Seszil: Wrong
As Seszil watches the slaughter in the distance, hearing the screams and explosions, it wonders exactly where it all went wrong.
Getting the arc cannons had been less difficult than it had anticipated. The Makyul weapons depot had been glad to get rid of them—adding there were plenty more where that came from. The weapons had never met their creators’ ambitions: blasting an explosion from a gun barrel sounded like an excellent idea at the time, but accuracy was nonexistent and the recoil horrendous. Even the Makyul, who didn’t lack for muscle at all, had difficulty controlling them. During the final round of testing on the Great Ice Lake, the blasts shattered the solid ice, nearly pulling the testers and their transport down into the jagged pit.
Seszil had thought of the arc cannons instantly when Bailiff Barla asked for aid. Whether the Briggarz could control the weapons properly didn’t matter, as they’d make a terrific impression on the Humans while raising Briggarz morale. If they manage to hit something, so much the better.
Convincing the Briggarz not to kill everyone in Cushing’s Point was the tricky part. Seszil knew that going in and prepared numerous arguments ahead of time. It’d said some variation of “Just raid the stores” hundreds of times.
“You can’t farm, but the Humans can—quite well, in fact—so leave as many as possible alive and they’ll grow all your food for you. Then you take it.”
“No, no, you can’t rip their arms off. If you do they can’t harvest the crops.”
“If you burn their warehouse down you destroy a massive food store. Don’t do that.”
“No. If you put an arc cannon there and pull the trigger, there won’t be a Human left.”
Setting off for the raid had been a moment of great anticipation for the Briggarz. Cones of explosions roared into the air as the horde fired at the sky, shouting, shaking their fists, and only barely listening to Barla’s shouted orders before they all set out. Seszil heard something about not killing too many Humans and took it as a good sign.
I was far too optimistic.
A sub-settlement far removed from Shermanton, Cushing’s Point is the largest farming area on Ilex, and, thanks to it being on the other side of the landmass, it was far removed from any Briggarz attacks. At least it was until Seszil remembered the small settlement’s light defenses. The Krysar had toured the area when it first arrived on Ilex and decided it was the best place to conduct the raid. While Seszil followed the Briggarz horde as it looped far beyond the Shermanton sensor grid, trudging through the swamp in a poor imitation of stealth, it thought its plan would work.
Without waiting for any signal, the Briggarz charged in, firing randomly, and scaring the hell out of the defenders, as they’d never seen the creatures with anything but scavenged machine guns and now they were firing flame and fury from their hands. The defense barriers went down instantly under a massive barrage of explosions. Briggarz charged through Cushing’s Point, blowing apart Humans and buildings alike, and those who didn’t have an arc cannon simply used their fists, claws, and fangs.
Standing at what should have been the launching off point, counting the moments as they flow by, Seszil cannot bring itself to walk toward Cushing’s Point. It can still hear the screams and chatter of gunfire. Randomly spaced throughout are the shrieks and cries of Graven doing their work.
I don’t want to see that. I don’t know what I expected. Restraint obviously doesn’t exist with these creatures.
It is now midday and the screams are long gone. Thick coils of smoke drift into the air, obscuring the Orb and casting a premature twilight across what is left of Cushing’s Point. Seszil still stands in the same place it has since the attack began, seemingly rooted to the ground as well as any tree. Its fists are clenched tight.
A group of Briggarz walks out of the ruins. Silhouetted as they are against the heavy flames, Seszil cannot identify who they are until they’re closer: Bailiff Barla and her immediate favorites. The group of five, save the Graven who captured Seszil, swagger toward it while toting their arc cannons. They’re all covered in blood.
Barla is particularly gory, with thick cascades of blood down her slipshod armor’s front. Seszil realizes the objects jostling on her chest are three Human heads strung together and slung about her neck.
Sweet Svlod.
“Ice man, we are victorious,” Barla shouts as she stops in front of the Krysar. “You give us this day. We are mighty!”
Seszil watches her shake the arc cannon in the air, and the rest of her retinue follows suit. The Krysar allows for a few moments of general roaring and stamping of feet before it speaks up.
“You are idiots.”
Although the words surprise the Briggarz, the tone is what cuts through their joy and reduces it to confusion.
“What?” is the only thing Barla can get out.
“I said, you are all idiots. Morons. Bloodthirsty morons at that,” Seszil shouts, warming to its subject. “You reduced that village to ash. And for what? It served no purpose. You destroyed their stores, burnt their food—the food you need—to cinders, and killed every Human that would be able to grow more. You’ve effectively destroyed yourselves today. If you want something to eat, may I suggest the barrels of your cannons?”
All the Briggarz look at each other and the befuddlement on their face is plain. Slowly, each begins to look at Barla, who quickly realizes she is on the spot to respond.
“You gave this to us,” she says, brandishing the arc cannon. “We used it like you said.”
“No you didn’t,” Seszil shrieks. “You didn’t do a divine-blessed thing I said. ‘Don’t kill all the Humans,’ I said. You killed all the Humans. ‘Don’t destroy the food stores,’ I said. You destroyed the food stores. It’s incredibly senseless. I haven’t met a species so bent on self-destruction through sheer stupidity in all my travels, and I’m 400 years old.
“Congratulations. You have reached a new low in the Ocost hierarchy of intelligence, you bloody bastards.”
Although she can’t comprehend every word, Barla recognizes the tone well enough to realize the Krysar is insulting her, and swings the arc cannon’s muzzle down, aiming directly at Seszil’s head. At this close range a Briggarz’ inability to aim and the cannon’s inability to hit the broad side of a spaceship doesn’t matter. Seszil stares down the barrel right into Barla’s eyes.
“I quite regret helping you,” it says. “You will regret pulling that trigger.”
The bailiff growls and pulls the trigger.
Seszil instantly swaps places with the Graven.
The explosion rips the undead Briggarz apart, scattering its emaciated limbs across the swamp and incinerating its head. Barla gawks in surprise as her best Graven twitches on the ground in front of her as it tries to pull itself back together.
“I told you,” Seszil whispers.
Barla spins, bringing the arc cannon around again. The Krysar is on her left, but as she fires the crystal being is gone and another of her horde is in its place. She turns from that howling, wounded Briggarz, trying to track her target. Two more explosions ring out and two more of her horde are caught in the devastating attacks.
Barla stares at her last unintended target as he gropes at the burnt, bloodied stump where his elbow used to be. His lower arm flew off somewhere, and all he can do is stare off to Barla’s left, mouth working hard before coughing a sharp growl out of his throat.
Seszil doesn’t give Bailiff Barla the chance to turn around and shoot at it again. It simply picks up the nearest arc cannon, quickly but carefully aims at the base of her neck, and pulls the trigger. The recoil nearly knocks Seszil down, but its aim is true. The blast catches Barla at the base of the neck, hurtling her toward the ground. Just as Seszil casts the cannon away, a howl rings out, and Barla starts fighting to get back on her feet.
Seszil snatches the arc cannon up, cradles it in its arms, and fires again. The weapon shoots out of its grip, flying backward, and buries itself up to the trigger guard in the soft earth.
Muscles may not be as overrated as I once thought.
The blast itself catches Barla in the side, spinning her as though she were on a spit, before she hits the ground again.
Barla gets a foot under her, forcing herself upright, and Seszil reaches for another arc cannon. Its owner, however, bellows at Seszil and forces itself up. The Briggarz is bleeding heavily from its side, ribs are jutting out, and seared flesh ripples as it aims the arc cannon at Seszil’s head. The Krysar goes very still, eyes flitting from the muzzle to Bailiff Barla, calculating faster than any organic mind could hope to achieve.
Just as the Briggarz pulls the trigger Seszil Vanishes. Barla has a micro-moment of surprise before her head and upper body vanish in an orange fan of explosive energy. Even before the smoke clears, the Briggarz who killed his Bailiff watches her headless torso keel over on the ground, landing with a hard thump.
Watching all of this, Seszil slowly walks away, as it knows running will only attract the Briggarz’ attention. All four of them—even the Graven as it managed to get its head back on straight—are staring at Barla’s corpse. The Graven prods at the burnt remains with his foot, but only succeeds in rolling it over onto its back. The Briggarz missing most of his side slowly raises his arc cannon to point at the darkened sky overhead and pulls the trigger. Lit in the bright flame of an explosion, all four roar out and beat at their chests.
“This gun powerful,” shouts the wounded Briggarz, its voice wet with its own blood.
“This gun ours,” screams another Briggarz, cradling it with one good hand and a bloody stump that used to be his other arm.
Gunfire from Cushing’s Point snaps the group out of their celebrations. The sound grows, redoubling on itself with each passing moment, turning into an endless rippling of shots. The Human forces from Shermanton have finally arrived on the scene, and the battle is rejoined. Seszil watches as the four Briggarz lope across the swampy land, leaving their former leader where she fell.
Seszil turns from the latest round of useless carnage, and keeps placing one foot in front of the other as it walks away. Its shuttle is at the Briggarz camp. It will be gone from Asylum within hours, and it hopes it will never return.
Sareste was a country holiday compared to this awful place.