Dimas soared up high again. He could already see the clouds beginning to crowd back in on the hole he’d made. It would only be about half an hour until he needed to make it again, he knew.
He started plummeting back down toward the castle another time, gathering gravity around both hands and then combining them into one.
‘Uh, Dimas, that might be a little too much...’
Dimas propelled himself even faster than freefall, veered horizontally along the top of the rock, and then barreled into it with both hands, releasing the gravitic force upon impact.
He tore through the rock like cardboard, gouging out a small valley of crumbling stone. He swooped back up into the sky to inspect his work.
Iziol sighed. ‘I really need to teach you how to find the happy medium in things.’
Dimas moved closer to the craggy scar. Impressive as it was, it still hadn’t made that much of a dent in Marshrock. The upper rock was so thick that the attack hadn’t even broken through to a chamber or hallway.
‘I sense someone close,’ said Iziol. ‘Eastern tower. Someone just exited.’
He turned and saw the man on the highest balcony there. Dimas recognized the flat face and pug nose from the picture he’d seen earlier. Horatio Blackburn.
The man shouted up at Dimas, exuberant enough to easily be heard over the bracing wind, “Could I ask you to kindly stop attacking my home?!”
Dimas let Iziol handle the response.
‘We would love to do that for you! Just as soon as you release your hostages!’
Horatio gave a lame shrug. “I’m afraid that’s not my call!” The man’s friendly smile was entirely out of place, given the circumstances, and it reminded Dimas of a certain loud-mouthed Redwater. A loud-mouthed Redwater who had better still be alive. “Even so, I would really like to avoid fighting you!” said Horatio. “So I’m not going to attack first! I’m just going to stand here and hope that you go in peace, amergo!”
And they waited--Dimas hovering above and looking down, while Horatio only stood there and steadily met his gaze with a wide grin.
‘Oi,’ said Iziol privately. ‘I wasn’t prepared for politeness.’ A beat passed. ‘In fact, this is worse than being attacked. This is diabolical.’
‘...Are you ordering me to stand down?’
‘...So I should attack him, then?’