by Duncan Pile
He leapt away, even as a massive foot smashed down on the spot he had just occupied. Taurnil struck it on the ankle, shearing off a solid wedge of bone, but the golem barely seemed to notice. Gaspi felt a surge of desperation. They wouldn’t last long enough for Taurnil to break it apart bone by bone. Already, Gaspi’s chest was heaving from the exertion, his throat red raw as he sucked in another breath.
He drew on the heat in the air and struck out with angry, white-hot flames, engulfing the golem’s head entirely. It stumbled away, clutching at its skull, and Gaspi felt a rush of triumph, but when the flames died away the golem’s enormous head was blackened but otherwise unharmed. Blood-red eyes glowered furiously from within charred bone.
Gaspi summoned wind, calling it down from the sky and sending an almighty gale billowing into the massive creature, but it whistled through the gaps in its skeleton without even rocking it.
The golem lunged again, trying to crush Gaspi beneath a falling knee. He dove to the side as it slammed into the ground, missing him by inches. Taurnil took advantage, swinging his staff at the golem’s ankle and loosing another cascade of bone. It was held together by a slender column.
“Taurn, the ankle!” Gaspi urged, even as the golem rose to its feet. It swivelled and swung at Taurnil, but he slid beneath its fist and struck what remained of its ankle with a mighty blow of his staff. The bone gave way with an almighty crack.
The golem roared and toppled over, its shattered leg protruding like a broken spar. Taurnil seized the advantage and leapt at it, raising his staff for a blow to the skull, but the golem backhanded him before he could strike. Taurnil tumbled through the air, his staff flying from his hands. Gaspi caught him with a cushion of air before he hit the ground, his heart in his mouth. Taurnil rose, shaking his head groggily. Blood was pouring from a deep cut in his face.
Gaspi glanced at the golem and saw that it was still prostrate, its shattered ankle surrounded by a sparkling lattice of red light. Gaspi rushed over to Taurnil’s staff – their only effective weapon against the golem – snatched it up and ran to Taurnil’s side.
“Get up!” he said, grabbing Taurnil by the elbow and helping him to his feet. He pressed the staff into his hands.
“Gasp!” Taurnil hissed, and Gaspi spun around in time to see the red glimmer fade away. The golem’s leg was whole, as if it had never been injured.
Gaspi shook his head in dismay. How were they supposed to defeat a creature that could repair any damage they inflicted?
“Now what?” Taurnil asked, hefting his staff.
Gaspi’s mind was whirring. “I have an idea,” he said, plunging his senses down into the soil beneath his feet and finding dozens of roots that fed the low lying network of brambles that grew across the plain – the bane of many a farmer’s existence. He sent his awareness into the roots, flooding them with power and urging them to grow. Spots danced before his eyes once more, but he grabbed Taurnil’s shoulder for support and kept the power flowing. Moments later, thick, fibrous tentacles thrust from the soil and ensnared the golem’s feet, thickening and tightening around its ankles and knees even as it saw what was happening.
It tried to rip one of its legs free, but the root held it fast. With an angry roar it tore at its bonds, lacerating many of the grasping tentacles with its claws and snapping several more with an angry heave of its shoulders.
Taurnil was already moving, rushing at the golem while it was distracted. He landed a heavy blow to the golem’s kneecap. Jagged shards of bone were sent spinning away, but the leg held. Ripping itself free of another cluster of roots, the golem pivoted and swung at Taurnil, who couldn’t throw himself away in time.
Gaspi threw out a hasty shield and almost blacked out when it shattered. Taurnil was knocked to the ground, bleeding and unconscious. Gaspi swayed, struggling to stay on his feet. He was terrified for Taurnil, who lay helpless near the fearsome golem, which even in that moment was tearing the last of the roots from its ankles. Gaspi had nothing left, his strength failing along with the shield that kept other defenders away.
Men ran in from the sidelines, trying to stop the golem before it could hurt Taurnil, but it swatted them aside like flies. Guardsmen were dying all around and there was nothing Gaspi could do to protect them.
The golem’s head swivelled, its gaze landing heavily on Gaspi, and it strode forward, passing Taurnil’s prone form and heading for him instead. For that much at least, Gaspi was grateful.
He took a steadying breath and tried to draw on his power, but nothing came. The golem approached, despite the efforts of many guardsmen, none of whom could so much as scratch its enchanted bones. Gaspi felt a rush of terrible sorrow, knowing he would never see Emmy again, or Jonn. His life would end here, defeated by the enemy he had sworn to defeat. The elementals had been wrong – he had not been chosen. His destiny was to die here, at the hands of Shirukai Sestin’s monster.
A flash of silver light caught Gaspi’s eye. It was Sabu, sprinting through the defenders and rushing towards the golem with his scimitars drawn, limbed in the fierce flow of ancient magic. The blades! If Taurnil’s staff could harm the golem, surely Sabu’s scimitars could too!
“I have you!” the golem said to Gaspi, ready to strike the final blow.
Sabu sheathed his swords and launched himself into the air, landing lightly on the golem’s leg. The golem spun around, trying to locate his attacker, but Sabu was already scaling its back, using spars of jagged bone for handholds. The golem reached over its shoulder and snatched at the blade-master, who swung out of the way and carried on climbing. His hands were bleeding, leaving crimson smears wherever he grabbed the golem’s jagged frame.
The golem reached around with a massive hand and tried to swipe him from its back, but Sabu swayed to the left and grabbed a rib, pulling himself out of harm’s way. The golem smashed at its side to dislodge him, shattering a dozen bones and sending fragments flying in all directions, but Sabu shifted again, fluid as quicksilver. The golem tried to grab him, roaring in fury, but Sabu dodged once more, launched himself upwards and grabbed hold of its shoulders. The golem spun around angrily, lifting both hands to snatch at its bothersome attacker, but Sabu had already hoisted himself up to the base of its neck. Clinging on with his knees, he drew both scimitars, which shone more brightly than Gaspi had ever seen them.
“No!” the golem bellowed, seeing the shining light of enchantment blazing at either side of its head. It turned its massive skull to look at Gaspi, deep red eyes glowering with hatred and fury. “This is not over,” it growled, as Sabu brought both blades in on its neck. The scimitars struck bone, their ancient magic countering the spells by which Sestin held the colossus together, and in a brilliant flash of light the golem’s neck was severed. The red eyes dimmed and faded out as the head toppled forward and fell to the ground with a great crash.
Forty-two
Sestin’s eyes flickered open and he rose shakily to his feet. How was it possible? The golem had been forged by the most powerful magicks. It was impossible to harm, or at least he had thought so until the Nature Mage’s muscle-bound friend had attacked it with that staff! Clearly, the Nature Mage was more powerful than Sestin had thought, but even so, the damage it had inflicted had been countered by the golem’s rapid regeneration. No, it wasn’t the staff that had been the golem’s downfall; it was those shining scimitars, carried by the scampering, dark-skinned swordsman. In the moment before he had struck, the renegade had recognised powerful, ancient magic.
Sestin took a steadying breath. The siege had been a disaster – something he would have to consider at length when time permitted – but there was no time to sit around and pontificate. The primary purpose of the siege had been to seize Hephistole and use the archmage’s considerable powers to release the dark God. His secondary aim had been to kill the Nature Mage, and his third to raze Helioport to the ground, leaving nothing but a scar on the landscape and on the memories of all who had lived in her. Unthinkably, he had failed in
all three. The Nature Mage he could deal with another day, along with the city of Helioport, but the Dark God would not wait. He spun around to face Voltan, who was propped up against a tree, held captive by powerful enchantments that glowed faintly in the gloaming. The warrior mage’s eyes were open and full of rage.
Perhaps! It would take an extraordinary kill to break the barrier between the planes. Always, he had planned that it be Hephistole, whose power was unrivalled throughout the continent, but perhaps his lieutenant would serve in his place. Sestin sent a sharp probe into the magician’s mind.
Voltan stiffened, resisting the incursion, but there was nothing he could do. “You have failed,” he said through gritted teeth, malice and amusement warring in his eyes. “All your carefully laid plans have come to nothing.”
Sestin ignored him, probing deeply into the warrior mage’s consciousness and weighing his magical strength. Slowly, a smile spread across his face. He wasn’t Hephistole, that much was clear. His gift had no subtlety, but as a blunt instrument it was forceful. In terms of raw power, Voltan was head and shoulders against most magicians. It might just be enough.
“It is you who has failed,” he whispered. “Your friends have resisted me for nothing. All those lives lost, for nothing. And you, my friend, will help me break the Dark God free from his prison. In the end it is your blood, your magic, that will unleash him on the world.”
“Never!” Voltan said, but the defiance in his eyes was tinged with fear.
Sestin stretched out a hand and touched the warrior mage lightly on the shoulder. “Come,” he said, wrapping the warrior mage in his magic and transporting them to the Ruined City of Elmera.
…
A brief silence ensued, and then the defenders broke into an ear-splitting cheer. All around, the mercenary force broke and fled, or at least they tried to. An almighty cacophony of deep roars and bellows told Gaspi the ogres had arrived and were laying waste to what remained of Sestin’s army.
Gaspi stumbled to Taurnil’s side and collapsed to his knees, black spots swimming in his vision. He had nothing left to give but his friend was badly injured, bleeding heavily from a deep cut in his face. His arm was broken, bent back on itself at the elbow, and even in sunset’s crimson light, his skin looked pale. He needed Lilly. He reached out to her directly, telling the water spirit to come.
Blackness threatened to swamp his vision and he let himself flop to the ground. Sabu, who had leapt lightly from the golem’s back as it collapsed, rushed to his side. He turned him onto his back and peered with concern into his eyes.
“Gaspi! Are you alright?”
“Sabu…your hands,” Gaspi murmured. They had been shredded to the bone, torn apart as he’d scaled the golem’s jagged back.
Sabu glanced at them dismissively. “Never mind that, now. We have to get you and Taurnil to the infirmary.”
Gaspi shook his head. “Wait…help is coming.”
And so it was, speeding towards him in a bright blue blur. Lilly!Gaspi breathed slowly and steadily, willing himself to remain conscious while all around him people gathered, murmuring in worried tones.
Lilly came to a stop right over him.
“See to Taurnil,” he whispered. She rushed to obey, flitting to Taurnil’s fallen form and sinking into his chest.
Soft blue light emanated from Taurnil’s body, and his face regained some of its colour as the cut on his cheek sealed over. His arm too, straightened and healed, and moments later Lilly emerged from his chest.
“Sabu,” Gaspi whispered, and the spirit flitted over to the blade-master, surrounding his torn hands in a nimbus of blue light, which intensified and then faded away, leaving his fingers completely restored.
“Now me,” Gaspi breathed and Lilly entered his body. Strength began to flow into him and the black spots faded from his vision. He lay still, letting Lilly finish her work as refreshment flooded his limbs. By the time she rose from his body his heart was beating slowly and steadily and he felt as good as new, but he knew it to be an illusion. His body might have recovered but there was no restoring his magical strength, which was utterly depleted.
Rising to his feet, he looked around and saw Hephistole standing nearby, smiling at him wanly. The chancellor had drained himself in the same way Gaspi had.
Gaspi looked at Lilly, “Now Hephistole,” he said, and the spirit obeyed.
“There are many here whose injuries are worse than mine,” he protested, even as his strength visibly returned.
“We need you,” Gaspi said, the urgency of their situation hitting home to him now that his senses had returned. “Sestin cannot be allowed to regroup.”
“What do you fear?” Hephistole asked.
“Sestin’s intention was to capture you, right?”
“It looks that way, yes. We must assume he planned to use the Bloodstone against me.”
“He still has Voltan,” Gaspi said.
“Of course,” Hephistole gasped, the colour draining from his face. “Voltan is a powerful mage in his own right. If denied the chance to use the Bloodstone against me, he would be forced to seek an alternative conduit.”
“What are you talking about?” Sabu said.
“Sestin is trying to free the Dark God from his prison and set him loose in this plane. If he cannot have me, Voltan might be a good substitute.”
“So let’s find him!” Sabu said. “He might still be nearby.”
Hephistole shook his head. “He’ll already have transported and taken Voltan with him.”
“So we lost him?” the blade-master said in dismay.
Hephistole smiled grimly. “Not at all. I know exactly where he is.”
“Are you serious?”
“We found out where he is holed-up. The Ruined City of Elmera, in North-Western Antropel.”
“So we take the fight to him?” Sabu said. His voice was calm but his eyes were blazing.
“We take it to him.”
…
Gaspi looked around the group that had gathered in the Observatory. There weren’t many of them, but they’d been hand-selected for the task at hand – to kill the most powerful dark magician that had ever lived. All the elementals were there, along with their bond-mates. This was it – the moment of destiny the spirits served him for – and there was no going back.
Sabu kept to himself, his eyes hard. Gaspi understood. His blood was up and his thought was bent on their enemy. He’d destroyed Sestin’s golem and now he wanted to finish the job. Baard stood nearby, freshly healed after his long, bruising journey. The ogre army had made short work of the remaining mercenaries, crushing them without mercy, and the giant had come with them to plan their attack on Sestin. Under normal circumstances the reunion would be a cause for celebration, but Baard’s expression was as grave as Sabu’s.
Jonn was there too, to Gaspi’s dismay. Some if not all of them might not make it back alive, and after all Jonn had been through, Gaspi wanted him to have a chance at happiness with Adela. Even so, he wasn’t foolish enough to try and talk him out of it. There was no way in the world Jonn would agree to stay behind. Talmo was the last of the group, making nine of them in all; thirteen if you counted the elementals.
“The first thing we have to decide is when to leave,” Hephistole said.
“Right now, of course!” Sabu said. “He has Voltan!”
“It’s not that simple,” Hephistole said, shaking his head. “Gaspi and I are both badly depleted from the battle. Gaspi in particular needs to be at full strength when we take on Sestin.”
“How can you talk about delaying?” Sabu demanded. “Every moment we wait in another moment Voltan has to suffer at Sestin’s hands.”
“Don’t you think I know that?” Hephistole said, his control slipping. “Voltan is my closest friend!” The chancellor paused, taking long, steadying breaths. “We’ll only get one shot at this and we need to make it count. Voltan would never forgive us if we put his life over the fate of all the known lands.”
“That’s right!” Sabu said.
Hephistole frowned. “We don’t know that for sure. Nor do we know that Voltan’s power is sufficient to break the Dark God free. If we act now, before we are ready, we may plunge the whole world into an era of darkness.”
Gaspi could see how tortured Hephistole was. It was an impossible choice. He closed his eyes, blocking out Sabu’s objections, which were already being echoed by Baard and Talmo, and sought Loreill’s counsel. He listened quietly and carefully, tuning into the elemental’s thoughts. The spirit was taut as a bowstring, focussed entirely on defeating the renegade. He could sense the mood of the other spirits too, all three of them humming with ready energy and fierce intent. They would not tolerate any suggestion of delay.
“We can’t wait,” Gaspi said.
“What makes you so sure?” Hephistole asked.
“The spirits. They are ready.”
All eyes turned to the elementals, each of which began to glow. The light flared and then flashed, their energy thrumming through the room.
Hephistole met Gaspi’s gaze in the brilliant, coruscating light. “It’s up to you Gaspi. I will yield to your decision.”
Gaspi had doubts of his own, but in his heart of hearts he knew what to do. It was a leap of faith, but one he felt he must take.
“We leave now,” he said, earning grunts of approval from around the room.
“Alright then,” Hephistole said, indecision banished. “We must assume he is expecting us, which means we go in ready for battle.”
“What are we waiting for?” Baard said.
Hephistole nodded. “Gather round,” he said, waiting until the group was ready for transportation. “Convoke!”
…