Hexers and the Accursed Third Nation

by MadDonut

Chapter 3 Battle Wounded Fire Kin

Mace jolted upright having been startled in his sleep. Franticly looking around he quickly realized that he was still within the lands of Carridian huddled by the fire that still managed to burn throughout the night and into the morning. He relaxed himself knowing that it was only a dream but he found that his guest was no longer with him. It was a shame because he felt as they were on good terms. However he wouldn’t be the one to tell her to do otherwise, so he simply readied himself for the journey with his wolf fleece worn around his armor and slung the fourth rabbit he planned on saving for tonight over his back.

Suddenly a carcass dropped from above slaying the already weak fire completely.

Pausing for a moment Mace looked to see the flame slaying carcass was that of a dear with its innards already having been torn out with a massive gash in its stomach. Its head also seemed destroyed with three slits carved into its skull.

Looking up Mace found it was the celestial he had just dismissed as having moved on. Her hooves were bloodied as well as the retractable clawed gauntlets she wore over them. She still wore her deerskin with cuts made in the sides for her wings and with it she landed back over the now smothered fire and trophy she scored.

With one claw protruding from her gauntlet she began to skin the deer as Mace looked on averting his gaze to the west of Carridian and of Freath. She worked the carcass over skinning it completely while laying it fur down on the snow to dry. She took the brains of the deer and rubbed it into the inner parts of the skin as well. Mace knew this was a method for drawing out the toughness in hides. They did it with bulls and cows all the time back on the farms in Noriphmy.

She then began to cut through the body, extracting meat, throwing most off to the ground but keeping the greater portions for herself and when she was done she held a hoof out to Mace with a single long strip of prized deer meat hanging from her claw.

It was an offering.

Mace nodded as he took it in his magical grip and strung it across his back along with the rabbit.

She nodded back as she rolled up the skin mounting it on her back looking eastwards. To Mace it appeared that they were already at ends with each other, both moving on going their separate ways in an empty, accursed land. But before she took off Mace said, “Follow the northern mountains eastward Celestial. You’ll find Noriphmy in the easternmost peak of Carridian.”

She looked down to her shadow with wings outstretched ready to leap into the air. Her poise then loosened and she turned to Mace and said, “may I know your name?”

He answered saying, “It’s Mace. Mace Volcod. Yours?” He asked.

“Acoyeyenackontoesh,” she simply stated. “A confusing name I know.” Instead of trying to wrap his head around the pronunciation of the name he thought it best to just leave it and nod in agreement. She then said, “Thank you Hexer Mace.” He nodded but she continued, “Travel westward and you may come across a Wyvern. A Wyvern much less however: Travel southeast and will find a race of giants liken to us; two thirds borne by earth, they’re winged and catalysed. Travel southwest and you will find another kin; Taloned, winged and borne by air. You may know not but they are not beast of Carridian but beast of another land far beyond the insurmountable mountains of the north, south, east and west of Carridian itself. Terry from conflict as those Giants and those Air Bornes conflict with one another pouring their war into the lands of Carridian. Taken unto this knowledge but take unto indifference. They both fight to appeal to justice after all. See to it that ponies are not involved for war is the last thing the final nation of Carridian needs. I'll again be a refuge before then,” And with that she left him unfurling her wings, taking to the skies above never to see him again and her for him.

***

A lone figure wondered Carridian for these weeks. From day to day he exercised his skill and put to use his hunting abilities until the day fell to night and he too fell to sleep. It was something he dreaded not only because his guard was down but also because of the recurring dream he found himself to be having more and more as the days went on.

It always started the same, as it was forged from pure memory, and always ended the same way too as only the past can remain unaltered: Three falconers battle worn and determined. One blistered with rage, the next out of his element and the third found himself there with a promise he now was unable to keep.

It always went as followed; a bridge closing the distance between a the perimeter of sheer cliffs disappearing into nothing, guided them over a cavern that fell to blackness and around an archipelago of rock faces strung and held together with chains that seemingly floated on a vast emptiness of a spacious void. In the center was the greater island of all the rest. This one held aloft a well maintained castle although blackened by the shadow below that seeped into the space above.

The gates open and the confrontation begins with a dancing light and blistering fires. As the fires occupy one another the light dissipates into the darkness. The first fire partook in its own covenant turning to light while the fire of Istudious fell to the light of the darkness and although it was perceived night after night Mace found himself waking up in a terrified state purely at the sight of their transformation as... unnatural as it was.

But like every night before all Mace could do was shake off the thoughts and the lingering fear and continue westwards towards Freath.

Day in he exercised his magic until the day fell out again. Anger was an easy resource and fire too in kind. His grip intensified upon the chains and his control grew greater with nothing more than the smallest amount of determination as every moment, and every step nearer he could feel the lingering destruction at the gates of Freath. The nation unnamed and unspoken by embers.

He would do this world the deed, his friends saved by it too.

But as his main quest lay ahead of his travels a secondary madder still prodded at his mind as he blazed through the snow gotten lands of Freath: The words of Acoyeyenackontoesh fell into his mind, and oddly enough, not the aforementioned Wyvern he should have been wary about.

No, his minds were occupied by Giants and Air Bornes wagging war against one another in a land foreign to both kins. Tallioned and winged, winged and Catalysed where had they come? Why had they come? What was their purpose if not to spread their own insufferable war?

A crack rang out shattering the docile silence of the land. Mace withdrew the chain watching as the tree that laid in his way keeled over crashing off to the side leaving nothing more but a stump in claim.

The wolf covered pony walked up to the fallen tree and taking his blade in hand began to sear of logs, branches and sticks intending to use them as firewood.

Mace was satisfied with his single stroke performance. A simple arc of the blade with stricken chains and a flick magical grip was all it took to bring the foliage down but he imagined it was nothing compared to using the Hexer equipment in actual combat when throwing many different variables into the mix. This tool was difficult to use and getting a proper feel for them was equally as odd.

For one it wasn’t anything like a crossbow and for two all unicorns he knew only used swords of some kind. So obviously a weapon this advanced desired a great amount of skill from the wielder. The chains were linked to tracks that snaked across his armor and from what Mace could gather they did so in the most streamline paths possible for an equine body.

The left and right chains criss-crossed and intersected making it possible for the right to be on the left and vice versa. He knew that to get the optimum amount of use out of these meant keeping them in motion around his body without the chains tangling or the tracks ramming into each other while performing complex maneuvers and attacks.

As the bonfire burned brightly behind him he began practicing on the emptiness of the plain before him and after all these days of minor practice and shadow bouts he had already identified his most favorable pattern. The right would run along the track that would loop around his neck area over and over while the next would rotate around his shoulder that also had a looping track. That was fine, completely fine. But then he remembered that while he fights the chains would be fully extended and thus would tangle if he got the speed wrong.

Still, that didn’t stop him from trying. While fully extending his chains he slowly got them into motion spinning around his body almost lazily. However after speeding up slightly it wasn’t long before the resolve concerned really came to pass. With his chains lying in a tangled mess he thought up a better pattern. This time instead of intersecting paths he would instead run them along the exact same path counter-clockwise around his body performing somewhat of a tornado move. -something he only head about in ridiculously, absurde legendary stories of impossible heroes that never existed in hyper fantasy worlds of strange beasts and civilisations.

Taking a breath with his, recently, untangled blades ready for use. With his magical grip he plunged the right sided near the ground only to the point where it would scrape the grass and nothing more. Immediately he also took the left and threw the next overhead in the same direction.

The anchors hummed as they sailed seamlessly over the tracks he guided them over. First across his back down his side up his shoulder around his chest and back around again in a slower more manageable pace but with enough momentum to keep them in flight. The blades were perfectly angled and flat to his eye insuring that if there was a target it wouldn’t be a useful one for long.

He liked the results and after a few more moments of feeling accomplished he slowly bumped the speed up just a little. Guiding them over the same tracks the blades continued around him and lethal speeds. This feeling he was having felt amazing and with a sense of excitement he sped it up once more daring to push himself further.

Now the blades faintly whistled in the breeze like they did when he aggressively whipped them like he cut the tree. A little faster, a louder whistle and a stronger tension on the chains. Faster again and all one would see was a torrent of spinning chains, even the bonfire gravitated towards the spectacle.

However when he ramped it up one final time, one anchor he was leading from his chest to his side took a detour across his back instead. Mace was thrown upwards by the momentum of the swing and as a result the second anchor cut across the tracks on his chest. Pannick quickly took hold but soon after Mace found himself utterly surprised.

Through instinct alone he kept the blades spinning and around and around they went. Not in just a plain circle, oh no, this time they truly showed the capabilities they held. Around his body they flew taking different tracks, different routes, snaking all around his body like a river on a mountainside.

Mace only partly guided them around as his body was slightly jolted to the left and right. The speed and momentum of the blades kept him on his hind legs seeming to gently pull him into the air. He was exhilarated but even he knew not to push his luck too far, but even though he would have rathered, he continue this much longer he instead slowed the pace, lowered his forehooves to the ground and, because he had no other exit solution, he jolted the blades downwards burying them into the ground with a solid thwack.

Brushing his mane out of his face he let out a deep satisfied sigh muttering, “that was… exciting.” Surely he would try again but next time he intended to throw himself into the pattern intentionally with a bit more control over direction.

***

It was silent. Almost too silent. The birds and their songs seemed to had left and again Mace knew this feeling and that it signified the presence of a beast. Mace’s ears perked up on alert and he checked all around in case he might've been followed.

It had been a full day and a morning since he practiced that maneuver with the chained weapons and since then he got only hours of practice with nothing else of relevance to be mentioned.

However now it seemed there might be an event, well if his instincts had anything to say about it but only sight could confirm or deny his suspicion. But it wasn’t sight that ruled off the silence of the birds, instead it was the sound of a toppling tree accompanied by heavy steps and reckless pursuit. From the echo it produced and through the stillness of the day Mace could calculate the beast was a mile off.

It certainly wasn’t subtle and it shouldn’t had been a beast Mace should have gone after if for the reason it made its presence so easily noticed was that it was- for lack of a better term -beastly cocky.

Still he did but only with curiosity for if it wasn’t confident in its own ability then perhaps it was simply injured. If the ladder then he most likely wouldn’t bother as there is only so much one earth pony could carry. However curiosity can only be quenched by investigation without the need for initiation.

So he did, slyly ducking under low branches and moving swiftly with the soft crunch of snow below his hooves with each step bringing him closer and closer to the source of the unnatural disturbance.

His vision was keen and quite a distance away between the entwining branches and leaves that blocked his path he made out the color red against a whitened landscape. A roar came from the redend figure and Mace immediately knew it was a dragon. No, a wavern with four limbs for Acoyeyenackontoesh haddn’t warned him of a six limbed, airborne, fire-kin beast, but- ‘what is this Wyvern doing on the ground?’ he asked himself as he laid atop a ridge that stuck high in the forested valley.

If a dragon or Wyvern were to land anywhere it would be atop a mountain or some place higher up. They almost never landed on common grounds with other monsters and ponies; instead, ‘breathing fire from above,’ as the legends would say. This one wasn’t. In fact it was hardly moving, more like stumbling, falling and resting far off in the distance in a patch of grassland.

Mace wanted to know more but his better judgment told him that he should simply move on but the vanity in him thought dragon scales were well worth the risk. The Wavern was hurt, that much he could tell from this distance, but as to what had done it, he didn’t know. So he turned his alertness to the skies as he slowly approached, weaving around trees and bushes, his hoof steps light as to not give his position away to the wavern no matter how far off he was.

A mile away the wavern would never hear him coming, same for half. A tenth would be no different and even now as he stood in the open, the wavern laying on its stomach with wings splayed weakly at its side and with heavy ragged breathing did the wavern not hear him as the hexer slowly approached with one chained weapon held out with his crossbow rested atop it for better precision.

One explosive bolt rested in the flight groove. It may not make the difference but Mace felt more comfortable with his own Falconer equipment then he did with the Hexer’s equipment.

Another step, silent as the rest that tempted the same fate as when he began on that ridge. He was exposed, without cover and in full view of the Wyvern that laid there but it did not see him as its eyes were closed but it still very much alive.

He took in the sight and the glory of such a beast: Its color was red, crimson on the top that grew lighter as it neared its belly until it was a soft pink. Its teeth were impressive, white and sharpened and the claws on the elbow of its wing dug into the snow boasting an impressive and lethal sharpness to them.

However it wasn’t the scales or the teeth or the claws that caught his attention. No, it was the torn folds of its wings, missing fangs, the gashes in its tails, ripped scales and most of all the hallabered buried deep within the very shoulder of the beast.

Something had come to slay but it wasn’t a pony, that much he could tell for the halberd held no binding stones within the hilt like one would normally brazen upon it. Not only that but the size dumbfounded Mace as it was bigger than normal. Twice as big as a normal pony sized, pony fitted halberd to be precise.

Something else had to have done this, something larger stronger and more powerful. What had it been?

Mace then realized then that he had been holding his breath as he pondered over the thought and without much thought let out a breath. Just a breath but a careless breath that immediately woke the Wyvern from its rest.

Mace stepped back as its body jolted upwards into alertness. Its movements were a bit rigid as curled around swinging its tail, baring its teeth and setting its eyes on Mace himself who stood there tightening his magical grip on the internal trigger of the crossbow laid across the Hexer’s blade.

The Wyvern hissed and growled as it stumbled backwards towards the northern mountains. Occasionally it would glance west but the Wyvern constantly kept its eyes on Mace; the threat it perceived.

Mace was too cautious to move as any sudden movement could set the beast off on him but just as suddenly as the event had been initialized he realized that the Wyvern feared him. It didn’t want to fight it just wanted to live severely wounded and injured all over.

Mace steadily took a step forward and the Wyvern threw its head back hissing ever more loudly while flashing its numerous teeth with its snout crinkled in a growl and Mace’s suspicions were confirmed.

One question still remained and that was the owner of the Hallabered.

That question was answered when the Wyvern again glanced westward for only a moment and when it did its attention was completely torn away as it weakly lept away then crawled back the rest of the way. It then took a more ferocious defensive attitude toward the west completely forgetting about Mace altogether in favor of the two new entities that approached by air armored and weaponized.

Mace shifted his defensive stance away from the Wyvern and to the west as well for if a WYvern had greater fears then a Hexer such as Mace should match it.

With a thunderous landing and an upwind of snow they briefly became concealed but as Mace fidgeted with his grip, his stance and his positioning from the Wyvern the snow slowly settled and Mace saw these two identical figures in detail. The only words he could use to describe them was beastly but the way the held themselves and stood tall indicated they were high functioning intelligent creatures.

They had the head of an eagle with talons for forelegs. Their body was covered in feathers from the crest on downwards until it reached the wings that sprouted out from their backs that now were folded at their sides. Their body was that of a lion with clawed powerful hind legs to reinforce his observation.

However if anything struck Mace more it would be their size, sheer size perhaps. They were twice as large as him and fully armored from the creast on down to their tallions that were reinforced with sharpened blades like the feathers of their wings too. One had a spear mounted on its back with a sword held against the ground while the second only held a sword.

Both wore a red Wyvern skin cape that hung around their neck and blew in the soft valley breeze. The red Wyvern skin cape had been forged from the torn folds of the Wyvern's wings.

If it wasn’t apparent enough to Mace then he wouldn’t had known these things were the Wyvern’s attackers and they’ve come again to finish the hunt, reclaim the hallabered and claim a trophy.

The head the Wyvern.

Author's Note:

Inconsistency with Wyvern? I think I caught them all.

Comments

[Bluecatcinema]

Loving all the action in this chapter. And it looks like there's more to come... Nice job with the Wyvern, too.