Battle Mage

by Tim Niederriter

  “Brosk, you are the strongest. You should go first.”

  “Indeed. Those creatures are powerful, but I trust my tosh. Is this the work of Roshi, I wonder?”

  Chelka shouldered her stethian, ball-point in the air.

  “I think I can use this device,” she said, and tipped her head toward it. “I’ll have to have a spell ready though.”

  “I will make sure we are not attacked from behind.” Edmath looked over his shoulder. “The others will have to be wary as well. There could be any number of foes about.”

  He walking slowly, and watched the shadows dance on the white stone of the walls. The polished floor reflected his face, a darker patch in a pool of light. Chelka and Brosk moved ahead of him, liquid-shapes maneuvering in the darkness. Overhead the cry of a mirache came in clearly to Edmath’s ears in the fox language.

  “We are hunters. They are prey!”

  Edmath shuddered. Roshi had taken Beliu’s people to use as their own it seemed, and now more monsters might easily arrive. Edmath’s pace quickened and his breathing became ragged.

  “The Roshi fox beasts are looking for something.”

  Brosk quieted Edmath’s whisper with a raised hand. Chelka turned and looked back at Edmath. Black hair flowed across her shoulders in the torchlight.

  “Here they are. Give me some magic and close your eyes.”

  She lowered her stethian and muttered something Edmath couldn’t hear while forming a sign with her ringed hand. Edmath struck the air. Ahead of him, Brosk did the same. The magic flowed around them and into them, but mostly toward Chelka. Mystic power rushed into her and she glowed as if someone lit a fire inside her chest. Edmath closed his eyes and made the sign of the thorn with his right hand. A cold breeze came in from a window up ahead and a roar rumbled from up ahead.

  “Open up, Ed.” Chelka’s voice drew Edmath’s eyes.

  Her red and yellow spell-light built along the narrow side of the stethian. The red was something he’d not seen before, but a new, sinister flame. The spell cast Chelka’s face in fierce flashes of light and shadow.

  The creatures coming toward them from the hallway were barely recognizable as human. Protean spheres had all but devoured the bodies of these people during the transformation and now their human parts hung limply from the floating orbs of black and red flesh. Tentacles flew out from the nearest creature and slashed toward Brosk. Edmath struck and opened another ragged tear before he moved to complete the thorn hand sign.

  Wrapped with black ropes of flesh, Brosk’s enormous shape strained and broke several of them. His arms seethed with muscles no human without magic possessed. Edmath focused on the thorns in his mind and launched them forward, shooting long vines covered in tiny points all over the warped flesh of the creature before him.

  He wrapped his fingers around the thick, smooth vine that appeared his hand and tugged on it, making the thorns cut through the protean sphere and dragging it to the floor. With a surge of strength, Brosk broke the last of the black tendrils wrapped around him. The creature they had grown from recoiled and yelled in an all too human voice.

  “You will die, Saales. All die!”

  Four more monsters came down the hall toward them, bringing the number of foes to six. Chelka walked up to Edmath’s side. He didn’t dare look at her, for fear of losing his sight. The blinding light on the edge of her stethian drew the attention of the villagers and their protean spheres. The one that had been wrestling with Brosk broke away and charged Edmath, trying to get to her.

  Edmath backed toward Chelka. His fingers tugged on the roots of the thorn plant. He pulled it into the creature’s path which held it back, though only for a second. Blood beaded on the body where the thorns cut into it and then the protean sphere pushed through, tearing long gashes across its host’s chest and abdomen. The creature did not seem to notice the pain.

  A flare of light from Chelka’s stethian struck the creature in its human chest and broke through like a hot poker, setting it on fire and sending ignited blood spraying up its neck. The fire blackened and seared flesh as it went. Edmath made the thorn sign again, running past the falling villager and casting the vines around the leg of another in front of him.

  Chelka sent a blast of light through a villager on Edmath’s left, knocking the twisted man to the ground, smoking. Edmath kept running past the villager he’d entangled. The vines dragged, pulling the man down by his protean sphere.

  Brosk’s fist smashed into another, driving it back a step before Chelka’s next bolt of light set it ablaze. Edmath turned and made the sign of the root, entangling another creature so it fell. Brosk and Chelka followed him past the maimed and burning villagers at a run.

  Things intensified the longer they fought. Those wounds could be fatal, Edmath knew, and the sickness that came to a Saale from killing would catch up with Chelka soon. She raced ahead of him, strong legs just as good for running as for dancing. She leveled her stethian, still alight with lethal flames, and stared straight ahead.

  “More enemies, from above,” Brosk said.

  “I’ve got them.” Chelka angled the end of her stethian up. Trickles of white smoke rose from the ball at its tip. Three blasts of red and yellow light shot through the first creature as it descended from the ceiling. Edmath watched it break into ashen pieces and fall to the ground, its buoyancy destroyed.

  “Don’t overdo it, my dear.” Edmath made the sign of the branch. “If you take ill this fight will become more difficult.”

  “I understand.” Chelka slowed her pace and closed with the inner wall of the corridor.

  Brosk swung his striker whip and knocked an approaching tentacle from the air. He dodged another coming in from above, and dropped to his knees. A spot of black blood appeared on his gray forearm.

  “Please die, will you?” A hoarse female voice came from above. “A prince and a Saale, you are. Doubly I hate you.”

  A hair-thin black line pulled free from Brosk’s arm and he gave a gasp of pain. The line retracted toward a spidery-limbed sphere descended from the ceiling with a yellow-haired woman emerging from its back, head bent over backward to glare with blue eyes at Brosk.

  “You cursed mages must pay for what we have suffered.”

  Edmath didn’t listen any further. He used the last of his magic and made the sign of the green fist. The huge chunk of plant matter shot from before him and into the villager woman’s sphere. The blow knocked her backward, but she recovered quickly. She floated up higher, and then shot a pair of dark lances of hair toward Edmath. The black hair-like spears were so thin he only saw them because of the light from Chelka’s spell. He threw himself to one side.

  The outline of an eye formed in the protean sphere connected to the woman’s midsection and fixed its gaze upon Edmath. More hairs shot at him. He wove out of the way of the sharp points and still, the eye remained staring at him.

  Nausea hit him, almost as if he’d taken a life with magic. Someone had struck him with a disorienting curse. The curse caught him up in dizziness and he fell to one knee. Chelka’s voice came in from the haze and his wave of nausea abated along with a flash of red light.

  Her bolt of light hit the spider woman and burned through the sphere’s staring eye. Brosk opened a trio of tears with his striker chain and advanced on the falling form of the villager.

  The woman lurched on the legs of her sphere. She scuttled back down the hallway where she had first appeared to attack them.

  Edmath recovered his stance and advanced, keeping conscious of the survival arts as he did so. He moved one foot, then the other, and advanced down the hallway without faltering. His feet didn’t drag, but flowed with him, liquid smooth movement after liquid-smooth movement. Maybe he wouldn’t be hopeless at the arts of battle forever. The spidery village-woman did not reappear.

  He, Chelka, and Brosk advanced without delay.

  Brosk winced visibly as he looked down at the wou
nd on his arm. His whale-face contorted but he kept his pace up. The three of them made their way onto a bridge leading over the gardens to the center of the high palace. The pyramid loomed in the moonlight over the central domes. Below them, the darkened grounds of the gardens were filled with shrieks of the Enchiel and the cries of the ordinary Roshi warriors who fought with them. Two or three men with lances and more with torches would surround a single Enchieli in an attempt to bring it down, but they were already outnumbered.

  “It looks as though the Roshi are not holding their own.” Edmath panted for air as he spoke. The constant running and fighting were taking their toll on him. “We should be fine if we can find his Grace.”

  “We can only hope.” Brosk tore tear after tear with his striker chain. Edmath and Chelka did the same with their own strikers. “He must still be alive.”

  Fear and uncertainty tugged at Edmath. He didn’t know if they could get out of the palace themselves. His earlier words hardly reassured him. Down in the gardens was one thing, but these villagers would get them through numbers if there were too many more, not to mention the physical mages. Ursar Kiet, Tamina, and even Akalok Roshi could fight with more power than any of these protean spheres, he was certain.

  “We’ll find him,” Chelka said. “We have to.”

  A roar and growl came from before them. In the shadows up ahead where the bridge met the dome a pair of Echiel lay slain, great wings torn and bodies opened by terrible wounds. Edmath felt pity for the great creatures but more fearful at the prospect of facing their killer. He looked at Chelka as they came to a stop before the closed door to the dome.

  “Chelka, how do you wield your stethian?”

  “It’s not difficult. Just focus on it when you make the hand sign.” Chelka lowered the flickering light of her weapon. “It uses much power, so strike often.”

  “Thank you. I will.”

  Brosk looked up from the bodies of the Enchiel as the sound of growls intensified. Edmath couldn’t put his finger on where it was coming from, though. A pair of great red fox heads flashed down between the columns on his left and another two on his right.

  Edmath grabbed Chelka’s arm and pulled her down as he dropped to the floor. Brosk threw his back against the door and swung his striker chain at the head menacing him. The huge fox face withdrew as the chain’s sharp edge opened a gash above its eyes. Another head passed over Edmath and Chelka and then rapidly drew back, noticing them.

  Edmath sprang up and to one side. Chelka rolled onto her back, sending a blast of light at the creature from her stethian. It snaked back up out of sight and the bolt blackened a pillar near the corner where the bridge joined the wall. Edmath made the sign of the thorn and glared at the face of the mirache hovering before him.

  He pointed the ball of the stethian at it and focused hard on the weapon. The vines that shot at the creature were black and long, razor-sharp blades, not really thorns at all. Edmath was too slow to grab the roots but the bladed vines hit the Mirache in a coil and opened wounds all across one side of its face, releasing blood to flow through fur. The head drew back with a loud yelp.

  A thump came from the further back across the bridge. Ursar Kiet rose from his crouch and patted the mirache head he had leapt from.

  “That won’t do. My mirache is playful. He’s not the sort of creature you want to kill, is he, Saales?” He lowered the great spear he carried and stalked toward them. The heads of his steed withdrew between the columns.

  Edmath turned to face the Roshi duelist.

  “You seemed like a decent fellow.”

  “A decent fellow serves his nation.”

  Edmath glanced at Brosk.

  “Remember, his death gaze.”

  “I remember,” Brosk said. “You two, get through the door.”

  He strode toward the Roshi. His striker chain opened tears from his striker chain with every step as he walked. Never looking back, Brosk made the sign of the stomach with his free hand.

  Edmath stared at him. Magic flowed into him from the tears his friend had opened. Chelka reacted before him. She turned, raised her stethian and shot a bolt of yellow light into the heavy wooden door. As burnt splinters fell upon the floor, Ursar Kiet grinned.

  “You two aren’t worth it anyway. The Whale Prince will be a worthy opponent.” Kiet grinned with a broad sincerity that made Edmath shudder.

  “Brosk.”

  “Just go, Ed. I’ll be fine.”

  Edmath and Chelka looked at each other, but Brosk did not turn toward them. He stared at Ursar Kiet and suddenly a thundering sound came from above them. Torrents of yellow liquid erupted from the air in front of Brosk and shot towards the Roshi before him. He charged after the high river of bile and gave a wild yell. Edmath felt Chelka’s warm hand in his, still gripping her double striker ring. She pulled him forward and they ran through the doorway.

  It was dark on the other side except for Chelka’s brightening spell-light. It took a moment for Edmath to realize he knew where they were. The internal domes were similar, but this one was just one room away from the throne room he’d seen on his first day in Diar.

  “Follow me,” he said. “We’ve got to get to the pyramid.”

  “You think his Grace is still in there?” Chelka raised her stethian and pointed it out across the bridge.

  “I think if he is still alive he would not leave the sphere of humanity.”

  “Right. Let’s go.”

  Edmath nodded and then started down the hall at a run. The fastest way to the pyramid would be through the window behind the throne. It overlooked the temple peak. He led Chelka through a corridor and up the stairs to the empty throne in the room they reached. The window was there, just as he’d expected it to be. Raising his stethian he pointed at its tall curtains.

  “Allow me.” Chelka made her sign of the star and the window shades flew open, revealing the pyramid beyond.

  Edmath made the sign of the branch and sent a long twisting plant flowing down from the window to form a bridge to the top of the pyramid. It took a few seconds to grow the plant but he and Chelka were running along it the moment it reached the other side. Edmath heard an inhuman cry and saw Kiet’s six-faced mirache coming toward them, completely without a rider and shedding blood from the wounds they had already dealt it.

  Chelka spun and shot a red light from her stethian. The flash of color grazed one of the creature’s heads and set the fur alight, but did not slow it down. Edmath dropped onto the stones of the pyramid steps even as the branch behind him shattered. The mirache’s great wings beat with what could have been the sound of a thousand birds. Chelka disappeared as it passed between them. Edmath’s mouth fell open even as he made the sign of years.

  A burst of growth surged through the crippled plant. Chelka reappeared on the mirache’s back as it flew in reverse from the bridge of wood. A great red head lunged from behind her and bit down. Chelka tumbled down the creature’s back, leaving her dress’ long white train in the jaws behind her. Edmath didn’t waste the time she had given him. His next sign was that of the forest, a complex and difficult one he rarely used.

  Great leafy branches and round trunks rose up from the courtyard below, fueled by the magic Edmath released. The forest extended towards Chelka as she fell from the mirache. The soft-crafted leafy canopy caught her and cushioned her fall as she caught herself. Edmath sagged half with relief and half with pure exhaustion.

  The magic he’d just put to use had nearly exhausted him. He struck a tear as Chelka shot bolt of light after bolt of light after the retreating mirache. Every blast failed to hit the monster.

  “Come on,” he called. “We have to find his Grace.”

  Chelka looked in his direction as he extended another bridge of wood toward her. The look of surprise on her face told Edmath that she had not relaxed her attitude since the times she had learned dueling alongside him back at Lexine Park. She got carried away
with fighting. It couldn’t be healthy. Still looking at her, Edmath knew he’d made the right choice to marry her. Pins that had held her hair up fell from her as she walked. He could not hear them hit the ground below.

  “Don’t stare, Ed.” Chelka gave him a wild grin. “We still have a job to do.”

  She stepped off the branch Edmath had summoned and the two of them raised their stethians. They climbed the stairs.

  The first room in the tower at the top of the pyramid was lined with sputtering candles, and more burned in the chandelier hanging from the ceiling. Voices he could not trace and did not understand reverberated through the room, shouting in rage. Edmath peered through the shadows. The voices echoed around the chamber, incoherent, and ghostly. Across the room the huge circular shadow of the sphere of humanity loomed, visible through a partially translucent white curtain.

  On the left, a set of red curtains glowed in the candlelight. On the other side of the room, green curtains lay in tatters with small fires burning upon them. In the center of the piles of torn green fabric, lay a small shape, yellow hair gleaming in the candlelight.

  “It’s his Grace’s Saale,” Edmath said as he and Chelka approached the girl on the floor. She lay on her back with a long black burn on her forearm. Her other hand clutched a stethian but her eyes were closed and she shook with pain.

  “Keve?” He crouched beside her. “Keve Zasha?”

  “Edmath Donroi.” The girl’s voice showed no pain, only deadened resolve. “Where is Emperor Loi?”

  “I don’t know. We need to find him.”

  “Yes. They came here. Akalok Roshi is with his Grace, behind the white curtain. You must be careful, Saales. There are more on their way.”

  Keve Zasha propped sat up, head waving with dizziness, and propped herself on her stethian. The ball of the device trickled white smoke like Chelka’s. Edmath looked past Keve to a burned body lying against the wall. The bulging remains of a protean sphere told him the thing had not been human when it died.