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The Callindra Chronicles Book 2: The Rise of Evil – Chapter 8

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The Council of Twelve was meeting and as both Storgar and Brenlena were not just members, but Speakers, Durrak was in attendance.  He wore the formal grey tabard with the thread of gold embroidered sigils of his lineage marching up the breast, mother’s family on the left and father’s family on the right.  They were both proud and ancient; the tabard was heavy with the weight of his family history.  Each of the other Twelve Clans had their own representatives who would speak here, but this time his mother had the honor of being the first heard.

She was standing at The Stone and addressing the assembled dignitaries, so Durrak was required to stand close, holding a tankard of ale in case she needed to wet her throat.  It was silly, neither of his parents had ever taken the offered drink, yet here he had to stand.  He hoped Brenlena was almost finished, he was exhausted.

“Krrakathanak is dangerous and needs to be stopped!”  She was saying, “He has already laid waste to nearly one hundred square miles of mountain range and he is moving this way.  Rumor has it that he is searching for a mate, and a breeding pair of black dragons is not something we want to have within a hundred leagues of here.”

Brenlena stood back from the podium two steps to signal she was finished and ready for any questions and reached out her hand.  Startled, he thrust the tankard into it so quickly he almost slopped some over the side.  She was resplendent in her Mithril chain and Adamantine breastplate.  He was proud to see that she also wore the Fullblade he had forged for her slanting across her back.

“A rousing speech as always Speaker, but who is it that will lead this mission?”  Durrak couldn’t see the questioner and didn’t recognize his voice, “Your duties are with the Kings Own Guardians and they must not leave the fortress.”

“I will lead it.”  Storgar’s voice boomed out into the cavern.  “Any who has the fortitude to follow me is welcome to prove themselves regardless of rank or station.”

Stunned silence greeted this pronouncement.  None had expected a volunteer and even fewer had thought it would be a Dwarf with a long lineage and no need to prove himself with deeds of daring and valor.  Storgar was a well-established battle general, having led many raids against goblin and orc in addition to having a noble family history.

A great shout rang out from outside the council chamber.  More than a hundred voices raised in a war chant.  Durrak shuddered, wondering how many of them would die, wondering if any of them would return.

“I call for the runes!”  The voice of Cairnara, Head Speaker cut through the noise and everyone fell silent as a door opened and the bent shape of the Moragainnag shuffled out.  The raven on her shoulder seemed to stare directly at Durrak, although he knew it was just his imagination.

She reached the edge of the Stone where a crystal pedestal with an iron bowl resting on top stood.  Reaching into the bowl, she picked up the handful of stone, bone and carved gem runes that rested there.  The raven ruffled its feathers and croaked as she threw them into the air.

“Death.”  The Moragainnag said, “Triumph.  Annihilation.  Fate.  The runes have spoken.”  This was the first time the results had been so unclear.  Silence reigned completely now, everyone waiting to hear what would happen.

“I call for a reading if we do not go.” Storgar said.  Although he didn’t raise his voice it was clearly heard throughout the entire chamber.

The raven croaked again and pecked The Moragainnag on the cheek before she reached into the bowl and picked up the stones again.  She tossed them again and stared into the bowl.  Shaking her head, she picked them up and threw them again, but this time most of them jumped out of the bowl, landing face down on the floor.

She turned an ashen face to look at the assembly.  “Death. Destruction.  Doom.  Chaos.  Annihilation.  Damnation.”  Breaking all protocol, she turned to Storgar and pointed her gnarled finger at him, “I charge you Storgar son of Glardin to go forth with any who dare to join you and bring this dragon to his final rest.  If you do not, all is lost.”

She hobbled out of the cavern, leaving the runes sitting on the floor.  The raven on her shoulder caught Durrak’s eye and held it until they passed out of the chamber.  He swore he could still feel the bird’s eye on him even after it was gone.

–

A low thrumming sound that seemed to permeate through her whole body greeted Callindra when she awakened.  Her entire body felt like she had been beaten with a burning stick.  She tried to open her eyes but it felt like a labor of years.

“What happened?  Tryst?  Are you there?”  She whispered through dry lips, as anxious fingers felt around for her sword.  No answer was immediately forthcoming and she struggled to rise, only to find that she had been strapped to the bed.

“Hey!”  She croaked, forcing her eyes open.  The room was tiny, with barely room for the bed and a small table.  Relief washed over her when she saw Brightfang sheathed and resting on the table, his pommel stone glittering in the light that streamed through the porthole on the wall.

With a determined effort, she wiggled an arm free and unbuckled the restraint across her chest and then the one across her hips.  They weren’t tight she realized, more just tight enough to keep her from sliding out of the narrow bed.  The room lurched and Callindra remembered that she was on a ship.  A flying ship.

Before she could get out of bed, she had to brush out the yards long tangle of her hair and carefully braid it.  Callindra had learned the hard way that if she didn’t, it would quickly get impossibly tangled and while at first she had found its length to be an annoyance she had gradually become accustomed to it.  It even seemed to be a bit of a badge of honor to her now, although she wished it would stop growing.

Her pack was at the foot of the bed and she rummaged for fresh clothes since all she had on were smallclothes.  A line of neat stitches ran down her thigh where her wayward sword had dug into her during her tumble across the deck, but the magic of Jorda’s gift had healed her, likely with some help from Tryst.  Only a thin scar remained where the deep slash had been.

“All the trouble I go through for you.”  She grumbled, giving the leather wrapped hilt of her slender blade a dark look.  His pommel stone glittered, but it was probably a trick of the light.  A sound outside the door made her react instinctively, taking a smooth step to the table, stripping the blade from his sheath and poising by the side of the door ready to strike.

The Callindra Chronicles Book 2: The Rise of Evil – Chapter 7

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Callindra was still on edge, their escape had been narrow, but that wasn’t all that was bothering her.  It was as though she could always hear someone talking to her, whispering just barely beyond the limit of where she could understand the words.  It had made her jumpy and irritable, to the point where even Tryst was giving her space.

“Great, I’m sure they’ll be happy to work for their keep.”  Callindra said, giving the refugees a significant look.  None of them protested.

“Relax sister.”  Cronos said, giving her a good natured punch on the arm, “You don’t need to glare them to death after we did all the work getting them here safely.”

She sighed, “I’m sorry, I just have this weird feeling that something’s not right.”

“I trust your intuition.”  Tryst said, “But this place seems like a good, safe place for these folk.  At any rate they won’t go hungry and it’s certainly safer than if they traveled with us.”

Callindra looked around the farm with its busy people and green fields.  The sun was setting red on the horizon; a color like drying blood and she shivered.

“That’s just th smoke from th forest fire.”  The farmer said, leaning on the fence rail.  “Been burning for a couple days now.”

They all turned, following his gaze toward the mass of the High Forest with the towering form of the Grandfather Tree rising beyond it.  The haze of smoke was clear against the backdrop of the setting sun.  Callindra felt the dread inside her build.

“No.  The High Forest is burning.”  She whispered, “We did this.”

“What?”  Cronos said, giving her an incredulous look.  “We didn’t set any fires there.  Besides, don’t you think Jorda could take care of a little fire?”

“Yes, I would think that Jorda would have the ability to put out a fire you idiot.”  She said, losing her patience.  “Why do you think I’m so worried?”  Wind gusted and swirled around her, loosening the tie holding her waist long, wrist thick braid so that hair fanned out around her head.

“Be easy sister.”  Vilhylm said, putting a calming hand on her shoulder.  “No need to get upset.  We’ll head that direction at first light.”

“The Hand seems to be pointing back in that general direction as well.”  Tryst said, “If we’re going to find the rest of the pieces we need to keep following it toward the closest one.”

Callindra forced herself to relax, focusing on the first Korumn.  Inhale.  Exhale.  “I’m still not sure I’m OK with you calling me your sister.”  She said, giving Vilhylm a quizzical look.

“Well you’re as close to blood kin as we can have without sharing parents.”  Cronos said with a grin, “You’re even my big sister.”

“I’m only a year older than you Cronos.”  She said, allowing their playful banter to soothe away her worries for the moment.  “Tryst is older than I am and Vilhylm has got to have at least ten years on me.”

“Hey now, there’s no need to rub it in.”  Vilhylm said with a hearty chuckle.  “Come on, let’s see what kind of accommodations master Gild can give us for the night.”

“Oh not but th best hayloft for certain!”  Tom said with a hearty chuckle.  “And there’s a damn fine stew on.”

“Sounds wonderful compared to the burned meat and hard ground we’ve been enduring.” Callindra said, grinning in spite of her mood, “Anything’s better than my cooking.”

–

Pressing hard, they had arrived at the High Forest in two days.  The smoke had been getting steadily thicker and now a choking wall of it obscured their view of the roaring flames ahead.  All Callindra could do is stare in horror.

“Gods and Demons, what did we do?”  She breathed, the winds curling around her, blowing the smoke away from her face.

“This wasn’t us.”  Cronos said, “We didn’t start any fires damn it.”

Even as they watched, the fire grew, seeming to actively try to surround them.  With a cry of fear, Callindra lashed out with magic and the winds that were curling protectively around her burst forth, blasting a path through the flames.

“Stop it sister, you’re making the fire stronger!”  Tryst shouted over the increasing angry rumble and crackle of the flames.

Vilhylm had put a mask on, his body beginning to drip with mud and flung great handfuls of wet muck at the fire but the heat baked them to brick before they could do anything to smother the blaze.  Tryst stared at the wall of flames, spinning in a circle.

“We have to get out before it’s too late!”  Tryst yelled, looking around them at the shrinking gap.

“How did it get around us?”  Cronos said, breaking into a run.

“I think it’s alive.”  Callindra said, “Somehow it senses us.”  It was then that she saw the motes of pure emerald rippling through the smoke above their heads.

“It’s the Abyss!”  Tryst shouted, “We need to move!”

“To move where?”  Vilhylm asked, “It has surrounded us!”

With a supreme effort of will, Callindra drew in as much power as she could, spinning in circle with a gradual increase in speed until she was balanced on the ball of her right foot.  She released the power and the winds swirled in response, becoming a small whirlwind and keeping the raging flames at bay.

A roaring sound only barely audible over the flames made everyone look up.  Above them, a shape with a span of flapping wings too impossibly large to be anything but a dragon blocked out the sky as it hovered.  It took Callindra a moment to realize that she was looking at the wooden planks and decking of a sailing vessel.  When a rope ladder fell over the side, stopping a few feet from the ground she stopped caring how it was managing to float there.

“Get on!”  She shouted, sweat pouring down her face as she desperately concentrated.  “I can’t hold this wind forever!”

Cronos was the first to grab the ladder and begin to climb, closely followed by Vilhylm.  Tryst looked at her as though he might object, but the ship above them began to rock and sway, its massive wings flapping in an irregular beat to keep itself steady.  The torrent of air she was maintaining made the ladder begin to slide sideways toward the wall of flame Callindra was only barely keeping at bay.

As the priest in his gleaming maile ascended the ladder, the ship lurched and abruptly bobbed five feet higher off the ground.  The ladder was out of reach.  Desperately, Callindra brought the swirling torrent of air back in and beneath her in a rush.  It shot her into the air with a surprised scream.  Her clumsy attempt to merely raise up a few feet turned into a catapult shot and she flew a dozen feet past the rail of the ship, tumbling to the deck in a barely controlled roll.

“Do get that ladder up and us out of this bedamed torrent!”  A gruff voice sounded behind her.

“Aye Skip!”  Another voice responded.

The scent of Karalan Imperalius wafted into Callindra’s nostrils.  Her head was woozy from the impact and the massive expenditure of arcane energies.  She tried to focus her eyes on the figure standing above her.

“Yer a bedamed fool girl.”  It said in a basso rumble.  “Ya cut yerself up on that blade.  Pretty bad.  Yer bleedin all over Grungie’s deck, holdin onta that thing like it’s a baby or somethin.”

She looked down, and the last thing she saw before succumbing to unconsciousness was Brightfang’s hilt clutched in her hands, his blade buried in her thigh.

The Callindra Chronicles Book 2: The Rise of Evil – Chapter 6

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They broke from their careful ranks and began to scramble over the stone arch, a few more falling screaming into the unknown depths.  Callindra forced herself to ignore them and to focus on the ranks of bipedal lizards who turned as one to focus on what had been happening behind them.

Emerald green ichor oozed from their mouths and they moved in earie unison.  Their motions were uncoordinated, almost as though someone was controlling them and didn’t quite know how to make them move properly.  Most unnerving was the absolute silence that accompanied their approach.

With a shout of defiance, Callindra pushed past the frightened townsfolk and imposed herself between them and the monsters.  She looked back at the pale faces of the guardsmen who she had been scouting with and growled, “Get up here and defend your family’s you cowards!”

This challenge seemed to stiffen their spines a touch and they lost some of their hesitancy.  The movements of their enemies began to smooth out but their unified movement remained, many of them falling off into the yawning chasm when the edge didn’t match up with their ranks.  Tryst and Vilhylm moved to flank her and bolts of Arcane Power flew from Cronos where he stood at the bridge head, chivying the people across.

“We need to keep them moving and confused.”  Vilhylm said, “If they keep having to move in other directions perhaps we can cause more of them to fall.”

With a grin, Callindra darted forward and summoned a vicious blast of wind from Brightfang’s edge, blowing half a dozen of them over the edge, but unfortunately this put her close enough to them to be nearly surrounded.  When she thought she might be overwhelmed, the contingent of guards she had shamed into fighting slammed into the monsters in a loosely organized wedge, hacking limbs from bodies and opening dreadful wounds as they chopped their way to her side.

“You’re late!”  She said, grinning fiercely at their leader.  He grinned back, throwing a mock salute when the claws of one of the lizard men wrapped around his neck from behind, cutting his throat to the spine and spraying her with his arterial blood.

It was all they could do to break free.  The floor became slick with blood and viscera, many of their companions were left motionless on the ground behind them and Callindra noted absently that she had sustained several rather severe wounds.  She had no time to feel the pain now though, and Jorda’s gift was doing its best to staunch the bleeding.

A shout from the bridge made her turn.  The last of the refugees was at the midpoint and Cronos was frantically waving at them.  Tryst and Vilhylm were fighting side by side, Tryst protecting the spear wielding Vilhylm with his shield while the tall, dark man efficiently skewered their enemies from a distance, an old military technique.

“Fall back to the bridge!”  She shouted to her dwindling escort.  “I can hold them here briefly!”

Some of them hesitated, a move that cost some their lives and others just wounds.  The rest fled in a disordered mob, leaving her to face the ravening horde on her own.  Raising Brightfang over her head, she whipped him down in a series of slashing arcs, calling on the Wind to gift her with speed.  She could feel it wrap around her, calling to her, entreating her to trust it.

To the horror of the onlookers, she turned and sprinted down the line of enemies fast enough that her long braid streamed out like a banner, the end snapping in the wind.  Instead of turning aside, she simply ran off the edge of the chasm closely followed by the two score monsters that were close on her heels.

The winds rose beneath her, blowing her hair out of its braid to lash around her in a confusing tangle, but as her enemies plunged silently to their deaths, she kept running.  Somehow the breezes gathered beneath her, allowing her feet to land on nothing but air.  It took an enormous amount of effort to maintain the concentration though, and by the time she had reached the bridge a mere score paces away, her body was trembling from the effort.

Strong hands steadied her, “That was quite a stunt.”  Vilhylm said.

“We can’t relax yet.”  She replied grimly, pointing to where the first line of monsters were advancing up the bottom of the bridge.

They moved much more carefully and slowly than they had before, and not with as much unified purpose.  Whatever held sway over them was having to be precise lest it lose the majority of its fighting force to the depths of the chasm.

“So what was this plan of yours Cronos?”  Callindra said, her voice tight with barely controlled fear and obvious exhaustion.

“We wait.  Just a few moments more should suffice.”  He began chanting under his breath the way he always did before he used magic.  She never understood why he needed to do such things, but then again he seemed disturbed by her silent magic and her lack of a spell book.

When their foes were three blade lengths away, Cronos finished his spell.  A jet of thick black liquid shot from his hands to coat the narrow bridge with a slippery tar like substance.  The lead lizard men continued forward and lost their balance immediately, falling into the depths below.

“OK, now we run before the spell wears off!”  Cronos said, grinning like a child.

Wishing she had a way of collapsing the entire bridge, Callindra turned to go.  She didn’t look back.

–

After a week of travel, they had managed to get the majority of the refugees to the farm of Tom Gild.  The farmer had survived the riots in Levora but one of his sons had been slain and another was gravely wounded.

“I’ll welcome th help!”  He had said, smiling at the several hundred people.  “Hells, I didn’t make it out with my team, barely survived myself.  Without the horses I was wondering how I’d be able to get th planting done, but if these folk are willing we can do it by hand and have enough that none of us need go hungry.”

The Callindra Chronicles Book 2: The Rise of Evil – Chapter 5

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The roar of a waterfall was audible long before they reached it.  Callindra turned to look at her friends and motioned for them to come near.

“I’ll sneak ahead.”  She whispered, “Keep the rest of them quiet.  Once I know it’s safe I’ll come get the rest of you.  Or if it’s not safe I’ll come tell you and we’ll figure it out.”

After they had given their grudging assent, she snuck out carefully eventually dropping to a crawl by the time she reached the edge of a large drop off.  The scene below her was breathtaking.  An underground river was cascading down the side of an immense cavern and had carved a riverbed through the stone, only leaving a slender arch of bedrock that spanned the gap.

The thunder of falling water all but deafened her and the mist that rose from the gorge it vanished into made it very difficult to see.  She sat still for a few minutes, just watching and trying to take in the enormity of it all.  A slight motion against the falling water caught her eye, a swirling in the mist that barely resolved into a humanoid creature with a long tail.

Now that she saw one, she began to see dozens, if not hundreds of the creatures they’d fought before standing before the waterfall or milling about aimlessly nearby.  Beyond them she could feel the wild breezes from the outside dancing and playing between her and an opening to the outside.

Callindra let out a sob of relief.  An exit to the outside.  Until she saw a way out, she hadn’t realized just how closed in she felt in the caves.  It took an extreme act of will to stay put, even though she knew it would be tantamount to suicide to try and run past all the lizard creatures.  Even more difficult was backing away to the others where they stood in the stagnant, still cave air.

“There’s a way out, but the only way to get there is to cross a bridge defended by a hundred or more of those lizard things.”  Callindra looked back at the refugees huddling together more to stave off fear than cold she thought.

“Hardly ideal.”  Tryst said dryly.

“Try rotting impossible!”  Said Cronos, “We can’t possibly sneak across ourselves, let alone herd this lot through without being seen.”

“With us being this close, it’s actually likely only a matter of time before they hear this unruly mob and bring the fight to us.”  Vilhylm said.  “Whatever we’re going to do, we need to do it quickly.”

“What if we tried something like we did in that Kobold cave outside of Vonlar?”  Callindra mused, “I use magic to make a noise, lure them away and then while we lead them on a merry chase, the refugees escape.  Not all these men are completely worthless… a few have bows, we might be able to make a decent fight of things.”

“Not if there are a hundred or more of them.”  Vilhylm said, “Even if we could force them to come at us singly or in pairs that would be very long odds.”

“All we need to do is distract them for long enough for the refugees to get over the bridge.”  Cronos said with a feral grin.  “Then after we get across I can take care of the rest.  It’s a narrow bridge right Callindra?  No railings?”

“It’s really just a narrow piece of granite that has been exposed from the erosion of the limestone around it.”  Callindra said, “That might be a problem too, since the mist from the waterfall has likely made the footing uncertain at best.”

“Wonderful.”  Vilhylm drawled, “A hastily assembled, poorly thought out and dangerous plan that’s likely to get us all killed along with the folk who are trusting their lives to us.”

“Have you got a better idea?”  Asked Callindra with an arched eyebrow.

“Other than going back the way we came and hoping there’s another exit somewhere else, not really.”  He retorted, “But that doesn’t mean it’s a good plan or that I like it.”

“Who gets the honor of selling it to the refugees?”  Tryst asked, and Callindra started to chuckle at him.  As his face took on an even more wounded expression she couldn’t hold back the laughter and eventually it spilled over into the others.

“Well I think you should be the one to tell them.”  He said, frowning at her.  “It’s your bedamned plan, let them hear it from you!”

“I’ll tell them if you want Tryst, but they won’t like it coming from me.”  She said, still smiling, “You know, I don’t think I’ve ever heard you curse before.”

Tryst sighed in resignation and went off to speak to the assembled survivors.  Cronos, Vilhylm and Callindra began to creep up to where they could see down into the cavern.  Something was changing, the face of the waterfall began to reflect flickering green lights and all the creatures turned toward it.

“What are you doing?”  Cronos asked, glaring at Callindra.  “We aren’t ready yet.”

“It’s not me.”  She replied, “But now might be our best chance at getting these people out.  See, they’re all moving toward the waterfall, they all have their backs to us.”

“True, but it only takes one of them turning around to blow the whole thing.”  Vilhylm said.

“Hey, same goes for if they see through whatever illusion I could conjure up.”  Callindra countered, “Who knows how long this will last.  We need to get them moving!”  She all but sprinted back down to where the people were splitting into groups, ten civilians with three warriors as guards in each.

“What is happening Callindra?”  Tryst asked, giving her an annoyed frown.

“Some kind of ritual or something, but the important thing is it’s a distraction.  If we move quickly and quietly we might be able to escape before they even notice we’re here!  Hurry!”

“Are you sure it’s a good idea?”  Tryst said skeptically, but many of the groups were already moving.

“It’s as good of a plan as the other, I mean… it’s not like we could keep these things distracted forever and at least this way they have a running start!”  She punched him in the arm, her eyes gleaming with excitement, “Come on, you’re gonna miss all the fun.”

Tryst narrowed his eyes, “Callindra, this is a serious situation.  People could die.  People are likely to die.  We very well might die.  This flippant attitude of yours is unacceptable.”

“Come on Tryst.”  She said, smiling, “I have to laugh at death.  It’s either that or run screaming.”

He sighed, “You are impossible, but you’re right on one account.  We must move quickly.  This is likely our best chance.”

“You’re too serious.”  Callindra said, but she couldn’t contain the quaver in her voice.  “Come on, let’s get these sheep moving.”

Tryst looked at her, a kind of understanding and empathy beginning to dawn on him.  “Right.”  He said gruffly, “Let’s go.”

By the time they had gotten back up the incline, a quarter of the refugees had begun crossing the stone bridge.  The thunder of the waterfall drowned out any noise they might be making and by some miracle, none of them had fallen off the narrow, slippery surface.  Their presence hurried the others along, but also made them careless.  The first dozen had crossed and were sneaking out of the exit when one of the older men lost his footing and plunged over the edge with a piercing cry.

Without waiting to see what the reaction of the lizard people would be, Callindra sprinted toward them, Brightfang jumping into her hand.  “Run!”  She yelled to the refugees she passed, “RUN!!!”

The Callindra Chronicles Book 2: The Rise of Evil – Chapter 4

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“You must learn to control the flames of Maegera if you wish to master the Adamantine forge.”  Dethen said, “And in order to control Maegera’s fire, you will have to conquer your fear of him.”

“Only a fool wouldn’t be afraid of an ancient and malevolent being of primordial fire…” He trailed off and belatedly added “Master.”

“This is true Apprentice, however I didn’t say to stop being afraid; I said to conquer your fear.  Do not let it rule your actions, but instead allow it to advise.  Fear of this monster is an appropriate reaction until you realize that it is bound.”

Durrak flinched as he spoke the words in Ignan, the language of Flame itself, which opened the Gate to Maegera’s fire.  The elemental flame roared forth, bathing the ingot of Adamantine in impossible heat.  The metal shimmered and began to run in rivulets down into a flat mold almost the same shape as the sword he would eventually be making from it.

Wearing nothing but an enchanted apron over a loincloth, Durrak took a deep breath and picked up his hammer and squared his shoulders.  This was the only way he was going to be able to face his parents again.  He had to surpass their expectations.  There was no way he was going to fail.

“LITTLE MAGGOT.”  A voice slammed its way into his skull.  “WHAT IS IT YOU WANT?”  This wasn’t supposed to happen, the monster was supposed to be contained!

In spite of the pressure he felt crushing his body, Durrak raised his chin.  He was a Dwarf after all, and he had his pride.  If Maegera was going to kill him, then he was going to look the demon in his face when it happened.

“I don’t want to fail my parents oh Master of the eternal flame.  I want to live up to the expectations of my family, my clan and my God.”

“IS THAT SO?  AND WHAT MAKES YOU THINK I WILL HELP YOU?”  The assault on his entire body and soul was more than he could take and he knew it.

“Why not?” He asked, “What else are you doing?”

Maegera’s laugh shook the marrow of his bones, “YOU HAVE SPIRIT YOUNG CHILDE OF THE EARTH.  THE LAST OF YOUR KIND I SPOKE TO THUS BROKE HIS SKULL WITH HIS FORGE HAMMER TRYING TO BASH ME OUT YET YOU HAVE ENOUGH SPARK TO MAKE DEMANDS.  VERY WELL, THE BLADES YOU WISH SHALL BE FORGED IF YOU HAVE THE FORTITUDE TO ACCOMPLISH IT.”

Durrak’s body trembled with the effort of swinging the hammer.  Sweat poured from his body and his breath came in short gasps.  He refused to allow his hand to unclench from the haft of the long handled forge hammer.  The Ignan words of dismissal fell from his lips like lead and the fires cut off as though they’d never been there.  Two flawless swords, each three paces long and made of the strange marbled metal that only one forge he knew of could melt lay cooling on the stone workbench.

“DO NOT QUENCH THEM LITTLE MAGGOT.” Maegera’s voice echoed in his mind, “THEY WILL COOL IN THEIR OWN TIME.”

Durrak wore his exhaustion like a cloak, but he was satisfied.  Now he would be able to concentrate on what gave him passion.  Now he could make jewelry.

A voice that caressed his mind like a tongue of flame touching dry wood.  It carried with it the ring of a thousand distant forge hammers and the implacable strength of the bones of the earth.

“You have done well to bend the metal and flame to your will.  It shows the mettle that is needed to be forged properly.”

Durrak shuddered as the touch of Thraingaar slipped from his mind.  Surely he had imagined his God’s presence.  He was nothing but the first son of the third Noble House.  His parents were mere Battle Leaders and Speakers.  Perhaps more important than some, but not enough to be of anyone’s notice.  Certainly not the God of the Forge.

–

Callindra swore, the oath drawing a startled glance from one of Tanner’s warriors who was scouting ahead with her.  None of his men could get used to her being a warrior, her not being in a dress or her being a competent scout.  She was stuck halfway between exasperation and smiling in triumph.

“Another god rotting dead end.”  She concluded, “Go back and inform the others.”

He jerked awkwardly and saluted, turning to run back as she walked along the wall, double checking for passages that might have been missed.  A glimmer of light caught her eye, and although she thought it likely one of the many clumps of strange phosphorescent moss that grew down here, she wasn’t taking any chances.

The wall exploded in a twisted tangle of misshapen arms and legs and only Callindra’s lightning reflexes saved her from going down beneath the onslaught of a half dozen monsters with scaly skin and glowing emerald eyes.  They hissed in hunger and closed with her more quickly than she thought possible, raking at her with wickedly long claws.

Down here the winds weren’t as responsive to her, being stagnant things that crept around corners and slunk through cracks instead of the vast unstoppable forces that lived on the surface.  Unaware of her reliance on their strength and speed, Callindra jumped to one side a tiny bit too slowly and the curving claws tore into her side.  They cut through the boiled leather of her armor with ease and brought a spray of blood with them as they exited her flesh.

The impact of the blow spun Callindra in a stumbling circle, off balance and leaving her guard down.  With snarls, the others leaped at her in unison.  She managed to turn the stumbling turn into a spin and dropped to a crouch, whipping Brightfang through the thighs of one of her attackers.  The monster fell back and another one screamed in rage as a spear drove into its chest, thrown from behind her.

Fighting desperately, she turned a claw strike aside with her sword and dropped flat to avoid another swipe.  The warrior she had sent back to report ran into the fray, a short sword in one hand and a dagger in the other as he attacked silently from one side.  The creatures had been so focused on Callindra that he managed to incapacitate one of them before two fell on him in a flurry of claws and teeth.

A bestial roar announced the arrival of Vilhylm wearing the mask that gave him immense strength.  He cannoned into the side of one of the lizard creatures, crushing it against the wall with enough force to pulverize its bones.  In a flurry of strikes, the other arms men who followed Vilhylm hacked the remaining creatures to pieces.

There were a few human forms laying among the reptilian dead.  Callindra forced herself not to think of it; there was a butcher’s bill to pay to escape these cursed caves and she was just grateful not to be added to the tally.  At least not yet.

She looked past the soldiers making sure of the dead and joined Vilhylm, looking into the hole the monsters had left in the wall.  Beyond was a smoothly sloping tunnel that curved around and down on one side and up at a similar angle on the other.  To Callindra’s surprise and pleasure, a wind from the outside twined around her ankles like a purring cat before leaping up to tease the wrist thick braid of hair that fell to her waist.

“What is it?”  Vilhylm asked, giving her a quizzical look.

Realizing she was smiling, Callindra grinned even broader.  “There’s a way out.  Fresh air is blowing up this tunnel.”  Her words echoed in the smooth walled passageway and realized it wasn’t natural cavern, it was worked stone.

Vilhylm seemed to have noticed it as well.  “Get the others.  We need to move carefully and quietly.  There may be more of those things.”

Reluctant to leave the fresh breeze, Callindra turned back, dispatching the warriors back through the caverns to bring the main group of refugees from where they rested under the watchful eyes of Cronos and Tryst.

Machine Girl: Hard Times Call For Hardware – Chapter 17

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Victoria

Eugene was late and Victoria was sick and tired of waiting.  She’d had a terrible day, constantly feeling eyes watching her and it had impacted her mood, making her snap at everyone.  Even the normally imperturbable Stace had given her a wide berth by third period.

She was just about to give up and walk home alone when Dmitri’s steel gray Mercedes limo pulled up to the curb.  The rear window rolled down smoothly and she heard the strains of a classical symphony accompanied by the faint scent of his exotic cigarettes.

“Do I sense a lady in distress?”  He said with a grin which only widened when she scowled at him.  “You seem to be in a foul mood.  Allow me to take you out and spoil you.”

“Dmitri, I don’t think so.  It’s a school night and I don’t have a damn thing to wear.  I’d catch hell, and besides I’m not going to be any fun to be around right now.”

“Nonsense.  I will call your father and ask him if I may take you shopping to improve your outlook after a trying day.  After I purchase several outfits for you, we shall have a light repast at Hanabi and I shall have you home by no later than seven.”  He said, and Ivanov stepped smoothly around to open the door.

As usual, orange light surrounded the man alerting her to the danger he posed to her and everyone around him.  As usual, she ignored it.  Ivanov had never been anything but perfectly polite to her.

Victoria looked at him for a moment before her resolve failed.  “Oh fine.  If daddy says it’s OK then I’ll let you spoil me.  But just this once, I’m not going to make a habit of accepting expensive things from you.”

“We need not purchase expensive things my dear.”  He said as she slid in beside him, “I will take you wherever you desire, whether it be to Niemen Marcus or Target.”

“Well if we’re going out for sushi I suppose more or less anything would be fine, even just my school uniform.”  She sighed.

“While I find it most fetching, I happen to remember that you do not.”  Dmitri said with a smile and rapped on the window.  “Ivanov, take us to La Belle.”

Victoria looked at him with a puzzled expression before Adam supplied her with information about the shop.  “That’s a high end French boutique right?  I can’t very well come home in a thousand-dollar dress Dmitri, and you haven’t called daddy yet.”

“Oh that is quite all right Victoria, I called him before I picked you up.  I also told Dr. Arlington that he need not attempt to break the land speed record in that Italian rocket of his because he was late.”

She crossed her arms and gave him a flat stare.  “I suppose you already knew I was having a shitty day somehow?  Like you have a spy in school or something?”

He held up his hands in mock surrender, “You forget that I recently was also a high school student.  Every day is a shitty day.”

Cracks formed in her determination to stay angry and she smiled for what felt like the first time in days.  What could the harm be in letting him buy her a nice outfit?  He could afford it after all and had never asked anything from her in return other than her company.  It was nice to have someone like him who would anticipate her and try to be sweet in his own way.

“Ah, there is the smile that I love to see.”  He said with a slight smile of his own.

Something about his expression bothered her slightly, but she had decided not to be annoyed anymore.  “Thank you Dmitri, I didn’t realize just how much I needed something like this.”

“Do you want to talk about it?”  He asked, leaning forward to look her in the eye.  She met his gaze and she found herself telling him about everything.  About how frightened she had been when Adam seemed to have abandoned her, about the man who had tried to assault or kidnap her, about her strange savior and the feeling of being watched constantly.

“It has been driving me crazy, but I know I’m not imagining it.”  She said, running her hands through her hair and then peering at him through the strands that fell over her face.  “I’m sorry Dmitri, I didn’t mean to dump all this on you.”

His smile never wavered a millimeter, “Think nothing of it Victoria, I asked you after all.  You have my word that I will do everything within my power to keep anyone from harming you.”

To her surprise, Dmitri was suddenly surrounded by orange light.  An orange script scrolled across the bottom of her vision. ‘Dangerous angry individual, aggression very high, unknown motives.’

“Dmitri, are you feeling OK?”  She asked, “You seem strange, aren’t you taking this a little too seriously?”

“You were attacked yesterday.  You feel threatened and watched; frightened enough to tell me, a man who you barely know about it.”  He gave her that intense look again and it fascinated her.  “Of course I am taking this seriously.”

Victoria blushed, “I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to dump all this…”  She trailed off, feeling like a program that had a glitch.  She shook her head, “God, I feel like a broken record or something.”

“Victoria, there is no reason for you to apologize.” Dmitri said with a smile that looked genuine and warm.  “I asked you to tell me.  I want to hear your problems.  I am here for you, because I care about you.”

She blinked.  This was not what she had expected, and to her surprise it was actually a bit off putting.  It was like talking to a book titled ‘A Beginners Guide to Talking to Girls’ or something.  Before she could fully analyze her feelings on the matter the car stopped.

“Ah here we are.”  Dmitri said as Ivanov opened the door.  “La Belle.  I’m sure you’ll find something fit to wear out here.”

Victoria allowed him to help her out of the car and into a world of silk, velvet and exotic perfumes.

The Death of Flinder Quickfingers

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Flinder ran like he had never run before.  It wasn’t supposed to have gone like this; it was a simple job, a quick hit and run with a payout that should have made him look twice but it was for a nobleman and they never knew how much something like this was worth.  Sweat poured down his face as he thought about how wrong things had gone.

Their target hadn’t been a simple merchant; he had been some kind of blademaster.  He fought like a demon and had killed three of Flinder’s crew before the gnome had managed to hit him with enough poisoned crossbow bolts that he had fallen to the cobblestones, paralyzed.  Flinder was far too smart to kill a mark; stealing was one thing, but murder always brought more trouble than any fee was worth.

He had gone personally to recover the merchandise from the carriage.  It was supposed to have been in a small, easily movable iron casket, instead there was a series of strong boxes that had to be individually unlocked.  Every one of them had some sort of trap on it and he only very nearly avoided being poisoned by a particularly nasty needle trap on the last one.

The extra time meant that his crew was fighting the watch off by the time he finally got the casket open.  It was only by luck that he managed to slip through a sewer grate and run before the last of his muscle was overwhelmed.  Then the rats had started running from him.

It wasn’t just the normal running away from a threat, it was a panicked rush of animals that were terrified.  Something was inside the small iron casket.  Something dangerous.  Flinder had no desire to open it and now he just wanted to escape.  But he didn’t dare abandon the job.  If someone wanted this, they were powerful enough mete out retribution if he didn’t come through.

He stopped, his back against the wall and tried to quiet his breathing.  Removing his haversack, he placed the casket carefully inside, making sure to snuggle it between the layers of dirty clothes he had packed inside.  Making sure his hand crossbow was cocked and loaded with another paralytic bolt, he secured it out of sight beneath his rags and slipped out of the sewer into the bustling basement of the laundress’s shop.  This wasn’t the first time Flinder had made use of the slip me out here.  Best ten gold he had ever spent.

Stepping out into torch lit streets, the gnome almost walked straight into the night watchman who was waiting for him.  Maintaining his guise as a rag picker, he squinted at the man and bobbed his head.  “Apologies sirrah, didn’t see ya sirrah, old eyes ain’t what they were sirrah.”

“Flinder Quickfingers.”  He said, his eyes hard.  “Come with me.  We have business to discuss.”

Flinder looked at him for a moment and the man’s gaze was unsettling.  The game was up.  Cursing his luck and cursing the laundress for probably selling him out, Flinder looked for an escape while reaching beneath his rags for his crossbow. He never saw the rope that circled around his neck.

When he regained consciousness, Flinder looked around dazedly.  He was in a prison cell that was apparently built into something resembling a plush office.  Overstuffed chairs were arranged next to a crackling fireplace, paintings were attractively displayed on the walls and various bits of statuary sat on tables and pedestals.  His pilfered iron casket sat on a marble table near the fire.  His stomach churned.  It was open.

“So Quickfingers, tell me what you were thinking you were going to do with this?”  A man in a constable’s uniform gestured at the open iron box.

Flinder licked dry lips and shook his head dazedly.  “I didn’t know what was in it.”  He croaked, his voice raw.  “Just paid to get it.”

“Who would pay for something like this?”  A second man asked.  He was wearing an officer’s uniform; the rank of Nightmaster on his sleeve.  “Do you take us for complete fools?”

“Can I please have some water?”  Flinder asked plaintively, “My throat is parched.”

“God rotting gnomes.”  The Nightmaster hissed, spitting into the fire.

“Sir, I know they don’t understand propriety the way we do, however it makes sense to at least keep his lips moist while he answers our questions.”  The constable said, pouring a cup of water from a pitcher with condensation beading invitingly on the side.

Flinder didn’t even think about it being poisoned when he drank.  After all, they could have killed him any time.  Foolish.  He never expected the truth drugs; he hadn’t known they existed.

“Who hired you?”  The Nightmaster asked, leaning forward to hear the answer.  “What was the payoff?”

“I don’t know the Lady’s name, but she was of noble birth.”  Flinder said, feeling slightly dizzy.  “She offered ten thousand gold, which seemed to be an insane amount but you know nobility.  They’re all a bunch of insane maniacs who have no idea about what jobs are worth, I mean I’ve had Lords insist I assassinate someone for a handful of silver, not that I do those jobs you understand but I’ve brokered-“

“Enough!”  The Nightmaster cut him off, “What is this thing?”

“I don’t know what it was, like I said before, she just said she wanted it and it was important.  Was supposed to just be in that iron casket but they had it in a bunch of other chests and that crazy maniac must have been a swordmaster or something because he nearly killed my entire crew before we took him down.”

“Pox and rot this thing is useless.”

“Perhaps sir, we could sell it to this noble?”

“If we knew her bedamned name.  I’m sure this little bastard has already missed the time for the exchange.  When and where was it Quickfingers?”

“At the eleventh bell.”  Flinder said, feeling even dizzier now.  “In the fountains in the Flower district.”

“Missed it by three hours.”  The Nightmaster sighed, “Another one for the collection I suppose.”  He reached inside the casket and withdrew a hand constructed of a strange shining black material.  It ended right after the wrist in a maw of bristling needle like teeth.  It twitched in his hand slightly, the mouth of teeth opening and closing spasmodically.

“What a terrible thing.”  Flinder murmured, watching the hand as it strove to sink its fangs into the Nightmaster’s arm.  It was the last thing he saw as the poison stopped his heart.

Zilyana Irithyl Part 2

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Zilyana felt pressure on her face and realized she was laying face down on the table in her cabin.  Whatever poison the treacherous Forcythe had used hadn’t finished her off, but it was making her limbs feel as though they were made of dead eels.  Struggling to her desk, she fumbled and finally managed to press the three pieces of carved wood that opened one of the secret drawers.

She grabbed one of the antidote potions she kept there for just such an emergency and downed it.  The alchemical mixture cleared her head immediately.  Plucking her hat from where it had fallen, Zilyana closed her eyes and incanted a spell.  The rest of the world seemed to slow down and she invoked another spell, vanishing from where she stood and appearing on the deck of her ship.

It was a scene of chaos; at least a dozen men were bleeding on the deck, a mad struggle between her crew and a bunch of people in dock worker’s garb.  Worse yet, an entire god rotting platoon of soldiers was moving down the deck at speed with weapons at the ready.  Moving with speed that made the others seem to stand still, Zilyana sprinted down the deck hacking through the thick hemp ropes that kept them secured to the dock.

“CAST OFF YA CRACKBRAINED RATS!” She shouted and her crew rallied at the sight of her.  A flight of arrows streaked from the approaching soldiers and swept the deck.  Zilyana wove through them easily to hack the last of the mooring ropes free and planted her feet on the deck.  Raising her blades, she wove them in intricate patterns, scribing runes in the air and shouting words of Power.  The water between the pier and her ship obeyed her commands and rose in a massive wave, heeling Wavebreaker over and moving him away from the pier.

“Prepare to lower sail, get to your positions and keep your damn heads down!  We’re running!”  She yelled, “Lindrix, take the helm I have to focus!”  Without looking to see if her First Mate had obeyed, Zilyana bent her will to force the water to create a wave that swept the smaller craft out of the way as it shoved Wavebreaker out of the harbor against the wind.

Cries of anger came from the dockside as her ship surged away from the shore, gathering speed as it went.  Wiping sweat from her brow, Zilyana gritted her teeth and looked ahead.  A warship, King’s Ransom was raising its anchor.  Shit.

Letting go of the force that kept pushing Wavebreaker forward, she pointed and gestured at the water on the opposite side of the Ransom and a vortex of swirling waters began to form behind it.  The enemy ship spun lazily, turning away from them and foundering in the water.  As their enemies were swept out of the way, the force of the whirlpool shot Wavebreaker out of the harbor into open sea.

With a grimace of effort, Zilyana hurled a wave back toward shore, knowing it would swamp the smaller boats and founder the larger.  With any luck it might even sink a few of those bastards who had come to arrest them.  Releasing the spell that gave her power over water, she focused on a more familiar friend and called upon Nordji, the North Wind to send them on their way.  A private gale, just for them sprang up before her outstretched palm, filling Wavebreaker’s sails and sending them speeding from the city and their enemies.

–

“Another one?”  Zilyana rubbed her arm over her pained, red eyes.  When had she slept last?

“Aye Captain.”  Lindrix said, lowering his spyglass.  “We ain’t gonna be able to dock here either and if we don’t get out of here fast they will likely catch us.”

Gritting her teeth, she reached out for the power once again.  Pain flashed behind her eyes but she forced the winds to her will again and sent Wavebreaker back out to sea.

“We can’t keep doing this.”  She said, “I can’t keep doing this.  Lindrix, I have to rest.  The instant we lose that sail you need to take over the helm.”

“Of course.”  He said, giving her arm a reassuring squeeze.  “We’ll be fine for a time.  You’re the only one who hasn’t rested.  Go on, we can handle this.”

“Come rouse me in an hour.”  She said, and stumbled to her cabin.

–

It had been many decades ago that she had discovered her brother’s strangeness.  Her beloved grandmother, seven centuries old had died, old age claiming her at last.  Zilyana had wept for days, inconsolable in the grief of losing the first person in her family who had discovered her magical gifts and nurtured them into a thing of deadly grace and beauty.

She had thought that Korikk shared her affection for the ancient woman, but he had been more interested in finding out if she had anything interesting in her personal effects than anything else.  He hadn’t even wanted to attend her Final Rest ceremony.  This hurt almost as much as her grandmother dying.

“Why doesn’t he care momma?”  She had asked, sobbing into her mother’s shoulder.  “He should care.  Grandma was wonderful and I will miss her.  Why doesn’t he feel sad?”

“You know how when you were very little your hair did not grow like the other children’s at first?”  Verrona had said, smoothing her hand over Zilyana’s back.  “It just took longer for your hair to begin to grow.  Korikk is the same way, but for him it’s his emotions that are taking longer to grow in.”

This explanation had mollified her for years.  She had waited for her older brother to understand things that she had felt for as long as she could remember.  Gradually it seemed to happen.  Korikk cried when their pets died.  He laughed at jokes and went through several phases of romantic entanglements with different girls, being suitably morose when the relationships ended.

Zilyana thought at first that her brother’s emotions had finally started to develop just as Verrona had promised, but after a few years she became certain that he was perpetrating a carefully concocted lie.  He was always sad for the same number of hours after each setback.  He laughed for the same number of seconds and always started laughing after everyone else had begun.

“Mother, I am worried about Korikk.” She had said, approaching Verrona in her study where she knew they wouldn’t be disturbed.  “It’s like he is just pretending.  Like he is simply imitating the feelings we all take for granted.”

Verrona sat quietly for a few moments, then quietly walked to the door and closed it.  The air tightened around them for a moment and Zilyana realized that this room wasn’t just private; it was magically warded against any kind of eavesdropping.  Elves were folk whose emotions ran deep, and the thought that someone could be an elf and not feel was frightening.

“It must be hard for him.” Verrona finally said.  Zilyana blinked; she hadn’t thought of it from that perspective before.  “He knows we all feel things; joy, sadness, love, hatred… and yet he stands in the stream of Elven emotion as still as a stone.  It all flows around him, gradually wearing him down and he doesn’t understand it.”

“Oh.”  Zilyana said, “I never thought of it.  Not like that anyway.  I just see him looking at a situation and instead of reacting emotionally to it it’s like he calculates what the expected response is.”  She shivered, “I saw him in a fight last week.  He was just going through motions, he could have been punching a practice pell.  It was like he was a monster, and he only stopped when he noticed that others expected it.  I think he would have beaten that boy to death.”

“There is that.”  Verrona agreed, the picture of calm.  “He is a monster sweetheart, but he is our monster.  Our family has come through dark times before you two were born.  I fear we have some dark times ahead.  There are many monsters in this world, I think it would behoove us to have one of our own.”

Zilyana stared at her mother in shock, and Verrona continued.  “Zil I need you to help him.  He needs coaching if he is to blend in and you know that he isn’t completely without feelings.  They’re just subdued in him.  He needs our love and understanding as well as our coaching or else we will just be ‘a’ monster instead of ‘our’ monster.”

“I understand mother.”  Zilyana said, her mouth dry.

–

After what seemed like moments, Zilyana jerked awake to the sounds of combat.  As she leaped to her feet, she could see that the day had passed and the moon had risen.  That bastard Lindrix had let her rest too long, but she should have known better.  He always tried to look out for her health and wellbeing, claiming it was his job as First Mate.

She had to grudgingly admit that feeling fully rested and magically recharged would be undeniably helpful in the fight though.  Bursting from her cabin she saw they were flanked by two ships.  Snarling in anger, she leveled a sword at one and sent a blast of flame towards it.  To her shock, an answering weave of power dissolved her lance of fire into motes of light.  Shit.  They had a mage too and he was good.

Their arcane duel made the air hum with power as they employed elemental forces and sheer waves of destruction against one another.  Spells that would have burned either of them to cinders or frozen them solid were deflected and countered.  An arrow from the other ship slammed into her shoulder and Zilyana’s concentration wavered for just an instant.

That instant was all her opponent needed.  He leveled a staff a pace long with arcane symbols on it and bolt of dark energy lanced out towards her chest.  Zilyana was roughly shoved aside and a cry of anguish came from her mouth as she saw Lindrix falling to the deck with half his torso missing.  It was just gone.

With a scream of fury and sorrow, she flung her will into the depths of the ocean.  A wall of water fully twenty feet high rose between their ships, nearly capsizing the enemy vessel.  After it washed over the deck, she directed it to fill the hold.  Again and again she threw wave after wave and shouts of panic began to sound as the ship started to sink lower in the water.

The second ship broke away, its crew fearful of similar treatment.  Zilyana did not stop until the ship that had carried the enemy wizard had sunk beneath the waves.  Turning to the remains of her crew she set her jaw in a hard line.

“Make for open sea.  I know Wavebreaker is a coastal vessel, and so do they.”

“Captain, this is madness!  We can’t possibly survive so long at sea!”  One of her crew protested.  Others nodded in agreement.

“The next time which one of you will throw yourself in front of the death spell?”  She asked, bitter tears streaming down her cheeks, “I wouldn’t ask it of any of you, but I know there are some who would.  Next time they might bring several mages.  We have a hold with food, medical supplies and a few other assorted things that should see us through the voyage.  That combined with my magic will see us through.  My life on it.”

She saw their attitudes chance when they remembered that they had never unloaded their cargo.  More than a few started to laugh and joke about her luck and a few more began to sing a chanty when they remembered the substantial shipment of rum that was also on board.  Zilyana stood rooted to the spot for a moment, amazed at the trust her crew had in her.

‘Our chances are maybe one in a hundred.  If we’re lucky.’ She thought to herself, ‘But they’re better than if we keep losing men to enemy ships. A war of attrition is one we will lose, and quickly.’  Wondering idly if Norjdi was going to eventually stop responding to her demands, she once again summoned will, words and gesture that filled Wavebreaker’s sails and sent the ship on the course she had chosen.