The creature paused before responding. [Would you let me be released, if it meant so much destruction?]
I snorted. “I don’t think I’m in a position to allow anything. I’m just asking.”
[You are kind, little one. But no. I do not need to be “free.” Freedom is a relative term. My mind is free, and I experience so much through people like you, who are open to me. Meanwhile, my body was never for this world. Let it lie here and rest.]
Phew, cuz that would have sucked, I thought, before I could stop myself. Then I forced myself to say, “If you’re sure.”
The creature merely chuckled.
“So what are we going to do?” I asked. “I know you don’t want to, but technically you’re still capable of destroying a big chunk of the world. And there’s this nonsense about me being a champion…”
[Well, first things first,] came the creature’s calm voice in my head. [I think you should probably deal with what’s behind you.]
I cocked my head in confusion, before twirling around on my heel.
There stood Phaedra, looking as muddy and bruised as me, but also very, very pissed.
CHAPTER TWENTY-THREE
Hey, Phaedra,” I said, effecting calm. “What’s up?”
It was her turn to blink at me.
“You look like you’ve been through the wars. How’d you get past Blondie?” I asked, suddenly alarmed for my friend.
Is she our friend? I thought, suddenly remembering Blondie’s heretofore unmentioned role in the Great Schism. Is this all her attempt to make things up?
“Cavern collapsed,” Phaedra snarled. “The bitch apparated herself out without a scratch.” With that, Phaedra spat out a mouthful of what looked like blood.
“Huh,” I said, taking in the little Alfar’s condition. Why isn’t she healing herself?
“But she’s not going to be able to find her way back in so easily,” Phaedra said and leered, and then I felt a little bit of pull from the earth and water around me as the Alfar visibly started to heal.
“Oh, no?” I asked, keeping Phaedra occupied while I tried to pinpoint the alarm bells going off in my head. They weren’t negative alarm bells; they were positive ones, like I was “hot” on something that would make a big difference, if I could only figure out what it was.
“The whole tunnel system collapsed behind me,” said Phaedra with a smirk, as she kept drawing weakly from around her. It was like she didn’t want me to feel what she was doing. “She wouldn’t know where to apparate herself to find us. You’re trapped down here with me.”
And you’re trapped down here with us, I thought, for the creature’s benefit. “How’d you make it through?” I asked, not having to feign the quaver in my voice. To be honest, I was more scared of the idea of being trapped as I was at the idea of being trapped with Phaedra. There was something about the Alfar that was off.
“Speed and shields,” she replied, healing the last of her wounds. But she still looked funny—pallid and not her usual sprightly, if evil, self.
Only then did the Alfar raise shields, pulling hard on the elements around her to form them.
Just the elements around her, my brain realized, beginning to understand the little Alfar’s predicament. Despite my forming ideas, I kept my face carefully neutral and took a step backward as if intimidated by the bald little woman in front of me.
I could hear the wet snick of the eye blinking, behind me.
“You know, we don’t have to do this,” I said, as she raised a mage ball and I pulled up my own shields, encompassing the eyeball to be on the safe side. I was pretty sure the creature could take care of itself, but still. The thought of a mage ball in my own eye made me squicky.
“Of course we do,” Phaedra replied, pulsing magic into her mage ball.
“But we don’t. The creature isn’t even a weapon. It’s actually really nice,” I said, realizing how inappropriate that sounded as soon as it was out of my mouth.
Well, nice in a “destroy a big chunk of the world despite itself” kind of way, I thought.
“Of course it is a weapon. Either it wipes out you and your allies like a scourge, or it gives me its power. Either way, I will destroy you and everyone like you,” Phaedra said, as she volleyed mage balls at my shields. I absorbed them without effort. Her balls aren’t nearly as full as they normally are, I thought, to my libido’s vast amusement.
“But it’s not evil,” I repeated. “It’s not even really imprisoned. I mean, it is, but that’s because the Alfar made it look that way.”
She blasted away at my shields for a bit, before coming up for air to regroup. Once again I felt her pull at the elements. I knew, then, what was wrong.
“I know, idiot halfling,” she said, clearly fed up. If she was smarter, or a better actress, she wouldn’t act so put out about not having been able to take me down already. But luckily she was Phaedra—evil and cunning, yes, but not the most diabolical devil in Hell, by any means.
“You know?” I asked, trying to keep her talking as I figured out my strategy.
“The stupid thing blasted its thoughts into every supernatural in Rockabill. We all saw its lies,” she said, her face a mask of rage.
“Really?” I asked, surprised that the creature had made common the truth it had shown me. “It showed everyone everything?”
“Yes,” she said, obviously fuming. “Although I am sure very little of it can be believed.”
“Really?” I repeated, stupidly. “You mean the whole thing? With the creation of the earth? And the supernaturals really being mutant humans? And the Great Schism? All of it?”
“Yes!” she growled, her face spasming with rage each time I adumbrated.
It sucks when your ideology turns out to be false, I thought, understanding her anger for what it really was—fear.
“If you experienced what I did, then you felt what it felt. More important, you felt what its host, the man who became a selkie, felt. You know it can’t be lies,” I needled.
“Anything can be a lie,” Phaedra insisted, almost shouting. “Anything can be created. Nothing can be believed, and that was lies.”
“If nothing can be believed, then why does the creature have to be the one lying? Why can’t what you’ve been taught about your origins be the lies?”
I realized how hard this had to be for Phaedra. Yes, she was a nut, but she’d been taught that the Alfar were far superior (and unrelated) to both humans and other supes. The creature’s version of things went against everything Phaedra had ever been told and what she’d based her whole life upon.
She actually turned purple at my words. It was an interesting choice of complexion, considering her blood-red eyes.
“We are not humans!” she snarled, and I felt her magic blast at me as she pounded against my shields with both force and well-aimed mage balls.
Gotcha, I thought, feeling her pull once again, and despite her having lost her temper, at only earth and water.
“You should really calm down, Phaedra,” I said, once she’d spent herself and had to recharge. Like me, she could pull water from the air, cocooned as we were by water in this ocean cave. Water that also kept out most air-elementals. What there had been, she’d probably already hoovered up. “Being human’s not that bad.”
She snarled again, her face a mask of inhuman rage.
“And besides,” I said, before she could answer back with either mage balls or words, “you’re going to burn yourself out.”
“I am Alfar, you stupid bitch. I will burn you out!” she yelled back at me, eyes manic with hate.
“No,” I replied, calmly. “You won’t. You can’t burn anything, not down here. You’re surrounded by water, dampening out your fire. And you’re cut off from air, as we’ve not had a fresh gust of anything but your own gaseous bellowing since we came down here.”
“I still have earth, and I still have water,” she said, but more quietly. She’d gone on the defensive, not that it mattered.
�
��No, you have only earth,” I said, and then I struck.
Using the same trick I’d learned from Trill and the kappa, I pulled the ocean over to my side. It was like playing string with a kitten: Every time Phaedra reached—expending power—I drew the water’s power back to me, out of her grasp.
Ever the Alfar, meanwhile, Phaedra wasn’t able to accept that I could best her with my own element. And instead of backing down and using her remaining element, like a sensible person, she just kept reaching.
And I kept shutting her down, till she was panting, her shields severely weakened. Only then did she back away and pull from the earth at her feet.
“There you go,” I said, smiling sweetly at her. “That’s a good girl. Now you know what it’s like to be one of us, with only one element.”
She growled something incomprehensible but almost certainly obscene as she pulled and pulled and pulled…
“You’re so slow,” I said, elegantly pulling my own water mojo around me like a cloak. “Not used to just having the one, are you?”
She snarled, lobbing a rather ineffectual green mage ball at me. It reminded me of Anyan, and I felt my own flare of temper.
“And so weak,” I jibed, trying to keep her off balance. But I was also telling the truth. I knew she wasn’t the strongest Alfar, but being able to pull from and combine all four elementals made her far more powerful than the majority of us single-elementals. Now she had only earth, and it didn’t appear as if she could hold too much of the element’s power at one time.
She’s got small earth pockets, I mused. While my own dear water pockets are generous.
“Are you going to talk at me all night, or are we going to fight?” the little woman asked finally, pulling herself upright.
She called that one, I thought, having fully intended to talk at her for as long as possible. But she didn’t need to know that.
“Oh, we’re going to fight, all right,” I said, baring my teeth in what I hoped was a predatory smile but I feared might look like I was requesting a spot spinach-check. And then I started pummeling her.
[Good, Jane, nice form,] the creature’s voice spoke in my mind, nearly causing me to lose my concentration. I’d almost forgotten about it, lurking behind me.
Thanks, I thought, as I kept pulling water-elementals away from Phaedra whenever she tried to reach, using them to recharge even as I launched barrage after barrage of mage balls. Phaedra’s shields were absorbing them, but she was weakening.
[What you need is a weapon,] the creature stated, and I thought of Blondie’s killer (literally) sword. The creature chuckled.
[No, you’ll not be able to create that sword. That’s a real weapon, forged by my surviving child. That’s part of her magic as much as it is the physical world. You need something different. Something made for you.]
Like what? I thought, as I kept Phaedra busy with a fresh volley of zinging mage balls.
[How about… this,] the creature said, as in front of me appeared a two-headed ax.
“An ax?” I said aloud, my voice unable to hide my scorn. Me with an ax? That’ll be like an episode of outtakes from the ill-fated Jane the Barbarian.
[Actually a labrys,] the creature informed me.
“See, I don’t even know my axes. That’s exactly why you need a different champion,” I said, nearly nicking Phaedra with a mage ball. She’d been distracted by an ax appearing in front of me, out of nowhere.
[Just take it. See how it feels,] the creature said. I think I was trying its patience.
“Fine,” I said. “But if I chop off my own leg, I’m hopping after you.”
The creature stayed silent as I reached out my hand. As soon as my fingers made contact with the haft, all my nerves—and my magic—sang. It felt like the ax had been made for me. The wood felt perfect against my skin, but it’s also like I recognized the weapon, on some primeval level.
Holy shit, I marveled, as my hand closed around the ax’s handle. Power surged through me and the wood of the handle seemed to mold itself to my hand.
What is this thing? I marveled.
I drew my arm back, taking the ax from where it hung in the air before me. But instead of falling to the ground with a thunk as my arm lost to its weight, like I thought would happen, the ax seemed to weigh nothing at all.
[Now give it some power,] said the creature. [Make it yours.]
I concentrated, somehow knowing exactly what the creature meant for me to do. It was like the weapon itself was whispering to me. I shut my eyes, letting my shields absorb Phaedra’s attacks, as I opened myself to both my power and the labrys…
Voila, I thought, as I opened my eyes to discover that I held in front of me a weapon made of both pure energy and steel—something to rival Blondie’s own fearsome sword.
Phaedra’s attacks stopped, and she looked at me with horror.
I took a few admittedly awkward swipes with the ax. I remembered Ryu elegantly dueling with Jimmu, the naga prince, at the Alfar Compound.
I’m not quite that elegant, I thought, as I chopped away with my new toy. The good news was that Phaedra, at least, was looking even more vexed than I was.
“I’m full of surprises,” I informed the little Alfar, as I took a step toward her, brandishing my new weapon. “Which you should keep in mind, as I repeat myself: We don’t have to do this.”
Phaedra pulled hard on the earth, creating her own forest-green sword.
“Yes, we do,” she said, twirling her own weapon elegantly. I frowned.
Add ax-fighting lessons to the list, I thought wearily.
“Why keep going, Phaedra?” I asked, trying to stall her. While the labrys felt great in my hand, and my body was singing with power, I still didn’t want to have to fight the little Alfar. “The creature’s not going to kill for you,” I said. “What part of ‘it’s not a weapon’ are you not understanding?”
Phaedra shook her head. “It does not matter whether it will kill for us,” she said. “Merely waking it will destroy that which we most want destroyed: you, the barghest, your baobhan sith, and hopefully all the other traitors still squatting in that compound.”
“How are they traitors?” I asked. “It’s your master who killed the true king.”
“Orin was no king. He was a puppet. The weakness of such leaders is what has brought down my people.”
I pursed my lips. “Actually, no. Did you guys not get the part about magic and babies?”
Phaedra looked at me, confused. Our subsequent conversation must have been private, even if the creature had shared its memories of that day. Phaedra hadn’t the truth about magic and fertility.
“It’s your magic that does that. The no-babies thing? It has to do with how strong you are, with the mojos. How much you use it.”
“Again, you lie,” she spat out.
“Do I?” I asked. “Think about it. Nahuals, magically your weakest people, still manage to procreate. Alfars, magically your strongest, are almost entirely barren. Everyone else gets filled in somewhere on that spectrum.”
Phaedra shook her head, either in denial of my words or denying she’d even heard them. She beefed up her shields and took a step toward me, her sword a blur as she did some fancy ninja moves.
“Besides,” I said, wondering why on earth I had thought “take the weapon” was a good idea, “you don’t even know how to free the creature. It’s already awake, so that can’t be the answer.” I was trying to distract her while I thought to the being in question.
Um, a little help here, I thought. About the whole “ax-fighting” thing.
[I am here to help you,] it told me, and I felt a wave of reassurance—both my own and the creature’s—wash through me. Phaedra’s next words, however, were not so reassuring.
“You little idiot,” Phaedra hissed, as she pointed with her sword above my head. “Of course I do. Do you never look up?”
Will you keep an eye on her? I thought. [Yes,] the creature replied, as I beefed up my shields so I could
turn around.
Shit, I thought. For sure enough, several feet over where the eye peeked out of the rock, there was one last glyph carved into the stone.
Undoubtedly the glyph that freed the creature from its prison, taking the rest of us with it.
“So you understand why it is that we must, indeed, ‘do this,’ ” Phaedra said, giving me her favorite cat’s-ass smile. “You are standing in between me and your imminent demise.”
That I am, I thought, even as I realized something. “But you’ll be destroying yourself too, you loon,” I said.
She nodded, her eyes wide and shining. “But I will die cleansing this world of the lies spread here today.” Then she looked directly at me, beginning her ninja-sword routine again to punctuate her name-calling. “And you, you annoying… little… perversion.”
Wow, she’s willing to die just to get rid of lil old me, I thought, almost proud. I must be super annoying…
The creature chuckled in my mind. [I think you might want to get ready,] it intoned, just as Phaedra leaped at me.
My shields were strong enough that neither she nor her sword could penetrate them, but I felt the blow. The sword concentrated the Alfar’s force, making it harder to deflect than mage balls.
[And your labrys will do the same,] it said. [If you use it…]
With that hint, I raised my ax and tentatively began hacking with it. The problem was, to get anywhere with the hacking I had to pull my shields back to behind the ax. Which meant I left myself vulnerable, especially since I was quickly discovering how very little I knew about edged-weapons fighting.
When I’d nearly had my hands whacked off twice, and I’d taken about a dozen hard blows to my shields, the creature intervened.
[May I?] it inquired politely. [If you’d just open your mind…]
I did so, and the next thing I knew it felt like I was floating just over my own head. The creature had shoved me out of my own body so it could do its thang. I watched as Jane began her own offensive—much to Phaedra’s evident shock—which included some of her own ninja twirlings and a seriously fast series of thrusts and slices that had worn Phaedra’s shields down to nubs. The creature kept up the onslaught until Phaedra had retreated to the other side of the room, panting.
Eye of the Tempest (Jane True) Page 24