by Rick Field
“A few moments, Assistant,” Liane whispered, shuddering at the thought of what had almost happened. She swallowed down the bile that rose from her throat, and got up on shaky legs. Milor struggled on the floor, and she stared at him with dull eyes, her mind feeling sluggish and exhausted after the monumental burst of magic she had just used to free herself.
The spell the Warlock had used on her friend shattered now that he was no longer alive to power it, and Milor struggled to his feet. “My Lady? Can you free us?” he asked urgently.
She blinked, stared at him. Her mind snapped into first gear, and she nodded. “I think so. I still recall the runes,” she said, looking at the one finger she had turned into an impromptu stylus the first time they had been captured.
“That takes quite an amount of time, Proctor,” Amy said.
Liane nodded, her exhausted mind having difficulty thinking. She drew a breath, and focused. Without her focus gloves, she could not cast reliable magic. She had maybe five minutes before the guard would come to check on why things were suddenly quiet. Time was running out. What could she do?
She nodded, her exhaustion suddenly forgotten as the plan formed. There was but one way she could get herself and her companions out of here. She closed her eyes, and allowed herself to enter the meditative trance of the Deep Secrets.
To the depths of her mind she whispered, “Liane, the MagicWarper, is of the Water and the Ocean, and calls out to Haturori, Regular Spirit of Water. Lady Haturori, are you there?”
Chapter Fourteen
“Liane, the MagicWarper, is of the Water and the Ocean, and calls out to Haturori, Regular Spirit of Water. Lady Haturori, are you there?”
Time did not slow down and reality did not vanish when Liane's voice sunk into the air and the dwelling around them. Rather than finding herself in utter darkness as had been the case when she had invoked one of the Major Spirits, she was still very much present in the here and now, and uncomfortably aware of the passage of time.
Although she hadn't needed the stasis aspect of a major invocation, time was still of the essence, and she could not know how long it would take the guard outside to realize something was wrong. The air in the room felt thick with magic, and Liane realized that the spirit was indeed, listening.
“Lady Haturori, I pay a full pint of blood in tribute for your summoning!”
The oppressive magic thrummed. Screams started to sound from outside, when the waters of the lake surrounding the island home jumped their banks, running over obstacles and scaling walls, finding the most minute cracks to penetrate.
A form built out of the waters that entered their prison, a shape built like a formless female. The waters were so clear and so static that only a vague outline was visible, a hint of refraction around the edges where light refracted through water differently as though through air.
She gasped when her blood-pressure plummeted and her heart took precious seconds to become aware of the sudden loss of a full pint of blood from her veins.
“Lady Haturori, I have come before you with a plight,” she told the female water-form before her.
Liane remembered the horrible sensation of the Major Spirit Ercharthaetuli speaking to her, and braced herself. It was to be unnecessary, the voice that answered her was lyrical and musical, reminding Liane of beautiful summer days, of a small brook murmuring as it passed over the rounded stones of its banks.
“As tribute has been paid, so I shall listen to you, Liane of the warped magic,” the spirit answered.
The guard outside pounded on the door. When he received no immediate answer, they could hear the locks disengaging. In a move born of desperation, Milor threw himself at the door, planting his back against it, and spreading his legs in an offer to brace himself and keep it closed.
Liane noticed, yet did not allow her attention to waver. Spiritual invocation was dangerous, and it would be a bad idea to lose focus. “My Lady, I have need of your wisdom in order to release my companions from their binds in extremely short order, and to get them to safety.”
The water spirit seemed to study Liane for a few moments, and she wondered what Haturori was looking for. Before the MagicWarper could dwell on it too deeply, the spirit seemingly came to a decision. “What you ask is possible, and not difficult.” They both ignored the guard launching himself at the door with his full weight, and Milor bracing the door shut just in time.
“You already possess a fine mind and a large collection of knowledge. My offer to you is such, Liane of the warped magic. I will allow you the wisdom of water for the duration you need to rescue your friends. You will think faster, be able to access all knowledge you have ever read, heard, or come into contact with, and will be allowed a minor and restricted access to all the wisdom that is accessible to water to supplement your own should it be required to do so. In return for this service, you will pay to me a total of 3 weeks of your lifespan.”
Liane swallowed, this was better than she could have hoped for, and resisted the urge to nod her agreement. Instead, she forced herself to accept verbally. “I accept the bargain, Lady Haturori.”
“Then you know what you must do, Liane of the warped magic,” the spirit answered her.
The Proctor drew breath. “By the power of twofold three, I, Liane, the MagicWarper, consent to the deal, accept the obligation, and comply with your demands, Lady Haturori. I will admit to your requests, and welcome your influence. My name is Liane, known as the MagicWarper, and I agree to pay the price that you have set forth.”
“The deal has been struck, Liane of the warped magic. Accept what I give you to free your companions,” the spirit said. The next moment, the figure dissolved back into water, which soon vanished back through the cracks from whence it came.
All, except for a sphere of pure water that hovered in front of Liane, a sphere that changed into a complex prism as she watched it.
A smile came to her lips. Without her focus gloves, she would have been unable to cast any magic. Water, it seemed, was determined to see her through the challenge. It had vowed to help her, and help her it would.
She blinked, frowned, then glanced curiously at the door. Her hand came up. It was all so simple now... why had she never looked at magic this way before? A circle of runes spread out before her hand, and Milor looked worriedly at her.
More shouting was audible from outside, and a sword suddenly appeared through the wood, missing Milor's head by mere centimeters. “My Lady!” he gasped in urgency.
Liane clenched her fist shut at the same time she shouted, “SEAL!”
The circle of runes rotating in front of her fist flashed gold, and solidified into a solid band of power. The solid circle then lashed through Milor, hitting the door. A perfect geometric circle appeared on it, its edges blurring into the walls. Locks clicking shut outside were loud, overpowering even the shouts of surprise from the guards trying to enter.
“You may let go now, My Lord,” Liane said to a shocked Milor, before turning to Amy. “Let us get those off you, Assistant.”
The younger girl nodded mutely, offering her chained hands to her Proctor even though she was staring at the circle on the door. The same circle Milor was staring at. They had both heard of Liane's ability to see magic. Neither of them had actually seen magic, not like this.
Liane did not speak, her hands and fingers drawing shapes into the air. Magic flowed over the cuffs, touching and tracing and ghosting over and under and through them. Amy shifted her attention from the sealed door to the magic working on her restraints, when a shout from outside stopped the banging and trashing against the door.
Liane looked up sharply when an explosion made the entire house shake, groans spreading through its wooden frame, dust falling from the ceiling and walls. She jerked her hands, making a spiraling motion as she did so, and the magic working on Amy's bracers sped up, going through the motions even when Liane turned away to face the door.
A second explosion rattled the building, and deep crac
ks became visible in the door and the connecting wall. Liane's arms came up, crossing in front of her, forming a giant X. A new circle of runes appeared in front of her, rotating counter-clockwise; a second circle appearing in front of the first soon after, rotating clockwise.
A growl from her braided the two circles together, forming a single circle with braided runic constructs. “Barricade!” Liane's voice howled, the braided circle flashing toward the door, morphing into a solid X-shape right before it touched.
The existing circle accepted the X that struck through it, merging into a single magical symbol; the door turned black as granite rock, the effect spreading out as the magic did its work. The blurred edges of the door vanished completely, door and wall becoming a single entity as the effect of the magic ran its course, the entire wall turning black as night.
She spun on her heel, returning to Amy's containment, right as the magic was slowing down considerably. A few motions of Liane's hands sped it back up. Outside, two new blasts struck the newly barricaded wall. The house shivered, dust fell, yet the reinforced barrier hardly moved.
“Hurry,” Liane whispered to herself, unaware that the dead silence in the room made her voice audible to her companions. The magic she was working finally succeeded, and Amy's cuffs fell away. Liane nodded in satisfaction to herself, and turned to Milor. “My Lord, this should take but a moment.”
Milor nodded, and turned his back to her so she could work on his restraints. True to Liane's word, now that she knew what to do, his bracers fell away within 30 seconds. Again, the runes tattooed on his skin flashed into visibility to her Magic Sight, only this time, she recognized them for what they were; increased speed and strength, increased stamina, perfect muscle memory, and so on. Liane stored the references for future use.
“I have been working too much magic, My Lord,” Liane stated. “Even with water's wisdom, I have run through most of what I have available. I will need to rely on you to get us free.”
Milor agreed to her remark, his face taking on a grim look even as he winced and hissed at bringing his arms to his front. His shoulders and upper arms were stiff as a board and ached considerably, and he wondered why Liane did not feel the same.
Then he realized, as he looked into her eyes, that she was definitely the scary version of his friend, the version that did not feel pain or hurt or wounds, the version that worked magic like others worked a meal. Her lips were pressed closely together into a tight grimace that he recognized from his more hardened Warlock companions, a look that told Milor that his friend was hurting so badly that she simply did not feel pain any longer.
He lifted his hand, and started his incantation. Rather than going with silent and motionless casting, he was going to power this spell as hard and as fast as he could. Holding his spell right before completion, he nodded once more at Liane. She waited, staring at her wall for some sort of sign or signal.
When a new blast struck her barrier, she nodded to him, and he readied himself. It was good thinking on her part, waiting for the forces outside to finish casting a spell that was no doubt draining.
“Dispel,” she told the no-longer present door. No, Milor realized, not the door. The crossed circle on the door.
It flashed, and the door and wall reappeared. Immediately, Milor cast his spell. It struck through the door, reducing it to splinters and shrapnel that blew outward. The Warlock that had been casting at the door was struck simultaneously by the wooden shrapnel and the bolt of lightning.
The shrapnel penetrated deep into his flesh, and he died where he stood. The bolt of lightning struck his chest, and split into three secondary bolts that struck the two Warlocks and the one Commoner arrayed around the caster.
The Commoner died virtually at the same time as the Warlock. The two other Warlocks had some form of shield up and survived. They looked at the corpses, one blackened and penetrated by wooden shards, the other just blackened and smoking.
Milor cast again, and both Warlocks immediately activated the acceleration spells, and tried to make a run for it and regroup elsewhere. The one running at the back was struck by a second spell, making his shield flare. For a moment, nothing seemed to happen.
Then the man fell to the ground and started screaming. His friend threw him a startled look over his shoulder, then kept running. He vanished down the stairs in seconds.
The screaming man thrashed on the floor, before being struck by another bolt of lightning. His screaming and thrashing stopped, as did the rise and fall of his chest.
Liane looked at Amy, who was breathing deeply, a ferocious grin on her face. “Assistant?”
“His shield may stop magic, Proctor, but it allowed air through. So I sent him a spell that would reduce the air temperature as low as I could make it. I do believe that it was painful,” the younger girl replied, then swallowed when she realized what she had done.
“I am proud of you, Assistant,” Liane answered calmly. She turned to Milor, who was eyeing the girl was an unreadable look. “Let us get out of here, My Lord.”
He nodded mutely. “My Lady,” he said when he took the lead. “I mean this in the nicest and most respectful manner possible. You have been teaching your Assistant to be as scary as you are when enraged.”
Liane watched Amy inflate proudly. “I do believe my Assistant took that as a compliment, My Lord,” she replied, taking the rear position, allowing the younger girl the safest position, right in between the two of them. The natural light in the hallway was dim, showing that the sun was starting to set outside, and they were glad for it. After spending an untold amount of time in a room devoid of natural light, full daylight would have blinded them.
They descended the stairs carefully, Milor making sure to continuously keep a shield up in front of them.
It was a good thing he did, as the moment he came into view of the lower level, his shield was besieged by the Warlocks remaining downstairs. He could count two distinct barrages of spells, and was unable to counter in order to ensure his shield stayed up. His inexperience cost him again, taking precious seconds to decide whether to retreat upstairs, and try and determine alternative courses of action.
Just as he was about to ascend the staircase, Amy used his back and shield as cover, and started returning spellfire against the barrage coming from downstairs. The Warlocks broke off their attacks and dove for cover; obviously one had explained to the other what Amy's spells would do, even through shields.
“Thank you, Assistant,” Milor replied, casting a few more lightning charges down the staircase and the hallway, shattering timber walls and sending shrapnel flying in an effort to drive away the offending Warlocks.
In a way, they were lucky, as their attackers fought to disable or incapacitate, while Milor was not under any such restraints.
While they shuffled through the downstairs hallway, looking left and right for the Warlocks that still lurked around, Milor suddenly turned left and entered one of the downstairs rooms.
“My Lord?”
“I can feel Dawnbreaker, My Lady. I am not leaving it,” Milor replied tersely, scanning the room then making for a large chest that sat in the far corner.
“Do not touch that chest, My Lord,” Liane snapped. To her sight, a black cloud of energy surrounded the container. “It is cursed quite violently.”
Milor immediately withdrew his hand, and took two steps back. “Entropy curse,” she identified a moment later. “It would have withered your entire arm if you had touched it, and probably would have killed you if we did not cut your arm off quickly enough.”
He gulped. “Thank you, My Lady,” he said, gratefully.
She just dipped her head, starting to work on unraveling the curse. It did not take her long; whoever had cursed the chest had not bothered to defend it much. She reached, touched, then opened, the chest. It would not do to risk anyone else on the quality of her own work, after all.
“Dawnbreaker, My Lord,” she said, holding the sword out to him. While he marveled at f
eeling the weight of the weapon in his hand once more, Liane handed out the clothes that had been taken from herself and her Assistant, and for the first time since their incarceration, they were fully dressed.
Liane did not even feel the sting of her necklace when she put it on, and her magic welcomed it like an old friend. Her lower arms stung now that her burnt arms were covered by clothing, and that was not a pain she could ignore.
It was only now that Liane felt herself as filthy. Not merely dirty from being unwashed, but filthy from having been mounted like a common whore by the Warlock she had disintegrated upstairs. That she had managed to stop him before he did something permanent and irreversible was beside the point. She swallowed deeply, and must have drawn pale as Amy looked worriedly at her Proctor.
“Proctor?”
“Merely delayed shock at what would have happened, Assistant,” Liane muttered as she reached in the chest and retrieved her focus gloves. Putting the items on dispelled the orb of water that had been following her, and Liane felt as if she had put on her restraints again. The orb of water had been so much better than the gloves could ever be, and for a moment, she debated asking the water Spirit for a permanent version.
Only the realization that it could cost her years of her lifespan kept her from doing it.
“I am sorry, Proctor,” Amy whispered. “It was to protect me that you offered yourself. I can never repay you for the sacrifice you would have made on my behalf.”
Liane handed some clothes to Milor, and felt slightly jealous when it included his Warlock robes. She and Amy had been captured while dressed as Commoners, and those were the only clothes to be found. She sighed when the words of her Assistant sank in. “I am your Proctor, Assistant. I would do whatever I could to protect you. Even give up something as valued and as treasured as what was about to be taken against my will.”
“I would do the same for you, Proctor,” the girl whispered. “No matter what it is.”
Liane graced the younger girl with a smile and a pat on the head. “Thank you, Assistant.” She looked at the door. “We should go.”