by Ben Hale
Lorth took command and directed the Verinai to the walls, where they cast ledges they could use to strike at the golems. With Red ascending to join Jester, only Winter and Raiden remained in the center of the pool.
“What do you intend for us?” she asked.
“We stay on target,” Raiden said, using his chin to point at Master Skerl.
Master Skerl used a wave of water to reach the doorway to the kitchens, where the floor remained solid. Alighting in the opening, he turned and barked orders to his guardians, shouting at them to slaughter at the intruders.
Raiden had sheathed his sword when he’d fallen into the water but now ducked under the surface. Using the gills, he dove beneath the churning water of the battle and swam toward the kitchens, using the storm of white water to hide his approach.
Through a gap in the battle he spotted Master Skerl turn a malevolent gaze on Marrow. Drawing on the water, he cast a needlelike spear, which he hurled at the shark general. She flinched, the spear grazing her shoulder to shatter against the wall.
Blood dripped from the wound, causing one of sharks holding her aloft to go into a frenzy. She cried out as she was knocked into the water and the shark turned on her, its blood frenzy overcoming her control.
Fear gripped Raiden and he changed direction, desperately trying to reach Marrow as the shark banked and charged, its jaws opening wide. His desperation mounting, Raiden remembered he could speak and shouted a warning.
“Marrow!” he roared. “Behind you!”
She breached the surface and turned to face the shark. It was large enough to bite her in half, but instead of fear, it was anger that twisted her features. As the hundreds of teeth reached for her she raised her hand.
And slapped the shark.
The blow seemed light, but it struck like a troll warhammer. Teeth were dislodged as the shark’s head was knocked to the side. Dazed, it lolled for a moment before twitching back to normal and swimming away.
“Generals are not to be bitten,” Marrow scolded.
The shark rotated back and swam to her foot, joining another beast and lifting her upward once again. Master Skerl’s eyes bulged from his skull as the tiny girl bested a twenty-foot shark. Taking advantage of his distraction, Raiden pushed through the remaining distance and then swam to the surface, breaching the water next to the door just as the man conjured another spear.
Raiden’s sudden appearance sent him stumbling backward, and Raiden wasted no time in pulling himself onto the floor of the doorway. Winter did him one better and used a surge of water to sail right over Raiden’s head to land in the hall.
“Master,” she said. “It’s time you tell us how to stop the plague.”
“Even your mad mage cannot stop me,” he snarled.
He turned and fled, darting through the kitchens and streaking up a set of stairs. Raiden and Winter sprinted in pursuit. Raiden drew his sword while she cast a sword from air.
“Don’t underestimate him,” she said as they raced up the steps.
“I never do,” he replied.
Wary of traps or other sentries, Raiden slowed his pace, his gaze on the walls of the castle. The chambers above the great hall proved to be living quarters for two, one hardly used while the other was filled with an assortment of papers and bits of aquaflesh. Raiden took in the room at a glance, his eyes lifting to see Skerl escaping up a staircase in the corner of his room.
They reached the spiral stairs and raced upward into the turret at the top of the castle. Raiden had expected Skerl to flee, but instead he’d trapped himself inside a turret. Raiden and Winter exchanged a look and slowed their pace.
The chamber spanned two turrets with a door in each. Through the aquaglass Raiden spotted another set of stairs descending into the second set of private quarters, but Skerl made no move toward escape. Worktables rested throughout the room, and several tubes extended through the wall, the levers suggesting they were for funneling water into the room for casting spells.
Master Skerl waited at the heart of the chamber and faced Raiden, a trace of a smile on his face. A narrow hallway separated the top of the turret from the edge of the chamber. Raiden and Winter came to a halt.
“You did well,” Skerl said. “I’ll give you that. But your attempt to subvert me ends here.”
“How do we stop the plague?” Raiden asked.
“You cannot,” Skerl said, his smile turning smug. “My work is flawless. Their loyalty will not return to them for years, long after the rebellion has been crushed.”
Winter lowered her voice. “The walls will close on us when we step forward.” She gestured to the narrow passageway separating them from Skerl’s chamber.
“Can you stop the trap?” he asked, never taking his eyes from Skerl.
“Perhaps,” she said, “but I won’t be able to hold it for long.”
“Do it,” he said.
She nodded and took a step forward—and the walls snapped shut. Anticipating the trap, she held her arms out, catching the walls on her arms. Blue light seeped from her hands and she strained to hold the crushing aquaglass trap at bay.
Skerl’s eyes widened in surprise but Raiden dived around her waist and rolled to his feet. In two great strides he crossed the space and put his sword on Skerl’s throat. He swallowed, his smug look replaced with fear.
“You don’t need to—”
“How do we stop the plague?”
“You can’t,” he stuttered. “The curse cannot be broken.”
“Liar,” Winter said, her voice tight. She gasped as the walls inched closer.
Skerl raised a hand and swatted the blade, and then sought to flee. Raiden closed the gap and caught his collar. Then he threw him against a table. Again he placed his sword on the man’s throat, but this time he had Skerl’s back to the wall.
“If I kill you,” Raiden said, “will the curse end?”
“No,” he said hastily. “The curse is sentient, much like the poison that Teriah used on Elenyr.”
“If you don’t tell me,” Raiden said, “I’ll have to attempt ending the source.” He pressed on the sword, drawing a trickle of blood.
“There’s a failsafe!” he blurted.
“Where?” he demanded.
“At Verisith,” he said in a rush. “She wouldn’t let me retain it in case someone found my castle.”
“How does it work?” he asked.
“It’s a runestone that acts as the heart of the plague,” he said. “If it shatters, the people will have their loyalty returned to them.”
“How quickly?” he pressed.
“When the heart dies, the curse dies,” he growled, his fear changing to anger.
“Raiden!”
He looked to Winter and saw the walls of the trap were just two feet wide and against her elbows. Sweat beaded her features and her arms trembled. Realizing he was out of time, Raiden turned back to Skerl.
The man had used the distraction to reach out to a lever. Raiden’s eyes flicked to it and he took in the purpose of the mechanism. Intended to open the wall and allow water into a reservoir, it also served as a final trap. The size of the opening would flood the chamber in minutes. Then Raiden spotted the threads of light to other trapdoors, the light glimmering with subtle compression charms. The lever wouldn’t flood the castle.
It would crush it.
“At least I get to take you with me,” Skerl growled, and pulled.
Raiden whirled and surged across the room. Sheathing his sword, he dived to the floor and slid beneath Winter’s legs, escaping the room just as the pipe burst open. Water gushed through the opening as a second tube opened, and a third. Cracks blossomed outward from the compromised walls as Raiden leapt to his feet and wrapped an arm around Winter’s waist, yanking her from the trap.
In a burst of water it shut, closing off the view of the turret. He caught a glimpse of Skerl attempting to control the water, his face a mask of anger and fear before the walls shattered and shards of aquaglass shr
edded his form.
“Go!” Winter shouted. “It’s going to crush the entire castle!”
They sprinted down the turret as ominous cracks appeared in the walls and water trickled between their feet. Leaping through the bedchamber, they reached the second set of stairs and charged to the great hall.
Cracks lined the ceiling and walls and water spurted through holes. Lorth had ordered the other Verinai to craft a water shield, forming a protective bubble in the midst of the crumbling citadel.
Raiden accelerated and leapt the gap, diving into the water as a muffled crack echoed above. He swam for all his was worth but Winter dove beside him and propelled them forward, the wave sending them through a closing hole in the water shield.
“Brace yourself!” Lorth roared.
Raiden came to his knees and looked up, and watched through the shield as the walls of the fortress imploded. The ceiling, the furniture, and the floors, all burst in a series of miniature explosions. Empowered by the water pressure, shards of aquaglass pummeled the sphere, several plunging deep, nearly piercing to the air in the center.
Winter stumbled to her feet and helped thicken the outer wall, reinforcing the barrier as the underwater fortress crashed upon them. Raiden was knocked to his back as their sphere was driven into the seabed. He caught a glimpse of the Verinai fighting to seal a hole before the magic of the fortress winked out, and then everything went dark . . .
Chapter 35: Fallen
Toron sat in the corner of the ancient prison, his mind linked to the shadow mouse. Galathon prowled the prison like an enraged beast, barking at anyone that tried to disturb Toron. The other pirates fidgeted and tried to avoid Severon’s pacing.
The minutes stretched into hours as Toron used the shadow mouse to search the area around the prison. His progress was hampered by the patches of light that would destroy the fragile entity, forcing him to backtrack and circumnavigate illuminated areas. The underground tunnels were maddeningly complex, and it took hours to simply find a way back to the prison. One of the pirates cried out in surprise when the shadow mouse flitted in the darkness on the other side of the wall.
“It’s here!” he cried. “It’s—”
Galathon backhanded him and knocked him sprawling. “Do you want to tell them our plan?” he snarled.
Toron directed the mouse through the corridors surrounding the prison, searching for any room that would control a door. The minutes continued to bleed away and Toron felt the press of time. Sweat beaded his forehead as he struggled to keep the entity together. He’d cast it in haste and it was not perfectly formed, yet the diminutive creature was their sole chance at escape.
It skittered down dark corridors and disappeared into rooms, returning a moment later to search again. Toron’s frustration mounted as room after room proved empty, containing only machinery and shadows.
Toron gradually understood the layout of the city’s underbelly. The prison itself occupied the lowest level of the underground structure, with three levels above. The higher ones seemed to be reserved for machinery and Toron gained the impression that the prison had not been built as part of the original construction.
Finally Galathon could take it no longer. He growled and sank into a seat beside him. “It’s almost time.”
“This place is enormous,” Toron said. “And all I’ve got is a mouse.”
“I don’t want to die in a cage,” Galathon said.
“Neither do I,” Toron snapped.
Then he found it.
The mouse followed the wall to a door that was partially open. Light glowed from within but it was dim enough that the creature could enter. He crept inside and saw an angled desk. The wall above showed the interior of the prison, with a view of Galathon and Toron.
“You are too late,” Galathon growled. “Elsin is here.”
Toron opened his eyes and saw the woman striding toward them, Linx at her side. “Stall her,” Toron said.
The rock troll snorted and stood. “That I can do.”
Elsin strode to the transparent wall and came to a halt. “Mal has prepared the ship. It’s time for you to choose your fate.”
“Elsin,” Galathon barked. “What do you intend for us?”
Elsin’s gaze shifted to him. “The ancients were prepared for such a contingency. The prison is equipped with a special air that will put you to sleep, and then kill you. It is better than you deserve.”
“I’m surprised,” Galathon said with a faint sneer. “I didn’t realize you were a coward.”
The woman scowled. “I’m not here to talk to you. Toron? Have you made your—”
“Did you know you were a coward?” Galathon mused. “Or did you just realize it now?”
Catching on to his tactic, one of the other pirates shouted. “Coward!”
Others picked up the chant, and they lined up on the wall, slapping their hands against the barrier, screaming and shouting, their words a deafening taunt. Many drew weapons and struck the wall, adding to the din. The reaver growled and paced behind them, its mind assaulting Elsin, causing her to grimace.
“You are merely sheep,” Elsin said coldly. “Bleating as the butcher comes with his axe.”
The amplious on her arm brightened and she tapped the wall. The sound cut out in an instant, their voices extinguished like their heads had been plunged underwater. Galathon bellowed silently and struck the wall, while the mind reaver bowed its head as if in pain. Linx smirked at the pain of his former companions, and Galathon smashed his axe against the barrier, inches from his face.
“Toron,” Elsin said, rubbing her forehead. “I grow tired of these delays. Your fate awaits.”
Toron didn’t answer. Behind the wall of screaming pirates, he cast caution aside and the mouse leapt about. He couldn’t read the symbols on the table but the lights indicated they were runes. The mouse scurried across the table, touching every rune, desperately attempting to open the prison. Then he spotted a rune set apart from the others and leapt to it.
“Toron,” Elsin said again, frowning as she spotted him sitting with his eyes closed.
He opened his eyes and smiled. “I choose freedom.”
The mouse landed on the rune, and the transparent wall dropped into the floor. At the same time every door in the prison burst open, and the stairs in the floor dropped into the ground. Elsin sucked in her breath, suddenly facing forty enraged pirates without a wall between them. Her shock extinguished her muffling charm.
Galathon issued a thundering war cry and charged, closing the gap in a single stride. He brought his axe down upon her in a blow what would have cut her in half, but she grabbed the shocked Linx and pushed him into the blow. His shout died with him, but the enormous axe extended beyond his body, cutting a shallow line down Elsin’s cheek.
“So be it,” she snarled, her eyes narrowed.
She spun a circle, casting a tornado charm. The cyclone carried her through the pirates to an open corner of the prison. Wind sent pirates tumbling away like leaves. Then the wind came to a stop and Elsin glared at Toron.
“You would side with them over me?”
Toron gathered a wave of fire at his back. “Galathon may be a brute, but you’re the killer.”
Toron used the fire to lift himself off the floor and surge forward. Recovering from the tornado, Galathon charged the right flank while his reaver took the left. From three sides they charged Elsin.
Severon reached her first. At fifteen feet long and armored in bone, the mind reaver seemed like a giant against an insect. Its jaws opened wide, but she wrapped light around her hand and reared back, punching the reaver in the jaw, cracking its bone armor and sending teeth clattering onto the floor. Then she launched the hand at Galathon, where it blossomed into an entire soldier that deflected his axe. The warrior surpassed the rock troll in power, but not in skill, and the rock troll obliterated its defenses in a flurry of strikes. Then he rolled past the light warrior and roared in triumph as his axe came down on Elsin.
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br /> But the blade passed through her body.
The image shimmered as it was fractured, revealing the mirage charm. The shift revealed Elsin standing several feet back, and Toron turned on her, using his wave of fire to close the gap. She’d cast an entity but didn’t send it at him. Instead the gremlin streaked away, leaping into the corridor and streaking out of sight.
Toron came to a halt and sent the flames at her, using the wave to cage her against the wall. She cast a heat shield and leapt through the fire wave—nearly colliding with other pirates swinging their weapons.
She swerved at the last second but a sword grazed her arm, cutting her flesh. Elsin cried out at the wound and rotated away, but more pirates reached her, and the mind reaver darted in. Its deafening roar shook the dust from the ceiling as it darted in and snapped its jaws, the teeth closing on Elsin’s hair, yanking her to the ground. She called on the air again, causing her to roll back to her feet. By then Galathon had closed the gap and spun his axe, forcing her against the wall.
“You think to cage me?” she snarled.
Bleeding and trapped, Elsin would not last long. Yet her features were filled with triumph, causing Toron to hesitate. As Galathon, the reaver, and the pirates assaulted her, he cast a look where the gremlin had disappeared.
Towards the chamber that opened the prison.
He sent a burst of magic to the shadow mouse and caught a glimpse of the gremlin entering the room. The entity of light was too bright and the mouse disintegrated, but not before the gremlin lifted a latch and pressed a rune.
Toron looked up when a faint hiss drew his attention. His eyes widened as a greenish air seeped from holes in the ceiling. It drifted down towards the brawl, and where it touched, the pirates began to fall. Their eyes rolled backwards and they collapsed.
“Galathon!” Toron bellowed. “The poison!”
Heedless of Toron’s shout, Galathon and the reaver attacked Elsin in a frenzy, with both gaining wounds in the furious duel. But the pirates heard and they shouted to each other, leaping to the stairs to escape the expanding pockets of green air.