Magefall

by Stephen Aryan

  It became a battle of will as Munroe tried to impale her and Akosh’s strange magic kept her at bay. She would not be denied. She would have revenge for her family, for every Seeker and all those murdered when the Red Tower had fallen.

  Reaching out towards the Source, the heart of creation, Munroe drew more energy into herself, feeling it soaking into her entire body, infusing her being with its power. Her already sharpened senses became more acute, revealing a few peculiarities about Akosh. The way she smelled, like old blood and rot. The empty space behind her eyes where a soul should live. And the fear starting to creep in around the edges of her fierce expression.

  Munroe grinned and thrust her arms forward with a scream of unbridled fury. The flaming spear burned a hole straight through Akosh’s body and she howled in agony.

  Something caught Munroe on the side of her head, breaking her concentration and then she was flying through the air. Working instinctively, she wove a shield around herself to cushion the impact. A second later she collided with a solid wall. Even through her shield the force was hard enough to rattle her teeth. Scrambling to her feet she was surprised to see that Akosh hadn’t fled. She was holding a hand against her side but no blood was flowing from the cauterised wound. The skin around the edges was burned and blackened; however, there was a little blood on her hands.

  “So you can bleed,” said Munroe. Akosh tried to say something but the time for talking was over. There was nothing she could say that meant anything. Munroe forged a hammer of pure will in either hand and went to work, raining blows down on Akosh.

  Akosh dodged the first few blows and the hammers struck the wall behind, tearing chunks from the stone fireplace. Cracks ran up the wall from the impact and the ceiling beams groaned and creaked.

  Every time one of her weapons struck Akosh’s raised forearm, or caught her on the side, there was some resistance. She was using her own form of magic, or life-force, to reduce the impact of Munroe’s blows. Despite that she could see the damage being done as Akosh was bleeding. A normal human would have been crippled with shattered bones after taking one or two such attacks on their arms or torso. But Akosh wasn’t normal. She was still standing as they struggled around the room. Ducking one blow aimed at her head, Akosh retaliated with an open palm to the shoulder, spinning Munroe around.

  As she fell to one knee a huge weight fell on Munroe’s back and something tight snaked around her neck, choking her. Grabbing a handful of Akosh’s hair to keep her in place Munroe stood up and then fell backwards heavily, landing on top of her enemy. There was a loud crack and Akosh’s arm loosened around her neck. The dancing black spots receded and she elbowed Akosh in the throat, making her choke.

  A section of the stone wall had collapsed from where they’d punched through. Munroe lifted it with her magic and sent it hurtling at the prone figure of Akosh. Some of the impact was absorbed by her power but she still took the brunt of the collision on her head and shoulders. She should have been dead but was merely stunned.

  “You can’t kill me!” snarled Akosh, getting to her feet. “You are beneath me!”

  Munroe thought about her husband and her son. She thought about her mother. She thought about the fact that she’d never see them again and that Akosh was responsible. Using those emotions to fuel her magic she lashed out with vicious abandon.

  A brutal attack threw Akosh through the stone wall into the next room. Munroe scrambled through the gap and found they were now inside a huge kitchen.

  Before Akosh could recover she lifted a section of wall and slammed it into her with so much force it broke apart on impact. Blood was trickling from Akosh’s nose and ears but she still wasn’t done. She wouldn’t fall so Munroe drove her into the ground, hitting her again and again with her will, fuelling it with her boundless rage. With all of the anger she’d been holding in for so long. For all of the special moments she’d never have with her son. For the many years she’d been looking forward to sharing with her husband as they grew old together. For just one more day with her mother. Channelling all her fury into a scream, her voice was transformed into a weapon, tearing into Akosh’s flesh, shredding her clothing and ripping chunks of meat from her bones.

  Part of the ceiling fell into the room and a few stones struck Munroe on the shoulder. She wove a shield to keep the worst at bay but her assault didn’t relent. Like a hammer striking the anvil she kept up the pressure on Akosh, throwing her one way and then the other. Gathering up a handful of knives she hurled them at her enemy. A few rebounded but the rest stabbed her in the torso, turning her into a pin cushion. It wasn’t enough. It was too remote. She needed to feel the bones break.

  Wreathing her fists in blue elemental fire Munroe clubbed Akosh across the face, scorching her flesh and driving her into the far wall which cracked. Splinters ran up the wall from the point of impact like a broken pane of glass and a section rained down into the room.

  Someone was shouting but Munroe paid them no attention. It didn’t matter. Nothing else did. She wouldn’t let Akosh out of her sight. Not even for a second in case she tried to escape. When Akosh looked up at her Munroe noticed the burned skin on her face was already recovering as the blistered flesh repaired itself. The skin had not completely healed but it wouldn’t be long.

  As more stones fell from the ceiling Munroe inhaled some dust and started to cough, which made her eyes water. A tight band wrapped itself around her chest and began to squeeze. Akosh drew a pair of daggers and charged while the restraint around Munroe’s chest tightened, driving all the air from her body. Instead of running or worrying about her chest she reached out towards Akosh, gripping her by the wrists.

  As she struggled to breathe, and they fought over control of the daggers, Munroe knew she only had a few seconds before she lost consciousness. Reaching deep inside herself she instinctively used her Talent. Her oldest power, to manipulate the odds, and the first magic she’d ever wielded.

  A section of the ceiling cracked and a huge chunk of stone and wood fell into the room landing exactly on top of Akosh, catching her on the shoulder. It ripped Akosh out of Munroe’s grip as she was pinned to the floor by the weight of the furniture and wooden ceiling beams.

  The pain in Munroe’s chest vanished and she gulped in fresh air as a cloud of dust and debris began to fill the room making it difficult to see. Whirling both hands she summoned a strong wind to blow all of the dust away so she didn’t lose sight of her enemy.

  In the quietness that followed Munroe heard someone shouting for help. Looking up she saw half a dozen children clinging to the sloping floor of the room above. Other children were trying to reach them but they were too far away. “Help us!” screamed one of the children but she couldn’t be distracted. They didn’t matter. The only thing that mattered was killing her enemy.

  With a groan Akosh made it to her hands and knees, shrugging off the massive weight of stone and wood across her back. She was bruised, bloody and burned, but far from done. The missing chunks of flesh on her face and neck had started to regrow, leaving fresh pink skin it its wake. It wouldn’t be long before she was fully restored.

  Shrieking with fury Munroe charged at Akosh. Grabbing her around the neck with both hands she lifted her off the ground and hammered her into the wall. Drawing deeper from the Source she fed power into her arms and out into her hands. Bright yellow and white light erupted from the pores of her skin, wreathing Akosh in swirling motes of energy that seemed alive. They moved in the air, dancing to an erratic beat, before digging into her skin with razor-sharp hooks.

  Akosh screamed as they burrowed into her flesh, trailing wires of pure white light that was so bright they were difficult to look at. More and more tendrils flowed from Munroe’s hands into Akosh, digging into her face and neck. With Akosh grabbing Munroe around the neck, the pair began to batter each other into the walls, breaking bones and bruising skin. Inside Akosh another war was raging as Munroe sought to destroy her core as power from the Source started to unravel he
r.

  They struck another support beam and part of the floor above came tumbling down. The children had escaped that room but Munroe didn’t notice. Her hands tightened around Akosh’s neck and she smiled with delight as her enemy’s face began to turn red and then purple.

  Stones began to pelt them both, then larger chunks of stone and one caught Munroe a glancing blow on the temple. One of her hands loosened and Akosh gulped in fresh air. As a shadow fell over them, blotting out the light, Munroe looked up in time to see part of the building sliding towards her. With a hiss of frustration she dived aside and quickly wove a dense wedge-shaped shield above her head. Akosh tried to run but a section broke off landing across her legs and lower back, pinning her to the ground. More pieces of the building and furniture rained down all around Munroe. Objects struck her shield and fell to either side leaving her in a debris-free oasis amid the chaos.

  “Help!” someone screamed but Munroe ignored them again. The voice was vaguely familiar but they would have to wait. The building was starting to settle and once it stopped she would finish this. Akosh’s head was still attached to her body.

  “Munroe, help me!”

  The voice seemed to be coming from somewhere above her head and, turning in a circle, she saw Dox. The girl was two floors up and two rooms across. The only reason Munroe could see her was because huge sections of the floor and even the ceiling had fallen through. Dox was cradling one of the younger girls in her arms who appeared unconscious. Huddled beside her were half a dozen more children. All of them had cuts and bruises and were covered in dust.

  “Get out of here. Run!” shouted Munroe.

  “We’re trapped,” said Dox, gesturing at the doorway beside her. Through it should have been the stairs but Munroe could see it was blocked with broken beams and tiles from the roof that had collapsed. The section of floor they were huddled on creaked alarmingly and started to tip forward. The children screamed and all scrambled further up towards the blocked doorway. A fall from such a height might be lethal or they could just injure themselves.

  “Climb down!” said Munroe.

  “We can’t,” shouted Dox. “There are people trapped in the rubble.” She gestured to where part of the building had collapsed. Munroe could see someone’s arm poking out of the wreckage and she wondered if there were more buried underneath.

  Behind her she heard the sound of rocks grating together as Akosh slowly began to pull herself free. A loud groaning began as more cracks ran through the remaining shell of the building and it started to come apart. The whole structure creaked and shook.

  For the first time she and Akosh noticed the level of destruction they’d caused. It wouldn’t take much for the rest of the building to fall apart. Munroe could see at least one dead body and knew there would be others buried beneath the ruins. These were Akosh’s people, her orphans, and yet she showed no regard for them at all.

  They both seemed to know what the other was thinking as a grin slowly spread across Akosh’s face. As her bones popped back into place and her flesh slowly began to rebuild itself, she rested a hand against an outer wall. Munroe felt a strange distortion in the air. It was as if the weight of everything had suddenly increased as moving her limbs became difficult. Akosh was bringing her own power to bear on the building’s skeleton. The grinding sound began again and stones started to rattle down from above. There was only a handful to begin with but more were falling all the time. If she kept up the pressure the whole structure would come tumbling down. And while she and Akosh might survive none of the others would stand a chance.

  “It’s time to choose,” said Akosh, spitting out a wad of blood.

  Dox and the others were screaming for help as the two of them faced off against one another.

  “One day, I will find you again,” Munroe promised her. “And I will finish what I started. I will tear your head from your body and piss on your corpse.”

  “We’ll see,” said Akosh.

  With a heavy heart Munroe turned her back on Akosh, letting her escape, while she went to help the orphans.

  CHAPTER 46

  As Danoph stared around at Balov, the village of his birth, he was surprised he didn’t feel happier to see it again after so long.

  Some parts of it had changed, with more houses than he remembered and different shops on the main street, but overall it was much the same. A tiny, nowhere village, surrounded by farmland, huddled up to the base of rolling hills that were covered with a forest of green.

  As he stood at the end of the main street a few of the children running around at play gave him curious glances, but no more than that. Even in this remote place visitors were not uncommon. Three horse-drawn wagons laden with timber passed by, driven by surly merchants and guarded by masked Drassi. The rare wood in the hills would be taken to the capital where the finest carpenters would craft it into furniture for the Queen and others with money.

  To the west he could see farmers busy at work in the fields and in the distance hear the faint sound of saws in the dense forest. It was almost midday and bright sunlight shone down from a crisp blue sky. Most people were busy at work so the main street was empty. There were a few small children but the older ones would be at school or at work themselves.

  Danoph drifted down the street, pausing from time to time to peer into shop windows, a ghost in a place where he no longer belonged. No one seemed to recognise him as he walked about, which made him wonder. How much had he changed since his last visit? How long had it been?

  He remembered learning his letters at school as a young boy. He remembered the kind face of the teacher, a handsome woman with curly golden hair. He vaguely remembered the names and faces of some former classmates. It made Danoph wonder where they were now. Working in the fields? Chopping down trees in the forest? Had any of them left the village and sought their fortune elsewhere?

  At the centre of the village was the main crossroads. Danoph was pleased to see the Fat Goose hadn’t changed much. It had been repainted and the sign straightened, but it was still the same old tavern with frosted windows. Sometimes at night in the summer, when it was hot and sticky, the owner would throw open the windows and doors in a vain attempt to keep the customers cool. On those nights music would drift to all corners of the village and Danoph would lie in bed and listen.

  The jaunty tunes were amusing, but it was the more sombre tales that he remembered most clearly. Those that spoke of faraway places. They conjured images in his mind that were so clear it was as if he’d actually been there. Such was the power of the memory Danoph didn’t realise how much he’d missed hearing music until now. Few students at the Red Tower had played an instrument and there hadn’t been an opportunity to visit the nearby tavern. Perhaps he’d stop by the Fat Goose tonight and there would be some musicians.

  Taking a path he’d walked countless times, Danoph wandered through the village towards his mother’s house. It was a small cottage wedged between a number of larger homes, but it had been perfect for the two of them. From the outside it looked exactly the same. Herbs were drying in the rafters of the small porch at the front. The roof still sagged on the right side and the climbing vine had crept further up the west wall. A wealth of tiny yellow flowers was in bloom. They were so bright and cheery it more than made up for the peculiar smell they produced in the summer. But it kept the insects away and beneath the vine his mother was still growing fruit and sunflowers in clay pots.

  As he approached the cottage Danoph was surprised to see the front door open and his mother emerge. He’d expected to find her at work in her shop. She seemed in a hurry to be somewhere and with the sun in her eyes didn’t see him at first. When she passed into shade she paused and her mouth fell open.

  They stared at each other in silence for a time, Danoph noting the slight changes. She seemed smaller than he remembered, or perhaps it was that he had grown that much taller. There was a touch of premature grey hair over her ears but he thought it made her look wiser. It was very muc
h in keeping with her role as the local herbalist as people often expected her to have all of the answers to their problems.

  “You’ve grown,” said his mother. She made no move to embrace him and Danoph felt strangely shy about taking the initiative. “And put on weight. It suits you,” she added quickly in case he misunderstood.

  “They fed us very well,” he said, trying to hide his anger about what had happened. The Red Tower was gone. Burned down by a rampaging, ignorant mob who had murdered those who’d chosen to stay behind. He owed his life to them.

  Trying to hide anything from his mother was pointless. She could read him so easily. “I heard about what happened. I’m sorry about the school.”

  “They destroyed everything.”

  “Is that why you’re here?” she asked, moving a little closer. “Have you come back to live here?”

  “No. I came because I need some answers,” he said. At first she seemed relieved by his reply but then fresh concerns surfaced.

  “About what?”

  “About why you sent me away. About my magic and also my father.”

  His mother grimaced as if she’d swallowed something bitter but then nodded, accepting the awkward questions. She must have known that one day he would ask.

  “I need to get back to the shop. I’d run out of fresh mint so just came back for more.” She hefted the basket and he caught a whiff. “Come back tonight and we’ll talk.”

  “All right.”

  She came a bit closer and then stood just within arm’s reach. Again he felt awkward and wasn’t sure why. She was his mother. She was his blood. He’d not been home for years and yet this wasn’t the tearful, happy reunion he’d imagined. Thankfully she took the initiative, carefully putting her arms around him and he held her as well. He’d barely closed his eyes when she pulled away and he was forced to let go. She hurried away towards her shop leaving him feeling puzzled and oddly bereft.