All three attacked at once. Oliver shoved one away with a force-push, but the other two managed to strike his shield with such brute strength that it failed, leaving him defenseless.
Alexander brought his light back above them both, blindingly bright. The enemy faltered in their attack. Oliver took the opportunity to cast his shield again while Anatoly regained his feet. Alexander released his light, drawing his awareness up to see the whole battlefield. It was a rout. What remained of Anatoly’s men in the gap were running for their lives with a mob of barbarians on their heels picking off the stragglers.
The Sky Knights had run out of javelins and were engaging the enemy directly with tail, claws, and fangs. Several wyverns lay dead or dying, their riders hacked to death the moment their steeds hit the ground.
Two wyverns floated in low, their tails whipping into the men surrounding Anatoly and Oliver. One of the wyverns took a javelin in the belly, faltering in flight and crashing hard into the barbarians, tumbling over many of them, killing a few before coming to a stop.
Anatoly killed a charging barbarian with a brutal hack to the neck. Oliver killed another with a force-shard to the face. One of the barbarians stopped a dozen feet from Anatoly, nodding at him with respect. He tested the weight of the javelin in his hand before hurling it hard and fast. Rather than aim for his breastplate, the barbarian had thrown for his legs, and thrown true. The javelin hit Anatoly high on the inside of his right leg, stopping halfway through. He grunted, nearly losing his balance. Oliver killed the man but three more replaced him.
Alexander was about to unleash his light again when Corina crashed into the soldiers near Anatoly, her wyvern killing barbarians indiscriminately as she cast a spell, projecting a magic circle onto the ground around Anatoly and Oliver. A shield surrounded them just in time to stop an onrushing enemy soldier, sending him falling unconscious to the ground as if he’d run into a stone wall.
Corina began to launch into the air when a dozen javelins rose up at her from all directions. The first ten hit her shield, harmlessly bouncing away, but then her defenses failed under the onslaught and the final two javelins hit her, one driving into her back, the other under the armpit. She slumped forward in her saddle as her wyvern thrashed against the enemy.
Somewhere overhead Bianca cried out. Moments later a bubble of liquid fire the size of a man’s head splashed into the barbarians near Corina’s fatally wounded wyvern, splashing orange death into their ranks, igniting a dozen men.
Anatoly stood inside the circle shield, using his axe as a cane to keep from falling over. He looked grimly at Oliver and said, “Pull it through.”
“Are you sure?” Oliver said, his face white.
“Yes,” Anatoly said, gritting his teeth.
Oliver looked at him one last time as he took a grip on the javelin. Anatoly nodded—Oliver yanked. The weapon came free of Anatoly’s leg, bright red blood spilling too quickly from the wound. He grunted, slumping to his knees.
Three men approached the circle shield cautiously, weapons extended. When they stopped against the magical barrier, they all smiled as one, raising their weapons and striking the shield with all their strength. Oliver tried to kill one of them but his force-shards stopped against the shield as well, so he turned to bandaging Anatoly’s leg.
Another bubble of liquid fire splashed into the soldiers striking the shield, setting five more on fire. They ran in a panic until the flames overcame them, then fell and burned to death.
“I can’t stop the bleeding,” Oliver said a bit frantically.
Anatoly was going white. Alexander felt entirely helpless, a wail rising in the back of his mind.
Bianca and five Sky Knights landed close by, scattering or crushing most of the nearby soldiers. She cast two force-shard spells in rapid succession, sending five shards per casting into the nearby soldiers, wounding or killing all of the closest before dispelling the circle shield.
“Come on!” she shouted to Oliver, extending her hand to him.
“What about Anatoly?”
“My wyvern will carry him to safety,” she shouted. “Hurry!”
Oliver hesitated for only a moment before taking her hand and swinging up into the saddle behind her. Her wyvern carefully gripped Anatoly in its talons, then launched into the sky, landing atop the cliff and gently laying him on the ground.
Alexander appeared beside him as Bianca came to his side. The blood was still flowing around the bandage. Anatoly was starting to lose consciousness.
“Anatoly,” Alexander said. “Stay with me.”
The old man-at-arms opened his eyes with effort, looking up at Alexander with a bit of confusion that cleared with a wince of pain. He took in a sharp breath and held it for a few moments, clenching his eyes closed.
When the spasm passed, he opened his eyes again, struggling to focus on Alexander.
“I’m proud of you,” he whispered. “You and your sister both.”
He reached up to touch Alexander’s face but his hand fell through the illusion as he lost strength.
“I wouldn’t do a single thing differently,” he whispered with his last breath, his eyes going distant and glassy.
Anatoly was dead.
***
Quite suddenly, Alexander slammed back into his body, Jataan holding him by the shoulders, Lita hovering over him, and Chloe hovering over them all. Pain flooded into his head, followed by a wave of nausea that overcame him. He pitched forward off his meditation circle and onto his hands and knees, vomiting the contents of his stomach onto the floor.
“You’re bleeding from the nose and ears,” Lita said. “Let’s get you to a cot.” It was only then that he realized it was midafternoon and he’d been projecting illusions all day … but that was such a small and insignificant thing in the face of Anatoly’s death that it hardly seemed worth his attention.
He nodded, pain sloshing around in his head from the movement as Jataan and Anja lifted him from his hands and knees and laid him on the nearest cot. He felt like his head was exploding when it hit the pillow. Lita went to work, starting her efforts with her diagnosis spell as she always did, tsk-tsking Alexander and shaking her head sadly.
“You hurt yourself more often than anyone I know, except maybe Jataan,” she said. “You really should be more careful.” She laid her hand on his forehead and started muttering.
All of the physical pain he was feeling paled in comparison to the anguish he felt at losing Anatoly. His protector, his mentor, his teacher, his friend. Anatoly had helped raise him. He’d saved his life countless times. He’d always been there … always.
Alexander clenched his eyes shut, tears streaming down his face as he succumbed to sleep under the power of Lita’s healing magic.
Chapter 33
He woke to the sounds of muffled conversation. For a few moments he felt disoriented and a bit confused, Lita’s magic still lingering in his head. He focused on his breathing, taking a moment to be grateful that the pain was gone, and then it hit him anew.
Anatoly was dead.
Sorrow washed through him. It felt as if something vital had been ripped out of him, like a part of himself, a part of his essential identity had been taken.
He rolled into a ball and sobbed.
“Looks like he’s stirring,” Mage Gamaliel said.
Lita went to Alexander’s side, touching his forehead and frowning. Chloe buzzed into a ball of light and landed on the bed a few inches from his face.
“What’s wrong, My Love?” she asked, pleadingly.
He shook his head, the pain still too raw to put into words.
Jack sat down on the cot next to his.
“What’s happened, Alexander?”
Alexander sat up, swallowing the lump in his throat and shaking off the cobwebs in his head. He stared blankly at the floor for several seconds.
A part of him still didn’t believe it … couldn’t believe it. Anatoly had been a fixture of his life. He’d always been there, as re
liable as the sunrise.
“Anatoly is dead,” he whispered. “Corina, too.”
Lita gasped, her hand going to her mouth, tears welling up in her eyes.
Jack closed his eyes and bowed his head.
“I’m so sorry, My Love,” Chloe said, sitting down to cry.
The room fell silent.
“That is sad news indeed,” Kelvin said.
It was only then that Alexander noticed the Guild Mage seated at the table. His presence brought Alexander back to the moment and all of the obligations his unwanted birthright had placed upon him. With an effort of will that felt for all the world like a betrayal, he shifted his mindset to that of the witness, detached, unfeeling, safe from the heartache that was threatening to ravage his sanity.
Every part of him save his reason wanted to wallow in misery. Anatoly deserved to be mourned. His passing should be a source of crushing sadness for all who knew him, and yet, Alexander didn’t have time to mourn him. He swallowed his emotions, choked them down like bile as he took his seat at the table.
“Hello, Kelvin. It’s good to see you.”
“You as well. I’m told you pushed your magic too far and injured yourself.”
Alexander nodded. Lita’s spell had left him feeling off-kilter, just slightly out of alignment with the rest of the world.
“Anatoly was in a bad spot,” he finally said. “I had to do everything I could to help him … but it wasn’t enough.” Guilt settled on him. He should have done more.
Looking absently around the room, he saw another familiar face.
“Hello, Mason.”
“Hello, Alexander. Perhaps I can help with your discomfort. If you’ll allow me?”
Alexander blinked a few times before nodding numbly.
Mason placed a hand on Alexander’s head and spoke a few words softly. It felt like a sodden blanket was lifted from his mind all at once—clarity replacing woolen thoughts and pain in moments.
“That was amazing,” Alexander said, looking up at Mason with relief. The spell had eliminated the aftereffects of Lita’s healing magic, leaving him clearheaded, but heavyhearted.
“Something I created to overcome a hangover,” Mason said with a modest shrug.
Jack picked up his quill and started writing.
“All right, so where do we stand?” Alexander asked, turning his attention to the enemy, oddly grateful that he had someone to take his wrath out on.
“I’ve brought all that you asked for,” Kelvin said, a bit of trepidation in his colors. “Erik and Duane are seeing to accommodations for the Rangers. All forces are through the Gate.”
Constance walked in, nodding respectfully to Alexander.
“I wasn’t expecting you,” he said. “Things must really be going well in Warrenton.”
“They are, Lord Reishi. When I left, the last of the Lancers had been driven from the city and into the Pinnacles—a wild territory that I’m told is most unforgiving.”
“How many fled?”
“We estimate five thousand.”
“Oh, that’s not good,” Alexander said, heading for his circle.
“Are you sure that’s wise, Lord Reishi?” Jataan asked.
“I won’t be long. I have to speak with Tanis.”
It took him just a few minutes to find Tanis and warn her of the encroaching force. She didn’t offer a particularly warm reception when he appeared in her sleeping chamber, waking her from a nap, but she was grudgingly thankful for the warning. It took even less time to find the commander in Warrenton and warn him that the Lancers would probably be fleeing right back out of the Pinnacles and into their waiting arms. The commander seemed enthusiastic about the opportunity to end the war on Ruatha.
While he was in the firmament, he took a few moments to visit both Conner and Torin to report that Anatoly had fallen and his force in Fool’s Gap had been overrun. His orders to both men were clear and emphatic: Kill them all.
Alexander returned to his body and a mild headache. His efforts earlier in the day had taxed him more than he realized.
“It seems that the Lancers are now caught between an army and a dragon,” he said without emotion, returning to the table. “I wonder which one they’ll choose.”
“The army, if they’re smart,” Anja said.
“You’re probably right,” Alexander replied. “So, where were we?”
“Wizard Hax has accompanied us as well,” Kelvin said. “He was most eager to see the Keep. We have two legions of Rangers, a legion of Ithilian infantry and Perry’s regiment for troops. Mistress Constance has a dozen Sky Knights and I have seven acolyte wizards—all trained with three spells each: shield, force-shard and a third of their choosing, most picked force-push or light-lance.
“I also have a collection of magical weapons for distribution to the troops. The items are all expendable but they will magnify our combat power.”
“What kind of weapons?” Jataan asked, leaning forward almost imperceptibly.
“Two thousand boulder slingstones,” Kelvin said. “Sounds just like the name, a slingstone that grows into a two-foot boulder in midflight. I’ve also brought ten thousand multiplicative arrows, each of which transforms into five arrows in midflight, and two of the smaller explosive weapons, as well as my personal items.”
“Impressive,” Jataan said.
“I also have a chest from Lucky,” Kelvin said, his colors flaring with concern.
“And you know what he’s sent,” Alexander said.
Kelvin regarded him for several moments before nodding very deliberately.
“What?” Anja said.
“If I thought I had another choice, I’d take it,” Alexander said to Kelvin, ignoring Anja.
“I know,” Kelvin said. “I’ve given this some thought during my journey here. Still, I hope you will find another way.”
“What if there isn’t one?” Alexander asked.
“One what?” Anja said, a bit flustered.
“There’s always another way,” Kelvin said.
“But what if there isn’t?” Alexander whispered.
“I understand what you face, Alexander,” Kelvin said, leaning forward intently. “If Zuhl’s army is permitted to remain on Fellenden and build more ships, they will inevitably come to dominate the Seven Isles for generations to come. And honestly, in your place, I would want this option as well … I just hope that you never choose to use it.”
Anja stood up and slammed her hands down on the table. “What option!”
Alexander looked at her until she sat down, then looked at the table for several moments before speaking.
“Just after my brother was killed, when we were first running for our lives, we got trapped in the old watch tower just south of the Great Forest on the road to Southport. While we were there, Lucky, my mild, jolly old tutor, showed me a creature he has contained in a glass vial, encased in a metal tube, wired shut and stored in a locked box all its own. He called it ‘black slime,’ an apt name given its appearance. It feeds on all living things, plant or animal, reproducing more slime from its victims so quickly that a grown man can be consumed in a matter of seconds, completely transforming into a widening puddle of slime. Sunlight kills it on contact, but as long as it’s dark, it will consume everything it touches.”
“That’s horrible,” Anja said. “Why would you want something like that?”
“I need it to kill Zuhl’s army,” Alexander whispered.
She blinked, then frowned. “Maybe you’re right—war is stupid. I mean, that’s not even a fight.”
“No, it’s not. But we can’t beat them in a fight. And frankly, at the moment, I wouldn’t mind slaughtering them all.”
Chloe buzzed into existence and landed on the table in front of Alexander.
“Please don’t use that horrible thing, My Love. You’ll wound your soul if you do.”
“I know,” he whispered. “But I don’t know what else to do. Give me another way to defeat sixty legions of ba
ttle-hardened soldiers bent on conquest.”
Chloe buzzed into a ball of light, bouncing several inches off the table before landing again.
“That is a lot of blood on your hands, Alexander,” Jack said.
He nodded.
The future would be shaped by the outcome of this war. Zuhl’s army couldn’t be permitted to remain on Fellenden. As Lord Reishi, he could very easily rationalize his choice. They were aggressors in an unprovoked invasion waged with unspeakable brutality against a defenseless people. They deserved to die for their crimes.
But as a man—as a human being—he found justifying the slaughter of six hundred thousand people a bit more problematic. His conscience nagged at him whenever he considered it—though the rage beginning to build in the pit of his stomach was starting to mitigate the voice of conscience.
“Believe me, I’m looking for another way, but right now I don’t have one,” he said. “And if I have to choose between leaving them to ravage Fellenden or killing them all, I will destroy them.”
“Let’s hope another option presents itself,” Kelvin said. “The tides of war can turn unpredictably.”
Alexander nodded. “I have another question I was hoping you could help me with … it’s about Luminessence. When I project the brightest light I can with it, I feel like it’s draining my energy. I get tired to the point of not being able to stand and then I have to extinguish the light. I try to fight it, try to hold on to something while still powering the staff, but it feels like Luminessence wants it all.”
“Huh,” Kelvin said with a frown. “When I was fashioning Luminessence, I sometimes felt like it was drawing my energy as well, or perhaps more accurately, I would find myself giving it my energy. It was an odd sensation—I’ve never felt anything quite like it before.”
“Any suggestions for extending the duration of my light?”
Sovereign of the Seven Isles 7: Reishi Adept Page 40
