Oathen

by Giacomo, Jasmine

  “Problems?” Salvor asked. A moment later, he took a body slam from another cultist and slammed into the wall of the large dining room they were fighting in.

  Rhona drove both her blades into the back of Salvor’s attacker, unaware that a new Dzur i’Oth spellcaster had just joined the fight behind her. The woman raised a finger and pointed at Rhona’s back, unleashing a writhing green snake that floated as if it were made of smoke. The creature flashed through the air, rearing back to strike down at the pirate.

  “Rhona!” Ruel called, struggling to reach her despite the two cultists who had engaged him with their swords. His cousin turned, copper braids flying, and her turquoise eyes widened in the moment before the snake struck.

  But its strike didn’t land. Ahm’s hands slammed out, as if against an invisible wall, and a silvery barrier snapped into existence between Rhona and the snake; the magical creation rammed its head into the wall even as Rhona raised her swords. Ahm’s wall-creation was followed by a silver jar that encased the snake in midair, then fell to the ground with a metallic clang.

  The snake’s summoner turned her attention to Ahm, creating a dozen venomous lizards that slithered across the floor toward him. He gave each of them a silver collar attached to an enormous cube of steel, weighting them in their tracks.

  The lizards vanished, and a flock of ravening predatory birds swooped through the air, wicked claws extended. Ahm caught them in a silver net that fell from above, trapping them. Before the woman could create yet another fauna hazard, he slammed a capped cylinder of metal around her, thick and heavy. Her muffled cries of protest reached his ears for a moment, then Narjin filled the cylinder with blue fire.

  Ruel and Salvor slew their opponents, then ganged up on the remaining three that were threatening Geret. Narjin, lurking behind a stone table, sent a trail of fire around its edge, and it caught her opponent’s loose pant leg afire three tables down. As he frantically slapped at the blue flames, Rhona sneaked up behind him and stabbed him in the back.

  The last Dzur i’Oth fell to the ground. The room went quiet, filled only with panting and the occasional groan.

  “Let’s see that wound, Geret,” Salvor said, tucking his sword into its sheath and approaching his prince.

  Geret pulled his shirt up, revealing a thin slice that cut at an angle across his ribs. It was barely bleeding.

  Narjin gasped. “But…that charry bastard laid into you with all he had!”

  “You want him to be spilling his intestines on the floor?” Ruel asked, eyebrows raised.

  Ahm met Geret’s eyes. “The power of the Oath, lad,” the silver-haired Scion said with a smile. “It’s saved my hide many a time, though my Oathen is far away.”

  Geret smiled, closing his eyes, and sent Sanych a warm rush of affection and appreciation, which was returned instantly, along with her relief that he was safe for the moment.

  “Sanych is still hunting Oolat,” he said. “So far, they’re fine.”

  “Good,” Ahm said. “We’ve done well; let’s hope the other mini-cells are sharing our luck. Now, let’s crack some more skulls.”

  ~~~

  Deep below, the Tome spread Oolat’s lips in a manic grin. The thief was coming back for more, and she had brought the Scions with her. Before they destroyed too many of its loyal minions, it needed to distract and delay them. Only then could it take what it wanted.

  On its intricate obsidian lectern, the Great Tome’s pages began to turn. The ancient parchment leaves rustled as they moved. The spidering texts writhed in the green light.

  The pages came to rest. Oolat’s hands shaped arcane forms in the air, while his hoarse voice coaxed magic from the text.

  Inside his skull, Oolat knew he was doomed. He had had nothing to eat nor drink, had not been allowed to sleep. His hours since the Great Tome had taken over his physical form had all been spent in the ritual chamber, searching out and collapsing magic pockets in the caldera in the hopes of crushing the Scions, or at least giving them nowhere to hide. Each time the will of the ancient book stretched out its magical reach and crushed a pocket into nothingness, it thrilled his soul, yet he knew the Great Tome would work him to the point of death before pausing to heal him of dehydration and starvation.

  Eternal dying, without the release of oblivion. What a hellish fate is this? Oolat contemplated, staring into the black eternity that awaited him. He could feel an exhausted acceptance creeping in. He managed to hate it, but could not force it from his consciousness.

  ~~~

  In various hallways and rooms above the ritual chamber, rock ripped itself free from the walls. Minerals and gemstones formed and grew in select areas on stone bodies. Stumping slowly but inexorably forward, the golems wielded clubs and swords of steel and diamond, iron and obsidian. Their bodies were formed of basalt or rhyolite, slashes of red or greenish brown cutting across them in linear bands. Their bodies filled the large hallways, scraping rock from the walls whenever they brushed against them.

  And they had only one thing on their tiny, magically created minds.

  Meena whirled, her blade clashing loudly against her opponent’s weapon. Though she was skilled and in excellent physical condition, she was no match for the hulking earthen monstrosity that wielded a blade of pure diamond. It crushed her to the floor with its other arm, its stone eyes sparking pink. She screamed as its fist shredded her midsection.

  Sanych darted in from behind, slashing with an axe made of light. The creature’s arm separated from its body, falling to the floor and narrowly missing Meena’s legs.

  The axe Sanych wielded wasn’t long enough to reach the stone golem’s head, so she quickly lengthened its handle and took another swipe, but it knelt beneath her swing and toppled onto Meena’s body, crushing her against the floor.

  Sanych cried out in shock. Rivulets of Meena’s blood ran out from beneath the rough-hewn warrior. She shuddered at the sight, feeling sick.

  I need to get her out quickly, before Oolat finds us!

  She sliced off the golem’s head and kicked it away, and the pink glow in its kimberlitic eyes faded. Trying to watch the door and avoid cutting Meena with her axe at the same time, she began slicing the rest of him into rocky chunks and blinking them aside, hoping against hope that nothing else would enter the chamber with them.

  “Please,” she muttered under her breath, “just a little more time!”

  ~~~

  “Oh, Folly,” Geret breathed, his mind filling with Sanych’s frantic fear.

  “What is it?” Salvor whispered, pressed against the wall beside him.

  “There’s more of them,” Geret returned. “Probably a lot more.”

  They had taken refuge inside one of many storerooms along a short corridor, hiding from the golem that plodded in pursuit. They could hear it crushing the doors in on other rooms down the hall.

  “Folly, indeed,” Salvor agreed. They had been separated from the others, who had run into the room across the hall; they’d contemplated the wisdom of trying to dash across, with the inherent risk of drawing the golem’s attention. So far, they’d decided against it.

  Geret squeezed his eyes shut and breathed through his teeth, trying to focus on his own situation instead of being distracted by Sanych’s gory puzzle.

  The door burst open, and Salvor whipped his sword forward, habit forcing him between Geret and the doorway.

  But it was just Ahm, silver hair whipping as he skidded to a stop. “Here,” he panted, offering them the handles on a pair of silvery swords with fiery blue edges. “Narjin and I’ve been crafting them across the hall; these are for you two.”

  Salvor reached out and took the new sword, sheathing his old one absently with his left hand. “Fascinating,” he murmured, giving it an experimental swing. Blue fire trailed a few inches after the blade as it sliced through the air with a swish.

  “Superb!” Geret said, watching the blade with a massive grin. “Now that’s a heroic weapon!”

  Salvor rol
led his eyes, but before he could speak, the wall between their room and the next crumbled under the massive fist of the golem that hunted them. Geret and Salvor spun to face it, and Ahm shouted for the others.

  Rhona, Ruel and Narjin burst through the door as the golem raised his iron club, its ridges of obsidian glinting in the green light. Rhona flung her magic-laden short sword end over end; its point jabbed into the side of the golem’s head, and the monstrosity rocked onto one foot, pausing there for an infinitely long moment before righting itself onto both feet.

  Salvor lunged for one of the creature’s legs, and Geret attacked the other. The golem’s eyes gleamed blood-red with malice. It swooped its club ponderously, turning to track the two men.

  Ruel darted forward, and Rhona leaped and put her foot into his waiting hands. He heaved her up, and she grasped the golem around the neck from behind, scraping her arms across his rough stone skin as she struggled to regain her sword.

  Salvor glanced up at her, then cut his eyes over to Geret. “On the off chance I don’t survive this,” he said, between dodging kicks and taking quick jabs at the monster’s legs, “you should probably know that I bedded Rhona for you two nights back.” His eyes met Geret’s for a brief moment, and the prince’s went wide in surprise.

  “What?” Geret blurted.

  ~~~

  “What?” Sanych blurted, bloody hands pausing over Meena’s still form, now freed from the fallen golem’s body. Geret’s shock thundered through her mind, completely distracting her.

  “I hadn’t actually said anything yet,” came a voice from the doorway behind her.

  She whirled on one knee, an axe blinking into existence in her reddened hand, and she cursed herself for forgetting to turn on her invisible shield.

  “My dear, you don’t need that with me,” the man said, sloping into the room like a three-dimensional shadow.

  Sanych’s eyes had trouble tracking him; he seemed to be before and behind himself at all times. But surely one with such a kind face wouldn’t mean her harm; she let her axe fade away.

  His dark eyes held her attention as he approached Meena and knelt across from her. He looked at her with sympathy as his black robes puddled softly around his knees. “Your friend didn’t make it. I’m sorry.”

  Sanych looked down at the bloody remains of the Shanallar and her own red-soaked hands. What was I thinking? She’s clearly dead. Just look at all that blood.

  “I…I need to find…”

  “I’ll help you,” the man offered, holding out a smooth hand. Sanych smiled, placing her gory hand in his; how kind he was, that he didn’t seem to mind—

  The room winked out, and another replaced it. Cold air blew through the steel bars that trapped her in a circular cage, and Sanych rattled them with frantic shakes. “Let me out of here!” Her hands bloomed with light, but it was faint. It couldn’t even warm the cage’s bars, let alone cut them. She backed away from the edge, staring in horror at the failure of her magic.

  Around the cage was nothing but darkness. Then a shadowy section separated itself and stepped forward. The dark-eyed man grinned from within his hood. “There is no one here who can save you.” He cocked his head. “Sanych, is it? A pretty name. I hope you have someone to remember you back home. After all, you’ll be dead soon, and I can’t possibly remember you among all my other victims.”

  The darkness began to swirl, creating vortices whose thin, twisting points drew closer to her, reaching in through the bars. Sanych tried to back away from them, but they surrounded her. One of them thrust its point into her side, sucking her at her very essence. She screamed and stumbled away.

  “I’m here, Sanych,” Geret said. His strong arms slipped around her from behind, supporting her against his warmth. “Stand strong. This cage isn’t real. I can feel that you’re still in the same place; he hasn’t taken you anywhere. He’s casting some illusion over you, making you think your magic’s failed. Just remember, he can’t kill you, because half of you is here with me.”

  “But you’re here too!” Sanych protested, clinging to his arm as it wrapped her shoulders.

  “Not really. I’m just borrowing his mental imagery as a way to reach out to you. Hold on; fight back! You can beat him. You have to, see, because he can’t beat you. And I’d really hate to leave off fighting this golem to come down and avenge you.” He bent down and kissed her temple. “I believe in you, Sanych,” he murmured into her ear.

  Crying out with the force of her magic, she threw her arms out and flung a shock wave in all directions. She fell to her knees, spent and disoriented, and felt the illusory cage fade away.

  When she could see straight, she found Meena on the floor before her, just coming back to consciousness. Panting, Sanych looked across at the kneeling, black-clad cultist. He still held her hand, but his eyes, ears and nose had bled, and the slackness of his jaw made Sanych realize he was dead. She jerked her hand from his and gave him a shove; he toppled over in a heap of soft black robes.

  “Folly’s bastards,” Sanych muttered, becoming aware that another dozen Enforcers lay dead around her. They were sprawled on their backs, eyes bleeding as they stared blindly at the dark stone ceiling. One of them had a smear of blood on the blade in her hand, and Sanych touched the spot where the black vortex had jabbed her. A small bloodstain gleamed on her fingers in the dim light.

  “Are there a lot of them?” Meena asked, squinting up at her.

  “What?”

  “Bastards. Does Folly have a lot of them?”

  Sanych wiped her hands on her pants and helped Meena to her feet. She looked around the room and gave Meena a sardonic grin. “A few less, now.”

  Meena grinned as well as she began removing a dead cultist’s shirt to replace her shredded one. “Onward, then. There’s one bastard in particular we still need to end.”

  Chapter Thirty-five

  “Oh, Wisdom,” Geret groaned, coming back into himself. Somehow he’d ended up across the room, crashed into a stack of barrels that smelled like they held pickled cod.

  “I didn’t think it was that shocking an admission,” Salvor said, putting a hand on Geret’s shoulder. “You know my history with Sanych. Rhona’d had a hard day; I took advantage of her vulnerability.” His face showed concern for Geret despite his wry tone.

  “Why?” Geret asked.

  “A red herring, and a bargaining chip.”

  Geret looked up into Salvor’s cold hazel eyes and shook his head. He followed the man’s logic easily enough. “You’re really quite despicable,” he growled.

  “It’s true, I am,” Salvor agreed, pulling him off the crushed barrels and onto his feet. “But only for the glory of Vint.”

  Geret looked over Salvor’s shoulder and saw the golem engaged in combat with the others, several large chunks missing from his limbs and club. “What happened?”

  “You blanked out, and the golem slapped you over here with his club. You don’t look like you have a scratch on you,” the nobleman admitted. “Shall we continue?” he asked, with a nod toward the stone behemoth.

  “After you, O Despicable One,” Geret responded.

  The golem had finally noticed the tiny human on his back and was reaching up with his free hand to crush her. Ruel and Geret both lunged for his arm, their fiery swords outstretched. But Rhona beat them both, grasping the handle of her lodged sword and slicing it through the golem, gashing his head and lopping off his arm above the elbow. It crashed to the ground, and Ruel somersaulted over it, rolling back to his feet.

  “A little more warning next time,” Ruel called.

  Rhona laughed, but the golem’s club swung toward her again, and she had to fling herself to the floor. She landed badly, her leg twisting beneath her, and Ruel helped her out of the golem’s range.

  Narjin had been holding her fire in reserve while Rhona was on the creature’s back, but now she let loose at it with a blue fireburst that left its torso glowing with fervent heat.

  Possessing at le
ast some intelligence, the creature lunged forward toward the nearest target: Geret. Narjin gasped, eyes wide, at the extra weapon she’d handed the golem.

  Ahm thrust out his hands, fingers splayed, and dozens of small metal balls appeared around the golem’s feet. As the monster stepped toward Geret, its foot rolled on them. It lost its balance, stumbling heavily to its rocky knees and bringing its molten chest down to Geret’s eye level. Salvor leaped forward and shoved Geret to the side.

  The nobleman held his sword aloft and slashed the creature’s neck, his sword trailing blue fire like a silken streamer. With a single blow, he lifted the golem’s massive stone head from its shoulders. As he finished the cut, he turned and stepped toward Geret, chin high. Behind him, the golem crashed forward, cracking and melting onto the stone floor. Its neck stump landed mere inches from Salvor’s heels.

  Salvor flicked his fiery blade as if examining it for damage. Narjin’s eyes were wide, and Ahm’s mouth hung open for a moment.

  “Awful shiny for a dirtwalker,” Ruel said with a grin.

  Geret grimaced. “Show-off.”

  Salvor flicked his eyebrows up.

  As they hurried back toward the main corridor that led below, a nearly-opaque dove flew toward them.

  “It’s Scion,” Ahm said, forestalling Salvor’s slice. The cell leader held out a hand, and the dove landed. Its beak opened, and a man’s voice issued out.

  “Ahm, need your help. Pinned down near the—”

  The bird imploded from the impact of a slender streak of yellow lightning, and Ahm grunted, jerking his hand back. Everyone looked ahead toward the source of the attack. At the corner of the corridor stood a pair of cultists. The slender one had his hand outstretched, filled with more of the same lightning. At his side stood a stockier, shorter man. Behind them stood more than twenty Enforcers. Narjin’s hands flared with blue fire.

  “Our new master will have his way,” the first man intoned, a manic gleam in his eyes. “Your efforts are as dust beneath our feet.”

  New master? Geret had a moment to wonder.