Ashes of Raging Water

by Michael J Allen

  21: Assault from Above

  Dolumii

  An additional new moon appeared high in the night sky. Light pollution hid the gaping hole, camouflaged by roiling faerie fog from the wafers below.

  An indigo-scaled wyvern slipped from within the Arch.

  Sir Dolumii rode erect and resplendent on the beast’s saddle. Shadowy colors swirled over his ornate armor as they winged their way toward city center. Dolumii turned the dragons’ simpler cousin so that they circled the Shield building.

  His wyvern drew in breath until the saddle straps creaked.

  They flew low over the Shield’s greenhouse.

  Vitae

  “Vitae!” Anima’s panicked cry escaped the bronze angel on the Mercedes dash so loud it reached me from across the street. “We’re under assa—”

  Dolumii

  Dolumii’s wyvern let out the roar caged in its swollen lungs.

  An ear-splitting shriek reverberated against high-rise buildings.

  Glass in a three-block radius shattered, leaving the tougher glass of the Shield’s greenhouse only cracked.

  Power flickered and finally plunged the grid zone into darkness.

  They landed on the penthouse patio and Dolumii dismounted. He closed his eyes and felt the area. The power outage was a bonus, but the true goal in the wyvern’s cry was to knock out magic in the area. A smile played across his face.

  Five gleams within the greenhouse and a sixth for the Shieldheart’s nest confirmed that he’d knocked out the automata and any defenses. A seventh gleam came as a welcome surprise.

  He patted the wyvern with an indigo glove and drew a dark sword bearing tormented faces cast in bluish-silver. The tormented opened their mouths, sucking the warmth from the immediate area.

  Neither balcony nor patio offered direct entry into the greenhouse. Accessing the targets required he entered the sanctum then navigate a short hall intelligence suggested could be turned into a kill zone by the Shield’s automata.

  Dolumii sauntered toward the nearest door, footsteps crackling on broken glass as he stepped into the dark residence through an empty frame.

  22: Shattered Shield

  Quayla

  I slapped my hands against my ears. Primal Battle slipped off my chest as the bedroom was plunged into almost total darkness. The runes drawn into my nest’s basin pulsed a dim, steady rhythm.

  Crap, what did the book say that means?

  I reached for the Shieldheart’s Guide before I realized that without a flashlight, I wouldn’t have been able to read the pages even if someone hadn’t removed the book from my bedside.

  “Ani?”

  No one answered.

  A sudden foreboding wriggled down my spine with icy feet.

  “Anima?”

  The sound of boots crunching on glass reached me.

  I looked at the glowing essence in my nest. There wasn’t enough for another death.

  What do I do?

  Vitae

  My opponent sprawled beside his partner’s coal embers. His touch rekindled the embers back to life. They wriggled like a lizard’s discarded tail, reforming into a tiny frilled salamander then reigniting in a blinding blaze—exploding in size and heat.

  “Go,” Summuseraphi said. “Defend your sanctum, Shieldheart.”

  I had to get back to headquarters. I had to defend the eggs. Between traffic and distance, only two methods offered rapid enough transit.

  Transmogrify and fly, or...

  I summoned all of my essence. Unlike the other shields, my essence could augment any element. Combined with already magical essence, my power could double or triple an equal amount of another phoenix’s essence. I’d never tried with Vilicangelus, but as powerful as a Divine One could be, young Summuseraphi needed my strength more than I did.

  I threw all of my energy at Summuseraphi, pouring out my life force to enhance Summuseraphi’s already divine essence.

  Too bad I cannot live to see what he does with it.

  Summuseraphi exploded in size, gleaming ever brighter.

  A salamander claw swept out at Summuseraphi’s unguarded back. I knew death beneath the burning talons would be more agonizing than the others available to me, but I threw myself between Summuseraphi and the blow.

  Dolumii

  Another cry rent the night.

  Dolumii’s jaw clenched. He drew a sphere of dark, crackling energy from beyond the Veil.

  A griffon’s cry?

  He scanned an empty sky and cursed softly.

  How did they know? Better hurry.

  Unlocking the door forced him to choose between sword and spell. He embedded his blade in the energy ball, opened the door and entered the upper foyer. The reek of phoenix saturated the place. He pushed it aside and reached for the outer doors leading into the garden tunnel.

  An ornate blade nearly cut his hand off. “Stealing this Shield’s eggs was not part of our bargain. I won’t allow it.”

  Dolumii yanked his sword free and struck an en garde. He smirked at the Seelie elven knight. “You’re merely upset to learn we thought to exploit the Shield’s weakness before you, Gherrian.”

  Sir Gherrian smirked, shrugging one shoulder. He launched himself at Dolumii.

  Swords clashed.

  They dodged and weaved, slashed and circled.

  Magically-enhanced edges cut through furnishings and fixtures.

  Quayla

  The ring of swords hitting one another reached me. None of the others used weapons with steel blades. Two—if not three—Sidhe factions were assaulting my Shield.

  “Summuseraphi. Summuseraphi. Summuseraphi.”

  Nothing happened.

  The calamity grew louder and closer.

  He must be busy, leaving only me to defend our sanctum.

  I forced myself out of bed, grabbing both Karambit hilts and staggered over to my nest. Stepping into the basin, I set both hilts atop the bureau, crouched down as low as I could inside my nest and concentrated the power within my frail body.

  I released the gathered power. Waves of essence rippled through me, converting my human body into pure essence without allowing a full transmogrification to my true form.

  I grabbed one of the hilts.

  I held the knife backwards beside my throat.

  I have to defend the sanctum.

  A shimmering blade slid from the end.

  I have a duty.

  I braced myself.

  I love you, Dylan.

  Anima whispered out of nowhere. “Shield Quayla, stop, please.”

  “Ani?” The arm holding a blade to my throat started to shake. “But, the power’s out.”

  “I am not a computer AI as is thought, though I often work within that system,” Anima said.

  “What’s going on?”

  “With the security system down, my senses are limited so far away,” Anima said.

  “But you stopped me, knew what I was doing.”

  “You are within your nest.” Anima said it matter-of-factly, but the comment told me less than nothing. “You cannot slay yourself. The nest doesn’t hold enough essence for a rebirth.”

  “Can you help? Call the others?” I asked.

  “Only you are near angelic runes.”

  “Then I have no choice.” I pressed the blade against my throat.

  Dolumii

  Gherrian tried a head cut.

  Dolumii parried, seizing a dirk from his belt. He lunged with the dirk, trying to pierce Gherrian’s gut. Gherrian retreated, spun to his left. He flipped his cloak up, fluttering the heavy velvet into Dolumii’s face. Dolumii dove down the glass hall.

  Gherrian’s laughter brought him up short.

  A griffon crashed through the ceiling and into the hall, screeching as its talons reached for Dolumii. A wyvern head shot in through the opened ceiling, snapping at the griffon. The griffon bowled over Dolumii, too intent on escaping the dead end to strike at its Unseelie enemy.

  Gherrian got a low lun
ge in past the beast. Pain lanced up Dolumii’s leg. He beat Gherrian’s blade and sliced the dirk across Gherrian’s face. Gherrian threw himself backward to protect his eyes. Dolumii pursued. Gherrian leapt onto the stair railing to avoid his griffon. Dolumii followed up onto the banister in pursuit. The two danced up and down the railing, swords flashing.

  A disarm and riposte sent Dolumii’s dirk down the stairs. Gherrian lunged once more. Dolumii beat the blade aside and answered with a quick thrust and then a ball of eldritch fire.

  The spell blasted Gherrian sidelong off the railing through a set of double doors. Dolumii pursued his mortal enemy, unwilling to give quarter. Gherrian threw a dressing dummy at him, complete with a chalk-marked suit. Thrust and slice, spell against spell, they fought through a well-appointed room suitable for a gentleman. Their battle left Vitae’s chambers suitable only for a formerly rich vagabond.

  Emerald and purple blood flew, painting the room.

  Quayla

  “Please.” Anguish riddled Anima’s plea. “Quayla don’t do this. There are intruders in the garden.”

  “I have to protect the sanctum.”

  “There isn’t enough essence.”

  The cry of a dying phoenix delayed my stroke. A griffon cried challenge, answered by a wyvern.

  My heart tore at the loss of one of my brethren. Grief steeled my resolve. “God willing, there will be enough.”

  The Karambit knife bit into my throat.

  Anima wailed. “No!”

  The world tunneled as I clung to a desperate hope with my dying gurgle.

  Vitae

  My new body exploded from a blood-filled basin in a swirling wash of burning red-gold energy. Plasma settled into naked flesh as I snatched fighting canes from wall mounts on either side of my nest. I shoved life energy through the canes as I connected their butts to form an Egyptian lajatang.

  The bladed staff spun in my fingers as I turned toward the two battling faerie knights. Dolumii caught Gherrian through the chest with his sword. He kicked the other knight from his blade and whirled to face me.

  Anger wrapped a fist around my heart. I wove the bladed staff back and forth in front of me, searching for the new body’s balance.

  Several things happened with no perceivable lapse in time.

  An agonized griffon cry ripped through the sanctum.

  A wyvern roared its frustration.

  Another phoenix death cry pierced the air.

  There is no time to acclimate.

  I charged the Sidhe in a furious flurry of edges.

  Quayla

  My new body swirled up from an empty nest.

  Thank the Light, I wasn’t sure that would work.

  I gulped air in near perfect darkness. Overwhelming taint turned first breaths into choking. I doubled over low in the basin. In front of me, my nest’s runes throbbed dimly like their batteries were nearly dead. No essence remained within to glow.

  “Anima?” I whispered.

  A voice might have answered, but too softly to hear clearly.

  My hands took a quick inventory of the new body. Cold shot through me. I was whole—two arms, two legs, ten fingers and toes. I wasn’t the emaciated skeleton I’d been, but my new body wasn’t nearly as athletic as the last two.

  I must have positioned myself wrong. Not enough of my old essence fell into — The area around my nest was as bone dry as the basin. A crash of glass and twin bestial screams sent adrenalin through my body. I snatched up my fallen knife and grabbed the second from my bureau.

  I managed a single step out of my nest.

  A massive, invisible hand squeezed the breath from my chest.

  All strength washed out of me.

  The world swooped, spun and fell away.

  The grip on me felt tighter than the half-ogre’s but without the accompanying sound of breaking bones.

  I mouthed silently, unable to draw air.

  Vitae

  Dolumii dodged my first strikes.

  Two bladed edges against one, my attacks slowly mounted in advantage. A palpable redoubling of taint slammed into me, stealing my momentum for only a moment. A gleaming ball of eldritch magic swirled in to fill Dolumii’s palm.

  I launched a flurry of short slice-thrust combinations at the elf, meant to keep the intruder on the defensive.

  The ball grew in intensity.

  A shift in movement stole my attention for a split second.

  Gherrian drove his short blade into the back of Dolumii’s knee.

  The ball of magic flared and flashed as Dolumii tried to keep the magic under his control through the pain.

  I braced myself for a charge into the teeth of his magic, but uncertainty stole the initiative.

  What happens if he loses control of all that energy?

  Dolumii hurled his sword. I yanked the staff into two pieces, swept up both fighting canes and sidestepped—right into Dolumii’s thrusting magic-filled hand.

  Magical agony swallowed me—an amorphous violet, gelatinous hell. Screams ripped out of my throat, growing as primal as any bird of prey. I fought against the agony, concentrating my essence in hope that transmogrifying would break me free.

  Beyond the magic, Dolumii struggled against an injured Gherrian while maintaining the torturous spell imprisoning me.

  Another shape appeared in the doorway, a darker silhouette beyond the glowing violet. Blazing crescents of light gleamed in each of her hands.

  Her whispered carried to my ears. “I’m here, Vitae. I’ll save you.”

  She spun forward in a flash, launching shimmering blades.

  No, the spell!

  Time seemed to slow.

  Dolumii’s sword impaled Gherrian, knocking him backward into a slow fall.

  The s-shaped blades hurdled end over end.

  Dolumii’s head snapped up.

  His blade rose ever so slowly to parry Aquaylae’s assault.

  He missed.

  Two blazing comets of power impacted Dolumii.

  Aquaylae’s essence flashed over Gherrian and into the elf knight whose magic engulfed me. In and of themselves, the essence blades didn’t have sufficient mass to knock Dolumii backward, but the impact cost the elf his control.

  My agony doubled as the spell flared out of control.

  Aquaylae’s essence reacted with the raw faerie magic like elemental potassium exposed to water. Dolumii’s inner magic—linked to the magic run wild—went critical.

  Dolumii exploded.

  Armor, blood and bone shot in all directions. The sharp projectiles shredded my naked flesh. A humorous bone impaled my forehead, killing me for the second time that night.

  Quayla

  Magical backlash threw me through Vitae’s doors—a hailstorm of vicious shrapnel close on my flight path.

  I slammed into the stair’s side, head snapping back against the wall. Novae of blinding pain erupted from the countless shards piercing my new flesh.

  Darkness swallowed me in a single gulp like Jonah’s fish.

  Vitae

  I coalesced in my nest once more. Only the dim glow of my basin’s runes illuminated the otherwise pitch darkness. Nausea and vertigo shook me like a terrier. I kept myself upright only by reaching the bar crossing above my alcove. Breath came and went from my lungs in heavy gasps even though my new body shouldn’t have been winded. I needed to check myself, but the incursion of not one, but two Knights of Faery took precedence.

  I looked out my shattered window over a lightless city. I blinked several times to encourage my eyes to adjust. Dim shapes of blood and bone eased into my visible spectrum as I scanned the room. Both faerie swords gave off a pulsing magical glow.

  I reached down for Dolumii’s blade. The hilt writhed a moment, reshaping itself to the contours of my hand. I swished it back and forth, distracted by how right the blade felt in my grip.

  An electrical shock lanced up my arm. The grip beneath my hand dug spiked into my palm. Vertigo assailed me once more.

&nbs
p;

  All breath emptied from my lungs.

  Mare’s voice eviscerated me.

  The blade adjusted to fit my hand again, cutting off Mare’s screams. I tossed the sword onto my bed and stared at the cursed thing. It wasn’t possible. She couldn’t be alive inside the sword. She couldn’t have been left for two centuries of torture because if it were true then we’d abandoned her.

  Then I abandoned her.

  Overhead lights flickered to life. I snatched up my fighting canes. If Sidhe remained in the sanctum, they would answer for more than just the invasion of the Shield.

  “V-Vitae?”

  The sound of the automata meant more than restoration of power, it gave me an ally I could count upon. “Yes, Anima, good. What is our status? How bad is the damage?” I tried to keep the eagerness from my voice. “Are there any more faeries present?”

  “Not all my systems are back online yet,” Anima said. “Was Quayla reborn?”

  Temper flared at the automata’s return to the familiar address. Before I could chastise it, I recalled the fourth shape in my doorway. At the time I’d thought Aquaylae had joined the fight, I’d even thought I’d heard her voice, but I knew both had to have been imagined.

  Aquaylae was selfish and lazy. She didn’t have enough essence to be reborn, and she’d never risk herself for the Shield.

  I took a step toward the control room, but my head swam. Up seemed down, left seemed right. Nothing seemed certain. I had never seen the kind of marvelous, magical reaction that had killed me. I pushed the random thoughts away.

  Could I be wrong? Did I hear her death cry when the spell exploded?

  “Thank Him in all His Glory, she’s laying outside your room.”

  “Anima what are you going on about?”

  “Quayla killed herself atop her nest so she could defend the sanctum,” Anima said. “I warned her that she didn’t have enough essence, but she didn’t listen.”

  “Typical.”

  “Oh, no. Vitae, the eggs are gone.”

  No. That’s not possible. Both the knights are...dead. I need to see for myself.

  I hurried toward the garden.

  I stopped short in my doorway.

  A woman lay supine against the stairwell wall. Shrapnel punctured her in countless locations and her head lolled in a crater dented in the drywall.