Dreadnought: War Mage: Book Two (War Mage Cronicles 2)

by Charles R Case

  She opened a channel to Baxter and awaited his reply, which was nearly immediate.

  “This is Baxter. How are you holding up, Specialist?” he asked, puffing with exertion.

  “Good. Boon just tore the fuck out of a hallway and killed fifty guards, but she seems fine. We think the emperor is going to be hard to get to if we wait it out here for too long. With Boon backing us up, I think we can at least secure the room. The handmaiden pointed it out on our map, and it looks like the area will be defensible, if we can take it before too many guards show up.”

  “What about the Elif prisoners?”

  “I’ll leave the men and Sir Reitus behind to look after them. If me and Boon cause enough trouble, it should keep the heat off them.”

  It took a second before Baxter replied. “I agree. You trust she can handle it? We’re twenty minutes behind you.”

  Gonders looked Boon up and down before replying. “She can handle it. If it’s too much, we can pull out. I think we need to move on this now, though.”

  “Do it. We’ll see you soon.”

  The room the emperor was being held in was not far, but it marked a whole new level of gaudiness in the palace. The carpets had transitioned from red with gold trim to gold with red trim, along with the walls, doors, and ceilings. You name it, it was gold.

  It was starting to give Boon a headache.

  “You okay, babe?” Gonders asked, making Boon snap her head up from where she was pressing it into her palm.

  “Yeah, just a headache. This color scheme is making me queasy. I’m fine, really,” she said, knowing it was a lie. A small lie, but still.

  Gonders had surprised Boon with how quickly she had begun calling her ‘babe’. They had spent an hour or two talking in the captain’s cabin. To Boon’s surprise, Isabella had been thinking about approaching Boon for a date since their first day aboard the Raven. Beneath the hard, muscled exterior of the compact woman was a beautifully tender person, who cared deeply for the well-being of others. Without even trying, Boon had found the perfect person to become her guard.

  Gonders pressed herself against the wall at yet another intersection and pointed her finger camera around the corner. She pulled it back and let out a breath. “Well, I knew the easy part had to end sometime. Take a look,” she said, sliding down the wall to let Boon see.

  She copied the camera trick and took in the scene.

  The room Thia had shown them had double doors that faced a large, circular atrium that soared up three stories. This was the place; however, instead of the empty space the map showed, the atrium was full of Teifen, piled up behind portable bulwarks.

  Boon did a quick count, and stopped when she got to thirty and wasn’t even halfway through. She also spotted several auto turrets—some portable, and some coming from hidden compartments in the walls and ceilings.

  “Well, shit. How do we do this?” she asked, still looking over the atrium.

  “The only way that keeps the emperor alive; hard and fast. The longer we wait, the more enemies there will be. Can you handle this? That’s a lot of weapons fire we’ll need to deflect,” Gonders warned.

  Boon gritted her teeth. “I can do it,” she said, trying to work out a plan.

  The previous fight had taught her that she needed to expand her mind, as far as what was possible. After smashing that hall with a giant force blast, once she’d had some time to think, she thought up ten other ways she could have killed them that didn't involve using so much Aether.

  “Could you shield us both for a short time? I have an idea, but I’ll need to use two spells to pull it off,” Boon asked, looking at the other woman.

  Gonders took another quick look at the situation. “I can, but not for long. Ten seconds, fifteen at the most. How long will you need?”

  Boon bit her lip, thinking. “That should be plenty,” she decided.

  She quietly jogged back down the corridor they were in until she came to one of the large plants. She reached into the pot under the giant, fern-like foliage and found what she was looking for. She had Silva create a shield bubble with the top cut off, making a floating bowl, and began scooping handfuls of the small, decorative stones from the planter into it.

  Gonders kept watch as she worked, making sure that the Teifen were staying put. It took Boon three of the planters to fill her fifty-centimeter globe, but eventually, she had the small stones packed tightly to the top. She had Silva close the globe, then she returned to Gonders, the globe of stones floating along beside her like a pet.

  “Okay, I’m ready,” she said, taking a breath and finalizing the plan in her mind.

  Gonders looked at the globe that was seemingly moving under its own power, and asked, “If you can move that around without it being attached to you, why do we need to go in there at all? And what exactly is your plan, anyway?”

  “Well, I got the idea from Sara. I’m going to fill the shield will these small pebbles, hover it above the Teifen, and then I’m going to fill it with air, like, a ton of air—like, five hundred atmospheres’ worth—and then I’m going to drop the shield so that the decompression flings the rocks out in all directions,” Boon said, proud of her clever contraption.

  Gonders just nodded a few times, thinking. Then she reached into one of her many pouches and pulled out a cylinder slightly larger than her fist, showing it to Boon.

  “Why not just use this?” she asked, presenting the grenade to her charge. “Don’t get me wrong, your idea is good, but it puts us in a lot of danger, for an effect that we can recreate with a few of these.”

  Boon’s face flushed crimson, and she was glad there was an opaque faceplate hiding it. “Right. I kind of forgot about those. I’m no good at battle tactics.”

  “That’s what I’m here for, my dear. This is what I propose…”

  44

  Tornak Reem, The Under Captain of his Excellency, the Grand Governor, was on edge. The ship was under attack by an unknown force. There were reports that the newly acquired Elif slaves had been taken, and no one had heard from the five squads sent to recover them. There wasn’t even a battle reported, they’d just gone silent.

  He had been ordered to keep his Excellency’s new toys safe at all costs, but was then promptly ordered to send three quarters of his men to assist in fighting the fires that were raging through the aft of the ship. The lucky shot those humans got off had hit a reactor, causing it to lose containment. The resulting chain reaction of reactor failures had cut their power output so much that the ship was barely able to keep life support running. And now he was expected to defend these pathetic slaves with only six squads.

  He stomped back and forth in front of the double doors, checking to see that his troops were staying alert, while his tail whipped back and forth in irritation. He hadn’t even been allowed to stop and properly armor his men. He was only able to get the four auto turrets because the armory had been on the way, and the officer in charge owed him a favor.

  Humans had come aboard his ship, and even now were stalking the halls; the ancient enemy of legend, in the flesh, here and now, and he had to send all but sixty of his men away to fight fires.

  He ground his teeth in frustration. I wish the devils would just show themselves already.

  One of his troopers was approaching, a female named Dren. He admired the way her white battlesuit fit her form, especially the way it accented her hooves and muscled arms. When this was all over, he would call her to his rooms.

  Dren stepped in front of him, a sly smile on her face as she saluted, arms crossed over her chest, and gave a respectful bow. “My Lord, the fires have been put out in the main reactor room, but—”

  She stood up straight and looked him in the eye, just as her head exploded.

  Tornak sputtered and stumbled back, spitting pieces of bloody skull and brain matter from his mouth. He stared wide-eyed at Dren’s headless corpse. He watched it fall to its knees, and then topple over sideways.

  All his troops were staring in
horror.

  That’s when a black cylinder, two fingers round, hit him in the chest and fell on Dren’s slightly twitching body. He saw two other soldiers rubbing their heads where similar cylinders had hit them.

  “Incoming!,” he yelled, right before all three grenades went off in rapid succession.

  Only Tornak’s quick spellwork saved him; dozens of his troops were not lucky enough to have the ability of Aether focus.

  He threw up a hastily put together shield that absorbed most of the blast and shrapnel, but it was quickly overwhelmed, burning a deep red before winking out and letting the tail end of the fiery blast envelop him.

  He screamed in pain as the white-hot phosphorous burned his hide-like skin. He landed in a heap against the doors, cracking several ribs in the process, sucking in air at the pain.

  The auto turrets began to fire in quick bursts, but only got off a few rounds before they were either cut in half with an unseen blade, or crushed to semi-spherical balls of scrap. His men were firing in long, frantic bursts, yelling and screaming at one another for help or cover. Two troopers were behind the portable barricade to his right, taking aim and firing in unison, running through their ammo cartridge quickly. He opened his mouth to yell at them to check their firing discipline, when the entire barricade was pushed backward with incredible speed, smashing the two soldiers to pulp on the wall beside him.

  That’s when he realized there must be mages in the attacking force. His men needed his skills, needed him to combat magic with magic.

  He sucked in another breath and pushed himself to his knees. He was able to get a good view of the battlefield from behind the barricade in front of him, but his mind would not allow what he saw to make sense.

  There were only two of them, and they were small. Very small, like children. No, not children; females.

  They were covered head to toe in midnight black armor, similar to what the Elif wore, but these two were somehow more sinister with their small stature. Only one had a weapon, but she wasn’t using it—she was instead creating a shield wall that moved in front of them as they stalked into the atrium.

  He had heard of such things in the histories, but had always assumed they were fables. The Teifen could make shields, but once they were made, they could not be moved. Even the Elif, who were blessed with the ability to create powerful shields, could only make them stationary.

  The moving shield and its creator were a horror to behold, but were nothing compared to the demon it protected.

  This demon had no weapon. Instead, she wielded spells from both hands. She sliced with one, and cut three of his troops in half with a force blade, then she made a fist with the other, forming a shield around two more of his troops, and shrank it rapidly, crushing them to death in an instant. Not only was she casting two spells at once, but she was using her shield as a weapon.

  His troops were being mowed down in the confusion of the surprise attack. Already, half of them were dead, and another ten were dying. He was so far outmatched that he decided it was better not to even try.

  I will do the one thing I can to beat them… I will take their prize.

  With a burst of speed that made his ribs scream with pain, he quickly pushed his way into the slaves’ rooms and slammed the door, locking it behind him—knowing in the back of his mind that a lock would do nothing to stop those spawns from hell.

  He saw the female first; she was standing beside a chair that she had occupied the last time he’d seen her. She clutched at her torn dress, her eyes wide with horror, remembering his past abuses to her. She began backing away from him, but she was not the prize the two intruders were looking for.

  Perhaps he is hiding, like the sniveling coward he is.

  It was no matter, the humans would be denied them both. He would just have to start with her, and find the male after.

  He pulled his sidearm and pointed it at the screaming woman. Then he pulled the trigger.

  The shot went wide when he was tackled from the side and pushed to the ground by the cowardly male. If Tornak were not in such a damaged state, the slave could never have taken him down so easily. With a backhanded swing, he smacked the slave as hard as he could, and the weak man was sent crashing into a table.

  The woman screamed again, and Tornak raised the pistol to her face. Before he could pull the trigger, however, a pain erupted in his back. He twisted, roaring again at his broken ribs grinding together, and caught sight of a broken piece of table leg, sticking from his back. The male had rammed it home and was still trying to push it deeper.

  Tornak raged. Grabbing the man by the throat, he slammed him to the ground. Then he reached back and, with another howl, pulled the wooden spear from his back. He looked at the dripping blue blood, then down at his attacker, who lay dazed at his feet.

  Snarling, he rammed the bloody end of the table leg into the chest of the Elif emperor.

  Boon blasted the doors open with a small force spell, just in time to see a large, horned Teifen, covered in blue blood, ram a pointed stake into the emperor’s chest.

  “No!” she screamed, slashing at the Teifen’s chest with a blade of force that split him in two. She rushed forward, falling to her knees beside the wide-eyed emperor.

  Without thinking, she ripped the stake from him and opened her gloved hand, pressing it to the bare flesh of his neck. She began dumping power into the spellform that Silva provided, squeezing her eyes shut with the effort, but the Aether would not flow.

  She tried again, but nothing.

  Opening her eyes, she met the emperor’s glazed, dead ones. She was too late. Only a living body could be healed.

  She began preforming CPR, but with every compression, blood gushed from his chest, and she was forced to accept the truth. He had been stabbed through the heart with a fist-sized stake; he was dead before she’d even gotten to him.

  A tall, thin Elif woman fell to her knees on the other side of the emperor. Her face was pale white with shock as she stared into her dead husband’s eyes. With a wail of anguish, she buried her face into his neck, and began to heave with sobs.

  “Shit. Boon, we have a problem over here,” Gonders yelled through their comm link.

  Boon tore her eyes away from the weeping empress and looked over to the door just in time to see Gonders throw a shield over the open doorway. It immediately started sparking and distorting with golden waves as concentrated gunfire beat at it. The number of slugs slamming into the shield increased exponentially over the next half a second, rapidly turning the shield orange, and then red in the blink of an eye.

  Boon threw up a second shield behind Gonders’ just as it was overwhelmed, and caught the incoming fire. She rushed to the panting mage’s side and, through the distorted barrier, she could see Teifen pouring through one of the passages leading deeper into the ship.

  “Oh, crap. Let me see what I can do. You take a breather,” Boon said, noting that her shield was starting to turn a little orange. She pumped more Aether into it, then sent a force blade out through the atrium. It was hard to see, but she did catch the flash of golden orange light as a shield absorbed most of the blast.

  Shit!

  "They have mages.”

  45

  Multiple fireballs blasted the shield right in front of Boon’s face, making her take a step back in surprise. Her shield had blocked the blasts, but it was costing her a considerable amount of Aether to keep it up.

  She sent out a stream of smaller fireballs—almost at random, her visibility was so bad. She could see flaming figures running before falling to the ground, but she also saw just as many attacks splash off shields.

  She was half-blind and firing at random. Not to mention that she had been using attack spells nonstop; her headache was getting worse by the second. She knew that was a bad sign, but there really wasn’t much she could do about it.

  She sent out some more fireballs, and was rewarded by a volley from the enemy.

  “Isabella, I need you to find us a way
out of here. Do any of those doors lead to an exit?” She figured the room wouldn't be used as a prison if there were multiple ways out, but it never hurt to check.

  She kept up the ‘fight’, blasting anyone she could pick out from behind the constantly distorted shield. There came a point where she was blasting with such regularity that she entered a sort of Zen state, and the world around her fell away.

  It was just her and the fire.

  The enemy shoved her, and she shoved back, but harder. She wouldn't let them win—they didn't have the right. They were murderers and rapists. They would burn for their sins, and she would personally usher them through the gates of hell.

  She sliced, and coated the atrium in ice, then melted it with fire, then started the whole process again. She could hear the beating of her heart in her ears. The ragged sucking of air into her lungs. The swelling of power in her mind’s eye.

  She hadn’t even noticed that the shield had stopped taking fire, and was now clear. She just aimed and blasted. Aimed and blasted.

  Her face hurt from the smile that was plastered on it, but she couldn't seem to stop.

  Aim, blast.

  A Teifen was enveloped in flame, burning to ash before it hit the ground.

  Another was frozen solid.

  Another was cut to ribbons.

  Then there were no more; just a sea of blue blood and burning bodies. She searched, but found nothing. So she searched again.

  There, coming from the passage, a whole group of them.

  She raised her arms and focused on the new group, ready to blast them to a bloody pulp, when she was dragged down from behind. She threw up her arm, but her effort was blocked. She tried to focus on the new enemy, but they were wrestling her down to her back, and she was not strong enough to stop them.

  They’re going to make me pay for what I did to their friends. They’re going to make me their slave, like the Elif. They’re going to—