“But what if-” Selene began, but her words quickly became a shriek as the seed’s shell burst and green tendrils exploded outwards in volumes far beyond what could have fit into its mass. Bridget screamed hoarsely and collapsed to the floor as the vines twisted and entwined, forming thick knots of greenish muscle that turned light brown from the shoulder on down. The tendrils were weaving the structure of an arm with amazing speed. Around the implantation site, the outer layer of the plant matter took on a wooden texture, growing a thin layer of what looked like waxy bark that blended seamlessly to her flesh and flowed down the still forming tendrils.
In seconds, Bridget’s right side had a wooden twin to the one it lost. Selene stared at the arm in disbelief. Bridget blinked her eyes several times, shaking her head. “Whoa.” She muttered. “Dizzy.”
“It’s… an arm!” Selene managed to say.
Bridget tried to will it to move. It did, though the action caused her shoulder to hurt fiercely. She reached out and touched both palms together. The arm felt smooth, like wood given a thin coating of wax and polished. Most amazingly, she could feel her normal hand through the new one.
She flexed the arm; and though it hurt, it seemed fully operational.
“Yep.” She said, “It’s an arm. Now I can help him again.”
Bridget tried to rise, but immediately slipped back to the floor, too dizzy to think clearly much less get her balance. “Maybe not.” She muttered.
It felt like she had suddenly lost a lot of blood. It made sense. She had to provide blood for a whole new limb, where would the blood have come from otherwise?
“You need to rest.” Selene said. “I’m going to try to find out what’s going on. We’ll go after him once I get back.”
“Hurry.” Bridget said, crawling over to a couch and sliding onto it. “I am going to punch him in the face for lying to us.”
* * *
Endrance adjusted the straps on his pack and wished he had time to sleep more. He was sore from the days of fighting and surviving, and the dance had taken a lot out of him. Physically, he was already fatigued; and mentally he was starting to feel the weight of the hours. He wore his blood tiger hide coat over his darkest clothing. He adjusted the cuffs of his coat so they covered his bracers completely and pulled the hood up.
“All right.” He said aloud. “I’m ready.”
The wolfmen looked at him and moved towards the edge of the wall. While the army was keeping an eye on the forces, mostly all of the undead had been piling up at the gates. This left the southeastern area of the wall a mile away almost completely enemy free. They were crouched on the crenellations of the forty foot drop, searching for possible enemies below.
The wolfmen were practically invisible in the dark. Their naturally dark gray-toned fur blended well with their gear and into the stone and snow. Endrance’s coat was predominantly off-white, but with reddish tinges to the fur and had black striping. It could be seen as pinkish in the right light, and unfortunately the stars and moons were quite visible in the sky, making being unseen more difficult.
Endrance watched as the first few wolfmen tied off ropes and prepared to descend. Gnaeus approached him, hunkered down and moving on all fours in a very canine fashion.
“Mage,” he began. “We are going to take the lead, but you are not very hard to miss.”
Endrance smiled at him. “I would not have survived this far if I didn’t know how to not be seen.”
“We can’t shed any light.” Gnaeus reminded him. “We will move slow enough for you to follow in the dark.”
Endrance again smiled. “I can handle that too.”
The Alpha looked impressed. “Hmm.” He growled. “Then I have hope for this attack. Your turn down the wall then.”
Endrance crept to the edge, got a good grip, and slid down. Unlike many times he’d gone out, he had his gloves on to keep his fingers covered and warm while they were creeping around in the dark. If Gnaeus had caught the rough symbol on the back of his right glove, he hadn’t said anything. Endrance had seen that every one of his wolves had a similar scar across the back of their right hands; it was a symbol of their learning what it meant to take a life. It was the name of the kill that taught them the significance of ending another’s life.
Endrance hadn’t been into ritual scarification, but he had stitched a symbol representing the name of the wolfman he had killed. It had been a strong lesson for him. He could now appreciate having learned it, but it was difficult nonetheless.
Endrance’s feet hit the ground harder than expected, and he fell on his backside as the rope slipped from his grasp. He tumbled back to avoid the next wolfman landing on him. Fortunately, he took the drop easily and stepped out of the way of the next. Endrance could hear a muted chuffing as his companions laughed quietly.
The mage sighed and stood, dusting snow off his legs and rear. Once all of them had descended, the last gave the rope a tug and the barbarian escort pulled it up. They wouldn’t be able to return until either the war was over, or the mages were dead, whichever came first. It suited Endrance fine, so long as they kept the enemy forces from reaching the wall, then the Ascension should remove the target of the risen dead.
Endrance pushed his doubts out of his mind. He had been drawn to the ghost of Rothel a second time for a purpose. The dead didn’t change; they were locked into the same feelings and intentions they had upon their deaths. Rothel, serving decades protecting Balator in its most tenuous years, hadn’t stopped caring for the kingdom. He wouldn’t have lied to him when it came to saving his people, even if he was dead. Of course, the dead’s ability to interpret their earthly desires could get twisted up, but Endrance hadn’t sensed any madness in the old ghost.
Endrance looked at the wolfmen assembled. The collective light of the moons and stars made for a bright night; and Endrance could see well enough without having to use any other tricks. The wolfmen blended well in the snow, staying low. The mage crouched, trusting his coat to break up his profile and make identifying him as a human difficult.
He had expressed concern about the wolfmen’s sense of smell, but Wrach had said he should be fine. The Atastos had decayed senses, and the wolfmen had gotten used to his odor long ago. It had made Endrance exceedingly self-conscious of his smell, but as far as he could tell, he smelled only faintly of sweat and ashes from his familiar.
He had directed Gullin to rest in the city and wait for Endrance to call him. Then he was to come out swinging, and hope the amount of fire he could generate would either break the mages or at least destroy a portion of their troops. Endrance only planned to call his familiar as a last resort. The Fjallar’s abilities had to be fueled with his aura, and he needed every drop to fight the mages.
Gnaeus took off at a lope, leading his wolves away from the wall. Endrance had to jog to keep up, since they were collectively taller and naturally had a runner’s stride. The cold air bit at his lips and face as he ran, the only relief from the cold was the hot air he expelled with each breath. He couldn’t afford to spend power on a warmth spell, nor was he certain the enemy could detect his aura or any active spells, so he had chosen to go without unless he absolutely had to.
The mage was able to keep up with them, something he wouldn’t have been able to do a year ago. Spending a year growing accustomed to the thin high mountain air had let his body acclimatize to living thousands of feet above sea level. The air was a bit thicker at the base, and he was breathing quickly and evenly, but not hard. His body still ached from the trials of the day, but he felt he could trust it to last for a run.
They crossed the open plain at a decent clip, moving away from the general mass of Atastos that were gathering at the gates. They had yet to push to overwhelm the walls, but it was inevitable that they would surge forward. The archers hadn’t been firing into their ranks yet, instead taking every available source of wood and quickly cutting more arrows since they didn’t have nearly enough for the numbers they would be facing.
&
nbsp; Endrance followed Gnaeus, and the pack Alpha led them for an hour at a trot. Though Endrance had been used to exercise due to Joven’s weekly training and exercising at high altitudes, by the time they came to a stop at the first few pine trees of a large forest he was sweating and breathing hard. He slowed to a walk and stopped, dropping to sit against a tree as he caught his breath.
“Keep moving, mage.” Wrach said. “If you just stop after running, you will hurt yourself.”
Endrance wearily picked himself up and walked around in a circle. The wolfmen seemed hardly winded. He walked his circle over to speak to Gnaeus.
“We’re almost there.” Endrance said, concentrating on his senses. “I can feel them drawing near.
Gnaeus nodded, growling something in his language. The other wolfmen scattered, disappearing into the pines. He looked the mage in the eyes. “We will be ready. Are you sure you want to do it this way?”
Endrance sighed. “No. But let’s do it anyway.”
The leader nodded, touching his shoulder. “We will finish this hunt even if you fall, though we will try to help you if we can.”
“Thank you, Gnaeus.” Endrance said. “I will try to not need it.”
Then the wolfman slipped into the pines and he was alone. At least he seemed to be alone. If Endrance hadn’t just run an hour getting there with them, he wouldn’t even know they were there. He shook his head. He hadn’t even seen them smooth over the snow, disrupting their tracks.
The mage moved out towards an open area within a dozen yards of the pines, standing out in the open. He removed his gloves, stuffed them into his belt and dug in the pockets of his coat. There, he had a few tricks saved that he had been stockpiling since he saw their effectiveness fighting Kalenden. They should work best in the kind of battle he was about to engage in.
Endrance waited several minutes before he could see any signs of the approaching wolfmen. Six Atastos were carrying a palanquin. On it was some kind of multi-tiered golden urn or container covered in runes and sigils etched into the metal. Traveling in front of them were three wolfmen that looked nothing like the others he had encountered.
Tall, thin and gaunt, the three mages had bone white fur and eyes that appeared to be red orbs. Their bodies were swathed in the remains of brown and green robes, surprisingly intact considering the state of the rest of the Atastos they had been fighting. They were adorned with golden jewelry; necklaces, rings, and ear cuffs set with glowing Crystalphage. Each was walking with the aid of a twisted staff of gnarled deadwood, their limbs scrawny and emaciated. Unlike the others that appeared… ripe. The white Atastos seemed mummified.
Endrance could tell then that the aura he felt was not from the mages, but from the object that followed them. He still trusted Gullin’s assessment of their abilities; the familiar had very rarely been mistaken.
Now to get their attention. He thought.
Endrance stepped forward, thrusting his right hand out with his fore and middle finger extended as he channeled power into the spell scribed upon his skin. The tattoos on his two fingers lit up with golden light and as he released the spell, lightning blasted across the otherwise serene night.
The mages had wards up, but either Endrance had been lucky or the wards were spread too far out. The lightning exploded against the white Atastos furthest from the tree line. Its wards shaved most of the power off of the strike, but the thing was sent backwards, rolling in the snow with the right sleeve and shoulder of its robes disintegrated. The thing popped to its feet rabbit-quick, but Endrance could tell that he had burned its staff using arm badly.
The three silently moved forward, while the six Atastos trailing behind them slowly set the object down. Endrance stood straight and still, watching as the three mages burned energy on defensive spells. He let them prepare, but he began running towards them, his left hand at his side. He carefully drained as much of his aura as he dared into his bracers, putting the energy somewhere safe. He wanted them to think him vulnerable.
It only took them a few seconds to get ready, and Endrance wasn’t quite in range for his plan. He touched his aura to the spell in his left hand. The swirling tattoo glowed, and he held it low and palm down as he approached. The magic of the tattoo would protect his hand from elemental magic.
The middle one threw a blast of cold air and ice; and Endrance waited until it was upon him to thrust his hand out. The magic of the cold spell splashed against his palm, and with a flick of his wrist he redirected it. He couldn’t bounce it straight back, but since there was more than one combatant, he sent it careening at the mage he had hit before. The spell shattered into snow before it reached the mage, but it had interrupted the creature’s line of sight to him. The icicle it had thrown flew wide, missing him entirely. The last remaining mage threw a wave of fire at him, and Endrance barely managed to swat the bulk of it into the ground in front of him.
Endrance launched lightning at the undead again, targeting the one that he had hit before. The lightning spell was intercepted by one of the other undead, who shattered it into a stream of sparks. The other undamaged undead slung a spell, crouched and shoved his hand into the grass. The ground around Endrance trembled, and the snow churned. The wizard leapt back, empowering his wards as blades of grass sliced out of the snow. The grass lashed out like hundreds of razor blades, their sharpened edges carving into his wards.
Endrance landed and rolled backwards. Still on his heels, he thrust his hand out.
“Ignatius!” he shouted, completing the spell. A wave of fire blasted across the ground, instantly melting the snow and incinerating the grass blades.
As the two uninjured ones took turns firing volleys of snow and grass blades, the injured one was long form casting a spell Endrance was unable to identify. His fire spell had been defended against easily by the two working together, so he had no chance of interrupting its spell. Endrance had to roll yet again as more magically generated blades of grass exploded out from under him.
The Atastos mage in the back finished the long form spell. Around them, the wintry pines shuddered, shaking their snow laden boughs clean. Endrance didn’t like the look of it at all. He conjured an ice shield into a sphere around him, congealing the snow underneath into a hardened shell encircling him. While whatever magic the enemies had been preparing to use against him activated, he dug a wooden tablet out of his pocket. Four inches long, the wooden tablet was barely the width of his finger and half as thick. It had been carved with a notch in the middle and arcane script was carefully etched in the surface and each letter filled in with silver.
The light from outside his icy sphere darkened, and Endrance prepared to move. The ice suddenly rattled as thousands of tiny green needles bit into the thickened ice. Endrance gawked as the shield quickly became a green porcupine. The mages were swarming him with pine needles that were actually needles. He touched the top of the sphere of ice and channeled as much power as he could afford into his repulsion tattoo.
The ice exploded outwards with a deafening boom, sending shrapnel in every direction and blowing the pine needles clear for a dozen yards. Endrance stood, but could see there were thousands more needles being controlled by the mages. He gritted his teeth; it was time for his last resort.
Endrance held up the object in his hand as the swarm of animated needles closed back in on him. As it was, the three of them working together would overwhelm him and tear through any defenses he had placed; which was why he had prepared this last resort.
Endrance took the wooden tab in both hands and snapped it in half. It was a bit of crafted magic he had used before when confronting Kalenden, and had proven excellent for peeling away ongoing magical effects. He had refined it a little during the month’s interim, but only had made two more since. It was hard to melt silver that was pure enough and do the lettering without making any mistakes.
From the broken wood, an outward expanding sphere of dissonant magical power exploded, almost entirely invisible and inaudible to a normal mo
rtal’s ears. The dissonance would tear away at any existing magic and sever any possible connections that a spell had to its originating caster.
The outward expanding sphere of magical chaos disrupted the spells as they left the mages’ hands. It also seriously drained any active spells that a mage had been fueling. The swirling swarm of pine needles fell unceremoniously to the snow. If the mages were unprepared, such a drain could draw further on their auras, pulling yet more power away from them. The wards the enemy had prepared splintered and fell apart as the counter-magic blasted through them. The three mages slumped to the snow, twitching.
Endrance felt a wave of nausea rush through him. His heart fluttered and his vision swam. For a moment his heart hesitated to beat. The mage felt suddenly light headed. His wards had been torn apart, but he had been prepared for the countermagic; why did it affect him and why did it hurt so much? Had he miscalculated the counterspell?
He remembered then that he had gone through some other apparent changes. He was being recognized not as a human, but as a creature of magic; a change that might have negative interactions to such… vulgar countermagic. His magical senses were swirling, mixed up and garishly twisting in his mind. If it had been visual, it would have looked like a kaleidoscope of colors caught within a whirlwind made of rapidly changing patterns while everything shifted texture rapidly.
Endrance stumbled. He fell to his hands and knees. His ears were ringing. The three mages seemed to have had equal difficulties. Whatever magic that was animating them had been temporarily interfered with. They struggled to pull themselves upright. The six Atastos had crumpled to the ground and weren’t showing signs of getting up anytime soon.
“Now!” Endrance croaked.
He wasn’t sure what to expect, but for a moment nothing happened. He pulled himself into a kneeling position, trying to muster some strength. He pulled on the power stored in his bracers; and while some came back, the sudden influx into his aura made him physically ill. Pushed over the edge, Endrance dropped back onto his hands and wretched.
Spellscribed: Ascension Page 28
