Shardless

by Stephanie Fisher

  The mob thinned out quickly, and Skye wiped the sweat from his eyes as he watched the other shadow mages pick off the remaining stragglers. The few creatures that managed to regain their feet were quickly torn down and dismembered. Though it didn’t stop them from writhing and groaning on the ground, desperately searching for their missing limbs, it did stop their advance.

  Skye stared at the still-moving, disarticulated corpses. He couldn’t quite wrap his head around what he was seeing. He had a few ideas on how this might be possible, but every single one of them made his stomach churn. Not only that, he couldn’t figure out why this unknown, undead force had chosen to attack the compound directly. The front of the compound was fortified and nigh impenetrable when the gates were closed. And while these creatures’ movements were uncoordinated and jerky, they worked together far too well to be considered completely feral. It was almost as though they were being directed.

  Which left one question—what was their strategy?

  He felt it before he heard it. The ground started to tremble, and then a deafening explosion reverberated through the air, drowning out the din of battle.

  “The back of the compound!” someone screamed from the top wall. “They’re streaming in from the back of the compound!”

  “It’s a decoy!” Skye shouted, turning and sprinting back towards the wall, the broken trunk still in hand. The other shadow mages turned to follow him.

  As Skye leapt through the flames of the barricade, the heat assaulted his skin. Pulling another shadow crystal from his pocket, he yanked out the aether, supplementing it with the small amount he could find in the air nearby. Then, in one explosive movement, he jumped, clearing the edge of the 30-foot wall and landing with a heavy thud on the ramparts. The other shadow mages joined him a moment later, their boots thumping against the dense crystal of the wall in a dull, repetitive rhythm.

  From the top of the wall walk, Skye could see a swarm of the creatures streaming in through a jagged, smoking gap in the back wall of the compound. They almost looked like ants, spilling through the narrow opening as they rushed the small contingent of fire mages that tried to hold them back.

  While earth mages were rare on the island, there were two standing behind the fiery vanguard, their hands waving through the air as they shaped a green cloud of earth magic. Moments later, vines erupted from the ground, blocking off the gap in the wall and partially stemming the tide. The creatures clawed at the vegetation as they pushed and shoved each other, and the vines were already starting to bend under the strain of their frenzied assault. The flimsy barricade wouldn’t hold them back for long.

  Despite the momentary respite, dozens of the creatures had already forced their way into the interior courtyard. The corpses of civilians, both fey and mortal alike, littered the ground. Their lifeblood leaked into the dirt as the undead monsters tore into their flesh with gnashing teeth, and each spray of warm blood that spurted across their decayed skin just fed their growing frenzy.

  Bile burned at the back of Skye’s throat. They were feeding.

  The remaining citizens were frantically trying to retreat into the keep as the mages on the wall covered them, but they were moving too slow. A crowd of people surrounded the door, and the feverish undead picked them off from behind, working their way through the mass of panic-stricken civilians.

  “Your orders, Milord?” a stern female voice inquired from behind Skye. “The chain-of-command has been compromised. You’re now the highest-ranking officer in the compound.” At this comment, the other shadow mages eyed Skye with a new appreciation.

  Skye turned to find that he was being addressed by another Gate Watcher, one he immediately recognized despite the blackened blood and congealed gore that streaked her armor. Even in the midst of battle, Eula was a sight—all red lips and dark lashes. She held a rusted, metal pole in one hand, the dents in its surface a testament to her fighting prowess.

  “Where’s Commander Enix?” Skye asked, an edge of concern in his voice as he rounded on Eula.

  “Missing,” she answered curtly. “We don’t have time to go into the details. We need for you to assume command.”

  Skye hesitated as he watched the battle raging in the interior courtyard, but his resolve hardened a moment later. This wasn’t the time for doubt.

  “We need to give the earth mages time to patch the hole,” Skye stated decisively. He would have time to reflect on just how he had come to find himself commanding the Gate Watchers’ forces when they weren’t being attacked. “I’m going to try to hold them off from the inside with the rest of the casters. You and the other shadow mages—loop around and take out these bastards from behind.”

  “Yes, sire.” Eula bobbed her head before turning and stepping off the side of the wall without hesitation. The other shadow mages soon followed her example.

  With a shout, Skye did the same, effortlessly finding his footing as he dropped into the interior courtyard. “We need ice! Water mages, to me!”

  There was a clatter of boots behind him, and soon the other mages formed a rank in front of Skye. He pulled another crystal from his pocket and tugged at the latent aether in the air, creating a cloud of magic for the other mages to draw upon. A keen sense of satisfaction washed over him a moment later when a thick layer of glassy ice tangled the creatures’ legs, creeping up their bodies until they were completely encased. The frozen soldiers glistened in the late afternoon sun, a horrifying array of sculptures scattered throughout the courtyard.

  “Fire mages!” At his command, the fire mages moved to the front of the line. Fiery tendrils of swirling magic coiled around their hands before blasting out in front of them in a blaze. The ice-covered men shattered under the onslaught, their corpses falling to the ground in cindered, bloody fragments. The sound of breaking glass filled the air.

  Skye wiped at his face. The smoke from the fire mages’ spells stung his eyes. Turning to one of the fire mages beside him, he snapped, “Do we have air mages?”

  “No,” the boy replied. He couldn’t have been older than 16. “There was a small delegation that came through a few days ago, but they’ve already moved on to Ryme.”

  “What about earth mages?”

  “They’re tending to the wounded, sire.”

  “Unless it’s life or death, I want them filling that hole. Go get them and bring them here.”

  Skye jerked his head, gesturing towards the gap in the wall. The breach was small, but there were still too many of those things breaking through their defenses. The two earth mages tending to the barricade of thick, leafy vines were struggling under the weight of the spells, so Skye redirected what little aether he could pull from the air and sent it towards them in a wave.

  Turning back to the young fire mage, he saw that the boy was staring at the crumbling blockade with wide eyes. “What are you still doing here?” Skye demanded. “Go. Now!”

  “Sire.” The boy bobbed his head before turning and disappearing inside the keep.

  Raising his weapon, Skye moved forward, covering the few retreating fey civilians that still lingered in the courtyard. He couldn’t help but say a silent prayer of thanks that most of the remaining mortals and magicless had made it through the doors and were now holed up inside the keep.

  The mages still on the wall had managed to staunch the influx of creatures, so Skye swiped at the few corpses that had managed to escape the assault of elemental magic. They fell to the ground, their bodies jerking when he gave them a swift kick to the head, followed by a crushing blow of his club that shattered their bones and splattered their blood across the courtyard. They wouldn’t be getting back up.

  Then Skye was at the breach. He swung his club wildly as blasts of flame rocketed past him, but the creatures just kept coming, clawing and crawling over their comrades in a desperate attempt to make it inside the interior courtyard.

  Skye gave a shout, a wave of relief washing over him when the ground beneath his feet started to tremble. Moments later, the ea
rth cracked as the trunks of newly grown trees erupted from the ground in front of the breach, curling together and reinforcing the swiftly disintegrating barricade. The leafy stems thickened, turning brown as their trunks hardened.

  A loud cheer went up inside the keep. The mages still on the wall took out the last few remaining creatures, hitting first with ice and then with fire. More decaying flesh shattered, icy shards tumbling to the ground.

  Sweat dripped down Skye’s face and neck, and the ache in his muscles intensified as his aether began to dip. For the first time since the attack had started, he had enough room in his head to focus on the smell of these things. It was awful—rank and pungent but mixed with a sort of sickening sweetness. Like rot mixed with perfume.

  Skye tried to breathe through his mouth as he pulled another shadow crystal from his pocket. Siphoning off a small amount of magic, he propelled himself onto the back wall, landing with a pained grunt. To his great relief, the other shadow mages had managed to whittle down the remaining creatures outside the keep. Eula stood towards the back, directing the others as they pummeled and smashed the last of the undead force.

  It was over. Whatever this was, it was over. The wind changed course, and Skye leaned against the rampart, his chest rising and falling as he drew in heavy gulps of untainted air. He knew he needed to go back downstairs and find the strangely absent Gate Watchers’ leadership. So far, Eula was the highest-ranked member he had come across, but, as Ivain’s Precept, he still out-ranked her. That was troubling. Where was Commander Enix? Where were his Precept and his lieutenants?

  From the top of the wall, Skye could see decaying corpses that still thrashed about in the interior courtyard, still groping for the feet of those that stepped over them. He could hear crying down below, piercing wails that carried on the wind as fey and mortals alike mourned over their loved ones that hadn’t managed to escape to the safety of the keep in time. Desperation and sorrow were written across the faces of those still living, sketched in their frantic movements as they tried but ultimately failed to find that vital, pulsing rhythm in those whose bodies now lay broken on the pavement.

  He should go to them—help tend to the wounded and find the Gate Watcher leadership. That was what his sense of duty demanded of him.

  But as he pushed himself to his feet, wiping away a trickle of blood from a cut on his chin that was ever-so-slowly knitting itself back together now that he barely had enough aether to soothe his ragged breaths, he could only think about one thing.

  Taly. Where is Taly?

  Chapter 17

  -An excerpt from the Practical Guide to Hyaline Harmonic Analysis

  A relic from the Age of the Faera, the scrying relays enable long-range communication by taking advantage of the harmonizing properties of hyaline. Though hyaline crystal does not conduct aether, its frequency can be tuned in such a way that it will connect with another relay set to the same frequency.

  Over time, this technology has been adapted to include glamour interfaces as well as data transfer capabilities, and improvements in the harmonizing efficiency of the hyaline crystals have dramatically increased the communication range. Unfortunately, the dimensional gates on Tempris still pose a major problem to long-range signal transmission. When the gates are open, there is no impediment to the relay signals, and communication between worlds is possible. However, when the gates are closed, the discrepancies in the flow of time between realms makes tuning the hyaline harmonizing prisms almost impossible. It has been theorized that the incorporation of a time crystal into the interface might overcome this impediment, but Queen Raine’s researchers were unable to produce a viable prototype prior to the Schism.

  During the 25,658th year of our Lady Raine, the first handheld communication system was introduced. Most historians agree that, without this device, House Ghislain’s victory at the Battle of Raporum would not have been possible.

  Taly sagged against the side of a building, one hand pressed against the gash on her hip. She held Zephyr in her free hand, her thumb hovering over the tiny crystal switch that would deploy a gale of air magic at a moment’s notice.

  She’d finally managed to shake the mob of undead creatures that had been pursuing her, but in doing so, she had ended up somewhere unfamiliar. Just before she’d come upon the market square, she had almost run straight into a veritable horde of those things, and she had been forced to duck down a side street to avoid drawing attention to herself. She’d had a hard enough time with the smaller group she’d fought off when she wasn’t exhausted and wounded. If the burning in her lungs was anything to go by, she had a feeling she wouldn’t be able to muster any more magic if she was forced to face off with another group of those creatures.

  Not that she felt she could reliably summon her aether at this point anyway.

  The clatter of boots echoed off the walls of the burned-out buildings, drawing closer. Ducking behind a crate, Taly clutched Zephyr in a white-knuckled grip. She saw their shadows first—elongated distortions of obscured light that crept around the corner. Eventually, a group of hooded figures emerged, their swords held at their sides. They were silent as they marched through the middle of the street, their heads darting side-to-side as they surveyed the area.

  Holding her breath, Taly shrank back against the nearby wall, willing her hands to stop shaking as she thumbed the small toggle. She had no way to tell if this group of strangers was friend or foe, and she didn’t want to risk finding out.

  For a moment, it looked as though they were going to pass by her without incident, but as the last of the small troop filed past, the wind changed direction. A cool breeze ruffled Taly’s hair, making her skin prickle, and the figure closest to where she hid stopped. He tilted his head, raising a hand as he murmured something to the others. Taly couldn’t hear what he said, but his comrades halted and readied their swords.

  She depressed the switch—not enough to fire off a blast but enough that she could feel the magic start to stir. She needed to be ready to defend herself, just in case…

  In a blur, the hooded figure rushed at her, flinging aside the crates like they weighed nothing. A gale of air spiraled out from the tip of Taly’s dagger, hitting the attacker square in the chest. She heard a muted grunt, but he didn’t even stagger as he continued moving forward.

  Taly didn’t have anywhere to retreat, so when he was in range, she thrust her dagger at his belly. She felt the firm resistance of armor beneath the tip of the blade and heard the rip of fabric. Digging her heels into the ground, she threw her weight behind the attack, a grim smile playing at the corners of her mouth when she felt a warm trickle of blood drip across her hand. She moved to depress the toggle again, but the figure’s hand shot out in a lightning-fast movement and grabbed her wrist. He gave her a rough jerk, unsheathing her dagger as he twisted her arm around and shoved her against the wall. The shadow crystals in Zephyr’s grip started to cool as the aether drained away.

  Taly’s entire body trembled as the hooded figure leaned in and gave her a long sniff. His breath felt warm, and his sharp exhale ruffled the loose tendrils of hair at her neck.

  “Stand down! It’s just a human!” a male voice called out.

  She felt the man shift behind her as he leaned in and whispered in her ear, “I’m going to let you go now. Please don’t stab me again.”

  As soon as he released her arm, she shoved him off, whirling around and holding her dagger at the ready. The man backed up a step and held up his hands in surrender. In the dim light, she could see that his face, though pale and drawn, was flush with life.

  Never thought I’d be glad to see a fey on the other end of my dagger.

  “Woah now,” he said, his warm russet eyes trained on her blade. “I’m on your side.”

  “So you say,” Taly muttered. “Who are you?”

  The man pointed to his hood before cautiously pulling back the covering to reveal a shock of brassy hair. There was a smattering of freckles decorating his nose, making him
look boyish and young. The stark, unnaturally vibrant color of his eyes, however, told Taly that he was probably anything but. “My name’s Kit,” he said. “I’m with the Gate Watchers.”

  Taly felt the air leave her lungs in a whoosh. “Thank the Shards,” she panted. “My friend, Skye… no, Lord Skylen Emrys… he’s with the Gate Watchers. The last time I saw him, he was headed to the compound. I need to find him.”

  “Well now,” Kit drawled, his accent smooth and refined, “it sounds like you have some friends in high places. I know Lord Emrys by reputation, but I can’t say that I’ve seen him. But then again, I haven’t been back to the compound since this morning.”

  “We need to keep moving.” A woman moved to stand behind Kit. Her pale violet eyes and white-blonde hair stood out in stark contrast to her flawless umber skin.

  They’re both highborn, Taly thought warily. In fact, most of the small group of men and women crowding the narrow street stared at her through eyes that were just a little too bright in the dim evening light.

  “I’m aware, Adanna,” Kit said, glancing at the strikingly beautiful woman. “But the girl is scared. Give me a moment.”

  “You’re from House Bontu, aren’t you?” Taly asked the woman.

  Adanna gave Taly a dazzling if somewhat patronizing smile. “Yes, little human. How did you know my household?”

  “Your eyes,” Taly replied, readjusting her grip on her dagger in an attempt to hide the tremble that shook her hands. “I met your brother once—Charli—when he was trying to negotiate a deal for shadow crystals with Lord Castaro. He had the same eyes.”

  Adanna leaned in and whispered something to Kit. His lips thinned, and he nodded in response. “You seem to be well acquainted with quite a few important people—for a human, that is. And your diction is too good for an islander.”