The savage pressure crushing down on him lessened, or to be more precise the dark-haired girl Ziedra, already shuddering with the effort was taking up part of the load.
He still couldn’t see through the onslaught to the enemy. He strove with all his strength to drive back the barrage.
Another body slipped in close to his, and put an arm around him, free hand thrust into the maelstrom. The newcomer immediately grew hot against his skin, and he felt a surprising jolt of strength surge through him. His weakening legs firmed.
“Damn,” he heard Wren growl. “How—many—are there?!”
“Can’t—tell,” he gritted back.
“Shut up—and—push,” Ziedra snarled.
He heard explosions, saw bodies flash by, but was so busy concentrating he couldn’t really tell what was happening.
He felt another hand shove against his shoulder. A flood of vitality burst through him. “Get them, Bannor,” he heard Daena growl.
Strength was no longer an issue. He had a first one lending her limitless life force to him. Wren was protecting them with her force Nola, and Ziedra was guarding them from magic. He’d never felt so powerful and overwhelmed at the same time.
Bannor decided to ignore their attacker for the moment, and drew on the strength given him. He tightened his links to eternity and to Wren, Ziedra, and Daena, sharing and balancing their efforts and pushing the Garmtur into them.
Wren and Ziedra firmed up at his sides, their resistance to the attack growing as he gave them the Garmtur’s strength. He added Daena to the sharing, pushing his power into her and sharing hers with the other two.
Binding the four of them together sent a jolt through the group, Wren and Ziedra seemed to actually grow, and their bodies gleamed as though lit from within.
“Whoa,” Wren let out.
“Lords,” Ziedra gasped.
“Uhhm,” Daena made a pleased sound.
Bannor didn’t know exactly how, but the unity of the four of them was far stronger than the individual parts. He felt Daena’s immortal vitality like hardened armor around his limbs. The Garmtur had come alive in a way totally new to him. He had always felt connected to other savants, but he had never tried to connect them with each other. Now acting as the hub, he felt their powers working through him, and his through them. Each woman was a reflection of all their powers combined, four now had the potential of sixteen.
The new potential showed because they began to repel the attack, driving it back. Bannor felt the enemy struggling now. The metal walls of the corridor glowed red with heat. Wren’s force savant powers just soaked up the energy, and fed the power to Daena’s energy-hungry body.
Daena was more than a savant, she was a first one with their near limitless potential, the joining and extra energy simply fortified the girl until she seemed like a titan bracing them against the enemy.
With enough energy to spare, Bannor began to push through the hail of magic and energy toward its author. Even with all the assistance of the other three, it was no easy task. He was going to have a massive headache—provided they survived. He sensed that a fierce battle was going on around them.
Drawing a breath, he decided that the time for caution and carefulness was over.
The women didn’t respond with words, but he sensed their acknowledgements.
He had expected a hefty push, but not the titanic shove that drove through him in an explosive out-pour. The blast actually knocked him backward, making Daena, Wren, and Ziedra reel off balance.
Somewhere down the corridor there was a brief shriek as something momentarily resisted that massive pulse before disintegrating under its intolerable force. The power of their strike did not stop but stabbed through the hull of the ship like a needle through cloth, vaporizing a man-sized hole clear through twenty-paces of bulkheads to the outside of the ship.
Horns blared and lights spun overhead, an icy-mist began pouring into the compartments.
The ferocity of their counterattack seemed to stun not only them but the entire chamber where combat was underway. Dulcere, Quasar, Beia, Corim, Radian and Senalloy, and Janai had broken away from four huge figures that had to be Baronians like the two Aarlen took away. In the center of the chamber were melted fragments of metal, shreds of cloth, and blood that were the remains of the group of at least four mages who had been working together to bind them.
Four down, only a hundred thousand or so to go.
The massive creatures were uniformly large and burly but there the similarities stopped, each male as different from each another as any of Bannor’s new friends. All of them had various rank and campaign tattoos on their faces, in different colors that made their countenances that much more imposing. Hair varied from waist length to shaved bald. Each male wore an amalgam of armor and clothing, favoring dark colors hard to see in the dark metal confines of the Kriar artifices. The males already glistened with sweat and were bloody from the short exchange, clothing torn and burned.
Opposite the Baronians, Dulcere, Quasar and Radian stood together blades of light burning in their hands, a red haze shimmering on the surface of their gold skin. Corim and Beia stood together breathing heavily, swords bared and feet braced. Huge Senalloy with her crystal sword in one hand and a torn piece of cloth in the other stood in front of Janai who held a tall glowing bow in her hand.
Bannor saw the scene and just didn’t see the point in taking the chance that someone would get killed or seriously injured.
He yelled to be heard over the crackling of flames and the blare of horns. He gripped the axe on his side. “Fellows, a tactical retreat seems your best option right now. The balance just swung way out of your favor. You tried. You lost. Leave.”
Still eying their opponents, one of the Baronians, one with long braided hair and a black stripe of make-up painted across his eyes to make him look more fierce, fixed Bannor with an icy stare. He looked at the creature’s threads. Here was an entity that did not fear death or pain. There was only one thing it could truly be said to shrink from—and that was failure. Like now. The emotion was so strong that Bannor could almost taste its bitterness in his own mouth. The Baronian’s stare held in it no malice, no anger, just calculation—weighing odds and options. Bannor had met all kinds of creatures, powerful, angry, hateful, evil and insane—none of them struck a cord of unease in him like this individual; a mind and body under rigid control driven by a stark determination to complete a mission.
After a long moment, his eyes never leaving Bannor, the long-haired Baronian shoved his sword into its sheath over his back. He raised his chin and made a fist in front of himself. “Voldrax,” he said in booming voice.
“Bannor,” he answered.
Voldrax nodded. He looked to the others who put their weapons away, but still remained at the ready. The Baronian glanced at Dulcere and Quasar, his expression hardening. He made a gesture that was very obviously a salute, a dip of the head and a slice of the hand toward his chest. Abruptly, he and the others were gone in a flash of bluish light.
“And why exactly did we let them go?” Wren demanded.
“Because, we have what we came for.”
“Huh?”
Bannor pointed to the panting Senalloy, and the torn cloth gripped in her hand. The Baronian woman looked down at her hand and held up what must be the bloody sleeve of one of the warriors. The fierce expression on her face melted to one of surprise as she looked at the fabric.
“Lady Dulcere,” Bannor said. “I hope you’ll forgive me exceeding my authority there. Those men were not going to surrender, and they were willing to kill themselves to do us as much harm as possible.”
Dulcere nodded and leaned over to see the cloth in Senalloy’s hand.
“Please,” Bannor said. “That was my next suggestion.”
Dulcere’s gaze went to the hole in the hull, and the frosty-mist pouring down around them.
In a matter of moments, they were back in Eternity’s heart and the ladies were thumping him on the shoulder for his success. Despite their apparent victory, he couldn’t shake the look he had seen in the Baronian Voldrax’s eyes.
They would meet again.
* * *
Chapter Nine
Ring
« ^ »
For the first time in more than a dozen millennia I hesitated—besides making me feel less than bright it really expressed my surprise and awe at the power of one obviously so young and raw. He saved my life and for that I owe him, and there are few I owe anything other than paybacks. He bears watching, this youngster and his soon-to-be offspring even more…
—Supreme Magestrix Aarlen Frielos,
Minister of the 4th Alliance Territories
The adventure at the Kriar way-point left Bannor with a number of feelings, most of them good. What little craving for excitement that had lingered in the back of his head had been well satisfied. For the first time since discovering his identity as the Garmtur, he had been able to help someone when it wasn’t out of necessity. He had rationally chosen to go to the way-point and help in the investigation. While the exploration wasn’t the most comfortable of his life, he could honestly reflect and say that it was probably the least painful of his learning experiences. He witnessed truly amazing phenomena and his already healthy respect for the diversity of the universe had been forced to encompass an even grander scope than he imagined. Most importantly, he learned something crucial about his own nature that in all his introspection he never even caught an inkling of; the function of the Garmtur as a catalyst.
For some fortnights he’d known about his connection with other savants. From talking with the others they all felt the kinship, but not as strongly as he did. He had used that kinship on several occasions to great effect, but never like today. In other situations, there simply hadn’t been an occasion to try, but this time for whatever reason he had instinctively chosen to try and interconnect the other savants—to act as a kind of conduit. He would be some time yet reflecting on the significance of what occurred. It was obviously no accident. Strangely, Wren and Ziedra had been surprised by it, but not confused or hesitant, they almost immediately grasped what was going on as though they had experienced it before.
Back at Eternity’s Heart Aarlen was waiting for them. The giant white-haired elder had thanked him, and came as close to an apology as someone of her age and station can come. The cool and aloof Dulcere expressed her gratitude more than once, and apologized multiple times for the danger she had placed them in. The capture of the two Baronian spies was a giant break in the mystery surrounding the Genemar. Her only regret was the situation had prevented him from searching Rakaar’s quarters and potentially learning even more. She had respectfully requested his services again at such a time that they had made the area more secure. He acquiesced with some reluctance, not really wanting to commit to the obvious problem posed by the Baronians and their search for the Genemar.
The lady had mentioned something intriguing. She told him that she heard that he was having difficulties learning all the necessities for his wedding. She offered that in return for his help, she could rectify his knowledge deficiency. How she found out about his situation with learning all the elven ceremony requirements, he didn’t know, but having seen all the other Kriar magic it wouldn’t surprise him if they had some miraculous way of teaching. Drink a potion and learn to dance, or something equally unlikely. Given the poor results he was having with the maestro and those stupid pipes, he might have to take Dulcere up on her offer simply so he didn’t embarrass the entire T’Evagduran family.
Aarlen’s magic unfolded from around them like the petals of giant glittering flower, the sparkles drifting away on a fragrant late-afternoon breeze still warmed by the tangerine glow of a setting sun. The tower chimes were playing as the organic tapestry of the city and the citadel magically stitched itself into their view. The whole group had come to see them off, and the first-comers to Malan made appreciative humming sounds as they looked around. Bannor wasn’t positive why all of them had chosen to make the journey to Malan, but he suspected it was simply to know where they could find he, Daena, and Wren.
With the vine-shrouded gates of Green Run looming over them, they had a considerable audience to the view their appearance. At least fifty elven ladies and gentlemen, standing and sitting along the cobbled path paused to gaze at them in surprise. The silver crested and armored gate guards got over their shock in instants and were lowering their weapons.
With a gasp, Janai jumped between them and the group holding up a hand. “Praelor Din’Ae, Praelor Qui’Tah, distrika!”
Called by name, the two burly elves drew back from the princess with nods and bows.
Hands behind her back, gold-skinned Dulcere looked down the tree-shrouded paths, an obvious longing in her smiling expression.
“I have never been to the capital,” Corim said. His gaze turning down-slope to the metropolis hidden among the trees. “The elves never fail to amaze with their artistry. You have to look twice to pick out the buildings.”
“So, this is why you’ve been hiding yourself?” Ziedra asked Wren with hands on hips. “Didn’t want to share your secret vacation spot? It’s so beautiful!” She looked to Janai. “Arminwen, do you suppose the Pegasus of Corwin would be well received here?”
Janai turned her head to one side. “The Pegasus? I heard the Baron’s prize dancer died… had her head chopped off or some such.”
Ziedra ran a hand through her long black tresses. “Her head is still on her shoulders, right here where it belongs.” She rose up to balance on a single toe and did a graceful pirouette. She winked at Janai. “I’m not as young as I used to be, but my repertoire is considerably improved.” She drifted into the air and did a slow turn.
Janai smiled. “Ah. Lady Ziedra, is that your way of requesting lodgings?”
The dark-haired woman colored a little. “Actually, yes. For myself, and my husband of course.”
“Then it is done,” Janai returned with a nod. “Wren’s friends of are course ours, and I already feel us comrades.”
“Going to keep an eye on me, eh?” Wren said with a raised eyebrow to Ziedra.
The dark-haired woman stared right at Wren. “Exactly.”
The blonde savant sighed and rolled her eyes. “Well, Mother and Father will be glad to see you. They’d been wondering…”
“Well, it all looks under control,” Aarlen said. “Good luck on your wedding, Bannor. I suspect we’ll be in contact soon, hopefully we won’t need your services… but there’s always that chance.”
“Yes,” Bannor answered. “Good luck to you too.”
Aarlen nodded as did Beia and the two vanished in a flash of light.
Senalloy was looking around, obviously appreciating the scenery. She turned to Corim. “Any reason we can’t stay here? Between the Kriar dormitories, those cramped quarters at the school, and that droll little apartment, I am ready for a change.”
“It’s expensive here in Malan,” Corim said with a frown. “The Shael Dal don’t pay a stipend, and I haven’t the time to teach any classes…”
The tall Baronian woman rolled her eyes. She pulled off one of her rings, stepped over to Janai and leaned close with the ring held out. “Think this would get us some lodging hereabouts?”
The princess took the ring, and examined it with narrowed eyes. “Nice. Yes, this will buy you guest quarters in the south wing for a fortnight.” She grinned. “Provided you’re willing to teach me that revealing spell you cast today.”
Senalloy tilted her head. “Are you advanced enough in your studies to learn such a spell? It’s is not an easy one.”
Janai glanced around. She eyed Daena and Bannor. “I’m willing to risk it.” She slipped the ring on her finger.
The Baronian shrugged. “All right.”
The princess turned to the Kriar woman. “Lady Dulcere? Will you be joining us?”
The Kriar seemed caught by surprise. She turned toward the princess.
Janai leaned back with folded arms. Her gaze turned to Daena. She ran her hand through the girl’s thick auburn hair above the young woman’s glowing green eyes. “They grew accustomed to Daena. I don’t know why they couldn’t get used to yours. That gold-skin will be envied to be certain.” She looked around. “It seems to me that you spend too much time enclosed in those metal walls.”
Dulcere looked out to the sun and sighed.
“Then it’s settled,” Janai said. “You can be my guest, if you don’t mind humoring me and my family with a tale or two.”
Dulcere bowed.
“Something tells me, there’s an exciting bit or two to share,” Janai responded, glancing at Corim with a grin. “There is one condition to your stay though.”
The Kriar raised an eyebrow.
“You can’t wear—” She pointed at Dulcere’s skin-tight uniform which looked painted on her skin. “Whatever that is—around the castle. We would prefer something a little more decorative and a little less obvious.”
The gold woman looked down at herself and her brow furrowed.
Reality's Plaything 3: Eternal's Agenda Page 15