by Andrew Day
“It doesn’t matter how much energy I use, there’s still so much of it,” she complained.
“Elf! Pointy!” roared Caellix. “Get over here!”
Dhulrael ran over to them, flanked by Snow and Dogbreath.
“It isn’t working,” Mouse told him.
“What do you mean?”
“There’s no...” She made an expansive gesture with her arms. “Whooshing thing... The light in the sky...”
“It’s not releasing energy like the other one,” clarified Serrel. He slapped his hand onto the Illudin, and connected with it. He felt the familiar spike of energy spear straight into him, and instantly refill the energy he had previously spent. But the Illudin didn’t have the same wasteful discharge as the one in the quarry. There was no huge beam of light shooting into the sky to help deplete its reserves. “See? They must have figured out how to use it better.”
Serrel weaved a shield around them as Dhulrael examined the Illudin.
“I can’t keep up the connection,” Mouse explained. “The energy comes in faster than I can weave. I have to break off before I subbermate.”
“Subbermate?”
“You know... Explode,” Mouse said impatiently.
“Sublimate,” corrected Dhulrael.
“Whatever, elf,” snapped Caellix. “Fix it!”
“I do not even know what they have done!” replied Dhulrael.
“You had better figure it out, because at the moment we’re only fighting a few Ferine. The ones on the walls, and guarding the gates are going to be joining in any moment. We can’t hold them off forever.”
“Well, technically with this thing, I probably could,” said Serrel. He had pumped so much energy into his shield it was visible as a transparent red wall encircling them. Arcs of energy crackled through the air and seared the flesh of any Ferine who got too close.
“Sitting here until help arrives is not a plan, Fresh Meat.”
“Make way!” Annabella was screaming at them suddenly.
She and Victor each had a hold on one of Jurgen’s arms and were dragging him towards the Illudin. Serrel dispelled his shield, and then dropped it back into place behind them.
“Jurgen? You still alive?” Caellix asked.
“I’m getting too old for this,” Jurgen groaned.
“Mouse, can you heal him?” Victor asked. “I can’t do healing spells worth a damn.”
“I’ll try,” said Mouse. She pressed her hand against the Illudin, and focused on fixing the damage done to Jurgen.
Jurgen shook his head. “No time,” he winced. “I can’t feel my legs. Whatever damage is done, you can’t fix it magically. As soon as the energy dissipates, my spine going to come apart again.”
“I have a lot of energy.”
“And I am not going to be dependant on the gods damn ether for the rest of my life!” Jurgen snapped. “Just dull the pain. Can you do that?”
“Yes, Captain.”
“Annabella? Blackwood?” Jurgen grabbed Victor by the collar and pulled him down. “This is the last order I am going to give you two idiots. Listen closely. Vharaes cannot get away. This does not go on. So the first chance you get, you take the Patrician, and you make him show you a way into the fortress. You find Vharaes, and you end that warmongering piece of shit’s life. Am I clear?”
“Sir,” Annabella tried. “The General told us-”
“To hell with Dillaini. I have a writ of death signed by the Empress herself. I don’t care what her reasons are, you follow my orders not hers. You take that elven bastard’s head.”
“We’ll do it, Captain,” said Victor.
“Good. Now what the hell is taking so long with this damn rock?”
“Patrician?” Caellix asked with clear threat in her voice.
“I think I have it,” said Dhulrael. He twisted one of the metal rings at the Illudin’s base and clicked it into a new position.
A heavy shudder vibrated visibly through the crystal, and under his hand, Serrel felt a tiny crack appear on its smooth surface. He shot Dhulrael a look.
“Don’t do that again,” he warned.
“Sorry.” Dhulrael turned another ring a few notches. “I think this should do it. Watch your shield.”
Serrel dispelled his shield, just as the Illudin began discharging energy into the sky. Where the beam of light hit the clouds, huge arcs of electricity danced outwards. There was a near constant boom and crash of thunder as the magical lightning spread outwards in a circle from the Illudin.
“Just in time,” said Caellix, shouting to be heard over the erupting sky. “We have company.”
More Ferine were amassing at the last two streets, waiting to storm the market square. Serrel took his hand from the Illudin, and cut the connection. The Illudin fell silent.
“Tell everyone to fall back to us,” he said.
Caellix looked at him, then at Mouse who lifted her staff meaningfully.
“To us!” she screamed as loud as she could. “Fall back to our position, you dogs! Move it, or you’re going to be left behind!”
“You heard the sergeant!” joined Snow. “Hop to it!”
The Hounds retreated into the center of the square. The Ferine all hesitated, and stood in place. They stared at the Illudin and the two mages beside it as the Hounds gathered around them. Vost was the last one to fall into place, running up to Caellix with tail wagging, holding what appeared to be a dismembered Ferine arm in his mouth.
“What now?” Caellix asked.
Mouse stepped onto the lip of the fountain for added height. “You should all probably duck,” she advised calmly. She stretched out her hand, and touched the Illudin.
The Hounds threw themselves to the ground as the Illudin exploded into life. Serrel gently placed his hand against the crystal on the opposite side from Mouse, and lifted his staff. The Ferine hesitated, but neither of the mages waited for them to attack anyway.
The light from their weaving was visible from the Legion’s camp. Dillaini took it as a sign that it was time to attack. Towns and villages far away from Vollumir saw the sky light up red, the Aurora Ethereal dancing across the heavens.
When it was over, most of the buildings surrounding the square were flattened, and there was a not a living Ferine to be seen. They were all dead or fleeing. When Serrel finally broke contact with the Illudin, his staff was hot in his hands. Mouse surveyed the ruined buildings and smiled in satisfaction.
“That was all your fault,” Serrel told her.
“Yes it was,” she agreed.
“Gods,” breathed Annabella. “What did you do?”
“What we were meant to do.”
“You are destroying my city,” said Dhulrael in shock. “Was that absolutely necessary?”
“Yes.”
“I’m sure the Legion will compensate everyone for damages,” lied Snow. “Let’s finish this before they regroup.”
“Let them regroup,” said Mouse. “We can handle it.”
“Mouse,” Victor said sternly.
She sighed. “Fine.”
“Let’s empty this damn thing and smash it,” suggested Serrel.
“I’ll do it,” said Jurgen forcefully. “You all get out of here, while the Ferine can’t see you. I’ll take care of the thing.”
Annabella stared at him. “Captain, you haven’t done any weaving in nearly a decade.”
“It’s like falling off a log, Kincade. You never forget.” Jurgen pulled the glove of his left hand, revealing a tattoo like Victor’s. “As long as this thing still works, I should do all right.”
“Captain-”
“I know how this ends for me, Kincade,” he snapped. “And I will be damned if I spend the last days of life lying in bed, covered in my own shit. Now I’ve given you an order, and you will follow it.”
Annabella nodded.
“Are you sure about this, Captain?” asked Snow.
“Yes. Go on, Snow. You have a mission to finish.”
The
y gently pulled Jurgen to the Illudin and propped him up against it.
“You just have to put you hand on it and make a connection, Sir,” Serrel told him.
“I’ll manage.”
Caellix placed an axe on his lap. “I’ll say this much for you, Jurgen. At least you’re going out like a warrior.”
“Told you I wasn’t such a bad guy, Caellix. I guess I’ll see you on the other side.”
“I sincerely hope not.”
“There should be another portal to the sewer around here,” Dhulrael said. “We should hurry.”
Dhulrael led them to the next sewer access, and Annabella undid the lock. The Hounds slipped down and out of sight one by one, led to safety by Dhulrael. Serrel lingered behind with Caellix, in case anything went wrong.
He saw Jurgen lift his hand over his shoulder and press it against the Illudin. The crystal came to life.
“Is he going to...” Serrel started.
“He’ll do what he has to. Let’s get going, Hawthorne.”
The two disappeared underground, and closed the metal hatch behind them.
The rain had finally stopped, and through patches in the clouds, blown opened by the force of the Illudin’s discharge, Jurgen could see the sky brightening. A new day was dawning. And more Ferine were beginning to climb over the rubble surrounding the square. They were nothing if not persistent.
Jurgen let the energy of the Illudin flow into him, and used what little knowledge he still recalled about healing spells to put his broken body back together. It was slapdash weaving, and his instructor would turn in her grave if she saw the way he forced the ether to reattach all the important bits and pieces of his spine. As soon as the energy was used up, it would all fall apart, but that was hardly the issue. Jurgen wanted to die on his feet.
Not breaking his contact with the Illudin, he pushed himself upright, and hefted the axe Caellix had given him. With all the energy he had just used up, and all the rest going up into the sky, he figured there couldn’t be that much left in the Illudin.
He waited for the Ferine to get closer, and smiled.
“What the hell.”
Caellix ran down the sewer tunnels, Serrel fast behind her. He figured that they were about halfway back to the smuggler’s tunnel where they had made their entrance, when the explosion rocked the entire city. The shockwave knocked them both to the grimy floor, and sent the roof of the tunnels behind them collapsing inwards.
Caellix coughed and rolled over. “What the hell was that?”
“I think that was Jurgen,” said Serrel. “I think he may have broken the Illudin a bit earlier than expected.”
“At least he got the job done. Get up, we aren’t finished yet.”
“I don’t suppose I’m going to get a day off when this is all over.”
“You wish, Hawthorne.”
It took him a while to realise she had stopped calling him Fresh Meat. He didn’t bring it up, in case she took offence.
They were far behind the rest of the group now, so when they saw movement in the darkness ahead, they weren’t sure if it was the Hounds, or Ferine who had caught on to them. Serrel lifted his staff, but relaxed when Dhulrael came into view. Victor and Annabella were right behind him.
“Is everyone all right?” he asked them.
“Everyone’s fine,” replied Annabella. “Snow’s leading them to the south gates.”
“But we have somewhere else to be,” put in Victor. “So you’ll have to excuse us. Serrel, take care of yourself.” He clapped Serrel on the shoulder, and moved off.
“Wait,” snapped Caellix.
“Caellix,” Annabella said wearily. “Jurgen gave us his orders. His last orders. I’m not disobeying them.”
“I know. What I was going to say is: I’m coming with you.”
“Me too,” said Serrel without hesitation.
Annabella gave them a look. “Really?”
“We both know Jurgen was the brains of your little outfit,” said Caellix. “You idiots don’t stand a chance on your own.”
“Oh. Well, thanks, Caellix.”
“Besides, he was right. I don’t know what Dillaini had planned, but we need to stop Vharaes now.”
“Just so we’re clear,” said Victor. “I’m going up there to kill him. You aren’t going to get in the way are you, Sergeant?”
“I’m not an assassin, boy. I don’t kill people without cause. So when I find Vharaes, I’m going to ask him to surrender. Then I’m going to kill him.”
“Works for me. Let’s go.”
“This way,” Dhulrael lead them onwards. “This won’t be easy. We can travel underground most of the way. But we will need to sneak across the city for the last leg. The entrance to the secret tunnel is inside a public house.”
“The Patrician of Vollumir has his own tunnel leading to the local pub?” said Annabella with amusement.
“No. It is a pub now. When the tunnel was made, it was a brothel.”
Annabella laughed. “I’m starting to like this city. Or, you know, what’s left of it.”
They moved through the winding sewer tunnels as far as they could, then Dhulrael took them to another access hatch, and led them back to the surface. The sky was bright, and the clouds were finally dispersing when Serrel emerged onto the street. He gulped fresh air and swore he was never going into a sewer ever again.
The streets were eerily quiet, and empty of people. Everyone was probably in hiding, at least, anyone the Ferine hadn’t killed, Serrel thought grimly. There was a plume of smoke drifting in the air, no doubt over the remains of the market square. On the edge of his hearing, Serrel thought he could make out the sounds of shouting, and fighting.
Dhulrael led them to what at first appeared to be a park in the middle of the city. There were vines sprouting flowers, wrapped around wooden supports lining the path. All over the grass were wooden tables and seats carved from the remains of tree stumps. In the center of the park was a large double storey building. It only had walls on two sides, and was open and exposed to the environment on the others.
“That’s a pub?” asked Annabella.
“An elvish pub,” said Dhulrael. “When we drink, there is usually much singing and dancing, and carousing with nature.” There was the tiniest hint of embarrassment when he said that last part.
“Add bloodshed and you’ve got yourself a Norwen party,” said Caellix.
Dhulrael took them inside. There was no door, and the ground level of the pub had been ransacked. Barrels of beer and mead, and bottles of wine were smashed across the floor. Dhulrael led them to the upper level, where there were several rooms. He led them to the largest, and most opulently decorated room, and went to a large wardrobe set against one wall. He opened the doors, shoved aside a variety of expensive dresses, and searched the back panel.
“You’ve been here before then,” said Annabella.
“A few times.”
“On good terms with the owner of this room are you?”
“We’re just good friends.”
“Right.”
Dhulrael found what he was looking for, and without a sound, the back panel of wardrobe slid aside to reveal a darkened shaft that dropped down inside the wall and into the earth. There was a dusty wooden ladder leading downwards.
At the bottom of the ladder was a narrow stone tunnel, similar to the smugglers’ tunnels, but perhaps a little less rough shod. More care and attention had gone into its design, ensuring it had adequate ventilation, and didn’t fill with water when it rained.
They walked on, Serrel lighting the way with his staff.
“How exactly are we going to find Vharaes once we get there?” Serrel asked.
“There are only a few places I think he might be,” replied Dhulrael.
“And if all else fails, we’ll ask someone,” added Victor.
“Finding him will be the easy part,” Dhulrael went on. “Stopping him will be much harder. Vharaes was a powerful mage when I knew him. He
will not go quietly. I suggest you kill him the first chance you get.”
The venom in his words took Serrel aback, but he said nothing.
At the end of the tunnel was a blank stone wall. Dhulrael slid past Serrel and stood before it. He rolled up his sleeve to reveal the tattoo denoting him as Patrician, and muttered a long phrase in elvish.
The previously featureless wall began to glow with green writing as Dhulrael activated the enchantments. A symbol matching the one on his tattoo appeared on the wall and flared brightly. Then there were a series of muffled clicks and thumps as hidden mechanisms unlocked. Dhulrael pushed the wall, and it swung inwards on oiled hinges.
“Cute,” said Annabella. “You know, if you elves had put as much effort into guarding the city as you did into getting your leg over, maybe this whole thing could have been avoided.”
“Possibly,” Dhulrael conceded.
Behind the door was a spiral staircase leading upwards. The door slid closed and locked again as they ascended the stairs, which led to a narrow walkway inside the walls of the Vollumir fortress. This led to another staircase, and then another passage. Serrel lost track of all the twists and turns they made. They just followed Dhulrael silently.
Along the way, the elf suddenly stopped as they made their way through another passage. He looked thoughtful for a moment, then backtracked to a section of the wall.
“What is it?” Serrel whispered.
Dhulrael put a finger to his lips. Then he pushed one particular brick with his hand. It turned in place, making a small opening through which torchlight shone. His peered through carefully and then his eyes went wide. He gestured for Serrel to take a look.
The peephole was set high up on the wall of what must have been an old throne room. Serrel could see a huge expanse of polished marble floor, and at the far end of the room a very ornate throne upon a raised dais. There was a group of elves in front of the throne. At least two of them were clearly Ferine. They all stood in a ring while another elf spoke to them. Serrel couldn’t hear the words, and wouldn’t have understood even if he could.