“Gah!” Tara gagged, the metal collar, already fitted tight, squeezing her throat as she ran.
Her wrists were bound with manacles, and the two manacles and her collar by a thick chain. She ran mostly with her legs, but the instinctive desire to pump her arms was always there, threatening her neck with another yank. Overriding instinctive behavior was difficult, she realized.
An older man in front of her stumbled and fell, rolling across the ground.
“Come on, we gotta go!” Tara said, grabbing the man under his arms and hoisting him to his feet.
It was rather rough treatment, but there was no time for manners. The man immediately started running once his feet hit the ground, no time wasted on thanks, which Tara appreciated.
The ground shook, further complicating their flight as their pursuers drew closer. Tara heard a scream behind her that cut off abruptly. She grit her teeth and kept running without looking back. There was nothing to be done about it now.
“See, word is that Nemesis is still there. Two hundred years of that energy beatin’ it up, and it’s survived somehow. Can’t just go knockin’ on the door now, can we? So, we’re gonna send ya in to see what’s goin’ on.
“Oh, and don’t even think a runnin’. We got some plans to make sure ya head straight for Nemesis, no detours,” Carga finished, his foul breath leaking through the missing teeth in his smile.
After Carga’s ominous declaration, she, along with all the other slaves, was rounded up and forced to march to the Crater. They were prodded with weapons the whole way, and it was not until they left the Peaks and entered the Crater proper that the manacles around Tara’s ankles were even undone.
That, under normal circumstances, would have made her nervous. Why would her captors aid her ability to run? Yet it was the least of her worries at that moment.
The Crater was the most dangerous place in the world. Nearly everything in there could kill you, from the air to the creatures. On top of that, they were being shepherded toward Nemesis, a place that was functionally just a legend. True, it existed in reality, but it had been inaccessible longer than her parents had—
She winced at the thought of her parents, quickly shaking it from her head. Now was not the time for distractions.
With a thud, a titanic claw cratered the ground next to her, nothing but bone fragments and a splash of blood remaining of the man she just helped up, gone without a scream.
This was not working.
Tara could see Nemesis, almost taunting them with its distance. They could make it with just a few more minutes of running, but they did not even have that. Reckoning with this fact, Tara made a snap decision and skidded to a halt, turning on her pursuers.
If death were inevitable, she would die fighting, not running.
“What are you doing?! Keep going!” a woman—Numa—shouted.
Numa was the only one Tara vaguely knew among the other slaves. When she was captured, she managed to injure a few of her captors, earning her solitary confinement. When she managed to injure even more of her captors as they tried to feed her, a slave was elected to bring her food. That was Numa, and Tara at least got to speak to her occasionally, making the confinement slightly less solitary.
“Keep running. I’ll do what I can,” Tara said, her voice growing deeper, a growl rumbling in her throat.
Deep blue fur began to grow along her body, her fangs sharpened, her nails extended into claws, and she hunched over, her back muscles rippling beneath new fur. Her vision focused, details of her pursuers sharpening.
Three enormous crabs, with shells of cracked basalt, magma flowing out of them, stood before her. They were easily twenty feet tall, and at least twice as wide. Their claws were bigger than her body, and their sharp legs gouged deep holes in the ground as they approached.
She had no hope.
Tara glanced back, noting that her plan had already worked. The slaves were gaining ground rapidly as the crabs slowed to determine whether she was a threat. Her sudden transformation had likely thrown them off-balance, and they were now unwilling to rush her. That would not last forever, so she needed to drag out their threat assessment as long as possible.
Tara began pacing, tracing a path from the leftmost crab to the rightmost, growling loudly. She extended and retracted her claws, exaggerating the motion as best she could while chained with a flex of her arms. She began stomping as she paced, making herself as loud as possible.
The crabs skittered around, clacking their claws menacingly. Both sides were mere intimidation at the moment, and Tara did not plan to be the first to break the stalemate. Shooting a glance back toward Nemesis, she was shocked to see the titanic gate, built seemingly directly into the side of the mountain, opening as the slaves ran in.
She looked back at the crabs just in time to barely dodge a claw. She had recovered but still paid for her momentary distraction with a glancing blow that sent her flying. She crashed into the ground and rolled, her chained hands unavailable to steady herself. As she slid, her shoulder caught on an uneven rock and dislocated, eliciting a pained grunt.
Once her momentum ceased, she vaulted to her feet and threw herself aside of another colossal claw that pierced the ground she had just been standing on. With a quick squeeze of its claw, the crab crushed the ground between it and freed its appendage, spinning its other claw to catch Tara in a sweep.
She ducked, bending at the knees so far that her hamstrings touched her calves. The claw passed over her head, sending her hair flying with the wind of its passing, but it stopped there. Tara was bent back, nearly lying on her back, unable to stand as the claw, now stationary directly above, pinned her.
With a horrible crunch, the claw split, magma splattering the ground around her. She righted herself, now standing between two pieces of crushed claw. She surveyed the scene in disbelief as hulking titans, their strange muscles bulging beneath their black armor, tore these max-level magma crabs apart.
One stood on top of a crab and pierced its shell with only a fist. Blue flames that reeked of sulfur came belching out of the crab’s joints, and its eyes sizzled and popped. It collapsed after only seconds of the scouring, despite being composed of literal magma.
One of the knights emerged from a shattered shell next to Tara, an enormous ax resting casually on its shoulder. It looked at her and pointed toward Nemesis. Tara stared, her gaze shifting between the knight and the open gate, unsure. After only a moment’s thought, she realized she had little choice and started for the gate, doing her best to keep her shoulder stable, which was nearly impossible with her hands bound.
————————————————————
“What’a ya think?” Flint asked, squinting to see what was happening far in the distance. “Old remnants? Summons bound to defend the place even after their masters die?”
Carga turned and stared at Flint, impassive. He held Flint’s gaze until the latter coughed awkwardly and turned back, climbing down to a lower rock to continue watching the battle, if it could even be called that.
“Old remnants or not, two of ‘em killed three magma crabs like it was cuttin’ meat for dinner. No way we’re gettin’ in there,” Dalric said, spitting to the side.
“Fuck ya talkin’ about? We done field tested a surefire strategy, ain’t we?” Carga asked without looking.
Dalric pondered Carga’s words for several long seconds, only responding when those seconds became minutes.
“You suggestin’...but, boss, them crabs were easy to rile up but not to aim, and it was just the three. How many you suggestin’—” he started.
“As many as it damn takes, Dalric. That fuckin’ pyramid on the top’s unharmed. It’s gotta be loaded with powerful shit. I ain’t gonna let it rot in there. We’ll draw the whole damn Crater here if we gotta.
“Now, get to organizing, ‘less you wanna be one of the guys lurin’ the monsters?” Carga asked with a twisted smile.
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