Birthright - Book 2 of the Legacy Series (An Urban Fantasy Novel)

by Ryan Attard

  But now, I could think straight. This time, he wouldn’t survive it.

  He reached for Crowley’s case and opened it. All the vials were shattered and the purplish liquid oozed uselessly from the case. He stood up and threw it away.

  “Do you know what you’ve done?” he snarled at me. “Do you know how much you’ve set me back?”

  “Don’t know, don’t care,” I replied.

  He slapped the coffin beside him. “It was for her,” he screamed. “It was always for her. I could have brought her back to life. I could have brought all of you back to life. Once I had that power.”

  “Get away from her,” I said.

  He ignored me. “I could have given you anything. I could have done anything. It’s the power of the gods, Erik, and we have it.”

  I didn’t really hear him. I was too angry as I watched him slap the lacquered black coffin with every exclamation. I swung the sword around and threw another wave of energy. Dad screamed something indistinguishable and held his hands out. Energy blasted around him, but never touched him.

  “I’ve been a warlock far longer than you have been, boy,” he said.

  “You’re a washed up has-been,” I shot back. “When was the last time you actually went up against a monster?”

  His expression darkened. “I may have my handicaps, but I am more than capable of taking you down, whelp.” He reached inside his robe and pulled out a small vial with the tiniest of syringes attached to it. He stabbed it into his thigh and injected himself with violet liquid.

  “Handicap, my ass,” I said. “You’re nothing but a junkie.”

  He responded by snapping out his palm, sending a torrent of fire my way. I swung Djinn upwards and shot out my own spell. Red flame met azure energy halfway through its journey and exploded. Debris clouded the battlefield. I heard crackling and saw something white and crystalline shoot at me, too fast to dodge. Pain flared from my shoulder, and I looked down.

  A long spike of ice went through my shoulder, its sharp tip emerging from the other side. The spike’s shaft went on until I saw it was attached to my father’s fingers. I swung my blade on the spike, breaking it. The ice melted into a puddle of water and evaporated with a hiss. I struck the shard of ice still impaling my shoulder with the pommel of my sword and pulled the tip out. The ice evaporated and my healing magic took over.

  I yelled and shot two streaks of energy at him. He ducked under the first, but the second one, at a slightly lower angle, caused him to buckle as he blocked it. He flicked his palm and slapped it on the ground and I felt something cold wrap around my ankles. Shadows in the form of black tendrils shackled my legs to the ground. My dad grabbed the metal leg off a table and wrenched it apart. He smeared some blood on it and the pipe transmuted, its tip warping on itself, becoming a spike.

  Before he took the first step toward me, I stabbed the ground with Djinn and channeled my magic. The tiled floor cracked and shattered, disrupting his shadow spell. I pushed even more energy into the ground. The blast lifted me into the air, and I twisted and somersaulted. Djinn’s blade had elongated to the size of a full broadsword, and its blade shone azure. At the end of my summersault, I landed right above my dad and swung the sword at him.

  My Dad brought his hands together. A desk moved in front of me, blocking my strike. I yelled louder and swung through the furniture. My strike was enough to bisect the desk, sending the pieces away, but not enough to cut through the metal pipe. He blocked my strike and we stood there in a blade lock for a few seconds, just pushing against each other. Djinn’s elongated blade shattered like glass as my concentration wavered, and the short sword shrunk back to its original size. Dad smiled, thinking he had the advantage.

  My hand-to-hand combat training took over the moment I came face-to-face with him. I angled my blade so that his spike moved away from my face. My knee shot into his gut, doubling him over. Before he could bend completely my fist caught his throat, sending him a few steps backwards. He gasped for breath and found it after the fourth try. I closed our distance, but he kept me back with the pipe. Smearing more blood on it, the pipe elongated into a spear and he began stabbing wildly with it. He hoped the longer weapon would keep me at bay and safeguard him from my attacks. But it was years since he had done any serious training, and I was fresh off the wagon.

  I blocked a strike and vaulted over the pole. My leg shot forward, catching him in the chest. I pulled the spear, and he stumbled toward me as I spun my sword and slashed. He yelled in pain as a deep cut across his chest and shoulder appeared. I slid Djinn down the length of the spear and channeled a small blast of power. The weapon shot from his hands and clattered ten feet away. I moved in for the kill. My father snapped the heel of his palm at me and a blast of air punched into my stomach. The shot was enough to lift me off my feet and throw me across the room.

  As I gasped for breath and tried to get back on my feet, I saw him pull out another vial and inject himself. He convulsed on the ground and blood spluttered from his wounds before quickly sealing. He stood up shakily.

  “Never had to use two before,” he rasped. “I suppose this is your true power, then. I want it.” I tried to get on my feet, but he snapped his hands and a blast of air smacked against my back, driving me into the ground.

  “Why are you doing this?” I asked. “Are you really that insane?”

  His eyes widened. “Because I found it, Erik,” he said. “The power source. It’s here, Erik, right beneath our feet, and we are feeding off it constantly.”

  “What are you talking about, you crazy old man?”

  Dad let out a growl and pushed both palms downwards. I felt as if a grand piano had been placed on my back and the ground was sucking me into it.

  “I found something right beneath our feet, Erik. I don’t know what they met during their last expedition, but our ancestors didn’t come home empty-handed.” His voice was quick and erratic. “And it’s our power, Erik. We have it. It’s the power passed through the generations.”

  He walked around. “At first, I thought I found a way to stop my wife and me from having our powers drained. But when I realized you were twins, I knew there was no spell we could cast that would cover both of you. So, I came up with a plan. I tested the power, and it led me straight to the source. And then I realized I needed that power. I could have brought her back to life. I could have brought all of you back to life with that power.”

  He bent down and grabbed my hair, twisting my head to look at him. “I will become a god, Erik, and I will shape the world as I see fit. I can have my wife back. I can have a thousand of her. You and you sister will become the perfect children, and we will live an eternal life in the world I built for you.”

  He cupped my face. “Join me, son. Give me back my power. Give me the power of a god, so that I can give your mother life again. I will make all the monsters go away. Just. Give. Me. Power.”

  His face had a wild, psychotic expression as he squeezed his hands around my face. I saw veins breaking in his eyes and sweat rolling from his brow. My father was sick — in all senses of the word.

  “Gods don’t exist,” I replied. “You’re just a junkie who’s willing to kill your family for a fantasy. You killed your wife for nothing. You killed my mom for shit, and I. Will. Kill. You,” I spat in his face.

  He let go of me and walked a few steps away. He extended his palms and the weight on my body doubled.

  “My sources tell me that you have impressive healing abilities. No doubt linked to the power source. But I wonder, will you be able to heal when the gravity around you is so strong that it crushes you?”

  I felt myself being squashed into the tile floor. Breathing had become impossible, and everything ached. I heard something snap and felt a shot of pain. I don’t know where it came from – as I said, every part of my body was in agony.

  I heard my father chuckle. “Let’s hope Crowley likes his payment a little flat.”

  Great. I was going to die, and the last t
hing I heard was a junkie’s lame pun.

  Suddenly, the pressure was gone. I looked up.

  A desk slammed into my father, carrying him into a wall. Gil stood at the entrance of the fire escape and waved her hands. A blast of air shot right into my dad’s face, smashing his skull against the wall.

  “Get away from my brother,” she growled. “Daddy.”

  27

  The two spells acted against each other. Dad’s gravity spell was crushing me while my own healing magic kept healing me. If Gil hadn't shown up, I would have been caught in an infinite loop, but once the gravity spell was turned off my body was back in shape and I instantly regained full control. I scrambled to my feet, Djinn's tip pointed at Dad. Always point the tip of the blade at the enemy, I remembered. Always point at the thing you want dead.

  “I thought you were supposed to go after Crowley,” I told Gil.

  “The little rat escaped,” she muttered. Her face was flushed with anger. Crowley must have used an ace up his sleeve to give my sister the slip. But no matter, what mattered was she was safe.

  “I told you, I don't want you to be around this.”

  Her eyes locked onto Dad, who was slowly getting up.

  “I can handle it,” she replied coldly. “Besides, you and Dad are equal in terms of power right now. You've got the strength and he's got the versatility. It's a stalemate.”

  “And you're here to turn the tables in my favor.”

  “Our favor, Erik. We're together in this,” she said as she readied herself.

  Dad's figure rose. Steam emerged from him, and I saw veins popping out. One lens of his spectacles was shattered, and the rims curled unnaturally around his face. His eyes were wide, bloodshot and feral.

  “Oh, isn't that nice.” His voice was broken and raspy. “Brother and sister united against their big, bad daddy.”

  He inhaled deeply. “You can't hurt me!” he yelled maniacally. “I am better than you, you insolent children. That is my power, and you don't deserve it. It’s mine!”

  A lance of power shot at Gil. She remained immobile, a lopsided smile on her face.

  My sword intercepted the shot. I poured enough power inside the blade to counter the energy of the lance, dissipating it.

  “Who do you think you're dealing with, Father?” Gil's voice sounded deeper than usual. It sent shivers down my spine, and I sensed the power from just those few words. It was the same power generals conveyed when hyping up their soldiers, the power to terrify their enemies and make their allies feel invincible.

  “Individually, we are just warlocks,” she continued, “and powerful ones at that. But together, we are a legacy. The future of our bloodline. I will not let you destroy our family. Not while I am alive.”

  She looked at me with a fierce expression that was both frightening and impressive.

  “Erik. Magnet, now.”

  I nodded and stepped in front of her.

  Magnet – the most powerful collaboration spell we knew. It needed time, precision, power and impeccable teamwork.

  Gil needed time to gather her energy and channel some of the most advanced magic in existence. As usual, it was my job to keep the nasty busy until the time was right.

  “I don't know what you two are planning, but time for games is over,” said Dad. A lance of intense, red fire leapt toward Gil.

  It's one of the basics when fighting magic users. Target the Wizard standing still and gathering magic. They're sitting ducks, and can't blast you later on. Dad had been actively fighting back in the day, and we couldn’t underestimate him.

  But he made the gravest of mistakes. You never, ever, underestimate your opponent, no matter how small they are.

  Djinn's blade intercepted the fire, and I pushed against it, parting the flame. I pushed even harder, until I felt myself running forwards. Straight toward my father.

  “I'm your opponent,” I said as I came upon him. The tactic took him by surprise and he barely dodged my swing. The short sword's blade was coated in flame — azure fire that emanated power and intent.

  He grabbed two pieces of metal, remnants of what was once a shelf holding lab tools. Instantly, he transmuted them and swung two scimitars at me. Gil was right. He had power and precision. It would have taken me half an hour to transmute scrap metal into a pair of swords. But I had my body on my side and my training. Swords, spears, magic – none of it mattered. I was trained against that sort of thing.

  No matter how many times he tried to take my head off, I parried and blocked, countering each strike with a slash. His body healed the wounds with a violent hiss — no doubt a handy side effect of the drugs he had pumped into his body. But his healing couldn't compare to mine. I had the real power, and it showed.

  He slammed both pommels of his sword together and channeled his magic once more. The metal twisted and fused on a molecular level. A spear formed and he resumed his earlier tactic of keeping me at bay with its length.

  From the corner of my eye, I saw a spot on the ground begin to warp, then spin like a little typhoon. Slowly, it grew and expanded to the size of a football. I gave Gil a quick glance. She nodded. The spell was ready.

  I ducked beneath Dad’s swipe, and with my deft footwork managed to make him turn his back to the warped space. Energy beams shot out of Djinn, driving him further backwards. He pushed forwards in a natural reaction. When a person is pushed, they tend to push back. He must have thought I was trying to get behind him and strike more vulnerable areas. He wasn’t completely off. He took a step backwards as I viciously counterattacked and drove the tip forwards. I raised my weapon as if to block and then let it fall, exposing myself. The tip of the spear penetrated my stomach and tore its way through.

  It wouldn’t have worked for anyone but me. The normal instinct in any fight is to avoid harm, even the smallest of injuries. But my experiences with pain had rendered me immune to most natural reactions. I was not afraid of pain anymore. I didn’t have a reason to be. I could heal from almost anything. I once read somewhere that ninety percent of pain is the anticipation of it – it’s all in our heads. It’s the fear of pain that makes you either freeze up or react faster than before. But I had completely accepted pain and the fear of it. I would heal instantly, so who cared how bad the damage was?

  Djinn embedded itself on the ground, and I wrapped my hands around the spear. Pain ripped through me, but I chose to ignore it. I had complete control over my mind, and now was not the time to send those signals. I gave my body one instruction – shut up and push. My father was too stunned by my actions to resist. His foot stepped on the warped area and his body began twisting.

  The nature of the spell was to feed on the victim’s magic and expand itself, locking the target into that particular space. It was some heavy-duty spatial magic, the kind that usually went terribly wrong.

  Black-hole-in-the-middle-of-the-room wrong.

  It takes decades for most wizards to even attempt the simplest spatial magic, without fainting after the first two seconds. Gil had managed to combine spatial magic with Abjuration – if that isn’t the mark of a genius, I don’t know what is.

  The spell engulfed me, too, holding me in place, which was just fine by me. I could still move my arms. The spell sucked off magic at a steady rate, and while it drained my father, I had a lot more juice in reserve. I wrenched the pike out of my stomach and dropped it away.

  Time for phase two.

  We dubbed the spell ‘magnet’ because of its nature. It latched onto victims and leeched off their energy, using that same energy to power itself. But the most important factor was what happened next. Any external spell coming into contact with it was enhanced tenfold due to spatial condensation and the redirection of the victim’s energy. In essence, the spell sucked the victim’s power, used that power to lock them in place and increased the final blow dealt to them. Just like a giant, magical superconductor.

  I let out a long yell, pulled back my fist, and drove it into my father’s mangled figur
e. I channeled power into my fists, each of them juiced up with enough magic to shatter rock. I kept hitting him. A flurry of fists flew between us, and with every strike I heard something break inside him. Pain stabbed along my hands and arms that originated from the same power that healed me. The kind that I couldn’t block out, no matter how much I tried. But I kept punching. I was determined to keep hitting him, with enough power to rip out a Baku’s head, with enough power to kill a phoenix. With enough power to destroy this evil once and for all. Each strike was enhanced ten times, and just one would have been enough to fell a Behemoth. But when it came to the villains who killed my mother, there was no such thing as overkill.

  Only vengeance.

  I only stopped when my hands fell limp to my side. Dad looked like a scarecrow that had been through a hurricane. Gil was on her knees, and the spatial spell had dissipated. I felt my healing repair the damage to my arms, and as soon as I had motion in my right hand, I pulled back my fist and channeled all the pent up magic I had left. All the anger, hate, betrayal and sadness flowed from the dark corners in my head into that fist.

  I punched him, determined to destroy him once and for all. Determined to end this nightmare forever. This would be the last strike, the final blow dealt to our own personal monster. After this, there was just hope of a better life. A life where none of our family members tried to kill us. A life where my sister and I could live in peace, away from nightmares. I punched him, driving into him all those emotions.

  The punch threw him across the room. He made a glottal popping sound, the kind that planes do when they break the sound barrier. My entire body shook, and I heard a popping sound come from my shoulder. No matter – I was beyond pain. Pain would heal soon. All that mattered was that it was over.

  It was all over.

  ***

  There was no evil laughter or a declaration of power. All we heard after I had blasted Dad was breathing. A small intake of air and a raspy exhalation, which marked the smallest signs of life.