Blademage Adept (The Blademage Saga Book 3)

by Chris Hollaway

  The Stoneguard pushed Kylgren-Wode further toward Carlo, as he stepped into the center of the new opening. “Donk!” he announced, smashing the next chimaera that charged through squarely between the eyes with the flat of his battleaxe.

  The larger female’s rush hesitated only a moment as she bowled him over on her way toward Rowyn.

  The Stoneguard tumbled backward once, and landed in a sitting position, spattered with hot blood from the disemboweling stroke. He glanced toward Carlo and Kylgren-Wode, lifted one finger, grunted, and clambered to his feet. “Gogo!” he shouted, hurling himself through the breach, into the unknown darkness.

  Carlo slashed at a chimaera that had emerged from the other doorway, ducked a swing from a whipping tail, and severed the appendage as he spun his iron-bound shield into the side of the building. Kylgren-Wode ducked under and past him, delivering a swift axe-stroke to the beast’s exposed neck.

  Kevon tried to Control the second chimaera through the new doorway, but its fury, and then its pain, were too strong for the spell to overcome. He let that rune fade, and poured energy into the Fire rune. He watched helplessly as the second chimaera crashed into an unsuspecting Rowyn, and the first jumped into the midst of the pile.

  The Striders leapt to their leader’s aid, greatswords flicking like tongues of lightning, laying bare long slices of flesh, or severing limbs as the crash of bodies continued tumbling.

  The pent-up Fire magic burned through Kevon’s veins, blurring his vision, threatening to reduce him to ashes if it was not released. Three more chimaera rounded a corner of another building across the camp, and Kevon unleashed the conflagration raging within him.

  The spray of flames engulfed the two chimaera nearest to Kevon. Two arrows to the neck, then a dagger to the heart as it recoiled from the pain, and the third chimaera fell alongside its burning brethren.

  Sounds of battle echoed from the direction the other group had entered. Kevon could feel the Fire magic building within Jacek, and he extended his own power to share even as he dashed toward the entrance the Stoneguard had taken, a globe of light forming and floating ahead of him as he ran.

  The outward jolt of magic barely preceded the concussive force of the spell, and the wash of heat as Jacek incinerated a chimaera leaping from a nearby rooftop. Kevon pulled back his offered magic, and spun into the town hall, Fire rune once again at the ready.

  The Stoneguard limped toward Kevon, palm outstretched, stepping around one of the four large corpses illuminated in the Mage-light.

  Kevon threw his own hands up, and backed away at the warning.

  “Ahhm.” The dwarf sighed, shaking his head, the severed tail spiked to his neck flopping as he did.

  “What…” Kevon peered at the Stoneguard as the dwarf closed and reopened his hand, once, then twice more, with eyes wide, urgent. “Stop? Close? Open?” Kevon’s tensed shoulders dropped as the realization hit him. He outstretched his own right hand, running his left index finger across each outstretched digit. “Five?” His sullen look was lost on the dwarf.

  “Hah!” The Stoneguard pulled the tail-fangs free from his neck, and slapped his hand over the wounds, dropping his greataxe to the ground to lean on for support. “Huh.”

  “Alanna!” Kevon shouted, backing out of the building. “Quickly!”

  The assassin flicked another dagger, laughed, and sprinted to Kevon’s side.

  “He’s hurt, badly. Is there anything you can do?”

  “I’ll stay with him, and see,” she shrugged. “You have more work to do out there.”

  Kevon nodded, and drew his sword, the last bits of his magic sighing away into the blade’s hilt. He saw Carlo and Kylgren-Wode surrounded by three chimaera, and charged back out into the battle.

  Chapter 41

  Splintering planks and creaking timbers summoned Kevon from his sleep. He blinked at the barest glimmer of dawn, and rubbed his eyes. He cast aside the rough blanket that had been placed over him, stood, and staggered toward the sound of work.

  Two hours later, well shy of noon, the remains of the town hall were wholly dismantled. The stacks of nearly whole boards and beams dwindled as workers hauled the reclaimed lumber to repair the breaches in the outer walls.

  Kevon handed the stack of planks he’d been carrying to one of Carlo’s men as the Blademaster signaled to him from halfway across the camp.

  “Is she going to be all right?” Kevon asked, brushing the dust and splinters from his tunic as he approached. “I haven’t had time this morning to…”

  “She wouldn’t be Claw if she were weak,” Carlo rumbled. “Three lost in a battle this size is unheard of. One of them was even ours. If it hadn’t been…”

  “Her brother,” Kevon nodded. “Giving his life as he helped retake the camp he blamed himself for losing.”

  “Yeah.”

  “Has she left his side?”

  “She’s organized air patrols,” Carlo said, shaking his head. “And details of Striders to gather brush for a pyre. Their dead, and my lieutenant will be given a proper Griffinsworn’s funeral at noon.”

  “They needed three more leaders when we reclaimed the camp,” Kevon sighed. “They’ll need an extra Fist.”

  “More than that,” Anneliese interjected, stepping alongside Carlo, “Rowyn was Fist of the Stonespire Camp. The leaders of the central clan are considered to be the default heads of their factions. Rowyn had no clear successor. One of the other Fists may move to take his place, if none from Stonespire can bring a strong enough claim to the title.”

  “What would that mean?” Kevon asked.

  “I’d rather not think about it,” Ashera commented, approaching the group from a knot of workers. “The ceremony is about to commence.”

  The pitch treated pallets the fallen were arranged on burned hot enough to reduce even bone to ash in less than a quarter hour. No words were spoken, but when the last flame flickered out, Ashera thanked all that were present, turned, and walked away.

  “The resettlement group will be here in two days,” Anneliese announced to the few that remained, minutes of silence later.

  “We leave for the caverns tomorrow,” Carlo grunted in amusement. “We’ll miss all the politics.”

  * * *

  “The secret,” Ashera called back to the others, “is keeping your feet closer to the edge than you’re comfortable with. It lets you lean back in easier.”

  My feet up against the cliff face is more than I’m comfortable with, Kevon thought, glancing at the frothing sea far below him. She wants me to step closer toward falling? He edged his feet out another few inches, and felt the shift in balance. A few more halting steps, and the ledge widened enough for two people to rest without fear of falling.

  “Hold my hand?” Rhysabeth-Dane offered. “This is not so much different than the deep caverns in the Hold. A bit windier…” She shrugged.

  “We should all…” Kevon clutched at the fear-knot in his chest. “Do this ourselves. We still need to prove…”

  Flynn and another of the Aspirants scampered past Kevon and the librarian, laughing and shoving as they went. Yusa stretched flat against the side of the cliff, and Kevon could feel a Movement rune pinning the sailor there until the youngsters passed.

  “That we’re worthy of their help.” Kevon finished.

  Rhysabeth-Dane nodded, and trotted off after the squealing children.

  Cursing his broad shoulders, Kevon sidled out onto the ledge again, and continued down toward the caverns.

  The cavern mouth loomed ahead, the path narrowing and widening in stepping-stone fashion as it neared the entrance.

  “Easy,” Ashera cautioned from inside. “The Unbound are congregating this afternoon.

  Kevon leapt from the last ledge into the solid footing of the cavern. Two steps in, and he recoiled as a wild-looking young griffin hopped his direction from further in the cave.

  “This way,” Ashera pulled Kevon into a smaller tunnel that skirted the cavern, opening to it in
several places as it curved around the outside. “The Gallery,” she announced as they reached the back end of the second cavern the tunnel led through.

  The large flat area lay open enough that they could see the whole cavern from the chiseled stone bench against the back wall. Pairs of griffin occupied most of the visible niches in the contoured walls, fussing over squawking young. A large male griffin descended from above the cavern mouth, flapping his wings laboriously as he carried a fish of enormous size, still flopping in distress. He landed near the refuse pile at the entrance, and spread his wings over the kill, proclaiming his ownership before tearing at the fish’s soft grey underbelly, and picking at the organs that spilled out. As he stepped aside to preen, the nesting pairs split to claim their shares of the remains, and bringing hunks of the scaly flesh back to their nests.

  “We’re late…” Ashera shook her head. “We should have been here a week earlier. There may not be time enough for the griffin to imprint on our Aspirants.”

  “The Seat is further to the south,” Jacek pointed in the direction Kevon felt the greatest concentration of the altered Wind magic. “Does this tunnel lead much further?”

  “Into two more caverns. Long abandoned, previous nesting sites, filled with bone piles and filth,” Ashera explained. “We tidy this cavern up after the nesting season to keep them coming here.”

  “Let us hope the Seat is not more than two caverns away, then,” Kevon sighed. “I can’t decide which is worse… the groaning of the Earth, or the whisper of the caged Wind magic.”

  Rhysabeth-Dane settled onto the stone bench, elbowed enough room from the fidgety Aspirants that she could spread out her research, and began reading by torchlight.

  “Let’s do what we’re here to do.” Kevon looked back to make sure Alanna and Yusa were following, and started further down the tunnel.

  Chapter 42

  Two crunching steps carried Kevon through the strewn bones that surrounded the half-buried Seat of Wind into the blustery portal that opened beside it. Two spongy steps away from the portal on the other side, and he was jostled by Alanna and Yusa stumbling into him from behind. He toppled face first into the thick mist that swirled around their feet. He pressed down on the squishy medium beneath his hands as he began to stand, wondering what it was made of.

  “Hey, is this a cloud?” he heard Yusa ask, and felt Alanna’s arms wrap around his legs as the surface below him dissolved into a bright nothingness. The wind tore his scream from his lips. He twisted around to see the terror on his companions’ faces before returning his attention downward to the rapidly approaching surface below them. He threw his arms in front of his face, closed his eyes, and braced for impact.

  The cushioned surface gave enough to prevent injury, and Kevon rolled half a dozen yards before coming to a stop. Gazing across the white-streaked blue expanse that surrounded them, Kevon spotted a large eagle perched on the edge of a cloud, craning its head to look at them. Another eagle burst through the cloud from below and behind the first, and landed next to it, squawking.

  So soft… he thought, resting on the pliable material beneath him. As he relaxed, it grew softer, and he started sinking further through it. “Wait!” he shouted, leaping up from the suddenly firm ground. “The clouds are what you need them to be! Concentrate!” He spread his intent to the cloud surface the others lay groaning upon, solidifying it further until they could focus on it themselves. “It isn’t magic, it’s just how this works here.”

  The billowing surface writhed and coalesced into firm, pale cobblestones.

  “Ouch,” Alanna complained. “What is going…”

  “I’ll focus on keeping us aloft,” Reko’s voice rasped from nearby. “You figure out where we need to go next.”

  “You should be able to see it easier than any of us,” Kevon squeezed Alanna’s hand as he helped her up.

  Alanna removed her eyepatch, and put it in her pocket. She blinked experimentally, and covered her healed eye with her hand. “No,” she announced. “Not here.”

  “Right. Naturally.” Kevon looked at Yusa. “Any ideas?”

  “Curves. Lots of them. It’s a proper maelstrom in here.”

  “That’s…” Kevon looked to his right, and saw the whorls fading outward in the distance. Above and below, the impressive formations stretched to the edge of his awareness. “Too much to search. Anything important might be at the center.” He turned to his left, and tried to deduce where the center of the pattern could be.

  “The clouds thin out below us, thicken above,” Yusa observed.

  “A lot of movement up that way,” Kevon agreed. “I can’t tell if it’s…” He choked on the words as another cloud slid past, engulfing them for a few tense breaths. “I don’t know if it’s where we need to go, but we can’t stay here forever.”

  “Quickly, then,” Reko’s voice urged, his sudden image pointing at the trailing edge of the formation they’d just emerged from. A wide ledge and ladder-slats formed on the retreating cloud. The cobblestone pattern under their feet raced along with them as they sprinted closer to the fleeing mist formation.

  “Go!” Kevon felt the clouds softening under his feet as the Mage shifted his concentration to their new objective, and pushed Alanna along behind Yusa, focusing on their footing as he followed his friends’ mad dash. A Movement-fueled leap, a violent gust of wind focused by Reko, and Kevon joined the others as the cloud they had been on dwindled from view behind them. He followed them up to the top of their new platform, and sat to catch his breath.

  “It doesn’t feel like we’re moving…” Alanna frowned, not bothering to mask her discomfort. “I may be sick.”

  Most of the clouds now appeared to be spinning slowly around the center to the right, and down. The apparent motion seemed to verify their target destination as the most likely center of the formation.

  “There!” Alanna pointed to a stretch of cloud above and to their left. “Not moving as fast as this, but it stretches in toward the center.”

  The cloud passed under them on its way by, but was wide enough for the three to tumble down onto with yards to spare on either side. Its trajectory took them lower before they could hop onto one of the more ‘stationary’ clouds on an inner rung.

  “Watch your feet,” Reko cautioned as he stopped focusing on the ‘ground’ below them. A minute later, his commanding voice led them through a series of leaps and rolls, landing them three clouds nearer the cluster, but still too far below it to be able to see anything for certain.

  Birds and griffin tore through the sky at more frequent intervals, nearing the party, but never stopping for more than a quick screech before disappearing into the surrounding cloud cover.

  “Close your eyes, this is the fastest way.” Kevon could feel Reko’s concentration overtaking his as the three of them huddled close on the small, fast moving cloud platform the Mage had directed them to. “Not you, Yusa, I need your eyes.”

  “I miss my boat,” the captain groaned.

  “We’ll be out of here soon,” Alanna reassured him. “Of course, we’ll still be underground, along a cliff face really far above your ship.”

  Kevon buried his face in Alanna’s hair, and waited for further instruction from Reko.

  Chapter 43

  “It’s time,” Mirsa squeezed Bertus’s hand, straining a breath to move past the pain.

  “It should be… weeks…” the Seeker leapt to his feet. Are you sure…”

  “It’s. Time.”

  “Relaniel! I’ll get…” Bertus shook his head in frustration. “No, Aelion… Relaniel’s… Um. Going now…” His fingers slid free of hers, and he sprinted out the door. “It’s time!” he shouted at the top of his lungs as he stumbled along the suspended walkway that led toward the Elder’s home. His heavy steps rippled along the sky-bridge, building in amplitude until two elves cried out, wrapping themselves around the vine railings for security.

  “Sorry!” he shouted, slowing as he barged past them. “It�
�s time!”

  Aelion sat basking in the midafternoon sun just outside his dwelling, and stood as Bertus staggered into view. “It’s time?”

  * * *

  “Here?” Bertus asked, inching the bed further toward the center of the window-light.

  “Yes, right there. Sun… helps?” The Elder’s firm hand on Bertus’s shoulder was almost too reassuring. “All will be well.”

  After what seemed like hours later, the baby’s cries split the tortured silence, and Bertus barged back into the dwelling. Aelion cradled the quieting newborn close as the last rays of light from the window slid off Mirsa’s still form.

  “Is she…” Bertus lurched to a stop, face frozen in horror.

  “Resting, child. Merely resting.” Aelion rocked the swaddled infant slowly. “Would you like to hold Maisy?”

  The Warrior circled around to where Aelion stood, and gingerly accepted the baby, instinctively cradling her neck, supporting her tiny head, swinging her in close. His feet shuffled and he leaned side to side, rocking to calm her, as well as his own nerves.

  Maisy yawned, and blinked twice. She focused for an instant, the intensity of her gaze reminding him immediately of Waine. Let me tell you a story about that, he could hear the fallen Warrior say.

  “She has your eyes,” the Elder commented as he slipped out the door.

  “No, I…” Bertus began, but the elf was already gone. He walked as he rocked, getting near enough to Mirsa to see the rise and fall of her chest before making his way to the bench against the far wall. He sat and leaned back into the corner, intent on memorizing every movement, every wrinkle of her tiny nose as she yawned and fussed.

  * * *

  “Put her down!” Mirsa scolded, as she dumped the brace of pheasants she’d been handed on the hearth. “She’s only just gotten back to sleep, and you’re filthy from the hunt!” For emphasis, the Mage flung a pointing finger at the open door of the cottage. The muddy boot-prints Bertus had left on the hardwood floor peeled themselves up and sailed with considerable force out into the glade.