by Jay Swanson
If one ran an electrical current through the ores, the effect could be amplified. If the Atmosphere was repulsed in a Mage's presence he would immediately go limp. Their bodies were but physical shells for an otherwise metaphysical existence.
The real danger was in the Mage's ability to grow in power as he or she learned to manipulate the Atmosphere and convert it to matter, affecting the world around them. Most people referred to it simply as magic, and it may as well have been, but Silvers had seen enough to know that there was a method behind the madness. He had seen its power first hand at the Raising of the Cliffs among other things.
The entire western coastline had been covered in cliffs. They were made by the Magi in a desperate attempt to ward off an invasion of their own making known best as the Great Defense.
Thankfully, as the treachery of the Magi was revealed during the Continental War that was to follow, MARD was discovered by a professor of chemistry in Liscentia, to the south, that most considered insane. Perhaps the majority held him in esteem. But those who knew about his tendencies to cut himself and drink his own blood considered him insane.
Through the clouds of his madness he had managed to concoct a Repulsion Device which he proceeded to demonstrate on one of the few Magi left behind during the War. He had performed the unthinkable when he walked nonchalantly up to the helpless Mage in front of an Inter-City Council and surreptitiously slit his throat with a small knife.
They had become increasingly elaborate devices, to the point that one could use the casing of mortars or the shrapnel in bombs to introduce MARD just before the rest of the device ripped a Mage's weakened body to shreds.
Many cruel contraptions had been conceived and used, but such was war. Treason, to the scale of the Magi's especially, deserved little mercy.
These devices, however, were incredibly expensive to make and increasingly rare since the Purge. For the past twenty years they had become almost entirely unnecessary and widely forgotten by the current generation.
Silvers stood inside the gate that led to the Cave. Finally alone in the compound, his troops amassed behind him, he pulled a slender black object out of his jacket. Tugging on the end revealed a knife hidden within, sheath and hilt made from one solid piece of material, dark as hate. Every inch of the knife and sheath were covered in dark runes, mystical things that Silvers didn't fully understand. He didn't feel the need to.
The lean, gray haired general sheathed the knife and placed it back in his jacket. Brow set and fists clenched, he began his solemn march up the path, a growing mist gently swirling around his boots. If she knew he was here it was the last thing she would know.
SIX
ARDIN FROZE, HIS hand touching the glass. His father's saber fell from his other hand, ringing off the floor as it bounced and clanged to a halt. His eyes were locked onto hers; blue, or were they green? Bright, clear, sparkling as if energized by some electric force. Every muscle in Ardin's body refused to move, half of his mind gone blank while the other screamed at him to run. Finally he came to somewhat and pulled his hand away, edging backwards to the door. He couldn't take his eyes off her. She was beautiful.
The Witch inclined her head, studying him. He was about to turn and run when he heard a voice, soft and feminine.
“Come closer child.”
He turned in circles searching for the source; it had sounded so close and so clear. His eyes finally rested on the Witch.
“Come closer,” she beckoned again, eyes bright. “I won't hurt you.”
He obeyed. Not necessarily because he intended to, or even wanted to; he was under compulsion. Slowly he closed the gap from fifteen feet to ten, to five. Before he knew it he was standing within arm’s length of the glass again, his hands resting gently on the foot-wide metal strip that wrapped around the center of the capsule.
“What's your name child?”
The voice was in his head, he was certain of it. It was so clear, wrapping itself around his mind and causing the rest of the world to drop out of focus. All he could see was her.
“Vitalis,” he heard himself say, though his mouth never opened. “Ardin Vitalis.”
“Ardin,” she mused, her head tilting the other way as she rolled the name around in her head. “I like that. Where are you from, Ardin Vitalis?”
“Levanton, ma'am.” He figured if ever there was a time to fall back on polite formality now was it.
“And how old are you, dear Ardin?”
“Sixteen, ma'am. Almost seventeen.”
“Sixteen, I see.” Her bright eyes never left his. “You're quite handsome for such a young man.”
He blushed. “Thank you ma'am.”
“What are you doing here, Ardin Vitalis of Levanton?”
“I, well... I'm–”
“You're covered in blood!”
He glanced down; crusted blood mixed with ash had more than ruined his clothes. He looked back up; her gaze matched his own again.
“Why are you covered in blood, Ardin Vitalis?”
“It's my brother's blood, ma'am...” He could feel tears forming in the corners of his eyes.
“Where is your brother, Ardin?” The voice in his head sounded genuinely concerned.
“He's, well he's gone.”
“And your family?”
“They're,” he paused, choking on the words. “They're gone as well.”
Ardin looked at the floor to his left; the events of the day were suddenly catching up to him. He could feel an emotional geyser welling just below the surface, ready to erupt if he didn't choose his words wisely. She sighed empathetically, drawing his eyes back to her own. He just stood there for while, quite uncertain of what to say.
This was all so strange, how did he hear her voice inside his head? How did she hear his?
“Ardin,” she said after the silence had rested a moment. “I once lost everyone important to me as well.”
He tried to say something in response but the words caught in his throat, so he waited.
“My family was taken from me. Did you know Magi had families, Ardin?”
“No ma'am.” In fact, the thought had never crossed his mind.
“Well I did, once. Back when there were lots of us.” She tensed, her eyes flicking to the corner of the room briefly. Ardin hardly noticed. “There aren't many of us left, Ardin.”
“I know,” he responded. “They say you betrayed the Twelve Cities, that you tried to wipe out mankind.”
“There are many stories in the world, dearest Ardin Vitalis, that are far less true than they sound when told with skillful tongues.”
Ardin's brow furrowed as he studied her face. He wished he could see past the mask; see her mouth, if it moved when she spoke. He was certain there wouldn't be a more beautiful mouth in the world.
“Ardin.” The hidden tension reached her tone, she spoke to him intently. “Ardin, you must pay attention, I have something very important to tell you. Something I must give you.”
“What?” he backed away from her suddenly. “Why would you give me anything?”
“Ardin, I've done a very bad thing,” she said. “Something you may never understand, but something I need you to finish for me.”
“What are you talking about?”
“They're coming for me, Ardin,” she continued. “I knew they would but I've seen it through your eyes now, and we don't have much time.”
He tried to turn to leave but this time found he couldn't move at all. His arms shot straight down his sides as he went stiff. Frightened, he tried to look around but found his gaze locked on hers. The room seemed to shrink some and he realized he was floating, rising a few feet off the floor to look more directly in her eyes. White mist began to stream out of the seals that were meant to contain her.
“They took everything from me, Ardin!” She screamed as her countenance changed in front of him, poisoning his mind with malice and malevolence. “They betrayed me, and put me in here to rot as they destroyed everything I loved! Everyt
hing I had helped them to build!”
He writhed internally, trying to escape, but his body wouldn't move. Her eyes began to gloss over, to turn white. The temperature in the room seemed to spike.
“God save them from my wrath, little Ardin!” Her soft, feminine voice had been replaced by the howling screech of a woman scorned. “God save them from you!”
SILVERS KNEW HIS way around the Cave; he had been given a tour of it merely a decade after its construction when he'd earned his cuffs and become a colonel. Every top ranking military official had to know the secure locations around Elandir in case of an emergency. Granted, the lights had been on at the time.
He stopped in the entryway. Someone was here. He couldn't be sure how much damage had been done by the Magess but there were scuffs in the dust on the ground around the doors. His eyes were good in the dark; excellent actually. There wasn't much difference between night and day to the general. It had always been that way.
He slowed his pace. The lab and office were locked, as expected. He wasn't here for anything in either, but it eased his mind that no one could be hiding in side rooms. He edged over towards the open entryway to the experimental chambers. The tests that were run here had been abandoned not long after his first visits. It was rumored the Magess had grown increasingly bitter over the years, which was understandable, and would occasionally be able to break out of her MARD telepathically and incite brawls among the men and women that worked in the Cave.
Needless to say it became increasingly difficult to staff the facility as stories leaked out, and the experiments were eventually dropped.
He checked around the door frame, ensuring no one was waiting for him inside before slipping into the rows of chambers. They were only three capsules deep, but he decided to walk along the wall instead of the set path. No sense being spotted prematurely; he didn't think he needed to worry but preferred caution.
His hand slid silently into his jacket, popping the hilt of the knife loose and drawing it out in a smooth motion. Quiet as a pin dropping on a quilted blanket.
Silvers flattened his back to the wall as he reached the door to Charsi's chamber. He pictured the room in his mind, recalling every dial and nob on every panel and box. He hoped she was sufficiently distracted with whoever it was that had preceded him. All he needed was two seconds to cross the room to the right and hit the Emergency MARD activation on the wall. If he was lucky she wouldn't be able to do anything to stop him.
Why on earth they'd only put one MARD activator in the room with the Magess was beyond him. But he didn't have much choice; it was the only way to render her unconscious long enough to finish what he'd come here for.
He paused, steeling himself, then took a deep breath and dove across the entrance and towards the button. The room erupted in hot white light and mist as an invisible wall rushed to greet him, knocking the knife from his hand and the wind from his lungs.
Silvers came to moments later. He tried to shake the cobwebs out of his vision but found his head and neck were no longer under his own control. This was bad; he'd never been in this spot before.
“Troy Silvers,” his name slid out like a tasteless joke. “Somehow I didn't expect this from you, of all people.”
The voice was stern, in control. He hadn't heard it in what seemed like ages.
Silvers remained silent; she couldn't easily read him and he knew it. Just keep your damned mouth shut, he thought to himself, and this will all be over soon.
“Are you paying attention, Silvers?” she filled his head with her words. He clenched his eyes as if to keep them from being forced out of his head. “Have you forgotten your oath? Your purpose?”
“Times change, Charsi. As does one’s purpose,” he heard his voice respond, curse it! He hadn't had to work this hard to keep his head in a long time and he certainly wasn't prepared.
“So you haven't forgotten me. Though you appear to forget why you were created.”
“Unfortunately I wasn't created in a manner that would allow me the luxury of forgetting your damned intentions.”
“Well I see you haven't entirely lost your character. Though you look far worse than when I made you. Silvers was such a boring man, so straight. I guess that fit your needs perfectly though.”
“I didn't exactly get to choose.” Out of the corner of his eye he could see another person floating like him, though he couldn't make him out. “I suppose I have you to thank for that in the end.”
“Well,” said the beautiful old hag. “You won't need to worry about making choices any longer.”
Ardin had been thoroughly blinded by the sudden flash of light as the soldier tried to storm the room. He couldn't see for a minute or two and was concerned for a moment that he had gone blind. He could hear the soldier's body lifted and could feel his presence to his left.
“Ardin,” her voice was soft again. “We don't have much time.”
His vision was returning; he could make her out as the mist began to clear. He realized that half of it was actual mist flowing about the room.
“I'm afraid, in fact, that we may be too late.”
Ardin could hear scuffling behind him, it was faint but unmistakable. The sound of men unloading heavy burdens into the rooms behind him.
“I had hoped to have more time, perhaps to have even taken you someplace safe.”
The air around Ardin began to get hotter. His heart started to pound again as the mists began to swirl. Beads of sweat formed on his neck and forehead.
“Ardin.” Intensity filled her voice.
Her blank white eyes grew wide. He could hardly tell if she was looking at him or not anymore.
“I have a daughter, Ardin. You must find her, you must protect her.”
Ardin tried to resist her pervading will; wanted to ask her how he would even know this daughter, or how a kid like him was supposed to protect anyone. The heat had intensified though, and he found it hard to breathe as an increasing pressure squeezed him from every angle.
“She will appear to be about your age, Ardin, maybe a little older.” Perhaps the witch could read his mind. “You may not realize it now, but you're the only hope she has to survive what's coming. Men like this are coming to kill her, Ardin. They're coming to kill my daughter and she has no one to help her!”
Clicking noises resounded through the halls as metal latches on crates were opened, Ardin heard men shouting. He closed his eyes. It felt like he'd been dragged to the bottom of a lake. The pressure on his ears was excruciating.
“Ardin, listen to me!” She could tell she was losing him. “Head west! You'll know how to find her. Take her to Caspian. To White Shores, Ardin. Take her to White Shores.”
Her voice was mingling with the sharp pains echoing through his body. It sounded like something about knowing where to go from there. He wanted to scream, to release the pain somehow; it was burning inside of him now. Every muscle and bone and sinew and tendon felt like it was tearing and burning and compressing and exploding all at once.
Silvers had caught a glimpse of the boy next to him in the reflection of the glass of Charsi's capsule. He looked as though he was in a tremendous amount of pain, and the air around him was beginning to glow white hot. He could feel it on his face and hand.
“The hell are you doing Charsi?” he yelled. “He's just a boy!”
“You don't need to worry about that, you traitorous halfbreed.” The venom spewed out of her voice with every hissing word. Her blank, white eyes penetrating. “God I've longed to have you in my hands, to twist you until every bone broke and every sinew snapped.”
He could feel his legs start to twist the opposite direction of his shoulders. This was not good.
“I have dreamed of this day, Silvers,” she spat his name. “Do you even remember who you were? Who you were made to be?”
He could feel his body compress as she squeezed him, his arms flat against his sides and his legs pinned firmly together. His back popped a few times as he continued to twist
slowly in the air. Definitely not good.
“I want you to feel this!” she screamed. “Every goddamned bit! You don't think I saw the knife you brought in here? I recognize those runes, Silvers! I know where it came from. I know what you came for.”
The knife! Silvers had completely forgotten about it, no point in trying to get to it now. His opportunity to put it to its baleful purpose was past. He heard shouting faintly down the hall behind him, something about a detonator.
Oh shit, realization struck him like a snake, the ramifications of it shooting through his veins like venom. Brutus' men.
They were setting charges. This was an unpleasant turn of events on every front. He was trapped; no one was coming to save him. Blinding explosions of pain electrified his spine. He how Brutus had planned to get him in here in the first place. The Brute certainly couldn't have seen this coming. If he had, Silvers hadn't been giving him enough credit all these years.
The boy next to him yelled, loud and deep, an otherworldly noise from such an unassuming frame. He was in excruciating pain; just the sound of it compounded Silvers' own suffering. He gritted his teeth, waiting for her to loosen her grip, just for a moment. All he needed was a moment. She'd spiked him good, he had to admit that, but all he needed was for her to flinch. It was getting harder to breathe.
“I hope you enjoy dying,” he could hear her say dryly. He couldn't see through the pain as it erupted behind his eyes. “Something you've avoided for far too long. Now I wish we'd never made it so difficult to finish off the last of you.”
The mist that had filled the room grew thick, like white smoke, swirling and churning and blocking everything from sight. Silvers could feel it boiling around him. He gasped for air but took none in. His spine began to snap; beginning at the bottom as the disks steadily cracked and ruptured up his back as she poured her malice into him. His mind screamed. He only needed to remain conscious for a few more seconds.
