Two Worlds of Dominion

by Angelina J. Steffort

  And so it began.

  Slowly, as if guided by an invisible hand, the bulk of soldiers, armed to their teeth, set in motion once more, their marching a beat to Maray’s running strides as she closed the distance with the waiting warlock. Behind her, the lines were advancing, some of them screaming, some of them cursing, some of them running in silence. And some of them—the Yutu-fraction—howling and growling and snarling. And Pen… He set off, his teeth pointy and sharp and his shriek tearing the air around them. She had instructed him to not use his toxic smoke until the very last moment, when there was no other way of saving Allinan, and then to do it regardless that he’d be taking down both friend and foe. How she hoped it didn’t come to that…

  Watching them charge, Gan Krai only smiled, sword hardly raised, and let his troops pass by him, swallowing him and hiding him from Maray’s sight.

  “Bastard!” she yelled and as she skidded to a halt just in time to assess the sheer number of soldiers across the field. She considered dropping to her knees—just for a short second. For her people, for Allinan. A thought experiment that ended the same way as if she didn’t kneel. Death. Gan Krai would never spare her. Nor Jemin. Nor anyone she loved. On the contrary, he would take pleasure in destroying them all—until he had what he wanted. Her. And her magic. Which eventually meant her death.

  Maray cursed as the Yutu were almost close enough to tear into the lines of the enemy, and once more, Maray searched for her fire, desperate to give them an advantage. But this time, it wasn’t going to be enough. She couldn’t fight with fire, a shield, and wield her dagger at the same time. There were too many, and she would need each and every one who had come to support her to actually do so—fighting. As many times as others had fought her battles for her, this time, she wouldn’t back away. She would play her part even if it was the last thing she’d do.

  “Shield,” Feris called somewhere at the back of the field. The warlocks threw up their shields, doing their best to protect the ones fighting by hand. But even if some of them had mastered to shield and heal under Feris’ instructions, Maray was the only battle-mage. She was the only warlock who could be an offensive force of fire on the battlefield. And so she took a deep breath and summoned her heat, her flames, her dome of destruction.

  The sound of bodies crashing into each other replaced the charging calls, and there they were, the first screams of pain. And Pen shrieked anew as he ripped limbs from their opponents in an otherworldly rage.

  Maray let the wall of flames surround her and waited for a new type of sound—the surprise of her enemies as they realized what she was capable of, that she was a marching wall of fire, ready to smother them, burn them…

  But the screams didn’t come. As Maray looked more closely through the curtain of fire, she noticed Gan Krai’s soldiers’ vacant eyes. They were like the devil-children: puppets. How she hoped Corey and Oliver had figured out how to utilize them against Gan Krai…

  And the soldiers seemed to know no fear.

  Maray expanded the diameter of her dome by a foot or two and stood motionless as the first of the soldiers walked right into her fire with raised swords, aiming for her in vain, and stumbling aside at as their clothes caught flames. She didn’t flinch as they went up in flames, didn’t as much as blink, anxious to miss any danger, determined to protect her people.

  Jemin was to her left, ripping out someone’s throat with his Yutu-teeth, and Wil and Pia fought side by side, the guard and his Yutu-sister, a perfect choreography as they slew one puppet after the other.

  Heck’s shouts and curses as he fought were close by but out of sight. Maray didn’t turn around. Her focus remained on the burning soldiers as their line broke like waves on a rock. She had one goal and one alone: Get to Gan Krai and kill him. Cut off the head of the beast, and the rest will scatter. At least, that was what the plan said.

  They had spent hours debating how to bring down the warlock, and all paths led back to that one single spot—Maray would be the one to kill him. Gan Krai would eventually come after her, and if she got to him first, she would do anything to rid the worlds of him. While the rest of them would do anything to keep the Shalleyn in check. Along with the soldiers who fought with blades.

  Maray’s eyes screened the battlefield as she started walking in the same direction Gan Krai had disappeared. He couldn’t have gone far—not when the stakes were so high. Allinan… This was about Allinan and all it stood for. And all he wanted it to become. Maray hissed into her flames and let her anger fuel them like gasoline as she watched them flare and burn free her path.

  Step by step, through the clashing bodies, she made her way forward. She cautioned her walk as the ground became slippery from the countless feet that had marched over the moist grass and it was gradually turning into a slick layer of mud, but she never yielded.

  A glimpse of white to the right caught her attention, and she moved in that direction, pushing herself and her magic as she hurried after Gan Krai over the heavy soil. But as much as her boots slithered with every step, there was only one way for her now—forward.

  Blinding pain erupted in her head as something struck her from the side. She struggled to keep focus as she sank to her knees, unable to hold her balance. A rock the size of a fist lay on the ground beside her, and as warm blood trickled from her temple to her cheek, she knew that it had to be the missile that had struck her. Her head throbbed as she bent forward to pick up the stone but suddenly realized her flames had almost ceased.

  To her right, a young man was grinning at her with a frosty face. He wasn’t one of the puppets; he had to be one of the missing spies whose body now hosted a demon. A Shalleyn. Maray’s heart picked up pace. He must have sent the rock flying when the rest of the soldiers hadn’t been able to get through her flames.

  “Come on,” she said to her hands as she tried to spark the curtain of heat so the man couldn’t come any closer.

  She wheeled to the side, blinking her vision free, and summoned the heat again before the Shalleyn could strike with something worse than stone. It was only a matter of time until he’d use his magic on her, maybe force her to attack her own…

  Her pulse was racing, strain sending shivers and sweat down her back, but the heat boiled up, ready to take down the approaching demon. He was raising his hand to strike with magic when Maray yelled, “Shield!” releasing a pulse of blinding light, praying that some warlocks had been within earshot, ready to shield her troops, or that the ones within range ducked out of reach of her blast.

  Soldiers tumbled to the ground around her—Maray didn’t dare check whether they had been friend or foe—as did the Shalleyn, who dissolved into ashes and disappeared in the breeze.

  Arms and legs burning from the drain after two magic pulses like that, Maray’s head swam, not only from the impact of the rock she had dropped back to the ground. With whatever strength was left in her, she pushed herself to her feet, eyes searching the rows for Gan Krai. But all she found was the raging battle around her, which was growingly splattered by mud and blood while their swords and daggers moved dangerously closer.

  Magic. Fire. She had to summon fire again to protect herself. She had to…

  Pen’s shriek in the distance tore through her, and with the last of her strength, she opened her shaking hands, attempting to rebuild the dome.

  However, her palms remained cooler than she’d hoped. No searing, crackling fire erupted. Not even the resemblance of flames. She was empty, magic resources depleted enough to not be able to fight. It would take some minutes or more to be back to a level where she could even heal her head. But she couldn’t stop. Not now that, at the edge of her field of vision, she noted an ivory cloak.

  She reached to her side and pulled her dagger, feeling the weapon greet her with a vibrant resonation of power, and Maray knew that, even without flames, she wasn’t alone. Then, she set off in the direction she had spotted Gan Krai’s cloak, only to notice it had disappeared between the battling soldiers.


  Maray hissed. Where had he gone? Coward.

  She stumbled forward through a field of fighting bodies, ducking from stray blows, crawling between slain soldiers, her eyes searching, searching…

  On the other end of the field, safely out of reach, the remaining Shalleyn were floating in their smoke-form, playing with Maray’s soldiers as they pleased, making them attack each other, horrified expressions twisting their features as they were forced to kill those they had been patrolling and fighting with for years, decades.

  She hadn’t noticed the demons collecting there, but as she saw them billowing back and forth with vicious darkness, she understood that for her troops, time was running out. She had to find Gan Krai before he could summon monsters worse than what they were already facing.

  There he was, right behind the next line, his ivory cloak floating between the other soldiers like a ghost of snow and ice. Just ahead. Almost within reach—

  Maray’s feet slipped in the mud as she jerked herself to the right, avoiding a blade and twisting her dagger into position to spear whoever was coming after her. A man with vacant eyes kept batting his sword at her as if he was a battery-driven toy soldier. Maray stabilized her stance and countered with the dagger, her back hitting hard armor behind her. Foe… She needed to get out of there. Maray turned to the side, lowering her center of gravity, and whirled the dagger into the attacker’s chest, watching with disgust as the pointed blade pierced through leather and iron and maybe even Thaotine. Over the noise of the battle, the dying screams of the soldier were hardly audible, but Maray couldn’t stop to ponder the fact that she had just killed a man. She had to keep going, had to get to Gan Krai, who was wielding his sword and his magic, superior to all attackers, and was going to eradicate Maray’s forces if she didn’t do something about it. If she could just get to him…

  She retrieved her dagger from between the dead soldier’s ribs and stumbled out of reach of the battling pair behind her, never losing focus on Gan Krai. He was there, his own attention on everything but her, distracted for once. And almost close enough to stab him.

  Maray searched her body for magic. Anything that could be left, but found nothing. No fire. Just pure, human rage… and a target, feet away.

  All of a sudden, there, darting for him was Neelis. His eyes met hers with a glow that indicated he didn’t expect to survive the attack, but he was going to do all he could to give her a shot at killing Gan Krai. Maray understood. It was now or never. Or the warlock would notice her there.

  Maray slowed, measuring the distance, the noise, the screams, the mud and blood on her face and hands fading into the background. She had one shot. And Neelis was ensuring she’d get that dagger home.

  Maray stopped, watching as the warlock raised his arms to defend himself from Neelis’ attack with a deadly blow, and Maray sucked in a breath before she charged, dagger in hand, pulsing with power as if it felt that their work was almost done. She launched herself in front of Gan Krai, blade hooking into his stomach as she skidded to a halt. From behind, Neelis’ heavy Yutu body crashed into her, unable to stop, and stars danced in her vision for a moment as she stumbled into Gan Krai.

  Through the blow, her hands held fast like iron on the dagger, pushing deeper and deeper.

  A scream cut through the air, making time stop… Followed by a laugh…

  Hot wetness trickled onto Maray’s hands, filling her nose with the scent of metal and salt. Her spine protested as it threatened to snap under the weight of Neelis, who was sliding down her back like a sack of flour. And her own breath came in huffs, reminding her of Pen’s warning puffs.

  Maray collected herself, steadying herself on her dagger, unable to bring herself to care that it made the blade cut forward and downward into Gan Krai’s abdomen.

  As she looked up, his eyes, red as the blood that covered his ivory cloak and shirt and Maray’s hands as it spilled graciously, met hers with dark amusement.

  “You silly, silly girl.” He coughed between his chuckles, panting against the pain, but his face showed no sign he had just been speared by a dagger. The same cruel calm that had haunted her dreams was there in his eyes, no matter how curved his lips. He wasn’t done with her—even now that her blade had cut into him was drawing his life from him.

  A clank indicated that his strength was leaving him as the sword dropped to the ground. But a moment later, he placed his hands on top of hers, laughing almost hysterically as they made contact. “You’re on a suicide mission, Maray.”

  Maray held his gaze, never yielding. She knew. She had been prepared for it. But as heat burnt into her skin from his touch, she twitched and contemplated letting go. She spat a curse, earning another laugh—

  “Who do you think forged this weapon?” Gan Krai sneered at her as his grasp closed around her hands, preventing her from letting go as now he himself kept pushing the dagger deeper and deeper into his own guts.

  And Maray wondered if he was trying to make his own end come quicker to escape the pain. But from the look on his face, she could tell that even as he was going down, he was determined to take her with him. Even if it was only for her getting away all those times.

  Maray struggled, her eyes searching the battlefield for someone—anyone—who could help her. But there was only Neelis, his head lolling to the side, obviously breathing but unconscious. The rest of them were engaged in battle somewhere out of sight—out of reach. And Jemin…

  She didn’t dare go down that road. Not when she had one task—the only task she alone could fulfill. Her worry for Jemin had to wait… If she couldn’t end Gan Krai, worrying about anyone wouldn’t be much use. He wouldn’t allow a single one of them to live. She knew that. The same way she knew that something wicked was brewing in the warlock’s mind. Maray pushed with all of her force, directing the blade slightly upward in an attempt to increase the damage—just in case he was using some healing-spell that worked in real-time, weaving around the blade.

  A daring grin flashed over his face as if he didn’t even feel the pain, and as the dagger was fully buried in Gan Krai’s flesh, it resonated with magic, stronger than ever as if it knew it was finally home.

  “It answers to me.” His voice was like the awakening kiss of ice before it froze and paralyzed. “The dagger will destroy you.”

  It pulsed and vibrated and glowed as it melted in Maray’s hands, burning her palms. And the pain that came with it made Maray scream out in agony. She could no longer tell if she was still on her feet or already kneeling before the master of all evil, around whom the world seemed to have halted as it watched them slowly kill each other.

  Gan Krai’s magic was poison in her blood as it entered her veins through the seared flesh on her hands, as his blood sprayed from where the dagger had become molten within his body, and his own hands were still locking hers in place. It stung and ached as it crept through her system, making her gag and eventually retch her breakfast on the blood and sweat-soaked ground. And then her eyes failed her, letting her cling to Gan Krai’s tumbling body as she herself stumbled, falling flat into her own vomit.

  “As it will you.” Maray collected her remaining strength one last time and dragged the hilt of the dagger downwards through the warlock’s guts, a gasp of pain floating from her lips as her breath became gradually shallow.

  Then, her heart, racing in her chest as if it could outrun the poison, gave out with one last stutter.

  In that instant, Maray knew that it was the end.

  Jemin

  Jemin’s ribs were slowly knitting themselves together, smooth fur spreading over the one-minute-ago open area, pain fading.

  He rolled to his feet, smoothing out the cut armor at his side and diving for his mud-covered sword with the other.

  Maray. All he had to do was protect her. His only task. He had sworn it to himself, to her father, to Heck and Pia—even if he hadn’t sworn to her family, her friends, he was a guard—his life belonged to the Crown.

  And now, where was
she? In his heedless attempt to clear her path, he had risked too much, gotten himself injured—and lost sight of her.

  Maray was gone. And what spread before him was a raging battle; an unequal battle with killing puppets on the one side, and guards, farmers, bakers, and carpenters on the other. If he had to bet on which side was going to win, he knew it wouldn’t be his own.

  His eyes screened, inch after inch of the field. Heck was battering on the head of one of Gan Krai’s soldiers, Seri tearing on the doomed man’s legs, pushing him off balance. Scott had gathered a formation of guards who were lacing between the less trained—untrained—fighters to give them a chance to survive. Wil was rushing toward the edge of the field, followed by Pia, who ripped out the throat of a guy who had been following them. Good. They were on their way to Corey, to help her with the devil-children.

  A scream tore the air like thunder, shaking his very core. Not Maray’s scream. He breathed in relief. But a dark, wicked cry. Gan Krai—

  And Jemin knew she’d made it to him. She must have. And he must have met her dagger.

  With a second of focus, Jemin traced the source of the sound. The location. In the center of the battle.

  Only Maray could have made it there. She was fearless. Fierce. She was his personal miracle.

  He kept chanting the thoughts to himself as he darted within the fighting crowd, careful not to get dragged into it. His sword weighed the comforting weight of death in his grasp as he stabbed and sliced to the left and right, assisting his own side on his path to help Maray. Further and further, an endless path. Every second was torture.

  Then, he picked up her scent, and to his horror, noted something off about it. Something wasn’t right.

  “Maray!” His scream was out before he laid eyes on her.

  On her twisted, lifeless shape.

  A howl filled his ears—Neelis, who was on his paws, nudged her side with his nose in an attempt to wake her up.