by Jaxon Reed
“Made ’em deep enough they can’t climb out, I hope,” Redstone said.
He motioned with his hand and displaced dirt suddenly reappeared, burying the ten giants.
“Congratulations,” Loadstone said. “You’ve eliminated a tenth of them.”
He nodded toward the distance, where dozens more metal men lumbered toward the clearing.
“Hmph. Can ye do any better, old friend?”
Loadstone nodded.
“Let’s see how they stand up to lightning bolts.”
“Lightning bolts? Ye can’t make those strike with any accuracy.”
“I shouldn’t need accuracy. There are only so many of them. I’m bound to hit some.”
Loadstone thrust forward his staff, and a giant bolt of lightning fell out of the sky. It struck the side of one of the advancing metal men with a giant clap of thunder. They watched it fall, its arms and legs flying off as it tumbled down to the ground in a pile of scrap.
The villagers cheered. Loadstone started bringing down bolt after bolt. Some found a giant, others broke uselessly against the ground leaving scorched black marks everywhere and small fires in the grass.
But the metal men steadily moved forward.
Oldstone stood, holding onto the chair. Mita rushed over to hold his arm, offering support.
“I’m fine. I’ll be fine. But your time has come.”
He nodded in the direction of the man-made monsters. She nodded back, and flew off toward the battle.
Mita hovered over the trenches and ramparts. The villagers pointed up at her, and she could hear a few cries of, “Battlemaiden!” No one below had ever seen one before, she knew, but they recognized her from the old stories. She smiled and drew her blade from the scabbard strapped across her back. She concentrated on it, and the blade doubled in length.
Recalling her experience with the simulated rock ogre, she flew straight up, then came down fast on top of the head of the lead metal giant, slamming the point of her blade into its metal skull. Despite his lumbering gait, he reacted with remarkable speed and agility, swatting her off his head with his giant sword.
She fell to the ground in surprise, landing on her rear.
“Oof! Well, that didn’t work.”
The giant turned and swung down at her with his sword. She dodged it, then jumped back into the air.
She rushed him quickly, and tried to chop off his sword arm. But he was quicker. His sword blocked her and pushed her to the side as she flew by.
She rushed him again, drawing a flurry from his blade. This time she stopped and engaged him with her own blade. She managed to slice through the top pace and a half of his sword before he whacked her on the side of the head with it.
She fell to the ground again, stunned. Two other metal men clanked over to help, focused on her black-clad body. The three of them began raining down blows on her with their swords.
AT THE FLOATING COMMAND POST, the wizards watched in worry as the metal men whacked away at Mita.
Greystone edged closer to Oldstone. They exchanged looks.
“You need to summon Theena.”
“I’ve told you. I do not care to bring forth that facsimile.”
Greystone nodded toward Mita’s prone form on the ground below. Now five metal men struck her repeatedly with their swords.
“This isn’t about you, old man.”
Oldstone sighed, and nodded in acquiescence as he watched the giants striking Mita again and again. He motioned with his hand, and a black cloud of smoke arced out, materializing into the likeness of Theena.
She smiled at him with love in her eyes. Despite everything, he found himself smiling back.
After several long seconds, he finally broke away from her beautiful gaze and pointed down toward the battlefield.
“I need you to help our new battlemaiden. Teach her as much as you can about winning fights like this.”
Theena looked down at the advancing giants and the group flailing on Mita, and a different smile grew on her face. She flew up, then down toward the skirmish below.
“HOLD STEADY! Fall back and into position! We only need a few lookouts on the ridge. Pikers in the trench, halberds behind them!”
Trant rode past the rough formations of villagers, shouting out orders. Fret sat behind him on the back of the saddle, holding on tight. Every once in a while, Fret would make a suggestion and Trant would shout out new orders. In all the hustle and bustle, few noticed the little dwarf behind him.
Trant pulled up at the end of the long trench, and guided the horse around it. He squeezed his heels to the horse’s side, encouraging it to climb the ramparts. They looked down on their left at the villagers in and around the trench, and to their right at the metal men advancing toward them.
“What do you think, Fret? We’ve not the world’s best army by any means.”
“Aye. But th’ sunlight armor will help, an’ with th’ wizards an’ their battlemaidens we stand a fair chance.”
Trant nodded in agreement as another lightning bolt struck down one of the giants.
“Let’s hope the battlemaidens and the wizards can take care of those iron lummoxes before they get here. I’d much rather fight lancers and pikers than those things.”
THEENA’S FACSIMILE rushed toward the metal men whacking away at Mita. A globe of energy enveloped her as she flew, growing steadily. Just before impact, she flung the globe forward, smashing into the five giants and sending them flying backwards. Three crashed into others nearby.
Theena knelt down over Mita’s prone body. She placed the palm of her hand over Mita’s face and cast a healing spell.
Mita’s eyes fluttered open. Theena smiled down at her.
“You’ve suffered a concussion, sister. It’s one thing the armor doesn’t protect well against. That’s why you should always cast Globe of Protection, too. I’ve got you back to normal, though.”
Mita’s pupils dilated as she realized who was talking to her. At first she was confused by the term ‘sister.’ Then she understood that Oldstone must have conjured Theena’s facsimile for her. Theena addressed her as ‘sister’ because she was another battlemaiden. They were sisters in combat, not in blood.
Theena stood, and reached down a black-clad hand to help Mita up. Standing, Mita saw Theena stood a few fingers taller. Other than that, they looked remarkably similar in their battle armor, with dark hair and brown skin showing under their masks.
“Do you feel like kicking some ass, sister?”
“Yes! But these things are hard to put down.”
A few metal men saw them, and clanked in their direction, swords swinging.
“You know what they say, sister. The bigger they are . . .”
“. . . The harder they fall!”
They both flew up in the air and headed for the nearest giant.
“You know the Globe of Expulsion, sister?”
“Yes. A cat taught me.”
“Very good. You can modify it, change its shape. It doesn’t always have to be a globe. Watch.”
Theena shoved both her hands out, palms up, and a huge cone of energy shot toward the charging giant.
Boom!
The metal man exploded, all its articulated parts scattering. The torso flew across the ground, its back door breaking off as it tumbled.
Mita grasped the alteration to the spell at once, and repeated it. She aimed her outstretched palms at another one.
Boom!
“Nice work, sister! Now hurry, let’s take them all down. Between us and the lightning it shouldn’t take too long.”
DARKSTONE FLEW AHEAD of his advancing army on a column of fire and smoke. By now he expected whatever defenses the village offered to have been reduced to insignificance by his metal men. Lancers on horseback trotted behind him in formation, minutes away from the clearing. The pikers and other soldiers double marched behind them, at the speed of a light jog. Soon, his full forces would be on the battlefield.
His brows furrow
ed when he saw lightning bolts flashing down from the sky, along with black streaks flying back and forth.
He paused on the edge of the field, and looked down at the remnants of his metal army. Only a dozen remained standing, swinging their swords futilely at two battlemaidens who shot huge energy blasts at them. As he watched, three attacking the battlemaidens exploded, while another fell to the ground after being zapped by lightning.
Darkstone howled in rage.
THE WIZARDS WATCHED A SCRYING WINDOW. Greystone waved his hand, and the scene changed to another hawk over the recently widened road.
“The lancers will be here within the hour. They may be slowed by debris on the field, but they’ll get here soon nonetheless. Pikers and swordsmen are following after.”
He turned toward Oldstone, who sat exhausted in his chair.
“We could use Artereo too, old man.”
“Very well.”
Oldstone held out his hand, palm up, and a streak of black smoke arced out and down to the ground below, materializing into Artereo’s facsimile.
Artereo looked back up at the wizards on the floating chunk of ground, and bowed gracefully. Then he turned and ran toward the trench.
“Shouldn’t we have placed him closer to the battle?”
Oldstone looked up to see who asked the question. He realized it was Loadstone.
“No, Artereo always manages to find the battle. Or if not, he brings it to him.”
THE FIRST EMERALDIAN lancers trotted out onto the battlefield and pulled the reins of their horses to a halt. In the distance, they saw the last standing metal man fall to the ground, two black-clad people flying in the air above it.
Darkstone floated down on a pillar of fire and smoke. A couple of the horses, despite their training, nervously backed away from the sight.
“You will hold off attacking until I’ve taken care of the battlemaidens and the wizards. Otherwise you’ll be slaughtered.”
That sounded good to everyone present, but they looked to their captain for an official agreement. He nodded, and they all sighed in relief.
Darkstone held out his arms in both directions, and closed his eyes in concentration. Invisible beams shot out in cones from both his arms. The spell he conjured had no name, since it was one of his own design and he had not yet bothered to classify it. But it could have been called a Spell of Magic Detection if someone had to name it.
Trees, animals, even grass and insects hold magic in them, and as the beams spread out in both directions in an ever widening arc, the presence of their magic bounced back to the wizard.
Finally, Darkstone opened his eyes. He let his left hand drop and he turned to focus on his right. In the distance, he sensed a small portion of the forest where no magic could be detected under the ground. He cemented the location in his mind.
Darkstone turned and addressed the captain again.
“Do not advance until I get back and give the word.”
The captain nodded in acknowledgement.
“Give me your lance.”
This surprised everybody, especially the captain. Reluctantly, he lifted the lance out of its leather pocket on his horse’s side. He turned it so the handle faced Darkstone and handed it to him.
The wizard took the lance, and flew off on a column of fire and smoke.
CHAPTER 16
Darkstone quickly flew to the spot he deduced the Forlorn Dagger must be hidden. Since it sapped everything it touched of magic, the one unmagical place in the forest must be its location.
He landed in a small clearing, and noticed a brown spot in the middle where the ground had been disturbed and no grass grew. He knew better than to try and dig it out directly by magic. Instead, he made a motion with both of his hands, and magically cleared out a hole on the side of the brown spot.
He brought the lance over, and set it on the ground, then jumped down into the hole. He dug at the side of it with his hands, under the brown spot.
He felt something metal, and grabbed it. The magic drained from him immediately.
Darkstone pulled the dagger out of the dirt, and climbed back out of the hole. He reached into a pocket of his ragged trousers and pulled out a length of cord. Then he picked up the lance and lashed the dagger tightly to its tip.
Darkstone let go of the dagger, and set the lance down gently. He stepped back several paces, and felt the magic flow back into him.
He smiled and chuckled softly. So far everything had proceeded to plan.
He stretched out his arm and pointed toward the lance’s handle, several paces away from its metal tip and the dagger. He cast a spell and the handle levitated, bringing the lance and the dagger up in the air with it.
He laughed harder now that he knew his idea would work. Darkstone modified the spell. The lance turned, facing its tip and the dagger toward the battlefield. It raced off into the sky.
THEENA AND MITA hovered above the last broken metal men and stared off in the distance at the line of lancers gathering on the field’s edge.
“Do you know how to cast Scopic Vision, sister?”
“No.”
“Watch how I do it.”
Theena waved her hand over her eyes while casting the spell. Mita copied her. Suddenly, she could see the lancers as if they were merely twenty or thirty paces away.
“How about the Fire of Following?”
“Nope. Never heard of it.”
“It’s very useful with armies. One globe of Fire of Following will take out one enemy. Watch.”
Theena thrust her hands out, and a small globe of green fire sallied forth. It raced toward the distant lancers. With her scopic vision, Mita watched as the globe grew to about three paces in diameter. It headed straight toward the lancers’ captain and enveloped him and his horse. They both died screaming, consumed by green flames.
Mita decided Theena’s facsimile was even more useful than Deedles the cat.
She ventured a question.
“What are they waiting for?”
“When an army waits, it’s usually for reinforcements. Or a wizard. Come on, let’s take the battle to them.”
They flew across the field, Theena leading.
To her left, Mita saw something long and thin streaking toward them.
“Watch out!”
Theena slowed, turned, and saw the Forlorn Dagger headed toward her on the end of a lance.
“Don’t let it touch you, sister!”
She shot up straight in the air. The lance and dagger followed her.
DARKSTONE FLEW BACK to the battlefield and watched in satisfaction as the lance chased the battlemaidens across the sky. Then he turned his attention to the other end of the field, near where he knew the gateway to Greystone Village would be.
He raised his eyebrows and chuckled in delight when he saw the chunk of ground serving as a floating platform for the wizards.
“Will those fools ever learn? You never concentrate command in battle.”
He landed on the ground so he could focus his spells better. The portion of the clearing he landed in had no one else nearby, and no one saw him, either. They were all concentrating on the battlemaidens’ plight or the gathering lancers.
Darkstone waved his arms and performed a complicated dance. A globe materialized in the air before him, slowly growing larger. It appeared gray and hazy, with dark patterns writhing across its surface.
Suddenly he pushed out with his hands, and the globe flew away toward the wizards’ floating patch of ground.
Before it reached them, Darkstone started conjuring a second globe, this one orange. As soon as the gray globe enveloped the wizards, he pushed away the orange one. Then he started on a third globe, this one purple. Shortly after the orange globe enveloped the gray one, he pushed out the purple one which enveloped both the previous globes.
Darkstone chuckled again.
“Let’s see you get out of that trap, boys. I doubt you will. I’ve been working on it for a long time.”
He
flew over to the army waiting at the clearing’s edge.
THEENA SHOT BOLT after bolt of energy at the weapons chasing her. None had any effect. The bolts dissipated as soon as they neared the dagger.
She raced higher in the sky, and the lance followed. She zigged and zagged, and the lance followed, moving perceptibly closer to her with each passing second.
Mita flew after them both, shooting her own bolts and trying to figure out a way to stop the threat.
Finally, Theena turned and faced the dagger head on. She threw everything she had at it: energy bolts, fire, lightning. Finally, she cast the modified Globe of Expulsion, her most powerful spell.
They all poofed out harmlessly against the dagger. The lance shot straight toward her, and the dagger pierced through her armor.
She yelled out in pain and disappeared in a puff of smoke.
Mita’s eyes grew wide as the dagger made a wide turn in the air and headed back toward her.
She flew as fast as she could toward the forest’s edge. Turning to look behind her, she saw the lance and dagger closing the distance, slowly but steadily.
Mita shot back some energy bolts, but as before they simply fizzled out when they neared the dagger.
She looked down. She flew over the forest now, a canopy of green leaves below her. She plunged into it, seeking the ground. The lance and dagger followed.
She flew between the trees, dodging left and right. The lance and dagger followed, inexorably closing the distance.
Her thoughts raced furiously as she flew.
How did Darkstone make the dagger fly and follow his wishes? Isn’t it impervious to all magic?
She shot up through the forest canopy, breaking off branches that snapped against her armor. The lance pointed up and followed her. In the open air, in the sunlight, she had an epiphany.
Darkstone’s magic controls the lance, not the dagger.
She shot up high, as fast as she could fly, then turned and faced the dagger. She conjured up Fire of Following, but she directed it toward the lance instead of the dagger.