Alexa Drey- the Gates of Striker Bay

by Ember Lane

  “Double again?” he asked, squatting down but looking up to the next steps. “Because that was a close call for all of us.”

  I saw what he meant. Pog was covered head to toe in blood. Faulk was splayed out on the floor, his chest heaving. Mezzerain knelt, his forehead resting on his sword’s pommel. He was muttering some prayer or another. Even Billy and Charlotte looked like they were on their last legs.

  “How long have we been going?” I asked.

  “Hard to tell,” Sutech told me. “But the Cers' camp seems an awful long time ago. We should have slept before we attempted this place.”

  “Best-laid plans,” I muttered, looking around at the devastation. A thought struck me. “They’ve never come down the steps,” I pointed out.

  “No they haven’t.”

  “So is there a clear spot we can rest up?”

  Sutech jumped up. “I’ll find one.”

  In the end, we chose a spot a little ways away from the base of the next set of steps. Faulk didn’t even try and set up his stuff. I think he was out of food anyway, and roasted soldier didn’t appeal to anyone. We had Pog’s biscuits, though he admitted they were coming to an end.

  Mezzerain asked him to sneak up the stairs, but the little thief declined. He told the Valkyrian that it might rouse them, and no one disagreed. I stared out over the dead pods. Their formation was unnatural—if there could be a natural version. Why were they out there radiating as if arranged with a design and function in mind? Surely they should be buried deep in the engineering floors, not on the cold surface?

  Over them, Ruse still stunned me by its bleakness. There was so much death out there, so much an absence of life too. It was incredible in its emptiness. Still, I draped myself on the black sill and stared out of the pill-shaped window. Eventually, I sought out the stars beyond the desolation.

  “I can’t believe that just one boy survived on that ship,” I whispered.

  “That’s why he’s such a fighter,” Pog said.

  “Nearly out of light mana,” I told him, holding up the vial.

  “Compassion is on the next floor,” Pog told me as if he’d received some subliminal instruction.

  “Along with a hundred and thirty-two priests and the same number of warriors,” I pointed out.

  He smiled up at me. “What level is your Nexus Rod?”

  I accessed its menu, surprised to see it had jumped again. “Seven.”

  “Then don’t wait to defend.”

  “Defense doesn’t work in Ruse.”

  Pog scoffed, “Nothing works in this damn place.”

  He was right.

  “Let’s get this done,” Sutech said.

  Chapter Thirty-Two

  Compassion

  I ran up the last of the steps, leaping onto the floor above, sending my magic out in a devastating wave of destruction. I sprayed it across the ranks of stunned soldiers before they had even registered my presence. Then I surged toward the cauldron, blasting the priests as I went, spinning the Nexus Rod like a baton.

  The cauldron was huge. The priests scattered as I marched toward them. My magic spewed out, relentless, insatiable. Mezzerain and Sutech flanked me, hacking at the soldiers as they finally kicked themselves into action. The priests all fled to the other side of the cauldron, but I was ready for that.

  I closed my eyes and sent more magic their way, bending it around the vast iron pot, influencing its path like I had tarried with their magic. It pounded into their flanks, devastating them. They retreated farther, mustering their own attack, but I was too far gone to accept anything but utter, complete, and entire victory. They had the numbers, but that made them weak.

  Deflecting their panicked blasts, I sent all back with interest. The speed of my reactions overwhelmed them. My magic flashed over, around, and even through the fiery cauldron. It hit them side on, face on, and rained down on them from above. Their screams reached a crescendo, and their numbers stifled their ability to organize.

  I became a giant, an avenger, and I closed on the floor’s middle, rounding its fire and then rounding them up too. I slaughtered them with berserk efficiency. Behind me, the others began their hard-fought toil against the guards.

  The priests rallied, forming into protective squares. They began to glow crimson, and I knew my magic would soon be magnified and returned. I paused, switching my attack to the soldiers, thinning that crowd, and easing my companion’s burden.

  The priests began chanting.

  Now the game was set. My ferocious attack had thinned their numbers right down. They advanced, channeling their magic at me. The crimson shimmer bothered me.

  Attack! That was Pog’s advice.

  Why had I stalled?

  I regrouped, redoubled my aggression, growling like a dog. I sent a blast straight into the center of the group. It hit their crimson with a flash, instantly exploding back at me and sending me sliding across the tiled floor. I slammed into the fire, my shoulder boiling with its heat. Jumping up, I stormed toward them, understanding that I couldn’t let their new barrier stand. I couldn’t tolerate their new defiance.

  Leaping through the air, screaming like I was deranged, I plunged into their midst. It was the last thing they expected. Whirling around, spinning my Nexus Rod, and issuing magical bullets like a machine gun, I devastated their new formation. Their bodies vanished, cloaks falling to the floor, crimson shafts rising up. With each circle of strikes, things became clearer. These were no priests. They were magical projections. They were there to draw my rage and feed from my power. They were like the katrox, a test, nothing more. But I didn’t care. I had bested their test and sent it back. Whatever they had in store for me, bring it on.

  I was ready.

  And then I saw it, spraying its yellow and flaming fire around. But a sea of priests separated me from the stone—more like a sea of wraiths. I fell into my meditation, fighting on auto as I saw the heat of their power coming to me and countered it and sent it back. I found rhythm, and they couldn’t deal with it. One after the other fell, their cloaks piling up around me. I was in a trance. My timing was perfect. My speed was unbelievable. The priests fell, soon only one left. He stood in the way of the stone.

  I’d seen his face before, a long while ago, sitting on a prancing horse, while the Forbane milled around him, while the priests looked down from a tower just before they attacked me. His black hood draped over him, but even though his face was in the shadows, I knew him.

  I recognized him.

  Then his body vanished, leaving just a hollow robe. It stretched like a blanket then flattened like a shadow. It raced toward me.

  Midnight Crawler

  No further information available

  Like the black knight, the katrox, and even the priests, my nightmares from Castle Zybond had come to haunt me here. This was ShadowDancer’s magic. He’d displayed it before, crisping a soldier to char right in front of me.

  I readied myself for the shadow’s attack, though with little clue how to defend.

  Pog’s words spurred me again. “Attack!”

  I blasted it, but it absorbed all. It floated closer, like some fault in the air, like a black hole. As it closed, it reared up, ready to wrap its emptiness around me. I had one chance, one chance to do something, but had no clue what to do.

  “Attack!”

  I plunged the Nexus Rod into its void, and I commanded its power to me.

  Cold, merciless cold, erupted from it, traveling down the rod and into the bones of my arms. It crackled through me, numbing my core as it went. My body stiffened as it froze, the void all encompassing. As I succumbed, a glimmer of heat emanated from my Nexus Rod. I clung to it. It was salvation. The rod began to accept the power of the crawler, control it, absorb its dark energy and slowly command it.

  Its cold was an illusion, a way for it to store power in a condensed form. The Nexus Rod agitated those static molecules, bringing them back to life, but not unleashing them like ShadowDancer had on that unfort
unate soldier. Once I understood, I fought back against its clawing cold. I pulled at my manas, hunted my center, my groin, and I began the arduous task of unfreezing my ways, forcing manas through them to heat my core.

  The shadow was slowly sucked into my rod. I absorbed its power, and as I did, I fell to my knees and accepted its gift. My mana increased, doubled, and then tripled, as I housed the crawler’s expanding power. A smile rippled onto my lips. I watched Compassion hovering above a small, stone table. It appeared trapped in some kind of oily sphere. I chose to come back to that. I stood and turned.

  My companions had formed a horseshoe around me, defending me against the warrior horde. They looked exhausted, spent, bloodied, and bruised. Mezzerain, of course, stood central. I tapped him on his broad shoulder and whispered, “Enough.” He stopped fighting instantly as if my word was too powerful to resist. “Kneel,” I told him and as he did, I sent a pure wave of shadowmana out.

  It rolled forward like death’s wind, obliterating the army, crushing the fiery cauldron, and extinguishing its flame, scattering all and then exploding a vast rent in the tower’s side. The power shook Slaughtower itself, a rumble traveling down its spine.

  Silence fell.

  All was dead.

  They turned and stared at me.

  Fear colored their eyes.

  All except Pog.

  “Awesome!” he cried and darted to Compassion.

  I looked at my Nexus Rod, understanding that it had once more saved me.

  Nexus Rod

  Charging in progress

  Shadowmana 92.7% charged

  Light mana 82.9% charged

  Rod Harmony – Level 8

  Magnification equates to 8 times current charge.

  If this thing had been put in my hands as part of Ruse’s elaborate plan, then I had to thank the architect of that design. Of all I had, this was my new, favorite thing. Apart from my axes—they were just badass.

  I spun around pulling Pog away from Compassion, but he had already seen the trap and was working on it with Faulk. Mezzerain turned my chin up to him.

  “What kind of command was that? I could not resist.”

  “I don’t know. I just understood you’d all protected me, and I wanted to end it.”

  He looked over at the ruined tower’s side. “Perhaps a little lighter on the magic next time.” He grinned, his huge face hardly suiting it. It was infectious, though, but as relief washed through me, my knees gave way. He caught me, sweeping me up in his huge arms, and carrying me away from the slaughter.

  He found a spot devoid of blood and guts. The priests might have been some sort of wraiths, but the warriors were definitely flesh and blood. Mezzerain sat me against the wall, slumping by me. Sutech joined us.

  “This was the worst, then,” he said.

  “How do you know?” I hadn’t even thought of the next level.

  He pointed at a window. “See how it curves over, and you can see the sky? We’ve reached the tower’s widest point. It tapers to the final flame after this.”

  “The final confrontation,” I corrected.

  He pulled out his water bottle then thought better of it. “Pog! One of those rums I asked you to stash back at Billy’s cabin.”

  “Thief!” Billy growled.

  “Will you ever be returning?” Sutech asked.

  Billy seemed to pale as that truth dawned on his horizon.

  Without breaking his focus, a bottle appeared in Pog’s hand. He held it toward us. “Here.”

  Charlotte brought it over. She held a mischievous look. “We’ll get a new cabin, and it with be on the banks of the silver streams of Talayeh.

  Billy slumped by us. “The maelstrom was my favored destination.

  Sutech bit the top off and took a gulp. He passed it to me. “Drink, provided it won’t remove this new killing edge you’ve found,” he said.

  I took the bottle.

  “It’s not me, you know,” I told him.

  “What isn’t?”

  “The killing. It’s not what I’m about. I despise it. Before I came here, I’d had difficulty killing a spider.”

  “Then that makes it all the more impressive,” he replied.

  I took a swig, the rum stripping the flesh from my throat. “Impressive?”

  “That you can step up. Most couldn’t; they’d cower in the shadows. War is easy for Mezzerain and I. We were brought up with it, lived it. I was fighting others from the age of five. That’s why Faulk has my undying respect. He steps up, like you. Perhaps he’s even stronger than you are.”

  “Hey!” I exclaimed. “This is the Alexa Fan Club!” I took another swig of the rum and passed it to Mezzerain.

  “Faulk,” Mezzerain added, after a hearty swig. “Faulk is more impressive, no two ways about it.”

  “What!” I preferred the direction of the earlier conversation.

  Sutech took the bottle. “Faulk goes into battle with true fear in his eyes. That, Alexa, is a level of courage that’s difficult to understand. He expects to die each time, yet he stands shoulder to shoulder, and he doesn’t back down.”

  “Then he deserves the stone,” I said.

  “He deserves to stand with us at the end. He’s earned that. I have no idea what you’ve endured to get to this point, but if its half the test he’s had, I’d be shocked.”

  “No, he deserves all.”

  “Then we just have to keep him alive.” Sutech’s eyes never strayed from the trapmaster.

  “Keep him alive?”

  Mezzerain grunted. “Have you seen him fight?”

  Sutech let slip a laugh. “He’s bloody useless. He fights with all the prowess and balance of a newborn deer.”

  “Like a drunk with his legs tied together.” Mezzerain grabbed the bottle and drained a good portion. “But no matter. He’s one of us.”

  And we were, we were an us. If Barakdor was good for anything, it was these little groups. It was friends, and it suddenly dawned on me how many I’d left behind. Determination coursed through me. I’d fight tooth and nail to get back to them.

  Even Marista.

  Pog let out a little yelp. “Got it!” The oily magic fell away, and Compassion limped free. I pushed myself up, forcing my aching muscles to take me to it. Stalker buzzed around it. If a stone could be concerned for another that was the impression I received.

  Compassion didn’t wait for me. It seemed to recognize my power, and it flew toward me, circling, embracing my aura. I felt it leech some light mana away from me and curiously, some shadowmana too. Its light grew in its magnitude, the yellow no longer bland but rich, intense, more the color of a blooming sunflower. Under it, the vivid orange flames lapped around its belly, and I understood why the stone’s allegiance was split between light and dark. Compassion came with a price. Judgment had to be even. Without the dark mana, the light could be taken advantage of.

  In that balance, I knew it had to be housed in someone with an even temperament. Sedge Prentice might have been perfect. Once more, I regretted his exclusion. Faulk, however, was perfect. I chose him.

  I was also kinda out of options.

  Who do you choose? Stalker asked. You have to choose; she won’t last otherwise!

  “I choose Faulk.”

  Faulk turned away from the table. He pulled off his helmet and then stood, marching over to me and kneeling. He bowed his head.

  “You honor me too much.”

  Compassion buzzed around him, curious, inquisitive, perhaps even unsure.

  I stared at Sutech. He stared back at me. Mezzerain looked over too as did Pog, Billy, and Charlotte. We all burst out laughing at the same time.

  “Get up, you damn idiot,” Mezzerain berated Faulk.

  “You honor me too much!” Sutech mimicked. “For God’s sake, man. We don’t stand on show!”

  “What?” said Faulk. “I thought it was the thing to do.”

  His cheeks turned a vivid shade of scarlet.

  “Just accept the stone a
nd know that we’ve placed another burden on your shoulders,” Pog told him.

  “Well, now that you’ve put it like that, I’m not so sure I will.” He crossed his arms.

  Mezzerain drew him into an embrace. “What if I told you I used to be bald, old, and ugly?”

  Faulk looked up at him. “I’d say you now have your youth and a fine head of hair.”

  Mezzerain grunted. “Just accept the damn stone!”

  It was too much for Pog, for all of us. We’d already forgotten the danger we were in, but now we might as well have been in Lincoln’s tavern, all the way back in Sanctuary, for our laughter filled the floor of the dread tower, and I doubted that its sound had ever been heard here.

  Faulk accepted the stone. It sunk into his neck, filling and bathing him in its golden amber light. For a moment, I swore I saw fire in his eyes, but that soon faded, and if anything, an even calmer Faulk emerged.

  In my mind, I counted the stones again. We’d found the following: Stalker, Warrior, Unity, Enmity, Vengeance, and now Compassion. We had three to go. Two to house, and one to remake the world.

  “Prudence has woken,” Pog said.

  “Where?” I asked.

  “We need to go home,” Pog told me.

  Sweet relief flooded through me. A yearning like I’d never felt before. Tears welled. “Thank God for that,” I whispered.

  “But we have some unfinished business first,” he reminded me.

  I stared up at the steps. “Then what are we waiting for?”

  Grabbing the bottle from Sutech, I took long draft. “We all ready?”

  “Do we have an idea what we are facing?” Sutech asked as usual.

  “Mostly magic—I have that feeling. They’ve been leaching away my power. I have the feeling it will be sent against me.”

  “Can you handle it?” he asked.

  I hesitated, searching for the right words.

  They came easily in the end.

  “As long as I know you’re all covering my back.”