La'ug's attack missed. Barely. Sword felt the wind part in front of her eyes.
And in that same instant, she saw La'ug's claws reappear. The creature was whole again.
In the same instant, she wrenched her body to the side, avoiding Wahy's grasping hands. Not as strong as La'ug's paws, but if the berserker managed to grab her, she might never get out of that insane grasp.
His fingers brushed her shirt. She slashed down with a dagger. His fingers fell just like La'ug's claws had done.
But he grabbed her anyway.
Sword was shocked for an instant. Nearly long enough to be fatal. She knew he healed, she had seen that. But it was still terrible to be grabbed by fingers that should not have been there.
Wahy's face dropped toward her. His mouth opened wide, and Sword knew he was going to bite her. Chew her.
She managed to get a hand up. Wahy was fast, but she was faster. A dirk appeared in her hand, and she rammed it through his open mouth.
Unlike when she threw the spear down La'u, the blade did come out the back of Wahy's head. There was even a spray of blood. But it made little difference. Wahy just yanked his head upward, off the tip of the weapon. The blood spilling from his mouth disappeared with the same strange, impossible-to-watch shimmer Sword saw before. He dove at her throat again.
This time there was no dirk. Instead she held a te unun. The weapon was used by some fishermen in Strength, and was composed of a slender center shaft that ended in a spear point. Three other shafts extended at an angle from the central rod. All four were lined with the teeth of wild animals or some of the larger fish, creating a huge barb that would let nothing go once pierced.
The one Sword called was not made of wood and teeth, of course, but her magic did the job well enough. The te unun went through Wahy's open mouth, piercing the back of his neck. He tried to pull away from it, but she had conjured the weapon so it was small enough to impale him, but big enough that the three branches reaching away from the center shaft held him fast. And that center shaft was wide enough that it held Wahy's mouth open like a hooked fish.
All this happened in an instant. Sword knew La'ug would attack in the next moment. Knew she was in mortal danger.
Another weapon appeared in her free hand: a fiery shuko like the one she had used during Tiawan's first attack on the castle. She slammed her palm toward Wahy's center, the spikes in her hand flashing toward the jewel she knew rested in the left side of his chest.
She couldn't hurt him. Not long enough to matter. So the only chance was to cut the jewel out of his body and hope that would do the trick.
The spikes hit his chest. Sank in easier than a knife punching through parchment. She ground the spikes toward the jewel, moving them deeper and in a circular movement that would gouge the jewel from his living flesh, while all the while Wahy growled and shrieked a gagging shriek, his mouth writhing around the te unun she still held to.
And La'ug was behind her. Mouth splitting open, ready to tear Sword's head from her shoulders.
She ground the shuko. Felt it touch the jewel.
And could go no further.
The jewel could not be removed. Not by her. Perhaps not by anything at all.
La'ug lunged.
Sword didn't think. She had no time for anything but instinct.
Wahy, in spite of her attacks, still held her tight. And he was far too strong for her to break out of his grasp. So she didn't try. She let go of the te unun; felt it disappear in the same instant.
La'ug: nearly at the moment of the kill.
As soon as the te unun disappeared, Wahy dropped his head again, teeth bared to rip out her throat and bathe in her blood. Sword hadn't released the shuko, though. She dug it upward now, gashing great furrows in the berserker's body. She used the resistance to push herself downward, her head almost level with the glowing jewel she could see through his shredded shirt.
There was a muffled thwock.
Wahy's arms clenched around Sword so hard they bruised her ribs. Then, suddenly, they went limp.
Sword somersaulted backward out of his grasp. Her shoulder rolled across the ground, and she twisted at the same time so she ended up on her feet, facing her foes. Her katana and wakizashi flared, and though she already knew instinctively what had happened – indeed, she had caused it – it took her mind a moment to catch up.
Then she saw. And, seeing, felt sick.
La'ug had tried to bite of her head, simple as that. But when Sword ducked, and Wahy hunched down to bite her, his head moved into the space hers had just occupied.
La'ug had bitten Wahy instead of Sword, and severed his head from his neck. His body hung from her clenched teeth for a moment, then fell away in a headless heap as blood arced through the air.
La'ug moved, a quick ripple went through her body, and Sword realized in horror that the beast had, acting without thought, moving on crazed instinct and bloodlust, swallowed Wahy's head.
La'ug seemed to realize it in the same moment. The creature gagged and made a strangled noise.
Sword barely heard that, though. She was watching Wahy. The indestructible man.
But he did not rise. Sword wondered why – he had been shot repeatedly in the head, and that hadn't even made him pause. Was actually losing the head enough?
Then she saw the jewel he still held in his breast. The light was gone from it. It was dim. And when La'ug screamed, roared in the agony of loss, Sword saw the monster's fur glow brightly.
That was it. Sword couldn't have stopped him, but La'ug could. Because La'ug had received the same gift as Wahy. She held his magic, perhaps held a link in common with him.
She could hurt him.
She had killed him.
Sword grieved. Just for an instant. Wahy had been a child in mind and heart. A good-hearted soul without the mind to understand what had been done to him. An innocent.
So many innocents.
La'ug's roar changed. No longer of loss, but of rage.
She charged at Sword.
5
Tiawan spun in the air. He had created a suit that was fast, strong. It gave him the power to walk. It was beyond anything ever created in the history of Ansborn. Within it, he felt invincible. He was no man. Not precisely a God, but certainly one of the Gods' messengers, armed with power from above and sent on a holy mission to right wrongs, to avenge the weak, to punish the wicked.
He was born a man. He had become a cripple.
And when he made the suit, he became more than either.
Yet now, when he needed it most, when his mission was so close to fruitiion… now it failed him. The arms and legs that had always seemed so quick and strong now felt cumbersome and slow. He spun and turned in the air, flew high and plummeted nearly to earth. But no matter how fast he moved, no matter how quick his flight, Vrisha was always just out of reach.
Is it Vrisha? Is it truly him?
Certainly he had appeared as Vrisha at first. There was no mistaking the crooked form or twisted face. But then he had become a young man, even younger perhaps than Wahy. And that young man appeared and disappeared and reappeared once more in the blink of an eye. Tiawan flew high, and Vrisha would be there, falling toward him, grabbing at his armor, harrying him. He spun away, and Vrisha again appeared. Falling instantly – he had not the power of flight, apparently – but reaching out to yank at Tiawan's armor before blinking into nothing once more.
Blink… and he was kicking at Tiawan's chest.
Blink… Vrisha yanked on Tiawan's gauntlet with the full weight of his falling body.
Blink… Tiawan's flight stuttered as Vrisha appeared on his side, one arm wrapped around Tiawan's armored neck and the other hand pulling at his helm, trying to peel it away.
Tiawan almost smirked. The boy – or old man, or whatever Vrisha truly was – could not really touch him.
He oriented himself on the swirling winds around the castle. The air held no fear for him, any more than the steel of a sword or the flame of
a bonfire. His armor was a creature of all these things. He was beyond them all.
Another yank at his foot. Tiawan gritted his teeth. Vrisha could not hurt him, but this constant badgering had grown tiresome.
He saw Sword, fighting Wahy and La'ug below. He grinned. Once she was dead, perhaps Vrisha would lose hope and leave him alone. In fact….
The tube on Tiawan's arm glowed. The light would kill her, he was sure. No matter how fast she was with her weapons, no matter how quick she was on her feet, the flame that the tube fired was as quick as the rays of the sun – and twice as hot.
He aimed. The tube glowed.
He realized that Vrisha hadn't "attacked" him for the last few moments.
Good.
The light speared out. Straight at Sword.
Tiawan watched it too closely. His vision dissolved in a series of sparkles for a moment, blinded by the intense light of his weapon. Slowly, though, the floating clouds of white – jags of blue spearing out of them like lightning from a cloud – dissipated.
Revealing… Sword. Still alive, still fighting.
He shot again. And this time noticed the hint of purple that appeared, darkening the air just where the light-weapon should have passed.
What…?
He realized he was not alone. Aa woman now flew nearby, hovering a stone's throw away. She was gorgeous. So beautiful she seemed nearly unreal, dressed head to to in a black suit that refused to reflect any trace of sunlight. The black suit contrasted with the white cloak she wore, the white hood over her head. And the white cloak in turn contrasted with her raven-black hair, through which a single lock of white ran like a stream through a dark land.
She was a thing of opposites. Black and white, dark and light.
And Tiawan knew who it was. "Vrisha," he muttered.
He pointed the light-weapon at her –
(him?)
– and felt it discharge. Another purple blur. The woman still stood unharmed.
"You can't hurt me," she said.
At her words, Tiawan realized she wasn't actually flying, or even floating. She stood in the air, that same purple light below her feet.
A shield. Vrisha can conjure a shield in this form.
Tiawan didn't say a thing. He simply charged.
As a Smith –
(but not a Smith now something more what is it what am i?
i am a monster)
– he knew that the world was divided into four basic elements. Earth, air, fire, water. His suit had been born of three – air, fire, and the earthy metals that were a Smith's lifeblood.
His suit was also more or less impervious to those three.
Everything was at heart one or more of the four elements.
His armor could withstand three of them.
So he rushed at Vrisha. Knowing what would happen.
He did not fear.
Vrisha's face showed her own confidence. She held up a hand. The purple light flared – the shield. Tiawan saw the light through the glass that covered his eyes. He felt the light through his suit. His flames, pushed to their highest and hottest, sputtered as he hit the shield.
And he slowed… but did not stop.
As he had expected.
The shield was magic, yes. But even magic used the world for its existence. Air, water, fire, earth. Tiawan felt it as he passed through, and felt what it was: a kind of fire. A cold fire, to be sure. A fire that did not ignite what it touched, but rather redirected the energy of what came against it.
Tiawan did not fear fire. And his suit surpassed it.
He had been panicked when the flying machines came to Fear. He had not thought, only reacted –
(and again he wondered if the jewels had done more than augmented his magic if perhaps they had not merely given him power but also stolen some of his peace some of his thought some of his mind)
– and as a result he had not used the magic that was most his to command. He had acted as the man in iron, instead of what he truly was.
A Smith.
And a Smith did not fear the flame.
The flame feared him.
Purple flared around him as he touched the cold flame of Vrisha's shield. His/her mouth rounded in an "o" of perfect shock and horror. Tiawan saw in her eyes that look of someone who has never lost.
And was about to.
Tiawan pounded through the last inch of the shield. He had to focus all he knew, all he had, all he was.
If I had done this, could I have saved the people in Fear? If I had only thought clearly?
(you haven't thought clearly since this started, Tiawan)
Then, abruptly, the shield was gone. He hadn't forced his way through it this time, either. It simply disappeared.
At the same time, Vrisha melted. That was the only way he could think to describe it. One moment she was beautiful, the next moment she sagged and her form became like molten ore. Then the shape solidified again, in the same moment it began to fall.
The young man reappeared.
His Gift changes with his shape.
The young man would be able to transport himself. Would be able to escape and then resume his meaningless attacks.
Tiawan aimed his light-weapon at the falling boy.
Vrisha grinned. And disappeared.
Tiawan grinned as well.
He was already spinning in the air, the fires on one side of his back blazing white-hot as those on the other side dimmed nearly to nothing.
His arms flared out, windmilling so fast they were a blur. Then he felt a jolt as his right arm hit something.
His grin widened. Vrisha had done what he did before: appeared at close quarters, where he could fall upon Tiawan and attempt – pitifully – to hurt him. This time, Tiawan had been ready: when Vrisha appeared nearby, Tiawan's spinning fist had caught him.
Tiawan stopped spinning so quickly he almost threw up inside his suit. But he had to do it. Had to finish it.
He came to rest facing Vrisha. Saw the young man's shocked expression. The pain as he curled into himself in midair. He saw the loose hang of his right arm, and the strangely indented right side of his ribs.
Tiawan didn't know if the boy had the presence of mind or concentration necessary to activate his magic. And he didn't want to find out. The fires at his back slammed him forward. His fist swung.
It connected with Vrisha's head. His neck snapped to the side, and Tiawan heard the distinctive crrrack! of bones breaking. Tiawan would have known just from the sound that he was dead, even if he hadn't seen the man's head twist so far to the side it was a miracle it didn't fly completely off his shoulders.
Vrisha twitched once, horribly.
He fell.
Tiawan wheeled in the air, intent on following the corpse to earth. He would make sure the body fell, that it turned to nothing but a red stain on the ground.
But first he glanced down. Saw Wahy grab Sword.
And so dies the Judge and Jury. So dies the last protector of the Empire.
So dies Ansborn.
He saw Wahy lean over to rend the girl, to tear her apart with his teeth.
He saw La'ug rear up. Come down to kill Sword as well, both of his beloved warriors destroying her as one.
There was a blur. Sword shifted.
And Tiawan screamed. The armor amplified the noise. Made it sound like a sudden roll of thunder, as though the Gods themselves had shrieked.
Wahy fell.
My grandson. My only….
Tiawan's mind dissolved. It fell into a pit where only madness ruled.
(don't do this
there's still time
still time
still…
time…
to…)
He forgot about the Empire.
He forgot about his quest.
He even forgot about La'ug.
There was only Sword, standing in the dust a few paces from the body of his last true family.
He screamed again, and fell toward her
.
There was only Sword.
There was only his vengeance… and his prey.
6
La'ug roared, and threw herself at Sword. Sword dodged, but the move was slow. She had been awake for over a full day, much of it spent in exhausting travel and even more exhausting battle. Before that, she hadn't slept properly for days. She had fought, and buried the dead, and wept and worried.
She was exhausted. And it finally caught up with her.
She tried to slip away from La'ug. She half managed it. Her sword flared, the katana slicing through flesh and bone. La'ug roared, her face splitting in half once again as her oversized mouth opened wide.
The katana had bitten deep. Slashing nearly a foot into its massive torso. Dark blood – nearly black – gushed out of the wound.
Any other living creature would have died. If not instantly, the mere knowledge of the extent of the wound would have sent anything else into immobilizing shock.
Of course, any other living creature would have been simply sliced in half by Sword's magic blade.
La'ug was made of different stuff. In large measure a thing of magic herself, her flesh resisted the full might of the katana. She did not die, she did not go still with shock. Instead, at nearly the same instant that Sword struck, so did La'ug. Her paw went out in a wide, fast arc that connected with Sword's shoulder.
She felt like she had been hit by a war hammer. Most of her right side went numb, and what feeling remained was reserved for searing pain.
La'ug reared up again, and again swung her paw at Sword. This time she managed – barely – to roll away, but La'ug's claws raked across her chest as she fell back. More fire exploded there. She screamed.
She tucked her head into a backward roll that should have been easy. That should have had her springing up with a magical weapon in her good hand, ready to go back on the offensive. It might have worked, too, but for the fact that her bad arm hit the ground.
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