by J. T. Hartke
Sneering, the warrior took a long swig directly from a nearby wine bottle, draining it in a few gulps. He wiped the dripping red liquid from his chin with a belch, and threw the bottle aside to crash into the stone wall. “Only that Sargash has shared a great deal of counsel with our master, Galdreth. That he brings the great clan not far behind my Slayers. We will join your horde, Warchief.”
Slar listened intently to the tone of Libor’s last word. It held respect, though not much. “Then you may go, Captain. Take rest, and when the remainder of your clan arrives, our combined horde will march out to join the forward forces.”
Libor stood his ground. “There is another thing, a message I was to deliver to you from our master.”
Straightening, Slar took a quick breath. Galdreth communicates to me through another! The long quiet twinge in his stomach burned with a quick flare. I might be thankful to have some of this burden taken, if I believed Galdreth or Sargash would allow me to survive.
Disgust rising in his gut, Slar hooked his thumbs on his belt. “And what is this message?”
Libor folded his arms. “My Mageslayers and I are to chase down and capture the master’s vessel.”
A spurt of acid burned up Slar’s throat, and he fought not to wince. “A wise decision, as is always the case with Galdreth.” He took a few steps toward the window to cover a swallow and grimace. “You will leave with the dawn.” He held up a hand to forestall the protest brewing in Libor’s face. “As Warchief, I insist you remain as my guests tonight. Rest your men, and they will be better able to hunt the vessel. I will also have some of my own join you.”
The growing anger on Libor’s visage deepened until he sputtered, “I must protest…Warchief. My men work best alone.”
“Do you have shamans?” Slar asked.
“Four,” the warrior replied, “and each can wield a blade as well as Fire.”
Forcing down the rage, Slar kept his expression smooth. “You do not go to slay a mage, Captain. You go to capture one.” He tapped one claw upon the wooden table. “I will send two Boar shamans with you. They have learned a trick to seal a wizard off from his power.”
Libor pursed thick lips, his brow smoothing. “Can these shamans of yours move swift and silent? Can they go three days with no water and five with no food? My men move fast, Warchief.” He folded his arms. “If they come with us, they must keep up. I will not slow my squad for fat holy men.”
Along with the pounding of his blood, the heat in Slar’s stomach seemed to rise to his ears. He struggled to hide his desire to tear out this orc’s throat. “These are war shamans who smashed the great fortress of the southern armies! While Sargash worried where to take his morning crap, they burned the humans, elves, and dwarves out of Highspur!” He heaved the table over, throwing papers and writing skins all about the library. Libor took a startled step back. Slar eased his tone only slightly, and swallowed the spittle gathered in his mouth. “I will not have you question their strength or their honor. They will join you when you leave in the morning.”
A confrontational scowl returning to his face, Libor attempted to speak, but Slar cut him off. “I have twenty thousand warriors leaving camp today to join our forward battalions. I will not have you interfere with their leaving.” Slar rehooked his fingers behind his sword belt, his anger at last coming in check. “Look through our store rooms. Visit our forge master. Take anything you need or desire that is not already claimed by another. Eat and rest well tonight. Take one of the camp women, and then leave with the dawn.”
Libor’s dour expression softened when Slar mentioned women. He began to bow, but turned it into a dip to grab a map of the southern kingdoms from the detritus scattered on the floor. Smiling at it, he rose and turned. “Very well, Warchief.”
Slar clenched his fist until he felt blood run in his palm. His words should be, ‘At your command’. I will forgive that, for now, but I will not forget it. He glared at the hulking orc’s back as he left, drops of blood dripping from between his fingers to splatter on the southron carpet.
“Sergeant!” he hollered at the door. It opened to reveal the sharp-faced orc warrior who had announced Libor’s arrival. “Bring Ortax and his good friend Brother Aern. They have a long journey to prepare for.”
Resuming his dour stare through the glass panes, Slar watched the sun dip toward the distant sea. Mud-stained white snow spread to the horizon, broken only by the line of the Norvus River. He imagined Grindar’s ashes mixing with the land – how this spring they would be part of a great field of green, speckled with a rainbow of wildflowers. The acid in his stomach settled somewhat.
The door opened behind him and he heard three pairs of boots enter.
“The Brothers you requested, Warchief.” The heavy steps of his guard left, closing the door behind.
Slar turned. Ortax stood with his staff planted, while the skinny orc beside him bowed his head. I hate to lose that one in council, but he is the only shaman with the right powers.
“So an emissary from the Mammoth has arrived, and Galdreth has ordered them on a mission to capture the vessel.” Slar spoke quickly to prevent any opposition from Ortax. “I will need someone I can trust to go with them. Not only do you carry one of the last tracing stones, but you are my only choice, Brother Ortax. One of my sons is dead, the other has gone. Radgred and Fargon lead our forward army.” He looked at the other shaman. “And you, Brother Aern, you are the only orc with the right power to capture a mage, or so Ortax tells me.”
Aern bowed low. “There is not a shaman I have met that can touch their power once I have blinded them with my magic.”
After the many deaths during the final assault on Highspur, Brother Ortax had become much less contentious, more withdrawn. “That is true, Warchief. Even I cannot touch the Fires when he sets off his spell.”
Slar stepped forward to lean closer. He kept his voice low and conspiratorial. “I will send a few stout warriors with you. This Mammoth captain is a brute and a blowhard, but I do not doubt his abilities. He has shamans in his squad, but I have a feeling their powers are more for killing than capturing. Their company is called the Mageslayers, and he seemed very proud of this.” He lowered his tone to a whisper. “You must see that Galdreth’s commands are followed, and that the vessel is brought back alive and unspoiled.”
“As you command, Warchief,” Brother Aern called, bowing further.
I will miss this one’s deference for certain.
“Powers of mine, awaken within, and cast mine enemies down.” – The wizard Fadran, “The Fell Tower” Act IV, Scene 3
Tallen twisted his head in frantic search for another exit from the doctor’s office. A dozen bookshelves lined the walls, as well as a tall, standing mirror. He looked behind it first, seeing only bare plaster. Then his hands flew to the bookshelves, ripping away dozens of volumes, desperate to find a hidden latch or handle.
“Maddi!” he called again heedless of anything but his search.
“I’m not that easy, young man.”
Before Tallen could turn to see the speaker, a blast of Air crashed into him, knocking his body across the doctor’s desk. Pain lanced up his side, forcing his breath from his lungs. He felt another attack coming and threw up a shield of Earth. It held against the lash of power. Fighting a twinge of pain in his hip, he twisted to see Marten’s secretary, free of the web he had set around her. She threw two more lashes of Air at him, but he needed only to shift a portion of his power into the shield to deflect them. Drawing even further on the Aspects within his mind, he pushed the shield toward the mage. It blasted forward, knocking her back through the doorway.
Without hesitation, Tallen charged after her. He pulled on Fire and held at the edge of adding a touch of Water. If she won’t stay down, I’ll finish this.
Two chairs from the outer office flew at him. He released the Fire and drew on Earth. Mixing it with th
e Water he already held, he forced the blend of power into the hurtling furniture. The carved chairs shattered, showering the area with splinters. A quick sphere of hard Air protected his body from the wooden shrapnel.
Before he could prepare lightning again, the mage threw her desk at him. Tallen hardened his sphere with even more power, and the desk crashed to the floor at his feet.
“You could be more creative,” he called, stepping to the side in the hope he could get a view of his attacker.
The floorboards underneath his feet suddenly ripped up from their joists, the nails flying about with more shards of wood. His sphere protected him again from the debris, but gravity took hold of his body, and he crashed through the plaster ceiling of the room below. When he slammed into the next floor, his sphere of Air shattered, as did the wrist of his left hand when it caught the brunt of his fall. Pain lanced up his arm, breaking the connection to his power. The Aspects blurred behind a shock of pain, and he scrambled to find his breath. Kicking his legs wildly, he scurried to the edge of the empty classroom in which he had landed.
Quit giving her advice, dummy! His breaths came quick and anxious. Calm down and use your damn head!
A deep inhalation calmed him, and he pushed his mind past the pain. Even though still dazed, he found his power, all the Aspects coalescing within his perception. Psoul called to him and he embraced it, his nerves settling at its touch. He reached out, finding the mage just a few yards down the hall, exiting slowly from the staircase. She held a great deal of Air, enough to crush him in a single blow. A flash of panic welled in his chest, and his thoughts began to scatter.
Concentrate! He heard the shout in Dorias’ voice inside his head, chiding him for losing his focus.
Delving further into the Psoul Aspect, Tallen searched the image of the woman that appeared in his mind’s eye. He poured more of himself toward her as she crept along the hall. The bright shape of her spirit pulsed, and he found the pump driving it within her chest. He searched it, seeing how it drove the life energy through her body. A question formed in his mind, and to answer it, he reached out and squeezed that pump, choking it off with his power.
A clatter sounded from the hall, and the mage winked from his perception. Tallen let go of the Aspects, and the pain rushed back into his senses. He winced and struggled to his feet, cradling his broken wrist. While stumbling through the detritus of his fall, he regained the good sense to wrap himself in another bubble of Air. He poured all the power he could into it, hardening it with Earth. Readying the largest blast of lightning he could safely set off within the hall, he leaned around the corner.
The body of the mage lay crumpled on the floor. She did not move, and he sensed no power within her. Kneeling down, Tallen let go of his lightning bolt, but held the shield of Air and Earth. He reached out to touch the secretary, whose hair still sat in a near perfect bun. Her skin felt cold, and she did not draw breath. He leaned closer to see that her eyes stared blankly at the wall.
Tallen slumped to the floor, letting go of his shield of magic. The pain in his wrist had dulled, and his hand throbbed red. However, he could not turn away from the woman in the hallway – the cold body of a dead mage. I’ve never killed someone before. I never thought I would kill a woman.
For a long moment he sat there, while his pain hid underneath a deep sadness at what he had done. Even though he had always imagined himself capable of killing to protect himself or someone he loved, the actual act left him strangely disturbed. All of it threatened to overwhelm him. Then a face leaped into his memory.
“Maddi!” Clasping his wrist, Tallen thrust to his feet and charged up the stairs. His breath came quickly as he entered the doctor’s office.
Pausing, he embraced his power through the pain that throbbed up his arm. Tallen pulled at the Psoul Aspect, drawing only a small amount of its quicksilver fog into his mind. He then spread it out about him, searching the room with its tendrils. He found Maddi’s trail, much as he had earlier in the day. Several other life patterns crossed it, ones he did not recognize. But hers was unmistakable, and Tallen followed it to a shelf stacked with medical journals.
He took up Air, a large amount of it, and the shelf ripped away in the grip of his magic. Behind, a narrow staircase descended between stone walls. Tallen used Psoul to follow the trail of Maddi’s life pattern into the tunnel, creating a small ball of Fire and Air to light his way.
For quite a few yards the tunnel twisted and turned between the walls of various rooms, but Tallen could sense Maddi’s trail with ease. Down another long, steep flight of stairs he descended. Cold dampness let him know he was below ground. His little pool of light faded in the distance. He ran along the tunnel, desperate to ignore the pain of his injury, a sense of hurried dread roiling in his guts.
With every step, his wrist throbbed and his fingers felt numb. Whenever he tried to flex them, bolts of pain shot up his arm. He struggled to ignore it, but his steps slowed with no regard for his will. Even his desire to save Maddi could not drive him past the pain.
Tallen cursed into the dank corridor. Damn the Waters, I wish I knew how to heal myself. The throbbing drew so much of his attention that he almost missed the shadow leaping at him from the edge of his pool of light.
With his power already in his grasp, it took only a fraction of a second to lash out with Earth-hardened Air. The dull, wet thunk of a crushed abdomen reached his ear as the attacker’s body flew back into the darkness. Tallen reached out again with a mist of Psoul, finding one more armed man ahead. I’m tired of this fight. I have to find Maddi. He dipped into the man’s life pattern, crushing the throbbing force he found there.
Without a second glance, Tallen stepped over the already-cooling corpse.
Just ahead, he sensed Maddi next to the bare flicker of another pattern. Her form remained clear to him, but he did not recognize the smaller one. Two other patterns stood nearby, one roiling with what Tomas called psahn.
It feels somewhat like the Psoul Aspect, but different, sort of…distilled.
Tallen dashed the last few steps at a run. He stretched to snuff the life force of the two men hovering over Maddi, but the distance, combined with his pain and extended use of power, stymied his efforts. Varana told me that I must remember no pool is inexhaustible. I must reserve some strength.
He drew back with his Psoul mist and dimmed the magical light. Once he closed more of the distance, he reached out again with the Psoul Aspect to find the men. Maddi huddled before them, her life pattern flickering.
“Maddi!” Tallen squeezed the easier target, dropping another armed hireling. He reached to the second pattern, prepared to do the same. But before he could infuse the target with his Psoul energy, the pattern snapped back at him. Beyond the strange draining of his reservoir of Psoul, Tallen felt the concussion physically. He collapsed to his side. The pain in his broken wrist throbbed back to the front of his perception, threatening to overwhelm his consciousness. He cried out in agony and lost all sense of the others ahead.
Floating on the edge of awareness, he willed himself to focus. He brought himself back from the edge of the abyss, and forced his body and his mind to work.
Fighting the pain and rage threatening to drown him, Tallen staggered to his feet and took a breath. He could not call for the Psoul mist; the shimmering Aspect slipped from his grasp, his connection dimmed by the counterattack. Air, however, came at his summons, and he threw a tentative shield in front of himself. A few stumbling steps farther and Tallen walked into torchlight.
A figure stood up before him, shadowed by torches. He reached for a little more Air to lash out at it.
“Tallen, stop, it’s me!” Maddi’s voice called from the dark. “Marten ran down one of the tunnels when his guard died. It’s alright.”
Releasing his power with a groan, Tallen collapsed to his knees. The pain in his arm rushed back with his magic gone, and his sense
of the Aspects fled from his mind.
“Here,” Maddi whispered, putting one arm around him. “Let me help.”
When she tapped into her Talent, Tallen felt it, almost like when another wizard embraced his power. He sensed Maddi’s psahn flowing into him, and his wrist began to knit itself back together. A stab of agony coursed through his body as she shifted the bones with her hand. Then the pain flooding his mind faded at her touch, and the numbness in his fingers disappeared. Their color returned to normal, and he flexed them without discomfort.
“Thanks,” he sighed. For the first time, he noticed that a chain held her to the wall. He ripped the lock apart with a slice of Earth. “The mage secretary…she was stronger than I thought.”
Rubbing her wrist, Maddi smiled at him. “She was probably just smarter than you thought.” She stepped away, her attention on a small bundle leaning against the cavern wall. “Here, Tanya. It’s alright. Tallen is the wizard friend I told you about.”
The bundle stood up, and Tallen realized it was a little girl with red hair and bright eyes. She clung to Maddi, arms clinging around the woman’s waist. I have a feeling that she’s older than her size lets on.
After kissing the girl on the crown of her head, Maddi looked at Tallen with rare fear in her eyes. “He almost killed her.” She stroked her fingers through the girl’s hair. “I healed her just in time, thanks to your distraction.”
“I’m just fine, Maddi,” the little girl said, more fire in her voice than Tallen had expected. She turned that fire on him. “You’d better be here to help us. That doctor pretended to be nice too.”
Concern for the precious little girl rose inside him as Tallen knelt down in front of Tanya. “I would never let anyone hurt Maddi or you. I have other friends who are stronger than I am. We will go to them. They will help protect us.” He offered his hand, and she took it tentatively. “I have scary men chasing me, too. If we all stick together…” His eyes flicked at Maddi. “…we’ll make it through to better days. Understand?”