The Shattered Shards

by Stephen J Wolf

  Kitalla was concentrating fiercely and did not see the baker, Gavinod, leave his barrel post to strike down the mages directly. He lunged at them with a short sword, killing two who were in the throes of chanting, and wounding another who was rummaging for spell components. A fireball aimed at his chest ended his heroic charge, however, and he fell with a peaceful grin, feeling he had at last done his part to protect his homeland.

  The dizziness grew overpowering and Kitalla had to stop spinning about. Releasing a cry to alert the other defenders not to look, she let the energies dissipate, but only for a moment. She immediately summoned them again as she sashayed her hips from side to side, controlling her arms in a fluid gesture. The effect was instantaneous and the mages were confused. Spellfire lashed out in wild directions as they attacked foes that suddenly sprang up before them. She was tired, but Kitalla focused and kept the moves going, picturing herself multiplying on the battlefield so the mages would pursue one of her summoned doppelgangers and not the villagers.

  The illusion couldn’t last for long against mages, who were much more accustomed to mystical forces than fighters or commoners. But the ruse helped lessen their numbers as some defenders broke through, following Gavinod’s lead to strike the mages down. Yet, the mages weren’t entirely alone either. More soldiers were entering the fray all the time, trying to protect the mages and take down the defenders.

  The Savvron resources were dwindling, Kitalla realized. The mages were also chanting in unison, which boded ill. If they channeled their strength into a combined spell, she wouldn’t be able to defend against it. At least, not more than once, she decided grimly. She clapped her hands and raised a hooting call above the din of battle. The children who had cut the tree traps raced back into action from their hiding places. Each carried a metallic sheet of some kind, whether once a shield or part of a breastplate or some other object. The blacksmith had been working endlessly to produce weapons, armor, and to fulfill Kitalla’s odd request of metal sheets. Only her adamancy convinced the smith to fashion them.

  The children, essentially unprotected behind the flimsy sheets, all gathered around Kitalla, sitting close together so their panels overlapped just barely. They hunkered low, but kept their sheets up high. Kitalla, now surrounded in somewhat of a metal ring that reached up to her belly in height, dug into her pocket and withdrew her jade at last.

  Having considered all the times the jade had acted in her favor, Kitalla knew how to call for its power in a moment like this. It wasn’t far-fetched for her to believe her life was in danger, so she looked at the carnage in the village and she allowed herself to feel a sense of panic. She then turned her gaze toward the mages, whose swirling arms and frantic chanting was indeed frightening.

  She felt the jade react to her call and she welcomed its instinctual advice. Still dizzy, she started to spin again, letting the jade reach out to the metal sheets surrounding her. She could feel them resonating with the jade, with her. The metal sheets linked together where they overlapped, while the energies dashed across their surfaces and united them into one massive shining circlet. Kitalla stopped spinning abruptly, but her part was done anyway. The metal ring hovered and started spinning, following the energy maelstrom she had created. She held still, her arms outstretched to her sides, her body facing the mages whose spells would seek her death. Unbidden, the children, now unprotected, scattered for the deepest recesses of the village, away from the fighting at last.

  A vicious tempest erupted from the mages. Wind, sand, dirt, rain, and lightning all swept forth with devastating and unruly force. The unified spell was set outward to do its work, no longer under the mages’ control. Exhausted from the effort, they fell to their knees to catch their breaths and to regard their work.

  As it struck, the tempest eradicated everything in its path. The northern houses were flattened, debris sent flying everywhere, killing attackers and defenders alike. A deep rent was scored in the earth as it traveled, and every scrap that was lifted by the storm became another weapon at its disposal. Bits of wood pelted off into the distance; rain splattered the houses and distant trees. Unchecked, it would have leveled the entire village, leaving behind a scarred memory.

  But Kitalla’s spinning metal ring drew the lightning like a clarion call. The storm wavered but sought out her location, obliterating everything in its wake. The metal shield whirled around her and though she could still see over the ring, just barely now that it was hovering in the air, she didn’t let herself get distracted by the oncoming terror. The metal spun like a wild, oversized metal belt. When the edges of the tempest struck, the sound it produced was deafening.

  The metal jade warmed in Kitalla’s hand almost beyond bearing. She held it tightly, though, knowing instinctively that to release it would be to end its effect. The metal banged hard against the stormy winds and particles and then Kitalla felt a strange flash of inspiration. Polished metal was highly reflective, so she wondered if the metal couldn’t just reflect back the magical energies it was taking in. Heightened by the idea, the jade shook more forcefully and Kitalla had to bring her arms together to clutch it in both hands to hold it.

  The banging against the metal intensified and then the storm was redirected along its original path. The metal ring spun for a short while longer, but then the threat on her life was gone and so the jade calmed and the protective spell ended. With a crash, the metal sheets detached and splattered to the ground, and so too did Kitalla, whose body had sustained the effect with her own inner strength.

  The mages flew from their posts and only a few of them fell victim to their own spell, but the swordsmen and archers were not as fortunate. Sadly, a number of Savvron defenders fell during the tempest as well. There was little else anyone could do now.

  A villager followed the destructive path of the tornado and saw the fleeing mages, but then he spotted something else that terrified him. He ran back to Kitalla, shaking her to rise. “You must get up! He returns to finish us off! You must stand up to him!”

  Eyes blurry, Kitalla pushed herself up to her knees, wondering how she was supposed to find the strength to fend off the new threat. She could see blasts of blue-white lightning and orange-red flame flashing not far away. She knew what needed to be done. As when she had battled against the ursalor, she needed to pull the metal jade’s energy through herself and let it pull all the metal in her body to use by extending it out in sharp spikes. It was exhausting and painful, but with it, she could run blindly into the new foe and hopefully complete the turn of the tide and give Savvron its victory.

  Climbing to her feet, she held the jade tightly and focused on the steps she needed to channel the energy once again. It was a very deliberate pace she needed to maintain, and it left her entirely unprotected. She hoped the villagers would rally around her and keep her safe, but she didn’t have the strength to call them to her aid. As she stepped, stepped, moved, and posed, she could hear the increasing number of death throes. Villagers were dying. She wasn’t going to be able to complete her final rush without it being a suicide attack. No one would be left to defend her.

  As she realized the futility of it, her step faltered and the jade went silent. She tried to call to it again, but it denied her. Looking at the encroaching mages, she begged for help, for some kind of defense, but still the jade did not react. She glanced at the field but even the failing defenses weren’t enough to spur the jade into action. Or perhaps its recent action with the metal ring had exhausted its own supply of energy. Kitalla guessed that must be so, and thus she reached again for her daggers and took a moment to compose herself before the new threat was fully upon her.

  “You’re not alone, Kitalla,” said a voice very close by. She looked, shocked to see that Gabrion was with her. He was covered in blood, some of it his own. The dagger wound in his side had reopened and he was bleeding painfully from it, if the expression on his face was any indication.

  “Why are you here?” she gasped.

  “It’s my h
ome,” he said.

  “You’re an idiot.”

  He just laughed.

  She drew in a few extra breaths of air, letting his mere presence fill her with a sense of protection. “It isn’t over yet, you know.”

  He nodded. “We can do this, Kitalla. Come on, let’s get you up.” But he needed as much help as she did.

  They rose up and supported each other, readying their weapons and preparing for their final battle. The villagers were overwhelmed and were retreating now, leaving the remaining attackers for Kitalla and Gabrion to fend off alone. With the pressure on, the jades responded. Kitalla’s daggers flew with greater accuracy and Gabrion’s sword cut with the ease of a hot knife through soup. Anyone who came within reach died quickly and soon the Hathrens backed away from the duo, waiting until their strange prowess showed signs of weakening.

  Then the new set of mages came for a final round. Spells flashed about and Kitalla and Gabrion both swept their weapons through the air, hoping somehow to cut through the energy forces and survive. Gabrion grew silent during the assault; his pain was so great he took gasping breaths and held them, fighting not to pass out. Kitalla, on the other hand, battled her exhaustion by adding her voice to each swing and stab.

  The mages were clearly perplexed by their antics, for some of the spells took down their own fighters. The Hathrens were crumbling and soon they all fled the scene. Kitalla and Gabrion turned to the leading mage, whose glowing hands alerted them to their impending doom. Kitalla’s daggers flew, but it was a useless attempt. The mage simply swatted them away in midair.

  Gabrion couldn’t lift his sword, he was so tired and in such agony. Instead, he pulled Kitalla close against him and they turned to face the glowing mage. The warrior drew one breath to announce his challenge, “We’ve slain the vast majority of your forces, villain. Flee now or we will kill you, too.”

  The remark was met with laughter. But it wasn’t a malicious laughter. It was oddly familiar. The glowing hands dimmed and the mage stepped closer, black hair shaking in dismay. “Can’t leave you two alone for a minute,” he scolded. “What a mess you are!”

  Chapter 12

  Reconnection

  The survivors of Savvron didn’t know what to make of Dariak’s entrance. Some remembered him as the mage who torched their town all those months ago. Others were grateful for his assistance wiping out their enemies. Whichever view they held, everyone was bewildered by the veritable army he brought with him.

  Randler turned on the charm as soon as he appeared, introducing himself lavishly and asking where he could be of the most assistance, while also finding resting places for the fighters and mages accompanying them. He managed to find sleeping quarters for everyone before lighting up the dark night with a bonfire in the center of the village, paying homage to the fallen with a deep, melodic dirge.

  Dariak, however, escorted Gabrion and Kitalla away from the scene as quickly as he could, after which he tapped into his reserves and spread healing waves about them. Dariak already knew where Gabrion’s home was located from his one-time imprisonment, and found it hadn’t changed by much in the interim, except the added damage.

  “How are you here?” Gabrion asked once the majority of the pain subsided with the mage’s spells.

  “And what’s with the army?” Kitalla added.

  “When you see them, you will recognize most of them, actually,” Dariak commented. “The mages from Pindington. You remember Quereth and the others? Also, Gabrion, that guard captain you worked with after the tower’s fall… Well, when the mages moved out to meet up with us, he took a pack of volunteers and joined them.”

  “Ordren,” Gabrion remembered. “He wondered why I didn’t flee the city once the Prisoner’s Tower had emptied, then his soldier gave us horses when we left.”

  Dariak nodded. “It seems he wasn’t satisfied with his lot in life. The mages had promised to help us cross the border into Hathreneir once we had claimed the jade from Randler’s mother. We hadn’t decided any official means of communication, but they estimated the travel time well and journeyed west. Randler and I had a bit of a tussle with some thieves on the road, and when I used a few spells, Quereth turned and found us not long after. True to their word, they’ve joined our cause.”

  “A tussle with some thieves?” Kitalla asked. “Sounds interesting.”

  Dariak grinned and, having rested for a few minutes, summoned up the energies to set another round of healing through the pair of them before he answered her. “It wasn’t the same without you two there. Randler is good in a fight, but nothing compared to your skills, either one of you. We were trying to lay low on the way, but it was magic or die at that point. A little lightning blast and they ran off.”

  “You’re controlling the lightning now?” Gabrion asked. “I thought you would avoid it after Sharice.”

  “I intended never to use it unless I was desperate, but Randler reminded me that my goal is to unify them all, so I need to be more familiar with them. Right after you two left, we worked to untap some of the powers in the jades we had with us. He certainly has a gift for seeing things differently than I do. He compares magic to music all the time, and I’m starting to wonder if there isn’t a greater connection between them after all,” he added with a smile.

  Randler found them then, walking in and sitting with Dariak and embracing him warmly. “You two look better now than earlier. I’m glad.”

  “A pleasure to see you again, Randler,” Gabrion replied.

  “You’re just in time,” Dariak cheered. “I was about to tell them of our journey.”

  The bard laughed. “It isn’t much of a tale unless you count the times we were ambushed, by friend or foe. Sometimes I thought the shadow jade was playing pranks on us to see how we would react.”

  “Who else ambushed you?” Kitalla wondered, amused at the look on his face, and feeling so much better now that her wounds were being properly healed. As Randler spoke, Dariak focused more energy into his spells, easing all the flashes of pain she was feeling from the battle.

  “A caravan of merchants heading to Pindington—at least that was uneventful. A pack of thieves who wanted all our gold—we gave them steel instead,” he chuckled, “and Dariak followed that with some magic, which prompted the mages to find us. Another set of bandits appeared at one point, but Dariak talked his way out of dueling with them.” He turned to the mage, “You never did tell me how, you know.”

  Dariak lowered his hands and shook his head, looking at Kitalla, “They were part of your old cohort. We recognized each other and the leader said he wouldn’t mind catching up with you again at some point to see how you’re faring. Apparently, he suspected you ran off to follow me.”

  “Poltor was always a few steps ahead of anyone else,” she said. “Did he give any indication where they were headed?”

  “Ask him later,” Randler inserted. “He followed us, though at first he did so secretly until it was driving us mad wondering if they were planning to attack or not. I was able to convince them to join the festivities. Ah yes, so the mages arrived and behind them were soldiers of Pindington. But they came in two waves. The second wave split off, looking for others to aid us, and they found Hernior and his band, who then brought another couple sets of defectors. Little by little, the forces grew into this little army we have now.”

  “We missed all of that while we pursued Heria?” Gabrion said in awe.

  “Timing is everything, I suppose.” Randler shrugged. “We hadn’t intended to leave the cave until your return, but we were invaded.”

  “Our first ambush was by reptigons,” Dariak explained. “They would have killed us in our sleep if Randler didn’t have bell-traps set up in his lair.”

  “Lair,” Randler echoed with a laugh. “But yes, they prompted our departure, and so did the jades.”

  Dariak withdrew a new jade, one with a hint of green glowing within the center and giving off a mild, fragrant scent. “It sensed its brethren, I supposed
, and they responded in kind. This is the nature jade you sought, so we already know you weren’t able to reclaim it. It was further north from Randler’s cave and well-protected by a number of devious traps.”

  Kitalla’s head bobbed slowly and she turned to Gabrion. “I was wrong, then. Those stones we saw in that first cavern really were from the Talonic River.”

  “There was no way to be sure,” he dismissed. “Besides, tracking her down kept her from seeking us, right?”

  “There’s that,” she said.

  “But if she didn’t have the jade with her,” Gabrion started, “how did she manage to control the vines the way she said she did?”

  Kitalla shrugged. “She did say she didn’t have good control over them and that they fought back.”

  “Interesting,” Dariak said. “Perhaps some of her bloodletting rituals allowed her brief glimpses into magic after all.”

  “Or she was hallucinating,” Kitalla considered. “I could definitely see her walking the horse into a tree and then thinking the tree itself was striking back. Besides, if she had any real connection to the nature jade, would she have ever put it down? I doubt it.”

  “We’ll never really know,” Gabrion said softly.

  After a moment of silence, Kitalla shook her head and looked at the mage and the bard. “So you left the cave to pursue the jade, and then?”

  “It was en route to the jade that the mages found us,” Randler continued. “Once we had it, we changed course to try to find you.”

  “Then the jades started going berserk,” Dariak put in. “It felt like something was terribly wrong, so we doubled our efforts to find you, letting the jades guide us on the way. They led us here, obviously, but because we were a bit further north when we approached, we stumbled across some of the Hathren troops. I regret taking down my own people, but we weren’t given a choice.”