“Kitalla,” he replied. “Be careful.”
With that, she left.
Chapter 30
The Beasts Within
“I don’t understand,” Randler hissed. “Dariak went that way,” he pointed.
“And there’s nothing we can do for him right now. But I suspect he will be fine,” Frast said.
“You suspect? That isn’t good enough.”
Frast grabbed Randler’s shoulder. “Dariak is a mass of pure energy right now, which in itself doesn’t make sense. You couldn’t see what was happening in there. He was absorbing energy from every direction and it was empowering him. No one will be able to stop him, Randler. And while they’re busy, we have something else we must do. Come on.”
Frast crouched low and ran across the landing, keeping out of sight. Randler groaned but followed, after casting one last look toward Dariak’s escape path. He didn’t agree with this, but Frast had risked his life to keep Randler safe by knocking out the acolyte Nera outside the tower and donning her cloak before following the bard and Master Pyron inside. He had then remained at Randler’s shoulder, pretending to scold him and keeping him in control. Because of the enchanted eggshell, only Randler was able to hear Frast anyway at the time, but Randler hadn’t noticed the exact source of the voice under the circumstances. It had allowed Frast to enact other magical defenses and demonstrations when Randler would otherwise have been defenseless and cast aside as easy prey by the mages.
The thoughts flashed in his mind as he skirted across the room. He tucked himself behind the mage and waited for the next opening. The two dashed across the way and flew up a nearby set of stairs.
Mages were running in panic and spellfire was erupting around the area. Some of them were in control of minor beasts, who were trying to help quell their terrified comrades, but no one was listening to reason. A few mages had seen Dariak’s transformation and were lucky enough to flee, but they erected force fields and defensive spells that erratically harmed their nearby colleagues.
Frast and Randler tried to make use of the chaos by sprinting in a similarly crazed run toward another hallway, but errant spells crashed into them and knocked them down. Frast hit the ground hard and rolled aside. Randler fared better and was on his feet quickly as a war hound raced toward him, snarling in anger. The bard was immediately recognized as a traitor.
No subterfuge would help him now. Randler grabbed his mace and crouched low as the hound charged. The beast leaped for him, jaws snapping wildly, and Randler stepped one foot forward while dropping his back to the ground. This allowed Randler to get under the beast where he jabbed upward with the mace and used the dog’s momentum to push it further along. A howling screech echoed through the chamber and alerted some of the terrified mages to a greater threat.
Frast was on his feet again, arms and legs working to channel the energies into offensive spells. He ripped a wooden shelf from the wall and flung it like a disc toward a trio of encroaching mages. “Extenninar staructis fibricular spanse.” The wood stretched oddly as it flew and dismantled itself into thousands of sand-like particles. He followed the spell with a small burst of fire and a conflagration erupted in the chamber.
“Hurry!” he called to Randler, who complied immediately, pulling himself away from the war hound as it tried to continue its attacks, despite its wounds. The bard and the mage bounded up the stairs, leaving the mages below to tend to the fire damage.
They were followed by a few brave souls who recognized the need to stop these intruders from reaching the jades upstairs. Randler had his bow ready by the time he reached the top of the stairs and, with a few careful shots, he disabled the pursuers without killing them. He trusted they would not be able to heal themselves quickly enough to trouble them any time soon.
Meanwhile, Frast was tossing ice and fire at the mages he faced on the new level. Randler turned his bow around and launched a few volleys at the mages. One of them seemed to be a master of the wind and he was able to divert the projectiles with great ease. Frast altered his tactics immediately and enflamed the arrows and guided them toward the less-skilled mages. Robes caught aflame and distracted the acolytes long enough for Frast and Randler to focus on the master.
The mage was well-protected against all of Frast’s spells. He wielded air like an iron curtain and cast the energies aside as they approached. Randler rushed forward, drawing his daggers, but a gust of wind buffeted him like a club and knocked him to the floor. Frast bombarded the man with more magic and Randler tried to launch a dagger while the master was distracted with his counterspells, but he was too skilled. Randler turned to the acolytes, who had overcome their fiery robes, and leaped at them, bringing them both down in a heap. He grabbed one’s head and banged it on the floor, knocking him out cold. The other mage grabbed Randler and tried to disable him the same way, but the bard was too nimble. His powerful fingers clenched the mage’s wrists and twisted until the younger man cried out in pain. Randler frowned apologetically and then loosened one hand and used it to crack a blow against the mage’s neck, rendering him senseless as well.
Frast stepped slowly toward the air mage as he kept sweeping his arms around and sending more and more magic forward. Each step was harder than the last, for the mage’s shield pushed back with powerful gusts, even as it shoved the magical energies aside. Frast was tiring, but he needed to get past this man. He lowered one hand to a pocket to withdraw a necessary spell component, keeping his other hand in motion to maintain his barrage. Randler glanced over and thought he recognized the stone Frast had pulled out. He knew what was coming, so he readied his mace and a dagger, tensing in preparation.
Muttering, Frast pulled his hands down, which ended his attack on the mage and allowed the gale forces to crash into him. He stood as firmly as he could against the wind, forcing the words from his lips and coercing his body to obey. “Lutrimos embelliosh catramorillous!” He then threw the stone downward and a blinding flash of light erupted in the room. It was energy the wind shield could not penetrate, and though it caused no direct harm, it blinded the air master for a moment. Randler capitalized on the chance by lobbing a dagger through the air with one hand and sprinting forward with a battle cry, mace at the ready. The air mage directed his defenses toward the sound of Randler’s voice, but the flying dagger was not stopped. It pierced into the mage’s shoulder and he screamed in agony.
Once they knocked the mage unconscious, they continued their frenzied ascent. Frast seemed to know exactly where he was leading them, so Randler gave way and took the rear. The mages in this part of the tower had no idea of the commotion Dariak had caused but they were responding to the noises on the floors below and to the intrusion that was Frast and Randler.
The mage and the bard had surprise on their side as they turned corners and blasted spells or arrows at unsuspecting mages. They were trying not to kill any of them, but the mages retaliated with all their skill. Ice, fire, and lightning all erupted around them and it took finely honed reflexes and defensive spells to keep on the move. Only a few of the mages were trained in physical combat and when they appeared, Randler’s mace was put to the test.
One mage in particular was an expert staff fighter. She struck out with one end of the staff, whipped it around her body, and used the momentum to crack Randler’s side with the other end. Each tip of the staff was wrapped in steel and the carved head was shaped like a falcon, with a biting beak that lived up to its likeness. Randler kept on the move and was hard-pressed to score any hits against the longer-ranged weapon.
Frast was busy with his own adversaries. The excessive spellcasting was wearing on him, but he couldn’t let his guard down. Fire bolts impacted him and he drew energy from the heat and wove it into a stronger defense against future attacks. It was a complex twisting of energy and it prevented him from attacking directly, but it allowed him to absorb some of the spell damage for a time. Once the energy built up to a level he couldn’t control, he funneled it away from himself, un
leashing it back to his attackers and overwhelming them. The drain was too great and he collapsed to catch his breath.
Randler ducked underneath the staff, then leaped into the air to avoid the next sweep. He swung his mace at the woman but her wildly twirling weapon deflected it easily. Randler took a step back and tried to feign a lunge, but she anticipated it and rapped him on the thigh instead. He threw himself to the ground in the direction of the attack to try to reduce the damage, after which he bounded back up, scanning the area for anything he could use for defense. Unfortunately, they were in an open hallway that was sparsely decorated. The one wall tapestry was too far away and he doubted he would have enough time to even rip it down, never mind reorient it and smother the woman with it.
The whirling staff drew closer and Randler breathed deeply and charged. He took several running steps before pouncing into the air, but the mage cracked him on the side of the head and brought him down. He dropped his mace so he could brace his fall. With a hearty crash, he hit the floor and slid to the wall, in too much pain to move. His vision blurred as the mage stepped closer, laughing as she did so. “Invade us, will you?” she taunted, bringing the staff overhead to deliver a fatal blow. Randler tensed, knowing he had no defense against this attack. It was over.
The woman screamed one last time and then the staff fell, but not into Randler. The woman crumpled, dead, with a dagger protruding from the back of her neck. Randler couldn’t understand it, and he clutched his head as his vision slowly returned amidst a throbbing skull.
“Can you stand?”
He knew that voice! “Kitalla!”
“You took a pretty bad hit. Can you stand?” she repeated. She held out her hand to help him up. It wasn’t easy, and he struggled, but eventually he regained his feet. Frast was also up and he approached the bard, offering some minor healing spells so they could press onward.
“How are you here?”
“Long story,” she smirked. “Dariak’s back to normal, sort of. He’s hiding.” She turned to Frast. “How much further away is it?”
The mage stammered. “You… know where we’re going?”
“For the jades,” she answered impatiently. “How much further?”
“Stop them!” voices called from the distance. “Release the hounds!”
Kitalla cracked her knuckles and laughed. “Time for some exercise. You two get moving; I’ll hold them off.”
“But—” Randler started.
“Go!” she insisted, pulling her daggers out. “I’ll be right behind you.”
As Randler and Frast went on ahead, several mages approached from the lower levels. Kitalla noted a difference in the tactics of these mages; they did not rush the floor and unleash a torrent of spells. She assumed they were well protected and that her daggers would do them little harm at the moment, but she wondered why they were waiting.
The massive clamoring of footsteps echoed moments later and soon a swarm of creatures flooded the area. She spotted young lupinoes, war hounds, and sandorpions. The beasts ignored the mages and sought Kitalla instead. She grinned; this would be a good challenge, one that even Grenthar would envy. Before the battle began, she watched the beast army approach her as if in a parade procession with each flank shown for greatest effect. It reminded her of a tale Randler had sung one night: the Battle at Rigweld. An ominous force of enemies had encroached upon the fortress, slowly, stealthily, demoralizing the people within. Then they halted for a brief moment before launching into a wild attack. It was a massacre. Rigweld lost many of its inhabitants, but not all. Not all.
The fierce battle music pounded into Kitalla’s mind and raced through her body. The rhythm became her soul. Every step was another beat of Randler’s drum. Each slash was a frantic, yet controlled, note on his lute. Kitalla became a killing machine.
The creatures seemed to have expected the single woman to cower in fear, but her change in stance and the fire in her eyes told them otherwise. The animals broke rank and charged. The war hounds were the fastest and the heaviest, but they did not pose the greatest threat. Kitalla ran toward the nearest pair and twisted her body to pass between them. The confused beasts snapped at her as she drew close and they managed to lock their jaws together from the effort. Kitalla brought her daggers down simultaneously into their spines, causing them to thrash about in agony. She withdrew her daggers and scooted away before she was crushed between them.
The lupinoes held back for the moment, obviously calculating a better time to join the fray. Kitalla admired their inherent cleverness, but it wouldn’t help them today. However, her first target was the sandorpion, writhing its way toward her, oversized tail held over its head, ready to strike. She couldn’t afford to take a hit from the paralyzing poison in the tail, so she dodged left, then right. She dove toward the ground, right into the sandorpion’s face, where she grabbed its cranial shell and twisted with all her body weight. A hideous crack sounded as the neck broke and the tail immediately went limp and fell away.
Two lupinoes charged in, thinking Kitalla was trapped under the carcass, but she kicked one lupino in the face with a foot and knocked it into its companion. She then righted herself and let the beat of the music in her head guide her. She lashed out with her left hand, twirled, jumped, then bent low with her right hand. Leaping aside, stabbing again, spinning a second time, and kicking out forcefully, she took out two lupinoes and another war hound.
She maintained the dance maneuvers as she pirouetted around a sandorpion and evaded its pincers and tail, then she stopped abruptly and killed it from behind. She didn’t stop for long, though; three steps later she took down a small lupino, which she then lifted into the air and heaved through a doorway. The mage on the other side of the entryway staggered and tried to get out of the way, but the unexpected move caught him successfully and he fell. Several of the animals hesitated, momentarily bewildered as they tried to seek their target.
The freed lupinoes immediately realized that Kitalla was too big of a threat and they started a retreat, but the fallen mage reclaimed his footing and brought the energies about him again, regaining control over the creatures and impelling them to continue the fight. Kitalla was not discouraged. The key would be to disable the mages and then destroy the beasts that did not flee.
Kitalla’s body wove through the room like mist, felling creatures each time she turned. She earned a few scratches and scrapes, perhaps a bruise or two, but these animals were unable to fight at their best while they were being manipulated by the mages. Part of Kitalla hated killing these beasts, for they may not have crossed paths if not for the mages. She wasn’t in the habit of killing slaves, after all, but her survival required her to continue until she found a way to take the mages down.
A lupino leaped for her and she grabbed its chest and turned it aside, bringing it down with a thud. The beast whimpered but its snapping jaws told her that it wasn’t finished yet. Kitalla swung the creature around and lifted it by its ribcage, after which she hurled it through another doorway, knocking another mage aside. She wasted no time; while the mage was on the ground, she pounced through the doorway, clearing his defenses, and she punched him in the face, knocking him out cold.
One by one, Kitalla took down the mages until the lupinoes themselves rebelled against their masters. The gray wolfish creatures strained against the controlling magic but their own survival instincts were strong. The remaining mages recognized their loss of control and bolted away, the lupinoes chasing after them.
It had lasted for quite some time and now that it was done, the battle music faded to silence. Kitalla considered the vast carnage surrounding her and wondered how she could possibly have had the stamina for all that fighting, especially after the mad dash to reach the tower, the frantic ascent as she chased Dariak’s damage path, and then the pursuit of Randler and Frast. And though she was winded, she still felt strength coursing through her.
She turned to follow Frast and Randler when it dawned on her. The fire jade was
pulsing strongly.
Eagerly.
Chapter 31
Gabrion’s Audience with the Hathren King
The castle walls were a soft gray stone and they enwrapped the royal garden with a delicate embrace. The stones caught glimpses of the sunlight and sparkled gently from a crystal dust that had been scored into the stone itself. The effect was dazzling as it cast rainbows all throughout the floral yard. A soft breeze whisked through and illuminated the air with the vibrancy of life itself.
Yet amidst the flourishing energy, Gabrion was a miserable wretch, curled in upon himself, trying to erase the thoughts passing through his mind.
Quereth and Morrish eyed the warrior cautiously, not sure what to do. The young man looked clearly broken by the news from the king, but neither seemed to quite understand why the pain was so intense for him. He couldn’t possibly explain it to them. No one would truly empathize. Perhaps Dariak might, he considered, since the mage had occupied his thoughts during his Trial at Magehaven. Or maybe Randler, who sang of deep romances and sweeping heroic sagas. Even Kitalla would acknowledge his loss, for she had risen up to protect his homeland from invasion before their journey into Hathreneir.
But overall, Quereth was just a grumpy, jaded mage. And Morrish knew even less. They couldn’t comfort him. He was utterly and completely alone as the truth burned through his heart. The king hadn’t taken any prisoners from Savvron. Mira was lost to him. His whole entire quest was for naught.
Why fight to protect the world if Mira could never be a part of it?
Why endanger himself to protect a memory that was now forever lost?
Why even inhale another breath when his whole purpose for living was eternally gone?
He had no answers. The beating of his heart felt like a hammer crushing his chest to dust. Yet also, he felt utterly empty, as if the banging would ring across an open valley for miles. But if so, then that banging should reach Mira’s soul and she would appear from whatever Otherworld she was in and she would find him, as he knew he would eventually find her.
The Shattered Shards Page 36