The Way of the Blade

by Stuart Jaffe

  Malja stood on her own and pulled out Viper. “Stay behind me.” She led the way up the beach, keeping out of direct sight of the nearest tents.

  Gunfire crackled in the air high above them. The light of snake-magic flashed around them. As Malja and Canto neared the camp’s edge, she smelled the distinct odors of war — burning wreckage and foul death.

  “Please, put your weapon away,” Harskill said, walking out from behind the tents. “There are no enemies here. Not yet.”

  “What about you?” Canto said.

  Harskill stopped atop a small dune and held his hands behind his back. He looked sharp with the sea air blowing his graying hair back like an old ship’s Captain staring at the merciless sea with a mixture of respect and longing. “I’m no enemy,” he said, and though he did not look at her, Malja knew his words would be directed more towards her than Canto.

  “If it weren’t for you,” Canto said, spit flying from his mouth, “none of this would be happening.”

  “I am Gate, and Gate have a responsibility to the universe that forces us into difficult decisions. Most of my brethren opt to ignore suffering such as what I found here. They want to stay out of the affairs of all the worlds. But if I do that, you would continue abusing the Scarites for your own selfish needs.”

  “I’ve never abused the Scarites.”

  “Please, don’t argue semantics. Your people have done the Scarites much wrong.”

  “They aren’t innocent, either.”

  “Yet I find their side of your dispute more palatable. Still, I understand your desire to end this conflict with little bloodshed.”

  Malja put out her hand to stop Canto’s retort. “Out with your offer or out of our way. We’ve got a battle to help.”

  Kicking at the sand, Harskill said, “Malja, I’ve told you before that I care about you. So, I make you a simple yet powerful offer — I’ll stop the Scarites, end this war and bring peace to this world, and in exchange, I want you to marry me.”

  “What?” Canto yelled. “You’re crazy. She’s been trying to kill you.”

  “He’s asked me before,” Malja said.

  Harskill shrugged. “There are too few Gate left to let something like hatred stand in our way. Together, we would be a powerful team. And when we found worlds like this one, our animosity would not be responsible for their suffering. We could help every world by combining our strengths, by holding each other in check, and in return, they would love us like the gods we will have become. Just as was meant for all Gate.”

  “I thought Gate aren’t supposed to marry. Too few of us and all.”

  “We must set a new standard. How can Gate expect to rule over all the worlds with divided love between themselves — and you know I’m right when I say that Gate should rule over all the worlds.”

  Malja shifted her feet. She tilted Viper to a greater angle that would cover more area when she swept the weapon across. “Nobody should rule over others.”

  “That’s the problem we keep having. You want to strive for some Utopian ideal of anarchy. But I act in the real worlds I live in. Look up there. Listen to those screams of pain as that battle rages above us. The only reason it continues, the only reason so many are dying, is because you gave one side the chance to fight for an ideal that’s not possible. For an illusion.”

  “They don’t fight for me.”

  “Of course, they do. Even if they don’t know it.”

  Canto frowned. “What’s he talking about?”

  “Please,” Harskill said, offering his hand. “Join me by my side. Let me love you, and all this tragedy going on here, all of it will end. Join me and we’ll be the King and Queen of the Universe and all its worlds. We’ll show all of Gate what can be accomplished when two work together. We can even make more Gate, more than our kind ever accomplished with their mating ritual.”

  “Crug,” Malja said and charged forward. She caught Canto’s surprise when she used his people’s curse, but he recovered fast. She heard him running behind.

  Harskill lowered his hand and his head. He paused only a few seconds — time for Malja to get close enough to see the wrinkles etching his skin — and when he popped his head up, the madman inside him took over. He reached into his coat and pulled out a long-barreled handgun, its metal gleaming in the sunlight.

  Malja pressed on. Viper gave her a longer reach than most expected, and shooting a moving target could be difficult. She doubted either of those would hold true for Harskill, though. Instead, she trusted that her do-kha would protect her. A bullet in the chest would hurt, but as long as it didn’t puncture the do-kha, Malja could keep running forward.

  Harskill lifted his weapon and aimed it at Malja. The sand made the run harder, but Malja never slowed. Then he raised the weapon higher, aiming for her head. Just as the muzzle flashed fire, a thought flashed in her mind — I thought he loved me.

  Something smashed into her side, toppling her to the ground. She rolled back up and whirled to face Harskill. Still alive. No bullet wound she could feel. And then she saw it.

  A bullet hadn’t knocked her to the ground. A monster had.

  A vile looking beast stood before her. Burnt from head to toe with long teeth slobbering from its mouth and tusks jutting from its elbows. Its jaw dripped low, bits of gore slipping off its body. And its eyes — it eyes burned like molten lava, smoke pouring out the sockets and into the air.

  Canto fell to his knees, his mouth agape. “Javery?”

  Malja looked closer at the creature. Kryssta and Korstra — it is Javery.

  Chapter 34

  Javery

  Javery curled his lip at the way Canto and Malja stared. The revulsion on their faces shot through him worse than the magic burning under his skin. He had seen that look before. The memory scorched his mind, forever in him like a smoldering ember waiting to be reignited — Druzane.

  Off to his side, he heard Harskill move in for an attack. Javery turned, and the blast of magic from his body contorted his limbs. He screamed as the green energy soared out and slammed Harskill aside.

  Harskill leaped back to his feet, his old face at odds with his limber body. Javery had no fear of this so-called “god.” Not anymore. He knew how to use enough of his magic, now. He could fly, and he could hurl his energy with great force.

  Emotion was the key. The greater the emotion, the more powerful the attack. The more intense the feeling, the more damaging the blast. With his deep passions, he could summon power unlike anything the Pali Witch could ever have managed. With Druzane burning his memories, he’d never be weak.

  “She always said she’d be helping me.” Wiping the saliva from his chin — a drawback of having a ruined mouth — Javery chuckled. The way those around him shrunk, he guessed he sounded less amused and more grotesque. No matter. They didn’t need to see the humor.

  They would see his magic. That would be more than enough. For what he lacked in control, he made up for in sheer power.

  Besides, what do I need control for? They all have to die.

  Javery’s ribs cracked in four places as his neck jerked sideways. Another blast of green shot out. He heard the magic cut through the air. Harskill tried to move, but the width of the energy prevented him from dodging the attack. He took it hard in the chest and stomach.

  Javery grinned as the bastard was thrown out into the ocean. “One god no more.”

  He caught a hand-motion from Malja to Canto. Spinning around, he found Canto bolting for the campsite. Javery stepped towards the camp, but Malja jumped in his path — her odd, curved blade at the ready.

  The stern expression on her face, the way her taut muscles carved out her form, the calculating effort in her eyes — it all caused Javery to laugh bitterly. “You never really cared about us, did you?”

  “I do care,” she said, practically in a monotone.

  “Then why raise your weapon against me when I am the Carsites only hope to victory?”

  “Canto is our hope now. We have a p
lan. If I let you stop him, all the people you know and love will be destroyed.”

  “Not really your hope, at all. You came to us with your special blade and your freakish friends, and you pretended to have concerns for us. But the truth is evident, now. Clearer than any vision Shual claimed to have, any scholarly understanding of the Carsite legend, any insight into history. I’ve seen the future, and I know what you will accomplish here without me. Death, horrible suffering, and devastation.”

  Malja flinched at the word. “It won’t be by my hand. Harskill is the one that upset the power balance in your world.”

  “You are truly single-minded of purpose, and all else is nothing more than obstacles to be overcome. Kill Harskill. Nothing else matters. No one else matters.”

  “That’s not true.”

  “You’re a cruel and callous person. But I understand, now. I do.” Javery stepped to the right, but Malja turned, keeping Viper in perfect position to strike at him should he move too fast or attempt to sprint forward. He motioned to the left, and she waited to see if he would actually move or only feign.

  “Listen to me. Please. Whatever has happened to you, you must not allow it to take you over.”

  “You think you can understand anything about me now?”

  “I know magic. I’ve been around it all my life. I’ve seen how it destroys people, eats away at them from the inside out. Don’t be fooled into thinking this power you have won’t devour you.”

  “It might, but I’m not concerned with myself.” He knew full-well that she wanted to stall him, wanted to give Canto time to accomplish whatever ridiculous mission he had been assigned. That worked just fine. Because he needed the time, too — building up magical energy didn’t happen instantly, and he needed to make sure that he didn’t miss when he killed Malja.

  “Javery, you must —”

  “I have come here with a single-minded purpose of my own. I wish to save my people. That has guided all my thoughts and energies my entire life. It is the reason I fought with Shual. The reason I distrust Canto. The reason I listened to Druzane, and even the reason I tried to use you. But when I look at you, I see what I will most likely become, and it disgusts me.”

  “I want to help your people. And you, too.”

  “If I killed Harskill now, would you stay with us and keep fighting for us? Not just in today’s battle, but for the whole war? Would you stand by us, help us through years of bloodshed and politics and false peace treaties and generations of hatred?”

  They stared at each other without a word. The sounds of war floated above them — rapid popping of gunfire, cries for help, the whoosh of a blade, orders roaring amongst a cacophony of cursing and threats. Javery’s question hung between them, its bite far more painful than anything they heard from above.

  Though he knew she would never answer out loud — not to him, at least — she had the decency to look away. But that gesture did not outweigh her answer. “You fail me. I knew you would, but it still disappoints. I suppose you planned to leave us after this battle — while the ashes and smoke still rose into the sky. You betray us over and over. How could I expect anything else when even Druzane betrayed me? And you are no better than Harskill.”

  Javery felt the rush of power in his veins, heating up, building in both pleasure and pain. He opened his palm and turned it towards Malja. His fingers crackled as the bones broke and a greenish glow filled his eyes.

  “You,” he said. “You’re nothing but a godless god. Let me show you what real power is.”

  Chapter 35

  Malja

  A green bolt shot out of Javery’s palm as a blur slammed into him. Malja bent backwards, letting the bolt pass overhead. Heat from it snatched at the air. Static lifted the hairs on her body.

  When she popped back up, she saw what the blur had been — Tommy. The boy had soared in and swept Javery away. They were already too high in the air, too distant overland, for her to do anything about it.

  And it’s no longer my place, anyway. She turned to the campsite and jogged towards Canto.

  Two dead Scarites, their throats slit, told Malja everything. Canto had found the makeshift prison, killed the guards, and now they had the men. When she reached the prison — stones, felled trees, and only one exit — she found the men eager to fight.

  “We should never have let those cruggers live the first time,” one said.

  “Or the second,” another growled.

  “We’ll hit them hard now. Make them never forget us.”

  Pointing with Viper, Malja indicated several tents. “Check those for weapons. Whatever you find is what you’ll be fighting with.”

  The men broke off, raiding the tents by tearing them apart. They found swords, daggers, tent poles, and burning torches from the campfires. Anything that could inflict pain became their property.

  Canto cut off a strip of tent cloth and wrapped it around a small square of metal from his pocket. “We ready?”

  “Doesn’t matter if we’re ready,” Malja said. “This is the only chance we get. Light it.”

  Canto used the campfire to light the cloth, and he let it go. The square of metal had been infused with magic from the Great Well. It floated upward like a shooting star going in the wrong direction.

  Malja pulled out her spyglass and watched the warship. They had to wait until Fawbry saw their signal and started the next phase of the attack. But she had a hard time seeing anything useful. They were too far away and too much smoke obscured her view. Only when the smoke passed by, and then only in short bursts, did she manage to view the large warship and the specks running around the deck.

  “Did they not see the signal?” Canto asked.

  “Relax,” Malja said. “All of you. Take a few breaths. Enjoy the calm. I guarantee that in a few minutes, you won’t have time for any of that.”

  One man, thin but with a dark look in his eyes, stood and said, “We can’t just sit here while our wives and mothers are fighting for us.”

  “They’ve been doing a pretty good job without you, so far.”

  “Who’s in charge here?” the man asked Canto.

  Before Canto could answer, Malja raised her hand. “Be quiet. Something’s happening.” She ran a few feet to the right to try to get a clearer view of the warship. From the deck, the specks all jumped over the side. Every last Carsite aboard carried a piece of floating metal. Nothing big enough or with enough magic to set them flying, but enough to slow their descent. Like snowfall, they drifted to the ground in silence.

  Malja shifted her spyglass to the left. The autoflys and Scarites continued their aerial combat. Perfect. “Get ready.”

  “Everybody up,” Canto said. “We flank the enemy and attack with all we’ve got. Let’s move.”

  “Halt!” Shaking her head, Malja sprinted to the front of the group. “I only said to get ready. I didn’t say we attack.”

  Dark Eyes brandished a hammer he had found on the ground. “We’ve been waiting for years to do this. No way are we waiting anymore.”

  “We wait for our signal. We wait for your loved ones to safely get in position. Otherwise, all your wives and mothers and daughters will die because of you.”

  Swallowing back his words, Dark Eyes settled amongst the other men. Malja checked on the warship again. What was taking so long?

  She gazed off in the direction Tommy had taken Javery.

  Chapter 36

  Javery

  The brat had Javery by the waist, shoving him through the air like a bullet. Javery had to endure it while his body recharged. He punched Tommy in the back several times, but the little crug refused to budge.

  Finally, as they passed over Raxholden, Javery had enough energy stored for a few attacks, if he could control himself. He had to let it out in short bursts. Concentrating on the boy, Javery’s hip bones broke in two. He barked out at the pain even as his body began to glow green.

  But the boy, the filthy rat, must have felt the change in Javery’s body for
he grabbed Javery’s arm and twisted the burnt skin hard, tearing bits of flesh from his bone. Javery’s shrill cry scared flocks of birds into the air. He felt his hip bones reforming as his concentration was lost.

  He took three rapid breaths, but before he could try again, Tommy let him go. He fell backwards, seeing the Assembly Hall floating high above and in the distance. No longer was he above the town, then. He spun over and saw a Waypoint station.

  His body reacted before his mind could process — or perhaps it was simply the magic, itself. He never knew. A green field surrounded him. What should have become his broken body smashing against the stone of the Waypoint station turned into a demolition by magic. He shattered through the stone, exploding the station into rubble, and dug a trench into the ground until he came to a stop — unharmed.

  Despite his body automatically using his magic, he still had plenty left. And a volcano bubbled within, roiling up his chest, filling his head with images of quartering this bastard and watching the Scarites gnaw on his bones. He jumped out of the smoldering trench, felt his ankle break, and shot out an energy bolt at Tommy. The boy dodged it, managing to better his own position for a counter-strike. Fast and well-trained — Javery expected no less from someone raised by Malja.

  He lifted into the air and closed his eyes for a few seconds — long enough to build a good amount of smoke. When he opened them and the sooty filth left his sockets, he got the exact reaction he sought. He attacked again, trying to take Tommy while the boy dealt with the horrid sight.

  But Tommy had been taught more than just tactics. He understood magic. He slipped by the green magic and looked upon his tattoos. Seconds later the rock formations below rocketed into the air like missiles guided straight for Javery.

  “Clumsy, you brat,” Javery said.

  Tommy shifted his focus to his other arm, his eyes as heartless as Malja’s. The ground below cracked as if caused by an earthquake, and from the opening snaked out thorny vines. They reached into the air as fast as lightning and wrapped around Javery’s ankles. As he struggled, more vines climbed him until he had been wrapped in a cocoon of thorny vines.