by Ben Hale
Trembling in the hall, Robar had waited until his parents had moved upstairs. Then he'd darted to his brother. Unconscious and bloody, the boy lay in a puddle of water and shards of glass. Robar had carefully pulled him out and poured MuscleKnit into the cuts. They gradually closed as the bottled healing magic took effect. Then his brother had woken.
Without a word his brother placed him back in bed and returned to clean up the kitchen. The next day they did not speak on what had happened. It was too frequent an occurrence to merit comment.
Why had he felt the urge to come here? He issued a grunt of annoyance at himself. After the victory on Auroraq, he'd learned that his parents had been killed during the Harbinger takeover. Apparently they had tried to sneak onto Sentre to steal distilled moonwine. Their bodies had been found still holding bottles. He wondered if he should feel regret.
Robar had left the mage world in order to avoid all thought of this house. His brother was another matter. Robar had often wondered what had happened to him. He'd been in his second year at Tryton's when Robar had left. Robar had just turned sixteen and would have joined him at the magical school—except Robar had no magic to speak of. That and his parents weekly punishments had become too much. One day Robar had simply walked out the front door. He shook his head at the memories and turned away. He should never have come . . .
—A board creaked behind him. On instinct Robar spun, leading with his fist. Equally as quick, the figure of a man flinched backward, and then stepped into a lightning fast strike. Caught off guard, Robar was hit in the face. Rolling with it, he struck the ground and came to his feet.
Honed by years as a SEAL, his reflexes took over. He sidestepped the intruder's lunge. Then he closed. Grappling in the darkness, the two figures fought for an advantage. Walls and the table took the brunt of the struggle. Surprised by the figure's skill, Robar fought to break his opponents iron grip.
As Robar grasped a fistful of the man's shirt, the man abruptly whirled and threw him across the room. He released a pained grunt as he struck the wall and slid to the floor. As he forced himself to rise the intruder retreated and drew a sword.
"Leave on your feet—or your back," he snapped. "I don't care which."
Robar's tension evaporated and his eyes widened. "I don't believe it," he breathed. "It's you . . ."
His voice caused the man to lower his blade. "Robert?"
Robar flicked a hand at the light. Brilliant white flooded the room, revealing the stunned man standing across from him. Dressed in dark attire, he was immediately recognizable to Robar.
"Ronin," Robar said.
Dropping his sword, his older brother crossed the room in three steps and embraced him. Fierce and crushing, the embrace conveyed a lifetime of emotion in the span of seconds. When they finally parted Robar had to swallow the knot in his throat.
"Where have you been?" Ronin said.
Robar laughed and wiped the blood from his lip. "I could ask you the same thing," he said. He motioned to the sword.
Ronin released a grunt and retrieved his weapon. Sliding it home, he said, "After Tryton's I joined the battlemage corps, but was dismissed for excessive use of force." He blew out his breath. "I joined the assassin's guild after that. They call me the Swordsman now. You?"
"Auren military," Robar said. "Ended up a SEAL. Got captured on a mission in Russia and spent ten years in prison for murder. Then the Dark came and killed everyone but me. I've been Robar for the last fifteen years."
The Swordsman raised an eyebrow. "You're the one that's immune?"
"That's what Tess said."
"If she said it, it's true," the Swordsman said. "That girl is power personified."
Robar laughed, unable to refute the statement. "You should see her fight a black reaver."
The Swordsman's expression invited the tale, so Robar detailed how he'd ended up on Auroraq. When he was finished they fell to swapping stories about their lost time. Righting chairs and sharing a glass from their parent's secret stash, they talked deep into the night. In spite of the easy conversation, one question hung heavy between them, and eventually his brother couldn't hold it back.
"Why did you leave?" the Swordsman asked.
Robar looked away, and for a while there was just silence. Then he said, "Because they were hurting you."
The Swordsman frowned. "I can heal myself. I always could."
Robar finally looked at him, his eyes bright with anger. "It doesn’t matter that you could heal yourself. They were hurting you—and you took it because of me."
"I'm your brother," he said. "That's what I do. I was—"
"—protecting me?" Robar growled. "That's what I was doing for you."
"You said you hated that I could do magic, and that you couldn't," the Swordsman said, his own anger rising to the fore.
Robar began to laugh sourly. "I did, didn't I—but I wasn't mad at you. Dad told me repeatedly that I was an embarrassment to them, a mistake. You, on the other hand, were dad's vaunted body mage, just like him. I may have taken out some of my resentment on you." He sighed. "Sorry about that."
The apology cooled the conversation, and after a moment the Swordsman said, "Is it bad that I'm disappointed?"
"About what?"
"I wanted to be the one to kill them."
Robar laughed, deep and heavy, and the Swordsman joined in. When the humor subsided Robar sobered. "So what now?"
The Swordsman issued a rumbling grunt and turned away. "I don't know," he finally said. "I haven't been Ronin in a long time. When you become an assassin your name is left behind. No one but you and Indigo know mine now."
"Indigo?"
"Another assassin," he said.
Robar folded his arms and leaned back. "And are you . . ."
The Swordsman glowered at him, but then he began to laugh quietly. "I really don't know what we are now. We were together once, a long time ago. It's a long story."
A moment of silence passed between them as they both came to terms with how much they had missed. Finally Robar let out a breath.
"Swordsman, huh?" he grunted. "Any good with that thing?"
The Swordsman grinned. "Can you handle that lead launcher of yours?" He tilted his chin toward Robar's gun.
Robar laughed, but it faded quickly. "Why did you even come here?"
"I haven't been back in years," the Swordsman said. "I guess I wanted to see it in case . . ." He shrugged. "You?"
"Aside from burning this house down, I had no plans."
The Swordsman smirked. "Mind if I help?"
"By all means," Robar grinned.
They collected the remainder of their parent's moonwine and spilled it over the house. Then Ronin disarmed the flame suppression charm and ignited the wall with a compressed ball of fire. He tossed it down the hall and they walked out together. Within five minutes they were watching their childhood home go up in smoke. Robar gazed on the fire with intense satisfaction. He'd begun the night hating the structure. Now he got to watch it burn, and with his brother.
"So what now?" Robar asked.
The Swordsman sighed, and shifted his gaze to the top of the Spirus. Lit by countless charms, dozens of flyers were visible as they worked. One in particular stood out even that far away.
"We're killers, right?"
Robar shrugged. "Only for those who deserve it. Why?" He issued a grunt. "You have someone in mind?"
"Yes." He motioned to the spot where Tess could be seen solidifying magic. "We went after the oracle's mother once. I think it's time we finished the job."
"You want to kill Alice?" Robar released a snort, and then a grin spread on his face. "You want to see if my immunity works on her."
The Swordsman inclined his head. "You in?"
Robar considered his choices, but didn't see anything better. Alice certainly deserved to die, and who better to kill her than them? Besides, after nearly two decades of separation he had no desire to part with his brother. He shrugged.
"Let
's go."
Chapter 9: A Secret Task
Siarra watched Tess trudge toward Westpoint, grateful her plan had worked. Tess had refused to depart the Halo for almost two days, and Siarra had been unable to find time alone. Then Siarra had convinced her that she needed to sleep. With much of the Halo superstructure completed, they both needed to rest for the impending conflict. Tess had finally agreed, and they had separated at the base of the Spirus. When she was out of sight, Siarra Gated out of Auroraq. She exited at Hawk's farmhouse in Virginia and walked the path to the main house.
The bright moon illuminated the lush forest that grew thick around the yard. Self-pruning charms had been added, making the trees appear manicured and shaped without the touch of a gardener. Beneath them, pristine grass carpeted the ground, enchanted to always grow the same length. The scents of wood and cool earth touched her nose, reminding her of the home from her youth.
She reached the house and climbed the steps to the wraparound porch. At her touch the door unlocked and swung open, allowing her entry. She slipped into her magesight and the darkened interior lit up to her vision.
Antique furniture graced the sitting room to her right and the den on her left. Further back she saw the kitchen with its carved mahogany counters. The curved stairs led to the second floor, where several bedrooms sat empty.
Siarra released a sigh at the hollow residence. The home represented one of the few eras of peace for Hawk, and she wished he could have enjoyed it more. Just as she was about to advance she spotted an almost imperceptible charm secreted on the side of the door at her feet. It brought a smile to her lips, and she made certain to pass through it on her way inside. Then she made her way to the basement.
Littered with rusted farm equipment, the space reeked of must. Picking her way through the labyrinth she reached a small alcove that contained a workbench. Hammers, pliers, and other tools hung neatly against the wall, while a carved arch marked the entrance. In any other house the scrollwork could have been a decoration. Here the swirls and knots represented a lock.
Drawing on the memory Hawk had left her, Siarra gathered her magic into ten distinct temperatures of heat. Then she sent a thread from each finger into the correct runes. The fire ignited a thread of magic through the wood, brightening it and flowing down the sides of the arch. Like a mirage in a desert, the air of the alcove shimmered.
She stepped forward and passed through the secret barrier into Hawk's private study. A fire sparked in the hearth at her entrance, yellow and warm. The burst of light illuminated books and memory orbs that lined the walls. Wrought iron bent into spiral staircases that led to a spacious balcony and more bookshelves. In the center of the space, a single desk and an armchair stood on a raised section of the floor.
Siarra strode to the desk and the picked up the memory orb reserved for her. Then she tossed it to the floor. It bounced on the carpet and rolled to a stop, and then light flowed upward into the figure of Hawk.
"Hello, old friend," Siarra said.
Hawk smiled. "I take it the battle on Auroraq did not end well?"
"At the cost of your life, you slew the Iseonix."
Hawk closed his eyes. "The abomination has been destroyed. That is all that matters."
Siarra bowed her head, briefly overcome with emotion. "You finished with honor. I can only hope to end my time in the same fashion."
"Of that I have no doubt."
"Why did you request my presence?" Siarra asked. "I've never seen you be so secretive. The hour of the invasion draws near, and I am needed elsewhere."
Hawk gave a solemn nod. "Forgive me for the vague nature of my final message, but I could not trust this memory with anyone else, not even Tess."
That caught her attention. "Tell me."
"In the past several years I have caught whispers from the Harbingers regarding Alice. On their own they could be written off as the worshipful claims I have come to accept from her followers. Taken together they suggest Alice has sought darker magic to achieve her ends."
"Of what do you speak?" Siarra frowned. "With the Dark she has the power to subjugate every soul on Lumineia. What more could she desire?"
"I believe she will not be satisfied with controlling mankind—unless her reign has no end."
Siarra's blood turned cold. "The Immortalis curse."
"I know not how she learned of it, but the signs are there. I noticed a distinct effort to gather powerful mages of every type. Under the guise of preparing for this war, she tasked them with crafting sources of power. Shortly after their completion, the mages and the sources disappeared."
Siarra began to pace as she put the pieces together. "If she cast an Immortalian out of all the magics, it would make her impervious. But an Immortalis curse requires a heart of extracted magic."
"Alice has proven an extreme talent for forethought," Hawk said. "When she infiltrated my guild she did so by removing all of her magics except luck, making her appear as an auren. On Mt. Elbrus she said she would reclaim her magics in due time."
"She's using her other magics as the Immortalian's heart." Siarra said. "If she is killed, her consciousness will transfer to the Immortalian."
"And her reign will see no end."
Anger flitted across Siarra's frame, but she clenched a fist in order to restrain it. "I'm not going to allow that. Where's she casting the Immortalian?"
"I cannot say," Hawk replied. "She has silenced every mage that helped her."
Siarra's frown deepened. "Then I will have to ask something else."
"No one can know of this task," Hawk warned. "Not even Tess."
"She will not know of this."
"Then be safe, old friend."
"I will see you soon," Siarra said.
How many times had he saved her life, or she his? After the war they had remained friends through the creation of Tryton's. Side by side they had forged treaties and alliances between the races and fought countless foes. Hawk had been there when her husband had died and had helped correct her wayward children.
"One could not ask for a truer friend," Siarra added, her voice thick with emotion.
"It has been my greatest honor," Hawk replied.
Hawk inclined his head, and Siarra reciprocated the gesture. One dead, one dying, they were the last vestiges of a bygone age. Then she felt a tremor through the floor, causing her to smile.
"I must go," she said. "Some new friends just arrived."
"Make sure they cannot find this memory," Hawk said with a smile, and then faded from view.
"Goodbye, Hawk," she said into the stillness.
Her thoughts heavy, she exited the secret room and returned to the main house. As she climbed the stairs she dropped a trail of curses. The explosive motes rolled away from her, gradually growing brighter as she walked up the stairs and stepped onto the porch. She came to a halt when she saw the line of Harbingers arrayed against her.
Mages gathered power in their hands, while human harbingers raised their rifles to her. With their numbers exceeding two hundred, the Harbingers stood ready to kill her. Then two identical figures stepped from the center and removed their hoods.
"Who are you?" one of the twins asked, confusion tight across her features.
"Were you expecting the oracle to trigger your signal?" Siarra asked. "If so did you lie in wait to take . . . or to kill?" She read the truth in their eyes, and her fingers tightened.
The other twin's eyes narrowed. "Our business is our own, and we cannot allow you to warn her."
"The wise warrior seeks to know his foe . . . before ignorance takes his life."
"Then tell us who you are before we end your life," one of the twins said, her tone vicious with anticipation.
Siarra reached up and touched her ears, dispelling the magic that made her look human. The motion drew a collective gasp as the Harbingers recognized who they faced. Their fear spread to the humans.
"Who is she?" one asked.
"Why don't we just kill her?"
The motes detonated, and the house shattered in a sudden, massive blast. Bits of wood and debris were flung into the yard, and the concussive wave knocked the Harbingers from their feet. Still standing on the porch, Siarra reveled in the surge of heat, and then cast her magic.
White magic flowed from her body, bright and blinding. Someone called out to attack, but she barely felt the sting from their attempts as the white magic became thick flesh. Swelling into shape, the magic became powerful legs, wings, and a wide, scaled body.
Extending from the neck, the head swelled into long jaws and a tapered snout. Melding her mind with the magic, Siarra became the white dragon. Then she drew on the fire at her back and unleashed a torrent of superheated flames.
Harbingers screamed and fled, their pledge to their master forgotten. The more cowardly reached the tree line just as her dragon's breath did. Their lives were snuffed out as the forest became an inferno. Fire shields collapsed from the heat, incinerating their casters.
Magic and auren weapons exploded across Siarra's flank, but didn't make a dent in the white magic. She turned on them with a vengeance, shredding their ranks with jaws and fire. When she'd decimated the force in the clearing, she leapt into the air and hunted the flyers.
They cried out in dismay as she blasted them from the sky. Others she caught in her jaws and left their torn corpses to fall into the fire. Only when the Harbingers had been eliminated did she return to the clearing. Her dragon shape fell away as she stalked to the twins. Singed and crawling away from her, they screamed when they realized her presence.
"How are you alive?" one shrieked.
"It's not possible!"
"I am Siarra Elseerian!" Siarra said, her tone rising as her madness seeped into her voice. "Your kind is not permitted on this world, for it is MINE!"
Siarra raised her hands for the killing blow, and they raised their hands in a pitiful attempt to stop her. The motion brought Siarra back to her senses. Breathing hard, she lowered her hands, and allowed the spell to dissipate.
