“Shit,” yelped George, and then he turned and ran for all he was worth, instinctively wrapping himself in a cloak of invisibility that covered everything but his eyes. Beneath him the ground pulsed suddenly, and without consciously knowing why, he dodged to the left. A wide beam of crackling power passed by, barely missing him. The size of the beam was deceptive, for ordinarily an attack that wide couldn’t have broken his shield, but he felt the magnitude of power behind it and knew otherwise.
Sweat broke out on his forehead as he began running a zig-zag pattern. As he went, the ground continued to pulse, and then his conscious brain caught up with what his subconscious had already figured out. She was tracking his movements through the contact of his feet with the ground. How the woman managed that piece of magic, while running and simultaneously trying to kill him, he had no idea, but he’d be damned before he stopped to ask her. Shoot her, shoot her, please by all the gods, Chad, shoot her! he chanted mentally as he ran.
At that point a magical fog appeared, blocking both his vision and his magesight, and George wanted to scream in frustration. The ground continued to pulse, which told him she was still tracking him at the same time, while he was effectively blind. It was so unfair he wanted to pull his hair out, and he could taste his own death in his mouth.
“How are you doing all this?” he yelled, unable to help himself. His answer came in the form of a series of slender beams that cut through the mist spaced less than a foot apart. Only one hit him, but it shattered his veil, his shield, and went on to burn a deceptively small hole through his belly. George stared down at in horror, feeling nothing but a faint tingling in his stomach.
Ignoring the pounding in his head brought on by the destruction of his shield, he ran on. A slender figure passed him in the mist, and he turned, realizing Alyssa had just gone past. Stopping in spite of himself, he called out to her, “Run! She’ll kill us both!”
Of course, she ignored his warning. No one listened to him; they never did. Unable to see, George did the only thing he could think of. Dropping to his knees, he closed his eyes and created a dozen duplicates of the female knight, sending them charging through the mist alongside her, or at least where he thought she was. The pain of using his power in spite of the feedback he had so recently experienced sent pain shooting through his skull.
Piper was ready when Alyssa appeared. She already knew that only one of her attackers was real, though she couldn’t be sure which. Undaunted, she bent her knees slightly, anchoring herself and creating a barrier of earth in front of herself. Her eyes widened in surprise as the spear came through both the earthen wall and pierced her enchanted shield, cutting a deep groove along her side.
Pain was an old friend, though. Snarling, she ripped the ground up around her, shaping it into a whirling tornado of wind and dirt that destroyed the illusions and sent Alyssa flying across the field. It destroyed the magical fog, but she didn’t need it anymore, as she stalked across the open ground toward her fallen foe.
But as the mist vanished, Gram spotted her and charged in her direction. Rather than maintain the whirlwind, Piper dismissed it, and lifting her hand, she caught him directly with her power. She lifted the young knight from the ground to struggle helplessly in the air.
Not far away, George watched helplessly. Blood ran from his nose as he tried to focus his power, to do something, anything. Ten feet in the air he could see Gram’s armor beginning to collapse inward as the tattooed mage slowly crushed him with nothing more than her will. Then he saw something that gave him new hope. Directly behind the she-demon appeared two of his friends, Karen and Myra.
Piper reacted near instantly, turning and sending an unfocused blast of power to keep her new enemies off balance, but Karen blocked it, though she fell to her knees at the shock of the blow. Piper centered her power to strike again, but then a strange feeling washed over her. Her body began to relax and her aythar faded.
She found herself staring into the endless black pools of Myra’s eyes; she could feel the other woman in her mind. “What are you doing?” she mumbled. “Are you Centyr? Where are your spellbeasts?”
“You’ve never met one like me,” said Myra gently. “You are my spellbeast now.”
***
Tyrion was still watching events unfold while slowly crossing the field of battle. Layla kept them under a veil, and while Ryan was content to observe, Brigid was growing ever more impatient. It particularly annoyed her as Layla restricted their view to help avoid detection.
“It’s almost over, Father,” complained Brigid. “Why won’t you let me fight?” Her expression showed frustration and a sense of betrayal.
“It’s far from over,” he answered. “The dragons haven’t arrived yet.”
Her eyes were beacons of hatred as she glared back at him. “This battle isn’t over until I am satisfied. If there are no foes left to fight, I’ll satisfy myself with your blood instead.”
He knew it was a bluff. Brigid’s loyalty to him bordered on insanity, but the challenge in her voice angered him. His hand snapped out with the speed of a striking snake, catching her throat in his grip. “Do you still think you’re a match for me?”
She turned her face up to look at him, and rather than fear or anger, there was something else in her gaze, something that made his stomach churn with disgust. Desire. “No, but I am willing to die for the joy of that defeat.”
Brigid was broken. Deep inside, something had gone wrong with her mind long ago. Tyrion knew it, her siblings knew it, but none of them had dared confront her regarding the matter. They all had their own demons to deal with. Tyrion fought the urge to strike her down, but he knew it wouldn’t help. His daughter would welcome it. Her lust for battle was founded upon a darker desire. She fought to find someone who could master her in violence, and what lay behind that sickened him.
Swallowing the bile that rose in his throat, he shoved her away and turned his attention back to the battle. “You’ll fight when I order it,” was all he could say. Then he addressed the others, “The dragons will probably show up before we can get into position. Although they can’t use aythar themselves, their bodies are imbued with vast amounts of it. Direct magical attacks rarely work with them, so try to stick to physical attacks.
Layla, when you reveal us, I want you to target the mages dealing with the enchantment. Kill the She’Har first. Nothing else matters,” he finished.
“Which type is she?” asked Layla.
“Illeniel,” answered Tyrion. “The others are human. You won’t have any trouble picking her out from them. Ryan, you’re to buy us time with the dragons.”
“And me?” asked Brigid eagerly.
He smiled. “Do as you please. Kill everyone else. This is my gift to you.”
“Even if we kill the first targets, they substantially outnumber us,” observed Ryan. “With the dragons we aren’t likely to survive.”
“You’re already dead,” said Tyrion, putting his hand on Ryan’s shoulder. “And I should have died long ago. I never intended to make it out of this alive.” Of all his children, Ryan was one of the few he felt close to, though he doubted the younger man knew it. He wanted to tell him, to tell all of them, but the words wouldn’t come. They couldn’t. He had never been a true father to any of them. Wherever they might go when they disappeared again, Tyrion was certain he didn’t deserve their forgiveness, or anyone else’s.
A new presence appeared beside them, Ceylendor, materializing from nothing. “What are you doing?” demanded the god masquerading as the long-dead lore-warden. “They’ve almost completed their work. Everything is pointless if you don’t stop them.”
Tyrion glanced sideways at the god with a visible sneer on his lips. “Your goal means nothing to me. I’ll proceed as I see fit. If that fails to stop them from destroying Mordecai, so be it.”
“I could take back my gifts,” said Ceylendor, letting his eyes roam across Layla and the others.
“Do it,” said Tyrion, his voice unc
aring.
“Neither of us would gain what we desire,” warned the god.
Tyrion chuckled. “You wouldn’t. I’m willing to take my chances without your help.”
Ceylendor’s eyes narrowed. “Hurry. If you fail me, I’ll see to it that you suffer as no mortal ever has.” Then he was gone.
Tyrion ignored the threat and continued his slow but steady pace across the battlefield. “You already did that,” he muttered to the empty air.
Chapter 46
Myra, Karen, Gram, Alyssa, and George retreated back toward the golden cube, taking Myra’s new ally, Piper, with them. George’s balance was off, so Gram and Alyssa stayed close to him on either side to prevent a fall, but even they couldn’t protect him from the pain when he spotted Elaine’s ruined body.
She was his last living relative, or had been, his older sister, and the person he had been compared against and found lacking for most of his life. Elaine had been willful, overbearing, and had sometimes complained too much, but he had loved her dearly. It was in that moment, as he stared at her blood-soaked and dismembered remains that he realized just how much she had meant to him. And now it was too late.
“It was my fault,” said Karen, her voice thick with guilt. “I was a coward when she needed me most.”
George had already fallen to his knees, but Dorian walked toward them. “Were you the one that cut her down?” asked the big knight.
Karen shook her head. “No, but—”
Dorian’s eyes turned to Gram as he cut her off, for his message was meant for more than just her. “You reward the fallen by living. Give them your gratitude, not your guilt, or you make their loss meaningless.”
George looked up, his face twisted by grief, his cheeks streaked by dirt and tears. “Are you sure about that?” he asked, his voice shaking with anger.
“Better than most,” said Dorian, “for I’m one of them.”
“We need to move,” said Myra. “We’re too far from what we’re guarding.”
“Leave me,” said George, his voice empty, devoid of hope.
Alyssa put a hand on his shoulder. “We can’t protect you here. It’s too far from where we’ll be.”
Karen spoke up then. “I’ll take them both back to the house.” And with as much respect as she could manage for her fallen friend, she used her power to gather up the pieces of Elaine’s body and then she touched George. The two of them vanished.
The others began walking once more as wingbeats filled the air. At the same time, they saw four dark shapes approaching from the horizon. The dragons had arrived. “We should have brought them with us at the beginning,” said Myra. “Matthew made a mistake having them come later. We overestimated Tyrion’s ability. She might still be with us—”
Alyssa broke in, “You should remember what Dorian just said. And we don’t know that it’s over.”
They waited in silence. Matthew, Irene, Conall, and Lynaralla were almost done. The dragons were less than a minute away. Victory, sad as it was, considering their purpose, was almost at hand. Myra spoke up as they watched the dragons descending, “I think it’s too late for him to stop us now.”
Alyssa was watching Myra as she spoke, and then her eyes widened in shock and dismay as Myra’s body fell apart. Head, torso, parts of her arms and legs, they all separated and dropped toward the ground as Tyrion’s armblades ripped through her, once, then twice. Piper stood a short distance away and collapsed, a puppet with her strings cut.
Everything happened at once, for the enemy was among them. As fast as Alyssa was, she barely avoided Tyrion’s follow up, bending her body back and to the side as his armblade swept by. Above them the dragons roared with rage, but as they began to descend fieldstones flew up from the ground, slamming into their heads and wings, sending them into disarray. Ryan was standing farther back, behind his father, and he lifted his metal arm to the sky. The stones didn’t fall after hitting their targets, but instead began to whizz through the air in wide circles before returning to smash into the dragons once again at blinding speed.
Dorian and Gram leapt to attack Tyrion, but their blades were both stopped by a strange chain of razor links as Brigid stepped forward.
Behind them all, a tall woman ran toward the golden cube. Layla was naked, and nearly as feral as Brigid herself, and in her hands was an enchanted short sword crafted of some strange wood rather than metal. Passing Irene, she went for the far corner, where Lynaralla stood locked in concentration.
Somehow, Sir Cyhan had gotten ahead of her, and he moved to block her path, though it was a miracle he was even conscious. With barely a moment’s hesitation, Layla dodged to one side and drove her wooden sword in through his wounded shoulder, where the armor had been removed. The massive knight fell, but when she started to run again, she was brought up short, for his good hand was wrapped around her ankle. She raised her weapon again to finish him, since it was obvious to her that he wasn’t dying quickly enough.
“No!” screamed Alyssa, running toward them, though she knew once again she wouldn’t be in time. Her feet left the ground as Tyrion’s power caught her, flinging her into the air as he laughed mercilessly. Dorian and Gram were being driven back as Brigid toyed with them, using her chain rather than simply killing them outright with her power.
Layla’s sword came down almost slowly, as she carefully set the point in one of the eye slits in Sir Cyhan’s helm. Then she rammed it home. His legs began to jerk spasmodically, continuing to move even though he was already dead, but his gauntleted fist released her ankle. She turned to run on, but before she finished the first step, a massive arrow ripped through her chest and continued on into the distance.
Tyrion’s laugh stopped as he saw the bloody hole in Layla’s back. With no arrow to be seen, it puzzled him, and before he could react, he felt a strange pain rip through his own chest. He stared down at the blood pouring from the wound, but his mind was darkening already, for his heart had been destroyed. Without making a sound, he collapsed slowly to the ground.
Ryan fell next, as he began to redirect his stones to meet the unexpected attack. The first arrow took him slightly too low to kill him instantly, tearing through his stomach, but the second went through his neck.
Chad Grayson stood some fifty yards away, a massive bow in his hands, though his form was strangely difficult to see, even as he moved. He had loosed four shafts in almost as many seconds, and he shifted now to bring down the last enemy, Brigid.
But four seconds had been just enough time for her to register what was happening and plan appropriately. Her power lashed out in a broad wave, sending Gram and Dorian tumbling away as she caught the wind and whipped it into a screaming wall around her. Chad’s shots tore into the wind and vanished without visible effect.
She was bereft of allies, but that hardly bothered Brigid. She had enjoyed her short game with the warriors, but in the end, it had been little more than an amusement. Myra was dead. Aside from the dragons, there was little that could threaten her, and she feared nothing. Stretching out her will, she began catching the soil around her with the wind, and a maelstrom of dirt, sand, and rocks quickly formed.
Enjoying the use of her power, she began to push the storm outward, increasing its size. With no stronger mage to oppose her, she would scour the flesh from their bones and then take her time killing the dragons. Not for a moment did she doubt her ability to do so.
***
Inside my golden prison, I was cut off from the outside world, and though my annihilation was close, I felt strangely at peace. My cage pulsed with power, my children’s aythar, as they filled the framework with the magic that would tear my body, my soul, and even my mind into a near infinity of pieces, scattering them across the boundless reaches of reality.
I was almost impatient for it. For I had nothing to do while I waited, other than reflect on a million choices I could have made differently. I could see a thousand things I might have done differently, ways that might have led to a better outcome
.
Minutes passed, while I had no idea what occurred outside, but I could tell the time was almost upon me, for I could see the golden cage filling to completion. As it finished, billions of planes of dimensional force appeared, stretching out to cross the space in the center. When they connected at the center, a tiny fraction of a second later, my life would be done, along with all my regrets.
But time stubbornly refused to help me. As the enchantment raced to its conclusion, it slowed to a crawl. A voice spoke to me, a voice that was simultaneously everywhere and nowhere, for it existed in every dimension and none of them. You cannot do this.
Then stop me, I replied. When it didn’t answer, I went on, You can’t, can you? They’ve beaten you.
This is pointless, said the dreamer’s voice. Even if they remove you, I will find another.
Will you? I asked, both curious and smug at the same time. How long did it take you to nudge the Illeniels enough to create Tyrion? How long before ANSIS came to start your war? How long before I was born and cursed to accept the seed of Thillmarius’ hatred? You need an archmage with the Illeniel gift, one that has been tricked into accepting the destruction of the void. Do you think you can do that again?
I can, responded the dreaming god.
It will take half an eternity, I replied. My children will have lived and become dust before you manage it, along with a thousand generations of their descendants, if not more.
Then I will punish them, said the dreamer angrily. Once you are gone I will torment them such that even Tyrion’s life will seem to have been a blessing.
You won’t, I said confidently. It took you ages to arrange that misery. Once I’m gone your power will return and with it you’ll be dragged down once more, to sleep your endless sleep. It will be a long time before you find enough will and consciousness to begin your plots again.
Transcendence and Rebellion Page 38
