by N. M. Howell
“Are you okay?” Andie asked.
“Yes. I believe so. It just felt as if something passed through me.”
“Yeah, I felt it, too. I have no idea what it was. Maybe the De—”
Andie couldn’t finish her sentence because she saw something coming in their direction. It must have been thirty blocks away, but it closed the distance fast. It was massive, wild, blasting the glass from the windows and sweeping cars along as it came. The closer it got, the more Andie could see its color. Red. It didn’t take her long to realize that it was the red sand of the Church of Stone and Sea. They had finally joined the war in the streets.
“Oh, yes,” Andie said. “I’ve been waiting for you. Saeryn, our friends from the church here look a little sad. Let’s brighten them up.”
“With pleasure.”
Saeryn put her hands to her mouth and made a very distinct call. She and Andie then waited, watching the looming threat draw near. The massive cloud of red sand continued to come toward them, sweeping everything in the street along and causing terrible damage. It was almost upon them, fierce, sprawling, morphing before their eyes, a huge cloud of magical and deadly grains. Just as it bore down on them, fire and black smoke billowed into its face. Ronen and the other dragons had heard her call.
The dragons flew above the cloud and sprayed down some of its heaviest and hottest flame yet, the entire surrounding city was cast in a red glow. The cloud became a giant mass of red glass and fell, shattering across the street. Among the shards and chunks were six priests, badly burned yet still strong enough to regain their feet. They clearly weren’t expecting such a welcome. Just like in the Church weeks prior, they began to come together to merge as one. Very calmly, Andie drew her sword and held the blade in the opposite hand. She whispered an incantation over the blade, her eyes closed and her mind focused. The six priests became one.
“Little princess,” the multi-voice said. “We now give you the choice to—”
Andie threw her blade right into the middle of the face and it stuck between its eyes. The spell began to spill out from the sword and the face started to melt, turning into a dripping, steaming jelly before dissolving completely. Andie held out her hand and the sword returned to her. Simple, quick, effective. She and Saeryn turned and walk away.
In Taline, across Noelle from Arvall City, the third wave of the army arrived. There were far too many of them to arrive on the train, and so they descended on the city from above, parachuting down from the silver cliffs. When the citizens of Taline looked up and see two thousand men descending on them, they panicked. But Stefan was calm. He surmised that an army marching on Arvall from the north might detach a faction to march on his city as well, and he had been prepared for this moment for days. He had organized the city’s small force and even reformed the council.
The army rushed through the streets of Taline, hungry for bloodshed and pillaging. It was true that Taline had not been back on its feet long and still has a long way to go before reclaiming its former glory, but the one thing they did have was Stefan. Stefan the Unkillable, he was called in the old days. He was very old and very powerful, and he loved one thing above all others. His precious Taline City. It was a shame the soldiers didn’t know this.
Taline’s standing army was very small, and Stefan sent half of them to fight alongside their allies in Arvall city. But what the forces of Taline lacked in numbers, they made up for in training. They were originally trained to hunt and capture the terrorists who plagued the city years before. Because of the frequent attacks, there was little order and much chaos, and these men hardened themselves fighting some of the worst and most ruthless criminals in western Noelle. They were a force to be reckoned with, and Stefan had organized them flawlessly. No sooner did the men touch down than the forces of Taline ambushed them and delivered an attack worthy of record in every history book.
Stefan himself was also in the streets fighting like a young man, despite his more than two hundred years. His spellwork was the product of more than two centuries of rigorous training and discipline. Not one of the soldiers could even get close to him without being vaporized. Stefan was a kind man, but he showed no mercy to those who wished to destroy his city. His magic was great and terrible. And beside him, fighting as if she had never been hurt, was Carmen.
She was as beautiful and deadly as ever, moving quickly and dexterously through the invading army, cutting them down with ease. She and Stefan forced the soldiers back toward Bane, a two-thousand-foot-tall, sun-fueled, living structure capable of defending itself. As the enemy was pushed within its reach, Bane’s loveglass windows lashed out and snatched the soldiers from the streets, delivering them to an agony that made them glad for the death it eventually delivered.
Stefan and Carmen fought viciously, alongside the other council members, defending the city and ensuring more soldiers didn’t arrive in Arvall.
Chapter Twenty-Three
Saeryn stumbled first, then fell. Andie knelt to help her, though she didn’t feel very strong herself.
“What was that?” Saeryn asked, her eyes scanning their surroundings wildly.
“I felt it, too,” Andie said. Her body was consumed by a great weakness, as if her very magical essence had been torn from her body.
“What is happening?” Both women looked panicked, their bodies weakening by the second. They could not track the source of the attack, but both felt their magic and physical strength slowly extinguish like a dampening flame.
Before Andie could answer, she was knocked twenty feet back and into a concrete column. She had to lay there for a moment to catch her breath, but before she could, a bolt of lightning struck her, knocking her backward through the pillar. She could hardly open her eyes as she waited for the dragon blood to heal her.
“That one’s mine,” Ashur said, pointing to Andie. “You’re more than welcome to the Queen.”
Andie saw him now and she saw his accomplice: Beladorion. She guessed from his dress and suffocating arrogance that he was the leader of the Dead. Ashur made his way over to her and lifted her with one hand. He held her in front of him, giving her a long look at the irrevocable damage she’d done to his face.
“It’s not a pretty sight, is it?” he asked.
He punched her with all his force and then cast an acid spell right in her face. The pain was blinding and Andie dropped to the ground in agony. She put her hand to her face and only managed to have her palm eaten away, too. Ashur came in for his next strike, and, as he leaned forward, Andie cast an explosion right into his chest. She was thrown, skidding across the concrete and Ashur was blasted up through the steel and concrete overhang of the building.
Across the street, Beladorion was beating Saeryn to within an inch of her life.
“You know, I never understood you traitors,” he laughed. “All we want is to have what you have. It’s not as if we need to drink all your blood, though of course now we’ll bleed you dry simply out of spite. Generations upon generations of both our people could have been spared if you had only shared your birthright.”
“If you were to obtain our power, you would destroy everything,” Saeryn said, crawling away to give herself time to heal. “By denying you we have protected the world.”
“You’ve only put off the inevitable,” he said, kicking her across the intersection. “You’ve only angered us.”
Saeryn looked to her left, her right, and down the street in front of her. Everywhere she looked the Dead were beating the life out of her people. The dragonborn fought bravely, but the Dead’s natural and physical attributes were formidable. Andie saw the carnage as well. She looked over to Saeryn, wondering how they would survive.
In other parts of the city the tides were turning against the defenders of Arvall. Murakami and a large number of council fighters were killed in a magical bombing by the battalion. Lymir had been missing for hours. Yara and Bonhaus collapsed from exhaustion and had to be carried off for rest and water. Raesh was still fighting
valiantly, but he was being cornered by a phalanx of fifty battalion soldiers. The miners had been pushed out of the east side of the city and some of them had even run across their own traps. The line of the Thabians had finally been broken.
The Beautiful Dead were gaining the upper hand on the dragonborn, who were simultaneously suffering from the same odd weakness that was affecting Andie and Saeryn. The battalion had strong-armed its way into a position of advantage. The defenders of Arvall lacked the numbers and they were beginning to lack the will. Andie and Saeryn were taking a terrible beating at the hands of Ashur and Beladorion, and it seemed the spell was only moments from being broken.
But all hope was not lost. Kent and Lilja had searched all day and night for him and now they had finally hunted him down. Lucas. He was standing behind the phalanx of battalion soldiers. They finally had him. They wasted no time, stealthily running up to him from behind. Lilja jumped up and landed a knee to the back of his head, a perfect blow that dazed him and brought him down. Kent fended off the soldiers as they rounded on him.
Lilja worked quickly, getting out her equipment and hacking into the suit. It didn’t take long to work, but Lucas came around for a few seconds, just long enough to blast a hole through Kent’s back. Lilja screamed; she drew her knife and plunged it into Lucas’s chest, repeatedly. The battalion soldiers all looked confused as their power dwindled, leaving them with nothing but their own meager ability. Sensing the change, Raesh gathered his magic in a wild, unstable ball in his hands.
“Lilja, get down!” he screamed.
He released the magic, the energy, and blew the soldiers away. The shutting down of the battalion suits was a turning point. Without their advanced suits, the battalion soldiers lost both their power and their arrogance. However, they were still skilled sorcerers. The defenders of Arvall sensed the opportunity and drew their will for one last try.
Ashur finally regained consciousness and slammed back into the street. Andie had recovered enough to regain her feet. She saw him and moved in his direction. He pulled a whip from his back and it began to glow green with some kind of magic Andie knew must be dangerous. She drew her sword.
Ashur snapped the whip, but Andie was quicker. She cut it off, only to find that it grew back. She began casting as she defended against the flying whip. Ashur cast, too, though he was less precise than Andie.
They traded spells as if they were born to do only that. Ashur performed through rage and hate, Andie through necessity. The whip caught Andie’s leg across her shin and snapped her bone. He snapped it again across her face. When the whip came around again, Andie dove to the side, replacing her original form with a magical ghosted shadow, allowing the whip to pass through. She walked right up to Ashur and swung her fist just as he realized his whip had gone through empty air and landed her punch. Ashur spun on his feet and Andie landed more blows. But soon he was squared again and they engaged in hand to hand. They were both skilled fighters, catching each other with incredible blows, but Ashur’s armor made him stronger, faster. He slapped Andie and she went spinning through the air.
But she was tougher than he could have imagined. She was right back on her feet, throwing her sword with such force and accuracy that it went right through his thigh. As he screamed in pain, Andie got a running start and jumped, coming down with a spell that crushed Ashur into the ground. She turned her fist to stone and began to pound him mercilessly. But his new armor and the old that was melded to his skin had made him strong.
He opened his mouth and screamed, amplifying it with a spell so that the sound came out in percussive rings. Andie was blown back. She cast a spell at Ashur that caused him to bleed inside. She didn’t notice until the final two seconds were ticking away that he’d placed a grenade on her. She wasn’t concerned, since fire couldn’t hurt her, but this was no regular grenade. As it exploded, it sent a wave through her that completely drained her. She dropped.
Saeryn rallied against Beladorion. She felt herself weakening every moment, but still she pressed on. She had drawn her sword and dueled against him and his Wrothsaield blades. Her footwork and form were excellent and she cast a spell to make her faster, leveling the playing field.
“Very good, traitor,” Beladorion said. “For a moment, I worried I was fighting a common rat.”
“You forget your place, boy,” said Saeryn. “You descend on us when we are weakest and think you have cause to be proud. What a shame to find the great Dead are merely frightened children.”
Beladorion lunged, and, although Saeryn blocked his blade, he moved to throw his shoulder into her and knocked her across the street. She recovered just in time to stab the arm that reached for her throat. He screamed. Saeryn launched an assault, slicing him so fast and expertly that even Beladorion had trouble tracking her. He was able to protect his main arteries, but Saeryn had free reign with everything else. She cast a spell that snatched a pillar from its support position and slammed it into Beladorion, knocking him two blocks away. Two more Dead arrived to help their leader, but Saeryn beheaded them both on her way to Beladorion.
But he was waiting for her and as she neared him. He regained his feet and aimed a kick at her chest in a mere second, sending her flipping over backwards and colliding with the ground. In a flash, he was on top of her, digging his blade into her hand.
Meanwhile, a group of battalion soldiers had found Andie. Ashur was still in the crater she had beaten him in, recovering. The grenade that went off on Andie was designed to instantly shrivel the adrenal glands, instantaneously ridding the body of adrenaline. Andie was too weak to even move a finger. Adrenaline played a large role in dragonborn healing, so it was taking her a while to get back on her feet. The ten soldiers held her up and took turns beating her, like only cowards would do. But every punch they landed only made her stronger. She was healing. Slowly, she felt herself coming back.
Soon Ashur was on his feet and he cast a spell at one of the soldiers that completely froze him. He kicked the boy over and his body shattered.
“What do you think you’re doing?” he shouted. “She’s mine! Mine!”
Andie spat a mouthful of blood on the ground. “Aw, that’s so sweet. I didn’t know you wanted me that badly, but if you insist...”
Ashur launched himself away just in time. Magic rushed from Andie’s body in an explosion of fire and lava. She was filled with such rage and such fury, she felt a renewed energy flood her veins, and she used it to its full potential. The other nine soldiers were burned away instantly. Ashur managed to escape, but his leg was badly burned. He struggled to his feet, but Andie pushed the wind between them with such force that he was thrown up at an angle, smashing through to the twelfth floor of a building and landing inside. Andie levitated up to the floor. Ashur was insensible on the floor and Andie kicked the arm he was trying to push up on, breaking it. He screamed in pain.
“I can’t believe you were dumb enough to come back,” she said. “You barely escaped with your life last time. Why would you test me?”
“And who are you supposed to be? An orphan? A prey? A lovesick imposter, pretending these people will ever actually love you? You disgust me.”
Andie turned her hand and broke all his ribs. He screamed in agony.
“Trust me,” she said. “The feeling is mutual.”
But Ashur’s scream of pain morphed into a deranged laughter. Andie grew uncomfortable. She began to cast again, but in the space of a second his armor pulsed blue and then exploded in a wave of energy that sucked the solar radiation right out of Andie. She collapsed. Ashur got to his feet. He didn’t say a word, just walked up to her and kicked her so hard she went flying out of the window. She collided with the glass of the other building across the street, then fell.
Beladorion swung his quick and powerful fist at Saeryn, but instead of connecting with her flesh, he hit metal. Saeryn had transformed her body to steel as best she could, though her memory of the spell in the grimoire grew faint in her battered head. She swung a
punch of her own and sent Beladorion flipping and tumbling across three blocks. The blow was so hard the other Dead along the street stopped to look. The dragonborn, though still weak, had begun to rally. They started pulling out the best and strongest spells they knew, and wielded their swords as if they would never have the chance to wield them again.
By the time Beladorion got to his feet, Saeryn was upon him, beating him senseless with her steel fists. She weakened, but still she had her magic. The Beautiful Dead were strong, but they did not have the dragonborn healing. Beladorion’s blood began to flow and he knew terror for the first time in his long life. He got a few good shots in, but Saeryn was a supremely skilled warrior and she mixed her hits with spells. She broke his wrist. Then his arm. She touched his chest and he began to cough up sand, but a stealthy and vicious backhand sent Saeryn reeling. Beladorion drew his blades and he and Saeryn returned to dueling. But he was, after all, physically superior and he began to move just too fast for Saeryn to follow. He cut the main artery of her leg and she fell. Were it not for her dragon blood, she would have died that very moment. Beladorion kicked her over and over again, smiling the whole time.
Ashur hit Andie again and by this point, she was hardly breathing. Being the highest member of the battalion, his suit wasn’t affected like the others. Andie looked for Saeryn, who may have been dead already, but she couldn’t see her. Her people had begun to rally against the Dead, but the weakness that had come on them all was beginning to win. By the way she witnessed her people around them slow, she knew they were affected by more than just the weariness of battle. Something was happening to them, but she didn’t understand what. Some strange and powerful spell seemed to be targeting just the dragonborn, but Andie couldn’t think of any such spell that could do such a thing. Her people were hardly able to stand and the Dead began to take advantage of it. They were losing.