She knew the moment she was free of the void. The line of demarcation was strict - one moment she was blocked, the next she had access to everything: her magical senses, her ability to control water, her connection to her element in all its myriad forms. She didn’t slow her headlong flight, however. The re-ignition of her magic gave her renewed confidence but she didn’t want to face the djinn even though she understood Sorial’s process for destabilizing them. They were too dangerous, the outcome of a confrontation too uncertain. Her first priority was returning alive to Sorial. Everything else was secondary.
The attack was sudden, violent, and took her unawares. It wasn’t the blast of fire and heat she was half-expecting and was prepared to defend against. Instead, a rush of air slammed into her with the force of a physical blow, knocking her to the ground and stealing the breath from her lungs. She lay there dazed and gasping like a fish out of water. Then, as reason returned, she realized that, although she was inhaling, no air was being drawn in. Panic threatened as another gust of wind scooped her off the ground and tossed her like a straw doll into the trunk of a large tree.
Bruised and blinking back the black spots that danced across her vision, she slumped to the ground. But, if she had learned one thing in the library, it was that she didn’t need air to breathe. So, blocking the pain and panic, she focused on the miniscule droplets of water all around her and within her body to compensate by providing her blood with the nourishment it needed. It worked surprisingly well but it was a delaying tactic. The brutal pummeling didn’t let up. The swirling bursts of air tossed her around the forest like a leaf caught in a whirlwind. She tried desperately to form some sort of shield but there wasn’t time and her ability to concentrate was being eroded by pain. Her head struck something - a rock or a tree limb, she didn’t know which - and she nearly lost consciousness.
At that moment, with the world tilting sickeningly, she caught a glimpse of her tormentor, hovering some forty or fifty feet above her, below the treetops but safely out of reach. It was Ariel, but Alicia had known that from the start of the attack. How she had become free from her imprisonment was a question for another time. The trap had been effectively laid: chase her out of the void by using the djinn and have The Lady of Air waiting on the other side. Alicia, unschooled in strategy and tactics, had allowed it to proceed as planned. The only thing remaining was her imminent and seemingly inevitable death.
Desperation - just about the only thing she had left in the midst of this hopeless situation - gave her a last surge of strength and clarity. She couldn’t fight. Even if she had possessed the requisite skill to challenge Ariel, she was too physically depleted by the battering to be able to stand against her in a duel. Flight was also not an option. Although Ariel hadn’t yet struck the killing blow, instead opting to toy with her, there was no respite between attacks. There was only one solution and Alicia implemented it, unsure if it would work. If it didn’t, she would die here in a forest half-a-world away from Sorial. She wondered if he would feel it when it happened. It took only a fraction of a second, less time than the blink of an eye, and then…
Her magical senses winked out. Her capacity for feeling the water all around her vanished. Air rushed back into her lungs and she took a heaving, involuntary gulp of it. All at once, she felt dizzy and queasy, and the pain, which had somehow been muted by her magic, ripped through her with renewed intensity. But in the back of her mind, she knew: it had worked. It had actually worked.
Alicia missed the shriek of surprise but she heard the sickening thud of an impact no more than ten feet away. Without looking, she knew what it was and, despite the situation, she felt a pang of sadness. Ariel had deserved better. They all did, even Justin. Alicia knew Ariel’s history and, regardless of her recent actions, she hadn’t warranted such an ignominious end. A statistic from one of Kosterbus’ volumes came to mind: Although it is technically possible for a mage to die abed with a wench by his side, it almost never works that way. More than 90% of us perish in the application of our craft, and many in gruesome ways. By his very nature, the mage is not destined to die a peaceful death.
Alicia struggled to her feet, every inch of her body sore. Lacking her ability to diagnose and heal injuries, she couldn’t tell if anything was seriously wrong, like blood seeping into her inner cavities or a punctured organ. If there were broken bones, there was nothing she could do about them. Sorial had shown that to be within his purview. Odd how the rules of healing worked.
Ariel lay not far from her, the twisted wreckage of a body. When Alicia’s new void had sprung into existence with the plugging of the closest conduit, Ariel’s abilities had failed while she was forty feet above the ground. There was a lot of blood but, surprisingly, Ariel was still alive… if only barely.
Alicia knelt beside her. She tried not to look too closely at the shell of the older woman’s face - it was a stark reminder of what awaited her if she lived that long. Sorial had described Ariel as a comely child and, judging by Kara’s looks, it had probably been true. But it had been a long time since anyone had looked on these features and called them “beautiful.”
Her lips were moving, as if she was trying to say something. A final curse? A plea for forgiveness? All that emerged, however, was a bloody froth, crimson bubbles that popped and dribbled red down her chin. The light was dying in her eyes as the essence of what made her human retreated from the broken vessel that could no longer contain it. There was nothing Alicia could do for her. To remove the void and access her powers, she would have to travel outside it. By the time she returned, Ariel would be dead. The injuries were so gross that Alicia didn’t think she would have been able to do anything even with access to magic.
It didn’t take long for the end to come and Ariel exhaled her last, halting breath with Alicia squatting beside her supine body. After that, the chest no longer rose or fell. The eyes were sightless. Sorial’s sister became the first of the new wizards to pass beyond this life. A position was open. Air awaited its new Lord or Lady.
Once she was certain of Ariel’s demise, Alicia rose and made her way as quickly as she could toward the cliff’s edge overlooking the water, then followed its unpredictable, irregular curve to the north and west. She didn’t dally, having no idea what the djinn were doing and how far behind they might be. Because of her created void, she was once again vulnerable to them and, unlike when she had fled their attack at the library, she was no longer capable of running or even walking fast. He left ankle was either broken or badly twisted and her hip was in agony. Hobbling was difficult, requiring frequent rests. On more than one occasion, she considered crawling, but her bruised and bleeding hands were too sore to support her weight.
Eventually, she reached the edge of the void and was able to use her water-sight to examine her injuries. Most of the damage, including bleeding inside, was repairable, although two broken fingers and one broken toe would have to heal on their own. There was a hairline skull fracture but she didn’t think it would present a problem. She did what she could for the ankle sprain and hip bruise, leeching away much of the pain in the process. She was also able to soothe some of the most severe all-over body soreness.
She considered removing the void. She could sense how it might be done. The reverse process was more difficult because it had to be accomplished from without since strands of magic would fall apart once they entered the restricted area. Ultimately, however, it wasn’t more complicated than pulling the stopper out of a bottle. Since Alicia was privy to its location, only she could remove it. She elected not to.
With Ariel’s body lying in the area encompassed by the void, Justin would have to come personally to verify her death - if he was able to. He almost certainly had an ever-burning fire that allowed him to travel to this continent at will; if that fire was inside Alicia’s void, he would be sealed out. Then, if he wanted to come, he would have to do it by ship, or perhaps on the back of his dragon.
It was time to go. Past time, perhaps. She wonder
ed if remaining here had caused the library’s destruction. The conflagration had been intended to eliminate her or drive her to where Ariel could accomplish what she had proven unable to do. If she hadn’t been here, would Justin have turned the world’s greatest treasure-trove of magical knowledge into a giant tinder box? It didn’t matter now but she knew that, if she lived long enough, it would loom as one of her greatest regrets - not only for what she had lost but for what all future wizards would never be able to explore. Some of the documents in the library were copies but many, including Kosterbus’ works, were lost to the future.
She gazed over the cliff’s edge at the roiling surf below, crashing as it had for thousands of years against the seemingly unyielding rock, gradually wearing it away by means of time and patience. A small smile crinkled the sides of her lips. That’s how it was with her and Sorial. She had wanted him long before the idea of them being together had occurred to him. It had all been a matter of persistence.
She removed her clothing since it would be easier to navigate the long swim without the encumbrance of garments. Then, circumscribing a long, sweeping arc, she dove from the cliff, arms extended in front and toes pointed skyward, gathering speed as she plunged toward the frothy whitecaps and sharp rocks. She used the water to cushion her fall and protect her from injury in the surf. Moments later, she was fully immersed in her element, a mermaid with legs leaving behind this foreign place and heading back to a homeland on the precipice of ruin.
CHAPTER TWENTY-FOUR: THE MANIPULATORS
Damn and blast! Ariel was dead. It was the only explanation that made any sense of the deafening silence emerging from the other continent. No contact now for several days. Nothing from the djinn and, more importantly, nothing from Ariel. The fire creatures were still alive - they were returning to him via the long way of conventional travel (to the extent that the djinn’s version of travel could be called “conventional”). But of Ariel - no sign. Her signature had vanished into a new void and was yet to emerge. In Justin’s opinion, that could mean only one thing. Damn and blast!
Viewed from a strategic perspective, this wasn’t a serious or significant loss. Ariel’s abilities had degraded to the point where her impact in the war, if any, would have been minimal. She no longer possessed the raw power to influence a battle. There came a point in a wizard’s cycle when experience was no longer enough; Justin feared she had reached that point in a confrontation with Alicia. A case could be made that, over the years as a result of bad decisions and overaggressive behavior, she had done more harm than good to his cause. Her handling of Sorial had been a prime example of that. If she had only told Justin about him when he was a boy, before he had entered the portal… but dwelling on the “what if?” questions never did anyone any good. The past was unalterable; the present allowed him to shape only the future. If he focused on the positives, at least now he could replace Ariel with someone more malleable, although the inauguration of a new Lord of Air would have to wait until the North was won. Magically speaking, he was perhaps now outnumbered, but the djinn and the dragon more than compensated for any numerical disadvantage.
The thing he would miss about Ariel was her companionship. It was lonely being a wizard, especially one with a goal as tightly focused as his. Power was a cold bedfellow, as insubstantial as a shadow, as hollow as an echo. Even if he could find someone who wasn’t intimidated by him, he had no time to cultivate friendships. Until now, Ariel had filled a valuable role. He had been able to confide in her and plan with her. Admittedly, she hadn’t been the same since her imprisonment. That experience had broken something vital within her. But now, it appeared there was nothing left - not even a shell of the person who had stood by him for nearly two decades. On that distant continent, he had lost more than a valuable general. He had lost the person he had come closest to loving.
What had happened? He didn’t know, although he could make some shrewd guesses. Apparently, the elves had created a secondary void surrounding Ariel, knowing it would contain any threat she represented. The location was doubly unfortunate since it encompassed the area where Justin’s ever-burning fire was situated - unless the void was lifted, he could no longer visit the continent at will. Of course, with the Yu’Tar Library destroyed, there was no purpose in going there anymore. Ariel had been physically frail and any kind of physical confrontation without a magical component, such as the one Justin had engaged in with Alicia, would have meant her end. A germane question was whether The Lady of Water had survived. Not knowing her signature, Justin couldn’t be sure. However, given the good fortune thus far displayed by Alicia and Sorial, he wouldn’t wager against her continued existence. Those two were more slippery than slime-coated slugs. Damn and blast!
Still, it didn’t make a difference. His plans for their demise at Obis hadn’t relied on Ariel being successful - such an approach would have been shortsighted and foolish, and Justin was no fool. He had been planning this campaign for over a decade; all the variables had been considered, even unfortunate ones like Sorial and Alicia. One wizard or two, it didn’t much matter. The strategy was the same and Alicia wasn’t experienced enough to force him to make wholesale changes or accommodations. The greater concern was ensuring that his army was at maximum strength. The infantry was the key to a victory at Obis in a way they had thus far not been. At Vantok, they had represented camouflage for the true attackers. They hadn’t been used at Basingham and, at Earlford, they had smashed through resistance in concert with the djinn. It would be different at Obis. The djinn and the dragon would have roles to play but the crucial battle would be one of swords, arrows, pikes, and guns: army against army, man against man.
Syre was a non-issue. He was about to take possession of the city without losing a single soldier. They had unconditionally agreed to Justin’s terms and he and his army were awaiting the opening of the gates to admit them. Their capitulation had been immediate; they were scared. The king and his ruling body had first-hand accounts of what had happened at Earlford to supplement the stories from Vantok and they wanted no part of the devastation they knew Justin could visit upon them. How unlike Obis, where the battle would be greeted with fervor and anticipation. Strange that two people descended from the same ancient tribe and situated no more than 500 miles apart should espouse such different philosophies. Syre was primarily a city of scholars and courtesans. Obis was where the warriors congregated.
His demands were straightforward. First and foremost, he would be installed as king, although he had agreed to allow the current rulership to continue in a deputy capacity for the time being. He didn’t have the time to select a hand-picked viceroy so it seemed reasonable to keep the existing power structure in place. Syre would provide 5000 able-bodied men to join Justin’s army, leaving the city with only the skeleton militia necessary to carry out basic police duties. Additionally, 1000 women were to be attached to the army for cooking, cleaning, and sex. He had also requisitioned provisions and other supplies, including every healthy horse in the city and its environs. None of these terms were onerous; they would leave Syre in better shape than if there had been a battle.
Much later in the day, after the transfer of power had been accomplished and Justin was invested in the palace, he turned his attention to other matters while his underlings handled the integration of Syre’s army into his own and the selection of the women, many of whom were among the city’s famed courtesan class. It would still be at least two weeks and probably closer to three, before he could begin the march to Obis. Justin intended to use that time productively with the first task being to make contact with his “secret” ally, Prelate Ferguson.
Since co-opting Ferguson, Justin had spoken to the man only briefly to ascertain that the prelate had separated out potential wizard candidates. Now, especially considering what had happened with Ariel, a plan had to finalized by which those candidates could be tested and, when possible, selected for investiture. For his purposes, Justin didn’t need the new wizards to be trained. In
fact, an argument could be made that training and experience were undesirable qualities. All he required was that they were able to channel their powers - something that should come instinctively upon exiting the portal. Additional studying and practice could come later - if there was a “later.” Once Justin breached the Otherverse, he suspected such things wouldn’t matter to him or, possibly, to anyone.
Conversing with Ferguson over a distance when he was unfamiliar with the remote source was difficult and exhausting, but it was an expenditure of energy Justin could justify. The prelate’s contribution to the Battle of Obis was likely to be negligible but, after it was over, their collaboration would bear fruit. Justin needed assurance that all was in readiness or, if not, that it would be in six weeks’ time.
Justin gazed into the fire blazing across the royal bedchamber’s hearth and allowed himself to be carried away, searching for Ferguson’s signature, which he knew. The flames consumed him, their heat comforting, and their hunger familiar. Fire devoured and Justin could feel it lapping at his essence. He reached out with his mind, seeking other such beacons far and wide. Even though he knew the general direction, it took a long time to narrow the search. The target was closer than he had anticipated - in Sussaman, not Obis. Justin guessed it made some sense. Sussaman had long been Ferguson’s “secret” settlement, so where better for him to hunker down and wait out the oncoming storm? It was unfortunate, though, since Justin had been hoping to learn something about what was happening inside Obis with the succession. Syre was distressingly devoid of credible rumors.
Shadow of the Otherverse (The Last Whisper of the Gods Saga Book 3) Page 33
