Mageborn: Book 04 - The God-Stone War

by Michael G. Manning

  She was clad in a soft white gown that reached past her knees before revealing the smooth skin of her lower legs. Her hands and feet were slender and graceful, with short well-kept nails. Other than her unusual hair color and exceptional beauty, there was nothing that might have indicated her alien nature, except for her delicately pointed ears. Her eye color was slightly unusual, but it fell within the normal range of human color, in fact it was similar in hue to my own eyes.

  Illeniel’s promise rose up in my mind, the words of my long dead ancestor, “This is the only way I can save your people. Rest here and I will return to release you… once it is safe again. I give you my word, I will return for you.” Except that he hadn’t.

  A feeling of terrible sorrow fell over me as I gazed upon her, and I spoke without premeditation, “Lyralliantha, last of the She’Har, you are alone in this world. It was never meant that you should endure thus for over two millennia. Your husband waits for your return… and your forgiveness.” The words arose from someplace deep within my heart, and I knew as I spoke them that they were the key, the words that would release the stasis enchantment that held her in that timeless moment.

  Yet nothing happened.

  Puzzled, both at my sudden words and at their lack of effect, I bent my attention to the enchantment that surrounded her. In form and structure it was similar to the stasis enchantments I had created in the past. If anything, it was slightly less refined, lacking certain safeguards that I would have included. In particular it was constructed in such a way that if it were broken or forced, the backlash might kill the occupant. That was deliberate, answered the voice in the back of my mind.

  As I studied the enchantment with my magesight, it became readily apparent why the spoken key had not had its intended effect. Woven around the enchantment was a second magical structure, something alien, while at the same time familiar. She’Har spell-weaving, I thought, recognizing it even as the phrase from my dream made sense. I had seen magic like it once before… when I had fought Timothy, the leader of the shiggreth.

  “Starting to realize why you can’t release her, animal?” said a voice close to my ear.

  A jolt of fear and pure adrenaline ran down my spine, and if it had been possible I might have jumped out of my own skin, instead I reacted defensively. With a word, I created a new shield around myself while stepping sideways. I had fought enough battles that my reactions were more practical than panic stricken. Fear might drive me, but it was a foe I was used to dealing with.

  “Who’s there?” I asked, somewhat stridently.

  The voice came again, though it seemed to have moved, and now it reached me from somewhere ahead and to my left, “Forgotten your old friend already? How sad.”

  I scanned the room frantically with my magesight and still found nothing. Whoever was there was invisible, not just physically, but to magical sight as well. There were only three people capable of such a thing, assuming the voice belonged to a person.

  “Wondering why you can’t sense me? Surely you’ve heard the phrase before, ‘when a Prathion doesn’t want to be found, a Prathion isn’t found‘.”

  The voice now seemed to be behind me, on my left side, as though the person taunting me was circling. The dissonant song of death was strongest in that direction as well. In a flash I realized that whoever this was they had been shadowing me, not just for weeks or days, but for months, possibly years. My entire life had been visible to them, and I had never even known they were there.

  “It’s taken you long enough to reveal yourself,” I answered as calmly as I could. “You’ve been watching for a long time. I had begun to wonder at your sanity.”

  “Still lying, Mordecai? You should know better. Your ignorance betrays your bluff. If you had known I was there you’d never have turned off the lights to lie beside your wife, you’d never have left your children alone in my presence. How many nights did I lean over you while you cried like a babe from the night terrors, never knowing I was close enough to smell your fear? How many nights did I wait, wishing I could kill you and put an end to your accursed line?” said the voice from directly behind me.

  Turning to keep my hidden opponent in front of me, I struggled to identify the voice. It was familiar and yet I still was unable to place it. It had already claimed to be a Prathion, but I knew all three of the living Prathion wizards intimately, and this voice belonged to none of them.

  “If you wanted me dead so badly, why didn’t you kill me?” I asked.

  The dissonance, the voice of death that I had been hearing for months, continued to move, so… trusting my instincts I turned to keep it in front of me, even before its source spoke again, “I’ve learned patience,” came the reply. “You surprise me with your movement, it’s almost as if you can sense my location,” it added.

  “I can… now that I understand what you are,” I replied.

  “So… have you figured out my name yet, animal?” it asked curiously.

  “Only the name that you’ve given me in the past, Timothy, but I’m certain that isn’t your real name,” I declared. As I did, it shifted and moved in a different direction, silently and without warning, I changed directions as well, keeping it before me.

  “Interesting,” it said, stopping for a moment. “It seems you really can detect me. I suppose there’s no need for this then.” A small figure appeared in front of me, resting its hand casually on Lyralliantha’s resting place. “A pity your small mind can’t remember my true name. She will recognize me,” it added, glancing at the woman in stasis.

  The memories in the back of my mind had returned to their former reticence, though the shiggreth’s taunting kept hinting at secrets I should know. He’s a Prathion, yet in the past he said that the shiggreth were created from the spirits of the She’Har that died, I thought, mentally reviewing what I knew. Perhaps he’s a shiggreth created from a dead Prathion? Walter’s uncle?

  Even as that thought occurred to me, I knew it to be nonsense, for the body that the undead thing in front of me was using belonged to a small boy from Lancaster. A boy named Timothy, a boy that had been entirely normal as far as I knew. Besides, I told myself, the Prathions were golden haired with ebon skin and red eyes. The thought shocked me into stillness, as the implications of that statement ran through my mind. Prathion was the name of a She’Har grove.

  That couldn’t be correct. Prathion was the name of one of the five great wizard lineages, but somewhere, deep down, I remembered. It was originally the name of one of the largest She’Har groves, along with Centyr, Gaelyn, Mordan, and… Illeniel. Along with the knowledge came images, memories of the places connected with those names. The She’Har groves were something like cities, except that the place, the trees, and the people, were all part of one thing, one family. One fact still didn’t fit, the fact that those names were now used in reference to the five great wizard families… human wizards.

  “I can almost see the wheels turning in your head, animal. It’s a pity, really. I had hoped you would remember everything before I slew you, so that you would understand the depth of your ancestor’s sin. Perhaps I will tell you my name while you are dying,” said the small boy.

  “Then your patience is at an end. You sound as if you have already gained what you sought,” I said, hoping to draw things out.

  “We are here. Once you opened the door for me you sealed your fate, along with the fate of the rest of your wretched species,” it told me.

  “You want to wipe out humankind?” I asked.

  The boy smiled, “I won’t fail this time.”

  “You broke the accord,” I said, and then I knew who he was, “Thillmarius Prathion.” The words emerged without warning, but I could feel their truth resonating in my bones. He was the reason she wanted the stasis enchantment created to kill her if it was broken forcibly, I realized, as a wave of emotions began crashing through me. “You’re the reason for this sealed chamber. You killed them!” I said remembering my dream.

  “Correcti
on, animal,” he screamed back in rage, “I killed most of them. You ancestor was far more thorough, he slew all of my people… all but one.” He gestured at Lyralliantha as he spoke.

  “He destroyed you, you’re dead,” I mumbled, as a series of violent images cascaded through my mind. I was reeling in shock.

  Thillmarius sneered, “Congratulations! I still am, but I intend to correct that.” As he finished his statement his hands came up, and a wave of darkness flew toward me at the speed of thought.

  My shield was ready, but it made little difference. The She’Har spell-weaving shredded it in an instant, and then it tore into my skin, ripping and slicing like a thousand knives. The last time I had fought the leader of the shiggreth, I had a Knight of Stone beside me, not to mention Walter. Without their help I would have been unable to survive long enough to trap Thillmarius underground, although I now knew that that tactic hadn’t been successful.

  Today I had no one beside me. A potentially fatal mistake on my part, but I wasn’t ready to concede the fight yet. I had prepared for the possibility of this rematch, if only I could gain enough time to respond properly.

  Experience had been an excellent teacher, and as the pain of my enemy’s spell-weaving threatened to overwhelm me, my mind quickly sought refuge in the stone. The pain of my physical body receded even as I sent a spray of stone shards upward. Reaching out to the wind, I spun them into a twisting storm of razor sharp death.

  The deadly spell-weaving fell away from my flesh body as Thillmarius was forced to defend himself from the destructive stone storm. Resuming more direct control of my human form, my eyes opened and followed his movement. “Enjoying the fruits of my training?” I asked, taunting the undead creature.

  The stone shards had torn his small body, but the shiggreth’s response was quick, and another spell-weaving flew from his fingers and lips, wrapping itself around him like a powerful shield and preventing further damage. I knew it would be only seconds before he regained the initiative, unless I could find a way to protect myself from his spell-weavings.

  Reaching into one of my belt pouches, I withdrew a stone disk, the same one I had attempted to use the day the enchanted furniture had attacked. With a word I tossed it into the air above my head and watched as it split into a multitude of small pieces. Extending my hand, I began channeling power, feeding it to the enchanted shield stones, while in turn they began to spin and whirl around me with increasing speed, becoming a blur.

  Another spell-weaving struck, but this time it skittered away harmlessly, unable to pierce the shield created by my stones. “Let’s go outside. We both have too much to lose here,” I told my opponent, indicating the still body in the center of the room. Turning toward the door I walked out and up the stairs, leaving a trail of blood behind as I went.

  His first attack had left me with a collection of shallow cuts. The pain they caused might have been a distraction, but I kept my mind in an in-between state, partly connected to the earth and wind around me, which made the sensations of my human body seem small, almost insignificant. It was a technique I had practiced often since my battle with Celior and it afforded me numerous advantages.

  The minor connection afforded me more power for my spells, while at the same time numbing my perception of pain. It also enabled me to control the environment around me in an automatic, almost unconscious manner that left my human mind free to cast spells at the same time. I had yet to come up with a marvelous name for my in-between state, but Penny, with her usual candor, had suggested I name it the ‘idiot-trance’. She had explained that my lack of pain made me less concerned for my physical body and thus, less likely to defend myself. I knew the truth though; she just liked finding new ways to call me an idiot.

  Her worry about defending my human body was a valid concern though, which was yet another reason I had created the enchanted shield-stones. Even as I left the underground room, I continued to channel more power into them with my human mind.

  As I had hoped, Thillmarius followed me without protest, though I suspected he was preparing other weavings as we went. I led him to the front door and out into the street before he struck again, a probing attack meant to test the strength of my new shield.

  “You’ll have to do better than that,” I taunted, while at the same time reaching into another pouch to touch the small figurine within. I need you now, I said silently, projecting my thought at the small statuette.

  By the time I returned my full attention to him, it was almost too late. Thillmarius had sent his second attack into the base of the building beside me, and whatever he used, it turned a large portion of one wall and some of the foundation into fine dust, leaving the rest of the structure unsupported. It was in the process of falling on top of me, as I realized my mistake.

  The neighbors are never going to forgive me for today. The observation flickered through the back of my head, while the more practical parts of my mind were busy figuring out how to prevent my imminent future as a pancake. While my enchanted shield stones had many advantages over my normal impromptu shields, it wasn’t as easy to change their strength or the shape of the area they protected. They could probably stop anything Thillmarius might cast at me, but they would definitely fail if a building fell on me.

  All this passed through my mind in an instant, and despite the timelessness of such adrenaline soaked moments, I still managed to do the wrong thing. Lifting my hand, I shouted a word and used my own power to brace the building. Such a move would have been fatal for most wizards, but as I had learned from countless other stupid moments in the past, I was the wizardly equivalent of a giant… and sometimes I was about that smart as well.

  I understood my mistake immediately as the weight of untold tons of stone and timber made themselves felt against my invisible brace. Stumbling I gasped at the shock, but somehow I held it. The dumb part of my action was that I was now entirely consumed with the effort of holding the building up, it wasn’t something I could simply stop doing when it became inconvenient. Given a second thought, I realized I should have called on the earth and allowed it to hold the building for me, keeping my own power free to respond to Thillmarius’ next attack.

  My foe was approaching rapidly now, charging toward me with a long dagger in hand. The blade was writhing with alien magics, and I knew instinctively that whatever he had put on the weapon would be able to pierce my new shield. Thillmarius had been one of the greatest lore-masters of his grove. Another bit of information had presented itself to me when I least expected it.

  With my magic fully engaged holding up the building, I had no choice but to call upon the elements to defend me, and in my desperation I took a risk that I probably should have considered more carefully. I reached for that which the undead fear most, and the very thing that my ancestor had used to eradicate Thillmarius’ body, two thousand years ago.

  I reached for fire, calling to the small flames in the oven within the very house I was holding up. Opening my mind I spoke to them, I called them… and I gave them a home, joining them with my own spirit. What might have been an entirely innocuous feat of magic, if I were using my regular wizardly abilities, took on an entirely more deadly meaning when done as an archmage, for the fire infused my mind as well as my actions.

  Roaring my hatred at him I sent spiraling streams of flame at Thillmarius, seeking to engulf him before he could reach me. The wind guided and goaded the fire to an incandescent heat, as it surged toward the undead creature.

  Suffused with the fire’s rage and desire for destruction, I laughed as I watched my foe stop, stunned at the conflagration racing toward him, but my glee was presumptuous. Reacting with incredible speed, Thillmarius wrapped himself within a slightly different shield that seemed to flow from his hands without effort. The ease with which he created spontaneous spell-weavings; magics that were as durable and as difficult to destroy as any enchantment I could craft… was simply unfair.

  I had my own advantages though; in particular, I possessed a n
ear limitless resource as an archmage, I wasn’t limited to just my individual strength. The fire demonstrated that point quite eloquently as it engulfed the shiggreth’s shield. The long dead lore-warden’s defense held despite the incredible force I brought to bear, but even it couldn’t last forever. Seconds ticked by, five, ten, fifteen, and with each passing moment the fire grew hotter while the wind whipped it into a fury, creating a sound not unlike a scream.

  Inevitably the creature’s shield failed, popping like a bubble as the flames rushed inward, to devour… nothing. Thillmarius wasn’t there.

  My own carefully crafted defense crumbled, as Thillmarius’ knife severed the links between my enchanted stones in a gracefully complex stroke before plunging into my lower back. The monster had hidden himself and diverted my attention with a powerful illusion. I had to marvel at his skill, to be able to manage so many things at once, for the shield he had created for his illusory double had been quite real. Too late I realized I should have kept my attention on the source of the dissonant song of death, for it was the only reliable way I could be sure of his location.

  “Did you think yourself a match for an elder lore-warden, animal?” he said sneeringly into my ear, as the blade sent waves of eldritch agony rippling through my body.

  I was still in my ‘idiot-trance’ as my kindly wife had named it, and while my human form should have been incapacitated by the energies coursing through it, I was still largely able to act. Willing my human lips to move, I spat out my defiance, even as my elemental mind acted upon the stones beneath our feet, “I’ve got a collection of ‘gods’ at home. I really don’t think you’re that special.”