“You ain’t blasted kiddin’,” Lenny agreed.
The forest was gone. For hundreds of yards in every direction there was just flat blackened earth.
Justan stood in awe of the destruction around him. He laughed. It had worked! He hugged Darlan. “Thank you, mother. Thank you for believing me.”
“How did you know it would work?” she asked.
“It’s Artemus’ nature. That’s what the stupid book was trying to tell me,” Justan explained. “He’s a protector, not a fighter. I should have seen it before. He needs my magic in order to survive, but he has always let me use it for defensive purposes. When he appeared while I was fighting the bandham, he only came when it had me in its hands. Then he froze it, but it was my sword that destroyed it. When I realized that, I knew he would protect us.”
“I had forgotten how powerful you are, Darlan,” said Faldon. His face was swollen and he was covered in welts and insect bites, but the warrior walked towards them with a smile.
She ran and embraced him. “I wish I could heal you with a kiss, dear, but I’m too tired.”
“I’ll settle for a kiss,” Faldon replied. She kissed him hard and he didn’t mind that it hurt his lips.
Justan looked around the clearing. He saw Fist and Deathclaw and Gwyrtha. But where was . . .
“Justan.”
He felt Jhonate’s hand on his shoulder. He turned around and hugged her, and her wonderful scent filled his nose despite the charred earth around them. She kissed him and he pulled back and looked at her. She didn’t have so much as a single welt on her. “When I saw you swallowed up, I thought you were gone.”
She frowned. “Why? You were always protecting me.”
“It’s the only thing I want to do,” he said.
Justan, Fist sent sadly. Look.
Not every dome of frost had contained a live body. Alfred knelt by Master Latva, weeping and Charz knelt beside him, a hand resting on the gnome’s back. Not far from them was the body of Wizard Nikoli covered in welts. Several others did not stir.
“We’re not done,” Beth said, pointing to the spot where the tree once stood. Now it was little more than a lump in the ash. “She’s still under there.”
Darlan gathered the wizards that could stand and together they finished what Nikoli had started. They ripped up the burnt remnants of the dead Jharro tree.
There, deep in the ground, was a withered husk of a woman, her body dry and pierced by remnants of tree roots. In her hand was a black dagger with a rune carved into its blade. The dagger made Justan sick just looking at it and when he switched to Mage sight, he saw a black nimbus of dark magic swirling around it.
Jhonate drew the white dagger the prophet had given her, the rubies on its hilt sparkling as she slid into the hole where the tree had been. Beth and Tolivar followed her, but Jhonate did not wait for them. She was ready for this to be over. She raised her dagger and stabbed Mellinda’s runed blade.
A flash of light exploded in Jhonate’s skull. Then the dirt around her was gone.
Jhonate stood in the dark, a white glow surrounding her figure. She was wearing a white suit of armor. In her left hand she held her Jharro staff and in her other hand she held the white blade.
Jhonate nodded to herself. She knew what this place was. She had been there once before. She soared forward into the center of the place until she saw a creature stir in the darkness.
She recognized the form of Mellinda’s mind immediately. It was bulbous and black, but it wasn’t as large as it had been the last time she’d seen it. The sky in this place had once been full of pinpricks of lights that looked like stars, but were really doorways to Mellinda’s eyes. Now the sky was black but for a few tiny dots.
“Gone!” wailed the black blob. “Gone! All my babies. My sweet-eyed children . . .”
Jhonate knew what she had to do. She took the white blade in her right hand and pushed it into the shaft of her Jharro staff, willing the staff to melt around it and for them to join together. The wood sizzled until they had combined into one weapon. She now held a shining white blade ten-feet-tall.
The light from the blade illuminated Mellinda’s misshapen mind. The black matter stirred and a feminine figure rose from the midst of it, but its creation was clumsy, as if she could not quite remember how to form it. One arm was longer than the other and half of its face a lump.
“Y-you . . .” It pointed at her with a melting finger. “You are marked . . .” It shuffled towards her.
“You will be destroyed,” Jhonate swore.
The black thing rose up before her, its slouching female form high overhead, and Jhonate realized the sword wasn’t quite big enough. She willed to grow. She willed it to become longer, and it did, but still not enough. Mellinda’s blackness rushed forward to swallow her up.
Jhonate felt hands fall down on her shoulders. On her right side was Beth standing in bristling white armor. On her left was Tolivar wearing a white robe and the hilt of a sword protruding over one shoulder.
The black form overshadowed them all but Jhonate focused her will and added the willpower of the people beside her. The sword grew, rising to twenty feet, thirty, then a hundred feet in the air. She cried out and brought it down on the blackness with all her might.
Mellinda screamed as her form was hewn in two.
Jhonate gasped. Her eyes opened and she was kneeling in the dirt under the tree again. Beth and Tolivar at her side. The point of the white dagger had pierced Mellinda’s blade, shattering it. To the side, the withered husk of Mellinda’s body crumbled.
Chapter Forty
The elven homeland was a mess. Mellinda had turned the place into a moonrat breeding ground, hoping that it would strengthen her children and bring their evolution about more quickly. The ground had been torn up, the soil scattered. Bark hung from the trees in shreds.
When Mellinda had been destroyed, many of the moonrats had died. The rest of them lost their direction and reverted back to pure instinct, most looking for darker places. By the time the elves arrived, there were few remaining and the battle to reclaim their land was much easier than they had feared. A few of the moonrats attacked on sight, but most of them ran, all their will to fight gone.
Academy troops ran into several groups of goblinoids, but without the witch to keep them there, they fled, offering very little resistance. The largest problem was the trolls. Without Mellinda to control them, they scattered, looking for food. The forest was infested with hundreds of them and it would be a long time before the elves destroyed them all.
When the survivors of the strike force arrived at the homeland, the elves were already hard at work repairing the damage as best they could. Justan and his bonded stayed there for a few days helping Antyni and the elves plant the first honstule seeds using soil made from Qyxal’s remains.
The foulest portion of the Dark Forest had been destroyed by Darlan’s spell. Fire was a cleansing force as well as a destructive one and the elves were confident that the place could be regrown and beautified in time.
The Sampo refugees returned home shortly after the elf homeland was freed, but the Reneul and academy people stayed behind. There were a lot of decisions to be made. Would the academy be rebuilt in the same spot or moved somewhere else and what would that mean for Reneul? The dwarves and wizards pledged their help in the rebuilding process and it was hoped that some of the academy’s larger clients would pitch in as well.
Captain Demetrius’ troops found Queen Elise on the way to Dremald. She hadn’t left the carriage and was half starved and quite mad. They brought her to the capital with them. The captain took command of Dremald’s garrison and wrested control of the government. There wasn’t much of a fight from the nobles. Their queen had gone crazy and the entire populous was against them.
Valtrek sat with the nobles and military leaders in negotiations while Locksher and Vannya delved into exposing Ewzad’s crimes and discovering those who had conspired with him. In the end, the majority of
the nobles were considered unfit for consideration and Captain Demetrius was given the temporary title of Lord Commander of Dremaldria. Valtrek stayed in the capital as the official Mage School representative until the proper line of succession could be decided.
It was three weeks before the funerals of the fallen were held at the Mage School. There was so much to do. The bodies of the dead were healed and maintained so that they could be viewed in the large procession. In the meantime, the grounds were repaired and the bodies of the enemies gathered and burned. The gelatinous remains of Ewzad monsters were a bit harder to get rid of. They didn’t burn well and in the end the wizards were forced to open up a big pit and bury it.
Talks began on a new partnership between the school and academy, one that would provide a stronger academy presence within the Mage School as well as provide training for the warriors that could learn to use mage sight and spirit sight. In addition, a spot on the Academy Council would be opened up for a Mage School representative.
The Academy Council made a proclamation that all of the Training School students that still wanted to enter the academy were accepted without having to take the tests. In addition, a graduation ceremony was held for many of the academy students that had shown particular valor in the war; Willum, Swen, Jhonate, Qenzic, and Poz were among them.
Sabre Vlad’s position on the council was offered to Lyramoor. It was decided that the old rules forbidding certain non-humans from the academy would be abolished. In the end, however, Lyramoor declined, deciding he’d rather stay close to Qenzic. The position was filled by Bill the Fletch, head of the Archer Guild, instead.
Replacing the leadership was a much harder decision for the Mage School.
“What did you tell them, mother?” Justan asked. They were standing next to the moat when the funeral procession started pouring out of the Rune Tower gates.
Mourners and the veterans of the war lined the main road. The procession was set to travel out along the main road to the gates where the outer walls used to be and back. The academy’s portion of the funeral was first and would be the longest.
Darlan glanced at him. “You look ridiculous, son. When Jhonate sees you, she’s going to make you change.”
He winced, hoping she wasn’t right. He didn’t have any true dress clothes, so he had chosen to wear a set of wizard’s robes in blue and gold with his swords strapped on the outside. It would have been easier if he were able to wear his sheaths at his belt, but his swords were too long for that.
Darlan shook her head. “To answer your question, I couldn’t say no to them this time. I agreed to accept a position on the High Council, but in the position of Official Wizard Representative to the Battle Academy. Whenever we get the academy rebuilt I’ll be staying there.”
“But what about me?” Fist asked, concern flooding the bond. The ogre wore his black robes with blue and gold trim and had his hair neatly combed. Squirrel sat on his shoulder wearing a tiny little jacket that Darlan had sewn for him for the occasion. The animal was quite proud of it, too.
“You’re my apprentice still, Fist. That hasn’t changed. You can come with me and I can continue to teach you. But you will have to return to the school to take the proper tests before you’re raised to mage.”
“Good,” Fist said, but his smile faltered. “Do I have to become a mage?”
“Good question,” Justan said. “What’s the school’s stance on that one?” His own contract with the school was up and there was no way they could force a named wizard to continue taking classes.
“It’s still being debated. Since you’re his bonding wizard, it has been argued that you should take over my role as his master. That way he’d never have to finish his studies as long as the two of you stayed together.” She frowned. “But you know my position on the mage rule. It’s why I left the school in the first place.”
“Because of your last apprentice?” Fist asked.
“Look, Beth was at the point in her magic that she was fully capable of using it without being a danger to anyone,” Darlan replied. “When they decided to quell her despite my objections, I couldn’t take it anymore.”
“She’s done well for herself. It seems to me she turned out just fine,” Justan said, looking over to where Hilt and Beth stood watching the procession. The two of them were planning on going back to Malaroo after the funeral was over. It had been a sad moment when Deathclaw had given her the Jharro whistle back the day before.
“Just fine?” Darlan snapped. “Justan, she can’t have children. The quelling did that to her. Quelling is something that should be saved only as a punishment for severe crimes, not just for wanting to leave the school early.” Darlan looked at Beth and Hilt and her glare faded. “I am glad to see that she’s happy, though.”
“Well, you’re in a position to change things now, being back on the council,” Justan said encouragingly.
“That’s what I told Beehn I would do when he asked me to come back.” She snorted. “He actually told me that was a good thing. ‘The Mage School needs changes,’ he said.”
“Isn’t that a good thing?” Justan asked.
“I didn’t want to do it at all!” she said loud enough that a few of the mourners turned to look at her. Her face colored. “This just means I have to sit in a room full of old men and argue, leading them about by the ear all day.”
“I think you’ll enjoy that,” Justan said. She shot him a withering glare and he left her side, looking for Jhonate. The last he had seen her, she had gone to put on her own formal attire. She had wanted to wear something traditional to her people and Beth had been helping her make it.
As he walked, he saw Deathclaw standing next to Charz and Alfred. One good thing that had come out of their long separation was that Deathclaw had become more comfortable being around other people. Justan moved over to them, intending to ask Alfred a question.
“You shouldn’t have put away your sword all those years ago,” Charz was saying. “I know what you were scared of, Alfred. But you’re not like me.”
“Oh, but I am,” Alfred kept his eyes on the procession and didn’t look back at the giant as he spoke. “All those years ago when you were on your rampage and Master Oslo and I were chasing after you and fighting off soldiers . . . I never had so much fun.”
Charz chuckled. “Oslo was horrified, I remember. But loving to fight isn’t your problem.”
“Oh isn’t it?” Alfred said.
“The difference between us is that I wanted to fight everyone,” Charz said. “You wanted to fight the bad guys. You never would’ve done the things I did.”
The gnome sighed. “I wasn’t so sure of that. After Oslo died, fighting is all I wanted to do. Latva saved me from that.”
“Naw,” Charz replied, placing one large hand on the gnome’s shoulder. “That was just you grieving.”
Deathclaw moved over to Justan and nodded his head towards the procession. “Is this long?”
Each of the slain was laid out on a floating stone tablet pushed by one of his or her friends. The warriors were dressed in their armor, mended and polished, while an image of their face and reminders of their past deeds floated above them.
“There are a lot of them that died in this war,” Justan explained. “We remember them all this way. It’s a tribute to their sacrifice.”
Deathclaw thought on it a moment. This is . . . fitting for humans. Dead raptoids are left in the sands as a trap for the carrion feeders. In that way, the dead ones feed the pack for some time after they die.
Justan didn’t know how to respond to that. “Alfred, have you thought on where you’re going after this?”
“I’m not sure.” The gnome shook his head. “I’m afraid I’m losing my ability to concentrate already. All I’ve been interested in lately is battle.”
“Grieving,” Charz repeated.
“There are other wizards,” Deathclaw said in an attempt to be helpful.
Justan winced, but Alfred didn’t seem to be o
ffended. “I just want it to be someone smart.”
“Hey!” said Charz.
“I was wondering if you might consider coming to the academy,” Justan suggested. “With Sabre Vlad gone, they need a new head of the swordsmanship guild. You could teach.”
“I don’t know. Gnome warriors don’t make good teachers. I’ll think on it, though.” He sighed. “We’ll see how stupid I get first.”
“Hey!” said Charz again.
“Don’t worry Charz. You get a say in this,” Alfred patted the rock giant’s arm. “We’re in this together.”
Charz smiled. “The academy could be fun. Lots of sparring. Lots of quests to fight monsters . . .”
Justan left them and continued on, looking for Jhonate. Where was she? He passed the central fountain and edged his way around the square.
“What’re you doin’ son?” Lenny and Bettie were standing with the rest of the dwarves. Lenny was wearing his polished plate armor, his helmet held under his arm. Bettie stood behind him, head and shoulders taller than the dwarf.
“I’m looking for Jhonate,” Justan said. “Have you seen her?”
“Sure did,” Lenny said. He leaned towards Justan, his eyes wide. “She was runnin’ down the line wearin’ a dag-gum dress!”
“Really?” Justan said, just as surprised as Lenny looked. He tried to imagine Jhonate in a dress, but he just couldn’t.
Bettie slapped Lenny upside the head. “‘Course she’s wearing a dress, you corn-farmer! It’s a funeral.” Bettie’s clothes were clean, but not fancy at all. She was wearing workman’s clothes, leather pants with heavy boots, and a loose fitting tan shirt that still managed to bulge out under her belly.
“Never seen that woman wearin’ nothin’ but armor,” Lenny grumped, raising a bushy eyebrow at her, but wisely not mentioning her lack of dress attire.
“Hey, Edge!” Bettie said suddenly. “Feel!” She grabbed his hand and yanked him over so she could place it on her belly. The baby kicked against his hand so hard he imagined he could feel its individual little toes.
The Bowl of Souls: Book 05 - Mother of the Moonrat Page 48