Agate- Then and Now

by M. D. Grimm

  “Distract her only!” I said. “Work in teams!”

  Aishe’s arms were tight around my neck. His head pressed against my chest, but his face was riveted toward the battle. Drasyln finally freed herself of the tent, only to have a good-sized army greet her. They had to distract her to keep her from using the stone. I set Aishe on the ground, and he wobbled, his arms never loosening their grip around me.

  “Aishe, let go. I need to be in the battle.” I grabbed his arms and forcibly removed them. Gripping his wrists, I looked into his eyes. “Stay out of the battle, Aishe. Do you hear me? Swear you will.”

  Face gray and tight, his eyes exhausted, he nodded. “I swear.”

  “Good.”

  Just then, Wyn came charging over to us. “I’ve got him, Morgorth. Go!”

  Trusting him to his brother’s care, I let go. Aishe sagged into Wyn, who locked a muscled arm around his waist. Turning, I ran into the battle, letting my barely restrained wrath break free.

  ***

  The dialen had learned a lot from my demonstration. They kept moving, staying in teams, and attacked her in waves, keeping her distracted. Their tactics were spot on. But she was still a mage, and an angry one. I hoped she was too pissed to use the elements, and if she continued to only use her magick, she would tire quickly. She still looked haggard; her eyes bright with magick but also a strange, frenzied madness I’d never seen before. I had to wonder, had she used the agate to travel to other places while still trying to gain Rambujek in this time? How tiring would that become?

  She sent a wall of fire at a charging group. They scattered and then regrouped behind the flames to continue their onslaught. Another group approached her from behind while yet another group, made up of mostly archers, continuously barraged her with arrows. She couldn’t multitask as well as I could, and that made it hard for her to block and attack each wave. Her disguise was long gone, showing the buxom, hellish beauty she really was.

  Stiff from the wounds Aishe had given her, as well as from the arrow wound, Drasyln’s stance was still solid and unbendable. Her arms never ceased, her left hand clutched Atcoatlu. The agate shimmered and shone as the high sun glinted off it. It seared my eyes as I closed in on my target. It sang to me, joyful for the battle, for my desire to claim it. It wanted to be wanted; it wanted to give me gifts, to offer itself as a prize if I could only possess it.

  All I wanted was to go home. That would be my prize.

  With pure force, she blasted the archers away. They sailed through the air and some collided with trees while others fell over branches. Yet others hit and rolled over the uneven ground. Then she flung up a shield as a group of ten dialen all tried to pounce on her back. Some rebounded off the dome; others held onto the top, as if it was an actual, physical shield. One warrior used his axe and hacked against it, his face twisted with battle rage.

  The warriors parted for me as I reached them. I flung my right hand out, murmured a word, and pure force slammed into Drasyln again. She flew, head over heels, farther into the forest. Blown off her shield, the dialen fell painfully onto the ground.

  “Don’t follow!” My voice was hard as diamonds. Then I sped after her.

  She controlled her spin and managed to prevent herself from hitting any trees. She got her legs under her and skidded backward, her feet digging grooves into the ground. I landed in a crouch not far from her, my entire being bubbling with wrath and the thirst for her blood. My magick sang through my veins, rang against my bones, tightened my muscles.

  She made Aishe bleed. She would die. I didn’t have to spare her life. I would just take her corpse back home, to the council. Master Ulezander would iron out any of the details.

  “You bastard!” she said, her eyes glinting with pain and fury.

  I smiled sharply. “You’re really not as smart as you think you are, bitch. I will kill you. I will take Atcoatlu and go back to my own time.”

  “And do what?” She tossed her head arrogantly. “Go back to your mate and tell him why you didn’t protect his tribe? Go back to your pathetic existence, hiding like a hermit in that castle of yours? Face it, Morgorth, you’ve grown weak. You used to be a terror, now you’re nothing but a joke.”

  I let her talk, her words sliding off me like water over a smooth stone. She was scared, so she was trying to make me angry so I would act rashly. She was trying to make me lose control, to lose focus, to charge her and make the first move. I stood straight, my stance solid, and my hands hung at my sides. Even as my wrath bubbled, my focus was cold steel, sharp and unyielding.

  “You wish to see how weak I am, Drasyln?” I asked, my gaze searing into hers. “You really want to see my magick unleashed? To know the terror I can cause you? The pain?”

  I took a step forward. She froze, her face turning gray.

  “You don’t know who you’re dealing with,” I whispered. I shoved my hand into the pouch that held the vial of Drasyln’s blood. But nothing was there. I seethed even as she smiled, noticing my sudden realization: that stumble, that run in, she’d used it to get her sticky fingers on the vial. She must have seen me as I looked at it. But I wouldn’t let it stop me. I raised my right hand. Her hand suddenly dove into a pouch hanging from her waist. She came out with a vial of blood. It was my turn to freeze.

  “Stay right there, Morgorth.” Her voice quavered, her eyes desperate. “I hold Aishe’s blood. You try to harm me and I will use it, and destroy that which you hold most dear.”

  “Will you?” I still spoke quietly, knowing she heard every word. I couldn’t raise my voice any higher, my wrath rising inside me like magma in a volcano. I was going to erupt soon; I just needed to control when. I stood there, my hand outstretched. She panted, her eyes jittered, and she pressed Atcoatlu to her chest. My eyes narrowed. I tilted my head slightly to one side and turned my palm up, pressing the tips of my forefinger and thumb together.

  “You really don’t know who you’re fucking with.” I spoke the word of magick in my head. A beam of searing blue light shot from my index finger as I snapped my fingers. It raced between the space separating us and shattered the vial she held out in front of her. She’d made it an easy target. The blue fire consumed the vial and Aishe’s blood, destroying her threat.

  She screamed as the fire licked at her skin and yanked her hand back. As she stumbled away, I took advantage of her distraction. I harnessed earth magick, taking it into myself, flooding it into my hands. The roots of the trees punched through the ground, cracking the dirt, looking like tentacles of some great subterranean monster. Drasyln stumbled as the roots wrapped around her legs, her waist. Then they began to sink with her back down into the ground. They tried to loop around her arms but she kept flailing them about, snarling and cursing.

  I directed the roots, my arms outstretched, my fingers splayed, palms down. I lowered them and the roots lowered, dragging her deeper. But even as I thought I nearly had her, she teleported. I broke the spell and spun around, a few dregs of earth magick still shimmering through me. I hadn’t thought she would be focused enough to visualize a solid location to teleport to.

  It was only a split second before I realized where she would have visualized. Focusing my mind, I closed my eyes and teleported myself to the Ravena camp. The warriors were still on guard, even though I’d taken the battle away from the tribe. Or tried to. They mobilized quickly but Drasyln was now desperate to find Rambujek. She flung fire around, trying to distract the dialen, dividing their forces. It worked, unfortunately. Fire consumed tents as well as nearby trees. Fire leapt from branch to branch, consuming the dry leaves and bramble with greedy ferocity. I could only hope the dialen who had taken the children to safety weren’t anywhere nearby.

  “Drasyln!”

  “Where is it, Morgorth?” she screamed.

  A dialen came leaping at her, and she sent a fireball charging his way. He wasn’t quick enough. The fire consumed him, and he screamed in agony, flailing, before he dropped to the ground. I used my own magick to
draw the moisture from the air and coalesce it into water and sent it in a wave toward him. The water smothered the flame, steam rising up from the drenched dialen. He gasped for breath on his hands and knees as other warriors ran toward him. It was only in that moment I realized she had been able to distract me.

  The spikes of wood must have been formed right after she fireballed the dialen. I turned, activated my shield, but one of them hit me before I could use the shield to block. The sharpened wood, flung with incredible force, sank deeply in my chest. Only then did I realize I never fixed my jacket from when I unbuttoned it in the forest. Part of my chest was still exposed and somehow that lethal projectile found flesh as if I had a target painted on me. Pain seared through my body as I fell to one knee. My shield stayed solid and blocked her other strikes.

  Gritting my teeth, I grabbed the wood but hesitated. It was deep, I could tell from the pain. If I yanked it out, I might bleed to death. I couldn’t let her get my blood. I removed my hand and left it in.

  “Where is Rambujek?” Drasyln said, screaming.

  “Here it is!”

  I whipped my head around to see Breyln standing in the middle of the camp. He held up Rambujek’s pouch and even though some spell kept the voice muffled, I knew Drasyln could hear it now.

  “Breyln, don’t!” I said. Even Breyln’s warriors looked shocked. Many were wounded, others tried to stop the fires from spreading, but the rest held their weapons and stood behind their chief, ready to come to his defense.

  “You come into my camp, attack my tribe”—Breyln’s voice boomed through the surrounding area—“all for this.” He held up the pouch with his left hand, his sword in the right. “If you want Rambujek so badly, you can fight me, for I am its keeper and no one may take it without my consent.”

  “If you wish to have a painful death,” Drasyln purred malevolently, “I will grant it to you, foolish dialen.” She stepped away from me. I dropped my shield and pressed a hand to my chest as pain continued to lace through me with every breath.

  “Breyln, don’t!” I said again. “Run!”

  But the chief looped the leather cord back around his neck before gripping his sword with both hands. He and Drasyln circled each other. There was silence except for the crackle of the flames and the shouts of the dialen trying to extinguish them.

  As my shock at Breyln’s courage faded, I realized what he was doing. He was distracting her. By challenging her, he gained her interest, her focus. Now she knew where the ruby was; now she knew her target. She would focus on him, target him, and leave the rest alone. He sacrificed his own safety, likely his life, for his tribe. But I couldn’t let him. His courage humbled me as I struggled to stand. Each breath became harder and my legs wobbled. I glanced down at the wood, realizing more than half of it was inside me. It could be perilously close to my lungs. But that didn’t matter. I had to protect Breyln.

  A lance of fire shot out of Drasyln’s fingertips. Breyln used his sword as a shield, batting the fire away from him. His hard, expressionless eyes never leaving his opponent, Breyln kept his knees bent, his legs braced firmly apart. The muscles of his arms flexed as he deflected another blow with his broadsword. Then they flexed again as he deflected the blow back to Drasyln. She shifted her stance to dodge.

  As I struggled to regain my strength and focus, my gaze shifted to the warriors surrounding the combatants. I recognized Eulun and Wyn among the warriors, their eyes focused on their father. But then Wyn’s gaze shifted to me and I suddenly met his eyes. His own widened and he shoved Eulun slightly before skirting around the battle and jogged to my side.

  “Morgorth.” He got his shoulder under my arm, and that was when I realized I’d fallen back to one knee. Eulun supported my other side. Wyn touched my chest and I hissed. “You’re wounded.”

  “Doesn’t matter,” I said through gritted teeth. I took a deep breath and a moan escaped me when pain coursed through my chest.

  “How deep is it?” Wyn asked.

  “Deep enough.” My words came out as little more than a grunt.

  Just then Drasyln punched pure force at Brelyn. Despite his training and reflexes, he didn’t move quickly enough. He dodged to one side and the edge of the force struck his shoulder. We all heard the crack as his shoulder popped out of its socket.

  “Father!” both Wyn and Eulun cried, but they didn’t leave my side. Breyln flew through the air, spinning from the impact and crashed into a tent that managed to escape the fires. It collapsed on him. He didn’t move. My magick flared with my wrath, but also brought the pain searing through me once again. I gasped even as I stretched my hand forward. This had to end. Now.

  Aishe suddenly sprinted out of hiding. My wrath flared again, but this time, directed at him. Thrice damn him! Pale faced and sweating profusely, Aishe grabbed his father’s sword off the ground and staggered backward, placing himself in front of his father’s motionless body. His movements were stiff, jerky, his chest heaving.

  “What in the Hunter’s name does he think he’s doing?” Eulun said, shock vibrating through his voice.

  “What warriors do.” Pride was evident in Wynn’s tone. Even as terror clutched my heart, other warriors ran over to stand beside Aishe in a futile gesture to protect their leader and the ruby he held.

  “Pathetic.” Scorn dripped from Drasyln’s voice. “Nothing will keep me from my prize. Especially not insignificant ants such as yourselves.”

  She raised her right arm and burning white-hot fire formed around her hand.

  Time suddenly seemed to slow. I knew it didn’t actually, but it felt like that to me. I suddenly took in everything: Wyn and Eulun’s strength holding me up, their bodies tense, wanting to join the battle, but also wanting to help me; Aishe barely able to hold up his father’s sword, determination and fury etched into his young face. He must be in such pain, despite his mother’s healing sessions. His muscles needed time to not only adjust to the wound, but also to the healing. He must be so terrified, not knowing if his father was even alive. Yet, he still protected him, hope a shining force in his eyes; the warriors beside him, their weapons raised, their faces emotionless, but their eyes showing ferocious loyalty to their chief. Then I noticed Nunya, Fray, and Amyla with the rest of the children and non-warrior females standing near the forest’s edge. Terror and dread darkened their eyes. Amyla had her hands over her mouth, and Fray’s arms were stretched out at his sides, preventing anyone from moving toward the battle. Nunya clutched her hands in front of her, her mouth moving, her eyes riveted to the scene.

  To her son. To Aishe. She was praying.

  And suddenly, I knew. I knew the answer to the question I had asked only a day before. The answer rang clear, as if the Mother herself had planted it into my mind. Who knows, maybe she had.

  I stepped away from Eulun and Wyn, the pain suddenly so distant as to be unimportant. I lifted my right hand as a new word of magick formed in my mind. This would be a new spell for me, though I’d seen another mage, a great mage, perform it a couple times before. I thought of what I wanted and I used what I knew. My will, my desire, and my control congealed into one solid intention inside my mind. There was no doubt and no hesitation.

  The question: How does one defeat time?

  The answer: You stop it.

  The magick surged out of me like a mist, and shot toward Drasyln just as she pointed her fingers at Aishe, and at the warriors around him. The flames of her fire grew larger, but my spell hit her first. She froze, completely and utterly froze. Only her eyes could move, and they whipped around in her skull as her body remained motionless. But this spell took a lot of energy, and I couldn’t multitask since I had to hold it, continuously pump more magick into it. For her to remain beyond time I had to hold the word in my head; my focus had to be unbreakable.

  “Tie her up,” I said, my jaw clenched. “Make sure to cover and bind her hands securely behind her back. Do not touch the stone.”

  The only way to stop her destruction was to bin
d and cover her hands. Words may activate magick but hands directed it. If a mage had their hands bound or severed, it would severely weaken them and in a battle, would certainly get them killed. To truly incapacitate a mage, their hands had to be rendered useless. It was often a punishment of the Hand, that instead of death, they chose to simply cut off the hands of the offending mage. Many killed themselves after such a procedure. But there were a special few known to history as ones who managed to wield magick without using their hands. It was rare, and required a focus, determination, and sacrifice rare to possess. It was, frankly, nearly impossible.

  Wyn and Eulun didn’t hesitate at my order. They ran forward, grabbing the rope they had around their waists. Eulun tied her ankles as Wyn tied her wrists. She couldn’t defend herself. Wyn used pieces of burnt cloth to cover her hands. Her fireball slipped from her hand and vanished before it could hit the ground. The agate fell from her frozen left hand, landing with a thud on the ground. I saw Wyn stiffen, his gaze riveted to the stone.

  Before I could even speak, I heard Aishe’s voice. “Don’t, Wyn. It’s evil.”

  Not completely true, but it helped to shake Wyn free of the agate’s alluring voice. He finished his job and in a fit of vindictiveness, shoved Drasyln, causing her to fall face-first into the dirt.

  “Tie her ankles and wrists together,” I said, my strength leaving me. I fell to one knee, the pain growing more intense. My breaths were growing shallow, my vision tunneling. I gripped my chest with my left hand, even as my right hand shook. “Gag her.”

  They did as instructed even as a couple of warriors ran to me, as if just then realizing I was injured. They gripped my arms as I lost focus and energy to hold the spell. I sagged and the two warriors, a male and female, managed to keep me from falling flat on my face.

  Drasyln immediately began to struggle. Before I could even suggest it, Wyn walked over and kicked her in the face, knocking her out. I smiled. I’d wanted to do that. Sweat slid down my face, my back, and my muscles trembled while my vision began to gray around the edges. A flurry of activity suddenly burst around me, as if my hearing had finally switched back on. Fires were still being smothered and guards were being set around Drasyln.