The Purifying Fire: A Planeswalker Novel

by Laura Resnick

  The tall spire of the Sanctum, high overhead, had started to sway. The gargoyles that squatted around it reacted slowly, their wings shuddering uncertainly as they unfolded from their hunched positions and prepared to take flight. Inside the building, all the soldiers and both mind mages were probably already dead; if not, then they would die within moments.

  The massive spire toppled and fell. The Sanctum of Stars completely collapsed. It seemed to happen with a horrific slowness. The immense weight of cracking, falling stone created a terrifying roar. People in the streets were screaming in panic and fleeing to safety. Chandra turned and fled, too.

  The enormous impact of the Sanctum collapsing on itself hurled rocks, flames, ashes, dust, and debris across the main square and down the length of every surrounding street. Chandra was knocked off her feet when the ground shook and a wave of rock and ash hurled her forward. Someone trampled her prone body as they ran headlong from the disaster. Winded and in pain, Chandra was lying face down in the street, debris still showering down on her as the dust of pulverized stone filled her lungs.

  Coughing and bleeding, she lay there in a daze.

  Fire above, the whole thing! The whole building! I didn’t mean to do that.

  The screams of children filled her ears. She heard a woman wailing. A horse was whinnying in terror.

  She had just wanted to escape alive with the scroll.

  Dead soldiers? Sure. Dead telepaths? Fair game.

  But she hadn’t meant to destroy a whole section of the city, terrorizing all of its citizens and perhaps killing innocents.

  Pull yourself together. Come on! Get up. Get out of here—or you’ll be joining the dead.

  Coughing and shaking, she rose to her feet. The scroll was still in her hand. She looked down at it, trying to think.

  She couldn’t planeswalk. Not under these circumstances. And not with her strength so depleted. She didn’t have anything left right now. She needed to regroup and get a handle on things.

  Still coughing, she staggered down the street, away from the Sanctum, going in the same direction as the fleeing crowd. By the time she felt she really needed to sit down, she was well beyond the dust, debris, and milling panic. Many people were filling the market street where she stopped to rest. News of the disaster, as well as varied explanations for it, circulated quickly.

  Someone who saw her sitting in a dazed slump on the street kindly offered her food and water. Chandra realized she was shaking with fatigue, and accepted gratefully. She hadn’t really thought she was hungry, but once she started eating, she discovered she was ravenous. She consumed the food as greedily as a growing boy who hadn’t eaten in two days. She was thirsty, too, after all the dust that had coated her throat when the Sanctum collapsed. She drank her fill, then poured water over her head, neck, and hands, washing away blood, dust, and filth.

  Only then did she look skyward and realize that the hunt was already on for her.

  She saw gargoyles flying overhead, their big wings spread wide and their spindly legs trailing behind their pudgy bodies as they patrolled the sky. She could see two of them directly above. Just as one would expect from creatures made of stone, they were remarkably thorough and methodical in their work. The two of them moved back and forth across the sky in an even, intersecting pattern, switching each other’s route to double-check a section of ground with another implacable set of eyes.

  Chandra moved slowly, so as not to attract their attention as she scooted beneath a street merchant’s canopy to shield herself from their view.

  She wondered just how well those gargoyles could see; if they could spot her red hair from overhead. She needed to cover it up again even if they did they have some other means of detecting her. How many of them were hovering over the city? She was too weak right now to deal with them if they plucked her off the street.

  Within moments, she noticed something even more alarming. The woman who had given her food a little while ago was now pointing her out to a man. Or, rather, pointing to the spot where Chandra had been sitting a moment ago. The woman was frowning in perplexity as she scanned the street, looking for where she might have gone.

  “She was just there, so she can’t have gone far,” is what Chandra guessed the woman said to the man as she searched the street with her eyes.

  He wasn’t wearing the uniform of a Sanctum guard, or of the Prelate’s soldiers, but he looked far from innocuous.

  He was older than Chandra, but he was still young, late twenties, maybe thirty. He was taller than average, but only by a little. He had fair skin, blue eyes, and black hair. When he turned his head, she saw that his hair was long and wavy, and tied neatly at the back of his neck. He was dressed simply—tan pants and top, with scuffed leather boots and a well-worn dark leather vest. There was a small coin purse attached to his belt, along with something else that looked like a tool or a weapon. It was shiny, like metal, and coiled like rope—or a like a whip.

  He looked lithe, agile, and fit. More than that, he looked as alert as a wild animal scenting prey. His movements were economical—even something as simple as the turn of his head, when his gaze sought her out under the merchant’s canopy. He didn’t waste motion or squander energy.

  And his face didn’t give away any reaction when he saw her.

  He nodded politely to the other woman without taking his gaze off Chandra, as if aware she’d use the slightest opportunity to bolt. His eyes held hers as he approached her. He didn’t hurry, but his walk was direct and purposeful.

  She rose to feet, her heart racing as she tried to summon the power to defend herself. But she was still too weak right now. She hadn’t paced herself or conserved any strength. Back there in the Sanctum of Stars, she had thought only about living through her confrontation. She hadn’t thought about what she would do afterwards.

  Several oft-repeated lectures of Mother Luti’s floated briefly through her mind. She needed to pace herself, control her power, and manage her emotions with more discipline. She needed to learn the limits of her strength and ration it intelligently in her magic.

  And not just the limits. She needed to learn the extent of her power, too, and how to master it. She thought of the collapsing Sanctum and the chaos in the streets of Kephalai, and she felt the weight of that deed.

  Chandra’s gaze remained locked with that of the approaching stranger. She couldn’t enter the æther and escape him that way. She couldn’t call forth fire and fight him. She felt naked as he stopped and stood before her.

  His gaze released hers as he took in her appearance, looking her over from head to toe. It wasn’t insolent, insulting, or sympathetic. He simply seemed to acknowledge her bedraggled condition and the event that had caused it.

  Then he said, “Chandra Nalaar.” It wasn’t a question.

  She shifted her weight. Since he was obviously looking for her, she wasn’t really surprised that he knew her name. It seemed everyone did these days. But it made her uneasy, even so.

  She asked, “Who are you?”

  “My name is Gideon.”

  “And what’s that to me?”

  “I think we should get you out of here.”

  “What?” she said.

  He glanced around. Just a slight turn of his chin, a quick flicker of his eyes to encompass the street scene and the gargoyle guardians overhead. “This situation is volatile. We should leave.”

  “Who are you?”

  “We have very little time.”

  “Then answer my question quickly,” she snapped.

  “What happened back there,” he said quietly, tilting his head to indicate the disaster at the Sanctum of Stars. “That was you.”

  She didn’t respond.

  He prodded, “Wasn’t it?” When she remained unresponsive, he said, “Of course it was. Who else could have done it?”

  “You’d better back up and tell me how you even know who I am.” She was starting to think he wasn’t working for the Prelate, or the ruined Sanctum.

/>   “You’ve been making yourself conspicuous,” he said.

  “Maybe so. But you haven’t. So I suggest you start explaining.”

  “What was it?” He lowered his voice so they wouldn’t be overheard, but some emotion showed now. Tension? Disdain? She wasn’t sure. “A explosion of that size? Inside the Sanctum?” She didn’t deny it, and he whispered, “What were you thinking?”

  She admitted wearily, “I was just thinking about surviving.”

  His gaze dropped to the scroll clutched in her hand. “And also about stealing?”

  “All right, fine, so I’m a bad person,” she said. “I had a troubled youth.”

  “You’re still having a troubled youth.”

  “All the more reason to stay away from me, Gideon.” She turned to go.

  His grip on her arm stopped her. “Hunting you down has been troublesome. I don’t intend to go through it twice.”

  She stared at him. “Why have you been hunting me down?”

  He looked past her and, though he didn’t move, she sensed his tension increase sharply. “Never mind that now. I think we both know why they’re hunting you down.”

  She turned to follow his gaze and saw half a dozen soldiers heading this way. She turned to escape in the other direction, only to see soldiers approaching from there, too.

  “Are you their scout?” she demanded.

  “No, I was hoping to avoid this.” He looked up at the gruesome sky patrol. “And I think you may have been spotted from above, as well.”

  “Now what?”

  “They’re going to take you into custody.” He added, “I hope you have a high threshold for pain.”

  Adrenaline surged through her, and she felt herself getting her second wind. “I think I can fight.”

  “No!”

  “Will you help?”

  “No”

  “Then get out of the way!”

  Chandra felt stronger. She was thinking about survival again, and fear had a wonderfully energizing effect.

  As the soldiers approached her from both sides in the crowded street, she felt heat start to flow through her, welcome and inspiring. She felt the fire moving through her blood once more.

  Gideon moved swiftly. He grabbed the thing hanging from his belt—that coil of metal. It unfurled in his hand, glowing so brightly that Chandra was distracted. He swung his arm, and then the thing was twining around her.

  “No!” she said, shocked and caught off guard. “Stop!”

  It had broad, flexible blades and sharp edges, and it was cold … so cold. It tightened around her, constricting her, stifling her breath. And its terrible cold trapped her fire, contained her heat, smothered her rage … As she struggled for air and shivered with cold, the weapon robbed her of consciousness.

  But just before everything went black, she thought she heard him say, “I’m sorry.”

  When Chandra opened her eyes, she found herself staring into the beady eyes of a black snake. Its tongue flicked out at her. She flinched and tried to move back, but couldn’t. Her back was flat against a wall, her limbs uncomfortably chained in a spread-eagle position. Bound by her wrists and ankles, her movement was almost totally restricted.

  As the snake’s big face moved even closer, Chandra turned her head and made a stifled sound of protest. She really didn’t like snakes.

  “Ah.” Someone spoke in a low, breathy voice. “It’sss awake.”

  She gaped at the snake. “Excuse me?” Her voice was a dry croak.

  But the snake said nothing more for the moment.

  Chandra blinked and tried to focus her vision. That was when she realized the “snake” was standing upright on a set of legs and wearing a black robe with a hood.

  “Oh.” She groaned as the realization penetrated her confusion. “You must be one of the Enervants I’ve heard so much about?”

  “Yesss.”

  Her mistake was understandable. It was standing so close to her that its head almost entirely filled her field of vision. And from the neck up, this thing looked exactly like a snake. A big one.

  She looked down and saw that it had hands; hands that were thin, almost delicate, and scaly black with long wrinkled fingernails. Strangely a snake with hands made sense to Chandra at this point. Actual snakes were pretty limited in their activities, after all; and none, so far as she knew, spoke or practiced magic.

  Chandra wasn’t sure what to make of these creatures, but she was sure they wouldn’t like the inferno she was going to bring. But as she struggled against her bonds, she realized that she could barely move. And it wasn’t because the chains were that tight. She felt absolutely exhausted, as if she hadn’t eaten or slept for days.

  Blinking a few times to clear her foggy vision, she looked at her surroundings. She was clearly being held in a dungeon. Stone walls, floor, and ceiling. No windows. No torches, either. No candles, no fire, no flames of any kind.

  The only illumination in the room came from slimy-looking phosphorescent things clinging to the walls here and there. Chandra guessed that the snakelike sorcerers had brought them here from whatever swamp they called home.

  With such faint light and no windows, the room was dark, stuffy, and dank. And it stank.

  The odor of damp decay, she suspected, was coming from her companions. There were seven Enervants in the room with her. One was still peering into her face; its tongue flicked in and out every few moments, as if testing Chandra’s scent. The other six, who all looked just like the first one, were gliding silently around the room in a figure eight. Their bodies were evenly spaced as they followed the pattern at a steady pace. Their paths steadily intersected without ever bumping into each other or pausing in their flow.

  Chandra found it eerie. “What are they doing?”

  She coughed a little as she spoke. Her throat was dry and she was dying of thirst. But she’d be damned if she’d ask for anything.

  To her surprise, her captor answered her. “Gathering ssstrength.”

  “Oh. Can’t they do that elsewhere?”

  The Enervant didn’t answer. It just kept staring at her.

  She tried another question. “Where am I? The Prelate’s dungeon?”

  The snake nodded, its head moving on its muscular neck in a slow, sinewy motion.

  She tried to think of what else she wanted to ask, but she was so tired. It was hard to pull her thoughts together or make the effort to speak.

  Chandra tried to remember what had happened to put her in this position.

  She remembered the man, Gideon, and his weapon. She had never seen anything like it, but she was reasonably certain that he had used some form white-mana based magic to subdue her. Even in her weakened state, the weapon alone could not have pulled her into unconsciousness like that.

  As if the Order back on Regatha weren’t burden enough, she was in a dungeon on Kephalai because of some interfering heiromancer? But why would he be in league with these creatures? It didn’t seem right.

  Chandra remembered the feel of those coldly glowing white blades wrapping around her, constricting her, and trapping the flow of her fire. Imprisoning her power within her, so that she couldn’t fight or defend herself. Or even breathe …

  It surprised her that this Gideon wielded magic. She hadn’t taken him for a mage. He looked like a warrior to her. Or maybe a tracker of some kind; one with special skills for an unusual quarry.

  Chandra frowned, puzzled.

  In that case, where was he now? Had he given her over, or had he abandoned his prey to superior forces?

  Admittedly, Chandra hadn’t been at her best just then, but Gideon’s strength was impressive. Given that he was powerful, as well as quick with his hands, surely he didn’t have to back down in the face of a few soldiers?

  Perhaps he had decided he couldn’t take on the soldiers and the gargoyles at the same time.

  As Chandra watched the Enervants silently gliding through their pattern over and over in the dark dungeon, she realized that if Gi
deon had been ordered to kill her, then letting the Prelate’s men have her might accomplish his goal.

  But she wasn’t sure he would leave such a thing to chance.

  Chandra tugged against her chains, testing their strength as well as her own, and started thinking about how to get out of there.

  She reached out with her senses, hoping to tap into the flow of mana. Even though she could feel its presence, she was having trouble concentrating enough to establish a solid bond.

  What was wrong with her?

  The Enervant who was guarding her suddenly hissed and turned its head away from her, which was something of a relief. She didn’t enjoy being the object of its unwavering, beady-eyed stare. Its attention was focused on the narrow metal door across the room. Chandra looked that way, too, wondering what had drawn its interest.

  A moment later, the hinges whined a little as the door opened.

  “Oh, goody,” Chandra said. “Visitors.”

  Two of the Prelate’s soldiers entered, accompanied by another who she assumed was a telepath. Based on her physical appearance, Chandra assumed the woman belonged to the same order as the two mages who had died in the Sanctum of Stars earlier that day. Or had it been the day before? Come to think of it, Chandra had no idea how long she had been chained unconscious in this room, although the stiffness in her limbs suggested it had been a while.

  The Enervants didn’t look up at the newcomers, didn’t even pause in their perambulations. They just kept moving back and forth silently, tracing their figure eight on the floor, over and over and over.

  “Just watching them makes me tired,” Chandra said as the mage, moving around the snake-headed wizards, approached her.

  “No,” said the woman. “It is not the watching. It is what you are watching.”

  “That is not a very encouraging start to this conversation,” Chandra muttered.

  “We are not here to encourage. Quite the opposite, really.”

  Chandra eyed her.

  “They are Enervants.” The mage nodded toward the six individuals moving steadily in their pattern. “This is their work.”