by Ben Hale
He retreated until he slammed into the trunk of a tree. Red lunged, plunging her sword through his arm, pinning him to the wood. He shrieked, but she stepped in and caught his head, driving her knee into his nose. Then she yanked her sword free and finished him, the savagery causing nearby Verinai to stumble back in fear.
Raiden had a moment of pride but was forced to maintain his focus on his own foe. Evidently the captain, the woman in the goliath charm stomped toward Raiden, raising an arm to form a hilt. Air converged on the hilt, hardening into a shimmering air blade.
The ground shook from the footfalls as she charged. Raiden parried her first swing, but the force of the blow knocked him backward, nearly to his knees. His sword bit into the wind but the woman recast it, the wind healing the gash in her blade before she charged again.
“Your reign of blood ends here,” she growled.
“So yours can continue?” he countered, retreating into the trees.
She followed, swinging her sword to sheer a sapling in two. Then she raised her other stone-covered hand, calling on a tree nearby to rise from the earth. The branches bent and groaned, forming into the shape of a narrow man. Roots pulled from the earth and knotted together, coiling into giant feet. The treewalker lumbered to Raiden’s flank, swinging a heavy branch at his skull.
Now facing two foes, Raiden retreated further before leaping in and striking at the goliath’s leg, his blade slicing through stone and nicking flesh. The woman snarled at him and swung her sword, the weapon coming a hairsbreadth from taking Raiden’s arm. Rotating past her, Raiden bounded away.
“You Verinai are so arrogant,” he taunted. “Come and get me—if you can.”
She growled and surged after him. With the treewalker and the goliath in his wake, he twisted and curved, tracking his foes by the snapping of wood and falling trees. Then he slowed, feigning fatigue, allowing her to catch up. As the sword swung for his back he ducked and whirled, driving his sword into the crack in the goliath’s leg.
Her leg crumpled and she went down. Raiden darted to her back and faced the charging treewalker. The Verinai captain came to her feet and rotated—as the treewalker swung a giant limb. Raiden ducked and rolled away, letting the limb smash into the Verinai and send her tumbling backward.
Into the canyon.
She screamed as her feet slipped free, her body bouncing off the stone, cracking her goliath charm before she plunged into the chasm. She fought to cast her magic but the effort was futile, and a moment later she smashed into the road, the impact crumpling the stone armor with the soldier still inside.
Bits of stone scattered away, the rocks clattering off the canyon walls before finally going still. Bereft of the magic that supported it, the treewalker collapsed, its momentum carrying it toward the canyon as well. Raiden just managed to leap away as it rolled into the opening, its trunk going rigid before it smashed into the broken goliath below, the branches breaking on the stones of the creek, sending a plume of leaves outward.
Raiden rose to his feet and stepped to the edge, peering down at his fallen adversary. The Verinai’s skilled use of three magics marked her as a master. He’d led her toward the gorge hoping to use it to his advantage, but acknowledged that luck had played a hand in his victory.
Red appeared through the trees with Jester at her side. Both bore the marks of battle, their clothing spotted with blood. Jester approached and looked over the gorge, shaking his head as he spotted the mess.
“I thought you wanted to kill them quietly,” Red said.
“She was at least a tri-mage,” Raiden said, examining the cut on his shoulder where her air sword had sliced a line through his flesh. “What did you expect?”
Jester grinned. “You dropped her on her head and hit her with her own treewalker? Don’t you think that’s overkill?”
Red laughed wryly behind her mask. “Not against one like her.”
“The guards of the shipment will have heard the battle,” Jester said. “They’ll want to join the festivities . . .”
Raiden turned at the change in his voice and watched the wagon come into view, its guards staring in shock at the damage to the canyon ahead of them. The captain’s eyes lifted to Raiden, his expression bright with rage.
“Don’t worry!” Jester called, and laughed. “You’ll join your friends soon!”
Chapter 11: The Guardian
The Verinai leapt into the trees at the side of the road, rushing up the escarpment. Raiden and his companions evaporated into the trees. Taking a dozen Verinai by surprise was one thing, but standing against a dozen Verinai prepared for combat would be suicide.
“What now?” Jester asked as they sprinted through the forest.
“Get to your horse and lead them away,” he said to Jester. “Red, you’re with me. They kindly left the wagon with less guards, let’s relieve them of their cargo.”
“With pleasure,” she said.
Raiden took Red north, curving around the Verinai advance before they caught them. Just as they ducked into a shallow gulley, the mages burst into view. Six treewalkers and several golems had joined their ranks, with a sleek reaver entity at their head.
The entity was of a black reaver, the sheer size suggesting a mage of tremendous power. It was larger than a horse, with the agility of a panther. Although not as deadly as a real black reaver, the entity was fashioned of water, the spines on its back as sharp as steel.
Raiden fought to still his heart as the beast streaked through the trees, grateful he’d insisted they acquire clothing lined with anti-magic thread. The material did little to stop a magical attack, but prevented mages—or their entities—from tracking them directly. When the army passed them by, Raiden grabbed a root and levered himself out of the crevice. Then he sprinted for the wagon.
“I’ll draw their focus,” he said, “get the reins. You should be able to squeeze past the debris in the canyon.”
“Wait for you or leave you behind?”
“Don’t leave me behind,” he said, exasperated.
“As you order,” she said, her voice tinged with amusement.
She separated from him and he sprinted through the trees. As he approached the road he spotted the six remaining soldiers standing around the wagon. The captain caught sight of him and swiveled, raising a bow of light.
Raiden twisted, pulling a throwing knife from a sheath on his chest. As the arrow streaked past him he launched his own blade, his aim better than the Verinai’s, who cried out as the knife dug into his arm.
The captain stumbled back. “Kill him!” he barked.
Raiden threw another knife but a treewalker stepped in and intercepted it, the blade sinking into its trunk. The treewalker charged, forcing Raiden back into the trees. Five of the Verinai charged after him, and their entities as well. That left just one for Red to deal with.
He dodged and weaved, evading bursts of fire and an asunder lance. Trees burned in his wake while limbs were sheered from their trunks, the heavy branches crashing to the earth. A panther of fire burst into view on his left, and he dropped to his knees and slid forward, allowing the entity to chew on his blade. The sword cleaved the entity from teeth to tail, and it crumbled to ash.
He rolled to his feet and darted south, sprinting up the slope toward the top of the canyon. The Verinai panted from the effort to keep up and Raiden smirked at their fatigue. The Verinai relied on their magic too much, and apart from the Runeguard, rarely pushed themselves to gain any semblance of physical endurance. Still, after the battle with the initial patrol and the shipment’s guards, he was tiring.
He reached the lip of the canyon and followed it, sprinting up the slope. A strangled cry rang out, and Raiden glanced back to see the last Verinai fall to Red’s blade. Red leapt over his body and ascended to the wagon’s bench, whipping the reins to drive the horses forward.
The canyon was narrow, twenty feet deep at Raiden’s position. His chest heaving, Raiden spotted the water reaver up ahead and came to an ab
rupt halt. Realizing he was trapped, Raiden retreated to the edge of the canyon.
Behind and around him the trees parted, the Verinai stepping into view. Treewalkers and entities came to a stop, and the captain appeared, his hand resting on the reaver’s flank. The beast snarled at Raiden but the captain merely smirked, his expression one of anticipation.
“Behold the Soldier,” he said. “Guildmaster Elsin will be pleased. She planned so carefully for you, but it appears I get to kill you myself.”
Raiden growled through his mask. “The Verinai are a plague on the earth.”
“We are its conquerors,” the captain sneered. “But you cannot understand, for you have no magic, no power. You are barren.” He spit the word at Raiden. “Your kind must be ruled.”
“Magic does not make the man,” Raiden replied.
“Oh but it does,” the captain insisted, and then took his hand off the reaver’s flank and spoke to the beast. “Tear him apart.”
The reaver lowered its head and released a chilling snarl—and lunged. It closed the gap in a single heartbeat, its jaws reaching for Raiden’s skull. But Raiden took one step off the cliff, dropping into the canyon.
He swung his sword as he fell, cleaving the reaver’s front leg from its body. The leg buckled and the reaver could not halt its momentum, crashing into a treewalker and dragging them both into the canyon. Branches snapped as the reaver clawed at the great tree and they plummeted just feet from Raiden. They landed in the road. Raiden landed on the wagon. Catching a section of wood to hold on, he shouted to Red.
“Go!”
Red whipped the reins and the horses surged forward. Raiden looked back and saw the reaver scramble to its feet, but with an injured leg it could not keep up. Other entities gave chase, but aside from a bird of light they quickly fell behind. Raiden swiped at the bird and it fell back a few feet, clearly intent on following them. Raiden reached to his back and withdrew a stock of wood, pressing the trigger on the side.
The bow snapped into place, forming a small hand crossbow. He aimed at the bird and fired, sending an anti-magic bolt into its chest. The bird squeaked once and exploded, the light fading from view. Returning the weapon to its innocuous shape, he placed it back in its sheath and watched the Verinai on the cliff top behind. They shouted curses and gave chase, but the captain stared at him, his expression strangely triumphant.
Raiden stared back until they reached the broken goliath and shattered treewalker. Red managed to navigate past the pile of debris, the wagon wheels bouncing over several smaller branches and the goliath’s head. Then Raiden joined her on the driver’s bench as the horses reached top speed, galloping around the curve and out of sight.
“Thanks for catching me,” he said.
“You should have seen the look on their faces when you stepped off the ledge.”
Raiden’s smile faded as he recalled the captain’s expression, and a sliver of doubt seeped into his gut. The Verinai had clearly set a trap for him, but what if they expected him to escape? What if Elsin wanted him to take the shipment?
“Stop the wagon,” he said.
“Why?” she asked. “They could still be chasing us.”
“Just do it,” he said.
She shook her head in exasperation and reined in the horses. Before the wagon had fully come to a stop he dropped to the road and strode to the back, swinging the door open to peer inside. Light shone upon the interior and revealed the cargo.
A man.
Raiden stared at him as the man shielded his eyes from the light, the motion causing his shackles to clink. When his eyes adjusted he saw Raiden in his Soldier mask and recoiled in fear.
“You aren’t Verinai.”
“No,” Raiden said. “Who are you?”
“I’m . . . I think I’m Wellen,” he replied, and passed a hand over his face. “Or I was.”
“Was?” Red asked, stepping into view.
Wellen’s features contorted with pain and anger. “They turned me into a guardian.”
“A what?” Red asked.
Wellen seemed to stare through them. “They boiled liquid magic and poured it into my body, replacing my flesh.”
“Sounds painful,” Red said.
Wellen shuddered, his eyes turning haunted. “Most don’t survive.”
“There have been others?” Raiden asked.
“A few live,” Wellen said. “But I don’t know where they were taken.”
“Soldier . . .” Red said, her voice tinged with warning.
“Get us moving. I’ll stay back here.”
She nodded and returned to the driver’s bench. Raiden climbed into the wagon and it began to move forward once more. Raiden took a seat on the side of the wagon. He made no move to unlock Wellen, and the man did not request it.
“Did you have magic before becoming a guardian?”
Wellen shook his head, his eyes changing before lighting with recognition. “I owned a mill in Nightfall Gorge.”
“Family?”
“Wife died from a fever,” he replied, looking away. “I didn’t have the coin to get a Verinai to help.”
Raiden caught the evasiveness and pain to his voice and did not press the issue. Instead he gestured to Wellen’s body.
“What exactly does a guardian do?”
Wellen met his gaze—and then the man’s body shifted, the skin and bones turning yellow and translucent . . . morphing into pure light. The features and form remained, but the man was gone. As a being of light, Wellen spoke.
“They turned me into this.”
He raised a hand and magic curled in his palm, but the power was drawn away by the anti-magic bonds, the dark steel glimmering dully as it sapped Wellen’s magic. The brief illumination revealed the size of the chains to be four times what was necessary for even a Verinai.
“May I test something?” Raiden asked.
Wellen frowned. “What is it you wish to see?”
In answer Raiden drew his sword and stepped forward, and Wellen cringed against the corner of the wagon. He cried out as Raiden swung, but the blade merely nicked his hand. Then Raiden sheathed his sword and waited.
Wellen winced at the contact, and abruptly his fear turned to anger. He scrambled to his feet and surged against his bonds, his features contorting into a frightening rage. Magic burst from his fingers as he clawed for Raiden like a rabid wolf. The power came within inches of Raiden’s body only to be siphoned away by the chains. Raiden stood his ground and watched the wound knit on the man’s hand.
“You’re telling the truth,” he said.
“I told you what I am!” the man screamed.
Raiden retreated from the coach, shutting the door. As Wellen continued to shriek from within, Raiden climbed over the top of the wagon and sat beside Red. He read the question in her eyes.
“I don’t know his purpose,” he said. “But I know what he is.”
“And that would that be?”
“A weapon,” he said.
Chapter 12: Requiem
Alydian survived her first week of training. Barely. The first day had been exhausting, but the test of their endurance continued. The second day the acolytes were ordered to cast the largest entity they could.
Alydian chose a bear of stone, and under the constant orders of the trainers, she strained to push the bear’s size. Minute by minute it grew before abruptly bursting into dust. All around her the other mages failed as well, and failed again. Under the constant bellowed orders by the trainers they fought to cast more magic. After the silence of the previous day, the verbal assault was shocking and distracting. Each failure was greeted with renewed scorn, and no entity was large enough.
The abuse continued deep into the night until the acolytes were finally dismissed. The following day they cast entities again, this time to battle. The entities smashed into each other, attacking each other in constant, grueling combat. The omnipresent effort to maintain the magic took its toll. Mages began to succumb to magesickness, th
e impact of channeling so much power through their bodies.
Day after day it continued, with the mages struggling to perform the impossible tasks set by the trainers. Time blended into a haze of fatigue and effort, interspersed by moments spent with healing mages.
Verinai and single mages alike crumbled under the pressure and begged for dismissal, which was promptly granted. Alydian yearned to join them but something inside her refused to yield, and only grew stronger when those about her hurled doubt in her face.
The final day of the trial seemed to never end, and Alydian yearned for the sweet release of unconsciousness. Now forced to push themselves physically, they ran around the great chamber with their entities at their sides, occasionally pausing to force the entities to battle. Sucking in great gulps of air, Alydian struggled to keep her entity alive. Matching the minds of their casters, the two entities resembled drunken brawlers, and barely landed a blow as they stumbled about.
When Alydian was on the verge of defeat she saw Holan’s smirk, and her jaw tightened. Then Commander Othan entered and walked among the remaining acolytes, ignoring the stench of sweat.
“A Runeguard could continue all night,” he said.
“Yes, Commander,” they chorused.
He came to a halt before Alydian, whose head was bowed with fatigue. Through blurred vision she could make out his features but could hardly hear his voice. He snorted in disgust and moved on.
“Your day is complete,” he said. “Return to your barracks and assemble at dawn. You may be the worst class of acolytes I’ve ever seen, but you’ve passed the first trial. Congratulations.”
Alydian released her magic and slumped to the floor, as did the others. One of the Verinai caught the wall and vomited, adding to the stench. Another managed a laugh, the sound laced with weariness and relief.
