by Rick Field
Such was the danger of relying upon magical weapons, and Liane took the time afforded by his distraction to charge with fire and ice. Her retaliation made him duck the fireball and deflect the ice bolt with his weapon, before charging her once more. With no time to cast out loud, she jumped, using what little silent magic she could to give her a wind-fueled boost.
Landing halfway down his entrance hall, she brought her second hand back to her staff. For a moment, it seemed Lucifer's body glowed brighter than before, and the cage of arcane energies at the top flickered ominously. Marcel stormed after her, charging like an angry bull, forgetting Decorum and losing himself in his rage, weapon outstretched, ready to strike her where she stood.
The tip struck the ground once. Softly.
Two words accompanied the deft touch to the ground, words that spoke of control and release, of magic and power and knowledge. Her voice glowed red and tasted of elderberries before her acceleration spell broke and the synesthesia vanished. Marcel tripped in his mad charge, something subtle upsetting his balance.
A perfect circle of runes had formed itself around Liane and her staff, etching themselves into the floor in one singular motion of spell craft. At the same time, a larger circle had etched itself around the floor of the entrance hall, barely missing touching the walls. This larger circle encompassed Lord Marcel, trapping him between the inner and outer circles.
“Runescape, level one, defensive,” Liane intoned, leaning on her staff, panting deeply. She may be used to going multiple rounds with Milor, but the effort of fighting underneath a person's house wards was getting to her. Lucifer may shield her magic from harm, but it was taking her physical effort to do so. Her lungs burned, she could feel her heart pounding. Casting magic on this scale, while maintaining a high level of physical activity was exhausting to her body.
Her opponent stared with open eyes and mouth, looking shocked to his core, before grabbing a hold of himself. “That's impossible,” he whispered, staring at the runes that were now defacing his floor.
Liane smiled faintly, she had forgotten not everyone was like Milor and knew what she could, and could not, do. Truth be told, it was Lucifer's extension to her magic that allowed her to cast such a wide-area pair of circles, and she felt annoyed that she had no real way to use his momentary lapse of attention. The runescape protected her, but it also prevented her from attacking him.
Marcel shook his head, looked angry about losing his composure then charged. The strike of his sword reflected off a spherical shield described by the inner circle of runic sigils. Surreptitiously, Liane glanced at a couple of runes of her own design. They glowed silver to her sight. Not a good sign, that strike contained so much energy that it was overloading her circle and it would take time to shed that energy.
He must be tapping into his weapon's reserves to get that amount of magic into each strike, and she hoped that she would be able to hold him until his weapon's reserves ran out. It was a blood-bound sword, hundreds of years old. Its reserves could be vast.
The General drew a breath. And another. His rage seemingly abated. “I see that the reputation of the MagicWarper is well deserved,” he stated, coolly. A horrific smile appeared on his lips then, followed by a few more words spoken to his wards. She frowned, he should know that his wards would be unable to affect her magic. Lucifer warned her a moment before the results of the incantation hit, and she barely managed the time to lock her legs.
The sudden impact reverberated through her outer shield with such ferocious force that it resounded through her chest and nearly drove her to her knees. Had Lucifer not warned her, she would have been driven to the ground. The runes glowed gold now, a clear indication that they were being overloaded. Marcel blinked in astonishment. Lucifer warned her right before the impact came again, this time succeeding in drawing a gasp from her throat.
A ward-hammer! He'd brought the ward-hammer to her! She cursed her oversight in casting her runescape protection under his roof, where his wards could tear it down, and desperately thought for a way out. The impact came again. A cracking sound was audible, and she knew her outer shield would start to fail momentarily.
It would take a dozen Nobles to do the same under normal conditions, but house-wards had multiple anchors to draw from. Powerful and skilled though she was, she couldn't stand up to fully powered wards bent on bringing down her protections.
A split-second warning from Lucifer was all she needed, and her lips started forming words. The ward-hammer came again, hitting her outer shield at the same time as his sword struck at her inner. Both shields failed, and for a moment, time slowed down even further than her acceleration spell would ever be able to account for. She could almost feel his sword slice through her delicate body, a downside to Lucifer's precognitive warnings. Lucifer, magic, her own mind, she cared not for its source, and casted with all her might, as fast she could.
She was Liane, former Assistant to Cassandra of the Storms, and she had worked tirelessly at her Proctor's side on the magic of air that gave the woman her name. The air between both combatants hardened, shattering upon impact of his blade, yet lasting long enough to drain enough energy from it to physically catapult her through the door. The protections in her Pillar's robes saved her from broken bones, but could not spare her from the bruising of her entire back.
She struggled to her feet, leaning heavily on Lucifer, ignoring the pain. Already, she felt tired and exhausted, panting for breath, hoping to slow her racing heart. This battle had been the longest she had ever fought, and her body was starting to give out on her.
The Pillar of Kiria cursed her physical weakness, her inexperience fighting with Lucifer, and her desire to take the man in alive. All of those factors had contributed to the massive amounts of physical pain she was now in, her bruised back, and the fact that she was lucky to have survived the fight so far.
Her fingers clenched around the woven metal of Lucifer's staff. She was going to kill the bastard, and she was going to do it her way. Anger bubbled up from deep within her. Marcel, still inside his house, slashed his sword at her. Another wave of power raced toward her.
Lucifer's tip struck the ground, the magical wave deviated once more. It was enough time for the General to race outside, once more under the influence of an acceleration spell.
“You're a fool,” he declared, wrenching one hand up. No spells followed, but Lucifer jerked Liane to one side – far to one side – right before the ground exploded and three massive green plants shot from the ground. Had she remained where she had been, she would have been impaled. She retaliated faster than thought, fully surrendering to the experience she had gained fighting Milor, and forced the ground underneath his feet into ceramic blades before throwing the spell into 'puree'.
Lord Marcel jumped aside just in time, managing to extract himself with no more than a few minor lacerations that only hurt but did not slow him down. She used his distraction to whisper her own acceleration spell, right before the trees surrounding the grassy field burst to life, pulling themselves out of the ground, advancing like lumbering hulks on her position by walking on their roots.
Liane stared, not believing that someone could have so much control over the surrounding greenery, and nearly lost her head when Lucifer pulled her out of the way of another slash of Marcel's sword threw more magic at her. Her bruised back flamed in agony, and she stumbled to the ground, the pain of her back flaring down into her legs.
Pain gave way to anger, her magic flaring from her chest. She jammed Lucifer into the ground, and barked a word. Short, to the point, and vulgar enough to cause Marcel to blink. The animated trees wavered on their roots, indecisive between animate and inanimate; they were almost close enough to start reaching for her, and Liane needed them on hold for just a moment. She barked another word, thickening air and sharpening into blades, before sending a razor-sharp whirlwind after the lumbering mass of auxiliary fighters.
'Kindling' would be a good description of what was left a
few seconds later, but neither Marcel nor Liane had any attention to spare to look at it. More impaling plants shot from the ground, more air-blades and fireballs retaliated, and for half a minute, the skies lit up with nearly continuous spell fire.
Time and again, she dodged and weaved through his spells, giving as much as she got. Despite the fact that they were adversaries locked in deadly combat, Liane respected the man she faced; his name may show his connection to the element of wood, but he had trained extremely hard on his other elements. Time and again she was faced with fire, ice, lightning or earth, and retaliated on pure instinct.
It became harder and harder for Lucifer to pull her to safety, her hurting body slowing down with every minute the fight lasted. Never before had she contemplated a battle such as this, she had always assumed combat to be like dueling.
Her right ankle gave when she misjudged a step, and immediately a green bark of death lashed from the ground. She screamed when pain blossomed from her magic as it diverted the lethality of the strike, causing the branch to shoot through her left shoulder rather than straight through her chest.
His sword descended at her throat, her eyes locked with his. She saw not the anger or fear she had expected, but the resignation of a man doing his duty.
Lucifer came up, once more diverting the strike, sending shockwaves of pain through her body. Her vision wavered, blurring in and out of focus. Her magic rebelled, pushed and strained and howled and raged. Suddenly, she saw the world in shades of red, the plant holding her to the ground disintegrated, and the wound in her shoulder started repairing itself.
The pain in her bruised back and twisted ankle and shattered magic felt like the pleasure of the world, an unnatural high that lifted her spirits and removed all fear. She jumped to her feet, ignoring the startled, fearful look Lord Marcel was suddenly giving her.
A tremor went through the air, and Marcel grasped for his throat, heaving deeply, casting silent magic. The oxygen she had removed from the air flowed back, and Liane's respect for her opponent lifted another notch. There were very few that would be able to counter such magic while choking.
More impaling greenery shot from the ground, and Liane had enough of the dodging game. Now that she was out of the house, out from under his wards, it was time to finish this. Lucifer's tip struck the ground, the two concentric circles of her runescape forming immediately upon contact. It was only now that she realized that Lucifer's head was filled with liquid red magic, and her entire golden staff was glowing in otherworldly energies. Once more, both her and his acceleration spells shattered when the runescape negated them.
“This time, there are no wards to aid you,” Liane stated, coldly. “Runescape, level two, defensive.”
Both inner and outer circles doubled up, becoming two sets of two that barred her from him, and him from escaping. For a moment, he stood unmoving with indecision, merely staring at her through the transparency of the protective shield she had around herself. Then, he made his move, striking once more at the inner circle, attempting to get to her.
The wave of magical energy hit the circle, reflecting back upon its source. Marcel gave a panicked dodge and managed to avoid being hit by his own weapon. “That is even more impossible than before,” he commented, breathing deeply. Somehow, he had realized that she could not retaliate if he did not attack, and decided on using the time to recompose himself.
“I am... the MagicWarper,” Liane said, panting deeper than he was. She may not feel pain, injury, or exhaustion, but her body was still tired and starved of oxygen. Her heart pounded. She needed as much time as he would give her. At the back of her mind, she knew she could not uphold the runescape, even with the self-powering enchantments she had built into it. It mostly powered itself, but control over it still came from her magic, and she would falter sometime.
The rebellious General closed his eyes, and started whispering softly. She could not hear what he said, and braced herself. He frowned, and Liane allowed a faint smile to grace her lips. He'd found out that the runescape was protecting the ground beneath her. There would be no further barbs coming from below, nor would he be able to contact any sort of greenery outside the protective circle.
He re-opened his eyes, frowning at her, and cast a few more half-hearted spells straight at the barrier, watching impassively as they returned exactly where he had cast them from. “This is impressive, but hardly useful. I can stay here and wait for you to exhaust yourself, My Lady,” he stated, calmly. He stood still, facing her, sword in a low-guard position. “You do not seem able to cast at me, and I am unable to cast at you. Yet, you burn energy upholding this construct, and I recover energy while standing here. I am in a superior tactical position. You will fail.”
Her lungs and heart started to slow down, her magic continued to burn hotly in her veins. “Runescape, level three – offensive.” She closed her eyes; the outer world fell away from her perception. Her world had shrunk to the area encompassed by her outer protective circle, her sight registered only magic now. Green and reds dominated her enhanced perception, fed to her by Lucifer.
The two sets of concentric circles glowed bright gold, merging into two circles once more, their contents changing rapidly. Marcel stared in dismay, obviously forcing his attention to be on her rather than the impossible display of runes changing after they had been engraved.
When the construct settled, five animated tentacles of dirt and mud rose from the ground and charged him. He dodged the first one, attempted his acceleration spell, failed, slashed the second one, wove around the third one before cutting it off at its base, rolled underneath the strike of the fourth one while stabbing at the fifth one that seemed to be waiting for him. The second, third, and fifth tentacles disintegrated when he rolled back to his feet, the sword making a slashing motion that released a wave of magic that broke the first and fourth tentacles.
He drew half a dozen deep breaths, and turned to face her, as if asking if this were it – when another five tentacles came at him.
Liane looked on impassively while her opponent dodged and weaved and ducked and slashed. He was better than her five simultaneous animation spells, and if this went on, it would be a battle of endurance. It was a battle she wasn't sure she could win. The burning in her chest had intensified, and despite the fact that pain still felt as pleasure, she realized that things were about to go very, very wrong for her if this kept up.
“Runescape, level four, offensive,” she whispered, the re-etched runic circles once more changing their contents. The five animation spells fell away, and he heaved for breath while the runescape reconfigured itself. Wearily he eyed her, readying himself for whatever trick she had up her sleeve this time.
The ground underneath his feet started to fall away, toppling him. The ground shifted, the entire area between her inner protective barrier and the outer containment barrier turning into a giant, ceramic, meat-grinder. Giant ceramic teeth rotated at immense speeds in opposite directions, clockwise and anti-clockwise, grinding to a paste anything that stood in between the two barriers.
She did not know how he did it, but Lord Marcel managed to heave himself up to a block of solidified air, managing to lose just his right foot. In pain and bleeding horrifically from his injury, he lay panting on his block of air, safe from the grinding floor beneath him.
“How did...” Liane snapped, angrily. “You are tenacious, My Lord,” she then said.
“Thank you,” he moaned.
“But you will still die,” the Pillar stated with conviction.
“In another fifty years, in my bed, surrounded by my loved ones,” he replied, whispering magic at his ankle. The flow of blood had stopped, and Liane could see the beginning of field medicine magic closing the wound.
She scowled, her eyes steadfastly remaining closed. Despite her outer confidence, she wasn't at all convinced that she could kill her opponent. Level 4 took a considerable amount of magic to keep going, even with the self-powering runes built into the circle
s. Her magic was dwindling now, she had another two or three minutes at maximum. After that, she would run out of magic and be totally at the General's mercy.
There was not a hair on her head that counted on him showing her mercy. She had only one option left, one she had hoped to avoid. She drew a breath, and pushed. Lucifer pushed back, as if asking for confirmation.
“In fifteen seconds, far quicker and with less pain than I would have liked,” Liane corrected his statement regarding his time of death, maintaining her charade of confidence despite not feeling it. “Runescape, level five. Annihilation.” She could feel the magic being sucked from her core as her runescape reconfigured. A lot of magic. A lot of magic, very fast.
She opened her eyes.
A scream tore from her throat when even more magic was sucked out of her, more magic than her unstable, damaged core could provide. Her scream intensified when the power of her runescape drained the very essence from her body, her very life pouring into her ultimate sure-kill spell.
