beam, which tore through the shrubbery they were hiding in and through a tree trunk behind them.
“Here!” the voice of Blast-Arm cried out as she emerged from the ruined bush, shoving aside Cole’s gray remains whilst taking aim “Brothers! Sisters!”
“Into the green!” Armel shouted as he behind another trunk.
Cross wasn’t even able to see when Cole’s body land, the next Blessed Beam sent him scurrying after Armel along with Wristy. But when they darted behind the same tree, they found a sheer cliff riddled with vines and roots waiting. Neither hesitated, with Cross leaping down after Wristy with Misser at his side.
But it wasn’t the yells of his comrades or the voices of the Blanken which drew Cross’s attention as he landed and raced through the underbrush.
It was Cole’s last words, fading away in Cross’s head as his comrade finished bleeding out.
“Taught us?” Cole wondered “Taught... you? Taught... me...?”
