Life

by Rosie Scott

  “Zephyr's navy is fighting at sea,” I said, before turning to the sailors. “Beastmen! Transform! Prepare to be engaged!”

  “What?” Holter glared off through the storm, panic in his eyes. “No dwarven ships were waiting for us here.”

  “Right. There's a reason Azazel and I found that suspicious.” I pointed off to the mountains stretching past Monte and toward the northern coast. “The dwarves expected our attack. They left a navy around that outreach and out of our sight using the mountains as cover. I'd guarantee it. They look to surround us now that we're this close to the coast.”

  Holter pulled the shirt off over his head and handed the garment to Nyx. Cries of various transforming animals were lost in the winds around me as the other beastmen followed my order. Looking off to the other battleships, I found that the order hadn't reached the other vessels.

  “Holter,” I said, grabbing his bare arm to bring his attention to me. He glanced up as he started to unbutton his trousers.

  “Yeah?”

  “Do me a favor. Warn the other ships. Oozlums are only native to the wildlands. Surely they'll know to transform if they see you dive close to them.”

  Holter nodded, pulling his hair out of its ponytail. He handed the tie to Nyx, who gave me a look as if to say she didn't appreciate being a pack mule. The younger man then whispered the spell of transformation, falling to the deck and screaming as his skeletal system began to break and reform.

  “What the hell did I miss?” Azazel's voice reached my ears just before he returned to my side, looking off in the same direction we were all paying attention to. “Oh.”

  “You see something we don't, bud?” Nyx asked.

  “Dwarven ships,” Azazel said, pointing through the blizzard. I still couldn't see them, but I trusted his judgment.

  “Maggie! Turn this vessel to the northwest,” I commanded. “We'll meet them head-on.”

  “Aye.” Maggie started the steam engine up with the pump and pulled the wheel to the right with a hefty tug. As she did so, the ships behind us followed the move. Our boat was surrounded by glistening white magic as Cerin forced a shield spell into its charger, preparing to combat the dwarven cannons.

  Holter still heaved with pain on the deck, lying on his stomach as his arms were rendered useless, their structure thinning into the lightweight bone of a bird. Black feathers burst through purple-brown skin in slits of bleeding wounds. His youthful, scratchy voice distorted into a grating cry as the facial bones of his skull thickened and elongated into a dark gray beak.

  By the time Holter's transformation was over, I felt sympathy for the pain he'd gone through. It had been years since I'd fought among the beastmen, but now I remembered how exhausting it was just to watch them transform. Holter shook and fluffed out his feathers, and specks of blood from the trauma of change sprinkled over the deck below, landing beside the sharp talons of his massive, scaled feet. I'd never had the chance to see an oozlum while in the wildlands, but Holter's insistence that the bird was a good pick made sense. The oozlum was both massive and muscular.

  Nyx raised her eyebrows at Holter's new form, impressed. I supposed he'd never had a reason to transform in front of her before. As she and the bird exchanged glances, Nyx shouted over the winds, “If you carry me over to the other ships, I'll inform them to transform!”

  Holter turned away from Nyx so quickly it amused me. It was as if he thought that was a terrible idea. Holter's massive wings spread out over the deck, and with a few laborious flaps, he rose into the air and swooped down past the railing, disappearing in the blizzard.

  “They won't have enough time to transform,” Azazel said beside me with concern, pointing to the northwest once more. As if the dwarves had been waiting to make a dramatic entrance, just the bow of a massive battleship came into view through the thick snowfall.

  “Then we will give them the time they need,” I replied, turning to the soldiers on deck who weren't beastmen. “Red flag! Up!”

  “Intercept?” Maggie asked.

  “Intercept.”

  Our battleship lurched forward as the steam engine was once again enabled, pushing us through heavy winds toward our target. The snow whipped across my face so harshly it felt like tiny knives were falling from the skies. I cast the enhance vision spell on myself, trying to gain any advantage in this blizzard that I could. The illusion magic worked wonders, allowing me to see farther past the precipitation and crisper details, including the look of surprise on the faces of our foes when they realized our battleship was as massive as theirs.

  “Fire!” The command echoed through the air just before a barrage of ballista darts crashed into our life shield, the force causing it to flicker with weakness before the ammo fell loosely to the waters below. Cerin forced more energy into the chargers, and the shield's power started to regenerate.

  I walked through the soldiers on deck, moving closer to the open sides which would allow me to cross over to the enemy ship. My army was indeed the most diverse I'd ever seen, for there were beasts, warriors, archers, and mages alike. I gave many of them shields as I went to the front of the pack. Those of my soldiers who knew life magic repeated the gesture for the others without even receiving an order.

  “There are hundreds on that ship. Above and below deck.” I nodded toward the other ship as the dwarves began to throw grappling hooks over, securing them over our railings. “If it comes down to a decision between aiding an ally and killing an enemy, aid first. Accept surrender if it is given, but use your head. Some of you could start attacking now if you wanted to,” I added, taking note of the beastmen before me who took the form of birds, “but wait until my signal. I will start this fight.”

  The men and women before me tensed as they prepared for battle. With multiple grappling hooks holding on to our ship, the other vessel was nearing.

  “Thank you for your service,” I finally called out, before turning back to our foes. “May we be victorious!”

  Death magic swirled above both palms as the two massive vessels inched closer. Tower shields were lined up across the enemy quarterdeck like a wall of defense against projectiles. I released both death bomb spells across the gap in ships, and black fog exploded over the masses of dwarves, seeping above and below the guards. Dozens of dwarves fell at the edge of the vessel, some of the bodies even falling overboard and splashing in the waters below. The energy raced back toward my chest, and my senses sharpened with a leeching high. Somewhere off behind our ship, I could hear Holter's cries as he warned the others to transform.

  The dwarven ballistae fired once more at our shield, and the protection broke. In the time it took Cerin to refresh it, we found ourselves under a rain of throwing axes and daggers. The weapons clattered off of shields, some of the blades sinking straight into the hardwood.

  Corpa te risa a multipla. I forced death magic to the wood beneath my feet, and the dark fog consolidated into thin tendrils which immediately raced to the corpses at the edge of the other vessel, sinking deep into their chests and awakening them. Dwarven bodies pulled themselves to a stand as their moans vibrated through the air and struck fear into the hearts of their still living comrades. I watched the chaos play out on the edge of the other vessel just as it was pulled within feet of our own.

  “Attack!” My voice echoed through the air before it was lost, overtaken by the howls and screeches of beasts. Flashes of fur, scales, and feathers flew past me, the beastmen leaping over the gap between ships and immediately clashing with dwarves and shields alike. Just behind them, the rest of the infantry hurried over, using magic and weapons en masse.

  I refreshed the shield of a snake beastman as he was vulnerable in the midst of constricting a dwarven woman, the pressure causing her eyes to protrude from two sockets. The dwarves appeared to be terrified of the beasts more than the necromancy, for they were panicking and screeching conflicting orders. Given the circumstances of our attack, Hammerton probably expected magic and necromancy. They hadn't planned on
the beasts. After all, no one had ever taken the wildlands seriously. The War of Necromancers was destined to change that.

  Movement in my peripheral vision caused me to spin, finding a dwarf in the midst of a mad rush to me, dual-wielding hammers. Azazel forced telekinesis into her gut, and she fell back to the deck. As she was incapacitated, I reached toward her with a hand, reciting a death spell the Vhiri had taught me.

  Hal a orgas. Grimy grayish-black magic shot toward the woman like an arrow. As soon as the magic hit her chest, it broke apart into seven segments, each one crawling over her skin in a different direction and sinking into her flesh as soon as it hit the right spot. The woman's eyes widened as she stood up. She immediately fell back to the deck, at the mercy of the death magic which sought to shut down each of her seven vital organs. Her breathing became audibly labored and panicked, but within seconds, it simply stopped. Her two hammers fell to the deck from newly loosened grips.

  I heard the continual splashes of water and realized that the bird beastmen were carrying victims from the decks and dropping them into the choppy ocean below. Among them was Holter, whose oozlum form was strong enough to carry two at once. His presence here caused me to take note of the rest of my navy. The battleships we'd been buying time for were sailing forward on either side of our own clash, moving up to meet the other dwarven vessels which continued to bleed out of the blizzard ahead. One of the ships under my command pulled up on the opposite side of our current foe, surrounding it just like Maggie and I had taught them to long ago in Tal.

  With the quarterdeck in the midst of an all-out brawl, I hurried to the door which would take me below deck of the enemy ship. I found it locked, and spun to look for Maggie, finding the engineer sweeping dwarves off of the bow of the vessel with her hammer like they were merely large granules of dust.

  Stomp! Stomp! Stomp! Crrrk!

  I turned back. The door was opened, at the mercy of a broken lock after Azazel kicked it in. I hadn't even considered the effects the cold weather would have on such a thing, and mentally thanked him for his foresight. As I passed him to head down into the stairway, I requested, “Stay behind me.”

  “K,” he replied shortly, grasping his two karambits tightly as he followed me down.

  The dwarves on the gun deck below were in the midst of rushing toward us after hearing the door break, and two of them immediately threw weapons into my shield. I paid no mind. It would hold for the time being.

  Arc a fiers. Fire built in both hands, crackling and hissing as if personally offended by the bitter cold of its surroundings. I waited until the magic trembled against its barrier to release it, ensuring maximum damage. This deck alone had a horde of dwarves.

  I thrust both hands out, palms forward. A crescent-shaped wall of fire roared outward, growing in size until it was nearly as wide as the ship itself. The fire arc flew into dwarves and surroundings alike, charring everything and causing mass panic until it finally ran out of energy near the back of the deck and hissed as it dissipated. I spun back to Azazel, pushing him toward the steps we'd come from. We both ran back up to the quarterdeck, and after I passed the broken door, Azazel slammed it shut behind me.

  BOOM! BOOM! Crrrk!

  The door burst open, splinters of wood flying through the air like shrapnel. Within seconds, dozens of flaming and screaming dwarves ran out onto the hardwood. They immediately rushed around the entryway and to the back of the poop deck, where they proceeded to jump overboard en masse, seeking the solace of the freezing waters below. A few fell and died by the fire alone, but the majority made it into the ocean.

  “Kai, they are still alive,” Azazel protested, confused.

  “In ten minutes they won't be,” I replied, going back to the door to check for more enemies. “That water is freezing, Azazel, and they were just on fire. Cold water shock will take over within minutes and render their limbs useless.”

  Azazel raised his eyebrows as I passed him as if he was both impressed and intrigued by that knowledge. I realized then that he'd never had a chance to learn about such a thing. The underground had mostly been all one similar temperature, and I'd never thought to teach him in Eteri or Glacia.

  “You sure know how to clear a room,” Azazel finally mused behind me as we trotted back down the steps.

  I chuckled at his playful wording, passing into the gun deck with him on my heels. I had just enough time to realize I'd seen movement to the left before I spun in panic.

  A dwarf had hidden in the corner of the room, waiting for us to descend the steps once more. The front of his armor was charred and torn, proof of having faced my earlier spell. He clutched an ax with both hands, his knuckles white with the pressure as he swung with all his might toward Azazel. My heart jumped into my throat as I realized my best friend no longer had a shield.

  The clash of metal rang out as Azazel blocked the hit with the curved blade of a karambit as a last-ditch effort of defense. The dwarf pulled his ax back, his bloodthirsty eyes on Azazel's throat. I thrust a life shield toward my friend, feeling a split second of relief that I'd saved him until I realized the magic instead bubbled around a new contender. This dwarf was also charred, so she must have been waiting for us with her comrade, but I hadn't noticed her shorter form until she'd darted before me. It was as if my failure to save Ricco was repeating itself under slightly different circumstances. Now, one of our foes was shielded, and Azazel was vulnerable.

  Azazel rushed back to dodge the next hit of the ax, but he ran straight into the wall behind him. Panic was alight in his eyes as he raised his arms up to protect his throat. The ax sunk deep into both of Azazel's forearms, blood audibly splattering across the charred leather of his foe's chest armor. The dwarf jerked the weapon back, but the cuts were so deep that the blades stuck in bone for a moment, and Azazel stumbled forward. Before me, the other foe was still bashing a wooden shield into my own made of magic, and it was flickering with trauma.

  There was so much happening in the span of milliseconds that my mind barely knew which action to go with. My eyes were wide with fear and panic as I noticed that both of Azazel's hands hung loosely from broken wrists. Both of his karambits were lying on the floor, useless to him. He scrambled back into the corner of the room, desperate to put space between him and his pursuer without leaving me alone.

  Persuadua! Illusion magic flew from my hand and into the woman's head before me, uninhibited by the buffer which only protected her from physical damage. She immediately spun to Azazel's pursuer, using the same shield to bash into his arm as she'd used against me. The man stumbled to the side and into the wall himself, his grip on the ax loosened from the pain the hit sent through his arm. The weapon clattered to the floor, and the charmed woman took his lack of defense to raise her mace, swinging it straight toward his face. Blood and specks of white bone exploded from the point of impact. The man fell, his face newly concave. The end of his nasal bone glistened white as it poked out of a mess of visible brain matter, but even still, his chest rose and fell with shallow breaths. The charmed dwarf rose her mace again, and the wooden wall of the deck beside the two was soon dripping with blood.

  I leeched from the woman before the charm spell could dissipate and rushed to Azazel's side. He trembled in the corner, both of his black eyes moist with burning pain.

  “We are not alone,” he protested, the words shaking over labored breaths.

  “I don't care,” I replied, my voice hoarse with panic as I studied his wrists. Both were leaking blood so badly that there was already a small puddle forming around Azazel's boots. Echoes sounded out from the opposite side of the deck as more foes rushed up from the lower levels. Despite my earlier words, I decided I needed to care. Even as I rose the dead in the room to meet with our new contenders, I screamed toward the stairs, “Cerin!”

  Azazel was too unsteady on his feet for me to heal him, so I encouraged him to sit down on the floor as boots rushed down the steps behind me.

  “Kai?” Nyx's voice met my ears f
rom the doorway. As she saw Azazel's injuries, she sucked in a breath. “Hell. What are you two doing down here alone? Scratch that. Doesn't matter. Cerin's on his way, Kai. We'll take care of this.” Nyx ran off to follow the risen dead, and her grunts of effort soon bounced off of the walls.

  Azazel leaned his head back against the wall and closed his eyes, swallowing so hard I heard it. “I feel like I'm going to vomit,” he said weakly.

  “Vomit if you need to, bud,” I murmured, delicately holding his wrist still with one hand as life magic spread out from the other. The white energy seeped into the broken bone as I held the two pieces even together, reconnecting marrow. Tears from nearly losing him blurred my vision, and I took a second to wipe them away from my eyes so it wouldn't affect my healing.

  “Why...?” Azazel asked softly, as I continued mending him.

  “Because I don't want you to hold it back.”

  “No, I mean...why would I feel like that? Now?”

  Only when Azazel's voice slurred did I realize he was trying to spark conversation to keep himself conscious. Even when heavily injured, his mind still fought to make intelligent decisions. “The body has different reactions to trauma,” I finally murmured, continuing to mend the muscle and flesh of the wrist. “Nausea is a common response to physical injury.”

  “Mm.” Azazel slumped a bit, and my heart picked up its pace. He needed energy to stay awake. I thought of a life spell I'd developed during our years in Eteri. It included a word I'd created myself, and I'd never had a reason to use it before now, so I didn't know if it would work as intended. To help Azazel, I decided it was worth a try.

  Givara la mana reservur. The spell was similar to the less powerful and simplistic givara la mana which passed energy from healer to target, only this one was meant to transfer more substantial reserves and could charge. Instead of handing over a steady stream of energy to Azazel, then, I could give him much of the power of my remaining leeching high in one quick spell. I did so, draining my own reserves until the high was halfway weakened, allowing me to keep enough energy to continue healing him. When I transferred the magic, the white energy sunk into his body all at once, and within seconds, his black eyes were wide and alert.