Forging Divinity (37 page)

“Ah,” Edon said “Lydia, impeccable timing. I hadn’t realized you were back in the city yet. I don’t suppose you could convince your friend to surrender?”

Taelien charged straight past Lydia, his clothing no longer aflame. Red metal arced at six angles in rapid succession, only to be met with the Heartlance’s steel each time. Taelien somehow held his ground against the sorcerous impact triggered by each parry, but blood still flowed freely from a wound on his right arm, and his chest was ravaged with burns.

Lydia shot a glance toward where she had seen Jonan last, but there was no sign of him. She grit her teeth and stepped forward again, swinging low at Edon’s legs to make an opening for Taelien. The swordsman took her cue, flanking to the left and swinging at Edon’s shoulder, but Edon simply swept the spear in a half-circle and parried both strikes, knocking both attackers away.

Edon didn’t even try to launch any counter attacks – he just calmly raised his spear as Taelien hurled a metal sphere in his direction, knocking the ball aside.

He’s faster than he should be,
Lydia considered.
He’s supposed to be a former priest, not a warrior. Taelien is exhausted and injured, but not sufficiently to account for this difference. The Heartlance must be making him faster, in addition to causing that kinetic impact every time we strike it. Motion sorcery, probably. If I could get it away from him...

Lydia took a different tactic, swinging the flat of her blade at Edon’s hand. He stepped back, sweeping the flat of the spear upward in an attempt to catch her under the chin, but Lydia side-stepped that and drove her blade back downward, making an opening for Taelien to launch an attack of his own.

Taelien took the opening, but not in the way she expected – he rushed forward and slammed his uninjured shoulder straight into Edon, only to bounce off of the sorcerer’s barrier. Edon looked momentarily stunned, so Lydia swept her blade into the Heartlance and dragged it downward toward Edon’s fingers. The sword connected, but the flickering barrier held, preventing any damage.

Resh, how is he maintaining that barrier through so much abuse?

“Enough of this,” Edon said, releasing a hand from the spear to point it at Lydia.

“Dominion of Protection,” she rushed to incant, stepping backward as she realized his intent.

“Eru volar-“

“Fold against my skin-“

“...Shen taris,” Edon finished. Lydia thought she saw his ring flash for an instant before the blue-white fire consumed her.

Chapter XV – Unsheathed

The jet of flames washed over Lydia’s body while Taelien pounded with futile fervor against the shimmering barrier of energy around Edon, his strikes failing to even make a crack.

When the fire faded, Taelien saw nothing where Lydia had once stood, save the puddle of molten slag that had once been her sword and a pile of bone and ash.

Without a word, Taelien dropped the red-bladed sword.

“I didn’t mean for it to come to this,” Edon said, sighing and moving the Heartlance back to a defensive posture.

“You are a monster,” Taelien muttered.

Edon raised an eyebrow. “Am I? A matter of perspective, I suppose.”

Taelien lowered his hand to grip the hilt of the Sae’kes, memories flooding into his mind.

Never use this until you can control all seven runes on the blade,
his parents had insisted.

He drew the sword, gritting his teeth.
Lydia blocked his first attack to save me. Just like she did with Istavan – only this time, she didn’t have enough left to shield herself afterward.

Five runes flickered to life across the surface of his blade – Lissari, Lysandri, Xerasilis, Koranir, and finally Eratar.

Close enough.

Taelien lunged forward, and Edon raised the Heartlance, showing a hint of concern for the first time. The Sae’kes flashed silver, smashing into the Heartlance, leaving a deep gouge in the surface of the metal and driving Edon back a step. One of the golden lines faded from the spear.

Edon hissed, drawing his left hand back, looking prepared to cast another spell. Taelien swung again, his blade parting the air and striking the Heartlance a second time, creating a spark of light as the blade cut a chunk of metal out of the shaft of the spear.

“Eru elan lav kor taris,” Edon yelled, and a pulsing shockwave emanated from around him, knocking Taelien backward and off his feet.

The swordsman landed several feet away, his head throbbing, his consciousness fading. He could see some sort of faint green structure surrounding him – a barrier? – for a few moments before the green gemstone slipped free from his hand.

I need to get up,
he told himself, gritting his teeth. He maintained his grip on the Sae’kes, attempting to push himself to his feet. The runes on his blade were flickering and dying, with only three of them remaining visible. His injured arm screamed in his mind, and his vision swam as he saw Edon pointing his hand toward him, readying for another spell.

“Eru volar shen taris,” came a voice – but it wasn’t Edon’s this time.

A blast of blue-white fire enveloped Edon, emerging from a figure that appeared to his right side, his right hand blazing with fire.

Veruden.

Edon spun toward Veruden, gesturing with his own hand, immediately stopping the tide of flame. The sorcerer seemed uninjured, but the barrier around him was still visible – and Taelien thought he could see tiny cracks in the surface.

“You swore that the other sorcerers would not be harmed.” Veruden advanced toward Edon, balling his hands into fists.

“Lydia made her choice.” Edon stood up straighter, raising his left hand in a warding gesture. “She attacked me – you saw that.”

“You didn’t have to kill her!” Veruden raised bandaged hand, unclenching his fist and pointing his palm at Edon. “Eru volar shen taris!”

Edon didn’t even wait for the flames to reach him this time – he just waved a hand in the air, causing the fire to vanish.

Taelien braced himself, gritting his teeth, and made another attempt to push himself to his feet. He managed to regain his footing, but he stumbled backward, nearly falling back to the floor.

“Idiot.” Edon shook his head, taking a deep breath. “I gave you everything you have – every opportunity, every power, every gift! I can take them away – I can turn them against you.”

Edon clenched his off hand, gritting his teeth, and Veruden’s bandaged hand burst into flame again – but this time, the flames spread upward across the sorcerer’s body, burning his own flesh.

Veruden screamed, reaching down with his other hand, only to burn that as well.

Taelien steadied himself, focusing on his sword, fighting to reignite the five runes on the surface. They flickered back to life, and he could feel them begin to drain his already flagging strength.

“Not all of them,” Veruden yelled, vanishing from where he stood. He reappeared next to Edon a moment later, slamming a blazing fist toward Edon’s face. The barrier manifested instantly, broad cracks appearing as it shuddered at the impact of the strike.

Taelien charged.

Edon shoved the Heartlance at Veruden, aiming at the center of his chest. The tip of the Heartlance pierced straight through Veruden’s torso, and the sorcerer shuddered at the impact – and then vanished.

The swordsman closed the distance in a few moments, bringing the Sae’kes downward in a diagonal slash aimed for Edon’s exposed fingers. The robed sorcerer stepped out of range, releasing his right hand from the spear to level it toward Taelien.

“Eru volar-“

Taelien stepped in close, slamming the wings of his weapon against Edon’s barrier. Cracks spread broadly across the surface, but the shield held.

Edon moved his hand to follow Taelien as the swordsman attempted to circle around behind him, continuing his incantation. “Shen taris,” the sorcerer finished, a wave of fire emanating from his hand.

This time, Taelien was ready.

His weapon sang in a horizontal slash, the silvery edge catching the flames as the emerged.
Surround,
he commanded the fire. The fan of flames shifted in direction, surging and collecting around the edges of the Sae’kes, forming a whirlwind of incendiary azure.

Taelien grit his teeth, emitting a low growl as his body shivered in complaint. Turning aside the weaker flames that had made it past Lydia’s barrier had been difficult enough – manipulating one of Edon’s entire spells was beyond anything he had previously attempted.

Runes flickered and died on the flat of his sword – the fifth, then the fourth and third, mere moments thereafter.

His barrier is weak,
Taelien considered, taking a step forward.
I could obliterate him.

Shuddering with effort, Taelien slammed his sword into the ground, burying the vortex of fire in stone. The marble warped and cracked around the encased weapon, the death knell of the sorcerous heat.

Taelien hesitated only a moment before moving to unsheathe the sword from the earth, but that moment was all the time Edon needed. A surge of speed carried the sorcerer forward, the Heartlance aimed for Taelien’s chest.

The swordsman reacted quickly, abandoning his blade and stepping backward and to the right, but the spear was too fast, piercing deeply into the flesh near his left shoulder and stopping as it scraped against bone. Taelien screamed, his body shuddering, and grabbed the shaft of the lance with his right hand.

Bend,
he commanded the metal shell, gritting his teeth.

The metal gave no reply.

Edon ripped the spear out of Taelien’s shoulder, the swords man’s own grip failing to restrain the older man’s movement. Taelien gave a wistful glance at his own weapon, still stuck in the stone, too far away for him to hope to reach.

Taelien urged his body to move, but succeeded only in falling to his knees. His strength was gone. The blue-robed sorcerer raised his bloodstained spear, preparing for a final strike.

A loud crack sounded behind Edon, and Taelien found himself blinking in confusion as the sorcerer spun around.

“Sleep,” came a woman’s voice, and Edon collapsed unceremoniously to the ground. The Heartlance flashed blue and vanished.

Lydia stood above Edon, her saber pointed downward at the sorcerer’s unmoving form, her gaze evaluating the sight before her.

Taelien fell backward, catching himself on his slightly less maimed right arm, and burst into uncontrollable laughter.

“I saw you die,” he managed, sinking the rest of the way to the floor. He shivered uncontrollably, reaching out to grope at the spear wound in his shoulder. “I was...I was sure you had died.”

“You saw one of Jonan’s very convincing tricks,” Lydia corrected, jerking a thumb to her right.

Jonan appeared nearby, grinning, and took a bow. “I’m not much good in most fights, but tricks, yeah, that I can do.”

“Lie still,” Lydia insisted, walking over to kneel at his side. “You’re in pretty bad shape.” She winced as she inspected his wound, using her saber to cut off a long section of cloth from the bottom of her robe.

“I...,” Taelien began, wincing as Lydia pushed his hand to the side and began to wrap the makeshift bandage around his shoulder wound. “What about Veruden?”

“Also me,” Jonan said with a grin. “Veruden was never here. Between reading Edon’s notebook and what Lydia told me, I knew enough about him to give a brief performance. I’m fortunate that illusions and teleportation are nearly indistinguishable in the midst of a fight.”

Lydia glanced over at Jonan, while still applying pressure to Taelien’s injury. “That doesn’t explain how you were managing to damage his barrier, though. It looked like you were using Edon’s spell against him – how? I’ve tried using his incantation a dozen times – it doesn’t do anything by itself.”

“Just another trick, sadly. You reminded me not to try to ‘erase’ us when I was using the invisibility spell, since it would trigger your barrier. I figured his barrier probably worked similarly, and that an illusion that was designed to ‘attack’ him would trick the barrier into expending power to defend,” Jonan explained, a smug expression on his face.

Taelien turned to Lydia, who was scowling. She didn’t look satisfied with Jonan’s explanation, but Taelien was far too exhausted to press the issue. He was having a hard time even keeping his eyes open.

Lydia glanced around the room, and then looked back toward Taelien. “Stay with me, Taelien. We’re going to get you to a healer. Do you know what Edon did to Myros?”

Taelien shook his head groggily. “No, but it didn’t look like his usual attack spell. I assume that was an actual teleportation spell.”

“I was thinking that, too. We’ll have to-“

The entrance door to the chamber opened. Taelien lifted his head slowly, seeing dozens of soldiers pouring in.

Oh, only a dozen more? Sure, I can handle that. Just as soon as my arm starts working.

Lydia moved away from Taelien, ducking down near Edon’s collapsed form. The swordsman blinked, uncertain, but he had enough presence of mind left to renew the pressure on his wound.

A regal figure approached amidst the soldiers, standing tall and wearing a glittering crown.

“Queen Tylan,” Lydia said. “You should probably kneel.”

It took Taelien a moment to realize that Lydia had been talking to Jonan, not to him. This was good, since his legs didn’t seem to currently be listening to his own orders – and certainly not to Lydia’s.

The soldiers encircled them quickly and methodically, but kept a distance as the queen regent continued to approach.

“Sorceress Lydia Scryer,” the queen regent called out. “You may rise. Care to explain this situation?”

Lydia stood, dusting herself off. “I witnessed this man, who had claimed to be the deity Edon, confess to Myros that he had performed tests on prisoners that resulted in their deaths. A confrontation ensued, in which he cast a spell on Myros. Our guest, Taelien, heroically rushed to Myros’ defense. During the conflict, Taelien,” she motioned to the injured swordsman, “And I were able to incapacitate the imposter.”

Taelien absently noted that Lydia had omitted any mention of Jonan, which he deemed to be a wise decision.

“You have all been very brave,” Queen Tylan said, “And you are to be commended. We will investigate the identity of this imposter immediately.” She snapped her fingers. “Soldiers, bind that imposter and have him transported to Court Sorcerer Sethridge.”

“Taelien is badly injured. May I borrow some of your guards to help carry him to the surgeon?”

“Of course,” the queen regent waved a hand to a group of the guards. “You four, assist them.”

Four of the armored soldiers approached. Taelien remained wary, but he had to admit, his methods of defending himself were rather limited. “Sword,” he mumbled weakly.

“I’ll get it,” Lydia said, sheathing her saber. She walked past him, kneeling at the base of the Sae’kes and putting a hand on the grip. She waited a moment longer than seemed strictly necessary, and then drew the blade from the granite floor. The sorceress winced in surprise as the blade emerged, bringing a moment of panicked clarity to Taelien’s fading senses. Not a single rune remained lit on the weapon.

“In the scabbard, quickly,” he urged her. “Don’t touch the blade. Don’t even put anything near the edges.” Lydia was quick to comply, rushing to him and reverently sliding the sword into the sheath. They both breathed a sigh of relief when the blade was secured within.