by Ben Hale
From the eyes of Mineva she watched the woman cast a blade out of fire and drive it through the hand of a merchant, watched his wife and children shriek and flee, and felt herself suppress the guilt with a single phrase.
They’re just barren.
Alydian felt the woman’s emotions as she gazed on the sobbing man, his only crime that of trying to haggle on price. Mineva spoke through her sneer, refusing to acknowledge the guilt that grew quieter with every vile act.
“Next time, remember the Verinai are your betters.”
Through their blended consciousness, Mineva smirked and shoved another memory at her, this one showing her battle against a family of giants in the far northeast. They were simply trying to protect their kindred, but the Verinai battlemages slaughtered them, leaving their corpses to rot in the summer sun.
Guilt assailed Alydian, surging into her throat with the taste of bile. It didn’t feel like Mineva who had killed the innocent, it felt like her, Alydian. She’d forsaken her vow to protect the people and become what she most despised . . .
No.
She spoke the word aloud. Although no more than a whisper, it sent a current through her body, churning the guilt into righteous wrath. Mineva had carried out atrocities in the name of her guild, and gradually silenced her doubt. She had committed crimes. And justice had come due.
Armed with her fury, Alydian surged into Mineva’s mind, crushing the current memory of her beating a thief. She focused on the woman’s pride, forcing her to watch the same memory from the view of the thief. Recalling her fear when the Soldier had attacked, she added her own emotion, empowering the memory until Mineva witnessed her own contorted features.
“Know your place, you barren rat!” Mineva shouted.
Mineva mentally recoiled and shoved another memory at Alydian, but Alydian did the same, twisting the memory so the woman had to witness her own spite. Again and again Alydian forced the woman to view her actions from the perspective of those she’d made suffer. Mineva clung to her arrogance but the sheer tide of emotion cracked the woman’s veneer of perceived honor. The crack widened, and then shattered. All the guilt she’d suppressed rose like a great beast, rending her thoughts with a voice of thunder.
See what you have wrought!
Mineva managed to resist for a moment, but the reminder of all her crimes was too great and her guilt overpowered her pride. She crumpled like an empty suit of armor, crashing to the floor and falling apart. Distantly Alydian felt her slump, but Grogith and Devkin held her fast.
What did you do to the king? Alydian demanded.
The memory burst into her consciousness and Alydian reached for the glass orb. Light swirled up one arm and down the other before seeping into the orb. Even with her eyes closed she knew the orb had begun to speak, the image of King Talin coming into focus.
“Perhaps your daughter will be more malleable,” Mineva snarled, before plunging her sword into his body.
Unable to convince herself of the morality of her choice, Mineva began to cry, the tears turning into racking sobs as she faced the full weight of the murder she had committed. Alydian held the link until the entire memory was complete, until it showed the Soldier fighting the guardian in order to save the castle.
Alydian severed the link and withdrew, stumbling as Mineva’s thoughts separated from hers. Mineva threw herself backward, desperate to flee from the truth of what she had committed. Her magic surged and Grogith’s bonds snapped. All moved to restrain her but she crashed through a table and crumpled to the floor, her eyes clenched against the agony of her unfiltered memories.
“Forgive me,” she cried softly. “I did not . . . I was just . . .”
Devkin turned to Alydian. “What did you do?”
Alydian didn’t take her eyes off Mineva. “I showed her the truth of what she’d done.”
Mineva continued to weep and cling to the floor like it held her salvation. The pitiful display caused them all to stare at her for several moments, and Alydian took a step toward her.
“Don’t,” Devkin said. “She now faces the fate she has chosen.”
Alydian nodded and picked up the glass orb. Now glowing softly, it contained the precious memory that would prove to the Eldress Council that the Soldier had not killed king Talin. With such evidence she would be able to turn the Eldress Council against Teriah. Wrapping the memory in cloth, she handed it to Devkin, who placed it into a pouch at his side.
“We should depart,” he said.
“What about her?” Alydian asked, gesturing to the sobbing woman.
“There’s nothing we can do for her now,” Devkin said, turning to the door.
Mineva reached up and latched onto Grogith’s arm. “Please,” she pled. “End my life.”
The gnome stared down at her before extricating himself. “Whether you consider it or not, consequence is accepted at the point of decision.”
The pity in the gnome’s voice elicited renewed sobs, and the woman sank to the floor again. Turning away from the sight, Alydian wove her way through the unconscious guards and stepped to the door. As she reached for the handle the door swung open.
And Elsin stepped into the room.
Alydian stumbled back as Verinai guards flooded into the room. Elsin regarded Alydian with thinly veiled contempt and came to a halt, her soldiers filling their hands with magic.
“I must say I’m disappointed, Alethean,” she said. “I never expected you to be the Soldier’s ally.”
“The Verinai are tyrants,” Alydian said, relief filling her when she realized her persona was still intact. “Your predecessor brought the Verinai to prosperity. You brought them to ruin.”
“Is that who trained you?” Elsin gave a mocking laugh. “I have led the Verinai to their true purpose, one far grander than my aging predecessor. He believed that if we could free the magicless from hunger and greed, their wars would come to an end.”
“A noble desire,” Alydian said. “And a noble man.”
“He was a fool,” Elsin spat with sudden vehemence. “He spent two hundred years trying to aid the poor and needy, squandering our might for a pittance. Even with all his talents he could not see the truth.”
Alydian shook her head. “He saved thousands in the Griffin insurrection, and helped end the human plague.”
“The barren are the plague,” Elsin said. “One without a cure. You may have the magic of a Verinai, but not our vision. The barren will never conquer their own natures.”
“You claim a desire to aid the people,” Alydian said, her voice rising, “but we both know you merely crave power. Tell me, will it ever be enough? If you reigned over the whole of Lumineia, would you finally fill the void in your soul?”
Alydian measured the guards around them, all of which were veteran battlemages with multiple talents. But it was the barbarian at Elsin’s side that caught her eye. The man seemed to exude power, and she blinked into her magesight.
Instead of the customary combination of magics unique to each sentient life, there was a storm of water condensed into a human body. Gone were the emotions and complexities of life, leaving only a rudimentary vestige of what had once made him human. Raw power churned in his from, feral and explosive.
Guardian.
Raiden had told her enough about the events in the bandit gorge that he recognized the man as the same one Elsin had taken as protection. He resembled the man she’d seen in Mineva’s memory, the guardian of light Raiden had fought in Terros. But she was unprepared for the sheer mass of power contained in his body.
“Surrender now,” Elsin said, “and I promise I will spare the lives of your worthless friends.”
“And me?” Alydian asked.
Elsin smiled. “I’m confident I can find a place to put you until you see the truth.”
“Don’t,” Devkin murmured.
Alydian looked at the ring of Verinai. She managed to push past her fear and see their fate if they fought, of Devkin falling to an asunder hex, hi
s form turning to ash, of Grogith’s anti-magic shield shattering, and the guardian piercing his heart with a shard of aquaglass. Alydian shuddered and returned to the present.
“Leave them be,” she said.
“Alethean—” Devkin growled.
“I’m not letting you die,” Alydian said.
Elsin’s expression turned triumphant. “Bind her,” she said, and a guard stepped forward, a thread of anti-magic appearing in his hands. He coiled it around Alydian’s wrists and she felt it tie against her magic.
“You have me captive,” Alydian said. “Now let them go.”
Elsin raised a hand as if in dismissal, and then her expression turned malicious. “I warned you of the consequence if you chose against me,” she said. “Now you will witness it.”
Alydian cursed herself for not using her farsight to ensure Elsin kept her word. She fought against her bonds but they would not yield. Elsin’s smirk widened and she gestured to the guardian at her side.
“Kill them,” she said coldly.
“NO!” a voice shrieked.
Forgotten on the ground, Mineva lurched to her feet. Her cheeks were stained with tears and her face blotched, but the force to her gaze was arresting and terrifying. She stumbled around a couch to Alydian’s side.
“We must not shed more innocent blood!” she cried in a shrill voice.
“Master Mineva!” Elsin called, looking the disheveled woman up and down. “Control yourself.”
“You do not understand!” she shrieked, her voice rising with panic. “And we must pay for our crimes.”
Elsin’s eyes widened as she registered the threat—but Mineva acted first. Whirling, she pointed to the floor and sent a burst of light into the stone, searing a line around Alydian and her friends. The stone crumbled, leaving them to fall into an explosion of dust and smoke. Then Mineva screamed and unleashed her magic on the guards in the room.
Chapter 43: Unmasked
Alydian landed on her side and coughed in the dust and smoke. Grogith landed on his feet and darted to her, snapping the bonds with ease. She stumbled to her feet but hesitated, torn between flight and aiding Mineva. Grogith made the choice for her. He grabbed her around the waist before bodily launching her toward the door.
“Go!” he barked.
They’d fallen into a journeyman’s quarters, its occupant stunned against the wall, staring at the pile of debris that had formerly been his receiving room. Alydian stumbled over the stones and yanked the door open. Then she raced into the hall as the devastated chamber was pummeled with magical strikes from above. All the while Mineva fought for her life.
“She atoned for her mistakes,” Devkin growled, anticipating her desire to turn back. “Leave her be.”
A crash echoed in the hall behind them and Alydian looked back. Riding a wave of water down the spiral staircase, the guardian smashed into the wall, making it buckle and crack before correcting his direction and streaming after them. His eyes wild and manic, he raised his arms and his hands morphed into aquaglass spikes, turning sharp and glittery. Ahead, a group of Verinai appeared at the opposite stairs, closing off their escape.
Devkin darted to a door and kicked its handle, sending the wood tumbling into the room. They dived inside as the guardian hurled the spikes, grazing Alydian as she leapt through. Alydian turned and called on the stone floor, closing off the opening in a wall of stone. Then she added more supports, lifting angles into the barrier, reinforcing it against entry. An instant later the makeshift wall shuddered and a crack appeared.
“That won’t hold for long,” Devkin growled, leaping to the windows on the opposite side of the room. “We need an exit.”
“Even if we can,” Alydian said, darting to the windows and looking down. “How can we possibly escape the city? We don’t stand a chance of getting through the canyon of mages.”
Another blow caused the barrier to shudder and Alydian winced. This was her fault. She’d led them to Verisith thinking she could get them out, and now she had doomed them all. Elsin had planned ahead—or more likely—Teriah had used her farsight to prepare for the Soldier’s arrival.
She squared her shoulders, reminding herself that the helpless girl the Soldier had attacked was gone. She was a Runeguard, one with the power of an oracle. Forcing her fear aside, she surged her magic into her farsight, counting the seconds as she decided on various actions and watched them play out. She examined the room, the windows, pushing her magesight through the walls and beyond, watched the guardian turn his arms into a spinning whirlwind of aquaglass that sparked against the stone, drilling through it with shocking speed. Then she saw it, and her eyes snapped open.
“Devkin, use your sword to mark the windows, make it look like we escaped that direction. Grogith, see what you can do to add anti-magic to his blade, we’re going to need it.”
Alydian stepped to the south wall and ran her finger along the edge, searching for the hidden rune she’d spotted. When she touched it, a section of wall slid open, revealing a secret passage to the adjacent room.
Devkin used his sword on the window, scraping a line in the stone before leaping to join Grogith in the secret corridor. The aquaglass drill appeared through the stone, sending cracks throughout the barricade. Alydian cast a final look at the room before slamming the secret door shut.
Alydian’s barrier exploded, sending fragments of stone into rugs, furniture, and out the window. The concussive blast caused the door to shudder, and a moment later Elsin appeared through the cloud of dust.
Alydian slipped into her magesight and the door turned transparent. Elsin glared at the empty room, her battlemages flooding the space. They searched the demolished room before stepping to the window and peering out. It was a hundred feet to the ground below, but evidently the marks were sufficient to deceive the guards.
“It looks like they escaped through the window,” a woman said.
“Close off every exit,” Elsin said, “and send reinforcements to the canyon of the mages. Find her, but I want her alive.”
“Do you want us to wake the other guardians?” the captain asked.
“No,” she said. “The longer they are in the flesh the quicker they deteriorate, and Tidal should be more than a match for Alethean.”
The soldiers surged from the room but Elsin abruptly called out for them to halt. She cocked her head to the side and turned toward the secret door. She took a step toward it and frowned, raising a finger to her ear to enhance her hearing.
Alydian spun her fingers and all sound in the corridor stopped, silencing even her pounding heart. Then she pointed downward and sent a current of orange light through the floor, angled so it went outside. Just as Elsin reached the barrier and raised a hand to it a shout came from outside.
“Intruder!”
The reflection charm was difficult under the best of circumstances—especially through walls, but Alydian managed for the sound to carry the right echo of surprise, anger, and urgency. Elsin whirled and darted to the window.
“Go,” she shouted. “You may kill her companions, but do not let her escape.”
The group flooded from the room, leaving only Tidal standing next to the door. He twitched as if he wanted to follow them but remained in place. The guildmaster gazed upon the city for several moments and then strode to the guardian.
Alydian’s relief turned to foreboding when she saw her whisper to Tidal. Alydian saw what was coming and turned, bolting down the corridor. The others followed her example and together they raced to the other room. Devkin reached it first and pulled the latch, causing it to swing open into another receiving room. Just as they departed the tunnel the secret door shattered and Tidal burst into view. He snarled as he caught sight of them, Elsin appearing at her side.
“Clever girl,” she said. “But you cannot escape.”
“I’m not alone,” Alydian said, retreating into the receiving room of a journeyman’s private quarters.
Elsin laughed. “Captain Devkin is
skilled, but he is no match for a guardian, and your little gnome friend is just a single mage.” Then her smile faded and she leaned to Tidal. “Break Alethean . . . but kill the others.”
His features contorted into a wild excitement and he surged forward, bounding down the corridor as water spilled from his hands, lifting and accelerating him into a thundering wave. He began to laugh, cackling as he closed the gap.
Alydian retreated in a rush, allowing her companions to spread out and ready themselves to flank the guardian. Alydian had no allusions about the impending battle. She’d seen the guardian’s power and knew what it was capable of. Steeling herself, she gathered her magic and reached for the floor of the secret passage.
Abruptly Grogith stepped in front of Alydian. As Devkin barked at him to resume his place, the gnome darted to the door and snatched a decorative spear from the wall. Bracing it against the floor, he leaned it toward the charging guardian, and black magic burst from his fingers, engulfing the spear in dense ink.
Alydian’s mouth fell open. A skilled anti-mage could cast a small amount of magic each day, and even a master would have been hard pressed to release so much power in an instant. Throughout their entire training as acolytes, Grogith had never displayed more than a fraction of what he cast now.
Grogith aimed the anti-magic spear at the guardian’s heart and snarled. The guardian slammed into the spear and came to a grinding halt, the spear piercing his body until it protruded on the opposite side. Its horrendous scream shattered glass as water exploded outward, detonating with the force of a typhoon.
The impact knocked them all flying. Still holding the spear, Grogith took the brunt of the explosion and soared into the room, smashing through a couch and a table on his way to the opposite wall.
The stone walls shuddered from the blast and the water gushed out the windows, merging with the keep’s waterfall before falling from view. Drenched and dazed, Alydian grabbed a fallen couch and dragged herself upward, her eyes flying to the guardian.
Impaled by the spear, Tidal’s body had turned to water. He clawed at the staff but the contact made the water of his hands darken. His entire chest had gone dark, the inky water dripping to the floor at his feet. He shrieked again, the sound overpowering Elsin’s bellow of rage.