Oblivion's Crown by M. H. Johnson

Author:M. H. Johnson [Johnson, M. H.]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Published: 2019-03-05T07:00:00+00:00

27

Val quickly caught sight of Inquisitor Dimitry and a full company of troopers making their way down the grand tunnel leading to the grove, a pair of battle-mechs leading the way.

“What a wonderful performance to see," Dimitry mocked. "Your eyes shining with such hope as you manage to sprout a few pathetic leaves on burnt husks we will be all too happy to reduce to ash once more, this time with your blood watering the ground!”

His cold smile grew. “We of the Dominion are not fools. No one knows the range of ritual magics. So why be present for them at all? But I can see from the exhaustion in your eyes that I am catching you at the worst possible moment. When you fools are all so drained you can hardly stand! How delightful.”

He turned his head. “The ritual is over. Hand me my blade, fool!”

Dimitry snapped his glove-covered fingers and Erion, his anxious-looking grandson, dashed around the corner only to trip over his own boots, the older inquisitor’s Psiblade and shield sent smacking into his grandfather’s skull.

Soft snickering could be heard by troops forming up just behind him, an entire contingent of men just behind the massive battle-mech now facing the grove, the high grating hum of activating autocannons piercing the air.

Dimitry snarled, the crackling hum of his Psiblade followed by short bloody screams could be heard as the inquisitor dashed beyond the massive feet of the closest battle-mech, cutting down a handful of soldiers in heartbeats.

Not a single soldier dared make a sound after that, Dimitry stomping back, smashing Erion to the ground.

“You stupid imbecile! You cannot even fetch and carry like a dog!” His boot cracked savagely into his gasping grandson’s ribs. “Get out, fool. Flee this cavern, flee this territory, flee my sight! I never want to see you again!”

The boy gazed up at the inquisitor with horrified eyes. “Grandfather!” he sobbed.

The crackling hum of a reactivated Psiblade sent the boy stumbling back in tears.

“You and your mother are dead to me. Never cross my sight again!” the man roared, his sobbing grandson scurrying to his feet, dashing past the swarm of soldiers nevertheless careful to make room to let the shamed boy pass, before forming up once more.

The inquisitor chuckled softly, turning around as if nothing had happened, facing the dwarves once more. “You all managed to free yourselves? How remarkable. I would ask how you managed the feat once I carefully secured you all once more, but do you know what? I don’t think I’m even going to bother.” His mocking smile instantly morphed into a hate-filled sneer. “You disgusting vermin were a plague upon this world until the Dominion finally put you in your place! Your clever magics were a thorn for centuries until we put your cities to the sword. But it seems even worms left to squirm in the soil can grow troublesome, finding their way free of witchbinder chains no human mage could break!”

He chuckled coldly. “But we are not fools.

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