by Phil Stern
But then a funny thing happened. Holding up his left hand, a large ring on Jarton’s pinky finger animated and expanded out into a crude silver shield. Catching the blast at just the right angle, most of Caylee’s might was successfully deflected into the sky. The flaming green energy harmlessly shot up into a low-lying cloud, disappearing entirely.
Yet Jarton didn’t escape entirely. Knocked back onto his rear end, the now partially-melted shield curled back over his own hand. Cursing, he barely managed to detached the rapidly-shrinking ring before it burned into his skin.
Letting out a sigh of relief, Caylee carefully stretched out her badly bruised elbow. Clearly, the demons had spent much time and energy trying to fashion Coven-specific defenses, with poignantly equivocal results. “So much for that, huh?” she derisively called out. “With two centuries to prepare, that’s the best you could come up with?”
“Just you wait, little girl,” he snarled. Leaping to his feet once more, Jarton again charged at her.
Caylee expertly laced an ankle with more earth fire, then promptly executed a reverse somersault. Leaping straight up, she gracefully tumbled backwards through the air, landing fifty feet behind her original position. Rod raised and ready, she awaited his next move.
But Jarton was in a bad way. Hunched over, the Donlon lord held his ankle in obvious pain. By the looks of it, Caylee’s blast had nearly severed the foot entirely. And though the demon had indeed tried to hobble after her, the effort had clearly been too much, even for him.
Still, the fearsome creature wasn’t yet ready to concede the battle. Fingers spread, Jarton impatiently saturated the rooftop in flames, down-turned palms projecting red fire all about. Leaning over, he then roughly ripped out a single glowing brick, heaving it right at her.
At first, the young operative didn’t find this much of a threat. After all, magically-enhanced reflexes should easily allow her to dodge mundane projectiles at this distance. If this was all Jarton had left, there was nothing to prevent her from simply dropping back down to ground level and melting back into the dense city.
Yet once again, Caylee underestimated her opponent. The brick blazed through the air at incredible speed, coming right at her chest! Once more, Caylee’s instincts barely saved her. A hastily-formed shield caught the brick just in time, flaming clay and shale cascading all about.
However, this was merely the opening salvo. A fusillade of bricks quickly followed, pummeling the Haven witch. The iron rod soon clattered down to the rooftop, the result of a glancing blow to the hand. Arms desperately covering her head, earth stone chaotically sputtering, it was all she could do just to keep the failing shield in place.
The last missile slammed into her right leg, near the bullet wound. Finally puncturing her defenses, a small piece of heated brick lodged into the back of Caylee’s knee. Gracelessly flopping down onto the dirty roof, the enchantress bodily yanked the burning cinder from her skin. With a badly burned thumb and forefinger added to her mounting list of injuries, Caylee rolled about in agony.
But there was no time to feel sorry for herself. Stumbling and cursing, Jarton dragged himself towards her with loud, irregular thumps. Obviously, the demon wanted to close in and finish her off with his bare hands.
Defenses now completely shredded, Caylee watched his slow, lumbering approach. Tears of rage and pain streaming down her begrimed face, the battered sorceress quickly tried to gather herself. On the Lysandy plains, when faced with a charging ronga, there was a unicorn and battle hawk to save the day. Here, there was nothing to distract Jarton from his grim purpose.
Or was there? Hazily, like a fantasy from some other life, she recalled marathon elimination contests with her Coven-mates in the Haven woods. Half-game, half-training session, Caylee had been particularly adept at projecting a fake image of herself to one side, then triumphantly sneaking up from behind and tapping an unwary sister on the shoulder. On several occasions, she’d been the last witch standing.
This had frustrated her opponents no end, one girl even accusing Caylee of cheating! Which wasn’t fair, of course. She was simply better at it than they were.
But Jarton obviously wasn’t playing hide and seek. This was deadly serious conflict on a squalid urban rooftop, without a single tree to hide behind. Still, if Caylee used two spells at once, both masking and projecting at the same time…
Inspired, Caylee quickly grabbed her earth stone, firmly corralling it’s magical output. Seeing her just lay in place, seemingly in defeat, Jarton triumphantly thumped even faster. Good, she thought. Now it was time to let the demon suffer from overconfidence.
Taking a deep breath, the sorceress let him get as close as she dared. Then, blocking everything else out, Caylee projected a false image of herself along her own body, while simultaneously masking her true self with an invisibility spell. “Fake” Caylee now proudly stood up, seemingly none the worse for wear, while she remained hidden. It wasn’t perfect, but distracted and in pain himself, Jarton didn’t notice the substitution.
“Sorry about the foot,” Fake Caylee called out, blowing Jarton a kiss. “Bye now, you freak. Tell all the other freaks I said hi.” The projected image retreated a few steps towards the opposite edge of the roof, fully separating from the still-prostrate enchantress.
“You coward!” he bellowed back, voice echoing out over the entire area. “Running away, are you?”
“You’re not even worth my time.” Fake Caylee laughed, placing proud hands on confident hips. “No wonder the Coven defeated you so easily.”
Pausing, Jarton’s entire being now became suffused with silver rage. “The next time will be different!”
Caylee herself still laid on the rooftop between them, the demon uncomfortably close. Barely breathing, it took all her concentration to keep both spells going at once.
“You pathetic wretch.” Almost sadly, the image of the unblemished young sorceress shook her head. “Compared to us, you’re nothing. Just a freak in another person’s body.”
“You’re the freak!”
“And good luck explaining to the other demons how you couldn’t catch me!” With a jaunty finger wave, Fake Caylee made as if she was about to bound away once more. “Bye now!”
Screaming in fury, Jarton made a final, bumbling charge, steam almost literally coming from his ears and nostrils. Nearly stepping on Caylee herself, still invisibly laying on the rooftop, she was almost overwhelmed by the stench of burnt skin and putrid malice.
Instead of running, Fake Caylee just stood there, grinning like an idiot. Roaring in unexpected triumph, Jarton hobbled up and tried to grab her in a big bear hug. No doubt the demon intended to rip her head off and put it on his wall, just as he’d promised a short time ago in the alley below.
But as Jarton’s arms collapsed around empty air, and Fake Caylee herself drifted off into nothingness, the infuriated sorceress leapt into action. Grabbing the dropped iron rod, now partially-melted and half-bent into a rough scythe, she darted at Jarton’s unprotected back.
Precisely timing a final surge of earth fire along it’s haphazard edge, Caylee swung the rod with all her might. Cleanly cutting through his neck, Jarton’s head popped free and dropped down to the roof. The body promptly sank down and collapsed into a heap over it, the entire untidy mass quivering for some moments before laying entirely, and utterly, still.
Frowning, Caylee stepped back and studied Jarton from a short distance away. Several moments went by without further activity. Even for a demon, that was surely a fatal blow? There was no way to be sure. In any event, he was no longer an immediate threat, which really was all that mattered.
With a heavy sigh, she tiredly flung down the bloody, mangled iron rod. Her leg again bleeding freely, Caylee knew she was in a bad way. The only thing that mattered now was escaping this rooftop before more demons showed up.
With a final glance at Jarton’s inert body, Caylee began jogging over the flat roof. Leaping up and over back onto the next building, she mad
e her way back to ground level, soon disappearing into the tumble-down urban landscape.
*****
A short time later someone did indeed poke their head up over the edge, carefully climbing onto the rooftop before making his way to the decapitated body in the center. With a low whistle, George carefully circled the slain Donlon lord, shaking his head in wonder.
“The girly girl did it, then,” the local rowdy softly declared. “She must be a witch, all right, and a nasty one at that!”
Though most of Peck’s crew had been rounded up and thoroughly questioned by the police, George had managed to slip out the rear unobserved. Skulking down by the river, he’d glanced up at one point just as Caylee and Jarton had leapt from one roof to another. Then, seeing only Caylee gingerly descend and depart the area a short time later, he’d let his curiosity get the better of him.
Now, fully appraising the macabre scene, George let out a harsh laugh. “What’s this, now?” he declared, eagerly eyeing Jarton’s fine watch and gold buttons. “Kills the cat then don’t take the cream? Fine business that is!”
With a final look around, he darted forward to yank the timepiece from Jarton’s wrist in one fluid, practiced motion. Standing tall once more, the ruffian slipped the watch over his own hand, admiring how it looked in the morning sun. “Hello there, sweetie,” George mumbled, staring at it in bright-eyed wonder. “I don’t think Lord Fancypants there will be needing you any more, now will he? Actually, I may…Hey!”
Feeling a vice suddenly clamp onto his leg, George looked down to see that Jarton’s now-watchless arm had somehow flopped over next to his own foot. The lord’s hand now fully encircled George’s ankle, ensnaring him in an impossible, unbreakable grip.
CHAPTER TWELVE
AFTER ARRIVING AT the Lysandy village the night before, Sarina had been mutely shown to the same barn Caylee had used. The simple woman urged the sorceress to make herself at home, while professing to know nothing of Caylee’s current whereabouts or condition. Under the circumstances, the senior enchantress was too exhausted to immediately press the point.
Unlike her younger Coven-mate, however, Sarina hadn’t waited for someone to come calling that morning. Bolting awake after a restorative four-hundred menlar sleep, she’d briefly inspected Lewn’s healing wing before pounding out to find some answers. Meeting the same guide from the previous evening, she’d been politely led to a large hut near the center of town and asked to wait.
Impatiently entering the humble abode, Sarina moodily took a seat on a rough wooden bench. Everyone seemed friendly enough so far, but rustic cultures were often wildly unpredictable. Idly studying the dirt floor, rudimentary tools, and other primitive nicknacks scattered about, she even wondered if Caylee might have inadvertently run afoul of some local tradition. Young operatives were often way too trusting, and if she’d offended the wrong people…
“My dear, welcome to our village.” Interrupting her dark reverie, Ayla swept into the hut from the opposite door. “As you may know, one of your companions was just recently here.”
“Yes. Caylee.” Jumping to her feet, Sarina thoughtfully eyed the priestess. “Where is she now?”
Sighing, Ayla sat on another bench. “I’m afraid that’s a complicated question.”
“Not really,” Sarina tightly replied, forcing herself to sit again as well. “I suspect my friend is in trouble. She’s not here, I take it? In the village, I mean?”
“No, unfortunately not.”
“Then where is she?” Leaning forward, Sarina deliberately let a surge of earth fire dance across the stone hanging about her neck. “It’s urgent that I find her. Without delay or interference.”
Raising an eyebrow, Ayla seemed unintimidated by her mild display of power. “No one has any intention of interfering, my dear. It’s just that Caylee may now be a lot farther away then you might think.”
“Tell me.”
So Ayla did, recounting the trip to Balen’s Bastion, Caylee’s interest in the more advanced objects found there, and her rescue of the Lysandy villager from the river.
“Your friend became quite concerned about the situation,” Ayda vaguely concluded. “So she decided to visit Lord Balen’s underworld herself.”
“Visit it herself?” Sarina repeated, wondering just how stupid Caylee could have been. “You mean she jumped into this pool, or river, or whatever it is?”
“Presumably so, yes.”
“And that took her somewhere else? To another dimension, you mean?”
“Lord Balen’s underworld, as I have said.”
Sarina stared off, evaluating Ayla’s story. Unfortunately, such a scenario was depressingly plausible. At the very least, it would certainly explain why Caylee’s companions were just aimlessly hanging about, nervously waiting for their sorceress to return. To the best of her ability, the village priestess was telling the truth.
“Okay,” the sorceress began. “This underworld you speak of. Is there any way to communicate with the people there?”
“None that I know of.”
“Can I go there too?”
“Not very easily,” Ayla replied. “In fact, I sense that Lord Balen’s demons have closed off the doorway between worlds. They are quite incensed.”
“Incensed? Why?”
“Your friend is young and impetuous.” Spreading her hands, the priestess shrugged. “Who knows what trouble she may have already caused?”
Well, at least we agree on something, Sarina ruefully thought. “All right. This bastion place, with the river and pool and all. Where is it?”
“A bowl within the mountain.” Gracefully, Ayla stood. “We can leave immediately, if you wish.”
Strolling out the back of the village, onto the grass field leading up to the mountain slope, Sarina stopped in surprise. For there, cavorting about as if they were all great friends, were three unicorns, four battle hawks, and three large tigers. A fourth tiger cub lolled about in the grass close by, playfully batting at a unicorn’s horn.
“Ah, yes.” Stopping beside her, Ayla respectfully motioned at the cub. “Sarina, let me introduce you to Her Highness Ierpyendwrejlenhandy, a royal tiger princess. Or Pend, for short. While she was here, Pend and Caylee became great friends.”
Jumping up, Pend jogged over and licked Sarina’s hand, staring into her face in bright-eyed wonder.
*****
Distastefully entering the dingy room, Caylee gratefully closed the door behind her. For a spare coin, the noxious clerk had rented her a corner apartment on the top floor, four stories up. Having carefully reconnoitered the flop house before entering, the undercover operative knew there was no nearby roof access threatening her privacy.
Quietly shifting a heavy dresser against the flimsy door, the sorceress promptly erected wards around the entire entryway. In the event of outright attack, the whole business should hold up long enough for her to escape out a window. Or maybe not, depending on any number of variables she had no way of calculating. Right then, she really wasn’t sure about anything.
Depressed, Caylee dropped her magical disguise and collapsed backwards onto the bed. Bruised and burned all over, her entire body ached. Of course, there were healing spells that would help, and a good night’s sleep often achieved wonders. Still, the blow to her head was particularly worrisome, as was the punctured leg. The young sorceress had lost a lot of blood on the rooftop, while a concussion was a distinct possibility.
Yet those concerns paled within the bigger picture. Already, the enchantress had taken a careful stroll by the lake in Nellon Park, finding it almost exactly as she’d imagined before. Huge, ugly iron nets were now spread over the entire surface, while bobbies armed with heavy Gatling guns dotted the shoreline. Large bonfires were being prepared to light up the night sky, further marring the idyllic scene. Clearly, the demons were committed to stopping and killing her, regardless of casualties or disruption.
Perhaps Caylee could force her way into the inter-dimensional lake, and at
some point it might come to that. But in her current condition, patience was clearly the better option. Slipping away on foot, she’d then begun looking for somewhere to spend the night.
It’s just that she felt so alone here. First one tear rolled down a stained cheek, then another. Soon, Caylee was bawling into her pillow, the stress and pain of the last week flowing out in uncontrollable waves. She would give anything to have Pend or Tornado with her. Even the hawks would be a help! But they were all in another dimension, an impossible distance away. Until further notice, she was completely on her own.
Finally crying herself out, Caylee let out a deep sigh. Rising once more, the magician softly padded over to the grimy window, staring out over this hostile, alien city.
Escaping a suddenly dangerous dimension was one of the classic scenarios the Coven relentlessly prepared for. Identifying threats, throwing off pursuit, melting into the population…that’s what the training exercise coming out of her final in Vail had been all about. The only goal was breaking contact and getting back to Haven in one piece.
Violence was only to be utilized as a last resort. Indeed, the biggest threat to an isolated operative, she well knew, was succumbing to undue anger and frustration. That only led to wasted energy and bad decisions.
But in any honest evaluation, hadn’t Caylee been victimizing herself with misguided emotion ever since leaving Vail? Standing there now, her mind numb and body aching, she realized her list of mistakes was nearly endless. First in selecting a juvenile unicorn, followed by her failure to simply retreat after the ronga battle. Deriding the local Lysandy religion, becoming incensed on the villagers’ behalf, angering Ayla for no reason, jumping into the inter-dimensional rift, underestimating Jarton…on and on it went. And these were just the obvious screw-ups!
