by Marc Secchia
Balancing on Zaranna’s back, Sanu whipped a few implements from her belt and set to work on his locks and chains, working with all the speed and guile at her command. Their connection allowed Sanu to keep them invisible, while Zaranna’s height was essential to help her reach the tall Pegasus Prince’s neck.
Jesafion stood utterly still, but the muscles upon his flank and neck quivered. He knew.
Minutes passed. Sanu silently lowered chains to the ground. The rain did not abate, masking the very slight sounds she made. One wing almost free. Very quietly, Sanu cursed the collar’s complexity.
“Danger,” Jesafion hissed.
Kenzo strolled into the ring and struck a legs-akimbo pose. “Why, if it isn’t my favourite pair of mysterious wanderers. You were very unsociable last time we met, little girl.”
“He can’t see us,” she whispered.
“Brilliant strategy, by the way,” Kenzo complimented them. “Almost had us fooled, but you forgot one key detail. The rain runs off your invisibility. I can see your outlines.”
Left and right of the warrior-assassin, Worafion and Tayburrl Darkwolf entered the circle. Tayburrl rolled his massive neck muscles. The Wizard, Zaranna sensed, was smiling. Sanu gave the locks a few more pokes before giving up with a low growl. Suddenly she was afoot, daggers in hand, facing the threesome.
Sanu said, “I see you had to bring help this time, Kenzo.”
“And you brought … a pony?” he sneered. “Where did you dispose of the last one?”
“My fur itches. Get on with it,” rumbled Tayburrl.
Worafion did not so much as twitch a finger. If he was doing the stillness-is-deadly impression, he was succeeding. Zaranna’s heart could not have raced any faster without galloping out of her throat and away into the stormy night. He hissed, “We meet at last, Dreamer.”
Oh, God! That voice! She knew him already from her dreams.
Sanu raised her daggers. “So, Kenzo, what is it this time? My Clan Name on your left cheek? You kiss my cute backside?”
Kenzo snarled, “I demand the chance to –”
Worafion’s hood dipped. “Go rescue your honour, if you can.”
Zaranna took this in with surprise. A challenge to the warrior? A test? Whatever the case, Kenzo appeared supremely motivated. Swinging that peculiar, moaning sword of his about his head, he launched into the attack without wasting a further word in speech. He thrashed Sanu around the strangely immobile, oblivious circle of Obsidian Chargers. Did they not care if their tails were trimmed by a flying blade? Worafion and Tayburrl looked on with alert interest as the two martial artists plied their trade with the same staggering levels of skill that had so impressed her before. The footing was treacherous, slippery grass and mud. The rain was incessant, making their grip on their weapons difficult and even seeing each other, a challenge. Kenzo kept wiping his eyes with his free hand. Sanu circled him with a gliding stutter-step, feeling out each foothold. But they spared each other no love.
A minute passed in ferocious combat, perhaps two, before the force of Kenzo’s assault finally drew a mistake from Sanu. Her left foot slipped; she deflected his powerful overhead sword-cut simultaneously, but the blade bit into her left shoulder.
“First blood!” crowed Kenzo.
Beside her, Zaranna thought she sensed Jesafion doing something to his fetters. Could she hope? She elected not to give him away with a glance.
The dark assassin flew in again, but the Outland Human drew deep of her powers. Time and time again, he seemed only able to mow grass-blades. Zaranna would have been pushing up daisies long before. Sanu had no such intentions. Faster and faster she moved before him, swaying like a cobra, striking from unexpected angles – a visibly different technique compared to the last time she had fought him. Kenzo sweated and cursed. Suddenly, Sanu seemed to blur through a different dimension or something crazy, because she stood behind Kenzo with both daggers bloodied.
What? Kenzo yelled like a frightened cat and clutched his backside!
Again Sanu struck with snakelike speed, this time with her hands, if Zaranna saw right, at his knees, above the hips and several times in the shoulder and neck region, four or five separate strikes. Kenzo’s blade dropped from nerveless fingers. His body doubled over in an apparently hapless foetal position, but before he could fall onto his face, Sanu had moved around and bent over in front of him. Reaching between her legs to seize his leather jerkin, she forced him to bunt her backside with his nose!
Then she flung him into the mud with evident disgust. “Ugh. Hope you enjoyed that more than I did.”
With an annoyed grunt, Worafion said, “As you predicted, Tayburrl. I am most disappointed, Captain Kayatana. You will be severely punished. Commander?”
The huge Darkwolf Clan leader moved forward, addressing Sanu. “So, Dreamer. First a Plains Horse, then a Pegasus, now an Outland Human. You have many guises. Should we call you Sanu? Or Zaranna? Or another name entirely – perhaps, the Autumn Wizard?”
How could they have mistaken Sanu for her? But the Outland girl did not wait upon any debate. She shot toward Tayburrl at the same ridiculous speed she had used to defeat Kenzo, but Wolf-Mountain whirled simultaneously, flicking the edge of his cloak. Glints of metal shot through the air. Darts! Or flechettes? Sanu slammed into him; Tayburrl absorbed the brunt of her attack on his armoured forearms, before grunting in surprise and falling to one knee. Sanu’s body seized up mid-stroke. She fell heavily and lay unmoving.
“Flying fiends, she’s good,” growled Tayburrl, bringing his crimson-spotted fingers away from his groin area.
Worafion knelt beside Sanu to place his hand upon her forehead, the first hasty move Zaranna had seen him make. “It isn’t her. She doesn’t have …” The dark hood rose, giving Zaranna the briefest glimpse of a cadaverous white face and eyes as red as rubies. “You! Chargers, revert.”
Zaranna hesitated, unwilling to desert her friends. A fatal pause. The next second, sixteen pairs of burning orange eyes fixed upon her and she found herself trapped, unable to move.
The Hooded Wizard rose to his feet, his face once more shaded and his manner, predatory. The hands briefly straightened his robe. “So, once more, Darkwolf, your suspicion proves accurate. It’s the little Ripplemane. An admirable gambit, Dreamer. You had my staff quite divided. One was a fool, but the other has proved his worth.”
She had to move. Had to call butterflies, had to … yet she was a fly in amber. The baleful orange eyes held her fast. Sanu was paralysed. Jesafion seemed unable to take any action.
“Most inventive, but ultimately futile.” Worafion laced his fingers together. “The whole point of this attack on Amorix Vale, using but a fraction of my forces, was to draw the Dreamer out of hiding. You are the point, Zaranna. And now, you will be mine.”
Go crawl under a rock, you worm-sucking fiend! Well, she hoped her eyes conveyed the necessary, because nothing else was working.
The Wizard seemed unmoved by her enmity. His voice took on a lecturing tone. “The trouble with taking the guise of a River Horse, little one, is their dependence on water. Allow me to illustrate. Obsidian Chargers, increase the temperature by two degrees.”
For a moment, she felt nothing. Then, Zaranna began to sweat. Wow. Sweltering … oh no.
“The Equine body is temperature-sensitive. Most organisms are. More heat, Chargers. A few years ago, I discovered this fascinating property of Obsidian Chargers.” The heat! Zara tried to wriggle, but failed. Her heart felt as if it was a volcano pumping lava throughout her body. “Increase heat. The development of a young Charger’s gaze is susceptible to modification by Earthen Fires. They can influence the properties of certain objects and substances at distances of up to thirty feet. Let’s see if we can extract an oath from you before you boil alive in your own juices. Hotter still, Dreamer?”
Over and over, Worafion pressed her to swear an oath of service to him. Why? Simply for her power? Did an oath mean more on Equinox than it did on Earth, f
or he seemed to set such great store by it? Why not simply kill her? Recalling Illume’s warning, she resisted with all of her willpower. Zaranna sweated and screamed inaudibly, unable even to groan as the magic prevented her throat from working. Blackness swam before her eyes; Worafion ordered a slight easing of her lungs to keep her conscious, and then stepped up his torture.
At some point, she felt a bubbling sensation in the pit of her stomach. Blood boiling? No mind, for she was already beyond the point of endurance. As the darkness closed in, Zaranna welcomed the opportunity to slip away like a mole diving into its burrow.
* * * *
“Zaranna! Help her, Doctor!”
“Uh … where am … what’s this?”
“She’s conscious!” cried Alex. “Zaranna, what’s happening? You’re burning up.”
She found herself in an ice bath, yet the water steamed around her body. Fully clothed, thankfully. Wet and irritable, less thankfully.
“Oh, goodness, thank you all!” She smiled at Yolanda, Alex and Doctor Christi. Whiz rushed in and tossed a bucketful of ice onto her chest. “Thanks, Whiz.”
“Ha. Woke you up, didn’t I?” he congratulated himself.
Deep breath. “Look. No time. River Horses have a severe water dependency, and the Hooded Wizard is boiling me alive as we speak.”
“Oh, baby,” said Gramps. “Didn’t think of that one, did we?”
Zaranna sketched her dire situation in a few terse sentences. The battle. The state of their abortive rescue attempt. Worafion’s claim that the entire attack on Amorix had been intended to draw the Dreamer forth.
She produced a smothering silence. Her poor family!
“Gramps, quick answer. He wants an oath of eternal servitude. Why? I thought he’d just swat me like a fly.” Whiz swore in a way she had never heard him curse before. Zaranna flushed. “I see.”
Whiz said “Sorry, everyone. I’m … sorry. Zu-Zu, oaths are magically binding on Equinox. Speak an oath to him, and you’ll have doomed all Dreamers, forevermore, to a soul-bound relationship with the forces of abyssal evil. And then he’ll move on to other worlds. You should rather … oh, God.” He covered his mouth with his hand. “No, Zaranna. No. Send me. No, you can’t. Curse you, Summer Wizard!”
“Rather die?” she said gently. “Grumpy Dwarf, I’m an awfully stubborn girl.”
“Amen to that!” cried Alex.
“Hey! When did you get all churchy?” Zaranna laughed, but the sound rang hollow. “Look. I’ve breath left but I’m desperate. If I return, I’ll have a fraction of a second perhaps to call for assistance from Conqudor, Lord of the Storm-Host … uh, Whiz, are you alright?”
“No!” He plopped down on the toilet seat, staring at her through tears of shock. If he had been pasty before, now he was Snow White. “You bargained with … you what?”
“I promised, after dealing with Wor – Wifflebag Wiz-Monster, that is – to join the Storm-Pegasi to perform a task for them.”
“Freaking fireballs!” screamed Whiz.
Alex growled, “Zaranna, can you not restrain yourself? How do we get all of us to Equinox so we can stop you from charging into – just look at your grandfather’s face! Is this any way to treat your family? You foolish, wonderful girl, you clearly haven’t the foggiest notion how much we love you!”
“Uh …”
“Obviously not!” snapped Yolanda. “Now, you’re saying there’s a dangerous dependency on water? Can’t you return as a Human? No, approximately sixty-five percent of the Human body is water, give or take.” She snapped her fingers. “They’re using microwave energy to boil you, or some variant thereof. You need to break their gaze. I’ve an idea. What can these tame Storm-thingummies do for you?”
“Tame?” Zaranna and Whiz spluttered simultaneously.
Zara added, “Alex, I’ll need you to send me back. Can you knock me out again?”
“No!”
“It’s that or a needle,” suggested Doctor Christi.
“Torturer,” said Zara. “How’s Sanu?”
“Sleeping like a cute killer,” said Yols. “Doesn’t anaesthetic stop a person from dreaming? No, Alex. You need to knock her out, and fast. No telling what damage is being done while we’re standing here nattering. Now, listen up, sister. Listen like you’ve never listened before.”
* * * *
Conqudor! Help!
Human again, Zaranna snapped back into a world of screaming pain. The same agony multiplied in her body. Her butterflies vanished, apparently snuffed out by the Obsidian Chargers’ terrible Earthen Fire power.
Worafion’s hood jerked. “You! I don’t believe … stop!” As one beast, the Chargers closed their eyes. Zaranna staggered, falling to her knees. He took a huge, rasping breath. “Ziryana. You died.”
“Did I?” she asked. “You appear to be mistaken, Worafion.”
“No. You’re too young. You’re the daughter of the Winter Wizard. He had a daughter?” Then, before she could think of more than starting to turn toward Jesafion, he snapped, “Chargers!”
Freakish chokehold! And she cried, inside the suddenly impenetrable steel helmet of her mind, Celestial Dawn, I beg you, if ever a Pegasus’ word held true …
The scalding and blistering began again, as if she were a witch being burned at the stake. Her eyesight wavered, washed with the crimson of what she realised was probably blood vessels bursting in her eyes. Worafion was screaming in her ears and in her mind, now, trying to blast her into giving him that precious oath. She refused. She pictured severed knees, and rejected his way. The train. Rhenduror’s attack. No! A thousand times, no! A road of endless pain stretched like ribbon before her, etched in suffering, in the bulging of veins in her neck and the frantic thrashing of her heart … white touched her. Infused her body like cool, sweet rain. A trickle of Jesafion’s power. Helping her? Despite that he must know her for a Wizard?
Oh, mercy.
Abruptly, an enormous whistling sound developed in the skies almost directly overhead. In an instant it surged from whisper to a jet-engine shriek, and continued to climb the register into a range beyond Human hearing. She wanted to shout, ‘close your eyes!’ Too late. An explosion rocked the roof of the Vale-world, a Sky-Fire thunderbolt that ignited the storm in a billion refractions through the raindrops; Zaranna knew that without the protection of the clouds, she would have been blinded. She smelled ozone and charred flesh. A freakish blast of thunder followed hard on the heels of that monstrous detonation, smashing her and everything in the vicinity to the ground, including the stolid Obsidian Chargers.
A massive silence ensued, broken by a single guffaw of thunder, SATISFIED? Conqudor had shattered Amorix’s only protection against the equinoctial storms. What had she done now?
Zaranna dropped her head in horror and shame. She stammered, I am … indebted.
Forget our bargain at your peril, Dreamer. Eyes to the skies.
My Lord.
Worafion was the first to rise, groaning, “Storm-Pegasi?” Or at least, she lip-read his words. She could not hear anything above the ringing in her ears.
The rain stopped as though cut off by a sliding roof. One moment there was almost impenetrable gloom, the next, the clouds were starting to break up and drift off in conflicting directions, as though confused by what had passed. Zaranna’s gaze fell upon devastation. Conqudor had taken care to fling his thunderbolt perhaps a quarter-mile from where she stood; a gigantic, blackened crater was all that remained of Worafion’s camp there, outlined by flames leaping tens of feet about the tents all around the charred, molten ring of rock, despite the dousing they had just endured.
Her head was abuzz, but her feet had other ideas. Zaranna found herself running toward the Hooded Wizard, screaming a garbled insult. His hands rose, burning. Just as she descended upon him, Kenzo’s leg rose in her path and tripped her up. Worafion’s shot whizzed over her shoulder as Zara cannoned into his left knee. Crack! The Wizard pitched sideways, clutching his leg.
Fabulous. What was it with Equinox and knees?
“Die, Wizard-scum!” yelled Kenzo, unaccountably swinging a stray boot at her head. Huh? He looked as surprised as she was as the blow did everything bar actually connect. Zara bounded to her feet. A weapon. She needed a weapon.
Jesafion sniggered, “Lost our sword, o Black Assassin?”
Kenzo whirled, his face a rictus of fury.
Zaranna swung instinctively with her knee. Trapped between the vision of an odd boot and the Pegasus come to life – and evidently, his magic – Kenzo rather neglected to protect the essentials. Despite his armour, Zara was a tall, strong girl, and perhaps a touch peeved at that point, plus being high on adrenaline. She connected solidly; Kenzo folded up with a wheeze like an asthmatic old dog.
“Ooh,” crowed Sanu, “I like it. Cruel, but admirable.”
The girls dived apart as Worafion’s fire sizzled between them to impact one of Jesafion’s bubble-shields. The Hooded Wizard cursed. Gracious, Sanu was on her feet again? When had that happened? Well, the Outlander was staggering about as if her legs belonged to different, warring tribes, but she still managed to create her special brand of mayhem.
Soldiers! Wolves! She lost sight of Worafion as a river of soldiers poured between them.
Sanu popped up from nowhere to smash three soldiers away from Zara, shouting, “Ancestors, here come the Dragons! Where’s your dagger?”
Zaranna groaned. Not Rhenduror and his stooges … no. Worse. None other than Illume the Stars, beautifully illuminated by the starlight as his name suggested, leading a Dragonwing that had to number several dozen grimacing mouths backlit by fire. That was all she saw in the gloom – gleaming scales, deep, strangely slow wingbeats and the furnace-fires ready in the Dragons’ throats.
“By my wings!” neighed Jesafion. “To me! To me!”
Noble nitwit. As usual, he had no clue and all his first instinct was to put the females behind him, out of danger. Zaranna spared a millisecond’s annoyance for her lack of charity as she swooped beneath a scything hammer-blow to divest poor Kenzo of his sword. Judging by his agonised expression, he had forgotten all about the battle.