The Magelands Epic: Soulwitch Rises (Book 7)

by Christopher Mitchell

  They continued upwards, climbing through the bastion’s floors until they reached the base of the tower and began climbing again. With every rotation of the stairs, they caught glimpses of the Outer City through the arrow-slits cut into the side of the tower. The streets outside were filled with Rahain soldiers, waiting for the signal to assault the Old Town walls. Peppered among them were dozens of throwing machines; every one of them in action, hurling boulders into the town. They reached the top, and emerged onto the roof of the tower.

  Thorn was standing at the parapet, wrapped in a blue cloak, gazing down at the town. Belinda was on her right, and a squad of marines were gathered behind. Keir strode past them.

  ‘Soulwitch,’ he said, standing beside her at the battlements.

  She glanced at him, then turned her gaze back to the vast army occupying every street, road and square of the Outer City. Every available space, bar a clear strip from the Old Town walls that stretched for eighty yards, was filled with Rahain. They had their large shields angled, presenting a solid wall to the defenders up on the walls, towers and battlements. Boulders were flying above them every few moments, arcing over the walls to pound the Old Town and the harbour. At least half a dozen fires were now burning through abandoned buildings; and Keir reached out with his powers to shepherd them, keeping the flames away from the direction of the harbour.

  ‘Quite a sight,’ said Thorn, her eyes on the enemy. ‘From Greyfalls Deepen to this. We answered the Empress’s call, and I’ve lost my mother, a sister, and my best friend. And you, Stormwitch; you lost your father.’

  He nodded, taking comfort from the thought that the rest of his family was safe.

  ‘The evacuation is going well,’ he said. ‘We just need to hold the Rahain off for a few more hours.’

  Thorn frowned. ‘I tasted revenge when I destroyed the Sons of Sanang, but it’s not enough.’ She pointed at the endless ranks of Rahain. ‘It won’t be enough until every one of them lies dead, with Agatha and Witten on top of the heap.’

  Keir took her hand, then nearly withdrew it as a jolt of power passed between their fingers.

  She glanced up at him. ‘I was busy while you were at the harbour. Getting ready.’

  He nodded, knowing that several injured Rahain prisoners had been kept aside for the Soulwitch.

  ‘I wish I could strike the enemy from here,’ she went on, ‘but they’re still too far away for me.’

  ‘The ground assault will start soon enough,’ said Belinda.

  Keir gazed at the Rahain. ‘I can reach them from here.’

  ‘Without giving our position away?’ said Thorn.

  ‘Yes.’

  Thorn’s eyes burned. ‘Do it.’

  ‘Do you need kindling?’ said Belinda.

  Keir shook his head and walked to the other side of the roof, to face the Old Town. He placed his hands onto the battlements to steady himself, feeling the presence of Thorn by his side. The empty streets of the Old Town were collapsing into ruins from the ceaseless bombardment, and two more fires had appeared since he had last looked. He sent his fire powers out, stretching them to their furthest extent, while suppressing his vision skills in case Agatha sensed them. He latched onto the nearest fire, which was raging through a flour mill a few streets away. He locked his will to the flames, taking control of them. He began to tire, his powers at their limit as he stripped away large masses of fire, and sent them arcing through the air towards the Rahain lines. One, then another, his pace quickening, and again, and more, until balls of fire were ripping themselves from the burning mill every few seconds until, with a deafening crack, the building shattered and the flames lowered, almost extinguished.

  Keir fell back, his shoulder caught by a marine.

  Belinda laughed. ‘Look what you did.’

  Thorn took his hand as he straightened and turned. Swathes of the Outer City were in flames, and Rahain soldiers were screaming, their numbers making it impossible to flee from where Keir’s fire had struck. The stone-throwing machines responded, adjusting their aim to strike at the area where the fire balls had come from.

  ‘They think I’m over there,’ he said, trying to smile despite the tiredness in his limbs. Thorn had eased his headache with her touch, but the exhaustion he had felt since being healed by Acorn had never lifted.

  ‘Do you need more keenweed?’ said Belinda.

  He nodded.

  Belinda opened a pouch and extracted a weedstick. She lit it and passed it to Keir.

  ‘I’ve never smoked so much weed in my life,’ he said, taking a draw. ‘My head’s spinning.’

  ‘I could cure you of that,’ said Thorn, ‘but it would take away the effects.’

  ‘I need keenweed to keep using my powers,’ he said, feeling his tiredness lift.

  ‘I know,’ she said, shaking her head, ‘but I don’t like the toll it’s taking on you. After this is over I want you to rest for a while.’

  He raised an eyebrow. ‘”After this is over”? Do you think there will be an after?’

  She pursed her lips. ‘I don’t know. Let’s deal with what’s in front of us first.’

  They gazed out at the Rahain. The fires had started to die down and, though Keir had incinerated hundreds of soldiers, the damage he had done had made no difference to the enemy’s vast numbers. The catapults were still hurling rocks at the area from which he had sent the flames, and that part of the Old Town had been reduced to smouldering rubble. Keir scanned the area for another fire he could use.

  ‘I’ll do it again,’ he said.

  Thorn squeezed his hand. ‘No need, Stormwitch. They’re coming.’

  He turned and watched the lead ranks of the Rahain army start their approach. They kept their great shields in formation, presenting a solid wall of iron and wood, while ladders and rams were being carried behind the fronts rows.

  Thorn turned to the marines standing on the roof. ‘Thank you, but you can do no more for us up here. Report to your unit for evacuation.’

  The marines glanced at each other.

  ‘We have orders, ma’am,’ said one of them.

  ‘I’m countermanding them,’ said Thorn. ‘Once our powers reveal our location, this tower will not be a safe place to be. Go.’

  The marines frowned, and departed from the roof, descending the stairs that led to the lower levels.

  ‘You too, Belinda,’ said Thorn.

  The young woman snorted. ‘Forget it.’

  ‘Are you not frightened?’

  ‘No,’ said Belinda. ‘I’m hard to kill.’

  Thorn shrugged, and the three of them leaned on the battlements facing the Outer City, watching the Rahain approach. With painstaking discipline, the ranks of their army inched towards the walls of the Old Town, leaving no gaps in their shield-wall.

  ‘I could start burning them now,’ said Keir, feeling the keenweed coursing through him.

  ‘Not yet,’ said Thorn. ‘Wait until the last moment, then strike the ones out of my range.’

  He nodded, and lit a cigarette to quell his rising nerves. The catapults were continuing their hailstorm of boulders, sending load after load into the town. Keir longed to destroy them, but knew Thorn was right; Agatha would sense their position as soon as they revealed where their powers were coming from. He hoped that the last of the civilians had made it away.

  To the sounds of a low, rhythmic drumming, and lit by the flames from the fires and torches, the lead soldiers of the Rahain army reached the long ditch at the base of the walls and began to lay down long planks and beams to bridge it. Their shields were held up over their heads, but no crossbow bolts or spears were being loosed at them from the deserted battlements, and they were able to work in peace. Dozens of siege ladders were passed forward through their lines, and raised upwards; their tops reaching the level of the parapets running along the town walls. Thorn withdrew her hand from Keir’s as she watched the first soldiers start to climb. Keir flexed his fingers, letting his fire powers sense the clo
sest flames. They were at the edge of his range, but that didn’t matter.

  Thorn glanced at him. ‘Are you ready, Stormwitch?’

  He gazed into her eyes, the eyes that held him entranced. For her he would do anything; even die if need be.

  ‘I am, Soulwitch.’

  She smiled. ‘I love you.’

  ‘Good.’

  They turned to face the enemy. Soldiers were scaling the ladders set up by the wall, and thousands were waiting below, ready to follow. A ram was being brought up to the nearest set of gates, about fifty yards to the right of the bastion tower. Thorn raised her hands.

  She mouthed the word, ‘death,’ then closed her eyes, and the surge of power that left her made Keir stagger back a step. A torrent of rising screams ripped through the air, and Rahain soldiers began dropping from the ladders, tumbling back down to land amid the press of their comrades below. Then the soldiers on the ground before the walls started to fall; like scythed corn, their shields and bows piling up amid their corpses. Keir pulled his glance away from the spreading carnage, and lifted a hand. He reached out to the nearest fire, heedless of any fear that Agatha might sense him, and gathered the flames left over from his earlier attack. He whipped his hand from left to right, and a streak of flame lifted up and slashed down onto a column of soldiers, burning through their leather armour and setting their shields alight. He brought his fingers together, then weaved a pattern, sending the flames streaming like a river, or a serpent, following the lines of the streets and spreading, forking at crossroads. He gasped, channelling all his power to devour as much of the Rahain as he could before Agatha could strike.

  Thousands fell. The heaps of dead from Thorn’s hand were piled ten-deep below the walls of the Old Town, while beyond, the network of fires that Keir was controlling had burnt their way through countless companies and regiments. All Keir could hear were the screams; and all he could see was death; the death the two witches were unleashing. How long it lasted he couldn’t tell; seconds, minutes, but Keir had never felt closer to Thorn. He revelled in his power, and knew she did too. They were unstoppable; dealing out death like gods.

  A fireball struck the tower, blasting out a chunk of masonry, and the roof tilted, sending Keir, Thorn and Belinda falling to their knees, as the floor creaked beneath them.

  ‘They’ve found us,’ Belinda cried, grabbing Thorn by the shoulder and hauling her back to her feet as the roof swayed. ‘Run.’

  Keir stumbled up, holding onto the parapet, and took a last look at the inferno raging through the Outer City, his eyes wide with the splendour of it; the flames, and the slaughter of their enemy. His own death might be close, but he didn’t fear it. What he and Thorn had done rivalled what even his aunt Keira had achieved. He glanced back at Thorn. He might not fear death, but one look at her and he knew he would rather live.

  He ran towards them, his boots sliding on the tilted roof, then felt a surge of power build behind him. He had often heard Kelsey talk about her ability to sense when other mages used their powers; just like Agatha could do; and he grasped at once that if he could feel it, it must be strong. He caught up with Thorn and turned, standing between her and the approaching wave of power, and reached out to the closest flames burning through the Outer City. He gathered a small mass of fire and shot it back to him just as the wave of power struck the tower. Keir pulled the flames round himself and Thorn, forming a tight circle of intense, white fire; so hot he felt his hair singe and his skin blister. The power struck the flames with a crash of noise and light and Keir was forced to his knees, giving all that he had to keep the protective shield of flame intact. Some of the wave forced its way through, and Keir started to bleed from his nose and ears, a pain ripping through his head; then he fell.

  Thorn’s slap roused him after only a few seconds of unconsciousness. She placed her hand on his chest, and he felt the injuries from the flow attack heal.

  ‘Stay down,’ she whispered to him. ‘Let them think we’re dead.’ She glanced round the ruins of the roof. ‘Belinda? Oh no.’

  ‘I’m fine,’ said the young woman, from where she was crouching by the head of the stairs.

  Thorn widened her eyes. ‘How?’

  ‘Karalyn, I guess. Let’s go, before they realise you’re still alive.’

  Keir and Thorn crawled up the slanting roof to the stairs. Keir felt dizzy, and nauseous. The flow attack had got into his head, and he had been seconds away from his brain being liquefied. Belinda helped them get into the stairway, and they began to descend, their steps careful and slow. Keir and Thorn supported each other as they walked, both swaying.

  ‘How much do you have left in you?’ Belinda said as they reached a landing halfway down the tower.

  ‘Very little,’ said Thorn.

  ‘You?’ Belinda said to Keir.

  ‘My head feels like it’s been minced.’

  ‘Don’t stop,’ Belinda said, smothering a frown; ‘keep moving.’

  She urged them on, pushing the exhausted mages towards the next set of stairs as another fireball ripped away the top of the tower, exposing the three of them to the sky above. Fragments of rock showered down on them as the stonework crumbled and fell. Belinda dragged them down the last steps and out onto the bastion’s main roof; and into the midst of the squad of marines Thorn had ordered to leave.

  ‘We thought you were dead!’ one of them cried.

  Thorn smiled. ‘Not quite.’

  ‘Not yet,’ said Keir.

  ‘We will be soon if we stand here talking,’ said Belinda. ‘That tower’s going to collapse any second.’

  They moved away from the base of the tower, running towards a turret that led down into the bastion; Keir and Thorn helping each other along.

  ‘Where to, ma’am?’ said a marine.

  Keir and Thorn leaned against a battlement, their hands entwined.

  ‘The harbour?’ said Belinda, glancing at them.

  ‘We stay and fight,’ said Thorn.

  ‘But you’ve already killed thousands,’ said a marine; ‘tens of thousands. We watched from here, and so did the troopers along the walls of the bastion. I’ve never seen a slaughter like it.’

  ‘But we promised to stay and defend Rainsby,’ Thorn said, ‘and there’s still plenty more to kill.’

  ‘If you stay; we stay.’

  Thorn turned to Keir. ‘And what do you say?’

  Keir lit a cigarette and they all turned as the tower collapsed, toppling over the side of the bastion, its broken blocks crashing into the fortress courtyard below. A marine passed round a water skin as Keir smoked.

  What did he think? His body was screaming at him to run; to flee the Rahain army now that his reserves were almost exhausted. His head was aching as if someone had struck it with a hammer. Would it be noble to live to fight another day? Rainsby was gone, no matter what he did. He lowered his eyes as he realised that all the death he and Thorn had inflicted was pointless. All they had achieved was to ensure there would be more widows and orphans among the Rahain peasant classes; more suffering and grieving for people who already lived the most miserable lives of any on the continent. He felt sick at his earlier jubilation. He had imagined himself as a second Keira for a moment, and he wondered if she had ever felt the same disgust at her actions as he did.

  A tear slid down his cheek.

  ‘Are you all right?’ said Thorn.

  He gazed at her, not bothering to wipe his eyes. Would she think him a coward for wanting to live? Could he persuade her to live too; for without her he would rather die.

  Before he could speak, an enormous explosion sounded from below, as a fifty-yard section of the Old Town wall was obliterated into a thousand pieces. Rocks rained down on the streets of the town, now lying exposed to the Outer City. Keir, Thorn and the others ran to the battlements facing the breach. The fires that had rendered so many to ash had died down without Keir to direct them, and the heaps of slain had been cleared from the area where the hole had been knock
ed through the walls. Rank upon rank of Rahain soldiers were marching through the cleared space; breaking into a charge as they approached the ragged edges of the new gap. A mound of earth and rubble had been formed from the explosion, and the Rahain soldiers ran up it; pouring into the breach.

  ‘The harbour,’ said Keir.

  Thorn glanced at him.

  ‘We must protect what’s left of the evacuation.’

  ‘He’s right,’ said Belinda.

  Thorn frowned. ‘We’ll never make it in time.’

  Keir put one hand on the battlements, and raised the other. Fires were raging through districts of the Old Town, and Keir reached out to the nearest. He glanced at the route the Rahain would have to take, then gathered up a sheet of fire, and brought it down onto the area near the breach.

  ‘That’ll slow them,’ he said.

  Thorn nodded, and they took off, racing back to the turret. They ran down the stairs, Belinda in the lead, followed by Keir and Thorn, with the marines behind. They passed the deserted floors of the bastion, then arrived at the ground level. A fire was burning in the courtyard from where a boulder had struck a smithy, and the flagstones were littered with the rubble from the collapsed tower. They ran across the courtyard to a block of stables, but it had been abandoned, its stalls lying empty.

  ‘Shit,’ muttered Keir, putting his hands on his knees.

  ‘We can make it if we run,’ said Belinda.

  He glared at her. ‘What the fuck is wrong with you? The world’s turning to shit and you’re all calmness and serenity. Do you care about what’s happening? Do you care about anything at all?’

  Belinda stared at him. ‘I’m not under your command, storm-boy; I’m just doing my job. If you don’t like it, take it up with the Empress, because frankly I couldn’t give a fuck.’ She gestured to the marines. ‘Form up; we’re going to be running to the harbour. Stay close to the mages; I’ll lead.’

  Some of the marines glanced at Thorn.

  ‘Do as she commands,’ she said.

  ‘Can you run?’ said Keir to her as the marines prepared to leave.

  ‘I’ll manage. Can you?’