“You're more than welcome. I thought I was going to die... I don't want to find out if my power can bring me back again,” he thought to her. Only one of Quarrel's spirits remained, and Ari drew it quickly from him.
When she finished, she used a tiny amount of power and sent it into his neck. Quarrel's head drooped forward, but Ari did not drop him. She caught his staff when it fell from his nerveless fingers though. Ari's flock of spirits had grown to sixteen due to her new acquisitions.
And the beautiful woman's spirit beside her still looked at Thorel sadly. Thorel shivered at her gaze.
“We have to go now, Mistress!” Siri shouted suddenly, and with the absence of Quarrel's screams Thorel could hear the footfalls of dozens of boots from the hall behind her. Thorel pushed himself to his feet as Korin and the two remaining Dothranan guards came over. Korin was obviously hurt. Blood seeped from a wound on one leg and he used his long sword like a cane.
Ari smiled and raised her captured staff. The look in her eyes had taken on a quality beyond vicious: Thorel couldn't think of a word to describe it though. Malevolent, perhaps? No, even that was too weak.
He saw draw Magik from one of her spirits, the power swelled from her feet into the floor and walls around them. Then the Quarrel guards rounded the corner they had entered this hall from, Thorel could see at least twenty.
Then the Magik burst from the floor and walls, and spikes of wood, marble and stone impaled them. Then the flesh of the men and women was pulled from them grotesquely and stretched to cover the entire hall. The flesh hardened and bonded with the flesh nearby forming a solid wall of spikes and flesh, with blood seeping from it. The faces of the men and women she had just killed looked back at them, stretched and distorted.
Thorel turned and retched along with everyone but Siri and Ari. Siri turned away from the horrifying barrier Ari had erected and inhaled sharply, closing her eyes.
“Compose yourselves, it is time to leave,” Ari commanded forcefully.
“Yes Mistress,” one of her guards coughed.
Ari touched the speaking stone of her escort: “Take the carriages, and rendezvous with us at the High Lord's Tower,” she ordered.
“Yes Mistress,” the Captain's thin voice replied.
Ari reveled in the power of the staff she now held. If she'd had this, she would never have been so sorely pressed during her battles so far. She knew though that she would never be allowed to keep it. No one who had not earned a staff and constructed it themselves would be allowed to possess the staff of another, it was the law of the Council.
Ari easily created the gateway she had needed Thorel's help to make earlier with this staff amplifying her power. She targeted an area she knew well; the reception area of the High Lord's tower.
“Go!” Ari ordered. Siri gestured to the two men that remained. They nodded and obeyed her.
“Are the others dead?” Siri asked Korin, as Thorel wiped his mouth and went through the gateway.
“They fought and fell bravely,” he said grimly.
She nodded and said. “Go now,” he limped through the gateway and vanished.
“Go Siri,” Ari told her.
“Before I do, Mistress, I would like to say something while we are alone.”
“Then say it,” Ari replied curtly.
“Your stepmother may have been a more experienced, knowledgeable duelist, but there is one thing that you are that she never was,” Siri looked into her eyes respectfully.
“What is that?” Ari asked curiously. She knew what Siri said was true. She would have the knowledge and experience she lacked now in time. Just over the last week she had learned more about the practical reality of dueling than her class had taught her.
“You are brave, Mistress. As powerful as Marylyn Dothranan was, brave is one thing that she never was. You have the kind of courage I only saw in one out of one-hundred of my students,” Siri's eyes held nothing but the truth in them. Ari had never considered herself brave before. Well, she would have time to think on this later.
“Thank you, Siri. Go now,” she ordered with a slight smile.
“Yes Mistress,” Siri said and strode through.
Ari released the gateway, and it vanished. Still holding Quarrel's unconscious body in hand, she apported the two of them to the High Lord's reception area.
* * *
When she arrived in the pristine white marble reception area, she found a pair of Vallad's Master Wizards with a squad of his guards surrounding her and the others.
“What is the meaning of this?” The nearest Wizard to her demanded.
Ari's lip curled in contempt. Without releasing Quarrel, she channeled wind into her voice and shouted, “You dare disrespect me, Lord?” The power she unleashed with her voice knocked him and the six guards near him off of their feet. It completely obliterated the shield he'd tried to erect at the last moment.
He tried to rise, but Ari simply used a hand of air to hold him and cut every attempt he made to sever it with a thread of spirit. From the corner of her eye, she noted the other Master's astonishment. But the man seemed wise enough to realize his comrade had erred gravely and didn't interfere.
“You will address me as ‘Milady,’ Lord. You are not now, and never will be my equal. If you do not impress me with your apology, I will tear the tongue from your disrespectful mouth and give it to your Master,” Ari told him truthfully.
The guards that had fallen with him collected themselves and stepped away from him quickly.
“Milady, I apologize! I intended no disrespect, I was merely surprised!” Ari could see the abject terror in the man's eyes. And she knew for certain he had never been rendered helpless in such a way before.
Ari slid him towards the lift with her hand of air. “Tell your Mistress I am here, dog.”
“Yes, Milady!” He cried as she released him and got up. Still prepared with her thread of spirit and hand of air, she slapped him to the ground and neutralized his attempt at defense before it touched her attack.
“Dogs do not walk as men do. Go properly, dog,” Ari hissed.
“Y-yes, Milady!” He cried and scrambled to the lift on all fours.
Ari looked to the others as the lift's doors closed, and saw looks of astonishment on Thorel and Quedesham's faces. The two surviving guards had looks of pride on theirs, and Siri had a look that was both impressed and amused.
The remaining Master Wizard had stepped two paces back and regarded her cautiously.
Good. She thought with a smile.
What a sight we must be, Ari thought as she looked at herself and her party. Covered with the blood of enemies and their own; her armor melted to the point of inflexibility. A clean sword wound through the belly of her armor, and a line of solidified metal along the side of her nose from her circlet. She would likely have to use Magik just to take her armor off.
Minutes later, the Master Wizard that had remained spoke. “Milady Dothranan, the Mistress will see you now.”
“Siri, come with me. The rest of you will obey Thorel in my absence,” she commanded.
Murmurs of “Yes Mistress, and Milady” from Quedesham followed her to the lift as she walked with dignity, dragging Quarrel with her. She ignored the ache she began feeling in her fingers from holding him for this long.
When she entered, the lift doors closed and began ascending. There was another Master Wizard here, a woman this time.
“I am going to wake him now, Siri. Be ready, but do not kill him,” Ari commanded.
“Yes Mistress,” Siri nodded and watched Quarrel.
Ari touched him with a thread of healing; just enough for him to regain consciousness.
Jacon Quarrel jerked awake with a start. “Where am I?” He demanded after his confusion abated.
“In the High Lord's Tower,” Ari told him. It was satisfying to see him confused and helpless like this.
“My reliquary! You whore!” He shouted Ari merely nodded to Siri and she slapped his face hard. “You wil
l address the Mistress with respect,” Siri ordered forcefully.
Ari smiled. Yes, she had burned his reliquary after she took his spirits. She couldn't have him activating his formidable talismans with it.
“You are nothing now,” Ari stated factually. “I simply wanted you to be awake when I kill you,” Ari released her grip on his neck.
Quarrel put his hand on his jaw where he'd been struck by Siri's gauntlet. Ari could feel the terror welling from him. It was delicious.
The lift doors opened, and the three of them exited, followed by the Master Wizard that had been inside the lift.
Lucia Vallad sat in her husband's seat with a pair of Master Wizards flanking her. The Wizard that had disrespected Ari sat beside her throne on his knees with his head touching the floor.
The stained glass windows high above them cast a beautiful light on the High Lady's white Master's robe.
Ari strode forward, and Siri pushed Quarrel forward. The man's defiance had melted completely into cold realization; his reign was over, as well as his life. Ari couldn't help but respect his composure in the face of this.
She knelt before Lucia Vallad, and Siri grabbed Quarrel's hand and twisted his arm, forcing him down. She knelt on the other side of him and held his hand behind his back from beside him. Quarrel cried out at her rough treatment.
“Lady Dothranan, I have never before seen you so disheveled,” Lucia Vallad said seriously, without humor.
“Neither have I, Milady. I apologize for my appearance. I believe this matter is too important to leave waiting,” Ari said respectfully, raising her gaze to meet hers.
“Agreed. My Wizard has told me of the incident in the reception area. I do hope you can find it in your heart to forgive him his insolence,” the High Lady struck the man's back with an invisible switch and he cried out from beside her.
“I will consider the matter closed if he takes twenty lashes from your slave master and is not allowed to heal his wounds Magikally Milady. If he does heal his wounds though, his life would be forfeit,” Ari demanded respectfully.
“Very well. That does seem a bit excessive, but he did wrong you, and I will not tolerate guests being disrespected in my home. It will be as you say,” the High Lady said coldly.
“Thank you Milady.”
“It seems that another matter brought you to the Tower, Lady Dothranan. Is your war over?” She asked with her eyes falling on Quarrel.
“It is Milady. If I may be allowed?” Ari asked, with a nod to Quarrel. She left his staff on the floor where she had knelt.
“Of course,” Lucia Vallad nodded her ascent.
Ari stood, and reactivated her bracelets of strength; with the last of their charge she yanked Quarrel to his feet by the back of his robe. She activated her speed, and only a bare whimper escaped him as she rammed her dagger through the side of his neck and pushed forward, just as she had done with her stepmother.
With Quarrel's throat opened from side to side, she pushed him to the floor. His hands went to his throat, trying to hold his vitae in, but to no avail. He kicked and quivered more slowly as the seconds passed until he finally stopped.
“A gift for your husband,” Ari gestured to Quarrel's slackening body. “May he receive it in good health,” the pool of vital fluids spread rapidly about him on the white marble.
“I am certain he will appreciate this gift, Lady Dothranan,” Lucia Vallad replied as cold as ice.
* * *
Feran rode with the Cavalry archers harassing the Quarrel army's flanks. He was providing shielding for them against the enemy archers. Each time the Quarrel Cavalries tried to attack them, their own heavy Cavalry held in reserve charged them, decimating their ranks.
What a day it has been, he thought as they rode away from their current attack to regroup and come around for another pass.
Sirius had arrived, just in time to bail his fat from the fryer. The two of them fought Lok for what seemed like an hour, but in reality had only been about five minutes. With Sirius's aid, they took him down and then split his remaining spirits between them. Well, almost split them. He'd had five left, so Sirius took three, and he'd taken two. Then Major Gram had beheaded Lord Lok right there on the bloody field, without even granting him last words.
The Major was efficient. Leaving their dead and wounded behind with the medical wagons and House Niral soldiers they were underway within the hour to join the battle here. According to the Major, they had only lost one-hundred-thirty-three people from their army, including Colonel Tianna. Feran had been shocked at that low loss of life. It seemed the bulk of them had been killed by Lord Lok's hand. Niral's forces had suffered more than twice as many casualties. There were well over five-hundred wounded though.
Sirius agreed to come with them, riding on an injured man's horse after conferring with his father. During the hard ride, they had spoken at length to each other and Major Gram. Between them, they had devised a plan. Feran would silence their hooves, and Sirius would camouflage the army as it rode in.
Feran had doubts about it since he could only silence so much of this force's noise, but it had been enough to allow them to approach closely. Then he and Sirius had dropped their subterfuge and unleashed lightning bolts on the enemy forces when they charged into attack.
Their initial attack had been devastating, but the Quarrel armies had rallied quickly. Then the Major had changed their orders to the current situation. Feran rode with the Cavalry archers, Sirius was sent into the lines to assist the Master Wizards in taking control of the storm the Quarrel Wizards had created.
It was working brilliantly, in Feran's estimation. The storm was now firmly under Dothranan control, and the enemy Wizards could do nothing but try to defend their armies. It would take time, but the Quarrel horde was losing soldiers and strength steadily.
As they completed their long turn, his eyes were caught by a huge Magikal expenditure on top of Vallad's walls, near the center of the two embattled armies. He couldn't see what it was at this distance, so he enhanced his vision to make out what it was.
As the invocation settled into his eyes, he focused on the nine people that now stood atop Vallad's high battlements. Focusing more closely, he could see the glow of the runes on the Master's robes all of them wore, holding their staves with their spirits streaming out behind them.
It wasn't until they rode closer for their next pass, that he could see Lucia Vallad stood in the center of them, Vallad's representative on the Wizard's Council, the Wife of the High Lord. He took a sharp breath at this. Had house Vallad chosen sides? If they had sided with the Quarrel's, Feran was going to apport directly to a friend's house until he could change his face and disappear, his oath be damned.
He would readily risk his life when there was a chance of winning, but he wasn't going to throw his life away for nothing.
Lucia Vallad's voice boomed across the battlefield, as four of the Wizards with her instantly dissipated the storm with a concentrated burst of spirit.
“By the High Lord's decree, you will cease all combat immediately!” she ordered. “Withdraw from melee, any who do not will be executed for their disobedience.”
Feran slowed his horse and the soldiers with him did as well. Arrows ceased firing, and the trebuchets went silent. Even the front line soldiers seemed to be stepping back for the most part. After a few moments though, a bolt of lightning struck in the center of the lines; it had been cast by one of the Masters on the wall. Then things seemed to truly calm down.
The High Lady spoke again, her words carried by her power. “Ricard and Jacon Quarrel have been killed by the Great Lady Dothranan. As your Lord and his heir are now dead, House Quarrel is hereby dissolved by my husband's, the High Lord Erlac Vallad's decree. Your war is at an end.”
Feran couldn't believe it. The Mistress had actually done it. He'd been more than a bit skeptical about her chances against him. He could tell Hanar really wasn't much of a duelist, so her victory against him while impressive for an appr
entice, certainly didn't mean she could beat someone like Quarrel. But she had done it anyway. Amazing, he thought.
“All former House Quarrel soldiers will come under the jurisdiction of Crown General Saliah until such time as a new House occupies the Northern Hold. Your Legion commissions are reactivated as of this moment, and you will obey him based on your Legion oaths, or face appropriate discipline, as decided by him,” The High Lady looked about the battlefield.
Feran couldn't help himself. He was so tired now, after all he'd been through today, and he swore that his ass had a permanent saddle imprint on it now. He cheered as loud as his lungs would let him.
All the soldiers with him joined him in his jubilation, until the Dothranans' cheers swept across this killing field, and almost took the heavy cost of this war away on the winds.
Epilogue
Wednesday
June 6th 1612th year of the First Great City
Memories of Battle
Sherie Els leaned on the tree and rested while she could. She wiped the sweat from her brow with a dirty rag. She was six months out of the Legion Academy of Vox nearing her nineteenth summer.
By the spirits, she could smell herself. It was horrible, she’d smelled horse shit with a better aroma. The thought made her chuckle shakily. It had been three days since she’d bathed, and two days since she’d slept. The jerkin under her scaled armor was soaked through with sweat and grime, giving it an oily, crusty feeling.
She was numb, inside and out. Except for her stomach: she could feel the hollowness of that quite clearly. There was no food; what little had been brought out of the city was gone the first night. Very little had been brought back by those sent out to hunt. Most of the people that had gone out didn't come back. She hoped justice found those deserting bastards, and that they were used like sheep in the cells before they were hung.
Spirit of Magik (The Dothranan Chronicles Book 1) Page 58
