The light brought the room into vivid detail, and the constable saw Rella standing there.
“Who? How? You’re here, yet not!” exclaimed the succubus.
“It’s time to make a choice, Ix’zizzixtrim,” the young [Oracle] intoned.
“What choice?” Zizzy moaned. “I failed. I was too slow, and he managed to trigger an evolution into something even stronger. Wouldn’t the Paladins serve you better now?”
“They’re much slower than you. They don’t have a chance to catch him now. But would you still take him, had you the chance?”
Zizzy flapped her remaining wing with a belated sigh of resignation. “Of course, but it will be days before I regenerate,” she groaned, indicating the amputated limb, “even if I feed first.”
“Enough self-loathing, demon!” Rella barked. She thrust her hand forward, the dream-limb sliding smoothly into the constable’s chest. The succubus’ lips parted in a soundless gasp as Rella’s hand took hold of the chains binding the demon’s heart, forcing her to lock eyes with the [Oracle]. Her new eye, in its wisdom, showed Rella exactly how to loosen the chains—and in the span of a heartbeat, her geas lay half undone. “Were you unbound, would you still pursue him?”
The succubus strained and flailed, clawing at Rella’s arm in blind panic, until what Rella had said impressed itself upon her. Zizzy’s arms went limp around Rella’s, and she licked suddenly dry lips. “You can’t possibly mean—?”
“I mean exactly what I said, Constable. I’ve made my Choice. It’s time for you to make yours.”
The [Oracle] twisted the last link with a deft gesture, and runes the color of weeks-old blood drew themselves into scarlet ribbons around the succubus. Rella withdrew her arm and stepped back, letting Zizzy collapse to the floor. The demon’s missing wing regrew in fits and starts under the guiding hand of her unbound nature, as a pulsing drumbeat rose to fill the room.
Her broken back healed itself in a series of grotesque snaps and cracks, wrenching sobs from the demon as she found herself wracked with changes she hadn’t felt in an age. Infernal light shone from her eyes as the drumbeat grew to a physical thing. Her arms lengthened into inhumanity, hands elongating into vicious talons. She looked down at them in wonder as her veins began to pulse, glowing a hellish orange as the fires, long dormant, once again rose inside her. As her Warden uniform burned to cinders, Zizzy let out a scream, half in agony, and half in demonic fury.
What rose moments later was not Zizzy, the succubus constable of Stormbreak.
“Make your choice,” the [Oracle] demanded. “Ix’zizzixtrim the Unbound—choose now how your Story will be remembered!”
“Not…one…more,” the towering figure growled, muscles jumping and quivering. “He takes not one more!”
The [Oracle] regarded the enraged demon before her, smiling bloodlessly. One human eye and one starlit orb met the challenge of a pair of demonic slits and held them fast.
“Then, rise!” she Commanded. “[Crimson Ruin], [Defiler’s Nemesis], rise and take wing!”
The roof of the building erupted, throwing masonry and massive chunks of wood into the air as Zizzy took flight, hurling herself skyward on massive beats of fiery wings. As the vision faded, Rella could hear screams and shouts of fear and panic, but those would pass in time.
She swam back to the waking world for the span of a few heartbeats, long enough to feel anew the searing pain in her replaced eye, and to see three panicked faces above her. Two golden-haired girls stood to one side, terrified, their eyes wide and shining. A handsome young man with a familiarly crooked nose stood to the other, his eyes dry, but no less shocked. All three were spattered with blood.
Then, sleep took her—and this time, she did not dream.
Chapter 28: Crimson Ruin
Lord-Commander Terrick stood on the uppermost balcony of Wardenholt, the Warden’s traditional headquarters, looking down over the city of Stormbreak. A nervous pall lay over the entire city, an aura of uncertain dread over what was to come. From his vantage point he could see where several rows of tenements had recently been demolished and the rubble cleared away to expose the lines of an ancient section of the Stormbreak Array. Over the course of the two centuries since the last time the entire array had been needed, the citizens had forgotten it, and construction had spread atop its expanse. Now that the time had come again, all of it had to be cleared away. Notwithstanding the fact that charging the array might destroy the buildings anyway, it had to be inspected before the mages of the Hold could risk reactivating it. The lower offices of the Wardens had been awash with complaints for weeks, and Terrick had been prepared to issue standing orders to arrest the angriest ringleaders. Such threats proved unnecessary, once the Storm Breakers completed their assessment and began linking the array together.
Outrage gave way to awestruck fear as swirls of lightning began to coalesce above the nodes, and the tenuously leashed display took the will out of the protesters. Even those shopkeepers who hadn’t been involved with the protests edged their wares away from the roiling vortices. Now that the array was gathering energy, Terrick could begin to make out the pattern of the enchantment laying beneath the stones. Though not a mage himself, his class dealt with Mana enough that he had some limited grasp, and even to his half-opened senses, the air seemed to hum with ancient energy—and he knew it was far worse for the actual spellcasters.
As awe-inspiring as the work the Storm Breakers were doing was, no less so was what they hoped to counter by their efforts. The western sky was filled with grim, black clouds, lit from within by dread power in a riot of every imaginable color. It was rare for a storm to be more than a dot on the horizon, a far-off challenge to the Storm Breakers’ power. Lesser firings of the array were usually sufficient to shatter the cloud formations into smaller, far less dangerous squalls that dissipated long before they threatened even the least-equipped merchant convoy or fisherman fleet.
History attested to more threatening storms, of course; though the city’s archives were spotty and incomplete, with only scattered clues as to the storm systems’ origin, it was obvious to anyone caring to look that they were by no means natural. Appearing every year from beyond the western horizon, they waxed and waned with the seasons, growing most powerful in the summer, and fading into nothingness with winter’s chill. Something drove them out of the west, far beyond the sight of even the most daring scouts. Rumor and superstition offered a thousand tales to explain them, but such speculation was a luxury the Breakers could ill afford, especially now.
Terrick looked down, not at the city below, but at a silver disk in his palm. Slightly larger across than the gold coins that mediated trade in the merchants’ sector below, it was inset with a wickedly gleaming red gem that lent the whole an uncomfortable warmth. It represented a contingency, one he hoped would never be needed in his lifetime. But what we want to be and what comes to pass are ever at odds. He closed his fingers around the disk, the thought like bitter poison in his mind as he tucked it into a pouch on his belt.
“Sir!”
The shout and sound of footsteps broke him from his reverie, and he turned to see his secretary approach, clutching a notebook under one arm. “Latest reports are in by way of the old semaphore towers, sir!”
“Thank you, Megyn,” Terrick responded. “The array is simply drawing too much magic around the island to scry through. How bad is it?”
His assistant wore a confused expression and didn’t respond immediately, a sign the news was different than either had been expecting. It had been several weeks since the constable had vanished in a welter of fire and mayhem, and Terrick had been silently dreading reports of slaughter and bloodshed at the hands of another monster alongside The Defiler. Sightings had been sporadic and impossible to confirm, villages all over the interior of the island sending messages telling of bursts of flame in the night and screams in the wilderness. An unbound demon had the potential to be only marginally better than The Defiler, and many had been T
errick’s nightmares where he ended up having to put Zizzy down.
“There’ve been no murders even remotely resembling The Defiler’s work since she fought him at Ridgewater. There was a copycat near the Pine Lodge crossroads, but the lieutenant stationed at the village has experience with tracking magics and sniffed out the bastard. He’s on his way to the Pillar after confessing.”
Terrick only just managed to stop himself from sagging in relief. “So she’s keeping him away from more victims instead of rampaging on her own.”
“That’s the good news, sir.” Megyn seemed reluctant to continue. The girl was newly classed and not yet accustomed to working as his [Secretary], but Terrick knew one couldn’t level easily without actually doing the things aligned with their class archetype, so he softened his tone to put her at ease.
“I’m not one to kill the messenger, Megyn. Just breathe, and finish your report.”
The young woman closed her eyes and took a breath, then glanced down at the notebook she held.
“Reports from Highfort Ruins confirm its destruction. Mages sent to investigate reported substantial traces of hellfire burned into the stone. The bridge over Thunderfall Gap will need repairs as well.” She glanced up at Terrick, then back down to her report. “Commander Danram was close enough to three of the sightings to give us more; he sends word from the Pillar that he believes she’s wearing him down. But, sir…he also thinks he’s heading for the Isle.” She fidgeted in place, looking up.
Terrick nodded his agreement with the analysis. “Even the non-mages and classless can feel the array for hundreds of miles. He has to be hungry for magic, and the central array must be like a second sun to his senses.”
“I thought the array drew on the ley lines beneath the island, sir…”
“It does,” Terrick acknowledged, “but it can’t use that magic while it’s down there. The nodes of the array act like a siphon, bringing it up and concentrating it into something the Breakers can actually use. A [Mage-Eater] couldn’t touch a ley line, but once the magic is on the surface, they could feed on it unimpeded.”
The storm-shadowed skies flashed a brilliant gold several times in rapid succession, and even the dampening enchantments around Stormbreak Hold were insufficient to completely muffle the sound. Low rumbles shook the air, felt in the chest more than heard by the ears. The array was approaching full charge, and the Breakers had to keep the swirling energies balanced while the power gathered. At least, that’s what Terrick assumed. His own knowledge of actual magecraft was largely academic outside the enchantments his class used, as he had no use for outwardly-directed spells.
“The last sighting was at Thunderfall, near the bridge,” Megyn continued after a moment. “It’s only three days by cart, so he could be in the city already!”
Terrick rubbed his chin, thoughtful for several long moments. “I don’t think they’ve reached the city yet,” he disagreed. “Both the [Mage-Eater] and the constable would gain strength from the magic being drawn into the city, and noticeably so. I doubt they’ll be able to hide when they arrive, either one of them.” They fell silent, looking out over the city.
The evening sun backlit the dark clouds to the west, an approaching wall the city had been dreading for months. The sky over the city itself was clear, but high winds drove waves across the harbor, and whipped between the buildings and down the streets. The island’s fishing fleets and merchant vessels had been pulled into drydocks, where space was available and the captains had coin to pay, but many were stuck in the harbor. Only the truly insane would risk a run to the mainland with such a storm bearing down. Many ships had been put to anchor in the bay, sails stripped, and sometimes even unstepping the masts. The Breakers had held the storms at bay for over a millennium, but the fear was palpable, despite their track record for reliability.
Megyn began to fidget, waiting for him to continue or dismiss her, as he stared out over the city. He turned, gesturing for her to follow him into the Wardens’ offices. “Looks to be a long night. Time to brief the night shift before they relieve the current guards.”
“All our mages are helping the Breakers,” his secretary said. “We’ve deputized just about everyone in good standing with the courts who has melee skills and experience to guard the nodes while the Breakers charge the array.”
Terrick strode into the central hall of the Wardens’ office, keeping his face calm as officers and deputies of Stormbreak’s different districts turned to face the lord-commander. “I’ll keep it short,” he said simply, not needing to raise his voice. “We expect The Defiler at any moment. There’s no way to predict where he may show up in the city, but it’s almost certain the constable will be right on his heels, if the reports from the rest of the island are anything to go by.”
He looked at the assembled officers and deputies, veterans and rookies both. “Do not, under any circumstance, try to cast a spell at the [Mage-Eater]. Enhancements and self-augmentation should be safer, but rely on physical skills and abilities as much as you can.”
One of the older sergeants spoke up, asking the question the younger and less experienced Wardens were afraid to voice. “Rules of engagement, sir?”
His response was swift and certain. “Kill on sight. Do not try to detain. We’re to put him down if possible, and keep him away from civilians to the best of our abilities.”
“And the constable? Rumor has it she’s broken her bindings.”
“Let me deal with Constable Zizzy. If she’s capable of being reasoned with, there shouldn’t be any issue. If she’s truly gone berserk…then there’s not much we can do but be as quick and merciful as possible. She deserves that much for her service.”
More than a few of those assembled expressed relief at the last statement. Many had joined the Wardens after Zizzy had saved them from some disaster or another, Terrick included. The possibility of having to fight someone who had been a fixture of so many lives wasn’t something the Wardens could countenance lightly. After dismissing them to their duties, the lord-commander headed for his own office.
A young boy waited by the door to his chambers—a messenger, judging by his well-worn boots and letter-pouch on his belt. He seemed extremely anxious, but too fearful of the Wardens to interrupt. Terrick stopped before the door and smiled kindly at the boy.
“You have a message, son? We don’t bite without cause.”
“Not scared of Wardens, sir; the Temple sent me. It’s Father Janim, the Diviner. They say he’s trying to do an Augury, but he’s too old!”
Terrick’s heart skipped a beat at the boy’s proclamation. “Go,” he said crisply. “I’ll be right there.” The boy took off running for the main doors, and the lord-commander continued toward his office. Shoving the door open, he threw on his coat and adjusted his sword belt. No carts or horses traversed the high streets of the upper district; the flask he snatched up from his desk contained a restorative brew to help him with the sprint he would need to make. Megyn raised a hand to ask him something on his way back out, but sat back and remained quiet when she saw his face as he passed the reception area.
He kept himself calm all the way down the upper street terrace, far above the city below. A Mana-lift transfer station allowed passage between the Wardens’ cliffside tower and the upper district, and what seemed like an eternity passed entirely too slowly while he waited for the platform to cross the gap. Janim! What are you thinking? You old fool!
His thoughts were bitter. Terrick and Janim had been like brothers once, pulled out of a burning warehouse by a certain constable…one hereditarily immune to fire. She’d shielded over a dozen children to bring them out of their own personal hell, one of her earlier accomplishments after the council had finally agreed to allow her to serve the city in exchange for feeding her; a bargain Terrick had felt Zizzy had repaid the city thousands of times over.
He put his thoughts aside as the platform slid to a standstill with a quiet whisper, locking in place on the city side of the gap in the cli
ffs. He started with a light jog to loosen up old muscles that, he had to admit, didn’t get as much exercise as they needed at his age, then relaxed into a steady run. The streets were deserted, a combination of the nervous anticipation that had infected the city, and the late hour. The glowing runic nodes every few blocks cast an eerie, golden light and threw sections of the street into deep shadow. He crossed a footbridge that led to a fork: the right-hand road hugged the cliffside and led into the lowest residential section of the Upper District, where Zizzy kept house; the left cut through a gap in the cliff, the forked tines of Stormbreak Hold visible on the other side, arcs of golden lightning rippling up their length.
Turning into the gap, Terrick finally used a Skill. [Phase Dash] cost him a healthy amount of Stamina, but closed merchant stalls and shuttered houses passed in a blur and a rush of wind. The sound barely registered in his ears, the familiar effect of his skill shielding him from being buffeted by the air as it was shunted aside to allow him passage. Trained mages could formulate spells with similar effects, but the inherent skill was a rare one he had learned while working as a delivery boy in his own youth before gaining his Class. Continued use of [Phase Dash] brought him closer and closer to his destination.
The temple itself was layered with protective wards and had its own guards; the two at the door drew their blades partially from their sheaths as Terrick appeared out of thin air. People milled about just inside the gates, as did several more of the temple guards. They weren’t career soldiers, merely older, retired classers who’d taken an easy posting for quiet work and the meager stipend; they didn’t seem to know what to do about a crisis that wasn’t an actual attack. An older priestess sat on the steps, her saddened expression telling Terrick all he didn’t want to know.
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