Two Necromancers, a Dwarf Kingdom, and a Sky City

by L. G. Estrella

  “Come on!” he shouted. “It’s just a little bit further!”

  There was a deep thud as something landed nearby. A tired grin crossed his lips. It was one of Timmy’s bizarre composite zombies. The monstrosity towered over everything except Barin himself. It sprayed slime all over the soldiers from several mouths in its side. The slime didn’t seem to do anything at first – it certainly wasn’t acid – but when the zombie clicked its claws together to create a spark, the effect was immediate. The slime caught fire – all of it. The soldiers scattered as they caught fire, and Barin strode forward. This was their chance.

  “Push!” he bellowed. “Don’t let them regroup!”

  With the zombie spewing more slime over any imperial soldier it could hit, the battlefield descended into chaos. Barin stomped through the mayhem as the other dwarves hurled themselves into the panicked imperial troops. The tower was right there, and it looked to share the same design as the one they’d destroyed.

  “Keep them off me!” he ordered. “And I’ll bring the tower down!”

  He hammered away at the tower, barely aware of the battle raging behind him. A ballista bolt sheared off his construct’s left arm, and one of his mages turned and threw several spikes of rock at the siege weapon. Biting back a curse, Barin reformed the arm and struck the tower again. Stone shattered, and he felt something within it give way. It began to lean to the side, and Timmy’s zombie rumbled forward to throw its weight against the side of the tower. The structure groaned, and Barin struck it again and again. At last, the tower crashed to the ground, and a great, ragged cheer went up from the dwarves.

  King Barin smiled grimly. They were making progress – hard won progress, but progress all the same. Gritting his teeth, he focused his magic on one of the rings he wore and snapped it. It was a precious item, crafted with great care at great expense. Snapping it had a similar effect as downing a potion of the highest quality, one that could restore both his health and his magic. Fresh strength surged through his body. There would be a price to pay for using it tomorrow, but he wasn’t worried about tomorrow. He was more worried about making it through today.

  “Cavalry!” someone cried.

  Barin turned, and his construct’s hands tightened around its massive war hammer. The cavalry had most likely been sent to reinforce the troops defending the magical weapon, but they’d arrived too late. Well, if they couldn’t save the weapon, they’d do their best to avenge their comrades who’d died defending it.

  “They think this will be easy!” Barin boomed. “We’re going to show them how wrong they are!” He lowered his voice as several ninja rats leapt onto his construct. They must have hitched a ride on Timmy’s zombie. “Can you lot set any traps?” he murmured. “We could use whatever help you can give. Some wire or something similar would be good against their horses.”

  The leader of the rats cackled and ordered the rest of his fellows to get to work before he leapt over to Bramante. The wounded rat was clinging onto the shoulder of a healer, and the two rodents exchanged squeaks before Bramante was surrounded by a white glow. Healing magic! Well, hopefully, it would be enough to get Bramante back onto his feet. He’d already shown himself to be brave and resourceful, and they could use all the help they could get.

  * * *

  “So… you want me to reactivate the star crystal?” Avraniel asked. “I thought you said you’d need an adult dragon or something to do that.”

  “Frankly, we do,” Marden said. “But we haven’t got one, and Timmy here thinks you can do a decent impression of one with some help from the ignition system. We don’t really have a choice. At the rate we’re taking damage, we won’t be around long enough to complete proper repairs – and that’s assuming we have the parts, which we don’t.” The chief engineer shook his head. “If Spot was older, we’d ask him, but he’s still too young.” He glanced upward. “He can do more good fighting off those griffin knights than trying to reactivate the star crystal.”

  “You’ve been holding back when you fight,” the idiot said. “We both know that. It’s time you stopped.”

  Avraniel glared. She wasn’t stupid. She could tell this wasn’t a fight they could win. For the time being, they were holding the empire at bay, but they were running out of steam, even Spot. It wouldn’t be much longer before the sheer numbers they faced began to tell. If they could move further away or reactivate the Sky City’s weapons and defences, then they might have a chance. This wasn’t about making a choice. The choice had already been made. All that mattered now was trying to pull it off.

  “I get it.” Her gaze shifted to the star crystal. It was a massive sphere of gleaming crystal that reminded her of her new bow. It was absolutely covered in the most complex runes and seals she’d ever seen, and there was something familiar about it, as though she’d seen it before in a half-forgotten dream. It was a pity she couldn’t steal it. Just thinking about how much money it would be worth was mindboggling. Not even an elf would be able to spend that much money in their lifetime, no matter how much they splurged. “All right. Give me every magic potion you’ve got and channel as much heat and energy into this chamber as you can. Make sure you close the damn door too and activate all of the defences. It’s going to get hot in here.” She paused and handed Timmy her cloak and other possessions until all she had were her tunic and trousers. “Take those with you. I like them, and they’ll be a pain in the ass to replace.”

  Ignoring the fact that she’d stolen the cloak of phoenix feathers from Timmy in the first place, she wasn’t sure it would survive the temperatures they needed her to reach – and she knew for a fact that her other possessions wouldn’t. The people eater might be okay with getting new clothes all the time, but it wasn’t like Gerald could simply pull out another cloak made of phoenix feathers. Then again, he was a hoarder. He might have another one. The idiot took her things and retreated out of the chamber as she downed the magic potions. It wasn’t an exaggeration to say she’d never met anyone with the sheer amount of raw magic she had except maybe sparky, the light-wielding councillor, and even then it was hard to be sure since neither of them had ever gone all out.

  Most mages had a bucketful of magic. A powerful mage might have a bathtub. The truly exceptional ones like most of the councillors had a swimming pool or a lake. Avraniel had a whole damn ocean at her command. People often said she was the most powerful fire mage in the world. It was time to prove it.

  Chapter Fourteen

  For as long as she could remember, Avraniel had dreamed of fire. When she’d been a child, all the other elf children had mocked those dreams. The kinder ones had called her strange or weird, and the meaner ones had called her evil. She was wrong, they said. Unnatural. Elves shouldn’t dream of fire. They should dream of tranquil glades and meadows full of flowers in full bloom. She’d laughed at them. Why wouldn’t she? Who cared about glades and meadows? They were all cowards, afraid of fire and what it could do. She wasn’t. Fire was her friend. It had always been her friend. It had kept her warm on those lonely nights when she’d been forced to huddle in trees or in caves because no one was willing to take her in and again when her own people had hunted her. Fire had cooked her food and kept her fed when she’d had no one to rely on except herself. Whenever she had needed something – anything – her magic, her fire, had always provided. Once, people had insulted her by calling her a dragon in the body of an elf. She’d taken those words to heart and carried them with pride. Who wouldn’t want to be a dragon? The only things a dragon had to worry about were bigger dragons. They were at the top of the food chain, and nothing in the world could match the devastation they could wreak.

  Now, she would have to ask her fire for more than it had ever given her. After all these years, she was still searching for the limits of her power. She took a moment to steady herself and then closed her eyes. She reached for her fire, the ocean of raw power and magic that seethed inside her, just waiting to be let loose. She’d always kept a tight leash on it
because she knew how destructive it could be. She might not like the elves much, but she understood they weren’t all bastards, only most of them. She wasn’t the nicest person, but she wasn’t a monster. Burning down the entire forest would be a bit much although burning down more specific parts of it was something she wished she’d done years ago.

  Over the years, it had become instinct to restrain her power, and she’d stopped even thinking about it. After all, even with her power restrained, it was still so easy to destroy things. She lived in a world of glass, and she was smart enough to realise that playing the part of the bull all the time would not be a good idea. Now, it was time to see what her fire could truly do when she stopped worrying about the damage she could cause.

  Her magic answered immediately, and the air around her burned as they began to vent all of the heat and energy the ignition system had generated into the chamber that housed her and the star crystal. It was hot – so hot – but unlike the air, she refused to burn, and her magic only rose to greater heights to answer the inferno around her. A mantle of flames sprang to life around her, a brilliant cloak of orange that brightened and pulsed in time to her heartbeat before turning first blue and then finally white. But that still wasn’t enough. The giant spherical star crystal was supposed to glow and sing when it was hot enough – whatever singing meant – as well as start rotating. It was still dull, silent, and unmoving.

  More. She needed more. Her jaw clenched, and every muscle in her body tightened. Her blood burned in her veins, and her magic pounded through her body.

  Her eyes changed first. Molten gold replaced amber, and beneath her skin, her veins began to glow as though filled with molten metal. Her body shook as her magic surged through every fibre of her being. She was the centre of the conflagration, and she drew the heat and energy into herself, used them to fuel her magic and coax it higher and higher. Heat so intense it would have melted the adamant walls of the chamber if not for the additional protective measures layered over them began to build. The heat was no longer visible to the naked eye. Instead, the very air crackled and tore.

  And it still wasn’t enough.

  She felt the restraints she’d placed on her magic. They were like chains, heavy and wrought of iron. For so long, she’d been worried about becoming the monster everyone had always accused her of being. She no longer cared. Maybe she was a monster, but right now, they needed a monster to get this damn star crystal reactivated. With a growl, she shoved past the limits she’d imposed on herself, let them crumble to ash before her will. No more restraints. No more limits. No more holding back. The surface of her skin shimmered, and her skin turned almost translucent. Strange marking spread across her body, etchings wrought of fire and light.

  More. She needed more.

  For as long as she could remember, Avraniel had dreamed of fire, but there had been other dreams too. Perhaps her earliest dream – one so old she wasn’t sure if it was a dream at all or simply a memory twisted by time – had been of falling, of seeing the ground rush up to meet her as the sky raced past. In that dream, she’d been made of fire and light, so brilliant that the sky itself had been set ablaze by her descent. She had dreamed of falling, but she hadn’t been weak in that dream. She’d been strong, so much stronger than she was now. She had lit the darkness between worlds. She had watched the endless passage of seasons. She had been eternal. Now, she needed to become what she had been before.

  Her muscles tensed, and every iota of her being was stretched taut. There was something just beyond her reach, a power as hot and bright as the sun yet every bit as far. She could almost taste it, and she knew it would taste like pure, undiluted power. Her fire blazed hotter, and the sphere began to glow and shift ever so slightly. A faint hum filled the air. No. This wasn’t enough. This paltry, pathetic heat could not possibly be enough. She needed more, but something was stopping her. Something was standing in her way. What was it?

  Dimly, a memory came to her, the words of an old, weary elf, one of the few that had been kind to her. Magic grew when it was pushed, and it was why strong mages inevitably sought out other strong mages. It was the only way for them to grow. How long had it been since she’d truly been challenged? Oh, the idiot had managed to outwit her, but when was the last time she’d put her power to the test and come up short?

  Her magic didn’t want to cooperate. It was wild and unruly, a wildfire blazing inside of her. She would have to make it cooperate. She was the greatest fire mage who’d ever lived. She believed that with every fibre of her being. Had any of the others been able to raise a dragon? No. Only she had been able to convince a dragon that she was his mother. Jaw clenched, she pushed again. There were more mental barriers, more restrictions, layered on by years of living on the run and wondering if this day would be the last day of freedom she’d ever have, so old she’d even forgotten they existed, so deeply buried she was only now encountering them once again. Not everyone deserved her wrath, and for all of the things she’d done, she refused to believe she was a monster. A memory came to her – a massive circle of ash and melted rock. She’d been a child when she’d done that. She’d torn a great scar into the forest that was only now beginning to heal. How could she have come so close to forgetting? That was when the poor treatment had really started. That was when the cold eyes had first begun. But she’d show all of them. She wasn’t just a fire mage.

  She was fire.

  She felt the change sweep over her. Flesh was weak and fallible, so she burned hers away. In its place was gleaming crystal. A heart was for pumping blood, but what use did she have for blood now? Fire was her blood, and fire was born of stars. Deep within the shimmering crystal that was her body, a star kindled and came to life. Radiance and heat flooded outward, and her body became a newly born sun, lit from within by light and heat that no magic could match. The heat in the chamber increased by orders of magnitude in a matter of moments. Hotter and hotter her fire burned until a corona surrounded her, a glorious mantle that burned in every colour in creation and countless more beyond that only the stars themselves could name.

  An elf could never have produced the heat needed to reactivate the star crystal. Even a dragon would have struggled. But a star? Her lips curled. No wonder she’d never been able to remember the faces of her parents or what life had been like before she’d arrived at the orphanage. Stars could burn entire worlds to ash. Stars could set the skies ablaze. Stars could turn deserts to glass and lift cities into the sky.

  And sometimes, stars fell.

  She smiled.

  She was a star.

  * * *

  Marden gasped in awe. They could see into the chamber that housed the star crystal, and what they saw defied all description and belief. It should not be possible for any elf – any mortal – to produce so much heat and energy. Even a dragon would have struggled. But he could not deny what he saw. Already, the star crystal had begun to glow and spin, and the haunting melody it produced as it drew upon power from other worlds and dimensions filled his soul. But the elf wasn’t done yet. The heat in the chamber continued to rise, and then…

  “Star maiden…” one of the dwarves breathed in reverence as he fell to his knees and pressed his forehead to the floor. Another swiftly followed suit, and then another and another.

  “On your feet!” Marden barked. The sceptical part of him wanted to deny what he saw, but the proof was undeniable. The elf’s flesh had turned to crystal, and a star blazed within her chest. To think that he would live to witness this – a feat hinted at in the very oldest of dwarf tales! “We don’t know for sure that’s what she is, and even if she is one, we can’t afford to waste the chance she’s given us!” The star crystal was brightening and picking up speed, but it wasn’t quite self-sustaining yet. “Activate all ignition systems! Release all safety runes and seals! Allow the star crystal to operate freely!” The others hurried to obey, and the whole city shook as the star crystal roared to life. One by one, the Sky City’s faltering systems reacti
vated. The star crystal no longer required energy. It had become self-sustaining, and it was filling the Sky City with power harvested from countless other worlds and dimensions. “There! We should have all of our weapons, defences, and engines back at full power in a matter of minutes!”

  Timmy nudged him with his elbow. “Star maiden?” the necromancer asked as the other dwarves scurried about to make sure everything was working properly. “What does that mean?”

  “There are stories about stars that fell to earth,” Marden murmured as the maelstrom of heat and power in the chamber in front of them increased. This was resonance – Avraniel and the star crystal were feeding off each other and amplifying each other’s energy – which only ever happened when two pieces of star crystal were brought into close proximity. The others were right. She truly was a star maiden. “Star crystals are made from the hearts of fallen stars, or so the legends say. They are rare upon rare upon rare. Most of the time, the heart of a star is shattered or ground to dust during its descent. But sometimes rare upon rare upon rare upon rare, the star that falls to earth is not dead. Instead, it still lives, and instead of a star crystal, you find a child born from the heart of that still living star. In the legends, such children always take the shape of those closest to them. The great dwarf Garadan Blazehammer was said to be one such child, and it is said that his parents found him in a circle of glass that had been scorched into the side of a mountain.”

  The necromancer was silent, and Marden could hardly blame him. Garadan was a legend, said to have singlehandedly driven back the giants of the Mountains of Rust in the long ago days when the dwarves had been one people with one king, before the petty greed and avarice of their people had fractured their loyalties. Now, only vast pillars of melted metal and rust remained to mark the site of the battle, and it was believed that each of those pillars was the remains of a single giant, destroyed by Garadan’s might. Marden had gone there in his youth. Few dared to tread there, for they considered the area cursed, but he had seen the pillars with his own eyes, hundreds of them, each more than a hundred feet high.