Cole had fully expected a squadron of sun lily leaves to fly them to Costas. The rest of the group looked as if flying whales were an everyday occurrence, however, joining Roth on the creature’s back when it swam close enough. Habbad looked just as shocked as Cole felt, and Goran inched towards the edge of the platform, ready to bolt.
“Move your asses!” Roth roared.
Unwilling to be caught hesitating, Cole stowed his concern and sheathed his Rage, invoking his Wisdom instead to assist him with the jump onto the Whale’s back. Closing his eyes, he took a few long breaths to soothe the Rage, which submitted reluctantly. He poured himself into the concept of gravity, feeling every part of his body being pulled towards everything around him. It took only a minor tweak of thought to lessen the pull enough to make the gap. He and Habbad landed softly on the whale’s rubbery skin. With a bit of coaxing, and a marvelously detailed and specific threat from Roth, Goran begrudgingly joined them on the whale. As formidable as Goran was, he was terrified of the flying leviathan.
“What is this thing?” Cole asked Lileth. He had a vague memory of encountering one of these creatures in a dream.
“This is a baileen. They are one of The Sill’s most ancient allies.” She ran her hand over the bumpy skin on the baileen’s back. “During long voyages, they can be persuaded to transport us much faster than we could move on our own.”
Roth shouted towards the baileen’s head, “To Costas now, and stay as high as you can. The Domina are crawling and would love to take a shot at you.”
The baileen released a trumpet blast in acknowledgment. Cole threw out a leg as the baileen lurched forward, rising swiftly towards the stars.
“Take a seat, Cole,” Roth said, eyeing Cole’s ungainly wobble. “Wouldn’t want you going overboard until we are well above Costas. Actually, all of you take a seat, we’ve got a couple hours before you drop in, and I’ve got to get your thick skulls caught up to speed.” The wind howled as the baileen accelerated higher above The Sill. Roth took a deep breath, shouting over the gusts, “Valen, tend to the air will you? Don’t need the whole lagoon listening in.”
Valen’s fingers flowed over one another. Beaded emerald lines of Wisdom flowed between his hands as the roaring wind stilled to a calm eddy around them. Cole peeked over the edge. He had grown accustomed to heights, his Fear dulling somewhat after climbing and falling a few times from the behemoth trees of The Sill. This was different, however. From this height even The Sill’s walls seemed miniscule. He was also not eager to discover what Roth meant by ‘dropping in’. Goran cowered in the middle of the baileen’s back. Lying flat on his stomach, he grasped a short fin with one hand and covered his eyes with his other hand.
Roth kicked at Goran’s haunches. “Don’t worry you furry coward, you won’t be dropping in. This is a discreet operation, and you aren’t exactly a shining example of discreetness.”
“So Goran won’t be coming with us?” Cole asked, putting a hand on Goran’s shoulder.
“Goran and I will hang back on the baileen as your quick reaction force,” Roth explained. “Your priority is subterfuge, though if you get made and things get too hot we’ll drop in to pull your asses out of the fire.”
“Master Roth, what exactly do you mean by dropping in?” Storn asked, addressing the question they were all thinking.
“I thought I told you all to take a seat!” Roth barked, whipping their legs out with a flash of Wisdom from his munisica. “We might not be training at the moment but don’t think I won’t take it out of your hide.”
In unison the group scooted over to Cole and Goran on the leathery floor. Roth circled around them. Cole winced as his master’s claws dug mercilessly into the baileen’s back, leaving gouges in their wake. The gargantuan whale took no notice however, releasing a cheerful keen that echoed throughout the lagoon below.
“Enough of that!” Roth barked, stomping his foot.
The baileen rumbled beneath them in what was unmistakable laughter.
Roth halted at the rear of the baileen. Oberon loomed several feet above his head, silhouetting him like a bladed mountain peak. “This is it. This is the moment you are no longer students. You have a job, and you’re going to do it or die in the attempt. I suspect some of you will suffer the latter. Though if you remember your training, keep each other in check, and stay flexible in your magic, then we may avoid another mess like Deekus.”
Cole chanced a sideways glance over at Eliza. Her face was cold and still, though her munisica flexed threateningly.
“The dangers on the Light Side are very real, and so are the consequences for failure. I’ve no idea what demons The Three have cooked up since the banishing, though if it’s anything like the last time, your little unit won’t have a snowflake’s chance in hell no matter how adaptive you are. That is why your mission is not that of open combat, but of stealth and thievery.”
The group stirred with dissent. While no one dared voice their disapproval, it was clear this was not the assignment they had hoped for. Cole on the other hand was grateful. He may be a touch stronger and have a few shoddy tricks in his magical repertoire, but he knew he would be more of a hindrance than a help in a real fight.
A rough smile broke across Roth’s face. “There are many battles in war, especially a war of this scale. Not all of them involve tearing throats and crushing limbs. As you all know the Devotion is about to take place in Costas, and this cycle’s tower is rumored to be large enough to tip the scales further from our favor. We suspect they are doubling their efforts in anticipation of a massive maneuver. So far their attacks have been probing strikes meant to measure our reactions. Something big is coming, that much we know, and this Devotion will be a keystone for their success.”
Roth resumed circling around the group. “Your mission is to disrupt the Devotion before it has a chance to start. The Three will arrive within the next day. By that time your asses had better be dust in the wind or you’ll suffer something worse than death. How you disrupt the Devotion is up to you.” Roth dragged his claws under his chin where they screeched against the black armor that stubbled his neck. “I was going to let you figure out the targets for yourselves, but I think I’ll give you a few clues. Must be Alvi making me soft. I don’t give out hints for free, especially ones that cost us lives, so if one of you whelps gets yourself killed without completing your mission, I swear I’ll find you in the aethers and tear my payment off your soul.”
Cole swallowed the threat, casting glances at the others. He had never heard of any magic enabling a person to follow another through death, but he had no doubt that Roth could do it.
“From what the Council’s intelligence teams have gathered, there are a few crucial items that, if removed, would cripple the entire ceremony.” He held out his munisica, clinking off the targets as he counted them on his claws: “There’s the vats of odium oil. Burn these before the ceremony and they won’t be available to burn the chosen. Then there’s Sorronis’s Priests. Kill them of course. And obviously there’s the tower itself. Bring the structure down on their heads if you must. Lastly there are the chosen themselves. Free them if you can, eliminate them if you can’t. As Chosen they are immortal, so be sure there’s no pieces large enough for The Three to harvest.”
Cole’s back straightened. “I thought we weren’t supposed to harm the Underkin. Master Roth,” Cole added.
Roth grunted in affirmation. “Right you are, Cole. The Underkin are not to be harmed. You are to use what you have learned at The Sill to trick them into thinking you were never there. The Chosen, be they Underkin or Aenerian, are a resource you will deny the enemy through whatever means possible. If the only possibility is to destroy them, then that’s what you’re going to do. If The Three add their tortured souls to their pools, then they will amass a sizeable amount of fresh power to maim and torture others.” Roth paused behind Cole, donning the softest tone that his avalanche of a voice could manage. “An agonizing death is better than what The Three
will do to them. Either of you have a problem with this? Answer me honestly and fully.” He pointed the question to Cole and Habbad.
Habbad answered first. “Absolutely not. There is nothing preventing us from removing the lot of them. I’ve seen a Devotion, I know of what you speak. The Chosen may as well be named the damned. They all begged for death long before it was over, and none of them died.”
Roth grunted his approval, shifting his blazing eyes to Cole.
“No, Master,” Cole said.
“Outstanding. This is war, kids. You’ll kill some bad ones if you’re lucky, but sometimes you have to kill some good ones. You won’t fully appreciate why until you’ve seen what your enemies do to the innocent. Now, what are your questions? I’ve told you the majority of what we know.”
Valen spoke without pause, as if he’d been waiting on the chance: “Master, while your hints are greatly appreciated and will no doubt be of great assistance, we know not the location of the targets. Can you elaborate any further as to where we can find them? None of us has set foot in the city. You are rightly hesitant to hand out clues but our time is limited.”
Cole worried Valen had stepped out of line, but to his surprise Roth started chuckling, “You know, Valen, despite coming from such a regal line of Wisdom Walkers, you’re as dull as a cobb snail sometimes.”
Valen let the insult stand as he pressed on. “I do not doubt you master, but please, enlighten us. We can mend my error in intellect later. For now my concern is for the safety and efficacy of the unit.”
Valen must have been genuinely concerned if he was speaking in such a forward manner with Roth. Cole had seen him punished for far less.
Roth considered Valen for a second before responding, “You express concern for your unit, but had you taken the time to properly know each and every one of them, you would know that two of your number have already been to Costas. Cole and Habbad would be happy to enlighten you, wouldn’t you whelps?”
Cole blushed, feeling every eye upon him. Habbad would of course have to do most if not all of the enlightening.
Roth let Valen’s shame sink in before continuing. “There you have it. Your unit has not one but two tour guides for this mission! That’s more than I’ve ever had, though my assignments were never as delicate as this one. I know it’s not much, but if I had more intel for you I’d give it. Damn me if I haven’t grown somewhat attached to your unit. I would be chafed indeed if you all didn’t make it back alive for another lesson. We haven’t even done a condensing yet.” Roth walked towards the head of the baileen, beckoning to Valen with a jerk of his head. Valen followed and the two exchanged a few moments of unheard discussion.
Cole grabbed Habbad by the collar and yanked him close. “We’re not killing Lexy.”
Habbad’s eyes were blank and his face expressionless. “We may not have to, but if it comes to it there’s no one who will stop me.”
Cole felt the Rage tingle up his neck as his fingers began to elongate and darken. He looked at his budding claws to make sure they weren’t cutting Habbad, only to realize he was grasping nothing but the night air.
“You least of all,” Habbad said, not bothering to look him in the eye.
“All right warriors,” Roth called out to the group. “We’ve got some time before we’re over Costas. Let’s take a quick review. Nothing too deep in the weeds, just want to make sure there’s no rusty surprises in the chain.”
While Roth was no master with Wisdom or Passion, he was magnitudes beyond anyone in the unit. As for Rage, he was second to none. He first had each member of the unit dawn their munisica, poking and prodding with provocative insults to encourage full release. All but Habbad were able to bring forth their ebony dragon claws, with Sitra and Storn even spreading their shrouded armor up to their elbows. He then tested their Passion. Valen volunteered to receive a series of calculated injuries from Roth, after which each member attempted to heal the injury. Everyone except for Cole, Habbad and Lileth were able to completely heal the collapsed lung, broken ribs or torn skin. After an all too brief respite Roth then individually assaulted each of their minds. Unlike Chiron, Roth’s presence in Cole’s mind was blaringly apparent. It felt as if he were an ant standing upon the rail of a train track, watching and waiting for the locomotive to crash into him. Time and again, Cole found himself paralyzed by the sheer force, as Roth swept through his memories as if skimming a book with a chainsaw. Try as he may, his efforts yielded nothing except the knowledge that should his mind ever be attacked, he’d better have a friend nearby to save him.
“That’ll do, that’ll do,” Roth said as Cole regained use of his limbs. “Pick yourselves up and gather round. We’re going to review one more thing before I release you all to devise your own battle plan.”
Cole stood, swaying slightly. He rubbed his temples in an attempt to clear the foggy pain that remained. He felt a warm hand at the base of his skull. His eyes met Lileth’s as ringing clarity replaced the weariness. She pulled her lavender hand away, though she stepped closer to him. Cole silently indulged in the feeling of her arm against his shoulder.
Roth stood in the center of their group now, scrutinizing each of them in turn as if he were inspecting meat at the markets. “Individually you’ve each got some gaping holes in your training. Some worse than others of course. No surprises though, which is good. You know whom you can rely on, and for what.” A grim shadow fell over Roth’s face, his ferocity fading somewhat. “There is a chance you may face some of the more elite minions of The Three. I’m not talking about Domina or other monsters that you can simply break with fire and claw. I’m talking about fellow Aenerians skilled in dark magics. Hell, you may even find yourselves standing before The Three themselves. In that case you’d better kill each other before they notice, but let’s just focus on your run-of-the-mill expert-level enemy for now. I know you’ve all been taught the basics of their magic, but I need to hear you say it. What is the enemy of Rage?”
Cole’s knees almost gave out at the weight of Roth’s stare. He took a deep breath and made sure he spoke loudly enough: “Master, Grotton the Hungry is the enemy of Rage.”
“Right you are. Don’t be fooled by the whispered temptations of Hunger. Grotton knows what makes you powerful, and his minions will offer you all you want, for a price.” Roth turned to Habbad. “What is the enemy of Wisdom?”
Habbad raised his chin and threw his shoulders back. “If Wisdom were one side of a coin, then Decreath the Feared would be on the other. Fear is the antithesis of Wisdom.”
“And don’t forget it. Nothing will do more to take away a warrior’s ability to think than a stomach full of cold fear. Decreath knows your shame and his minions will soak you in it.” He twisted around, this time facing Eliza. “What is the enemy of Passion?”
“Master, Sorronis the Lord of Despair and Hatred is the enemy of Passion,” Eliza replied, her munisica flexing in the moonlight.
“He is indeed. Sorronis may as well be called Sorronis the Patient. He sits quietly on the edges of your thoughts, waiting and watching for a moment of doubt. When the smallest crack presents itself he will seep in like a poison and flood you with Despair until you have nothing but your own Hatred to keep afloat. Sorronis is perhaps the most dangerous of The Three. Elites and empires alike have crumbled from the inside out by his magic.”
Roth went to his bag and pulled out a large object wrapped in burlap. “It is one thing to talk about dark magics. It is another beast entirely when a skilled enemy turns the worst parts of your own soul against you. The only defense is to be flexible and dynamic in your hearts and in your minds. Were you not trained at The Sill, your unit would quickly find itself at the mercy of a skilled enemy who played your weaknesses like a lock and key. But you are from The Sill, and therein lies your advantage. Your enemies are powerful, but rigid. Find the narrow bridge they walk on and kick them off.”
With a flourish, Roth yanked the burlap cloth free, tossing it into the wind. In his claw
ed hand was the largest and brightest gratia stone any of them had ever seen. Had he not known better, Cole would have assumed Roth was holding a barrel of molten lava. “This is my gift to you. Should you find an enemy who can be broken, this will aid you. Take as much as you can without killing yourselves, and use it only if you need it. Should you not use it the Rage will eventually dissolve into your bodies, granting you a permanent increase in your physical abilities. It is best to not gain power this way. It’s too fast, and you won’t have earned it, but I’d rather see you fumble about like strong idiots than dead scholars.”
Following the lead of the others, Cole and Habbad each placed a hand on the stone. Seeing munisica sprout from their hands, Cole tapped into his Rage. His own claws sprouted much more quickly than usual, and the shroud covered his entire hand. His vision flickered and vanished until he was only aware of what felt like a massive storm bearing down on him. The thunderhead poured all of its lightning and Rage into him. His skin hardened, his bones hummed, and his muscles swelled painfully. Above all else he felt an insatiable desire to direct this power at something. He wanted to tear through rock and metal, jump to Oberon, run faster than the wind. He needed a release. His muscles continued to swell until he felt they might literally explode. He knew he was dangerously close to the ‘killing yourself’ part, but it felt too good. He took a little more before yanking his hand from the stone. His vision cleared and his mental acuity returned, though he could barely move his arms and legs. Looking down he could see steam rising from skin stretched over veiny bulges. Muscles he didn’t even know he had were ballooned to cartoonish proportions. Just as he began to worry how this new growth would affect his ability to walk and fight, the muscles shrank gently back to their original size. The burning transferred to his bones instead, settling deep in the marrow, waiting for the right moment to be called for release.
Saving The Dark Side: Book 1: The Devotion Page 38