by Devon Vesper
Chapter Twenty-One
A feminine scream ricocheted off the stone walls, threatening to break Valis’s mind if it didn’t stop. Then he shook his head to regain his senses. There was something familiar about that voice. He’d never heard that voice scream like that before, but it was still familiar.
Wait… “Nevesar…” Valis shuddered. What had they done to make that stoic woman scream as if her world was ending? Did they kill Cassavin in front of her? That seemed the only viable option, and it made Valis sick to his stomach.
And now he started getting the precognitive pitting. Something was about to go really wrong, really fast, and Valis wished he could see through walls so he could tell where the screams were coming from. The cellar was more of a maze than it was a place for food storage. Rooms—some with doors, some without—lined a narrow hall that turned in seemingly random directions. They came across dead-ends, forcing them to backtrack and take another route.
“We have to be under one of the guest houses or something,” Phalin whispered. “Even with as large as the manse is, I can’t see this giant structure fitting underneath only that home. I’m almost positive this goes under all of the guest houses.”
“You’re more than likely right,” Valis said. “So, with that in mind, we need to keep ourselves ready for anything, because they know these tunnels. We’re lucky not to have company in every room we pass. The last thing we need is to get lost down here.”
“You mean you aren’t lost?” Shyvus asked. “How are you not lost?”
Valis snorted and adjusted his mage light’s brightness and beam direction. “I’ve paid attention. I can easily get us back to the manse if necessary. And if I can’t, my dad can.”
His friend visibly relaxed and nodded, and they continued in silence until Nevesar screamed again. Was she in pain, or was that a scream of terror? Valis’s heart hurt at the sound. At least it sounded closer. But the way the maze was carved, and with the way sound echoed off the rough-hewn walls, Valis couldn’t tell how close they were, let alone if they were going in the right direction.
Then, as if Qos was laughing at him, Valis stepped into a giant room almost the size of a house, itself. Valis had only a second to take everything in. The center of the room had a trough about three inches wide cut precisely into a perfect circle and filled with blood that looked like it was flowing like a river instead of it clotting like normal.
Piles of corpses lay stacked like cordwood in the far left corner of the room just as the scouts had said and just as his initial vision had shown. In the right lay men and women, some dead, some barely alive as their blood flowed from cuts and stab wounds.
Cassavin and her mate, Nevesar, sagged against their restraints where they were tied to one of the support poles closest to the circle.
There were people everywhere. Valis was surprised he could see anything, but when he glanced down, he saw four steps descending into the room.
And before he touched the first step, black magic streamed through the room and crashed into his shield. It took everything in Valis to keep that shield up, because not only was it keeping Valis safe, it was also shielding his team.
“Get them!” shouted the man in the center of the circle of blood. “Get the Aesriphos. I want them alive!”
The mass of black-clad bodies that filled the room turned toward Valis almost as if they were all the same animal—a hydra with dozens and dozens of heads. And in the next breath chaos reigned.
Valis just barely had time to reinforce his shield and add the parameter to siphon the black magic into himself. He braced for it, but nothing could prepare him for the tidal wave of power that blasted him. It hit his shield so hard that Valis could feel it about to shatter.
He had never felt anything like it before. Suddenly, Valis didn’t feel powerful anymore. The magic he had drained from the Qos adherents, as well as that he had drained from the mages of Avristin was nothing compared to the level of power that pounded at his shield like how he imagined storm surf pounding the side of a cliff. He imagined it breaking chunks off the wall with the sheer force and magnitude of those waves, just like the Qos adherents’ raw, heady power was close to ripping chunks out of Valis’s shield.
“What are we going to do?” Tavros asked, his voice pitched so only he and the two reliquary guards behind them could hear. “I can feel you struggling.”
“Just like in the arena.” Valis reinforced his shield again and added permanence, again, since it didn’t seem to stick the last time. He set it to siphon the black magic into his own reserves, and at the same time, he turned his magic invisible and let it settle like a mist onto the floor and flow out under the feet of every living soul in the enormous room.
He only used just enough magic to get the spell in place. The last thing he needed was for the more powerful mages in the room to feel what he was doing and start using him as a magical fuel source.
And then he realized that was what they were doing to Cassavin and Nevesar. They were using them as fuel for their putrid magic, and Valis could only imagine how much it had to hurt, both physically, mentally, and spiritually.
With that thought came memories of his uncle Rygas insinuating something similar for Valis’s future during his captivity. That seemed like another lifetime ago, but it all came rushing back with such force that it stole the breath from his lungs and he almost lost his grip on the spell he had nearly in place.
All around him, magic sparked and raced through the room. Tavros stood to Valis’s right, casting volley after volley at their enemy, sending the weaker into stasis, and trying to injure those with stronger shields. Shyvus and Phalin stood behind, casting over Valis’s and Tavros’s shoulders.
“If you have any tricks, now would be a good time to try them,” Shyvus said. Tension filled his voice and Valis couldn’t blame him.
Then his spell reached all four walls. And with a savage yank, Valis sent them all to the floor, and with several concussive blasts, he knocked a good many of them unconscious.
Tavros wasted no time in putting those into stasis while Valis kept using concussive blasts to keep the stronger of the Qos adherents’ off their feet, and thus unable to cast because Valis kept interrupting their focus and redirecting their attention.
The reliquary guards behind him took his cue and sent blast after blast of concussive waves, making it easier for Tavros to continue laying the stasis spell. But Valis was more adept and nudged Tavros, “Switch spells. You send concussive blasts to keep them off their feet. I’ll throw them all in stasis.”
With a tense nod, Tavros took over the concussive blasts while Valis raised his right hand—the hand reserved for his holy gold magic—and with a force of will that surprised him, Valis sent arcs of golden light into the room until it was too bright to keep his eyes open. And when he felt the last one go under the stasis spell, Valis let the magic drop.
He ran to Cassavin and Nevesar’s side, hurdling bodies, not really caring if he stepped on any. Once he reached them, Valis cut the ropes that bound them and helped Nevesar ease Cassavin to the floor. “What’s wrong with her?”
Nevesar’s voice shook as she said, “They drained her first. They were waiting for her to regenerate while they drained me for their foul spell.”
“Can you tell what spell it was?” asked Phalin.
She shook her head. “Just a very powerful one.”
Nevesar kept talking. Valis tried to listen, but his focus started to wane. Then, with the force of a kick to the gut, Valis’s stomach knotted with precognitive pitting so hard he almost vomited on Cassavin. He had just enough time to turn around and erect a shield around them all before black magic more powerful than Valis had ever seen came shooting at his shield. Valis finally got a good look at the man. Oily black eyes had no whites or irises. The effect made it look like voids in his face. But creepy eyes aside, Valis recognized the man as Angas Braywar from his vision. His steel-gray hair lay flat and damp with sweat around his aged face. Val
is briefly wondered if he hadn’t had enough power to keep himself from aging, or if he just liked this aesthetic.
He shot more bolts at Valis’s shield. Then in a move that Valis wasn’t prepared for, Angas pulsed out a series of five concussive blasts that tumbled Valis onto his back and knocked the wind out of him. When his eyes stopped rolling in his head, Valis looked up to find Tavros on his feet. His husband panted from exertion as he used the support beam that Cassavin and Nevesar had been tied to as a wall, keeping him upright and safe.
But how safe was it? Those concussive blasts could have damaged his organs.
Valis shuddered and rolled onto his knees. He held his still pitting stomach and looked up at Tavros.
“I’ll keep the shield up,” Valis croaked. He swallowed down the bile that clogged his throat. “You battle. I need a moment.”
Tavros’s face morphed into a hard mask of intense concentration. He launched a series of mage bolts at the man who still stood in the center of the bloody circle. After a few moments, he glanced down at Valis for only a brief second. “Hurry. I’m nowhere near your level of battle and you know it. Do what you have to do and get up, Valis.”
Valis saw the worry in his husband’s eyes in that brief glance. Then everything went to shit. Shouts arose from the doorway. When Valis turned to look, he saw more Qos adherents in the hall behind the reliquary guards. Where had they come from? And where were the other eight reliquary guards of his team? Were they okay?
Shaking himself out of that mindset, Valis got to his feet and forced himself to stand straight, forced himself to ignore the pitting sensation as best he could. When he stood and faced Angas Braywar, the Qos High Priest smirked. “You look just like your idiot father, boy.”
No, my son, Roba yelled in his mind. Only then did Valis realize his hands were clenched and he had taken a step forward. Keep calm. I really was an idiot. Use your head, not your heart.
“Hate him that much, do you?” Angas taunted. “Can’t stand the truth, can you? That you are almost a spitting image of Roba when he was your age. Though, maybe you look more like his brother, Rygas. It has been so long since I’ve seen either of them. Though, that man, your uncle, always did fancy you. Maybe it was a case of narcissism, that he wanted you because you looked like him.”
Valis shook with the need to shut Angas up. But as he attacked, nothing seemed to work. His mage bolts bounced off and hit the walls. His concussive blasts barely moved Angas’s hair or clothes. Valis tried to teleport inside Braywar’s shield but ended up back where he started with a headache as if he’d head-butted a stone wall.
And the commotion at the entrance into the room had Valis on edge. Shyvus and Phalin were having obvious trouble keeping the horde back, but at least the hall acted as a funnel. Small favors.
Valis paid for his moment of distraction. Braywar sent a bolt of pure darkness. When it hit, Valis’s shield shattered as if it were made of thin, frail glass. Two more bolts hit. Then something strange happened. Instead of dying, Valis found himself flying. His back impacted the stone pillar so hard that it stunned him for a moment. Tavros shouted when he hit. Then Nevesar joined them with her unconscious wife. Four Aesriphos. Four sides of the support pole.
Braywar dropped his shield and laughed softly, his black eyes glittering in the lamplight. “Avristin is sending children to do an adult’s job, is it? I admit you have a natural talent, but you are much too young, and I daresay you haven’t had even a day’s worth of training. And you thought to go up against me? Silly boy.”
As he finished talking, he snapped his fingers and the bodies on the floor started moaning. All of them were out of stasis and slowly getting to their feet.
Braywar leaned against his bloody altar and motioned to Valis and his team. “Bring in the two Aesriphos and lash them to the other pillar,” he ordered. “Then tie these miscreants up so I can let this spell go.”
“At once, my lord,” a few of the Qos adherents said. They got more rope from a room that Valis hadn’t noticed before. In short minutes, Valis and his friends were bound tight with ropes that went around their chests, waists, thighs, and ankles. It was just like the way Cassavin and Nevesar had been when he found them.
Any ideas, Dad? Valis asked. I’m at a loss here.
He is in a power circle, communing with Qos. He has much more power than you are used to going up against, and he’s stealing even more from every person in this room. He has plenty of willing and unwilling magic sources for him to draw from. Your odds of making it out of this are non-existent, my son. He is too powerful.
Nothing is impossible, Valis said. You taught me that. I have the power of a god because I don’t yet know my limits. I’m not about to let you or one power-hungry man tell me what my limits are.
Valis tried not to think about the possibility of not making it out of this alive. But both he and his father knew that no matter what Valis said, the situation seemed insurmountable.
With Valis, Tavros, Shyvus, Phalin, Cassavin, and Nevesar all tied to support posts, Angas Braywar turned his back on them and leaned over a giant book, holding a candle close, but just out of the way enough to not drip wax on the pages.
Then he stepped back and raised his hands. He shouted in a language Valis didn’t understand.
Then the pain came.
Valis clenched his teeth. It felt like his entire body was filled with fire, burning him alive from the inside out. After only a few heartbeats, he let out a scream of pain and struggled against his bonds.
Braywar continued shouting in that strange language. Every move he made had the pain ebbing and flowing in an erratic rhythm of torture.
Another shout and Tavros started screaming and thrashing, struggling against the ropes with all his might as if that would rid him of the pain of having his magic ripped out of his core.
Valis didn’t thrash. But he couldn’t help but scream.
After scant minutes that felt like hours, the pain abruptly stopped and Angas turned around to face them. What looked like black fire flickered around Angas for a breath before fading away.
An idea hit Valis and he tried translocating across the room. But the moment the spell went off, it felt like his body was shredding itself on the ropes even though he wore full plate armor.
Valis panted for precious air and looked about the room.
Wait… If Braywar can siphon my magic without a shield, I can do the same to him.
It is worth a try, Roba said, but he sounded dubious.
Before he tried anything, however, he wreathed his entire body in black flames until the rope directly touching him disintegrated into dust and fell away. With a deep breath, Valis followed the miasma of power to its source and yanked it to him. The sudden draw of magic made Braywar scream with rage. He staggered to the edge of the blood circle. Valis doubled down on the power draw and Angas fell to his knees with a roar that made the little hairs along Valis’s arms and the back of his neck stand on end.
The room full of Qos adherents had stood frozen. Now, though, they regained their wits and the mass swarmed after Valis. They easily subdued him, but Valis kept up the drain.
“Don’t just stand there, you simpletons, knock him out!”
Oh, no you don’t, Valis growled in his mind. Valis erected a shield that contoured tightly against his body just before the first blow landed. Valis felt the vibration of it but sustained no damage.
“You—”
Valis doubled down on the magic drain until Braywar’s screams grew to high-pitched, frantic levels from the pain.
Then everyone else started screaming. Valis glanced toward the two support posts and his friends and husband were the only ones who stood, looking bewildered about what they were seeing.
But Valis couldn’t pay attention to that now. He had a room full of Qos adherents to drain. Somehow, though, he seemed to be draining them all at once.
The ones who had grabbed him fell away, dropping to their hands and knees and screaming. Bloo
d poured out of most of their mouths from rupturing blood vessels in their throats.
Valis shook, and only a second later, Tavros had his forehead pressed to Valis’s and cupped both sides of his neck with his warm, work-roughened hands. Tavros kissed across Valis’s cheek until he came to his ear and whispered, “You can do this. I know you can. Just a little longer, love.”
The darkness rose in Valis, stealing his breath and turning everything gray and lifeless. He clung to Tavros, terror clutching at his throat. But Tavros seemed so calm. He leaned in again and whispered, “Take it in, turn it holy. You’ve done it before. Do it again.”
“I’m not sure I can.” Valis stared into his husband’s clear gray eyes and some of his panic started to recede.
“You can do it,” Tavros insisted. “For you, nothing is impossible. Take them down.”
Valis lowered his head and rested his brow on Tavros’s pauldron as he doubled down on the drain. With sheer force of will, he felt the relief. As soon as the foul magic touched his skin, Valis felt it go from cold, caustic, and writhing for release to warm, gentle currents that shoved the dread away and replaced it with a sense of purpose and a lightness that brought him comfort, even amid the uncontrollable screams of the men and women in the room.
One by one the Qos adherents dropped to the floor unconscious. That only left Braywar who still screamed inside his circle of blood. The precious power he sought to build around him belonged to Valis now.
Valis took only a moment to gather himself and approach the outer edge of the circle. Braywar tried to stand, to get off his hands and knees, but he fell back to the floor every time. Blood poured out of his mouth from the ruptures in his throat. His black eyes receded until Valis saw raw hate and pain in brown eyes so dark they almost looked black in the low light from the flickering lamps posted around the room.
With Braywar on his hands and knees, Valis grabbed the back of his neck and opened the floodgates of his power, drawing it into him until there was nothing left. When he finished, Valis drew his sword and swung, decapitating the high priest in one smooth movement.
