by Riley Storm
“The idea of working with the dragons doesn’t bother you?” Circe asked casually.
Christine snorted. “I am not, and have never been, one of Loiner’s fan’s,” she said, naming the disgraced former Master who had been exiled to the Hexe Institute in Europe after her actions at Winterspell. “I understand she played many of her disciples against one another, promising to help them climb the ranks. It burns me that we didn’t do a better job preparing those young women, to show them their options so that they didn’t have to.”
Circe was quiet during the little outburst. They both knew that Christine had been approached by the former-Master when she was younger, and had said no. Loiner had tried to come after Christine for it, but she’d misjudged the meteoric rise of the young—at the time—Initiate, and it had backfired on Loiner.
“I don’t believe I mentioned this,” Circe said after a moment, letting the heat leave the room. “But I was planning on creating a team such as this anyway. A combined arms response force. The Outpost is the beginning, what gave me the idea, but I always viewed that as a stepping-stone to something more. A way to unite our abilities, to give us something totally unprecedented in the history of our world.”
“It makes sense,” Christine agreed. “I too have thought that it would be prudent for us to further develop a working relationship with the Dracians. They aren’t going anywhere anytime soon. The more we can integrate ourselves with one another, the better chance we stand of making our home even more impervious to the outside. Especially with the Alignment approaching in our lifetime.”
Circe was nodding visibly under her hood. “Your thoughts mirror my own, in many ways. I am glad that you are looking ahead, not just at the immediate moment. Well done.”
“Thank you, Circe,” she said, appreciating the compliment. “I still want command of this team.”
The other woman laughed, a soft, delicate sound, very at odds with the power she could wield. “I do believe I’m starting to get that impression.”
Christine waited silently for Circe to continue. She was willing to be adamant and up front about her desire, but the last thing she was going to do was demand that Circe hurry up and make up her mind. Christine wanted Circe to appoint her as the team leader because she believed Christine was the right person, not because she’d been bullied into it.
Not that I’ve met a person yet who could bully Circe into anything.
“Correct me if I’m wrong, but you have a Test coming up soon, do you not?” Circe asked. “I would think being in command of this team would detract a lot of time from your studies.”
Christine shook her head. “On the contrary, I think it would be the perfect test for me, to ensure that I am ready to move into the ranks of Master. It doesn’t get much more real-world experience than this.” She frowned, her lips compressing into a flat line. “Besides, my Test was actually yesterday, and your message may have interrupted me just as I was in the middle of it.”
To her surprise, Circe laughed again. “My apologies on that. I will look into it.”
Christine bowed her head, not sure what Circe meant with her comment. Would the results of her Test up to the point it had ended dictate whether she did or did not get the position? That hardly seemed fair, but who was she to argue?
“I had hoped that you would volunteer for the team,” Circe said. “I was fairly positive you would, but I needed to gain your impression on the dragon component as well. Some of the others, even those who are not fans of Master Loiner have shown reluctance to work with them, much to my surprise. More a fear of the unknown, than any great distaste or disdain for them, I believe.”
“I understand,” Christine said, and she meant it. When the dragons had first arrived, she’d been wary, suspicious and definitely not at all decided in favor of having them stick around. Her fears and worries had eased considerably as the dragons proved themselves worthy allies, and now she looked forward to working with one of them in detail. It would be a good challenge for her, to figure out ways to adapt their tactics to work together.
“However,” Circe continued, and Christine’s hopes fell.
There was someone else, someone she thought would be better suited to command the team. Which there likely was. Any number of Masters would have more experience if they volunteered for the team. Christine wondered who it was that Circe had picked.
Aldard? Frosser? Both were great witches who would excel in the position.
“I am not appointing a commander of the team,” Circe explained. “Not right away, at least.”
Christine frowned. “I don’t follow. What do you mean? Who will be in charge?”
“Master Pinton is in charge of organizing the project and overseeing the training,” Circe said. “However, she is no longer suited to field command. That will be best for young blood. Whoever proves to be the best natural leader during training, will be given the position.”
“I understand,” Christine said, trying to mask her disappointment even as her mind was already whirring, thinking of how she could prove herself to the rest of the team, and what it would take.
“For what it’s worth,” Circe said warmly, “I will be following Master Pinton’s reports on you closely, Apprentice Sinnclare. I expect great things out of you. I hope you do not disappoint me.”
Christine stood straight, beaming with pride. “Thank you, Circe. I expect the same from myself and will try as hard as I can to ensure your faith is not misguided.”
“Good,” Circe said, standing to indicate the meeting was over. “The position is up for grabs. If you want it, you’ll have to earn it.”
I will, she vowed to herself.
Chapter Six
Altair
“Hey!”
Altair recoiled in surprise. “Sorry,” he said as he nearly bowled over a young witch.
“Pay more attention to where you’re walking next time.”
He thought about firing back a reply, but if there was one thing Altair was smart enough to avoid, it was getting into a verbal fight with a hormonal teenage witch. There simply was no way he would win such a situation. Ever. So, he just nodded his head and continued on his way, letting her feel powerful for the moment.
Besides, his mind had put the incident completely behind him in a matter of seconds as he continued on across the courtyard toward the main building, and his destination within. The image of the irate young witch was replaced by the equally passionate, yet far more driven and learned features of the witch who had sought him out after the meeting.
Christine. Her name was Christine, and she was absolutely determined to be a part of the response team. Which meant that he was likely to be working with her on a frequent basis. That idea didn’t bother him, though he didn’t let himself focus on it much. She was just another witch, out here to do her job. Nothing more.
That job was the demon lord, an entity called Berith. That was the precise and full extent of what Altair knew about his new foe, and that wasn’t anywhere near enough information. He needed to know more about the Abyss, about demons, demon lords, and of course this one in particular. Every bit of information could be relevant.
He entered the Grand Library of Winterspell and paused to take in the view. It was quite a sight—unlike anything he’d ever seen before. Straight ahead of him was a long wide desk. Behind it a spindle railing ran left and right for a hundred feet or more, before ending in dual staircases that went both up higher into the library and down into its depths, mirroring one another.
It was what lay beyond, however, that stole his breath and dislodged Christine from his mind’s eye.
Rows of bookcases. Floors’ worth, up and down. A giant rectangular empty space ran from floor to ceiling just beyond the desk, an empty void. Beyond it were the bookcases. Altair walked around the desks, ignoring the two women sitting there. He leaned over the railing to marvel at the sight.
Six floors below him. Another six above. He could see them all, though the stacks of b
ooks retreated into the distance and the low lighting meant he couldn’t see the end.
“That’s a lot of books.”
“Thanks.”
He turned to glance at one of the women, both of whom were looking at him a little starry eyed.
“What can we help you with today?” the older of the two asked, managing not to giggle.
“Lord Berith,” he said bluntly. “The demon lord Circe was talking about in the meeting yesterday. I need to read up on him.”
The two witches recoiled. “What is it with people and that foul beast today?” the younger said.
Altair just waited.
“Second floor,” he was told at long last. “Section A-Three. Demons and Demon Lords.”
“Thanks,” he said, and hopped over the railing.
The witches yelped, and he heard them scramble out of their chairs, but he didn’t look back. His focus was on the entrance to the second floor. Floating on a cloud of air, he touched down with barely a whisper on the floor at the foot of the staircase and dived into the depths of the books, making a beeline for section A-Three.
He arrived in the section to find the shelves clearly missing books. A closer inspection showed that many of the ones that might be about this Lord Berith had been taken. Looking around, he spied a section of desks further down. Wandering over, he hoped to try and share with whoever it—
“Hi.”
Altair smiled ruefully. “Of course,” he said as Christine looked up from the book she was reading, her desk stacked full of the various texts he assumed he would need. “This is what the two at the front desk meant by the books being popular today. Doing a little light reading this morning?”
“Something like that. What are you doing here?” she wanted to know, speaking in a low whisper. “Are you following me?”
“No,” he replied, making sure to keep his voice quiet too. He couldn’t see anyone else in this section, but he wasn’t sure. “I came here for the same reason it seems you came here.”
“Brushing up on Berith?”
He nodded. “I like to know my enemy.”
“We’re not guaranteed to fight him, you know,” Christine pointed out, leaning back in her chair, book momentarily forgotten.
Altair stared at her, only blinking once, and very slowly.
“So, you don’t buy that either.”
“No,” he said quietly. “If your European school knew where he was, they would be after him already. It sounds like they’re searching for him, trying to find him.”
“That still doesn’t guarantee he will come here. Demons usually try to avoid coming here. Especially after what Circe did to the last one. Even a demon lord doesn’t want to cross her. Trust me.”
Altair had heard the rumor from Rane, that Circe had absolutely taken a lower level demon to task before sending it back to the Abyss, to the netherworld where such creatures and more lived. Apparently, she’d created quite the stir in her handling of the beast.
“You’ve got all the books,” he said, changing the subject back. He wasn’t in the mood to banter. “Mind if I borrow some?” He grabbed three off the top and started heading over to another desk, one where he could sit with his back to her.
His ears picked up a whispered word or two before the books were abruptly ripped from his hands, whipping back over to land on her desk.
“Excuse me,” he rumbled. “What are you doing?”
“Excuse you? You’re the one who just up and took them from my desk. Don’t pretend like I’m the rude one with no manners here,” Christine said.
Altair sighed. “You have nine texts on your desk. Surely you can let me go over some of them. You can’t read them all at once.”
“Can too,” she countered, waving her wand. The books leapt into the air, opening to pages at random, all of them hovering in front of her face.
Altair rubbed at his eyes, then snatched a pair from mid-air, including the one she’d been reading as he’d approached. “I’ll take these two.”
“No, I don’t think you will.”
“Why does it feel like I’m arguing with a child?”
Christine bristled. “I’m not the one acting like I can take anything without asking, unlike an adult who would know better.”
Altair scowled. “No, but you are the one who’s acting like you own everything, despite being a full-grown adult who should know how to share.”
A face appeared in the row of books back toward the entrance. “Shh,” the officious woman said, holding a finger to her lips. “This is a place of study.”
“Exactly,” Altair said, glowering at Christine, indicating she was the one to blame.
The librarian glared at them both, a second warning, and then continued about her duties, leaving the two of them be.
“Fine,” Christine said. “Truce.”
“Truce.”
“Instead of you going off on your own, why don’t we work together?” she said. “Split the work, make notes and go over everything when we’re done?”
“Deal.” Altair dropped into the desk next to her, wondering why he had chosen to sit right next to her instead of somewhere else. Was it because he hoped it would bug her?
If so, she didn’t seem to care anymore, instead just taking two books and passing them off to him.
“Here, start with these. They’re a bit generic, but they give you some good background information on demons in general, which I’m assuming you could use. Make any notes.”
“I will,” he said, and took the first book, entitled Demon Origins and cracking the cover open, leaning back to start reading.
He was half a page in when he felt her gaze settle on him again. Looking up, he saw his instincts were correct. Christine was staring at him, once more looking unimpressed.
“What did I do now?” he asked.
“You’re supposed to be taking notes.”
“I am. I have an excellent memory. Now, if you’re done harassing me?”
She huffed but returned to her own readings. Altair grinned, watching her face, the intense stare of her eyes as she directed her anger into what she was reading.
There was something almost cute about the way she got upset with him.
Realizing what he was thinking, he cleared his mind and picked up his book again. He wouldn’t think of her like that, couldn’t think of her that way.
“You’re a storm dragon, right?”
He looked up several minutes later, in surprise. “Yes, that’s correct.”
“So, you can control the weather, but also the air?” She was leaning forward, staring at him intently, book all but forgotten.
“Um, sort of. I can control the air. So, I can charge it, creating a storm, or I can make it rain by condensing the air and forcing the water to fall. But I cannot, for instance, create water if there is none in the air. Nor can I make it snow without the right temperature conditions. There is a thing as too much manipulation of the weather.”
Christine nodded. “Does it take you long?”
“Take me long to do what?” he asked.
“Control it.”
Altair glanced at a book in the pile next to her and it rose into the air as air swirled underneath it, lifting it free. Christine tried to grab it, but he floated it just out of her grasp. She tried again, and again, but his book dodged her grasp each time. Then it came back to settle down.
“So very interesting. And lightning,” she said. “You can use it as a weapon?”
“Yes.”
“Show me,” she said eagerly, a smile teasing at the corners of her mouth.
“Uh.” He held up a hand, tiny bolts of lightning dancing between his fingertips.
“Fascinating.”
“Why do you want to know this?” he asked, leaning on his side to face her straight on, trying to decipher what she was up to.
“Because, if we’re going to fight this demon and send him back to the depths of the Abyss,” she said with sudden intensity, “then I need to
know every advantage and strength available to me and the team.”
Altair watched her eyes sparkle as she talked. Her drive was obvious; the way she was focused on this mission even before it was guaranteed they would get a chance to fight Berith.
A chance to fight for her, but for me, a chance to redeem myself, to change my legacy. No matter what it takes, I will ensure that Berith falls when I meet the creature.
“Tell me more about this Erlinger,” he rumbled, looking down at a chapter of the book dedicated entirely to her. “What is told about her in your circles?”
Christine shrugged. “Master Ada Erlinger is a legend, but we don’t exactly talk about her much. Sometimes, if the subject of demons comes up, she will as well, but it’s not regular dinner conversation. She was a powerful witch several hundred years ago who studied at the Hexe Institute in Germany, our European school headquarters. When Berith pushed his way through from the Abyss, she and two dozen others went after him.”
“She stopped him, by herself though,” Altair pushed.
“Yes, so the stories go. She sacrificed herself to stop Berith from doing any more damage, in the process sending him back to the Abyss.”
“How did she do that?” Altair needed to know, needed to understand what to do if the situation called for him to do the same.
“I…I don’t really know the specifics,” Christine admitted. “I assume she cast a spell that drew upon her own life energy to amplify it, but I’m not really sure.”
Altair grimaced. Damn, a spell. He couldn’t use magic, not in the same sense the witches could. There had to be another way.
Not happy with the answer, he buried his nose in the book, page after page flowing by as he tried to garner some sort of insight into what this heroic and celebrated Master had done to save the day.
He had to know.
Chapter Seven
Christine
Eager to begin working with the team, Christine entered the training arena with her spine straight and a smile tugging at her lips. This was what she’d worked so hard for, a chance to combat true evil, and send it back to the darkness from whence it came! Now she was going to get a chance to do so.