by S. M. Boyce
She raced into the brilliant light from the overhead crystals, sucking in deep breaths of victory and relief as she bolted through the street. A tunnel in the nearby alley would take her back to—
Something hit her square in the back. The force knocked her over, and she rolled several feet. When her body finally stopped, she groaned. Every inch of her ached, and searing pain shot up her leg. She tried to stand, but agony splintered through her shoulder. Whatever had hit her had broken several bones.
Grimacing, she glared back the way she had come to find a familiar elf sneering at her as he slowly approached, all but swaggering through the street.
“Hello, little Atlantean,” Luak said.
Audrey tried to stand, to push through the pain, but she fell again onto her stomach. Dirt and blood covered her hands, her arms—probably everything. Her tousled hair hid much of the world around her from view, but all she cared about was Luak.
“I’m afraid I’ve forgotten your name,” he said, chuckling. “I usually refer to you as ‘the sidekick.’”
Her anger getting the better of her, Audrey reached for the crystal in her pocket. Luak, fast as lightning, shot a fireball at her side, driving her backward from the sheer force of the blow. More bones broke as she rolled, and she stifled a scream of agony.
He clicked his tongue in disappointment. “You come uninvited into my home, destroy much of my barracks, and have the audacity to try to attack me?”
“It’s not your home,” she spat.
“Oh, but it is.”
He lifted Audrey by the collar, and her entire body screamed with pain as he shifted broken bones that were not meant to be touched. He chuckled, no doubt relishing her suffering.
“You’ll make excellent bait to draw out Victoria,” he said, his face inches from hers. “Let’s make sure you put on a proper performance though, hmm? Scream for me.”
“Kiss my ass.”
He chuckled and, instead of answering he grabbed her broken forearm. She bit back a shriek and her body recoiled at his touch, the agony threatening to tear its way out of her throat.
“Come now,” he said gently, as though helping a child learn to walk. “You’re almost there.”
Time slowed as he held her in the air, suspended and biting back tears. But with a sudden, violent shift, the mood changed. One moment, his hand on her collar sent ripples of pain throughout her body, and the next a stranger’s fist had collided with his cheek. He flew across the street and Audrey dropped, suddenly unsupported.
Two powerful arms caught her. She looked up to see Victoria glaring at a pile of bricks as Luak climbed out of the hole he had dug in the street. She winked at Audrey.
“Thanks, Superman,” Audrey slurred, the pain too much to bear.
Victoria’s brows tilted upward in concern, and she raced toward a nearby alley. “Fyrn’s slow as hell, so Diesel is coming. He’ll get you out of here.”
“But you—”
“I’m fine.” Victoria smiled briefly and returned to the street as Audrey huddled in the shadows, sick and horrified at what she had done.
Victoria wasn’t ready to face Luak. Not now.
Not yet.
***
Victoria and Luak didn’t banter. No need… Each had what each other wanted, and all they cared about was taking what was theirs.
Luak wanted Victoria’s Rhazdon Artifact, and Victoria wanted Fairhaven. Neither would get what they wanted until the other was dead.
Their battle raged, and Victoria lost track of time. No nearby buildings survived her impact when Luak’s fist connected with her body. No structure survived the crackling rage of his fire.
And no one dared come close to the carnage.
After a sharp blow to her chest Victoria sailed backward and rolled in the cobblestone road. She finally slid to a stop, focusing all her energy on the Rhazdon Artifact that would heal her while she summoned her bear figurine’s sheer force of will to keep going.
She didn’t know how long she and Luak had been fighting, but half her clothes were singed off and Luak’s broken jaw gave him an almost comical appearance as he stalked toward her. He likely wished he had a wizard medic handy, but she wouldn’t give him a breather long enough to use one.
His army surrounded them, no doubt waiting for the order to attack, but his pride had kept him from it. That, or the fear they would take the Artifact if she died—Victoria couldn’t be sure.
But with every blow, he pushed her farther down the street. He broke her bones, split her skin, hit her hard enough for her to see stars.
He was ruthless. And she…
She wasn’t strong enough.
As her body healed yet again, she stumbled toward him. Even with all her strength, even with her healing powers, even with the massive sword and shield she could summon at will…
Luak was winning.
The Light Elf raised his hands, palms outstretched, and fire erupted along his skin. His magic had already burned her so many times that she knew how he would attack—one hand to her head, the other to her chest. If she didn’t raise her shield in time, it would hurt. Badly. She would be thrown into the air and she would hit something hard, and probably break another bone—or five.
She gritted her teeth, wishing this was like tackling ogres. She didn’t fully understand the magic in Luak’s Rhazdon Artifacts, but it was enough to defeat even her new power.
Sure enough, the swirl of fire surged at her. She summoned her shield, but it appeared one second too late.
Her skin charred, black and bubbling as his attack threw her backward and she hit something hard. As she sank to the ground, her vision blurred, edges darkening, and she desperately tried to keep her head upright.
“Stay awake,” she muttered to herself.
Victoria pushed herself to her feet, but she swayed and the world spun as a fiery blur stalked toward her from afar. Hand outstretched, she ran into a wall. Bricks crumbled under her palm, and she cussed loudly.
“Stay awake,” she told herself again.
She fell to her knees, the force of her fall denting the cobblestone road. Her hands hit the street as she fought to retain her balance, but she couldn’t.
She just couldn’t.
Her body collapsed onto the ground, her bear’s will shattered and her body too broken to heal. With a last shaky breath, her world went dark.
Chapter 15
When Victoria finally came to, she bolted upright with her fists at the ready.
She blinked rapidly as she tried to clear her blurry vision, and it took several tries before she could make out the hazy outline of a four-poster bed and a window. Someone was hunched in a chair by the door, and she leapt out of the bed before the final blurry elements of the world around her came into focus. Fists cocked, she was ready to pick up where she’d left off.
“Victoria, it’s me!” Diesel yelled.
The man in the chair stood, and Diesel’s familiar face came into focus.
“Oh, thank goodness,” she said, leaning against the mattress as she calmed down. Her world still spun, and her head throbbed.
Diesel held her tightly, pressing her head against his chest. His pulse thudded erratically against her ear, and she couldn’t help but smile with gratitude at his worry.
Worry. Wait, I should be worried about… About…
As her mind cleared, she straightened and grabbed his shirt. “Audrey! She’s in an alley and she needs help!”
“She’s safe,” he said gently, hands on Victoria’s shoulders. “Sleeping. She doesn’t have instant healing like you do. Fyrn healed her himself, but she will be out for a while.”
Victoria sighed deeply and sat on the bed, head in her hands as she tried to calm down. “I lost.”
Diesel perched on the bed beside her and put an arm around her shoulders, squeezing gently as he held her. “You lasted longer than most would have.”
“That’s not good enough.”
He sighed. “At least you survi
ved.”
“How, though? He’d knocked me out cold.”
Diesel flashed a cocky smile. “I rescued you.”
She laughed. “I’m never going to live that one down, am I?”
“Not in a million years. I will forever be the one who rescued the fair Victoria Brie in her time of need. So effectively, when you save Fairhaven I should get the most credit since I saved your life.”
She rolled her eyes. “Thank you, Diesel.”
His smile fell, and he tilted her shoulders toward him. Still reeling from the battle with Luak, she didn’t resist. He hesitated, his eyes darting between hers and the floor as he searched for what he wanted to say.
She set a hand on his chest to stop him from saying a word. “You want me to not face him again, but you know I will. You want to save me, but know I don’t need saving. You’re trying to show me how much you care without annoying the living crap out of me.”
“Maybe,” he admitted.
With a chuckle, Victoria stood and rubbed her aching neck. Her Rhazdon Artifact must have worked overtime to mend everything in her body. She suspected most people would have died from a fight like that. In fact, she was likely one of the few who had walked away from a battle with Luak.
Lost in thought, she paced the room. “He must have a weakness—something I can use against him.”
“Just rest, Victoria. You need to heal.”
“I am healing. I need to figure out how to kill Luak before he gets any stronger.”
“He’s not—”
“New troops every day. Bottomless pockets and a rich benefactor. And after that fight, he’ll probably realize he needs a bit more power to beat me. I can’t let him win, Diesel.”
“Even if you die?” He stood up, a good foot taller than her as he stepped closer. For the first time, his expression twisted into one of anger.
He was mad…at her. Victoria had to admit she had never thought she would see the day, but in this he was wrong.
“Yes, Diesel,” she said softly. “Even if I die.”
His brows twisted upward and he reached for her shoulders again, but this time he couldn’t bring himself to touch her, so his hands hovered an inch from her skin. She watched him, waiting for him to tell her to stop and rethink this, but he didn’t. After a moment, he just nodded. “That’s what makes you a hero, Victoria.”
“Diesel, look—”
The door burst open and Fyrn stood in the doorway. He lifted one hairy eyebrow at the scene, and Diesel stepped back without another word.
“I told you to come get me when she woke up,” Fyrn said.
Diesel crossed his arms. “We had things to discuss first. A lover’s quarrel, if you will. Our first, I might add!”
“Oh my God, Diesel,” Victoria muttered. She shook her head, pinching the bridge of her nose.
At least he was back to his old self—no more anger. He knew what she was willing to do to protect those in her beloved city, and not even he could stop her.
No one could.
For Fairhaven and for justice, she would do what needed to be done.
“We have to talk,” Fyrn said with a nod to the hallway. “Come with me.”
***
“He nearly killed you,” Fyrn said as they settled into couches.
Victoria sipped a warm cup of tea, savoring the wispy heat radiating from the liquid. There weren’t many places of comfort in their rocky hideaway, but the refugees had managed to sneak out a few nice-ish things. The checkered green couch she sat on had seen better days, and a few threads of the overstuffed cushions tickled the inside of her knee as she fought to get comfortable.
“Luak’s stronger than I realized,” Victoria admitted. It was her way of agreeing without admitting it outright.
“You need more power,” Fyrn said with a disgusted grunt. He reclined in the cracked brown leather armchair that reminded her somewhat of his chair back at his house. By now his home had probably been ransacked.
From his chair by the smokeless fire, Diesel quirked an eyebrow. “More power? She’s a freaking superhero, Fyrn. How much more magic can you shove into a human’s body?”
Victoria absently tapped a finger on her chin as she debated her options. She kept coming back to one, but she didn’t like it.
Not one bit.
Diesel stood and started pacing. “So what do we do, protection spells? You think I haven’t done a million of those already?”
Victoria tilted her head. “You’ve been performing magic on me without telling me?”
“Of course, my darling. I need to make sure luck is on your side, after all. A few prosperity potions in your tea, a victory and triumph charm or two. Nothing major.”
Fyrn chuckled. “Those spells would have cost your entire fortune, Victoria, if this idiot wasn’t absolutely enamored with you. They were quite good.”
“Hey, I… Thank you?” Diesel seemed confused as to whether to address the insult or the rare compliment first.
“Hold on, how did I not know you were performing magic on me? That’s kind of a big deal!”
“It was for your safety, my darling.”
“It… Well, yeah, and thank you, but what if other people are performing magic on me too? This is—”
“You’re fine, Victoria,” Fyrn interrupted. “We’ve placed wards to keep other wizards’ charms and magic off you as much as possible.”
“Well, telling me would have been nice.” She rubbed her face. Freaking wizards. Always doing magic without telling me anything.
At least this was in her favor.
“So there aren’t any more spells we can do,” Diesel said, rubbing the stubble on his jaw.
“No amulets or small magical tokens would be powerful enough,” Fyrn added.
Victoria eyed Fyrn’s staff. “What about an artifact and a relic fused together?”
Both wizards paused in their thoughts and stared at her—Diesel with concern and Fyrn with surprise.
“Wielding a powered artifact is incredibly dangerous,” Diesel said.
“The only two relics powerful enough to defeat Luak are…” Fyrn glanced at his staff and then at Victoria, and she pieced it together.
The only two relics Fyrn knew of either powered his staff or had been put aside to power the golems.
Victoria sipped her tea, her gaze drifting to Diesel. “May I speak with Fyrn alone for a moment?”
The younger wizard sighed. “Of course. I’ll go…scout something.”
“Thank you.”
When the door had shut softly behind him, Victoria gestured toward it—someone might overhear them. Fyrn had the same idea, and as he had when they had visited Drefus in his drug den, he summoned a glimmering bubble of silence. No one outside the bubble would hear anything said inside.
“It’s a solid idea,” she said.
“It would be if you knew more about powered artifacts.”
“Then enlighten me.”
“My staff keeps me alive, Victoria, but I trained for decades to master its power. Relics and artifacts as powerful as this can be erratic, and if you’re unprepared they can overwhelm and destroy you when you try to control their power. It takes years to master one, and that’s time we don’t have.”
She let out a disappointed sigh. “And the golems?”
“They can be used if we can find a means of controlling them. The power of the relic fueling them will be diluted since there are many golems, and it won’t overwhelm whoever controls them.”
“So we just have to find this ‘connection to something profound’ to control them.”
“It’s too vague. We can’t awaken them unless we’re certain the connection to this…thing, whatever it is, is powerful enough.”
Victoria stood with a frustrated huff, pacing the small bubble as best she could. “We have to do something. Our little spat in the town square proves I can’t defeat him on my own, at least not yet. When we face him, everyone else will fight his army but I’ll face him, and
this time I can’t lose.”
“I know,” Fyrn said softly.
An idea hovered just out of reach in the back of her mind. It was an infuriating sensation, same as she had felt earlier when training with Audrey and Fyrn. This was one of her new powers, and the one she perhaps understood the least. With her bear figurine she had access to intuitive knowledge and understanding of the world around her, but she didn’t quite know how to use it yet.
Frustrating, to say the least.
She did, however, have one idea on her own.
“I should find another Rhazdon Artifact,” she said softly.
He sighed with disappointment. Apparently he’d had this idea, too.
“Is there one that would help me?”
“There are dozens that would help you,” Fyrn said. “And dozens more that would turn you into what Luak is now.”
“I’m obviously not like him, Fyrn. I have two Rhazdon Artifacts already, and I’m fine.”
“Absolute power corrupts absolutely,” he said, quoting Lord Acton.
“You yourself said that I needed more power,” she pointed out.
“I know.” He rubbed his forehead, frustrated.
“With my bear figurine, I have the force of will and discipline to overcome any temptation that may come with whatever Rhazdon Artifact we choose. I’ll also be able to keep its ghost in line.”
“Is that what you want to do every day for the rest of your life?”
“If it means protecting Fairhaven, yes!”
Fyrn watched her for a moment, the lines around his eyes betraying his age. He looked weathered and deeply weary.
“If anyone can handle three Rhazdon Artifacts, it’s you,” he said.
She smiled, grateful for the compliment. “If you’re going to keep saying nice things to people, they’re going to wonder if you’re losing your mind.”
He chuckled, rubbing his beard. “I suppose they will. I’m the old fart, after all. Can’t go around giving compliments.”
She laughed. “It just wouldn’t be right.”
