Resonance

by C S Vass

  They worked quickly through the carnage to get her to her feet.

  “The bastards let these foul creatures in through the sewers,” Sandra said. “I never thought they would stoop to such a tactic.”

  “Are you alright?” Martin asked. His mouth was clenched with worry.

  Fiona’s throat felt raw and there were scratches all over her body, but otherwise she was unharmed and let them know it.

  “I’m worried one flute won’t be enough if we can’t secure help from the twins,” Fiona said. “I need to get down to the painting and secure it to make sure help can still come.”

  “We’ll come with you,” Martin said. Fiona was surprised once more at how much Martin had grown into himself. She couldn’t believe what a ways he had come from the clumsy youth she had once known.

  They continued through the basement and kept a careful watch for more reekers. Fiona didn’t intend to be caught off guard again.

  As they got closer they were interrupted by curses and screams. The three fighters moved towards the source of the noise, and saw Donyo’s large frame struggling with a Vaentysh soldier. “Get off, whoreson!” Donyo shouted through gritted teeth. The two men were wrestling over a long spear, when Donyo’s opponent got the better of him and cracked the Master Architect over the head with its tail end.

  Fiona ran towards them, but not before the assailant had Donyo in a chokehold with a long knife to his throat. “Back!” the Vaentysh soldier shouted. “Or I’ll drench the floor with his blood.”

  “Do it and you’re a dead man,” Fiona said. The man’s eyes were white with fear, and his knuckles shook as he pressed the blade deeper into Donyo’s fat neck.

  Fiona had an arrow aimed at the attacker’s head, but she was not confident that she could get a hit, and even if she could it might not be before Donyo’s throat was cut.

  “I said back!” the soldier shouted, stepping away. He pressed the knife closer and a long thin line of blood swelled underneath its metallic edge.

  “Stop!” Fiona yelled. Panic took hold of her, and she lowered the bow. The man was pressed up against a wall, inching away. Donyo’s face had turned an unfortunate shade of purple, and his eyes were wide with fear.

  Fiona watched with horror, when something inexplicable happened. The Vaentysh soldier began to sink into the wall as if it were made out of sand. He screamed, and when he stopped moving his legs, back, and elbows were firmly cemented into the stone structure. Before he could do anything with the knife, Shifter appeared from the other side of the wall and pried it away from his hand.

  “You should really let him go now,” Shifter said gleefully, holding the knife up to the man’s face. “You don’t seem to have much of an advantage anymore.

  “I’m sorry, I’m sorry,” the soldier sobbed. “Please don’t kill me.” Donyo stumbled away before falling to his knees and vomiting on the floor.

  Shifter carelessly tossed the knife aside. “Don’t worry,” the secret-keeper said. “I won’t kill you. You’re no threat to us trapped in the wall. I just hope the reekers you let in feel the same way if they come across you.”

  The soldier’s eyes widened in terror. “No, no!” he screamed, but Shifter simply walked away. Fiona made a mental note to never cross Sun Circle’s secret-keeper, and went over to see if Donyo was alright.

  “We need to keep moving,” Fiona said, after it was clear the Master Architect was in no mortal peril. “Have you sealed all of the passageways?”

  “Gods no,” Donyo said. “That would take a year or more. But we got the most important ones.”

  “Good,” Fiona said. “Then come with me, we still have work to do to make sure help from the Moonwood can get here.”

  Chapter Nineteen

  The chaos of the battle finally having ended, Fiona continued into the depths of Clearwater with a very battered and bruised team consisting of Martin, Donyo, Sandra, and Shifter. “I can’t believe it’s come to me holding a blade,” Donyo said. “In other words, we’re fucked.”

  “Not if we can clear a way for the twins to come,” Fiona said.

  “And what exactly will they do?” Donyo asked. “Can magic weapons overcome the scores of men that are washing over us?”

  “The twins can offer much more than magical weapons,” Sandra snapped. “Offer your opinion on what you know, such as where to find the cheapest drink in the city. Otherwise be silent.”

  “Here we are,” Fiona said, ignoring the argument. They were back in the bathhouse that she and Martin had arrived at Clearwater from the Moonwood. On the wall in the torchlit basement was the enormous painting, a canvass depicting the Moonwood’s huge shadowy trees.

  “Well, we’re here and there’s no one interfering with us,” Martin said. Fiona noticed he had acquired a nasty gash on his forehead somewhere along the way, but she couldn’t have said how.

  “Indeed,” Donyo said. “What now?”

  “That’s all I can think to do,” Fiona said. She looked from the painting to the pools and back again and wondered if there was something more, some ancient piece of sound magic, a spell that would somehow reveal the portal. But when she emerged from it, the twins had simply sent her. Surely they could do the same for themselves.

  They waited so long that Fiona could barely stand it. The thought of good men dying upstairs while they huddled in the basement was maddening. On top of that thoughts of Rodrick were constantly creeping into her head—but no, she would not allow herself to dwell on those. Not here, not now.

  “Perhaps some of us should return upstairs,” Sandra suggested. Her eyes were restless and her long black hair was greasy with dried sweat.

  Fiona was about to agree when Donyo shouted. They all turned and at first Fiona didn’t see anything, but then, there it was. A small figure moving among the trees in the tapestry.

  “Is it too much to hope for?” Donyo asked. Martin let out a great whooping sound. Even Fiona couldn’t stop herself from smiling. Slowly, the figure came closer and closer through the forestry until Raesha was in full view. The Moonwood priestess stepped right through the painting, her usual violet glow making her look like she was covered in some strange fire.

  “You have done well,” Raesha said from underneath the cloth that covered her face.

  “Thank you for coming,” Sandra said. “I am Sandra Redfire. Are you Maeyori, or Maeyumi?”

  “Neither,” Raesha responded. “The twins will come soon. They have given me instructions. We must split up. Martin, Donyo, and Sandra, go to the front gate. Shifter, to the roof. Fiona, come with me. We go to Fiercewind. There is no time to lose.”

  “Wait,” Sandra said. “You must tell us, what’s the plan? We’re perilously outnumbered and the Vaentysh Boys are sneaking more and more soldiers in. We can’t hold on much longer. Are they on their way?”

  Raesha’s eyes were alive with anger. “Did you not understand no time to lose?” she snapped. “Come!”

  Without another word she pulled Fiona’s arm and they were off back the way they had come.

  They ran through the castle and to Fiona’s surprise it was oddly quiet. “Where is all the fighting?” she asked.

  “Fiercewind is at her magical organ,” Raesha responded. “She must be wielding powerful defensive sound magic to keep the intruders at bay.”

  “Let’s hope she keeps at it then,” Fiona said. She wanted to ask more questions but Raesha was moving so quickly that it took all of her strength to keep up. She was grievously sore in her entire body from the fighting, but she knew the hardest part was likely still to come.

  “Lead the way now,” Raesha said to Fiona once they got to the first floor. “I don’t know exactly where she is. As for the rest of you, go to the front gate. Lord Hightower may need your help.”

  Fiona met Martin’s tired yet determined eyes. They held so many hidden words, but there was no time.

  “Right,” Fiona said, breaking away from him and the others. “This way.”

  They move
d up the stairs of the cavernous school and still there was no sign of anyone. Fiona wanted to go to the front gate to check on Hightower, but time was of the essence and the rest of the team was headed that way. At last they raced the door that Fiercewind was behind. The sound of her fingers moving rapidly through a defensive minor mode could be heard through the door.

  “Open it,” Raesha commanded. Fiona did.

  They burst in and there was Headmaster Fiercewind panting heavily and playing through scales and melodies faster than Fiona would have imagined possible.

  “Stop!” Raesha shouted. “It’s all right. The twins are on the way. All is well.”

  “Fiona!” Fiercewind exclaimed. “Thank the gods you’re okay.” Fiona had an uncomfortable feeling when Fiercewind stopped playing, as if an invisible suit of armor had just been stripped from her. She pushed the thought out of her mind.

  “Is everyone else okay for now?” Fiercewind asked. “I’ve been trying to aid you from here, but the farther you got from me the harder it was for my defensive spells to touch you and keep the school barricaded.”

  “You’ve done well, Headmaster,” Raesha said. “You’re struggles are at an end.”

  Everything happened in a single instant. Raesha glowed violet-white like an angry star, and said a single word that Fiona could not comprehend. A blast of purple light hit Fiercewind full in the chest so hard that it swept her into a wall and left her sprawled on the ground.

  “What are you doing?” Fiona shouted.

  “Fiona!” Martin’s voice was weak. She turned to see him stumbling into the room, the side of his body a bloody mess. “It’s a trap!” he rasped.

  “You betrayed us,” Fiona said, drawing her blade and facing Raesha.

  “I betrayed you?” Raesha sneered. “Learn your history, young one. Haygarden betrayed me long ago…betrayed the whole Moonwood. We are not friends. This is vengeance, not betrayal. Now put that down! I was told not to harm you.”

  “You think that will save you,” Fiona spat.

  “Your cause is lost, Fiona,” Raesha said. “The twins were never going to come. Their path has been blocked, and they care not for the mundane trivialities of human warfare. The Moonwood must be protected, that is all that matters to them. Your Duke made it painfully clear he was no longer up to the task.”

  Hot rage trickled through her body, but then she heard a voice that made her blood run cold.

  “Put your weapon down, Fiona,” Rodrick said. He stepped into the room and shoved Martin to the ground like a lion sweeping aside a rabbit. “Nobody is going to hurt you.”

  “You.” Fiona made the word a curse.

  “Yes, me,” Rodrick said. “Raesha, you have done well. You’re no longer needed here. Go secure the school.”

  “Yes, Commander,” Raesha bowed, and quickly left.

  “Now,” Rodrick went on. “The battle is over. We can only move forward. Drop your weapons, and we can begin to talk about what happens next. Many of the rebels you have holed up here are still alive. Their fate rests in your hands.”

  “You monster,” Fiona said. “How could you have done all of this? Do you know what I went through for you? What you’ve made Haygarden endure?”

  “Not for me, Fiona. For us. For everyone. I don’t agree with everything the Vaentysh Boys believe in, but Haygarden has grown weak. In this world, weakness is the scent of blood in the water. We are surrounded by sharks and it does us no good to pretend otherwise. I love this city, and I will not see it brought under the Tellosian Empire again, or subjugated to Laquathi masters.”

  “You needn’t try to convince me of the lies you need to tell yourself to go to sleep at night,” Fiona spat.

  “A good warrior knows a hopeless cause and will choose to live to fight another day, Fiona,” Rodrick said. His voice grew dry, and for the first time Fiona noticed how wild and tired his eyes looked. Sleepless nights indeed.

  “Your friend needs attention, Fiona,” Rodrick said. He drew a new steel blade from an ordinary brown sheath and pointed his naked sword at Martin, who was slumped against the wall and whiter than fresh parchment. “He can get bandages and a bed, or he can get a sword in his belly. It’s up—”

  Fiona did not let him finish. She flew at him like a released arrow, demon-pommel blade moving in the complex patterns that he had taught her so long ago. She expected him to dodge, but Rodrick stood his ground and maneuvered his own blade so fast that it seemed to curl and bend like a metal snake. Blow followed blow as she tried to take her brother’s life, but Rodrick stood firm and deflected everything. Each clash of blades made her teeth crash together and her head ring, but Fiona pressed the attack.

  “You’re not my brother,” she screamed as she continued her pounding blows. Her arms were on fire but something deep inside her had awoken and it would not stop until he was down.

  “I’m not your brother,” Rodrick said in a voice strangely devoid of emotion. “The city hasn’t fallen. The Duke isn’t dead. Your friends won’t suffer because of your actions. You tell yourself these lies, Fiona, but a good warrior knows how to assess the hard truths in life. You don’t get to choose your reality.”

  “Then neither do you and neither do the Vaentysh Boys,” Fiona said. She dropped to the ground supported by her elbows and clenched fists, and swung both legs in a long arc to sweep Rodrick off of his feet.

  It almost worked. Her brother stumbled, but turned his spill into a downward slash at her head that made her roll to avoid being hit.

  “I don’t want to hurt you, Fiona,” Rodrick said. “But I warned you what insubordination would cause. There are consequences to our actions. I’ve learned that lesson, but sadly you have not. He looked to Martin and Fiona felt her heart rip.

  “No!” she yelled. She leapt to her feet but faster than she would have believed possible Rodrick buried his fist under her ribs and deep into her chest cavity. All the wind left her body as she was forced to her knees, gasping for air. It was all Martin could do to look upwards at Rodrick through barely open eyes.

  She tried to scream, to make any noise at all, but there was an iron clamp around her lungs and she helplessly gasped for air like a fish out of water.

  “Rodrick Sacrosin, you have disgraced the Brightbows and dishonored yourself before Haygarden.”

  Fiona looked in disbelief. The old knight, wounded but standing straight with steel in his hand, had entered the room.

  “Lord Hightower,” Rodrick said. “I had hoped that I would not have to meet you in combat.”

  “Most do, lad,” Hightower said with a grim smile. His eyes shone like angry twin planets against the white of his eyes. “But that does not spare them.”

  “There is a place for you in the new world,” Rodrick said. “The Vaentysh have many foolish ideas about race, but not all are so blind. They respect power more, and none could question your value on that count.”

  “None could question my value,” Hightower chuckled. “They said the same of my grandfather when he stood on a Tellosian slaver’s block. You offer me a hand of friendship, but you speak like an old Tellosian who has forgotten which era you are in.”

  Rodrick’s face flushed red. “That is not true, Lord Hightower,” he said. “You have served your city well and earned a place of honor amongst the new order. King Downcastle is of a like mind.”

  “Sandra Redfire rules here boy!” Hightower snapped. “I defended you, Rodrick. When the rest of the council said a bastard boy from beyond the walls of the city could never sit among the elite of Sun Circle I defended you. When they said your up-jump of a sister could never sit among their own offspring here in Clearwater I defended you. You know not of the other plots and humiliations that you were spared because Geoff Hightower raised his voice. And what have you done to repay me? Treason!”

  For one odd moment Rodrick looked like an abashed schoolboy being put in his place by a teacher. “It does not have to be this way,” he said.

  “Enough! I did not come here
to parse words with an ungrateful cut-throat who would duel his own sister. Rodrick Sacrosin, by the powers granted to me by Sandra Redfire, rightful Duchess of Haygarden and Lord Commander of Sun Circle, I sentence you to die.”

  There was a truly dead look in Rodrick’s eyes now. “Very well,” he said in a low voice.

  They began.

  It was a horrific dance, one that proceeded to the music of screeching steel and the panting grunts of two men locked in a death match. Fiona watched with awe as she tried to summon the strength to get up. Hightower moved with grace, sword flickering with the rapidity of a serpent’s tongue. There was a quiet intensity about the old knight that truly frightened Fiona.

  Rodrick had none of that prowess. He seemed to know that he would be soundly beaten in a match of swordsmanship, so instead he heaved great crashing blow after blow, using his superior strength to keep Hightower on the defensive. He maintained his stable footing while the older warrior circled around him, biding time and waiting for an opening.

  Sweat poured from their bodies as they continued to trade stinging attacks. Fiona watched and deep down she knew that Rodrick would win. Her brother simply had too much strength and energy. Hightower was the better swordsman by a mile, but it didn’t matter when age and injury worked so strongly against him. She could see that in their eyes. She could feel it in her bones.

  A noise made her turn, and she saw that Fiercewind was conscious. She was laying on her belly, her hair matted with blood and sweat. There was a golden trumpet in her hands. Then Fiona knew. Hightower was aware of his disadvantages, but he had strategically placed himself so that now Rodrick’s back was to Fiercewind.

  Clearwater’s Headmaster slowly rose, and looked as though she might fall. She was able to maintain her footing, and placed the trumpet to her lips. Before a note sounded Rodrick spun on his heels and leapt at her. A quick ascending scale exploded from the instrument just as Rodrick’s sword swept towards her face. A blast of energy crashed into Rodrick and sent him spinning head-first into the wall, while the trumpet was slapped away from Fiercewind and knocked aside.