by Marc Mulero
She ducked and spun out of the way, gliding low using the power of flenos at her feet, bits of floor and furniture kicking up along the way. Three more spears were inbound. She hopped over one, sidestepped another, but the third was about to be a direct hit.
She gasped.
Crash.
A flat layer of bark rose in front of her at the last second, bursting into flames to catch the brunt of the force. Crow’s Reach.
Meanwhile, Eres was swinging his blade to hit nothing. How was this man doing this? How was he simultaneously juggling two opponents like he had two minds? Every swipe felt like a hit but it wasn’t; his swings were getting lost in Lasarius’ cloak, his speed slowing like he was hitting into pillows every time. Wind resistance? It must’ve been. Another enchantment to tire him out.
How the hell am I supposed to fight this?
“Imagine defending against ten people at once, blindfolded, hands tied behind your back,” Lasarius said. “Imagine that after being whipped for the entire night prior. You are nothing. Skrols are nothing compared to the Sindus Guild.”
Eres started backpedaling, blocking against a flurry of high kicks one after another, each with a gust of wind to follow. It felt the same as Joodah slamming a Crule fist into him. He was penetrating Glite using sorcery, knocking the wind out of Eres with every blow. This was madness.
Crack. Lasarius’ heel clapped Eres’ chin while he was still mid-spin, just before another kick slammed into his stomach. This assassin was a living breathing tornado. An embodiment of streaming movement. But just as Eres was sure he was about to be thrown through one of the glass windows, momentum ceased. Vines were curling around Lasarius’ ankle to yank him off balance. Crow.
“Traitor!” Windel bellowed with her daggers in position to cut Lasarius’ back, charging hard to end this. But a nightmarishly fast elbow knocked her skidding off course and out of the way. It worked though, bought Crow that extra second needed to clasp his other foot. Lasarius was rooted now. Stuck.
Crow reeled back to tighten his grip, Lasarius’ feet breaking through the ground like he was being dragged into hell.
“Eres, now!”
Eres lit his blade with blackened Crule. “For my fata!” He feigned a slash to Lasarius’ left, knowing the wind barrier would concentrate to stop him, and then impeller burst twice into a blur before reforming behind him, knowing that the winds would follow.
“For the Skrols.” He kept his finger pressed down to expend all of his Crule. Eres had to make each strike look real if this was to work.
But it wasn’t until he burst one last time - to be face-to-face with the arrogant Imperion once more - that he knew he could be faster than an enchantment. This was his gift: reflexes, a strong mind. Use them, he told himself.
“For legacy!”
Out came a Crule thrust forward, just like Ringwal had taught him. Unexpected and brutal. But if it worked, why was he suddenly blinded by a flash of white light? Why did he feel a clash and not the softness of flesh that he’d expected?
How?
The roots at Lasarius’ feet were suddenly cut and the flat of his blood blade was very much alive with electric Crule, catching the point of Eres’ blade just in time.
“The Skrols will die.” Lasarius’ voice rose. “The Sindus Guild couldn’t stop me, the Factions are at my disposal. And you, young Dawn, have no chance. None!”
Lasarius roared for the first time, sending with it massive spurts of flames. They were masterfully concentrated. Two rolled past his feet and lit Crow’s vines like a dynamite fuse, singeing all the way to his wrist guards to the point where he had to shake them off so he didn’t fry. Another enveloped Eres’ armor in the same fashion as Proctor Vasa’s on the shider, forcing his Glite mask up to prevent him from burning to death. Even Windel was blown further back by another gust of wind.
This was bad. Really bad.
And just as Eres was able to shake off the flame, he crashed hard on the floor – back first – struggling to breathe. His vision cleared to see Lasarius descending unto him like a pouncing Sur. This assassin was out of his league, out of all of their league. Eres’ Crule was expended; his body paralyzed. He was done. How foolish he was to think he could thwart a career mastermind? This man was a live Sindus Guild defector and a sorcerer.
How foolish he was…
This is the end.
He watched in slow motion as a Crule ignited blood dagger was clasped downward in one hand, point aligned with his heart. Fata, I’m sorry. His eyes welled with tears. He didn’t want Windel to see him go out like this. He didn’t want to die.
Flash.
His ears were ringing steadily and his vision another haze of black and white. But he felt nothing.
What?
The most unexpected shiver crawled down his back. Goosebumps of fear, adrenaline, hope. Because when his vision cleared, only one question came to mind: Why, oh why was Seren Night in between him and Lasarius? He appeared out of nowhere to save him.
The moment of stillness, the instant of shock in Lasarius’ eyes, in Eres’, was broken again by Seren. He whirled his double-sided blade so fast and fluidly that the wind enchantment dissipated in front of him. Eres could see gusts rushing back to Lasarius but being swiped away by speed unknown to ulmanity.
He still couldn’t believe it. Why was a murderer working to save him? Or perhaps he wanted to kill Eres himself to take his esper…
Lasarius was the one back-peddling now, trying with all of his effort to meet the coming strike. But the brim of Seren’s hat was over his eyes, his cloak hiding his free arm, every shrouded aspect of him made it impossibly difficult to assess anything.
“Why did I know you would come?” Lasarius seethed.
Seren spun his blade in a wide angle before descending overhead.
There were no winds to save Lasarius at that point, just assassin swiftness versus Skrol speed. Shink. Lasarius’ eye was an inch away from the point of Seren’s blade, but the edge was gone again in the same instant.
Mustae…
Eres recalled fighting him a time ago, feeling so helpless.
Two wide slashes aimed for Lasarius’ gut would’ve sliced him open had he not sucked in, but he did, and therein lied the first counterattack. Lasarius spun and arched his back in a most unorthodox fashion. The Sindus Guild and their tricks.
Three more follow-ups to the counter. Lasarius was on fire, literally, building up a ball of flame in his off-hand after every slash aimed at Seren: one very low – forcing Seren to lift his foot – another windmilled overhead but was swiped away. A third and then a fourth. Both were met, all while the fire grew.
And then, with a smirk on his face, Lasarius dashed back and heaved a spear of fiery wind at Seren so fast that it whistled and puffed at the same time.
That’s when everyone’s eyes went wide. Even Lasarius’.
Eres got to his feet in dismay. “How?!”
Seren was trembling in place, jaw clenched, off-hand now revealed. He had caught it. He had caught the barreling stream of fire in his free hand, looking more like a dark angel now than ever.
“How in the light of Mustae are you holding a flame?” Eres shouted, “You have no connection!”
“There are more ways than one to fight a wizard, even if you are without magic,” Seren finally spoke before hurling the elemental spear back toward his opponent.
Lasarius had to evade in a flashy maneuver to narrowly dodge his own bullet, and although he did, the deed was still done: Everyone was inspired now. Windel, Eres, even Crow. They all regained that battle-ignited light in their eyes.
“Windel!” Crow shouted out. “I know where to go. I can hear him clearly now.”
“Flee, then!” Windel bellowed back as she dashed to attack Lasarius once more.
“Not without you.” Crow charged head on.
The love between them destroyed Eres’ spirit. It angered him. But he could use that here, couldn’t he?
Seren d
idn’t dismiss the three of them either. Instead, he charged with them, welcoming the additional distractions.
Lasarius only spread his arms in victory, however.
“It doesn’t matter now, Seren. Our war is already over. We’ve won,” he said cryptically before spinning and then slashing Windel across the face.
“No!” Eres bellowed, zooming past Seren and leaping high into the air.
Crow grunted at the same time and tossed his seared wrist guard at the Imperion. With one flex of his fingers, he exploded the elemental armor into a wave of water that crashed into Lasarius, knocking him off balance to the ground.
It was the moment Eres needed, the instant to finally catch this demon of an enemy off-guard. Eres descended down with arms overhead - the sliver of Crule steaming up and down his blade like dry ice. But even now, after all of that, hazy smoke met electricity once more. Opposing blades clashed hard. Eres could smell the burning of conflicting chemicals, taste the blood drying in his mouth. None of it mattered though. Windel was hurt; Mustae only knew how badly. It enraged him more than seeing her and Crow together. It made him feral.
I’ll kill him! He’ll be ripped and bloody. I won’t stop-
He did stop however, when with a lightning quick motion, Eres heard the shink of metal dragging away from the clash and into the pit of his belly. A strange warm sensation followed, like the heat of his insides was unexpectedly apparent to him.
No. He looked down to see himself gutted by the dagger, his Glite turning molten near the wound as Lasarius nearly snapped his neck with a deadly kick.
He twisted mid-air before hitting the floor, rolling once, twice, and then skidding backward until the wall finally stopped his momentum with a bang. His vision was swimming, but he could still make out what would come next.
Seren, a wraith within this holy stained-glass temple, was the only thing that could stop such a force. His half-cloak billowed from speed as he alternated his impeller trajectory. All the while shadowed eyes analyzed every movement of his opponent. He knew that Lasarius had expended all of his Crule, he could sense it by how quickly the jolting blade receded.
It was eerie how quiet he was in battle too. No taunts or arrogant flaunting, only action. Awe-inspiring action.
With a high leap, Seren flashed his impeller to shoot down diagonally. Clang. Metal on metal. Lasarius was in a defensive stance now. This was good. He didn’t know what to expect or how this would play out. None of it. And when the Imperion spun to find him, he only found the wind Seren had left behind; Seren was soaring high into the vast space once more. Click. He descended with the force of a shider crashing head on.
Clang. Lasarius barely met the blade this time. Seren was fast. Too fast. Even for a Sindus Guild assassin. What’s worse, he was ramping up his agility now, coming at him from all different angles without a second in between, as though he summoned an entire squad to fight alongside him. But it was just him. An impossibly fast, true one-man army.
“Stand still so I can burn you out of existence,” Lasarius demanded.
Seren flung his double-sided sword into a spinning windmill meant to cut the Imperion’s throat, but with a wave of his hand, Lasarius formed an air funnel that sent it off-path. And just as the legendary blade should have bounced off of the floor to be uselessly out of reach, Seren appeared on one knee in its path. He snatched the hilt mid-turn like he was hand-fishing and kept it rotating somehow. It was amazing.
“If you accomplished that, your precious plans would be lost.” Seren flashed all eleven of his espers to bolster his point. “Surely you understand inheritance by now.”
“The Founder’s final rule. Of course.” Lasarius laughed through his words. “And I know that if you fell, your espers would fall with you. The secret would form within a central source - the Elkar. This.” Lasarius held up his hand to showcase his own esper.
“You assume I would not bequeath,” Seren stated.
“I know you would not.” Lasarius became deadly serious. “You, Seren Night, the most infamous Skrol murderer in the spheres. Where would you find a willing hand?” He mocked.
“A tale perverted by you,” Seren said plainly. “A Faction leader. You are nothing more than an overzealous mole.”
What is he saying, Eres thought, cupping his wound as he struggled to sit up, did I have it wrong this whole time? Did my fata?
“The one who abandons the ancient way lectures me?” Lasarius smirked.
“Enough.”
Seren sped forward into a haze and when he reappeared, his legendary blade was spinning with Crule fire. A backhand slash downward cut Lasarius’ robes, his Glite, and disarmed him. The dagger jangled as it tumbled onto the floor.
A surface wound, yes, but the next would kill. The next would end him.
“Usanamas!” Lasarius bellowed in desperate defense.
Winds suddenly snapped around him, lashing like whips and speckled with fire. It was a channeled summoning, Seren knew, the worst kind. Inception of this sorcery storm was like a black hole in reverse, something with such an immense force that it was useless to fight, useless to try and get close. He could do nothing but hold his hat and brace forward against it, to struggle under the undeniable pressure. His feet slid back while still in the same position. He might as well have been in the black winds of Okabin at this point.
“Hellfire,” Seren spoke to himself, and then broke from resistance and zoomed toward Eres with his impeller cranked to one thousand. He grabbed the Dawn by the collar of his Glite, and spotted Windel floor-bound and bleeding. He then glanced at Crow who was fighting to get to her against the culminating storm.
They were out of time. Seren couldn’t save them all.
Click.
A master of wind current, of calculation, of experience, Seren cupped one hand around his impeller to send a concentrated burst of wind that projected Windel into the air and into Crow’s arms.
“Find cover! Barricade yourself. Go!” Seren’s voice was terrifying at full volume, but Crow nodded and did what he was told, shouldering through one of the many doors in the vast room and out from Lasarius’ reach.
Seren did the same on the opposite side. He threw Eres to the floor and worked to barricade the door shut.
Chapter 42
Smoke and Mirrors
“I- I spent the last decade loathing you. You’re a murderer, a ruiner.” Eres shuddered from the pain. “Why would you save me?”
“Why…” Seren repeated, unfastening some tape measure-like contraption from within his cloak and plastering it onto the seam of the door, tracing it down to reinforce the barricade. “Because although you are destined to be a puppet like your father, I am not your enemy. I’m not your ally, either.”
Eres forced himself to his feet only to be shoved back down by Seren’s hand.
“Hey, what are you- stop!”
“Be still.” Seren showed Eres a flat piece of what looked to be sandpaper resting in his palm and then unpeeled the top layer of thin film with his teeth, causing it to bubble with heat. “This will hurt.”
Slap.
Eres’ eyes bulged on impact. The searing pain of cauterizing a wound made his entire body shiver, then jolt like he was having a seizure. It was the same as when the Drigus ripped him apart in the Northern Grottos. This isn’t new, he screamed in his head. I’ve been through this before. Hold. Don’t pass out. You’re face-to-face with your mortal enemy.
Hold, Eres!
And he did. After ten quick, anxious breaths, his breathing slowed. He could ignore the sparkling in his vision, his belly that was on fire. He could withstand anything.
The maturity of how he handled this internal strife made Seren regard him, almost impressed that he didn’t whine or shout. But as usual, this man’s poker face was an immaculate statue. It was only through Seren’s actions that Eres could try to read him, not through his words that had confused him eternally up until now.
Eres writhed with pain. “Now what?”
“Now, we wait. The Fuliz will burn the wound closed and slow any internal bleeding.”
“Then let’s get back out there and kill that traitor.” Eres struggled to gather himself.
“Not so fast.” Seren motioned to the barricaded door that was getting pounded as though some demon was trying to bust in. “Lasarius released a summon that should never be performed. Once started, it cannot be interfered with nor overpowered. A Sorcery-taught survival mechanism that I’ve only dealt with once before. We’re all stuck, including Lasarius, as he channels his last desperate attempt to pry off his enemies.”
“I don’t buy it. All it takes is one Crule stab in the right spot.” He then gulped when remembering Windel had been slashed and was unmoving before he was dragged into here.
“If we enter that hall again amidst hellfire, we would be sliced down by wind and flame within seconds. Don’t be a fool.”
“Windel…”
“Get a hold of yourself. The girl will live.”
Eres didn’t know why, but he took comfort in the straightforward statement. It was as if his fata had said it to him… the tone had finality like he would imagine a general’s would in war. What choice did he have now, all beaten and bloody, but to believe in this man’s experience, even if he was a mass murderer? And with all of these thoughts swirling around, Eres relaxed into a state of acceptance. Might as well since he was stuck there for who knows how long.
Now he was the one regarding Seren for the first time since the Colliding Spheres: his long, smooth face of sharp angles, hairless and tan – like him. Maybe a little too much like him. Eres’ eyes squinted as he inched his back up the wall to have a better look. He couldn’t help but notice the killer’s weapon glimmering behind his cloak, his entire shrouded getup in varying shades of dark brown. And beneath, that defined Glite armor of all black and shades of gray, like a King’s armor purposely dulled to avoid showing off. His gear was all enhanced by a talented Artificer’s hand. It was obvious.
