The Way of the Blade

by Stuart Jaffe

  Then they tightened.

  Javery’s eyes widened. “Stop. Don’t kill me.”

  Tommy gazed up at him with a strange expression. It was as if the boy had only just become aware of his surroundings. Like a drunk waking up at a stranger’s door.

  “Listen to me, boy. I’m only trying to help my people. I’m no threat to you or anybody who stands with me for all Carsites.” Javery twisted and turned, but his action only tightened the vines worse.

  The boy continued to stare at him with that insufferable expression.

  “Let me go. Now! I have to get back to my people. I’ve got to show them who is their leader.”

  Javery’s rage flooded him without warning. A wave of breaking bones traveled up his spine. He wanted to scream, but the huge burst of magic that rushed from his body, incinerating the vines, left him exhausted and smiling.

  The boy was no more — nothing remained. Easier than I thought. Javery turned to head back to the war when a simple idea stopped him — Druzane. She would never have volunteered for combat which meant that she would be stationed in town, tending to the wounded.

  He hovered in the air and concentrated on her image. Anger edged around him, growing hotter until his rage came forth, but still he focused on her. He wanted his magic to find her, guide him to her. All of his fingers snapped backwards, and he sent a blast out for her. Not what he had planned, but he expected that would be it. Like killing Tommy, killing Druzane would not be satisfying, but at least it would be done.

  He heard the scream first. Then, he saw her. Druzane. Soaring across the sky, terrified, and heading for him. His magic had grabbed and delivered her. Incredible.

  She stopped before him. Her eyes popped wide, and her body shivered. She opened her mouth, staring at Javery’s monstrous visage, and she wailed.

  “This is much better,” he said, laughing as her screams turned to weeping.

  Javery readied his magic. He pictured it tearing her in half and letting every dishonest organ in her body drip to the merciless ground. But he felt weak. His body needed too much time, and he wanted her suffering to start at once.

  Then I’ll do it with my hands.

  As Javery moved in on her, dirt and rock sprayed from below. He glanced down in time to see Tommy’s fist knock him in the jaw. As he fell back, he saw Tommy sweep an arm at Druzane — she soared back to the town. Whisked away and very much alive.

  Javery drifted along a hillside until he saw another Waypoint station. As his bones reformed, he set down at the top of the station and fell to his knees. Not too far away, Tommy crouched on the ground, staring at his tattoos.

  Good, Javery thought. While evident that Tommy’s magic was different than his own, they both shared the need to take time between casting. And since I didn’t kill him so easy, the more time I get, the better my chances. He gazed into the distance and promised that once he finished with Tommy, he would make Druzane feel the pain of her betrayal. But first, he needed time.

  “They don’t understand us, do they?”

  Tommy did not look up, and his fingers clawed the ground.

  “I suppose it makes sense,” Javery went on. “People fear power, and magic is a tremendous raw power. It makes us different, separates us, and in some ways, can drive us a little mad.”

  Tommy’s fingers dug deeper, burying his hands in the dirt.

  Javery pressed his palm against the cool stone of the Waypoint station. “Even before I had magic, I felt that fear. Shual didn’t have the vision, didn’t understand the potential, so he feared it. That fear leads those we love to make poor decisions. After all, was it not fear that sent Malja chasing Harskill? Was it not that fear that brought you to this point?”

  Tommy launched into the air and tackled Javery. He punched hard and pressed his knee into Javery’s stomach.

  The pain lit Javery’s instinctive response, and what little magic he had built up to that point shot out in all directions, sending Tommy high into the air. Tommy spread his arms like wings and halted in the sky. In rapid succession, the boy glanced at his arm, stared at a tattoo glowing brightly, and threw an elemental magic down upon Javery. Fire, stone, ice, and wind shot out one after the other with little aim but devastating destruction. They bashed into the Waypoint station, demolished the rock formations still standing nearby, and churned up the ground below.

  Spears of ice headed straight for Javery’s head. Still running on instinct, his bones snapped and small bullets of magic tore into the air, each one intercepting the ice. Tommy never slowed to see the results of his attack. He kept throwing all he could muster.

  Javery leaped into the air, bending his arms so that the sharp tusks poking from his elbows led the attack. His leg bones continued to break as magic pulsed out of his head to take down Tommy’s furious assault. Right before Javery struck, Tommy noticed and attempted to get out of the way. He evaded the right tusk but the left scored a hit, cutting the boy along the side.

  Javery somersaulted in the air, righting himself to face the boy again. Both femurs split as he poured out a massive energy blast. He hit Tommy on the wounded side, spinning the boy into the ground. The magic continued on, however, and bore straight through the Waypoint station.

  Before the rubble had settled, it rose back in the air. Tommy. That piece of crap refused to die.

  The boy levitated at least half of the debris and threw it all at once. Like an onslaught of archer’s arrows, the various-sized stones hurling toward Javery made escape impossible. He curled in a ball and tried to form the magic field that had protected him before.

  He failed. Four fist-sized rocks and hundreds of small pebbles cut into his body. When the strikes finished, he straightened and saw the ruined Waypoint.

  “You did this,” he said, pointing at Tommy. The boy looked weaker, tired. “How dare you. You come to my home, you deny me the right to exact revenge on the whore that betrayed me, and now, by Carsite, you cause me to destroy my greatest achievement.” Flames ignited out of Javery’s eye sockets. “Die!”

  Chapter 37

  Malja

  The Summoning Horn sounded its high-pitched tut-tut-tut-tut. The signal. Malja did not have to say a thing to Canto or his men. They were already marching out.

  Malja peered through her spyglass once more. She would catch up with the men in a minute. She had to watch, had to know. She saw the autoflys breaking off from the fight. Two suffered hits in their retreat — one sputtering away but flying, one taking the long dive to the ground.

  Once the Horn silenced, she counted the seconds in her head. It shouldn’t take long, even with only a handful of people left on the ship to help Fawbry. One second. Two. Five seconds passed. Ten. It shouldn’t take so long.

  “Come on, Fawbry,” she said.

  The two large guns on deck moved a bit — at least, she thought they did. That would explain the delay. And before Malja’s mind could conjure up too many horrific scenarios for Fawbry’s fate, the guns fired.

  One at a time, they erupted with deep thuds and huge flames from their barrels. Thick, black smoke billowed around each gun. Back and forth they shot, decimating the Scarite’s air force. Each thundering blast rocked the Nittilo hard.

  “Slow down,” Malja whispered, but Fawbry forgot about the recoil. No, he didn’t. Krunlo had warned him several times when they prepped the warship. Like a great leader, Fawbry knew they had to fire as fast as possible to inflict the most damage. Any slower and the Scarites would have scattered, allowing too many to fight on. They would destroy the Carsites by sheer numbers. But a fast volley meant maximum casualties, even if such an action might result in his own death. Malja saw true grit in his actions.

  The gunfire ceased, and the warship remained upright. Malja brought out Viper and headed towards the men, but a blast louder than any before erupted. She brought the spyglass up so fast that she hit her eye hard. By the residual cloud of smoke and the numerous enemies dropping from the sky, she knew that Fawbry had shot everything
at once. Any Scarite dumb enough to have remained in the air met Death in an instant.

  The warship teetered like a newborn losing its balance. With a long, whining creak, it fell over. The shifting weight spun the ship back, and one end dipped lower than the other. Poor design never accounted for such an odd distribution of weight — the hull cracked. Half the ship hung by the active magic in its metal walls; the other half crashed into the rocks. A fiery ball filled the air above the warship, its heat momentarily covering what remained of the battle.

  Fawbry, you better have gotten off that ship before it went down, Malja thought as she hurried to catch up with Canto and his men.

  “They’re coming,” Canto said when she arrived.

  Not far ahead, the Scarite ground troops headed off to face Fawbry’s forces. Behind them, the three division leaders stood, each perched atop one of the rock formations, each at a point equally wide apart from the other, forming a triangle. Beneath them, a sickly glow rose on a mist and reflected upon their faces.

  A snake-well? Perhaps they found one, and that’s why they chose this location for their camp. No. The snake-well wasn’t a natural occurrence like the Great Well. Harskill had to have made this one for them. Considering he said all the wells were connected, it couldn’t have been that hard to tap into the nearest power source for magic and make a new well.

  “Malja,” Canto said. “Hurry.”

  She looked up. All the men scurried along, parallel with the Scarite force. She hadn’t even noticed them moving out. Crouching low, she joined them in shadowing their enemy. When the Scarites engaged Fawbry’s force, Canto’s men would be in perfect flanking position.

  That moment came along faster than Malja had expected. Hirasa led the ground troops, rushing head-on into the Scarite force, firing her weapon as she moved. Despite their courage and the successful air battle, the Carsites were still outnumbered. The Scarites continued to bring fresh troops whenever they were needed, and without the Nittilo, the Carsites firepower had become severely limited.

  “Ready?” Canto asked Malja.

  She gave him a nod, and he stood up with his weapon raised high. “Attack!”

  The men rushed into the mix, wielding their makeshift weaponry, clobbering every Scarite that got in their path. Blood, limbs, and bodies dropped to the ground — enough that the dirt turned to mud and moving became a hazardous prospect.

  Malja pushed ahead of the men, sweeping Viper to clear out as many Scarites as she could, to make things easier on the exhausted men. It was no good, though. For every enemy she struck down, three more appeared.

  At the same time, however, they seemed to be making progress. The flanking maneuver had helped to reduce the pressure on Hirasa’s group. They killed enough Scarites for both forces to regroup together and face the next line straight ahead.

  “Follow me,” Canto yelled and sprinted forward. Roaring with him, the rest of the Carsites followed. The autoflys returned, skimming over the Scarite heads but not being too effective — it was difficult to reach over with a sword and not fall out.

  Malja’s extensive experience in battle had taught her that no matter how skilled a warrior could become, every fight included some measure of luck. That luck showed itself when she stayed back for a moment and grabbed Hirasa’s arm. “Fawbry? Tommy?”

  Hirasa shrugged. “Sorry.”

  A short exchange, but one that caused both women to be passed by the Carsite force, to be behind them all when Ten Snakes, Red Head, and One-Eye acted. In unison, the three unleashed their magic, sending a wave of acid across the battlefield. Scarite, Carsite — it made no difference. The acid ate up everything in its path. The entire front line of the Carsite troops sizzled into smoke and ash. Screams were cut short, and the full-on charge abruptly pulled up to a halt. The autoflys burned up and crashed into the Scarites. Though the Scarites suffered as well, Ten Snakes shouted an order anyway. Those still capable pressed their assault.

  Hirasa’s mouth dropped and quivered. Her eyes filled.

  Malja scanned the battlefield. She saw no sign of Canto or Krunlo. “Hirasa, listen to me.” But Hirasa stared at the oncoming horde of Scarites without emotion, as if she saw nothing ahead of her, only wisps of smoke. Malja slapped the girl in the face. That got her attention. “Hirasa, this fight is lost. If we’re going to survive, you have to get everyone out of here.”

  “H-How?”

  “Break them up into small groups. Three or four people at the most. Scatter them in the trees and around those huge rocks. Tell them to find their way back to town. We’ll regroup there and figure out what to do.”

  “We run and hide?”

  “We had our chance, but this is suicide, if we stay.”

  “But —”

  “Go. That’s an order.”

  Hirasa rushed off and did as told. Malja ran toward the crashed warship, sheathing Viper as she moved.

  Battlefields are always a disarrayed collection of random motions trying desperately to stick to a useless plan. Eventually, some solid approach can be found in the chaos. But this — this was madness. Both forces hurried in all directions. Screams and tears. People shouting names. The stinging stench of bodies dissolving into nothing. Occasionally, fighting broke out again, but all those who survived Ten Snakes’ attack had little taste for bloodshed anymore. The newer Scarites rumbled in like a thick wall, moving ever forward. They fought little, letting the madness devour itself and preventing anybody from getting beyond them, but otherwise, they simply moved forward — slow and steady.

  Malja broke into a sprint. She had to get far enough ahead of this Scarite wall. Her do-kha kept her muscles loose as she pressed harder.

  When she neared the warship, a voice called out, “Malja!”

  Stumbling to a stop, she spun around. Fawbry leaned against a rock while his three gunners nursed their wounds nearby. Malja rushed up and hugged him. He tensed under her arms but didn’t fight.

  “Are you okay?” he asked. “You get knocked in the head?”

  Letting go, she laughed. “I thought you might’ve died up there. I’m just pleased to see you.”

  Leading her away from the others, he said, “Don’t be too pleased. We’ve lost this thing.”

  “Did you really think we’d win?”

  “It seemed like a good plan.”

  “You did fine. The odds were against the Carsites from the start.”

  Kicking at the dirt, Fawbry said, “Now what? We leave? Assassinate Harskill? What?”

  “Harskill’s gone. At least, I think he is. Javery showed up and threw him into the ocean. But he never surfaced. Javery ... he isn’t a person anymore. He’s mutated. I suspect Harskill thought that added enough craziness for his own goals, so he opened a portal underwater and is in some other world now. That’s just a guess, though.”

  “Sounds like him. He seems to run off when things get heated.”

  “Well, we’re not doing that.”

  “No?” A tiny grin rose on his lips.

  “No. We put these people on the field of battle, and if we leave now, we might as well have murdered them all. The Scarites will overtake the country, and they’ll exact a vicious revenge. Without Harskill, Ten Snakes will most likely rule, and he just showed us all, he’s willing to kill his own people, if necessary. So, we stay.”

  Fawbry shook dirt from his hair. “That sounds noble and honorable and wonderful, except for the fact that we don’t have a way to stop them. I don’t know what we can do. We’ll end up dying here.”

  “Then we die on the side of right.”

  Fawbry looked into her eyes. She could see his mind turning one idea after another. Finally, he placed his only hand on her shoulder and bowed his head. “Malja, I will always stand by your side. If you think this is the right thing to do, then I’ll be here.”

  “I’m glad you said that. Because I’ve got an idea. It’ll probably get us killed, but if it works, I think we’ll end the entire war before it’s had a chance to g
et too far along.”

  “What do you need?”

  “Tommy. Do you know where he is?”

  Chapter 38

  Javery

  The stupid kid refused to die. They were both exhausted, and they had reduced the surrounding area to a blackened war zone. Javery stood next to the ruins of his Waypoint station while Tommy crouched at the ground, once more sticking his hand into the dirt.

  “You won’t win this,” Javery said. “My magic regenerates faster than yours. Surely, you’ve noticed. Each time we’ve stopped like this, I’m ready to fight sooner than you. The odds are that eventually, I’ll kill you before you can cast a spell to save yourself.”

  Tommy did not respond. Javery kept expecting the boy to say something, but he never talked.

  “You must be lonely,” Javery said. “Don’t feel that way. Trust me about this. Talking with people is worthless. They all lie and betray you — their promises mean nothing. Even when they promise you their heart.”

  He felt the change in his body that told him he had enough power to attack. But he held back. If he didn’t strike decisively, this would go on for hours — maybe days. And the longer this went on, the more chances Tommy had to get lucky with an attack. No, not lucky. The boy had tremendous skill and far greater control over his magic. Javery had to finish this now.

  An idea struck him — a way to make his attack more forceful. First, he thought of the one thing that enraged him the most — Druzane. In seconds, his bones broke. This time his toes cracked and the tusks from his elbows split. But instead of attempting to guide his magic to a target, Javery used all his focus to hold back. To chain down his magic, refuse to let it loose.

  Right away, he noticed the difference. The magic built pressure against him, and he pushed it back. Tommy paid no attention, and that suited Javery perfectly. He continued to hold the magic inside, and as it became more and more difficult, he struggled not to let any of it slip out. He didn’t want Tommy to notice a thing — not until Javery let it all go in one colossal strike.