Whisper of the End

by Held, Maximian

  “It feels relaxing I suppose, like everything is returning to as it should be. There’s no strange smell, but it usually feels like ice is running through me.” Kearika replies.

  “That is because to me, the aether is cold. Each mage perceives it differently.” I tell her as I shoulder my pack.

  “Okay, I can understand that. Each mage has their quirks, and their magic reflects that. So how did you make Laroc talk?” Kearika asks.

  “When the aether I draw in for a spell leaves me, it has become my aether. It is my power. For mages, the aether we draw in becomes an extension of ourselves. Everyone has aether in them naturally, we used to call it your soul. Your clan’s soul shamans are just mages. Which is why there was the war to bring them into the fold. When I heal someone, the aether I use is absorbed by their body, by their soul if you will.” I tell her, grabbing my staff from where it leans against the wall.

  “In a mage this aether would become theirs, enhancing their reserves or allowing them to put more power into a spell. This process takes moments at most for a mage, but for someone without our training that aether lingers. It remains a part of me, under my control. I simply commanded it to tell me what I wanted to know, just like casting any other spell. He could no more resist it than you could stop your heart from beating. My command was part of who he was.” I say, looking away as Laroc drops to the ground with a thud.

  “You forced part of your soul into his, and made him speak with it?” Kearika asks incredulously, shuddering as she does. She gives me a very strange look, a dangerous one. I do not like that look, I feel like a cow being measured for slaughter. I stare back at her, unable to think of a response.

  “Caius, you do realize how terrible that sounds, right?” Kearika asks. She takes a small silver charm from her bag and kneels down over Laroc’s corpse. She presses it against his forehead and heart, before whispering a few words. I have never seen her do that before.

  “What are you doing Kearika?” I ask.

  “I’m praying for his soul to rest, and for yours to leave his body.” Kearika replies, still moving the charm back and forth. “The soul shamans trained me in a few of our rituals before I left, to keep me safe.”

  Kearika finishes her ritual, turning to face me after she puts the charm back. “I can see why the Zauberei call mages monsters.” She says flatly. Does she really think I am a monster?

  “I am oversimplifying it so you will understand. But basically, yes. I manipulated his soul with the aether I used to heal him. Technically I could do it with anyone, not just someone I have healed recently. I have never tried that, I just try to help people.” I say, picking up my staff and letting it hang loosely by my side. I turn to face Kearika, who is coiling her rope up.

  “What about me? You’ve healed me plenty of times. Our bond lets us sense each other, it even hurt you in Hurendale. Could you do that to me?” She asks, concern creasing her face. I really wish she had not asked that. I’m a terrible liar, and Kearika seems to be in an even worse mood now. Which is saying something, since this began with her almost killing me.

  “Yes.” I say shortly. Kearika stops coiling the rope and stares at me. After a few seconds of silence, she clears her throat. She makes an expectant expression and gestures for me to keep explaining.

  “I could do more than just tell you to what to do. If I really wanted to I could probably force you to obey me through thought alone. It would not matter how you resisted. All of my wards on you, all the healing I have performed on you means that our 'souls’ have become intermingled. In fact, they have been since I improved upon our bond years ago, which is how it works. Bits and pieces of you and I move back and forth between us.” I say, dreading her reply.

  For a dreadfully long time Kearika stands still, her face blank as she thinks. Finally, she gives a short nod and says “I trust you Caius, I know you don’t abuse your abilities. We need to talk once we get out of here though.”

  “Let’s get out of here before we run into anyone else.” Kearika says, gesturing towards the doorway.

  I nod relieved to be done with the conversation. We leave out the door of our room, but as we head towards the stairs Kearika puts on a hand on my shoulder. She holds a finger up to her lips and motions for me to come closer.

  “I don’t hear anything.” She whispers. Neither do I.

  “So? After what just happened, maybe they are just being quiet?” I reply, confused. Kearika shakes her head sharply.

  “No, I think it’s a trap. Can you make an illusion of us walking down the stairs?” She asks.

  “You know I am not terribly proficient in it.” I whisper to her. I hate illusion magic, there is no skill to it. It is all just lights and reflections.

  “I know, they don’t have to talk, just make us walk downstairs. Or, could you make us invisible?” She asks.

  “I have not wasted enough of my time with illusions to make us invisible. Now let me concentrate.” I tell her. How did it go again? Aaeena? Paraavartan?

  “Pratichchhaaya.” I whisper, holding an image of Kearika and I walking down the stairs in my mind. The air in front of us ripples, a rainbow of colors roiling in the shape of two people. Gradually the colors settle and two passable facsimiles stand before us. Haha, I did it!

  The two illusions turn and walk down the stairs, their hands interlinked as they do. Kearika turns and raises an eyebrow.

  “I am not good at illusions!” I hiss at her; her only reply is to give me a smirk and turn back to the illusion. With a sound like thunder half a dozen rifles fire and bullets punch holes in the wall behind the two fakes.

  “Ha! A trap, you owe me!” Kearika gloats, readying her halberd. “Quick, before they get a chance to reload.” She shouts over her shoulder, already bounding down the stairs towards our assailants.

  She turns and charges as soon as she reaches the bottom and I hear shouts of alarm, followed by a meaty thunk! I wince, the sounds of smashing dishes and splintering wood fills the air. I head down stairs gingerly. With a shriek, a man hits the wall next to me just as I reach the bottom of the stairs, and collapses limply to the floor. I hit him with my staff just to be sure. This is not too bad, we have fought our way out of worse.

  The common room is a mess, tables have been turned to kindling and shattered pottery is everywhere. Three of our attackers are already out of the fight, one is halfway over the bar, another is laying on the floor bleeding out through a huge gash in his chest. The third of course is on the floor by the stairs. Four others are still active, three of them surround Kearika while the last watches impassively from the bar.

  Kearika sports several cuts, all of which are bleeding freely. When did she get those? I did not feel anything at all. I glance down at my arms, but instead of bruises or cuts there is unblemished skin. Kearika lunges forward explosively and the tip of her halberd takes the woman in front of her through the stomach. The impaled woman wails, her hand scrabbling at the haft of it as she falls to the floor.

  As Kearika struggles to free her halberd one of the men behind her slashes her from shoulder to hip along her back. His slice cuts through her furs and reveals the breastplate beneath. Again, the wound causes no pain of any kind to me. It also was not stopped by my wards; what sort of weapon is this? Kearika launches a vicious kick backwards, which catches the man in the stomach.

  He gasps as all the air is driven from his lungs and he falls to his knees. Kearika whips out her stolen dagger to finish the job but the last man tackles her to the ground. They struggle, each trying to drive their own knife into the other. I rush forward and swing my staff in a wide arc, catching the man on his knees in the side of his head with a hollow thunk! He crumples to the ground in a heap. I did it! Kearika and her foe roll across the floor, each struggling for that fatal leverage.

  Kearika gets her legs under him and launches him over her head, he sails through the air before smashing through the window. Kearika gets up, dagger held at the ready as she rounds on the woman at the ba
r. That woman sits there serenely, her hands folded in her lap. She’s wearing a light blue jacket made from crushed velvet, subtle silver threads run through it in a geometric pattern. Her white pants and shirt also have silver thread in them, with similar patterns on them. An ornate sheath sit on her hip, with gold filigree and jewels glittering in the light.

  “Get your weapon first Protector, I wouldn’t want someone to say I didn’t give you a fighting chance.” She says softly. She sits with one leg over the other, fingers steepled in her lap as she surveys the room.

  “I must say, I’m rather impressed with your performance. Seven of our best fighters, with only a few scratches to show for it. Clearly there’s room for improvement.” She says with a shrug. Kearika retrieves her stuck halberd, pulling it free with a quiet groan from the unfortunate woman it’s lodged in. The woman at the bar nods, the tranquil expression never leaving her face.

  “I am Belandre, Seneschal of the Zauberei here in Ba’tshish.” She says, waving her hand in front of her as she gives a little sitting bow. Alaric was not so tough, and he was huge. Kearika and I can handle this Belandre.

  “Now, obviously I can’t let you leave, but I want you to know I respect you putting up such a fight. Now, whenever you’re ready we can begin.” Belandre says, her hands resting in her lap again. Kearika shoots me a sidelong glance to which I give a shrug. I have no idea why she is so calm, but it cannot be good.

  Kearika readies her weapon and charges at Belandre, bringing it down in a murderous strike that cleaves through the empty chair. Empty? Belandre is crouched behind Kearika, dragging her blade across the back of Kearika’s leg. The blade bites deep and blood pours from the wound. With a howl Kearika drops to one knee, her cut leg buckling beneath her. Why did I not feel that?

  Belandre dances back and forth just outside of Kearika’s reach, her curved dagger coated in Kearika’s blood. From one knee Kearika gives a wild swing with her halberd, but Belandre just kicks it out of her hands. Kearika whips her dagger from its sheath, and Belandre darts in, blocking Kearika’s swing as she does. Her dagger drags across Kearika’s wrist and Kearika drops her dagger with another yell.

  “Poor Protector, I guess you aren’t as tough as you think.” Belandre says, dancing back away from Kearika and turning to face me. I have never seen Kearika lose like that. My throat feels dry, like I’ve been swallowing sand. My hands begin to shake. Belandre turns to me, skewering me with placid gaze.

  “Come now mage, show me what you’ve got.” She says calmly, her stance relaxed as she stands there. She lunges forward and I thrust with my staff.

  “Show me why I should fear you.” Belandre whispers in my ear as my staff pokes the empty air where she was.

  I whip my staff around, trying to catch her but she hops backwards out of range. I glance over at Kearika, who’s busy trying to stand with a cut hamstring and a useless hand. Blood coats the floor around her and her armor, a grim look is plastered on her face as she struggles to rise. Not good, I need a plan. I drop my staff to the ground, the sound of it hitting the floor is unusually loud in the silent room. Kearika looks at me like I’ve gone mad, and I’m not entirely sure I haven’t. Belandre gives me a quizzical look, her eyes narrowing as she studies me.

  I raise my hands up in front of my face like I’d seen Kearika do when she practices her unarmed fighting. Kearika gives a small groan from the bar, where she’s still fighting to rise to her feet. Please let this work. I begin edging closer to Belandre, trying to gauge how close “close enough” is. I throw a punch, the best punch my terrified self can do. Belandre catches it in a block a few inches from her face. Perfect. The moment she does the aether jumps between us, sinking into her blocking arm which falls limp at her side.

  A kick to my ribs bends me in half, and I try not to fall to the floor, but I hear the nerveless thump of Belandre’s leg hitting the ground. Belandre is struggling to stay up as well though now, the moment she kicked me I have paralyzed her leg. It is working! With a grimace, she falls to the floor, her left leg and arm lying uselessly besides her. She pulls her blade back out with her working hand, glancing over at her useless leg and arm.

  With a grimace, she slashes her left leg with her blade, effortlessly cutting through cloth and flesh. Her blood flows out, but a pale blue smoke begins to rise from the shallow wound as well. In a second she jumps up from flat on her back to her feet. A similar cut to her arm has the same effect. Belandre gives her hand a few exploratory flexes. That is not good.

  “Well played mage, well played.” Belandre says, giving me a small smile. “It won’t save you, but I appreciate the effort.”

  Belandre walks over to Kearika, who’s managed to lever herself up to halfway standing by leaning on a bar stool. With a tutting sound Belandre drives a knee into Kearika’s midriff, and she collapses back into the puddle of her blood. She doesn’t try to get up again. Kearika? All I can feel is silence through our bond. All I can hear are the voices again, calling out from the walls, from the dead and from Kearika’s blood.

  KILL HER.

  Belandre scoops up Kearika’s halberd, deftly lifting the massive weapon in one hand. She starts stalking towards me, a cold smile breaking her emotionless mask. I raise my hands again, but they’re shaking so badly I can barely stop my elbows from knocking together. This is it Caius, no one is coming to save me now. My wards wouldn’t help, they haven’t stopped her from kicking me in the stomach before. I never practiced destructive magic, I have no interest in it. I have no options left.

  KILL THEM ALL.

  “No!” I shout, feeling the aether pressing in my mind, crashing against my thoughts.

  The aether tears at my consciousness, ripping away at me. I can feel it digging at every crack, every weakness for a way in. Just like the swamp. Kearika almost died then too. My vision doubles and it becomes hard to breathe. The roughness I had felt before is back, like barbed wire being dragged through my thoughts. Belandre draws closer to me, Kearika’s weapon raised, a cruel smile replacing her composed look.

  KILL HER, CRUSH ALL WHO STAND BEFORE YOU.

  I raise a shaking hand up to her “P-please, just let us go. We are just travelling! We did not want to hurt anyone.” I plead.

  “Travelling? You’ve killed half a dozen people while you’ve been here.” Belandre replies.

  I CAN SAVE YOU AGAIN, ALL YOU HAVE TO DO IS LET ME IN.

  I groan, it’s become almost impossible for me to see. All I can feel is the freezing cold of the aether racing through my body. Ice floods my veins, everything moves slowly.

  I am Caius, Mage of the Tower. I help people. I heal the hurt.

  Belandre brings the halberd down on me, the razor edge slicing through the air.

  I am Caius, Mage of the Tower. I shield all who cannot protect themselves.

  Belandre seems to float off the ground, moving so slowly as she lunges forwards.

  I am Caius, Mage of the Tower. I do not want to die!

  PERFECT.

  Chapter XIII - Caius

  Duras - The Town of Ba’tshish

  10th of Telod, 1873 MD

  Belandre’s blade skitters along my arm, the edge deflecting off the thick scales bursting from my skin. Her surprise barely begins to register before I crush her other wrist in my newly clawed hand. Crack. She screams, and I can feel my lips pulling back further than they should.

  I remember being so afraid when I started my training. The fear of failure, the fear of being alone again.

  Belandre kicks me in the ribs again, her booted foot bouncing harmlessly off my armored torso. I give a hissing laugh, shaking her back and forth by the arm. Kearika’s halberd buries itself tip first into the floor, slipping out of Belandre’s limp fingers.

  I remember struggling to keep up, struggling to excel. I never wanted to be useless again. I am never going to go back to the slums.

  Slowly I push a claw through Belandre’s shoulder, driving it all the way through and out the back. She gives another paine
d scream, which rises in intensity as I pull it back out just as slowly. I pull her in closer, running my bloody claw down her cheek as I stare at her. I can see the hate burning in her eyes, but no fear, which is disappointing. I press the tip of my bloody claw against her forehead.

  I barely remember my parents, both taken by the plague when I was very young. I remember the mage who found me though, the mage who healed me and brought me to the tower.

  As I start digging with my claw, Belandre rams her dagger deep into my hand and the blade comes out the other side. Crimson sparks and smoke fly wildly out of the wound, and I stumble backwards across the room and into a wall. I let go of Belandre, clutching at my wounded hand, howling in pain as I do. She turns and runs, leaping through the shattered window and off into the night.

  I feel myself floating back down to my body, as if from a great distance away. I stare detachedly at my right hand, watching the reflections of the crimson sparks in the etchings on the embedded blade. Those are the same markings as the one Kearika took. I tug on the handle, pulling the dagger from my hand and spilling more blood. I turn my hand over, watching the bone and flesh knit together as my magic heals me. Red sparks dance across the hole, knitting flesh and bone. Slowly they are replaced by familiar blue ones, and a cool sensation washes through my hand.

  My skin finally closes over, the inside of my hand illuminated from within by a blue glow. I begin to shiver, the aether flowing into my hand chilling the rest of my body. Kearika needs help. I suddenly realize that everything has gone silent, there are no whispers coming from the walls. There’s no pressure from the aether, no urge to use it over and over again. Nothing but quiet. I reach out, trying to find the missing sensations but I find nothing. Something is terribly wrong.

  I slowly stand up, letting the wall behind me take my weight. I stumble over to Kearika, where she lays face down in a pool of her own blood. She is still alive at least. I can feel a lethargic pulse in her neck. Though not for much longer if I do not hurry. Without the aether to do this, I will need to go slowly. I cannot risk exhausting myself.