Archon's Hope: Book III of 'The Magician's Brother' Series

by HDA Roberts

  She threw her Chaos-ball just as the Cannon blinked into existence. It spat a trio of weak dispels at the incoming attack. The dispels clipped the ball, tearing a chunk of the spell away before it hit, blasting off a third of my shields. My regeneration charms were already hard at work, and I threw a lance of my gathered force at her to keep her busy while they finished rebuilding and my Dispel-Cannon charged up to full power.

  The hair-thin Force Lance ripped into her shields, and she frantically pulled back her Will, focussing on defence. She worked with one or two massively thick and powerful shields rather than the dozen ablative layers I relied on. My shields were designed to be destroyed and rebuilt quickly and cheaply, which made her barriers a power-intensive solution compared to mine, and much more vulnerable to dispels. Her reasoning was likely that it would take a lot of dispel energy just to break one, much less two, and dispels could be intercepted.

  Might just be better to do it the old fashioned way...

  Knowles had been right. Hellstrom was all about the quick win; all-out attacks with little longevity. Against her usual opponents, that may well have been a good strategy, but I duelled like I played Starcraft, I turtled. That means that I built up a nigh-impenetrable defence before I attacked. Normally a bad strategy in gaming, but a pretty good one in duelling if you had the power to spare, and I did.

  She kept up her attacks, shards of ice, lances of force, acid balls, blinders... my dispel cannon got all but a few, and my shields caught the rest. She was getting tired, I could tell. Her Well was emptying much faster than mine, and mine was a good deal deeper to begin with. She was already down by a third, whereas I'd not even expended a tenth yet.

  Of course, Sorcerer's Wells recharge even as they're being emptied, so theoretically this could go on for a while, but I wasn't going to let that happen.

  I started gathering energy, and I wasn't being as picky as she had been. I called up everything. Force, heat, chemical, gravitational, atomic, photonic, electrical and sonic; I packed it all into a single construct. It wasn't an elegant spell, but it would be effective, and I knew that there weren't too many other people who could cast one like it.

  Normally Mages, even Sorcerers, didn't have the same ease with disparate energy types as I did; I'd never met a Low Energy type I couldn't play with. Case in point, Hellstrom's Chaos-ball only had three energy types in it, whereas mine had a little of everything.

  I focussed it down into the form of a beam, and I started pulling a few dispels from my cannon, weaving the energy into the fabric of the spell.

  There was a screech like a chainsaw chopping through plate armour as I cast it. Her shields were torn apart in less than a second, and she had to jump out of the way very quickly to avoid getting her shoulder burned through. There was nothing wrong with that woman's reflexed, I had to give her that.

  I paused the beam and called force into my other hand, releasing a wave that smacked into a half-dome of her Will.

  I pointed my Chaos-beam again, and it bored into her Will-shield. I heard her squeal in pain and fear as her Well drained at an incredible rate to keep it in place. She moved about as she focussed hard, finally managing to get another set of shields into place, this set more like mine, thinner yet more numerous. It had cost her all but a fifth of her Magic, but she was still in the duel, and my Chaos-beam was out of juice.

  I didn't let up, and started using the energy from the gatherer-spells I'd cast earlier. I was surrounded by dozens of tiny balls of power, mostly light and force, the ones I've the most experience with. She surprised me by hurling her Will against my shields, made barbed and rending; an attack tinged with desperation. It tore through several layers before I could counter with my own, and sparks flew as our Wills struck at each other.

  Her face was scrunched in concentration and I got an idea. I called my telepathy, lashing out at her mind as she conjured more ice. Her cursory mental defences buckled and she quickly pulled back to fight me properly, only for me to immediately retreat. Suddenly confused, she was caught on the back foot when I pointed, and what amounted to a force-empowered laser smashed into her weakening defences.

  Lasers hurt, just so you know. And Hellstrom found that out the hard way when mine ate through her left thigh and sent her crashing to the ground with her hands over the smoking hole. She screamed; her shields dropped and the last of her spells dissipated as pain tore apart her concentration. That was why I cast self-sustaining spells; that way, if I got hurt, I didn't automatically lose, and I did tend to get hurt (as you may have noticed; at least I'm learning from my repeated mistakes).

  There were tears running down her face as she rocked back and forth in agony. I walked over and cast a little numbing spell that made her sag in relief.

  "Well?" she snarled, glaring hate at me, "Finish it, you bastard!"

  "I don't want to hurt you, Duchess," I said softly, kneeling next to her and starting a small triage spell that would stop the thermal damage from spreading any further.

  "Piss off!" she screeched, "Keep your filthy Magic away from me!"

  "What about the painkiller?" I asked gently.

  She seemed to wrestle with herself.

  "Look, this is over, do you agree?" I asked.

  She gritted her teeth, taking in my full array of shields and defences, not to mention the balls of energy floating above my head, ready to throw out more pain. She nodded.

  "Alright. Then let me help you while we wait for your second, it'll save you hours of healing later if I can halt the thermal damage now."

  "Screw you! I may have lost, but this isn't over. The Hellstroms will be coming for you now, Graves, I will see to that!"

  "I'm sorry to hear that," I said, standing up, "I would have preferred to do this civilly, but you've made your choice, I suppose. Say you surrender so everyone can hear you."

  "I surrender," she said loudly, not really necessary, but form is important, "I am in the wrong as proved by the old code."

  I nodded and backed away towards my end of the room, watching her closely as both sets of doors opened and our seconds came out. Hers knelt at her side, a tall, handsome man with long dark hair. He offered his hand and she slapped it away, keeping her hate-filled eyes square on me as I retreated. It was only when I was over the threshold that I started recycling all the energy and spell-work that I'd had in place.

  "Bloody, bloody, bloody hell, Graves!" Knowles said, grabbing my shoulders and spinning me around once my shields were down, "That was the most amazing duel I've seen since you faced off against Hopkins! Kraab is going to be so pissed off that he missed that!"

  "I'm just glad nobody died," I said with a sigh. I was sweating like a pig and can't have smelt too nice.

  "Come on, let's get you out of here before somebody else tries to kill you," she said cheerfully, leading the way to the stairs. It took longer to get back up those dreadful things than it had to come down them, much longer, and when we got back up to the Council Chamber level there wasn't a person to be seen.

  We saw a couple of well dressed people as we made our way to the main atrium, but they darted behind doors and walls as quickly as possible when they laid eyes on me.

  "Well, that explains a lot," I said as we walked through the main doors and into fresh air.

  I was scratching my left cheek (the formerly mangled one), it had been almost constantly itchy lately.

  "What's that?" Knowles asked.

  "He's realised that the only reason they voted not to send him to tribunal was that they were hoping that Hellstrom would kill him in a duel, isn't that right, Graves?" Killian said from behind us.

  "Do you have to sneak up on people? It's very disconcerting," I complained.

  "You're not supposed to see Death coming," he said with a completely straight face.

  Knowles went bright red and seemed to lose the ability to speak.

  "Lord Killian, do you know Agent Knowles?" I asked, seeing the other three Archons coming up to us.

  "I don
't believe I've had the pleasure," he said, extending his hand, his eyes twinkling with amusement as Knowles spluttered out something entirely incoherent.

  The others arrived, and I introduced Kron, Knowles was less spluttery, but still a little star-struck.

  "Thank you for coming so quickly, Agent Knowles," Hopkins said, "we were in a spot of bother there."

  "My honour, Lady," she said with a bow.

  "Would you mind giving us a moment with Graves? I have to yell at him for a while," she continued, glaring at me.

  "Of course, Lady," she said, "I'll see you, Matty."

  "Thanks Vanessa," I replied.

  She left, and I turned for my scolding.

  "Sloppy duelling, Graves," Kron said before Hopkins could start.

  "I keep telling people I'm not a duellist."

  "This is quite evident," she replied.

  "Don't you think telling me something I already know is a bit of a waste of Time?" I asked innocently.

  Killian's eyes went wide and he muffled a snigger under a fake sneeze.

  "Was that a time pun?" Kron asked dangerously, "I hate time puns."

  "Duly noted," I said, "you might say I was informed in the nick of Time."

  "I love this kid," Killian stage-whispered to Palmyra, "shame Kron's going to kill him."

  Kron glared daggers first at me, and then at Killian, who grinned back.

  "You used too much energy. And what was that dispel generator spell supposed to do? Build proper shields," she said.

  "I would have preferred to consult you about my duelling strategy, of course, but I could never find the Time," I said. I shouldn't have poked at her like that, but she just seemed so serious, and the situation so ridiculous. And it just felt like... the right thing to do. Easy. It was a strange feeling, but not an unpleasant one.

  And also she started it.

  Killian and Palmyra had to look away, their shoulders heaving up and down in laughter.

  "You think you're funny, don't you, Graves?" she said, her voice low and dangerous.

  "Really more witty than funny," I replied, "and you're the one who opened the conversation in a hostile manner."

  "The kid has a point, Van," Killian said.

  "You want to be next?" she hissed.

  "How could you let yourself be manipulated like that?" Hopkins asked, taking control of the conversation before I really pissed off Lady Time, "You've got to get better at this, Matty!"

  "You rely on my gullibility regularly, you can't start complaining about it now," I pointed out.

  "I know where you sleep and I will throttle you," she said.

  "Like I said to the last girl who threatened me like that: how do you know I wouldn't enjoy it?"

  "I hate you," Hopkins said, glaring at me while Palmyra and Killian looked close to hysterics.

  "Then you must be some sort of masochist, because you keep coming back for more," I said with a grin.

  "Excuse me!" Kron said irately, "Why must I constantly be the voice of reason in this group? The idiot child keeps sticking his head in things that will chop it off!"

  "That's idiot young adult, thank you very much," I said.

  Kron started rubbing her forehead, "Forget the Conclave, I'm going to kill him," she muttered, stomping off.

  "You shouldn't tease Lady Time," Killian said, "She gets crotchety, and always gets her own back."

  "You know this from experience, I take it?" I asked.

  "Oh yes," he said, his eyes taking on a faraway look, "There was an escalating war of pranks that lasted two hundred years and cost us millions in gold. Eventually we had to call it a draw before we both ran out of money and property, it was ridiculous; she wouldn't let it go!"

  "Yes, she was the only belligerent," Palmyra said with a sideways glance.

  "I never said I wasn't bad, but she's worse!" Killian said.

  "And who was it that burst the Mississippi Bubble in the eighteenth century because one of the directors of the Mississippi Company called his cousin fat?" Hopkins asked.

  "That was never conclusively linked to me," he said, sticking his nose in the air, looking offended.

  I couldn't help but grin. They weren't so bad, really. Still scary as hell, more powerful than is really sensible... but normal enough people. Good people, horrific manipulations aside.

  I was just starting to relax when she spoke up from behind me.

  "Ah, so close," Evelina said. I spun, and there were suddenly three Archons at my side, all staring down the Sidhe Princess and her terrifying mother. The Unseelie were dressed simply, black cloaks over simple dark dresses. There were several tall men with them, also dressed in black, their forms heavy with what had to be armour, weapons concealed under woollen cloaks.

  The Sidhe ladies were openly glaring at me.

  "There, Lady Palmyra, you were worried she wouldn't be angry," I said.

  "That's not anger, that's... oh let's call it interest," she whispered.

  "Hand him over, we want him," Adriata said.

  "He's not for you," Killian said, all good humour gone from his voice. This was the Gravelord, Archon of Death. And not somebody you mess with. Ever.

  "And who are you to lay claim?" Adriata asked, "He belongs to my little one. It is proven. He comes home with us."

  "I beg to bloody differ," I chimed in.

  "Easy, Matty," Hopkins said, putting a hand on my shoulder.

  "We know everything, Archons," Adriata continued, looking me over, "We know exactly who and what he is, and we'd rather take him before some damned fool Magician can kill him over this misunderstanding. He'd be safe with us."

  "Oh!" I said, slapping my head, "That's why you told that wretched trout-fondling Thorne! You wanted the Conclave to turn against me so I'd have nowhere to go except with you."

  Adriata blinked hard, her eyes narrowing in anger.

  "I don't like being accused of things, Magician," she said acidly.

  "You realise that your daughter has no poker-face, right?" I said, gesturing at an open mouthed Evelina, who quickly adjusted her expression. Adriata glared at her daughter, shaking her head.

  "None the less, the fact remains that you aren't welcome here anymore. Come home, Mathew Graves."

  "I am home," I said, actually meaning it.

  "We can do this little dance for as long as it takes. We are timeless, Graves. One day you will simply not be paying enough attention and you will be hers. Make it easy, and I'll reward you. Make it hard, and there will be consequences," Adriata said, her eyes locking with mine.

  "Threaten him again," Killian said, stepping forward, "I dare you."

  Adriata's eyes met the Gravelord's and she swallowed, stepping back. Even Fairy Queens don't mess with Lord Death... good to know.

  "Look, whatever you're after, I don't want to live in Unseelie. If somehow you manage to get me there, I'll just come home. I was watching very carefully when your various creatures opened portals. I can easily replicate what they did. So, there's really no point."

  "Prove it!" Evelina said.

  I shrugged and waved my hand. A portal opened off to my left, a carbon copy of the one Grontor had opened, same image on the other side, too.

  "Impossible..." Adriata said. The Archons were staring at me, too, "You're too young! And you're no Space Mage!"

  "And yet, here we are," I said, closing the portal before anyone looked too closely at it.

  They glared at me.

  "Time to think again, Ladies," I said.

  Evelina was staring at me, wetting her lips with her tongue, her eyes lidded. I didn't think I was discouraging her...

  "This isn't over, Graves," Adriata said, "the Fates have spoken. You belong to my daughter, you're just too stubborn to accept it. But you will."

  "Doubt it," I said, "Why would you even want me down there anyway? My Magic does not mix with yours, I'm told."

  "I like power, Graves," she said, "and Evelina likes it too. There are many families and monsters who wouldn't
take to your powers any better than we would. You could be a god among our people."

  I couldn't help but snort.

  Adriata glared hard at me.

  "Sorry, just had to get some of the cheesy smell out of my nose," I said.

  "Seriously," Killian whispered to Palmyra, "I love this kid."

  Palmyra chuckled and shushed Killian, who grinned.

  "You will regret this!" Adriata said, spinning on her heel and suddenly disappearing.

  Evelina looked me over slowly, up and down before blowing me a kiss and vanishing herself, along with the bodyguards.

  I sighed, grinning evilly.

  "I can't believe they fell for that again," I said with a snigger.

  "What?" Hopkins said.

  "Portal illusion," I said.

  Palmyra chuckled. Killian's evil smile matched my own.

  "Oh they are going to be so mad if they ever find out," he said, patting my shoulder.

  "Yes, he's excellent at annoying everyone, can we go now?" Kron asked.

  "See? Crotchety," Killian stage-whispered.

  "What was that?" Kron said dangerously, turning back to him.

  "Nothing, my love," he said, smiling disarmingly. She glared and turned away. Killian sent me a quick wink before following. Palmyra gave me a hug and trailed after them, leaving me with Hopkins.

  She shook her head at me.

  "Now, I've had a day, please don't yell," I asked.

  She chuckled, shaking her head, "Alright, just this once," she said, waggling her finger at me, "You did well today Mathew. Not perfectly, but well enough."

  "Thanks," I said, "I'm going to head back to school now. No doubt Cathy's doing her nut."

  "Want a portal?" she asked.

  "Yes please."

  She smiled and did the magic. I stepped through and back to school.

  So, to recap; now a pariah among Magicians, a group of fanatics wants me dead, someone's wondering around with buckets of stored Black Magic, and a psychotic pair of fairies want me as a wall-decoration.

  It's just been one of those months...

  Chapter 13