by Brian Farrey
Aubrin crinkled her face. “What is it?”
My temples throbbed. “Uncle Garax had this on him when he was hit with the shimmerhex.”
“So?”
“So I used the Vanguard to free him. The Vanguard negates all magic. It got rid of the shimmerhex and the dagger’s magic. It’s useless. We have no way to get into the Keep!”
And that’s when we heard it.
The sounds of fighting in the streets fell away. In the distance, a dissonant wail, rising in pitch, grew closer and louder. Aubrin and I climbed the warrior statue, stood atop the Keep’s dome, and gazed northwest.
Sentinels patrolling the perimeter wall stopped and gaped. On the horizon, the stars started disappearing, one by one. Xelos, the small moon, had just begun to rise. Slowly, a black shadow crept across its surface, eating the moon bit by bit.
I felt Aubrin slip her trembling hand into mine and squeeze. We were too late.
The Scourge was here.
41
Attack of the Scourge
“Leave sacrifices to the brave and bold.”
—Ancient par-Goblin proverb
As the approaching shriek of the Scourge grew louder, more and more citizens of Vengekeep poured into the streets. People pointed to the flying mass—a darkness separate from the night sky—as it covered the city like a cloak.
One by one, my family—having evaded the mages—gathered at the entrance to the Keep. Nanni was limping now. Uncle Garax was doubled over, wheezing. Ma and Da huddled together, eyes glued on the horizon.
“This is a little too familiar,” Da said grimly.
Like Da, I was also thinking about when the balanx skeletons attacked Vengekeep. But back then, there were only a handful of balanx. And we knew exactly how to defeat them. The one weapon we needed now we didn’t have.
Aubrin and I climbed down and I explained what had happened with the dagger. “The Scourge will be here any minute. We have to find another way in.”
By now, panic had rippled through the crowd. Parents clutched their children and looked frantically around for a place to hide. Ma immediately took charge.
“Ona,” she said to Da, “you and Garax go to the armory. Find something to smash in the Keep door. The rest of you, help me get everyone into the catacombs. It’s the safest place.”
Ma and Da kissed before Da and Uncle Garax charged off toward the armory. As Ma and Nanni began herding people toward the town-state hall and the entrance to the catacombs, Aubrin held tight to my wrist and pulled me back.
“What is it, Jinxface?”
“We have somewhere else to be.”
With that, she pulled me in the opposite direction. We moved against the crush of people following Ma. Aubrin led me to a spot near the western perimeter wall.
I looked around. “Aubrin, we need to find something to help us get into the Keep.”
“Trust me,” she said, looking around expectantly.
I rolled my eyes. “If you had a vision that will help us, just tell me you had a vision.”
“I had a vision.”
“See? Was that so hard? Look, we can’t just sit here waiting for the vision to come true. What we need is a battering ram.”
With a mighty crack, the wall next to us disintegrated, sending bits of mordenstone flying through the air. Aubrin and I fell to our stomachs. As dust floated in the air around the newly formed hole, the rounded head of a battering ram poked through.
Coughing, Aubrin and I got to our feet as people—humans, Aviards, and par-Goblins—ran in through the gap in the wall. Leading the way, sword in hand, was a flighty-eyed woman who stopped only briefly to admire her handiwork.
“That worked better than expected,” the Dowager said.
Soon, more familiar faces arrived. Maloch, Callie, Reena, Holm . . . each holding a weapon and ready to fight. The rest of the rebel army entered the city and immediately began setting up small catapults and other weapons.
A quickjump ring opened with a snap above us. Talian fell through the ring and landed near the Dowager.
“The Palatinate is trying to escape out the north gates,” he reported, “but my mages are keeping them inside the city. They’ll be forced to fight with the rest of us.”
“Good work,” the Dowager said. She took my chin and raised my face to look at her. “Later, we’re going to have a very long talk about leaving me behind and why it’s never a good idea. But first, maybe you should tell us what’s happening here.”
I quickly explained the situation and how we needed to get into the Keep. “When we left, everyone was arguing. How’d you get them all to follow you?”
“You’re joking, right?” Maloch said, tossing his head at the Dowager. “You should have heard the speech she gave. Shamed us all. Made Reena’s da cry. She rallied everyone and here we are.”
“But how did you find us?”
“How do you think?” Talian said, nodding toward the hole in the wall. Through the settling dust, a tall silhouette stormed into the city, a halberd in one hand and a battle-ax in the other. As the Satyran soldier assumed a stance next to the Dowager, she glared down at me.
“You will never be able to hide from me,” Luda said.
Clearly.
A ball of green flame soared over our heads and incinerated the Laughing Par-Dwarf tavern. Two hulking skaiths dropped from the sky and onto the perimeter wall. With dangerous tusks and spiky tails, they began tearing the wall to shreds. The Scourge had arrived.
The Dowager put a horn to her lips and sounded the war cry. “This ends now!” she declared. The rebels responded with a guttural cheer and ran forward to combat the monsters.
The Dowager pointed to Talian. “You, Callie, and Luda, get Jaxter to the Keep. Do whatever it takes to get him inside.” Then she went to join her troops. My heart stuck in my throat. I had a terrible feeling it was the last time I was going to see her.
With Luda and Talian leading the way, Aubrin, Callie, and I dashed through the chaos. Monsters appeared at every turn, digging into the cobblestone streets and crushing anything in their paths.
None of them had reckoned on Luda, though.
Slashing in every direction, the Satyran tore a path for us, dispatching creatures with each swing of her weapons. Talian and Callie helped, firing blasts from their spellspheres, until the constant use of magic weakened them. Aubrin helped Callie while I threw Talian’s arm around my shoulder and moved forward.
As we rounded a corner, three massive graglars—feline prowlers with three mouths—blocked the quickest path to the Keep. The creatures snarled, baring their teeth. Luda didn’t even hesitate. She ran straight at them, weapons singing through the air as she went. The graglars attacked her from every angle. Luda spun wildly, inflicting damage with every blow. But the graglars weren’t giving up.
“Go!” Luda called to us.
We sidestepped the melee and continued on to the Keep just ahead. Dodging creatures at every turn, we ran directly for the stone dome. We’d almost made it when a bloodreaver appeared with a pop and threw us all to the ground. The creature leaped onto Talian’s back, then lurched forward and sunk its fangs into the mage’s side.
Talian screamed. Blood gushed from the wound. The bloodreaver shook its head back and forth, trying to rip Talian’s arm from his body.
“I dropped my spellsphere!” Callie cried. Aubrin and I dug through the dirt, searching for the iron marble as Talian wailed in agony.
Just as we found it, a loud squish made the bloodreaver freeze. Its jaws slackened, it released its grip on Talian, and it fell over, twitching. Just behind, Bennock stood, his sword protruding from the creature’s head. He put his foot on the bloodreaver and yanked to retrieve his weapon.
“You were right,” he said to me. “I am getting better.”
Just behind him, Edilman strode toward us. He bent over and examined Talian. “He’s unconscious. Aubrin, look after him.”
I smiled at Bennock. “Where did you come from?�
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“When you left the mill, we stowed away in the attic of your uncle’s moving house,” he said.
“You were with us the entire trip here?”
“Every night,” Edilman said. “Just so you know, Jaxter: you snore.”
Bennock nodded. “You do.”
I ignored them and pulled the once-magic dagger from my belt. “This is the key to open the Keep door,” I said, handing it to Callie. “But it got touched by the Vanguard so it’s useless now. Can you . . . magic it?”
“I could do that,” Callie said, studying the dagger. “Or I could do this.”
She spoke a word, her spellsphere pulsed, and the stone warrior disintegrated, revealing stairs that led deep into the ground.
“That works too,” I said. “You’ve gotten good, Cal. You’ll be the head of the Lordcourt in no time.” I turned to Aubrin. “We’ll be right back.”
“Come on,” Edilman said, leading us down into the Keep.
The Keep itself was very small: a perfectly square room with a row of waist-high columns on the far side. The Sourcefire sat atop a column in the center, magical fire swirling in the crystal box.
“It’s not very big,” Bennock said. “How is that going to destroy the entire Scourge?”
“It only looks small,” Callie told him. “A thousand years ago, it took a hundred mages an entire day to secure the Sourcefire in that box. It’s more than enough to take care of the Scourge.”
The sounds of Vengekeep’s destruction had grown so loud we could hear it through all the earth and stone above us. Chunks of dirt fell from the ceiling. “Let’s open it,” I said, reaching out.
But Callie snatched my arm. “The second we open that, the Keep will be flooded with fire. We’ll be incinerated.”
Bennock nodded. “We need to take the box into the forest and find a way to—”
Another crash from above. A section of the ceiling collapsed, burying Bennock and Edilman under a river of rock and sand. Callie and I fell to our knees to dig them out. I pulled Bennock from the debris quickly but as Callie went to help Edilman, he screamed. The three of us tossed rocks aside until we freed his leg, now crushed and unusable.
Edilman gripped the wall and pulled himself up onto his good leg. “We don’t have time to take this anywhere,” he said quietly. He muttered in par-Goblin and put his hands on either side of the box’s lid.
“It’s magically sealed,” he murmured. “We’re sunk.”
I reached for my pouches. Empty. I couldn’t counter the magical lock. And if I used the Vanguard, I risked accidentally destroying the Sourcefire inside. Just like how I’d neutralized the dagger when I freed Uncle Garax from the shimmerhex.
A mighty crack sounded behind us as the stairs we’d descended split. Soon, they’d crumble away and we’d be trapped down here.
Over my shoulder, Callie exhaled sharply. She stared at the crystal box hatefully. Swallowing, she walked past me and stood at Edilman’s side. “I can undo the lock. But the second I do, the box will automatically open.”
Her meaning was clear.
No. No, there had to be another way.
“Magic can’t be used on the Sourcefire,” I argued.
Callie shook her head. “Magic can’t be used to transport the Sourcefire. Magic is the only way to open the lock.”
How could she sound so calm? My heart was hammering. This wasn’t fair. Callie had to survive. She had to show the world that mages could be good.
“Jaxter,” she said, “you and Bennock get Edilman out of here.”
But Edilman waved us away. “I’ll slow them down. And it’ll take the two of them to get Talian to safety.” He held out his hand. Callie took it. “Together?”
“Who would have thought?” Callie said with a quiet laugh. “You and me.”
“Abbot,” Bennock said, voice shaking. “What are you—?”
“I’m going to count to fifty,” Edilman said softly. “You’ve got that long to get as far away from here as possible.”
“No, Edilman,” I said, “this isn’t the way.”
The Keep lurched. A stream of sand poured down in front of the stairs, threatening to cut off our exit. Edilman turned his back to us. Callie held her spellsphere out. Their free hands gripped each other tight.
“One . . . two . . . three . . .”
None of this felt real. I looked to Bennock. The acolyte gaped, pale faced, and tugged at Edilman’s arm. Edilman didn’t budge. “You can’t do this, Abbot.”
“. . . four . . . five . . . six . . .”
I reached for Callie, but she hissed a magical word and sent me and Bennock flying across the room. “Jaxter, go!” she said firmly.
Numb, I touched Bennock’s shoulder. The acolyte wouldn’t move. He stood there, eyes fixed on his abbot.
“. . . eight . . . nine . . . Jaxter, get Bennock out of here . . . ten . . . eleven . . .”
Edilman kept counting. Callie joined in the count. They wouldn’t even look at me. Edilman paused only to whisper in par-Goblin, the same word he’d uttered earlier. I knew then there was no stopping him.
“What did he say?” Bennock asked.
“‘Redemption,’” I said.
Bennock strained against my grip. “Abbot . . .”
It took all my strength to get Bennock to move. He fought me every step of the way, screaming that he wanted to stay with Edilman. I took one last look at Callie. If she was afraid, it didn’t show. She just squeezed Edilman’s hand harder.
Eyes burning with tears, I dragged Bennock from the Keep.
42
The Death of Jaxter Grimjinx
“A bad thief never gets a good lockpick.”
—The Lymmaris Creed
The dome at the Keep’s entrance collapsed just as we bolted out from underground. You couldn’t see the cobblestone streets for all the ruin. The next block over, a wall of fire consumed everything in its path. The Scourge made short work of the few buildings left standing.
The imminent danger snapped Bennock out of his daze. Together, we picked up Talian and, with Aubrin at our side, we dashed for whatever cover we could find.
We ran until our legs burned. Suddenly, the entire ground heaved, shattering the street around us. Thrown forward and up, we landed near the ruins of the widow Bellatin’s house. Behind us, the Keep exploded. The earth blew apart when a massive discharge of green-blue energy shot up with a roar like continuous thunder.
The Sourcefire was unleashed.
I gaped where the entrance to the Keep had once stood. Callie . . . Edilman . . .
The Sourcefire twisted and churned like a tornado of light, red and orange bolts of energy shooting out from the swirling green-blue flames. It pierced the night sky, dancing in place from an unseen chasm. Strangely cool but powerful winds blew around the Sourcefire, whipping debris everywhere.
Aubrin crawled to me. We lay flat and covered our heads. I looked to Bennock, whose face was racked in pain. When the explosion threw him, he’d fallen on a broken wagon wheel. One of the spokes had pierced his thigh. He pressed his hand against the wound as his face grew paler by the minute. Talian remained unconscious nearby.
Above the tumult, a wall of noise, built from a thousand separate cries, overpowered the terrible sound of the Sourcefire. The Scourge as one had stopped its rampage against the town-state. The creatures had seen the Sourcefire and were doing exactly as we’d predicted. They ignored everything in their path and charged toward the column of magical fire.
Problem was, we were right in their way.
“Stampede!” I cried. I grabbed Talian’s legs while Aubrin hooked her arms under Bennock’s. We dragged our friends from the path of the oncoming herd and took refuge behind what remained of a bakery.
The Sourcefire’s unyielding winds did nothing to stop the Scourge. The monsters smashed any piece of flying debris that dared interrupt their progress. The first to arrive on the scene were a handful of bloodreavers, clawing their way across the br
oken ground. As one, they leaped straight at the Sourcefire with a final cry . . . and vanished. No flash. No sound. They just disappeared, like they’d never really been there.
Flying creatures followed suit, gliding serenely into the Sourcefire from a multitude of angles. The ground trembled as wookilars and skaiths and baxrons alike ran at top speed into the fire to be painlessly consumed. Seconds ago, they’d all been part of a murderous frenzy. Now, as they vanished, the Scourge looked peaceful at last. The feral braying faded as one by one the beasts cast off their physical forms and returned to pure energy.
And then we were alone. The threat of the Scourge was over. We’d won.
But the echoing thunder of the Sourcefire continued. The red bolts of lightning that snaked out from the center of the vortex grew more powerful, igniting the rubble. A doom-filled crack sounded as more of the earth at the base of the tornado fell away, engulfed by the fire.
“Is it me . . . ,” I asked, my throat going dry, “. . . or is it getting bigger?”
The Sourcefire started churning faster. Its base grew wider still, inching its way across the square. Talian stirred and produced his spellsphere. “I have to call the other mages. We have to contain it.”
I eyed the expanding girth of the Sourcefire. Callie had said it took a hundred mages a day to contain the Sourcefire once before. We didn’t have a day. The Sourcefire would consume all of Vengekeep in an hour. Or sooner.
Talian glared at his spellsphere. It flickered with light, then went dark. “I’m—I’m too weak.”
I reached out to Aubrin. Her eyes were red and wide with terror. Tears glistened down her cheeks. I pulled her close to reassure her.
But Aubrin wasn’t looking at me. She looked past me. At the Sourcefire.
And I realized: she hadn’t seen a pillar of light in the vision where I died.
She’d seen a pillar of fire.
That was what she’d been trying to tell me. She’d had a clearer vision and knew it was fire I was destined to walk into. This fire.
But why would I ever walk into the Sourcefire? Especially when we only had a few minutes before it expanded enough to destroy us all.
