Primal's Wrath: Book VI of 'The Magician's Brother' Series

by HDA Roberts

  The entrance and exit were about a hundred metres apart... and perpendicular to the Gate.

  "Are you doing what I think you're doing?!" Hopkins screamed at me.

  "What's he doing?" Palmyra asked. She looked where Hopkins and I were. "Oh hell no!"

  She bolted, massively reinforcing her shields as she went. She gestured and a hole opened in the ground, which she then dove into. It wasn't reassuring.

  "Are you sure about this, Matty?" Hopkins asked, putting more and more layers onto her own defences.

  "No," I said, opening a small hole in the top of the Trap Shield. With any luck, most of the energy released would go that way.

  Hopkins cast even more shields around herself.

  I put more power into my Portals, which wasn't easy from so far away. They expanded quickly, and met with one another perfectly... right at the edge of the Gate.

  For anyone counting, that was three separate places, two different dimensions, meeting at the same spot.

  If what had happened at Camelot was Reality having a sneeze, this was Reality having a chilli enema. If it hadn't been for my Trap Shield, we'd have lost the city... and that’s if we were lucky. All three Portals collapsed and exploded at once, creating a flash brighter than a thousand suns, and sending a plume of fire high up into the sky through the hole in the top of my sphere. The barrier itself barely held, and only because I'd started funnelling in vast amounts of Magic, more than an Archon's worth, hell, more than two.

  The sheer rush of power was nearly overwhelming, building until it felt like I was going to burst, but I kept it together with everything I had... and the shield held.

  But, just as the energy reached its peak, I felt a distinct... crack deep inside me. It's difficult to describe. It wasn't bone or flesh, but something in me definitely broke; something important. My eyes started to bleed, my nose, too. I tasted blood in my mouth, and my fingernails were suddenly red with burst capillaries. My legs stopped working, but I didn't dare let up on the Spell, even as I fell to my knees.

  Suddenly, everything hurt. It felt as if my whole body was being wrenched apart and heated up at the same time. It wasn't quite as bad as having my pain centre lit up like a Christmas tree, but it still wasn't very pleasant.

  The concentration required to continue casting through that much pain was immense, but somehow I managed, and I held on until the last of the flame-tower was gone, and then I held it a second longer. When I finally let it go, the sky above the Conclave was filled with a momentary, massive fireball before the heat dissipated... leaving a gigantic mass of flaming Abomination-head hurtling towards the ground.

  Well, not the ground.

  The Conclave building.

  "Oh... shit," I managed.

  The mass of burning flesh had to weigh thousands of tons, probably more than that. A lot more. Thousands of tons, with a mile to fall.

  More than enough distance for the remains to reach terminal velocity.

  Would that be enough energy to puncture the most powerful Fortress Shield ever made?

  Oh, you betcha.

  It popped like a bubble. Thankfully, Myrddin had seen it coming and everyone had already made a break for it, leaping off the roof and running for the nearby buildings (and cover) as quickly as possible.

  The Abomination’s corpse crushed the ancient building like it was made out of Lego, sending dust and wreckage exploding outwards and into more buildings. Three hundred-plus metres of burning meat soon turned what was left of the Conclave into a raging inferno.

  I just knelt there, dumbstruck. Killian was helping Kron limp up next to Hopkins while Palmyra peeked out of her hole.

  "Holy crap," Killian said in a reverent whisper before turning to Kron. "And you were worried about me making a mess?!"

  I cringed while Kron turned her (slightly crossed) eyes on me. "You did it again, you bastard!"

  "What? When have I ever knocked down a Conclave?!" I protested, my voice a little raspy.

  "Not that! Who gives a crap about that?! That was my monster!"

  My mouth opened and closed, spilling more blood down my chin, and drawing Kron's eyes.

  "What's wrong with you, anyway? Feedback shouldn't do that," she said moving over to me, staggering a little (that had to have been one hell of a hit her defences had taken).

  "Uh, Van?" Killian said, still staring at the rubble.

  "What?" she replied testily, grabbing my chin, which caused me to see stars.

  "I don't think it’s dead," he said, pointing.

  "It was decapitated, how could anything have survived tha- no, you're right it's still alive!" she said, her eyes lighting up again. She opened her hand, and that ridiculous hammed flew into it (nearly clobbering me on the way, if anyone cares).

  The rumbling at the remains of the Conclave intensified, and then that ugly skull emerged, though horribly burned and cracked. The mouth under it opened in an awful scream.

  Every part of the monster was charred, weeping red or black, but it was already recovering, with what had passed for its neck splitting into hundreds of tentacles to give it some locomotion.

  "Round Two!" Kron bellowed happily, leaping away again, only slightly weaving in her flight path.

  "How is he?" Killian asked as Palmyra knelt next to me and went to work.

  "I don't know," she said, which concerned me. "It's stopped, whatever it was."

  I was feeling a bit better, or at least I wasn't leaking from every conceivable place, but my whole body still ached, like it was stretched over a rack. It was a bone-deep soreness that I couldn't escape from.

  "Graves, can you fight? This isn't anywhere near over," Killian said.

  I nodded and Cassandra helped me to my unsteady feet.

  "Later, we'll be discussing respect for antiquities, young man," she said, her eyes just a little frightening.

  I think I managed something suitably manly... like 'meep', but that was about it.

  When Killian said that it wasn’t over, he was, of course, referring to Myrddin. While I was sprawled on my arse and Kron was having the time of her life, he had been busy forming a psychic bond with more than a hundred and fifty powerful Magicians, all of whom were either suborned to his Will or completely obedient.

  Just when you thought one incomprehensively dangerous thing was enough for one day, we got another... and this one had a grudge. Thankfully, Killian hadn’t been distracted.

  "Jen, you take the left, I'll take the ri- watch it!" he barked, shoving me out of the way of a Disintegration Beam that blasted in from off to our left. It had come from atop one of those buildings Hopkins had been going to perch her sharpshooters on. The ground next to me erupted, hurling me away with little bits of burning pavement on my clothes, which did me no harm, but wrecked a perfectly decent shirt.

  "Hyde!" Killian roared, raising a hand and firing off an Entropic Beam.

  I followed the line of his attack and saw something to make me wish I'd stayed at home.

  Five Hyde High Primes, just like the one that had nearly killed me in Unseelie, complete with harvested Magician heads, which all started screaming in agony the second we saw them.

  "Kid, keep Myrddin busy!" Killian barked. "Jen, you and Lucille deal with the two on the right. Hellstrom, do what you can when you see an opening. I've got the ones on the left!"

  "What?!" I tried to complain, but he was already flying at the three Hydes that were gathering for an attack on Kron.

  From there, the situation quickly descended into pandemonium.

  The other Archons attacked with everything they had, their Wardens following them in. Killian and the Sisters were the most effective unit, carving through one of the Primes with relative ease, only to get bogged down by several dozen smaller Hyde that came pouring out of the buildings, before they could get to the second. Hopkins and Palmyra charged one each, and quickly found themselves coming up against the same problem Killian faced, forcing them to divert their attention to the cannon fodder while also
preventing the Primes themselves from taking shots at them with those wretched Disintegration Spells.

  They did keep them from targeting me, though, so I can’t really complain.

  Hellstrom and Glass did their best to make themselves useful, but I think they realised that they were out of their weight class. They and their people did help though, dealing with as many of the smaller Hyde as they could reach, freeing up Wardens as and when they could.

  Kron's Wardens, not wanting to spoil their mistress' fun, decided to follow me as I walked towards Myrddin, along with half a dozen of Hellstrom’s Lifeguards. I appreciated the support, I was not feeling well. Every time I used Magic, it was accompanied by a flare of pain and a bloody-leak from one orifice or another

  It was hard, but I grit my teeth, pushing past the discomfort to cast three Dispel Cannons and a brand new set of Adaptive Combat Shields.

  I hoped it would be enough. Looking at Myrddin and his cronies, at the raw power they had between them, I worried that it wouldn’t be. He'd taken Glass' basic idea of Unified Magic, and turned it up to eleven. He had designated groups for defence, others for gathering energy, more creating layered constructs, some throwing entire Spells from mind to mind for improvement and sharpening before being held in a final mind for Myrddin to cast. It was like watching an assembly line for Spells.

  I swear, no matter how hard you knocked that man down, he just came back stronger and meaner... I suppose there was something rather admirable about that, in its own ghastly way.

  He smiled as I approached; a sadistic, cruel thing.

  "You don't look so good," he said, his mad eyes containing a knowing glint that concerned me. "Hurts, doesn't it?"

  "I don't know what you're talking about.”

  "Yes you do," he said, gesturing at his nose, chin and eyes, where I’d just started bleeding again.

  He smiled wider, satisfaction clear, "It only gets worse."

  "If you surrender now, I’ll guarantee you a fair trial before the Conclave," I said, choosing to ignore him.

  He laughed, "You can't be serious, surely? After all this? You think I'd surrender? I don't surrender," his voice descended into a hiss at the end, sending a chill up my spine.

  "You know you can't win here," I said reasonably. "Don't kill yourself for nothing."

  "Who's going to kill me? You? With your 'ethics'? Hardly. The other Archons? They'll be dust in minutes. Your little band of traitors? They couldn't kill me in my sleep. And besides," he said, looking me right in the eyes, "there's no way I die before I make you scream."

  He lifted a hand, and just like that, I was fighting for my life again.

  Suddenly I understood what an ice cube felt like when it was dropped in a kettle.

  Energy surged from Myrddin's people, and soon my small group was beset by a dozen different spells, each more powerful than the last. Great spears of ice seeded with Dispel came crashing down from above, dragons made of fire erupted from the air and launched themselves at my face. A Beam of Entropy tried to rot me to death while a Portal opened and spilled molten lava over my defences...

  My reality narrowed down to countering Magic, drawing energy and blasting constructs apart. I had no time to think, no time to plan, there was only instinct and power. I focussed everything on defence; there was just no opportunity for me to strike back, none at all.

  The air filled with explosions as Dispel met Attack Spell. Fire, Ice, Death and Force hit Shield and Will, draining me and forcing me to adjust on the fly.

  Without Cassandra's training, I would have died; I have no doubt about that. Even so, it was a close run thing. And as I used more and more power, I felt the pain start to intensify, getting steadily worse and worse as my output increased.

  Blood flowed and I staggered as I tried to stay upright, but I was approaching my limit.

  Cassandra saw, and so did Demise; they did their best to help, attacking Myrddin's defences in an attempt to distract him from me. They quickly found themselves on the wrong end of a conjured avalanche of ice and had to retreat.

  Kron's Wardens were lifesavers... literally. Their armour and weapons absorbed damage that would have drained me badly. They even interposed themselves between me and incoming energy when they thought I was about to take a critical hit. They moved with the grace of dancers, smashing apart incoming attacks and obliterating Magical constructs with those hammers of theirs, occasionally combining their powers into a Beam of coherent light that ploughed into Myrddin's Pseudo-Fortress Shield, keeping him from focussing all his might on his attacks.

  We did our best, but it was less than twenty Magicians up against a hundred and thirty, and those bound into a gestalt with the most experienced combat Magician to come out of Old Albion. It was a losing proposition.

  Using my pre-Camelot baseline, I had started the day with about three Archons' worth of power. I'd used up about two-thirds of that just closing the Gateway to the Realm of Darkness and preventing the annihilation of a city.

  Myrddin, by contrast, taking into account his own, not inconsiderable, reserves (which included not one, or two, but seven big Damascus Stones) and the hundred and thirty or so men and women with him, he had more power available to him than all of the Archons (if not their Wardens)... combined, and they were fresh.

  It was only the Wardens and former Councillors I had with me that were keeping me alive.

  In a way, Myrddin had gotten exactly what he’d wanted. He had more power than any one man ever had before, he had access to most Affinities, High and Low, and he had all the followers an unhinged demagogue could ever ask for.

  So, it wasn't a matter of if he could beat me, but when. I spared the tiniest morsel of attention to the others and their battles, in the hopes that someone might be free to help.

  Palmyra was in trouble, having taken a nasty hit from the Prime she was fighting. Her Wardens were gathering around to screen her while she recovered; no help there. Hopkins was winning her fight, and quite handily, dropping Hyde into Portals by the dozen, but having trouble getting a good bead on her Prime, which kept dodging. She wasn't going to be able to help me any time soon, either.

  Killian had annihilated his second Prime, though several of his Wardens were down for the count as well, covered in horrific injuries. Being Death Sorceresses, they'd likely be just fine, but it was still a disturbing thing to see. He was moving onto his last one, slaughtering lesser Hydes with every flicker of Magic, but he was still too occupied to spare any thought for my situation.

  That left Kron, who was cackling with glee as she charged at the Abomination. Hers was arguably the most important job of all; she was just lucky that she was able to enjoy it so much.

  I saw her fly into the air, propelled by bands of Anti-Gravity, only to come smashing down, bringing her glowing hammer square onto the centre of the immense black skull, causing a thousand cracks to appear and a great river of gore to come spraying out of every available exit, it was horrific... and she wasn’t anywhere near done yet.

  In fact, the creature seemed to be adapting, its form shifting and elongating, splitting into thinner and thinner appendages, changing from a vague, tentacled sausage-shape into a squirming pile of snakes, joined at the head. I can’t say that it was a visual improvement, but it did seem to be getting better at evading or blunting Kron’s heavier strikes.

  She wasn't coming to help me, either.

  I think Myrddin sensed that too. He smiled sickly as he gathered his power and redoubled his attacks.

  I had to increase the energy I was using to counter him, and the pain redoubled. I groaned as my vision went red from blood flowing into my eyes. I had to start coughing to clear the blood from my throat, spitting it all over the ground in front of me. The pain grew and grew until I felt that my brain might pop from my skull.

  I started to falter and Myrddin pressed his advantage. His attacks started getting closer and closer. Kron's Wardens started missing more and more of them.

  My shields took
one hit after another, slowly being worn away as my regenerative constructs couldn’t keep up with the demand.

  I was losing.

  Hell, I was fairly certain I was dying.

  But then they were there.

  It turned out that having a piece of someone's Soul hanging around your neck meant that you'd know when they were in distress. And wow, did those girls make an entrance!

  I was on the verge of collapse when the most astonishing torrent of Magical Lightning speared from the blood-red sky and into Myrddin's shield-dome, causing a spider's web of glowing fracture lines to appear.

  Myrddin and I both turned towards the source of this new, powerful attack, and I would have cheered if my mouth wasn't so full of blood.

  The pair were... majestic isn't a strong enough word. They were beautiful and ethereal, glowing with power, a light sky-blue wreathing Gwendolyn and a dark, purple surrounding Evelina; both Sidhe princesses' amulets glowing brightly. A gesture from Gwendolyn and a great tooth of ice appeared above Myrddin's shield, where Evelina started throwing colossal amounts of energy into it.

  Myrddin became frantic, turning fire and kinetic energy on the construct. I diverted my efforts and shielded it as the girls finished their work, creating an enormous projectile full of Force and lightning, pointed right at Myrddin's head.

  He started pulling power away from his attack on me to counter what was coming, but it was too late.

  "Cassie! Get ready! Myrddin's about to be vulnerable!"

  She appeared to my left and loosened her shoulders.

  I threw a clutch of Dispels at the top of Myrddin's Shield, slowing his efforts to rebuild it, tossing some heavy Force that way for good measure. The web of damage spread, angry orange lines against the faint blue of the construct.

  Myrddin was on the back foot now, almost desperately trying to defend against what was coming. He diverted a few of his minions to throw Attack Spells at the princesses, and I might have been worried, had Ross not opened a series of miniature Portals and returned those Spells to their senders, right atop the barrier, only making the situation worse for our enemies.