by Frank Morin
Hamish swooped down to hover nearby, carrying Ilse in his arms. She looked exhausted, but still glared with undying hatred at Harley. Hamish pushed up his visor, looking disgusted but satisfied by the gruesome sight. “Those Althins make the best acid ever.”
A hideous creature, about the size of Nicklaus, was wailing as it crawled off the other corpse and grasped at the clean earth. Its torso was roughly rectangular, pocked with oozing blisters, with eight short tentacles sprouting from the perimeter. The head looked like a squashed rock, with only one narrow eye that Connor could see, and a round mouth, full of sharp teeth.
It glanced back at them and hissed. Amazingly, Harley’s voice, sounding weak and faint, emanated from the disgusting thing.
“No more restraint. You all die now.”
“Is that really Harley?” Connor asked, feeling like he might puke.
“What’s left of her,” Kilian said with a grimace.
Hamish said, “I hate that woman, but what is she?”
Connor felt overwhelming relief to see Hamish apparently unhurt. It seemed impossible that he’d survived a head-on clash with Harley, even after all Connor had done to injure her before.
Kilian regarded the freakish Harley-child with disgust. “She was the first Healer and rivaled my mother for pure healing talent. She lacks access to all the healing power my mother can tap, but she made up for it with raw determination to stay alive. As you can see, she’s discovered a way to abandon her body, distilling her essence into a smaller core that’s easier to regenerate, but every time she does it, she loses more of her humanity.”
“You mean she can heal that thing?” Hamish asked.
“If we gave her enough time.”
Just then, Connor felt Harley’s will slam down into the earth beneath that thing. She was trying to reach the deeper earth, probably trying to trigger a catastrophe similar to what she and Evander had done at the Carraig.
“Oh no you don’t,” Connor said.
He yanked on all four elements, mixed them together, and flung out a whiplike rope of intertwined elements. It struck the child monster, yanking her off the ground and severing her connection. He dared to hope he’d blocked her in time.
Harley’s eyes began glowing with inner fires, one red and the other green. Connor wasn’t sure what that meant, but he wasn’t about to let her reach the ground again. She opened her mouth wide and screamed inhuman fury at them.
Air whistled around her, a whirlwind that held her aloft and rotated her to face them from fifty feet away. She spoke, and her voice was surprisingly human, her tone calm and conciliatory. “You’ve again impressed me with your bravery and relentless determination, Connor. I cede the fight and will return to my queen with news of your worthiness.”
Kilian laughed, but the sound held no humor.
Connor didn’t doubt for a second that she was lying. He would never trust her to reach the ground again, and he definitely didn’t want her anywhere near the queen, who could probably heal her a lot faster.
So he said, “Good-bye, Harley.”
She shrieked again and dove toward the ground, propelled by her whirlwind.
Kilian intercepted her with a column of fire that roared up out of the ground directly below her, driving her screaming back into the air, her little tentacles whipping around in fury.
Connor coiled the rope of mixed elements, and as her tumbling spin brought her around to face him, their eyes locked and he read undying hatred in her gaze. He drove his mixed elements right down her throat, shoving it in with all the energy he’d siphoned from the people of Merkland. Her body convulsed as he filled it with elemental fury. It swelled, as if about to explode.
Connor hardened all the water inside of her, including her own blood, to ice.
Her little body swelled even more, and Kilian wrapped her in a cocoon of mixed water and fire. Then he shot across the distance, propelled by a blue-white mixture of superheated flames and ice.
Somehow she must have sensed him coming because the wind whistling around her carried a whisper-thin plea. “Kilian, show mercy. After all these years—”
He reached her and struck with an explosion of elemental might and diorite fury.
For a second, Connor lost sight of Harley in the smoke and fire and haze. He dropped to the ground and quested for her, but sensed nothing.
The smoke cleared and Kilian stood alone on the blackened ground. He didn’t look exultant, though, but was pacing around, hand raised with fire crackling around his fingers, his eyes studying the ground.
“She couldn’t have survived that!” Hamish shouted.
“I won’t believe she’s dead until I see her burned to powder,” Connor said.
“Finally, you say something smart,” Hamish said in an attempt at humor, but he was right. Connor should have dealt with her and sent Hamish to save Verena.
Then he felt her. She was small, barely the size of a child, slipping fast through the earth toward the south.
“She’s trying to flee,” he shouted, turning in that direction and grabbing for her with earth. He snarled with frustration when she slipped through his elemental fingers. She’d been wounded enough to kill dozens of Petralists, but somehow she was still stronger than Connor in the earth.
“Can you get her?” Hamish asked eagerly. Kilian was already rocketing south, driven by white-hot flames. Maybe he could catch her if Connor could ever force her back to the surface.
He tried again, but couldn’t quite hold onto her. “No!” he cried, banging his fist into the earth. She was already over a hundred yards away, accelerating fast.
Connor refused to give up. He quested after her a third time, pouring all his determination, all the energy he could summon into the effort to break through her shielding and grab her for just a second. He felt her, ringed her with his power, but still felt her sliding through.
Then she jarred to a stop. For a second, Connor felt an invisible wall in front of her. He had no idea where that came from, hadn’t thought Ilse was well enough to lend a hand, but he wasn’t about to waste that precious chance.
In that second, he could grasp her.
He ripped her out of the earth.
What remained of Harley burst into the air and soared up to twenty feet. She was a baby-sized . . . something. The creature looked even less human than the freaky tentacled shape that Kilian blew up. Now she was little more than an oblong mass that oozed blood and puss through its black skin. She lacked arms and legs, but did have a flat, fishlike head. A rank stench drifted to Connor, making him gag. It stunk like an open sewer full of dead skunks.
Was that really Harley? Could she really be considered alive? Could she actually try healing herself after falling so far from humanity?
He wasn’t about to give her the chance to try.
“You should have kept sleeping,” Connor said, propelling himself toward her along the ground with slate. Kilian closed on her, flames already building for yet another strike. Connor had to wonder how many times they’d have to kill her. How much smaller could she go before turning into a puddle of goo and ceasing to exist?
The creature’s fishy eyes still burned red and green, and its little mouth opened, revealing pointy teeth. It spun in the air at the apex of its arc to face Connor.
It laughed, and the sound that bellowed forth had lost none of Harley’s potency. The evil chuckle-thunder boomed across the valley.
“You’re all going to die, fools! I’ll regenerate and return stronger than ever, but you’ll spend the time grieving the idiots who believed you could save them.”
Then Harley-demon-baby abruptly stopped laughing and looked down, shock on her hideous face. The ground beneath her erupted and a giant figure burst into view, aimed straight at her.
Evander.
His massive hands were clenched tight together, enormous arms quivering with strain. He held light between his hands, so condensed and so bright that it shone right through his skin, illuminating the bones
with blinding intensity.
He released it, and the slender blade of light shot up so fast and so bright, it left an after-image hovering in Connor’s eyes for several seconds. The golden blade of light sheared right through Harley, cutting her completely in half. Without slowing, the light shot into the gray sky and looked like it would continue up until it struck a star.
The two pieces of Harley-demon-child rolled in the air, held aloft by an invisible hand of wind. Evander pointed at them and said, “Connor, Uncle, incinerate them, please.”
Kilian seized one of the pieces and surrounded it with white-hot fire, lifting it higher and burning it.
Connor grabbed the other. He saw no blood, but wasn’t sure if that intense beam of light had cauterized the wounds it made, or if Harley was somehow trying to heal again. He wasn’t about to give her the chance to try.
So he wrapped that broken monster body with superheated flames. He poured in even more heat and drove dozens of spears of white-hot fire through the globe of death-flames, piercing her half-corpse again and again. Kilian did the same on the other side.
Twenty seconds later, all that remained was a pile of ash.
Evander accepted the ash from both of them, holding it in his huge hands. He regarded it solemnly for a moment before the earth under his feet shook and formed into a roughly-humanoid figure with huge hands.
For a second, Connor worried Harley might have somehow returned, but Evander did not look worried. He carefully passed the ash to his construct and it turned and trotted to the nearby river. It leaped impossibly high and plunged into the waters, carrying the ashes with it.
Kilian blew out a breath and clapped Evander on one leather-clad shoulder. “Late, as always, but that was one impressive entrance.”
Connor exchanged a happy look with Hamish, who laughed with relief. He looked exhausted. “I’m so glad that old hag is gone forever.”
Ilse hugged Hamish, then glanced back toward Lukas’s body. With tears glinting in her eyes she said, “Thank you, Hamish. Thank you, Connor. Thank you, Kilian. We’ve avenged my love. He can rest in peace.”
Connor joined them. “Are you in pain?”
“I am stable. I fear you won’t be able to do any more for me. Focus on the things you can do.”
Her bravery inspired him. “I’ll check on your injuries soon anyway.”
Then he turned to Evander. “I’m glad you came.”
Evander shrugged. “The fury of a woman scorned eclipses the sun, but companions of fools suffer the greater harm.”
Connor laughed, feeling his tension drain away. “Evander, I never thought I’d be happy to say this, but I don’t understand.”
Hamish suddenly pointed to the west and shouted. “Hey, that’s Jean! Where is she leading all those soldiers?”
99
Anything Can Be Stolen
Verena barely paid attention to the shouting soldiers, the clashing of weapons, and the tumult and noise accompanying the bash fight. She walked with Ivor, who guided her with a hand on her shoulder.
Mattias was dead. That fact shook her so deep, she found it hard to breathe. Tears threatened to burst free again, but she fought them back. She couldn’t afford to lash out blindly at anyone again. The memory of Connor’s shocked, hurt expression haunted her.
She felt horrible that she’d reacted that way. Sure, she was shocked and grieving, but that was no excuse. She felt so grateful they’d cleared that up immediately. She couldn’t risk losing Connor too.
Mattias was dead, Dougal’s final casualty. Mattias had been a major part of her life. Even now when she no longer thought of him as her potential husband, she loved him dearly and his death left a gaping hole in her heart.
What would Saskia say? She cringed, terrified of the moment she’d have to face Saskia and try to explain. If not for Verena, Mattias wouldn’t have come, wouldn’t have died.
If only she’d moved faster, sooner. She had to believe her blade had killed Dougal even before Kilian struck. She’d avenged Mattias even before his heart stopped beating, but why couldn’t she have struck a heartbeat sooner?
Ivor’s voice shook her out of her misery. “Rory, how’s the fighting?”
“Never better,” Rory boomed with such enthusiasm that Verena looked around and tried to figure out where they were.
Rory was battered, his battle leathers shredded and torn, his granite-hardened muscles gleaming through the rents. He was covered in mud, but grinning like a far younger man.
Anika stood at his shoulder, her long braid muddy and half undone, her armor also battered, but smiling just as wide.
The nearby line of muddy bash fighters, barely fifty yards to the north, looked like they were having the time of their lives. They pummeled and pounded against a roughly equal number of opponents, although Verena struggled to distinguish friend from foe. The bulk of Dougal’s army had drawn back from the furious bash fight and seemed content to let it run its course.
They might have to set up tents if they planned to wait that long.
The snow had slackened to gentle sheets that no longer obscured the landscape. The sky was still a solid gray blanket, but it seemed lighter than before. Verena could see thousands of enemy troops, poised to descend upon them when the order was given. Most of them were assembled in long ranks on the western side of the battlefield, farther from the river. The entire eastern flank was gone, flooded under, a testament to Ivor’s effectiveness.
“Verena, what are you doing here?” Rory asked, clearly surprised to see her. “What happened?”
She tried to say, “Mattias is dead,” but choked on his name, and fresh tears flowed. Anika rushed to her side and held her as she sobbed again, hating her weakness, but unable to stop herself from crying.
Ivor briefly filled them in.
Rory’s expression turned grim. “Battle is an ugly business, Lady Verena. I’m sorry. Mattias was an honorable man, but this day isn’t over.”
Ivor started to speak, but then exclaimed, “Shona?”
Verena blinked away her tears as Shona marched up to them, flanked by Tomas and Cameron, both filthy and grinning from the fighting. She did not look like a prisoner.
The sight of her ignited Verena’s rage. Dougal had killed Mattias. Shona was his wicked daughter. She’d plotted for so long to destroy Verena and enslave Connor.
As if moving with a will of its own, her hand flashed to the last of her throwing daggers and flung it. The little knife leaped from her hand and buried itself in Shona’s leather armor.
Unfortunately, Shona must have been tapping at least a little granite because it stopped without sinking deep. Shona yanked it free and glared at Verena.
“You’ve grown ruder than ever, wench.”
Verena reached for her sword, but Ivor grabbed her arm. “Don’t. Let’s find out why she’s here first.”
“I’m here to stop the fighting,” Shona declared.
Rory chuckled. “Are you saying you wish to surrender your army, Lady Shona?”
“It’s High Lady Shona now. My father is dead.”
“You bet he is. I killed him,” Verena declared.
Shona regarded her with open scorn. “I heard Kilian and Connor defeated him.” She looked sad, but not heartbroken. As if the cold-hearted viper had a heart.
“They were there, but my dagger took him first.”
“One more reason I’ll enjoy crushing your skull, but all in good time.”
“Oh, you’re actually going to fight me, not send an assassin to smother me in my sleep?” Verena demanded. She’d received reports of the interrogation of Abigail the false Healer. The woman had confessed to taking a substantial payment from Dougal to ensure Verena never woke up.
Shona made a dismissive gesture. “I knew an attempt would be made. It seemed a valid strategy at the time, but today is a day of change. Don’t live in the past.”
Verena made a beckoning gesture, filled with an overwhelming urge to wipe that self-assured smirk o
ff of Shona’s hated face. She didn’t have many stones, but she’d figure something out. “How about we focus on the here and now? Given the circumstances, I can’t think of a better place for you to die.”
“I don’t have time to waste on petty squabbles,” Shona said. Then she turned away from Verena to face Rory. “The army is mine, general, as are these lands.”
Verena clenched her fists, filled with rage. How dare that murdering vixen dare dismiss her? She reached for another knife, but Ivor grabbed her hand.
When she turned her angry gaze on him, he shook his head slightly and said in a whisper, “Calm, Verena. We need peace now. There will be time to settle scores later.”
The fact that he was right only irritated her more, but she drew upon her years of training in the Grandurian court to school her features and settle her breathing. She would deal with Shona soon enough.
Rory was saying, “I cannot abandon our cause, Lady Shona.”
“You’ve done well for yourself today, Rory. I have to believe that between them, Connor and Kilian will defeat Harley, which would leave me alone in charge. We can stop the fighting on my command.”
“Why would you choose to do that?” Verena asked suspiciously.
“Because today is a day of choices. Today I choose to end this battle and join your cause. Obrion must be free, and if I don’t see to it, I doubt it’ll be done right.”
Verena gaped, momentarily speechless. The others looked equally surprised.
Shona added, “I will join you. I will stop the fighting. I will bring victory to our cause. I have one condition, however, and you must all agree to it now, in advance.”
“What condition?” Verena demanded. That was the Shona she knew and hated. Shona would never make such a bold and dangerous move without seeing benefit for herself, although Verena couldn’t imagine what Shona might think they’d give her that would be worth risking the queen’s wrath.
Then she did.
“Oh, no,” she said between clenched teeth. “You don’t get blanket terms like that.”