Spellscribed: Provenance

by Kristopher Cruz

  Endrance was terrified. What was he thinking, casting doubt upon the king’s rule and even coming here to what, kill him? He had known somewhere that the man would never willingly give up what was his. He’d rather have it all burn down around him than give it up. He took a steadying breath, and tried to take control of his shaking. It had to be done. If he didn’t stop the man, Endrance would have only a pyrrhic victory.

  The four of them stopped only ten yards from the king, their weapons at hand and their senses straining to pick up any sign of ambush. Anna moved behind the Spengur, shielding his back from attack while he confronted the king.

  “I see you cower behind your wives’ skirts as usual.” Kalenden said; his voice surprisingly without emotion. His voice carried throughout the darkness of the room, echoing off the unseen stone walls around them.

  Endrance shook his head. “I’m here for you, Kalenden. The Draugnoa are here to handle anything else you would have distract me.”

  Kalenden arched a brow. “Oh?” he asked. “I don’t need anything to distract you. After all, you were so thoughtful as to bring your own.”

  The king remained immobile, though the hand tapping the pommel of his sword never ceased moving, the rhythm of his gloved fingers tapping black steel with an even and steady pace.

  “Perhaps I should explain.” Kalenden said. “Have you gotten attached to any of those bitches you brought with you? It’s a shame that one of your women belong to me.”

  Selene balked, filled with the realization that she was the one he was referring to.

  “Come Selene.” Kalenden said playfully. “Come, serve your lord. Serve… your father.”

  The girl’s eyes widened, terrified. Bridget and Anna exchanged glances with Endrance.

  “Now it is not really that much of a surprise is it?” Kalenden said, his fingers still drumming on the sword. “After all, I can summon as many breeders as I need, and I couldn’t trust anyone else to help me populate my personal retinue of Nephilim, now could I?” His eyes searched the expressions of the four before continuing. “I’ve been breeding the things since I was old enough to do the summoning circles properly.”

  Selene was shocked. She finally found out who her father was, and it was the very man she needed to kill. The man had just… bred her, like someone would a horse. She felt the demonic half of her boiling in her blood, just begging to be released. She could almost imagine the demonic image she had seen in her dreams pushing her to let her out.

  Endrance stepped in front of her, as if he were shielding her from the awful truth with his arms outstretched. She saw the muscles of his back tensed as he addressed her newly discovered father. It had a strangely calming effect for her, just like the action did in her dreams. Maybe he hadn’t visited her with a spell, but he had been there.

  “I already knew that.” Endrance said, angry. “We’ve already recognized her heritage. Stop trying to play mind games. It’s over Kalenden! I’ll give you one more chance. Surrender!”

  Kalenden still watched impassively. “Hmm, then I accept your surrender.”

  Endrance shook his head, flexing his fingers. “No. It is your time to yield.”

  Kalenden still did not change his expression, but the tapping of his fingers slowed. “Why would I surrender when I’m the one in control?” he asked, his voice was as calm as a frozen lake.

  Endrance looked around. “I see nothing here you have any control over. Your people have turned against you, and your Nephilim have been scattered. You have nothing.”

  “I have nothing.” The king stated. “We both know that is wrong.”

  His hand stopped tapping and grasped the pommel of the sword, silencing the beat of his fingers on the metal. In the echoes of the silence a breeze washed through the hall. The candles upon their candelabra were extinguished, plunging them into darkness.

  Endrance heard the twang of something hitting metal, and felt Anna stumble up against his back. He could see nothing, but heard her gasp, followed by the distinct sound of liquid spattering upon stone. He whirled grabbing at her in the dark to keep her steady. He felt hot blood on his hands, and she was struggling to breathe.

  The other two crouched low with them, but only the single attack had struck out.

  “We need light!” Bridget cried. She immediately shifted in the dark, and heard something whistle past her ear in the darkness.

  Endrance nearly lost his composure. They knew they were walking into an ambush, but the king was too prepared for him to overcome. He shook his head. No, as long as he still lived or could carry words with his lips, he would not stop until the man was defeated. It had to be done.

  He drew up the reserves of his power, focused it into the light spell he had used so effectively before in dark situations. Its brilliant light would be more than sufficient to blind anyone who was firing at them in the dark, and let them see enough to fight back. Endrance formed the mudra with his hands, and was chanting the word needed to sling the spell when something impacted with the side of his head.

  The impact was enough to throw off his spell, but not enough to ruin it entirely. The word of power he was saying was misspoken as he was jarred, and the spell fragmented before backfiring. The extremely brilliant speck of pure white light exploded into hundreds of weaker versions of itself, scattering throughout the room in a cascade of unfading sparks. The specks of light hung scattered through the air, their faint light blanketing the room in dim illumination. The dimensions of the room could be barely seen, and the light was reflected off the sheen of the polished stone floor.

  Now they were almost literally battling within a sea of stars. Endrance shook his head and touched the spot where he was struck; not feeling any pain. His hand came away bloody, with strands of hair stuck to his gloves. He had been hit with something sharp, another throwing knife.

  He turned back to Anna, and saw she was still weakly struggling, a knife having hit her high in the chest, near her heart. She was grasping at the feathered armband Endrance had given her, but her blood slicked fingers didn’t have enough of a grip to pull one of them free. Endrance reached down and yanked one off before she lost consciousness. The cord snapped, and the power invested in it was released. There was no light, but the wound in her chest started healing immediately, the knife working out of her body as it did so.

  Endrance left her to get back into the fight on her own. He surveyed the room as the stars drifted lazily around him, but he could only see king Kalenden standing up from his throne. A shiver of realization came upon him. The only one who would be skilled enough to use knives in the dark like this had to be the Sha’hdi. But he had killed her, hadn’t he?

  Laughter, feminine like the assassin had, but harsher and scratchy echoed through the chamber.

  “You almost had me that time, mage.” Her voice echoed through the hall. “But you are not the only one with a miraculous recovery up your sleeve.”

  There was a whistle of something streaking through the air, and Endrance didn’t have time to duck as the knife came at him. The knife clattered against the face of Anna’s shield as she surged up from the ground, interposing it between the mage and the deadly blade.

  “Thanks.” Anna whispered. She looked very pale in the starlight, and she was already breathing hard. “We’ll keep you covered, just expose her.”

  Gullin! Endrance thought desperately. I need to make more light than this!

  Gullin had been grasping desperately to his shoulder using his wings to try to keep stable. Cast it again? He offered.

  She’ll strike when I do that! He replied. I have to amplify the one we already have out!

  I can help with that, Gullin replied, but it will leave me vulnerable.

  Gullin, please! He desperately asked of his familiar. We are all vulnerable now!

  The bird took to the air, flying up to the top of the hall. In the starlight, Endrance saw a dark shadow flit past the bird as it bobbed erratically through the air, a thrown weapon that missed its mar
k. He had to try to draw attention from the assassin long enough to pull off the desperate gamble.

  He stood up straight and threw his hand out towards Kalenden. “Ignatius!” He cried out loudly. Again, fire washed out from his outstretched palm. The room temporarily brightened under the flames, and the assassin was temporarily revealed, crouched by one of the pillars near Selene. Even as she was revealed, she flung one last dart, which clipped Gullin across the breast as he ascended. The familiar faltered, but did not give up his attempt.

  The assassin leapt back, but Selene had caught a glimpse of her. The blade on its chain whipped forward like the sting of a scorpion, and the assassin was rewarded with a slash across the outside of her left arm as she tumbled out of the way. Selene rushed in, her eyes wide and her breath steady, already being drawn into the trance of battle. Jalyin acrobatically dodged out of the way of her next strike, but was finding it much harder to avoid the woman now she was armed with a weapon she was an expert at.

  Gullin cried out a tripartite call, and some of Endrance’s power went through his connection to the bird and into the fragmented spell. Half of the specks of light winked out, but the other half increased in brightness threefold, illuminating the room from wall to wall better than it likely ever could under normal conditions. His work completed, the bird found no more strength for flying, and fell to the stones below. Endrance did not hear an impact through the din of battle.

  Bridget rushed in on the tail of Endrance’s fire spell, knowing that the king had resisted such a spell before. As the flames died down the King stood, taking up his weapon and entirely unharmed. Bridget leapt into the air, her curved sword slicing an arc through the glimmering stars. A battle cry on her lips, she brought the weapon down with all her strength.

  Anna sank to her knees. While the healing spell had healed most of the damage, something was wrong. Her head swam and her vision faded in and out as her pulse dulled. Her spear rolled out of her numb fingers, her shield slipped from her arm. The spot where she had been stabbed burned and itched.

  “Poison!” She managed to choke out, “She used poison!”

  Endrance turned his head to see her collapse to the floor again, this time without much struggle. He dropped down to her and yanked off a second feather, trying to help fight off the damage the poison was causing. The spell worked what it could, but it was not meant to heal such forms of injury. Endrance was helpless to watch as she faded.

  “Anna!” he shouted. “Stay with me, Anna!” He cried out, unable to turn away despite the sounds of the other Draugnoa battling without him. Bridget was barely able to force Kalenden to fight back, while Selene seemed evenly matched against the assassin at the moment. They needed his help, but so did Anna.

  Anna looked up at him with a weak smile. “Don’t fear for me, husband. I just need to rest a little.” She said. “Go. Help the others before it’s too late.”

  He watched helplessly as she went still before him. He didn’t see her breathing anymore. A thin, keening wail escaped his throat. He bowed his head as grief overwhelmed him, touching his forehead to hers. He felt despair grasp it’s icy fingers around his heart.

  One of the rings on the chain he wore around his neck turned icy cold and blackened as it deeply tarnished in seconds. Somehow it slipped off the links and hit the stone, bouncing once before rolling to a stop against Anna’s still hand. The sister ring she wore was tarnished and cold, the two rings touching.

  A woman’s scream echoed out through the hall, and he turned in time to see Bridget stumble back from Kalenden with the king’s sword stabbed deep into her leg. She dropped, unable to support her weight. Valiantly she tried to raise her weapon as the king bore down on her. His swing battered her blocking sword down and the barbed blade of the king’s sword bit into her collar. She screamed out, blood spattering from the wound as she was held in place by blade and barb. The king tugged at the blade, digging the barbs deeper and evoking another shrill cry from Bridget.

  Kalenden looked over at Endrance, and for the first time since they arrived, he smiled. He was showing the mage that he had won, that he had nothing to fear from him.

  The mage’s clothes rustled, and he looked down to see a trickle of golden light seep from Anna’s still form and swirl dutifully into his bracer. It wasn’t a lot of power, but with it came memories, impressions, and a sense of sadness that cut him to the quick. She was gone, wholly and truly gone.

  There, he felt something stir deep within him. Something he’d never felt before with such intensity or depth. A rage, no, a wrath poured through him, and all the uncertainties he had didn’t matter anymore. The icy fingers of despair were evaporated in an instant as this wrath swept through him. Nothing else mattered anymore, than the destruction of this fiend who manipulated him and hurt him deeper than anyone ever had. The king was wrong; he had everything to fear from him.

  He stood, the wail in his throat turning into a hoarse shout as he turned on Kalenden. He thrust out his right hand, pouring energy through the spell scribed there without taking care for the amount he used. The power flowed through his arm, rippling the sleeve of his clothes. As the energy ignited the spell tattooed on his fingers, the lightning burned away the fingers of his glove as white hot lines rippled the air with heat and static charge. The sleeve of his shirt started smoking as more of his scribed spells came to light and burned at his clothing.

  The king raised his left hand in defense, the palm towards him. “Infernus.” The king shouted, slinging a spell of his own. Angry green flames blasted out from his palm, the fire malevolent and concentrated in a line of flames.

  Endrance released the power of his spell, and the throne room was lit as bright as the hearts of the suns. The lightning struck dead center of the incoming pillar of hellish fire, and blasted it outwards as it drilled through the force of Kalenden’s spell. The king had as much if not more power than Endrance in this place, but the young mage had fury and skill beyond Kalenden. While the king had spent years learning from demonic tutors, siphoning away power during his reign, he could not have spent as much time practicing magic as this young man who had dedicated his whole life to the art.

  And Kalenden was not even close to as angry as Endrance was.

  The lightning dispersed the green flames as it powered through the king’s spell, and touched the palm of his hand. There was a crack of thunder and the smell of singed flesh. Kalenden flinched back, his hand scorched even through the protective spells he had already laid in place, his gauntlet blasted into fragments from his burnt flesh. He let go of his sword, and Bridget fell the rest of the way, taking the blade down with her.

  Selene was having a hard time fighting the assassin. The elf woman was skilled, talented in the art, and superhumanly nimble. While she had range and a weapon that was hard to predict, the assassin, had years of training and practice. The chain dagger was versatile, but she couldn’t put her full strength behind the strikes without breaking the chain or shattering the blade with the supernatural strength she had. While she didn’t have the muscle mass that Bridget did, she would guess she was likely as strong as Joven was.

  It was just one part of being Nephilim, it seemed. On the other hand, her reflexes had improved since she realized what she really was. It was as if the demonic side of her was trying to prove its usefulness to her, to convince her to let her take control. Trying to show how much easier it would be to kill.

  A scream echoed through the throne room, and her fighting rhythm was thrown off. Bridget! She saw her drop to her knees, and the king bringing his sword down on her, the Draugnoa vainly raising her curved chopping blade to defend.

  In her moment of distraction, the assassin flung the last handful of her knives at the girl. The three blades, their edges seeping poison, found their mark. The blades caught her in her gut, her right shoulder, and left forearm as the Draugnoa flinched from the attack. Jalyin smiled. The fight was over. The barbarian outside might have been able to shake off one of her poisoned da
ggers like that day of the eclipse, but the eldest of the three Draugnoa succumbed to only one. This girl who hadn’t even developed her abilities as Nephilim wouldn’t stand a chance of fighting off three doses, alongside the injuries the knives gave her.

  Selene looked back at the assassin, and as her vision blurred, she found the elf’s smug smirk very irritating. Sinking to the ground, she felt a coldness seep through her, though her wounds burned terribly with poison. Her heartbeat faltered, and darkness swept over her.

  I…I’m sorry, my love. She thought as her thoughts started fading. I don’t think I’m going to make it.

  The assassin watched a second longer as the woman admirably fought the poison before losing the battle. The room ignited in brilliant fire and lightning, and the assassin saw that Kalenden would need more assistance. That brat was going to be more trouble than it was worth. The jagged scars radiating from her abdomen where the mage’s lightning had hit her ached sharply as she watched the man use the spell on Kalenden. If he had hit her with a spell of that potency, there wouldn’t have been enough of her left to heal, much less gather with a broom.

  Up from the darkness in Selene’s mind, she heard her own voice laughing at her. The demonic side of her was still there, still vital and potent.

  “You fool.” She said. “Now we are going to die, and you could have stopped this, had you left me in control.”

  Selene had hardly the consciousness to respond, but in desperation replied. “Can you do anything now?”

  “Not as we are.” She said. “Please,” her other half actually pleaded with her. “I don’t want to die any more than you. Let me take control. I will wrest victory from this defeat.”

  Selene was nearly gone, and she decided then that it wouldn’t matter either way. If she did or did not give up control, she would be lost. “Fine.” She replied wearily. “You have control… of everything.”

  The demonic half of her didn’t speak to her, but she felt like warm hands grasped her heart. The warmth grew into heat, and that heat grew… into hellfire.