The Duke and Thornbear were cut off from the rest of us, surrounded now by a dozen men. The assassins were still disoriented, and Thornbear fought like a maddened bull, swinging his chair back and forth, cracking skulls. Even so they would have been slain had Dorian not come to his father’s aid. He charged from the line of men with Sir Kelton and cut his way past those before him to reach his father.
I had never seen Dorian fight like that before, nor do I hope to ever again. He became a demon of slaughter with a sword in each hand. I wondered where he had found the second blade, and it was only later I realized he had taken Devon’s sword from the ground. Dorian ran through the men in his way, and as he passed they fell back, dropping weapons and crying out from the wounds he gave them. He went through them like a scythe through ripe grain.
Once he had reached the Duke and his father, he paused to toss the sword in his off hand to Lord Thornbear who caught it deftly. The two of them fought on either side of the Duke then, steadily working their way toward Sir Kelton and his men.
During all of this I had taken a position among the guards who were struggling to form a defensive line. Marc was to my right wielding a sword to deadly effect. I tried to do the same, but I was far less skilled, if it had not been for my magical shield I would have died several times over. We strove to drive them back, but there were too many. Man for man the Duke’s guardsmen were better at face to face combat, but the assassins outnumbered us. We were driven back, step by step, till they controlled more than half of the great hall, and we were even further from the two Thornbears and the Duke, who were still fighting for survival.
The guards were falling one by one, and now we had fewer than thirty men, barely enough to form a line across the room. A few more down and we would be overrun. “Dorian!” I yelled, “Run!” He caught my eye for a second, and I hoped he understood. He said something to his father and the Duke, and they turned their backs on the men in front of them, charging toward those that remained between them and our line.
“Lyet Bierek,” I shouted, placing the center of this one behind them. The sound of it would probably deafen them, but at least they were facing away and the men ahead and behind them were blinded. The huge noise even unsettled those before us, and we gained a few feet as some of them fell.
Lord Thornbear and his son hacked their way through the stunned men, while the Duke finished those he could with a long dagger he had found. It looked for a moment as though they would reach us unharmed. Five steps, then ten, they were almost to us, when two men managed to time their strikes at Lord Thornbear. He stopped one blade, and almost dodged the other, but his age betrayed him, and he was too slow. The sword plunged into his chest just below the sternum.
Dorian came of sturdy stock; the elder Thornbear grimaced and grabbed the man who had slain him. Dragging him close he rammed his own sword home before collapsing with his dying foe. I heard a cry come from Dorian’s lips, a sound I will never forget, as he saw his father fall, but there was no help for it. Lord Thornbear was dead.
Dorian slew the second man and might have charged back into the fray, but the Duke stopped him with a hand on his shoulder. Instead they leapt over the last fallen man, reaching our line. I saw my friend’s face as he came past, spattered with blood and tears falling from his eyes. I would have spoken to him, but I had no words, and the assassins were pressing us harder now.
The Duke armed himself, and with Dorian among us our line gained strength. Still we were little more than thirty men, and the hall before us held scores, easily a hundred black garbed killers. The conclusion could only be bloody, and it would not be in our favor. As we fought I could see some of the women and noble ladies picking up swords from dead men, shoring up the line. Rose and Penny were among them. I even saw Ariadne arming herself, though she did not try to enter the battle.
Genevieve Lancaster stood behind us now, shouting at those unable or unwilling to fight, organizing them to form a barricade of tables and broken furniture. Seeing that, I had an idea, one that would either save us or kill me in the effort. I have since learned that my ideas are something of a mixed blessing.
Chapter XX
Last Stand in the Great Hall
TRADITIONALLY WIZARDS ARE NOT KNOWN for their ability to heal. The reason for this lies in the complexity of the task. Few mages learn to use their sight inwardly in such a way that they are able to perceive and understand the inner workings of the body. Those that do, find that attempting to manipulate the processes within, results more often in harm than good. Channelers, on the other hand, do not rely on their own power or intuition, but that of their god. Because of this, most acts of magical healing are attributed to saints and holy men. This is not to say that wizards cannot heal. In history a number of accomplished mages have been noted healers, but they are the exception. Most are able to do little more than mend cuts in the skin, some manage to fix broken bones, but few learn the finesse necessary to heal anything beyond that.
~Marcus the Heretic,
On the Nature of Faith and Magic
We withdrew behind a makeshift barricade of fallen tables and broken chairs. To call it a barricade was a bit of a stretch I’ll admit, but it gave us a slight advantage. It hampered the men coming at us, making it easier to kill or wound them as they struggled to get over the tumbled furniture. They drew back for a moment to coordinate their final push and the fighting paused.
“Genevieve!” I shouted to the Duchess, “I need your help, I have a plan.” She nodded and came quickly to me. She had seen enough to realize that whatever I might do, it was better than the alternative.
“What can we do?” she asked me.
“Get burned logs from the fire, I need a line, as straight as you can make it from one side of the room to the other!” I told her. It took a few more words to explain myself, but at last she understood me, and soon she had people running to either side of the room, gathering burnt wood to draw the line.
Vestrius’ journal had mentioned great wizards of the past using their strength to create huge shields to protect buildings or men during time of war. Often the effort killed them, especially if they did it without proper preparation. My own experiments had already shown me how much more energy was needed to do something without words as opposed to with them. I already knew the words necessary for creating a shield beyond my own body, but there was another method of increasing efficiency, the use of symbols or visibly drawn lines, much like a summoner’s circle. I wasn’t sure how much help a simple line would be, but it couldn’t hurt.
I had impressed upon Genevieve the need for the line to be as straight as possible, and one of the men helping her was a carpenter by trade. Soon he was using a board from a broken table to help them rule the line as they drew it across the breadth of the hall. I was glad he had thought of it, the line was much better than what I thought would be possible.
Someone spoke out from among the men who stood on the other side of our barricade. “If you surrender now, I promise we won’t kill the women.” Devon Tremont was standing behind them, using a chair so he could see us over their heads. “My men could use a reward for their efforts after all.”
I looked at Marc, “Next time I kill him first, and we can discuss whether it was the proper thing to do later,” referring to our earlier argument.
He agreed with me, and then James Lancaster shouted out, “I would sooner die than hand over my people to you!” He was red faced with anger.
“I can arrange that for you, my dear Duke,” Devon answered him. He closed his eyes, and I could see a deep glow forming around him. The power he was radiating now was immense; so far beyond the pale that I could hardly believe he was human. Even the people around me could see it now, and fear ran through the defenders. I began working my way along the line of men and women guarding the barricade, giving quiet instructions. Outwardly I remained calm, but the power facing us was so great that I no longer felt the confidence I pretended to.
“Mal’goroth,
come, use me! Show your wrath to these who would defy you!” Devon shouted.
I looked back at Genevieve, “Is it ready?”
“Almost, we’re almost there,” she shouted back.
Looking back at Devon my heart quailed. I had learned enough to realize what he was doing. He had broken the most important rule for a mage; he had opened his mind to one of the Dark Gods and given himself over to it. The power of the evil deity was coursing through him now, and his body seemed to swell larger with it. I knew that if we did not kill him, he would be the doom of the world. Mal’goroth would use his power to open a bridge; a bridge strong enough for the dark god to enter our world.
Then a voice spoke to me within my own mind. It came from within, but I could sense that it originated with the silver star in my pocket, the symbol of Millicenth, the Evening Star. Let me help you. Together we can stop him before it is too late. In my mind I could see the shining lady speaking to me, and I knew she spoke truly. Without realizing it I drew out the holy symbol, holding it before me in my hand. I almost accepted her offer, but as I wavered, Penny came over and struck the symbol from my hand.
I looked at her, a question in my eyes, “Father Tonnsdale poisoned your family, and he tried to poison everyone here!” she shouted at me. I nodded, her words raised many questions but there was no time for them now. I turned back and saw our enemies charging at the barricade.
“For Lancaster!” I screamed at the top of my lungs, and every man and woman echoed the cry. Then without warning they turned, ducking down and plugging their ears. “Lyet Bierek,” I spoke, and then repeated myself, again and again. The sounds were deafening and it felt as if the castle had come under bombardment from cannonade. The enemy attack faltered as men screamed and fell clutching their eyes, some with bleeding ears, and the men and women of Lancaster took several steps back, crossing the line Genevieve and the carpenter had created.
I looked at the doors across the room from us, far behind the men we faced, and I spoke the words to create a shield across it, one tight enough to prevent even air from passing. Then I looked down to the line that stood in front of me. Penny watched my face, and I wondered if I would die. It seemed such a shame. She started toward me but I held up my hand, I couldn’t afford any distractions.
Reaching down into myself, I drew out my power and let it fall from my lips and down my arm as I gestured to the line before me. I could feel it flowing outward, filling the line that had been drawn, and then I raised my hands upwards. A shimmering screen of light rose from the floor to meet the ceiling, seamless and perfect. Some of the enemy had already charged at us, and those who were across the line were cut cleanly in half. Limbs and body parts falling to the floor as they died. Those behind slammed into air that had become solid as stone, I could feel the force of them as they struck my shield.
Devon laughed where he stood behind them, purple flames coursing over his body, “Fool! You can’t maintain that shield for long! You’ll die of the strain, and I’ll be killing your friends before your body has cooled!”
I glared at him across the screen that separated us, “You don’t look so good Devon, did someone rearrange your face for you, or were you always that ugly?” Despite the power running through him, his face was swollen from the beating I had given him earlier. “Oh, that’s right I nearly beat you to death with the ugly stick, didn’t I? Maybe I should finish the job. It could only improve your looks!”
He snarled something at me, and I could feel a dark force pressing against my screen, trying to tear it open. That worried me, the strength to maintain a shield is greater than the strength needed to destroy it and he would rapidly burn through my reserves if he kept pushing at it. I looked across the open room and spoke the words I had been saving, words of fire and power.
Nothing happened. I could feel myself weakening and realized I had overextended myself. I didn’t have the power left to accomplish my goal. We were going to die. Devon thrust his power against my shield again and I staggered, falling to my knees. Only seconds remained before my strength was gone. I dropped my sword and saw it strike the floor. There at the base of the blade was the maker’s mark, the mark of Royce Eldridge. For a moment I remembered his words as he had given it to me. “I did not make this for your vengeance. I did this to show that even from the ashes of wickedness and tragedy something of beauty can arise. I made this hoping the same for you. Use it for yourself, use it for defending those who cannot protect themselves, as your true father would have. Do not shame either of us.”
I stood up, driven by nothing but my resolve. “Pyrren nian Aeltos, Pyrren strictos Kaerek!” I spoke again, this time opening my heart, pouring my life into the spell. Loosely translated, the words meant, ‘Let the air burn, turning all to ash,’ and I meant them. The air beyond my screen bloomed into white hot incandescent flames. I had not directed my spell at the men but the air itself.
Within seconds the flame was out, and I could feel a tugging at my screen. The air inside had been used up, creating a vacuum that pulled against my screen. The enemy were mostly dead, and those still living were suffocating. Devon was still standing, his own shield had protected him, but his eyes were bulging. He gasped as he tried to draw breath, but there was nothing to breathe, nothing but smoke and ash.
He began beating at my shield with his mind, using his power like a battering ram, not even bothering with words. He couldn’t speak anyway. The room grew dim as he struggled against me, and my vision narrowed, as if I were standing in a tunnel. I held the shield for a long minute before he finally collapsed, and then I held it for minutes more. I had to make sure he was dead.
People were yelling, and someone was shaking me, but I ignored them. I would not release my spell till Devon Tremont was dead beyond any doubt. Penny was standing in front of me, and I could see her screaming at me, but I couldn’t understand her words. Finally she slapped me, and the screen collapsed. Smoke and cinders filled the air, and people began coughing.
I looked at her, “Why did you do that?” I said.
“Because you were killing yourself, idiot!” she answered me, and then the ground rushed up to meet me. She tried to catch me, but all she managed was to break my fall. I looked up at her; she had never seemed so lovely.
“Your nose looks like a potato,” I said with a laugh and then passed out. Stupid never dies, I thought as I spiraled into darkness.
Chapter XXI
THE BIGGEST FACTOR WHICH MAKES healing anything beyond simple wounds difficult is a problem of perception. Some wizards manage to heal more complex wounds within their own bodies, but fail when faced with the same problem in other people. Their perception of the inner actions of someone else’s body is hampered by the sensations and perceptions of their own body. The few great mage healers found a way around this problem, enabling them to occasionally achieve miracles that some thought possible only for the gods. A great tragedy lies in the loss of the knowledge detailing how they accomplished this.
~Marcus the Heretic,
On the Nature of Faith and Magic
I woke in a dark room. I lay still for a long while, trying to figure out how I had gotten there. Gradually I realized that someone lay next to me, and after a moment I identified it as Penny. The snoring is a dead giveaway, and it was worse than ever now, probably because of her nose. I slid my hand over to her and discovered she had a nightgown on. How disappointing. She stirred, and the snoring stopped, I could feel her eyes on me in the dark, although I was sure she couldn’t see. The room was pitch black.
“Are you awake?” she asked softly.
“I’m not sure, this could be heaven,” I replied moving my hand over her shoulder. “I must be awake, because in heaven all the girls are naked.”
“Idiot, we thought you were dying,” she said, “I thought I would lose you.”
“I should have written you a letter first, then you would have felt better.” I replied sarcastically. Have I mentioned my unparalleled skills in talking to wom
en?
For a change she didn’t react angrily, “I couldn’t do it without leaving you something—to explain.” I didn’t like the sound of her voice, it had a thick sound, as if she were about to cry.
I did my best to divert her, “Exactly why did you try to kill Devon anyway? Are you that interested in getting yourself killed?”
She explained what had happened; her vision, killing Father Tonnsdale, and her resolve to make the most of things by getting rid of Devon Tremont. I listened quietly, amazed at her nerve. This lovely woman had killed the traitor and hidden the fact without me being any the wiser. Then she had planned a murder and kept me completely unaware. I would have been scared to have her in the bed with me if I weren’t absolutely sure we were on the same team.
“At least I had a good reason for everything I did. Unlike you... you tried to kill yourself at the end, even after they were all dead,” she finished.
“Not true, I was making sure they were dead,” I answered.
“You’re an idiot.” she shot back.
“You’re a double idiot, potato nose!” I replied wittily. Luckily, this time she saw the humor in my joke and started giggling, and soon we were both laughing. Fatigue washed over me in waves, and I decided I needed more sleep. Before I drifted off, I realized I couldn’t feel her with my mind. I couldn’t feel anything. I was blind, but it wasn’t my eyes that weren’t working.
I woke early the next morning, amazed at how good I felt. By all rights I should be dead. Instead I was hungry and extremely thirsty. Penny was not in the room so I ordered room service, “Hey! Somebody! I know you’re out there, ya bunch of vultures. I’m not dead! I want food and something to drink!” In point of fact, I had no idea if anyone was outside my door, I couldn’t sense anything beyond what my eyes could see. But I’m smart you see, I knew that whenever the hero slays a dragon the villagers always wait outside to bring him food and drink. There are usually grateful virgins too, but I didn’t think Penny would approve of me asking for those.
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