New Cali

by Erik Schubach

  They stood as if in a trance, eyes glowing slightly as I sang. Then I stared directly into her eyes in defiance as I recited the final lines.

  In the end victorious she,

  one Great Mother in a blood-red sea.

  The People saved from those so vile,

  she stood with blade, if just a while.

  Forever... will the Grevas live.

  Remembered all...

  for all, they did give.

  They stood in fives and braved the fire.

  They were all blinking when I went silent, realizing I was finished, and I could almost see the song sinking into their minds, forever etched in that mind glow that Emily described. Then I whispered to Eris, “Heed this cautionary tale, for those who refuse to learn from history, are doomed to repeat it.”

  She looked rattled, and as she hadn't struck out at me as I thought she might, I asked, “How many Seekers have you lost to the Cristea raids? She shook herself as if shaking off a bad dream, then locked eyes with me again. She smiled and pointed at me. “Clever, but you cannot dissuade us of our destiny. The war is over and the lost. Your little lesson to children holds no validity here.”

  Then she smirked to brag. “Not half as many Cristea as we have killed in those same raids. They target the Holy Ten. And have killed half our number, but they refuse to kill anyone else. So we've adapted, and stand others between us and their blades. They've lost a dozen raiders over the years.”

  I looked at her, then past her to Dianda and the other two of her inner circle. I had deprived them of a fifth. These four were the targets, so the Cristea knew. That is why they would not kill anyone else, they knew of their innocence.

  This was a war of attrition then. And the Cristea were actually scaring them, half their number was gone. These four had to keep the other Seekers enthralled in order to keep their army in line. Time was their enemy. And judging by the total numbers of Seekers, only one or two were born every year.

  The one thing the Mountain Gypsies had, was patience... time was on their side. With the inner circle dwindling, they only had whatever nonmagic users were loyal to them like the jailer in my visions, and they could not keep the Seekers in line if the conditioning wore off before it could be reinforced.

  The only others I have witnessed following Eris of their own free will without that artificially induced blind devotion are the ones called the Three Generals. Three large, heavily armed warriors, who reminded me so much of the marauders back home. Their skin covered in self-induced scars in patterns, and piercings everywhere to make them look more ferocious. They came into the receiving hall from time to time to report all clears from the patrols and to banter with the remaining Inner Circle.

  I just looked between the remaining Seekers of that Inner Circle, committing the faces of the two whose names I didn't know to memory, these four were the true enemy. The ones who terrorized their own people, those who sought power over others while their infrastructure crumbled around them. Aelwen and her contemporaries may have named me Kingdom Killer, but Eris embodied that distinction without knowing it was her very own kingdom she was killing.

  But there was one thing I could do, with all this power they have been feeding me for over a week, even if it killed me in the process, I could put a stop to all of this once Celeste arrived and I knew our people were safe. I already knew I would follow through since I had felt it in that last vision.

  I sent a silent apology to my babies, and my wife and family. But New Cali would be free, and my chain of sin may be lightened for it in my death.

  Dianda called out to Eris, who was just staring at me like she was willing me to share my thoughts. I wondered what had gone so wrong in her life that she was reduced to... this. “She's toying with you, Prime, trying to get inside your head.”

  I tried to dodge the slap that hit me a second in the future before I snapped back to myself, but the others were holding me firmly. She stalked away without a word as I grinned, tasting blood on my lip.

  When the shift change of Seekers came in for a third of those holding my mind, I experimented with what I thought I had learned from Donovan and Celeste and closed my eyes while I felt five of the restraints holding me rigid slip out of my mind like hot pokers sliding out of ash.

  I had some control over my extremities and almost sighed in relief as I flexed all my muscles, working out the knots. The others couldn't gain purchase on my mind. I could feel their magics sparking and flaring but I maintained a little control. There would be one more shift change before sunset, so I kept my head down and opened my eyes to experiment.

  Right up until I raised my head high enough to catch the glint from their eyes, I maintained control, then my body stiffened. It was true. It was not only the line of sight for them, but for me as well. Unless I actually saw the glow of their eyes, it couldn't ensnare me. I was in an uncomfortable position, my head halfway down. Damn it. Next time I experiment, it's going to be on a feather down mattress.

  My plan was firm in my head now, and I prayed to Father Stone that their group would stay together up until Celeste came knocking so that I could end this with a single strike. If not, then if I could as my final act, reduce the number of the Holy Ten further to aid the Cristea in their years-long struggle to free a people they viewed as their friends... it would be enough.

  As I've seen many times over the last few days, Eris seemed to get restless and bored lounging in her throne, lording over the lands she held under her thumb, cowering and afraid they would be made into the next Disciples.

  I realized why she wasn't walking out in her artificially adoring public and manufacturing more of those to worship her. She was afraid to go out. The Cristea had instilled it in her with the attrition of those who followed her without coercion. She was in a glass prison of her own design, unable to enjoy the fruits of her morally corrupt plan for domination. They sent the other Seekers to do their dirty work while they sat in the safest spot in Doctrina.

  What would it be like, I wondered, to be a prisoner of your own fear? And unfortunately, a part of me knew the answer, as I was afraid to let the dark part of me free because I knew I would probably like it and never return from it. So I played it safe with my magics, so I never had to look into that void.

  Is that what happened to her? She dabbled in the forbidden? Wondering how bad it could possibly be? And each time she did it, it became easier and easier before she lost herself to it, to her own madness. Was there something, any spark of decency and morality left inside of her that was fighting to get out of that darkness? Again I wondered if I was speaking of her or myself.

  I exhaled, and chastised myself, I didn't have time for dark introspection, the final shift change before dark was coming up. I knew because Aelwen had just shown up with water. After she and the mug were checked and she helped me drink, Eris hopped up off the throne and stepped over to us.

  She stayed behind the rogue duchess and asked, “So, why do you hate her so much, pet?” as she set a strawberry three times the size of the largest berry I had ever seen, at my feet where I couldn't get to it without control of my body.

  The Prime backed out of the painted circle while my mouth watered at the sight of the fruit on the floor. All I had to do was crouch to get to it with my teeth, but she knew I couldn't.

  Aelwen said as if she were in the fog of some deep dream, “She has all I have ever strived for, and the wretch doesn't want any of it. The titles, the power... the throne. She's just a commoner and Gypsy who had barely any magic potential.”

  She shook her head, eyes creasing in confusion. “She is co-ruler of all of Sparo yet she refuses to use that power for anything but helping those who have no titles, no lands, no nobility. And she has been broken, and scarred, sacrificing her body over and over, losing fingers. Imperfect. Yet all who know her either love her or fear her. That was all supposed to be mine.”

  At that she stopped talking, standing there with that vacant loo
k of worship on her face as she gazed at Eris like she was wanting her praise. Instead, the Prime Seeker looked excited, “She's missing fingers? Show me.”

  Aelwen reached out and grabbed my arm and pulled it up, removing the gauntlet then pulling off my white silk glove to reveal my scarred hand with its missing finger. I couldn't pull away, instead, I stood there like a broken doll, my arm hanging for the two women I hated most in this world to examine.

  All I could do was to look at what fighting for what was right, fighting for peace, had cost me. The magic burns still throbbed in a dull ache without the heavily spelled silk glove. But they had faded so much over the years, as healing magiks of the People worked on reversing the tissues burned by so much magic and energy that even Sylvia could not heal them. So it was constant contact with healing magic over the years that has made any difference.

  I'd say that the scars had faded by half since the Battle of the Monolith. And there was not even a hint of a scar over the stump of the finger I had lost in Solomon against the rogue Prime Techromacer, Kennick. Instead, there was just smooth skin now, with no hint I had ever had the fifth finger.

  I shuddered at the thought of Kennick, with his hands aflame and his magic, choking the life out of me, leaving a faint outline of those hands on my throat and leaving my vocal cords permanently damaged. I am ashamed to admit that killing him was one link on my chain of sin which I am happy to carry.

  It used to be all I could do to hide my scars, but now I embrace them. They are part of who I am, and part of the journey which has led me to great heights as a mere chicken herder. They teach me humility and are a constant reminder that there is a cost for happiness and a cost for peace.

  Eris looked at me, the glove, and my hand. Then exhaled as she studied my face, her eyes on my cheek. She said to nobody in particular, “Is it just me, or do the scars just make her look more... alluring? Formidable?”

  Dianda said from where she was spinning Anadele on the side table idly. “Agreed. I'd want her in my stables if it weren't for the scars. A rare beauty. But I like my toys... undamaged. That's for me to do.”

  I shivered. I'd never be pretty and never understood why people said I was, but I was silently thankful that I wasn't Dianda's type. She actually scared me more than Eris did. They were both certifiable, but that woman? She was a special kind of imbalanced.

  I was more than a little suspicious that it may have been her whispering into Eris' ear over the years which pushed the Prime into her delusions of grandeur, and she was just enjoying watching how her influence had corrupted the self-ascribed goddess. Just another broken toy to her.

  Eris dismissed Aelwen and moved back to her ornate chair and sat, brows creased in thought as she looked back toward the Upheaval through the high tinted window. It was outlined by the bright colors of the sky as Father Sol surrendered the heavens to the Three Sisters.

  I closed my eyes when the shift change occurred, and when some released their grip on me, I let my arm fall to my side, it was aching from being extended for so long. The other magics directed my way just slid off of me, as they tried over and over to assert their wills. I had enough slack to do what I needed now.

  My heart beat in my throat in anticipation as I wondered if this were the night in my visions. I just had to be fast when the distraction hit, before the fresh Seekers could finish restraining me again, all I needed was one second.

  I counted the seconds, ten, then fifty, then two hundred. I didn't know what time it had been when I saw my brave girls rescuing our people with Verna. Verna... gods was I happy. She had somehow survived. I thanked Father Stone for saving her from the fate of the others.

  Just as I hit five hundred seconds, I could hear muffled shouts outside. The unmistakable sound of weapons clanging, and battle. Eris hissed, “What's happening? A raid? Here?”

  Multiple sets of running boots rapidly approached then I heard one of the Three Generals stating, “The Cristea are attacking. They have some sort of hell wraith with them. A woman who fights like ten. And she has magic which is not like the Cristea.”

  I smirked and said as I opened my eyes, looking down at my boots, “That would be my wife come calling. They call her the Lightbringer or the Harbinger of Wexbury. Once she has breached your gates, your only hope of salvation is surrender.”

  Eris hissed at me as I heard many soft footsteps entering the room. I almost growled. That would be the slaves and Disciples surrounding the Seekers as human shields. What sort of people used innocents like that?

  “How many Cristea?”

  The leader of the Generals said as if he didn't believe it himself, “All of them. It is a full assault, not a raid.”

  Eris said in an almost preening voice, “Excellent. We can end this once and for all, and rid the world of their annoying presence. We have over a thousand Disciples this time, and we will not show them the same mercy as last time. No banishment, I will see them all dead... now!”

  I chuckled. “You've not faced an enemy like this before. She was forged in battle, has fought in wars, and has forgotten more about dealing death than you could ever imagine.”

  The Prime Seeker stepped up to where I could see her toes at the painted line, and spat out, “We outnumber her and the Cristea by almost three to one, and the Cristea will not kill our defenders. So it is over before it began. I will see victory, and you will see the bodies of this wife of yours, and all the Cristea lining the walls on pikes by morning.”

  She sounded almost like a petulant child when she said cruelly, “Why are you smiling?” She paced back away toward her throne. “Don't you get it, nobody is coming to save you. Who will fight for you now, Kingdom Killer?”

  There was a shout and clanging of steel on steel just out in the corridor, and my head snapped up when a body was flung into the receiving hall and a familiar male voice spoke in a gasping breath, “I've a little fight left in me. Let's do this then, you and me.”

  I expected to be restrained the moment I looked up, but everyone else had turned to the broken doorway too, at the man in battered armor, covered in bruises and blood, his sword gleaming in the light of the candles and oil lamps in the room. I gasped, not believing it as I squeaked out while tears flowed down my cheeks, “Bex?”

  Lord Bexington, Templar of Sparo, my friend, and brother to me just as much as Jace, stood there, looking not like his normal awkward self, but looking every inch a knight... a Hero of the Realm. And he spared only a quick reassuring glance at me before leveling his blade to the Three Generals who charged at him, howling, blades drawn.

  I was reciting the moves we practiced ad nauseam as squires, and for the intervening years between then and now as Bex held his blade low side-stepping smoothly and deliberately to keep the oncoming enemy readjusting as they came in so only two blades could reach him at once.

  Upstroke, deflecting first blade, sidestroke, clearing the engagement envelope, backspin with arm and blade straight to move the enemy back. Step, strike, block, upstroke, spin, sweep the leg. Downstroke with parrying blade. I winced at the spray of blood from the general's throat.

  Head down, upswing when the blade passes over. Bex stood, the second general staring at him in shock, Bex's blade buried in his stomach, protruding out his back. And instead of wrenching his blade free which would leave him open for a precious second, he placed a hand on the ground and pivoted his entire body, leg striking out lightning fast to impact at the side of the third man's knee before he could bring a massive serrated blade down on Bex.

  Without slowing, Bexington had rolled atop the man and punched the general's throat with all his might. As the man grasped at his own throat, trying to breathe, not knowing he was already dead, Bex stood up swaying and gasping, the fire of Wexbury burning in his eyes.

  Then he placed a foot on the second man's chest and yanked his blade free. He panted and gave me a crooked smile as he raised his blade in Eris' direction. “I don't suppose you're inclined to release
the Great Mother and surrender? I'm a little worse for wear, and don't wish to draw this out any longer than necessary.”

  I whispered, “Bex, you're alive.”

  He grinned to me then looked at Eris as she smirked and yelled out, “Restrain him! He has none of that outsider magic.”

  Another Seeker released me and her eyes flared, Bex winced as two Disciples rushed him. But instead of being held by the mind glow of the Seeker, Bex took two slow steps forward as he growled out, “An object in motion, is apt to stay in motion... unless an outside force acts upon it.”

  With two swift strikes to their legs, he took down the Disciples, nonkilling blows... he knew too.

  Two more Seekers flared their eyes at him and he forced himself to keep stepping toward the throne. “The sum of the squares of two legs... of a right triangle... equals the square of the... hypotenuse.”

  He drew a dagger and flipped it in his hand and threw it with all the force he could muster. It was a hell of a shot, the handle of the dagger struck one of the seekers solidly between her eyes, breaking the decorative wings on her helmet, and she fell backward in a limp heap on the floor.

  He turned to look at the other Seeker, who now had her hand out, as she shook with the effort. He muttered through gnashing teeth, “Energy... can neither... be destroyed nor created.” Then he added, “Sorry.” As he punched her in the face and she went down like a wet sack of sand.

  Eris was yelling, “He's just a man! Stop him, now!”

  I knew I had been right in my hypothesis. It wasn't willpower, the Seeker had to have a stronger mind than their victim to bind them. Their mistake here was simple, there was nobody in any of the known realms with as much brainpower as my blonde-haired pseudo-brother.

  And it all made sense now. Why Bex was sent in while the others did what they did best on the field of battle. They knew too, and he would be the one person that could do what he was doing now, taking the Seekers' attention and magic off of me to restrain a man with more brainpower than any of them could comprehend.