by GM Gambrell
Thirty Three
The cool air field faltered as they raced up the tunnel leading from the Source to the Pits. Duncan kept recasting it, Simon helping, and Duncan couldn’t help but wonder if that was how Timmy had felt, all those months ago, when his healing spells faltered. It was a sickening feeling knowing that the only thing keeping them from boiling alive was the cooling spells. It just made him run faster, pulling Jessica behind them. They had to get out of the tunnel before it heated up too much and deal with whatever waited for them on the other side of the door when they got there.
He paused at the old iron door and took a deep breath. He half expected there to be an entire company of Magistrates on the other side, just waiting to tear him and his friends to pieces, but when he opened the door, there was only chaos.
“What in the world?”
The Pit was in complete disarray. The large cavern shook violently, much like the earthquake that had sent Jessica and Duncan plummeting down to the buried town of Center, Texas. The prisoners and Magistrates alike were running in a blind panic, heading for the exits that led up and to the surface. Felix rushed right by him, and even without the invisibility spell, didn’t know him. The sadistic Magistrate’s face was a mask of pure terror.
“What’s happening?” Jessica asked as they ran, following the people to the exits if for no other reason than Duncan didn’t yet have a plan.
“It’s something with the flow of life force from the mainland,” Duncan said as they jogged behind the people. “Did you see those pipes? They quit flowing.”
People pressed behind them, Magistrate and prisoner alike, pushing up the small stairway that led to the street. He scanned the area, looking for the dozens of Golems that had been working in the Pit but saw none of the zombie-eyed humans. There were, however, many more nervous, confused prisoners. One man came up to him, jerking at his sweat-drenched sleeve.
“Please, do you know where we’re at? What’s going on here?”
“You’re in the Pit,” Duncan told the man as the entire line of people surged forward and away from the chaos in the Pit. Railings shook loose from overhead, sending piping and green sludge plummeting down. The conveyor belt that hauled the waste away was off its tracks, dumping the carts randomly on the walkways. The waste stream itself bubbled up as the heat intensified from the Source and the metal gangways began to melt. He watched as a couple people fell off and into the sludge, instantly consumed.
“What’s the Pit? Where am I? We weren’t supposed to dream in Stasis Level Three.”
“Wait,” Duncan said, trying to stop and talk to the man while he held onto Jessica’s hand to keep from getting separated from her. “Did you say Stasis Level Three?”
“This has to be a nightmare,” the man said. “It has to be a nightmare.”
They didn’t get a chance to talk anymore as the crowd of panicked people surged again, pressing in close. Duncan lost his breath and his grip on Jessica’s hand.
“Jessica!”
He couldn’t see her through the rush of people and had no choice but to be pushed up the stairs as the entire Pit melted away behind them. The sludge ate everything in its path and the ceilings shook, threatening to collapse. He knew if he fell to the ground he’d just be trampled and tried to calm himself. He’d find her once they got out. She wouldn’t run and would be right there, waiting for him.
Eventually they pressed out onto the wider streets that were also in disarray. There were fires everywhere and panicked Magicians raced through the streets, not even trying to put the fires out. There was no rhyme or reason to the direction they ran so Duncan stepped out of the flow of prisoners from the Pit and waited. Jessica was there, waving to him from across the street, standing next to Simon. He pushed through the citizens rushing through the street and joined her.
“What’s happening?” she asked, her eyes in panic. “What is everyone running from?”
There was a massive explosion across the street from them as a small shop went up in a fireball of wood and plaster and flame. They ducked down, trying to protect their heads, and Duncan’s ears rang like there was a small man inside his head pounding away with a hammer. When he opened his eyes there was destruction everywhere, bloodied people lying in the streets, the glass gone from storefronts, and buildings on fire. The man that had pleaded with him on the stairs, the man he thought was a former Golem lay in the street in front of him, dead.
“Look!” Jessica said, pointing skyward.
The sky was buzzing with dragons, fire shooting out of their snouts like ancient flamethrowers. The massive beasts plunged and darted, twisting and turning like jet fighters in a dogfight. It took Duncan a long few seconds to see what they were fighting with, and when he did, his heart threatened to leap right out of his chest. Interspaced with the dragons and wyverns were dozens of ancient aircraft that were older than even the Last War. These were what Jim called the Ghost Planes, aircraft so old that the Magicians, after the Last War, had ignored them. They’d been in front of ancient courthouses and near old American Legion halls. Duncan didn’t realize there had been so many of the ancient aircraft and was captivated watching World War 2-era fighters dancing in the sky with dragons. The pilots were doing an admirable job and dragons fell from the sky in droves. He recognized one of the planes straight away.
“It’s the Betty,” he told her, unable to mask his excitement. “It’s Jim’s bomber.”
The Betty streaked by, low to the ground, with its bomb bay doors wide open. It wasn’t just dropping ancient bombs on New Atlantis, the crew were pushing out barrels of gasoline that exploded when they hit the surface, spreading fire everywhere. Duncan cheered despite himself, despite the fact that he was, at least temporarily, one of the Magicians. The humans were fighting back, and judging from the reaction of the Source, they were doing a good job.
“They must be cutting the pipes from the mainland,” he told Jessica. “That’s why some of them quit. They’re starving the Source of its energy.”
“And causing Magic to fail at a grand pace,” Simon added, pointing up to where a massive inverted spire, held aloft only by magic, tumbled over and careened into the street below them, sending up huge dust clouds. “But they will do no good if they do not destroy the Source. It will only come back to this world, again, as it has done time and time again in history past. It might be ten-thousand years from now, but if it is not destroyed, it will only come back and do this again.”
Duncan didn’t want to believe the man, didn’t want to accept what he was saying. To do so meant believing that the Source was tens of thousands of years old and that the ancient stories of Atlantis were true. But he did agree that the Source had to be destroyed. There wasn’t any choice. “Well, we can’t do that here. We have to get out of this city or we’re going to end up being destroyed by the bombs.”
As if to emphasize his point, another bomb fell to the ground several blocks away, exploding and driving them all to their knees.
“He doesn’t know we’re here, Duncan,” Jessica said, whipping the dust and soot from her face.
“It wouldn’t matter if he did or not. He has no choice. They’re committed to this war and now they have to finish it or be destroyed. Come on, let’s get moving.”
Duncan took one last look at the dead man on the ground in front of him and wondered how many citizens of Center, Texas, with the magic rapidly fading around the world, were waking up in strange and frightening situations. He felt sorry for them and felt helpless to do anything about their plight.
They made their way through a dying city and Duncan’s initial nervousness about being captured by the Magistrates turned out to be completely unfounded. With their magic fading along with the city, they were in just as much panic as everyone else. Those who could perform magic concentrated on filling the sky with lightning bolts and fireballs, trying to destroy the enemy aircraft but more often than not hitting the dragons instead. The entire population was in a panic in the streets
, and many, along with Duncan, Jessica, and Simon, were heading for the city’s edge and hopefully away from it.
The streets were filled with fire and rubble from destroyed buildings. He tried to keep up with the massive air battle raging above New Atlantis, but it was hard to follow through the black smoke and massive dust clouds caused by buildings falling. He did begin to notice the majority of the aircraft pulling back, their damage done, and heading for wherever they’d come from. But the Betty flew on, dumping its seemingly endless supply of bombs on the stricken city, striking terror wherever her shadow swept.
They didn’t have time to ponder the situation as they continued toward the city exits. There were magic carriages at the gate for the citizens to use to tour the countryside. They were neither powered by fuel, like the airplanes and Jim’s Jeep, nor by animal, like he’d seen in old histories. Magicians fought over the few carriages available, trying to get their families in them and out of the city. Fights were breaking out left and right, and fireballs, when the Magicians were able to conjure them, mixed with smoke from the burning buildings. Duncan avoided the chaos, steering his small group around the fights and out the main gates.
People, even without the carriages, were streaming steadily away from New Atlantis. Duncan picked a course into the woods that would allow them to avoid the large crowds. He didn’t want a Magistrate recognizing them and attempting to hold them, or, worse, executing them as prisoners of war. They tried to blend in the best they could, trying to hide their excitement at the absolute destruction of the Magicians’ power. He didn’t know how Jim had managed to pull it off, but he watched in admiration as the Betty, alone now, continued to circle the city.
“We have to keep moving.” Simon insisted. “The Magistrates will soon restore order, even if they have to start killing the citizens.”
“Would they do that?” Jessica gasped.
“The Source is losing power. They must feed it somehow.”
“So they’d sacrifice their own people to it?” Duncan asked, trying to conjure more canteens for the small group. He saw them beginning to form, shimmer, and then fade away.
“You are without the magic inflicted on you just a short time ago,” Simon observed. “Imagine having spent your entire life with it only to have it ripped away. They will feed the source whatever life force they can to keep it alive and supplying magic at some level.”
“Then we need to run faster,” Duncan said as they took off for the forest.
The trees were screaming. They stared at the stricken city and the billowing flames, and, unable to move, seemed convinced the fires were heading straight for them. They shook their branches and pleaded for Duncan to dig them up and move them.
“You have to help us!” one screamed, blocking their path with a branch. “Find a shovel, man. Get us out of here.”
“I can’t,” Duncan said. “There’s just too many of you.”
“Then just me!” another insisted. “I can be a very good tree in a garden. I’ll shade your house well.”
“Use magic!” still another begged. “You could move us in seconds with the right spell.”
“I don’t have magic,” Duncan said and the trees paused, looking at him quizzically, their bark-made faces twisted and convulsed.
“No magic? Then why are you at New Atlantis. Magistrates! There is a human here! Magistrates!”
Another branch swept down at him and he barely ducked in time, feeling the whoosh of tree and leaf overhead. As he lay in the mud, he came face-to-face with a large white rabbit.
“No magic, huh, bub?”
“No.”
The trees kept trying to hit them, but their branches didn’t sweep low enough.
“Sucks to be you,” the bunny said as it hopped away.
The three crawled, avoiding the angry trees swatting at the intruders in their midst. Even staying low, they were struck repeatedly, the angry trees screaming every bad name they could think off. When they finally entered an open pasture, their clothing was in shreds and all had numerous cuts and bruises. The trees raged on at them, even after they took off across the clearing, and Duncan could hear them long after they were away from them. They stopped a half mile away and sat for awhile, and Simon, whose magical experience was obviously greater than Duncan’s fleeting power, conjured them food and water. He sat silently, staring up at the Betty who was still, amazingly enough, circling the city. She was finally out of bombs, but her machine guns roared and even the dragons appeared hesitant to approach her.
“If your kind could have done this a thousand years ago, none of this would have ever happened. Who knows what lofty heights the human race would have achieved? It’s been the same throughout history. Your kind rises up and the Source tears them down, feeding off their life force for a millennia. It will be no different this time.”
“We’re on the verge of beating it this time,” Duncan said. “And Jim will finish it.”
“I fear not,” Simon said, pointing to the Betty as she swooped by the city gate they’d exited from. There were three jets behind it—the sleeker attack craft the Magicians had kept in case of an emergency with the magic. As Duncan watched, missiles leapt out and streaked towards the bomber. He gripped the log he was sitting on until his knuckled turned white and then thought he was going to lose the food Simon had created for him when he saw the missiles strike home. The Betty lurched, its tail spewing fire, and plummeted to the earth away from the city.
“We have to get to them,” Duncan said, standing up and heading in that direction.
“The Magistrates are restoring power,” Simon said, rising beside him. “Soon they will have their magic somewhat restored. They will also trek for the plane that has wrought all this damage.”
“Then I guess we’ll have to beat them to it, won’t we?”
As they took off at a jog, he could still hear the trees pleading for help.