“Hold it off, Olin,” Adamon said. “I’m going to try to close the portal.”
Hoisting the Transcendental Prism over his head, Adamon invoked the Quintessential Sphere, speaking ancient words of power and imploring the forces of magic and nature to close the rift between the realms. A dim pulse in the crystal was echoed by the vortex. The edges of the portal blurred, then drew back toward the center of the portal. Though it had shrunk some, the portal was in no danger of being closed permanently.
Adamon stumbled, his reserves of will and strength overtaxed by the massive expenditure of magical energy trying to close the portal.
“I don’t have much left,” Olin groaned. His face was covered in a sheen of sweat as he struggled to keep the demon at bay. Maera stepped up beside him and put her hand on his shoulder.
“Stand down, Olin. Allow me.”
The Head Master picked up Olin’s spellcraft where he’d left off, and Olin collapsed to the ground beside Adamon. Maera’s relatively fresh mind allowed her to extend the vines further up the beast, effectively locking it in place. As impressive as that was, however, it didn’t solve the problem of getting the demon through the portal and closing it so that nothing else could sneak into their world.
“Son of a bitch!” Baris swore, and Volinette whirled to see what could have caused such an outburst. What she saw made her take an involuntary step back. She nearly tripped over Olin, who looked over at Baris and said his own oath.
At the edge of the vortex, just coming into view, were the forms of three looming demons. Two-thirds as tall as the arch demon, they flew forward on stunted wings of black leather. Arms and legs were curled, like a predatory bird, each hand and foot tipped with a four-inch talon that was slick with blood. As horrifying as they were to behold, the faces were the worst. Volinette turned her head, determined not to be sick. Janessa gave an inarticulate cry.
The demons had twisted mockeries of the faces of Nixi, Halsie, and Syble. Their features were elongated and swollen, their eyes replaced by burning orange coals that smoldered with hatred. Shrill screams escaped them as they raced toward the gathered Masters.
“They’re no longer human,” Adamon said firmly, answering a question that Volinette hadn’t wanted to ask. “Putting them down will be a mercy. Make it as quick and painless as you can.”
What happened next was nothing less than chaos. The three demons dipped and spun in the air, swooping down to attack with deadly claws. Volinette watched a woman in Master’s robes plucked from the earth. The Nixi-demon flew her up as high as the shield would allow and then ripped her in half, raining blood and entrails onto those below.
Magic missiles, balls of flame, bolts of lighting, and shards of ice flew through the air. Sometimes colliding with each other, sometimes connecting with one of the demons flitting here and there. More often than not, they missed altogether, glancing harmlessly off the dome that protected the city from the demons running rampant within the Academy grounds.
Adamon reloaded his cannon and got unsteadily to his feet. Syble’s demon swooped down on him, screeching so loudly that Volinette clapped her hands over her ears to drown out the sound. The Inquisitor didn’t move. Ever closer the demon flew, throwing its feet forward, claws extended, intending to impale the impertinent Inquisitor. The cannon roared. The shell hit Syble between the eyes, splitting the head in half and spraying ichor and gore out behind it. The demon dropped like a stone, collapsing to the ground in a crumpled heap.
The two remaining demons continued to harry the Masters, dodging in and out of their lines of fire, trying to draw the Masters into hitting each other rather than their intended targets. Instead of evoking a missile of some sort, one of the older Masters summoned a jet of thick webbing and shot it from his hands, entangling Nixi and dropping her to the earth. Another fighter, a stout older woman with a pink, pig-like face, swung her staff over her head with two hands, bringing it down on the demon’s head with a sickening crack. Nixi was still.
“I’m nearly spent,” Maera gasped. She, too, had taken on the sickened look of a Quintessentialist pushing herself far past the limit of her endurance. “This isn’t working. We need to do something else.”
A gentle breeze caressed Volinette’s cheek, and she thought she heard the faint sound of a wind chime. She shook her head, trying to clear the fog of fatigue and battle that dulled her senses. Something nagged at her, something that she should understand. Something that could help them, but she couldn’t coax it out into the open. No matter how she tried to focus, the pandemonium around her seemed to drag her back into its turbulent seas.
Focus, she thought to herself savagely. Focus, focus, focus! Focus! That was it! Volinette slapped herself in the forehead with the palm of her hand. How could she be so blind? She dashed over to Adamon. The Transcendental Prism lay discarded at his feet. Snatching it up, she rounded on the Grand Inquisitor.
“I can close the portal,” she said, ducking as Halsie made another pass through the assembled Masters, her wings barely clearing their heads. “I know I can.”
“You don’t know the proper rituals,” Adamon snapped back. “This isn’t a game. You can’t just wing it and hope for the best.”
“I’m not,” she insisted. “I’m a conduit for the Quintessential Sphere.”
“You’re insane,” Adamon said. “You’re going to get us all killed.”
“I believe in her,” Olin said slowly. “Let her try.”
“Volinette is special,” Baris chimed in from behind Adamon.
“Everyone deserves a chance,” Janessa added, flashing Volinette a small smile.
“Let her try,” Maera grunted, driven to her knees by fatigue. Even so, she maintained the spell holding the demon away from the group.
“Masters!” Volinette shouted, holding up the Prism. “Masters! Summon forth memories of light and love and life, all the things that drive the darkness out of your heart. Call on the power of the Quintessential Sphere and focus all your energies on the Prism. Concentrate!”
One by one, the Masters began to bow their heads, their mouths moving silently with the words they were using to invoke the power of the Ethereal Realm and draw it into their world. The Transcendal Prism began to hum in her hands, a subliminal sound that seemed to crawl out of the crystal and down her arms, into her body, and up her spine. It was like taking a warm bath from the inside out. The gentle, pulsing glow that enveloped her grew and grew, shrouding her in a cocoon of light that expanded steadily outward, fed by the will of the mages. Adamon, Olin, Baris, and Janessa took hands, forming a circle around Volinette as she felt the crystal’s power grow.
The other Masters followed suit, moving inward, still chanting, locking hands with one another and forming an outer circle around the inner circle. Still, the light and humming grew from the Prism. It was getting harder to hold now, and Volinette crushed it to her chest, protecting it, nurturing it, encouraging it to take the memories it had received and use them for protection.
Seeing an opportunity for attack, Halsie screeched from high above, diving toward Volinette and the crystal. As she crossed over Volinette’s head, a tendril of white whipped out from inside the Prism, a lash of pure light. It struck the demon on the top of her head, slicing down effortlessly through the body, bisecting it as if it had been cut with a blade. There was a brilliant flash, and it was gone. No body. No ash. No indication that it had ever existed at all.
Volinette barely noticed. The Prism was singing to her. She clutched it to her breast, cradling it like a child. She was vibrating with the harnessed power of the crystal now, every part of her alive with the light. Closing her eyes, she listened to the siren’s song of the Prism, a hundred thousand voices from a hundred thousand memories of life and love and happiness, of the brightest things in life that chase away the monsters in the dark.
She sucked a breath, and the Quintessential Sphere whispered in her ear, complex words she would never understand, but didn’t need to. The sweet melody
burst from her lips as if it had been dammed up inside her for eons. She felt each breath, each fresh inhalation, and the air that carried the sound out from her lungs, entwining her song with the power of the Ethereal Realm. The words came unbidden to her mind, and she sang them dutifully, echoing the voice in her head that wasn’t quite a voice.
The song was endless, eternal, touching every corner of time and space, of memory and thought. It flowed through her like a flood, infusing her with the power of the Sphere and the power that had permeated the Prism. For a bright, shining moment, she was the Quintessential Sphere, and it was her. She was all things. She felt. She knew. She mourned. The blight on the surface of Solendrea was a disease that threatened all. It must be excised and destroyed.
Volinette held the last note of the song for what seemed like forever. She knew it had to end but didn’t want to let it go. As soon as she released it, it would be gone forever. It wasn’t something she could keep. It was hers in this moment, but never again. She struggled to hold the note, to draw it out until she had nothing left. Until she had become part of the song that was moving through her with the accord of the Eternals.
Blinding light exploded from the Prism, setting them awash in its conflagration. There was a screaming howl. The arch demon was set ablaze from the inside out. Cracks, massive fissures, in the black demonflesh opened, showing rays of light that sought escape from inside. The cracks ran along every surface of its body until it could no longer hold. It exploded in a shower of silver sparks.
The light fought back the writhing blackness of the portal. It snaked forward, darting toward the black tendrils that crept out from the edges of the doorway to the Deep Void. Where the light and the darkness met, there was a hissing sound, like ice thrown on a hot stove, and the darkness evaporated, as if it were steam. Wailing screams went off from every corner of the Academy grounds as the light pressed ever inward, toward the center of the portal. Demons streamed from almost every building, racing toward the portal as if they could stop the assault on the link to their native realm.
Every demon that got near the portal was lashed by whips of pure light, torn asunder by the same forces that had destroyed the monster that Halsie had become. The Masters turned on the others, destroying them with what magic they had left after dedicating nearly all their resources to the Prism.
At long last, the searching light reached the center of the vortex of darkness. It blossomed like a firework, reaching out and touching everything in its path. The shield around the Academy collapsed and living air rushed through the grounds, fresh, with just a hint of fish and sea.
Her long struggle over, Volinette let the last note fade away. There was silence. Somewhere, in the distance, she heard a chime singing in the wind.
It was the last thing she heard.
Chapter Twenty-Five
Volinette woke to the sound of splashing water. Everything ached. Even her hair was sore. It felt as if someone had stuffed her in a barrel and rolled her down a long and rocky hill. There wasn’t a single muscle in her body that didn’t protest. She tried to wiggle her toes and found that they, too, were painful to move. She groaned. At least if she hurt, that meant she was alive.
“Ah, good, she awakens.”
The voice was soft and gentle, and somehow familiar. Volinette had heard it before, she was certain. A moment later, she was sighing with relief as a cool cloth was laid across her forehead. Fingers, cool and still damp from wringing out the cloth, traced the curve of Volinette’s neck and felt for the lifebeat there. Volinette tried to ignore the shock that coursed through her at the touch, but she couldn’t help but whimper. It was like a hundred needles being pressed into tender flesh at once.
She opened her eyes, but saw nothing. Panic flashed through her. She tried to raise a hand to see if she could see it in front of her face, but the smooth hands of her caretaker forced her to lie still.
“Rest easy, Volinette. We didn’t want to risk damaging your eyes. There’s a bandage there. A moment of patience, and I’ll remove it and we’ll see how you are recovering.”
“Who are you?” Volinette asked meekly. She couldn’t place the woman’s voice no matter how hard she tried, and at least knowing who was with her would stem some of the fear.
“Qadira, from the infirmary.”
“The elf,” Volinette blurted without tact of any kind. She blushed. “I’m sorry.”
“Don’t apologize, dear girl. It’s true enough. Besides, a certain amount of leeway is always accorded to heroes and heroines.”
“Who’s a hero?”
“You are.” Qadira’s voice was light and musical, like the chiming voice of the Sphere. “You should prepare yourself for fame, if not fortune.”
“I’m going to kill Baris when I can see again.”
“I’m afraid that Apprentice Jendrek had little to do with the rumors. They were mostly perpetuated by the Head Master, Olin Oldwell, and the Chief Archivist.”
“Oh, only them, then?” Volinette tried to sound nonchalant, but her voice broke. Her head swam. What had she missed? “How long was I asleep?”
“You’ve been unconscious for three days. Sleep is somewhat inaccurate. You’ve been suffering from a prolonged bout of overextension. Your body needed time to recover from that rather astounding piece of spellcraft you performed.”
“It wasn’t me.”
“Yes, so I’ve been told.” Qadira chuckled. “Baris is quite incensed that you won’t take credit for your unique set of skills.”
“It really isn’t me,” Volinette protested. “I’m just a…a…,” She faltered. She didn’t even understand it. How could she expect anyone else to understand?
Volinette felt Qadira’s weight on the edge of the bed. The elf’s fingers moved behind her head, loosening the gauzy bandage. With each layer of bandage she removed, the room got lighter and lighter. Eventually, Volinette could see the single candle that burned on the table beside the bed, and the blonde elf with the amethyst eyes who was looking at her inquisitively.
“Any spots in your vision? Any strange lights or patterns?” Qadira asked, her slender fingers blocking most of the light from Volinette’s eyes.
“No.”
“Good” The cleric lowered her hand, her eyes scanned Volinette’s face before she continued. “It seems that you’re over the worst of it. As for the other part of our discussion…my people have a word: cinzaret. Literally translated into your tongue, it means conduit…but it’s so much more than that. Conduit is a cold word. It’s a utilitarian thing.
“Cinzaret is the beauty of the Sphere itself, channeled through a willing soul. But it isn’t merely transference. The soul molds the power of the Sphere, imprints upon it, and makes it unique. While it may be true that you’re not doing anything consciously to influence the powers of the Ethereal Realm that flow through you, I assure you that you are doing something.
“You listen to the words the Sphere sings to you and then you make them your own. Magic is subtle and wondrous, tone and inflection matter. You’ve been chosen to sing for the Quintessential Sphere. Do you think anyone else could sing in exactly the same way, with the same notes and inflection that you do?”
Volinette turned that over in her mind, like tumbling a smooth rock between her hands. She’d always been told that she had to try harder. That to be a good singer, she needed to be more like her sisters or more like her brother. Sing this note just so. Hold this phrase this long. It had never occurred to her that the Quintessential Sphere had chosen her because she was the perfect conduit, no, the perfect cinzaret for the living memory that resided in the Ethereal Realm.
“I never thought of it that way,” she finally said, a wide smile curving her lips. “I guess I can do something right.”
“The Eternals work in mysterious ways,” Qadira said solemnly. “We mere mortals can only guess at their intentions, but I suspect that their hands are at play in the skills you’ve come to exhibit.” The elf was quiet for a moment, looki
ng so deeply into Volinette’s eyes that she started to squirm with discomfort. Qadira laid a hand on top of hers, link-shock dancing between them. Even so, the contact settled Volinette. There was nothing to fear from this woman. She was an emissary of the light. Volinette could feel it. “Just be careful which voices you choose to hear, Volinette. There are those whose intentions can’t been seen until light is shown into the darkest crevices of their soul. That goes for beings of this mortal plane, and those beyond.”
“I will,” Volinette promised, though she doubted that too many beings beyond their plane would be interested in a singer turned Quintessentialist.
Qadira cocked her head to the side, then stood and smoothed down her white frock. “You have a visitor. I’ll leave you now, but I’ll be back to check on you later.”
The elf glided from the room as if she weren’t touching the floor. Volinette envied her grace and poise. She wondered if she’d ever be that comfortable in her own skin, or if it was a trait that was part of the elven state of being. Qadira seemed to know exactly what she was meant for and whom she needed to be. Volinette would have killed for a cheat sheet to answer just one of those questions. She sighed. There was time enough for that, she supposed. Her grandfather had always told her that wisdom came unexpected, when you needed it the most. She guessed she’d just have to wait.
The pale green curtain over the cubicle door was brushed aside and Janessa slipped inside. Her long blonde hair was pulled back in a braid. The circles under her eyes were gone, as was the redness. She smiled at Volinette as she entered, making her sharp features much less severe. Janessa was a girl who was prettier when she smiled, Volinette decided, and it was nice to see her doing so. Especially after so much anger and hatred had nearly destroyed the girl.
“How are you feeling?” Janessa asked solicitously, pulling a stool over beside the bed and plopping down on it so hard that the wood creaked.
“Like I got beaten up by a giant,” Volinette groaned, then laughed. “But I guess it’s better than the alternative, right?”
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