He couldn’t see any of the djinn, which led him to believe they were behind him, ravaging the city. That would make sense since, with the fall of the eastern wall and gate, their primary function, opening Obis to the invading army, had been accomplished. Their role had changed from being on the front lines to supporting the infantry. The dragon, meanwhile, was making strafing runs on groups of men in the streets. It occasionally passed across his field of view as it cavorted in the sky, enjoying its dominance of the air and its ability to deliver death with impunity.
Where, he wondered, were his daughter and Sorial? Had they reached their goal? In a sense, everything that was happening here was a distraction. The war was being fought out there, somewhere. If Justin prevailed, it wouldn’t matter how stalwart the defenders were; the city would fall and The Lord of Fire would continue his campaign with no one of equal power to obstruct him.
How many had died thus far? It was difficult to estimate but the number had to be well into the thousands, many of them civilians. Plans to protect the innocent of Obis had been established but no one had anticipated a complete failure of the wall. As best Carannan could determine, the eastern quarter of the city was awash in Justin’s men. The looting and raping had begun. The only benefit to this was that it delayed the enemy’s push forward. The eastern section of Obis - the city’s most prosperous - was preserving the remainder for a short time, giving Sorial and Alicia an opportunity to sever the serpent’s head. Carannan assumed he would perish up here, bleeding to death while the city convulsed beneath him. It wasn’t a vision he relished taking to his grave.
He caught sight of the dragon again - that magnificent, malevolent creature, a relic from the old days, still alive. It swooped away to the east, making a wide turn, a mixture of grace and power. The wings beat just enough to keep it aloft and propel it forward. Then, as if out of nowhere, it let out a bellow of outrage and agony, spewed a stream of fire skyward, and flailed as it tried to stay airborne. It took Carannan a shocked moment to process what he was seeing: the dragon was under attack.
The initial blow came from below as a rock wyrm split the earth, rocketed skyward and smashed directly into the dragon’s underside. The two creatures were of a similar size and the impact stunned the dragon. The rock wyrm used its powerful front talons to rip through the natural armor of overlapping scales that human missiles had proven unable to penetrate then quickly disengaged even as the free-falling dragon struggled to right itself and lash out at its attacker. At that instant, a second rock wyrm burst through the ground and used its momentum to further destabilize the dragon, shredding the thin membrane of its left wing with teeth and claw.
The dragon was slow to react and the second rock wyrm had dived below the surface before a burst of flame could reach it. It alighted clumsily, trampling a group of Justin’s soldiers in the process, and whipped its head back and forth, seeking an enemy that had seemingly vanished. Dark blood streamed from long, jagged rents in one wing. Carannan wondered whether the creature was still capable of flight.
The rock wyrms gave their opponent little time for respite. This time they attacked in concert, one from the left and one from the right. The dragon spun to fight one head-on, while whipping its tail to catch the other. The tactic was partially successful. The tail contacted one attacker in the head with enough force to send it spinning away but the other engaged it directly, teeth tearing and claws ripping, heedless of the danger posed by the dragon’s own talons. It wedged its head under the dragon’s jaw, out of range of the flaming breath, and bit into the creature’s neck.
Locked in a twisted embrace, both bellowing, the rock wyrm and dragon rolled on the ground, claws flashing, blood splashing from ghastly wounds, and fire flaring from the dragon’s mouth. The rock wyrm had an unshakeable grip on the dragon’s throat and nothing the winged creature could do would shake it. Then the other rock wyrm, recovered from the stunning blow, re-entered the fray. It dove beneath the surface and came up under Justin’s pet. The impact threw the dragon ten feet into the air and allowed the other rock wyrm to finish the job and rip open its opponent’s throat. A steaming, viscous ichor spewed from the gaping wound, spraying the combatants and coating the ground. Just like that, the brief, brutal battle was over and Justin had suffered a major defeat.
Victorious, the rock wyrms vanished beneath the surface, allowing the dragon to die alone. It struggled weakly for a while, flopping around on the blood-soaked earth, trying unsuccessfully to rise, the injured wing cradled protectively against its body. Eventually, its failing strength spent, it collapsed, toppling onto one side. As life ebbed away, its movements became less pronounced, more spasmodic. Eventually, even the twitching stopped as one of last great creatures of legend passed beyond the world.
Carannan had watched the confrontation in amazement. From start to finish, the struggle took less than five minutes. As the dragon lay dying, the injured overcommander felt the birth of something he had not experienced in a long time: hope.
* * *
When Alicia produced a pistol from under her robe, everything changed, although the concept that she might have come armed to this confrontation shouldn’t have surprised her opponent. General Gerthak was already rushing at Sorial, devouring the twenty foot separation with long strides, but Justin couldn’t afford to risk his life on The Lady of Water’s target selection. He didn’t know if she could use the gun but this wasn’t a time to be taking stupid chances - not with victory so near. So, acting out of a finely-developed sense of self-preservation, he dropped the void, freeing the path to the Otherverse and allowing the return of magic.
The gambit, which had been an integral part of Sorial’s plan, worked. He didn’t know if Alicia’s limited training would allow her to shoot the pistol with any accuracy but he understood that Justin couldn’t risk it, not when a single shot could ruin everything. The sudden return of magic washed over Sorial like a balm. His footing solidified as he regained control of his leg. His senses sharpened and he once again felt connected to the world around him. Everything that had felt wrong since the establishment of the void felt right again.
There was no time to bask in the sense of health and well-being that accompanied his reawakening as The Lord of Earth because his life was in immediate danger. Wizard or not, if General Gerthak reached him with that vicious cudgel, Alicia would be forced to face Justin on her own. So he acted to protect himself against the dual threat by opening the ground under Justin’s protector and allowing it to swallow the big man while simultaneously shielding himself with earth to deflect the spray of fire that erupted from Justin’s outstretched palm.
While this was happening, Alicia replaced the pistol in her robe’s inner pocket and, after establishing her own shield, joined Sorial in attacking Justin. From the beginning, she knew that her participation would be limited. With his powers re-established, The Lord of Fire would recall the surviving djinn and the dragon. It would be Alicia’s duty to fend them off while Sorial dueled Justin. The end game was much in doubt. If either Sorial or Alicia died or if Justin re-established the void, the situation would transform from indeterminate to bleak.
Justin deflected Sorial and Alicia’s straightforward attacks, turning aside streams of rock and water with ease. He also had little difficulty with the mass of earth accumulating several feet above his head. While a seemingly inconsequential distraction, it served a vital purpose. If Justin created a void while that was there, the magic suspending it would dissipate and it would crash down on him. Consequently, every time he obliterated it, Sorial allowed it to reform. Like Alicia’s pistol, it was insurance against another attempt to block the Otherverse - a possibility that would become more likely with the arrival of Justin’s allies.
Sorial sensed a change in Justin’s tactics when the air around him started to hiss and steam. He firmed up his shield but found it to be only partially successful in dissipating the heat. Magic-tinged fire poured out of Justin like water through a fractured dam. The int
ent wasn’t to break through Sorial’s defenses - it was too basic for that - but to keep him off-balance. A successful counterattack would be difficult if he was concentrating on not being roasted alive.
Sweat pouring from skin turned red by the encroaching heat, Sorial risked a glance at Justin. The man stood calmly in place, hands moving in flicking gestures to turn aside weak offensives from his opponents while intensifying his multi-faceted attack. His face was an impassive mask but he didn’t seem to be concentrating with great intensity. Noticing Sorial’s stare, he smiled. At that moment, the gulf of mastery between them seemed wider than Sorial could have imagined.
The arrival of the djinn, four in total, changed the timber of the battle. Alicia was forced to withdraw from attacking Justin in order to face them. That meant Sorial had no choice but to stand against The Lord of Fire alone and, with his wife removed from the immediate contest, he braced himself for Justin’s next fusillade. It was as destructive as expected. Everything around him erupted into flame, including the tiny dust particles comprising his shield. Sorial’s robe caught fire but he didn’t panic. Once, something like that would have destabilized him but no longer. His experiences over the last year had taught him lessons about surviving desperate situations when a split second decision could mean the difference between life and death. He dissolved the original shield, instantaneously replacing it with a new one while drawing on the earth’s endless cool reserves to chill his body.
Less than forty feet away, Alicia was hard-pressed. The djinn weren’t as powerful as Justin but there were four of them. Having observed Sorial’s tactics against them, she knew how to destroy them but she was so focused on not being reduced to ash by their incessant fire-ball attacks that she couldn’t formulate the degree of concentration necessary to strip them of their water. Desperation began to assert itself. It wasn’t good enough for her to hold her own. Her part in this was to eliminate the djinn. They represented Justin’s last non-human defense.
Three were high in the air, their feet well above the level of Alicia’s head. The other, however, was within reach if she could get close enough. She began inching toward it, knowing the price she would pay for success. She feared pain more than death and, even with her healing powers, there would be no escaping it. In the midst of so much chaos, she needed the surety of a flesh-to-flesh contact to kill the creature. But would she still be able to defend against the others while in the throes of agony? She was about to find out.
It took only a few more steps for the moment to arrive. The djinn was either oblivious to her intentions or unconcerned that she would try something as rash as touching it. Steeling herself, she reached out with her left arm, grasped for its ankle, and screamed as the white-hot anguish washed over her.
* * *
Rotgut was as cold as he had ever been in his life but it wasn’t the weather that was getting to him; it was the waiting. Bad things were happening all around and the only thing he and fourteen thousands of Obis’ finest could do was wait. There were grumblings that, orders be damned, they should move. Do something. Don’t let the city go down without a fight. Rotgut could understand their feelings. Many of them had houses and families in harm’s way. They had seen the wall come down. They knew the enemy wasn’t just at the gate; they were inside. But Rotgut respected the rule of command and the men giving those commands. Still, it would be a relief to do something other than sit in the cold, sip warm water and pretend it was broth, and squint through the haze in the direction of a city whose salvation looked grimmer with every passing hour.
When the order to march came, Rotgut would move out but not in the same direction as the majority of the army. He had a different mission. It was questionable whether his intentions would be sanctioned if anyone knew about them other than his closest compatriots but he didn’t worry about that. He saw an opportunity to fill a need and he intended to pursue it even it got him and some others killed.
Scouts arrived regularly with new information - a steady stream of bad news occasionally punctuated by a dose of optimism. The attack had started a scant three hours ago with djinn bombarding the walls with fire. Magic had taken two of them down then, not long after, flammable rocks, flung in large quantities from slings, had killed another pair. Concerted attacks by the dragon and the surviving djinn had brought down the walls. The Citadel had then been targeted by the dragon, with heavy damage sustained by the upper stories, possibly resulting in the destruction of the army’s command. Shortly thereafter, friendly “land dragons” (as they were being called) had attacked and killed the enemy fire dragon before disappearing. Most recently, there had been some kind of skirmish outside the city, not far to the north and east of Sutter’s Hill.
The most difficult part of waiting was hearing the distant sounds of battle and being paralyzed by circumstances from participation. There were perhaps six thousand soldiers within the city to defend it but they would be no match for the overwhelming force streaming through the shattered wall. And there was only so far they could retreat, when every block surrendered meant consigning more civilians - primarily women and children - to the enemy’s mercy. Vantok and Earlford had provided object lessons of how Justin’s men treated enemy noncombatants; Rotgut would rather slit his own throat than be subjected to that brand of “mercy.”
Rotgut almost missed the signal to move but the spyglass-equipped sentries didn’t. A nearly unanimous cheer went up as the four surviving djinn abandoned Obis. Their path led toward the location where the earlier skirmish had been reported. As the men formed ranks to march to the aid of their fellows in Obis, Rotgut readied the three-dozen who had pledged their service to him. He had dubbed them the “wizards’ company” and they intended to provide whatever aid they could to Sorial and Alicia. If Rotgut knew anything about magic - and, to be sure, it wasn’t much - the way to find The Lord of Earth and The Lady of Water was to follow the djinn.
“Break out the swords and knives!” called Rotgut, rallying the men around him. “Double-speed after those fuckers!” He pointed with his sword toward four reddish specks high in the sky, barely visible through the dusty haze that had spread out from Obis.
Of course, this could turn out to be a terrible mistake and, if it was, it wouldn’t be the first of Rotgut’s life. He hadn’t lived this long with so few promotions because of an impeccable service record. But it was a risk worth taking. If he was right, his small company might mean the difference between victory and defeat for Sorial and Alicia. At least that was the hope. Now it was time to learn the reality.
* * *
Now that he had taken the measure of his opponent, Justin knew he would win. It wasn’t that Sorial was weak or inept. In fact, he displayed surprising flexibility in adapting to Justin’s fluctuating tactics. But the odds were too steep. He gave credit where it was due; the wizards had stymied Justin’s attempts to win the war without magic but, in the end, that was irrelevant. General Gerthak’s death had been unfortunate but no man was irreplaceable. Four djinn were too many for any wizard to overcome - even he might not be able to accomplish that. They would overwhelm Alicia and turn their attention to Sorial. Void or no void, he would die then.
Overall, the battle was going about as well as could be expected, although the loss of the dragon had been a blow. Justin had never anticipated losing that great beast but he had forgotten that Sorial had access to mighty creatures of the earth. A foolish oversight. Also, he had hoped to retain more djinn. In the end, it wouldn’t matter. Once Sorial and Alicia were gone, his troops and magic would be enough to overwhelm Obis and take Andel. Then it would be over and, assuming Ferguson fulfilled his part of the bargain, Justin could at long last make his assault on the Otherverse. The end was near and the conditions were one step closer to being fulfilled. That was good because he was weary - weary of fighting, weary of magic, weary of life. Magic was sometimes referred to in ancient documents as a curse and time had given Justin an appreciation of what that meant.
He noncha
lantly deflected Sorial’s occasional thrusts. Was this really all the boy had? There was potency but no originality. Everything was predictable from the bombardment of rocks to the cracking open of the ground beneath Justin. Perhaps Sorial’s capacity for creativity was impeded by his need to constantly defend against Justin’s attacks. A primary lesson taught in the writings of the great wizards was that the best way to win a magical duel was to keep one’s opponent on the defensive. Justin wouldn’t rush this contest. There was no need for him to press the attack or attempt to overwhelm his opponent with a single devastating strike that could leave him off-balance and open to a counteroffensive. Such a strategy was rash and unwarranted. Instead, he would wait for Sorial to make an inevitable mistake. Then it would be over. Patience was a particular virtue of Justin’s.
He smiled for a second time and he saw trepidation in his opponent’s half-masked face.
* * *
Sorial heard Alicia’s scream and its rawness rent his heart, but he couldn’t allow himself to be distracted. His own situation was too precarious. He knew through their shared connection that, although she was injured, she wasn’t dead. He couldn’t offer any help. Justin, the fucking smiling bastard, absorbed the entirety of his attention. He had the sickening feeling that the older wizard was toying with him, but Justin’s measured, methodical approach revealed one thing - he didn’t have the power to end this with one masterstroke or he would have done so already. That meant there was still an opening. A small one, to be sure… Sorial knew what his move had to be. He and Alicia had plotted out this scenario over the past few days; the problem lay in the execution.
Shadow of the Otherverse (The Last Whisper of the Gods Saga Book 3) Page 46