Wren alone had tremendous potential, her indomitable will able to command the raw force of Starholme. Despite all her strength, she was still young and inexperienced. Where Wren’s natural talent ended, elder Damay was a tower of knowledge and scholarly finesse.
The note thrumming in Bannor’s mind rose to a high clear peel, that made the skin on his arms and the hair on the back on his neck stiffen. A glow shot around Wren, Damay and himself as Eternity’s power came crashing through their bodies in a riveting strength.
Damay and Wren gasped, backs arching and eyes going wide. Bannor focused on keeping the tremendous power of the two ascendants balanced and in focus. The skin of the two women had grown hot under his hands.
Wren looked back at Bannor. Her expression was one of awe and concern. “Are you okay?”
He blinked, and drew a breath. “Y-yes. It—It’s a lot.”
Damay rocked her head back. “It feels—good.” She let out a breath. “Brother Bannor, you need to bring yourself more into the synchronous or the bleed-over from us will hurt you.”
“I’m afraid if I add my power it will burn us up!”
“Worry not,” Damay said with a knowing smile. “I can feel enough of you and Wren now to keep it under control.”
His brow furrowed. “Are you sure?”
She nodded.
“Okay.” He closed his eyes and stared into the combined patterns and began weaving his own threads more tightly through theirs, bringing the three of them closer and closer to a single unity.
Fire seemed to burn on his skin, and a warmth filled his chest. The ache he had felt from trying to keep the two powerful ascendants restrained waned to be replaced by a euphoric elation similar to when he had first been transformed. He felt and saw the threads of reality spinning around them as well as the colors of force and energy weaving in and out of Damay and Wren.
“Ah!” Damay made a moaning sound. “Yes, Brother, very—” She shuddered. “Very good.”
Wren swallowed. “Mmmf. Hard—hard to focus.”
He blinked. “Vanidaar, are you ready?”
“Ready, Bannor,” Vanidaar answered, his face set and brow furrowed.
Bannor steeled himself; four ascendants in a synchronized coven. Without Damay and Wren bracing him, he didn’t think he could hold a third. Drawing a breath, he focused on Vanidaar, and dove into the ascendant’s threads, gathering his pattern into the unity.
As the power struck through him, he faltered, and Wren and Damay, now aspects of Garmtur reached out and steadied him. Little by little he threaded his nola through the red-haired ascendant, and the Kul’vita through Wren and Damay. While the two force savants were raw strength, the Baron was the pulsing potential of all the life energies around them.
As the four of them moved toward becoming one, his senses expanded, adding the perceptions of the life savant to his own. The spirit energy of room’s occupants appeared in his vision as globes of potential all around them. Further off in the corridor and then spread out through the citadel. Collections of motes that must be the Kriar Daergons, the Baronians, and their creations were gathered in pockets throughout the vast structure.
As he pushed that enhanced awareness through the other three minds of their unity, he felt Vanidaar nodding. Wren and Damay, tempered that awareness, seeing those far off globes as sources of force—force they could touch and tap through the Kul’vita’s mastery of life energy.
“Whoa,” Wren breathed. “All the people, I can feel them—even our enemies. Dad, what now?”
“We are about to make their strength ours,” he told them. “They will have a choice. Stay in the citadel and be fuel for us, or leave and save their lives.”
“Or come at us to make us stop,” Bannor said.
“Aye,” Vanidaar said. “Are you ready?”
Bannor nodded.
Wren and Damay looked at one another. They both drew a breath and seemed to focus. Both gave their assent.
Vanidaar turned his attention to Czar and Ziedra. “Are you prepared?”
The eternal raised his head. He stepped behind Ziedra and put his hands on her shoulders. The savant of magic’s eyes already glowing fervently, flared and a purple illumination spread out from her.
“We are prepared,” they intoned together in a blend of voices, that made the walls resonate with their power.
Vanidaar raised his chin, then spread his arms. A purple shield like the one around Czar and Ziedra spiraled into being around the four of them. “Let our enemies feel the sting of their aggression.” He tightened his hands into fists one finger at a time and then pulled them to his chest with a jerk.
As the red-haired ascendant’s palms struck his skin, Bannor felt threads of magic spin outward, striking through the walls and magic around them. The air hummed and the atmosphere itself shuddered as reality itself seemed to flinch from the will that Vanidaar exerted.
Wherever the threads of the Kul’vita found enemy life, they struck and clung. In heartbeats, what started as infinitesimal lines swelled into cords as the life-forces of the Baronians and Daergons were leeched into their coven.
In instants, Bannor’s body already superabundant with power seemed ready to burst as the spirit energy of hundreds of crashed into him and the others. He heard Wren and Damay gasp, and saw Vanidaar lurch. With a groan, the savant of life swung his arms wide and shared their stolen bounty, sending golden sparkles of pure life energy speeding into every ally nearby.
Through the infirmary, injured valkyries, Kriar, Shael Dal, and Felspars all stirred as fatigue and injury were dispelled by the massive influx of healing magic. Vanidaar did not stop, treating each body around them like vessels for the energy. Filling each one in turn, giving preference to the immorts who could hold more, but charging each defender to their maximum before shifting to the next.
Every injury in the infirmary was gone, and all the valkyries, Kriar, Euriel, Loric, Cassandra, Desiray, Dorian, the King and Queen and a few others charged until they glowed before the first reprisal hit the outer defenses. The thunder that shook the citadel walls testified to how much the enemy disliked this new tactic.
“That’s done it,” Czar growled, brushing back the long tail of his hair. The eternal raised a hand and gestured, sending a streamer of red magic into the air as the ground shook again. “You seem to have gotten their attention.”
Eyes glowing with power, Loric hooked a finger toward Euriel, Cassandra, Kalindinai and then to Dorian. “Let us back up Czar and Ziedra.” The five mages joined hands, and then Loric and Cassandra each took one of Ziedra’s hands.
The savant of magic smiled. “Mother and Father, this is great, we get to work together.” She winced as the ether shuddered under a powerful strike that made the whole room seem to shimmer and flux. “Ooof. I think they’re really starting to feel it now.”
The five mages chanted, adding their strength and skills to the eternal of magic and the ascendant of magic. Vanidaar made sure that their coven never lacked for power, even as he continued to fill every available form within reach with the Baronian’s and Daergon’s energies.
Bannor’s thread senses allowed him to perceive the frenzy of enemy activity as they oriented and tried to counter Vanidaar’s attack. He felt and sensed the defenses they put in place, and felt Vanidaar use his portion of the garmtur to twist and circumnavigate their efforts.
“Keep alert,” Vanidaar murmured. “They aren’t desperate yet.”
Out in the halls, Baronian dreadnaughts, elites, and regulars backed by the Daergons crashed into the defenses shored up by the eternals. Through his shaladen, Bannor tracked the battle. Gaea, Bhaal, Garn, Aarlen, Quasar, Eclipse, Daena and a newly appeared Idun, and her two dragons, Tymoril and Kegari formed the core of the eastern front. Backed by valkyries, Kriar and half the allied Baronian women and several of the T’Evagduran subnet, they not only stopped the assault but pushed forward, as the enemy lost strength to Vanidaar’s attack.
His mind flicke
red to Sarai. She, the King, Janai, and Ryelle stood on each side of the room, shaladens out and ready. Sarai felt his attention and he felt her give him a telepathic kiss, a warm hum that started at his lips and spread through his body.
“They’re bringing up more troops,” Czar said. “Are you going to be able to handle it?”
“We shall—persevere,” Vanidaar gritted, his eyes like flames from the power they were channeling. “We are running out of recipients for the energy though.”
“Send it our way,” Loric said. “Let us worry about channeling it.”
To punctuate his statement another ground-shaking impact made the whole castle seem to flicker. Czar and Ziedra winced and staggered.
“It—it—is—a great deal—friend Loric.”
Another blast made the people in the room stagger and grip their heads.
“Daar, just hit me,” Loric said in a growl.
“As you—wish,” Vanidaar responded. He leveled a fist and aimed it at Loric.
The blast of power knocked Loric back a step. The powerful elder grunted and perspiration immediately poured down his face as the other members of the coven rose to their toes as the spiritual energy of hundreds pounded into them.
“Isis—eyes,” Dorian gasped.
“Goodness,” Cassandra breathed.
“Des, Eviria, Darin, Radian,” Loric ordered. “Pick a partner and anchor them.”
The white haired guildmistress and her children each took up positions. Desiray with Cassandra, Radian with Dorian, Eviria with Kalindinai, and Darin’Kel with Euriel.
“Dammmn…” Kalindinai growled. “I can’t—can’t form bindings fast enough to hold it!”
“Cross pattern,” Dorian gritted. “Spread the slack!”
“Ladies of the Chosen,” Loric rumbled. “Searga, Varthane, Shal’kar… We need you. I know you don’t know—magic. Spread out—take each of us by the shoulder, you will learn what we need of you.”
Looking at one another, the four Valkyries and three Kriar, previously injured in the battles, spread out one to a mage.
As the seven immorts moved to their task Bannor was forced to focus again on their union by a blast of pain that made the four of them reel. A tangle of ethereal and spiritual threads tangled in the space around them, the defenses erected by Damay, Wren, and Vanidaar blocking the immense thrust and fending it aside.
“Aieeouch!” Wren grimaced. “What was that?!”
“It was unpleasant,” Damay murmured, holding the side of her head with a jeweled hand.
“Some kind of soul magic,” Bannor murmured. “Whatever that purple shield was that Vanidaar put around us, kept it out.”
“It was—skharvarren,” the red-haired ascendant gritted. Sweat glistened on his face, as he kept the flow of magic moving, pushing it toward Loric for their coven to distribute and dissipate.
With the Kriar and Valkyries adding their bodies to the union, Loric and the others were struggling, but managing to keep up. Each of the mages glowed like beacons, their hands upraised and voices raised in a constant chant. Breathing heavily, their anchors stood with heads leaned back, skins glistening with silvery moisture that glowed.
He blinked. The anchors were actually perspiring magic! By some complex ritual Loric and the others were liquefying the magical energies.
Bannor’s attention was jerked back as another blast of skharvarren twice as strong as the last smashed against their defenses. Molten pain ran through him. It felt like something had pinched him in a vice. Damay and Wren groaned.
“Dad, we’re topped out,” Wren groaned. “May and I don’t have any reserve left! If we shunt the power, it’ll tear everything to pieces!”
“Loric,” Vanidaar gasped out. “We—need—some intervention. The next one will get through!”
“Working on it!” Loric rumbled.
“I am locating the source,” Czar’s deep voice assured them. “I have Koass and Nethra looking as well.”
“Your tactic is working, Daar,” Jhaan said, “They can’t get enough bodies crammed into range to block it. We’re pushing them back. You have to keep it up.”
“We’re—trying!”
“Too much of me focused on holding you together,” Bannor gritted. “I could find their threads—”
“Trust the others!” Vanidaar interrupted. “Stay focused, keep us together!”
Bannor turned his attention back to their task. Watching the threads of the enemy, they had piled up against the three battlefronts as Koass intended. However, just driving back the enemy did not get them out of this mess. They needed to divest them of the genemar—that posed the biggest threat.
The ascendant of life’s tactic had been well considered. The Baronians lived to fight, and backing down from a battle was not something they did easily. That reticence kept them engaged far longer than was wise. Weakened by the ascendant coven’s life drain and facing defenders now buoyed on a constant influx of healing and revitalization, they were being shredded.
Come on. Get desperate. The key move in this whole battle was to make the Daergons so concerned with the battle’s outcome that they struck with the genemar to turn the tables.
He felt Wren, Damay, and Vanidaar hoping with him. He sensed Daena’s ferocious whoop as she plowed into an ever weakening enemy. From another part of the castle Azir strove with gleeful abandon, seeing the tide shifting in their favor. Sister Ziedra exulted in the pure focus of magic, realizing a dream, hand in hand with some of the greatest mages in the realms fighting a legendary duel of wizardry.
Come on—crack. In his mind’s eye, something flared just out of the range of the Vanidaar’s attacking enchantments. A burst of intense magic that made him wince.
“Brace!” He yelled. At the same time, he spun the thickest threads he could manage, boring into the floor at their feet and through the ceiling into the sky.
Despite the dozens of magical shields erected around the chamber, the titanic barrage barely slowed, slamming through in a cascade that made the chamber flare star bright.
Wren and Damay screamed in pain as they were overwhelmed by a force that had to be something created not by dozens or scores but hundreds of Baronian mages gathered into a gigantic coven.
With an instant’s warning Bannor did the only thing he could think to save the others. He broke the coven, knocking the three of them away and let his body and the anchor thread act like a metal rod in a lightning storm.
In the last instant before the devastating strike hit, he did something he had not done in a very long time.
I wish…
He unleashed the reality-bending power of the garmtur, willing himself to be a perfect conductor for the magic, to allow the attack to pass through him and away from his family, friends, and loved ones.
Pain. In the tendays, and scoredays since the Garmtur first manifested in him, he and the agonies of the flesh had become all too familiar. This hurt. It hurt in so many ways that it was impossible for his mind to catalogue it all. He was being shredded, burned, crushed, and turned inside-out as a miasma of destructive soul magic, urged by a thousand alien wizards, crashed through him a screaming torrent.
Even the best conductor had limits, and the colossal attack simply went beyond all physical limits. Amid the conflagration, he felt himself melting.
He heard Sarai’s shrieks of terror. Wren and Damay’s gasps of dismay, and Vanidaar’s yell of frustration.
Even as he folded in upon himself, he focused on one thing… to push a flaming hand toward the source of his pain. He raised the invincible shaladen and stabbed it into the sky, imagining it thrust into heart of his enemy and sent every iota of the power raging through him into that target.
His last thought was to give his love and their unborn a kiss before collapsing down into nothingness…
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* * *
Chapter Twenty-Three
I always found Wren to be an interesting
study subject, but that
boy, Bannor—
fascinating. I simply must find
a way to get a little private time
with him…
—Cassandra Kel’Ishtauri Felspar,
Master Archivist of Isis
Death. In recent days, the meaning of it had changed for Bannor. Under the right circumstances, having a body destroyed was little more than an inconvenience. That was the absurdity of it all—as if any ‘right’ circumstance existed for your flesh to stop being alive. More absurd to see your body dying and bail out of it before the loss of consciousness kept you from being able to unbind your essence from the core tao.
However, that was his monstrous true nature, a creature of pure-life that wore flesh the way mundanes wore clothes.
As he floated in the featureless white void, he could only think that something hadn’t gone quite according to plan. He had perception—thought, but no impression of incarnation or sensation. Around him lay only emptiness without a sense of scale or perspective.
In the last fractions of an eyeblink, he had thought to unbind himself. One of things about the Garmtur that had been noted by the other savants was his ability to skip beats of time in moments of crisis. Still, it happened so fast.
They thought themselves so clever, forming a coven and using Vanidaar’s magic. Apparently, it had been what the Baronians were waiting for—for them to gather enough power into a single target to use the weapon they had been holding in reserve.
The Baronians had almost succeeded. At least, he didn’t think they succeeded. He thought he recalled the backlash channeling out through the shaladen as his tao was wicked away by a staggering amount of magical force.
No way to tell now.
So, was this death for a savant? To be a spirit that went on for eternity without hope of sight, sound, smell or any other sensation? It was an end almost too cruel to contemplate, to forever exist alone with nothing but his memories.
However, contemplating it was all he could do. He felt no sense of time other than the subjective events of his thoughts tumbling one over another. Just a grand nothingness in which to laud the good things he had said, and regret the ones he had never managed to bring himself to say.
Reality's Plaything 5: The Infinity Annihilator Page 36
