by Paul Yoder
“My bond to Lashik is broken. He’ll be coming here soon.”
Bede stopped struggling to speak, laying back to rest at peace, breathing slowly while Reza tried to prop Bede up more comfortably against the railing, waiting for Bede to come around again.
She never did.
43
At Death’s Door
Getting up after a few minutes of watching Bede’s aged, ever-still expression, memorizing all of her features, Reza turned, tears in her eyes, to see Nomad standing in the doorway looking mournfully Bede’s way.
Covering her eyes, wiping the tears away, she cleared her throat and asked, “How’s Fin and Jadu?”
“They’re back up—drained—but seem to be doing well. Zaren is working with Jadu. He was burned badly, and since it’s alchemical fire and not a magically inflicted wound, there’s little he can do right now to treat him.”
Walking past Nomad who followed her back inside, Reza came to Fin who was resting in a chair in front of the desk that had been blasted by Bede. He looked ragged, no smile on his face where it usually resided.
“How are you?” Reza asked, voice still slightly trembling from the unsorted emotions that ran through her.
Fin attempted a smile at Reza, but his gaze drifted to the balcony, asking, “Is she—”
Reza answered before he could finish.
“She’s out there at rest. She thanked us for releasing her from Lashik’s spell before she passed. You should go say your goodbyes. She said Lashik is on his way here.”
Fin’s attempt at a smile quickly vanished. He got up, slowly making his way over to the balcony, hesitating at the threshold for a moment before stepping out of the room.
Moving over to Zaren who was finishing putting on a white salve along Jadu’s hands and face, Reza kneeled down to Jadu’s height, getting a raised eyebrow and grin as Jadu said, “Blowing up is easy. The tricky part is staying alive after the fact. Lucky this one didn’t break,” he said, swishing a small jar of clear liquid before Reza gingerly grabbed it from the little praven, placing it off to the side.
“That one would have brought the roof down. Shoo! that energy bolt sapped some kick out of me, but I’ll be fine. What happened with Bede?”
Reza would have normally been displeased with how directly Jadu had asked the question about her longtime companion, but she was beginning to understand that it was simply beyond Jadu to respect the reverence of certain situations.
“Lashik’s curse was lifted and she’s passed now,” Reza said as guarded as she could, knowing that Jadu or Zaren would not be treating Bede’s passing with a healthy level of compassion.
To Reza’s surprise, Jadu’s mood spoiled, seeming rather distressed by the news. Murmuring more to himself than to anyone, he looked down at the floor and said, “I liked Bede,” as a silence momentarily fell over the group.
A scream, distant, but dreadful, echoed up through the entrance leading to the stairwell, causing everyone, even Fin who swept the drapes aside to reenter the room, to look intently at the entrance, listening for the sound again.
Another scream, this one sounding as though there might be a second person joining in the grim cry, echoed up to them. the screamers were much closer this time.
“Lashik—or his followers,” Reza whispered, Fin moving to close the door, looking to Reza for orders.
Reza, though the screams offset her at first, now unknowingly ground her teeth and clenched her fist tight, realizing that Lashik, the one responsible for Bede’s death, was on his way to them.
Showing her intentions to the group, she unlatched her Morningstar, resolve heavy in her smoldering eyes.
The battle-tired group followed suit, Fin drawing two throwing daggers from straps along his thigh, Nomad lightly placing a hand along his curved sword, and Zaren lifting Jadu to his feet, opening once again his battered, large tome.
“Zaren, is there any way down from this tower besides the stairwell?” Fin asked, not looking nearly as anxious as Reza to take Lashik and his forces head on.
“Weeell,” Zaren said slowly, drawing out the word to bide for time while he considered their options.
“That lesser levitation spell I performed at the cliffs!” Jadu piped in hopefully, Zaren instantly giving a stink eye to the response.
“We would still have the same problem of the spell only supporting me and you though, and then they would be up here alone without our aid. And—” Zaren paused, lowering his voice as he quickly added in, “relying on you to perform that spell for us once was more than enough for me.”
Fin, looking to the door as another screech sounded down the stairwell, pressed the point.
“I know you say you’re still weak, but if we stay up here, well, you’ll be casting a whole lot more than a levitate spell to defend us against Zaren. Are you sure you can’t make it work?”
Pinching the bridge of his thin nose, Zaren closed his eyes and responded.
“That enchantment isn’t as easy as it seems—well, I should rephrase. It’s easy if you have the right focus and components. The last time Jadu cast it, that was the last inscription I had of that spell. If I wanted to cast it again, I’d either need a relic with that specific spell attached to it, or I would need to perform a whole ritual just to inscribe the spell for use which would require components and time that we don’t have right now. Spells for enchanters don’t just pop out of thin air—even seemingly simple ones. Everything must be prepared beforehand.”
“There’s no time left. The enemy approaches,” Nomad cut in before Fin could belabor the subject anymore.
Everyone’s attention now turned to the stairwell, the rustle and whip of cloth quickly approaching the threshold sounding just around the bend.
Just as Zaren handed his spellbook to Jadu, whispering for him to hold it for him as he prepared relics to spend, two dark forms shrouded in shadow and sooty cloth, flew into the room, immediately being struck by two daggers, the blades sinking into the white, emaciated torso of the two floating skeletal beings.
The daggers, not slowing the floating figures in the least, came in fast at Reza and Nomad, who stood in the front to meet them.
Reza rose her flail, bringing it down at the lead wraith. It rushed to the right of the attack, just out of the reach of Reza’s flail as the second came up to overtake her as she attempted to step back to regain her footing.
Nomad’s sword flashed out of his scabbard, cutting into the whirlwind of shadow and tattered robes, forcing the thing back from his battle mate momentarily.
Its retreat was accompanied by two more daggers which thudded into its center, the group catching glimpses of black ooze seeping out of the wounds.
Coming in fast again followed by hellish cries, both wraiths rushed in once more at Reza, forcing Reza and Nomad to go on the defensive, warding off the flying shadows. Boney claws and ivory fangs thrusted in at the two only to recoil just in time before a flail or blade came back in at them.
As they gave ground to the wraiths, Zaren and Jadu were the first to note the violet-robed figure stride into the room behind the vicious wraiths.
A long, black gilded dagger scabbarded at his hip, Lashik lifted a skeletal hand from the folds of his robes, revealing multiple illuminated rings, a half smile showing slowly on the arisen’s half-bone, half-flesh face as his gaze locked on Zaren.
“Zarlos calbor awl!” Zaren shouted in a tone so deep and commanding that the others, even the wraiths, momentarily flinched, glancing at the source of the booming voice.
A fuchsia flash shot forth from a hexagonal ruby pyramid Zaren held between his fingers. A beam of light, so intense that all eyes averted from the ray, slammed into Lashik. The beam warped around a net of dark-purple energy that encased him, slowly absorbing into the field. The blast intensified for a moment longer before it suddenly cut off, leaving Zaren scrambling for another trinket in his folds.
“Not this time, old one,” Lash
ik hissed, slowly taking the golden, spiked crown off his hooded head, lifting it high, his mouth agape as he looked up to the focus.
Everyone was looking to the spectacle as Zaren found what he was looking for, producing a white shell. Frantically uttering words into its curved interior, a white glow spread over him and Jadu just as an explosion detonated, blowing apart furniture and stone closest to Lashik.
Everyone in the room was leveled save Zaren, Jadu, and Lashik. The wraiths, Reza, Nomad, and Fin were back to the other end of the room within an instant, rock and wood shrapnel assaulting the downed group.
Jadu’s hazardous jar, which Reza had placed on the stone floor, exploded upon being flung to the roof of the room, causing a second detonation to directly follow the first explosion, ripping a wide swath of destruction across the room, this one even more devastating than the first. The vaulted cone roof of the tower blasted away along with parts of the stone wall, sending large bricks and shafts of wood flying all across the city.
The cloud-diffused sunlight partially made its way down on the dusty scene of obliteration, the inner sanctum of the highstudy now blasted wide open.
The exposed room was enveloped in a lingering dust that didn’t seem as though it would settle any time soon. Amidst the settling sounds of the building, brick, and beams still slamming to the floor, a metallic clatter rang out close to Lashik’s location, the rim of what Zaren thought to be the crown he had held and used to cast the powerful destructive spell from, spun in circles, making quite the ruckus before wobbling to a stop.
“Jadu—” Zaren said, trying to find the breath to finish his sentence. “My book. A protection enchantment.”
Jadu, thinking he understood what Zaren was asking for, started to thumb through the book that was almost half his size, searching for a chapter he had read through once that held incantations that would help guard against magical attacks.
A fallen rafter beam at the other end of the room shifted momentarily before a bony hand shoved it to the side, forcibly ripping itself from the wreckage, dust, pebbles, and splinters shaking from it as it rose as though from the grave. The flickering shadows that once surrounded its figure were gone, a plain, ratty burlap robe alone covering its torso now.
Looking around through the dust, the wraith’s dead gaze landed on Reza, who was most exposed from the aftermath of the blast and cave in, Fin being partially covered by rubble, and Nomad being completely out of sight of the hooded specter.
Both were unconscious, leaving the wraith to close in on Reza, raising its head momentarily to show its fangs as it went in for a bite at Reza’s unprotected head.
Through the dust hummed a blade, entering into the side of the skeleton’s chest. Thrusting up through its ribs, slicing out through the back of the wraith’s shoulders, black sludge spilling all along the floor.
The wraith looked over to Nomad, who almost seemed a zombie himself, barely standing to hold the blade in its new sheath.
The wraith turned, almost throwing Nomad off his feet, barely keeping up with the sudden jerk of movement.
Fangs that originally were meant for Reza, now came down on the base of Nomad’s skull, sinking in deep as Nomad reflexively lifted his head to dislodge the maw, failing to do so.
Broken claws swiped in at the hunched man, slamming him on both his left side repeatedly as the skull of the wraith kept him pinned in place, not even seeming to notice the blade that was fully enveloped inside its body, right up until a burning light began to flow from the base of the sword, shining right up through the tip of the blade that was exposed.
Letting go of its vise-like bite, the wraith frantically attempted to retreat, but the sword that had impaled it, held it in place as Nomad spiked the righteous aura through the blade, burning away the blackness that had drenched it. Black smoke enveloped the figure as the white light showed through its skeletal frame. Its shrouded trappings burst into flames, the wraith bellowing its last cry before sagging, its hollow frame going limp on the end of Nomad’s bright blade.
Pointing his sword to the floor, the corpse slid off, awkwardly flopping to the floorboards as the blade’s light died out, leaving Nomad standing still, head slumped so that his hair covered his face.
After a few moments of silence, save for Jadu reading aloud to himself in the distance, a monotone voice penetrated through the veil of disheveled hair that hung over Nomad’s face.
The stream of strange, foreign speech gently roused Reza from her unconsciousness. Looking up from the floor, she could see Nomad standing slack, wraith dead at his feet as he droned out an incoherent slur of words in a tongue she had heard once before when he had attempted to treat her in the catacombs.
“Nomad—” Reza coughed, clutching her left side, feeling a sharp pain along her ribs as she attempted to move, not sure if her ribs were collapsed or just fractured and splintered.
Showing no recognition to Reza’s pain, slowly turning back to the entrance where Lashik last was, Nomad sluggishly headed out of Reza’s sight, into the settling dust cloud.
A foul voice slithered out from the entrance of the room, followed by a swift gust that quickly blew through the open holes in the wall and ceiling, clearing the lingering dust from the air.
Lashik, now with a clear view of the slumped enchanter and the frantically reading praven, raised a hand. The two rings he wore on his left hand glowed a menacingly deep crimson before eroding away, flakes of the metal and gemstone breaking down into a fine haze, swirling out in fine tendrils, licking their way towards the two.
“By the gods, Jadu! If you don’t conjure a barrier this moment, that glowing sand will snuff us out in an instant!” Zaren spat out as quickly as he could.
Jadu, aware of the direness of the situation, stopped flipping through the book and hurriedly read aloud from the random page he had stopped on. The runic language he had recently become somewhat acquainted with gratingly made its way out of his mouth as a prismatic flurry of tiny winged shapes fluttered off the disintegrating page into the path of the glowing dust that stretched towards them.
The tome’s spine hit the floor, Jadu collapsing on top of it soon thereafter.
The brilliant display of the clash of spells happening above him were lost on Jadu, but Zaren stared slack jawed at the dazzling display, honestly not expecting Jadu to be able to cast a spell robust enough to ward off the deathly potent spell Lashik had just tossed at them. He knew though, if Jadu hadn’t killed himself in casting the powerful spell, he had at least wiped himself out, knowing the little praven was out of the fight at the expense of the costly, momentary protection.
An evil laugh issued from across the room, Lashik’s cackle easily displaying that he was enjoying the thought that his last hex had probably cost Zaren his pawn’s life.
Zaren looked down to Jadu with a hopeful look, knowing Jadu to be quite the exception to the norm. Though most novices would surely have died in channeling such a rush of hexweave through them without the aid of a focus to help mitigate the taxing life drain from such a powerful spell, Jadu, Zaren hoped, might just surprise them with his ample supply of perky resilience.
“Ugh,” Jadu breathed, shifting from his position on the floor, moving slightly to lay on top of the tome to better cushion his face before falling unconscious again.
Jadu’s snoring silenced Lashik’s wicked laughter, quenching his victory over their last exchange. Raising his right hand, which held three more rings, he displayed them to Zaren, making sure the old enchanter knew of the seriousness of the situation before chanting in long, drawn out syllables.
Zaren groaned, sitting up, having to pop a crick in his back before leaning forward to snatch his spellbook out from under his sleeping apprentice’s head, sitting back and taking a deep breath before flipping open the tome directly to the page he sought, beginning a replying string of arcane words back at Lashik.
Both mages fervently steeped in their incantations, burning through lin
e after line of arcane speech, neither noticed Nomad approaching Lashik until he was only steps away from him.
As soon as Zaren noticed the slow approach of the man with the glowing sword, he dropped his incantation, flipping to another page in his tome, rushing through its chant doubly fast, trying to make up time for the spell he had just abandoned.
Lashik, after taking note of the approaching, haggard man, looked back to his focused target, not hesitating or stuttering through a single syllable as he lifted his hand forward, finishing the longwinded spell, a gust of sweeping flames bellowing towards Zaren, blasting Jadu’s limp body and Zaren back along the floor before another wave of cinder and heat swept over the two, this time the scorching cinders in the air singeing both their hefty robes, the waves of heat and fire continuing to come, each shockwave becoming more intense, the first ring on Lashik’s hand beginning to dissipate as the hex continued.
A point, pure and white against the darkening heat billowing out from Lashik’s presence, attempted to cut through the net of dark-purple energy that materialized over Lashik’s body as Nomad’s holy blade snagged along the once unseen force.
Not paying attention to the attack in the least, Lashik continued holding out the hex that now was ripping through layers of cloth of both enchanters that lay on the floor, seemingly helpless to counter the onslaught.
Shouting now to hear his voice over the roar of the inferno he and Jadu were in, Zaren ended his spell, the page he was on not seeming to be flammable amidst the licking flames up until the very point of Zaren’s last command word. The page dissipated in a blink, Zaren immediately closing the book. The old man dove over Jadu’s unconscious body to protect the praven from the onslaught of heat that continued to pound into them, their sweat sizzling dry on their scolding exposed skin—steam and smoke visually pluming from what was left of their robes.
With the end of Zaren’s spell, Lashik’s hexweave shield dropped. Nomad’s still gleaming blade jerked suddenly, sinking into Lashik like hot iron through wax. His torso almost sliced in half as Nomad lunged forward, barely catching himself to remain standing, a chant of foreign words still constantly droning out of his lips.