Equilibrium: Episode 4

by CS Sealey

  “The city is being attacked!” the man continued frantically. “The Ayons have come! Let me in!”

  “The town bell has not been rung,” the second warden said, frowning. “If the city was under attack – ”

  “The tower is in flames!” the man cried, pressing his face close to the hatch, his eyes wide in terror. “Please, you must send help!”

  The first warden nodded, shut the hatch and moved over to the heavy bolts that kept the doors secure. The other hurried over to join him. As one, they pulled at the metal bolt and slid it back with a great clang. They heaved the wooden beam up from its stays and propped it against the wall.

  “Stop!”

  The two wardens spun around. Emil was hurrying across the courtyard toward the entrance hall, his arms raised in warning.

  “Don’t open that door!”

  But it was too late. The heavy gates creaked open and a tall, dark figure stood in the doorway, silhouetted against the orange-tinted mist behind him. Both wardens were blown off their feet with a loud bang, and sent careening into opposite walls of the entrance hall, fire flickering on their surcoats. The heavy mist from the forecourt drifted through the open gates and lingered about the ankles of the dark figure, whose eyes were flickering with white fire.

  “So good to see you all again.”

  Emil glanced behind him. Kayte and Markus were standing behind him, ready for the attack, all traces of weariness now gone.

  “Varren…” Emil muttered. “Leave me to deal with him – search the rest of the city for the others.”

  “You can’t take him by yourself!” Kayte whispered harshly. “None of us can. But we can take him together.”

  “No, you must search for the others. There’s no knowing what damage they’re doing!”

  “I will find them, however many there are,” Markus said. “If any sort of military force has come with them, I’ll see what I can do about raising a defense and blocking their way to the castle.”

  The wizard hurried back the way he had come and was soon gone from sight. Emil and Kayte looked at each other and turned as one to face Varren. He was barely visible within the mist but both saw him raise his arms above his head and breathe in deeply. The air quivered about them as the sorcerer began to draw energy from the mist. Emil did not give Varren time enough to conjure his first spell. With a cry, he summoned his bright blue fire and sent it hurtling across the entrance hall.

  CHAPTER 48

  She ran for a long time, following the street down the slope to where the mist was almost completely orange. The surrounding thoroughfares and alleys seemed deserted, though there were no signs of battle. She was just about to cross the street to bang on the door of the nearest house when the loud clang of the upper city town hall bell rang out through the mist. One by one, windows or doors were thrust open and curious, frightened faces peered out.

  “The city is under attack!” Angora shouted as she ran. “Arm yourselves as best you can!”

  More district towers began to ring their bells as she continued down the slope. Soon, guards were running through the streets, shouting and blowing small horns, stirring the citizens from their beds.

  “Home guard to your stations!” a soldier shouted as he passed her. “Civilians, keep out of the streets! We are under attack! Home guard to your stations!”

  Just as Angora was moving from the middle city into the lower, she felt her skin prickle. With a piercing cry, a large, mean-looking griffin flew over her head and disappeared again into the mist. She stopped in the middle of the street and looked about her. There were too many anxious faces peering out from doors and windows for her to summon in safety. Ducking into a deserted alleyway, she began to twirl her staff above her head in an intricate pattern. A moment later, a green spark flew out of the end of her weapon’s head and bounced off the walls of the alleyway. The spark grew and its shape started to writhe and morph into a huge gray haladrai.

  “Find it!” she cried.

  The haladrai gave a mighty lurch of its shimmering wings and soared away into the mist, seeking out Vrór’s griffin. Angora allowed herself only a few moments to rest before raising her staff to summon again.

  *

  As they descended into the lower city, Tiderius and Markus quickly located the first of the burning houses. There was, however, no sign of the men who had started the fire or those whose house it was. Tiderius kicked in the smoldering door and peered inside the black shell.

  “Anybody here? Hello?” he shouted, but there was no reply. Withdrawing his head, he frowned. “I don’t understand it. With this mist, surely the houses wouldn’t burn this quickly.”

  “This is no ordinary fire,” Markus said, smothering the flames with a sweep of his hand. “It is similar to my own. This is Tarvenna’s doing, though where she is, I cannot say.”

  “If she headed into the middle city, surely the houses up there would already be – ”

  A bright bolt streaked through the air toward them, branching out into strands like lightning. Tiderius was knocked off his feet, hurtling through the front window of a house and landing on the floor of what might have been the dining room. He felt a searing pain down his left side. To his relief, his surcoat appeared to be undamaged but it was smoking slightly from the raw energy of the spell. He rose painfully to his feet and glanced back through the broken window before hurriedly returning to the street.

  Markus rose shakily to his feet and turned to face the dark figure of Tarvenna, who had emerged from her place of hiding. Joining him, Tiderius drew his sword from its sheath and the blue fire flickered into life instantly, igniting the shield that clung to his form like a second skin. Again, the witch hurled a spell at them but, this time, both were ready. Markus flung his arms forward, blasting the bolt away with a burst of yellow light. Tiderius lunged at the woman but she was quick and dodged his attack.

  She laughed as she ducked and dived and drew them further down the slope to the heart of the lower city. Here, some of the houses were still burning fiercely and Markus extinguished the flames as they passed. The air was growing hot and clogged with smoke, as the low cloud and mist prevented it from rising. Soon, both Ronnesians were sweating.

  The witch was agile and sent simple spells frequently in their direction. Markus caught one of these on his arm but the fire did little before he stifled it and retaliated. Back and forth, the air between them was rife with magic, and the smell of it filled Tiderius’s nostrils as he deflected spell after spell. He could feel the beads of sweat trickling down his face and wiped the back of his glove across his brow to keep it out of his eyes.

  Breaking away from the wizard’s side, Tiderius moved to circle Tarvenna. The witch darted toward him, her fingers flickering with bright coils of light, but he met her attack with his sword, swiping at her fearlessly. Managing to gain the lower end of the street, he cut her off. She had nowhere to run. It took Tarvenna a moment to realize that she was trapped and she desperately sent bolts of energy flying toward both her foes with a terrible screech.

  “Not so strong without Varren, are you?” Tiderius taunted. “Did he give you the lesser task of killing defenseless men and women while he went in search of the king?”

  Tarvenna screamed and, forcing her palms together, sent a great blast of magic careening into him. Tiderius stood his ground defiantly but the force of the spell was too strong and he staggered back. The witch advanced on him, her dark eyes flashing with fury. Behind her, Tiderius saw Markus hurl his arm forward and quickly leaped aside. Tarvenna turned too late and the wizard’s spell thundered into her chest unhindered. She was lifted off her feet before crashing down upon the cobblestones several yards away. The cry of pain she uttered was like nothing either of them had heard before: it was as though she voiced the agony of a hundred suffering creatures. Despite her smoldering injuries, the witch somehow managed to rise to her knees, but Tiderius hastened toward her, angling his sword at her neck.

  “Don’t,” he said.


  She looked up at him, her dark eyes full of hate. She coughed and a trickle of blood escaped from between her dark lips. “Go on, then,” she said, wheezing a little. “Finish what you started, little man.”

  “Gladly.”

  With vengeance burning inside him, Tiderius raised his sword and slashed wildly across her abdomen. She fell back onto the ground, releasing little more than a quiet moan. Again, she tried to rise but, this time, the pain of her wound was too great. She grasped at it with shaking hands, trying to stem the flow of blood.

  “You…” She coughed and blood splattered across the cobblestones. “You couldn’t cut…bread with that little thing…”

  She doubled over, then collapsed onto her side. Her dark skin was glistening with sweat and a trickle of blood was slowly sliding from her mouth. Tiderius put one heavy boot on her shoulder and forced her onto her back.

  “May you have fun explaining your actions to the Spirits,” he said, raising his sword, the tip aimed at her heart.

  She looked up at him with wide eyes. To his astonishment, her lips curled into a smile, showing bloodied teeth, and she spat at him. As Tiderius angrily wiped the blood from his face, he heard the twang of a bow and felt a great force push him aside. He hit the cobblestones hard and his head cracked sharply but he was immediately aware of an even greater pain. His hand went to his shoulder and clutched the protruding shaft of the arrow. Groaning, he staggered to his feet and gazed back in the direction from which the arrow had come. Markus was by his side in an instant.

  “Up the slope,” Tiderius said, pointing with his sword. “The bastard’s up that way.”

  A moment later, the figure appeared, another arrow in the bowstring, and released it. The bolt soared through the air, but this time, Markus saw its flight and destroyed it with a blast of white-hot energy. He glanced back at Tiderius, who waved him away.

  “I’m fine!”

  Tiderius’s gaze darted back to Tarvenna but she was gone. His eyes raked the street but he could see no trail of blood leading away from the pool that had accumulated. He supposed she had returned to Delseroy, hopefully to die. Still clutching at the arrow, he staggered toward Markus and the figure who had aimed his arrow so well.

  “Lhunannon,” the wizard said with contempt.

  “And you, Taal…” Lhunannon looked from one to the other. His gaze fell on Tiderius and he smiled. “You’re dying.”

  “Funny,” Tiderius said angrily, “but I’m still fit enough to fight you!”

  Clasping his sword in both hands, he swung it at the enchanter. Lhunannon was not as fast as Tarvenna had been and Tiderius felt the sword cut through the man’s robes but not deep enough to meet with flesh. Markus was quick to summon spells and, soon, the wizard was using the fires Tarvenna had conjured to attack Lhunannon, shaping them into coils of flame that he propelled toward the Ayon enchanter.

  Tiderius’s own attacks were growing sluggish. His movements were not as crisp and his reflexes became ever slower with each assault against Lhunannon. He had long since grown accustomed to feeling weakened with extensive use of the sword’s magic but this was different. Where his strength would have projected out through him and into the sword, it now seemed as though it was simply draining away.

  Come on! Don’t tire now, not against this old man! It’s only an arrow!

  But no matter how earnestly Tiderius encouraged himself, he still felt his limbs growing weaker. His sword felt heavy in his hands, and even lifting it seemed strenuous. The pain in his shoulder where the arrow shaft was buried deep was almost unbearable now. He staggered away from the action, keeping his sword erect before him like a shield. He saw Markus leap in front of him and engage Lhunannon alone but, though he dearly wished to aid the wizard, his strength finally failed him.

  Tiderius collapsed against the wall of a partially charred house some twenty yards from the fight. His lungs ached and it was hard to stand. He stabbed Anathris into the soil between the cobblestones and tried to steady himself. He attempted to focus on Markus and Lhunannon further up the street but the smoke about them was growing thicker. Their shouts and the echoes of their spells began to muffle in his ears. He tasted the smoke in the air and coughed, igniting a fresh wave of pain in his chest. He felt his eyelids growing heavy and his head drooped. He tried to fight it but the pain spreading through his body was too much to bear. Resting his head on his knees, Tiderius grasped the handle of his sword tightly with one hand, the wound in his shoulder with the other, and clenched his jaw.

  The moment will pass, he assured himself. The pain will pass.

  It was a long while before Markus appeared at his side.

  “Disappeared into the smoke,” the wizard said, crouching down beside him. “I didn’t see where he went but…” His words trailed away as he gazed down at Tiderius’s wound.

  “I can’t feel my arm,” Tiderius said wearily. “I can’t feel it at all.”

  “There’s nothing I can do for that here. Can you stand?”

  “I don’t know,” Tiderius admitted, tears streaming from the corners of his eyes. “I feel so bloody weak.”

  “Hold on tight to your sword, don’t let go.”

  Tiderius had only traveled with Markus once or twice before, as it had always been either Emil or Kayte who had transported him by that mysterious magical method. He had grown accustomed to Emil’s turbulent winds and compression and the blinding light and hot burst of air of Kayte’s method, but he had always felt worst with Markus. For a moment, Tiderius could not see anything but a wavering grayness, and could not breathe at all. His lungs seemed to fill with smoke and cause him more pain than his wound. He tried to cough but his muscles would not obey him.

  It only lasted for a second before fresh air burst into his lungs again. As he staggered to his feet, he found himself in front of the castle gates, grasping his sword with white knuckles. Markus was crouching over him, looking through the open and unguarded gates into the high entrance hall beyond.

  “Emil and Kayte were fighting Varren here,” he said, lifting Tiderius up.

  “He got inside the castle again?” Tiderius asked. “Then we should head down…to the cells…to make sure the king’s still there.”

  “You’re not going anywhere but to a healer. Come on.”

  CHAPTER 49

  Angora had completely lost her bearings, and the mist, which had seemed to be dissipating only a short while earlier, was now thickening again as it combined with the rising smoke. She could sense where her summoned creatures were but they seemed to be circling around aimlessly through the mist above the city, unable to locate Vrór or the creatures he was summoning. She quickly grew frustrated.

  She turned around and, using the slope of the street as a guide, returned to the upper city, following the main thoroughfare up through the last gate toward the castle. The mist was no thinner as she progressed up the slope and she came upon the stairs to the castle forecourt so suddenly that, in her haste, she tripped and stumbled up the first few, landing heavily on her hands and knees. She silently cursed herself and hurried up the stairs, the hem of her dress gathered up in her free hand. She ran across the forecourt and through the open gates without pausing and almost collided with Markus and Tiderius.

  “What happened?”

  “We were ambushed,” Tiderius moaned.

  Angora looked at the arrow shaft protruding from his shoulder and cringed. Most of Tiderius’s surcoat was drenched in blood from the wound.

  “I cannot find Vrór but I am certain he is still somewhere in the city. I have many creatures in the air, keeping watch for any of his summonings but I do not know what else to do in this mist.”

  “Angora, I think Tiderius has been poisoned,” Markus said. “We ran into Lhunannon and Tarvenna, but they both got away.”

  “The city was so chaotic, so burned! How could they have done this?”

  “Angora!” Markus cried, taking her arm and shaking it.

  She looked down at Tide
rius. “How long ago did this happen?”

  “A while now,” Tiderius said vaguely.

  “Then we have to move quickly.” She took one of his arms and helped Markus guide him over to the stairs, ignoring Tiderius’s cries of discomfort. “If we manage to get him upstairs, I will see what I can do, but you must return to the city and stop them, Markus!”

  With the two of them taking Tiderius’s weight, they soon reached the rooms set aside for the herbalists’ work. Angora hurried into one of the rooms and plucked bottles from shelves, instruments and thread from cases and, finally, bandages. Markus set Tiderius down on one of the operating tables and placed a hand on his uninjured shoulder.

  “Hold on,” he said reassuringly. “Angora, will you need my aid?”

  With her arms full of bottles, Angora turned, thought for a moment, and nodded. “Just for a moment. We will need to extract the arrow. Here.” She quickly put down her bottles, untied her leather belt and offered it to Tiderius. “Bite down on this.”

  Tiderius looked reluctant but complied. Angora examined the wound briefly and explained that the arrow head had not protruded out the back of his shoulder but must be embedded in muscles. She spent a short while cutting at his leather armor and shirt to better reveal the entry point of the arrow. With each slight tug, Tiderius groaned. Then Angora produced a small saw and quickly cut through the protruding shaft before discarding the feathered tip.

  “This is horribly familiar,” Tiderius said through clenched teeth as Markus pushed heavily down on his uninjured shoulder to hold him steady. “No matter what has happened, you’re always here to stitch me up, you beautiful woman…”

  “What?” Angora shook her head, stunned, and turned to Markus. “Roll him onto his side and hold him. Tiderius, this is going to be painful.”

  Angora wiped her bloodied hands on her dress, then fixed one hand tightly around the remaining length of the arrow shaft. Tiderius bit down hard on the leather belt and groaned.