“Oh, come now,” the woman said, as they bound her arms behind her back. “We haven’t even been properly introduced.”
“Who are you, and why are you here?” Tior demanded.
“Jasside,” she said. “Jasside Anglasco. I’ve come to begin negotiations.”
The old man’s laugh grated on her nerves, but Jasside forced herself to keep smiling. She was beginning to think it might have been better simply to attack.
No. Not better. Just . . . easier.
She hadn’t been planning to talk at all, but after hearing the contention between the two leaders—and what they planned to do—she thought she might be able to drive a wedge through the already apparent rift. At the very least, she had to try.
Besides, there was the girl.
Jasside glanced down at her now. Sad and curious—yet somehow amused—eyes met her gaze, framed by disheveled orange locks. This was no place for someone so young. Jasside had feared the girl, whoever she might be, would pay the price if she took any direct action. Were she to cause harm to something so innocent in her haste, she would never be able to forgive herself.
Hence letting herself get captured.
“Negotiations?” the man—Tior, she believed he’d been called—said. “We’ve every advantage here. What reason could we possibly have to relent?”
Jasside faced him, taking a moment to soak in her surroundings. She quickly realized how much attention her arrival had garnered. The six guards around Daye all stared at her, their charge forgotten. The aged valynkar gaped openly. Five others, dressed in similar battle regalia as Tior, and a dozen aides halted all activity to peer in her direction. Power throbbed, flavored of light, from nearly everyone around her, yet it was nearly drowned out by the massive gathering of energy taking place in the floating edifices above her. Strangely, Tior himself was the only one who hadn’t energized. That fact only made her more wary of him than the others.
“You speak of advantage,” Jasside began, “but even if your assessment of the situation is correct, what’s the point of fighting on when your opponent is willing to make peace?”
“To win,” Tior said. “To punish the Sceptrines for their crime.”
“Stop using my family as an excuse!” the girl cried. “You didn’t care about them when they were alive, and I’m certain you didn’t shed a single tear after they were assassinated.”
“Assassinated?” Jasside said. Then, the puzzle pieces clicked together in her mind. “You were the heir of Panisahldron. That makes you—”
“The queen, yes,” Tior said.
Jasside shook her head as tears began rolling down the young queen’s cheeks. Something about this was very, very wrong.
“Tior—” the queen began, but the man cut her off.
“Hush now, Arivana. I’m dealing with an adult. Though . . .” Tior swept his eyes across Jasside. “ . . . one surprisingly naïve for her age.”
Jasside knew, then, that her attempt at negotiation would never have succeeded. Perhaps she was a fool for believing such people could ever contemplate peace or that she could be the one to broker it.
Still, she didn’t regret trying. She now knew where the true threat lay.
Before her stood remorseless men who wielded their power like a hammer over others. And if she had learned one thing from Vashodia, it was this: There was only one way to deal their kind.
Jasside turned to Arivana. “Your majesty, will you answer me one question?”
“Of course.”
“If the decision were in your hands, would you still press for war?”
The queen shook her head. “There’s been enough bloodshed. If I had the power, we’d all go home.”
“Then it is a good thing you do not have that power,” Tior said. He turned to Jasside. “And I’ve heard just about enough of your voice. Ulayenos?”
The valynkar jerked, apparently surprised to be called on. “Yes?”
Tior gestured at her. “This one may not be a mierothi herself, but she is their ally and draws power from the same dark source. Their extermination begins with her. Will you do the honors?”
Ulayenos took a deep breath before answering. “So be it.”
As he lifted his hand, already sparking with a killing spell, Jasside energized. She didn’t need much. Not with all the time they’d given her to prepare.
“Arivana,” Jasside said.
“Yes?” the queen replied.
“Run.”
Jasside waited a full beat until the woman at Arivana’s side grabbed her hand and began racing away.
Then she attacked.
Most people couldn’t cast with bound hands, the motions and gestures tied so closely to the act of sorcery that it was impossible to separate the two. Jasside suffered no such impairment. Will controlled her power. Nothing else. Though she rarely used thought alone to form her castings, preferring the extra mechanism of control afforded by her hands—her mistress chided her relentlessly for such gestures—she had learned the method for use in emergencies.
And I’m pretty sure this counts.
She would hold back no longer. Jasside formed a sphere among the seventeen Panisians gathered in rough circle a short distance away, then crafted miniscule channels running away from it. With a snap of will, all the air inside the sphere escaped along the channels.
Two things happened.
The first was a great sucking sound, as the surrounding air collapsed in to fill the void she’d left behind. The seventeen people were pulled like metal to a magnet, slamming into each other in a great heap.
The second was the rush of air down the paths she’d made, faster than crossbow bolts and harder than a hammer. Twelve, to be exact. One each to the ten guards, and another for both Tior and Ulayenos. The men all went sprawling from the blast.
The whole thing had taken less than a single beat.
A strand of energy danced from a finger, severing her bonds, even as Jasside raced down the hill towards Daye. A quick glance told her that the queen had gotten out of harm’s way.
The prince lifted his head at her approach but looked none too happy. “You shouldn’t have come for me. What were you thinking, doing it alone?”
“You’re one to talk about making rash decisions.” But she said it with a smile, sweeping a hand over the sprawled forms around them. “I was thinking I could win. And a ‘thank-you’ wouldn’t be entirely amiss.” She severed his chains, which took a moment—it was difficult finding a spot that wasn’t too close to his skin.
Daye sighed as his bonds fell free and immediately began stretching and rubbing his sore wrists. “Thanks.”
“There. Was that so hard?”
“No. It’s just . . . I couldn’t stand the thought of your coming to harm on my account.”
“Oh, bother your masculine pride. I know how to take care of myself.”
“It’s not . . . that.”
Jasside saw the look he gave her. A look she had noticed him give before. A look, she now knew, she’d been hoping to see again.
But she wasn’t ready to process it. Not now. Maybe not ever. “Please,” she said, “we can figure out . . . whatever this is later. I must make sure you get back to your brother in one piece.”
“I’m sure he’ll be—” Daye’s eyes went wide, peering past her. “Look out!”
She felt it then. A surge of energy, just behind her. She formed a shield in an instant, barely erecting it before a stream of livid fire struck. The flame seared against her defense, hissing in virulence. She pushed more energy into her shield, then pulsed it back. The fire dissipated, allowing Jasside to determine who had cast it.
Tior, not quite as defeated as she thought.
Around him, brightwisps swirled.
“Looks like you’ll have to find your way back al
one,” Jasside said to Daye. “I’ve got one last tyrant to dethrone.”
It seemed instantaneous, like every other shadow-dash he’d ever performed, but the landing left Draevenus in a state of extreme disorientation. Where Ruul rested had been damp and dark and chilly. Here, the sun blinded him, and he coughed up hot dust that seemed to have filled his lungs with his first breath. He staggered, barely able to keep his balance, and clutched the strange box to his chest.
Ruul’s gift. Whatever it might be, the god had entrusted it to him. Draevenus knew he had to find his people and deliver it. But first, he had to get his bearings. After a moment, his vision adjusted enough that he could see the basic shape of the terrain around him. Spying a rise larger than any others around, he began hiking up it. Sand shifted beneath his feet with each step, threatening to send him sliding, but he resisted the urge to try dashing to the top. He’d had too much of that recently and didn’t think he could stomach another trip, however brief.
At last, Draevenus reached the crest and looked down on the landscape before him. What he saw took his breath away.
Two massive armies stood facing each other, separated by a dark, angry cloud along the ground. On the near side, he witnessed scores of bright, flying figures retreat before an onslaught of dark energy. And, below them, the clustered mass of mierothi.
Dread wracked him as memories of that ancient war took hold of his mind.
“No,” he said, falling numbly to his knees. “Not again.”
He watched, frozen by despair, as the skirmish went on. It wasn’t until the last valynkar had retreated out of range that he sighed in relief and felt able to control his limbs again. He lurched to his feet. The distance was too great, and time too short, to let his feet bring him there as he wished. Draevenus energized, then shadow-dashed forward.
Though he landed slightly dizzy, there were no other ill effects.
Unless seeing his sister counted.
“Brother,” Vashodia said. “How lovely of you to join us. Did you have fun on your little adventure on the other side of the world?”
“Other side of the . . . What the abyss are we doing here?”
Vashodia lifted her arms. “We’re at war. Couldn’t you tell?”
“With the valynkar? After all the work I’ve done to keep peace between us?”
“Relax, dear brother. These ones are all but renegades. And they started it besides.”
“Think that will matter to the valynkar high council once they start turning up dead?”
“After what they’ve done, we’ll likely be thanked for wiping them out.”
“Out of the question. The fighting stops now.”
Vashodia shrugged. “Oh, very well. I suppose even naughty boys like them can be put to good use.”
Draevenus stepped back, eying her sternly. “If I know one thing about you, sister, it’s that only a miracle could make you change your mind.” He shook his head, grunting in mirth as it dawned on him. “You didn’t want to kill them in the first place.”
“If I had, do you really think there would be any left alive?”
“No. Abyss take me for certainty, but no.”
“As long as we understand each other.”
Draevenus turned at approaching footsteps, grinning broadly when he saw who it was.
“Mother,” he said, rushing forward.
Angla threw out her arms to embrace him. “Oh, my sweet boy. I have missed you so.”
“I’ve missed you too, Mother.” He pulled back, holding up the box in one hand.
“What have you got there?” she asked.
“A surprise. Is everyone here?”
Angla gestured to the crowd of their kin behind her. “Every last one of us.”
“Good. Gather them up, please. I need to speak to them all at once.”
His mother gestured over his shoulder towards an army or three. “This may not be the best time.”
“It can’t wait. Please.”
Sighing, Angla nodded, then moved off and began rounding up the rest of the mierothi. Draevenus turned back to his sister to explain all that had happened. But the look on her face made him pause.
He’d never seen her appear the least bit sad before.
“He gave it to you, didn’t he?” she said softly.
“Yes,” he answered, knowing exactly of whom she spoke.
“And you plan to open it?”
“Of course. Why wouldn’t I?”
“Because it will kill you, brother. It will kill you all.”
Draevenus shook at the words. “No. No that can’t be. Ruul promised, and I believe him.”
“Funny. I thought you had gone there to end him.”
“I changed my mind.”
“No, you didn’t. You just don’t know that yet.”
“What’s that supposed to mean?”
“Just that you have no idea what the gift will do. No concept of future ramifications. If you ever loved me, please, do not open that box.”
Cringing at the words, Draevenus could only look away. “I’m sorry.”
Vashodia lowered her head.
Angla returned, smiling somberly. “We’re ready, son.”
He turned to face the crowd. He decided to keep it simple and merely repeated the words Ruul had spoken to him. The last six hundred mierothi in the world held their breaths as one. Draevenus reached for the clasp.
Out of the corner of his eye, he caught a glimpse of Vashodia dashing over the horizon.
Jasside sprang back, avoiding a hammer of light as it crashed down in the space she’d just vacated. It slammed into the sand and exploded like shattered glass made of fire. The man was strong, besting her in raw power with the aid of his brightwisps, and skilled as well. She kept telling herself she was retreating to get clear of any bystanders, but her singed dress and frantic heartbeat proved such assertions to be a lie.
She didn’t know if she could actually beat him.
Jasside dashed backwards again, giving herself room to breathe. Relentless, he came after her.
A giant wave of light rolled towards her. She formed a shield around herself, which held against such a broad dispersal of energy. The spell crashed around her, but she felt little more than a warming of the sand beneath her feet.
She struck back at him with darkness in the shape of razor-sharp discs, dozens shooting forth from her outstretched hand every beat. He waved a hand, conjuring his own shield. The discs deflected off it as he trudged forward, unconcerned.
A thousand missiles of light burst out from him in every direction. Jasside’s eyes went wide as they curved in towards her. Her shield would be about as helpful as paper if they all struck at once. She dismissed it, pouring all her gathered power into a nullifying field, cast in a broad net around her. The missiles passed through, unraveling into harmless strands of energy, but ate up most of her remaining reserves in the process.
Her knees buckled under the strain. Will alone kept her standing, kept the field in place. If he knew how weak she was right now, it would likely be over in moments. Thankfully, the deception worked. Tior paused, studying what she’d wrought.
“That’s a neat trick,” he said. “Mind telling me how it works?”
“I could,” Jasside said, “but it would take all day, and you still wouldn’t understand.”
“You think so little of my intelligence? Have you no idea the skill required to run the world? The insight? Come now, woman, one of us will be dead before nightfall. Don’t allow the chance that such knowledge might die as well.”
Jasside laughed. “Oh, this isn’t even a tenth of my knowledge. And what I know isn’t a hundredth that of my mistress. Shall we delay our duel for years, so that I may pass everything on?”
“No,” Tior said, a smile slowly spreading across his face. “Just
long enough for me to recharge.”
Jasside felt the blood drain from her face as Tior gestured forward. A beam of blinding fire shot forth. It struck her net, dissipating as had the other spells, but something was different this time. The beam increased in potency, and she could feel the edges around the point it met her field start to fray. He was burning open a hole.
She dove to the side, giving up the net. The beam scythed across, close enough to singe her exposed skin and turning sand into glass wherever it touched. With her little remaining energy, Jasside disturbed the dirt in a wide circle, raising a cloud of dust to obscure her. She rolled away from the beam and lay still.
Tior’s jet of flame winked out, only to re-form a beat later in another direction. Then again a third time, and fourth, and fifth, each lasting less than a breath. He was probing for her.
Jasside began energizing.
A beam landed just a few paces away, spitting molten shards of newly formed glass towards her face. She turned away, clamping down on the urge to scream, to get clear of the danger. Will won out, and she was able to stay unmoving and undetected. She smelled a strange, pungent burning, and swiped a hand behind her to extinguish the flames licking across her hair. Tior sought for her again, but the spell never came any closer.
She reached her capacity and stood.
Tior coughed, a reflex she fought as well, as dust settled thickly towards the ground. “Enough of this!” he said.
A blast of conjured air swept past her. The dust cleared. The side of Tior’s face appeared ten paces in front of her.
Jasside pointed a finger. “Gotcha.”
A jet of pure darkness lanced out from her hand.
Tior turned. His own beam spun forward.
The two spells met midair between them.
Jasside lurched as the opposing forces collided but kept her balance. Darkness and light warred, spitting and sparking in twisted whorls as they annihilated each other. She focused, pushing forward, and felt her energy slowly gaining the advantage.
When once there were dozens, now only a few brightwisps still spun about her opponent. And while he’d been wasting energy probing for her in the dust, she’d pooled all she had into this one attack. Her power now exceeded his own.
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