Fallen Star

by Ivan Kal

  She cursed as she saw the gardens burning, but the fire had given her a moment of respite. She pulled on her staff and reformed a shield around her, this time activating the ward from her staff. In quick succession, she began activating several wards, anima flowing from her and her staff and out in the air far above them, before a rain of ice fell down. One of the assassins threw an item in the air, and it exploded, vaporizing the ice, and the shock wave staggered both her and the assassins.

  By the time she caught herself the assassins had recovered themselves, and the six remaining ones had grouped up and were rushing her again. She could see their rings trigger and they blurred forward faster than any ordinary person could move, but nowhere near as fast as a spirit artist could. Spell-constructs filled her mind and she lashed out, a wave of earth rolling outward from her position, the assassins moving too fast to react in time. They tripped and fell, rolling around and trying to get their footing. She activated a ward on her ring and a bolt of lightning exploded out of it as she emptied the anima-well attached to it, slamming into one of the assassins and cooking him from the inside. She could’ve used the same spell with her staff, but the spells from the Staff of Storms were far more powerful, and she was far too close to the palace to risk damaging it and perhaps injuring or killing her own people.

  The other five were in the process of standing up, but she swiped her hand and sent another blade of air at them. They scrambled to evade, but two of them were too slow. One lost half of his head and the other attempted to jump over it, losing his legs in the process. She heard a scream explode out of the assassin’s mouth, but then two glowing daggers were flying at her head. Knowing that they had some kind of shield-piercing wards on them she instead focused on another of her rings and activated a spell which raised a wall of earth in front of her. She heard the daggers stab into it, but that at a price: she could no longer see the assassins.

  Quickly, Kyarra placed her hand on the wall and murmured a chant under her breath. Technically chanting and hand gestures were not required for casting spells, only will and anima, but Kyarra was not as practiced with this spell. She finished a few moments later, her anima seeping into the earth and triggering the anima inside of it. The wall shattered, sending pieces of the ground flying outward. Through the hail she saw one of the assassins get caught in it, his shield flaring brightly but failing after several hits. He staggered back and Kyarra spent another of her rings to send a bolt of lightning at the assassin, killing him.

  She looked around, but couldn’t see the remaining two. The garden was on fire and the flames were the only thing that provided any substantial light, painting the entire garden in orange shadows. She closed her fist and then raised it up, opening it and launching a ball of light in the air, illuminating her surroundings.

  Kyarra noticed the assassin too late—he was already swinging at her throat—but then a spear made out of ice stabbed through the assassin’s neck with enough force that his attacked missed. Kyarra glanced aside to see Master Jeressi holding his hand extended, behind him rushed in Commander Atiok and Master Galera followed by palace guards.

  Master Galera raised her arms and made a beckoning gesture, and then the earth exploded as roots surge up and past Kyarra, who turned around to see them impaling the last assassin midair as the man had been trying to jump on her. The guards entered the gardens and surrounded her quickly, while the two mages looked around for other threats. Commander Atiok appeared next to her and looked her over.

  “Your Majesty, are you all right?” he asked, worried.

  “I’m fine, Atiok,” Kyarra said, looking at the carnage around her. Master Galera and Jeressi were fighting to get the fire contained, and she heard guards yelling for water to be brought to help.

  “Are there any more of them?” Atiok asked.

  “I only saw the nine, but there could be. We didn’t notice them until they were just next to us. They had items that hid them from our sight,” Kyarra said, thinking about her guards. She hadn’t been able to save them. She felt rage at the assassins and guilt for fighting to have her guard reduced, but she truly hadn’t thought that she was in any danger. She had obviously been wrong.

  “We should get you somewhere safe, Your Majesty,” Atiok said but she ignored him and walked over to one of the dead assassins.

  Master Galera and Jeressi managed to get the fire under control. Allowing the guards and servants to take over, the two of them joined Kyarra and Atiok next to the corpse. Atiok knelt and pulled the mask off the head. The man’s lifeless eyes stared to the sky, seeing nothing. There were no identifying signs, but there didn’t need to be. Everyone knew what they were.

  “Nightblades,” Master Galera said, almost as if she didn’t believe it. There was no doubt, as they were known all over the world: mage assassins equipped with enough magical items to buy a city.

  Master Galera turned to look at Kyarra, her expression guarded. “Erius couldn’t be so bold, could he?”

  Atiok shook his head. “Once the Council learns of this, the Lashian Empire will have the entire continent turn against them. They might’ve been able to talk their way out last time, but this is too much.”

  Kyarra didn’t say anything, she just stared at the dead man. Her mind was filled with hundreds of thoughts, going so fast that she could barely register them.

  Master Jeressi cursed. “How did they get through the palace wards?”

  The mention of wards reminded her of something else—her keystones and ward stones had been triggered. She quickly focused her mind and realized which ones those were.

  “By the heavens,” she whispered as she turned around, looking out of the garden toward the east. There, in the distance, far in the mountains, she could see a tiny light.

  “You Majesty what is it?” Atiok asked.

  “The pass,” Kyarra whispered. Her wards hadn’t just been triggered—they were gone. They had been erased completely; her ward and keystones were completely dead.

  She focused on her staff and activated a far-seeing spell. Her sight flew out of the garden up to the sky and then quickly toward the pass. Once she was over it she looked down at the carnage. The fortifications on the pass were gone, broken to pieces, which were scattered down the incline leading into the Tourran valley. Her soldiers—both her Guard and mercenary troops—were fighting and dying, some even running away, but Kyarra didn’t focus on them.

  Amid her troops was a man wielding a sword that was on fire: the Sun Blade and its bearer. A blast of ice came down the pass and froze at least a hundred of her soldiers, and Kyarra quickly found the source. A man was standing amidst the runs of the fortifications holding a large staff with both of his arms. The intricate workings of the glyphs all around it glowed and the spherical gem nestled in its head pulsed. She recognized the second Lashian fragment of power—the Staff of Winter—immediately and knew that the man was Grand Magus Orvanon of the Lashian Empire. She felt a chill as cold as the ice that weapon produced grab her heart.

  The Lashian Empire had sent both of its fragment-bearers against Tourran, pitting fragment-bearers against one another for the first time in thousands of years. The implications of that alone made her bones chill.

  “This attack was a distraction. The pass has fallen,” Kyarra said. She tried to think if there was something to do as she watched Lashian troops pass through. She could try to close down the pass with snow, as she had done before, but the last time she had had months to cast the spell. If she tried to forcibly change the weather, she could cause a million unforeseen consequences—and even if she could manage it, the Grand Magus would fight her magic with his. He was older, had more experience than she did. She might have the same amount of power with her fragment, but she wasn’t confident that she would succeed against him.

  She had no time regardless. The Lashian Legions were pushing in through the valley—they would reach Tourran soon, and she would be needed to defend the city.

  Kyarra pulled her sight back and loo
ked at the faces around her all, looking at her to tell them what to do. She was their Queen.

  “Prepare the city for a siege. The Lashian Empire has come to war.”

  CHAPTER TWENTY-SIX

  DANIR

  Present

  Arc Commander Danir Nou Reiff stood at the head of the Lashian Black Sun Legion. the soldiers behind him had readied themselves for battle during the day, but had made sure not to make their intent too obvious. As soon as night fell, they marched up toward the Tourran pass. It took them a few hours to get within attack distance of the fortification, but they managed to remain undetected. Of course, they hadn’t taken an entire Legion; instead they had just taken enough troops for the initial assault of the pass.

  The battle was commanded by the Grand Marshal Darvo Tou Benerof, who was in the command tent a few leagues back. There was no need for him to be on the battlefield as the mages in the Legion would be relaying messages back to him and informing him of what was happening. The attack was supposed to begin any moment now, or rather as soon as Orvanon finished casting his spell. Danir wasn’t sure if that was wise, seeing as the Arashan forces were just a few hours away from the pass, but he didn’t question his orders. He knew that the Arashan had crossed over a few months ago and had marched their army directly here to join the Grand Marshal. They could’ve waited, but there was no point—the Lashian Legions were fully capable of taking down the pass themselves, and the Arashan would be here for the siege of Tourran.

  Danir glanced at Grand Magus Orvanon, who was currently standing next to Danir holding his staff in two hands and with his eyes closed, preparing the spell.

  Danir felt calm. He had fought in many wars for his Emperor, mostly on the eastern front, but he had to admit that those wars had never really excited him. He bore a fragment of power—ordinary soldiers and even mages posed little threat to him unless they amassed great numbers, and the Lashian Empire’s enemies rarely had more troops than they did.

  Now, the calm was tinged with something that felt strangely like anticipation, something that Danir hadn’t felt in a while. Tourran had a fragment-bearer of its own, and no fragment-bearer had fought another in a long time. Danir wondered what it would be like. The true reason why he felt anticipation was because he knew that the strange warrior he had fought months ago was probably in Tourran. Danir was looking forward to a rematch. He had never before in his life been pushed so far in the use of his fragment. The man had no fragment of his own, which made his strength all the more impressive. Danir had spoken a bit with the strange woman from another world that followed the Arashan. She had always seemed arrogant to Danir, and hadn’t wanted to interact with others much, but she had talked about the man, Kai Zhao Vin.

  Danir learned a lot about him, that he used to be even more powerful before being punished for rebelling against the Arashan. Danir could hardly imagine anyone having more power than what the man had demonstrated during their battle, but he wished to know more. The way that the man and Ming-Li used power intrigued him. It was so different, yet so powerful.

  A part of him was disappointed that he couldn’t learn it.

  Grand Magus Orvanon opened his eyes and looked at Danir. “I’m ready,” he said.

  Danir glanced at the mage officer who stood next to them, and the man activated one of his magical devices. A few moments later, he got a response. “The assassins have been given the sign to attack. You may begin whenever you wish.”

  Orvanon nodded and raised his staff, channeling an ungodly amount of anima. The air above the Tourran fortifications suddenly cooled, and then a moment later massive pikes of ice fell from the sky, piercing the towers and blowing them apart, sending stone flying in all directions. A mist started spreading from the pikes, lowering the temperature substantially. Wards in the fortifications, those that survived the initial assault, activated, and Danir could see people moving around the battlements getting ready for a battle.

  Danir summoned his sword and pointed it at the fortifications. He activated the ward and channeled power from the fragment through it. He could see the defenders cast magic lights and send them down to illuminate the army that was at their doorstep, and could see their archers ready themselves to take aim—but they weren’t fast enough. His fragment of power’s spell charged fully, and he activated it.

  A pillar of blue hot flame left his blade and hit the mist surrounding the fortifications. The cold air was rapidly heated and expanded, causing an explosion that rocked the mountains around them. A few moments later, the dust settled, and the only thing left of the fortifications was rubble.

  A cheer went out behind them, and then horns were sounded. The Legion charged forward, climbing up to the pass and over the rubble of the enemy fortification. Orvanon and Danir stayed for a moment, gathering their breath. Using a fragment of power took a great amount of will, and it did take its toll.

  They watched as their forces passed through the pass, and then they started hearing sounds of battle. Hearing that, they knew that it was time for them to join their forces, and they started walking up and into the pass itself. Danir climbed over the debris of the fortifications along with more marching soldiers from the Legion. As they reached the other side and looked down onto the path that led into the Tourran valley, Danir gazed upon the battle. Tourran had some mercenary companies in addition to their guard and Danir could see them fighting down near the wooden fortification that surrounded the mercenaries camps. Both the mercs and the Tourran Guard were holding off the Legion, but only barely—and as more and more troops marched in from the other side of the pass, the worse and worse odds they had of surviving.

  Orvanon raised his staff and pointed it down at the enemy army. A blast of cold left it and hit the enemy’s flank, nearly freezing them to death. Danir and Orvanon had fought in many wars together, so they already had a good understanding of each other’s strengths. Danir activated a spell on his sword and a cloak of fire sprang around him. He jumped down the incline and flew over his own troops to land among the enemy as Orvanon remained at the top to support from afar.

  He cut down three enemy soldiers before they even realized the danger. Then he sent a wave of fire in front of him, engulfing and burning a dozen more. Mercenary mages cast their spells at him, but he simply stepped aside, letting them miss, or in some cases hit their own. Quickly, he jumped forward and closed the distance with them. He cut the first woman’s head off, then stabbed the man next to her in the chest. Their wards attempted to activate but his fragment broke them apart before they could even attempt to shield against his attack. A few of the mages attempted to run away, but Danir didn’t let them—he swiped at the air in front of him with his sword and sent a blade of fire through them. He turned around and found a different target before his attack even hit, burning them to death.

  The enemy armies were breaking. He could see in their faces the terror as they realized what they were fighting against. Lashian mages rained down fire on them, Orvanon unleashed devastating attacks from the pass, and Danir was among them, killing with fire.

  The mercenaries ran away, with only a few of them staying along with the Tourran Guard. Danir was impressed—he hadn’t faced many people who chose to stay and fight when they knew they were facing a fragment-bearer. He respected that.

  He flashed across the ground, leaving burning footsteps behind him as he moved among them, cutting faster than they could react, killing dozens in moments. As a comet made out of ice smashed on the barracks to his left, shaking the ground, Danir jumped high in the air and unleashed a charged pillar of fire at the ice scattered among the pieces of the broken building. Another explosion set off, destroying any type of defensive structures that the enemy could use to prolong the fight.

  The Black Sun Legion pushed from behind him, one long formation of shields moving forward and mowing down anything in front of them as their mages rained fire from behind them. It had been several years since Danir had seen a Lashian Legion in action, and it was still a
n amazing sight.

  Finally, the enemy broke completely, the last of the ones who stayed died. Danir smiled and looked down in the dark valley now bathed in orange. The fire from his battle gave off some limited light, but he didn’t really need it to see. His sword allowed him to sense heat, and all living things were warm. He could feel every enemy running.

  A battalion of cavalry galloped through the gap that the infantry had made and ran down the incline into the valley. Danir checked the magical device on his belt and saw that he had new orders. He pulled the device off and put it near his ear. He listened to the whispered sentence—his new orders.

  Danir pulled his cloak of fire over himself again and jumped forward, running after the enemy. He quickly reached the cavalry and then overtook them. A few moments later he reached the first of the runners, and he started killing. The cavalry thundered behind him and cut down anyone that Danir missed, but he was moving farther and farther away, killing even those who heard and saw him coming and got on their knees, begging for mercy, surrendering.

  He jumped over a small shallow river and onto a clearing just next to an unsuspecting mage. Slashing with his sword, he took the man’s head off. His companions noticed and turned with expressions of horror on their faces, and Danir raised his sword getting ready to cut them down.

  And then he reacted faster than he ever had in his entire life, his sword’s ward picking up a fast-moving heat signature just a fraction of a moment before it reached him. His sword turned into a block and something slammed into him with such force that he was pushed back and down, cracking the ground beneath him and making a crater where he stood.

  He looked up at the eyes of his attacker and smiled.

  CHAPTER TWENTY-SEVEN

  VIN

  Present

  Vin sat in the dark of the buried ruin. He had spoken a bit with Kyarra about them, and from what they could tell they were remains of some ancient city that used to be here long before Tourran. Not much was known about it, nor was there much in the ruins that could reveal more. The walls were all cracked with age, and only a small portion could actually be explored. The rest was buried in the ground.