by Chris Fox
“Thanks, Ree. Much better.” Aran floated off the ground. “Sergeant, how you holding up?”
“Just peachy, sir.” Crewes’s teeth were gritted. “I think the explosion cauterized the wound. At least I ain’t gonna be bleeding out.” He climbed slowly back to one foot, and put the butt of his cannon under his arm like a crutch. “I ain’t too fast, but I can still kill shit. Let’s go. And don’t wait for me. I’ll be along.”
Aran glanced at the blackened stump. Everything from the knee done had been obliterated by whatever spell Erika had cast. The skin was cracked and charred, masking the hideous damage underneath.
Theoretically it could be regrown, if they could afford a mage powerful enough to do it. If they survived the next few minutes.
“Copy that.” Aran took point, pouring on the speed as he zoomed down the tight corridor. It wound downward for several hundred meters, then finally spilled out into a sort of cavern. The edges of the wood here were black, and rotted.
“What is this place?”
“This is where Shaya took the spear that killed her.” Nara bent to touch the rotting wood. “They must have chosen it intentionally, because the wood here is weaker.”
Chanting came from further in the cavern.
“Do not let them finish that spell, people.” Aran leapt back into the air, and shot toward the sound of the chanting.
49
THAT'S IT?
Aran slowed as the tunnel leveled off, widening into a large cavity of rotted wood. Dirk stood protectively in the far corner of the cavern, his spellblade clutched loosely in one hand. At least he wasn’t wearing spellarmor. Eros stood behind Dirk in the center of a ritual circle a few meters back. There was no sign of Erika.
“How are we playing this?” Nara called, zooming up beside him as they neared their opponents.
Ree sprinted below them, vaulting chunks of wood as she approached the combat.
“I’m going to engage Dirk. Erika will almost certainly jump me. When she does, I want Nara to take her out. Stay hidden until then, no matter what.” Aran dropped low, yanking his spellrifle from his void pocket. He snapped the butt to his shoulder, drawing a bead as he closed.
“Be careful, Aran,” Nara whispered over the comm.
“Aren’t I always?” Aran fired a level-three void bolt.
“No.”
Dirk casually sketched a counter, shattering the spell, then folded his arms. “Come on kid, you can do better than that.”
Aran landed and took his time lining up another shot. He heard Ree sprinting up behind him. She’d be here in moments.
His feet suddenly left the ground, and Aran found himself tumbling end over end across the ground. His spellrifle clattered away, leaving him weaponless for the moment. He flipped to his feet, then shot into the air.
Erika landed on his back, her legs encircling his waist. “Better, Outrider. Still not good enough.” Her hands settled around his head and began to twist.
“Maybe you should wait till you’ve seen the whole show,” Nara taunted from a meter away.
Pink magic slammed into Erika from the side, and her body went rigid. She tumbled limply from Aran’s back, dropping toward the ground below. Nara caught her paralyzed body before she hit the ground, dumping her in a heap on the side of the room.
Aran turned back to Dirk, but it was far too late. He’d made the mistake of taking his eyes off what might be the most lethal war mage in the sector. One did not survive mistakes like that.
Dirk’s rifle fired a ball of crackling black energy, which burst as it reached Aran. Void energy splattered his armor, and wherever it touched the paper doll instantly went yellow. A few moments later areas of his right torso and arm flared red.
“I’d suggest removing the armor, if you want want to lose a limb to two,” Dirk suggested. His tone was the same jovial friendliness he’d shown when he met Aran at the Tender’s palace. “Nebiat insisted I keep you alive, but didn’t specify how much of your body remains. I’d prefer to keep you intact, but if I have to maim you to subdue you, I will.”
Aran willed the armor down to the ground, and sketched the void symbol needed to eject. He tumbled out the back of the armor, rolling away as the void energy continued to devour the armor. Everything below the right elbow had already been consumed by the hungry spell.
He grabbed his spellblade from the void pocket and trotted away from the armor as he waited for Dirk to engage.
“Ahh, there we go,” Dirk called as Ree pulled up panting beside Aran. “Why don’t the two of you figure out how you’re going to assault me? You only get one shot. Make it count, for all our sakes.”
On the far side of the room Nara sketched a dream sigil, and started to add an air. Dirk’s hand twitched, and he flung a counterspell in Nara’s direction. Her illusion spell ruptured, flinging mana shards in all directions.
“Nara,” Aran called, interposing himself between Dirk and Nara. “Let us handle this. Stop the ritual. We’ll deal with Dirk.”
“Sending away your true mage isn’t very smart. Now she’s a threat.” Dirk sprinted low and fast toward Nara.
Aran kicked off the ground, hurling himself forward on a cushion of air. He reinforced his blow with gravity magic, flaring the blade white as he brought it down in a wide slash. As expected, Dirk broke away from Nara to engage him. He easily parried Aran’s blow, returning a wicked slash from a stance Aran didn’t recognize.
Dirk might have finished Aran then, but Ree leapt at him from behind. Her spellarmor was damaged, but it still possessed all of its strength. She wrapped her arms around his chest, pinning them to his side.
“Finish it, Aran.”
Before he could strike, Dirk’s elbow shot back into the fist-sized hole Erika had made in Ree’s spellarmor. Ree screamed as green lightning poured from Dirk’s elbow, into the wound. She released him, staggering away several meters where she collapsed into a heap. Smoke poured from the wound, and the stench of burnt meat billowed out around them.
“Now what’s your plan?” Dirk asked mildly. He gave his blade an experimental swing as if unlimbering himself. “Your true mage is trying to deal with her master. A fight she is doomed to lose, I might add. Your one ally can’t stand up, and if she somehow does, I’ll just knock her down again. This comes down to you and me—which means it comes down to me.”
Aran walked slowly to a debris-free area of the floor. He watched Dirk closely. The man moved like Erika, but better. Who knew how many Catalysts he’d been to, or what abilities he might possess? He’d been training before Aran’s parents were old enough to go on a date.
“How long ago did Nebiat bind you?” Aran asked. Maybe he could buy time for Ree to get up, though he wasn’t sure how much that might help.
“Not long.” Dirk started walking in a slow circle around the perimeter of their little circle, like it was a dueling ring. “She took me when you were in the Umbral Depths. I got careless, and she took advantage.”
“And now you’re going to help her kill tens of thousands of drifters, while she kills a woman you’re in love with?” Aran considered launching the first strike, but sensed that would be a fatal mistake.
“Yes.” Dirk’s mouth went sour. “I can’t fight it, kid. Do you think I want to tear down everything I’ve spent my life building?” He advanced slowly toward Aran, and stood only a few meters away now. Close enough to begin a strike.
Aran settled into Drakon stance. Dirk would expect it, of course, but there wasn’t any other real option. Aran didn’t know another style well enough to use it. Maybe he could do something similar to the fight with Erika, where he took a blow but landed one in return.
Dirk blurred forward, his blade crackling with purple lightning. Aran launched a parry, which knocked him back a step. Dirk flung a dagger from his sleeve, and the blade sliced across Aran’s forearm. The wound immediately began to burn.
“Poison.” Aran launched a counter attack, which Dirk easily parried.
&nb
sp; He shook his head sadly, sighing at Aran. “Of course. You can’t be surprised. A lesson for another life, kid. Use every weapon at your disposal, whatever it takes to kill your opponent. If you’d done that here, then maybe you could have beaten me and stopped this tragedy. So, in a way, this is as much your fault as it is mine.”
Dirk circled slowly. Time was on his side now. Fire burned through Aran’s arm, working its way toward his shoulder. How long until it reached his heart? Aran caught movement out of the corner of his eye, but studiously ignored it. He couldn’t allow Dirk to realize what he saw.
“Ree, if you’re going to help now is the time.” Aran didn’t break eye contact with Dirk, watching to see what effect his words would have. Dirk’s gaze flicked to Ree’s fallen form, and in that moment Aran struck.
He launched a high slash, and when Dirk knocked the blade away Aran channeled the momentum into a roundhouse kick. It caught Dirk in the side, flinging him backward. He stumbled, but regained his footing before Aran could follow up.
“Yes, you’re definitely better than Erika described you,” Dirk mused. He cocked his head. “What happened to you out there? I’d hoped whatever it was would be enough to stop Nebiat from killing Aurelia, but if this is the best you’ve got, then she’s going to die badly.”
“You’re right,” Aran admitted. He prowled closer, but stayed out of attack range. Not yet. “I know you’re better than I am, but I can promise you this, Dirk. My sword is going to end up buried in your throat.”
Aran leapt into the air, and aimed a fan of flame at Dirk. Dirk hopped backward, and Aran came down atop him. Dirk’s leg scythed up and caught Aran in the chest. The move knocked the wind from Aran, flinging him twenty meters. He landed in a pile, something cracking painfully in his chest.
“That was your big finale?” Dirk shook his head and chuckled.
“No,” Crewes roared, “this is.”
Dirk turned to face the big man just as Crewes’s spellcannon bucked. A magma shell hit Dirk in the chest from three meters away, detonating into hundreds of shards. He was flung from his feet, and rolled across the ground.
Crewes fired again. “Did you think I was just gonna let you kill the LT? I spent months breaking in this kid. Do you know what a pain in the ass it is to train a new officer? Nah, you’re out of bounds, war mage. Sit the fuck down.”
Crewes sucked in a deep breath and breathed a river of flame at Dirk. Somehow Dirk rolled to his feet and away from the flame. He raised a hand and the flames parted to either side, flowing harmlessly around him.
Dirk sprinted toward Crewes, dodging to the right as Crewes fired another spell. He leapt into the air, twisting as he somersaulted over the sergeant. Crewes tried to adjust but his missing leg made that impossible. Dirk landed behind him, and his sword punched through the sergeant’s back.
“No!” Aran roared. He thrust his hand forward and seized Dirk around both legs with tendrils of air. Aran yanked, pulling the war mage from his feet.
Dirk recovered instantly, rolling away from Crewes and adopting a defensive stance. He glanced once at Crewes, who lay in a pile clutching the wound in his back. “Now that was a much more impressive finale, kid. You almost had me.”
Aran’s shoulder throbbed, and he could feel the poison working its way closer to his heart. Ree wasn’t getting up. The sergeant was down. He was alone.
“I’m sorry,” Aran said, advancing slowly toward Dirk, his blade raised high.
“For failing?” Dirk asked. He gave a heavy sigh. “Me too kid, me too.”
“No.” Aran raised his blade into a guard position. “For this.”
His blade burst into eager brilliance, heat and light pouring out in all directions. The fire flowed up Aran’s arm, into the wound. It flowed through his veins, purging the poison as it swept through his body. The magic infused every part of his body, bringing strength, and speed.
Aran sprinted three steps, then leapt into the air. He drew equal parts fire, ice, void, and air. The collective energies swirled around the blade in a chaotic maelstrom, a maelstrom made brighter as the blade flared white with its own internal heat.
Dirk raised his blade to parry, and enchanted steel met enchanted steel. A sound like a tremendous gong echoed from the impact, and Dirk’s sword shattered.
Aran reversed the blow, gripping the hilt in both hands and ramming it through Dirk’s spine, to the left of the heart. The weapon punched through his body, discharging the spell at point blank range. Dirk’s body thrashed wildly, seizing from the lightning.
Aran yanked the blade free, whipping it around in a tight slash that sliced cleanly through Dirk’s throat. Dirk’s head tumbled from his body, and both collapsed into a heap.
“That was damned impressive, sir,” Crewes rumbled. He hopped over, and sat on a large hunk of wood. “I hope Ree wakes up. I got no idea how bad the wound in my back is.”
“We’ll deal with that in a minute.” Aran pulled himself to his feet. “We have to help Nara.”
“Might be a bit late for that, sir.” Crewes pointed.
Aran’s heart sank.
50
KAY
Nebiat’s invisible form rippled through the sky, banking on an updraft. She winged her way up over the great tree, toward the Tender’s palace. It glittered high above, a jewel in the sunlight. She found it fitting that the Tender die during their most holy time, the time they believed themselves to be strongest and most connected to their goddess.
She rose above the shayawood structure, gliding to a graceful halt on an empty landing pad. There was no sign of the Tender’s honor guard. Dirk had done his work well.
Nebiat dropped her invisibility spell, and shifted back into human form. She had some gloating to do before the combat began, and wanted Aurelia to see her coming. She wanted to savor this victory. It had been a long time coming.
She pushed open a door and headed downstairs, into an opulent sitting room. Aurelia waited on the balcony. Nebiat’s heels clicked across the hardwood floor as she approached, and the Tender turned in her direction. She straightened, still managing resplendent in her golden armor. But the image was marred now. Tainted.
“Aurelia, you don’t look at all well. You’re sweating,” Nebiat teased. She stopped several meters away and rested her back against the railing. “I thought that was impossible. Isn’t your health directly tied to Shaya herself?” Nebiat did her best impression of innocence. Admittedly, it wasn’t very good.
“I finally understand,” Aurelia panted. “How long have you been on my world?”
“No more than a few weeks. You’d probably have detected me, but all flame reading was blocked by the augury you are so obsessed with. I’ve been quite industrious during that time.” She shot Aurelia a conspiratorial smile. “Between you and me I expect the fight to capture Eros was harder than killing you will be.”
Aurelia hunched over suddenly, coughing violently. She spat blood onto the floor, then straightened. “I don’t know what poison you used. I don’t know what preparations you think you have made. If you wish a duel with the Guardian of Shaya, then you have it, dreadlord. Come. Let us put an end to this.”
“Kay.” Nebiat grinned.
She raised a hand and sketched a disintegrate. Nebiat raised her other hand and sketched a small Fissure. She fired the disintegrate into the Fissure, then opened a second Fissure right behind Aurelia. The disintegrate shot down at the Tender from above.
Aurelia flowed around it, rolling backward as the spell punched through her balcony, disintegrating a wide swath of the priceless shayawood. The Tender thrust out a hand and a meter thick beam of pure white lanced out at Nebiat.
She flung herself to the ground, but the light seared her back and drew a pained grunt. She sketched a blink, appearing above Aurelia. Nebiat sucked in a deep breath, and breathed. Many mortals didn’t understand that a Wyrm could still breathe when in human form. Then again, most mortals didn’t survive such occurrences, and thus couldn’t speak of
it.
A cloud of white-grey mist billowed out around Aurelia, the spirits keening as they hungrily sought her soul. Aurelia merely stood there, staring up at Nebiat. The mist faded with no apparent effect, but Nebiat wasn’t daunted.
This was merely the opening gambit, and time was very much on her side. In a few minutes, Aurelia would be dead and this world at war with itself.
51
PIRATE GIRL
Turning away from Aran and abandoning him to fight Dirk was the single hardest decision Nara had ever faced. Fighting side by side was all she really knew, and her partner needed her. But so did Kezia, Bord, and the thousands of other drifters down there. She had a responsibility to those people, and that meant filling the role Voria would normally fill. She had to be the true mage.
Nara clutched her staff tightly in her right hand and flew closer to Eros and his ritual circle. She studied that circle, and the ring of wards inscribed outside of it. They were complex and powerful, but her new abilities allowed her to grasp them far more quickly than she could have managed only a week ago. She could probably understand them in minutes instead of days. Unfortunately, she didn’t have minutes.
“Your wards will keep me out,” she said, landing outside of the circle. “But they will also keep you and your magic in.”
“An astute observation,” Eros muttered. He continued to sketch sigils, adding complexity to the ritual. “You’re running out of time, so you need to make the logical leaps. I cannot tell you how to do this. She won’t let me.”
That got Nara’s attention. “You’re bound, but not completely.”
“Clever, pirate girl.” Eros didn’t look at her, only kept sketching furiously. “The rest is up to you.”
Nara slowly walked the edge of the wards, studying them and considering the problem. The quickest way to disrupt a ward was to attack it magically. Unfortunately, that was also the most destructive. Overloading a ward often caused a magical detonation powerful enough to kill the mage foolish enough to try.