The Questing Beast was a terrifying sight. Massive, leonine and with a dozen stings to its dozen tails, it was a foe Saiko would not have sought out on any battlefield. But the beast, ironically, saw a similar sight in Saiko. A master swordsman, wounded but determined (already a dangerous combination) and possessing a spellbreaker blade. One sting would be the end of Saiko, but one graze from the sword would be the end of it as well.

For once its overwhelming size was more burden than boon. Yet for every problem there was a solution.

Saiko could only watch as the Questing Beast backed off, shrinking down as it did so and tails melding and melting back into its suddenly liquid flesh. Moments later a knight faced him, albeit a knight from a previous epoch.

Seven foot tall, the helm smooth and featureless beyond the pair of recessed slits that hid its eyes. The blade in its hands was a massive greatsword, on a scale with Agh’zak’s terrible cleaver, though if Saiko looked closely he could see that it was less in the Questing Beast’s hands as much as it was part of them. The beast was doing its best impression of a crab. A thick steel shell that would hold up to the spellbreaker’s edge.

The Questing Beast regarded Saiko with gleeful red eyes. The crimson orbs all but glowing behind the helm it had fashioned for itself.

Saiko swallowed nervously as he backed away, his blade raised despite his hesitance. There were no openings he could see besides the eyeslits. “Plan B. Definitely Plan B.”

“Understood.” Agh’zak rumbled, carrying the still insensate Alisha to lay against one of the walls of the vast cave-vault.

In that time the Questing Beast struck, inhumanly quick for its size and almost bisecting Saiko at the waist in it’s first blow. The mercenary deflected it, just, sending it skittering up his blade and over his head as he tried to close the distance only to have to leap backwards as the follow up blow nearly carved him open from shoulder to sternum.

There was no overcoming that much of a reach advantage, not without a high-tension crossbow anyway. The Questing Beast had picked its form well.

Still the great monster was not entirely having the fight its own way, at least not once Agh’zak joined the battle.

The orc waited for it to be entirely faced away from him before he made his move, running for the great knight’s back, Skullcrusher might not have a terrible and wicked edge on it like many blades of history but what it did have was weight and he was willing to bet that would could not be cut could be crushed.

The blow didn’t land.

Hearing Agh’zak’s approach two more eyeslits formed on the back of the Questing Beast’s head, crimson and baleful with hate as it sidestepped the blow that would have crushed its head. The cleaver skating off one of its oversized pauldrons in a flash of sparks as it kicked the orc in the shins and then headbutted him for good measure with the same ease as if it had been facing him.

Agh’zak didn’t fall, was barely even stunned, the warlord would have been the first to describe himself as hardheaded and that included the literal sense. Which was why he was able to bring Skullcrusher up to catch the two-handed slash the Questing Beast tried to bisect him with, the creature so strong that the impact sent him off his feet and rolling along the floor.

It didn’t get a chance to finish him off, in the few moments its back was turned Saiko was upon it, the spellbreaker forgotten upon the floor as he wrapped his legs around the thing’s waist, literally climbing it as he sought to press his dagger up into the point where helm met body, trying to either prize the helm free or drive the blade home into its brain.

The Questing Beast tried to shake him loose, having outsmarted itself. Its body might have been perfect for a swordfight but for prying an assailant from its back it was a very poor choice, the greatsword fused to its hands preventing it from reaching behind itself properly.

For a few moments it looked like Saiko would succeed but the beast thought quickly and fought even quicker, driving itself back against the cave wall. The air left Saiko’s lungs in an explosive ‘Oof!’ as he was mashed against the stone. Once. Twice. The third time he fell limp to the floor.

Again the Questing Beast turned to finish its fallen foe, and again it was denied as Agh’zak came roaring towards him. The orc berserker’s bellow ringing off the cavern walls loudly enough it was almost an attack in its own right.

This time the beast didn’t have the fight all its own way. Agh’zak might not have been its equal in strength but the orc’s rage more than made up the difference. Each blow forced it back a step away from Saiko as the chef pressed his assault, tireless in his fury. Worse still Agh’zak wasn’t just a berserker, he was an old berserker.

He knew how to use rage, how not to let it dull his skills and senses but to give strength to his bladearm and ignore the growing weariness in his limbs.

The Questing Beast narrowed it’s glowing scarlet eyes, for all it had the longer blade that was meaning little when Agh’zak was so determinedly trying to close the gap. Finally the orc was close enough that one massive hand grabbed the base of the blade, directing it away from him as he hammered blow after blow into the monster’s right side.

Each strike from Skullcrusher deformed the armour a little bit more as Agh’zak fought to keep the creature’s blade under control, blood pouring freely from his hand where the Questing Beast’s strength was greater than his own. But Agh’zak had the better leverage and he wasn’t going to let go until fingers began falling off.

The monster changed tactic, no longer trying to free its arms but pulling Agh’zak close as it brought its helmeted forehead into contact with the orc’s own with a sound like a rung bell. The orc barely winced, pulling his own head back to do the same.

It achieved even less, while the orc might have had a head like steel the thing he was headbutting actually was and he’d put so much of strength into it he’d managed to stagger himself. The Questing Beast grinned behind its helm, laying another headbutt upon the gradually concussing Agh’zak. Then another as the orc finally tried to pull back and away.

It was a terrible mistake. The Questing Beast finally pulling its blade free to lay a heavy slash upon the orc’s ribs. Agh’zak howled in pain, driving his great cleaver into the creature’s side one final time in a titanic two-handed strike, using Skullcrusher more as a hammer than a blade.

It was the Questing Beast’s turn to howl, brackish, brown and somewhat watery blood coating Agh’zak’s weapon as he withdrew it from the rent he’d mangled into the armour.

There was no time to celebrate, and Agh’zak had known it would be the case. The Questing Beast skewering the warlord upon it’s greatsword, letting the orc fall limply from it.

Victory assured it raised the massive zweihander to take Agh’zak’s head from his shoulders. There was another bell-like peal as a rock bounced off its helmet.

Slowly the Questing Beast turned, cocking its head quizzically as it stared at the wounded Saiko, the mercenary was having to clutch at his broken ribs even to stand but there was no pain betrayed on his face, just a chilling serenity, and though his legs wobbled and his breathing was ragged with agony, the falchion in his hand did not waver so much as a millimetre.

“May I have this dance?” Saiko taunted, giving the Questing Beast a mocking bow as he advanced upon it.

The Questing Beast smiled, helm opening up a fresh split in the steel to reveal far too many leonine teeth. Not since the Age of Heroes, before the gods had fallen, had it been challenged so brazenly. Oh many had come, but they had been hesitant in their knowledge of what they faced or worse baffled in their ignorance. This mortal knew, and the gleam of arrogance in his eyes said he did not care one jot.

The beast stalked forwards to meet the mercenary, Agh’zak forgotten.

Saiko kept smiling. The initial shock of the Questing Beast’s attack had rather thrown him, clouded his judgement. If he’d been thinking clearly he’d have worked with Agh’zak rather than trying to rush it like an idiot, slowly wearing the beast down and giving the big orc openings to slowly pound Skullcrusher through its armour.

Fortunately pain had a way of clarifying things, and he was certainly in a lot of that. It seemed like just about everything to hit him over the last day had managed to find his ribs and every breath was like being stabbed with an icicle, a comparison he could personally attest to the accuracy of.

None of that mattered though. Alisha was down. Agh’zak was down, and likely to bleed out without help. Which just left him. No pressure.

The Questing Beast took two more massive strides, trying a repeat of its earlier assault by attempting to cleave Saiko in half at the waist. This time the sellsword ducked under it, easily deflecting the followup as the treasured spellbreaker in his hand struck the beast twice only to achieve nothing.

Saiko cursed as he ducked back out of the beast’s range, having to parry twice more in that brief exchange. There really wasn’t much in the way of weakpoints. The Questing Beast had chosen its form well, other than the inability to let go of its blade and without Agh’zak’s raw strength getting close enough to take advantage of it that was just another word for suicide.

The eyeslits were too narrow, he doubted his falchion even could be forced through them.

A flurry of attacks confirmed that, Saiko managing to strike the slits directly during the exchange only to have his sword bounce off. That was another problem, having to get in blows then defend immediately when they did nothing was hard and he didn’t know how many times he’d be able to get away with it before he was too slow to catch one of the Questing Beast’s bone-shaking strikes.

He’d have to try something new. Maybe lure the beast over to the altar, leaping strikes were seldom a good idea but the extra height and momentum might be enough to force the spellbreaker through an eyeslit.

The odds of landing that kind of blow were perishingly low, the Questing Beast could stop it by just turning its head away, but the mercenary was well aware how rapidly his options were running out. It was getting harder to breath and the pain in his chest harder to ignore.

Before he could put his plan into action the Questing Beast also changed tactic, the near-perfect blow to its eyes had unnerved it. A slightly slimmer blade, or a slightly stronger hero, and it would be dead right now. A genuine first, and it liked it not at all.

The man before him was a swordsmaster worthy of the name but as their first bout had shown, like most masters of the blade once too close to use their tool properly it was all too easy to break them.

The Questing Beast charged. Its head down in a classic bull rush. Saiko managed to avoid being speared by the greatsword but that was about all he managed, the beast’s shoulder catching him and its sheer strength and speed bringing him along for the ride until he met the back wall of the cave. Saiko missed the next few seconds, the pain of that impact across his ribs was so blinding it might as well have seared the memories of it from him, only stubborn habit kept his grip on the spellbreaker’s hilt.

The beast grinned, this was much more like it, the monster continuing to press forwards, intent on simply crushing the life from Saiko against the sanctuary’s stone wall.

The mercenary tried to push the Questing Beast away. He might as well have tried to push away a mountain. The beast purred, content and assured in its victory even as Saiko lay increasingly erratic blows against its side.

Saiko managed to pull in a rasping breath as the pressure on him continued to increase. He wouldn’t get another one and he knew it. There was little he could do but stare helplessly at his bloodsoaked swordhand as he tried to forlornly stab his way through a steel plate.

Even as his vision began to darken at the edges Saiko’s eyes narrowed as realisation struck him like a thunderbolt. There was blood on his hand. And it wasn’t his.

Carefully Saiko craned his neck, staring down so he could see the rent Agh’zak had left in the Questing Beast’s thick shell, still leaking foul, brackish blood. Lungs burning as he held his final breath he lined the falchion up with the jagged gash in the steel and forced the blade home.

The Questing Beast stiffened in shock, in pain and in horror for just a moment before it dissolved into a pile of vaguely fleshy goo. With its magic taken away it seemed the beast was unable to maintain any shape at all.

Saiko dropped to the floor, gasping on his knees as he tried to stand up and not collapse in what had seconds ago been a divinely imbued monster the likes of which Reath had not seen since before there even had been a Paladin Order or Council of Mages.

All he wanted was to lay down and catch his breath. Scratch that, all he wanted to do was lay down and sleep and possibly die.

Sadly he didn’t have time for that, dying would have to wait until at least after he’d managed to patch up Agh’zak. The tough old orc was keeping pressure on a wound that had almost certainly punctured his lung, and the only reason Saiko was sure it hadn’t punctured his heart as well was that he was alive and well enough to grin at him.

“You looked in trouble for a second there.” The orc growled, trying to stand up only to be forced to sit down as the pain, and lightheadness, got too much.

“You look in trouble now.” Saiko retorted, carrying over one of their picks and picking out needle and thread with practiced hands, “Nothing I can do for the lung I’m afraid. Did it go all the way through?”

“By over a foot.” The orc declared almost proudly, “It will make a scar worth boasting about. Though not so much boasting as the songs that will be written about your victory.”

“Our victory you mean.” The merc replied almost instantly as he carefully threaded the needle. “This is going to hurt.”

“I have a hole going through my chest and out my back, it can’t hurt worse than that.” Agh’zak said amiably, “Just get on with it while I start work on the first verse.”

“You know songs really aren’t necessary.” Saiko began as he started on the long slash that began at the orc’s shoulder.

“Oh but they are. This is the greatest triumph in the history of orckind. The first time we’ve ever had hope for the future. We can grow food and not have the crops blight and fail because the land is bad. We will no longer have to wage war after war to both feed ourselves and keep our own population down to avoid starvation.”

“Yes I acknowledge all of that. But it shouldn’t be me starring in the retelling. It was your idea, your plan, your determination that got us here. You were the one that recruited us. You were the one who prepared for the deeps. When Alisha and I turned back, you pressed on. It was you that broke the beast’s armour. It should be the tale of Agh’zak the Lifegiver, not some mercenary who never picked up a blade without asking a price first.”

It was a surprisingly sincere speech from the sellsword, his hands never once stopping his stitching as he spoke, and if in his passion he jabbed the needle in too hard a couple times Agh’zak didn’t mention it.

“I don’t recall you asking for anything when I asked you to come die with me.”

“Must have slipped my mind.” Saiko replied without hesitation.

“You struck the final blow Sai. By the standards of any tale or saga I know it should be about you.” The orc replied before finally wincing, “Dammit man, who taught you to stitch and which eye was the blind one? Give me that.”

The merc handed over the needle with a bemused shrug, “Noone’s ever complained before.”

“Then they were probably dead.” Agh’zak grumbled.

“Just keep me out of the damn songs. Please. I know The Swordsman has a plan for me, and if it’s what I think it is then the very last thing I need is fame.” Saiko all but pleaded. “The whole point of Seruatis is that it is known to the few who need it.”

“Fine. I won’t name you in it, but the final blow will still be yours.” He finally conceded, biting off the thread and tying it. “Well I’m not going to bleed to death. That’s something.”

“Don’t try to get up just yet. We might have to build you a stretcher and carry you out.” Saiko mused aloud.

“You pair of twigs? Carry me?” Agh’zak laughed so hard tears began to fall. “I’d turn your spines into question marks, besides you aren’t far off needing a stretcher yourself. Take that damn armour off, let me see your chest.”

“I’m afraid to.” Saiko admitted, “I’m worried that the armour’s the only thing keeping everything in place, some of the bone shards might have broken skin.”

“It’s the best part of a week up to the surface, if it’s going to kill you then it’s going to kill you.” Agh’zak rumbled, “Unless Alisha’s secretly a healer… We’ll wait until she’s awake.”

The mercenary nodded, propping himself up against the wall besides the enormous orc. With fumbling fingers he reached into one of the pouches stitched into the inner lining of his cloak, pulling out a small flask and twisted the top off and took a swig before handing it to Agh’zak.

“Finest rotgut.” The orc noted after his own mouthful had seared its way back into his belly, then poured it onto both his wounds with a hiss of pain as he grit his teeth so hard he worried he might damage them.

Saiko laughed grimly as he accepted the flask back, putting it away, “So how long do we wait for her to wake up?”

Agh’zak looked at the hundreds of tonnes of rock they’d have to dig out by hand without Alisha to teleport them before answering sagely, “As long as we need to.”

*

When Alisha woke it felt as if an angry woodpecker had taken out its vast ire upon her temples, the pain pulsing in time with her heartbeat. The muse had to blink as her eyes were forced to adjust to the dim light of the cave which still proven searingly bright compared to the tempting tranquillity her eyelids had provided.

When her vision finally focused she saw Saiko and Agh’zak staring down at her with concern. The human sellsword was clutching at his side with one hand, his face unhealthily pale and appeared to be standing by nothing more than willpower going by the tension running through him.

Somehow Agh’zak looked even worse, there was an angry looking red wound running from his shoulder to his sternum, the stitching sinking into the flesh where infection was starting to set in as well as wound on his chest that had scabbed over, the normally healthy green skin looking like it had contracted a mold or fungus where it had clotted and matted in his chesthair.

“What the hell happened to you two?” She demanded bluntly.

Agh’zak and Saiko looked at each other once in silent consultation then burst out laughing.

*

The journey back was not an easy one. Alisha had exhausted herself once more teleporting them out, and they’d had to take turns carrying her for the day she’d remained asleep.

There were further complications, for all that they at least were sure of their route back it didn’t make it easy. By definition the majority of their path was uphill and even a gentle slope quickly took its toll on the walking wounded.

Agh’zak’s infection and resultant fever didn’t begin to break until the fourth day, the infamous orcish constitution seeing him through what would have killed any normal man and the chef’s own tenacity and general refusal to die taking him the rest of the way, but it had made progress slow.

They hadn’t been able to get Saiko’s armour off until the second day and the blademaster had wept with pain as they’d done it. By that point pretty much his entire chest had been purple and black from bruising and even Alisha’s delicately probing fingers have evoked whimpers of pain through the belt Saiko had been forced to bite down on.

Seven broken ribs and a punctured lung. Given the Questing Beast had tried to turn him into a human puree against the walls he’d gotten off relatively lightly, but only relatively, in more absolute terms the fact he was standing only because the sole remaining option was to sit down and wait for the three of them to die. Neither of his friends had been prepared to abandon him and that alone was pushing him forwards.

That was true of all three of them really. Alisha had channelled more mana and magicka in the last week than she had in the last millennium and her head throbbed with the pain of it and she had to be helped to walk, not because her legs had a problem because she simply kept forgetting that was what she was supposed to be doing.

She had managed to muster enough healing prowess to clear up the worst of Saiko’s bruising before she’d all but collapsed from the resulting migraine.

Nevertheless, with enough wounds between them to kill four men and supplies running out on the ascent, they managed to make out back into the daylight.

There was one last incident of note on the way up. As they walked through the ruins of Daum’Kelok, Saiko turned back to stare at the troll soldiers still maintaining their eternal last stand. “Hey Alisha, what’s the longest someone’s been gorgon-gazed before being turned back?”

“I have no idea. I don’t think anyone’s gone so far as to actually test it.” The muse shrugged, not looking back. It would have been a terrible waste of energy she frankly didn’t have. “Why?”

“Oh no reason.” The mercenary assured her, increasing his stride to catch up, “Just a passing thought.”