Spellbreaker

by Blake Charlton

  The crush of the crowd pushed Francesca’s party faster up the stairs. Some in the crowd fell and were either helped back to their feet or trampled.

  Francesca had witnessed battles and riots and sieges, but she had always seen them through a dragon’s eyes. Then the death of innocents had horrified or enraged her. Now Francesca was shocked by how helpless she felt. There was no room in her heart for the trampled; there was only the great need to get to higher ground.

  Atop the Jacaranda Steps, the crowd became so dense as to slow their progress. Leandra turned to look back at the bay. Francesca followed her gaze and saw during flashes of cannon fire that many smaller boats now floated between the war galleys. The hellish glow glinted off their helmets and spearheads. Vivian would soon land her troops.

  On the docks, Francesca could make out a different type of light. A lone figure shone with a brilliant orange aura. All around her prowled massive feline figures: Tagrana and her newly made warriors.

  “Damn it all,” Leandra growled. “No choice to make now.”

  Francesca looked at her. “What choice?”

  “I had plans … I thought I could do something with my future. But it doesn’t matter now. There’s no way we can withstand this.” As she spoke, Leandra wore the most peculiar expression. It had something of fear and shock in it, but also something of relief. It seemed as if a weight had been taken from her.

  The crowd began moving faster. Both women had to concentrate on staying upright. At last they started pushing their way into the crowd that had formed before the Water Temple. Brightly robed priests stood on temple walls yelling instructions, but everyone around Francesca was talking or crying. To her synesthetic hearing, the crowd was a varicolored chaos.

  Francesca was straining to make out the priest’s words when someone screamed. The horrified, bloodcolored voice was soon joined by a chorus of terror. Francesca spun around and saw a streamer of white cloth, square metal talons gleaming in the torchlight. The warkite cut down a man not twenty feet behind her. Then the warkite billowed up and was about to pounce on its next victim when above it a starburst of blue light filled the darkness. A spray of water covered the crowd and the warkite fell limply onto the bloody remains of its victim. It had been a hydromancer’s disspell, Francesca realized.

  Francesca looked up and saw the sky filled with a bulging white airship carrier. A swarm of white cloth and glinting steel was dropping from the carrier as it deployed its warkites to slaughter the people of Chandralu.

  But up from the city flew brightly winged creatures. It was hard for Francesca to tell what they were because they moved so fast that they seemed to be made only of color and velocity. Each of the creatures flew straight at one of the warkites and then folded itself into a small, feathered vector which punched through the attacking cloth construct. They were small avian deities, Francesca supposed, parrots perhaps, incarnated to defend against warkites.

  But there were too many warkites. Francesca could see that. The stream of roiling cloth and steel coming from the carrier airships had not slowed. Some of the warkites were slipping past the feathered defenders to attack whoever was out on the streets. The roar of the cannon still echoed up from the bay and now the lower terraces were alight with civil fire. The city could not withstand the attack much longer. Perhaps it had already broken.

  It was then that Francesca realized what the priests were yelling. They were exhorting the people to pray for protection from the warkites and from cannon fire. And indeed, those nearest the priests were bowing their heads in urgent prayer.

  But then another warkite fell amid the crowd. Screams filled the air and a crush of bodies tried to flee the murderous construct. A moment later two blue starbursts bloomed above the warkite, dispelling it.

  “This is how it ends,” Leandra said.

  Francesca couldn’t think of what to say and so put her arms around her daughter, and to her great surprise felt Leandra return the embrace. Tears stung Francesca’s eyes. She tightened her arms around her daughter, remembered holding her as a newborn. They had started Leandra’s life together in this pose; now they would end it in the same pose. It had all gone so wrong.

  Francesca’s mind was filled with the sudden, morbid necessities of their situation. Should she end things for them? Surely she could come up with a better way to die than being gutted by a warkite. But maybe she should fight back. Perhaps she could disspell one or two of the constructs.

  The crowd jostled around them. The cannons were firing less often now. Francesca put her thoughts aside and focused on holding her daughter. She waited.

  And waited.

  Waiting for death seemed to be taking an inordinate amount of time. Irritation moved through Francesca. She had felt this way once before, many years ago. If she had been brave enough to reconcile herself to the disappointing way in which she would leave the universe, the least the universe could do to return the favor would be to usher her out of it in a timely manner.

  Francesca loosened her hold on Leandra enough to look up at the sky. She wanted to see what was taking death so long. But what she saw shocked her. “What in the burning hells are they doing here?” she asked.

  High above them, swarming around the airship carriers and visible in the light of the burning city, were three humanoid figures made entirely of paper thin sheets of metal. They glided on the wind with wings forty or fifty feet wide that shone with white auras. In their hands, each creature wielded thin, ten-foot long swords made of light. The bright creatures were taking turns diving at the carrier to slash its lofting sails. Below them, the lofting kites had stopped descending upon the city and instead rose up to attack the winged creatures.

  Leandra also looked up. “Lornish war seraphim?”

  “Yes.”

  “But how…” Leandra’s voice trailed off as she let go of her mother and then pointed.

  Francesca turned to see that the bay was illuminated by blazing red light. The decks of two war galleys shone with figures made of flame. Some had two legs and walked upright. Others ran on four legs. All of them were attacking the imperial sailors or running up the rigging to spread the conflagration.

  “Dralish wildfire deities,” Francesca said. “That makes even less sense unless…” Then she cried out and pointed. The sky was brightening to the east, and she could just make out three new ships. Their taller hulls and more expansive rigging marked them as being Lornish war galleys. “The support convoy from Starfall! The war gods of the South!”

  Some in the crowd were cheering, but far more were bowing their heads in prayer. Above them, three sleeker airships—cruisers, Francesca would have guessed—were coming to the aid of the carriers. The more maneuverable airships were able to fight off the Lornish seraphim. As Francesca watched, one airship swooped down and with its long foresails slashed the wing off of one seraphim. The now pitiful war god began a spiraling fall out of the sky.

  But more of the seraphim had joined the fight. The airships turned and began retreating. Out on the bay, the empire’s war galleys were likewise sailing away from the city.

  The two ships attacked by the wildfire war gods continued to burn. The resulting light illuminated the Savanna Walker’s black dragon where it remained frozen in the bay.

  A great cheer went up from the crowd and suddenly everyone seemed to be embracing everyone else. Francesca found herself hugging Tam and then a red cloak she had never seen before in her life and then her daughter again.

  “This means we’re not going to die after all?” Leandra asked over the cheers.

  Francesca laughed. “You seem almost disappointed.”

  Leandra shook her head and laughed. “We have to keep on fighting. Do you think the Southern deities will be enough to scatter the imperial fleet?”

  “I doubt it, but at the least the Lornish seraphim can keep the carriers away. We can defend the city until the Council of Starfall sends a fleet of our own.”

  “Or until imperial reinforcements ar
rive.”

  “Oh, God-of-gods,” Francesca said with another laugh, “we’re not going to die right now! Can you be happy about that for just one damned moment?”

  But Leandra face remained grim. “Whatever happens in the coming days, know that I’m just now seeing things clearly.” She paused. “And if anything happens to me, you have to look after Dhrun.”

  “Lea, what’s the matter? Nothing’s going to happen to you.” She pulled her closer. “Are you okay?”

  “Yes, yes. I’m fine. Nothing’s wrong. It’s just”—she motioned to the crowd—“all this.”

  Francesca nodded. It was overwhelming. And then Dhrun stood beside them, and Leandra let go of her mother to tightly embrace the goddess. There was chanting and singing now, and many in the crowd were dancing.

  Out on the bay, the Lornish galleys were sailing into the harbor while the imperial fleet retreated. But the celebration couldn’t go on too much longer. Two large fires already burned in the city’s lower terraces.

  The shouting grew louder behind Francesca and she turned to see that the circle of red cloaks surrounding her had merged with another such circle. They were now among blue-robed hydromancers and, very suddenly, her husband. He was dressed in heavy black-and-green silk robes and gloves so that his skin wouldn’t accidently touch anyone in the crowd.

  Before Francesca could react, Nicodemus scooped her up and spun her around. She found herself clinging so tightly to him she began to fear she would break his ribs.

  “I was so worried,” he said. “I was so worried. They almost didn’t let me out of the Floating City.”

  “It’s the Southern war gods,” Francesca said and pointed. “They just arrived.”

  His smiled broadened in a very particular way.

  She frowned at him. “What is it?”

  “When I was up the mountain, the Trimuril and I realized we should have the people pray for winds to blow the convoy to us.”

  Francesca rolled her eyes. “Typical of you to ruin this moment by bragging.”

  “I wasn’t—”

  She interrupted him with a kiss. They held each other again and then Francesca realized that the motion of the milling crowd had again brought her close to Leandra.

  Her daughter was leaning close to Ellen. They seemed to be talking over the noise of the crowd, but neither woman was smiling or embracing. Then Leandra noticed her father. For a moment neither of them moved, then Nicodemus went to her and pulled Francesca along by the hand.

  When Leandra saw what he was doing, she stiffened. But then Nicodemus was upon her, enfolding her in one arm, Francesca in the other. At first Francesca shared Leandra’s apprehension. She could not remember when, if ever, the three of them had stood like this. But then, slowly, Leandra embraced both of her parents. So Francesca leaned in and held her family. She prayed that this moment together would not be their last.

  CHAPTER FIFTY-FOUR

  Kneeling before the Sacred Regent, Nicodemus became increasingly uncomfortable. Outside evening cooled the crater lake, but inside the Floating Palace retained the day’s heat. The hundred unwashed and sweating bodies attending the emergency council had made the air pungent. A court attendant had lit incense, which had only added a cloyingly aromatic component to the room’s odor.

  Beside Nicodemus, Leandra shifted and Francesca tried to hide her discomfort. The council had already been in session for two hours. The Sacred Regent had officially welcomed the Southern war gods. There had followed reports by generals and native war gods. Although the Southern deities had improved the city’s situation, Chandralu was not in a position to take the offensive.

  Reports from city officials were grimmer. The casualties from the nighttime bombardment were severe. A fire had destroyed a third of the city’s rice stores. One official calculated that the city could continue to fight for only sixty more days. Others contested this number, but all agreed that a prolonged blockade would go poorly.

  There followed a brief discussion as to who—the empire or the league—would get reinforcements to Chandralu faster. The empire was closer but likely had no ships to spare without leaving their home kingdoms undefended. The Dralish and Lornish navies, on the other hand, could dispatch ships almost immediately. An urgent colaboris spell had already been sent to Starfall Keep, but the Council of Starfall moved at a painfully bureaucratic pace. Worse, there was no guarantee that the Council would understand the urgency of the situation.

  Surprisingly the Trimuril had remained silent throughout the proceedings. Indeed, as far as Nicodemus could tell, her incarnation was not present in the throne room.

  At last the Sacred Regent asked the wardens for their counsel. Nicodemus bowed and spoke. “Sacred Regent, we agree that it is imperative that the league immediately dispatch a fleet to break the blockade. To that end, we believe Lady Warden Francesca and Lady Warden Leandra should hurry to Starfall Keep, where they can ensure that the necessary action be quickly taken.”

  From behind Nicodemus, the dignitaries murmured. The Sacred Regent cleared his throat. “We prefer that the Lady Warden of Ixos remain in her chosen kingdom.”

  Nicodemus bowed his head. “And she would prefer to stay; however, she cannot presently contribute to the city’s defense. Neither could the Lady Warden Francesca now that she has been changed.”

  The Sacred Regent shifted on his throne. “We would prefer she remained. If she survives the present attack, she would eventually gain enough power to defeat the empire. When Lorn and Dral understand her importance, they will more quickly send the needed aid.”

  The murmuring in the room grew. The Sacred Regent had not said that Leandra was the reincarnation of Los, but everyone in the room was thinking it. Moreover everyone was contemplating the possibility that Lorn or Dral might be so squeamish about harboring Los reincarnated that they would delay sending aid or, worse, make a treaty with the empire.

  Nicodemus and his family had anticipated this fear. So he bowed again and said, as loudly as he could, “Regent, we share your concerns. However, what lies in store for Lady Warden Leandra is beyond conjecture.” That was technically true. All signs suggested that the Savanna Walker’s prophecy was a strong one; however, it was still only a prophecy and therefore not an eventuality.

  Nicodemus continued. “It would be more effective if I were to remain in Chandralu. I can continue to cast my metaspell here to keep our deities as strong as possible. More importantly we can remind Lorn and Dral that if the city is lost, then my metaspells would also be lost.”

  This produced louder murmuring. The Sacred Regent, however, did not seem impressed. “We were not aware that the Halcyon had considered leaving us.”

  “Because I have not. I speak only as one concerned for Ixos, the league, and my family.”

  “To which of those entities are you most devoted?”

  “To all three together, Sacred Regent. As we understand it, none can thrive without the others.”

  The Sacred Regent frowned. Then Nicodemus realized, to his great surprise, that the regent wished he could keep all of them as political prisoners. If he did so, Nicodemus could invoke his status as the league’s Halcyon and denounce a Sacred Regent who had failed to protect his city from the empire. Nicodemus doubted he could garner enough support to depose the regent, but he certainly could break the city into hostile factions at a time when it could not survive infighting.

  The Sacred Regent spoke, “We will consider what you have said.”

  “Sacred Regent, would you let me reaffirm my commitment to the people and pantheon of Ixos?” That seemed to remove some of the tension from around the old man’s eyes. “Under your direction, I will know exactly when to cast the metaspell for maximum advantage. It is a difficult spell to cast and your leadership in directing my family would greatly improve the outcome.”

  The regent’s eyes narrowed, and Nicodemus had no doubt that the old man understood the implied threat of noncooperation.

  The only sounds were those
of distant chanting from the priests on the Floating City. Could the old man really be so much of a fool as to oppose him?

  At last the regent nodded. “We thank you for your wise counsel, Halcyon. If we were to send Lady Warden Leandra and Lady Warden Francesca to Starfall Island as our advocates, how would you suggest we get them past the blockade?”

  Relief washed through Nicodemus. “We suggest arming the Lornish war galleys and setting out on the bay as if they meant to fight out of the Cerulean Strait. While the imperial fleet is moving to block the attempt, we could sneak the Lady Wardens down the peninsula with a small force of red cloaks. From there they could make their way to Port Mercy and then to Starfall. The Lornish war galleys, having gotten a better sense of the remaining imperial fleet, could then return to the city without bloodshed.”

  The Sacred Regent turned first to his admirals then to others in the crowd whom Nicodemus could not see. At last the Sacred Regent nodded. “Very well, Lord Warden. The commanders of both ships and soldiers will meet with you tonight to devise the plans. We shall meet again tomorrow morning. If your plans are satisfactory, we will proceed in the afternoon. Does this satisfy you?”

  Nicodemus bowed. “Very much so, Sacred Regent.”

  With that the regent moved on to other matters. The physicians of the infirmary spoke about the difficulties of treating so many wounded. Then came civic officials with proposals about sheltering the newly homeless and repairing the damaged sewers and bridges. At last the Sacred Regent called an end to the meeting.

  Glancing out the window, Nicodemus noticed it was still evening. The throne room had cooled and a breeze had dissipated some of the bad air. He stood and stretched his sore legs.

  “The old goat isn’t going to make it easy for us,” Francesca grumbled.