by Aldrea Alien
She pinched his cheek. “Precisely. Now let’s get you to bed.” Turning him, she sent him walking down the hallway with a pat on the backside.
“But I’m good,” he pressed. “You know I am. Let me enter, let me fight, and I’ll show the overseers how much of an asset I could be to the army’s ranks.” He was certain her reluctance in having him leave had been the reason behind why they hadn’t let him compete the last time they came looking for spellsters to beef up their numbers. If he let her do it again, he’d never get the chance.
At his back, his guardian scoffed. “A little thing like you?”
Little? He towered over her, over most people. It’d been that way ever since he’d hit adolescence. Once, that distinct trait had led him to believe one of the few towering guardians could’ve been responsible for his birth. A theory he’d abandoned several years ago after stumbling upon the man in question with another man.
“Just look at you,” Tricia went on. She squeezed his biceps, almost nonexistent compared to the toned and muscular arms of the guardians. “How long do you think you’d last out in the world?” She snorted. “A day at the most, I would think.”
True, he lacked a good deal in some quarters, like physical strength, but his magic was always there to take up the slack. That was what the overseers would judge him by. “But—”
“That’s enough,” she snapped, grasping his arm and whirling him around to face her. “After everything I’ve taught you, how can you still wish to leave? You will swear to me that you won’t pursue this any further, is that understood?”
He sighed. “Yes, Mother.” If he could just get one overseer to consider him, then he wouldn’t need his guardian’s backing.
Tricia stroked his cheek. “It’s for your own good, dear. Your kind really should stay where they belong.”
Locked away. It made sense when he was younger. There was so much that could go wrong whilst they learnt to control their power. But he knew what he was doing. He wasn’t a danger to anyone who didn’t deserve a bolt up the arse.
“Honestly, I don’t know what’s gotten into you. You’ve put so much effort into deciphering the ancient dwarven texts and the overseers are immensely impressed with your latest find. How can you want to throw all that away to...?” She harrumphed again and shook her head. “Why?”
Dylan hung his head. Nothing he said, no matter the reasoning, would be enough to sway her. “I’m sorry, Mother.”
They completed the rest of their journey to his quarters in silence, bar the occasional mutter or huff from his guardian. They spoke their goodbyes, the words hollow and clinging to the familiarity of tradition.
He opened the door, almost colliding into his roommate who stood on the other side. Sulin stared, his eyes wide and mouth open, his hand still poised for the handle that’d just swung past his fingers. The usual richly dark shade of his skin had gained the ashen tinge of shock. Dylan was fairly certain it was Tricia’s presence and not his that was having an adverse effect on his friend.
Even though she wasn’t his friend’s guardian, Tricia wasted no time in turning her sharp eyes towards Sulin. “And just where did you think you were going, young man?”
“I was...” Those dark brown eyes flicked to Dylan’s face. Whatever the man saw in that second, the faint twitch of those angular brows spoke of him swiftly changing his mind. “Just on my way to inform you of how Dylan had not yet returned to his quarters.” There was a squeak to his voice, giving a harsh edge to the man’s usual undulating tone. “But I see that you have found him, so I no longer have a reason to leave this room.” His gaze returned to Dylan as he spoke those last few words. The amenable smile turned glassy, silently threatening a dozen painful deaths.
Grimacing an apology and nodding as his guardian said farewell once more, Dylan slipped into the room. Sulin might not deliver on his threats of violence, but he’d certainly mete out one hell of a tongue lashing.
Behind him, Sulin shut the door. Leaning back on the heavy wood, his roommate groaned long and loud. “How could you do this to me?” His voice returned to its smooth, rolling accent. The elf originated from Stonebay, a city on the east coast and, although Sulin had lived here for twenty-odd years, his accent hadn’t left and had a habit of thickening whenever he was irritated, growing faster with each breath. “I had finally gotten Tillie to agree to give me a chance. Finally. Do you understand that? Do have any idea how hard it is to win her favour? Do you?”
Dylan opened his mouth.
“Excruciatingly so!” Sulin marched across the room, pacing the gap between their beds and gesturing wildly. “All you had to do was stay out of trouble for one night. One.”
Sighing, Dylan settled on the not-so-forgiving mattress of his bed. Yes, he knew how difficult it was to garner a second of Launtil’s time, even on a wholly non-physical level as she was often more interested in plants than people.
“I had plans,” Dylan grumbled. They’d been tentative ones that might’ve had the potential for more. “But apparently, I’m a horrid slime of a creature for even insinuating that she’d want to sleep with the likes of me.” The rather shrill notes still echoed in his ears. He was rather surprised his friend hadn’t heard the woman berating him.
Not that it was the first time he’d been insulted in such a way. He didn’t care if a prospective partner was human or elven, but not every elven woman was as amenable to lying outside their species as others. And he’d been angling for a kiss at most, always did with a new partner. Not that he would’ve turned down more, but he wasn’t one for pushing that option. More suggesting.
“You are horrid.” Sulin plonked next to him on the bed. Although the elf was far shorter than him, the man’s heavier build easily lifted Dylan’s half of the mattress. “Do you even listen to yourself when you flirt?”
Laughter bubbled in his chest. He wasn’t the worst in the tower. There was Mark, whose idea of flirting tended to involve a lot of bragging on his prowess. Dylan knew he wasn’t all that bad at what he did, or at least the tower held those who were worse, but he also wasn’t the sort to blurt out how many he’d lain with or how loudly they screamed his name. Not when actions spoke far better. “Hey, at least I’m not wagging body parts in their face and hoping they get it like you do.”
Sulin stuck his tongue out at him, although it’d been a long time since Dylan had considered the split organ as a single unit, at least a decade now, ever since the accident that had the poor alchemist abed for days and in pain for weeks. It didn’t help that his friend was partial to independently wiggling the tips. Like he was now.
The way they twisted in his mouth, writhing against each other like two wet serpents, was disturbing in a hypnotic sort of fashion and just that little bit arousing. By the gods, what does it feel like to kiss that? Dylan shook his head, letting the thought sink back into whatever depths it’d come from. “You’re disgusting.” He shoved Sulin’s shoulder. “Put those away already.”
The tongues retracted and Dylan swallowed. The sight of those pink tips gradually sliding between his friend’s dark lips was no less stirring than the rest of their performance. Unsettling and powerful all at once.
“Tomorrow, you are helping me explain, yes? You owe me that much.”
Dylan rolled his eyes. “Fine.” He bit the corner of his lip, thinking over Nestria’s words about the leashed spellster and the competition for a place in the king’s army. Then there was Mary and her experimental shield. “Do you happen to know where Ness is right now?”
Sulin frowned. The action, coupled with his short tightly-curled hair and sharply angled ears, always made him seem far too serious. “This is a trick question, right? You want me to say she’s with someone when she is actually fast asleep or some other equally boring thing.”
He filled his roommate in on the elf’s whereabouts and what he suspected Mary had planned for the night. Through it all, he stared unwavering at the elf’s face. Saw the horror swiftly growing in those ever-w
idening eyes.
The man jumped to his feet. “They are doing what?” He paced back and forth, muttering and tugging at his earlobe. “No, no, no. This is bad. The damn dog metal’s not stable enough to handle what she plans.” The elf swung around. “We have to get down there.”
“But—” His friend wanted Dylan to leave their quarters? After Tricia had escorted him here? “If I leave, I’ll be in direct violation of my guardian’s orders.” He’d no desire to spend the next month re-cataloguing the main library. Not whilst others fought for the right to join the king’s army.
Sulin grasped Dylan’s robe, nearly lifting him off his feet. The fabric creaked in his grip. “And if we don’t, Ness will die.”
They raced through the hallways, trailing cries in their wake. First, it was merely the startled yelps of the occasional servant as they ran through the upper levels and descended the stairs. Then, as they reached the bottom level and neared the duelling arena, they barrelled into the command to halt from the guardians patrolling the area.
Sulin slowed, half heeding the calls.
Dylan let his friend fall behind. If there was anything life-threatening going on in the arena, the alchemist’s magic wouldn’t be strong enough to shield him from it, let alone help anyone.
They’d be punished for this, being out of their quarters at night, doubly so for disobeying direct orders. At least a week’s worth of denying them any meals. They might even get solitary confinement. Yet, if his defiance of their cries saved Nestria and Mary, he’d weather whatever sentence they gave him. Please, don’t let me be too late.
He turned down the long corridor leading to the arena. The charge of lightning—an attack they both favoured—permeated the air. He slowed, scanning the hallway for any sign of guardian presence. Surely, if something was wrong, then there’d be people trying to right it.
The stench of scorched air grew stronger as he neared the doors.
Dylan focused and a small film of purple shimmered to life around him. Bracing himself, he flung open the doors.
Nestria stood in the middle of the arena, the unconscious form of Mary at her feet. Lightning flashed around them, forking as they smashed into the wide, shimmering barrier encircling them.
The attack came from the alchemist’s experimental infitialis shield. It sparked and crackled, each flare pulsing through the room until it connected with something.
He ran for the pair, the barrier around him thrumming with each hit. He dared to glance up. The big shield that protected spectators, which currently consisted of just the overseers, appeared to be holding up better than their personal barriers.
“Dylan!” Nestria screamed as he neared. “What are you doing?” Lightning stabbed her shield with a dreadful crackling sizzle. She winced, then squared her shoulders. “Get out of here! I can handle this.”
No, you can’t. His dear friend held her ground. For now. She wouldn’t for much longer. Not against this barrage. They needed to leave the arena’s confines, let the shield that encompassed the area contain the blast once the metal finally shattered. And it would. If there was one thing the infitialis metal did well, it was explode.
He pulled the elf’s slight form tight against him and focused on widening his shield, pushing the narrow oval out until it matched Nestria’s range. The effort caused a dull ache in the base of his skull. Manageable, for now.
Lightning crackled around them.
What if one of us fails? No, he couldn’t think of failure. Combined, their power should be enough to block out any force. Dylan bent to the alchemist’s inert form and slung her arm over his shoulder. “We have to get out of here.”
Nestria nodded, flinching as another bolt struck. Only when she moved to help him did he notice how she favoured one side, and the multitude of scorch marks adorning both women’s robes. His friend might be fast enough defending herself in sparring, but nothing was faster than lightning.
With them supporting Mary on either side, they hobbled towards the entrance. The doors seemed a lot farther off than they’d been a moment ago. Still, they struggled onwards, fighting to keep the unconscious woman from dragging—a feat that would’ve been a lot easier had they both been stronger and of similar height.
At their backs, the crackling grew louder, more erratic. He dared a hasty look over Nestria’s head to where Mary had lashed the shield to the old targeting blocks. The metal disc was fracturing. Each crack poured more power behind the lightning. Blue and purple branches of it flashed around them, glancing off their shields.
A particularly heavy blow smacked right across the barriers. Dylan flinched. His gaze fastened onto their exit. The closed, scorched doors seemed to be getting no closer. They had to make it out in time. He wasn’t certain if their shields would hold up against the final blast.
A bolt landed a direct hit to their flank.
Nestria cried out. Her shield wavered. Flickering pulses of purple light danced around them as she fought to keep the barrier up. A second blow slapped off it and her defence fell.
Whiteness lanced across Dylan’s vision. The suddenness of taking the blast’s whole force was like a punch to the jaw. He staggered, blind for several steps. The unconscious woman all but slipped from his hands.
Shaking his head, he put all his effort on maintaining the shield. Like claws squeezing his skull, the dull ache pinched his brain. No matter how he tried, he couldn’t stretch the shield to encompass them all and continue to maintain its strength. Pushing any harder only made his head feel as though it were trapped in a vice.
Instead, he turned to face the cracking disc of metal and focused on picturing a wall. It formed between them and the unstable experiment, far stronger than his previous attempts. The lightning smashed against this new barrier, fracturing along the surface. But the wall held.
“What are you doing?” Nestria screamed. She hunkered behind him, dragging the still unresponsive Mary down with her. A thin glow surrounded her, flickering and failing as she sought to shield them.
He crouched next to the women and wrapped his arms around Nestria’s slim shoulders. “Trust me.” If he could press the fracturing, twisting and glowing mass that was the metal disc up against the arena’s shield and hold it there, then perhaps he could limit the damage the experiment did when it exploded.
His shield edged closer. Forks of lightning climbed the surface, the tips curled and cracked at the top. He kept going. The outward face of his shield brushed the curve of infitialis. Dylan held his breath. The main property of the metal was its ability to negate magic. If his barrier dropped now…
His heart skipped a beat as the gossamer shield bulged, sending a visible shudder shimmering across the surface.
He flinched, his eyes unable to stay open. They were going to die. The barrier would fall and they’d be electrocuted well before being blown up was a problem.
After a few seconds had passed without incident, he dared to peek.
The shield held. It shuddered with each bolt spewing from the metal disc, but the barrier remained very much intact. He just had to keep it that way.
Slowly, he pushed the shield closer to the arena’s edge. The target block grated along the dusty ground. Each jump and tilt sent a bigger flare from the disc’s core. Thunder, originally a low rumble, boomed around the domed space.
At last, there was no more room for the block to go. Dylan altered his focus, moulding his flat barrier to sit seamlessly against the arena’s shield. What remained of the alchemist’s experiment twisted further, warping under the pressure of being hemmed on all sides.
He gritted his teeth and concentrated on keeping the wall in place. If he let his shield drop, even for a heartbeat, they’d be dead before the next pulse. “Ness!” he groaned, flailing his hand behind him in search of the woman.
Warm, familiar fingers wrapped around his wrist. They were coated in something slick. He didn’t dare look away from the barrier to find out what.
“Can you…” He puffed, tryi
ng to find the air to speak. Words should not be this hard. “…carry Mary… on your own?”
“She’s too heavy.”
“Then…” The room blurred. Warm dampness flooded his eyes. He blinked it away. I have to focus. He might be able to hold on long enough, but if not… “Leave us.”
Nestria tightened her grip on his arm. “Dylan…”
He dared the briefest of glances at her face, felt his barrier wavering and snapped his attention back. Behind his shield, the alchemist’s experiment glowed with an intense blue light. “Go.” There was no point in letting her die alongside him if he failed to contain the blast.
If she gave an answer, he didn’t hear it.
The pause between each pulse of lightning grew closer, hitting his barrier with a rapid staccato rhythm. He hunched down as far as he could, drawn between covering his eyes from the glare and knowing he had to keep watching. Any second now and the metal would—
The world went white and fuzzy.
A muffled boom echoed through the arena. His shield bulged under the pressure. He pushed back, trying to control a barrier he could no longer see even as he felt it ripping apart. The strain seared through him, tugging his very existence in all directions. The room spun. Already, he was sweating from every pore. Any moment now and his brain was going to leak out his ears. Can’t stop. It only had to hold for a little longer…
His shield shattered, unleashing the full force behind the blast. Stunned by the sudden absence of pressure, Dylan blindly threw himself to the ground. Bodies huddled against him. He flung his arms around Nestria and Mary, pulling them close, shielding them in the only way left to him.
Only when the blast’s last echoes had finished circling the arena did he dare to lift his head. We’re alive. The thought came sluggishly and a little on the tentative side. Were they alive? The compacted dirt under his chin certainly felt like that of the arena floor, but who was to say the afterlife didn’t start out this way?