by Andrew Day
Which was something of a problem, seeing as how, if he was being honest with himself, he didn’t really know how to use the thing. He knew how to tap into the energy, but that was like opening the floodgates. Energy poured out uncontrollably, and you got to taste barely a small mouthful while the rest poured away in a torrent.
So in hindsight, he knew attacking the Legion camp had been a bad idea. The first time he had tapped into the Illudin and had laid waste to the Elsbareth forces, putting them down like the cringing Imperial loving dogs they were, that had been on Vharaes’ command. The second time, he had just not been able to resist temptation when the Legion’s camp had unexpectedly crossed his path. What, was he supposed to not kill Imperials when the chance arose? What sense did that make?
True, the Legion had been slightly more prepared than the Elsbareth army had been. And the Illudin had been somewhat depleted after the first battle, and had been rather low during the attack. And yes, the mage thought bitterly, he had maybe, slightly, run away and left a large number of Ferine under his command to die. To be fair, he was suppose to protect the Illudin no matter what... And, all right, true, he had been the one to endanger it in the first place by attacking the Legion and not delivering it straight away to Vollumir like he had been supposed to. But he was making things right. He had found the place to recharge the Illudin. He had even captured and spared the prisoner, who was, even now, helping the mage to unlock and master all the secrets of the Illudin. When it was back to full strength, he would show Vharaes his true potential by destroying the remnant of the Legion once and for all. That was sure to earn him forgiveness for past transgressions.
It might even stop the “master” from doing something incredibly horrendous to him...
And the sooner the better in the mage’s opinion. He was tired of the constant travel and even more tired of the Ferine who were poor companions and even poorer conversationalists. Everything about them disgusted him. Even now, he could see a group of them sleeping in a big pile by a camp fire like degenerate animals. It had been something of a relief when he had found the prisoner. He at least was someone the mage could talk to, even if he was a human.
The mage stood by the Illudin in the middle of the quarry. He rarely left it alone for long, and the pulsating light beating within as it drew up energy from the ether drew his eye like a moth to a flame. He wanted to feel that energy again, to feel it streaming through him. To feel like a god. Then he could have reduced the stinking, uncouth Ferine around him to ash with a click of his fingers. That would have felt so good.
He lifted his hand towards it, not to connect with it, merely to feel the thrum of the ether pouring inside. To satiate his need for that power until the moment he could once again tap into its full potential.
Had he been paying proper attention to his surroundings, he would have felt or at least sensed on some level, the weaving of the ether not far from him. When he lifted his hand to the Illudin, and instead found himself stopped short by an invisible barrier that gave his hand a green outline, he was momentarily surprised.
Then a huge bolt of ether energy slammed into the ground, the shockwave sending a group of Ferine flying skywards. The mage weaved his own shield over himself as more bolts splashed down all around him, some dangerously close to the Illudin. The warning Vharaes had given him, about not damaging the Illudin in anyway, or it would destroy him, ran around his head as chunks of earth and rocks blown up from the barrage smashed against the mystery shield around the crystal and bounced off.
Coming to his senses, he screamed at the Ferine, “We’re under attack! Get up, you stupid mutts, we’re under attack!”
He tried to trace the paths of the falling energy bolts, and saw, high above on the cliffs overlooking the quarry, two figures with staves.
He pointed. “There! Get up there and kill them! Hurry! Where the hell are the guards?”
Up on the cliff, Serrel grunted as his staff vibrated heavily in his hands as fragments of stone bounced off his shield. His staff had started to become very twitchy of late. He wondered if he had accidentally damaged it during the many violent altercations he’d had over the last few days. Being bitten by a monster probably hadn’t been good for it afterall.
“That last one was a little close, Mouse,” he warned.
“Sorry,” said Mouse, sighting down the length of her staff. She weaved a bolt of energy so powerful it actually caused her to jerk backwards when she fired it. It hit the ground on the floor of the quarry, causing Ferine to scatter, and scattering parts of an unlucky elf all over his companions.
“You’re burning up energy too fast,” Serrel commented.
Mouse paused and considered this. “No,” she decided. “I’m good.” She fired another bolt downwards, and for the first time since he had met her, Serrel saw her smile. It was somewhat disconcerting.
Behind him came the sounds of a struggle. Metal blades clashed briefly, then there was a gurgling sound, and the thud of a body hitting the ground.
“That’s three,” Victor commented.
“Are we competing?” asked Mouse with interest as another Ferine exploded below.
“No, Mouse. I’m just saying, that was three sentries that came for us.” Victor paused, then drew a throwing knife and hurled it into the tree line. Something yelped, and fell over. “Four.”
“There are about to be more,” said Serrel. “It looks like they’re getting ready to come up... Mouse, archers!”
Mouse weaved a shield in front of them, and a barrage of arrows shattered upon the invisible barrier and dropped back down to the quarry below. Victor muttered something under his breath, and a ball of fire ignited in his left hand. He came up besides Serrel and threw the fireball at the archers below. The magical flames flared and spread out as the fireball hit the ground, distracting the Ferine rather than causing any real harm. But the blast of energy Mouse rained down on them after made sure they were not going to return fire any time soon.
Victor looked at her. “You’re enjoying this far too much.”
“I take pride in my weaving. Don’t you?”
“And you all thought I was the creepy one,” Victor said to Serrel darkly.
“Fire on the mage,” Serrel told Mouse. “Keep him distracted.”
“All right. But if I get through his barrier, it counts as two.”
“We aren’t competing,” said Victor.
“If you say so. But so you both know, twelve.”
Boom.
“Thirteen.”
“The guards from the road are coming back,” Victor noted, ignoring her.
Serrel saw Ferine running back from their posts guarding the road into the quarry.
“That means Jurgen’s clear,” said Serrel.
“Let’s hope your sergeant can do her part,” Victor replied. “Or we are going to be swarmed up here.”
“Fifteen,” said Mouse.
“Stop counting!”
To get to the top of the cliffs, the Ferine had to first make it into the forest, travelling up the steep incline at the quarry’s edge. Mouse fired on them all the way. And worse for them was what was waiting in the forest for them.
As the first group of Ferine made it halfway up the incline, the Hounds appeared from the tree line and fired down on them with bows. The Ferine were exposed, slowed too much by the steep slope, and caught without cover. Their height advantage let the four Hounds fire off several volleys, decimating their number.
Meanwhile, the Nightblades and the four soldiers of the Legion followed behind the Ferine who had been guarding the road, and entered the quarry almost without resistance, and in the bedlam that Mouse laid down from the cliff top, managed to take the Ferine still in the camp by surprise.
Serrel watched Jurgen make his entrance, and then saw the Hounds fighting on the other side of the quarry. With the Ferine in disarray, the two groups made the most of their surprise attack, and pushed ahead, into the camp.
“All right, Mouse. You
can stop now.”
Mouse paused, staff raised, and looked mildly disappointed. She fired one last bolt of energy down into the camp.
“I got the mage,” she said happily.
“Well done,” said Victor sardonically. “Let’s get down there. You sure you can keep up your shield from here, Serrel?”
“I don’t know,” said Serrel. “It’s easier to weave in this place, but I’m weaving that shield rather far away from me. We’ll need to stay near the edge so I have a clear view.”
“All right then. We’ll keep any Ferine off you. Let’s go.”
Below them on the quarry floor, the mage groaned and stirred. Mouse’s last attack had impacted his shield, and his old and worn staff had not taken the stain. It had snapped, and the force of the blast had blown the mage to the ground. He stared up, dazed, and saw the three figures moving along the cliff top. Then he looked at the Illudin, looming over him, pulsing with energy and locked away behind a shield. So much power, so close, and he couldn’t touch it.
It wasn’t fair.
Seething with rage, the mage climbed to his feet and ran at the Illudin. He hammered his bare hands against the barrier impotently, as Imperial soldiers and Ferine fought and died around him. He pressed his hands against the shield, and uttered a long string of ancient elven words of power, willing the Illudin to hear his pleas.
Purely by luck, he spoke the words of power that activated the Illudin. The huge crystal lit up a deep crimson, and a beam of red light fired from its topmost point, tearing though Serrel’s shield.
Up on the cliff, feedback from the force of the energy beam ripping apart his shield transferred into Serrel’s staff, nearly throwing it from his grasp. It did snap upwards and smack him in the side of the face, knocking him to the ground stunned.
“Oh, dear,” said Mouse.
“Shit,” agreed Victor.
The elf mage laughed in joy. Charges of energy crackled like lightning across the surface of the Illudin, and arced across the air and into the mage’s hand. He felt the energy fill him, limitless, pouring from the ether in a torrent. He lifted his free hand, and weaved the ether into a wide beam of red energy that he swept across the quarry.
Two Legion soldiers and several Ferine were cut into pieces instantly. Caellix saw the beam coming, and threw herself flat onto the ground as it flashed overhead. Then the mage turned, and directed all his anger onto the foolish magic weaver who thought to keep him from the Illudin’s power. He lifted his hand, and fired at the figures on the cliff.
Victor grabbed Serrel by the arm and dragged him to his feet.
“Come on, we need to-”
“Look out!” Mouse screamed.
The huge beam of energy cast by the mage hit the cliff, just below where the three were standing. Mouse threw a shield over them, but to no avail. The beam shot through her barrier as if it were not even there, and blew the rocky face of the cliff apart.
Victor and Serrel suddenly found the ground beneath their feet dropping away. Victor was ahead of the pair, and managed to fall forwards and grab a hold of solid ground. Behind him Serrel had a second of unbridled panic, and then he was falling.
There was the roaring of collapsing stone all around him, and above him he saw the faces of Mouse and Victor staring down at him in horror, and rapidly diminishing in size as he plummeted downwards.
Strangely, it occurred to him that he was falling off a high cliff for the second time in two days. Now that was unlucky. And this time there wasn’t going to be a river below to catch him.
There was nothing to do except fall.
The destroyed section of cliff hit the quarry floor and smashed to rubble, throwing up a billowing cloud of dust that swallowed up Serrel moments before he hit the ground.
Then there was a huge force, yanking him upwards so hard he thought his joints would be torn from their sockets. Coughing from the dust and dazed from the unexpected assault, it took Serrel an embarrassingly long time to realise he had not hit the quarry floor and splattered into a bloody mess. He was in fact floating still in the air a metre or so above a large pile of broken white stone.
He was wondering if he was hallucinating. If he had had actually landed and was lying in a pile of broken limbs dreaming he had been miraculously saved. With eyes stinging from all the dust in the air, Serrel could just make out the weird green aura that ebbed around his floating form.
Then whatever magic had saved his life was dispelled as quick as it had come, and Serrel dropped the short distance to the ground.
The landing was not as bad as it should have been, but there wasn’t really a gentle way to land on your back on solid rock. Serrel groaned, and rolled aside to get away from whatever jagged edge was poking him in the kidney. Through the cloud of dust around him, there came more flashes of red light, and manical laughter cut with bouts of ragged coughing.
Serrel pulled forced himself up, using his staff as a lever, and limped towards the ominous red glow that was obscured by dust. He saw the elven mage, half blinded by the dust cloud, firing indiscriminately at any moving shape he saw. He was killing more Ferine than Imperials, but didn’t seem to care. His back was to Serrel, a long red arc of energy crackling through the air from the Illudin and into him.
It was unsporting, but Serrel didn’t really care at that moment. He lifted his staff, and fired the biggest bolt of energy he could weave into the mage’s back.
The mage’s laugh died with a surprised grunt as his chest exploded outwards. His spell ended abruptly, but his connection to the Illudin didn’t break. Somehow he managed to stay standing, and on wobbling legs he turned to face Serrel, the Illudin still pumping him full of energy.
The mage looked at Serrel with eyes that were now pools of blinding red light. Even the hole Serrel had blown through his chest seemed ringed with red light. He was overflowing with ether energy.
“You...” the mage slurred. “You think... you can... You think...”
The Mage’s legs gave out on him, and he dropped to his knees. Except as he hit the ground, the light in his eyes flared brighter. Pin pricks of light began to appear across his skin as the energy within him began to leak out of his being.
Serrel could only watch as the mage began to smoke, his body rapidly consumed by all the energy still pumping into him. Red pin pricks became giant holes of light in the elf’s flesh. In seconds he was nothing but a blinding elf shaped body of red light. Then with one blinding flash, he was gone.
The arc that connected him to the Illudin crackled and discharged itself on the few tiny motes of dust that still remained of the elf. Then as suddenly as it had activated, the Illudin’s outburst died. The beam that shot into the sky disappeared, and the crystal returned to sitting on the quarry floor, quietly feeding on the ether, its inner light pulsing to its own beat.
Serrel stood there, stunned and still in shock, the area around him obscured by the thick dust. He heard low growls of pain, and someone groaning.
Then a woman’s voice started shouting, “I need help over here!”
It was Caellix.
Serrel snapped from his stupor. Unable to see, he lifted his staff, and weaved the ether into a wave of force that exploded outwards from him in a circle. The shockwave was strong enough to clear the surrounding area of dust so that he could see again.
Caellix was kneeling on the ground besides Holly. Holly lay on her side, a huge Ferine sword was buried up to its hilt in her back, its broad blade jutting out through her chest.
“It’s not bad,” Holly said weakly. “Doesn’t hurt.”
“Don’t move,” Caellix instructed. “Fresh Meat’s here. He can help.”
“Yay,” Holly replied without conviction.
Serrel knelt down beside her. He didn’t even know where to begin. Shock and terror were clouding his mind. He forced himself to take a breath, and think through what he knew about healing spells.
Gods damn it, he had never been all that good at healing spells. Tiny cuts
and grazes were all well and good but what the hell could you do about a bloody great sword stuck...
Stop the bleeding, he told himself. First thing in any injury, you had to stop the bleeding. He gently leaned over Holly and touched the tips of his fingers against the edges of her wounds.
Holly groaned. “Serrel?”
“I’m here, Hol.” He focused on the word of power Ilisolde, reshaping his energy so it could pass into her.
“I’m sorry I made fun of you before,” said Holly.
“Stop talking, Wells,” Caellix told her.
“I shouldn’t have made fun of your story,” Holly went on regardless. “It wasn’t right.”
“That’s all right, Hol,” Serrel replied off-hand. He thought he had his energy in the shape compatible with the girl’s aura. He slowly allowed it to trickle into her.
“It isn’t funny that you can’t go home,” he heard Holly saying. “I can’t go home either... Serrel,” she grabbed at his sleeve weakly. “You have to... You have tell my father something for me.”
“You can tell him yourself,” replied Serrel, not really listening. He was trying to get the energy into her body. Trying to give the severed flesh a boost so it would start healing. But the blood wouldn’t stop.
“Tell my father I’m sorry,” Holly continued. “He didn’t want me to join the Legion. We argued, and he was so mad...”
The blood wouldn’t stop. Why wouldn’t the blood stop, there was enough energy, gods damn it?
“Fathers are like that,” Caellix said gently. “They always think they know what’s best. But I’m sure he forgives you, Holly.”
“You don’t know my father,” said Holly. She closed her eyes. “I want to go home.”
“You will. Just picture it in your mind. What does it look like?”
“Our cottage... with the thatched roof... The dog liked to sleep under the stairs... My stupid little brothers... always underfoot...”