Sons of the Earth

Sons of the Earth Bunker, Main Entrance

    "You need to get inside," the voice ordered. "You can't wait for reinforcements. The Artifacts are desperate if they're willing to collapse their own base. This may be the best chance to take them down. Gather whoever is left and go in. You stay back. So far, you're the most effective Artifact on the field. But remember where you are. We do not know what Artifacts could remain inside."

     "Wonderful. I'll keep it in mind." The Hunter brushed off his hands, getting back up to his feet after sliding and falling yet again on the ice that littered the battlefield. In all his life, he'd never been in a battle quite so annoyingly one-sided as this one. Two combined groups were now down to half a dozen Grey Coats. Bodies littered the field, along with ice, mud, and debris. Those who weren't lying motionless on the ground were buried beneath the vehicles or half a hillside of rock. While he'd anticipated there would be surprises, blowing up their own base wasn't one he'd seen coming. Reinforcements, he knew, were on the way, but who knew when they'd arrive. It was time to end this.

     Yet another explosion rocked the battlefield. Apparently, his remaining companions were as fed up as he was. Not bothering to puzzle out the doors at the main entrance, they'd elected to blow them up instead. The Hunter jogged to join them. That earned him a few smiles. They'd all realized his value in this operation. The Hunter was quickly directed back, letting the others make entry first. Picking their way through the mess, they reached the final door. Another explosion and finally, they were inside.

     They'd barely gotten a look around before hidden flamethrowers on the ceiling sent fiery death washing over them, taking out two Hunters before the scorched survivors could deactivate them. Then, a set of spikes came down from the ceiling farther in and impaled two more. It was maddening. The remaining two survivors spotted more traps and avoided them, but doing so funneled them farther into the base. As they carefully picked their way in, doors suddenly slid into place behind them. The Hunters looked around and discovered that the new doors, as well as the walls, floor, and ceiling, were covered with a familiar glass-like substance.

     "Containment Artifact? Now we're locked in here? I really hate these guys," Huntress Bower complained.

     "I'm sure they're brokenhearted," the Hunter growled, using his staff to carefully poke into the room. "Remember, the Wizard can get through it, so expect surprises."

     "Just keep the juice up," she grumbled. "I have no interest in getting..."

     The Swordsman had been hiding in a closet. Now, he leaped out, swinging his sword to send Bower's head bouncing along the floor before charging at the final Hunter. The Hunter barely got his staff up in time to block. A musical chime rang out as the metal of the sword impacted the metal staff, only to be deflected with no damage to either weapon. The Swordsman's eyes went wide in surprise. "What sorcery is this?"

     "Fae steel," the Hunter explained, moving into a ready position. He and the Swordsman began to circle each other carefully. "You didn't honestly think that your sword was the only example of it in this world, did you? We usually leave these in Containment, but considering what we were facing here, it seemed prudent to bring one along." He raised his staff. "This is the Staff of Ra. It's not nearly as magical as Excalibur, but that doesn't matter now, does it? Magic seems to be rather beyond you at the moment."

     The Swordsman's youthful face flushed angrily at this. The Hunter had heard that the magical sword glowed when held by an immortal. Sure enough, the sword was glowing brightly, activated by the hand of its owner. Apparently, the glow was an inherent ability. That meant it was unaffected by the anti-magic field. It far eclipsed the Staff of Ra, which was dull metal despite the elaborate decoration it bore. Emboldened, the Swordsman gestured with one hand. He scowled when nothing happened. Glowing sword or not, the Hunter was relieved to see magic was still out of the demigod's reach. "So that's how you've done it," the demigod growled. "The magic of the Staff of Ra is behind this blocking of our magic?"

     "Sorry, sport," the Hunter apologized mockingly. "Looks like I've literally just knocked the wind out of your sails."

     But of course, the Swordsman was far from helpless, even without access to his magic. He proved it now, launching into a flurry of cuts and jabs that the Hunter had to move quickly to counter. The Swordsman kept up his offensive, circling the room as the Hunter gradually retreated around it. He was good, the Hunter grudgingly admitted. Despite his small physical size, the Swordsman was the undisputed front-line fighter of the Sons of the Earth. The demigod had been studying martial arts for centuries. He was as good as or better than anything the Foundation had. The Hunter would have put even odds on him in a fair fight with their top-ranked swordsmen. He was certainly being tested in his own skills. The Swordsman was small but quick. He shifted his tactics, occasionally holding his sword with one gloved hand on the hilt and the other expertly gripping the blade itself to deliver quick jabs and thrusts, followed by a quick step back to launch more punishing attacks. However, the Hunter's longer staff gave him an advantage over the Swordsman, allowing him to thrust and jab even as he tried to keep out of reach of the deadly blade. He certainly hadn't escaped unscathed to this point, with multiple bloody wounds. But the Swordsman had taken a beating, too. Both fighters were panting with exertion even as the attacks, parries, and counter-attacks continued with little change in their speed. The Hunter's mind worked fast, going over what he knew about the Son of the Wind. When the answer came to him, the Hunter smiled, chuckled, and then outright laughed. "Come on, now!" he taunted. "You're the Swordsman, right? You're four hundred years old! You've had centuries with that sword. Why haven't you cut me down already?"

     The Swordsman, it seemed, had already been wondering that same question. Hearing it spoken aloud caused his eyes to narrow in anger. He increased his attacks, forcing the Hunter to move back into the center of the room quickly to avoid being sliced to ribbons. Eagerly, the Swordsman came after him, anticipating victory.

     That was what the Hunter had been waiting for. In one moment, the furious Swordsman over-extended his reach, and the tip of the fae steel staff knocked it from his hands. The Hunter followed with a quick strike, smashing into the astonished face of the demigod and sending him crashing to the floor. Quickly stepping away, he used his staff to bat the now ordinary-looking sword out of the Swordsman's reach. Keeping a ready staff and a wary eye on the groaning demigod, the Hunter quickly picked the sword up.

     The moment his hand touched it, the sword blazed with light. Moving back to the astounded Swordsman, the Hunter pointed it at him. "I believe this can kill even you," he announced.

     The Swordsman's battered face twisted into a snarl. "Then end it!" he spat. "I'd rather die than be a prisoner anyway."

     The Hunter pressed his lips into a fine line. He nodded. "As you wish." He raised the blade, seeing with approval that the Swordsman never flinched.