by Rick Field
The amount of magic she expelled was about half of what she would have used to call a ball of flame without any fire present to draw upon. Milor startled again, and froze. Biting cold pushed her out of her focused state, and her eyes saw nothing but a pure white mist that reached through her Pillar's cloak and through the robes she wore underneath. The cold made her teeth chatter and her limbs tremble.
Except for her left hand, which was nice and warm, thanks to a ball of heat that rested a dozen centimeters above it. Her analytical mind noted that she only fed it enough magic to be contained, rather than feeding it power to keep burning. It wasn't exactly the ball of fire she had imagined; it was a ball of energy, of heat, and not a ball of the physical manifestation of the element of fire.
The cold front she had unwittingly created caused a low pressure zone, and hot air rushed in from the surrounding rooms and corridors. Wind drew up, causing the uncomfortable cold and stinging mist to draw yet more precious heat out of their bodies.
“My Lady?” Milor asked. His voice was deceptively level, but Liane had known him long enough to detect the undercurrent that made it more an order than a request.
“I believe I have found the answer, My Lord,” the Pillar explained, looking at the carefully contained ball of heat. “How Danulia set up her traps. How the guardian draws its power.” She dispelled the orb, and its contained heat was uncomfortable as it spread. The mist vanished as quickly as it had appeared, now that the air was warm enough once more to contain the moisture. “Unfortunately, it is a new discovery and I do not believe I will be able to match our opponent's expertise with the technique. Not with five minutes of experimentation with first-generation principles.”
“Then, My Lady, I suggest we make haste and forget about your new discovery until after we have saved the island,” the Crown Prince stated. His voice was still contained, but this time she could detect an undercurrent in it that reminded her to stay on task and not get side-tracked.
She dipped her head, and they started moving again. Annoyance filled her chest and her magic. She had just cracked one of the most difficult problems ever put before her, had probably re-discovered a lost form of magic, and he believed her to be distracted. Sometimes, she wondered about her friend and his lack of vision when it came to the beauty and intricacy of magic.
She admitted to herself that she had no head for politics, which was what Milor seemed to be best at, but honestly, would it inconvenience him that much to dig just a little deeper into the mysteries of magic?
Liane glanced at him. Perhaps that was why they made a good team. She did the magic and the theory. He did the politics and the strategy. Her annoyance left when she realized that he was probably just as annoyed at her inability to understand his strengths and expertise as she was at his inability to understand hers.
Continuing their silent voyage through deserted hallways, both Mage and Warlock sunk back into their own thoughts until Milor stopped them. Liane abruptly returned to the real world, realizing that they were not far from a room that was seared into her already formidable memory.
They were close to the majestic throne room, where she had once returned Milor to after their hurried escape from his kidnappers. It had cost her two pints of blood to summon the Major Spirit of Air back then, and for a moment Liane debated on getting some elemental spirit backup. She declined the thought just as quickly; she had the feeling she would be needing every drop of blood soon.
She grasped Milor's arm, causing the Prince to frown at her. She held up a finger to ask for silence, then motioned for him to join her in the shadow of a wall. Around the corner, further down the hall, was the throne room, their final destination where Danulia was more than likely attempting to break the protections of the Arbitrator of Ascension. She hoped they would make it in time, yet they both required intelligence first and foremost.
She sat down, and Milor cautiously sank next to her, his expression halfway between frown and question.
Her lips moved in near-silence, and her friend shifted when the air took on a subtle vibration around them. “Sphere of silence, My Lord,” Liane explained. “The vibration in the air will prevent sound waves from traveling beyond the reach of the spell, we are now silent.”
He nodded to indicate his understanding, then asked, “Why have you stopped us, My Lady?” He hesitated for a moment, then added before she could respond, “Are you injured?”
She smiled faintly at his concern, touched by the thought. “I am fine, My Lord, thank you for asking. We do require intelligence, however. Epter.” the magical fly-like construct flew from underneath her collar, and bopped silently up and down in front of her. Milor stared at it, then shook his head.
“Only you, My Lady, would build a construct this size and find a use for it,” he said with admiration.
She straightened up, pleased with his response; then stated the communication spell to connect to Epter's magical senses. Steering the little construct around the corner, Liane attached it to the ceiling. After so long, she was used to inverted or skewed perspectives. From the way Milor turned and twisted his head to try and get the image right-way-up, he was finding it a lot more difficult.
She ignored her friend's acrobatics, and focused on the closed double doors that went to the throne room. Her eyes narrowed. Magic required straight eye-contact for direct spells. Even remote-targeting spells required a focus, blood, hair, nails. Using Epter's eyes as a lens, she focused on the doors, and whispered. The door clicked ajar, as if opened by the wind.
She had already detached Epter from the ceiling, and righted it while on its way to the small gap, when she froze.
The door was pushed open, and a burly Warlock stepped out, grouching as he looked left and right with a scowl on his face. Taking advantage of the open door, Epter buzzed inside at top speed, the door slamming shut as the Warlock yanked harder than necessary on it.
Releasing a breath that she did not know she was holding, Liane resumed control over her tiny construct. “Well done, My Lady,” Milor whispered from right next to her. She dipped her head, then ignored him. While Epter was small and silent, it was still a fly-like construct, and therefore quite visible. Doing her best, she steered it outside of any fields of vision as she explored the throne room.
She felt Milor stiffen at the sight of a Warlock lounging on the Imperial throne. He was leaned back with one leg thrown over one of the armrests, halfway dozing. The burly Warlock that had checked the door grouched some more, plainly audibly even though Epter was on the other side of the throne room, as he sat down next to a second Warlock, against the wall of the Arbitrator of Ascension that was facing the door.
Three Warlocks, check. The small fly flew further, examining the other side, and finding three Mages, heavily involved in a discussion regarding Milor, and what they would enjoy doing to the Crown Prince after they had taken over the country. Liane could feel her friend trembling next to her. She hurriedly steered Epter away. The discussion had amused her for some reason; while she had thought of Milor as a best friend, and occasionally as a brother-figure, she herself had never considered the acts the Mages had been laughing about in their discussion.
It was amusing to hear what they wanted to do with Milor, simply for the fact that she now had something to use for teasing material in the future.
“Do not be too amused, My Lady. Perhaps the Warlocks discussed yourself earlier,” the Crown Prince muttered from next to her; she must not have been hiding her amusement well enough.
“I am well aware that my looks are considered 'plain', My Lord. Luckily, that means no man will ever discuss me as a...” she trailed off, trying to find the correct phrasing.
“A piece of beef?” Milor suggested.
She nodded, granting him the point. “It's highly doubtful those Warlocks would be fantasizing about me,” she finished, pushing Epter toward the Arbitrator of Ascension. Strangely enough, its door was open, and Liane got a very bad feeling. Next to her, Milor was leaning
in as well. The levity had gone out of their conversation immediately, this was deathly serious.
Epter landed outside, sticking to the support above the door, and walked in, sticking to walls and ceiling. Liane couldn't risk flying it, not in so narrow and confined a space.
Inside, an elder Mage was working diligently. She looked to be in her mid-sixties, and was in turn staring at a wall that had its runes exposed, and scribbling on some paper. Liane couldn't risk Epter going in too close, so the work on the table was beyond reach. The runes on the wall hitched Liane's breath; she had seen similar ones on the Arbitrator of Elements that had stuck her forever with the name of MagicWarper.
“She is trying to break the control matrices,” Liane whispered to Milor. “Those govern the Arbitrator's judgment on who to name as Emperor or as successor. Should she succeed, she will be able to name anyone she pleases as Emperor, directly cutting yourself and your honored father out. Thankfully, it seems the Arbitrator is fighting her; the runes keep changing.”
“How much longer do we have?” Milor asked.
Liane winced. She had no good answer to give him. “Unfortunately, I do not know. It could be an hour. It could be a week. There is no way to tell how close she is without risking discovery and alerting her to our presence. Epter is unprotected, should she find and capture it, it can be traced with no effort at all.” She started withdrawing Epter, and looked at her companion, who was looking unusually grave. “My Lord? What's the plan of action?”
“Danulia is inside the Arbitrator,” the Prince muttered, half to himself and half to her, before looking up, right at her. “I will go left and engage the Warlocks. Please go right, My Lady, and engage the Mages. Feel free to experiment with your unusual magic.”
She stifled a smile, he really must have disliked the conversation the three women had been having about him. Suddenly, she froze, Epter freezing with her. Danulia's gray-haired head filled the communications circle, staring straight at the little construct, and by extension, herself and Milor.
“It would be considered impolite to spy upon another using these methods,” the Mage said. “However, considering the circumstances, I will merely invite you to enter the room and have a conversation in person. Whoever designed this little Construct did a remarkable job on it, I do not believe I have ever seen one so small. I almost missed it – and probably would have, had I not been looking at magic itself in order to complete my mission. I will allow the Construct to leave, please enter and have a conversation as civilized Nobles.”
Liane remained frozen, unable to move or act. Epter had been discovered, despite her extreme care. Danulia knew she was here. This was catastrophic. She startled violently when Milor stood up.
“My Lord?”
“Let us have the conversation, My Lady,” the Crown Prince stated in a level tone. A level tone that did not fool Liane for a moment. Her friend was seething. She just nodded, looking back at the communications circle, still open on its link to Epter and looking straight at Danulia, who had resumed her work. She made a motion, the fly Construct's vision shifted when it lifted off. Danulia spared it a glance and a tiny smile.
Epter navigated out of the Arbitrator, and out the door. An order from Danulia sounded through the throne room, and the burly Warlock looked visibly confused when he stood and opened the door a crack. Epter flew right past him, he didn't even see it. Liane's hammering heart relaxed when the tiny Construct settled under her collar and she disengaged the communications spell.
“I apologize for getting us caught, My Lord,” she whispered, hanging her head.
“Never bend your head, My Lady,” Milor stated. “I believe I taught you that.” He drew a breath. “It was not your fault your spy was discovered. It seems our opponent possesses superior skills. Let us go.”
She nodded gratefully, stood as well, and started to follow him. He had drawn DawnBreaker, and was whispering under his breath. Her magic sight could see the spells taking hold of him.
Her hand clenched around Lucifer's shaft, her Legendary weapon still in its fully displayed form. Milor caught her gaze, and gave her a nod. She nodded back. They might be going to go into battle. Together, they rounded the corner to approach the double doors to the throne room.
“It is likely that they will surround us. I will take any diplomatic option to resolve the situation, but it is still likely to come to battle. When it does, feel free to employ your unusual magic to its fullest extent,” Milor said.
Liane felt her magic surge. “My Lord, should they have us surrounded, I would ask you not to move from my side unless I have given you an indication that it is clear to do so.” Her knuckles turned white around Lucifer's shaft. “Should they be within my range, surrounding us would be a foolish, foolish thing to do.”
The Prince lifted one eyebrow, then gave a tiny smirk. If Liane hadn't known how deeply angered her friend was, she would have sworn he was enjoying the thought. Suddenly, he took two rapid steps, and slammed his hand against the large metal double doors, smashing them open with large force. They banged against the stops, and remained in their full open position, framing him and Liane as the occupants of the throne room stared at them.
Milor's finger pointed forward, to the Warlock lounging on his father's throne. “Remove yourself from the throne at once,” he ordered, his voice glacial. If Liane hadn't seen him cast the spell, she would have been very impressed with the way it bounced off the walls in a resounding effect.
The Warlock practically jumped. The other magic-users stared.
Danulia emerged from the Arbitrator. “I am glad to see that our Crown Prince is susceptible to reason. I had so feared that this would turn out violent. I have lost too many people already.”
“Perhaps that was because you have sent them against us, My Lady,” Liane said, unable to stop the sarcasm from flowing into her voice. “Perhaps people would not have died, had you not instigated a cowardly attack upon a Pillar safe house, paralyzed our country, and attacked every man, woman, and child in the Capital.” She swallowed the rest of the anger that had blasted into existence from somewhere, aware that she was potentially endangering not only herself and Milor, but her entire country. She cursed her magic for influencing her emotions.
“Nobody would have come to harm, had you not resisted, My Lady,” Danulia replied calmly. “Now, while we are all talking, I would like to offer-”
“You are in no position to make offers,” Milor said, through gritted teeth. “You are the rebel. I make the offers.” He looked at the other people present in the throne room. “Lay down your weapons and surrender, and I will be gracious.” Liane planted Lucifer's tip on the ground, and leaned on it. It seemed her friend wasn't as in control as he would have liked. She wondered what, if anything, she could do to diffuse the situation. In one thing Danulia was right; if they could talk this out without resorting to bloodshed; that would be best.
Danulia smiled faintly. “And still convinced of your own superiority. This is what is wrong with our country – the ruling elite believe themselves better than others. It's the reason why so many of us try to change the system, try and make sure there is equality for all.”
Liane felt as if she had been slapped in the face. It had been the point Steve had made in many of their talks, and she had dismissed him. “And yet, you have killed hundreds within the Capital,” the Pillar said, her anger at herself making her magic rise in her chest once more. Kiria wasn't bad. Kiria was good. People were being taken care of!
“I have not,” Danulia snapped, sounding insulted. “I have merely made them sleep!”
“For days,” Liane answered. “Without a chance for food or water. Or medicine. Hundreds have already died.”
The elder Mage scowled. “It wasn't meant to take this long, I thought I had more leeway. It's regrettable.” She drew a breath, and looked at Liane and Milor in turn. “Surrender and you will not be harmed. You are the famed MagicWarper, your skills and abilities will be very useful in the re
construction. Join us, and you will not lose anything you have now. Prince Milor, you are a decent Warlock, with no exceptional skills or abilities. However, your training in the inner workings of the government should be useful in untangling everything and building a new, better, government. Surrender, and you will have a high position. I do not wish to fight you; too many have already died.”
“A revolutionary with a code of honor,” Milor said, shaking his head. “Unfortunately, I cannot agree. Instead, I will restate my offer. Surrender now, and I will ensure leniency.” Danulia's underlings shuffled, but not in the way Liane would have liked it. The Mage closed her eyes, and focused on her magical senses. The six Nobles had formed a dirty circular perimeter around them. She resisted a smile – the fools had positioned themselves exactly as she would have liked it.
“Prince and lapdog to the very end,” the old mage whispered, sounding sad. “I tried. Kill them.”
The words still hung in the air, and Liane could feel Milor tense next to her. Her own words left her mouth, already overlapping the last of Danulia's kill order. The Runescape flashed, and Liane skipped both first and second defensive levels, going straight for pure offense. Three Mages and three Warlocks vanished into the maws of Liane's powerful spell.