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When he finds out that Hurley isn’t actually dead, Taako is a little bit pissed.
Goldcliff is a very nice vacation spot. Plenty to do, warm and dry, races to watch. It’s a good place to bring a date. He brings Kravitz — sentiment, maybe, though if asked he’d say he just wanted to see how the races compared. He did win against The Raven herself, after all, Taako’s kind of a big deal in this sport.
It’s a good day, over all. They see the racers practicing in the wastes. A restaurant overlooks the most popular spot, Taako and Kravitz escorted to the seat with the best view, where the head chef comes out personally to greet them. Getting Taako’s signature framed on the wall was going to bring business from all over Faerun. It’s good to be famous.
Today, though, isn’t really about him.
He tells Kravitz, “Let’s go somewhere quiet.”
There’s a lucious park in the center of the city. Trees and flowers allowed to flourish naturally, a pond which feeds them. Birdsong accompanies them as they longue underneath an azuretree, the shadow cast blue underneath the sun.
They don’t visit Hurley and Sloane — when Taako first left them, he knew he was never looking back. But he tells Kravitz about them. About the Raven and the Ram, Sloane and Hurley. The race, the joy, the love. He tells him that he didn’t know Sloane well, but that she had a strong heart, beauty that glowed inside and out. He tells him that Hurley poured her whole self into everything she did, her job, her sport, her love. That she was brave and existed so solidly in the moment that he still couldn’t quite grasp that she was gone.
Taako isn’t the type to cry. His cheeks are wet, though, and Kravitz holds his hand, kisses his cheek. He says, “I could give them a message. I did for Magnus, after all.”
And Taako, for once, is a loss for words. Perhaps Kravitz realizes that, because he just kisses his lips next. “I’ll start with telling them ‘hello’, okay?”
“That works,” Taako says, his smile feeble, watery.
It’s only a day later when Kravitz tells him that Hurley and Sloane had never died in the first place.
-------
He’s pacing, dragging fingers through his hair. Mumbling under his breath, Taako shakes his head, stops, pivots, stalks back the other way. Stop, pivot.
He round ons the tree, pointing into the bark that crafts Hurley’s serene face. “Don’t you look so happy,” he seethes. “You hear me? Yeah, I know you do cause, uh, guess what? You aren’t actually dead!”
“Taako,” Kravitz tries.
He flings a hand up. “Not yet, babe.” And then he drops it heavily to his side, glaring up at the taller figure of Sloane. “And you . If you were gonna work some fucking lesbian tree magic maybe say something! Seriously — am I nuts? Is that unreasonable? To maybe want to be in on that?”
He can’t help it. He stomps his foot, and then buries his face into his hands and muffles a scream into his palms. There’s a pause, and then Kravitz’s hand lands awkwardly on his back.
“Alright?” He asks, soft.
Taako breathes. “Yeah. I’m good now.”
“Does that mean you’re done yelling?”
His head snaps up. He watches, jaw slackening, as the two women both melt from their tree. They don’t leave a gap, the trunk unblemished as they coax each other to their feet, a few tendrils of branches clinging before those too snap free and curl back into their home.
They’re beautiful, objectively. Even with bodies formed from wood, they move with a fluid grace. Cherry blossoms make their hair and fibers form eyelashes that bat as they blink, long, framing polished eyes that shouldn’t be able to see but clearly do in how they regard him. One set downcast, the other glinting.
“Taako,” Hurley starts. There’s sheepishness in her voice. “Taako, I’m gonna be honest here. I thought you knew?”
Taako stares at her. Then he bursts out, “How the fuck would I know!”
“We did speak to you,” Sloane says, her wooden lips curving into a grin.
“Yeah I — I thought — from beyond the grave? Like ghosts? I — Kravitz, babe, I swear I’m going to do something , be a dear and — yes, thank you.” He sighs as Kravitz takes his hands between his own, rubbing soothingly.
Hurley gives an emphatic, “ Nice.” He glances down at her, meets her shy smile. Both of them are holding hands with their partners, and she lifts her free hand, almost hesitant, palm flat and fingers spread.
“Oh, god damn it,” Taako groans, and then he high-fives her.
-------
Lup is on board before he finishes the sentence. Obviously, she’s his sister, and that means she’s objectively awesome. That’s just how it is. Taako says “Battle Wagon,” Lup says, “ Fuck yeah!”
Barry is pretty much on board with anything, that crazy motherfucker. Take a spaceship into a different plane of existence? Tear your soul out of your living body? Fight the all-consuming entity that’s been pursuing you for over a century? Racing Battle Wagons is child’s play to Barry goddamn Bluejeans.
Kravitz, lawful good boy that he is, shows some hesitance.
“Isn’t it, you know. Unfair?” Is what he says. “To have the literal grim reaper in a race? Three of them, actually.”
“A race to the death, sure,” Taako snorts back. “But you will not be a reaper in this game, my dear. You will be The Rave — fuck. Shit. We already have a Raven, damn it.”
Kravitz snorts, biting down on his lip as Taako brings his palm up to his forehead. “On a principle I really can’t be any animal but a raven, Taako. That’s just how it is.”
“No, no, it’s fine. We can have two ravens.” Taako’s pretty sure there’s no rule about that.
He grasps Kravitz’s hands, tugging him close to plant a kiss on his jaw. “Come on, babe,” he wheedles. “It’s been a long time since I’ve really seen you cut loose. Just this once? For me? And hey, if you win… you might get a bonus prize.”
He toyed with Kravitz’s collar, watching with a salacious grin as the man’s eyebrows crept up, his face rigid for a moment.
“I guess I could… give it a shot,” he mumbles, and Taako hisses a quick “Yes!” before kissing him full on the lips.
-------
Taako isn’t really aware of The Problem until they get their masks sorted. It’s enjoyable, the dress code having adjusted now that identities aren’t necessarily kept secret any longer.
He’s happy to stylize his full-head mask into something more akin to that of a masquerade accessory: his frames the bridge of his nose and the upper half of his face, holes cut to see through, twin fangs that jut down beneath his cheekbones. Hurley’s has taken on more of a helmet like design, covering her skull and her jaw but leaving her eyes revealed.
Sloane keeps her original mask, the lifelike image of a raven’s head covering her own. Kravitz’s is significantly more charming, a glossy beak and cheeks coated with silky feathers.
Lup’s Mask covers her eyes, red and gold feathers flaring out like streams of flame. Barry’s matches in design, but his is a delicate blue and white, lined with black.
And that’s when Taako realizes it.
“All of you are fucking birds!”
He points to the four of them, Sloane and his sister and his brother-in-law and his fiance, and all of them turn their beaked faces towards him. “Seriously?” He cries. “Me and Hurls are the odd ones out? Way to make a pariah of old Taako, not like that’s news.” He crosses his arms.
Lup sighs, takes off her mask. “Guys,” she says, voice somber. “You know what this means?”
Sloane says, “We’re going to form a bird team?”
And Lup yells, “Fuck yeah it does!” before fist-bumping Sloane.
-------
Four against two is pretty unfair, even if Taako is pretty much the best wizard. Wizards have shit health, so that’s not gonna fly.
Fly. He needs to save that for later.
“How about those other two?” Hurley asks him. “You guys are a team, right?”
“Magnus, definitely,” Taako nods. “Gotta keep the mammal thing going, though, and Merle picked an owl, which means he’s the enemy.”
Hurley muffles a laugh into her palm. Her flowers rustle when she does that, a few healthy petals fluttering to the ground. “Fair enough,” she says. “You got someone else in mind, though? I’m driver. Magnus is gonna be repairs and defense again, which makes you our main offense. Could use another one of those, but honestly I think we’d do better if we had someone down in the seats with me.”
Looking at her short stature, an idea forms in Taakos mind. He smiles, and he says, “You know? I might know just the guy.”
-------
Angus knows when Taako wants something. You don’t have to be the world’s greatest detective for that particular feat: Taako’s just a shitty liar. His ears give him away the moment he walks into the room, perking and dropping like he’s trying to contain his excitement. When his eyes land on Angus, they prick right back up and he grins a giddy smile, flouncing over to him with a drawl of, “ Ango, my magical boy! Hey, you know, I’ve been thinking —”
“Sir,” he says, even though it’s rude to interrupt, “if you want something just ask.”
He pauses, then huffs. “I’m getting there, kiddo. Now, listen. School is lame, right?”
Angus frowns. “It’s important to get an education, sir. Even if I do know the majority of the material, I still need the certification to show —”
This time Taako cuts him off. “Not the question. The question is this: is school lame?”
He holds his gaze. Angus hesitates only a moment before he sighs and lets his posture slump. “School is kind of lame,” he admits. “It’s much more interesting to hunt down mystical relics, or clever criminals! And it’s kind of a joke to say you’re solving a math question when really it’s just a step by step process that teachers make needlessly complicated.”
“That’s right, pumpkin.” Taako pats him on the head. “Tell that to your professor next time, m’kay? You’re smarter than him. But. Do you want to do something exciting?”
Okay. So Angus is interested. Also suspicious.
“Is this illegal?”
“Not anymore!” There’s absolute glee in his face, and the best part is, Taako isn’t even lying about it. “You know about the races in Goldcliff, right?”
Angus bobs his head. “Oh, yes, sir,” he says, smiling. “I read all about it. The police force used to just look the other way but now it’s an official sport. But — you know that, don’t you? You raced before, right?”
“Sure did, boychik. And Taako’s gonna do it again.” The statement makes his eyes widen a bit, something that Taako definitely sees as his smile widens. “ But, Taako also needs one more teammate so he can crush his enemies. You catching my drift here, Angus?”
“Your drift is definitely caught,” he tells him. “And I’d be happy to help! But is a little boy really the best person for a race? Is that even allowed?”
Taako pauses. “... Prrrrroo oobably?” He draws out, sounding completely uncertain. “It’s fine. You’ll be wearing a mask.
Angus finds himself smiling before he can help himself. “You’re talking like I’ve already agreed,” he tells him.
And Taako just smirks and levels their gazes. “Well?” He prompts. “Have you?”
-------
The races are held at the beginning of summer. Goldcliff is just a touch too hot to be comfortable, but a nice cooling spell in their garage keeps them comfortable. Not from any of their wands, of course. He’s going to need all his spell slots for today, cause Taako intends to burn every last one of them.
They’re going through the same check-ups Hurley’s run them through a dozen times in the morning alone. At this point, Angus is the only one paying her any mind, Magnus and Taako both lounging against the sides of the wagon as they wait for noon to come.
All of them are dressed and ready, masks and harnesses on.
Magnus bears a wicked-looking bear skull, strapped to the bottom half of his face to swallow up his nose and jaw. Angus’ is the most covering of all of them, and one Taako is proud of him for picking. It’s a mask of a hound dog , face vertical so that the end of its snout rests just below Angus’ chin. Large slots are cut out around his eyes, the head of the mask branching into a pair of folded ears.
Five minutes prior, a bell tolls. They immediately begin to move, Hurley and Angus taking their places in the front seat, Magnus on the back, Taako in his old spot up top. He stands on the roof, directly on top of a hatch that opens up to the small cabin with the seats.
His stomach swoops when he settles in at his vantage point, feeling the engine roar beneath him, entire body brought into its trembling growl. His heart pounds, a grin spreading as the garage door rolls up and the wagons take the track.
They line up at the beginning of the route. Same rules of a straightforward race across the desert, first across the line or last wagon standing wins. Death or excessive maiming are banned, now, though there’s still a team of clerics on hand. Some injury is certainly allowed.
He doesn’t care to listen as an announcer lists off their competitors, voice amplified to be heard by the shrieking audience. They’re going to take the gold, so who cares who comes after? Taako zones until he lands on the important ones.
“A returning contestant, The Raven, takes the wheel with her new flock!” A fresh wave of screaming picks up, evidently a fan favorite. Not for long, not while Taako’s hear to steal the show, but she can have these five seconds of fme. The announcer continues, “ Today she is supported by The Firebird, The Blue Jay, and the… The Crow!”
He sees Kravitz straighten up, indignance in every muscle, and Taako chokes on a laugh.
“And our defending champion!” Even with thaumaturgy, the man is silenced under the eruption of the audience. Taako beams, blowing a kiss to the crowd, glancing down to see Hurley ignoring the affection as she clutches the wheel. Eyes on the prize, he can respect. “With her today are her old companions, The Bear and The Mongoose, and a new teammate: The Hound! We bring you Lieutenant Hurley, The Ram!”
-------
Three.
It’s nothing like riding a bike. But Hurley lives and breathes battle wagons. She crafted this one with her own hands, knows its engine inside and out, intimately, dearly. She has new hands this time, smooth tree bark for skin and petals for hair and she hasn’t sat behind a wheel to race in a year’s time, but she’s trembling with eagerness now.
In the wagon next to hers, she can see Sloane looking back at her. The mask keeps her face obscured, but their souls are intertwined, their hearts dwell within the same blossom tree. She knows that Sloane is nearly sick with excitement. She knows that Sloane can’t wait to leave her in the dust.
Hurley’s grin can’t be seen, either, but she knows it will flash in her eyes. Vicious, challenging. I’d like to see you try.
She beat her before, she’ll do it again.
-------
Two.
Lup only has the faintest memories of racing. Perception is a bit muted when you’re trapped in your own umbrella, but she remembers her brother’s energy, the glory and the terror and the taste of a victory seized by the skin of his teeth. And she knows this time it’s going to be hers.
She looks to Barry, calls his attention with just a whistle over the engine. “We’re gonna win, babe,” she shouts.
And he smiles back at her, flashes a thumbs up. “You got it!”
She knows he doesn’t care much about the sport. He cares because she cares, and she remembers again just how much she adores this man.
On her other side is Kravitz, still pouting over his new title. She nudges him with a foot, and when he looks over, Lup points in his face. “You’re on our side, yeah?” She asks.
She can see the way his cheeks lift his eyes when he smiles. “No worries,” he says, difficult to hear beneath the mask and the engine. “I adore Taako, but there’s a decent reward if we win.”
“Pretty sure you don’t need money, pal,” she says, and then stops, wrinkles her nose. “Oh, gross, it’s a sex thing, isn’t it?” She settles back into her chair, crosses her arms. That’s enough talking to her brother-to-be.
Sloane turns around to all of them. “Race is starting in a minute,” she calls. “I hope you’re all ready.”
Lup is the first to agree, then Barry, then Kravitz. On that, Sloane straightens up, posture sharp, commanding. She pumps her first, barking, “Bird Squad!”
And they shout back, “BIRD SQUAD!”
-------
One.
Most things are a bit too small for a child of his size. A vehicle built to be piloted by a halfling, though, is apparently just right. His legs can reach the pedals and everything — not that he’ll be driving. He’s just a little boy.
He’s nervous. He’d be lying if he said he wasn’t, but at least the rumbling disguises his shaking. Magnus was so nice to design this mask for him, and Hurley took it to be made, and Taako enchanted these lenses so he could see without his glasses. But he’s still just a very small boy in a very large wagon, surrounded by many more large wagons, and no matter how many times he calculates that conflict, the outcome is just never very good.
Hurley looks to him. She flashes him a thumbs up, and Angus gives her a trembling one in response.
He kind of wishes he could just be tracking down a killer. That’s not nearly as scary as this.
-------
“And begin!”
The sound is deafening. Taako takes hold of the rails around him, bracing his legs as the wagon goes from idling to tearing up the dirt in under a second. Theirs isn’t the fastest start, more agile competitors springing ahead from the get-go. But hey, no one here is dressed as a hare. They don’t need to start with their biggest guns just yet.
Right off the bat are three tolls, three competitors already out of the race. He sees them already stalling, a gooey substance caught all up in the wheels. Not even seconds in, and they’re already getting knocked out.
The first assault launched at their wagon comes from one full of dragon masks — and one dragonborn with just a regular mask formed over her face. Theirs is a tank, armored to the teeth and bristling with weapons, one of which they’re training on his ride. It’s shining steel, a spear the size of a log loaded up — essentially a giant crossbow. Killian would be jealous.
Taako huffs, and then smirks. He doesn’t even need a spell slot for these bozos. Light flashes, the two that were at the cannon flinching away from the sudden brightness while Hurley spurs them safely ahead.
Taako’s glad he braided his hair for this one. It’s whipping behind him, would be both inconvenient and hideous if it was loose. The fury of all the wheels have kicked up a small dust cloud, one that’s sure to grow denser as the race continues. Taako makes a note on his to-do list: shower, right after winning and before doing stuff with Kravitz.
A roar builds in his ears. He turns, sees his sister positioned near identically to him: up on top of Sloane’s wagon, gripping the rails with one hand. Her wand is in the other, casting a bolt of energy ahead and to a smaller wagon in their path. The vehicle careens, takes out another as it skids into the wastes, and two tolls ring out.
Taako and Lup jeer in unison. His sister turns her head, flashing all her teeth as she points a vicious finger his way. The message is clear: You’re next.
She doesn’t get a chance to fire though, Sloane’s wagon lurching forward with a burst of speed that makes her stumble. She grasps the rail tight, and Taako curses after her as they begin to pull ahead.
-------
Angus is pretty sure he’s surpassed terror at this point. His heart is thumping hard but steady, a sense of calm descending over his mind. He already knows the panic of ‘ high speed vehicle probably going to result in a very early death’ , and draws on that experience to tell himself he needs to stay calm if he’s gonna get through this.
If he’s gonna win this, actually. That’s the goal here. Taako wants to win and Angus wants to impress Taako.
Hurley shouts to him, “You see any openings, kid?”
Cause that’s his job. He’s their strategist. While Hurley is focused on driving, Angus can scan their environment. His eyes flicker between vehicles. There’s a large windshield in a 180 arc around them, giving him a view of the wagons ahead and at their sides. A slot in the back of their cockpit lets him turn to catch a limited view of the rear.
For now, he has to trust Taako and Magnus to protect their tail. The smaller, more vulnerable wagons have pulled ahead, relying on speed and agility over armor or artillery. Attacking them too early in the game will expend their offensive forces. “They’ll probably pick each other off,” Angus notes, pointing to the swarm in front of them. “We can take out who’s left after.”
A sudden build of noise swells beside them, wagon shuddering as The Raven’s pulls ahead.
“Fuck,” Hurley curses. Then she glances to the side, giving him a worried look. “I mean. Uh. Darn.”
“It's okay, ma'am,” he assures her, “I don't really care when people curse. Now, I think we need to take care of the elephant in the room. Or, on the track, rather. Be right back!” And he leaves her like that, hopping down to the floor, stumbling for only a moment before scampering over to the ladder that will raise him out of the cockpit.
The lenses in his mask protect his eyes, which is good cause hoo boy it is windy out here. Dust is kicked up all around them, growing thicker by the second and quickly obscuring anything more than a hundred yards around them. Sloane’s vehicle is already beginning to vanish into the sand.
Taako glances behind himself, braid whipping over his shoulder. “Ango!” He calls. It sounds like there’s a smile in his voice.
“Hello sir!” He yells back. “Could you please slow Miss Sloane’s wagon down? She’s quite good so we don’t want to give her any advantage over us.”
“Already working on it, pumpkin!” He twirls his krebstar. “This one’s a little too high level for you, but it’s still good to watch the master.” And with that, Taako rounds on his heel, holding the star out. There’s a burst of light, and then a wall of fire cuts across the desert wastes.
The sound of squealing brakes fills the air. Sloane’s vehicle skids in its haste to avoid the wall, barreling at a speed that made it impossible to clear it completely. It slides sideways, its tail end submerged in flame. He sees Lup throwing herself forward with a blast of force to avoid the inferno, landing heavily, belly-down. Other wagons aren’t so lucky, some darting right through and coming out ignited, others swerving into each other, bubbles deploying as the wagons burst into bursts of shrapnel.
Five canons go off. “How’s that!” Taako yowls, punching his fists up into the hair. “Hell yeah! That’s a taste of Taako, baby! ”
“Good work, sir!” Angus chirps, and then ducks back down to Hurley. “We’re clear ma’am!”
Hurley glances over her shoulder and gestures to his seat. He doesn’t hesitate, nearly tripping as he drops down and hops back into his chair. The moment his butt is in place he’s being pressed into the back of the chair, the wagon’s wheels snarling to drag them ahead of the game.
-------
Well. That’s her brother. Lup can’t help but laugh, a flicker of pride in her chest. They’ve both dipped toes into each other’s specialties, it’s only natural his evocation has gained so much power.
“He’s going fucking down,” she swears, breath pushed between her teeth. Lup stomps on the top of her station, three times. There’s a beat, and then a panel in the floor slides open. Barry glances up at her, questioning.
“Hey, babe?” She coos. She extends a hand, one that Barry dutifully grabs for her to hoist him up to the top of the car.
“Yeah?” He says, glancing out to the scene. Sloane is wrestling them back on track. They’ve lost ground, Hurley’s wagon out of view and several others darting on ahead. Freeloaders, taking advantage of her brother’s hard work.
She points to them, a wicked smirk on her face. “Could you take care of them? I’m a believer of reaping what you sow .”
His face is flat. Then he snorts, facade crumbling in favor of a goofy laugh. “Holy shit,” he giggles, masked behind a hand. “Yeah. Yeah, okay, I can do that.” He reaches out a hand, his reaper’s scythe materializing in it. It’s an impressive display, a crawling dark energy that electrifies the air. Never let it be said that this gig didn’t come with style.
Barry reaches into a pouch at his side, fishing through it for just a moment before plucking out the wilted head of a flower and two crystals: a chunk of obsidian and one of amethyst.
Kravitz’s head pops out of the compartment below. It knocks his beak slightly askew. “Now hang on there,” he says, hastily affixing his mask.
“Oh, great.” Lup rolls her eyes. “Come on, bird boy we’re not doing real necromancy. Turn a blind eye just this once.”
Kravitz frowns. Then Barry says, “It’ll help us win,” and that apparently does the trick.
He huffs out a sigh, pointing to his eyes and then to Barry’s. Then again, this time to Lup’s. And then he considers it a moment, and climbs out up onto the roof beside them. “Just in case,” he says. “Because if you end up summoning a — a demon on my watch, I will never hear the end of it.”
Lup waves him off. She leans over to Barry, muttering, “Yeah, he listens to you.”
“No, it’s actually not me, it’s cause winning’s a —”
“— I know it’s a sex thing Barold.”
He laughs. “Okay, okay. Now that we’ve got the boss’s approval…” He curls his hand around the components. When his palm opens up, they’ve turned to a thin dusting of black over his palm.
Barry holds it out, eyes shut for a moment, lips moving in an incantation drowned out by the wind and the engines. And then a bolt of black energy shoots from his palm. The necrotic magic burns the air, striking the ground and throwing up chunks of hard earth. A wagon skids to a halt as its roof is crushed. Another tumbles into the dust storm and out of sight. They’re all spinning and screeching to avoid the destruction, the black lightning that spikes between the debris branching for wagons as they zip past.
And there Barry stands, the magic still crackling off his fingertips, feathers of his mask whipping in the wind and a grin that is downright feral on his face.
“Hot,” Lup says.
-------
Kravitz didn’t sign up for this. He is here because his fiance asked him to be. He is here because win or lose, his fiance has stuff in mind. He doesn’t really care who comes out on top, so to speak, but the competition is actually sort of fun.
Plus, Kravitz has always been a betting man. And his money is not on Taako this round.
It’s a bit less fun when he feels a bolt of pure necrotic energy wrack the air. Necromancy isn’t technically illegal. Animating corpses, using necrotic magic, that was all fair game. As long as all the souls were where they belonged, his Queen saw no fault in such use.
But sometimes it’s easy to forget that Barry, amicable denim-clad reaper that he is, is in fact a highly dangerous necromancer. He’s both powerful and competent enough to bind magic to his mortal soul and still retain his sanity for decades after, a feat nearly unheard of. It’s a reminder that hits too hard when that power splits the air, sending wagons into chaos from the destruction wrought.
Then Kravitz feels what can only be described as a disturbance. This time it comes from behind him: the sensation of a tear being ripped in the planes. Not the neat slice of his scythe, but a wound.
And then there are souls pouring through. Screaming, menacing souls, and Kravitz sees Barry facing the tail end of the wagon now, both hands pressed out, palms flat, wind whipping through his hair. And he’s laughing. Loud, maniacal, the kind of villainous cackle Kravitz would expect from bounties of the crazy necromancer brand and not his coworker.
Before him is the source of the disturbance. It’s a literal wall of souls, thankfully bound within a specific area. Beyond their twisting, translucent forms, Kravitz can see all of their pursuing wagons have come to a halt. Some have spilled out of their vehicles and are taking off back the way they came in a terrified sprint. A cacophony of tolling follows, surely announcing the defeat of over half their remaining opponents.
Kravitz tears his eyes from Barry to give Lup a sharp glare. She only shrugs, hands lifted into the air as she says, “He’ll put them back.”
-------
“Holy fucking shit,” is the first thing out of Taako’s mouth when he sees the souls of the undead rise up from the ground. It’s been a while since he’s seen Barry let loose like this, and by the looks of it, he’s gotten a bit power-drunk. Again.
Well. Happens to the best of them.
Taako ducks his head down into the cockpit, whistling for Angus and Hurley. “Just thought I should let you know,” he starts, “that Barold has flip-wizard’d his ass off the goddamn handle. You see that lunatic aim at us, hit the gas or hit the deck.”
Angus frowns at him. “Sir,” he says, “I know Mister Bluejeans. He’s very kind! I don’t think he’d hurt us.”
“Pumpkin you don’t know Barold like I do,” Taako tells him, breezy. “He never lets off steam properly, so unfortunately now that he’s gotten started, it’s gonna be a fucking shitshow. Don’t underestimate him, dear, he will kill you and then enslave your corpse.”
And with Angus’s eyes suitably wide behind his mask, Taako pops back on deck.
With Barry’s wall of… tormented souls in place, he’s effectively sealed off any stragglers trying to catch up. No one is gonna get by that thing. So while Sloane’s wagon is technically at the back of the race now, they’re doing an unfortunately good job.
There’re still a good number of wagons ahead on the track, too. Most are small, just specks in the path, but there are still a couple of vehicles that strike a more imposing figure.
A tall wagon with spikes whirring on its rims — rad — is directly ahead of them, driver’s side. Further in the distance is a large, wide-framed vehicle, too far away to make out any clear details.
“Excuse me, sir!” Angus’ little voice chimes in again. Taako glances back to him, seeing him holding himself just over the hatch to the cockpit and pointing to the rails. “On the right, sir, there’s something strange! We might wanna keep an eye on that.”
“Gotcha, pumpkin!” Angus grins and drops back down, leaving Taako to hurry to the scene.
His eyebrows shoot up. The ground beside Hurley’s wagon is shifting upwards, traveling in a straight line. It’s almost as though something is underneath the earth, forcing it up to the surface. Almost like —
The wagon shakes, and Taako spills over.
--------
Magnus, for once, is staying put. Not by any choice of his own, mind. It’s the simple fact that he’s a simple, non-magical man, and axes aren’t very useful against giant battlewagons. He has to say that maybe he’s a little disappointed. Idling around on the back of the wagon really isn’t much fun, just watching the others shoot by. No one’s come close enough to warrant his help, so far, and they haven’t taken any damage so — Magnus is good out here, apparently.
Then there’s a violent jostle, and a screech. Magnus is on his feet in a second, and it’s not too hard to figure out what the problem is: there’s a tank of a battlewagon ramming right into them. Spikes jutting off its rims are tearing up the metal, sparks and grating shrieks spinning off its surface.
Magnus can’t help a jubilant whoop as he dashes for it. Up the back of the car, onto the roof. He gives a shout of, “Hey, Taako!” as he leaps over the fallen wizard and onto the rail and then springing off —
— and he slams down onto the next. He stumbles, bringing his axe down into the roof to give himself some leverage. His arms jerk but his feet are planted on smooth metal. A successful landing, in his book.
The wagon hits the breaks. It’s only his grip on his weapon that keeps him from flying off, his weight instead dragging the blade through the metal. The slope of the roof dropping away and Magnus topples down the windshield, bouncing once as he drops onto the nose of the wagon.
Inside is a crowd of four, all in lifelike echidna masks. They’re separated from Magnus only by a layer of glass.
For a moment, they just stare at one another, four echidnas at an impasse with the man hitching a ride on their hood. Then, with a visible lurch, the driver stomps on the accelerator.
Magnus flattens himself on the metal, waiting a second until his body catches up with the new speed. Heck yeah, he knows how inertia works. Thank you, Cap’n’port.
“Okay,” he says, smiling behind the teeth of his mask. He rolls onto one side, lifting his free arm up. “Fair enough.”
Then he phantom-fists through the windshield.
-------
— moles.
The wagon burrows up from the ground. A drill is attached to its front, though as the vehicle emerges, he sees the metal slow its whirring and then collapsing into itself. A spike that was once larger than the wagon itself shrinks down and tucks into the hood, leaving the battlewagon trekking along aboveground now.
It’s a small vehicle. As Taako gets to his feet, he watches the roof open up, sees four masked heads briefly exposed. Three scramble out, each armed with a shiny metal hook that they spin and then swing.
Taako blasts one aside with a spell, the other two hooking onto the rails. He can’t even prepare the next one before a burst of force slams into his chest and he thuds right back down.
The fuckers just magic-missile’d him onto his ass.
Well. If they want a magic duel, they’re gonna get a fucking magic duel.
When he gets onto his feet, there are three interlopers on board, all with beady-eyed mole masks on. Two are short but sturdy, armed with a battlehammer and two swords, respectively. The one behind them is wielding a wand.
“Hail and well met,” Taako says by way of greeting. “You know, polite company would settle for a fair one-on-one duel.”
He says this right before the wand lifts and three dots of light flare into being.
Lup’s brand of scorching ray is much better than this joke. That being said, Lup’s brand of scorching ray could incinerate a humanoid down to the marrow of their bones, so even this basic display of magic leaves his arm charred and Taako shouting a curse as he tumbles out of the way of the other two beams.
-------
Hurley feels the jostle of being boarded. The sound of three sets of feet settling atop their cabin, and then Taako’s shouted curse. Profanity streams from Hurley’s lips, kept quiet only by the presence of the child beside her.
There’s a thud, another yelp. This time the sound is more like metal on metal. A dent appears in the roof.
She barks, “Where’s Magnus?”
“He jumped ship, ma’am!” Angus tells her. He points, and sure enough Hurley can see what appears to be Magnus reaching through a shattered windshield, pulling the driver right out of his seat and then chucking him overboard. The wagon skitters out of control and then drops from view.
“Gods above,” she growls. “Angus, you’re driving.”
His head swivels as she pushes herself from her seat. “Ma’am, are you serious?” His voice is pitched with nerves.
Hurley doesn’t answer, just stalks towards the ladder.
--------
Angus has one moment to stare at Hurley’s empty seat. Then the wagon begins to drift and he realises that yes she was dead serious and he scrambles behind the wheel to jerk them back on track.
-------
Gods, her husband is a dream. She loves it when he gets in the zone like this, necrotic magic at his fingertips as he decimates the enemy. Non-lethally, of course.
Well, she loves the lethal shit, too.
Sloane is pulling them ahead again. The woman is unstoppable, and if she and Lup herself weren’t both happily spoken for, that would be a fact of interest. Another wagon veers in their path — she’s pretty sure that’s Magnus on board — but they keep blazing their trail as it passes without harm. They’re catching up to The Ram, and by now the finish line can’t be too far away.
“Barry, I think that’s good for now! Don’t burn all your slots just yet.” She hates to ruin his fun, but he’s getting a glint in his eye that doesn’t always spell good things. He doesn’t immediately respond, just going still, clutching at the components in his hand. When Lup tugs on his sleeve and plants a kiss on his cheek, just below the frame of his mask, she finally feels him give.
“Ah. Alright.” There’s a hint of embarrassment in his voice. Then he brightens, saying, “Fuck them up, babe!”
“You know I will!” And then, as an afterthought, “Hey Krav, get over here!”
Like a good brother-to-be, he listens, drifting over to her side. Lup rolls up her sleeves, shakes out her wand hand, and trains her sights on the enemy.
-------
There was a definite no kill policy on these races. Maybe there wasn’t a no dismemberment rule just yet, cause this guy was swinging for Taako’s arms like Magnus after his next robot. He rolled, firing a ray of frost without looking, more focused on getting away from that blunt, heavy hammer face than actually hitting anything.
He hears footsteps tromp towards him, sees a glint of metal out of the corner of his eye. Then there’s a yelp.
Taako breathes his relief when he sees Hurley’s joined the fray. Branches spread from her outstretched fingers, wrapping around one of their guests to drag him away from Taako. It frees him up to roll over and cast a sonic wave at Sloane’s gaining wagon, grinning behind his mask as both Lup and Kravitz fall onto their asses. Blasting their vehicle away is just an added bonus.
Then he realizes. Hurley is here.
“Who’s driving?!” He shrieks, turning just in time to see her toss a mole-mask off the wagon. His bubble pops forth, letting him bounce harmlessly off the track.
“Angus!” She shouts back. “It’s fine, he knows what he’s do—whoa!”
The wagon rocks. Taako pinwheels his arms, nearly dropping his krebstar. Hurley recovers in a blink, dashing across the top and to the back of the wagon.
There’s a claw digging into their bumper. A long winch is attached, pulled taught and reeling. It’s attached to the burrowing vehicle, one that’s not working to pull them back so much as haul itself forward.
“Freeloader!” He jeers, blasting ice at the claw. The spell dissipates before it can make contact. He curses, “‘Kay, I’m not gonna waste time blasting through a null zone.” Anti-magic magic was so shitty. No fun at all.
“Well!” Hurley reaches behind her, taking the axe she’d conveniently brought on board. “Old fashioned way it is. Starboard, Taako, the Flock’s coming in!”
And with that she leaps down, leaving Taako to turn to the sight of his wonderful fiance holding his sister steady while she channels what is sure to be a literally groundbreaking spell.
-------
‘Kravitz?’
Kravitz knows better than to be surprised when Taako’s voice pops into his head. Their eyes are locked across the track, Taako’s lips pursed. ‘Yes, love?’ He thinks back, hoping that telepathy will properly convey his affection.
‘Darling. Sweetheart. My sun and moon, light of my life.’
‘Yes?’
‘Please push my sister off the wagon.’
Kravitz barks out a laugh. ‘Sorry, love. I can choose who I betray here and I’m more afraid of her vengeance than yours.’
‘That’s probably smart,’ Taako concedes. And then he thinks, ‘Babe, do you remember how we met?’
He lifts his star, and Kravitz has enough time to think ‘Oh, fuck,’ before the entire wagon is wracked with a tremor. There is abruptly a writhing field of black tentacles clawing at their wheels. From inside, he hears Sloane scream with horror as the Ram’s wagon barrels onward, Taako whooping and flashing a none-too-polite gesture with both hands in the air.
‘I love him so much .’ The thought isn't meant to be heard, but there’s just a moment of warmth through their link before Taako is driven out of range.
-------
Magnus isn’t really sure how he got here. That is, clinging to the side of the Raven’s wagon with his axe embedded in its frame. It’s going to leave a pret-ty distinct mark, and Sloane can’t find out it was him.
The sudden jerk and grind of the vehicle tests his grip. He holds firm, teeth bared in a snarling grin as he uses the momentum to swing himself up, rolling onto the roof of the wagon.
There are two chimes of, “Magnus?”
He sees Kravitz. Probably safe, probably won’t kill him. Kravitz is pretty chill now that they’re off his deadpool.
He sees Lup. Ah, shit.
Magnus rushes out. He barrels right past her, bellows, “ Taako!” at the top of his lungs. The elf turns towards him, sees him take a running leap off a wagon several dozen yards away. Taako extends a hand.
And Magnus is weightless, and gliding. “Yes!” He shouts. “ Yes! Who’s the bird now, huh?!”
Graceful as a goddamn swan, he alights upon Hurley’s wagon, Taako’s magic dissipating the moment he’s safely on board and Taako himself already meeting him for a hi-five.
“Now that was what I call a leap of faith,” Taako drawls. He’s got one hand on Magnus’ bicep for balance.
“Knew you’d catch me,” he says, and grins at the flicker of shock and then tenderness in Taako’s eyes before the elf huffs out a quiet, “ Obviously.”
“Good work you two!” He turns, and there’s Hurley, grinning, an axe in hand. “Now, back in position! We’re in the home stretch!”
“Great,” Magnus starts, and then falters. “Hang on —”
“Ango’s driving,” Taako cuts in.
“ He’s what?!”
-------
Hurley’s got herself a good team. But Sloane isn’t about to give her this one. Two losses to her beloved in a row — that just won’t do. They have a balance to maintain, and the Raven has her pride.
As soon as they break free of the wizard’s tentacles, she’s shifting them into the next gear down. The engine bellows as they lurch forward, wheels eating the ground to close the space between them.
“Barry,” she says, voice calm despite its volume. “Tell Lup and Kravitz to give everything they’ve got to taking out The Ram. No more saving slots, we’re going full throttle.”
-------
He doesn’t know how the hell they caught up so fast. Hurley’s not the only one saving her trump card, then.
“Mags, I need a meatshield,” he calls. Reliable sap that he is, Magnus willingly steps forward. A tap of the krebstar casts stoneskin over his body, and the man plants his feet, taking position as the barrier for Taako to shelter behind.
Vines creep over the roof of the wagon, twining around their ankles. A glance over his shoulder shows Hurley, braced at the opposite rails, her fingers extended into tendrils that keep them planted. There’s a moment of solidarity shared between the three of them just before Lup hurls her first bolt of fire.
-------
Kravitz doesn’t turn his sights on his fiance just yet. Instead he looks out to the distance, to the cars ahead of them. He shuts his eyes for a moment, and when they open, the world warps in his vision.
It’s a landscape of darkness, dotted with flares of light. He can feel Lup and Barry, their presences bright and tainted. The dryads, entwined with the earth. Magnus, strong, a guardian at his very core. The beloved light of his husband-to-be, intertwined with both magic and passion.
He’s not looking for them, though. Instead he focuses on the souls ahead of them, counts their clusters. He tugs on the fibers that connect him and his Queen, feels Her divine magic flow into his soul, build within his essence. Then he purses his lips and whistles a song.
When his eyes open, it’s just as Lup shouts, “Holy shit!”
The dark shadows of the wagons have turned against them, peeling from the ground to envelop their source, creeping slowly enough to allow the riders to spill safely free before their vehicles are dragged into the nether.
And so they were the last ones standing.
Lup is staring at him, mouth agape. He smirks, then gestures to The Ram’s battle wagon. Says, “Well? We have a race to win.”
She blinks. Grins. “Now you’re speaking my language,” she says, and turns on a heel with her magic sparking in her veins.
-------
Lup flings her spells without regard. She doesn’t know what she’s evoking with each cast, fire and lightning and frost leaving the end of her wand with the purpose to stop, slow, destroy. To win.
-------
Sloane bares her teeth behind her mask. They’re almost neck-and-neck now. The pedal is nearly flat on the floor. She just needs a little bit more .
-------
Magnus holds firm. Taako’s spell is a good one; he still feels, but it’s numbed, and what pain lingers is dulled knowing he’s protecting his friend from harm.
-------
Hurley clings to the guardrail. They can’t possibly be toppled like this, strength and resilience and cunning and intelligence. Victory is so close she can taste it on the wind.
-------
“That’s not gonna fly, sis!” Taako crows. Finally. He’s been saving that one for a while now. This one, too: he holds out his star and casts a beam with the radiance of the sun.
-------
Kravitz is cloaked in feathers shed from the aspects his Queen, woven by her hands. He steps forth and lifts them high, warding the light away. His goddess will protect him, as he is one who possesses Her favor.
-------
Barry lifts his head. He’s content to enjoy the ride for now, his job done, the buzz of necrotic energy still itching beneath his skin. It almost rings in his ears — or, no. That’s no magic.
He says, “What’s that sound?”
-------
Angus has never driven in his life. The pedals are high and the steering wheel thin enough for his little hands and he thinks he’s doing a good job, despite this really being his first time on the track. It’s good enough , though: Miss Sloane is catching up. They’re neck and neck, flashes of light reflecting in the windshield. The finish line is on the horizon.
“Hang on to something, ma’am and sirs,” he shouts, hoping he can be heard. “Because shit’s about to hit the fan!”
Then he shifts them into the final gear, and their battlewagon screams into the lead.
-------
Taako screams along with it. “That’s my boy!” He howls, just in case they hadn’t gotten it. “My magic boy is taking us to victory city, baby!” Which means it’s his win, too, cause he is Angus’ mentor.
Magnus’ shout of, “What the shit!” jerks him from his joy.
-------
The image is this:
Two wagons remain. The desert is a broad, unforgiving landscape, the dirt heavy in the air. We see the Raven and the Ram, lovers that they are, racing toe-to-toe. The protector stands firm while the lover takes a breath. The twins are locked in combat, magic bolting between them, the lead switching hands.
The seeker calls a warning and then then claims his place with fury, their craft devouring the hard earth of the wastes as it barrels ahead, regardless for the Raven’s pride and dismay as it pursues its victory.
And then we see a shape in the distance. A shadow, growing larger by the second, a silhouette in the dust that begins to take shape. It breaks free, into view, and a wagon springs belatedly onto the track and forth. Past the Raven, past the Ram, into the lead and then —
-------
Lup’s eyes nearly bug out of her skull.
“Is that fucking Davenport?”
-------
— beyond.
-------
.
.
.
Silver is not Taako’s color. It’s good enough for Angus, though, and he drops it around the kid’s neck with a pat on the head. Good try. He’s proud of it, too, straightening up beneath Taako’s hand, flashing him a bright and boyish smile.
Sloane plucks at the bronze, distaste in her lips. A woman with standards — Taako can respect. Gold suits her better, though it suits him best. And who won it?
He doesn’t know Sloane quite so well, but he thinks they can agree on this: they’d be far happier if literally anyone else had that medal.
Merle is a blemish behind that trophy. He doesn’t even look too pleased to receive it, that smug little bastard , like he’d done anything to get that win. At least Lucretia probably put some effort in. Davenport is preening before the raving crowd — legendary pilot of the Starblaster, come to take a stunning victory upon the earth now.
Spotlight stealer.
Lup is groaning into Barry’s shoulder. Hurley and Sloane stand together, getting their own share of the press. They do look like quite the power couple, he’s gotta give them that. Magnus has hoisted Angus onto his shoulders, the kid tuckered out after such a high-tension day. And there’s Kravitz, just a few feet away, waiting for Taako to come to him.
Silver isn’t a win, but it’s at least a step above bronze.
Taako tells himself he’s pissed. His smile isn’t getting with the program.