Heretic Spellblade 2

by K D Robertson

  Sunstorm appeared behind Lucia, swords raised. Lucia reacted instantly and spun. Her shock wave obliterated Sunstorm, turning her into tiny little pieces of darkness.

  “Hah, how pathetic,” Lucia said. She sneered at Nathan and posed.

  “Lucia—” Theus shouted.

  It was too late. Lucia’s face warped from smug pleasure to shock. She tried to scream, but there was suddenly a lot of blood blocking the flow of air through her throat.

  Having your throat slit does that.

  Sunstorm poked her head over Lucia’s shoulder. “Shhhhh.”

  Lucia glared at Sunstorm as blood bubbled down her throat. Even though she was a Champion, Lucia’s wound was fatal. If an ordinary person tried to slit her throat, the dagger would break, but Sunstorm wasn’t an ordinary person.

  Lucia spun, her amethysts flashing as she used the last of her strength to swing at Sunstorm. Useless. Sunstorm vanished in a puff of darkness.

  Lucia slipped in the slick of blood that had formed at her feet. She slammed face-first into the sharp mess of stone pebbles she had made with her shock waves and fell silent.

  A moment later, Sunstorm appeared above her. Without a moment of hesitation, the olive-skinned assassin rammed both of her swords into Lucia’s back. She twisted, just in case. Then she pulled her blades back out, cleaned them off on Lucia’s uniform, and gave them a twirl.

  Nathan turned away from the vicious execution. It was a grim reminder that Sunstorm was both a talented killer, but also one that enjoyed her work. In the distance, Theus glared at Nathan.

  Power pulsed below Nathan, but it was far enough below him that he ignored it. Whatever Theus was doing, it was didn’t involve modifying the hall itself. Nathan wasn’t going to waste binding stone power on stopping Theus outside of their immediate surroundings.

  Beside Theus, his diamond Champion desperately fought off Seraph. At a glance, the battle appeared one-sided. The diamond Champion blocked or deflected all of Seraph’s attacks and repeatedly dealt vicious thrusts and cuts against Seraph. Blood splashed across the raised platform that Theus stood on. A lot of blood, and even a few fingers.

  But Seraph simply rolled her shoulders after every blow she took and kept fighting. Her gems glowed constantly. Nathan watched as her flesh stitched itself back together or her fingers grew back in place. Her tonfas couldn’t repair themselves, but they were made of far sturdier stuff than Seraph was.

  The same couldn’t be said of the diamond Champion. Although her armor appeared intact, her clothes were not. Flesh could be seen between the cracks in her armor, and her legs were almost entirely bare. She winced whenever she shifted her legs too much. Presumably because her plate armor was now directly pressing against her skin. Her shield had cracks along its edges, and the edges of her sword were crumbling.

  Seraph struck a blow with her tonfas, and the diamond Champion blocked it with her sword. This time, the entire sword crumbled into dust as an energy wave blew it apart. Seraph didn’t give her opponent time to react. She pushed forward and slammed a tonfa into the other Champion’s face. Bone crunched, but the diamond Champion merely gritted her teeth.

  Unfortunately, being immune to pain only prolongs the inevitable if your weapons and armor have fallen to pieces. Seraph laid blow after blow into the Champion while Theus backed away from his dying protector.

  “Narime, could you finish her off,” Nathan said, grimacing.

  “I can. I think we’re about done here,” Narime said, turning her gaze away from the Champion she had been dealing with.

  Nathan’s gaze turned to the sapphire Champion for a moment.

  Or more accurately, the pile of ash that had been the sapphire Champion.

  Sen leaned on her greatsword nearby, haze rising off her body. Nathan had missed the duel, but he could imagine it. Spells being thrown back and forth. Narime countering the more dangerous ones. The result would have been that the sapphire Champion relied on faster spells, forcing Sen into close quarters combat and raw power. The experience gap meant that Sen couldn’t cast as fast as the duogem Champion, but she had Ifrit’s raw power.

  The result was plain to see. One Champion was very dead, and the other was exhausted.

  Nathan made a note to shift Sen’s training toward her spellblade specialization. She had spent the last year focused on the basics of sorcery. That had backfired against Laura, even if it had helped in a lot of other situations. And Sen had fallen back on her instincts in this fight. Time to teach Sen some new things.

  Narime’s hands glowed, and she snapped off a quick fourth rank spell. The diamond Champion’s chest caved in suddenly and she was blown off her feet. She crashed to the ground near the far wall and didn’t get back up.

  A glare was thrown at Narime, who stuck her tongue out in return.

  In only a few short minutes, Theus’s Champions were dead. His soldiers had fled. The hall was a smoldering, broken ruin.

  This had turned out pretty normal by Nathan’s standard of Bastion duels. They were short, vicious things. Champions were incredibly powerful. It was impossible for them to fight seriously without killing each other. When somebody has the power to destroy armies with a single ability, or specializes in assassination, going all out means death is the natural result.

  Sparring always meant holding back on a Champion’s best techniques. When Narime had attacked Nathan, she had controlled her force spells. The one she used against the diamond Champion had shattered her ribcage and crushed all her internal organs. If Narime had used that against Fei early in the fight, then it was likely she would have won. The catgirl wouldn’t have gotten back up after a blow like that.

  Theus looked around in shock. The flow of his power had halted.

  Then, suddenly, it roared back, directly beneath Nathan.

  “I’ll end this. Now!” Theus shouted.

  Nothing happened. Because Nathan didn’t let it.

  He sighed. Theus held his hand out, as if that would somehow allow his binding stone power to overwhelm Nathan’s.

  Huge amounts of binding stone power poured through Nathan. It was a good thing he had three of them. Because this was becoming expensive.

  “What is he doing?” Narime asked loudly.

  “He set a trap beneath me. He’s trying to set it off, but I’m stopping him. Because we’re both Bastions, and we both have the ability to manipulate reality,” Nathan replied, speaking just as loudly.

  The remaining Champions in the room gave Theus sympathetic smiles, although most of them were fake. The looks on Seraph’s and Sunstorm’s faces screamed murder.

  “Do you surrender, Theus?” Nathan asked.

  “You killed them!” Theus said.

  “I did. That’s what happens in war. Are you going to pretend you didn’t try to kill me, or make those threats earlier?” Nathan said.

  Theus stewed in his anger and said nothing.

  “Can I?” Sunstorm asked.

  Nathan waved his hand. It was time to end this.

  As if she had been waiting all day for this moment, Sunstorm teleported to Theus’s side instantly. The Bastion stepped back when she appeared in front of him.

  “Sunstorm, you’re supposed to be my Champion. Help me. You swore loyalty to me,” Theus said.

  “That’s not how loyalty works, Theus,” Sunstorm said. “And I don’t particularly remember you being very loyal to me. You told Seraph I was dead. You sent me away on every mission the others didn’t want to do. Didn’t you?”

  “No, that’s…” Theus began to say something, but didn’t bother finishing it.

  He lashed out with a fist as Sunstorm advanced on him. He moved faster than Nathan expected him to. Even if Theus was an idiot, he at least knew how to enhance his body with his binding stone.

  Sunstorm’s head exploded and Theus blinked in surprise. Instinctively, he rolled forward and avoided having his head cut off.

  He didn’t avoid getting his legs swept out by Seraph, who came up behind hi
m.

  “Seraph, wait—” Theus shouted.

  Seraph didn’t bother to listen, like Sunstorm had. She rammed her tonfas into Theus’s head.

  Nathan turned away, unwilling to watch the show of gore that resulted. Theus only screamed briefly, before either Seraph or Sunstorm shut him up.

  “It’s over,” Narime said. She looked grimly satisfied. “Although Sunstorm appears to be angry.”

  “She likes to collect heads,” Nathan said. “And Seraph just ruined her prize.”

  Narime gaped at him. “You’re joking. Please tell me you’re joking.”

  He looked at her, unsmiling.

  The next few minutes were slow. Narime healed Fei while Seraph and Sen helped the wounded soldiers from the rubble. The survivors appeared shell-shocked, and unsure why they were being saved.

  “It’s over,” Nathan told the officers that were mobile enough. “Theus is dead. There’s no other Bastion close enough to Tartus to fight back. Go home to your families. I’m not here to burn your city. I’ll take Torneus and leave.”

  The message seemed relatively well received, even if he saw smoldering anger in their eyes. These men had seen him destroy their city’s defender.

  But what mattered was that Nathan had convinced them to leave without fighting. He hoped the same message worked on the army outside.

  “Nathan, did I do well?” Sunstorm asked, prancing up to him.

  He looked over to see her holding up Lucia’s severed head. The blood had been cleaned off and the neck cauterized. Presumably by Sen.

  Sunstorm watched him closely, preening and waiting for a compliment.

  This had always been awkward. She was an assassin, and her duty was to kill people. Teaching her that killing was wrong was pointless. He had tried to temper her enjoyment and sense of pride, but that had only annoyed her in his timeline.

  Honestly, he was at a loss. He decided to choose the path of least resistance, for now.

  “You protected Fei and took out a duogem Champion. So yes, you did very well,” Nathan said and gave her a smile. He avoided saying anything about the head. “I’m glad you didn’t try that on me when we fought.”

  “I did,” Sunstorm said, smirking. “That’s what makes you the best, Nathan. You don’t die easily.”

  Just take the damn compliment, Nathan told himself.

  “You don’t mind if I take Theus’s head as well? I didn’t kill him, but it’s too pretty to leave to rot,” Sunstorm said.

  “No. I don’t,” Nathan said flatly.

  “Great!”

  Sunstorm bounced away.

  Seraph took her place a moment later.

  “Are we heading to the palace next?” she asked.

  “Not right away. We need to make sure that the army knows that Theus is defeated,” Nathan said.

  “Well, we have his head. Maybe we can put it on display,” Seraph said. “I’m kidding. Don’t look at me like that. Besides, Sunstorm would be very upset if you soiled one of her display items.”

  Nathan shook his head and dropped the topic.

  “I’ll head downstairs to claim the binding stone. Afterward, we’ll teleport out of here,” he said. “The sooner we leave, the sooner we can confront Torneus.”

  Chapter 39

  As expected, the Federation army fell into disarray upon Nathan’s return. An hour passed after he announced Theus’s defeat. The Federation soldiers formed ranks in preparation for an attack, assuming this was part of some scheme.

  Nathan watched as riders went back and forth from Castle Tartus and the Federation encampment. The wireless was busy, although he couldn’t intercept their transmissions. Although he knew the codes to the binding stones, wireless encryption was an entirely different beast.

  Eventually, several officers rode out to meet them midway between the two encampments. Nathan met them with Fei and Seraph.

  The discussion was brief, but fruitful.

  “You only take Torneus,” the Federation general said. He looked old enough to be Nathan’s grandfather. “Nobody else goes into the city.”

  “That’s right. I’ll go in with a few Champions. Then I’ll come back out with Torneus,” Nathan said.

  At least, that was the deal for now.

  Nathan didn’t know how long it would take the dark elves to hold up their end of the bargain. For all he knew, they intended for Nathan to do something foolish and get himself killed.

  The longer that Nathan spent in Federation territory, the greater the chance that the other regents swarmed him with their Champions and armies. He needed to grab Torneus and retreat. Once he had the backing of the Empire and the Spires, he could return and stabilize things.

  He wouldn’t act a moment sooner. The difference between bravery and stupidity was whether someone succeeded. Nobody would call Nathan brave if he died trying to conquer the Federation.

  The enemy officers muttered their agreement, and Nathan shook on it. They rode back to their camp.

  Afterward, Nathan asked Sunstorm to join him, Fei, and Seraph. Narime gave him an odd look when he asked her to remain here.

  “You’re sure? I can teleport you out if it’s a trap,” she said.

  “I control the binding stone. Torneus can’t do anything even if he wanted to,” Nathan said.

  He had wanted to leave this binding stone for Vera, but reality had crushed that idea. If he had to retreat, then he wasn’t going to leave this binding stone unclaimed for other Bastions to claim. The one to the north was too far out of the way to claim, so somebody might reach it first.

  Maybe he could ask a favor from the dark elves. Or maybe the Federation wouldn’t touch it.

  “If you say so,” Narime said.

  Truthfully, he left her and Sen behind due to bad memories of Torneus’s burned corpse.

  As he rode into Tartus, it occurred to him that Fei used fire now. History still had a way to force his hand.

  Citizens and soldiers cleared the streets in front of them. Nobody threw anything. An eerie silence greeted them wherever they went. Nathan couldn’t even hear birds or insects, although he suspected there might not be many in this dense urban jungle.

  The palace was a squat marble building formed of columns and not much else. Tartus was an ancient city, and the palace dated back to the days when the city had been the local gathering place of the local towns and villages. Supposedly, the village chiefs would get together and debate in the central hall about land rights or war. Hundreds of them would pile into a single massive room and argue about what to do. Huge brawls broke out.

  Nathan dismounted and walked up the steps. The marble columns were thicker than he was, and he walked past them and into the building itself. Soldiers were posted outside. They watched him enter but said and did nothing. Word had reached them of the ceasefire.

  A small gathering of men and women muttered to each other in the entrance hall of the palace. They were of various ages and wore plain white robes with colored sashes. No beastkin were in sight, save for a handful of servants standing in the corners.

  A hush fell over the gathering. The beastkin perked up, their tails wagging.

  Nathan recognized many of the faces from the group, if only faintly. These were Torneus’s retainers. His personal escort of sycophants and minions that had stood by him until the very end and burned with him.

  Why were they out here?

  “Where’s Torneus?” Nathan asked, confusion laced through his voice.

  The retainers looked at each other. Slowly, one of them stepped forward. A middle-aged woman with her graying hair done up in buns.

  “He’s locked himself up in his office. Once we lost contact with Theus, he kicked us out,” she said. Her voice was despondent. “Is this it? Are we all to be executed?”

  “No. Leave. I don’t care what happens to you,” Nathan said. “The other regents might, but they’re not my problem. The Federation’s business isn’t my business.” Yet. “I’m here for Torneus.”

&nb
sp; The retainers stared at him in surprise. After a few moments, a stout man ran out of the building. Then two more followed him. Soon, all the retainers fled, save the woman who spoke to Nathan.

  She looked glum, her eyes downcast. “This is it, then. The end of the dream.”

  “His dream, maybe. But the world is made up of a lot of dreams,” Nathan said. He placed a hand on her shoulder. “Maybe you should come up with your own.”

  “His dream was my dream,” she said. “And isn’t that the case for them?” She pointed at his Champions.

  He looked back at the women behind him, who stared back at him.

  Fei tilted her head in confusion. Seraph smiled. Sunstorm shrugged.

  “I don’t think so. They have their own dreams. The difference between you and them is that they’re achieving their dreams through mine, rather than expecting my dream to fulfil them,” Nathan said. “Like I said, it’s time to find your own.”

  The woman stared up at him, her mouth hanging open. She tried to say something, but no words came out.

  He walked past her. Fei, Seraph, and Sunstorm followed after him.

  His feet guided him to Torneus’s office. He had only been here once, but the memory felt fresh. How many times had he relived this nightmare?

  Nathan hated the memory. Every time it came to him recently, he suppressed as much of it as he could. There were few things he hated remembering more than the memories of his greatest failings.

  The door was shut, as he had been told.

  He tried the knob. It was locked.

  A quick spell unlocked it.

  Nathan heard a voice inside. A mumbling. He paused.

  “Stay here,” he said.

  “Nathan,” Seraph said, voice low.

  “I’ll shout if I need help.”

  Then he opened the door and stepped inside, refusing to look back.

  Torneus sat inside his office. It was palatial. Large enough to fit five of Nathan’s office, and Torneus’s desk was the size of a large dining table. A dozen seats lined the length of it. Torneus sat at its head.

  A half-empty bottle of clear unlabeled liquor sat beside Torneus. Next to it was a large glass pitcher of water, with condensation forming on the outside of the glass. The tumbler in Torneus’s hand was milky white. Ouzo, Nathan realized.