Chapter 57: At What Cost?

“Iä! Shub-Niggurath!”

You have got to be kidding me. Clara winced as she watched Leofric through the window. That’s not even Latin! Is there anything lazier than resorting to Lovecraft when you want evil magic? She silently cursed the author who’d created this world.

But her indignation didn’t last long. Leofric’s wand glowed like a kaleidoscope. Then the world was tinted red, as if the sun itself had changed color.

She squeezed her face between the window’s iron bars, her breath fogging the glass.

Aldric’s scream was the worst sound she had ever heard.

It started human enough, filled with pain and betrayal, but it quickly became something else entirely: the primal howl of a dying beast.

A sickly purple luminescence crept out of Leofric’s wand and spread over Aldric.

His body contorted, and his back arched in an impossible position as he levitated.

Warren tried to step back, but stumbled.

“Get away from him!” Clara yelled, punching the glass.

At least Iris isn’t here.

Duchess Adelheid called forth a barrage of a dozen energy spears, half aimed at Leofric and half at Aldric, but they were enveloped by the purple glow and vanished. Duke von Rhenia knelt next to Conrad, chanted something, and then helped the boy up.

Aldric’s form began to change.

Clara’s body wanted her to turn around, to look away, but she refused to obey, keeping her gaze fixed on the horror unfolding before her.

Aldric’s limbs started to bloat, and his robes split at the seams as they were pressed against from within, revealing numerous markings that had been carved all over his body like tattoos. There were overlapping circles, stars, keys, and other symbols she didn’t recognize, all inked in black over his arms, chest, and legs.

Then the markings started glowing, forming some kind of demonic, distorted magic circle. Aldric’s head twisted, and his skull stretched upward, cracking and elongating. From within his jaw, several more sets of mouths came out, creating a grotesque flower of overlapping lips.

His skin was replaced by a mass of pitch-black muscle tissue, coating his entire body until there was no human left. The eldritch mass of darkness expanded, growing and growing until it was many times taller than Aldric had been. His arms and legs turned into four thick, hoofed legs.

The thing cried. Every single one of its many mouths, sometimes all together, sometimes separately, let out a chorus of distorted, pained bleats. And out of its body erupted dark, glistening tentacles, each as thick as a man’s torso. They spiraled upward, curling up beside each other like the branches of the most cursed Christmas tree in history.

“Iä!” Leofric raised his arms in ecstasy. “Behold what the Goddess sealed away! Behold a fragment of the Cataclysm, returned to the world by Her grace to complete Her mission!”

Warren, who was still far too close to the abomination, finally stood up, retreating slowly with his sword raised. Conrad, who now looked mostly recovered, charged forward with his saber, under the cover of swirling flames emanating from the duchess.

The monster moved, swinging its tentacles violently against its enemies.

Conrad cut through three of them and the duchess burned two more, but they simply regrew as the purple glow poured out of Leofric’s wand.

A tentacle snaked toward Warren. He tried to slash at it, but his sword bounced off as if it had hit steel.

“Righton! No! Get away!”

The tentacle wrapped around him, and the monster lifted him off the ground.

The duchess formed her flames into a thin whip, and lashed it in an attempt to free Warren. But two other tentacles slithered into the whip’s arc, and, though they were burned away, they almost instantly regrew.

They need to get Leofric.

As if he’d heard her, Conrad dashed toward the high inquisitor. But the monster smacked him with its tentacles, protecting its summoner.

“Do you see now? Do you see the folly of your defiance? Even the mighty House von Rhenia, the pillar of this rotten and cowardly kingdom, stands no chance against true power,” said Leofric.

The more she watched, the grimmer the situation looked. Warren’s face had gone pale, the tentacle constricting against him.

Fuck. No. I can’t lose him. Is there anything I can do?

Clara picked up her satchel from the corner of the room and dumped its contents on the table. The only thing even remotely useful was her wand—there was still some charge in it—, but if even the duchess’s powerful magic couldn’t do anything, what hope did Clara have?

She opened the cabinet where Aldric had gotten the wine. In search of what, Clara wasn’t sure, and to nobody’s surprise, all that she found inside were normal household items like cups, dishes, cutlery, and cleaning rags. A carving knife at the back of the drawer caught her eye.

She thought back to her lessons with Professor Morris and her magical training. The threads of a plan started coming together in her mind.

Could it work?

Would a vibrating knife even do anything against a person, especially at the hands of someone with no combat training like Clara? Human bone was much tougher than an apple.

Outside, the bleating chorus rose into a crescendo, then something cracked against the cottage wall. The windows broke, sending pieces of glass flying through the room, but luckily, none of them caught Clara.

She looked outside. The beast had slammed Warren into the cottage, and he’d dropped his sword.

“Do you see, Lord Warren, what happens to those who defy Her will? Do you see why we must walk the path She set for us? It is the only way to salvation!” Leofric preached, as if he were talking to a congregation.

If a knife isn’t enough, then a sword might be. Clara certainly didn’t have any kind of swordsmanship technique, but with the element of surprise and the help of magic, it might just work.

Or it could be suicide to even try.

But as the monster shrieked, she became more and more convinced doing nothing was suicide, too.

Clara pressed her back against the wall beside the door, clutching the wand in her left hand.

She cracked the door open slightly.

Leofric was about fifteen paces away from her, facing the other way. He seemed fully focused on providing energy to the beast as its tentacles thrashed at the von Rhenias.

Fifteen paces. If she could close that distance silently…

Her hands shook as she took the first step outside.

She glanced at the eldritch abomination beside Leofric. Her whole body froze in fear. Run, her senses screamed. This is far beyond you. You can’t do anything here.

Then she thought of Ricardo. The kind, honorable knight who’d helped her, wished her a happy birthday, laughed beside her at the banquet, and then was unceremoniously killed. Of Rowena, an innocent woman framed for the murder. Of Stella, who’d been groomed for over a decade, taken advantage of, then told to kill herself. Of Warren, who hung limply in the air, held up by a monstrous tentacle.

Leofric destroyed, or tried to destroy, all these lives.

Clara’s hands stopped shaking.

She grabbed the leather pommel of Warren’s fallen sword, lifting it. It was heavier than she expected, but not heavy enough that she couldn’t hold it in one hand.

She pointed her wand at the sword and whispered, “Tremant acies, nihil resistat.” Let the edges tremble, let nothing resist. She pictured the blade vibrating, exactly as she’d trained. The sapphire wasn’t fully charged, and Clara estimated the spell wouldn’t last more than a minute.

She crept forward, the sound of her boots on the dirt swallowed by the horrible bleating.

Don’t look at me. Don’t look at me. Don’t look at me.

Ten paces. Eight.

A tentacle broke past Duke von Rhenia’s earth barrier and slammed him on the ribs, sending him tumbling across the grass. Duchess Adelheid’s brows drew together with a fury Clara didn’t know the woman was capable of.

“It didn’t have to be this way, if only you had listened. Why can none of you just listen?” Leofric sounded genuinely frustrated, as if he really was baffled that people didn’t just do what he told them. “Today will mark the demise of House von Rhenia, yet I take no pleasure in it. I will weep for your family, Your Grace, just as I have wept for every unfortunate soul I was forced to cut away. I truly hope the Goddess finds the mercy to forgive your transgressions, for you shall meet Her shortly.”

He truly is mad.

The duchess glanced at Clara, then turned her gaze back to Leofric. “I would caution against espousing such confidence in your position, High Inquisitor. The fall to the bottom seems rather steep. Hasta lucis. Multiplicetur.”

A single energy spear appeared behind her. Then it split into two. Then those split into four. And so on, again and again, until there were over fifty of them.

Four paces. Two paces.

Leofric laughed in a way that made Clara’s skin crawl. “Oh my, what an impressive display. Dare I say you’ve exceeded even your lofty reputation. But even this is ultimately fruitless in the face of the power of the beyond. The tragic fate that awaits your family can no longer be stopped.”

Two paces. Clara raised the sword.

The high inquisitor continued. “Well, I suppose Lady Iris will remain. But I can deal with her later.”

One pace.

Clara took a deep breath.

Then, using every bit of strength she could muster, she brought the sword down on Leofric’s wand arm.

“OBJECTION!”

The blade met the cassock’s fabric.

For a sickening fraction of a second, she was certain she’d dropped the spell, or her improvised addition hadn’t worked, and the sword wouldn’t cut.

But it did.

It slid through cloth, then meat, then bone, as if they were soft butter, until Leofric’s right arm was completely severed from his body. He cried in pain.

And at that exact moment, the duchess let loose her barrage. One spear after another ran through the beast, sending countless parts of its body flying gruesomely. It was carnage in its purest sense, with a level of brutality Clara had never imagined. Grotesque black blood sprayed everywhere.

Leofric’s wand hit the ground, purple energy swirling around it. But its connection with the beast was cut off, and there was no regeneration.

He turned around, clutching his stump with his remaining arm. Blood poured through the gaps between his fingers.

“You—you insignificant little—” he choked.

High Inquisitor Leofric fell to his knees in front of Clara.

The beast swayed on its cloven hooves, lashing around it with its remaining tentacles, but Conrad cut through one after the other until he’d freed Warren.

Relief washed over her when she saw Warren was still breathing, and the duke rushed to his side.

The beast staggered back, bleating terribly.

Then it tried a desperate charge against Conrad, sending forward all its remaining tentacles and opening its mouths to devour him. The earth shook with every hoofed step.

Conrad was faster.

He dodged and jumped high in the air, raising his saber.

When gravity pulled him down, he slashed the monster downward through its core, while the duchess’s spears destroyed its tentacles.

It split cleanly in half, and the cries ceased.

The two halves of the beast toppled with a rumble, its remains dissipating into dark particles.

Clara looked down at Leofric. His eyes were wide, and his mouth hung open. “Ah… I was so close… No…”

The red tint faded, and the world slowly returned to its normal colors.

She glanced at Warren. Duke von Rhenia had helped him up after using the same restoration magic he’d used on Conrad. Warren’s suit was torn up, his hair was a mess, and he had bruises all over. But all she cared about was that she hadn’t lost him.

They all came for me. It hadn’t really sunk in that four high nobles had put themselves in danger and fought the inquisition, all for her sake.

Clara was just about ready to collapse from exhaustion. Which she reckoned was fair enough, given it had been over twenty-four hours since she’d slept. Not to mention the whole abduction and eldritch beast-slaying. The life of a fantasy lawyer is even more hectic than I thought it’d be.

But beside Leofric, the remaining purple energy still whirled around the black opal.

It danced in the air, coalescing into a single point.

Then it exploded, engulfing the high inquisitor first, then Clara.