The Mage War

by Ben S. Dobson

  “Hello, little ones,” she said with a smile. Half-turning back toward the portal, she thrust her hand through and beckoned to the others.

  She’d come through first again, of course—she wasn’t going to let Iskar or Carver test it and risk losing them in the Astra forever. But as far as she could tell, it was safe; she’d made it, and there were no wraiths that she could see. At her signal, Iskar and Carver stepped through into the cavern. An instant later, the silver-blue pane of Astral energy blinked out of existence.

  “Well,” said Carver, looking down at himself with some relief, “I’m not a wraith. I guess it worked.”

  Syllesk looked them over, talons raking against stone as she shifted her massive weight anxiously from foot to foot. “What’s happening?” she asked. “Why did you come here like that? Something’s wrong, isn’t it? Up above? We can feel it in the Astra. It’s… bad.” Beside her, Nevka nodded his massive head emphatically.

  “Is bad,” Kadka confirmed. “There is… thing we must ask you.” She looked to Iskar. He still didn’t like this very much; he deserved the right to at least choose how to explain.

  Carver cleared his throat. “I’ll… give you all a moment to talk.” He picked his way around Syllesk and Nevka and made for the far side of the cave.

  No one spoke again for a moment. Iskar just looked at his two young siblings with troubled eyes. Kadka put a hand on his shoulder, didn’t push. She understood his reluctance. All his life he had tried to rise above the need for violence and anger—which was among the many reasons she loved him—and now she’d asked him to take his family to war. Even though she believed giving Syllesk and Nevka the choice was the right thing, she understood.

  Finally, Syllesk stamped a silver foot against the ground impatiently. “Ask what? Tell us!”

  “There is a battle happening, above,” Iskar said at last. “You know of Endo Stooke, the man who would be Emperor. And you know about the siphon spell Kadka experienced in Belgrier. He has unleashed the same spell on Audland, but larger, and more powerful. A great many people are suffering. That is what you feel, I suspect. Both of you are of the Astra, more so than the rest of us. I should have known that you would sense something. But the siphon is not the whole of it. We came here because… Endo is using the sibling that was taken from us. He has commandeered several airships, and chased the rest away with dragonfire. No one can come near him to try to stop the spell. Except… except perhaps another dragon. Except perhaps the two of you.” Iskar hung his head. “I’m sorry, little ones. It isn’t fair to ask you to make this choice, but… I don’t know that it would be fair to hide it from you, either.”

  “But is your choice,” Kadka said emphatically. “What you choose, we support. Is no shame if you refuse.”

  “You mean we could leave this cave? Go above with you?” A glimmer of excitement lit Syllesk’s big blue eyes. She looked to Nevka. “Of course we will! Right?”

  Nevka bobbed his big head enthusiastically. “Yes!” And then, with an embarrassed dip of his snout, “I mean… if you think we can help.”

  Everything in Iskar’s bearing screamed his opposition. His wings flared at his back; the muscles in his neck and shoulders tensed, standing out under his silver scales just as they might if he was screaming. But he didn’t scream. He only looked to Kadka, anguish in his eyes.

  “No.” Kadka shook her head. “No. Not like this.” Coming here had been her idea, giving them the choice she’d have wanted. And a small part of her was even excited about it—the idea of flying in the sunlight with her little ones made her smile, despite everything else. But she couldn’t let them do it until they knew what they were facing. Knew the stakes. “You say you get to go above like this is good thing. Fun game. You do not understand.”

  Syllesk started to object. “We do so—”

  “No,” Kadka said again, sharper this time. “I ask Iskar to tell you these things because… because is no other way that I see. Is better if we can protect you, keep you safe, but to protect from this truth now, maybe hurts you. Leaves you alone, if we fail. Is something I would want to know, so is something you deserve to know, I think. Choice you deserve to make. But only if you understand choice you are making.” She clenched her fists, swallowed, looked to Iskar. “Is something I don’t tell you yet.”

  “Kadka?” Iskar took her hand. “What is it? What’s wrong?”

  “Vladak,” she said. “Is Vladak.”

  That was all it took for Iskar to know. He stiffened, and his hand clenched on hers.

  The little ones weren’t so quick to get there. “Uncle Vladak?” Syllesk asked, cocking her head. “What about him?”

  “He is dead.” Too blunt, but they had to know the danger they faced above.

  “How?” Iskar asked, his voice thick and choked.

  “Riven,” said Kadka. “Drained by machine to start Endo’s siphon. He pulls Indree out, saves her, she says. But… too late for him.” The words felt like hot coals in her throat. “Should have said sooner. I am sorry.”

  “What do you mean?” Syllesk demanded, almost panicked. “He’s… no, he’s not! You’re lying! He can’t be—”

  “Syllesk.” Nevka laid a great silver wing over her back. “Look.” With his head, he nudged hers toward Iskar.

  Tears rolled from Iskar’s bright blue eyes. His grip on Kadka’s hand was so tight it hurt. She drew him into her arms, and he let out a sob that shook his back, made his wings convulse.

  And seeing him break, the little ones knew that it was true.

  “Then… he won’t… we’ll never…” Syllesk couldn’t seem to finish the thought.

  “He’s gone,” Nevka said in a small voice. “Really gone.”

  Between one moment and the next, a burst of silver light filled the cave, forcing Kadka’s eyes shut. When she opened them again, the dragons had vanished; two small half-orc children with tear-streaked faces looked back at her now, tiny and vulnerable and hurting.

  Kadka took an arm from Iskar’s back, spread it toward them. “Come here.”

  Without words, they rushed forward, and Kadka folded them into her embrace. Little white-furred arms squeezed her and Iskar tight.

  Iskar’s sobs gradually abated, but he didn’t let go. “Another one,” he whispered against her shoulder. “So many years, so many friends lost. One would think it would get easier. But it never does.” He looked down, then, to the children clinging to his sides, and moved his arms to hold them closer. “I am so sorry, little ones.”

  Syllesk looked up at Kadka, sniffling, tears on her cheeks. “I wish you hadn’t told us.”

  Iskar shook his head in gentle rebuke. “No, Syllesk. She was right to.” He met Kadka’s eyes, took a deep, steadying breath. “You both needed to understand what you could lose.”

  “Wish I could protect you from this too,” Kadka said, squeezing her family as tightly as she could. “Losing one you love is worst kind of hurt. I know. But I do not tell you to make you sad. Is so you see this is no game. If you go above now, is to fight. And fight like this means danger, and pain, and loss.”

  “But…” Nevka wiped his eyes with the back of his hand. “If we don’t go, you still will, won’t you?”

  “Yes,” Kadka said. Nothing else. They had to come to it themselves.

  “Both of you?” Syllesk looked to Iskar.

  “I owe it to our mother’s memory,” Iskar said. “And to our lost sibling. I will do what I can to correct my failure. But that does not mean you must. It is not your responsibility.”

  “But you’re our family,” said Syllesk. “Like Uncle Vladak, and our mother, and the one Endo took. I… don’t want to lose anyone else.” Nevka nodded his shaggy white head in agreement.

  “Do you understand the risk?” Iskar asked.

  “You could die.” Nevka said the words slowly, thoughtfully, like he was testing them out. “We could die.”

  “Is possible,” Kadka said. She didn’t mean to let that happen, but they had to
know it could.

  “But if we don’t go, lots of people could die,” said Syllesk. “Uncle Vladak knew it was dangerous when he saved Auntie Indree, didn’t he? He still did it. If… if we can help all those people, we have to try.”

  Nevka nodded his head. “Like he did.”

  Pride surged in Kadka’s chest, mingled with terror. She looked at Iskar. “You see? You teach them well.”

  The same fear was in his eyes, but the same pride, too. “Well then,” he said, “I suppose we’ll go up together.”

  Kadka grinned. “No other way.”

  “So it’s decided?” Carver called from across the cave. “Can I come back?”

  Chuckling through tears, Kadka beckoned him over. “Is decided. We go together.”

  Carver knelt down when he was close, so that his eyes were level with Syllesk and Nevka’s. “Thank you,” he said. “Truly. I wish we didn’t have to ask, but… thank you.” And then he stood straight, looked to Iskar. “When we get up there, we’re going to need a way to deal with that dragon. Nothing else is going to matter if we can’t do that. Any ideas?”

  “I have never seen anything like this before,” Iskar said. “No one has. To steal the life and will of another creature… it is an abomination. I can only guess what it might mean, and I don’t know how complete Endo’s control is. But… there is a chance.” Sorrow flickered in his sapphire eyes, and a flash of silver power. Rage. “That poor creature is still a dragon. And dragons are creatures of pure Astral power. If something of its true self did not remain, there would be no… no body to animate. If it was truly dead, it would have vanished, rejoined the Astra, as our mother did. And if enough remains to maintain a form, then it is bonded to me, and to Syllesk, and to Nevka. We all share our mother’s essence. Which means we may be able to reach it. Somehow. And then… I don’t know.”

  “We tell it who it is,” Nevka said solemnly. “Our family.”

  Iskar gave him a sad smile, and nodded. “Yes. But understand, little ones… the life it might have had was stolen the moment the egg was taken. The part of our mother it needed to live on its own is gone now. I fear that the best we can do is to bring it some sort of peace. An end to its suffering. And when you see that suffering for yourselves… I have told you of the dragonrage before. Of how careful we must be. This will test you in a way my words can never prepare you for.”

  Syllesk and Nevka were both silent for a long moment, and then Syllesk swallowed, and said, “We understand. We’re… we’re ready.”

  “I wish you could be,” Iskar said softly. “I suspect none of us are. Whatever comes, know that Kadka and I will be there beside you. If you feel that anger, remember that you do not need to fight it alone.” And then, to Carver, “You must understand this: we will bear you where you need to go, and do what we can for our sibling. But we will not harm the living.”

  “I understand,” Carver said. “I don’t want to risk dragonrage any more than you do.”

  “I am sorry I cannot offer more,” said Iskar. “But if we allow ourselves to go down that path…”

  “Is enough,” Kadka said. “Carrying us gives us chance we don’t have without you. There is way to stop this, and we will find it.” She squeezed her fists until her knuckles cracked. “Endo takes part of our family from us. Is time for us to take back.”

  “Right,” said Carver. “Just get us up there, and I’ll… figure something out.” He rubbed nervously at his watch case, scratched the back of his neck. “Which means I’m going to have to ride with you. On one of you. If that’s…”

  “I’ll take you, Uncle Tane!” Syllesk cut in. “You’re smaller than Kadka. She should go on Nevka. Iskar doesn’t need one of us, he can fly himself.”

  Carver was utterly pale, but he nodded. “Good. That sounds… good.”

  Kadka grinned at his discomfort. “Look happier, Carver. First man to fly on dragon for hundreds of years. Is no small thing.”

  Carver shot her a glare. “I can’t wait.”

  Kadka just grinned wider. “So, we get by dragon. What then?”

  “Endo might let me get aboard. I think he’d rather I live to see him win. He’s got some sort of fixation with me, and he likes to gloat. I’ll try to get control, steer the airship up, away, out of reach. The siphon will fail if it has no one to drain for power. If we can’t do that…” Carver trailed off with a frown.

  Her grin vanished. There was only one thing he could be thinking about: the way he’d stopped the last siphon. The life he’d taken to save hers, and so many others. It had never rested easy on his shoulders.

  But there was no time now for squeamishness, and Kadka had no tears to shed for Endo Stooke. “I kill him,” she said flatly. “Good enough plan for me. Come. Is time to fly.”

  Chapter Seventeen

  _____

  TINGA AND CESTRA leaned against one another, keeping each other upright as they pushed through the press of bodies toward Indree. Lefty strode protectively beside them, his eyes on the rooftops, vigilant against another attack. They met Indree at the edge of the crowd, in the street that ran parallel to the park and the sea wall, with the men and women of Porthaven gathered behind them. Indree wasn’t alone; Bastian Dewglen fluttered beside her, and Chancellor Liana Greymond of the Thaless University as well, escorted by a dozen men and women of the University guard.

  Indree was the first to speak. “Well,” she said, “this is exactly the opposite of what I told you to do.” She cast her eyes over the thousands of people gathered at the water’s edge, and smiled slightly. “Good work.”

  “You too,” Tinga said. She would have smiled back, but it felt like it would take too much strength, and she needed everything she had just to keep standing with the siphon’s cold growing in her chest. Even with so many new people sharing the burden, it was still there, still doing its awful work. “I knew you’d come, but I didn’t think you’d be bringing so many friends.” Now that she was clear of the crowd, she could see hundreds of Silver Dawn agents and University mages and other armed men and women making a wall of bodies between the Knights of the Emperor and the people of Porthaven. The majority wore glowing talismans, but a sizable portion didn’t—and if they were still strong enough to fight, they had to be mages, exempt from the siphon. “It’s good to have some magic on our side.”

  “Chancellor Greymond brought plenty,” said Indree. “We picked up some people on our way, but we didn’t have nearly enough mages until she found us.”

  Greymond inclined her head at Tinga. “We couldn’t well leave one of our own out in the cold, could we? Glad to have you back, Miss Vreeg.”

  It was only then that Tinga put it together. There’s too many of them to all be University Guard. “Wait, so, these mages—”

  “Are your fellow students, yes,” Greymond finished with a nod. “Most of them, at least, excepting the Guard and the professors. All volunteers, of course. I put the question to the senior class. Not everyone chose to join.”

  “It’s enough,” Tinga said. She couldn’t even count them—well over a hundred, and that was a sizable piece of the University’s senior class by itself. “I… didn’t expect so many.” She’d always figured the magically gifted students hadn’t much wanted her there; she’d been scorned by mages too often in her life to assume otherwise. Maybe Thaless has changed more than I thought.

  “Apparently you weren’t completely lacking magic without us, though,” Indree said, and eyed Lefty with mild suspicion. “I didn’t expect to see you here, Lodestone. Not on our side, at least.”

  Lefty just grunted and shrugged. The ever-present scowl on his face didn’t budge.

  “Thank Cestra for that,” Tinga said. “She saw through his act.”

  Indree turned to Cestra, but before she spoke, she frowned, and rapidly shifted her eyes back to Tinga.

  Back to Tinga’s shoulder, specifically.

  “Your talismans,” she said. “Where are they?”

  Tinga had known that was
coming, sooner or later. “We had to take them off,” she said. “All these people… the siphon is draining the life out of them. They had to trust me if they were going to listen, and they couldn’t do that if I wasn’t in it with them.”

  “Tinga, that’s not—” Indree began.

  Tinga shook her head. The motion made her dizzy. “I really don’t have the time or energy to argue about it.” She clutched Cestra’s arm to brace herself. “I’m glad you’re here, but even if you help us hold them off, we’re all going to be wiped clean before long if this spell doesn’t end. What’s the plan?”

  Indree was still frowning, but she didn’t push the issue. “Exactly that,” she said. “We hold them off as long as we can, and hope Tane and Kadka can handle the rest before it’s too late. I wish I could tell you I had something better.”

  “But,” Bastian chimed in beside her, “I think you’ll find our defenses are quite equal to the task. I had my friends bring some toys.” He pointed down the street, toward one of the great silver shields the University mages had cast to keep the Knights of the Emperor at bay.

  The advance had been stalled for the time being, but the knights were trying to break through with hurled spells of brute Astral force, and their huge golems pounded brass fists against the shields, over and over. The University mages were outnumbered. Eventually, the barriers would break.

  And then Tinga saw what Bastian was talking about. Just inside the protective fields already in place, his people were setting up waist-high brass cones topped with copper spheres—shield pylons. As she watched, several activated, projecting shimmering barriers of Astral force between them. A second line of defense, and one that would let the mages concentrate on other spells.

  “That’s a start,” said Tinga, “but some of these people aren’t going to make it long enough for it to matter. Look.” She gestured back at the crowd. People were leaning on friends and loved ones, slumping to the ground when they couldn’t stand any longer, sunken-eyed and drenched in sweat. The very young and very old seemed most vulnerable in general, but there were plenty of healthy-looking young men and women obviously failing faster than the rest, apparently at random. Astral connection varied from person to person, and that meant that there was no telling who would be affected most.