by Tam Chronin
"Why are you still here? What--?" Krecek broke off, question forgotten as they both felt something new building around them.
None of the other newly created wizards would understand.
Disaster was upon them.
"Thar and Brinn," Davri muttered, jumping to his feet.
They knew it would be too late, but they both ran anyway.
Sharp pain lanced through Raev's soul. He knew why. He knew what was happening.
He didn't know how to stop it.
Gods could teleport. It had to be possible.
There had to be a way for him to appear at Bretav's side.
To take away her pain.
For a moment Raev tried to appear at Bretav’s side through sheer force of will.
Nothing happened. Whatever secret it took to reappear somewhere else, he did not know it.
So be it.
Instead, he would run. With a singular focus he pushed his way through the battlefield, past god, wizard, and soldier alike. Nothing mattered but her.
Nothing.
Until he reached a dead zone in the killing field.
Five figures faced off in the center of it.
Everything around them had died.
He recognized Aral right away.
She stood alone, facing off four gods.
Aral ran at them, screaming in rage, attacking them both physically and magically.
Bretav would be safe with the midwife, he told himself. Bretav would live. Arlanz's child would live.
Babes came into the world every day.
Early wasn't safe, but with magic they could live.
There was no one to pray to, to make it so.
But, between the danger he could not reach, and the danger he could now avert, he knew which he had to address first.
Baedrogan held off the young mage.
This one would do.
But not yet.
Damn it all, but not yet!
"Why are you even here?" the young mage demanded. He was circling, readying another attack, and Baedrogan's will was divided. His attention was stretched thin, even for a god.
There were more souls. So many more souls.
Faster than ever before, he took them. Placed them. Assured they were where they belonged.
He'd known coming in that some would be missed.
This mortal mage, Daichen Ronar, inched closer, increasing his threat.
"I owe you nothing," Baedrogan growled.
The words did not deter Daichen. He circled, avoiding the bodies at Baedrogan's feet, spell upon his lips and etched into his will and intent.
Baedrogan felt, once again, a burning rage that they'd been forced to this plan.
This plan, that was falling apart around them even as he fought.
There weren't enough mages.
There wasn't enough time.
Damn you, Yda. You're going to doom us all.
Laughter.
Other mages were stepping up. Helping teach the spell to others. Saving friends in desperation.
It could have been enough.
Should have been.
But there was no one to take Thar and Brinn. No one to take Garatara and Kedaran.
One more soul.
He had to guide people over.
No one came.
"Brother!"
One more soul.
Agruet?
No. Not yet.
Baedrogan took a step toward Agruet, eyes wide in alarm.
Watched his brother being trapped by Garm Cerine.
Turned mortal.
Killed.
His twin, dead before his eyes.
No.
"No."
His own power coalesced around him, pulled in like a magnetic force, drawn in to one spot of reality. His will tied him into a mortal form.
Baedrogan turned, tears in his eyes, and stared at his murderer.
Stared helpless as Daichen destroyed the plan.
Thar and Brinn looked upon Aral with contempt. "Do you think you can win? Against us?"
"I know how to kill a god," Aral said.
She couldn't use the spell, though. There was no one to take the power into themselves.
Everyone around them had been slain.
Aral slashed through the air with her hands, using magic and wind to slice at her opponents. It came so easy to her that she gave it no thought. This made the gods flinch in pain and back away.
That was enough. Eventually someone would come and Aral would help kill them all.
Kedaran deflected the attack, but he was weakening. The god of storms had seemed immune to the attack at first, but Aral had been relentless, and Kedaran wasn't just protecting himself.
Aral pressed the attack, hands held before her like a spear, and ran at them.
Kedaran grabbed Garatara and dove out of Aral's way, but the other two held firm.
"We are not just a god," Thar and Brinn said simultaneously. "We are gods. You are just one wizard."
"Not anymore," Raev joined the fray, rushing them, planting his feet solidly and drawing his strength from the ground to hit Brinn solidly in the ribs.
Brinn bent double.
Froze.
Straightened.
Laughed.
"Yes, come at me, and feed us, wizard. Hit us again!"
Aral and Raev froze in their tracks, exchanging a horrified look.
The gods of war did not hesitate.
Brinn straightened and knocked Raev to the ground with one blow. He skidded across the ground until he hit a corpse, two, three, before he slowed to a stop.
Thar turned to Aral and charged her. She caught Aral by the wrist and flipped her to the ground with one fluid motion
"We would love to stay," the gods of war again spoke as one, "but we are through with this party. We grow tired of your hospitality. And we have no intention of dying."
Thar and Brinn grabbed Garatara and Kedaran.
Light.
Sound.
Fire.
Death.
On the field of battle, no mortal survived.
The containment spell was obliterated.
Byrek had been down the enchanted paths at night before, but never while trying to protect someone.
It was harrowing, but they didn't go too far. They holed up in a small room together on the second floor of one of the dark structures. It was a windowless room with only one entrance.
He flooded the room with light to keep the shadows at bay.
There were loud, echoing pops in the background, but Byrek had never worried about those. Agruet had once told Byrek what they were, when the paths were newer, and the world was so much younger. He'd called it gun fire, from a weapon that humans would create some day. The problem with folding time and space to make travel quicker was time bleed in all directions. Here, the future was now.
He avoided every aspect of the future, of the time bleed, that he could.
When Agruet had taught Byrek these things, he'd been so young.
Young and in love with a god who loved him in turn.
He'd felt invincible.
Indestructible.
Immortal.
Byrek closed his eyes, feeling a tight squeeze around his heart.
Immortality meant nothing now.
Outside their room the distant pops and bangs were only one of many noises in the night. Incoherent whispers drifted upon the air, walking past their door. There were occasional inhuman moans that seemed to come from everywhere at once. Skittering sounds that were best left ignored.
And then, silence.
Byrek went still, eyes wide. The urge to hold his breath was both superstitious and overwhelming. It would do no good, but...
He put a hand on Naran's shoulder.
Something was missing. Something vital.
Unshed tears made his eyes itch.
But what, who, was missing?
His thoughts again turned to Agruet.
They'd long s
ince stopped being in that hazy infatuation of being in love, had long since found other lovers, but they kept circling back to each other as the centuries wore on. There was love there. There'd always been love there.
He closed his eyes, willing away the tears he could not explain to Naran. The hollow ache in Byrek's chest would still be there when the boy fell asleep.
After all, it might not be Agruet.
Still, someone he loved had died that night.
That's when his thoughts turned to Davri.
They played a dangerous game this night. It was heartbreakingly probable that his human love would die.
Such a short life, with so much talent, so much promise.
So much passion, compassion, and—
An anguished wail filled the halls with sound.
It felt for a moment as if it had echoed the pain within Byrek's own soul, so heartbroken was the sound.
A shiver ran down his spine. and he checked and doublechecked his own will and his own magic to make sure he had not caused it.
No.
Something else, someone else, mourned as he did.
Soon the voice was not alone. A great cacophony filled the air, echoing around them.
Screams of agony.
Cries of disbelief.
Mourning.
Insanity.
Damn it all. Byrek realized where these voices came from. Some of the gods had escaped.
"Fucking damn it all!"
Naran's head whipped around to stare at Byrek in silent shock.
"You can speak," Byrek said. "The gods and the shadows are too distracted to hunt us now."
"Gods?" Naran's voice was hoarse. "We've lost?"
"Only partly." Byrek frowned. "Something went wrong, but…"
How much had gone wrong? Had he fooled himself? Had he let his worries trick him into believing that Agruet was dead?
"Agruet? Please. If you are alive, come to me. Let me know."
Naran placed a hand on Byrek's arm. "He helped us, didn't he?"
Byrek nodded, holding his breath, afraid and hopeful.
"Agruet?"
The god didn't answer.
There was one way to know for sure. It wasn't safe while trying to hide.
But, like he'd told Naran, the gods and the shadows were distracted.
He hesitated. If he was wrong, and Agruet busy, the god wouldn't be pleased. It was an intrusive spell that would temporarily link their minds. An ultimate show of trust between elvin lovers, used so rarely that to some of their young it was a myth. He'd done it with Agruet once before—
Nothing.
There was nothing.
"He's dead," Byrek finally breathed the words. "That doesn't mean we lost, but it doesn't mean we won. Someone mourns out there, but there's no telling who."
"We'll go back in the morning," Naran said. "We'll find out. I don't want to run anymore."
The young man looked ready to face his own death.
Byrek understood that emotion too well.
"Have hope, Naran."
It was hard to do as the night wore on and the mourning of immortals raged around them, but dawn would tell. Dawn would answer all.
Chapter Eighteen –
Ends and Beginnings
Aral laughed into the wind. Being a wizard was amazing!
She and Thera had spent half the night giggling at stray thoughts they'd sent in each other's direction. The effortlessness of it was exhilarating. They'd spent an hour, giddy, dancing around a bonfire naked. The rest weren't doing much better. The absolute power was so heady! They were invincible!
They were alive.
They were going to rule the world.
"We can do anything we want to," Aral said, looking up at the dawn sky with a dreamy smile. There were all these colors she'd never seen before, and she could still see the stars. So many stars hiding above the all the air between her and the edge of the atmosphere. "Anything. We'll make the world a paradise."
Deeg cleared his throat. It had to be to get her attention, because why else would he make such a sound now that he had the power of a god? It made Aral giggle again.
"I hate to bring you back to reality," he said gruffly, "but time is marching on. Look around you."
"I am!" she said expansively, arms outspread to take in the beauty of the dawn.
Deeg's hands gestured lower.
To the carnage around them.
To say the sight was unpleasant was gross in its understatement. Aral sobered at the reminder the light had brought. They'd been in giddy celebration on a field of slaughter.
"We can do anything," Thera echoed Aral's sentiment from moments ago. "We can make this all go away. Wave our hands and fix it all, except the gods. We'll bring our friends back—"
"NO!" Deeg cut her off. "Make monstrosities of your own people if you'd like, but if you turn one dwarf into a puppet of your desire, I'll find out what it takes to kill a wizard as well as a god."
"We're not reanimating the dead," Aral said firmly. "Any dead. Even gods could never get that one right, and without Baedrogan in the world, well, that's a line we shouldn't cross."
"I couldn't agree more." Daichen joined them, pushing his glasses up on his nose. "We need to agree to some rules, or we'll become exactly what we were fighting against."
"First, we should honor the dead." Deeg seemed to be of one mind on that. "My…my son died yesterday in this fight. I was no mage. I came to fight the gods as a way to honorably die. Raev..." He was scowling, but he shook his head and his countenance gentled. "He saved my life. Without that, I'd be among the dead here. I want to see them treated with the honor I'd hope you'd have given me."
The gathered wizards nodded.
"Spread the word," Aral said. "We'll do this by hand. No magic, not yet. We should do this and remember why we were fighting to begin with." She then turned to Deeg, smiled gently, and put a hand on his shoulder. "But look. The sun shines on you, and Deyson is among the dead," she said. "You and your people can move freely again."
He nodded with tears in his eyes, holding his hands out to the light and basking in it. "I'd noticed." His voice was rough. "My son may never see the light of day, but his children will. It is enough."
"We won," she said. "We have countless reasons to mourn, but we won. Don't be defeated. Your son wouldn't have wanted that."
They worked side by side, they collected the dead, they collected stones to create cairns suitable for them to honor all the fallen. It was not a simple task for a single day. But it brought peace to the survivors.
Raev nearly collapsed as he found where Mirren had spirited the trio away to. It was a seaside cave that faced the bay and overlooked what was left of the town.
The town that had been obliterated when the remaining gods had blasted their way to freedom.
Mirren lay at the mouth of the cave. Blood had flowed from her ears, her mouth, her nose, and her eyes, while she'd still been alive. Raev realized she must have been warding them against discovery or intrusion when the magical explosion had reached the cave. If she'd channeled the spell, the backlash would have liquified her brain.
Had liquified her brain, he decided as he kneeled beside her. He closed her eyes and used a whisper of his new magic to keep them closed.
Bretav was dead as well, but he'd expected as much. He'd felt her slipping from the world in a cry of agony and regret. She was finally the mother of a child who lived, as she lay there dying.
Further back into the cave, around a bend, he heard a soft sigh. The midwife was asleep, sitting propped against the cave wall, with the infant in her arms. The woman had taken a beating from the magical explosion, but she was alive.
So was the child.
Raev knelt beside them and the woman opened her eyes, blinking a few times.
"Master Madri," she said, voice rough from sleep. She smiled at him, though it was a pain-filled smile. "You have a niece. Or…a daughter. However you prefer."
Raev nodde
d, staring at the infant in wonder. Legally, she was his own. Bound by blood and by law.
"What is her name?"
The midwife shook her head. "You will have to tell me that, I'm afraid. It all happened so fast…"
"Can I name her Mirren? For the girl who protected you?"
The midwife nodded, tears springing to her eyes, lips clenched a moment. "That would be a wonderful name. I'm sure the girl would be honored." She wiped tears from her eyes as she settled little Mirren in Raev's arms.
Mirren was almost impossibly tiny, Raev thought. Hardly bigger than his own hand.
"I will protect you," he whispered softly as he stared at her sleeping face. "I will keep you from all harm. I will see you healthy and happy, so long as I live." Mirren seemed to glow as he said the words. A trick of dawn's light reaching into the cave, he thought.
Or was it?
He had stolen the power of a god. Why couldn't he do exactly what he said?
"And beyond my death, if it comes, if I can. Mirren Madri, the embodiment of my hope. You will live for a very long time."
"Did we win?"
It wasn't as simple as winning and losing, Davri thought. He looked at Naran. Looked around the tiny room that he and Byrek had hidden in. To his new, heightened senses it smelled like ashes and death. There were echoes of terror etched into the walls. The two of them had huddled in that emotional miasma all night.
Had they won?
"Yes," he said. "You're safe now."
Byrek didn't say a word. He stood and he gave Davri a tight hug.
What could Davri say? He held Byrek close, understanding all that the hug said.
The fear.
The grief.
The sheer relief of seeing each other again.
Davri felt it all as if it were his own. They had a lot to talk about, once they had delivered Naran to the others.
Once they were alone.
"We should go," Davri said reluctantly. "An enchanted path is no place for a reunion."
"Where's Aral?" Naran asked.