Reality's Plaything

by Will Greenway

  The backlash continued to hammer at him relentlessly, like some creature were trapped in his head trying to claw its way out.

  Leagues later, they started a descent into a mist shrouded valley dotted with trees and rocks. A lake bordered the depression on the north; the expanse of water turned the color of blood as it reflected the ruddy light of the demon’s eye moon, Triatus. The wind off the valley carried the pungent odor of marshland, and the temperature had dropped. The gusts cut like knives through his clothing.

  The ache in his head had relaxed enough for him to walk rather than be carried. He stumbled along next to Sarai, legs heavy and head like a lead weight on his shoulders. The Queen, Janai and Irodee all walked with hunched shoulders, showing the strain of the forced march.

  “Outpost over that ridge.” Irodee pointed.

  “I don’t understand, Irodee,” Janai piped up. “Why are you talking so differently?”

  The Myrmigyne stared at the princess. “What?”

  “When Laramis is around you speak perfect King’s common. Why this polyglot?”

  Wren looked over with a half smile on her face. Bannor had wondered too, but simply assumed that a paladin’s wife didn’t speak in fragments like an uneducated peasant.

  “Other way too long. Speak proper for husband’s sake.”

  Janai looked perplexed and shook her head.

  “I know it’s a fair sized outpost,” Sarai said. “But should there be that much light? The whole town must be lit.” She pointed to the glow now visible over the crest of the ridge. The illumination looked steady with only an occasional pulsation like the light cast from oil lanterns-a great number of them.

  Irodee growled something, then she sent a group of men ahead, and had others spread out to cover their flank. “Not like this,” she mumbled.

  Wren pulled her sword from its sheath. The silver blade glimmered with a blue radiance. The Queen and Janai also readied their weapons.

  Bannor held his breath. He’d been looking forward to a chance to collapse and recuperate from this horrendous day. His brain felt stewed and his arms like clay.

  Advancing with care, they topped the rise overlooking the outpost.

  Bannor’s stomach lurched, and a crease of pain shot between his eyes. The others around him muttered curses of dismay.

  Glaring battle lanterns had been posted all along the high walls of the small city. There were outlines of hundreds of armed people poised on every parapet and battlement. Silhouetted in the brilliant light the lower ground between them and the outpost seethed with misshapen figures: humanoids with wings, tails, and horns-demons.

  “What do we do?” Janai piped up with the obvious question. “The outpost will be overrun!”

  “What can we do?” Wren shook her head. “There are thirty of us and thousands of them.”

  “Damn it,” Bannor mumbled. “I hate this. Everywhere we turn. There must be something we can…”

  Kalindinai interrupted. “I think it’s on the way!” She pointed.

  To the north, the sky had split apart and fine crystalline light shone through. Dark motes danced in the illumination. The dots quickly grew larger. A rumble like thunder broke across the field and continued to rise and fall.

  The dots resolved into dozens of winged shapes. Armor and long weapons glinted against the night sky flashing and winking like tongues of lightning.

  The figures dove toward the massed demons as a unit. As they did, Bannor made out more clearly what they were. Horses-winged horses ridden by armored knights.

  The knight in the lead brandished a flaming sword and swung it over its head. An unmistakable voice boomed out across the valley. “For Ukko, my brothers! Veeg!”

  * * *

  adins, why is it always paladins..?

  —From the Dedriad, ‘musings of an immortal’

  Chapter Sixty-Five

  « ^ »

  Head throbbing and eyes blurry, Bannor watched aghast as a phalanx of winged horses dove at the horde of demons in the valley. The bright light of the outpost glinted off polished breastplates and shields of the mounted knights as they plunged into the fray, their lances extended. The hundreds of wardens on the town battlements and parapets raised their weapons and cheered as the flying cavalry attacked. Spurred by the show of force, they opened fire with bows, crossbows and slings.

  The voice of the lead knight boomed across the field again. “Let no evil remain, my brothers!” The leader then smashed into the demons, flaming sword slashing a crimson swath through the creatures.

  “Can that be..?” Bannor asked.

  “Laramis!” Irodee yelled. She yanked her bow off her shoulder and charged down the hill. Irodee’s troopers looked at one another and pursued her.

  Laramis—? Had he gone crazy? The knights numbered around fifty. Even armored and on flying mounts, it wouldn’t balance out thirty-to-one odds.

  Wren and the Queen exchanged glances.

  Surprisingly, Kalindinai said. “You only live once.” She shook her head and jogged down the hill.

  Wren blinked, looking down the hillside after Kalindinai. The two princesses appeared to be taken off guard, as well.

  “Everyone’s gone insane,” Wren exclaimed. “Totally lunatic! Ah damn it.” She ran after the Queen.

  Bannor’s blood grew cold in his veins. He glanced at Sarai and Janai who still looked in shock. Except for the abandoned litter bearing the comatose Meliandri, they stood by themselves on the hill.

  “We can’t let Mother fight alone,” Janai said in a small voice.

  “No—we can’t.” Sarai’s violet eyes narrowed.

  Everything hurt. Even thinking was a chore. He had to push through it. He focused himself. He needed to act rather than react, and overcome his mistakes. He drew a breath. “Let’s go.”

  Weapons out, the sisters positioned themselves on either side. He headed down the hill with a purposeful stride, determining the best spot to attack that would provide the most support. He needed extra time to work himself up, to summon enough energy from his weary body to be effective.

  He glanced over his shoulder toward the black rift. That should be his target, not wasting his energy on these innumerable creatures. Slay ten and hundreds more would replace them. The portal brought them here, and magic from it sustained them. Shut that dimensional opening, and the war would be over.

  Unfortunately, the outpost was here—now—surrounded by these monsters. He’d seen one ravaged town. He refused to have another on his conscience when he could do something about it.

  The valley floor looked like a writhing mass of shadows tangled in a violent struggle. The knights broke into squads, concentrating their attacks on any creatures, which took to the air, and lancing the ground-bound demons. Wren and the Queen slammed into the flank, a blaze of blue force and searing fire bursts. The savant used her Nola to absorb the attacks of the demons and project it around herself and Kalindinai. Supported by her troops, Irodee sprinted across the field, fitting arrows and firing, dodging attacks and zigzagging toward the lead knight who swooped back and forth through the ranks of creatures. The outpost defenders maintained a steady barrage, providing cover for the knights.

  “Damn,” Sarai growled. “I wish my stone powers were as strong as they used to be. I might be able to make a difference.”

  “I wish they were, too,” Bannor breathed. He still felt dizzy, but by stages he’d primed himself to give his all.

  “I wish we weren’t here,” Janai added. She nocked an arrow and sighted along it.

  A jolt from his Nola alerted Bannor to the slip he’d allowed himself to make. His response to Sarai’s desire to have her elemental powers back had simply been sympathetic, but he’d also desired it for her—wished it to be true.

  The Garmtur pulsed in his mind, sending piercing twinges through his body. Threads of air and stone magic whipped and spun around him. A wave of weakness made his knees buckle.

  “Odin,” he gasped. He groped for control
over the magic he’d set in motion. The Nola wove the threads so fast; he couldn’t stop one binding before the next started. Fear of tangling or snapping a strand held him in check. Sever the wrong one and Sarai might die. “Sarai, I’m sorry, damn it…”

  She dropped beside him, taking his shoulders. “What’s the matter? Are you—oh—!” Her eyes widened, their violet glow turned crimson then brilliant white. She reeled back clutching her head and groaning.

  Across the battlefield, the ground bulged upward and exploded, sending forth bright orange gouts of fire and rocks. Demons scattered as a river of molten rock erupted into their midst.

  Janai hunched down against the blast. “What’s wrong?” She gripped their arms.

  He couldn’t stop it. Each time he tried to halt the Nola’s spell, the opening went by too fast. It was like the times when he was a child playing skip rope with his friends, trying to gauge his entry between the two rapidly whirling strands. Now though, hundreds of cords flashed around Sarai, any one of them potentially lethal.

  Sarai collapsed, groaning in pain and slamming her fists in the grass. Each strike sent rumbles through the terrain, knocking creatures off balance and causing the lanterns on the outpost walls to sway.

  “Lords!” Janai gripped him tighter. “What’s happening!”

  He couldn’t spare her an answer. He saw his chance and thrust his hands through the gap and grasped Sarai’s arm. The spell weaves hit his flesh like lashes from a whip, the ends winding around his arms like glowing twine on a spool.

  He gritted his teeth against the pain as the pulsations of color faded from around Sarai’s twitching body.

  The backlash snapped around at him. He’d made a stupid wish, one that summoned tremendous forces that must be stilled and dispersed. In the recent lightning attack, he hadn’t guarded against the counterbalancing energy. He would never make that mistake again. Ever. He formed a wall in his mind against the rush of spell energy seeking release.

  The jolt hit hard. Every hair on his body stiffened. Pain sliced through his limbs, and sparks leaped from his skin into the grass. Janai yelped and tumbled back, shaking her hands and cursing.

  The backlash rocked him for long moments, and then died away. He felt a rush and the pounding in his temples crescendo. Then the pain vanished, even the discomfort from the previous backlash.

  Sarai shook her head. “Carellion, what did you..?” She stopped and held her hands out in front of her. They looked the same, but in his Nola sight Bannor saw the layers of elemental energy now coating her skin like armor. “My One, you did it!” She threw her arms around him.

  He grunted as his ribs creaked with the crushing pressure of her embrace. “Easy! Easy!” he gasped.

  Startled, she let go. “Sorry! I forgot.”

  Janai righted herself and scowled at him. “Why’d you shock me?”

  He didn’t get a chance to explain. A score of demons had broken away from the battle and bore down on them, bellowing and snarling.

  Still befuddled by the backlash, Bannor fumbled for his axe and dagger. Janai swept up her bow and fired two arrows that thudded into the bulbous eyes of two creatures. The monsters dropped.

  A hazy gold radiance surrounded Sarai’s arms as she stared at the demons rushing forward. “It’s back!” She made a shoving motion and the ground bulged in front of them and rolled forward like an ocean swell bowling over their attackers. “It—is—back!” She clapped her hands together. With a crunch, the ground on either side of the felled creatures pinched together with a spray of fluids.

  Eyes wide, Janai’s jaw dropped, the arrow she’d put in her teeth plinked to the ground. “Sarai?”

  His mate grinned as happy a smile as he’d seen in tendays. She bounced and spun her sister in circle. “He restored my magic!”

  Janai stared at the mess of loam and splattered demon remains. “That’s disgusting!”

  “Better them than us,” Sarai growled. “Come, Mother needs us!” She raced into battle.

  Bannor clamped down on his weapons as they neared the skirmish line. He didn’t have time to think about how he would get through the fight because within instants it became a matter of kill or be killed.

  Sheer numbers of the enemy forced them into close quarters, making Janai switch from her bow to the sword he had enchanted with elemental threads. The green glowing blade devastated the demons Janai attacked. One strike with it sent the monsters into convulsions. The tangled filaments sewn into the metal disrupted the demon’s ties to the rift, as it had sundered the link between Hecate and Meliandri.

  Weakened by his magic and the forced march, Bannor used every energy-saving trick to keep his red-skinned scaly opposition at bay. Even with summers of experience sustaining him, his defense grew weaker with each new opponent. Soon, he became purely defensive, guarding himself and Sarai while she used her powers to best advantage.

  Rejoined with her elementalism, Sarai gleefully went to work making the odds more even in the lopsided mêlée. Waves, fists, and explosions of rock and soil tore through the ranks of Hecate’s minions.

  Sarai wasn’t the only mage on the field decimating the enemy. Kalandinai’s blasts of fire and lightning turned dozens of foes to cinders. The knights had mages as well; two of them in lighter armor sent volleys of explosive power ripping into the demonic contingent.

  The demons came in waves despite their losses, forcing Irodee’s troop back. Across the battlefield, corpses lay piled eight and ten deep. What he’d first estimated to be a few thousand, turned out to be far more. Sarai’s elemental magic ebbed, the stone magic growing harder for her to harness as fatigue set in.

  To his right, Bannor saw Wren and Kalindinai retreating toward the outpost. The Queen appeared to have exhausted her magic. She staggered along aided by the savant whose Nola looked dim. The winged horses, apparently too tired to fly any longer, now dipped and reared on the ground. Together with Irodee’s troop they waged a defensive fallback toward the town.

  With a single last effort, Sarai raised walls of rock between herself and the demons, providing the three of them the opportunity to turn and catch up with the rest of the warriors.

  They stumbled toward the gates, surrounded by foul smells, and half-alive things that clutched for arms and legs. Once near enough, the sisters rushed to their mother, taking the load off Wren. Bannor fell in beside the savant and they leaned on one another. Arrows hissed from the walls at the demons that came near. It became obvious that the defenders must be conserving their arms. They’d probably already expended most of what they possessed.

  “The magic should’ve been enough,” he gulped and tripped around something that groaned. “There couldn’t have been that many.”

  “Wasn’t,” Wren gasped looking over her shoulder. “Another contingent came up—from the west.” She coughed. “Hecate’s making her push. Trying—to box us in.”

  “I don’t think—I could do—another lightning strike.” He wiped the sweat from his eyes and glanced back at the horde following. Most of the demons had broken off the pursuit. It appeared for the time being they’d had their fill of knights, mages, and savants.

  “Weather—isn’t right—kill yourself. Need to combine our powers—punch through—to rift.”

  Bannor glanced to the blackness in the southern sky. Instinct told him that Hecate knew he planned to implode the portal, and would do everything she could to foil him.

  The outpost defenders threw open the gates and yanked them closed as the last knight trailed through. The wardens on the battlements and parapets gave yells of approval as the group staggered to a stop, heaving and blowing.

  Many of the knights had to be assisted off their mounts and lay prone on the cobbles of the city trade yard. Women and older children scrambled around their war party, greeting and tending to wounds. Most of the townsfolk turned out to be the lanky, fair-skinned half-elven duna agon. He saw some pure blood elves, humans, and even a few dwarves. Everyone in sight went armed, even the
youngsters. The village looked ravaged, many buildings apparently scavenged for building materials. Barrels of water sat everywhere to serve as demon bane and fire control.

  Bannor and Wren staggered to stop by Kalindinai and her daughters. An excited buzz had begun shooting through the crowd as citizens recognized the Queen and two princesses of the realm.

  He thudded down on his rump and scanned what remained of their force. Irodee’s troop looked short five or six men. The knights had lost some members, too. His stomach churned. When would good people stop dying? How long before someone close to him was killed? All things considered, they’d taken miraculously light casualties.

  Helmet under his arm, Laramis clanked toward them followed by the two knights that had been using magic. The paladin scanned the crowd, no doubt looking for Irodee. In a town of half-elves, that wouldn’t be hard.

  Bannor studied the mages. Both still wore their headgear, concealing their faces. He guessed by the height and the way she walked that one must be a woman.

  Beyond them, Bannor saw Irodee rise in the crowd, looking like a sentinel tree amid a copse of saplings. Spattered with blood, face red, her dark hair in disarray, the woman looked like a demon herself. She spied Laramis and stormed toward them. People in the crowd took one look at her and dodged out of the way.

  Laramis hadn’t noticed her yet, but Bannor guessed if the man had seen her, he would have looked like a blackhorn caught in a hunter’s lantern.

  The paladin huffed to stop, his face ruddy and covered with streams of perspiration. “Well met. Have you seen—?”

  Irodee shoved between the two mages, and seized her husband from behind. Grabbing him by the shoulders, she spun him around and shook the man so hard his armor rattled. “What—were—you—thinking!” The woman’s dusky face looked as red as the demon moon now high in the sky. Her knuckles were white, and she breathed in gasps.

  Laramis looked stunned. “Ah—Jewel—I—seem to—have found you.” He gulped. “Eh, are you well?”

  If looks could freeze water, the stare she gave him might have frozen the nearby lake. She spoke low and slow. “Do I look well, my husband?”