by James Duvall
Darkness fell over the clearing and for a moment Sapphire's heart felt like it had been skewered by sharp blades of ice. Had the dusk tracer found her already? No, it was too slow for that, drifting over like a fast-moving cloud. Sapphire flattened herself against the ground as several dozen rifles all cracked in the span of a few seconds, scattering men and leaving a half dozen of them screaming and clutching at bloody wounds. Several fell and did not move at all. Chaos reigned, men running for their rifles. A few were foolish enough to stand their ground with pistols, firing at the distant airship in vain. Using the blinding radiance of the sun, four smaller vessels fell free of the larger one. Sapphire could hear the whir of small glidestone engines long before she saw them.
* * *
Timothy grabbed the length of rope whipping uncontrolled at the base of the swooping Sparrow's sail. Wrapping it twice around his arm he threw all of his might against it, snapping the sail tight for just a moment. The Sparrow bucked as it righted, then listed toward starboard as the wind caught the sail and wrenched Timothy's shoulder. Again the sail flapped loose and uncontrolled. Aebyn rushed in and seized the rope in his beak. The little ship bucked again, diving and tossing as through it were caught in a hurricane. The pilot brought the Sparrow in low and fast, giving the enemy little warning before the riflemen loosed a disorganized volley. The Stormbreaker's Sparrows came down on the vault with such great speed that for a moment it seemed like all four might crash into the field, ending the assault in an inglorious cacophony of breaking timbers and shattering glidestones. Two riflemen on the prow fired, downing any fool brave enough to stand firm against the Sparrows. Two of the Sparrows strafed the bulk of Skalde's men, firing on those running for their weapons. The others touched down, Timothy's men forming up in unorganized rows to advance on the vault. Aebyn rose swiftly into the sky, using the sun to blind riflemen eager for a shot at him.
Skalde's men returned fire with rifles and pistols. In the tumult Timothy heard someone behind him grunt in pain. Another volley cracked and men on both sides fell. Timothy dropped two men with his pistols, but kept his last in reserve. By then the advantage of the surprise had been spent, Skalde's men had found their rifles and their courage and were returning fire en masse. Timothy took cover behind a tree, one bullet hitting it with a heavy smack. From his position he could see two crewmen hiding behind a cart they'd turned over. One reloaded while the other peered through the spokes of the wheel for a shot.
***
Sapphire sensed Aelengy a few seconds before he broke through the canopy, swift as an arrow loosed toward Aebyn's courageous heart. His wings trailed wind so cold it chilled to the bone. He carried the full fury of the night with him, come to crush out Aebyn's Light. There was something unordinary about this dusk tracer, something that reached into the place where nightmares were born. She could see the fear in Aebyn's eyes and the way his head popped up and his wings tightened. For a fleeting moment Sapphire felt she could see a Light dim in Aebyn, like a candle buffeted by the wind.
What was that...
Aebyn desperately twisted out of Aelengy's path, the dusk tracer passing him like a freight train rumbling off its tracks and threatening to carry him away. Sapphire hopped into the air and darted into the low branches of a tall tree, watching for her moment. Aelengy circled back quickly. Slower now, he had more maneuverability in the air. Aebyn played a desperate game, trying to stay a few feet ahead of the much larger gryphon's claws. In so many ways it was like watching a cub trying to defend itself from a predatory adult. Aebyn was so much smaller and his inexperience showed in the way he tested attacks against his foe only to have them expertly smacked aside. They clashed quickly and frequently, most clashes ending with Aebyn twisting and scratching his way free, trading small hits against Aelengy for a series of bloody wounds. Each encounter left him a little slower. Eventually Aelengy would strike a devastating blow and the lighthound's life would end.
Sapphire summoned her focus.
Aebyn hung suspended in the air, panting. Light flickered across his wings and he launched his most ferocious attack yet. Magical light danced across his talons as he slammed into Aelengy, claws ripping at Aelengy's chest while his beak sought the dusk tracer's vulnerable throat. Aelengy grappled him, pinning the lighthound's furious wings and diving. Aebyn realized too late the mistake he had made. His screech of impotent rage made Sapphire turn her ears away. Aelengy bore him to the ground, releasing him and pulling up a heartbeat before slamming into the ground alongside his prey. Aebyn's wings unfurled but not quickly enough. He was upside down and had far too much momentum. He slammed into the ground on his back, flipping over twice before landing on one shoulder and sliding to a very sudden stop against the base of a tree.
Aelengy landed a few paces away and moved quickly toward him to finish the lighthound off before it could recover. So eager was he that he never looked up. He did not see Sapphire as she steeled her nerves and whispered a silent prayer. He did not see her dive. He did not see the jagged shard of ice she had summoned.
Sapphire screamed as she drove the shard of ice into Aelengy's neck. Hot blood spattered against her. Aelengy's furious roar made her pin back her ears as she clung to blood-slick ice. Aelengy swiped blindly at her, tossing her aside. Desperately she scrambled to get her legs beneath her, several scratches singing throbbing songs of pain. Magic surged around her as she reached for every bit of power she could muster to defend herself. The world righted itself. Aelengy was bleeding badly, clutching a deep gash on his neck. His eyes had turned black as night, pupils tiny pinpoints of red light like droplets of blood.
Shielding popped up around Sapphire with a snap and hum.
“Do you think that will save you...” Aelengy asked, his voice cold and quiet. Blood dripped from his beak, running down to join his gory wound.
Sapphire nodded curtly once, not daring to open her mouth to speak lest her voice tremble in fear. Aelengy looked her over, then turned his head slowly toward Aebyn's limp form. Gravely wounded, dripping blood from his chest and forelegs, he started toward Aebyn with quiet, deliberate strides, the very figure of death brought horrifically into the light of the mortal world. Sapphire bounded over between them, her shield radiating light as she braced for an impact that did not come.
“No,” she said, her voice trembling with rage. The force of the word surprised her and stopped Aelengy mid-stride. “No!”
Aelengy stopped, looked at her, looked at the still-breathing shape of Aebyn, then turned and walked into the mistwood, one wing dragging and blood marring the ground with every labored step. The forest swallowed up his shadowy form.
Sapphire stood still as a statue, watching where the dusk tracer had gone until she was certain he would not soon return. At last she let her shield fall and was met by cool droplets of rain beginning to fall. It was over, she had won. She looked to the open sky above her, canopied in dark gray clouds. Taking a deep breath she tried to steady her nerves, her heart still pounded in her chest at a frantic pace.
The Lighthound was a different problem. She needed to determine how badly he was hurt. When she began her examination he was breathing deep and slow as though asleep. He shuddered when she lifted a wing, but did not stir. Not a good sign. Oddly, mist had formed up around him, as though leeching up from the ground itself. Carefully she lifted an eyelid open. For a heartbeat she thought she saw a thin wisp of purple light flow out like smoke. Then something happened that she had never expected in her wildest dreams. Dawn materialized at the wounded lighthound's side. For a moment there was only silence. Sapphire stared at Dawn slackjawed while his eyes lit up with disbelief and then pure, unbridled elation.
“Sapphire...” Dawn said, his voice choked and eyes watery.
Sapphire darted forward and pressed her forehead to Dawn's. There was no sensation of course, the illusion of his presence going to a thin misty form as she disrupted the edge. The gesture felt right, however, and when she sat back down they both just smiled at each ot
her, exhausted and worn and relieved, one sitting in a distant tower surrounded by books and ancient stones, the other sitting in a forest far from home as the gradually building rain washed the blood from her fur. It was a pure and precious moment, the memory of which would stay with them for the rest of their lives.
Chapter 35
Faralon's Vault
The Vault, Isla Merindi, Pendric Shard
The creature, robed in fire, was placed then as guardian of the magical world.
The River of Light
Timothy called for Aebyn several times, but his words were lost in the din of gunfire and the shouting and cursing of many men. Shouting from behind drew Timothy's attention to the south. Two airships, both roughly the size of the Stormbreaker had just come into view from the direction of Nothnor. A quick check with the spyglass confirmed Timothy's fears. Cahen's flag flew high on each mast and beneath it was the King's colors.
“Royal navy!” Timothy shouted. “Fall back!”
Retreat seemed an awful thing, but if the soldiers joined Skalde's side in this conflict the Stormbreaker crew would be decimated within minutes. The only option was to retreat before the soldiers could deploy their own Sparrows and land troops on the ground. Wherever Willoughby was, he was not here with Skalde.
Immediately the crewmen began to respond to Timothy's shouted commands, falling back to his position. Shots were still exchanged, but far fewer as both sides took a moment to reorganize and take a breather. Tapping a small bit of his magic, Timothy fired a signaling fireball into the air, giving Torvald the sign to retreat, lest the Stormbreaker be fired upon.
Then something happened that Timothy had not counted on. Aebyn appeared, limping and dragging his wings. Since the lighthound had left, the nature of the fight had changed. The Stormbreaker crew had fallen back and so Aebyn emerged in an open area very near the remaining bulk of Skalde's small army. Immediately rifles swiveled his direction. Timothy shouted a warning. Aebyn had already realized his error and took evasive action. He sought the only cover available and dove into the open doorway of the vault. Two luminarians chased after him, the illusory orange one hanging back and drawing fire. Dozens of bullets found their way through his form, disrupting it but causing the creature no harm. Seeing an opportunity, Timothy sprinted to the vault and worked his way around the wall until he could feel the gap of the doorway with one hand. A bullet tore into the ground near his feet. He could hear another ricochet off the vault's rocky exterior, little bits of broken stone clattering down after the hit. He rounded the corner as quickly as he could, pointing his last pistol but not firing it. Gunfire came, but the sound all faded away as he stepped through the doorway and found himself somewhere else entirely.
There were shelves of books all around, stacked against the walls and stuffed into shelves with little bits of paper sticking out here and there. Some of the shelves were broken. Colorful leatherbound volumes sagged against each other. Others had tumbled onto the floor, pages laying open and unread for so long that the letters were faded beneath a thick film of dust. Timothy blew the dust from an open volume on a podium and found the words were still visible, though the pages had grown yellow and the ink had turned a reddish brown.
Amidst the clutter was a desk so buried under books that Timothy almost did not see it for what it was. He might have missed it entirely were it not for the luminarian hurriedly digging through drawers. This, Timothy guessed, was the female that had taken Faralon's journal and belonged to the amulet that Aebyn had found. She had recovered that and was hurriedly calling to her illusory companion in quick falfarren words that came as gibberish to Timothy's ears.
“Skalde is in there...” Aebyn whispered, his voice coming from so near that Timothy jumped. Aebyn had come up beside him and extended a weak talon to point into a dark archway leading out of the professorial office and into an adjoining room.
“Are you hurt badly?” Timothy asked, taking a knee and studying his friend's wounded wings. Aebyn winced and hissed sharply as he found a tender spot.
“Stop that!” Aebyn hissed quietly. “The mission, Timothy.”
“Willoughby is not here.”
“We stand in what can only be the ruins of Forrander University... Donovan Skalde cannot be allowed to take what Professor Faralon hid here.”
Through the dark alcove came an audible click. Old hinges creaked in protest and a figure hunched over a box that shone with purple light. Timothy took his last remaining pistol in hand and fired at the figure. The bullet flattened against Skalde's shield and sank to the ground with a tinny clink.
“I know you are in there,” Skalde said calmly. “I have what I came for. Leave this place and I might find it beneath me to hunt you down and kill you one by one.”
“You killed Christopher Trammel,” Timothy accused. He stepped into the alcove and quickly ducked inside where it was dark, unwilling to offer Skalde such an easy shot.
“And you killed Samuel Raimes,” Skalde responded. “Which do you think the world misses more dearly? The answer is a simple one, Mr. Binks. The firstborn son of an incompetent fool and a bridger barely worthy of his own title. Time marches on in their absence and the world is no worse for their passing. Come, come and see what I have wrought. It is something truly fantastic.”
Skalde summoned a small ball of light, illuminating the dark antechamber. At the center was a chest, the lock popped and the lid laying open. Here was the source of the eery purple glow, dozens of small stone coins set with tiny amethyst shards that gleamed with an otherworldly light.
“These are the key to the future of magic in our kingdom, Mr. Binks. It is a travesty that the first to behold these in so many centuries is a common thief like yourself, but I would have you pay attention as this is a momentous occasion. With these I can at long last be reunited with my brethren, scattered across the world these last many hundred years.”
“I came only for my man, Skalde,” Timothy said.
“Unimportant,” Skalde answered sharply. “Have you ever once stopped to think about the perversion of logic it is that you came here armed for war for the sake of one man's life? I suppose you might wrap it all up in a neat little ball of vengeance and think yourself just, but how many of your crew perished this day for the sake of a dead man and an old sailor well past his prime?”
“I...”
“Don't bother,” Skalde said, circling the box. The light blue luminarian followed at his feet. Her silver eye glinted as it caught the glare of Skalde's orb of light. Timothy could see a deep, deep hatred cross her face as she looked up at her master.
“When they built Forrander they built the Arclorus, thinking it would revolutionize magic, but they had the wrong idea. We were called mages in those days. They felt themselves enlightened and so used the Arclorus to bring weakness into the fold. It was an emotional decision, rushed to out of a zeal to see the university grow in number and not in prestige. Then the world was broken. Perhaps it would not have been if they had embraced a grander vision.”
Skalde looked at Timothy and sighed. “Put that thing away,” he said. Timothy tucked his pistol into his jacket. The shot had been fired and Skalde would certainly not give him an opportunity to reload.
There was something about the air here that inspired Timothy. He felt magic collect readily in his hand and he summoned a ball of fire more easily than he had ever managed since the first that came so unexpectedly.
Skalde looked at the fireball in disgust.
“That,” he said, jabbing an accusatory finger at the spectacle, “is exactly why the Arclorus should never have been used this way. Murderers and thieves learning magic while great men like Nicholas Darenvar grow old and perish. All so that seven old men could feel enlightened and self-righteous by bringing magic to the common man. That does not win wars, Mr. Binks.”
Timothy threw the fireball at Skalde. It splashed against his shield, flaring brightly until Skalde's counter spell nullified it entirely. Skalde laughed. With a feral
cry, the silver-eyed luminarian sprang upon him, shrieking and cursing his name. Skalde's shield vanished as he flung the luminarian out, ripping the sickly green amulet from her neck as he did. She screamed and then went silent. Green flames rose up all around her like the clawing hands of the inferno.
Another fireball brushed across Skalde's shoulder as he ducked out of the way, returning fire with a blast of cold wind that made Timothy's body ache to the bone and left rime and frost encrusted on the walls and floor all around.
Aebyn screeched, charging Skalde despite his injuries. It was the opportunity Timothy needed. Closing the distance in a few seconds, Timothy filled his hands with fire and flung it all toward Skalde's face. The much more experienced mage nullified it with a counter spell, just as Timothy expected. The blinding flash gave him a few heartbeats; all he needed. He slammed into Donovan Skalde's chest and drove a dagger up hard into the man's throat. Wide-eyed, Skalde clutched at the dagger. Blood welled up around it, staining his shirt. Skalde stumbled backward, groping behind him for support. For a moment the vault fell into near silence; Skalde's boots on the stonework floor, the light wind of Aebyn's wings as he returned to Timothy's side.
Fear, the sound of Aebyn screaming beneath Aelengy's claws. Loss, Christopher's frightened eyes as the light went out of them. Rage, Willoughby dying alone in some forgotten place. Timothy opened his mouth and screamed. Something inside of him broke. The distance between them closed before he realized he was moving. His fist slammed into Skalde's face, breaking his nose and toppling him. Timothy followed him to the ground, driving his fist into the man's face again and again until his knuckles bled and ached.
The circle of green flames enveloped the silver-eyed luminarian. She lifted her head high and proud, looking at the ceiling above her and closing her eyes as the flames closed in around her. The fire danced and swirled, then disappeared. The amulet she had worn blackened, then crumbled into tiny brittle fragments. The luminarian's silver eye snapped open, looking up at Timothy in wide-eyed surprise and then down at her own untouched form.