Treasure Revealed

by A. S. Etaski

  “Stockroom,” the Prime barked. “Two ticks. Now.”

  We moved; Elder Rausery was coming with us, and that tangibly boosted the sense of eagerness in the air. We restocked essential weapons and useful tools if we didn’t already have them, each of us ready in as much time as it took me to run here from that first call. I removed my cloak, rolled it up and set it in the supply room; no other Sister was wearing one.

  “Each of you,” Rausery said as she flipped open the lid on a small, locked box bolted to a shelf. “Quaff one.”

  Lead Jaunda took one first, breaking the seal and drinking without hesitation, and Qivni after her. The rest of us followed by rank. I was last, and Lawret gave me a hint of what it had been.

  *Extended healing,* she signed with a wink. *No pain, no bleed-outs.*

  Ah-ha.

  I wasn’t sure if the calming warmth was all potion or just my anxiety leaking away, but I saw how we’d help the morale of the army.

  No pain. We are unstoppable.

  My heart still throbbed in my breast as we regathered before the Prime.

  “Into the ring,” she commanded, and Elder Rausery led us within the subtle onyx inlay in the center rear of the room, which I had missed my first few times in here.

  “Don’t puke on the Army Commander’s boots, Sirana,” our Elder said, a playful twinkle in her eye. “We want to impress them.”

  The other Sisters chuckled, except for Qivni, of course, and I let my mood rise with a white grin. “Yes, Elder.”

  D’Shea and Lelinahdara cast a spell together from where they stood, and we blinked out of the Prime’s strategy room and into the deep passageways. My stomach rose and lurched, and the quiet and cleanliness of before were replaced with the opposite as I attempted to get to my feet. My eyesight shifted immediately; all color had faded in darkness but life’s movement and the Radiants all around created the shape and depth I needed navigate without light.

  I saw we stood on a ledge above a more massive cavern, somewhere outside of Sivaraus. The noise of battle was intense; the edges of my ears prickled from vibration alone. Elder Rausery signed high while facing the fight; simultaneously, I heard Elder D’Shea.

  *Fan out, avoid clustering together. Quick kills, we want quantity.*

  The words in our heads had repeated Rausery’s hand. Tightly-bound energy in every Red Sister unraveled, flooded us as one; novice or not, I felt it, was caught up in it, and I moved on instinct, my fear oddly muted. We drew swords and daggers, hand-crossbows and barbed lashes. Our speed had to be our shields, for every Sister fought with two weapons and could change them to whatever was needed. No one pointed out I was a novice; no one told me to stay behind the experienced ones.

  *Forward, Sisters!*

  Leaping down from our higher vantage point, we could be seen clearly as someone lit a light above. Our uniforms blazed, and a wave of voices rose, a cheer to fill the ceiling. I questioned nothing; my boots flew over the rock.

  The thralls of the Ornilleth were bigger than us, heavily muscled, and capable of both tearing through or seizing a body to hold it tight. The bulky creatures possessed the empty, blank eyes and a beak without tentacles, only hinting at a thought-flayer lineage. The bodies were grey-skinned and streamlined for swimming, with a tough hide that made quick kills more difficult unless one aimed her thin blade just right, either in a sunken, yellowed eye or in a soft spot beneath the jaw.

  *Stab the brains or the thralls keep moving. They feel no pain and are still controlled by their masters.*

  One Red Sister discovered this quickly, and then we all knew it. D’Shea and Lelinahdara shared that knowledge along with that same sense of elation and power, as though each of us had unveiled this on our own. I heard Jaunda’s roar as she took out two more thralls in quick succession. Kiren and Lawret shrieked like demons, sending a shiver up the spines of at least two fighters as they joined in the attacks with glee.

  The potion’s magic still thick in my blood, my energy seemed limitless, my budding skills unleashed without restraint or boundaries on our targets. Another first time since I’d joined the Sisterhood; something inside me sang with terrible joy at the vortex of violence, threads of all my Sisters quivering through the bond connecting us on the battlefield.

  My own battle-hungry cries were answered many times over.

  As the enemy bodies at last began to fall faster than the Davrin around them, I heard a new rumble of bloodlust arise from our army as they redoubled their efforts to fight off the invaders. Unlike them, however, the Sisters did not cluster together, nor did we get completely out of sight of one another. I could always see at least one of my Sisters, blurred, spinning, slashing, and stabbing. We could always sense the presence of one another; if the mind did not become a void, we knew who still stood.

  I absorbed the information of many at once; I knew things which were happening inside the chaos, even if I did not witness them. We knew we were winning. Qivni and her team blasted a swath in the middle of the thickest pack of thralls, heat and purple light cracking in the cavern, pain and injury breaking up the mass of bodies and allowing parts of our army to flank them and finish them off.

  The regular units who’d begun fighting again were female and male, a mass of defiant bellows blending in a pleasing pitch of fever and rage. One fighter drew my eye for a few instants within the mass of bodies. She was young, even younger than me, dressed in brown and of low rank but she radiated will and fearlessness. She was quick and vicious, precise but making sure she tore as much flesh as she could in each withdrawal.

  From the damage and splatter on her clothes, from the fixed scowl on her face and the determination stiffening her spine and pushing back fatigue, she hadn’t stopped fighting for a long time. Even when others were falling back, before the Sisterhood arrived, I could see her holding ground. Her snarl shifted to a wild smile when I got close, and without speaking we selected the same pair of thralls to attack. The plunge of her blade took longer to extract because she sawed at the throat. Another thrall noticed.

  “Roll left!” I shouted, and she obeyed.

  A long-armed swipe of claws narrowly missed us. The cait laughed in challenge and charged as I pitched a fist-sized stone right between its eyes, giving her that opening. My teeth gleamed in the darkness as she leaped onto the abomination, taking it down by herself.

  As the dominance of the field shifted inexorably in our favor, the ranged attacks began. I heard a Sister scream, and streaks of red light and fire struck both fighting Davrin and grey mind-slaves alike.

  *They know they lose,* D’Shea said. *Those are the reserves. The masters are visible now.*

  One Sister, Panagan, had spotted the three Ornilleth at last after climbing a jut of rock to get both the high view and a chance to use her spell-touched arrows. The flayers were on the far side of the cavern, she told us, opposite of where the Sisterhood had appeared. In front of them was a line of gaunt, spindly thralls capable of releasing heat and fire from their fingertips. Behind the thought-flayers were not only a few smaller tunnels, but Panagan watched her own arrow strike whatever invisible shield protected them.

  The rest of us knew. We couldn’t get at them, and they had an easy exit strategy if their forces failed.

  *Lunent Agalia, Corpora Cilyan, Sister Moria, Sister Sirana. Defend the battle mages nearest you. They must collapse the tunnels and overwhelm the shields. The rest of your Sisters are nearly in position. They will take any opportunity the mages can give them.*

  Elder Rausery dispatched more Sisters to guide several officers and their units to deal with the ranged attacks in other ways, but we four were nearest to the mages holding their line in the back. They were under direct threat, distracted by incoming fire and rays as the melee thralls on the frontline pressed closer with urgent tenacity. The single Ornilleth standing a quarter-circle around the cavern from them had focused on our male mages, and our soldiers desperately defended them. Among them, I gl
impsed a familiar wizard, read in an instant that all four were losing their nerve as less of the army was near to them to help with simultaneous sources of threat. Their choices were splintered as some hesitated or alternated between one method of attack or defense and another.

  You can’t do everything at once. That’s why we are here.

  “Ranged offense, Callitro!” I shouted with force over the din. “I’ve got the fools in front of you, they won’t get through!”

  The battle mage I’d met at the last Worship Ball blinked when he recognized me, and he grinned realizing I’d be guarding him personally. I shot one thrall through the eye with my crossbow, and it stumbled, crashing into another and opening a breather for the army. I’d lost track of the young female fighter for a bit, but she cried in a cheer, which encouraged a few others, and joined back in, connecting with another unit to fight the same line threatening the mages.

  Laughing at the sight, I placed my body between Callitro and the nearest harm. His focus tightened to a pinpoint in his next spell, and the distance was impressive. The concussive blast centered right in the middle of the fire-thralls opposite of him. It echoed, reverberated, sending more than a handful of the back-line to their misshapen knees, clutching their earholes.

  “Well done!” Lunent Agalia called, taking up the lead and preparing her own magic stone from a pouch. “Mages! Prepare this spell with your brother! I’ll shield you until you’re ready—!”

  Retaliation was swift, and a red line of scorching heat missed me by two finger’s breadth as I withdrew my crossbow bolt from a thrall’s eye. Another seared Moria’s thigh, clipped the Lunent’s ear, and one mage jerked and lost his focus, falling to his knees. Obeying nonetheless, the standing three buas became entirely vulnerable, their eyes closing to speak the next words.

  “Shit!” Agalia groaned, and that moment my head began to get that pressure inside like it was filling with water. More than one Sister around me shook her head, their eyesight becoming fuzzy as mine. I stumbled back a few steps, unintentionally opening the way to Callitro. More red streaks incoming. The young cait in the brown uniform hid behind a lurching thrall as it was struck in the back; the flesh smoked a little, and she gripped it like an unwieldy shield until fate decided which way it would fall.

  “Hey!” she shouted at the top of her voice. “Sisters, wizards, watch out! You’re dangling in an open web!”

  Not only that, but something colorless plucked at those threads, trying to wrap them tighter and tighter around our ankles and hands so we couldn’t move.

  ~Kill the Self-abductors. Silence the Song. Claim the bodies.~

  No!

  I locked eyes with Agalia. I heard a voice not wholly hers, accusing me.

  *Novice. Weakest link… affecting us all.*

  No.

  Terror and truth flared at once at the back of my head.

  Not true. Far from it.

  ~Noch berte. Itsche craug.~

  As fast as it happened, the pressure lifted, the mental manacles came off, and my vision became sharp. My ears were filled to the very tip with the rumble of the rampaging battle. The Lunent shook her head, confused but quickly hiding it in front of those waiting for direction.

  “Battlemages!” she ordered, pointing at each Tower wizard in turn as Moria poured a potion down one male’s throat. “One, two, three, four…two flicks apart and equal points above the Ornilleths’ heads!”

  The injured wizard wiped his mouth and nodded, rebuilding his spell as quickly as he could; he would be the last to release. Meanwhile, four Sisters and more defended the wizards as the viciousness escalated in our tight space. It would have been easier if the mages could have gotten to higher ground, but that only made them a better target for the rays.

  At last, there were time and space enough for the magic users to attack the stone above the Ornilleth. If we had had even one less blast or if it hadn’t been timed right, it wouldn’t have worked as well as it did. Callitro and his brothers all used the same spell, centered side-by-side on the far wall, and each delayed those successive heartbeats, filling my chest and my ears with a threatening earthquake.

  Boom. Boom! Boom!

  Boom!

  The noise and vibrations sent general confusion abounding but, more importantly, masses of stone began to fall, collapsing in a deliberate wave. The crushing weight of rock struck the shields around and above the thought-flayers, weakening it with constant assault while creating an obstruction behind them over which they must climb and hope to squeeze through without being trapped or smashed. I saw in my mind what I could only describe as “mental sparks” arching around an otherwise invisible dome every time rock struck the surface.

  I believed I understood how they did it. I almost knew why it was failing.

  “Sivaraus Archers!” Rausery bellowed. Her voice was very far from me but uplifting all the same. “Aim and release at that shield! Do not stop until you run out of arrows!”

  Our army’s archers sent arrow after arrow to the dome, the intent not to penetrate but to add to every pebble and boulder wearing down the Ornilleth defense. There seemed a rise in anticipation, as if a dam was about to break. Over and over it happened, and I heard D’Shea’s voice.

  *Prepare.*

  I held my breath.

  *NOW!*

  Fifteen Sisters had since gotten in range to shoot poisoned arrows and darts at the Ornilleth. Three seemed overwhelmed, their minds blinking out and they were not able to send a second dart, but the other twelve shot again, and again. I listened and knew each thought-flayer received more than ten doses of our most potent poison. Meanwhile, I was attacking; my thinnest blades, now so slick with life fluids it was harder to grip them. My nearest foe slowed suddenly, then stopped moving entirely. It stood with blank eyes blinking in confusion. The creature possessed not command nor guidance.

  Next, it was without breath or heartbeat as well.

  “Move in and slit the throats,” Rausery commanded three of our best. “Search them and bind them for transport.”

  “Yes, Elder,” Jaunda said, taking a step forward.

  ~NO! Do not get near them. Contact after death is dangerous.~

  “Hold a moment, Jaunda,” my Elder ordered next, rethinking her approach.

  *Who said that?* D’Shea demanded as the odd, underlying bass faded away.

  I waited as if someone else would claim the breach of command, but no one answered. The cavern gradually became quieter as each Davrin unit realized their enemy was not fighting back. About half of them finished off the grey-horror or fire-flinger in front of them while the rest stepped back and regrouped, looking for their officer to instruct them.

  Meanwhile, Elder Rausery herself backed by Lead Jaunda and Corpora Kiren finished the Ornilleth by setting them aflame with an incendiary dart each. As the bodies began to burn, I could breathe again, and a cheer began to swell; I couldn’t help but join in.

  “We won!!”

  Rarely were there moments of unity such as this, where all Davrin stood on the same side. I laughed as loud as my lungs could manage, pointed to the ceiling, my next affirmative cry half-shout and half-growl as I turned to see Callitro’s handsome face, his bright eyes watching me. Sweating and disheveled as I was, he was a pure delight to snap into my arms.

  He tried to say something.

  I claimed his mouth, thrusting my tongue in and grabbing his buttocks through the robes. I pressed our groins together and felt him respond instantly, his staff growing longer and very firm between our bellies as I drank deeply of my stolen kiss. My hand slid toward the front, stroking that gorgeous erection, although I didn’t know what I expected to happen next.

  Corpora Cilyan hissed an order at me. “Let him go, Sister.”

  I felt the reaffirming command from Elder D’Shea. *No, Sirana. Not where commoners can watch you act common.*

  Damn it.

  I released Callitro with an internal grumble and
stepped back. The battle mage was charmed and dizzy, his robes visibly tented; he was gasping, regretful like I was that I’d stopped, but glad to take the attention. He glanced over at his mage companions, his smile filled with bragging rights before he noticed the guts and slime that I’d transferred to his robes.

  Then I heard D’Shea’s voice again.

  *Kill every thrall. Leave none breathing. Find the field menders. Any with available restorative potions are to tend the wounded.*

  Oh, yes. The clean-up.

  The order passed through Elder Rausery and the Sisters to each officer. I was surprised to hear one dissenter; she was gesturing to a cluster of the thin, lanky fire-shooters and addressing our Elder as she made her way back to the center.

  “We shouldn’t destroy them, Elder Sister, they were once our own mages! Think of their use against our enemies if we can get them back! And if we can’t, surely the Priestesses or sorceresses can find a way to control them—”

  The Davrin eyes went wide as we all only just realized that Rausery had moved. Our Elder scowled into the eyes of the dying officer as she slowly sank down to the ground. Rausery held a glistening blade in her right hand. She looked around at those watching, and her voice projected without having to shout.

  “Kill. Every. Thrall. No exceptions.”

  There were no more dissenters.

  Rausery called the Red Sisters closer to her, and I noticed some of us were missing. The spell linking our thoughts had receded, however, and I could no longer be sure if they were alive or not. Lead Qivni hadn’t been one mind to “wink out,” but she also wasn’t here, along with two others. There were six in total not standing with us.

  Three fallen, and three still standing to carry them back.

  Not the Prime nor the Elders would want a Red Sister’s body and equipment loitering where ally and enemy alike could see it, or worse, loot it.

  Rausery next selected us in twos and threes for various tasks. I was instructed along with five others to oversee the healing so those able to march back to Sivaraus would do so on their own two feet.

  “Set more lights and watch them,” the Elder grumbled before moving on to her next duty. “Make sure they’re actually healing, not selectively bumping off their wounded rivals.” She paused, focusing on me and answering my unspoken question, the same way the Prime had. “Watch the faces of the wounded. You’ll know.”