by Mike Truk
I nearly plowed into the ground, so surprised was I, but managed to turn and pull up just in time to see Agax stomp Little Meow in the head.
Or try.
She swayed aside, lithe as a willow reed, then rose to slam her fist into his stomach.
And, oh shit.
I was reminded all over again why the Death’s Head gang back on Tagimron had left her alone.
Agax lifted right off the ground, doubling over her fist then disappearing into the fog as he was hurled back. His armor had crumpled around a fist-sized indentation where she’d punched him.
A split-second was all I had to take this in before I flew into Isossa. Slamming into her ward, I bounced off as if I’d hit a brick wall. Manipura prevented me from being stunned, but a ball of black flame struck my ward just before I could charge her again, coming from my left. My ward shattered and went down.
Isossa laughed, lunged forward, and darted her hand toward me, avoiding Shard to whisper the lightest of touches across my upper arm.
Her touch was scalding, as if her fingertips were a mass of nettles.
A fever swept through me, sweat breaking out of every pore. I shuddered as I wrestled with the turgid, heavy desire I suddenly felt for her. The desire to pin Isossa to the ground and tear away her armor, to spread her legs and fuck the shit out of her, right here on the battlefield, surrounded by violence and chaos, to glory in the madness of battle and dominate her, rut with her -
Something hit me in the back of the head, and I went down.
The ground smashed into my side, driving my breath from my lungs, Shard skittering away from my grip.
A world-annihilating fury - an abject, wretched rage - filled me, indignation so terrible I wanted to tear whoever had dared attack me piece from bloody piece.
There was more magic. Manipura was going nova in my core, and I blew right off the ground, snatching up Shard as I flew up and around to see Agax grinning at me from a half-dozen yards away. He was hunched over his mangled armor, black fire coruscating in his fist.
Then a dozen threads of lightning plunged toward him, faster than thought, almost catching him before he blinked away and was gone.
I whipped around, seeing Emma was down, Brielle and Imogen were fighting back to back, and Little Meow was pressing her hand to Valeria’s side.
“Pitiful,” said Isossa, walking languorously toward me. “How easily you’re manipulated, Savior. Why -”
Neveah burst out of the fog, her leap carrying her straight into Isossa, Morghothilim drinking in the fog, a black so dense it hurt the eyes. Her knees both impacted the Morathi’s helm, crashing into the metal with punishing power. Isossa went down in a jumble of limbs.
Neveah sailed over her, landing in a somersault, and came up behind the Morathi attacking Brielle. Swinging Morghothilim at his ankles, she swept them clean out from under him just as Brielle brought the flat of her blade down on the man’s chest, smashing him to the ground.
Then Agax was there, looming over Neveah. He seemed to have grown, becoming a fell giant, and he smashed his burning fist down upon her head.
But Neveah was already turning, twisting, avoiding the blow, and bringing Morghothilim around.
I gave a shout of fury, bellowing like an ox in heat. Hurling a mass of levenbolts at the giant, I shredded the fog into tatters.
“Noah,” I heard someone say, and looking down saw Isossa, her helm knocked free, black hair fallen out of its braided curl, eyes alive with desire and amusement. Blood ran from her temple, but she seemed not to care. She slid a hand down her curvaceous cuirass and down between her legs, cupping her sex under her long tunic.
“Come here, Noah.” Her voice was provocative, amused, infuriating. “Come here and fuck me.”
I couldn’t think. A polluted fire raged in my veins. I wanted nothing more than to fall upon her, tear her undergarments away, and wipe that smile from her face.
But as much as that filthy desire raged within me, I felt the bonds to my companions grounding me, wrestling to keep me sane. It was all I could do to just stand there, swaying, fighting the urges, hands clenched so tightly around Shard that my knuckles felt like they would pop.
“Enough!” Brielle shouted.
Flame swept over Isossa, obscuring her completely from view with its vermillion glory. A moment later the blast ended, and there was nothing left behind but scorch marks.
“Enough is quite correct,” called out Emelias. “I declare the battle a draw! Cease your fighting!”
The fog dispersed, fading away almost immediately. I was left blinking as I turned in a slow circle, taken aback by the sudden clarity of the air, how quickly the bleachers and the expanse of the arena came back into view.
Emelias was striding toward us, expression just shy of smug.
Agax was setting Isossa down a good dozen yards away from us, while other Morathi were picking themselves up.
I stood there, dull-witted, fighting the urge to scream my anger. My thoughts were thick with hatred, with lust, and it was all I could do to not unleash a levenbolt at the Morathi.
“Isossa,” said Emelias chidingly.
“Oh, very well,” said the Morathi woman, making a gesture in my direction. And like that, the roiling, dark emotion washed away, leaving me gasping as I came to myself.
Not that I didn’t feel plenty of anger and humiliation of my own; but I put those emotions aside, drew the Vam mantra close, and ran back to where Valeria and Emma lay.
I didn’t even need to ask - it was obvious they would be all right. The blow to Valeria’s temple was little more than a light bruise at this point, and Emma was sitting up, rubbing her stomach, face pale and beaded with sweat.
“You guys all right?” I asked, slowing and dropping to a crouch.
“I am now,” said Emma. “Got hit in the solar plexus by something. Couldn’t even breathe there for a second.”
“Fine,” said Valeria, tone grim. “So - a draw?”
“Not bad,” said Imogen, tugging at the hem of her glove. “Our wards have clearly passed the test, and we managed to go toe-to-toe with a variety of Hexenmagic. We should be proud.”
“I hate teleporters,” I said, glaring over my shoulder at Agax. “And what Isossa did to me…”
“Classic Lilith shit,” said Valeria.
“But we didn’t buckle,” said Brielle, tone crisp. “We held our ground, reacted appropriately, and may have even won through if given a little more time.”
Valeria climbed to her feet. “But not good enough. One fight like this down below and we risk losing half our number. If the Morathi hadn’t held back their blows, Emma and I would be dead.”
Brielle frowned.
“We’ll get better,” I said. “We’re already fighting at a level we couldn’t have dreamed of back on Tagimron. There’s room for growth, but we should be proud.”
“They expected to defeat us handily,” said Brielle. “The fact that we fought them to a standstill even when they pulled out all their tricks shouldn’t be underestimated.”
“They were still holding back,” said Neveah.
“What?” Brielle stared at her, shocked. “How do you know?”
Neveah shrugged. “I can just tell. I don’t know why, but they held back.”
There was a moment of stunned silence.
“Shit,” said Brielle. “Forget what I said, then.”
Little Meow hugged herself. “Sounds like they’re trying to lull us into a false sense of confidence.”
“Nice punch, by the way,” I said. “No matter how strong Agax really is, he had to feel that one.”
Little Meow canted her head to one side and gave me a thumbs up.
“Regardless,” said Imogen. “This was of great value. It’s reminded us all how dangerous Hexenmagic can be in the field. We’ve fought isolated practitioners before, but never a mass group of them. We’ll be better prepared next time.”
I turned to regard the Morathi. Isossa, Agax, and Emelias w
ere conversing, their attitudes collegial, complicit. Emelias caught my eye and gave me an encouraging smile. I had to resist hard the urge to give him the middle finger back.
“The sooner we’re out of here the better,” I said. “I don’t know what games these Morathi are playing, but I know I don’t like them. And the worst kind of corruption is the kind you never see coming. I’ll push to have Morgana open the portal tomorrow.”
“The day after tomorrow,” said Little Meow. “You all need to rest. Um. Doctor’s orders?”
The Morathi leaders were walking over. I nodded to Little Meow – it wasn’t too hard to agree to a little more massage and spa treatment when I knew we were in for hell right after - and turned to face them.
“Well done!” Emelias beamed at us. “Remarkable, I must say. You crumpled before the city guard like untested children, but now you manifest wards, you give as good as you get - most impressive.”
“Who is your tactician?” asked Agax, removing his helm and brushing his black hair back from his brow. When nobody responded, he gave us a feral grin. “I just wanted to compliment them. Excellent thinking.”
I felt the faintest hint of pride from Valeria, flowing through our channel.
“Now, if you like, we could repair to my estate, dine, drink, and discuss the combat.” Emelias linked his hands behind his back. “Examine what went right, what went wrong, and help you correct what mistakes you made.”
“No, thanks.” The wind howled between our two groups, scouring the board’s surface, whipping at cloaks and tugging at hair. “We’ll do our own analysis.”
Emelias’s face fell. “Are you sure?”
“Quite.”
Isossa held her crumpled helm under one arm, eyeing me with that provocative smile of hers. “If you change your mind, Noah, I’d be open for meeting later. Perhaps I could teach you how best to handle an attack like the one I subjected you to.”
I gave her a perfunctory smile in return. “Tempting. No thanks.”
Her smile deepened as if she’d somehow scored a point.
“Well, I admit to being disappointed,” said Emelias. “But I want to thank Agax and the others for coming out for this exercise regardless.”
“It was enjoyable,” said the massive man, running his fingers over the fist-deep indentation in his cuirass. It didn’t seem to bother him much. “Not much reason of late to use our powers. If ever you’re up for a rematch, you’ll find me more than willing.”
“Some other time,” I said. Then, feeling churlish, I inclined my head. “Thanks.”
Isossa turned to the others. “Did he just thank us? The universe truly is coming to an end.”
Emelias cast a final glance around the board before gesturing to the doorway. “Come, no need to linger in this barren locale any longer. Fine wine, the pleasures of the flesh, and good conversation await us.”
I chose to stay silent, assuming he spoke to his companions and not mine.
But as we strode toward the archway that stood alone off to the board’s side, Emelias turned to me.
“I’ll make the offer, though I admit I do so with reservation; there are only so many times I’ll get my hand slapped away before I risk coming to enjoy the pain. Will you and your friends join us tonight for dinner? My cooks are preparing a feast fit for a Savior, and after there are many enjoyments to be had. I could arrange for an orgy if you’re interested, or we could take in a demonstration of the finer points of torture?”
Isossa picked up seamlessly where Emelias left off. “Or we could let loose a passel of children in the estate, and hunt them down with carving knives?”
“Kittens,” said Agax with a rumble of a chuckle. “We could -”
“I’m sure you jest,” said Brielle, coming to a stop, and in so doing causing the rest of us to stop with her. “No doubt you think yourselves amusing. Mocking us for what you see as our prudish ways, perhaps seeking to shame us into relaxing our vigilance against corruption. But your disrespect does you disservice. We have journeyed far to reach this dark city and seen horrors that would make your suggestions prosaic. We have seen and been subjected to torture. We have seen towns massacred and children stolen by men more bestial than actual beasts.”
“My dear Brielle,” began Emelias.
“Do not insult me further by interrupting.” Her glare was imperious, lethal, and chilled to the core with disdain. “You are Morathi, your name a byword for corruption and evil across the universe. Juvenile jokes will not change this fact, but it will ruin the last remaining virtue you have at your disposal - namely, some semblance of dignity imparted to you by your mistress’s successes. Waste that at your peril, for my friends and I are rapidly discovering that the old adage is true: familiarity breeds contempt. But if that is your goal, then, good sir, I congratulate you. You are succeeding admirably.”
At that, she tossed her hair, and resumed marching toward the archway.
I fought down my grin and followed right after, leaving the trio behind as Emelias spluttered and sought to formulate some cutting response of his own. Brielle, however, reached the archway and there crossed her arms. Leaning her weight on one hip and tapping the other foot, she was the perfect picture of an impatient princess who has spent her life tolerating tardy fools.
The humor was gone from the Morathi when they caught up with us. Emelias waved his hand with something short of a snarl, and the archway opened to our pool room.
Without so much as a backward glance, Brielle marched through, and the rest of us followed. Little Meow was the last to enter our suite, and turned to close the door loudly in the faces of the Morathi staring after us from the courtyard beyond.
“And stay out!” said Emma with glee. She clapped her hands together and turned to beam at Brielle. “You are so fucking magnificent; I don’t even know what to do with myself.”
Brielle examined her nails. “A little adulation wouldn’t be out of line. The Source knows I’ve had far too little of that of late.”
“Given that you delivered our first real victory thus far?” I grinned. “I think a little adulation might be in line. And Valeria.” I turned to the blond warrior, who was unstringing her crossbow. “Excellent work out there. You had us running like an oiled machine.”
Valeria frowned, as if considering refuting my comment, then allowed herself a smile. “We didn’t fare too badly.”
Emma winced as she squeezed her own shoulder. “I need my own attack. Imogen, you got time today to help me figure something out with Muladhara?”
Imogen laughed. “Sure. I’ll have a word with your sanskara, tell it to shape up.”
Emma chuckled. “You know what I mean. It’s one thing to wield Victor’s blade and have a ward up, and another to throw an entire storm’s worth of levenbolts at the enemy like you do.”
“Speaking of,” said Imogen, “Noah. I noticed you broke through a few circles there with your own levenbolt.”
“Yeah,” I said. “Guess I did. What circle do you think that would put me at?”
“Hard to say without some rigorous testing, but a casual estimate? I’d wager you’re fifth, maybe sixth circle now.”
“Getting good,” I said. “Wards, flight, hurling a dozen lightning bolts, the strength of a dozen men - I’m turning into a regular superhero.”
The ladies exchanged an amused glance.
“What?” I asked.
“Nothing,” said Emma. “You’re doing very well, Noah.”
“Very, very well,” said Brielle. “You should feel proud of yourself.”
“I - wait. What did I miss?”
“I’ll get to work on your cape,” said Emma. “What color scheme you going to go for?”
“A huge ‘N’ on his chest should suit,” said Brielle.
“Fine,” I said. “Fine, I’ll stick to just being the last Savior and final hope of the universe.”
“Pelleas wore a uniform,” said Neveah quietly. “A cape of liquid gold gifted to him by Ghargerim the Bl
ack. His armor was silver, and on his brow, he wore the Diadem of the Sun.”
“Did he have a huge ‘P’ emblazoned on his chest?” asked Brielle.
Neveah’s smile was gentle, melancholy. “He didn’t need it. Everyone knew who he was.”
There were no more smiles. The ebullient mood subsided.
“Pelleas,” said Imogen, tone distant. “The greatest hero of our age. The first Savior.”
“The only one to make it to Malkuth,” I said, trying hard not to feel despondent.
“And who’s now leading the attack on Bastion,” concluded Brielle. “Great. Thanks, Neveah, for that uplifting train of thought.”
“I - I’m sorry,” said Neveah. She put her hand to her temple. “I shouldn’t have - I’m sorry. Excuse me.” And she left the room.
I raised a hand, forestalling Brielle’s response, and followed, through the archway to the grand bedroom, then through a second to a small, windowless study illuminated by a sole lantern. Neveah stood before the desk, arms crossed, head turned away from me.
“Hey,” I said, stopping in the doorway.
She flashed me a tight smile then looked away.
The very fact that she smiled unnerved me. It hadn’t felt sincere - how could it have been? But Neveah had never bothered with such… mundane expressions before. Where had her cold stare gone?
“What’s going on?” I asked, moving cautiously into the room.
She was hugging herself tightly. Taking a deep breath, she stared down at the desk, as if all the answers in the world were scrawled across its surface.
“Neveah? You doing all right?”
On the face of it, it was an asinine question. Of course she wasn’t. But it was just the right kind of question to provoke a response from her.
“No,” she said. “I don’t think I am.”
“If it’s of any comfort, I don’t think any of us are. What are you feeling?”
“What am I feeling?” She turned her attention abruptly to the ceiling, eyes wide, blinking rapidly. “Adrift. Unsure. As if I’m slowly falling apart.”
The last time she’d been so open with me was just before her manifold trial. What had followed thereafter had been… unpleasant. So perhaps I was justified in feeling my pulse begin to pick up speed.