Severance Lost (Fractal Forsaken Series Book 1)

by Unknown

  “Thank you, Lattimer.” Slate clasped hands with his former rival.

  “We make a good team, Slate. Malethya is changing and recent events have made that only more clear. If we stick together, maybe we can do more than survive. Maybe we can steer things in the right direction…”

  Slate had trouble thinking past the survival part. For now, that was enough for him. He left Lattimer and snuck down the hallway, darting from corner to corner in seemingly impossible spurts of speed. Then he put on his Sicarius mask and jumped through the storeroom window onto the Ispirtu grounds, forcing his muscles to walk at a casual pace. Slate felt exposed amongst all the Ispirtu wizards, but with the mask and his Ispirtu robes, he was able to walk directly into the guardhouse without notice. Tommy and Annarelle were not present.

  The Ispirtu wizard on duty watched citizens pass by the Ispirtu gates alertly, but his eyes passed over Slate in disinterest. Slate looked around for a button or switch for the gate and couldn’t find it. Finally, he decided to wait for someone to enter the Ispirtu grounds. After a few moments of anxious waiting a nobleman approached the gates claiming to have a meeting with Brannon. The wizard concentrated and then shot a spell into a recessed location in the guardhouse wall. Slate felt like an idiot…of course Ispirtu would have a magical gate. That meant Tommy couldn’t have opened the gates unless he did it intentionally. He lied to Slate and was probably in a heap of trouble because of his actions. Blast! There could have been another way. The doors swung open and Slate sprinted through the opening gates. Since he was the first person through, the security orbs registered that someone was leaving and the security orbs activated when the nobleman entered. The surprised nobleman fell to the ground in fear as the security orbs deafened his ears.

  Slate took to the rooftops, looking for the Sicarius headmaster. With his new abilities, he jumped easily from building to building and circled the entire Ispirtu grounds. He stopped to look around and felt a shock stick pressed against the back of his neck. “I see the experiment worked, at least so far as to speed up your ridiculous attempt at stealth. It sure didn’t make you any more observant either. I’ve been tracking you across the last three buildings.”

  Slate shrugged. “It’s tough to beat the best.” A huge boom interrupted Slate’s act of nonchalance and he looked up to see a spell cast in the sky. The spell formed the symbol of Ispirtu high above Brannon’s tower. “Brannon must have just received word of the pending attack. That signals all Ispirtu wizards stationed within sight of that symbol to return and defend the guild.”

  “Let’s leave before they decide we’re a threat. Did you hide the supplies?”

  “They are safely stowed away. Let’s get to Brannon’s estate. My anger at the events in Sicarius is rising and I need to direct it before it boils over.” The thought of the eminently dangerous Sicarius headmaster losing control scared Slate to his core. Finding the identity of the Blood Mage and pointing the Sicarius headmaster in that direction seemed like a great option.

  “See if you can keep up.” Slate jumped from rooftop to rooftop, gaining ground on the headmaster but less ground than he had imagined. The city flew beneath their feet and soon the rooftops gave way to the large estates and manors of Rue Street. Slate stopped on a rooftop with an overlooking view. The Sicarius headmaster was there momentarily. “What’s the plan?”

  “I walk in and take what I want.” The headmaster dropped to a terrace below and then to the ground, walking directly to Brannon’s estate. Slate shook his head in amazement, jumped to the ground, and took up a position at the headmaster’s side. The headmaster looked over at him. “Take off those robes. We aren’t in Ispirtu and I’m not hiding. We are Sicarius and the guardsmen will know who defeated them today.”

  Slate removed his robes and the two last remaining Sicarius Guardsmen walked down the center of Rue Street. The Sicarius mask, normally an instrument of disguise, served as a beacon of warning to surrounding onlookers. Dressed in nearly identical strips and folds of fabric, Slate and the Sicarius headmaster would not have fit in on Rue Street or any other street in Malethya. Estates that had security guardsmen identified the figures as Sicarius Guardsmen and turned into a frenzied mess of activity at their passing. The headmaster paid the guardsmen no attention.

  By the time they reached the remains of the Regallo estate’s guardhouse, the commotion had announced their arrival and they were greeted in the form of six Bellator Guardsmen in a defensive formation. The guardsman in front spoke, sword drawn. “You have no business here. Leave now or suffer the consequences.”

  The eerily alternating voice of the headmaster sent shivers down Slate’s spine. “I do have business here and if you stand in my way, you will be the one to suffer. Step aside while you still can.” Slate grasped his staff and prepared for the coming onslaught.

  “We are trained Bellator Guardsmen. You are outnumbered and armed with sticks.” The guardsman referred to the staff in Slate’s hands.

  “You are dogs trained to protect Brannon without the intelligence to question whether he deserves your protection. Nonetheless, every dog knows when to run from a fight. I hope you have enough intelligence to do the same.” The headmaster looked to Slate. “Give this dog a demonstration of what you can do with your stick.”

  Slate whirled his staff around a few times and flipped the end of it into his palm, pointing it at the guardsman. He inched the staff closer and closer to the bridge of the guardsman’s nose, antagonizing the Bellator Guardsmen into action. The guardsman swung his sword arm to deflect the staff, but Slate reacted with uncanny speed, flicking his wrist so that the tip of his staff connected with the inner, unarmored portion of the man’s elbow. A blow of this nature wouldn’t normally have enough force to slow the guardsman’s swing, but this one ruined the man’s arm, leaving the sword to clatter to the ground and his arm to hang lifelessly below his elbow.

  Slate hoped the demonstration would break the group, but he wasn’t surprised when the Bellator Guardsmen attacked as a unit, with practiced discipline. The Sicarius headmaster threw darts into the necks of two men in the front of the formation, finding the soft spots between their armor perfectly. Slate simply flashed around the outside of the group, immediately flanking them and exposing their unprotected backsides. He swiped two knees in succession, causing the men to crumble beneath their own weight. That left only one armed guardsman.

  The headmaster addressed the woman with the shocked look on her face. “Answer my questions and it will save you a trip to the infirmary. How many guardsmen are inside and are any of them Ispirtu wizards?”

  The remaining guardsman answered quickly. “There are ten more inside and we are all Bellator Guardsmen.” She started to run off, but the headmaster buried a catalpa knife into her heel, tearing the Achilles tendon of the retreating woman.

  Slate looked questioningly at the headmaster who said, “She lied. Sixteen guardsmen await us and three are Ispirtu wizards. Brannon added security after your latest failed break-in. Let’s go say hello.”

  Despite the guardsmen writhing in pain on the front lawn, the estate looked quiet and peaceful. Slate scanned the grounds for signs of any new surprises, but not seeing any made him certain they would find a few along the way. Slate’s eye caught a slight movement from a figure in the shadows of a second floor window. Slate could barely make out a look of concentration on his face in the poor lighting when a throwing knife shattered the glass and the Ispirtu wizard fell through the open window. “The other two wizards will be more careful. Get us to cover.” Slate grabbed the headmaster by the waist and flashed, using his newfound abilities to cover a previously impossible distance. A fireball scorched the earth where they stood, encouraging Slate to continue his escape. He changed directions and speeds in a dash to the guest house, trying to present an unpredictable path for the wizards reigning fire from above. They sheltered behind the guest house as a fireball slammed into the wall, alighting the vacant building in flames.

  The
Sicarius headmaster let out a low growl. “I hate wizards. It’s easier to kill them in their sleep.” A pressure wave from one of the wizards hit the far wall of the guest house and it crumbled.

  The headmaster readied an arsenal of throwing knives and darts. “I located the two remaining wizards and can pin them down. You break for the estate and take them out. Go.”

  The Sicarius headmaster leaned from cover and unleashed a flurry of knives at two second-floor windows. With his targets located, Slate flashed into the front lawn. He kept counting in his head, timing his flashes to come in two second intervals, dodging in anticipation of any spells that might come his way. Seven Bellator Guardsmen poured from the front door, taking up an offensive formation, but Slate focused on getting to the wizards. At this range, they were the largest threat.

  Slate took the most direct route to his first target. He flashed beneath the second story window and jumped. At the peak of his jump he punched the wall with his stonehand, sending his fist a good eight inches into the stone block. Having gained purchase on the wall, he pulled upwards, going high enough to get his foot in the handhold he had created. The flurry of knives around the window frame stopped and the wizard inside looked out to aim his next spell. He didn’t have the chance because Slate jumped upward again, reached the windowsill with his left hand and drove his staff through the open window. The force of the stab entered the wizard, causing Slate to recoil slightly at his act and pull backwards. The wizard fell two stories to the ground below in a motionless thud. Slate pulled himself into the window and tried not think about the blood on the end of his staff. Now wasn’t the time.

  Slate entered a room adjacent to Brannon’s office, but the door burst open before he could gather his bearings. In this confined room, the Bellator Guardsmen would have the advantage because he couldn’t flank the group as he had done on the estate lawn. Instead he met them head-on at the doorway, trying to prevent their entry.

  The guardsmen didn’t strike with sparring blows and Slate didn’t either. The staff found one guardsman below the chin, collapsing his airway. The next guardsman tried to ram him with a shield. Slate flashed to his right, sidestepping the blow, and delivered a punch with his stonehand that crumpled the guardsman’s helmet. In the hallway, a guardsman reached into a sack of exploding orbs. Slate dove headfirst over the guardsman blocking the doorway and landed in the hallway surrounded by guardsmen. Their surprise didn’t outweigh their training and attacking blows were swung just as the exploding orb Slate had been worrying about was removed from the sack. Slate stabbed his staff into the forearm of the guardsman, causing him to drop the exploding orb. Before it hit the ground, Slate flashed into the railing overlooking the great room, crashing through it and falling into the room below. In his wake, a flurry of swords and axes attacked the spot he had stood before a deafening explosion transformed the weapons into shrapnel. The guardsmen didn’t hold together as well as their weapons.

  A pressure wave hit Slate and sent him flying into a great room wall. He had forgotten about the second wizard. …1 Get up. …2 Slate pushed against the floor, propelling himself through the air as a fireball singed the flooring. …1 He needed to locate the wizard before one of those fireballs found its mark. …2 Slate flashed again and stopped just short of a fireball that raced past him. …1 Slate thought it came from Brannon’s office on the second floor. …2 Slate flashed toward the stairs, covering three quarters of the distance in a single bound. No fireball came. Slate looked up and saw a fireball form in the palm of the wizard’s hand. He had waited for Slate to flash before releasing his spell. Slate was a dead man.

  A catalpa hilt burrowed into the wizard’s chest, halting the fireball just as it was being released. The fireball had formed but stayed where it was, lighting the wizard’s robes and falling to the ground along with the dead wizard.

  In the quiet after the wizard fell, Slate realized that the stately manor was ablaze all around him. The Sicarius headmaster emerged from Brannon’s office. “Hurry. Up here. We’ll only have a few minutes before we get smoked out.”

  Slate bounded up the stairs and jumped across the hole in the hallway created by the exploding orb. “Lattimer said the hidden library is at the end of the catwalk.” Slate flashed down there but couldn’t find any clues as to the location of the room…the orbs did their job remarkably well. Slate hoped they hadn’t stormed the estate just to burn the library down and destroy their only evidence.

  The Sicarius headmaster joined him and, reaching into the folded robes, produced a fist full of powder. The headmaster threw it in the air and the small particles floated down and accumulated on a hidden path. “Powder is great for getting past orbs.” The headmaster jumped over the railing onto the hidden path. One more throw of powder revealed the door handle and the headmaster turned it.

  Brannon’s hidden library was immaculately maintained and ornately decorated. Shelves of books dominated the wall space and contrasted with a single table and chair for reading on the floor. Various trunks completed the room, but Slate didn’t open them and risk triggering any traps left by Brannon.

  “Look for documents that refer to ‘spark-dependent spells,’ ‘innovation through weak linkages’ or the like. You won’t find a direct reference to Blood Magic because that name was given to the Blood Mages after their passing.” Slate scanned one section of bookshelves while the Sicarius headmaster found the evidence they sought in a different section. “This describes the creation of orbs. Wizards created them from pure spark and were able to store energy within them.” The headmaster got more excited with each text, or perhaps the rising heat in the room contributed to the effect. “This describes methods of enhancing soldier’s abilities in combat by altering the soldier’s perception of pain. Do you think Brannon tasked Primean with discovering how to accomplish this?”

  “I didn’t get that impression, but it sure looks that way.” Slate was having trouble finding anything of note. All the texts in his section were on history.

  “Here is a biography on Cantor!” Smoke seeped into the room and the heat stifled their efforts. “Have you found anything? Grab what you can and let’s go!” The Sicarius headmaster left hurriedly with an armful of books.

  Slate scanned the bookshelf furiously, seeing nothing he deemed important. The smoke caused his eyes to water, but he continued searching titles, confident there was more to find. Amid the beautiful bindings of the other rare books, the plainness of an unbound manuscript stood out to Slate. He read the title, “An Unrevised History of the Twice-Broken Wars” by Brannon Regallo. Slate grabbed it and turned to leave, but a wall of flame on the catwalk barred Slate’s exit. Beneath him, fire covered the walls of the great room. He was trapped. Panicking, he looked around for any object that hadn’t caught fire yet. In the middle of the room hung a large chandelier, and beyond that the far side of the catwalk wasn’t aflame. Slate jumped, and with his newfound abilities was able to land with his feet near the center of the chandelier. As soon as he landed, he jumped again, but the chandelier’s mount gave way from the rapidly deteriorating ceiling. Slate landed awkwardly on the railing but recovered in time to haul himself over the railing. He coughed and stumbled through the service entrance and into the cool evening air.

  The headmaster was waiting for him. “I warned you to leave. Why didn’t you listen?” Despite the harsh tone, the headmaster hit Slate in the back to help clear the smoke from his lungs.

  After he stopped coughing, Slate said, “I had plenty of time…”

  “Yeah, and I’m sure you had that last wizard right where you wanted him too.” They walked toward Rue Street, where a crowd of onlookers gathered. Upon seeing the two emerge from the burning building, they dispersed immediately, pretending not to have seen anything.

  “It all worked out. How did things turn out with other Guardsmen?” They rounded the corner of the estate and the grounds, riddled with Bellator bodies, came into view. “I held my own,” the Sicarius headmaster said. “Now, we n
eed to find any useful information in these texts, and there is no place safer than right here.” The headmaster propped a large stone of strewn rubble against a nearby corpse, using it as a doorjamb. “Brannon will not waste Ispirtu resources to investigate this incident when Darik is gathering his forces for the assault.”

  Another corpse and stone later and Slate sat beside the Sicarius headmaster. He pulled the manuscript written by Brannon from his sleeve to find it partially damaged from the fire. Nonetheless, Slate needed every piece of information he could get from the document. The flames of the burning estate lit the pages to replace the failing light of day.

  I led a division of King Darik’s army today against a band of revolutionaries. Without wizards in their company I assumed the day would be quick. We positioned our conventional soldiers in the front lines to shield our wizards from the heathen’s attack. The wizards rained fire amongst the oncoming soldiers, but the soldiers fought with tremendous vigor, slicing through Darik’s army so quickly that I had to call a retreat for fear of losing my wizards in direct combat.

  Later that evening, I called the most senior surviving member of the common foot soldiers to my command tent. I questioned how his trained soldiers were routed so quickly against presumably common fighters. He said, “A single man led the charge against us, yielding a prowess with the sword that would be envied by any member of the king’s army. I believe you are familiar with the name of this master swordsman, since he just saved us from the Disenites. Villifor is fighting for the revolutionaries.” I must learn more of this former hero turned enemy of the king.

  The Sicarius headmaster interrupted Slate’s reading. “Well, I think we know that Brannon possessed books that the Wizard Council wouldn’t condone. This one describes the rise to power of Cantor and the glories of his discoveries. It describes him almost as a savior to the people… it must have been written before the later atrocities began.”