by Ben Hale
Elsin turned to Meressa and shook her head. “I fear it’s time you saw the truth,” she said.
“What truth?” Meressa asked, a trace of unease seeping into her voice.
“The second machine does indeed place magic into flesh,” she said, “much like this one, in fact. But it cannot add magic to a body that does not possess the right markers.”
“What do you mean?” Meressa demanded. “That was the entire reason you came here, to join the oracles.”
“No, Meressa,” Elsin said, her eyes darkening. “I don’t want to join the oracles. I want to kill them.”
Elsin raised her hands as Meressa’s eyes widened. The lightning swelled in Elsin’s hands, rising and sparking into a storm spear. With a shout of triumph she threw it at Meressa. The powerful oracle sought to stop the weapon but the spear had been empowered by the amplious, and it pierced her chest, sending her crashing through the glass wall. Meressa tumbled into the observation room and landed in a heap, her body twitching as lightning coursed through her flesh, the concussive blast cracking the glass all the way to Toron’s door.
Elsin used a burst of fire to lift herself through the shards and land beside her. Glass tinkled under her feet as she approached the mortally wounded oracle. Meressa attempted to crawl away, but the guildmaster of the Verinai flipped her over with her foot and cast a spear of fire, the flames surpassing her previous control and turning a bright blue.
“The oracles and their farsight are a cancer upon the people,” Elsin said. “Shackling us to ignorance while they hoard knowledge.”
“Elsin,” Meressa muttered, struggling to speak, to move. “Only Elenyr . . .”
“Knows all?” Elsin asked. “I know. And I will extract every morsel of knowledge before I end her life.”
“Please,” Meressa said, raising a shaky and bloody hand.
Elsin raised her spear. “My only regret? I didn’t get to kill you all.”
She plunged the spear through Meressa, driving the weapon deep into the floor. Meressa screamed, the sound laced with fury, fear, and regret. Then her strength abandoned her and her voice failed. Her eyes dimming, she met Toron’s gaze and a flicker of magic escaped her fingers. Unnoticed by Elsin, the touch of fire leapt across the floor and melted a hole in Toron’s cracked door. Then she moved her lips, mouthing the words, forgive me.
Before they noticed his intention, Toron crafted a shadow mouse. The creature darted through the hole and scurried into the shadows, disappearing from view the moment Elsin’s eyes settled on him.
“Do you see what I have accomplished?” Elsin asked. “In due time I will slay the whole of the oracle council.”
“And become the empress of the Empire,” he finished. “Just how long have you been planning your betrayal?”
She laughed lightly. “One does not plan a betrayal of oracles, but the idea occurred decades ago. The oracles were so fixated on their plan they never saw mine.”
“Why let me bear witness?” he asked. “Why not kill me?”
“Because I want you at my side,” Elsin said, the scorn fading from her eyes. “I want what we once had. I hoped that when you saw how far I would rise, you would seek to rise with me.”
Toron hadn’t expected that. He wanted to growl a retort, but the image of Meressa dead on the ground was too fresh a reminder. Instead he slowly shook his head.
“Too much has transpired,” he said. “But I will consider your request.”
Her features hardened at the answer. “I’ll give you a day. Then I depart the island . . . with or without you.”
Toron nodded and turned away, striding down the hall back to his cell. It was still open, but the moment he stepped inside it shut. An instant later the other cell door glided open and he entered the main chamber.
“Speaking to the enemy?” Galathon demanded, stepping into his path.
“Crafting a key,” he said, and flashed a grim smile. Then he linked to his shadow mouse and directed the creature to begin its search. Flitting between shadows in the ancient city, the little entity sought for a way to open their prison.
Chapter 30: Plagued
Alydian stared at the overcrowded cells of the rebellion, struggling to contain her fear. In the week since the initial incident, thousands had become infected by the mysterious plague. Alydian had helped raise the earth into makeshift walls, but the need for space grew with each passing hour.
Elenyr spied on Teriah and managed to identify the curse, a plague of the magic of loyalty. Raiden’s message had confirmed it and described their efforts to locate Master Skerl, the man responsible for the curse. Fearful that knowledge of the plague would cause a panic, Alydian shared the truth only with Devkin and her generals.
She turned as a quartet of soldiers appeared, dragging their screaming companion to the cells. One managed to open the door and the others shoved him inside. Fashioned of spears, the door clattered shut and the man grabbed the wooden bars.
“Join the Empire,” he growled, his eyes bright with fury. “Before your miserable rebellion is scattered like dead leaves in a fall storm.”
“An hour ago it was your rebellion,” one of the men snapped.
They will all betray you, whisper said.
“They will not,” Alydian said, causing a passing soldier to cast her a strange look.
Use my power, whisper said. We will break their puny fortress and cast Teriah to the earth.
The temptation wormed its way into her heart and she actually considered it, imagined herself destroying their walls, their mages, and even their titans. But she knew her rage would not be satiated, and she would slaughter her own army. She shuddered and swallowed against the image.
Unable to bear the sight of the maddened soldiers, Alydian left them behind and made her way to the command tent. Devkin fell into step beside her, his hand on the hilt of his sword, his sharp eyes on the soldiers they passed. Their soldiers.
“I feel caged,” Alydian muttered. “I wait on others to break the curse while I do nothing.”
“We hold the rebellion against the plague,” Devkin said. “That’s hardly nothing.”
A man shouted nearby and his companions pounced, wrestling him to the dirt even as he shouted for the Empire. From beneath the pile of struggling forms he spotted Alydian and screamed at her, his voice dripping with malice.
Devkin tightened his grip on his sword. “We should get you inside,” he said uneasily.
“You want me to hide?” she demanded.
“We can continue your training,” he said.
She came to a halt in a camp and turned on him. “I will not cower in solitude while those who suffer stand in need.”
Devkin stood his ground. “The army is failing,” he said. “We need a plan.”
“This is my army . . .” she said, her gaze passing over the surrounding soldiers.
But they were not. She realized they stood in the midst of Duke Senin’s command, and many of the soldiers bore the sullen, angry expressions that heralded a turning. She turned a slow circle and realized just how many were about to join the Empire—and her presence brought them to rage.
“We need to reach the command tent,” Devkin said.
“Too late,” Alydian said.
One of the men abruptly snarled and picked up a spear. “Alydian betrayed the oracles,” he snarled. “She deserves an execution!”
A handful rose to subdue but dozens rose to join. The shout became a rallying cry that flooded the area, and hundreds snatched weapons and converged on Alydian. Those who resisted were shoved aside or struck down, their unconscious forms trod underfoot.
“We can’t kill them,” Alydian said.
“Then I hope you’ve been training in your farsight,” Devkin said, drawing his sword. “Because this is going to get bloody.”
General Astin appeared on a nearby hill with Duke Senin and Princess Ora. Spotting the conflict, they galloped down the slope and the murderous circle parted, the men and women divi
ng away before they were trampled.
“Stay your hand,” Duke Senin bellowed, riding around Alydian and Devkin. “You dare to raise your hand at Alydian? She seeks to return us to our homeland!”
Senin’s scornful words caused the mob to hesitate, and Alydian exchanged a look with Devkin. Then one man shoved his way to the front and stabbed a finger at Alydian, his face contorted with fury.
“The Empire is our homeland.”
A shout rang out and Alydian heard a crossbow click. She swiveled but the bolt was already flying. Too quick for her to react, she caught a glimpse of the black shaft streaking for her throat before a burst of green smoke rose from the earth and Elenyr caught the bolt. Her sudden appearance caused the mob to recoil.
“A spirit!”
“Alydian has allied with the dead!”
Duke Senin’s eyes widened in fear and he tumbled from his horse. He scrambled into the crowd, his eyes betraying his turning. His shouts for Alydian’s head summoned droves to the conflict.
A thousand men and woman converged on Alydian, shoving aside any resistance as they called for her life. The sight of dwarves, notorious for their stubbornness, also infected, sent a chill down Alydian’s flesh, and she recalled Teriah’s words.
Those you called friend will clamor for your blood.
Alydian saw the impending conflict and shrank before it. These were farmers and shopkeepers, merchants and mothers. They’d joined Alydian because they wanted freedom from the mages and the Verinai. Now they would be slain by her hand.
Anger pooled in her stomach and the magic of rage leapt in delight. As the mob charged Alydian looked beyond the army to battlements of Herosian, to the soldiers gathered on the wall. They smirked and pointed, laughing as Alydian’s rebellion crumbled. Beyond them the titans stood immovable, watching the rebellion tear itself asunder.
Alydian clenched her fists and fought her rage with motion. She called on the air and the wind picked up, gaining a whine as it accelerated around them. Dust filled the churning air, slamming into the ring of soldiers, obscuring their vision and knocking them from their feet. Their shouts of dismay were ripped from their throats as the cyclone took shape. Then it served its true purpose.
Coughing and choking, the cursed soldiers fell to their knees, their eyes wide as they fought for breath. They sucked for air and collapsed. Those close to the interior managed to stumble through the barrier.
Devkin, Elenyr, Astin, and Ora rushed to meet them, their swords flashing, their attacks meant to disarm rather than kill. But their foes did not share their restraint, and blood darkened the earth. Alydian cast a golem to aid Astin and Ora, but Elenyr and Devkin needed no such aid. They punished any that sought to break through, knocking them to the earth as quickly as they pushed their way through the cyclone.
Drawn to the conflict, soldiers rushed to the storm, some to aid Alydian, others to fight against her. They held their breath and shielded their eyes, struggling to breach the wall of air to reach Alydian at its heart.
Anchoring the cyclone to the ground at her feet, Alydian leapt to Elenyr’s flank, where a dozen soldiers pushed through, their bodies tumbling into view faster than Elenyr could strike their skulls. Tripping over the unconscious forms of their predecessors, they swung their blades at Elenyr.
One swung his sword and the blade passed right through Elenyr’s body. She struck the astonished soldier with the flat of her blade, knocking him into his companions. Then Alydian reached her side.
Alydian conjured a great hammer of light, the weapon laced with a sleep charm. She swung with abandon, knocking men and women sprawling. The impact did not break their skin, but the sleeping charm pierced their rage, leaving them slumped and snoring in the maelstrom of battle.
“Clever,” Elenyr called.
You cannot resist me forever . . .
Alydian gritted her teeth against whisper’s voice, her hand trembling with the desire to punish those who’d fallen to the plague. The magic of rage wanted them to suffer for their weakness, but how could she kill them when she herself was weak?
The cyclone weakened on one side as air mages fought to breach it, allowing dozens to sprint into view. Alydian leapt to engage them and cast a second hammer, shortening the first so she could wield them both. She spun a circle, whirling through their ranks and leaving them in the dust. In the depths of conflict she caught a glimpse of a crossbow bolt. It soared through the barrier and came for her heart.
She flinched, the bolt grazing her shoulder to leave a bloody furrow across her flesh. The shock of the wound was fleeting, but she realized she’d foreseen the bolt’s coming, her life saved by the very skill her mother had taught. Her surprise that she’d succeeded cost her dearly, as a large dwarf appeared and swung his hammer at her leg.
Devkin leapt to intervene, the hammer striking his leg instead. The impact echoed like a drum as Devkin’s pants tore, revealing the enchanted limb beneath. The hammer broke, the head skittering away to leave the dwarf staring at the broken shaft. Devkin leaned in and smashed the hilt of his sword against the dwarf’s skull, but it took a second hit to knock him to his knees.
“You saw the bolt coming,” Devkin accused.
“I did,” Alydian said, a spark of elation illuminating their predicament. She reached the cyclone and risked empowering the air, sending men flying as they sought to breach the wall.
Devkin deflected a blade and brought his elbow into a woman’s face. “Sorry,” he said as she slumped to the ground. Then he looked to Alydian. “We need to end this.”
“How?” Ora shouted from nearby.
With swords in hand, Astin and Ora fought together, crying out to the soldiers even as they fought to keep them at bay. Devkin did not waste his breath, and wove between the soldiers, disarming and leveling punishing blows on the former allies. With a cowl over her head, the ethereal Elenyr passed among them, striking fear into the hearts of all. In seconds the remainder inside the cyclone had fallen.
But the conflict had spread throughout the rebellion, soldiers fighting each other, many battling their own sanity. Tents were upturned as struggling bodies crashed into them, and spears clattered against shields. Men and women took up arms against their companions, the entire camp dissolving into chaos.
Abruptly making her decision, Alydian knelt and struck the earth, causing a pillar of rock to rise beneath her. The surrounding army cried out in surprise when she soared out of reach. Her sudden ascent drew the eye of friend and foe, and she took advantage of the attention to cast a roaring charm, making her voice boom over both armies.
“I speak to all those who hear my voice. If you now stand with the Empire, join their ranks and ally with the mages. They have proclaimed a desire to avoid bloodshed and this moment will see their claim proven. I call on the Empire to permit our forces entry into Herosian.
“But if you stand with me,” she continued, her voice rising. “I call upon you to unite at my side, that we may fight against the oracles that have robbed you of your liberty.”
She pointed to the various prisons and the gates swung open, permitting the hordes of the infected to pour into the open. Then she dismissed the cyclone and cast charms to rouse the fallen. From below, Astin barked orders to his remaining lieutenants and they retreated, allowing the cursed a clear path to the walls of Herosian.
The groups hesitated, clearly torn between fighting the rebellion and joining the Empire. Then the gates to the city began to open, the clanking steel echoing like an invitation. The exodus began as a trickle but it quickly became a flood. In a matter of minutes the rebellion saw its strength gutted, their soldiers pouring through the city gates.
Some wished to stay, but as it became clear just how few remained, they hurried after their companions. When the stragglers had finally passed into the Empire’s city, Alydian lowered her column to the earth.
Devkin gestured to the soldiers now inside the city walls. “If we do cure them, we won’t have to breach the city walls
. We’ll already be inside.”
“And if we don’t?” Astin asked.
Alydian looked to the meager army that remained. “Then we are already lost.”
Chapter 31: Flight
The rebellion continued to bleed forces throughout the next two days, most departing at night. Alydian woke on the second day to find that less than a thousand remained in their camp. The sea of empty tents flapped in the breeze. Those who had come for pride, glory, or gain had long since crossed to the Empire, leaving only those with unwavering loyalty.
General Shalric growled in disgust as he watched another knot of his dwarves depart. They twitched as they fought the plague all the way to the city gates. Then he glowered at Alydian.
“I told you I’d stand by the rebellion,” he said gruffly. “But not if it comes to killing my own kind.”
“It won’t,” Alydian said.
The remaining officers had gathered on a hill at the rear of the camp, and Alydian dipped into her farsight to examine each of their futures. They all showed traces of the curse, but their loyalty remained intact.
“The battle for Herosian is lost,” Alydian said. “I suggest we flee with those we trust.”
“Flee?” Ora asked in surprise. “You want us to abandon our army?”
“They’re not ours anymore,” Astin murmured.
“We can do nothing from here,” Alydian said. “Raiden and Winter sent a message last night. They seek a cure to the plague and believe themselves close. When the curse is broken our entire army will be inside Herosian, giving us an advantage.”
“A clever tactic,” Shalric said, and then grunted. “If they find a cure.”
“Where would you have us go?” Ora asked, and swept her hands at the countryside. “The plague has spread far beyond our army. We will find no refuge in the villages.”
“If I reveal a destination, Teriah will foresee it,” Alydian said. “For now, I ask for your trust.”
There was a moment’s silence, and then Astin spoke to the captains. “If you decide to remain with the rebellion, meet us at the ravine south of the camp at midnight. Bring only those you believe to be the most loyal. Those you doubt, place an officer to watch over them and leave them here.”