The Mage War

by Ben S. Dobson

  “Not so silly,” Kadka said gently. “You are here, fighting for what you believe.”

  Bastian looked up at her then, with a hint of that familiar smile, if not so broad. “Because of you, and Mister Carver. More than once, you two have given me the opportunity to serve Audland in a way that truly matters. I am very grateful for that.”

  Whatever else Kadka might have said, there was no time for it. Syllesk and Nevka had reached them, closing in from both sides.

  “Kadka!” Syllesk extended her neck, and Iskar took flight from his place on her back to leave Kadka room. “We couldn’t reach you, it was too far, I’m sorry—”

  “Is not your fault, little one,” Kadka said, laying a hand against her silver scales. “And I am lucky to have very good friends watching for me.” She grinned at Bastian, and his round cheeks flushed.

  “We’re all glad you’re alive, but we need to move!” Carver shouted from his spot on Nevka’s back. “It’s not over yet!” He pointed down at the shore.

  Endo had managed to protect himself from the Astral explosion Vladak had released; a silver shield surrounded him. He was descending in his chair into the center of the gathered citizens of Porthaven, where thousands of vulnerable men and women and children lay suffering under the effects of the siphon.

  As his wheels touched down in the middle of the parkland along the sea wall, a wave of silver force rolled off of him in all directions. The people around him, already too weak to move, could do nothing to defend themselves. Some few tried to limp away, but they didn’t have the strength or speed. The Astral force lifted them from the ground and hurled them against one another in great heaps. It crashed over the edge of the sea wall, throwing people from the decks of the gathered ships, rippling the surface of the harbor. Here and there, mages threw up shields to deflect the force, protected who they could, but it wasn’t enough. They were already holding back Endo’s knights; most couldn’t spare the concentration.

  And when it was done, when he had cast his victims aside, Endo was left alone in a circle some sixty yards wide. His shield expanded to fill the space, creating a great silver dome around him. Kadka was certain that one man couldn’t hold a shield that large for long, but he wouldn’t have to. He was the source of the siphon, and he’d put himself right in the middle of the people he was draining. At that distance, they had minutes left at best.

  “Go,” said Bastian. “They’ll need you both down there.” With an outstretched hand, he levitated Kadka onto Syllesk’s back.

  She looked up at him, as she settled into place. “Thank you, Bastian Dewglen,” she said.

  “Thank me by stopping that man from ruining my country.” Bastian looked from her to Carver and back again, and the full, beaming force of his smile returned, all the more brilliant without the mask. “Who better to defeat a Mage Emperor than the Magebreakers?”

  Chapter Twenty-three

  _____

  TINGA’S LUNGS COMPRESSED as the wave of force hit her, and the air rushed up her throat and out of her mouth in one painful gasp. Her feet left the ground, and then she was alone, torn from Cestra’s side, unable to tell which way was up.

  She crashed into someone she couldn’t see, felt them go down under her. Landed on top of whoever it was and kept going, tumbling painfully over stone cobbles until she sprawled flat on her back. Her vision swam as she lifted her head, tried to get an idea of where she was. All around her, men and women lay prone on the ground, thrown by the same spell that had hurled Tinga aside.

  She seemed to have taken the least of it, on the far edge of the concussion. Those who had been closer to the center had been thrown further, slamming against one another, landing in heaps of broken bodies. Some were still trying to stand, to pull themselves out from those on top of them, to rise to their feet, but many—so many—were utterly still. Whether they were unconscious, or dead, or riven, Tinga didn’t know, but right then, it all amounted to about the same thing: fewer people to resist the siphon. Every loss meant more losses, and faster, until there was no one left to lose.

  “Tinga!” Cestra limped into sight, coming toward her, leaning on Lefty Lodestone’s mechanical arm. She was bleeding from a wound on her cheek, and there was no color left in her face save for the dark grey circles under her eyes. But she was alive. Like Tinga, she and Lefty had been far enough from the source to avoid the worst of the damage.

  Behind Cestra and Lefty, a shimmering silver dome winked into existence, filling the space cleared by the spell. Endo Stooke was somewhere underneath—Tinga knew it, could feel it in the cold, aching weariness sinking into the marrow of her bones.

  The siphon was stronger now. Too strong. Endo had landed it right where it could do the most damage. In the middle of the parkland, where the most vulnerable were. The ones who lacked the strength to fight, but had still come to help their neighbors resist the siphon’s effects. Tinga guessed she didn’t have more than a few minutes left, and that would be more than most—she and Cestra had removed their talismans late, long after the rest of Porthaven had been exposed. The weakest ones would already be riven from proximity alone, even before the force spell hit.

  “Are you alright?” Cestra was at her side now, but she didn’t kneel, just kept a hold of Lefty’s arm to support herself.

  “Not really,” Tinga said. “But I don’t think anything is broken.”

  Lefty extended his free hand. “On your feet, then. This ain’t the time to be lyin’ around.”

  Tinga took the hand and rose slowly to her feet, groaning with the effort. She looked toward the front lines. It wasn’t an encouraging sight. Mages and those with talismans were the only ones still putting up a fight—no one else had the strength left, not with Endo so close. The knights and bluecaps were closing in again, with the threat of dragonfire at least temporarily out of the way. There were too many gaps in the shields, letting through waves of force and gouts of spellfire from enemy mages. Massive golems wreaked havoc among those still standing, smashing through anyone in their way, forcing mages to spend power and focus restraining them. All across the battlefield, too many figures wandered aimlessly, or stood staring blankly ahead.

  The riven.

  And their number was growing.

  Tinga’s eyes fell on Indree, a few yards ahead. She’d trapped a golem in a cage of Astral force, holding it in place, but as Tinga caught sight of her, the shield began to flicker under the golem’s fists. Another blow and it winked out altogether. The golem advanced on Indree.

  “Lefty!” Tinga pointed a shaky finger. “Hit the ground underneath!” Tane and Kadka had told her enough stories about their encounters with the Emperor’s Mask—the predecessor to these golems—for her to know that the brass plating dulled the effect of direct spells.

  Lefty understood. He released Tinga to stretch his right arm out, barked a few words in the lingua. Silver force blossomed between the cobblestones, and a mound of earth rose up beneath, lifting the golem’s foot. It wasn’t enough—the automaton adjusted its balance, leaned forward to account for the shifting ground. Lefty’s face screwed up with strain, but the weight was too much.

  But Indree saw what was happening, and added her own magic to the effort. The silver light surged; the ground buckled and heaved upward all at once, like a very precisely aimed earthquake. The golem toppled, falling backward, landing hard on the street with a crash that made Tinga’s ears ring.

  “Come on,” Tinga said, and grabbed Lefty’s arm again to steady herself as she hobbled toward Indree.

  Indree had the golem lashed in silver cords by the time they reached her, though it was struggling, fighting against the bonds. It pushed itself to one knee.

  “Help,” Indree said to Lefty over her shoulder. “Quick, before it gets up.”

  Lefty obliged, grabbing the golem with a binding spell of his own. Together, he and Indree managed to hold it down.

  “Toward that one.” Indree pointed ahead; another golem was approaching through a gap in
the shields.

  Together, and with obvious effort, the two mages lifted the bound golem from the ground in silver cords. Only a few feet, but far enough. And then the silver cords lashed out, hurling the big brass body at its oncoming twin. The two automatons collided in a cacophony of screeching brass, falling back through the gap in the shields and crashing down on the Knights of the Emperor behind. Indree uttered another spell, raising a new silver barrier across the gap.

  “Thank you,” Indree said, between pants for breath. She looked Tinga and Cestra over, took in their ashen skin and sunken eyes, and then frowned and glanced up at the sky. The dragons had retrieved Kadka, and now they were soaring towards Endo’s huge shield dome. “Just a little longer. Now that Endo’s down—”

  “We don’t have a little longer, Indree,” Tinga said wearily. She could barely hold her head up to meet the other woman’s eyes. “People are being riven now. I don’t know if you’ve noticed, but you mages and the ones with talismans are the only ones still holding the line.” She stopped trying to hold her chin up, let it fall. “I told them they’d be safe if they came, and now…”

  Cestra shook her head. “You did everything you could. Sharing the burden was the best chance any of us had.”

  “She’s right, kid,” said Lefty, his voice just a little bit less gruff than usual. “You coulda run when I said. You didn’t. Did more than most would have. This ain’t on you.”

  “No, I…” Tinga couldn’t focus her eyes. Grey crept in around the edges of her sight. “It’s not enough, we have to…” Her legs buckled beneath her. She felt herself falling. I thought I had more time. But the siphon was unpredictable; everyone’s Astral signature was different.

  The world went dark.

  And then, a sharp jab of pain in her shoulder.

  Strength rushed through Tinga’s body as if a dam somewhere had broken, releasing the life back into her. Warmth surged into her fingers and toes. She gasped for air, sucking breath into her lungs. When she opened her eyes, the world was bright, full of color.

  Lefty was holding her; he’d caught her as she fell. Cestra’s hand was on her shoulder, holding a glowing talisman in place. Tinga looked up at her, confused.

  “I… I kept mine,” Cestra explained. “I know it’s selfish. I should have given it up like you did, but… you weren’t going to use one, and I couldn’t let you…” She lowered her eyes—eyes still sunken into dark pits. She’d had it with her all along, but she hadn’t used it to help herself. “I need you to survive this.”

  Tinga just nodded, looked back at the talisman. It had brought the life back to her so quickly. Just a little jab. The Astra hated a vacuum—that was what they taught at the University.

  “Tinga? Say something.” Cestra sounded worried now.

  “I… have an idea,” Tinga said. “Take it out. Use it on yourself.”

  “What? No, I didn’t keep it for—”

  “It’s alright. I’m not trying to protect you, I just need to see. Trust me.”

  Cestra hesitated, then removed the pin from Tinga’s shoulder.

  The cold of the siphon returned, and it was savage. She could feel Endo’s proximity, feel the spirit being pulled from her body at an alarming rate. But she was still stronger than she had been just a few moments before.

  “Put me down,” she said. Lefty nodded and set her on her feet.

  Her legs were steady, at least for now. She had the strength to stand. “It’s all back,” Tinga said. “The Astral power the siphon took. It’s going to have to drain me all over again.” She nodded to Cestra. “Try it.”

  Cestra jabbed the talisman into her own shoulder. The change was visible, and almost immediate. Color flushed her pale cheeks; she let go of Lefty’s arm, stood straighter, taller.

  “Oh,” she said.

  “See?” Tinga turned to Indree. “We’re going to need everyone with a talisman. Can you and the other mages hold them off of the rest of us? Just shields, forget fighting back. All that matters is that we last until Tane and Kadka can stop the siphon.”

  Indree nodded, though her face was drawn with the strain of the shield she was already holding under enemy assault. “We’ll try.” And then, magically throwing her voice, “All mages, we need shields up, now! Forget anything else, just hold them back!”

  All along the line, mages answered the call. University students, rebel bluecaps, the mages of Porthaven, all of them who were able raised silver barriers in a ragged, imperfect line. There were gaps still, and in places the shields began to flicker almost immediately under the onslaught of golems and enemy spells.

  But it would give them time, and that was all that mattered.

  “Now, Tinga,” Indree said through clenched teeth. “This won’t last long. Do what you have to do.”

  Tinga turned to Lefty. “Make me loud, one more time.”

  He did, with a whispered spell and a flick of his fingers.

  “Everyone with a talisman, listen to me!” Tinga shouted, and the words carried across the waterfront. “I know I’ve asked a lot already, but I have to ask one more thing! We need to share our protection! Find someone weak, someone who needs it, and give them your talisman! It only takes a moment to get back the strength to last a few more minutes. Catch your breath, and hand it off to someone else! Our friends are going to stop this very soon. We just need to hold a little bit longer!” As she spoke, Tinga held out her hand to Cestra; Cestra understood, pulled the talisman from her arm and handed it over.

  Tinga signalled Lefty to end the amplification spell, and he gave her a nod.

  “Now,” she said, “stay here. Keep those shields up. We’ll take care of the rest.”

  Lefty’s perpetual frown quirked up into an almost-smile. “Right. Good luck, kid.”

  Tinga strode toward the first person she saw, a young sprite woman lying just a few yards away. Her wings still fluttered weakly, but not enough to get her off the ground.

  Tinga knelt beside her. “You’re going to be alright.” The woman looked up with tired, sunken eyes, but there was a spark of something there. Awareness. Hope. She wasn’t gone yet.

  Tinga pressed the talisman into the sprite’s little arm.

  Almost immediately, the woman’s breathing deepened. Her wings fluttered faster, and in a moment, she was in the air. “Thank you!”

  “Don’t thank me, just pass it on,” Tinga said. “Keep it long enough to get your strength, and then find someone else who needs it.”

  The woman bobbed her head in an enthusiastic nod, and zipped away.

  “Tinga, look.” Cestra touched her arm, pointed. All along the waterfront, people were following her lead, helping those they could, handing talismans along. “It’s working. You did it. Again.”

  Tinga shook her head. “It’s not enough. Did you see the gem on that talisman? Almost completely clouded, and you weren’t even using it until now. The rest of them will be even further gone. With Endo so close, they won’t last more than a few minutes. And not everyone will get one in time. Too late for some already.”

  “It’s time we didn’t have before,” Cestra said.

  “I know.” Tinga’s legs were trembling now, already losing the strength she’d just reclaimed. She leaned against Cestra for support once more. “I just hope it’s enough.” She looked up at Endo’s shield, right at the center of everything. Syllesk and Nevka were upon it now, hovering over the silver dome. Ready for one last go at the man who would be Emperor. “It’s up to Tane and Kadka now. Whatever they’re planning, it had better work.”

  _____

  Tane hugged Nevka’s neck tight as they descended toward the huge silver dome of Endo’s shield. It was coming up fast.

  And he had no idea what to do when they reached it.

  Kadka and the dragons had done their part. When they’d set their sibling free, they’d taken away Endo’s greatest asset. Made him vulnerable, in theory. But vulnerable to what? No matter how many times Tane asked himself that question, he
couldn’t find an answer.

  “Tane!” Indree’s voice in his head, along with the familiar sending pressure. “Thank the Astra, you’re alive. We’re barely hanging on down here.” Her strain radiated through the sending channel.

  Tane could see why, even at a glance. Below, the defenders appeared to have given up any hope of fighting back. The fighters were retreating, even those with talismans. Only mages remained on the front line, and they were just stalling for time, holding up rapidly failing shields against the enemy. When one broke, they simply fell back and cast a new barrier, giving up whatever ground they had to. “How much longer can you hold?”

  “Minutes, at best,” Indree answered. “Tinga has people sharing talismans just to last a little bit longer.” That was clever, and it explained where the talisman wielders were going. But it wouldn’t be enough. Very soon, gems would start failing, and they’d have no protection left. “What’s going on up there? What’s the plan?”

  Tane wanted to have an answer for her, to tell her that he could save everyone if they could just hang on a little longer. But she deserved the truth. “I don’t know. Ree, Endo’s rigged the siphon so it will keep going if he dies. We can’t kill him, and only he can turn it off. I don’t know what to do.”

  Silence, for a moment, as Indree digested that. And then, “Tane. You can do this. There’s no one else in the world I’d rather have where you are right now.”

  “How? Did you not just hear me? We can’t kill—”

  Indree’s Astral voice cut him off. “Then don’t. You know Endo. If he’s the only one who can stop this, you need to find a way to make him. The flaw is the mage, right? This is what you do, and you do it better than anyone. Use his magic against him.”