by David Green
Fire poured from the walls as they let loose, raining flame upon the Banished’s front ranks. The heat scorched Zanna’s skin and stung her eyes.
Garet had won. They’d attacked.
She heard the screams of burning soldiers. Death on a scale she had never seen, even on the elvish front. Horns sounded in the distance and invisible hands grasped her, dragged her from the ground. She let go of Kearn’s head as she floated up towards Solitude’s walls.
Tears flooded down her cheeks as she watched the conflagration devour the Banished as they attempted to flee.
If I’d stayed on the walls… she thought. I gave Garet a reason to attack. I tried to do the right thing, Raas believe me. I thought there was a better way.
Her feet touched stone, already forgetting the sensation of earth and grass beneath them, and she sank to the floor of Solitude’s highest rampart. She covered her eyes but couldn’t shut out the noises of the destruction. The roar of the flames; the keening of the dying.
Garet stood above her, arms stretched wide. His coterie surrounded him as they conducted a symphony of death in the plains below. Glee, fury and madness danced across his features.
“Drok the vote,” he snarled. “This is war. How dare they attack a lone Sparker who approached in peace? They’ll pay. Raas smiles on me!”
“We were talking,” Zanna choked, Kearn’s fading smile seared into her soul. “He sent for food.”
“I know what I saw,” Garet replied, gazing at the chaos below like a fond father watching their child play. “They planned to kill you. I won’t let a Sparker die like some elf in a ditch. Now they’ll tremble at our might.”
She crawled to the ledge and pulled herself up. Smoke rose from the charred bodies beyond Kearn’s corpse. The Banished had fled to a safe distance and were trying to regroup. Zanna tasted death on the air.
More would follow. Garet had the excuse he needed now, all thanks to her.
War fed more war. Evil nourished evil. She knew it, felt it in her soul the night she’d Eviscerated Ricken. She sensed the energies of the other Sparkers washing over her as they committed genocide—hatred, aggression, glee.
It could only end in one way. Disaster.
Calene, I tried, Zanna thought. Please, believe me. I tried.
###
Zanna stayed on the wall for hours, not speaking, just watching.
Garet called off the attack once it became clear the Banished wouldn’t launch a counter. The Sparkers continued their vigil. Arlo joined her at one point, but errands called him away. Neither of them spoke.
As the sun set, the Banished sang. Their voices joined and washed over Solitude. An unnatural darkness smothered the sky and the only light came from the ever-present swirl of colour above the mountains.
Zanna heard rumbling in the distance and peered through her telescope. Illuminated by the lights in the heavens, more Banished poured over the foothills, bringing with them enormous ranged weapons and siege ladders, long enough to reach the tops of Solitude’s ramparts, and wagons carrying rocks and wood to pour into the trench.
They’d prepared for battle, even if they hadn’t sought it.
Word spread between Solitude’s defenders before the first catapult, a thousand feet away, launched its projectile into the Sparkers’ shield. The barrier pulsed as the boulder disintegrated, though flecks of shale rained through.
More followed, arcing through the sky, slamming into the shield with mighty booms. Zanna opened her Second Sight and scanned the ramparts. Beacons of magic—the Sparkers—shone bright in the darkness. She saw their wall pulsate as the projectiles hit, quivering but standing strong. Then the attacks stopped. So did the singing.
When she’d met Kearn, she’d peered into his misty eyes and seen peace in his spirit, but she’d also recognised his other qualities. The leader, yes, and the spokesman, but also the warrior. His people were of one mind. They didn’t want a drawn-out siege.
Their catapults fired once more, targeting a strip of the wall to Zanna’s right, focusing their efforts on one area. They’d learned from their prodding of the invisible barrier. The projectiles hit together and tore through, punching into Solitude’s ramparts. Boulders as large as the Sparkers themselves crashed to the earth below, tumbling into the trench or tearing ragged gaps in the fortress.
Zanna saw beacons flicker and die as the projectiles killed Sparkers where they hit. The shield wall flickered, as the remaining poured their magic into it, straining to keep it strong and whole. More projectiles followed as the Banished’s war cries ripped through the black afternoon.
“We won’t last a day,” Zanna whispered, throwing every ounce of Spark she had into the wall, “and it’s all my fault.”
CHAPTER TWELVE
PURPOSE
‘As one, we follow in his steps.’ - The motto of the Followers of Raas, a sect with strong ties to the Sparker Order, though the Council downplays those links of late.
Calene stood on the deck as her ship approached Adhraas harbour. Another vessel had dropped anchor, and she scanned the bustle around the docks and the town beyond with narrow eyes.
Would have thought they’d have evacuated by now, she thought. The Sparkers and the army at Solitude should keep them safe, but waiting around is madness. It’s like nothing’s changed here.
The giant statue of Raas dominated Adhraas, standing tall and proud, arms spread to encompass the town that bore his name. The holy books claimed it as the god’s place of birth, aeons before, and the locals took great pride in it. Sparkers, the ones that believed, would make pilgrimage there early in their training with the Order, little knowing they’d end up stationed in that fortress on the horizon one day, if they lived long enough or droked up too badly.
Looming in the distance were the Peaks of Eternity. Strange lights tinted the clouds above them and staring at them gave her an ache in her back teeth. Dead weight settled in her guts.
Calene prodded the Link with her mother again. They were so close now. It felt like a comforting weight in her pocket, a keepsake of their bond, though Zanna still didn’t respond. That gave her a different feeling she couldn’t shake. A sense that something had gone wrong. Calene tried to dismiss it, telling herself the Emperor’s army had arrived already and bolstered the ranks, but the nagging thought wouldn’t go away.
Instead, she thought of her mother. It surprised her to think that the idea of seeing Zanna again pleased her.
Might as well prod this a little, Calene thought.
She’d come face-to-face with her mother soon, for the first time in a decade. Anger lingered beneath the surface, but so did understanding.
I might not agree with what she did, Calene thought, but I don’t have a child. Do I know what I’d have done?
All that time, she’d had Vettigan to speak to, to rely on. Losing him to the dark parasite had made her realise that her mother had no one like him in her life. Now, she yearned to apologise for all those years of silence. And to try to make amends. Calene understood she could have missed her chance, a thought that sent panic spiking through her chest.
Her relationship with Zanna could be mended, she believed. Vettigan’s damage appeared beyond her, but she hoped her mother’s skill and knowledge could help. Her partner suffered, and even though she’d done her best to save him, her friend now felt like a stranger.
She shuddered as she brushed against Vettigan’s consciousness. The darkness still lurked there, warping her friend’s mind. Calene turned to watch him. He stood on the deck, facing the shore as they passed. He held a blanket tight across his back and chest and kept his hood up. He had smashed a mirror when he’d looked into it. Calene had felt their connection pulse with rage and grief as he looked on his grey skin and his lank, patchy hair.
“You should have left me to die,” he’d growled when he awoke. Every time Vettigan looked
at her, Calene heard those words.
She noticed the sailors eyeing the other passengers as they brought the ship home. We’re a droking odd-looking bunch, gods’ teeth we are, Calene thought, taking in her companions.
Brina stood with Tilo by the bulwark on the starboard side, a few paces from her, cloaked and hooded. The elf hid her hands beneath the folds of her clothing as the two talked, and Calene held no doubt that one gripped the hilt of her sword.
“This?” she heard Brina say, gazing around her. She’d taught Tilo a smattering of the common tongue, and he’d proven a willing and adept learner.
“Ship,” the Banished replied, voice low so the deckhands wouldn’t hear his accent. “Sea. Sky. Land.”
“Good,” Brina replied. “And me?”
“Elf,” Tilo whispered. “Brina.”
“Excellent. Now, what’s—”
“Stop,” Tilo commanded, holding out a hand.
He turned to the sea, gripping the rail as he gazed at the dock. He coiled, ready to explode into action, knuckles turning white. She wondered if standing on the deck bothered him. He hadn’t ventured topside before that morning. Maybe he needed to vomit.
But, as they swept by an anchored vessel, she saw Tilo’s head snap to watch it.
Calene did the same, and a cry escaped her lips as she saw a man stabbed multiple times in his chest and stomach. She clutched her chest as she felt his life dim with every plunge of the knife. Then the crew tossed him overboard like a sack of waste they were glad to be rid of. It all seemed to occur in slow motion; the way the body plummeted into the water as Tilo whipped off his cloak, unbuckled his weapons and dived in after the wounded man.
“Tilo, wait!” she yelled, slamming her hands on the rail.
It’s like he knew it would happen, Calene wondered, as she peered over the rail to watch, grinding her teeth. He could have warned us! Raas’ teeth, why didn’t he?
She flicked her attention to the other ship. The attackers had already cleared their rail, leaving the man to die in the frigid water below. Unnoticed, Tilo swam with startling speed to the spot where the man had sunk and disappeared under the surface. Their vessel slowed, ready to dock, and Calene watched as the blue water turned red. Her stomach twisted when Tilo didn’t emerge.
The boat lurched as it dropped anchor and slid to a stop. The crew hurled ropes out to the men on the pier to draw them in. Calene raced to the stern, Brina following, and watched the bloody water. The bubbles had disappeared, and now the waves sloshed undisturbed, the crimson stain dissipating.
“Raas, damn you,” Calene growled, glancing at the statue of the god peering over the rooftops at them. Bitter bile rose in her gullet. “You could have done something, you lazy drok of a god. All this, just for Tilo to drown. For what? Brina, can you swim?”
“Nope,” she said, watching the bloody water, “and I think someone would notice an elf leaping from a ship, don’t you?”
“Drok!” Calene took a deep breath. She hated water, but she didn’t see any other choice. Unbuckling her sword, she nodded, crushing her nerves with determination. She couldn’t let Tilo drown. “See you on the other side.”
“Look,” Brina said, seizing her shoulder in a grip like iron and pointing below.
Calene gasped, relief washing through her, as Tilo’s head burst from the murky water. He dragged a body, leaving a red trail behind it in the water. He reached the dock and lifted the stabbed man up towards the workers stationed there. They reached down and lifted the victim, then Tilo, onto the pier.
“Come on,” Calene yelled, as the ship came to a full stop and the deckhands lowered the gangplanks.
She sprinted across the deck towards the growing crowd.
This is going to be trouble.
###
The crowd parted as Calene approached, Vettigan hobbling behind, muttering curses against Calene, elves, Tilo and the gods. Brina loitered at the back of the gathering, hood up and eyes narrowed. The dockworkers split their attention between the unusual appearance of the Banished and the unconscious, bleeding man lying face down on the pier.
Calene knelt beside him and put her fingers to his neck.
“There’s a pulse,” she said, to no one in particular, though she threw a glance at Tilo. He stared back. “Did you have to do that? I thought you’d died too.”
“Liesh,” he whispered, pointing at the dying man.
Calene rolled the stranger onto his front. His face tickled her memory, but a wheezing chuckle from Vettigan broke her concentration.
“What’s so droking funny?” she growled.
“That,” he said, thrusting a withered finger at the man, “is Master Kade Besem of the Haltveldt Conclave. Liaison to Solitude, to be exact. Someone must be unhappy with the job he’s doing.”
Besem? Calene thought, brushing the wet hair from his face. Aye, that’s him.
She opened her Second Sight, drawing in the energy around her, preparing to heal him. Even though heat raced through her limbs from the stored magic, she rubbed her hands together to warm them before placing them on Kade’s icy, bloody chest.
“You’re adding another broken toy to our sorry little party?” Vettigan asked. “What’s the point? If he dies, he dies.”
“Drok off, Vettigan. Let me deal with this. Why don’t you ask around, find out when the army passed through? We need to know if there are any Sparkers in town. Discreet, yeah?”
She pushed the healing magic into Kade. Tilo sang in a hushed voice, lending his power to hers. Without thinking, she reached out and drew it into her, as she did when she’d healed Vettigan after the Sparker attack. The Banished had covered his head with his wet cloak again as the onlookers started to gossip.
Calene scanned Kade’s body. He’d suffered multiple stab wounds to his chest and torso; one had punctured a lung and another had nicked an artery, though none had pierced his heart. Lucky in that regard. She couldn’t bring the dead back to life. Before seeing the Shadow Sparker’s corpse rise to its feet, she hadn’t thought anything could. Even so, the odds had been stacked against him. Blood loss and trauma would have killed him before he could drown. Tilo had acted in the nick of time.
She worked with speed, focusing on the bleed, the collapsed lung, the entry wounds before turning to the damage she noticed in his ankle.
Gods, did someone break it twice?
“Thanks, Tilo,” she murmured without taking her stare from Kade. “Another thirty seconds and only Raas could have done anything for him.”
“Happy with work,” Tilo replied, in broken common. Calene smiled despite the situation. His improving grasp on Haltveldt’s language made things easier.
To her Second Sight, her healing magic appeared blue within Kade’s body, but the energy Tilo added looked a deep green. They merged together, like paint mixing. Different the magic might have been, but eager to fuse. The colours combined to create a vibrant yellow that flooded Kade’s body, nourishing it, feeding it. Making it whole again. Calene marvelled at it. This hadn’t happened when she’d healed Vettigan. She had the shadow parasite to thank for that.
Healing wounds like Kade’s should have tested her, pushed her to her limits. Instead, she felt alive, full of strength and vigour. Healing a headache tested some Sparkers, and not many had the skill or power to bring someone back from the brink like that.
Kade coughed, watery bile gushing from his throat.
He looked up at her, baffled, and started to smile, before a convulsion shook him. He ground his teeth and arched his back, limbs snapping rigid. Tilo took Kade’s head in a gentle but firm grip and held it in place, singing as he did.
Calene delved into Kade’s body once more, easing him into a deep sleep. He’d suffered so much damage. He needed to rest so his body, and mind, could absorb the healing.
“With my power and yours,” Calene said, loo
king at Tilo, “he’ll feel good as new in no time. I feel like I could heal him again without breaking a sweat. Don’t know why the drok I’m talking out loud. You don’t really understand what I’m saying, do you?”
“Yes. Some.” Tilo grinned. He nodded at Kade. “Liesh”.
“So you said.”
She sighed. Glancing behind her, she saw Vettigan watching.
“I thought I asked you to scout?” she said, getting to her feet.
“So?”
“Raas damn you, Vettigan,” Calene yelled, thrusting a shaking finger in his face. “What’s your problem? You wanted to die, is that it? Well, I’m sorry. I couldn’t leave you that way. No one else stood by me after what happened with my parents. You’re my friend. No, you’re my droking family! I did my best. I nearly drained myself dry for you. And I know it isn’t enough and I know you deserve better and I know it hurts but… You have to try to fight it. Please?”
Waves sloshed around the pier and boats creaked. Calene glanced around. Brina had joined Tilo beside Kade, but the dockhands gaped at her, slack-jawed at her act of magic and her outburst. She ignored them and turned back to Vettigan. A shadow crossed his face and, for a moment, Calene readied herself for a fight.
“I just want my friend back,” she whispered.
He sighed, features relaxing, scowl lifting. “You’re right,” he said. “It does hurt. But that’s no excuse. I’m trying, Calene. Believe me. But it’s like something’s living inside me and it’s turning me sour. It twists and perverts my thoughts. I can’t feel the gods around me anymore and I’m afraid of what might happen if we Link. When I saw that man attacking Besem, this stain on my soul delighted in it. Like the violence and death called to it. It wants me to embrace my Spark. The very worst part of it. Calene, it terrifies me…”
Calene took his hands in hers and peered up at his face, under the hood.
How can I tell him that he’s right? she thought, biting her lip as she thought of the shadow trapped on his brain, and the inky tendrils that put it there, forcing their way into his eyes and ears and mouth.
