by Mary Fan
Whatever their intentions, he couldn’t leave Aurelia alone out there, especially since she’d be too busy waging war with a fangbeast to notice if someone else attacked her. He rushed out of the Citadel, still clutching the blunted practice sword and scarcely noticing the rest of the melee. His first thought was to call out to warn her, but he realized that might distract her and give the fangbeast an opening. The other Risers appeared too occupied with keeping the draugr at bay to have noticed the lone Defiant heading toward Aurelia. Seeing nothing else he could do, he sped toward the shadowy Defiant with the intention of intercepting him—Flynn was pretty sure that straight-figured silhouette belonged to a man—before he reached Aurelia.
The Defiant stopped and faced Flynn then raised his wand and fired a red blast. Flynn instinctively ducked and felt heat graze his head. But he recalled that he was Untouchable and sprang up. He continued toward the other, who fired another blast. It impacted against Flynn’s shoulder, sending an unpleasant flash of heat down his arm. But it might as well have been a red flashlight for all the damage it did. The man fired yet again, but Flynn ignored the blasts. He could take a few singes. The man, apparently realizing his spells were useless, reached up with his wand and sent a white flare into the sky.
“Storm!” he cried.
The ear-shattering roar of the fangbeast split the air, louder and more fearsome than anything Flynn had heard before. He stopped in his tracks and whirled, his whole body tensing. A few yards from him, Aurelia slashed her enchanted swords through the air, decapitating two creatures at once, then turned to the last one. Before it had a chance to split into another clone, she sliced its throat, then uncrossed her arms and ended it with one final scissoring motion.
The beast went down, and this time, neither its head nor its body disappeared. It was the final one, the source of all the clones, and it was dead. Aurelia, covered in its blood, dropped her arms, and the glow from her swords revealed the thin slashes across her arms from where the fangbeast’s claws must have caught her. She panted visibly, her shoulders rising and falling with each breath, and she appeared too exhausted to even lift her bowed head. Her long hair covered her face, and she was still but for her heavy breathing.
Flynn couldn’t believe what he had seen. A Norm girl had taken down the Underworld’s most fearsome creature, a feat that shouldn’t have been possible. He glimpsed the shadowy Defiant staring at her, apparently as stunned by her deed as Flynn was.
Seeing a window for attack, Flynn took a step toward the Defiant but froze again when gold light flashed before him, cutting him off. The light faded, and he found himself face-to-face with the tall, imposing figure of Tydeus Storm, who stared with intense black eyes a mere three feet in front of him. There he was—the murderer. The confrontation Flynn had wanted would take place after all, and his mind felt eerily blank except for the fury crackling in his heart.
Storm glanced at the Defiant. “Get back to the others.”
He spoke in the low, resonant voice Flynn remembered so well. Flynn clenched his fist around the handle of his practice sword. He wanted to kill Storm, to destroy him and drag him to hell. Ignited by rage, he raised his weapon. A powerful energy sprang up within him. Barely aware of his own wrath-fueled actions, he threw his entire body into one forceful blow. Storm reached out with his wand hand and threw up a translucent force field. Flynn’s blunt weapon sliced through the shield and impacted against Storm’s hand, knocking the wand out of his grip. Seeing the wand, the weapon through which that madman channeled the forces of evil, on the ground, Flynn stomped on it hard, breaking it in half.
The air trembled with an earsplitting, primal cry, like that of a feral man.
Storm snapped his face to the side, and Flynn followed his gaze. What the hell was that?
The draugr had disappeared, leaving the Defiants exposed to the Risers’ attacks. Flynn must have broken the connection between the creature and its creator, causing the former to return to dust. A hint of pride rose within him. Looks like I can be useful after all.
He turned back to Storm, holding his sword before him. Its edges may have been dulled, but it was still a shaft of metal, and that was dangerous by itself.
Storm scowled. “Fool!” He vanished in a flash of light.
Furious, Flynn swung uselessly at the spot where Storm had stood, swearing under his breath. His mom’s murderer had been right in front of him, but he’d let the man get away.
The sound of heavy footsteps approached, and the putrid stench of decay wafted toward him. With trepidation, Flynn turned toward the sound then widened his eyes at the sight of a rotten giant towering in front of him. When it leaned down, its stringy white hair fell over its peeling gray face. It reached forward with one bloody arm, its enormous hand opening to grasp a Riser.
“Everyone abort!” As soon as Storm’s amplified voice rang out, the Defiants disappeared in a series of rapid flashes.
Meanwhile, the Risers continued attacking the monster, hitting it with force fields and trying to drive it back. Flynn realized his mistake. Breaking the wand had caused Storm to lose control over the creature, and now, that mindless creature of pure aggression was loose.
Flynn cursed. He hadn’t helped the Risers; he’d made things worse.
The spell Storm had used to mask the draugr’s stench must have broken with his wand because the Risers were gagging as much as Flynn had at first. He’d grown accustomed to the smell, and while he still detected the draugr’s stomach-turning odor, it didn’t overpower him. He glanced at Aurelia, who wrinkled her nose and raised her twin swords, staring at the creature with a puzzled expression, as if wondering what to do.
What could she do? What could anyone do to kill something that was already dead, and could repel magic? Flynn turned his gaze up at the draugr. Weapons were useless. Spells were useless…
An idea struck him. Draugar were corpses reanimated by dark magic, and magic vanished under his touch. He wasn’t sure what would happen if he fought the monster hand-to-hand, but he had to do something.
Dropping his weapon, he ran at the undead giant, aiming to use the one advantage he had: himself.
“Flynn!” Aurelia’s voice rang out.
Several others called out too, but he didn’t bother responding—or listening.
“Hey!” he yelled. “Down here!”
The draugr jerked its head at him, looking down with empty eye sockets. It reached toward him with one large, decaying hand, which dripped with putrid flesh. Flynn stopped running and waited for the draugr to grasp him. Come get me, you piece of filth.
His chest tightened as the giant’s grasp drew closer, and his instincts screamed at him to run. But he held still, reminding himself that he had nothing to fear. It’s a being created by magic. And magic vanished in his presence. Those thoughts did little to calm his racing heart as the enormous fist closed around his body, bringing with it a wave of putrid stench.
The moment the draugr’s fingers touched him, its fingers crumbled like ash. Instead of the pressure and decayed flesh, only dust brushed his skin.
I was right. Spurred by that thought, he leaped and grabbed the draugr’s arm as it tried to pull back. The creature let out a great, raucous scream, which buzzed in his ears and shook him to the bone. He cringed, but at least his plan was working. The rush of knowing he was invincible flowed through him, and it was exhilarating. The draugr’s arm turned to dust under Flynn’s touch, and as soon as the part under his hands dissolved, he grabbed another.
The draugr shrank abruptly, becoming the size of an ordinary human. Flynn found himself clutching nothing but air, and he saw the creature standing a few feet away with one arm reduced to a grotesque stump. He didn’t know how or why that had happened, but he was glad to have an opponent his own size.
He’d barely taken a step toward it when the draugr began swelling again, its limbs growing longer, its head gro
wing larger. Flynn, desperate to keep it from becoming gigantic again, leaped forward and grasped it around the middle, pinning its remaining arm to its side. His face smashed into the draugr’s skull, and he fell stomach-first onto the ground.
The fall knocked the wind from his lungs, and he found that his arms were filled with the putrid slime and rotten flesh of an inanimate corpse. His stomach turned, and his face contorted at the smell.
Still, he had triumphed. However disgusting his present situation was, at least he’d prevented the monster from harming anyone, and pride glowed in his heart.
“Flynn!”
Recognizing Calhoun’s voice, Flynn looked up. Something wet dripped down his forehead, something too solid to be sweat. He didn’t want to know what it was.
Calhoun ran toward him along with several other Risers, including Aurelia. She stopped a few yards away then snorted and covered her mouth.
Flynn suddenly realized how stupid he must look, lying on top of a corpse and clutching its decaying filth. He wanted nothing more than to get up and scrub the grossness off, but the moment he did so, the magic that had animated the creature would activate again, and the last thing he wanted was for the draugr to come back to life. Damn. Now what? How am I gonna get rid of it for good?
“Secure the perimeter!” Calhoun yelled at the Risers. He halted before Flynn and glowered. “What the devil were you doing out here? I told you to stay inside!”
Flynn looked up indignantly. Was Calhoun really yelling at him after he had driven away the Defiants and won the battle for the Rising? “I—”
“It was you they were after!” Calhoun cut him off. “We were all fighting to protect you! Storm knows you’re the Untouchable One. He sent his whole crew here to kidnap you! And you ran right up to him!”
Aurelia cocked her head. “Running the wrong way seems to be a bad habit of yours.”
Calhoun turned to her sharply. “This is no joking matter! Nightsider, next time I tell you to run and hide, you’d better damn well listen! If that draugr hadn’t gotten loose, Storm would’ve had you!”
“He lost control because of me!” Flynn wished he could get up and take a more dignified stance, but didn’t want to risk releasing the draugr. “I broke his wand! I thought they were after Aurelia. I wasn’t gonna leave her alone out there!”
Calhoun turned to Aurelia again. “Is this true?”
“Yeah.” A strange look crossed Aurelia’s face, and she glanced to the side. “Some Defiant came running at me while I was fighting that fangbeast. Dunno what he was after.” She brought her attention back to Calhoun. “Hey, fact is, Flynn made Storm lose control of his draugr, and we all know draugar turn on their creators the moment the spell’s broken. Thanks to him, the Defiants ran.”
Calhoun’s glower softened, and he shook his head at Flynn. “I knew you’d be useful, kid. I just didn’t realize it’d be so soon. But what you did was incredibly stupid. Don’t do anything like that again, understand?”
“Yeah, I get it.” Flynn resisted the urge to challenge Calhoun with, And just what would you have done about the draugr if I hadn’t taken it down?
Calhoun lifted the corners of his mouth into an amused expression. “All right, I’m done lecturing you. Now, the question is: how do you get a draugr to stay dead?” He regarded the putrid corpse.
Flynn grimaced. “I’d like to know too.”
Calhoun looked around. “Williams! You around?”
“I’m here.” Williams approached from the Citadel. He looked down at Flynn then raised his crooked eyebrows. “Well, this is a problem. The only known way to defeat a draugr is to force it back into its grave. Since we have no way of knowing where Storm found this cadaver, that’s not an option. However, since Flynn has already rendered it lifeless, we could theoretically use a reburial ceremony or a fire ritual.”
“So what’re we gonna do?” Flynn asked. This is no time for academics, professor!
Williams stroked his chin. “Let me give it some thought. I need to check on some things. Wait here.” He goldlighted away.
Where would I go when I’m stuck with a stinking corpse? Flynn looked up at Calhoun, hoping for some kind of reassurance that it wouldn’t be long, but Calhoun had already walked off and was shouting at one of the Enchanters about reinforcing the Citadel. Aurelia was nowhere in sight. She must have walked off while Flynn wasn’t looking. He realized that he had been left alone with the decaying body and groaned. This day keeps getting better and better.
If there were a medal for enduring unpleasant things, Flynn was sure he deserved one. Hours must have passed since Williams had returned to the Citadel with a wooden trunk full of magical doodads. Meanwhile, Flynn was still stuck clutching a rotten body, and his arms were sore from having held them in the same position for so long. He’d moved to a sitting position, which was slightly better than lying on top of the thing, but not by much. His mood had turned as foul as the corpse, and he contained his irritation by reminding himself that he’d saved his newfound allies by taking it down.
Several yards before him sat an enchanted circle Williams had drawn with his wand. The glowing yellow symbols he’d written inside swam over the black patch he’d burned in the grass. Flynn wasn’t sure what the strange-looking abracadabra meant. All he’d learned from the long-winded response Williams had given to his question was that disposing of a draugr was really hard, and that the professor was really smart.
Williams aimed his wand at the circle. “Sphere of fire.” A yellow fireball appeared, hovering over the glowing circle in the ground a few feet from his outstretched wand.
“Since when do Enchanters use English for spells?” Flynn had only ever heard them use mumbo-jumbo dead languages before.
“The language of a spell has never mattered for magic.” Williams slowly brought his wand down while the fireball remained suspended. “Nor has the precise wording. It’s the Enchanter’s intent that dictates how magic is channeled. In fact, many can do it without using words at all. However, the Triumvirate outlawed the use of common languages in spellcasting to prevent Norms from learning too much about how magic works.”
“Yet another way of keeping us down,” Flynn grumbled.
“Precisely.” Williams returned to the trunk and retrieved a box.
Flynn craned his neck to see what was inside. Dead bugs, eyeballs, blood, more eyeballs… I don’t want to know where he got all that.
Williams selected a vial of clear liquid from the box. He opened it and flung its contents at the fireball. The fireball turned neon purple and swelled in size. The symbols on the ground turned white, one by one.
Williams glanced at Flynn. “I believe my solution is working. It won’t be long now.”
“Great.” Flynn shifted the corpse in his arms, trying to find a more comfortable position. His face was sore from grimacing at the stench, but he couldn’t seem to fully relax his expression. Williams didn’t seem to notice the smell. Neither had anyone else during the battle. That had to do with his Untouchable nature, but he could still see magic… How did that work? “Hey, professor? How come I’m the only one who can smell this thing? Being Untouchable means I still sense magic, right? Even if it doesn’t work on me?”
“That is correct.” Williams kept his eyes on the fireball. “And had Storm masked the draugr itself, forming a kind of shield around it, you wouldn’t be able to smell it either. But instead, I suspect, he had the creature radiate magic at anyone within range, blocking them from smelling it. Essentially, it was casting a spell on everyone. Of course, that would have no effect on you.”
“Wish it did,” Flynn grumbled. So far, being Untouchable sucked.
Williams took several steps back then aimed his crimson wand at the purple fireball. “Combine all.”
The fireball exploded into a sphere at least ten feet in diameter. White lines zapped across its surface in
thin squiggles. The leaping flames were dangerously close to Flynn’s face, but he felt no heat.
“It’s done!” Williams gestured at the fireball. “Walk into the flames, and leave the corpse in the center. That should destroy the draugr for good.”
“Great.” Flynn adjusted the corpse in his grip and stood. The dead body hung heavily in his arms. Walk into the flames… Those are words I never thought I’d hear.
Though he knew the enchanted flames couldn’t hurt him, he still tensed at the idea. After all, he could still feel the effects of magic. But this was no time to be afraid. He turned away from the fireball and walked backward toward it, dragging the corpse.
Blinding purple light surrounded him as he entered the flaming sphere, and heat seared his skin. Warnings in his head told him to get out before he caught fire, and he silenced them with reminders that no matter how painful the experience, he’d emerge unscathed from the other side.
Perversely, the sensation of burning without actually burning brought a rush of excitement. In this moment, he was invulnerable. The heat was scorching, yes, but it didn’t even cause him to sweat. He stood in the center of the flaming sphere, looking around in fascination. Neither he nor the corpse was affected by the blaze. Through the brightness, he could vaguely make out the white circle and symbols on the ground. He dragged the corpse toward the center. As soon as he dropped it, it let out a high-pitched screech and reached toward Flynn with its bony, flaming arm.
Flynn rushed out of the fireball, glad to get away from both the heat and the reanimated monster. The draugr’s screeches continued, and he could see it through the purple conflagration, struggling to get out. But the circle must have trapped it, for its efforts were useless. A few seconds later, the screeches stopped, and the draugr dissolved.
He shook his arms, relieved to finally be rid of the corpse.
Williams gestured toward the Citadel. “Go on inside. I’m sure you’re eager to get cleaned up.”
Flynn didn’t need to be told twice. He crossed the field, passing a handful of Enchanters who were apparently still recreating the protective spells the draugr had broken. When he entered the Citadel, he was surprised by how still it was. Everyone else had apparently settled down for the evening, and he hoped he’d be able to find the showers.
