Perhaps I had to make a choice as well.
Perhaps the Rot did not matter.
Perhaps I should accept death rather than help Euryale. Even Dana’s. Anja was right. Perhaps I would not truly be alive after surviving the Spire? I would be a husk of Shannon, neither the old nor the new one, but a living dead. Euryale claimed she wished to return the gods and justice, but there was no justice in the Fanged Spire. I had seen the Regent. He had seemed wise and kind.
However, I had no time to think about it.
We splashed after the still shrieking girl until we reached a long, spacious corridor with a rounded ceiling that was moldy and glistening with moisture. We could hear the girl sobbing in pain as she tore forward, and we smelled burning, a horrid stench of scorched meat and hair. We saw a pillared doorway, and Albine, Dana, and the Russians entered a cellar with many sets of stairs running down and glimpsed heaps of rotting benches. Most of the Tears jumped down to left and right, dropping down to the dark for the burning girl was running crazily across the room, the burning Bone Fetter and flaming clothing weird in the dark.
Then, she fell in the middle of the room with sparkles, shuddering and dying, the flames claiming her flesh. I was following Ulrich as he was entering the cellar, but he stopped. He was peeking through the doorway, and I was trying to get past him. ‘Go!’ I hissed.
‘Something is wrong,’ he complained.
He was right.
‘I cannot see them, Isabella,’ a panicked, strange boy yelled ahead, and I felt many people harnessing spells of the Fury.
‘Beware!’ I screamed, for they had been waiting there, ambush ready, and had used their renegades as bait. And Ulrich entered the room, his hand ablaze with a flaming Bone Fetter.
‘There!’ a female shrieked, and Ulrich stopped on top of the stairs, hesitating. Flames lit up in the darkness and coils reached for the large man who blanched.
I reacted. I saw the spells, and somehow I reached out. I tore at the weaves, ripping off bits and pieces of them and some of the spells simply died, others changed direction to scorch the ceiling and the walls. One turned to fiery flowers, others stopped in midair.
However, one went on.
I cursed and ran, fighting the speed of the flames as I threw myself at Ulrich without thinking too hard about the consequences. Below, I dimly noticed Dana, Albine, and the Russians also harnessing spells of Fury. Fires flew back in the dark, thick or thin, exploding to reveal parts of the room, weaving for the unseen enemy casters. Yet, for Ulrich and me, things got hot. The spell missed us but hit the doorway, the flames exploded. I clawed and pulled him back as the heat tried to envelop us, igniting his robes. Ulrich screamed as a nearly living, bluish gout of flame was clutching at his shoulder, the skin growing dark, then peeling. I gathered the healing power and released it so fast I could barely understand it, the icy, frigidly flowing energy ripping from me, and it healed him. The flame went out as he rolled in a filthy water puddle, his flesh still singed and charred in places from the stubborn magical fire. There was an inferno roaring at the doorway, and we backed away, seeing but glimpses of what was going on beyond. I approached him tentatively while cursing the roaring flames.
‘Don’t use more of it!’ he hissed, getting up and rubbing his pained shoulder. ‘Move to the side, in case they decide to hurl something through the flames. He pulled me to the side, and we stayed there. The doorway was blazing, old wooden frames burning with an odd, sizzling sound, maggots popping out of holes they lived in, bursting in the heat. Stone veneer was falling into molten puddles off the ceiling. The sea of flames was wavering, and we could see something of what was going on. We heard Albine shriek, whether in anger or pain, I knew not, and an enemy, a boy actually, could be seen running from the dark room towards the stairway, flames leaving his hand. Apparently, Albine was alive, for the wind she had summoned the day we arrived, hot as cinders blew out at the boy, but this time it was deadly and controlled. We saw Anja spilling to the floor with a curse, and the boy who had been charging caught the brunt of the cinder wind, tearing him from the ground, spiraling him madly head over heels to the dark, his flesh ripped and flapping.
‘My good God,’ I said.
‘Jesus,’ Ulrich agreed, trying to edge past the flames. ‘The kid’s got some pending frustrations, it seems.’ His voice was breaking as he saw Anja was hurt, holding her head. Several figures could be seen skittering at the far side of the room. A tall girl was pointing at something I could not see. Several of the enemies turned to look our way. They were gathering spells.
Then Dana showed her mettle. I saw her walking forward.
‘Dana!’ I shrieked.
I felt an enormous, terribly potent spell being gathered by my sister. I caught a glimpse of her face.
She was laughing, her eyes glittering with fury and mirth both. Lines of fire sprung from the enemy for her and I cried, for I forgot what I had done for Ulrich. It was too late to interrupt the spells. Dana would die.
Instead, she ran forward and rolled under the flames. A thick set of flames tore from her hands, ripped to the dark figures and an inferno erupted as she ignited a tall boy on a sort of a balcony, his body curling crazily, and then falling broken amidst the floor. ‘We must get back in there!’ I shouted, terrified, for I saw new strands of fire rip from the dark for Dana.
‘Impossible, not through here we can’t!’ Ulrich grunted, slapping at the flames. In the room, Dana stood in the center, incredulously laughing like a maniac as she sidestepped some of the fiery spells. Her hands pushed out another set of high fires, and she screamed as she let her spell explode in front of her, cutting off several thick streams of light coming for her. Instead of a simple firewall, her exploded spell shot madly for the far wall and pulled along the spells of the enemy, growing hers to an enormous wave of fiery death. She shook her hands wildly, and the firestorm slammed like a breaking wave across the room. That end of the room was alight. A girl was flapping on the ground, dying as she burnt up. Another was but a whitened heap of bones, and others were scrambling for a stairway, trying to breathe.
Alexei and Dmitri dragged at Anja, and the three Russians linked hands and stepped forward, their spells weaving mad, bluish flames in a net-like way to cut off the enemy from the stairway. Two of our enemies were caught, their hair burning. Some escaped up and spread on a sort of balcony, temporarily out of trouble. ‘Four or five left?’ Ulrich asked darkly, swallowing bile and then looked back. ‘Come, let’s find a way out of here and over there, fast as you can!’
We ran back, trying to find a way around. We took a passage right, running in water to our knees, Ulrich’s robes dragging him down until he tore his clothing off. Somewhere close, we heard the roar of battle. ‘Here!’ I shrieked, pulling him with me to a cracked hole in the wall, then through a small, musty room and a tunnel leading up a bit.
‘Hurry,’ he panted and we did rush, rushed madly, little heeding the rubble and a potential broken leg. Up ahead, the corridor filled with fire, just briefly and figures were running. Three people, one the woman who apparently led them, waved at two burly boys and stopped. She waited, grinning like a demon, her hair in tangles. She harnessed a spell of Fury and released it, lightning fast. Fire was shooting out back the way they had come from. A shriek was heard, first panicked, then loud and inhuman as she held the spell, tottering a bit, exhausted. Someone was hurt, badly hurt. I heard Lex scream a challenge and felt a pang of relief he was alive. Then a wall of fire burst across the hallway, but the woman stepped back from it, her face smiling maniacally, still embracing the power, even if she was trembling with the effort. She flicked her fingers, and I felt she was doing something unusual, weaving something strange, and pulling at the roaring primal fire, twisting it with cinders and hot winds, a uniquely different spell from the spell we all knew. It was likely something she had discovered the day we all arrived by accident. She suddenly hefted a fiery, magnificent spear of fire, and she threw it deftly. We watched in h
orror as Alexei staggered into sight, his chest and side horribly burned already, his mouth open, skin melting as the spear burned through his innards. She weaved a wall of fire over Alexei’s smoldering body and rolled away as Lex screamed in anger. He was throwing more light and flame above her. She was giggling, but our friends were blocked.
We were not.
‘Alexei!’ Ulrich screamed, and then calmed himself. ‘Can you heal him?’
‘I cannot raise the dead,’ I said hollowly. ‘What shall we do?’ I asked, horrified.
‘What?’ Ulrich spat. ‘Avenge Alexis, before more die. Three? We shall kill them and cry later. I want to get the hell away from here.’ Out there on the right, some kind of a fight was still going on. Dana laughed, and apparently someone died, for a voice shrieked in terrible agony.
‘Three,’ I said, terrified. ‘We are but two.’
He turned to me, grabbing me by shoulders. ‘You can do this. I know it is hard. Keep calm. Fight with me, for me, and we shall survive.’
‘I will,’ I said softly, trying to gather courage, and we went on.
We sneaked past the burning wall, dimly seeing Lex cursing on the other side. Our eyes met briefly, and he looked at Ulrich in horror and ran off. Ulrich snorted. ‘Thinks I will behead you, likely.’ I shook my head as I wondered the same and saw he was eyeing the corridor ahead. The Bone Fetters were bouncing up ahead, we took after them stealthily, and Ulrich hid his hand behind his back. Then, suddenly, the lights stopped, milling in some confusion. ‘Softly, tread lightly,’ he said. We did, checking the ground carefully. Ahead were two hulking boys. Both were nodding dutifully at the girl who was gesturing around the room. They were setting up a trap again. ‘I will scorch the bitch. Then we will take on the other two. Can you charge one with the sword?’
‘Sword?’ I asked, looking down at it. It felt strange and heavy in my hand.
‘You have nothing else, do you?’ he hissed. ‘I shall do all I can, but you have to pull your weight. For Alexei.’
I nodded, and we sneaked forward. Perhaps if I swung the blade at the head, it would just knock them out. Let the gorgons decide what will happen to those who are wounded. I nodded at Ulrich, shaking in near-crippling fear. ‘Go,’ he mouthed, and so I prayed and ran forward in the dark, hoping the way would be clear, then imagined a hole I might drop into and break my neck. Ulrich harnessed the spell of Fury; I felt it and the streams of flames danced from his fingers, reaching for the woman. One of the boys next to her blanched and pushed her aside instinctively, and Ulrich’s fierce fires burned through the boy in an eye blink, bizarrely looking like a snake writhing inside him, the flames exploding on a wall behind, flames flicking from his mouth, ears and nose. His remains fell to the stones with little ceremony. The other boy turned to face Ulrich in shock as the woman was struggling to get up, her face a furious mask of surprise and rage. I was close now, rushing as fast as I could, all the lessons gone from my head, and the eyes of the boy widened at the sight of a scared, sword-wielding girl rushing him. The boy blanched, fumbling with a wooden ax, but he was too late. I had done this before. I loved swords fighting, its practices, and the exertion. Now I would be tested. The blade went up with strange familiarity and came down. It hit. It hit hard. I could see his face caving in strangely, and he fell on his back, trembling and vomiting. The woman, Isabella, got up next to me, staring at the death in shock, and I waited for Ulrich to do his deed.
Nothing.
The woman glanced at the empty corridor. Her brown eyes were burning with the joy of battle, her angular face sweat stricken.
‘Well,’ she hissed. ‘You have an enemy, I think. In addition to me.’ She did not hesitate as she gathered the power of Fury and threw fire at me, skillfully entwining it around my feet. I fell away, rolling, hollering in fear, so close to her as the flames licked at my boots, my calves, hips and long hair. It burned horribly, and I felt my skin and flesh getting seared, my fine clothing burning, even my boots. I understood Euryale’s lessons of pain more clearly. As naturally as an otter ducks under water, I grasped at the healing power, the supreme Gift, touched the healing springs and released them with icy, frigid relief while rolling, then again, and again as the flames still licked at my torso and then again, feeling senseless with exhaustion. I briefly saw Isabella’s eyes, confusion playing on her features as I should have been a dead and charred bit of darkened bone, but I was not. I rolled and rolled, throwing myself away, my shirt in stubborn flames as I tore it off. Isabella’s face was glistening with exertion, her body trembling even, but she pushed the fire still further, trying to cut me off from two directions. I scrambled back and dodged to the corridor. ‘Ulrich!’ I screamed.
She laughed and let the fire go, apparently too tired to hold it. I felt she was summoning the fiery spear again, her face growing gray with fatigue, and yet the weapon grew out of her hand, simmering and deadly. She held it, her face gaunt from exhaustion as she walked toward me. I dodged to the room, holding the sword, eyeing the thin, utterly deadly blade aimed my way. I tried to break the spell, but nearly fell from fatigue. I could not. My breast hurt. She spoke to me ferociously. ‘I’ll kill the rest yet. I’m sorry for it, but perhaps not sorry enough. I love this, in some strange way. I’ll geld your boys and roast the girls, and I’ll start with you.’
‘I doubt you can beat them all,’ I said with growing anger for she threatened Dana and Lex, all my friends. Suddenly I was too angry to fear, perhaps so also for Ulrich’s betrayal. And for poor Alexei. ‘There is nothing more to this, then. Come,’ I told her venomously.
‘No, nothing more. Hope your silly wooden sword can handle this thing,’ she grinned as she lunged, dancing close though clumsily. She had not trained in such a sport. Few had.
But I had.
I was going to have to kill the girl if I could. I kept moving, sword at the ready, and tried to remember how to move my feet. Footwork, footwork, like Father had said and taught. Sword at the ready, pointing at her head, no, knee. I stumbled as she tried to flank me with a small rush. No, sword beside the right side of the head. I raised the sword away from her, the blade up in the air. Then, legs. Go back, step right, and keep the sword at the ready, I swore, staring at her eyes. I felt so clumsy. I tried to imagine the training, the ways of disciplined fighting. I was to beat her or die. I cursed myself, swearing aloud as Isabella smiled, thinking I was about to crumble. Instead, I was gathering strength.
I was the master of this rotten, shit filled room. I was the master of her.
She grinned, and I knew she was going to attack. I could see it in her eyes and the small tensing of her muscles. That too is something learned in training.
She shuffled forward, the fiery blade aiming for my face. She was thrusting as quickly as she could, but it was not really all that quick. I stepped aside, trying to forget the fiery blade and performed a thrust with all my strength, my foot slapping the ground and my arms pumping forward so the wooden sword point aimed for her throat. The thrust was enough, the result of weeks of tedious practice. She yelped, the spear disappeared in ashes as her mind let go of the spell of Fury, and she flew on her back, trying to breathe, struggling to get up. Her eyes were huge with fear, disappointment, and anger. I felt she was trying to cast a fiery wall, at least she was harnessing the Shades, and so I moved forward with tears in my eyes and struck down with all my energy, and hit her throat again. She jumped into the air with the power of the hit, gagging, gurgling, and crying, and then she died, her eyes losing the luster of life.
I dropped the sword, nearly gathering the healing power, but I was too horrified and tired to do so. I cried next to her, my long hair matted with the blood streaming from her mouth, and I realized she had bitten her tongue in pain.
The boy I had struck had not died, after all. He stood up behind me, cursed me thickly, and he called for the deadly spell that would leave me in a heap of bones, for I was beyond tired. I would die and I did not care, for I had deserved it. The boy’s ey
es went large as saucers, and he snarled. My muscles were screaming, my mind whirling, and the boy was going to get his vengeance.
Something moved behind the boy. A tip of a small wooden sword exploded from his eye. He fell.
Cherry popped out of a cindery, smoky spell, trembling with fatigue and smiled at me.
The horn blared forlornly.
We had won. I stared at the corpse Ulrich had burnt and I saw his heart blazing between a ribcage. I passed out.
PART 4: FINDINGS AND FAILURES
‘Those who demand the Devourer for favors often end up unhappy, their souls broken, just like a ship’s keel in a storm. We have a deal and do not ask for more.’
Euryale to Shannon
CHAPTER 15
I dreamt.
I saw Isabella’s face in flames, her arms reaching for me as she died. I dreamt I reached for her, trying to help, but could not, for all I found were flames. Her hand shot out from the inferno, clutching me by my throat. The hand did not burn. Indeed, it was not painful in the least, but it was choking me. I felt I was losing consciousness amidst fires, blades, and the last thing I saw was my sword on the ground, flaming to cinders. Isabella’s hand crumbled to dust.
Then, nothing. Shades, movement. Whispers, shouts, and a strange wailing noise.
I suddenly felt alive again. Sort of. I stared around and found I was seated on a sturdy horse. I lifted my arms and stared at an ornate, silvery armor, guarding all of my body. I realized I was wearing a mask, chiseled silver covering my face, a white fox framing it, and I pulled at the thing to see better. My sleeve was caught by a pair of twisted spears set on the saddle, a sad pennant of red forlornly flapping from each, and then I understood what the wail was.
The Dark Levy: Stories of the Nine Worlds (Ten Tears Chronicles - a dark fantasy action adventure Book 1) Page 26