Fallen Tiers

by Cheryl Matthynssens

  Alador met the High Minister’s gaze with a snarl, betrayal, rage and hatred oozing from him. “You will never touch her again. I have grown in skills, uncle. It will not be so easy to best me. If you manage, and leave this mansion, the dragons would like a word or two with you. Believe me when I say you would rather fall to me.” The young mage needed him to let Mesi go. “Unless you are afraid?”

  Pulling a strand of hair from Mesiande and smelling it with an ecstatic smile, Luthian finally moved forward from her side. “Grown in power? I’m sure, I’ve taught you many things. However, I am not afraid of you, or those dragons outside. I have harvested them for years, siphoned their blood, made them slaves under my control.” Luthian slowly moved forward during this speech, his arms at his side, hands open.

  “Let her go and I will put my weapons down.” Alador demanded again, slowly drawing the bow back once more to half tension. He was watching those eyes and hands closely. Luthian always had a look in his eye when he was casting.

  “Are we going to duel for the kingdom, Alador? Is that your grand plan?” Luthian laughed, putting a hand toward Mesiande. “So be it. She is free.” At once Mesiande was dropped from whatever spell held her in place.

  Mesiande spun to look at Alador with terror. He could see in her eyes that she had been very aware of everything Luthian commanded her to do. She ran to Alador’s side. “Let’s just go. Let him have his horrible kingdom.”

  Alador put the bow and quiver to the side. “I fear it has gone too far, Mesi. I cannot let it just end with the release of your will. Just remember me, and the day I finally bested you on the practice field.” He looked at her pointedly, then back to the High Minister. “Go, Henrick waits for you.” His command was firm, but his eyes never left Luthian.

  Luthian just grinned, watching Alador’s actions closely. “I have no sword to defend myself, good sir. It seems you have advantage over me.” Luthian tsked softly. “Not a very fair duel.”

  Alador unbuckled and tossed his sword aside and slowly moved around the perimeter of the room. He risked a quick glance to ensure the doorway was empty; he didn’t want the curious caught in any crossfire. Henrick was supposed to make sure that no one came in, but Alador was being cautious. He also used the time to gauge Luthian’s first move. “Surely uncle, you know I have had many trainers besides you. Why, who knows what I have picked up.” Alador pointed out.

  “You know, I’ve considered that. I’ve been careful to watch and monitor your movements. Much easier to study an enemy,” Luthian mused, his hands blurring into motion as those last words escaped his lips. Fireballs roared from his very fingertips.

  Alador was ready, though, and they met a wall of ice, rebounding about the room without touching the older mage; that would have been too much to hope for, he supposed. He ducked across the room and dropped the wall just as he sent out a counter-strike of gleaming ice-arrows. He did not know what his uncle was doing on the other side of the wall, his form a shifting image reflected through the ice.

  Luthian walked forward, a bubble of living flame surrounding him. It created waves of heat that seemed to shield him, but the licking flame lashed out to consume whatever they touched. A mocking laugh escaped his lips as the arrows were rebuffed by the shield of fire.

  Alador took the advantage of the mage showing off to shift position again, and when the flames appeared to gather in the older mage’s hands Luthian found himself in the midst of a deluge of water summoned from the very air. Alador immediately gathered the runoff into three solid spheres of ice, which he then hurled at the hopefully distracted mage.

  In a burst of speed, Luthian dodged the dousing, his shield taking the brunt of the attack. It dissipated in a cloud of steam, momentarily obscuring Alador’s view. Then his hand sprung out, and three fireballs lanced out from his fingertips, but it was too late. One of the ice balls slammed into his opposing shoulder before the other two contacted the fireballs and exploded in shards of ice.

  Luthian growled loudly, letting loose a gout of flame from in front of him. Anything in the cone of flame’s path erupted into flames - tables, banners, paper, it mattered not.

  Alador was not concerned about the fire; he could douse whatever was close to him, and he knew that Luthian could reduce the flames as well. He focused instead on keeping in motion, not wanting to present a standing target. He lanced out lightning hoping to catch Luthian off guard, since he had only used water and pure power itself around the High Minister.

  A mad cackle was heard as Luthian raised up his arm that had taken the ice orb hit, raising a weak force shield to block the lightning. Meanwhile, the flames kept licking out, finding purchase on anything they touched. “You think I didn’t know about your little trick of lightning? Come now, nephew.” Those words oozed with malice. “You know I’m better than THAT!”

  Alador coughed from smoke and pulled the bandana he had prepared over his mouth. He had known that things would burn; after all, Luthian was the ranking fire mage in Lerdenia. He swiftly thought of the spells of the black book. He began to incant while focusing on where Luthian turned as he moved.

  The stream of fire stopped as Luthian looked round. He calmly walked toward the door to the outside. His gait was practiced and slow, sending the message to anyone watching that he owned this place, and he could take as much time as he wanted. His head swiveled around, looking for Alador. Finally spotting him, he let loose several fireballs with one hand and a wave of force with the other.

  Alador finished the incantation, placing himself between Luthian and the door. A black hole appeared behind his uncle. The inside writhed with inky maleficence. Unfortunately, he could not break his concentration, and so was unable to avoid all the fireballs. The wave of the force then knocked him into the door jamb behind him.

  A cruel smile crossed his uncle’s features as he realized the fireballs struck home, but it quickly turned as he felt the force and eerie silence of something behind him. He glanced over his shoulder, and his body followed the turn. He gazed into the eternal darkness that was before him, aghast at what this was. He tried to back away, but was unable to fight as he was drawn toward it.

  Pulling part of his robe into it, it would have grasped him if the spell had not faltered as Alador slid to the ground, the force of the blow disrupting the spell. In both horror and anger, Luthian turned back toward Alador and moved closer to him, hands up and fire dancing around his features.

  “You… Are… Nothing!” Luthian spat.

  Alador staggered to his feet from where he had slid to the floor. “I must be something, you look frightened Uncle. Perhaps now is the time to tell you I found the oathbreaker’s spell book,” he taunted, moving away from the area reflexively. To prove his point, he let loose a dark cold ray. He cringed as the power moved through him; it felt wrong, as if dirty somehow.

  Diverting his own spell energy, Luthian held up a hand that created a barrier of force around him, but it wasn’t enough. It blocked the cold well, but the inky darkness passed through it, catching his hand and cutting into it. He yelled in pain, but his other hand was already in motion, a large fireball smashing through the building to strike the location where Alador had been. The explosion flung Luthian away from the blast center, and a small crater formed in the bookshelf, but Alador was gone.

  The dark portal he had created to rid them all of the High Minister had failed, and Alador suspected that he would not get a second attempt. It was a spell that took more time, effort, and power than he had to spare twice. As if to verify his thoughts, he was hit by the wave coming off the explosion and knocked face first to the floor. He rolled quickly in case Luthian was using that distraction as a way to hit him again. His leathers had protected him from the fire, but not the force the balls carried.

  Luthian was thrown a fair distance, but his force shield absorbed the brunt of the explosion. Slowly, he pushed off the rocks and wood pieces that scattered about his form. Rising to his feet, he was a bit wobbly, but made it to the o
uter doors and flung them open.

  Alador attempted to freeze him there. A block of ice slammed down, blocking Luthian’s way out. “We are not done. As you said, this is a battle for the Kingdom, and you running is not an option.” Alador drew himself up despite the pain in his ribs. He let loose another dark ray at his uncle’s back.

  Instead of blocking it, Luthian dodged out of the way - sidestepping the misplaced shot. His hair had come loose and whipped wildly about him, giving his wide-eyed look a sense of the madman within.

  “That should have killed you, half-breed!” Luthian’s hands were a flurry of movement, waves of force shot along the ground, picking up burning debris - tables, chairs, paper, timbers, it mattered not. It all flew at Alador as the same gout of flame sputtered from the other hand. The flame itself growled as it came into being.

  Alador was unable to douse the flame or avoid the items. He was knocked to the wall and slid down as the debris buried him with punishing blows. The fire raised blisters on his hands and face. He could smell burning hair. He knew he had to move quickly. It was all he could do to pull himself out from under the pile, only to see his uncle’s boots.

  Everything about him burned. Looking up, Alador saw the disheveled madman that bore down on him. His wild eyes and sadistic smile spoke everything in volumes. His hands outstretched toward Alador, one had a continuous flame, roiling in it. The other held a semi-transparent barrier of force.

  His tone was unhinged as he growled out. “Any last words, you half-breed whelp?”

  Alador caught the flash of blue at the door. “Yes… You forgot one thing, Uncle.” He watched as an arrow sprouted from Luthian’s chest. “Daezun women aren’t helpless.”

  Blinking, a look of shock crossed the High Minster’s features as the flame and shield spells dropped. Touching the arrow with his fingertips, it became more real as he realized what happened. His blood coated the tip of the arrow. Turning around slowly, his mouth was agape, gasping for breath. He blinked to see Mesiande standing a distance away. He raised a hand toward her.

  The moment his hand came up, she shot him again. It sped home, hitting him in the heart. Mesiande watched as her tormentor slid down to the floor.

  Sordith appeared at that moment. “Damn it all,” he spat on the floor. “You beat me to him.” Realizing that Mesiande had already set another arrow waiting for Luthian’s next move, he crossed to her.

  “Let’s just take that now, lass.” He carefully led her shaking fingers to release the tension on the string.

  Mesiande thrust the bow into the Trench Lord’s hand and ran to Alador. She knelt beside him.

  “Are you okay?

  Alador had only managed to roll to his side. “I think I will be if I see a healer.” The mage panted lightly to avoid a deeper breath. He coughed and blood sprayed from his mouth.

  Mesiande attempted to pull him to his feet.

  “Let’s get you outside.” She beckoned Sordith over, and they both moved to help him, placing his arms over their shoulders. As they moved forward she scolded him. “You never bested me on the practice field. I have always been the better shot.”

  Alador would have laughed if it didn’t hurt so bad. “I was counting on that indignation for you to prove me wrong. I brought the bow for you.”

  As they got to the door, he put up a finger and turned around. He would need this office soon. He doused the room with water, leaving steaming piles of books and furniture.

  “Okay, now we are done,” he said. He placed his arm around her shoulders and allowed her to help him outside to the waiting dragons and Blackguard.

  Chapter Thirty-Nine

  Sordith and Mesiande helped Alador out of the house and lowered him down on the steps. Alador looked around to see the army of dragons, Blackguard, Daezun and Lerdenians milling about. Levielle, Lady Aldemar, and Keensight moved through the crowd to his side.

  It seemed as if a hundred demands and questions came at him simultaneously. He coughed again, spraying his arm with blood and the world went a bit hazy for a moment.

  Lady Aldemar held up a hand as she knelt beside him. “He is hurt, give him a few minutes.” She looked to Alador. “Ribs?”

  The young mage nodded and winced when her gentle hands hit the first tender site. It felt to him as if every rib was broken. His breathing was labored.

  Lady Aldemar whispered words of healing as she gently ran her hands over his sides. He could feel them knitting back together, which was not exactly a comfortable feeling. He sighed with relief when he could finally take a deep breath without hurting.

  “That is all I can do for now without a proper bed and my healing salves.” She pushed his hair, quite singed and snarled, out of his eyes.

  “Help me up, Sordith.” He put a hand up and took Sordith’s as he was hauled to his feet.

  “Reports?” He demanded. His fear was huge and while he had tasked Nemara to hide in the fifth-tier spring, he had not seen her when he moved up the tiers with Smallstone. A journey he intended to travel again once he was well.

  Keensight was the first to speak. “We lost seven dragons.” Alador’s heart sank as he continued. “Pruatra was among them and Amaum is badly hurt.”

  Alador forced his feelings to the back. “Do you need any help seeing to their rituals?” Amaum had already lost so much to Alador’s geas. He knew that even after he healed, there was little chance that the young dragon’s anger would lessen, not with Pruatra dead. Alador forced down a lump in his throat at that thought; in her own gruff way, she had grown on him. He would mourn her later in his own way and time.

  Keensight shook his head. “Each Flight is already seeing to their own. A member of the Blue flight has taken over the role of lead given the situation.”

  “Sordith?”

  “Owen looks to have lost a leg. Lady Aldemar’s people are seeing to him. Other than that, I won’t know for a couple hours.” Sordith’s tone was grim.

  Alador wiped a hand over his face. He searched out his brother. “Dorien?”

  “There were losses; a battle comes with them. They were minimal compared to what could have been had the Blackguard not stood amongst us.” Dorien was abrupt, but very formal in his pose and speech.

  Alador looked at him, his eyes questioning whether they had lost family. Dorien seemed to know his thoughts and shook his head. Alador breathed a sigh of relief.

  He turned his head, seeking out the General. “Levielle, your assessment.”

  “More damage to the city than I would have liked. Fifth tier will need to be totally rebuilt.” Alador’s heart leaped. Nemara had not been in the spring, which left the manor - he hoped.

  “Sordith, will you go to my home and check on Nemara and our child?” Alador’s words were soft amongst the chaos and celebration of the victors.

  “Of courses.” Sordith turned and then stopped to look back at Alador. “Child?”

  Alador’s words were pointed. “Yes, our child.” Sordith knew of the egg so he hoped he would leave it at that.

  Mesiande poked his arm. “You have a child?”

  Keensight grinned slightly at the news there was a child. “Healthy I hope.”

  “Yes, very healthy.” Alador managed. “He looked back at Mesiande. “I am sorry Mesi. I couldn’t tell you because Luthian held your will. Nemara will be my queen, as she knows the people here and…”

  Bariton and Levielle shifted uncomfortably. “Lad may I suggest a later time for that discussion?” the general prompted gently.

  Alador looked back at those gathered around him. “Yes, your right.” He looked down at Mesiande. “We can speak more later if you like.”

  He looked about the tier assessing what to say. There were fires still burning in the city below. “Are there any mages left who fought against us?”

  Lady Aldemar’s smile was victorious. “Yes, we have them held in a circle of very unhappy dragons.”

  “Levielle, I want them banished. Can you see that they can retrieve what they c
an carry and then load them onto a boat to anywhere but here?” Alador’s weariness was beginning to take a hold. The dark spells he had cast had left strange sensations and a weariness like that of resisting the storm.

  “Banished? Alador, I suggest that we kill them. We don’t need them to assist a city that will not bow to your rule.” Levielle’s tone was cold.

  “Would I not be as bad as Luthian if I killed them?” Alador was sick of killing.

  “No,” came the voices of Keensight, and Levielle. Lady Aldemar dissented with a firm, “yes.”

  Alador thought about this for a long moment. “Is it possible to set a geas on them that they cannot act against us?” He looked from mage to dragon.

  Keensight nodded. “Yes. We can even set some very vivid images of what will happen to them if they try.” Keensight lowered his great head to Alador. “I insist that they swear allegiance at the very least.”

  Alador nodded. “See it done.” He watched as Keensight lumbered over toward a circle of dragons.

  “Bariton?”

  “Lost good men and women, but they fought bravely and well. The combination of skills of the army and of the magi worked as predicted.” Bariton stood a little straighter. “They did not balk at working with their Daezun kin, nor the Lerdenian mages that assisted us.”

  “That is good to hear. We need to talk later about opening the Blackguard up to any who wish to pursue becoming a battle mage.” Alador looked about for any others. His eyes fell to Lady Aldemar.

  “My lady, how fared the mages who stood with us.” His words were gentle as he knew that the Lady was not one for violence.

  “We lost several and some have not reported in yet.” Her eyes took on a filmy stare. “Fortunately, my daughter was able to fight at my side.”

  “Your daughter?” Alador was surprised.

  The lady turned aside and beckoned a young woman to her. “This is Ruby. We were only just reunited before the battle. I have the General to thank for finding her.”