Soul of the Blade

by Brenda J. Pierson

  The first -taken stopped him. “No. We can’t just kill her. The Mage Gener’l will wanna talk ta her, first.” He glanced around, snagging a scrawny boy by the arm and dragging him over. “Ye go let the Mage Gener’l know we’re comin’ with the Bok’Tarong.” He shoved the boy away even as he turned his attention back to Dragana.

  Aeo’s gaze followed the boy as he disappeared into the sea of people. I know how we can find the Mage General now.

  Dragana smirked. The -taken looked at her, confused by the action. That brief pause while they tried to interpret her smile was all the time she needed. She leapt and cut them down in a handful of strokes.

  Once the -taken were dead, Dragana raised her hood and dove into the crowd. She raced down the street, mingling with the civilians and dodging the guards, trying to catch up to the messenger boy who would lead them to the Mage General.

  Did you see which way he went? she asked.

  Turn left, Aeo replied.

  Dragana did, ducking past a group of children and a pair of women toting baskets of bread and game. Pursuing footsteps echoed off the cobblestones behind them, but Dragana kept well ahead of them.

  Turn right.

  Dragana had to skid almost to a stop to make sure she didn’t miss the turn. This road marched up the hill at a steep incline, and what was left of her momentum was lost. She slowed and huffed as she stretched her endurance to its limit.

  At the end of the lane, she caught sight of the boy as he fled past startled and indignant nobles. She tried to speed up, but she was out of breath and her aching joints were already screaming at her. She wasn’t as young as she used to be.

  The street opened up into a massive courtyard, shaded by huge trees. Stately buildings, some two and three stories tall, surrounded them. A large, stone-lined pond stood in the middle. People dressed in silks and fine linen milled everywhere, glaring at Dragana like she was something they’d stepped in.

  The messenger was nowhere to be seen.

  Where did he go?

  He can’t be far. Probably in one of these buildings.

  Dragana and Aeo scanned the courtyard, looking for a likely place. Inns and taverns would be too easily rooted out. Someone like the Mage General would be recognized by the soldiers stationed here, so he would have to be out of sight. Somewhere he’d be protected from the leftover government, where the king had little to no influence …

  He saw it just as Dragana did. She didn’t even ask, and he didn’t order. She just started walking toward the massive, imposing building of the Mage’s Academy.

  29

  Raeb pulled his sword free and lunged, but Ashwinn was faster. He threw up a magical shield, and Raeb bounced off it as if he’d run straight into a wall. His knees wobbled and his head buzzed from the impact. The tables and lab equipment swam together in his vision. Only sheer stubbornness kept him on his feet.

  Ashwinn was taunting him again. Listening took too much effort. He ignored the mage.

  Raeb’s head started to clear, and he could begin to think again. If only his body could recover as quickly.

  As long as Ashwinn held the shield, he was unreachable. But worse—Saydee was on the other side of that shield, too.

  Raeb had to get through.

  He tried a few quick attacks, hoping to find a weak spot. Nothing. No matter how low, high, fast, or awkwardly he attacked, there was nothing but solid magic.

  And that gave him an idea.

  Raeb sheathed his sword. Ashwinn started a scathing comment on his cowardice, but Raeb ignored him. Instead he reached for Sunray.

  Ashwinn shut up.

  He held the Entana blade in both hands. Sunray froze his fingertips, and he couldn’t stop his grip from shaking. He gathered his strength. Once he waded into the battle of willpower with Sunray’s magic, he would need every ounce of control he could get.

  Sunray was hungry in the magic-charged room, and it begged to be allowed to feed.

  So Raeb let it feed.

  The room filled with icy, magic-seeking motes. For a breath all was still and quiet, like the first surreal moments of a snowfall.

  Then Ashwinn howled as his magic was pulled into the vortex of Sunray’s endless hunger.

  Raeb could barely control the blade. It devoured with abandon, chomping through Ashwinn’s shield as if it were nothing more than an appetizer. In a few seconds Sunray had moved on and begun sucking the ambient magic in the lab, the experiments, and the air itself.

  Soon it would turn its hunger to the lives around it.

  Could he risk holding onto it for that long? If he could direct Sunray’s attention to Ashwinn, would the blade drain his life-force? Raeb smirked. What a fitting end for the Keeper of Secrets.

  Raeb’s smirk faded as he looked behind the mage, where Saydee lay crumpled and still. No, the Entana blade would go for her, first. She was the weakest. It would kill her before Ashwinn was even touched.

  He didn’t dare let Sunray feast any longer. His concentration was wavering, his control slipping. He had to quit before he lost all command over the blade. He gripped Sunray’s power in his mind and pulled it back, pouring the force of his will into the demand.

  Sunray refused to stop feeding. It absorbed the room’s magic, ignoring Raeb’s commands. Terror pounded through his heart and sweat dripped into his eyes. He had to control the blade. He had to make it stop.

  He took his rage at Ashwinn and his fear for Saydee and used it to bolster his resolve. His body was failing, his strength leaking, but he kept his mind sharp and hard as flint. Sunray would not best him again. He was finished with the Entana, finished with the Keeper of Secrets. Once they completed their mission, he was finished with Sunray.

  The Entana blade fought him, but Raeb’s hatred fought even harder. His mind grabbed hold of its hungry magic and wrestled it under control. With a string of vicious curses, he shut Sunray’s magic back into the blade.

  He refused to sag to his knees, but battling with Sunray had left him jelly-legged and dizzy. He sheathed the Entana blade and once again drew his sword. It felt like a giant’s weapon, too large and clumsy for his limited strength. “You always stay out of reach. Are you afraid?” he asked, buying as much time as he could while he recovered.

  “Why would I fear you? You can’t do any harm to me.”

  “Then why don’t you come face me instead of cowering behind your magic?”

  Ashwinn laughed, and there was genuine amusement in his voice. “This is why I’ve always liked you, Raeb. You may not be very smart, but you’ve got a clever tongue. We could have worked well together.”

  “I doubt that,” he replied, starting to catch his breath. “One of us would have been dead by the end of the first day.”

  “Hmm. Perhaps you’re right, for once.” He dismissed what little magic remained and drew the large broadsword from his belt. He handled the blade with practiced ease, while Raeb tried not to cower. Even on his best day, a sword like that could swipe his head clean from his shoulders before he even knew he was in danger. In his current state, it would be a miracle if he survived the first encounter.

  Ashwinn grinned. “Did you hope to cripple me by taking away my magic? I am more than just a mage, my dear servant. You of all people should know that.”

  He charged and swung before Raeb could raise a defense. He deflected Ashwinn’s strike, barely, but the impact of the massive sword numbed his arm halfway to the shoulder.

  Raeb fumbled through the fight like a child playing hero. Ashwinn didn’t even have to try to keep the upper hand. Raeb was so weak and undernourished he served it to him on a silver platter.

  Exhausted as he was, Raeb fell back on his Taronese training. The endless days spent in the dojo snapped into focus with startling clarity. For the first time in decades, Raeb could smell the clean scent of the dojo and feel the wind through the open-beamed ceiling. He heard the masters’ criticism as they pushed for perfection: Arms up! Feet apart! Breathe! Relax! Strike!

  Mor
e importantly, he could feel the emotions he’d felt then, charging through his veins. Those traits he’d seen in Dragana, her passion, conviction, fire—the same he’d lamented having lost to the Entana—came flooding back to him. He remembered why he’d hated the Entana back then, long before he learned to hate them for what they’d done to him. Righteous fury, the desire to destroy evil simply to be rid of it, a longing to be an instrument that made the world a better place to live … it all came crashing back into him. He poured that into the battle and used it to fuel his fighting.

  No new strength filled his muscles. But what he had would be enough. He would make sure it was.

  Moving as much from instinct as memory, Raeb flowed into battle. He met Ashwinn’s blade with his own, forcing it wide. He stepped into the opening, jabbed out with his left elbow, and—missed.

  Ashwinn had bent out of range, and was coming in with a fist of his own.

  Raeb ducked low. The strike ruffled his hair as it flew over his head.

  They danced around each other, on equal footing at last. Each impact of their blades rang through the lab. Ashwinn’s massive sword wreaked havoc on his tabletops, breaking beakers and shattering glassware to the floor. Now Raeb was glad for the lack of interesting liquids and experiments—if anything had been in those containers, they’d have exploded by now for sure.

  Finally, Raeb scored a hit. His sword slashed through Ashwinn’s forearm, a wide gash splitting the muscle. His blood splattered the lab.

  “I have the full power of the Entana at my back,” Ashwinn said. “A scratch like that won’t slow me down.”

  As if to prove his point, he slashed down with such a vicious slice Raeb felt wind from the passing blade. If his shoulder had been an inch further to the left, he’d have lost his arm. He followed that with another strike, and another, never giving Raeb an opportunity to rest.

  Ashwinn showed no pain, even though holding the sword—let alone lifting and swinging it—further tore his split muscles. He didn’t even seem tired.

  Raeb, even with his much smaller sword and as-yet uncut body, was sweating and weary beyond measure. Holding onto the sword was becoming a battle all of its own. Blood and shattered glass kept him from finding solid footing, forcing him to waste more of his waning energy just to stay balanced.

  Ashwinn’s strikes were coming harder and faster, while Raeb was barely keeping up in the first place. The mage seemed to delight in Raeb’s weakness. His eyes shone and his mouth quirked in a maniacal grin. He knew, just as Raeb did, the fight was already decided.

  But only when Raeb was too exhausted to fight, when he’d slipped on the blood and no longer had the strength to stand, did Ashwinn stop toying with him.

  Raeb panted on the ground, numbness spreading through his extremities. Ashwinn watched him for a few heartbeats, gloating in his victory.

  “We have let you live for far too long,” the Keeper of Secrets said. His voice took on a slight hiss as the Entana inside him spoke. “We have suffered your insolence for the last time.”

  He walked forward, placing the tip of his sword on Raeb’s throat. “Which will happen first—will you bleed to death, or will you go mad from the loss of your thoughts? Either way, it will be a delight to watch you writhe. Your death will feed us well.”

  Hatred burned in Raeb’s heart like bile. He wanted to rise and defend Saydee from the horrors to come, to strike down this twisted monster and be done with the Keeper of Secrets forever. He wanted to scream out his rage as he watched Ashwinn die. But he couldn’t summon the strength to do any of it. Even holding on to the hatred was almost too much.

  Shards of glass punctured his skin, adding his warm blood to the cooling pools underneath him. Pain and weariness coursed through him. No matter how much he wanted to fight, he was drained. There was nothing left in him. He was tempted to just lay back and let death find him, but …

  …he wasn’t ready to die.

  Raeb could hardly believe it. After two hundred years of waiting for death, it had finally come for him—and he didn’t want it to.

  30

  Dragana raced through the corridors of the Mage’s Academy. It hadn’t taken them long to explain their situation to the guard at the door, be turned away, then knock him out and enter anyway. A few mages tried to question their presence, but Dragana didn’t slow for them.

  Aeo could feel the taint of Entana here. It pulled at him like a dowsing rod, and Dragana followed it like water barreling down a canyon. He wasn’t sure what kind of Entana activity they’d find—nothing had ever attracted him like this—but it wasn’t going to be pretty.

  -Taken soldiers were waiting for them when they reached the main foyer. They stood in the middle of the gigantic room, while a sea of mages tried to scurry out of the way. Dragana slowed to a walk as she advanced, saving every bit of energy she could for the battle.

  The -taken didn’t threaten her, or banter, or try to stall her. They attacked.

  Dragana was ready for them, fueled by rage and fear and the magic of the Bok’Tarong. Her breath came easier and her joints bent smoothly, strength pouring into her aging muscles as the sword shared her life-force with the enchantment. She flew through the battle as if she’d been born to do nothing but fight -taken.

  They had no hope against her. The only thing they could do was fall before the Bok’Tarong and its bearer.

  Dragana didn’t pause after the last -taken died. She didn’t even look back. She just continued through the Academy.

  The evil permeating the air grew thicker the deeper they went. A few other -taken waited for them throughout the hallways. Each met the same fate as the others.

  After dizzying moments of charging through identical corridors, following the stench of Entana, their way was blocked by a massive gate. Dragana pounded on the wood with the hilt of the Bok’Tarong, sending the impacts ringing through Aeo’s thoughts. After a brief moment, an old mage opened a window in the gate. He didn’t even raise his eyes. “Name, class, appointment, cargo.”

  “Open this gate or I swear I will knock it down on top of you.”

  He looked up at Dragana, face squished like he was sucking on a lemon. He seemed about to spit out a retort, saw the dangerous gleam in Dragana’s battle-crazed eyes, and changed his mind.

  The gate opened a moment later.

  Dragana squeezed through and barreled down the corridor. The air here felt thick with madness and Entana evilness. There was something here, something terrible. Aeo couldn’t tell what it was, but he could feel it in every corner of his spirit.

  We’re close.

  Dragana ran.

  Raeb couldn’t think of anything other than the blade at his throat, Saydee starting to awaken in the corner, and how ironic it was that he’d found the will to live just as he was about to die.

  He held his breath, eyes squeezed shut, heart racing. He would die without explaining himself to Aeo and Dragana. He wouldn’t be able to save Saydee from Ashwinn. The Entana would endure after he was dead, to continue torturing and terrorizing the world.

  Infinite seconds passed.

  Ashwinn should have struck him down by now. He’d stopped taunting, but he hadn’t acted. Not that Raeb was complaining. But what was he waiting for?

  Raeb peeked up at the mage. He wasn’t looking at him, not anymore. He was staring at the door, as if he could see what was happening on the other side. Raeb caught a hint of apprehension behind the smile on his face.

  Then he heard the commotion in the hallway. Shouts of pain and rage, a familiar battle cry, a metallic clatter as a weapon was dropped to the floor.

  The mage glanced down at Raeb and put just enough pressure on his sword to draw some blood from Raeb’s throat. “This should be fun,” Ashwinn whispered.

  Dragana, looking older and fiercer than ever, burst into the room. The Bok’Tarong—Aeo—was held before her, the rosy gold blades shimmering in the light.

  Relief spread like wine, hot and welcome, through Raeb’s muscl
es. “Your timing is perfect!”

  Her brown-and-crimson eyes bored into his, and she pointed the Bok’Tarong at his chest. “You and I are going to have words,” she said. It sounded almost like a threat. Before he could reply, she swung the sword back to Ashwinn. “But you come first, Mage General.”

  Raeb groaned. “Mage General, too? How many identities do you have?”

  “You don’t think I’ve spent the last centuries wasting my time, do you?” Ashwinn chuckled. “Besides, they don’t call me the Keeper of Secrets for nothing.”

  Dragana’s eyes widened and she threw a glance at Raeb. A lot passed between them in just a few seconds. Yes, this was Raeb’s tormentor. Yes, he was the one who’d compelled him to destroy the Bok’Tarong. Yes, he wanted Ashwinn dead as much—more, even—than Dragana did.

  Yes, Dragana would gladly help kill him.

  Dragana charged, forcing Ashwinn to free Raeb and block. As he stumbled to his feet she danced away, placing herself between Ashwinn and Saydee. The girl was struggling to sit up, groaning and holding her head. She looked woozy and disoriented.

  Raeb staggered into a defensive position and leveled his sword at Ashwinn. The point wavered, but he made sure his determination showed on his face.

  Ashwinn looked obscenely pleased as he half-bowed to Dragana. “So nice of you to join us.”

  “As the bearer of the Bok’Tarong it is my duty to stop the spread of Entana possession to the world,” she said. Her eyes, and voice, were as cold and hard as ice. “You, Mage General, have done more to infect the world than anyone else in history. It will be my genuine pleasure to put an end to your tyranny.” She paused for a moment, then smiled. “Aeo sends his regards.”

  “Aeo?” His eyes grew hooded, like he was afraid or suspicious. After a moment his expression brightened. “My dear student succeeded in winning the Bok’Tarong? My, isn’t this a fortuitous meeting!”

  “He says it’s one he’s looked forward to for many years,” Dragana said. Her tone was wolfish.