Legend of Ecta Mastrino Box Set

by B J Hanlon

  It spread like a spider’s web, enveloping them as the black orb crashed into it. It slowed the projectile for just a moment. Then he felt the pressure in his stomach and his skull. The shield popped and the weapon crashed into the boat. Though a moment before, the occupants had all leapt out.

  Edin dropped to the sand. More black and orange balls were flying toward them, it would’ve been beautiful in other circumstances.

  He heard Arianne and Dorset behind him, screaming something. Edin looked back and saw them pointing toward the harbor.

  Beneath the glowing light, Edin saw more dark crafts gliding through the sea. But a moment before one touched, it tilted and flipped high into the air.

  The people clad in metal armor were crashing to the harbor and sea. With the extra weight, he was sure they didn’t survive.

  Suddenly, a stalagmite type rock leapt up and turned a second ship into a kabob.

  The attackers were struggling to get onto the dock. He turned back toward Grent’s crew, they were a ten yards off shore still, but swimming or running fast.

  They’d be fine. He had to do something about those ships. There were so many. Dorset appeared next to him. “There’s too many… we need to retreat, hide in the castle.”

  “No way can the entire population fit there.”

  Dorset said. “Our ships are burning. We have no way off the isle...”

  Edin thought for a moment.

  “Do you have a plan?” The barrage was teetering out, there’d be a lull for a short while, five, maybe ten minutes, before they resumed. Edin glanced back toward the city. The bottom half was burning while further up, it seemed quiet, like a peaceful fall evening.

  In the shadows of the long dead volcano, he saw the Boganthean Tower. The idea clicked into place, it was the same one that was teetering on his mind before the first bombardment.

  “Do you remember that spell, the one Pharont’s men were using…”

  He seemed to be trying to work it out in his mind. “A nightmare spell… waking nightmare…” he followed Edin’s eyes toward the tower where the four secret spell casters had attempted it.

  “Yes…”

  Arianne reached them, “how do we do it?”

  “I don’t know, we’ll need four I think…” Edin glanced back, Grent was pulling Le Fie and another man from the water, Placisus was pulling the third. A few guards that had stayed on the beach were helping now. “Le Fie is too tired…”

  “Cannopina?” Dorset asked.

  “She’s at her father’s right now.” Said Arianne.

  “Get her Arianne, meet us at the tower…”

  “I can,” Dorset said.

  Edin shook his head, “you’re the wizard with spells right? Let’s see if you’re just a talker or if you can actually do it.”

  “Think it’ll work?” Arianne said.

  “I hope so.”

  She kissed him and they all began running back toward the city. Grent called him from behind, but Edin didn’t respond.

  He was just about back to terra firma when he saw silhouetted figures on the cliffs to the east. They were straddling some sort of horizontal ladder from Newland and crossing the canyon to Delrot. There’d be no need for the bridges…

  “They’re trying to cross,” Arianne called.

  “I have this one,” Dorset said. He shot out a hand and bit his bottom lip. Did he always do that when concentrating? Didn’t matter.

  There was a slight quaking, chunks of stone fell from the Newland side of the strait.

  A moment later, the men dropped, screaming until their noise was washed away by the destructive force of gravity and the wicked water.

  The roads were less crowded. To the left, he saw men standing in the shadows of the stand alone buildings that made up much of the central part of the city.

  Edin picked up his pace. To the right, he saw men in dark cloaks and soldier uniforms beginning to stream out from the row buildings. Apparently, they’d decided to cut through. They poured out of doors in waves only to meet with guards. The clashing of battle reverberated down the streets. Chunks of stone blasted up, fireballs slammed into both sides.

  “Let’s show these blotards to the river!” A broson screamed and charged into the midst of a battle.

  Edin glanced back, Arianne and Dorset were quite a bit behind him. Edin cut through the other side and through a dark alley toward the center of the island and waited.

  Every sound was muted by the pounding of his blood. His friends caught up. A moment later, rain was beginning to pound down. It was slamming everyone.

  Across the way, men on both sides slipped on the wet cobblestone as fires petered out. Across the way, a thirty or so foot swatch of rowhouse crashed down onto both defenders and attackers. Edin glanced up and saw a group of magi standing on top of the building above them.

  They were keeping the attackers at bay, but sacrificing their own men in the process. We can’t win by sacrificing their own men, he thought. Edin said, “Arianne, send me up.” He pointed at the building next to him.

  “No time,” Dorset said.

  “I’ll meet you at the end of the block… We have to stop this.” He felt the wind flinging him up, his fear of heights returned almost instantaneously as he flew past the roof and another thirty yards up. Then, his stomach stayed there as his body dropped. He was caught again, barely a half yard off the roof to the shock of two magi there.

  Others were spread out along the roofs to both sides. He was next to a man he’d never met. “You’re killing our own,” Edin yelled over everything.

  The man looked scared, his face was contorted as only that of a man on his last stand.

  “Those are your friends down there.”

  His jaw hardened and Edin saw a burst of flames lighting in his hand. He raised his arm over his shoulder and began to throw. Edin grabbed the hand, the fireball dropped. It crashed into the roof of the house and exploded before them.

  Edin was flung backwards, his mind blanked and all he felt was the wind rushing past him. A moment later he felt and heard wood snapping around him, slowing him.

  Then there was nothing and he slammed into the ground. Twigs dropped, pelting him like bees. Looking up, Edin saw a great oak tree.

  He was hurt but not bad. He tried to get his bearings. To the right was a building lit up like an unending torch, its bright orange glow brightening the sky. He blinked a few times and wiped something from his eyes. Glancing down, he saw a small line of blood.

  It took him a few moments to catch his breath and he pushed up from the ground. He felt for his sword belt and found it still attached, but the leather was frayed.

  Someone grabbed his arm, Edin ripped his arm away, spun and drew the sword aiming the tip at the person.

  “You okay?” Dorset said.

  Edin took another breath and nodded, lowering the weapon.

  “I thought you’d be dead. Come on, we need to hurry.”

  They began running again and Edin hated leaving the battle behind but hopefully his plan would work.

  Men swooped in and out of small back alleys. They encountered a group of four bald men wearing all black. They were cutting across the street toward the city. Edin dove into the center, parried, feinted, and slashed.

  It was over in almost an instant. All four of the men were dead and he was back on his feet. They pushed through a winding street, he could distinguish thumps from the ballista, the crashing and exploding wan stone balls, the clang of battle and screams of the dying.

  Edin kept his eyes forward glancing up at the imposing tower hundreds of yards ahead.

  They passed the gate to Alcor’s Row and then they were at the tower.

  Edin slashed through the chain and bounded up the stairs into the gray foyer with its eerie chandelier the same as it’d always been.

  “Maybe Pharont wasn’t such a califoo after all,” Edin panted. He bounded down the stairs, two or three at a time with his ethereal globe leading the way. They passe
d the first door and continued toward the room. They descended, the air grew cold.

  Edin burst into the door and looked around. It was dark. The door slammed behind him and Edin nearly jumped.

  “Sorry,” Dorset said, force of habit.

  “You always slam doors?”

  Dorset shrugged. “My father was a particular man; I’ve been yelled at far too often to leave doors open.”

  Edin shined the light around the room, he saw oil sconces. Dorset went to a side wall, turned a knob and the flames puffed into existence.

  “What are we looking for?” Said Dorset

  “The spell, the ones those men were casting on the city… maybe it was only a test.”

  “But you killed them.”

  Edin grunted. “Let’s not assign blame.” He glanced at the formerly cluttered table. It was empty. The bookshelves that pierced the room were stacked together. Impossible for him to find without knowing where to look.

  “Over here,” Dorset said. “’Veol Elt Nonnea.’ Book of Destruction.”

  “Sounds bad.”

  “It is, it was decreed that it was too volatile for untrained magi.”

  “Yet here it is.” Said Edin.

  “I assume it is what we’re looking for right?”

  Edin shrugged. “How should I know?”

  He pulled the book out and slammed it on the table, then he began studying the edge of its pages without even opening it. “Everyone marks their page, usually with a flipped corner, but this book is old.” He tilted it up and let the pages unfurl. He jabbed a finger in one spot and opened it flipping to the spine. His finger moved through the words. Highborn, and far too complex for Edin to understand.

  A colorful picture of an unknown beast covered the opposite page. It had the head of a crillio, the torso of a man with wings attached to its back. Its furry legs were bent the wrong way at the knee and its feet had opposable thumbs.

  “What is it?”

  Dorset glanced over, “no idea.” He said and continued a slow browsing of the words.

  Edin heard movement above, there were footsteps not too far off. He drew his sword and Dorset looked up with a nervous expression on his face.

  “Keep searching.”

  There was a knocking at the door and it opened. Arianne and Cannopina were there. Cannopina ran to Dorset and hugged him. He gave a one arm hug back and started searching again.

  “Eun votir eialt.” Dorset slammed his finger onto a few words. “Waking nightmare, this must be it.”

  “How do we work it?”

  He read. “It needs four people, all working together with their talents and focusing on who they wish to cast the nightmare on.”

  “We can only cast it on one person?”

  “That’s what it says…”

  “But many people suffered…” Dorset kept skimming and then read. “I am of the opinion that this could be used to cause mass hysteria over a large mass. Like a contagion that strikes the land, fear can move and leap from person to person. We just need a target.”

  “So… scare one person then it what goes to the next?”

  “But who?”

  Edin thought for a moment. “The Inquisitor de Demar… Diophin Gray.”

  “Are we certain he’s here?”

  “What do you know of the callto summoning stones?” Edin asked.

  Cannopina answered, “They astral project ones being across the plain. You can send yourself, or summon someone else.”

  “Diophin has summoned me on more than one occasion, usually while I sleep. No one happens to have a drought that’ll knock me out?”

  “We don’t have time for you to nap,” Arianne said.

  “Maybe… but we need to know…”

  “There’s a copper dish,” She pointed at it sitting in the corner of the room on its side. It looked more rusted then copper. “I can scry…”

  “It’ll take forever and what if he’s below deck? We’ll never find him.”

  Cannopina was searching through a shelf of potions, “here.” She said and ran toward them. She popped the cork and handed him the luminescent green vial.

  “It’s not poison?”

  “No,” She said after a brief pause. That didn’t give him much confidence.

  Arianne said, “I’ll scry, please do not die.”

  “That rhymes… are you trying to become a poet?” Edin asked.

  “Sure, Edin is a califoo, he smells just like dog poo.” She kissed him and grabbed the dish. “Cannopina, can you summon me water?”

  “Wake me in five minutes. If nothing happens by then, we’ll have to come up with a different plan.”

  Edin laid on the stone floor and took down the drought, it tasted of vinegar, apples and for some reason, urine. All combined in a very viscous fluid. He gaged and his eyes began to close as the darkness crept in, blurring his mind. The taste lingered in his mouth like a bad liquor.

  Then he was somewhere warm and brightly lit by oil lamps.

  A cabin, a large one, with a huge oak table and a map of Delort as it used to be, without Newland and Brackland. It felt incredibly sticky and humid like a large mass of humans had been stuffed into a sweatbox to perspire. Above him, were the cries of men and the rushing, pounding feet on wood planks.

  Edin glanced through a porthole and saw the burning city between a forest of ships. Flames were reaching higher into the air as wind whistled past the opening.

  “I was wondering when you’d come visit. How is it over there? I am overjoyed that you still live.” It was Diophin, his sneering hideous face was covered except for his exposed deformed jaw. “I do not want you dying by any hand other than my own.”

  Edin looked around the room, there were three men in all.

  “Have you come to negotiate terms?” Said another figure, slender and standing in the corner. The man looked like he was there to guard but his hands were clasped in front of him and there were gold rings on each of them.

  “We offer this man no terms.” The words came from the third man. He stood to the right of the map table with one hand under his fur cloak. He was huge, and had an air of regality, the feeling of a man who’d rarely seen the outside of a castle or keep.

  He looked familiar. The man who was arguing with the church… Ashtol. Duke of Dunbilston.

  “As a student of warfare, you should know that it could be in our best interest to offer terms. Many more of our men will die. You have seen what they can do.”

  “Damn those men. He killed my son.”

  “And look what he did to me,” Diophin said.

  “We are partners in this Ashtol.” The gold hand man said. “Or do you wish for me to turn around. This is not a venture strictly for your vendetta?”

  “We are here to destroy the magi.”

  “There are humans as well as abominations. Thousands if I am correct. Men and women with no magi blood. Are they not worthy of our leniency?” He turned to Edin, the man had golden hair and golden-brown eyes that looked a bit like damp sand drying in the sun. “I knew your mother lad, Laural was an acquaintance in my younger years and many spoke highly of her… and still do.”

  “She bore an abomination!” Diophin spat.

  “We offer these terms. All non-magi will be spared. The magi will be slain humanely. We have elixirs and gases that can offer no pain.” Edin guessed him to be Feracrucio. Prince of Resholt.

  “He deserves pain!” Ashtol said. He looked like Sandon.

  Edin stepped back into the shadows. Though he wasn’t here, his steps somehow clattered on the wooden deck.

  Edin looked down and saw his hands and legs, they were shadows and wicking like flames in the wind. Edin spoke. “You may argue amongst yourselves all you want. I am but here to offer a message for all of you are at risk. As well as us. The dematians are gathering in the west—”

  “Lies… he is saying this just to have us withdraw. It is the best chance we have of ending the magi threat to our world. Ending the abominations,”
Diophin said.

  Feracrucio said, “I have heard reports–”

  “Enough of this.” Ashtol interrupted and drew his sword from beneath his fur skin cloak. “All abominations will die!” He swung his blade around the top of his head like a maple seed spinning to the ground. The blade glowed a slight red. An enchanted blade. Ashtol screamed.

  The blade came at him with force and speed like he’d only ever seen on Grent. Somewhere in his mind, Edin knew he wasn’t there, but his body reacted just the same. Edin dove and rolled, he heard the splitting of wood behind him. Edin scampered beneath the oak table and came out the other side. He reached toward his side and found his own sword, somehow still there.

  Edin drew it. It was black and smoke-like and Edin realized he was a wraith. Edin held his weapon in front of him. To his left, Feracrucio stood silently in the corner doing nothing.

  “Guards!” Ashtol yelled and leapt on top of the oak table, he had to duck his head to not crash into the ceiling. He slashed down.

  Edin dropped into a serpent stance as soon as the blade passed his body. He moved forward, and sent a blow aimed at Ashtol’s flank.

  Suddenly, it was parried. Feracrucio’s weapon sent Edin’s blade up toward the ceiling. He heard a shink of another blade being drawn behind him.

  Edin ducked as Ashtol’s blade came back in another sweeping strike. Suddenly, there was a cry from above him. A painful howl. The door burst open and two Por Fen ran in followed by guards. Edin ran back under the table. Wake me… he thought and then saw a long lump under a black cloak drop.

  At one end was blood, the other, a shriveled hand.

  Diophin was screaming on the ground, blood pouring from his missing shoulder.

  “Inquisitor!” Someone yelled and suddenly more blades were drawn.

  “The magi… he’s beneath the table!”

  That was the last he remembered because a moment later, he was on the floor looking up at the ceiling of gray stone dancing with firelight.

  Edin’s heart was racing and he was sweating as if he’d really been there. Maybe he had. He remembered the wave…

  “Edin are you alright? We couldn’t wake you… you were thrashing about and…” It was Arianne’s voice and she trailed off.