by Joseph Lallo
Myn took to the air. The towering spider-like creature was moving across the valley with staggering speed, and she knew that it could quite easily be a threat to any of her friends. Slashing and searing those winged beasts foolish enough to face her, Myn climbed high into the air. When the chaos was far below her she turned, tucked her wings, and dove, flames streaming from her gaping maw and fury burning in her eyes. The ponderous, many legged creature lumbered blindly, only seeming to become aware of the dragon's approach a moment before she collided. Tooth and claw clamped about the thick base of one of its legs with the full force of momentum behind them. The shell-like surface creaked, cracked, and split, gushing dark green blood. The beak released an earsplitting wail and the legs long enough to reach Myn began to slash and scrape madly at the dragon's scales. Myn ignored them, working industriously at removing the leg.
Ether's form flickered to flame, anger burning in her mind like never before. To the others these beasts were merely a threat. To Ether they were a personal slight, a slap in the face of all that she embodied. She was nature given form, but these beasts . . . they were creations of another nature entirely. She dipped low, charring a path through the smaller beasts, injuring as many as she could as she made her way to the indigo skinned beast, a very definite sequence of events forming in her mind. She swept below the creature, her blazing touch sizzling against the tendrils that held it aloft. As each one was scalded and blistered it retreated into its barb. By the time she'd passed completely beneath the monster too few tendrils remained. It teetered and finally collapsed to the side, its massive bulk rolling over a cluster of its fellow invaders, crushing them utterly. New glistening tentacles were already sprouting out from beneath it to raise the beast again when Ether landed atop it. No sooner had she done so than she leapt back into the air, searing pain stabbing at her everywhere she'd touched the beast. Her flames flared brighter as she dove for another attack. Again she was repelled. The creature's hide glowed lightly where she'd touched it. The glow then spread and faded. It couldn't be . . . this beast fed off of her energy.
Myranda thrust her staff into the earth and cast a tremor forward. The ice and stone rolled forward like a cresting wave, hurling beasts aside. She sprinted through the wake behind it. The scrabbling of beasts trying to right themselves after being whipped aside and the screech of beasts trampling them to get to her stabbed at Myranda's ears. None of it mattered. Her eyes were focused on a form wading unmolested through the sea of demons, grin on his face. Epidime stood stone still as the wave of earth approached. A flex of Myranda's mind split the rippling earth around him, throwing aside the beasts that stood guard around him. A moment later Myranda stepped into the clearing. A wave of one hand coaxed a ring of stone spires from the ground, walling off the creatures. A whispered phrase supplemented it with a glimmering shield that curved up over them. The pair stood in a personal arena, for the moment sealed away from the rest of the conflict.
“Just the two of us, once again. So this is it. This is all it takes to break you. I spent hours trying to find my way to that last corner of your mind. Weeks trying to weaken you enough to loosen your grip on it, and all of this time I needed but to find your father. One glimpse of him and you abandon everything you believe in,” Epidime remarked.
“Release him!” Myranda hissed, her staff raised and swirling with a spell ready to be cast.
Epidime waved a hand dismissively and the churning magic slipped away.
“For the sake of privacy I will allow the shield and the stone, for now. This is far too delicious a torment to share with the others,” Epidime said, his sinister tone turning Myranda's stomach. “You've more power now than you've ever had before, and what can you do with it?”
He thrust his hand forward. A wave of energy smashed Myranda against the wall.
“Nothing,” he said.
Ivy tried to gather herself. She was afraid. Maddeningly so. The light of it burned in her mind, but she simply didn't have the strength to slip over the edge. Perhaps it was something to be grateful for. Perhaps another time she would have been. It wasn't the towering behemoths that concerned her. It wasn't the rush of unidentifiable forms before her. Monsters and beasts were things she had faced so often in her short time with the others that they were almost comforting. What filled her with fear was the sight of Demont, though even the threat of the horrible things he had done to her and the horrible things he might to do her friends was not what frightened her most. What frightened her most was what thinking of those things stirred up in her. Behind the fear, and growing stronger with every moment, was the hate. A hate that might be strong enough to do what the fear was failing to. A hate that might make her into what she'd been before. A hate that might not let go. The frightened creature backed slowly away as Demont drew nearer. She raised her weapons.
“Get away from me!” Ivy cried.
“You are my experiment, and there is still much I can learn from you,” Demont said. “Now come.”
“I won't! I'm not your experiment. I'm one of the Chosen, I'm one of the ones who . . . “ Ivy began, her voice trailing off and a familiar, empty look drifting into her eyes.
Demont's fingers were wrapped tightly about the largest half of Ivy's crystal. All of her thoughts stopped cold, save for the deepest, least controlled of her feelings. Demont pointed firmly toward the portal. Ivy slowly began to march forward. There was no hesitation. There couldn't be. There was only obedience. Her face twitched slightly.
Lain's blade had been hard at work. The monsters were sturdy, but nothing that they had to defend themselves with could withstand the bite of his sword for more than a few swipes. Despite this, the sheer number of beasts attacking had kept him at a stand still. Worse, the number continued to grow as the flow of creatures dropping through the portal continued. Of course, Desmeres’ blade had more tricks up its sleeve. The gleaming crystals, having filled to bursting on the dark power that dwelled within his foes, were turned to the spell Deacon had identified as strength.
At first nothing seemed to change. He felt as he always had. The weapon felt no lighter. Only when he put blade to foe did the effects of the spell become obvious. His sword passed through the thick shelled horror before him without hesitation, and without resistance. A second and third swipe left the three largest threats in pieces. A quick leap, one that carried him far further than he'd intended, landed him well behind the crush of enemies. His eyes turned to Bagu. The general seemed to be waiting for him.
Twin black bladed swords were raised defensively. Lain leapt again, now familiar with the extent of his strength. The agile assassin soared through the air, pivoting himself and angling his sword. When the time was right he brought the weapon down, the lightning fast motion adding its momentum to his own. Bagu's swords were crossed before him. The three blades met. The air in the shallow valley rang with a screeching far louder than any of the beasts that filled it. A moment later Lain was on the ground. A moment after that the tips of Bagu's swords fell as well, sliced through.
The general lurched back. The weapons he held, weapons that had been able to withstand anything that had been turned against them on a dozen worlds, had barely managed to deflect the assassin's blow enough to spare him its cut. Indeed, the front of his breast plate, already damaged by Lain once, now bore a long new gash. Bagu's flesh had been spared by a hair's breadth. He looked to the malthrope only to see another slash aimed at him. A reflexive bit of magic sent Lain sliding back. In the few heartbeats that the distance had afforded him, Bagu uttered a dark incantation and his weapons were restored. Then he uttered another one. When Lain's weapon met Bagu's again, both blades held.
“You've been given magic, assassin. You think that it will give you what you need to defeat me. I shall teach you how wrong you are,” Bagu hissed.
Lain fell back, shredded a few of the lesser beasts to restore his weapon's strength, and clicked a new spell into completion. Once again it was the world that seemed to be affected, not he.
The writhing mass of demons, the massive monsters, and the General before him all slowed to near stillness. When he moved, Lain almost felt as though he was in water. The air felt thick, pressing against him. He charged in, thrusting his sword forward, but an instant before it made contact the general's weapon shot down, knocking it away.
“There is nothing you can do that I cannot,” Bagu said, matching the spell’s effects.
The general traced an arcane symbol in the air and hissed a few more placeless words. The already dense air took on a tingling, living quality. Lain could feel it begin to burn and tear at him, not via some tangible wave of magic that could be deflected by his weapon, but directly. It was weak now, but each moment it grew stronger. Worse, he knew instantly that the slow onset of the spell’s effects were due to the effects of the spell he'd activated in the sword. The faint and fading glow of the weapon's gems assured him that if he did not cut this attack off at its source soon, he would be fully in its grasp with nothing to defend him. He rushed at Bagu, determined to end the foe before his spell could take full effect.
There was a creaking snap, like the felling of a half rotten tree, and one of the legs of the spider-like creature dropped to the ground. Instantly Myn turned her attention to the veritable thicket of lesser limbs that had been making steady progress at scraping their way through her hide. A blast of flame and a few mad rakes with her claws cost the creature's back nearly its full compliment of waving feelers, the narrow things snapping like twigs. Suddenly a rapier sharp talon carved a shallow gash down Myn's back. The dragon turned to find the monster had coiled one of its primary legs beneath itself and up the other side in hopes of skewering the fire-breather. Myn simply clamped her jaws on the groping point, dug her claws into the half roasted back, and unfurled her wings. The vast sails began to beat at the air, tugging the already unstable creature further and further off balance. The beast struggled to free its trapped leg and stumbled to right itself. All it managed to do was bring those beasts nearest to its feet to swift and sudden ends. Finally the monster toppled over, falling in a slow, flailing arc. Myn leapt free at the last moment and hung in the air as the fragile creature collapsed like a bundle of dry reeds and finally became still as the swarm of smaller creatures flowed over it.
Ether had assumed her stone form and was industriously tearing at one of the long seams along the side of the creature she fought. The beast's hide had withstood flame and cost the shape shifter much of her strength, but the tendrils were vulnerable. That meant that it was the skin and the skin alone that could stand against her attacks. All that she had to do was find an opening, a point of entry. Impossibly, the beast seemed to have no eyes, save the bulbs at the end of the tentacles, and no mouth. Those things that served as a beast's traditional points of weakness were wholly missing. That left her with the task of creating her own, and as stone fingers made slow progress to that end, the entire surface of the creature began to flutter and ripple. Finally the seam split. Ether shifted to fire and took to the air. The other seams were splitting as well and one end of the beast was curling back. Like the blooming of some horrid flower, the beast opened. A bundle of tendrils lashed about inside what could now only be a mouth. Ether rushed inside.
In an instant the monster snapped shut again. For a few long moments there was nothing, then came the sound. The beast seemed to have no means of making such a sound, but still it came, a subdued, hissing, sizzling noise. The sound was accompanied by a glow that began at the seams, brilliant orange. The barbs on its surface soon took on the same radiant glow. Finally the glow became more general, spreading across the beast's skin until the whole of the creature shone a smoldering red color, like a paper lantern. The glow faded as patches of the beast's flesh darkened to black. A blazing orange form, for the moment surpassing even the portal in brightness, burst from inside and watched with grim satisfaction as the blackened husk cracked and crumbled away. The glowing form then shifted to stone and plummeted into the throng below her with the force of a battering ram.
“You should have left me to one of your allies, Ether or Lain. Someone who would have done what needed to be done. Instead you take me for yourself,” Epidime mocked, assaulting Myranda with mystic attacks that, to his mild surprise, she was managing to fend off. “What can you do? The Chosen have not marked this body. Nothing can chase me from it while it still serves my purposes. Considering that my purpose is to torture you, I assure you, I do not intend to relinquish control until there is nothing left of your father.”
“No!” Myranda cried, lashing out.
She held out her hand and wrenched Epidime aloft with her mind.
“I will do . . . what I must do,” Myranda struggled through tears.
“Are you trying to convince me or yourself? Regardless, you are fooling no one,” he jabbed. “You won't kill your own father. He is the last link you have to your life, your history. Besides, you know it would do you no good.”
Myranda scoured her mind for anything she might be able to use to take her father out of the fight. Something had to exist that would render the body unusable for Epidime but would leave it whole. She lobbed sleep, paralysis, and a dozen other spells at Epidime, but she felt them fizzle and die. He seemed to raise defenses against them, one by one, that made the blasted spells useless. Her maddened mind finally came upon something that slipped through. It was clear from Epidime's expression that he was ill prepared to deal with it.
“Well now . . . aren't we the clever one,” Epidime struggled to say.
The effects were subtle at first. Epidime's struggles slowed. He became heavier. As Myranda lowered him to the ground the spell finally took full effect. His complexion grayed. His body turned to stone. After a few moments of stillness, a twisted shadow separated from the petrified form. First it launched itself at Myranda. There came the intense and familiar sensation of the general attempting to force his way into her mind. It only lasted for a moment. Then the shadow whisked away, effortlessly shattering the shield Myranda raised. The wizard rushed after it, willing the protective stones aside to allow her to escape, then forcing them back in place, in hopes of protecting the stone figure of her father left behind.
Ivy had been carefully navigated toward the portal, and was very nearly there. Demont was treating her carefully, as though he was afraid of damaging her. As such, the creatures surrounding her were ordered to give her a wide berth. One creature was venturing near, and was not responding to his unspoken commands.
“Back!” he ordered.
The beast, a small mass of legs and snapping jaws, broke into a run. Demont swiftly retrieved a dagger-like tool from his belt and raised it. The creature collided with the general. Its jaws first closed around the gleaming crystal extractor, crushing it to powder. It then turned and snapped at the crystal in Demont's other hand, but Ivy's blade caught it in the back. Both Ivy and the rogue beast released a cry of agony. The beast writhed and struggled, finally exploding into a burst of wind. Ether launched Ivy back and turned to Demont, but he thrust the crystal that controlled Ivy into Ether's swirling form. The ravenous stone tore at her more intensely than any of the crystals she'd encountered before. She began to shift to stone and stumbled back, taking the stone with her.
The half shifted form lurched away, collapsing to the ground and clawing at the now fully stone abdomen that had closed around the offending crystal. When she finally managed to reach it, she pulled the ravenous thing free. The strength to move quickly wicked away with her fingers still closed around the broken gem. Demont got to his feet and stalked over to the paralyzed form. He pulled the gem from her grip and retreated quickly.
“Destroy it!” he ordered the surrounding beasts.
Instantly the stone form was buried beneath a wave of creatures.
“To the portal,” he ordered Ivy.
She turned, but lingered.
“To the portal,” he commanded, brandishing the gem.
Something was wrong. He looked to the familiar cr
ystal. It seemed less lustrous than it should be, less transparent. Before his eyes it faded to a dull stone color. The same exact color and texture Ether's body had been. An instant later it rushed into a gust of air, accompanied by an identical burst from beneath the mount of attacking beasts. The wind reformed into Ether, madness in her eyes and the true crystal in her hands. She hurled the offending gem with the force of a hurricane, sending the faintly gleaming fragment nearly to the southern horizon. Demont's eyes jumped to Ivy. The creature was herself again, eyes locked on him and darkness sweeping in around her. Before he could manage a command, spoken or mental, the malthrope holstered one of her blades and wrapped her fingers around his throat, hosting him high.
“Call off your beasts or I slash your throat now,” Ivy hissed, the blackness of hate spreading over her, forging her still brandished blade to a needle point.
“If you don't kill me, the others will for betraying them by calling off the beasts,” Demont croaked.
Ivy pressed her blade to his throat, a trickle of black blood dripping down.
“I promise you, it will be cruel. It will be torture, and it will still be better than you deserve,” she growled.
“They will be crueler,” Demont gasped.
“So be it . . . “ Ivy said, a hideous satisfaction in her voice.
She drew the blade slowly, opening the slice ever so slightly. As she did, she saw herself in the reflection on her stained blade. She saw the darkness in her eyes. The madness. She withdrew her blade.
“No . . . no. You aren't worth it. You aren't worthy of my hatred. I will not allow you to draw that out of me. I won't become what you wanted me to be,” she proclaimed.
She turned to the portal, just steps away, and threw him through its border. He struggled to his feet. Above his head was the black triangle, the gateway between the worlds.
