by Aaron Hodges
Yet the memory of its touch lingered in his mind. They had been training for days now, and Christopher’s warning about the Sword’s magic was becoming all too real. Its magic was never far from his thoughts.
Each time Eric touched it he felt its hunger, its harsh light burning away the shadows of his mind, searching for a weakness. And each time he touched it, he feared it would find it.
Shivering, Eric pulled back the covers and stood. His legs trembled and his mouth stretched in a yawn, but the dream still clung to him. He would not sleep now.
“Eric?” he heard the sleep in his sister’s voice. “Are you okay?”
He saw her sitting up in bed and sighed. Sinking back onto his bed, he looked across at her.
“Sorry, I didn’t mean to wake you.”
“It’s okay. I was hardly asleep,” she shrugged, hesitating. “The magic, it scares me. Every time I close my eyes I can feel it, waiting. It may not be the same as the power in the Soul Blade, but it still terrifies me. I am afraid to close my eyes.”
Eric rubbed his hands together and glanced at the fire. It had burned down to embers, and without its heat the room was beginning to cool. Without speaking he moved across the room and tossed one of the smaller pieces of firewood onto the ashes. Flames licked at the wood as he crouched down in front of it, hands out to the heat.
“I know how you feel,” he spoke without turning, his voice soft. “Before we reached Chole, Alastair began to teach me how to use my magic. I began to meditate, to look within the shadows of my inner mind. Before Alastair could prepare me, I found my magic. Not knowing the risks, I reached out and touched it. When I did, my magic took me. If not for Alastair…” Eric shook his head. “Afterwards, I was gripped with the same terror you feel now. But you cannot let it rule you, Enala. If you let it fester the fear will only grow, until it becomes a beast you can never face.”
He turned and saw tears in Enala’s eyes. “Why is this happening to us, Eric?” she whispered. “How can we possibly hope to defeat Archon, when even the Gods have failed?”
Standing, Eric moved across to his sister and drew her to her feet. “We take one step at a time,” drawing her across to the fire, they sat on the fur rug. “You need to face the beast within you, Enala. You need to prove to yourself you have the strength to face it. Remember, your fear is the only weapon it has against you.”
He watched Enala take a shuddering breath, and then her sapphire eyes met his. Eric added another log to the fire, closing his eyes as the flames licked up the fresh morsel and the heat washed over him.
“Are you ready?” he asked in a whisper.
*************
“Are you ready?” Eric asked.
Enala smiled back at her brother, glad for his support. “I’m ready.”
Without another word, she closed her eyes and turned her thoughts inward. She had spent the last few days practicing meditation with Christopher, but it still took time to concentrate. Thoughts rose to distract her, the bitter tang of fear at the forefront. Swallowing, she pushed them down, focusing on the rise and fall of her chest.
In, out. In, out, she breathed.
Slowly, her thoughts faded away, the simple words rising up to swallow them. Sensation fell with them, until all that remained was the gentle in and out of her breath. She found herself drifting in a world of shadows, alone, free from the trappings of her earthly worries.
Then, in the distance, she glimpsed the faint flicker of light. Curious, she turned towards it. The darkness slipped past her, as though she were soaring through a night sky, and the light grew. Within seconds it had turned from a dim speck to a vast pool of flame. It flickered beneath her, tongues of fire leaping up from its depths. And she knew she had found what she needed.
My magic, the words echoed all around her, as though spoken aloud.
Drawing on her strength, Enala cast aside her hesitation and reached for the light. A flame licked up in response, a finger of power reaching out to meet her. A tingle swept through her as it touched, curling up to wrap around her.
She gasped as the power drew suddenly tight, trapping her in its heat. Red flashed before her eyes and then it was burning, its touch searing through her spirit form. In the empty darkness, she screamed.
The pool of flame beneath her twisted, turning in upon itself. It rose in a column before her, shifting, changing from benign light to a creature of fire. Great jaws took form within the darkness and fangs of fire reached for her. The sleek body of a lioness grew out from the jaws, its sharp ears flat to its head, the wicked tale flicking out behind it.
Enala’s fear came rushing back and she shuddered in the bonds of flame. The lioness swelled, drawing strength from her fear. It stepped towards her, fangs and claws poised to strike.
You can do it, Enala, from someplace far away, she heard her brother’s words. Face it; defeat it.
Enala stared at the beast, the fear within her alive, swelling to engulf her. She clung to Eric’s words, her lifeline in the darkness. The fear swelled, seeking to consume her, but as she stared at the lioness she found her courage returning.
Clenching her fists, Enala looked into the eyes of the beast.
You are nothing, she hissed.
To her shock, she felt the bonds of fire loosen. The lioness growled and took another step towards her. Enala ignored it. Summoning her own strength, she stepped towards it. The flames around her roared as she stepped into their midst, their hungry tongues licking at her spirit. But Enala pulled her courage around her like a cloak and took another step forward.
As she emerged from the flame she saw the lioness shrinking, withering before the power of her courage. A house cat now stood before her, hissing as she approached it. Its paws swiped out in rage and its hair stood on end, but she felt no fear now. Reaching down, she grasped it in her hands.
And the flames went out.
With a rush of warmth, she felt the magic surging within her, flowing through her veins. It swept through her soul, carrying with it images of smoke and flame. But it was hers to command now, and she would not release it.
Smiling, Enala opened her eyes.
“Welcome back, Enala. You did well,” Eric grinned back at her.
Reaching up, Enala wiped the sweat from her brow. Her body felt hot, far hotter than the fire burning in the grate.
“Thank you, Eric,” she shook her head. “Thank you for your belief in me. I could not have defeated the lion without it.”
“I have every confidence you could have. You are the bravest person I know, Enala. If anyone could conquer their fear, it’s you. And without fear the magic has no hold on you,” he paused. “Although personally, my magic takes the form of a wolf. Much scarier,” he winked.
Enala sucked in a breath. “Maybe, but I think I still have a lot to learn. Whatever you think, it almost had me. It will take time to master it,” she paused. “And the Soul Blade…”
“One step at a time, remember.”
“I know,” even so, Enala could not stop her thoughts turning forwards. “Do you think we’ll be able to free them? Antonia and Jurrien?” It seemed that was the only way she could avoid touching the cursed blade.
Eric shook his head. “Not here. I don’t think the Magickers remaining in the capital have the power. In Fort Fall, maybe…” his voice trailed off.
Enala found herself biting back tears, the worry in her heart rising up to overwhelm her. It seemed that with every challenge they overcame, a greater one waited to take its place. She may have conquered her magic this one time, but she could not even enjoy that triumph, knowing the Soul Blade lurked in her future.
She felt Eric’s hand on her shoulder and looked up. “It’s not fair, I know.”
A great, shuddering sob tore through Enala and she buried herself in his shoulder. “I can’t do it, Eric. I can’t face that thing, whatever it is in that sword.”
Eric said nothing, just held her there in the light of the fire, offering his silent comfort.
There was nothing he could say, nothing either of them could do to escape the destinies waiting for them. It was as Eric had said – unfair.
At last her sobs started to subside and she pulled back from her brother. She attempted to smile through her tears. “You know, I bet we find Inken and the others at Fort Fall,” she said the words to give Eric cheer, but felt a warmth swell in her own chest at the thought of a reunion with Gabriel.
Eric smiled back. “I hope so. The Gods know we could use their help.”
“There will be a lot of catching up to do,” Enala nodded at the Sword of Light. “How do you think Inken will react to that?”
Laughing, Eric shook his head. “She’ll probably ask what took us so long.”
“When will we go?”
Eric frowned, watching as an ember rose from the fire to settle on his sleeve. “I don’t know. Soon, I guess. We cannot afford to wait. Archon won’t. Without the Gods holding him back, there is nothing left to stop him from marching south.”
Enala nodded, her mind distant, thinking of the men and women manning that lonely fortress far in the north. “No,” she whispered. “You’re right; we can’t linger here for long. As much as we need the rest, Fort Fall needs every soul they can get.”
“We had better talk to Christopher and the others in the morning. Perhaps we can take a ship up the coast to the Gap.”
A shadow wrapped around Enala’s heart at the words, but she nodded all the same.
Silence fell between them then, as their thoughts turned inwards. Enala stared into the fire, her mind a thousand miles away, consumed by a fortress she had never seen.
Fort Fall.
She prayed the place would not live up to its name.
*************
Eric frowned as the muffled whoosh of flames erupting against stone echoed through the courtyard. Wiping the sweat from his forehead, he looked up at the two combatants as they fought their way through the heavy snow. The clash of steel followed as they closed on each other, the blades little more than blurs in their hands.
Sighing, Eric shook his head. It was good to see Enala making progress; he only wished he could say the same for himself. He sat on a stone bench at the other end of the courtyard, the Sword of Light lying across his lap. So far he had achieved little more than the first time he’d felt the rush of its power. It was galling to think unlimited power lay in his lap, yet he could do little more than create fire.
He watched Enala dive sideways into the snow to avoid a column of flame. It had been three days now since their midnight lesson, but they had made little progress with their plans to travel north. A blizzard had moved in over the city that night, burying the citadel in white and freezing the harbour solid. Things had only begun to thaw today, though Eric could still taste the ice on the air.
At least they had made the most of the extra time. He could see Enala’s confidence growing each day, the fear lurking behind her eyes retreating before it. Christopher was proving to be a good teacher, although he’d had less luck with Eric. The Magicker had explained the basic techniques to wielding the different parts of the Light element, but so far Eric had failed to grasp even the most basic of them.
Across the courtyard, Enala rolled and regained her feet. Flames flickered along her arms, the snow coating her clothes turning to steam. She glared across at Christopher and with a scream, swept out her arm.
The flames roared and rushed towards her opponent, the snow sizzling at its touch. Across from her, Christopher raised both arms and a wall of orange fire leapt up in front of him. A dull boom rang across the courtyard as the two forces came together.
But Enala was already moving, sprinting across the burning stone with sword in one hand, fire in the other. Christopher waved a hand and the tangling flames went out with a rush, then Enala was there, flaming hand swinging for his face. Before the blow could land Christopher leaned backwards and her fist swept past, finding only empty air.
Then a burst of orange roared from Christopher’s open hand, taking Enala full in the stomach, and suddenly she was airborne.
Eric suppressed a chuckle as his sister tumbled backwards, disappearing into a mound of snow.
A groan came from somewhere within, followed by a string of curses. Her head reappeared, flushed with anger.
“You couldn’t have pulled your blow?”
Christopher laughed. “I did pull my blow.”
Enala swore again and shook her head. Eric could see the attack had rattled her. She still struggled to focus on both her magic and physical combat, a skill he himself had yet to even attempt. He did not envy her the challenge.
“I think I’m getting the hang of it,” Enala offered as she climbed to her feet and brushed snow from her jacket. “It’s a difficult balance.”
“It takes practice,” Christopher agreed. “But it is also an excellent way to help you get a grip on your power quickly. And I imagine it could prove useful in the north.”
“I know. It’s just hard.”
Smiling, Eric shook his head. Turning back to the Sword of Light, he let out a deep breath and began again. Sinking into the confines of his mind, he reached out for the magic of the blade. The white flames leapt at his touch, their heat searing at his thoughts, but his own magic quickly rose to combat it. The blue lines of his power wrapped about the white, binding it tight.
Taking another breath, Eric opened his spirit eyes and allowed his soul to take flight. Rising from his body, he drew the white fire with him, holding it firm in his grasp. Looking now at Enala and Christopher, he saw the burning red within them, bright as torches in the darkness.
Eric had already attempted to suppress their magic as Laurel had done to his, but without success. Now as he reached out he decided on another course. It seemed an age ago now, but he had watched Alastair work his magic a hundred times. His mentor’s strength had been prodigious, but Eric only needed the gentlest of touches for what he intended.
Drawing the Sword’s power with him, Eric drifted across to where Christopher stood watching Enala’s approach. Lines of power wrapped around the Magicker, some flashing red with the power burning at his core, while others seemed to appear from the air itself. Praying he knew what he was doing, Eric reached out and pressed the white fire of the Sword to the lines of power.
Light flared as the two forces met, then pale fire raced down the line towards Christopher. Eric’s spirit shivered as the power reached the priest. The air popped as they met, but nothing changed, and Christopher stepped forward to knock aside Enala’s next attack.
Frowning, Eric repeated the process sure he must be onto something. The lines had to be connected to some part of the Light – otherwise the Sword’s magic would not be able to interact with them. Some intuition told Eric they must be related to how Alastair’s power had worked.
This time as the white swept along the line, Eric reached out and gripped it with his mind. To his surprise, the surging white froze, its energy tingling beneath the soft touch of his conscious. Then, almost by instinct, Eric drove the energy into Christopher and gave one final, gentle push.
Christopher gave a shout of surprise as his legs whipped out from beneath him, tripped by some invisible force. The flames in this hand died away as his concentration snapped, and Enala leapt in to tap his chest with her practice blade.
Chuckling to himself, Eric retreated into his body and stretched his arms. His chest swelled with pride, that he had managed to replicate the magic of his mentor. Smiling, he stood and sheathed the Sword of Light, then walked across to join the others.
He laughed out loud as he caught Christopher’s glare.
“Made some progress at last I see,” the priest raised an eyebrow.
Eric grinned back. “Slowly but surely.”
“A bit of warning would have been nice,” Christopher shook his head. “But well done. You will need every skill you can muster to face Archon.”
“I thought the scales could use a bit of balancing. Enala l
ooked a little outmatched.”
His sister scowled. “I didn’t need you to cheat for me, Eric.”
Eric raised his hands in surrender, but could not keep the smile from his face. “I just hope I’ll have time to learn the rest. I want to at least try and use the Sword to suppress Archon’s power.”
Christopher sighed. “Would that it could be so easy. Only time will tell I guess.”
“How goes the training?” they all looked up at Angela’s voice.
“Progressing better than I had hoped,” Christopher answered with a thin smile.
Angela nodded. “I have news. Heather and the other Magickers have finished inspecting the Soul Blade. It is as you suspected, Christopher. They are not powerful enough to break the enchantments. Unless we find someone stronger, the Gods will remain trapped in the weapons.”
Eric’s heart sank. He shot a glance at Enala and caught the despair sweep across her face. She masked it quickly, but not before their eyes caught. She looked away before he could say anything.
“There’s still hope, Enala,” Christopher spoke from between them. “By the time you reach Fort Fall, the greatest Magickers of the Three Nations will be there. If anyone can free the Gods, it will be them.”
“That is my other news,” Angela interrupted.
Eric looked up, catching the hint of warning in her voice. “What is it?”
He saw then the weariness in Angela’s eyes, the rings of exhaustion lining her face. She held her shoulders tensed and her fists were clenched tightly around a scrap of paper.
“This just arrived by pigeon,” Angela paused for a breath. “It’s from Fort Fall…” her voiced faded off.
A wave of weariness swept through Eric’s legs. He stumbled a step, struggling to find the strength to keep his feet. “What’s happened?”
“The invasion has begun,” the old councillor’s voice trembled. “Fort Fall is under siege, and the majority of our armies have yet to reach them. With the standing guard and the advance parties from Plorsea and Trola, they only have a thousand men.”