The Last Goddess

by C.E. Stalbaum

  ***

   

  For all the faults of the Darenthi Republic, Tryss mused, architecture and logistics were certainly not among them. Haven had been laid to waste several times in the past century, including during the Arteris Blitz just over a decade earlier. But each time the city had been rebuilt, the designers had done a remarkable job integrating all the strengths of the previous design while discarding most of the weaknesses. The streets were wide and well-planned, the docks were large and expandable, and, most pertinently to the moment, the sewer system was often touted as the “best in Esharia.”

  That would have certainly been true ten years ago when it was first built, and it was probably still true today. But no matter how well planned and executed, any sewer system always had one serious flaw: it was still a sewer.

  “Zandrast’s blood,” Van hissed as they turned into yet another narrow network of slimy tunnels. “You’d almost think they stuffed the dead down here, too.”

  “I think we’ve been over that,” Rynne replied. “The living actually smell a lot worse when it all comes down to it.”

  He grunted. “Yeah, well, I’ve never produced anything that smelled this bad, I can tell you that.”

  “Oh, come on, you remember—”

  “We really need to be quiet,” Tiel scolded from just ahead. “It’s not far ahead now.”

  “Yeah,” Van murmured, putting a hand up to his nose, “you’re probably right.”

  After evaluating all the options for raiding Veltar’s private warehouse, they had eventually decided on this approach. It might not have been particularly original, but it offered a lot of benefits over smashing in through the front door. Tryss knew the Balorites wouldn’t be blind to the vulnerability, though, and fully expected them to come face-to-face with a significant defense force any time now.

  But for the first time since she’d woken up in that coffin, they were finally on the offensive. And that meant that this time, they were prepared. Van had suited up in a full set of scale armor, the light but still resilient type popular among Ebaran infantry ever since the appearance of Kimperan firearms, and he carried his sword, shield, and a small, one-shot pistol on his hip. Rynne was encased in a supple, custom-fitted suit of gorm hide with a crossbow on her belt and a cartridge-filled bandoleer across her chest. Tiel, for his part, wore exactly what he always wore: a simple but functional red robe. Rynne had eventually convinced him to at least bring along a hand crossbow, but that was it.

  Then there was Tryss herself. In the first twenty-seven years of her life, she had never once put on anything resembling a suit of armor. Aside from the fact nobility rarely set foot on the actual battlefield, she had been able to weave a kinetic barrier more potent than any metal ever since she was a teenager. But then Veltar had wiped her memory and trained her as a warrior, and she found it difficult, as with many other things, to balance the two disparate lives she’d led in the past few years. She had settled on a light steel breastplate to compliment her leather skirt and leggings, and she carried a Darenthi saber on her belt. The armor probably wouldn’t stop a bolt and certainly not a bullet, but at least it offered some meager protection against a stray shot or sword swing should she find herself unable to use her magic.

  That hadn’t even been a consideration for most of her life, as the Siphon had sheltered her against the worst of the Flensing. But now it was a very real and very dangerous limitation. In all likelihood, she was going to be weaving almost constantly today, and if she didn’t pace herself, she wouldn’t have anything left to fight against Veltar and her brother—assuming she was even able to get to them. The alternative, of course, was to risk the lives of her companions by holding back, and she didn’t like that any better.

  Or you could just Defile.

  Tryss winced at the thought. It was still a possibility, she knew. If things got bad enough, she could always draw power from something besides herself. She could use it to free Rook and defeat Kastrius and then never touch its power again. Surely that was better than enduring another Sundering, wasn’t it?

  She bit down on her lip and shook her head as she walked. She had managed to avoid the temptation when she broke into the palace the other day, and she would do the same now. She was better than that. After all, today was about redemption for the mistakes that had led her here in the first place. She wasn’t about to repeat them.

  Even if it meant someone had to die because of it. Even if it meant she had to die because of it.

  Five minutes of silent walking later, they approached their destination. This section of the sewer ran beneath Veltar’s private warehouse, and they should have been able to pop up into an alley directly behind it. From there, they could storm into the building, get Rook, and then escape the same way. That was the plan, anyway.

  Tryss raised a warning hand as they drew close, and the others took up ready positions behind her. Taking a deep breath to calm her nerves, she wove the invisibility spell again and vanished from sight. She then crept forward farther down the tunnel, doing her best to be as quiet as possible and step over the biggest pools of fetid water.

  She came up to the last turn and peered around the corner. There, just as she expected, were five well-armed guards. They had erected two wooden barricades, one on either side of the tunnel, and they sat crouched behind them with crossbows in hand. To their credit, they were mostly keeping quiet, too, speaking only in hushed whispers that were easily drowned out by the rushing water a few tunnels away.

  They weren’t wearing uniforms, and Tryss didn’t know if they were Darenthi soldiers or Balorite fanatics. Not that it made a huge difference—if they were soldiers, they had likely abdicated their positions to follow General Bremen, and that still made them traitors. Not that she wanted to kill anyone unless she had to, but it was likely to come to that.

  She tilted back around the corner and closed her eyes. It was, she knew, the first of many decisions she would have to make today. She could use her magic and dispense with them, but then the Flensing would no doubt take its first bite. The alternative was to warn the others and launch a surprise attack with conventional weapons. They would prevail, most likely, but what if someone got hurt? What if someone died?

  Tryss reached down to her belt and fingered the hilt of her sword. She had another option, and it was perhaps the best compromise. She could attack them herself, taking on five to one odds and trying to survive long enough for the others to hear and come support her. It would be a suicidal move even for a master swordswoman, but she could maintain a kinetic barrier that would keep their attacks at bay—at least for a little while. And it wouldn’t tempt the Flensing nearly as much as an all-out assault with magic.

  She let out a long, slow breath and let her invisibility fade. Wrapping herself in the strongest barrier she could manage, she quietly drew her sword and looked down the length of the blade. She had abhorred such weapons for most of her life, but Veltar’s trainers had taught her to appreciate their elegance and simplicity—and to make them as much of an extension of her magic as her arm. She wove a second spell into the steel itself, essentially the opposite of her barrier; rather than absorbing energy, it would increase the force of its impact. Even the armor of a Faceless wouldn’t be able to stop it.

  With that, Tryss spun around the corner and charged the left barricade. The guards reacted quickly, shifting their weapons to her in less than a heartbeat. She leapt forward, weaving a subtle push of gravity into her back to make her cover the distance with superhuman speed. The men couldn’t have foreseen the maneuver, and most of their shots sailed wide. Only one struck home, and her breastplate easily absorbed what her barrier could not.

  And then she was on top of them. The three men behind this barricade each tried desperately to grab their own swords, but she didn’t stop to give them the chance. Her sword was little more than a blur of motion as she slashed down two of the men before they could even react. The third managed to draw his own blade, but
rather than fighting he tossed himself backwards to try and give his companions across the tunnel a clear shot. Two more bolts impacted against her barrier, and she couldn’t help but wince—it felt as if she had been hit by a pair of rocks.

  Tryss didn’t give them time to fire again. She dove in close to the man with the sword, using him as cover as best she could. Her magically-strengthened blade nearly sheared his in half as the weapons met, and he staggered back in shock. She kept low and tight, knowing she only had to delay him for a few more seconds…

  Van flew around the corner, sword and shield before him, and let out a bellowing roar. The two remaining marksmen turned to face the new threat, but they never even had a chance to pull the trigger. Rynne leaned into view and fired off two shots, dropping both men in a heartbeat.

  Before the last guard could get over his shock or do something really stupid, Tryss quickly slashed against his weapon again and cleaved it in half. He stood there, glancing in terror between the two encroaching groups.

  “Get down,” she ordered.

  He tossed aside his broken weapon and dropped to his knees. Van and Tiel rushed over to stand above him.

  “Glad we could help,” Van muttered. “I thought you said you were going to take it easy?”

  “That was easy,” she said, stretching out her arm. One of the shots had struck her in the right bicep where she had virtually no extra protection. The bruise tomorrow would be impressive, assuming she lived that long. But at least the Flensing had remained silent. So far, so good. “Grab their weapons.”

  Tiel was already moving forward to do just that while Rynne covered him with her crossbow. Van kept his eyes on Tryss as if searching for even the smallest sign of weakness.

  “Just remember you don’t have to do everything yourself, princess.”

  “I figured you’d come help when you heard the commotion,” she told him, smiling faintly. “Glad I was right.”

  He grunted but didn’t reply. She wondered idly if his bodyguard instincts were taking over or if he was simply concerned that she might overextend herself and be unable to help them rescue Rook. Either way, she knew it wasn’t the time for her royal pride to get in the way. She needed to be willing to accept their help.

  Tiel tied up the survivors and gathered the weapons into a pile. Once he was finished, Tryss flicked her palm and hurled a small ball of flame into it. The acrid stench of smoke smelled a lot better than anything else down here.

  “Let’s keep moving.”

  The monk did so, and a minute later they were directly beneath the leader heading to the surface. Tryss grabbed onto the rungs and started to climb up.

  “Whoa,” Van warned, grabbing her arm. “We can’t risk you going first.”

  “It’s the safest choice if there are more outside,” she said, still maintaining her barrier. “Just follow closely.”

  He clearly didn’t like it, but at least he didn’t press the point. “Lead on, then.”

  She climbed upwards to the hatch that led up into the streets above. She didn’t relish the idea of popping her head up into the center of an alley they knew was being watched, but it wasn’t like they had a choice. And it didn’t mean she had to make it easy for whoever was watching.

  Gripping onto the ladder tightly with her left hand, she pressed her right straight up against the metal hatch. “Be ready.”

  And with that, she shifted gravity and flung the hatch straight up into the air. She flipped herself up as quickly as she could, holding her arms above her head and bolstering her barrier with as much power as she could muster. To her mild surprise, she wasn’t instantly peppered with crossbow bolts or hacked at by armored men. For all intents and purposes, the alley was empty.

  She waved to the others then concentrated on quietly setting the hatch down a few feet away. Van popped up second, flipping his shield back onto his arm once he cleared the ladder. He eyed the adjacent buildings warily, not believing for a moment things would be this easy…

  They weren’t. Just as Rynne hoisted herself up, her eyes widened and she abruptly shoved Van to the side—and a crossbow bolt whistled right past his head. Rynne dropped into a crouch and swung her own weapon up, firing upwards towards the window above them. Tryss swiveled her head just in time to watch the shot drill the hidden marksman in the neck.

  The alley was no longer empty. The warehouse door busted open and two armored men leapt out from inside it. Another pair spun around a corner at the end of the street, lowering their crossbows and firing. And from up on top of the building some forty feet above, three more marksmen began to rain death down upon them.

  “Watch the roof!”

  Tryss rolled behind a brick outcropping and focused her attention on the shooters down the street. Even as their first volley whizzed just past her shoulder, she hurled a pair of flaming orbs from her palm. They sizzled down the alleyway, leaving a cloud of smoke in their wake. The left shooter managed to spin around the corner as the first orb impacted, but the resulting explosion tossed him violently into the opposite wall. The second man didn’t even get that far; the orb struck him directly in the torso, leaving behind only a pillar of ash and the echo of an aborted scream.

  Behind her, steel clashed against steel as Van slammed into the attacking swordsmen. Tiel had flipped up now as well, and he quickly dove into the fray. Rynne continued to try and pick targets on the roof without exposing herself too much.

  Tryss leaned back, deciding to help with the roof first—

  And then felt her stomach drop as she lurched violently upwards into the air. She caught a glimpse of yet another attacker, this one a mage standing in a window. Tryss reached out to the Fane and countered the spell, halting her momentum. She hung there, suspended awkwardly in mid-air, as she battled the other mage in a test of wills. Her stomach twisted as half her body tried to fall up and the other half down. She grit her teeth as a spike of pain jolted through her limbs.

  The Flensing had taken its first bite. Tryss knew she could endure it, and she also knew that given a few more seconds, she could probably overpower her attacker and get herself back on the ground. The problem was she couldn’t fight for control and maintain her kinetic barrier at the same time, and the two remaining shooters above were both lowering their weapons down at her. She had less than a second to do something before the Flensing was the least of her problems.

  For lack of a better alternative, Tryss released her gravity spell. She launched upwards again, and the two shooters fired into the spot she just left. Then, just as she felt herself reaching the outer limits of the other mage’s control, she wove her own spell again and threw herself forward at a ninety degree angle. She crashed into the rooftop a second later, and fortunately her barrier absorbed the brunt of the impact. The two shooters tried to adjust, but the man on the left was too slow; he lost his balance and tumbled off the roof altogether. The man to her right, however, managed to hop back and lift his weapon, bringing it up to face her at point-blank range—

  And Rynne’s bolt pelted him squarely in the arm. He shrieked in pain as he staggered back, and an instant later another shot hit him in the leg. He fell backwards and tumbled off just behind his companion.

  Tryss hauled herself to her feet. Her companions didn’t have much time; once the other mage shifted his attention to them, they were in serious trouble. Tryss wasn’t even sure she had enough time to hop off the edge and levitate down, so instead she decided to do something crazy. Extending her palm flat against the roof, she blasted it with a wave of pure concussive force. The wood shattered all around her, raining its debris down upon those inside. She heard a shriek as the other mage tried to brace himself against the unexpected assault from above, but it was in vain; a thick support brace broke off and smashed into him, pinning him flat to the ground and knocking him unconscious.

  Tryss leapt down into the hole and swept her eyes around for more enemies. Other than the narrow balconies that ran along the walls like this one, t
he building didn’t actually have separate floors. She could easily see all the way to the bottom, and there didn’t appear to be anyone else inside at all.

  Not even Rook.

  She swore under her breath and leapt down the rest of the way, again letting her barrier absorb the impact before dismissing it altogether. By the time she touched down and looked out the main door, the battle was over.

  “Anyone hurt?” she asked, stepping outside.

  “It’s not bad,” Rynne winced, clutching at her left arm. A bolt was buried at least two inches into her shoulder blade.

  Tiel leapt over to her. “Let me get it out. Hold still.”

  “Just get down—there might be more of them,” Van warned, striding forward. A bolt stuck out of his shield and his armor dripped with fresh blood, but it didn’t look like his.

  “It’s empty,” Tryss told them, putting a hand on her hip as she tried to catch her breath. Aside from the occasional throbbing from the Flensing, she noticed her left forearm was riddled with splinters and small cuts. Apparently her barrier hadn’t stopped everything.

  Van frowned and pushed past her into the building. “They must have a cellar or a separate room somewhere.”

  “We just came from underground,” she reminded him. “There’s no cellar, and the whole place is just one big room.”

  “But that—” He stopped himself mid-word, biting his lip as he realized what it meant. “They were waiting for us.”

  “They knew they were being watched, if not by who,” Tryss said softly. “This place was just a decoy. Even if Rook was here before, he’s not now.”

  “So then where is he?” Tiel asked as he held onto Rynne and wove a healing spell into her arm.

  Tryss’s stomach sank, and this time it had nothing to do with a shift in her center of gravity. “He could be anywhere. He might not even be in the city.”

  “So we have no way to get to him,” Rynne said softly.

  “No,” Tryss breathed. “He’s on his own.”