I hadn’t realized until then, but my armor was no longer the standard plate mail. It resembled heavy armor, covering me completely from head to toe, but the shadows themselves were shifting and flowing, like a waterfall of ink washing over me. And when I needed to avoid the ground, a skeletal set of wings ripped out of my back, formed by darkness and hardened by my magic. My cape ripped in half down the middle and then laced itself over the bat-like wings, becoming the leather webbing between “bones.”
The darkness of the eclipse aura made it feel as if even the sky was part of the shadows, like I was underwater and everything was something I could shift across. When I flapped my wings, it took me higher than I expected, every shadow aiding in my ascent.
My sollerets—the plate armor boots knights wore—were tipped with hooked claws, which would make it easier to grip upon landing. My new armor shaped itself to the moment, crafting the perfect accessories.
Although in awe of what was happening, I didn’t lose sight of my objective.
I dove for Tamoi.
His barriers were still up, but they just couldn’t stop Retribution. I stabbed him through the gut, the force of my blow much more than I had been expecting. Tamoi stumbled off his eldrin’s head, shock clear on his contorted face.
The atlas tortoise snapped its giant mouth up at me. It clipped my injured leg, but my liquid shadow armor reacted in a fraction of a second, hardening over my shin, creating thicker plates of metal, protecting me as best it could. Then, when the tortoise pulled back, spikes of darkness shot out from my armor, punishing the monster for daring to get close to me.
I thrust down with my sword, plunging it through the skull of the plague-ridden atlas tortoise, burying the blade to the hilt. The beast thrashed its head away, taking my weapon with it, but it was clear it had no sense of what was happening anymore.
The earthquake stopped, but the crash of its feet kept everything rumbling long after.
I used the moment to manipulate the shadows around the entire dig site. I ripped down the last of the pulleys and caught fire to everything made of wood. My eclipse snuffed out the smallest embers, but the magic-fueled fire refused to quit. Soon it would consume everything here.
The atlas tortoise stumbled to its side.
Tamoi picked himself off the ground, his footing unsteady due to the jagged rocks jutting out of the dirt. I flew low and lunged for him, my sense of flight similar to swimming. Although I didn’t have my sword, my armor hardened at the tips of my gauntlet, forming claws as if the shadows knew ahead of time what I needed.
I slashed at the man, cutting into the injuries I had already given him. The darkness around him lashed out as well, every shadow cutting and clawing. It was too much for him, and Tamoi collapsed to the ground, his many injures gushing tainted blood.
“You’re finished,” I said, my voice mixed with Luthair’s both confident and smooth.
The pegasus created a gale force wind, but without the atlas tortoise protection, she wasn’t immune to my terrors anymore.
I held up a hand and forced her greatest fears into her head. She and her pegasus fell from the sky, hitting the rocks below. The moment she hit dirt, my shadows clawed at her broken bones.
And that was the end of her.
The atlas tortoise struggled—it refused to die so easily—and I used the shadows to rip my blade from its skull and stab again. Only then did it laugh and collapse, its body heavy enough that it shook everything a second time.
The tombstones fell off its shell and shattered on the ground. It was only then that I noticed there was another creature on its back—a silver kirin. It glowed, even in my eclipse aura, its crystal unicorn-like horn glittering.
I lifted a hand to evoke my terrors and kill it, but I stopped before I summoned the magic.
Eventide had said they were weak in personal combat and that they’d only ever bond with one arcanist. This creature was no longer a threat. It wouldn’t even talk to anyone else but the dead Tamoi.
I lowered my hand, satisfied by the flames all around me.
The dig site had been destroyed and the Autarch’s arcanists slain.
There was still the issue of a single cerberus, but a part of me knew that Adelgis, Fain, and Karna could handle one eldrin, even if plague-ridden. And if not, I would hopefully find them soon.
My aura faded, returning the area to a normal night.
My cape stitched itself back together, and the skeleton of the wings melted back into my armor. I caught my breath the moment I saw the inner lining of my cape. It had once been crimson red, but now…
It was the night sky, marked with hundreds of tiny stars.
50
A Dying Wish
Flames danced all around me, and black smoke billowed into the sky.
Despite the danger, I stood and watched, all my weight on one foot. My hazy thoughts cleared for a moment as I glanced around. What else was there to do? I gathered up Retribution and the sheath my father had crafted, but that was it. The bodies of my enemies could burn, and the remaining kirin could do what it wanted, I no longer cared.
I fled the Excavation Site, avoiding the fire as best as I could as I hobbled toward the woods. Most of the trees were ablaze in red and orange, and I had to shadow-step through the worst of it before I managed to find any place clear.
The farther I went, the more I realized I wasn’t okay.
My whole body ached.
Despite the fact that I had somehow managed to gain a true form of my eldrin, it hadn’t cured my injuries. The pegasus arcanist had shot me with something, and the sting of that bullet radiated from my spine, all the way down my good leg. My broken ankle throbbed, the agony growing with each moment. My shoulder pain spread to my neck, which meant even a slight turn of my head reminded me of my mortality.
I couldn’t slow, though. I hurried through the woods, slipping through the shadows whenever I could.
At least my magic no longer hurt. The opposite, in fact. When I entered the darkness, I felt more at home than outside of it. The cold presence of night reassured me and gave me the strength to keep going.
But where was I going?
I rushed through the woods, hobbling and diving through shadows, passing tree after tree. I never found the road, just more thickets and shrubs.
My arcanist, Luthair said. We’re bleeding.
I stopped and leaned against the color-drained trunk of a tree, my heart rate high. Sure enough, blood wept from my injured leg and shoulder, leaving a trail of crimson in my wake.
My armor, however, didn’t look broken or busted. It still flowed like an ever-living metal, fixing itself and moving as needed. I took a moment to touch my breastplate, surprised by the hardness. My cape was now a cloak, capable of wrapping around my shoulders and shielding me from the winds of the night.
When I brought my hand over my helmet, I noticed horns that circled around the side, similar to a half-crown or set of laurels. And the face… There wasn’t a visor or opening for my eyes. It was just a mask, shielding me completely. I could see through the shadow plate, though. My vision had never been better.
“Is our blood still tainted?” I asked aloud, my double-voice a comfort.
Theasin claimed that true form arcanists were immune. I assume that means we are as well.
I nodded and pushed away from the tree. With each dive into the shadows, I made my way farther and farther from the Excavation Site, but the moment the sun crested the horizon, I knew I had gone the wrong way. Nothing looked familiar, and when the rays of a new day pierced through the clouds, my magic weakened.
My breath came in ragged bursts.
The pain of my injuries prevented me from focusing enough to even shadow-step. I stumbled between one tree and the next, unable to put any weight on my broken ankle. Luthair never unmerged, which helped keep me up, but I almost wished he would.
“I think… we’re dying,” I said.
That would be ironic. Right after getting cur
ed of the plague—right after gaining my true form with Luthair—I would still die anyway. I actually chuckled aloud.
I always said I had bad luck.
You mustn’t give up.
I shook my head. “I won’t. Not now, not ever. But…” I laughed again as I pushed away from one tree and went to the other. “We’re in the middle of nowhere. I suspect the others think I’m dead. And weren’t there plague creatures in these woods?”
They’re weak grifter crows.
“I don’t know if I could fight them off in my current state.”
The morning sun filtered down through the grey leaves. My vision blurred, and the hue of light made it seem as though everything were silhouetted in a halo-glow. Perhaps the bullet had been poisoned? Even though it hadn’t broken through the armor, perhaps all it had needed was contact.
When the trees thinned, I slipped off one trunk and collapsed onto my good knee. I knelt there, in the woods, uncertain if I could stand again.
Even my lungs hurt. With each shallow breath, a part of me wanted to stop.
Despite that, I couldn’t bring myself to be upset. The Excavation Site was ablaze, but I had gone far enough away that this portion of the woods seemed peaceful. My magic no longer hurt, and I didn’t have the arcane plague—if I weren’t taking my last few breaths, everything would be perfect.
No.
Not perfect.
A new kind of pain stabbed at my heart.
I wished the others were here. Everyone from the Frith Guild—Illia, Hexa, Atty, Zaxis, Adelgis, Zelfree, Fain, Gillie—and everyone from the Sun Chaser—Captain Devlin, my father, Vethica, Karna, Biyu—plus all their eldrin, from Akhet to Nicholin. I barely knew people like Guildmaster Eventide or Tammi, but I wanted them here, too. Seeing them would make this moment perfect.
“Volke?”
I lifted my head, my vision still blurry.
Illia stepped between two trees, her one eye wide.
She didn’t look like I remembered. She seemed taller. Or perhaps it was because I was kneeling—it was hard to tell, and I suspected I was becoming delirious. I knew she couldn’t be here. It was impossible. This was a figment of my imagination, brought about by the slow hands of death.
But even if that were the case, I had to hand it to death. This was a pretty spectacular delusion.
Illia hesitantly stepped forward.
She wore a sailing outfit, complete with loose trousers, a thick belt, and a long coat. An eyepatch—specially made by Gravekeeper William, with the design of a ferret-like rizzel—covered her missing right eye. Her wavy hair had been pulled back into a tight ponytail, showing off her slender neck and sharp jaw. She always hated it when I told her that she was beautiful, but that was the only description I could think of in that moment.
“What happened to you?” Illia asked as she knelt beside me.
Luthair melted away from me, unmerging and returning to the shadows. His loss of power left me weaker than before, but at least there was nothing between Illia and me.
She stared at my forehead, her mouth falling open.
I half fell forward, and Illia caught me.
She felt real. At least, from what I remembered. Perhaps a bit sturdier than before.
I wrapped my arms around her and exhaled, agony still coursing through my body, but my optimism never dying. She smelled of salt and wind, just like the ocean. I tightened my grip, burying my face in her shoulder, unwilling to let go.
With a smile, I muttered, “I’m sorry I didn’t say this before I left, but… I love you. I always have.”
“Volke,” Illia said, her voice shaky. She returned my embrace, her grip just as tight. “I love you, too,” she whispered. “I want to say it all the time, but…”
“I’m sorry. I should’ve done a lot of things differently. Now I’ll never get the chance.”
“What’s wrong?” she asked, her fingers twisting into the fabric of my bloody shirt.
“I’m dying.”
“What?”
“It’s okay,” I said, with a single chuckle. “I’ve come to terms with it. I did what I had to do.”
Illia broke our embrace and pushed away from me, her expression hardening into determination. “Oh, no you’re not. I didn’t search half the world just so you could die in my arms, dammit.” She stood and rubbed at her eye. “I’ll be right back.” Without another word, she disappeared from the clearing in a flash of sparkles, her rizzel teleportation better than I remembered.
“I don’t think that was a delusion,” Luthair said from the darkness.
Before I had gained a true form, I could always spot Luthair among the normal shadows. Now I couldn’t. Luthair might as well have been invisible.
“How did she find us?” I asked, shaking my head. “This just… it can’t be real.”
A part of me wanted to tell delusion-Illia all about the world serpent and the Autarch’s plans, but that would be a waste of my breath. Wouldn’t it?
Another flash and Illia reappeared, this time accompanied by her eldrin, Nicholin, along with Zaxis and his phoenix eldrin, Forsythe.
Nicholin sat perched on Illia’s shoulder, his white fur and silver stripes shimmering in the morning light. He stared at me with bright blue eyes, his tail swishing.
“Volke?” he asked. “Is it really you?” He rubbed his tiny hands over his ferret face. “Your arcanist mark!”
Zaxis stepped forward and then knelt beside me, his expression just as shocked and bewildered. “Why do you always do this to me?” he finally said, his voice low and his tone accusing.
He wore an outfit I had never seen before. It looked like scaled leather armor, fitted tight over his torso and then loose over his legs. The scales were a dark red, similar to bricks, and they shone as though wet, even though they were dry. His armor didn’t have sleeves, but he wore steel bracers over his forearms.
Zaxis grabbed me, and I was instantly reminded of his strength. I never should’ve forgotten—I could see his large shoulders and biceps as clear as day—I had just been more impressed with his new armor.
His phoenix magic washed over me, healing injuries and giving me strength.
Forsythe hopped close and stared with gold eyes. Like all phoenixes, he had the body of a heron and the curved and lustrous tail of a peacock. He was red and orange and scarlet, and flames flared beneath his feathers. Soot fell whenever he moved, even when he tilted his head as he examined me.
“You’ve grown,” Forsythe said, his voice regal. “I’m so happy we found you.”
My injured shoulder and broken ankle no longer ached, but the pain in my spine remained.
“I think I’m poisoned,” I said.
Zaxis stared at me, his red hair longer than I remembered, the dark green of his eyes alight with amusement. “You don’t sound like you’re dying.”
“I feel better, thanks to you.” My vision had returned to normal. “But I still think I’m poisoned.”
Zaxis grabbed my upper arm and pulled me into a standing position as he got to his feet. I was a little taller than him—perhaps an inch or two—but he was definitely bulkier with muscle.
To my surprise, he yanked me into a tight hug, his hands grazing the injury on my back. I sucked in air through my teeth, but tentatively returned the gesture regardless.
Nicholin teleported from Illia’s shoulder to mine. Then he snuggled against my neck, hugging me with little arms, emitting an odd purring noise. Forsythe hopped over to my legs and nuzzled against the side of my shin, the warmth of his flame body almost too much to bear.
After a long moment, Zaxis released me and then stepped back. “Okay, enough of this. You aren’t dying. Get ahold of yourself. And even if you are, Master Zelfree brought medicine from the Grand Apothecary. It’s back on the airship. We don’t need to sit around crying over you.”
“You were crying?” I quipped.
“Of course not.” His face reddened as he frowned. “Dammit, Volke—you made Illia worry. No
w isn’t the time for jokes.”
I motioned to the darkness around the trees. “You should heal Luthair. He was just as injured as I was.”
Luthair emerged from the darkness, forming up as a complete set of plate armor, along with a cloak and cowl. I admired his appearance more than when I was wearing him. The living armor, running like water, gave him a beyond mystical appearance. The horns of the helmet seemed more imposing when looking on from the front—and they reminded me of the sovereign dragon. The stars inside the cloak twinkled, just at the edge of my perception.
Zaxis’s eyes went wide, and his eyebrows shot for his hairline.
Silence reigned for a few moments, and then Zaxis stepped forward and healed Luthair with his magic. The armor didn’t seem to change, but I knew it helped.
Nicholin smacked the side of my face with his tail. “How dare you.”
I glanced over to the shoulder he sat on, uncertain of what to say.
“You made us run all over the place! That wasn’t easy, mind you. And I’m a creature that teleports. You know you’ve messed up when I say you shift around too much.”
Now that I felt better, and my vision was crisp, I couldn’t claim this was a delusion. I turned my attention to Illia, my eyebrows knitted. “How did you find me? I’m literally in the middle of nowhere.”
She reached into her coat pocket and withdrew the Occult Compass. The eye of the all-seeing sphinx was under the needle. “I used this to search for knightmares,” she said. “Since there are so few in the world, we managed to track your movement once we got far enough away from Thronehold and the last of the Steel Thorn Inquisitors Guild.”
I smiled to myself, almost in disbelief. This was probably real, then. I had forgotten that Illia kept the Occult Compass—she could find any mystical creature, especially those that were rare, like knightmares.
“I thought you needed a piece of the mystical creature you were searching for?” I asked, still a little confused about how she managed to find me.
“We have a knightmare,” Illia said as she rubbed her eyepatch. Before I could ask questions, she motioned for me to move closer. “Perhaps we should return to everyone. They’re worried about you.”
Plague Arcanist (Frith Chronicles Book 4) Page 51
