by Chris Fox
The dreadlord screamed in rage, sketching a quick blink spell. Nebiat’s bloody form teleported out of the path, and the curtain of disintegration evaporated the wall, the balcony, and part of the level above. It continued outward, disintegrating the wards around the flying palace.
A tremendous wind rushed in through the gap in the wards, drowning out sound, and forcing Voria a hasty step backward. Ikadra pulsed and a bubble of calm appeared around them. Voria looked immediately to Aurelia. The Tender stared defiantly up at Nebiat, her golden armor glowing with power. She held no weapon, but she didn’t need one.
Aurelia leapt into the air and seized Nebiat. They fell together, and Aurelia slammed Nebiat’s face into the ground, ramming her elbow into the back of it. She seized Nebiat by her long, white hair, and slammed her face into the ground again. “You come into my palace.” Another slam. “You poison my goddess.” Another slam. “But worst of all you corrupt my people.” Aurelia slammed Nebiat’s face into the ground again.
“Spare me your heroic nonsense.” Nebiat burst up from the ground, flinging Aurelia away from her. The dreadlord’s dark skin was slashed and bruised, and one eye was swollen shut. “At least they will say you fought before I killed you.”
She wiped blood from the corner of her mouth, then she attacked.
54
THE COST
Voria dropped to one knee, pressing her body against the side of a pillar. She minimized her profile, and made no obvious moves. Ever so slowly, Voria raised the tip of Ikadra and aimed the staff at Nebiat.
Thankfully, the dreadlord’s full fury was fixed on Aurelia.
Nebiat leapt into the air, then blinked fifty meters higher, out into the sky above the palace. Her body shifted, neck elongating as her limbs grew thicker and longer. The last of the dress was shredded as Nebiat assumed her Wyrm form.
She reared a long neck, sucking in a quick breath, then exhaled a cloud of white death at the Tender. Aurelia’s hand shot up, and she sketched a counterspell. It divided the breath in two, shunting it safely around the Tender. Voria shuddered as she heard the all-too-familiar keen of the spirits trapped in that breath weapon.
“Not yet,” Voria whispered, still aiming the staff. She only had one shot at this.
Nebiat dove, streaking toward Aurelia. The Tender leapt backward, but Nebiat’s wings came up and she adjusted course. Her tail shot out, encircling Aurelia’s waist. It looped around her several times, and began to squeeze.
The armor cracked, and Aurelia gave a choked cry.
“This is the end,” Nebiat taunted. The tail tightened again, and the armor over the chest crumpled inward. Aurelia went limp.
Voria aimed the staff carefully, so carefully. “Ikadra, fire the disintegrate.”
The dark bolt shot from the tip of the staff and cleanly severed Nebiat’s tail, just below where it met the back. Aurelia tumbled from the Wyrm’s grasp as Nebiat shrieked in agony. The Wyrm spun to face Voria.
She snarled, her draconic face made even more bestial by the rage. “No! Not this time. You will not survive this encounter to bedevil me again. Your possibility ends here, little mortal.”
Nebiat raised a claw and began to sketch sigils.
“I don’t suppose you can amplify my spells?” Voria asked.
“Of course I can.” Ikadra sounded hurt.
“Then amplify this.” Voria used the tip of the staff to sketch the most powerful counterspell she knew, a third-level. The sigils were infused with power form Ikadra, strengthening the counterspell.
She hurled it at Nebiat’s spell, and gave a delighted laugh when the tiny counterspell disrupted the sigils at the heart of the dreadlord’s spell. It burst into mana shards, and Nebiat shrieked in rage.
Voria pulled back behind a pillar and yelled over her shoulder. “I guess you’re not quite as powerful as you make yourself out to be.”
Nebiat’s reply was drowned out as several golden spellfighters screamed by overhead. Their cannons fired a volley of golden spells, the life bolts slamming into Nebiat. She shrieked, twisting to avoid the last several.
“My work here is already done. Your Tender lies dying. You live, Voria, but will your father? One by one, I will take away everyone you love.” Nebiat dropped into a sudden dive, streaking toward one of Shaya’s lower limbs.
Voria ran to the edge of the balcony, watching as the fighters streaked after her. Nebiat’s titanic form rippled, then was gone. She could have transformed into a small creature, like a native bird, or she could have gone invisible. Either way, the fighters broke off and began to circle, searching fruitlessly for the canny binder. There was no way they’d catch her.
An enormous crack echoed from below. Voria scanned for the source, her heart sinking when she saw an enormous chunk of wood break loose from the second burl. It wasn’t the entire thing—more like a quarter—though that would be slim consolation to the people about to die in the impact.
She clutched Ikadra to her chest, mouth going dry as the wood fell. Spells flashed beneath the burl, then something black streaked into it from below. The burl exploded into many chunks, and their momentum was somehow redirected, flinging them to the ground outside the city.
Somehow, Aran had done it.
“V-voria,” Aurelia called weakly.
Voria gave an agonized look at the path Nebiat had taken. She’d never have a better chance to pursue the dreadlord, and with Ikadra she might be able to end her once and for all.
She glanced back at Aurelia, and sighed. Voria ran to the fallen Tender, dropping to cradle her head on her lap. “I’m here, Mother.”
Voria cradled Aurelia’s head. A clump of the Tender’s lustrous hair, now a dull scarlet, came away as Voria stroked it.
“I—I’m dying,” Aurelia managed.
“How is that even possible?” Voria tried to sound confident. “We’re surrounded by life mages, some of the most powerful ones in the sector. I’ve seen a man come back from the dead. They will not let you go this easily, Aurelia.”
“Normally, that might be true,” Aurelia croaked. Her eyes were dull and cloudy, every breath shallow, probably from the ribs Nebiat had crushed. “N-nebiat poisoned me, and in the process poisoned Shaya. I do not know what she used, but it has rendered all life magic ineffective. I cannot heal, and I strongly doubt the magics that call a soul back to the body will be effective against this kind of magic.”
She paused, struggling for breath.
Voria tried to think of what to say. How did one comfort a dying demigod? Was there something she could or should do? “Ikadra, is there any way we can help?”
“I suspect not,” the staff said. “The poison used could be any number of varieties designed to kill life gods and their progeny. Many weapons were conceived during the godswar, and those spells still exist in forgotten corners of the galaxy. This is one such.”
“I can’t accept this.” Voria’s voice cracked.
“Y-you do not have a choice.” Aurelia gave a weak laugh that turned into a bloody cough. “I am sorry, Voria. For involving you. For your father.”
“He died in that explosion, didn’t he?” Voria said numbly.
“He did. I felt it. I’m sorry.”
Voria closed her eyes, holding back the tears. “It’s just one more debt I owe Nebiat. A debt I will find a way to pay back.”
“I believe you will,” Aurelia whispered.
“Stay with me, Tender.” Voria squeezed her hand.
“I must … cast.” The Tender raised a trembling hand and sketched a fire sigil, then a dream. She added several more of each, and the missive activated. It displayed the royal archives, at the library. “Head archivist Abal, I ask you to stand witness.”
“Of course, Tender.” The dark-skinned man bowed. “How may I be of service?”
“I am dying. I have two matters that will need to be attended to, which have not already been addressed in my will.” She paused for long moments, her breathing labored. “First, the new Tender. Bring Eros to th
e chamber of choosing, and let him be judged. If he cannot be found, or if he is unworthy then Ducius may be judged.” She closed her eyes, her skin going a shade paler. “Finally, I urge you to contact Confederate Command, and Ternus directly. Ask them to read the major’s report about my death, and to reinstate Voria to her rightful rank. She is our only hope of victory against the Krox. C-can you do this, archivist?”
“It will be done, Tender,” he whispered. A tear slid from the archivist’s eye.
“Thank you.” Aurelia closed her eyes, and died.
55
FOOLED YOU
Nebiat’s rage consumed her, to the point where she very nearly sacrificed her own life to destroy Voria’s tiny, fragile body. She flapped her wings once, considering.
No. She would not throw away an endless future for momentary satisfaction. She winged away from the fighters, sketching a blink spell to gain maneuvering room.
The golden fighters streaked above, quickly narrowing the gap. They were nearly as fast as she, and their pilots were fresh. Her confrontation had burned much of her magic, enough that she didn’t want to expend more unless she absolutely needed to. And, much as she hated to admit it, she’d never been this badly wounded. Her tail could be regrown, but only if she survived.
Nebiat dove suddenly, willing her body to transform. By the time she reached the sixth branch she’d become a completely unremarkable raven. She winged toward a flock, losing herself amongst many similar birds.
The spellfighters opened up with their cannons, firing light bolts into the flock. Ravens scattered in all directions, those lucky enough to escape the destruction. The fighters circled above, trying to determine if they’d killed her.
Nebiat zipped into a fern and morphed into a squirrel. Many mages lost cognitive ability while morphed, but Nebiat had long since mastered the improved version of the spell. She hopped up a redwood, skittering up the trunk and into the canopy.
Two of the fighters landed and their war mages stalked into the forest below her. She watched them search, chittering insultingly at them as they scanned the undergrowth with their spellrifles. One even looked up and saw her, then casually dismissed her as a regular squirrel. She shook her head. These mages had just watched as she’d morphed. The idea that she could do it again should have occurred to them.
Amateurs. She scampered down the tree, morphing into human form when she’d reached the ground. This time she used the appearance of one of Erika’s students, an unremarkable girl with nothing about her that might draw attention.
Nebiat walked casually to the closest spellfighter. She trotted up the translucent blue stairs and leapt into the cockpit. It took only moments to close the canopy and bring the ship online. She seized control of the ship, pouring void magic into the spelldrive. The ship zipped up into the sky, winging away from the sixth branch.
Perfect cover. Who would expect her to flee Shaya in one of their own spellfighters?
She glanced at the scry-screen, an amused smile improving her mood. The former pilot of her new ship wore a panicked expression, unsure what to do as she flew away in his vessel. His companion sprinted to her own fighter, but there was no way she’d be able to catch Nebiat in time.
Nebiat summoned a simulacrum, one of her last fifth-level spells. She stepped from the matrix, and the phantom version of her continued to pilot the vessel. She raised a delicate finger and sketched an invisibility spell.
Then Nebiat blinked out of the vessel, suddenly in the naked sky. The spellfighter shot away, roaring into the upper atmosphere. It sped toward the planet’s Umbral Shadow, clearly fleeing into the Umbral Depths. Unsurprisingly, several more spellfighters began to purse.
Nebiat grinned wickedly. Then shifted into her Wyrm form again. She cast a reduce spell, making her no larger than a falcon. She flew toward the House of Enlightenment. There was one more stop to make, one more seed to plant. Then she could be rid of this world, until she returned to destroy it.
56
BIG DAMNED HEROES
Nara was awakened by the vertigo. Her eyes snapped open, and she watched in confusion as the world spun drunkenly around her. She was draped over someone’s shoulder, peering between a pair of armored legs at the ground a kilometer or two below them.
She blinked again, examining the HUD in her armor. Everything had turned red, with some parts of the chest and legs having been greyed out entirely. She doubted the armor would ever fly again.
The person carrying her also wore spellarmor, though hers was a golden set of mark IX. “Ree, is that you?”
The wind tugged away the words as the golden armor dove again. The pilot used their free hand to snatch another figure from the rain of flaming debris. It was Master Eros. He dangled unconsciously in her grip.
“Are you all right?” Ree’s voice boomed over the speakers.
Nara triggered her own speakers, but they fizzled once then died. Nara gave Ree a thumbs up.
“I’m taking us down to the surface, outside the impact site.” Ree dropped lower, circling around the flaming branches. “You’re lucky I was there.”
Nara privately agreed. She didn’t know who Ree was, not outside of a couple bad experiences, but Nara owed her, like it or not.
They finally reached the ground, and Ree deposited Nara gently. Nara sketched the void sigil and the armor reluctantly went translucent. She slipped out, dropping onto her hands and knees, panting.
“Now, that,” Bord said from behind her, “is the nicest view I’ve seen in weeks.”
“You had better not be staring at my ass,” Nara said wearily. She rose to her feet, and offered a hand to Ree. The other woman raised her faceplate, showing the too-beautiful face she’d seen briefly back up in Shaya. “Thank you, Ree. You saved me, and Eros. I won’t forget that.”
Ree stared silently at her for several moments. She was on the verge of saying something, but then seemed to think better of it.
“You and Aran may be a mongrels, but we couldn’t have won today without you,” Ree admitted. She still eyed Nara strangely, and Nara wasn’t sure what to make of it. “Is master Eros magically bound? Does he need to be contained?”
“I paralyzed him, but he’ll be a threat once the spell wears off. Which could be any minute.”
“I’ll keep him under guard.” Ree withdrew her spellrifle for a shoulder harness, and trained the barrel on Eros. She laid Eros down on his stomach, then took a big step back, the rifle never leaving a position where it could fire.
“Who’s your friend, Nara?” Bord asked as he sauntered up. He thrust out a hand toward Ree. “I’m Bord. I’m a good friend of Nara’s, and you said you knew Aran right? I’ve saved his life, like six times. Why just last week alone we—”
Ree’s faceplate snapped down and her rifle swung around to Bord. He grinned up at her, delivering the least smooth wink anyone had ever attempted. “You’re flirting with me, aren’t you? I hear you noble types are into the rough stuff.”
Ree took a threatening step toward Bord and he retreated backward. “Okay, okay. Not interested right now. Maybe some other time. I’ll keep my schedule open.” He dropped his voice to a conspiratorial whisper. “Think I’ve got a chance?”
“No. Where’s Kezia?” Nara asked, scanning the chaos for her. Looking around now she realized it wasn’t as catastrophic as she’d feared. Those weren’t screams of pain or anguish. They were cheers, and whoops of joy. “And why are they cheering?” Maybe they were celebrating still being alive.
“Are you serious?” Bord gave a whoop of his own. “Nara, you guys made everyone here rich. You just rained a fortune in shayawood all around the community. Every last drifter is out there right now, carting off as much as they can. By the time the Tender gets her people down here, all the best stuff will be gone. These people will never have to worry about where their next meal is coming from, not ever again.”
“The Tender! Where’s Aran?” Nara spun around looking for the spellship. She breathed easier when she s
aw it slowing to a smooth landing about a hundred meters out.
The ramp extended, and Aran came limping out first. His clothing was burnt and tattered, and she had no idea what had happened to his armor. If it had been left behind, he must have lost it in the explosion. Behind him came Crewes, who used a piece of shayawood as a makeshift crutch to compensate for his missing leg. Pickus emerged in their wake, shielding his eyes from the sun as he scanned the crowd.
“Aran!” She darted in his direction and he ran toward her. They met in a fierce hug. “We did it.”
“I can’t believe we pulled it off.” Aran picked her up and spun her, then finally set her down.
“Have you heard anything from the major?” Nara darted a self-conscious look at Ree, who appeared to be studiously ignoring them.
“No.” Aran tensed. He looked so tired, and soot caked his face. He shaded his eyes and looked up at the Tender’s palace. “That thing looks like it’s been through a war.” Smoke poured from a giant hole in the side.
Something glittered in the sky, resolving into a glowing ball that approached rapidly. It zoomed down in their direction and came to an instant halt several meters away. The shimmering bubble winked out of existence, revealing the major holding Ikadra. Her eyes were red and swollen, and she didn’t speak.
“The Tender?” Aran asked.
Voria shook her head, a tear leaving the corner of her eye. Nara looked away in embarrassment. It wasn’t like the major to display this kind of emotion.
“Report,” she ordered, with a ghost of her usual primness.
“Nara blunted the explosion so it only took a piece of the burl, instead of the whole thing,” Aran explained. He wiped his forehead, smearing the soot. “Master Erika, Master Eros, and Dirk had all been bound. We were able to save Erika and Eros, but, Dirk…”
“I already know. You did what you could.” Voria’s face was a mask of cold anger, concealing whatever grief might lurk underneath. Nara suspected the major would pay a price for it later. “What else?”
