Paragon of Destruction 404 Suppression

He'd stepped into the Desolation half an hour earlier, and after the initial shock of having his power suppressed wore off, he'd immediately set to work on studying the Desolation's effects.

His magic had been the first thing he tested. After all, he relied on magic to hide his most dangerous secrets, and if he was unable to maintain the concealments that shielded his void Ring and his Shadow Essence from discovery, he would have no choice but to leave the Desolation.

That concern, at least, had turned out to be unfounded.

While his magic was undeniably weaker in the Desolation, it was still more than enough to supply the sliver of power his concealments needed, and his control of Shadow Essence was undiminished even if its strength was reduced.

Likewise, his worries about his sword had quickly proved unnecessary. 

Though he could feel that the Living Shadow weapon disliked its new environment, it continued to mask itself with contemptuous ease. If anything, what he sensed through the bond suggested that the weapon felt only disdainful irritation at whatever small effect the Desolation had on it.

Yet relieved though he was that neither his weapon nor his magic would be a problem — not unless he tried to perform any major spells, at least — his strength was a different matter. There, the Desolation's effects caused him no small amount of concern.

The suppression wasn't as strong as he'd initially feared. Though his strength was much-diminished, it still easily surpassed the strength of the Rangers he'd encountered, and he suspected that his power still matched that of most Knights outside the Desolation.

Yet if the suppression was less than he had worried, its effect on his swordsmanship proved even worse than he had imagined.

Again he swung his sword, and again he grimaced when he saw the result. There was no question about it — his control had suffered a blow far greater than his reduction in strength would suggest.

A wry smile crossed his face as he realized what the problem was.

The thousands of hours he'd spent honing his swordsmanship had not just brought him a level of skill that few could match, but had also granted him a near-perfect control of his body. And it was that union of skill, strength, and control that gave him his power.

But now, his body no longer responded the way he expected. Each movement he made was weaker and slower than it should be, his muscles no longer carrying the strength to which he was accustomed. And with that, his thousands of hours of practice now turned against him.

It was a temporary setback, Arran knew. The foundation of his skills remained untouched, and for him to fully adjust to the suppression of the Desolation would be a matter of mere weeks. After that, his control should rapidly return to its old level.

Yet he also knew that anyone who wished to attack the Wolfsblood Army would almost certainly do so now — before he had a chance to restore his control, and before they reached the safety of Sacrifice.

After a moment's consideration, he decided to wait for the army at the edge of the Desolation. As weak as he was now, scouting ahead would be too much of a risk. Better he seize what small progress he could before the others arrived.

The work yielded only minor improvements to his control, but he was happy even for those. If he faced a powerful enemy, even the slightest advantage could make all the difference.

With that thought, he also cast the giant starmetal sword aside. Though he still had the power to use it — if only barely — to do so would immediately betray his strength to any opponent he faced, robbing him of one of the precious few advantages he still had.

The army arrived an hour later, with Kaleesh leading the long column of soldiers and carts. He brought the troops behind him to a stop with a single sharp gesture, then advanced another few steps before coming to a halt some two dozen paces from Arran.

"I take it this is it?" he asked, eying the area warily. "The Desolation?"

"It is," Arran replied. "Another few paces and you'll step across the boundary."

Kaleesh muttered a curse. "You'd think they'd at least take the trouble to mark it. How bad is it?"

"Bad," Arran replied. "Worse than I thought. It'll take us several weeks to adjust, if not more."

Before the captain could respond, Barric stepped forward. "You exaggerate, Master Arran," he said in a respectful tone that nevertheless held a hint of disapproval. He started toward the boundary of the Desolation, and continued, "I have been in the Desolation before, and although the first few moments are unpleasant—"

Whatever else he had wanted to say was lost, however, as he crossed the boundary and immediately stumbled, his giant figure sprawling across the rocky ground like a puppet with its strings cut.

It took the Ranger some moments to get back to his feet, and when he finally rose again, he swayed precariously. "Gods' blood," he said, shock in his eyes. "I don't remember it being this bad."

Arran raised an eyebrow, carefully suppressing the grin that was trying to form on his face. "I take it you were weaker when you last entered the Desolation?"

That, at least, was something he already knew about the Desolation — that the stronger one was, the more one's strength would be suppressed. And while that difference wouldn't be large enough to fully close the gap between the strong and the weak, it would go a long way in reducing it.

Barric nodded weakly before giving a cheerless smile. "I guess I improved more than I realized."

The next to cross the boundary was Kaleesh, and unlike Arran and Barric, he did not stumble as he entered the Desolation. From his firmly clenched jaw, however, Arran surmised that the only thing keeping him upright was sheer willpower.

One by one, the others followed behind him, with the Rangers going first, then the soldiers, and finally the carts that held their supplies.

Most of those who stepped into the Desolation stumbled or fell, and there were more than a few among the soldiers who retched as they felt the strength drained from their bodies. Yet despite the unease on their faces, none refused to pass.

While the army continued to pour across the boundary, Kaleesh announced in a loud voice, "Make camp! We continue tomorrow!" 

Weak and pale-faced as they were, the troops wasted no time in following the order, and the captain turned to Sassun. "Set a triple guard, and tell the men to retreat across the boundary if there's even the slightest sign of trouble."

As Sassun set to work on securing the camp, Arran gave Kaleesh a questioning look. "I thought you were confident that the Darian lordlings wouldn't attack us?"

He had no doubt that Darians were what the captain worried about. With less than two days' travel between them and Sacrifice, it was unlikely that they'd run into any Blightspawn at all, much less a group large enough to threaten an army.

Kaleesh shrugged. "I'm confident," he said, "not certain. And while I don't expect any open attacks, that doesn't mean there won't be trouble." He rubbed his chin thoughtfully, then added, "Besides, if some lordling decides to size us up, it can't hurt to have the men look like they're in fighting shape."

Arran nodded in agreement, glad that Kaleesh did not wish to press on immediately. While half a day would not be nearly enough for them to fully adjust to the Desolation, it would make a big difference if they were forced to do battle.

Setting up the camp took the better part of an hour, with Kaleesh painstakingly inspecting the defenses several times over. But even so, when the captain was finally satisfied with the soldiers' efforts, it was only barely afternoon.

Then, with the camp fortified as if they expected an attack at any moment, they set to training.

Though the soldiers were weak and weary from the Desolation's suppression, none complained that there was no time to rest. It was abundantly clear that they were in no state to fight, and few did not understand that in their current condition, any battle would result in disaster. And so, even the laziest and weariest among them sparred and practiced with the fervor of necessity.

The first few hours offered a strange spectacle, with soldiers and Rangers alike moving with the clumsy awkwardness of drunkards as they sparred. Yet gradually, the soldiers' control improved, and by early evening many of them had already regained a semblance of their previous vigor.

The Rangers, however, were another matter. Most of them were considerably stronger than the soldiers, which meant they had lost a far greater portion of their strength. And while the soldiers adjusted quickly, many of the Rangers found themselves struggling.

"Each time I go into the Desolation, it gets worse," Arjun grunted, wiping the sweat from his brow as he faced Arran. They'd spent the past quarter-hour sparring, and although Arran had taken care to hold back, the Ranger was already approaching his limit.

"That merely means you're getting stronger," Arran replied with a laugh. "By the time you become a Lord, you'll probably spend a day puking your guts out whenever you enter the Desolation."

"A price I'd be glad to pay." Arjun gave a weary chuckle, but then, he cast a curious look at Arran. "And yet, from the look of it, you seem to be handling it well enough."

Arran was about to protest — he hardly felt like his usual self, after all — but he paused when he realized that the Ranger was right.

When he first stepped into the Desolation, he'd been shocked at how much his strength was suppressed. But seeing the Rangers' reactions, he could not help but think that he was affected far less than they were.

Briefly, he wondered whether it might be because he had more strength to spare, but he rejected the idea as quickly as it had come. Having more strength than the Rangers should mean he was affected more severely, not less.

"I guess I have a stronger stomach than most," he finally said, forcing a chuckle. "But if you have the strength to talk, then you have the strength to fight another round. Let's go!"

It took another quarter-hour before Arjun was pushed beyond the brink of exhaustion, and as the Ranger sat down to catch his breath, Arran quickly moved on to another opponent.

He fought throughout the evening and the night that followed, dividing his attention equally between the Rangers and the soldiers in the army as he slowly adjusted his techniques to his reduced strength.

Yet the more he fought, the more he became convinced that his strength hadn't fallen nearly as much as it should have. While some of the Rangers retained more of their power than others — especially Kaleesh, whose true insight into speed remained formidable — all of them were clearly affected more than Arran was.

The mystery confounded him, but he knew that investigating it would have to wait. Before they reached Sacrifice, the only thing that mattered was actually reaching their destination. And while Kaleesh might be confident that there would not be any outright attacks, Arran still had his doubts about that.

Sunrise found the Wolfsblood Army in a weary state. Most of the soldiers had barely slept, choosing to practice through the night to adjust to the suppression of the Desolation as quickly as they could. Between their lack of sleep and diminished strength, few of them welcomed the day with enthusiasm.

Kaleesh showed the soldiers little mercy, however.

He had them break camp as soon as they finished their morning meals, making it clear that he had no intention of wasting even an hour of daylight. After all, once they traveled beyond the edge of the Desolation, there would be nowhere to retreat if they were attacked. The safety of Sacrifice was less than two days' travel away, but until they reached their destination, they would be completely exposed.

"Should I scout ahead?" Arran asked the captain as they watched the soldiers ready themselves for the journey ahead.

Kaleesh hesitated in answering. Finally, some uncertainty in his voice, he said, "You should, but don't stray too far. If trouble finds us, we will need your strength."

Arran responded with a nod. "I'll make sure to stay within a mile or two of the army."

He understood the captain's worries all too well. If any Darian forces attacked the Wolfsblood Army, they would be sure to bring Knights. That would be a problem at the best of times, but with the army in its current state, it would more likely than not end in disaster.

Of course, Arran's power would provide scant protection if they faced more than one or two Knights in battle, but his mere presence should do much to dissuade potential attackers. While he might struggle to defeat enemy Knights, killing the Darian lordlings who commanded them would be all too easy — even in a losing battle.

The only question was whether their enemies were aware of that.

Despite Arran's misgivings, the morning passed quietly. He constantly traveled around a mile ahead of the army, his Sense spread across the Desolation as he searched for any hidden threats. Yet carefully though he looked, he found nothing to cause concern — neither Blightspawn nor Darians.

If anything, this part of the Desolation seemed more peaceful than the wilderness that lay before it. There were none of the ruins that littered the wilderness, and the only tracks he encountered were those of armies traveling to and from Sacrifice.

The tranquil surroundings brought Arran little comfort, however. Peaceful though the hilly woodlands around him might seem, he suspected that if they were attacked, it would likely be a good distance from the Desolation's edge.

But as morning passed and midday came, he knew that they had truly left safety behind. Here, miles away from both Sacrifice and the Desolation's edge, there would be no question of fleeing. If they were attacked, there would be no choice but to fight.

And so, when he finally Sensed an army in the distance — a thousand soldiers and Rangers, accompanied by a single Knight — he felt not the slightest bit of surprise. Instead, a grim smile flashed across his face, and then he hurried forward.

Chapter end