Samuel stepped even closer and slipped behind one of the men, grabbing him by the seat of his pants and spinning him around full circle. He then pushed the fellow away towards another, leaving both desert-man stumbling and disoriented. The two came at him once again and Samuel now realised these men were not seasoned warriors. Anyone with a sword was dangerous, but their steps were awkward and their movements were untrained. He was no longer afraid of them, for he knew he could defeat them, even unarmed as he was. He could sense their actions from the shifting of their weight and their footsteps pointed out their intent like painted arrows. It seemed a simple task to predict their steps.
Now confident, his movements became easier. Unless the Paatin could catch him, they could not harm him. All he had to do was wait for an opening and an opportunity to strike back.
He skipped away lightly as they came leaping and slashing the air with their swords. Samuel watched their steps carefully and took his chance, dancing in and throwing his fist into one of their chins. The pain that exploded in his wrist was terrible and he howled aloud as he shuffled back away from the Paatin pair. He rubbed his tender joint gingerly and scolded himself for forgetting Horse’s advice, for he had struck with a loose hand. The two Paatin followed after him and Samuel vaulted in. Their second step had barely touched the ground before he collided into them. A solid kick to both sent them toppling head over heels down the hill and he doubted from the way their bodies flopped about that they would be coming up again anytime soon.
Horse had finished off his own cluster of men and came trotting back to Samuel. ‘You hit like a nursemaid, Magician, but you did well in the end. I will let you spar with my nephew sometime. He is seven, but he is a fair fighter. He would give you a sporting chance.’
Samuel nodded, with little time to return the banter, and Horse bounded off to return to his god. The desert-men were still coming in swarms up both sides of the hill and Eric was now looking tired, trembling with sweat.
‘We need to do something now,’ Eric shouted. ‘I can’t keep this up much longer.’
Balten heard the call and ceased his spells. He drew something from under his cloak and held it to his lips. All at once, he began to pull more magic from the ether, gathering a cloud of power around himself.
‘What’s he doing?’ Eric asked, looking back with wild eyes.
Samuel stepped to Balten’s side, but he dared not disturb the man, for he was drawing magic around himself in terrible gulps, until he was encased in a brilliant white aura to Samuel’s gifted sight. The object in his hands was a tiny ring and Samuel’s eyes opened wide when he saw it. At first, he thought it was another such relic as the Argum Stone, but it emanated a power that marked it as something entirely different.
Balten opened his eyes and, as if awaking from a dream, he took a moment to recover his senses. He found the ring at his lips and blew upon it, simultaneously sending his entire pool of magic cascading into it. The world swooned around Samuel, as it did when his senses were overcome by great power, but just as quickly the sensation was over. Balten now had the ring balanced on the nail of his middle finger and Samuel was about to ask what the man was intending, when Balten simply flicked it away.
The ring flew—down towards the throng of bug-men and, in mid-flight, the spell took effect. It bounced once, springing high from the hard stone it had struck—higher than one would have expected and it seemed to be gathering momentum, rather than slowing down. It may have been a trick of Samuel’s eye, but the ring also seemed larger. As it bounced again, he realised it was, indeed, growing larger at every moment. It was now as wide as a hoop and as thick as his wrist. It sailed high and bounced for the third time and Samuel felt the rocks shudder beneath his feet.
‘Hold well!’ Balten called and shifted his legs apart for stability.
Samuel did the same, for the ring continued growing. It was now as big as a house and the rocks boomed as it struck and bounced once more. End over end it turned and it was only growing larger with each second, swelling to enormous proportions. It struck the Paatin horde and continued through them unabated. Bug-men scrambled to be out of its way, but the enormous ring came crashing down upon them all like an avalanche of ringed steel, shaking the hill with its fury.
‘What is that?’ Samuel asked, struggling to hold his legs as the ground shuddered violently. ‘One of the ancient relics?’
‘Not at all,’ Balten shouted back. ‘It is a simple trinket. It is my spell that is special.’
‘It’s missing most of them!’ Canyon declared, for though the great ring was creating a path of destruction down the hill, those on either side of it went unscathed and climbed back to their feet only a moment after it had passed. Many of the leaping bug-men, caught mid-air, managed to pass through its tumbling centre entirely, remaining unharmed.
‘Have patience,’ said Balten. ‘I’m not interested in them. This is a present for their wizard.’
And Samuel could see his intent for, far below at the base of the hill, was a cluster of tan cloaks, where the Paatin were pushing inwards towards its black core, fighting to be changed into bug-men. The Paatin magic vanished as the ring fell upon them. The cluster of tan scattered and Balten released his spell.
‘Get down,’ he commanded. Quickly, but carefully, he lowered himself to the ground and put his hands over his head.
The ring exploded and the base of the hill vanished in a cloud of fire. A shimmering wind raced up the slope and Samuel dropped to his chest as the shock wave hit him, striking like a hammer to his ears. The boom passed and echoed amongst the other low hills in the distance and, as the fiery cloud boiled up into the sky, it spewed embers and ash upon everything below it. Streaks of flaming debris flew high from the blast and began to rain down all around. Slowly, the magicians and their party climbed to their feet, cowering from the hot motes that also wafted down.
The bug-men on the near side of the hill were scattered across the rocks, lying still in yellow pools of their own sickly fluid, while the ground at the foot of the hill was veiled behind a thick cloud of dust. On the far side, the Paatin had gathered their wits and had begun to climb again. They had no way to see what had happened, but it had not stopped them from leaping to their bellies and taking cover at the sound of the explosion.
‘Now we will have to take care of this side,’ Balten said. ‘That should not be such a problem.’ Something caught his eye and he had only just turned his head to see when a great shadow crashed into him and sent him sprawling.
To his credit, Balten flung himself away from the great black thing as it thrashed to hang onto him. It rattled about on the stones before it found its legs and raised itself to face them, adjusting its smoking cloak into place. It was swathed in black cloth and shadow, for its features were hidden, but there was no doubt that this was Om-rah, the Paatin arch-wizard. He rose like a column before them, taller than two men, and laboured to breathe, his massive chest expanding and contracting in time to the rattling in his throat. He was a hulking beast of a creature and, as he raised his arm, a claw slipped out from his long black sleeve and pointed towards Balten with a dagger-like finger.
‘Balten!’ it said, in a grinding, unsettling voice. Whether he had been a man once, Samuel did not know, but the thing called Om-rah seemed far from human.
‘So you finally crawl from your lair to face me, Wizard!’ Balten cried out towards the cowled thing. ‘I have crushed your brood upon the rocks. At last we can settle our score.’
Samuel realised his words were true, for the arch-wizard stank of perverted magic and only he could have been the source of the bug-men.
Om-rah grunted and spoke again in the guttural tongue of the Paatin. He finished with a mocking laughter that scraped up and out of his throat. Samuel was tensed and ready to move but, before anyone could react, the creature shot forward on chitinous wings and carried Balten away with it. Samuel and Eric gasped and followed the wizard with their gaze, but the pair disappeared into the smok
e-ridden sky amongst flashes of tumultuous power and bolts of magic.
‘What do we do?’ Eric cried in alarm.
‘Don’t lose your head, boy,’ Master Celios replied. ‘We have to rid ourselves of these blasted desert-men! Balten will have to take care of himself. We need to save our own skins first!’
It was true; they had no time to worry about Balten as cloaked and snarling desert-men came clambering over the rise.
‘This way!’ Celios called and they began scrambling down the hill, following the ruinous path that Balten’s ring had laid behind it.
The Paatin followed them in a roar and cascaded down the mountain behind them. The occasional disoriented bug-man clambered towards them, but they dispatched those with barely a pause and continued down into the cloud of smoke and dust that now enshrouded the foot of the hill.
‘Which way?’ Eric asked, but Master Celios appeared confused.
‘We cannot outrun them,’ the Emperor stated. ‘We need to stand and face them. Can you magicians not use your powers once again?’
‘We need to rest,’ Eric said.
‘Then we should run,’ the Koian ambassador suggested.
They climbed down the final length of the hill, with Horse pulling his god-woman by the hand. Smoke and haze consumed the air, and fires still marked the ground here and there—burning shrubs and bodies alike.
‘Take her, Samuel,’ Horse said, passing over the hand of his god. ‘I will guard our escape.’
The girl’s eyes looked out from her hood with fear, but she clutched onto Samuel’s hand for dear life. He nodded to the Koian warrior, who then vanished back into the miasma around them.
They had only just resumed their flight when a roar sounded in front of them and something enormous loomed. Dust and smoke swirled around and sand poured from the thing’s domed back as it arose and turned to face them.
‘What is that?’ the Emperor called out, but no one had the capacity to make an answer.
‘Don’t stand their gawking,’ Master Celios called, for once being the only one to keep his senses. ‘Run!’
He shuffled away as quickly as he could and the others hastened after him. The beast swivelled, heaving itself in place and bellowing as it followed them with its stalked eyes. Samuel caught sight of crab-like claws extending from it body and could not imagine how any creature could grow to such proportions. It started after them, but the dust and smoke returned, obscuring the beast from sight as they left it behind.
They ran on blindly, always with the sound of their pursuer just behind. They coughed and struggled in the thick air, with no idea of where they were going or what lay ahead of them. Their only intention was to run.
A figure came bounding towards them but, thankfully, it was only Horse. He ran past them and began picking off the nearest Paatin, striking with sudden deadly blows, appearing and disappearing like a phantom. Samuel pulled the girl on by the hand, both of them barely able to stay on their feet.
‘Samuel!’ Eric spluttered. ‘We can’t go on. Send the others ahead. We have to stop and slow them as much as we can.’
Samuel stopped beside his friend. ‘No, Eric. You go on. I can do it alone.’ He pushed the girl towards him. ‘I haven’t used all my power yet. Keep going. Get as clear as you can.’
Eric took a moment to assess his words. ‘I’ll see you soon.’ With that, he dragged the girl away with him.
She watched Samuel as she was pulled away into the fog, her eyes open wide with alarm. A dozen steps later and the pair of them was swallowed into the thick blanket of dust and smoke.
Samuel stood alone, enveloped by the haze. He could hear the impending tide of Paatin soldiers approaching. A first set of feet sounded near and he readied to fight, but it was Horse who came galloping through the haze, bounding like a deer. He looked at Samuel for a moment, but sped on past, following his god.
Samuel again drew the Argum Stone from his pocket and prepared himself. He stood his ground, waiting for the impending multitudes to be upon him. Swallowing hard, he wiped the dust from his eyes, and plunged his finger into the ring. The sudden presence of thundering magic nearly overwhelmed him, but again he managed to swallow it down before it made him altogether giddy. The men were nearly upon him and he was sure he could kill most of them before they overpowered him, but he wanted to draw them all in; somehow guarantee that Eric and the others would be free to escape. With that thought, he realised he was accepting his own death. It was not how he imagined himself meeting his end, but he supposed it could have been worse.
Opening his mind, he gathered the power of the ring and began his work, forging layers of shielding and protection upon himself, cocooning himself in unbreakable bands of magic, crafting the spells as he remembered them when they tore such impenetrable equivalents from the Emperor three or more years before. The spells fell into place and locked tightly around him. Content with their making, he actually looked forward to creating as much mayhem as he could.
When the first of the Paatin came running out of the haze, Samuel was ready for them and he yelled with fury as they fell upon him. He had first meant to evade as many blows as possible to save his power, but it was impossible, for it was like jumping into a river and trying to avoid the water. Twenty blades came chopping in upon him, then thirty, but they all bounced off his protective spells without effect. The Paatin took no notice and seemed whipped into a frenzy, for they continued chopping at him furiously. At first, he worried they might eventually get through to him, for their very weight had knocked him to the earth, but his spells were empowered by the limitless strength of the Argum Stone and it would take much more than the tapping of steel to worry him.
When the desert-men realised they could do him no harm, some of them moved past him, set to pursue the others, and Samuel knew it was time to act. It took only a thought and a pulse of magic blew incinerated the Paatin around him. Others came running in and Samuel regained his feet and sent up mage-lights and bursts of mage-fire to attract their attention all the more. A hundred came and Samuel dropped them dead with his spells, and a hundred more followed. He felled them by the score with arcs of hissing magic that cut and burned and boiled the men as they ran. It was only when he felt the contents of his stomach rising did he realise he was pushing himself too quickly. He paused from sending out such spells and set about defeating the Paatin by hand.
He leapt forward and struck the incoming men with his balled fists. He remembered more of Horse’s advice and focussed his magic into the tips of his knuckles at the very moment of impact. Paatin screamed and died as he struck them one after another, breaking their bones in two with his blows and sending flesh exploding from their bodies with each strike. The men howled with anger and continued to fall in upon him, chopping and stabbing in vain hope that his magic might fail.
The endless torrent of Paatin angered him, and the endless violence and blood and gore infuriated him. He realised he was screaming and shaking, for the pain was incredible, but it also kept him squarely focussed on his task. He bellowed as he struck them again and again, killing one man after the other. Finally, as he dispatched one final foe, he realised he was alone. A carpet of corpses surrounded him and their compatriots had retreated, fading off into the gloom to be away from him.
‘What’s wrong with you?’ Samuel roared at them, between heaving breaths. ‘Come and face me! Come and die!’ But no one returned to meet his challenge. ‘Come back!’ Samuel screamed at them, feeling blood in his mouth. ‘Come back and die!’
The men were away in the cloud of dust, but Samuel could still see the energy of their life, could still sense them flowing around him, just out of view. He was too exhausted to move and the thought of the Paatin escaping him and reaching the others made him lose all grip of his sanity. ‘No! You can’t get away!’ he babbled, and he began laughing hysterically.
He dropped his shields and gathered the magic back to be used again. He balled his gore-ridden hands together and started pumpin
g old and fresh magic between them furiously. He made a tiny point within his hands and pressed his energy into it with glee. He remembered the spell that Goodfellow had released, and he would beat that effort ten, no—a hundred-fold. He would consume the desert with his power and none of the Paatin would survive.
He could smell his flesh burning and his fingers blistering, but he would not be slowed. He fed power into the spell as fast as he could unfurl it from the ring, and it seemed to come to him in endless volumes. He had never used such power and he had neither care nor forethought for the effect on his body, for he had become a conduit of power and the magic fell through him as fast as he could call it, tearing at his flesh as it passed.
The monstrous spell sizzled in his hands and it seemed as if the world was bending in towards him, marking him at the centre of a deepening pit down which the ether itself was warping and draining. A wind sprang up and twisted the smoke and haze into a series of twirling vortices that stretched up into the heavens. Dry lightning shimmered in the dust, flickering and crackling as if with a life of its own.
‘No, Samuel!’ came a voice from behind him. It was Balten and the man was then at his side, somehow contorted and wavering, distorted by the pressing field of magic. He was bloodied, and his clothes were nearly torn from him. ‘This is too much. You will not escape the destruction. Neither will the others. This spell cannot be unleashed.’
Samuel then noticed the thing that he had created, flickering brightly between his hands, and he seemed to recover some sense at Balten’s words. ‘It has already been summoned. I cannot return it.’
‘You can, Samuel. The magic can be returned to the ether. Slowly, carefully; calm yourself.’
Balten clamped his hands onto Samuel’s shoulders and immediately some of the fatigue and pain he felt was replaced with a reassuring warmth. His vision cleared and he suddenly realised the madness of what he had been doing. He thought to dispel the magic, but there was far too much. The ring struggled against his wish to quell it, fighting to push more magic into him, but he now trembled, struggling to stop the spell from releasing altogether. ‘I cannot do it!’
She Who Has No Name (The Legacy Trilogy) Page 30