The inquisitor, Adamon, and the girl were probably dead by now. Even if they weren’t, he wouldn’t be able to stage an assault on the farmhouse and protect the girl at the same time. He’d have to find a safe place to keep the little one and by then, she and Nerillia would have dispatched their guest. Then they’d return to Overwatch.
A groan from the head of the table indicated that Tiadaria was finally coming around. Her blonde hair was streaked with blood from where she’d been thrown to the pavement by the overzealous creature who had grabbed her by the ankles. Tionne had checked the wound herself. It was shallow and superficial, but scalp wounds bled more than any other. She wouldn’t have lost enough blood to cause any permanent harm. That was something that Tionne intended to take care of for herself. Though there would be plenty of time for that later. Right now, dinner was getting cold.
Tionne slid into the worn wooden seat and glanced at the plate Nerillia passed to her. The roast beast was rare, a river of pink swirling about the steamed root vegetables and the whipped potatoes that the Lamiad seemed to be so fond of. An ancient mystical creature of incredible power, and Nerillia was happiest when she was in a well-stocked kitchen, puttering around with pots and pans. Not that Tionne minded. She was well fed and happy for it. The disparity of it tickled her funny bone, however.
She sat the plate down and took a bite, making an exaggerated noise of pleasure in the back of her throat. Not too much of an exaggeration, though. The meal was damn good, especially for the limited resources they had available in the farmhouse. Nerillia could do wonders with everything from trail rations to the finest ingredients gold could buy.
Movement caught her eye and every thought about her amazing repast were replaced with burning hatred. Tiadaria’s eyes darted around the room, taking in her predicament. She said nothing, but her eyes spoke volumes. They landed on Nerillia and narrowed. Then on Tionne and narrowed even further.
“I’m going to kill you,” Tiadaria said, straining against the bonds that held her to the chair. “I’m going to kill you both.”
“Oh come now,” Tionne said with a bark of laughter. “You’re not going to be killing anyone.
You’re our guest! It would be terribly rude for you to kill us at our own table, don’t you think?”
Nerillia shot a look her way, but said nothing. She busied herself with the plate in front of her, instead. She speared the tender meat with her fork, as if she wished it were the Swordmage she were impaling, not a piece of prize beast.
“I’m not overly concerned with what you think or where we are, Tionne. You’re going to pay for what you did to me. To Faxon. To Wynn. I’m going to see that you pay all those debts with your life.”
“And what about what you’ve done to me?” Tionne slammed the table with her fists so hard that the tables and other dinnerware leapt up and crashed back down. “You’re all the same! The King, your Captain, Faxon and his cronies. Not a single one of you ever cared about what you’d done to me. I didn’t want to be taken to the tower. I didn’t want to become Faxon’s pet project. I just wanted to be left alone. But you won’t leave me alone. Not now. Not ever. Not until I kill you. Then, I’ll be able to relax. Then Nerillia and I can live in peace!”
“You’ll never know peace, Tionne.” Tiadaria’s voice was sad, and Tionne hated her even more for that. She didn’t need the pity of a girl barely her elder. She needed no one’s pity.
“You’ve killed too many and gone too far.”
Tionne snatched her glass from the table and hurled it at Tiadaria. It hit her in the chest with a solid thump, a thin ribbon of amber liquid trailing behind it. The Swordmage winced away from the impact and a cruel, cold smile twisted Tionne’s lip.
“If I’m already too far gone to know peace, then killing you won’t much matter.” Tionne picked up a carving knife from the table. “In for a fraction, in for the crown.”
“Wait,” Nerillia hissed, holding up a hand to forestall Tionne’s wrath. “Did you hear that?”
The fury coursing through Tionne didn’t want to be delayed or denied. It screamed for blood, and in that instant, there was a moment when Tionne thought that Nerillia’s blood would do just as well as Tiadaria’s. Even so, she managed to push the blood lust aside and listen for what the Lamiad heard.
Outside, the reedy whistle that accompanied the creatures’ endless shuffle around the house had reached an alarmed warble. There was something outside that was disturbing their creations.
Tionne rushed to the window, peering into the darkness outside. The only thing she saw was the moist glistening of the pumpkin-monsters as they continued their patrol of the perimeter.
“Oh,” Tiadaria breathed, her voice barely audible above the increasing din outside.
“What?” Tionne demanded. “What did you do?” A wicked smile crept across Tiadaria’s face.
“It’s not me you need to worry about, Tionne. Our transgressions always come calling.”
Tionne took a step toward the Swordmage. She’d end this nonsense now. With her bare hands, if necessary. Before she could move any further, a brilliant white light appeared in the yard. It streamed in through the windows as if the noon sun had descended at midnight. It raced toward the house, and Tionne had to throw up an arm to protect her eyes from its radiance.
The entire house shuddered. Outside, the bleating of the creatures had become screaming as they were consumed by the conflagration. Then, as quickly as it had appeared, the light faded to deep darkness. Tionne blinked a couple times, trying to rid herself of the artifacts that still danced in her vision.
It took her a few moments to realize that what she saw wasn’t the afterimage of the sudden light. There was a glowing apparition standing next to the chair where Tiadaria was bound. The image of a young man leaning on a staff. Then Tionne realized she could see through the translucent shade standing before her.
“Who are you?” the blood witch demanded, her eyes blazing. “I’ll kill you too.”
“You’re far too late for that,” Tiadaria said with grim humor. “He’s already dead.”
Even as Wynn stood in the common room between Tiadaria and her captors, he felt the siren’s lure of the Etheric Plane calling him back to his resting place. Tonight, when the barrier between the physical and etheric realms was thin enough to pass through at will, the euphoric calmness of the sphere sang to him, calling him back from the duties he knew he must perform.
“You!” Tionne stabbed a finger at Wynn, a snarl curling her lip. “I recognize you now. You can’t be here, you’re dead.”
Wynn laughed, the sound like fingernails on a slate board. When he spoke, his voice had an odd, echoing quality to it. As if he was standing at the end of a long hallway.
“Very observant, Tionne. The barrier between our worlds is thinnest on All Souls Eve.
Threaten to kill me all you like, child. Those threats mean nothing to me now.”
“You’re just a ghost,” Tionne retorted. She snatched another glass from the table and hurled it at Wynn’s apparition. It passed through the misty form and shattered against the wall beyond.
“What are you going to do? Try to frighten me to death?”
“Tionne—” Nerillia began in warning, but Wynn cut her off.
“You’re right, of course, Tionne,” he said with quiet malice. “I can’t manipulate anything that exists solely in the physical realm.” He walked to the table, passing his hand through the plates that were there, the food on them forgotten. He looked longingly at the morsels for a moment, then smiled. “But there’s something you’re not taking into consideration…”
Tionne rolled her eyes. “Which is that you’re going to bore me to death instead?”
“No.” Wynn held out a spectral hand, a ball of roaring flame springing to life. “The Quintessential Sphere doesn’t exist solely in the physical realm.”
Wynn snapped his wrist, sending the ball of flame toward the blood witch and her companion, who dove out of the way without a moment t
o spare. The magical flames slammed into the wall, igniting the window coverings.
While Tionne and Nerillia struggled to react to the sudden assault, Wynn phased out from where he was standing and appeared behind Tiadaria. He summoned a tiny flame and set it dancing against her restraints. A moment later, her arms were free and she made short work of the knots that bound her ankles to the chair. She leapt to her feet and turned toward the ghost.
Tiadaria tried to lay a hand against his cheek, but it passed through the shimmering form. Her arm went cold, as if she’d plunged it into ice water. She winced and Wynn shook his head, his eyes sad.
“It’s good to see you again, Tia.”
A screeching howl and the sound of splintering wood from behind them prevented Tiadaria from answering. The pumpkin-headed monsters had broken through the door and were climbing over each other to get into the small farmhouse. Glancing over her shoulder, Tiadaria saw Nerillia standing among the flames, her lips moving in silent invocation. The Lamiad had summoned the creatures from outside. She had quite the advantage, especially considering that Tiadaria was unarmed.
A large pumpkin monster passed through Wynn’s shade and he vanished with a flash. Tiadaria knew that she couldn’t count on Wynn to save her. His presence in their realm had bought her some time, but her situation was still dire. She threw a punch, putting the weight of her body behind it.
Where her fist hit the pulpy flesh of the beast, it cracked and her hand plunged into a sticky black morass of ichor that sprayed up her arm.
“Oh eww!” she cried involuntarily, pulling her arm from the monster as it collapsed to the floor. She shook her arm, trying to dislodge the worst of the gore that clung to her.
Tiadaria had little time to be disgusted. The creatures pushing through the door had broken down a large portion of the wall and were now pouring into the common room. They reached out, trying to entangle her in their writhing tentacles. On the opposite end of the room, the conflagration had started in earnest, the burning window coverings having caught the wall and ceiling on fire. She saw Tionne dart from behind the counter and through the burning doorway toward the back of the house. Nerillia followed her. Tiadaria followed both of them. Perhaps the fire would at least slow down the creatures pursuing her.
The Swordmage passed through an anteroom, through an open door, and out into the backyard of the little house. A quick shift into sphere sight told Tiadaria that Nerillia and Tionne weren’t in the yard. Her swords and belt were there, tossed in a haphazard pile on the back porch. She snatched up the weapons, thankful for the welcome pain they brought, and circled the belt around her waist.
She glanced around, searching for a clue that would lead her to Tionne and the Lamiad. There! A large section of corn that had been trampled down just beyond the fence. Tiadaria ran, vaulted over the fence, and landed in the cornfield, dashing through the trampled corn. She finally had an advantage. Tionne and Nerillia would have to force their way through the growth, Tiadaria could just follow.
She followed the trampled path through the corn rows for what seemed like hours before it came to an abrupt end in the center of the field where the rows were spaced further apart. It would have been easy for her quarry to slip down one of the side rows and out the side without leaving a trace. Tiadaria balled her fists, slamming them into her thighs in impotent fury. “Damn it!”
She crouched, looking at the soft earth. There were two different sets of footprints. One went left, the other right. They’d split up, knowing full well that she wouldn’t be able to follow both of them. Tionne. She had to find Tionne. They’d deal with Nerillia later. Tiadaria was sure that Tionne was behind the attack on Havenhedge and everything they had seen there. Nerillia had seemed different, almost subdued. Not that Tiadaria doubted for a moment that the Lamiad was involved, but bringing Tionne back to Dragonfell to answer for what she had done had to take priority.
Getting to her feet, she slipped into sphere sight and followed the smaller set of footprints through the endless rows of corn. The grey wash of her augmented vision made it much easier to see where she was going in the darkness, so when she was rammed from the side and thrown deeper into the stalks, she was taken aback. Switching back to her normal vision, she saw the outline of one of the monsters bearing down on her, its maw open, teeth gnashing with anticipation.
Instinct took control of Tiadaria, and her right hand dropped to the hilt of her scimitar, yanking it free and sweeping it upward in a strike that sliced easily through the creature’s head. It shuddered, wavering atop its quivering tentacles for a moment before collapsing into the dirt and lying still. She spared a quick glance at it and then was off again, in pursuit of Tionne.
Tiadaria wasn’t sure how long she followed the footprints in the soft earth, but eventually she came to the edge of the field, breaking out into a wide open expanse of grassland that, judging by the close cropped grass, was probably a pasture. The moon was bright enough that she could see Tionne’s form bounding across the flat land. She had a considerable lead on Tiadaria, but the Swordmage was motivated to close ranks.
Calling on the power of the Quintessential Sphere, Tiadaria burst forward, her feet flying over the short grass, barely touching the ground. The burning in her chest was immense, and she knew she wouldn’t be able to keep up such a grueling pace for long. She didn’t need to. She just had to catch up with Tionne. The girl was still running across the field, but she hadn’t seen that Tiadaria was almost upon her.
Just when Tiadaria was sure that she couldn’t control the power of the sphere any longer, she reached Tionne. With a final burst of speed and power, she launched herself toward the younger girl, tackling her and sending them both tumbling through the grass. Tionne was quick to react to the assault, snatching a whip from her belt as she rolled to her feet. Tiadaria had drawn both scimitars as she rolled upright, facing her adversary.
“It’s over, Tionne. You’re caught. Save yourself some pain and humiliation and come quietly.”
“I don’t think so. It’s going to take more than some clan runaway with delusions of grandeur to bring me down.” Tionne uncoiled the whip, letting the braided leather pool by her feet. “Are you so desperate to see your beloved Captain again that you want to join him in the sphere?”
“I’m warning you, Tionne. This is your last chance to make this easy on yourself. Return to the Imperium, to Dragonfell, and I’ll see that you’re treated fairly.” The girl’s derisive laughter sent a chill up Tiadaria’s spine.
“Fair? What about any of this is fair? I’m stronger and more powerful than all of you. You should all be bowing before me.”
“There are people who can help you, Tionne. Faxon can teach you how to control the power you have.”
Tionne snorted.
“All Faxon wants to do is render me impotent. I’d rather die…and I’d kill him first. But not before I kill his handmaiden.”
The whip moved so fast that Tiadaria didn’t see the initial strike. It slashed across her midsection, parting the rings of the witchmetal tunic with little popping noises. The silk of her armor parted as easily as the flesh beyond and blood welled. Tionne’s weapon took on a sinister crimson glow and a quick slip into sphere sight confirmed what Tiadaria already suspected. The weapon was enchanted. That was no ordinary whip. It grew stronger with each wound it inflicted.
Being in sphere sight gave Tiadaria the advantage when the next attack came, she saw the whip twitch a moment before Tionne mad her move and managed to leap back, outside its reach. The ring of her scimitars leaving their scabbards was reassuring and painful. Tiadaria had to fight to keep a firm grip on the weapons. Their effect on her so soon after drawing so much power from the sphere was nearly crippling. She forced the pain to the back of her mind and focused on the girl side-stepping in a wide circle around her.
Tionne’s eyes blazed in the moonlight, and it was hard for Tiadaria to believe that she was facing off against a child that was three years younger than she
was. The hatred and anger that consumed the girl had transformed her into a monster every bit as terrifying as her creations. The whip snapped out again and Tiadaria raised a sword to block it. She’d been expecting the razor-sharp blades to cut through the whip easily. Instead, her arm was knocked away with the force of the impact. It was as if she’d countered the strike of a claymore, not a thin piece of leather.
Obviously the girl’s weapon had secrets that ran deeper than appearances would suggest. Tiadaria shook her arm, trying to rid herself of the numbness that coursed into her shoulder from the unexpected impact. Tionne pulled her arm back, preparing for another strike. This time, Tiadaria was ready. The whip flashed out, and Tiadaria put her blade into its path, allowing it to wrap itself around the length of her blade. With a burst of strength drawn from the sphere, she yanked her scimitar back, hard, and pulled Tionne off-balance.
In that moment of opportunity, Tiadaria leapt forward, closing the distance between herself and her young nemesis. Tiadaria dropped the scimitars, grabbing Tionne by her long, dark hair and forcing her shoulders over. She brought her knee up in a sharp blow, burying it in Tionne’s stomach. Breath whooshed out of the smaller girl and her hands went slack. The whip dropped to the ground. Tiadaria clasped her hands together and heaved them over her head, as if chopping wood. She brought them down on the base of the rogue Quintessentialist’s neck, snapping her head back.
Tionne wavered there a moment, then her eyes rolled back in her head and she slumped to the ground. Tiadaria kicked the whip away. She was pretty sure that the girl was unconscious, but she wasn’t going to take any chances. Grabbing one of her swords from the ground, she prodded Tionne with the tip of the blade. She didn’t move. Cautiously kneeling beside her, Tiadaria felt on the girl’s neck for the life beat. It was there and it was strong. She’d be able to return to Dragonfell and answer for her crimes.
“You foolish child,” a cold voice said from behind Tiadaria. “What have you done?”
Tiadaria whirled, but she was too slow. A bolt of force summoned by Nerillia slammed into her middle where the skin still burned from Tionne’s assault. With nothing to stop her flight, Tiadaria sailed away from the Lamiad, but managed to keep a grip on her blade. She landed hard on her back, but struggled with some effort to return to a fighting stance. Nerillia was closing on her, taking long, even strides. Her eyes glowed with crimson menace.
Quintessential Tales: A Magic of Solendrea Anthology Page 13