by V. Lakshman
Kisan’s eyes flicked behind her, then she said, Valarius possesses Arek, then we deal with him. She paused then, just as Silbane had earlier, added, Trust me.
“No,” Silbane answered, too drained to mindspeak as Kisan had. She’d spent almost no time on the direwood and was still at full strength. “We don’t know if Valarius can even be killed.”
Agreed, Duncan mindspoke to them both. Don’t be foolish. With Arek’s powers the archmage will be nigh impossible to stop.
You’re both blind, she responded, her gaze turning emotionless.
Then she turned and addressed Valarius: “Take Arek, he’s yours. I’ll take care of the rest.”
Silbane didn’t have time to piece together what had changed in Kisan’s mind, but her betrayal did not surprise him. Some part of him had been ready for it since they’d come here, and he only wished it had happened when their tactical positions were more equal. But that, he reminded himself, wouldn’t be the Kisan he knew.
The kick that intercepted him would have killed another, but he’d trained her, and had seen this technique before. He ducked, twisting under the leg and then struck with his elbow. She crossed her arms and took the strike, her mouth curling into a half smile.
“You’re weak, and getting weaker,” she whispered. Unfortunately, he’d seen that glint in her eye before too . . . she was excited by the idea of killing.
Silbane ignored her, using her cross block’s momentum to strike quickly with a punch to her kidney, followed by another elbow, but this one to her knee as he quickly dropped under her counter. She leapt up over the knee strike but the small huff of escaping air told him his kidney punch had connected. The question was, how long could he keep this up? And why wasn’t she getting tired?
Kisan then said, “You’re protecting murderers. I will go through you to save Edyn.”
Silbane didn’t waste energy on agreeing, knowing this was a fight for his life.
* * * * *
Duncan saw Valarius advancing and let go of Arek. He couldn’t afford to give the boy any more energy until the archmage had been dealt with. He summoned a shield wall around their small area. His stores had been vast, much more so than the adepts, and in a comical twist of fate the magehunter torc had protected him from the direwood’s effects! It seemed he owed Valarius thanks for this particular gift, the torc cutting him off so effectively from the Way there had been nothing for the wood to take.
Unfortunately, he’d given a good portion of his power to Arek in an effort to keep him alive. He could tell it’d helped, but not enough, and with the tide turning against them he couldn’t keep doing that and defend them. Out of the corner of his eye he saw the pieces of his blood gholem congealing, slowly drawing back together and reforming. It would revive, but probably not in time to make a difference.
He cast a thought out to Silbane: You have to end her, quickly.
“I’m trying,” the master managed to say as he ducked under another strike, then stumbled back as Kisan changed form. A dozen feather blades flew at him, forcing Silbane to change to shield himself with his wings, draining him further.
Then Orion and Helios were there, intercepting the black-armored Kisan before she closed in on the beleaguered master. All were drained by the direwood, and it didn’t take a combat expert to see the inevitable outcome. Kisan was still strong and would not stop until they were dead. Duncan felt his hope fading.
Duncan, Silbane mindspoke, I don’t have a lot of time. We’ve got to work together.
How? replied Duncan miserably, looking back down at Arek.
Can you give me any energy? Silbane asked, flinging blades at Kisan, who merely spun and scattered them with her wing.
Not much left, and not without touching. The direwood is weakened but still drains us, said the archmage as he settled down next to his son with Arek’s head on his lap.
Yetteje put herself between Kisan and Arek, just inside Duncan’s shield. She looked back at him and said, “Stop mind-blabbing and do something!”
I can’t figure out what Valarius has done, Silbane said, sounding desperate. I don’t have the lore. He ducked a spinning kick then moved in, grabbing Kisan under her waist and flipping her into a throw meant to crush her head. She countered by locking her legs into a scissor and pulling him down with her. They both fell in a heap but her legs did not let go.
Me neither, Duncan replied, ignoring the princess. It’s direwood, but I can’t see how Valarius created it here.
Kisan’s legs tightened as she tred to choke Silbane out, but he’d managed to get his arm inside the hold. He mentally nodded, and Duncan sensed an idea taking form in Silbane’s mind.
Use my Sight.
There was a pause, a moment before Duncan said, Your body won’t be able to fight if I take over. She’ll kill you.
Silbane broke her hold and rolled out. Kisan, ever the tactician, did the smartest thing when engaging multiple opponents. She moved quickly, snapping a kick at Orion while her black blades drew back and stabbed with unerring precision.
The blow should have gone through the stunned Watcher’s neck, but Helios pushed his comrade aside and Kisan’s blades ran him through instead. They emerged out of the sun-blazed back of Helios’s armor, then the master kicked him under the chin and away.
Orion howled in rage and grief. He swept forward, striking with a blur of wing strikes and spear work that could barely be seen.
It’s the only chance Arek has, Silbane replied.
Kisan was ready. She used her wings and her blades to block, then looped in around his spear and let it pass under her arm. The Watcher punched but Kisan leaned to her left and got behind it. They were face to face and Orion let out a grunt, his eyes wide.
“Just like a man,” Kisan muttered, pulling her blade out of his stomach. “You lose it when a woman gets near.” He slowly sank to his knees and Kisan pushed his head aside, toppling him where he knelt. She moved to the shield wall, her eyes on the princess.
Silbane stepped in her path, locking her down with a grappling cross choke. She changed form to normal size, twisting under his armored grasp and then pushing his elbows up. The move forced him to disengage his arms, but Silbane changed form and leapt. The kick that would have shattered his knee instead caught him a glancing blow, causing him to tumble into an awkward roll before recovering just in front of the shield wall.
Do it, now! Silbane cried.
And the world seemed to slow to a crawl as what Silbane saw flooded Duncan’s mind. He looked through the master’s eyes and could see the yellow particles that made up the world. He could see the intricate complexity of everything with the dragon-given Sight Silbane offered, a revelation that opened his mind’s eye to the possibilities surrounding him. He could See the direwood, how Valarius had twisted it so that it bent in on itself, how the archmage had even warped it to avoid Kisan, giving her an advantage.
Nothing could stop the black blade that entered Silbane’s chest. Duncan felt it simultaneously with the master. He had known it would happen the moment he took over. The cold blade cut a single line into and out of Silbane’s body.
Then Duncan watched with a strange dual vision as Kisan walked toward him, her arms flexing in anticipation. Not good.
He felt Silbane fall forward, not even a body length from where Yetteje stood with blade drawn behind their shield. It would only be moments before Valarius undid the protective spell; then Kisan would kill them all and give Arek to the highlord. Blood welled out of Silbane’s chest, pooling under him, and tears came to his eyes.
I failed you, Silbane said softly. Duncan heard it, but so did his opponent and former apprentice.
Her mind’s voice replied, Hardly. You failed yourself. Kisan paused, and for a moment in the strange duality of vision he and Silbane shared Duncan thought he saw something akin to grief or regret flicker across her eyes. It was something only Silbane, with a lifetime as teacher and friend to Kisan, would’ve noticed. It was gone in an instant, di
sappearing behind the emotionless mask of detachment Duncan now knew helped the younger master distance herself from anything that might hurt her. This insight too, came from Silbane, along with a deeply held remorse at having left so much undone and broken within her.
The victorious master turned away from the dying Silbane and faced the princess, warning, “Hand over Arek and the red mage. I don’t want to hurt you, but I will.”
Yetteje was crouched near the inside edge of the scintillating shield. She looked back at Duncan with disgust, her blade still pointing at Kisan and said to him: “I’d do it in a heartbeat, but Arek’s worth a thousand of you. Just make sure he gets out of here. You owe me for all the misery you’ve caused.”
Her body uncoiled as she stood, a predatory grace to her movements that belied her youth. Duncan’s borrowed Sight showed yellow particles coalescing around the princess, a psychic reflection of her concentration and focus, an aura of power brightening like a sun coming out from behind clouds as she readied herself—but it wouldn’t be enough. Duncan could See now with Silbane’s gift, and knew it was only a matter of time before his shield toppled and an angel of death with double black blades would end their lives.
Without a word, Duncan dove back into the spell of the direwood, trying to unravel whatever Valarius had done before it was too late.
Released
On the eve of battle, avoid showing doubt.
It kills men faster than any blade.
- Jebida Naserith, Should I Fall
A
rek drifted within a world that was dimly punctuated with sound and light, floating within an inky sea of blackness, a place that was both numbingly cold and infinitely vast. Out of that blackness came a figure and a familiar voice.
“As always, your insight knows no bounds, Master,” the shade of Piter offered.
Arek closed his eyes, just wanting to sleep.
“Do not rest now, or you will never awaken. The direwood will consume you, leaving your body as an empty vessel for Valarius to rise again, like the phoenix he so worships. This is why it was created, to affect his possession of you.” Piter gazed knowingly at Arek. “Do not falter, or all we’ve done will be lost.”
“Why is it so black?” Arek asked. Usually the scene just froze in these slices of time, like it had back in the desert near the Far’anthi Tower. Why does Piter always appear to me at these moments? he wondered numbly.
“I will not lie to you,” Piter said, “though I have every reason to. You stand within death’s door. Only we can save you now.”
“We?” Arek asked, his mind struggling to comprehend but fumbling about in a fugue.
Piter’s eyes narrowed calculatingly, then he leaned in close and said, “Yes. Cainan, myself, the others . . . Release me to act and I can stem this tide. You cannot withstand the might of Avalyon without us.”
“What?” Arek asked, wondering again where he was.
“We were friends once,” Piter said softly. “We played at the festivals, shared a room. You and I were name brothers, found and raised together as family.”
Arek nodded slowly, his vision dimming further. “I know . . .”
“You never said you’re sorry. You killed me. Was it a mistake?” the shade implored.
Arek nodded again. “I’m sorry.” His tongue felt thick, his mind working slowly, trying to understand what Piter was saying.
“You can make amends now, my friend and brother. You can release me,” said the shade of Piter.
“Release . . . ?” Arek mumbled, falling deeper into the blackness.
“Say it!” said Piter, his face inches from Arek’s own, his eyes wide with anticipation. “Say I am released before it is too late!”
Arek’s head lolled back, but his voice said in a whisper, “I release you . . .” before he collapsed.
* * * * *
The clearing around Duncan flashed with an indigo fire as hundreds of the black shapes of the nephilim emerged. They came in the form of dark elves turned by Piter and Cainan since coming to Avalyon. They came howling with hunger, a ravenous horde washing over the elves within the hall and attacking everyone outside Duncan’s shield.
Duncan was still deep within the spell Valarius had created. He could see the interwoven patterns, but the changes made to the spell exceeded his lore. The relationships were on the edge of his understanding, a different dialect where he could only get hints at meanings, not true comprehension.
He could not parse the patterns until Silbane’s exhausted voice whispered, sounding somewhat surprised, It’s mathematical. See . . . here . . . and the master showed the archmage where a series of sections of the spell had been crafted as the inverse of each other. I couldn’t see it without you, Duncan, he heard Silbane explain. Your lore was too complex, but now I see how the pieces fit. Do you?
Duncan realized he could refashion these into mirror images of themselves, replacing the parts that caused the Way to curl back into the wood with ones that would create a positive outward flow. Duncan could make the changes quickly, but only Silbane could find the exact sequences. They worked quickly in tandem. All the while, Duncan could feel Silbane slipping away. Moments stretched out to eternity as both men worked feverishly to repair all Valarius had twisted. After the final change, Duncan said with whatever strength he could muster, It’s done.
Silbane sighed, then seemed to mentally collapse.
A tremor ran through the floor, a change that started where Duncan knelt and raced outward, changing the direwood to something vibrant and new, a wholesome brown wood resembling walnut, glowing with health and vitality. The new wood grew, replacing the perversion created by Valarius, in harmony with the Way. Duncan sighed as the drain on his energy disappeared, and instead was replaced by the strength of the Way.
Then he noticed Valarius looking around in surprise. The direwood was dying, unraveling the trap the highlord had prepared for Arek. Slowly, his gaze focused on Duncan. Lightning crackled to life, resplendent Arcadian power at the highlord’s fingertips, lightning that had not been possible while the direwood drained the Way. It came to the summons of Valarius Galadine, gathering in elemental arcs of white, blasting out as the highlord hurled lightning bolts at the object of his fury. They seared Duncan’s shield with violence that exceeded any from Duncan’s own tortured past.
“Not good,” was all he had time to utter before the blast shattered the spell he’d cast, hurling him, the dwarven woman, and Arek back toward a pile of bodies. The woman grunted in pain, a good sign, though Duncan felt badly that she was likely awakening to her own death.
They had a moment’s respite as Valarius paused to deal with a knot of nephilim, blasting them back with blue-white lightning, but Duncan did not doubt that the archmage would finish them soon.
It’s not over, Silbane said, his voice sounding far away.
Time slowed and the master told Duncan what he wanted. Duncan’s eyes widened and he looked down at the woman he now knew as Brianna, the healer. Silbane had shown him what she could do. See through my eyes, he and Silbane said at the same time. Duncan reached out and touched Brianna’s face linking the three of them together. Slowly, their consciousness’s combined.
A flurry of movement caught his eye—a strike-counterstrike as Yetteje blocked a thrust from Kisan and then twirled through an intricate cut, her blade leaping in a figure eight. Kisan deflected the upward sweeps using a counter figure eight, then blocked the last upward cut with a downward X made by her two black blades.
“Always the stupid flower cut,” he heard Kisan say with a tsk. Then the master snapped Yetteje’s head back with a head butt. The princess went down in a heap, but curiously Duncan watched her step past the girl instead of delivering the expected killing blow.
Brianna grabbed his arm, her gaze locked on his own. Then he Saw what she did, but through the eyes of someone who could heal. Her knowledge amazed him, but could she do what Silbane asked? Time slowed and Kisan took a step.
We ca
n heal you, Brianna said in panic to Silbane.
Kisan was only a few strides away, her foot moving in slow motion as she took another step.
No! he replied. Arek is more important.
They could all see there was only time for one of them, and the master knew what he wanted done. Silbane fell deeper, clinging to awareness so they could still use his Sight. Together, the three of them went to work on one final spell, a tangled undoing that required Silbane’s Sight, Duncan’s lore, and someone like Brianna to guide them. They dove into the spell weaving through Arek’s body like a parasite. The tangle was dizzying as it unraveled, matched only by the desperate speed at which they worked. Though time had slowed, it seemed an eternity before the last change was made and the spell undone.
Kisan took another step, her blades coming up with points aimed right at Duncan’s heart. He didn’t care, and felt Silbane give in to the blackness. The elder master had given whatever was left of him for their son. Instead of moving he looked Silbane through his mind’s eye and said, Thank you.
It’s not enough. Then a knot of memories came through their connection, a lifetime of his feelings for Arek along with the calm serenity the master had achieved through years of training. It contained all Silbane had learned, all he’d experienced. It was the best of what he was, given over to the man who was Arek’s sire. It was as if Duncan had touched a lore father and been granted the spark of another’s life, and perhaps he had.
If Arek proves worthy, share this with him.
It was more than Duncan could have asked for, a chance to recapture the years he’d lost. Silbane’s gift was the missing part of himself, the part necessary to balance his mind and give him the clarity he needed. Most of all, it was all the years he’d lost with Arek, granted back to him by the man who’d given his life to save theirs. Duncan opened his eyes and saw Kisan standing over them, blades poised to strike.
He raised the hand still missing a finger, knowing he couldn’t stop her. He didn’t have the energy left. He felt despair take over. Silbane’s gift, a chance at balance in life, would never be used. It would die here with him, and he could only hope Kisan would make it quick.
