by Jeramy Goble
“Watch out!”
“Incoming!”
But the warnings served little purpose. The defenders of Acorilan could only watch as a massive rock sped from the darkness, heading directly toward the already-weakened right side of the front wall. Despite hours of successfully destroying enemy catapults and resisting the invading infantry, the wall on which the exhausted defenders stood finally suffered a devastating breach.
The segment of blasted wall flew out deep into the city, flinging with it the Acorilinians that were on it, as well as mounds of dirt and rock. Bits from the edges of the still-upright wall crumbled down to the ground with an eerie silence which was soon replaced with the shouts of new orders.
The Ridgerazers and archers near the impact scrambled back to their feet after diving for cover. As the Acorilinians nearby struggled to register the scope of the breach, the sounds from the valley began to seep in once more.
Torgurian horns sounded. Melcayro stared back over the valley.
“The infantry is pulling back to the breach,” he said tonelessly.
“What happens if we don’t make it home?” Abranni whispered. They shared a bleak look.
The broken wall and approaching infantry slapped the siblings with the cold sting of finality. With no direction on what to do next, the Ridgerazers started to clump around Abranni, still leaning up against the wall. Melcayro regarded his sister with an aimless despair.
“I’ll stay here with the Ridgerazers,” he said. “Get back home,” he added, a note of steel entering his voice. “Take care of our people.”
Abranni’s eyes filled with tears, but as she started to stand—no doubt to take issue with her brother's decision—the darkness from high above moved across her face. A shot of inspiration raced through Melcayro's veins.
“Wait!” he shouted. He looked up and back to the Ridgerazers.
“It wants to fight us with darkness? Well, then, let's fight night with night.”
Abranni smiled as Melcayro helped her to her feet.
“To me!” Melcayro shouted. “Ridgerazers, to me!”
The men and women scrambled over, dodging frenzied archers and streams of Bedrock and Spire racing towards the breach in the wall.
“We might be able to break this magic,” Melcayro started. “If we merge our energies, we might be able to mimic the moon. Do you understand? Mirroring?”
A Grand Ridgerazer responded warily. “We’ve studied the theory of it.”
“Queen Jularra did it at the Battle of Brinnock,” a Ridgerazer Adept added.
“But this requires more focus and energy than one person recreating and manipulating a few square miles,” Abranni clarified. “This needs to be the entire moon.”
“I don’t know if we can help mirror the moon,” the ‘Razer said, concerned. “Why does it have to be the moon?”
“The source of this magic,” Abranni began to explain, “the Voidwarden’s spell—its very appearance—is that of night. It’s rooted in the night. Well, there is no single greater source of night’s energy than the moon.”
The Grand Ridgerazer understood. “Let’s get to it.”
Melcayro nodded. “We need to be touching,” he shouted. “There isn't enough room for a circle. Stretch out along the wall and hold hands. Focus on mimicking the moon! Feed all your focus into the energy you’re lending to me! Send it all to me, and I’ll work to concentrate it. Understood?”
Abranni and the dozens of Ridgerazers raced to spread out along the wall. Each grabbed the next person’s hand, forming an impressive line of magic users. Once everyone was in place, they started to center themselves. Their eyes drifted upwards, to where the artificial dusk created by the colossal mirroring of the Voidwarden’s fist was almost complete. Only thin slivers of natural daylight shone through.
The defending witches and wizards continued to look up into the false night sky, past the collection of counterfeit stars, searching for where the true moon would normally appear during the natural night.
One by one, each Ridgerazer found what they were looking for.
In the darkness above, a faint hint of the moon began to appear. Starting as a milky shadow, the mimicked form started to take shape. Brighter and brighter the mirrored moon grew. Their collective efforts were working.
But a scream shattered their focus; one of the Ridgerazers down the line had been struck by an arrow. Their bond was interrupted, and the moon quickly began to dissipate.
“Close that gap!” Melcayro shouted. “This will be pointless if we fail! Close that gap,” he shouted at a Ridgerazer. “Focus!”
Before grabbing the next nearest person’s hand to close the gap, the Ridgerazer shouted at an infantryman rushing by, “Get him to a medic! He’s taken an arrow.”
With no time to discuss or argue, the infantryman scooped up the Ridgerazer and carried on running down the nearest steps. The fallen Ridgerazer's comrade then grabbed the nearest witch’s hand and repaired their chain of power.
“Don’t stop! Concentrate!” Abranni yelled.
The conjured moon had almost completely disintegrated, but the re-established connection stalled its disappearance. After a few seconds, their resumed efforts took hold and started to bolster the lunar mirror once more.
The Voidwarden’s fabricated dusk slowly surrendered to the light of the strengthening moon. Murky shadows waned as familiar craters carved themselves into the bright face of the moon; its crisp, ivory light poured out into the dark and demanded the attention of those below it.
“Almost, my friends!” Melcayro shouted. “Keep going!”
As Abranni and the Ridgerazers worked, Melcayro felt their combined efforts accumulating within him. He raised a hand and started to summon a sphere—a sphere of light.
The light of night. Their summoned moon.
Melcayro had never had to maintain such a powerful magical focus before. As the miniature moon formed above his palm, it was an instant burden of power. He fell to a knee, but Abranni clutched his hand tighter, lending him strength.
He looked up as the mirrored moon in the sky glowed brighter and larger, until it approached the full size of its natural inspiration. As the moon in the sky grew, so too did the one above Melcayro’s palm. As the moment approached for him to unleash its power, the weight became too much for one hand.
“I’ve got to break off!” he shouted at the others. “Keep going! I’m going to transfer my focus. Make a final push to finish the mirror, and then let me take it.”
The others remained silent, focused, the very embodiment of teamwork. Melcayro felt Abranni squeeze his hand. Then she let go.
With a final push of will, Abranni and her Ridgerazers completed their casting, and the moon shocked the sky in a blinding flash of light.
This final pulse of energy almost overwhelmed Melcayro, and he collapsed to his knees under the magical weight of their conjured moon. He fought the urge to just let his hands drop; he would not lose control of all they had worked to create. He would not be beaten. He stayed in place, resting back on his heels as he focused into his globe of lunar light while Abranni screamed encouragement.
Melcayro looked at the moon in the sky and back to the orb in his hands. Then he started to stand.
He shook, muscles burning, spirit exhausted. He bent one knee up and confirmed his footing on that leg.
Melcayro continued to look into the light in his hands, grunting through gritted teeth. Slowly, steadily, using only what energy he could spare from sustaining his control over the moon’s replica, he pushed himself to his feet.
He took a second to breathe, but then opened his eyes. He knew he had it.
He sucked in a breath, shoving it out slowly as he lifted the mirrored moon over his head. With a final burst of effort, he yanked down on the sphere violently.
The moon’s image plunged down toward them.
The momentum of his released effort, combined with his almost lethal exertion, caused Melcayro to stumble and roll down t
o the base of the wall.
The conjured moon hurtled down through the sky, growing bigger and brighter as it approached the planet. It broke upon the Voidwarden’s dome of darkness, shattering it into shards of smoke which evaporated into the light of the hidden sun.
The sun returned to the valley. With each passing moment, more and more of the deceased Acorilinian clones collapsed away, returning to Torgurian or Latham fighters. Temporarily—but pleasantly—blinded by the restored sun, Melcayro, Abranni, and the Ridgerazers shot their arms up to shield their eyes. As Melcayro felt the warmth of the sun coat his skin, he flung himself down towards Abranni.
“That did it! We did it!” Abranni laughed through exhausted tears.
Melcayro could only reply with a pitiful grin. Panting, he tried to open his eyes, but settled for a squint.
A Ridgerazer ran over.
“We’re going down to help defend the breach,” he said.
“Right,” Abranni responded. “I'll stay here with my brother—”
Melcayro jumped in. “No, go with them—go help. I just need to rest for a second. Just for a second…”
The valley below exploded with horns, panicked shouts and signals overriding the sounds of renewed combat. Abranni and the Ridgerazers looked out.
Hundreds upon hundreds of mounted warriors had begun pouring out of the Torgurian tunnels on the other side of the valley.
“What is it?” Melcayro asked, slumped down in a corner of the wall. “Why the shouting? Who’s shouting?
Abranni looked down at Melcayro in silent disbelief. Melcayro half-coughed, half-laughed.
“After all that…” he said.
Thoughts of strategy drained from his mind as he prepared to contemplate his own end. Hoping to lend whatever energy he had left to the defense against the incoming cavalry, Melcayro slumped onto his hands and knees and reached for the ledge above him. As he came to his feet, a Bedrock on top of the gatehouse cried out with unexpected elation.
“Those aren’t Torgurians! They’re Yubik!”
***
Within the depths of the Vacant Grave, the four restored queens waited patiently as the Voidwarden absorbed the last wave of Leona’s ice sickles. As soon as the last grouping of jumbled ice disintegrated around the grotesque creature, it started to laugh—but only until it caught sight of the liberated queens.
The Voidwarden shot out a forked extension of itself which began to crackle and buzz above its head.
But the initial invocation was as far as it got.
Briwinna, Lady of Water, strode around the pool of blood, then stopped and planted her feet. Briwinna swirled her arms around and over her head, conjuring a whirlpool that spun to life and surrounded the Voidwarden. Briwinna’s water rose quickly from the Voidwarden’s feet to its head; the streams of electricity it was summoning leapt towards the water, jolting and shocking it, causing smoky arcs to shoot out toward the ceiling of the chamber.
The Voidwarden convulsed within its new prison. Its wailing became warped inside the water, shifting and reverberating harshly throughout the chamber.
Briwinna inched closer, tightening her watery grip on the Voidwarden as it suffered.
“No longer will you exploit us,” she said. Her words were slow and calculated. “No longer will you benefit from our power.”
As she addressed the creature, she dug deep into the Voidwarden’s mangled jumble of spiritual chaos, locating the energies of the other Gracewardens and Voidwardens within it. She latched on to that energy and ripped it away, like peeling an old scab from a ghastly wound. It howled as she tore its power away.
“You will not use me to hold these powers captive,” she snarled. “And you will not use them.”
Briwinna turned slightly and looked over her shoulder at the other three freed queens, now approaching the weakened Voidwarden. One by one, the other queens stepped up to unleash their own brand of misery upon the monster that had tormented them, and to extricate their own portions of its stolen power.
Queen Hymtera, Lady of Earth, loosened the stone face of her tomb and slammed it into the Voidwarden’s chest, digging out the powers it had used her to retain.
Queen Lilvili poured fire upon the prone Voidwarden. Its screams accompanied the smell of burning decay and disease.
Oprendia, Lady of Air, picked up the weakened entity with a crushing gale of wind and slammed it into a wall. The Voidwarden was pinned in place by a pelting wind that smashed it flatter and flatter into the rock of the mountain. Any ability it had to retain its shape, or even scream in pain, was extinguished by the elemental battery.
With the release of its power, it returned to the original, two-dimensional form it had originally inhabited centuries before.
Jularra and the other queens—along with Vylas and Leona—watched in silent astonishment at the odd sight before them. The shadow of Acorilan’s Voidwarden was now just a shaded spot in the rock, jittering harmlessly along the edges of the room, trapped, and relegated to its original obligation of guarding the door to Zunnor.
Once Jularra finally remembered to breathe, she felt a shiver of relief as her body started to relax. Still stunned at the sight of them, she approached her ancestors and embraced each of them. In tender silence and with tear-burdened eyes, the group of women took turns embracing, holding each other's faces, and then embracing again.
“Thank you,” Jularra sobbed. “Thank you,” she repeated to each of her predecessors.
Jularra spun and looked for Vylas, whom she saw taking a seat on the edge of the pool. She continued to scan the room until she saw Leona. Jularra squeezed Oprendia’s hand and stepped away from the group toward Leona. She sprinted the last few steps and wrapped her arms around her.
“I’ll never be able to thank you enough for what you’ve done,” Jularra said, her speech muffled against Leona’s neck. She pushed away gently to look Leona in the eye.
“I can’t believe it. We're free of the pact!” Jularra whispered. She shook her head in disbelief. “I can reign now,” Jularra continued, somewhat to herself. “Really reign. I… I don’t have to die. I don’t have to live to die. I can really do some good for Acorilan.”
Jularra had drifted away in her peaceful realization, but turned back to Leona.
“It’s really over, isn’t it?”
Leona grinned and placed her hand on Jularra’s shoulder.
“No, it isn’t,” she growled.
A flash of confusion tore through Jularra’s mind as Leona’s smile plunged. She bent her knees and then shot back up in a detonation of fire, slapping Jularra to the ground. Leona’s smoky rings burst to life, spinning faster than Jularra had ever seen them spin.
As Leona erupted with wrath and darkness, Vylas shot off the edge of the pool. Hope surged in Jularra's breast. Whatever treachery Leona had in mind, Jularra could surely overcome it so long as Vylas stood at her side. Her hopes sank beneath a weight of disbelief and dread when, with a motion like swinging a scythe, Vylas launched a wall of incapacitating force at the other queens. As it took hold, Leona sent smoky rings floating over to Jularra. They picked her up.
Dazed and hurt she might be, but Jularra was quickly making sense of this new treachery, even as Leona's magic confined her.
“I feel like I should apologize,” Leona sighed, “but I won’t.”
While Leona spoke, Jularra turned in her cocoon of magic and looked at Vylas. Vylas—her mother's old friend, and the closest Jularra ever had to a father—had betrayed her. Her throat burned. Tears spilled down her cheeks.
No, stop crying. Pay attention. Listen. Feel.
“More than forty years,” Leona was saying. “Away from my home, studying those damned, dead Nurudians. Force-feeding myself trivial knowledge…”
Leona clicked her tongue and shook her head, walking closer to where Jularra hung, suspended.
“And here you come… anointed by the Gift Gods. Complete knowledge.”
“They said it was about understanding,�
�� Jularra said. “Not skills.”
“I fucking know that now!” Leona screeched. Jularra felt her bonds loosen momentarily. When Leona calmed, the tightness returned.
Jularra looked again to Vylas. Leona saw her look, and her lips curved into a smile.
“Yes,” Leona purred. “He stayed behind to groom you. To—well, to do exactly this: fight the Voidwarden, if I couldn’t figure out how to defeat it myself. For years, I've been sharing most of my knowledge with Vylas behind your back. It was incredibly thrilling!”
Jularra let out a broken laugh. Leona’s energy flared; the rings spun brighter and faster.
“All those Credellions,” Jularra chuckled, “and you're still just half a witch.”
Leona squeezed her fist, widening the smoky flames encircling Jularra. Jularra screamed as the increasing heat seared her skin, but again she felt the strength of her confines loosen. Leona eased off; her focus returned, and with it the tightness of Jularra's bindings.
Jularra continued her taunts through teeth clenched with pain. “Yes, just half a witch. Shame. And Vylas,” Jularra added without looking at him. “So sad. Just a dutiful admirer.”
“All that matters" Leona grated, "is that the pact is broken. The Voidwarden has been nullified, and I’m free to take the throne.”
Jularra started to scramble around in her hovering cage, but gave up as another jibe came to mind.
“Leona,” she sighed, smiling, “have you been with your eyes for the past few hours?”
Leona spun around, taking Jularra’s bait.
“If I and the other queens can castrate the Voidwarden, we’ll find a way to castrate you. Well…”
Leona laughed. “Come with me.” She grinned at her own command as she tugged Jularra along behind her.
Upon reaching the pool, Leona turned back to her floating prisoner.
“You’ll have to excuse me,” Leona said. She sounded like she was having trouble containing herself. “I’ve been working for this since before you were born, and as much as I want this to be over, it seems a shame not to draw it out a bit.”