Spellscribed: Resurgence (26 page)

The Joven of before would have shrugged off the statement with a joke, or said something funny about barbarian toughness. Instead, Joven frowned and nodded, letting his hands drop as he straightened in his chair. "Aye." he replied. "I did. One doesn't fight a dragon of that size alone and expect to walk away."

Endrance was silent for a second, thinking it over. Tears stained the bedding as the floodgates broke. Endrance wept, silently, for several minutes as he felt relief.

"I'm sorry." Endrance responded after a long while. "It was all my fault."

Joven shrugged. "It was my duty." he said simply. "You should treat them before they wake up."

Endrance turned to the three women, nodding. He was a little surprised at his friend's brusque manner. He had no idea what kind of things his companion had gone through since he had last seen him, but it must have been something terrible to affect Joven's disposition.

Joven stood and left the room while Endrance began incanting his healing spells. Half an hour passed before Endrance was able to cease his concentration on the healing. He was glad to see that none of the damage was fatal. Their bodies were repaired, but they would be unconscious for a while longer. He knew that healing that much damage would make them hungry, so he slipped out of the bed to look for food.

He came out of the bedroom and went down the hall, knowing the layout from memory since he had overseen the building's construction. The main hall was still a mess, with bodies left where they had fallen. The blood had not even fully dried. Perro Andrews' body was slumped against the wall, a smear of blood showed the point where he had impacted and slid down after being let go. Endrance stopped by his body to check something. He pulled the man's body forward, peeling back the collar of his blood-soaked robes. A glint of metal told him all he needed to know.

He stood, turning back to the rest of the hall when he saw her.

An elven female of incredible beauty stood quietly in one corner of the great hall, near one of the braziers that provided light and warmth to the room. Clad in armor made of thinly hammered golden leaves and an under layer of red silk, she was both noble and magnificent in the firelight. Fair skin and green eyes were framed by wavy blonde locks of hair kept in perfect position by a silver circlet upon her brow. She carried no weapons that he could see, though he likely wouldn't have noticed them even if she had them.

The female glanced up from her ruminations of the flame, looked him in the eyes, and then went back to the brazier. In the span of a single heartbeat, she had looked into him, taken measure of him, and left him to his deeds. Endrance had only managed to glean a few things from that glance. She was old, older than any elf he had met thus far. And her power was something that, while not bigger than even his aura, was of an older, richer quality. He could hardly find a way to comprehend the last fact. It was almost like the power he had been using his whole life was a cheap ale compared to this finely seasoned and aged wine.

"All that work to make the Grandstaff." the female spoke in 'hdi, the language of the elves. "And you lose it so easily. I may have to accept the fact I was mistaken about your potential."

Endrance mentally changed tracks, switching to speaking 'hdi. "Pentarch?" he asked. "It was not lost, but stolen by… by my father. The Mercanian."

The female waited for him to finish speaking. "Pentarch?" she asked. "An interesting name, though simple. The only reason that Pentarch is still captive is because you have allowed it."

Endrance grimaced. "I'm sorry." he apologized. "I have not had much time to grow into my new abilities and knowledge."

"You are not a full Mercanian." The elf answered. "A Mercanian would have instantly been able to act as if those memories were his own. The spells they learn from the fallen would be as simple a challenge as breathing."

"Given the way that today went, breathing hasn't been as easy as you might think." Endrance replied.

"I saw that." She answered in turn. "Which is why I came to return my pawn to you."

"Joven?" Endrance asked, walking over to the brazier and standing on the other side of it. "Thank you for saving him. I have so many questions."

She looked up at him. "Then ask." she said.

"How?" The mage asked.

"There is ancient life magic, forgotten even by many of our kind, that can prevent even the most ravaged of bodies from crossing into the boundary of death." the elf answered. "I was able to keep him from his end long enough to knit his broken body. A dragon's claws have latent power, and healing those wounds took time."

"Then he has only recently been active?" Endrance asked. "How long ago did he finish healing?"

"His wounds were healed a short while ago," she supplied. "Six months by human standards."

Endrance blinked. Six months might be a very short period of time for elves, but it was significant for humans. "So was he just staying with you?" he asked. "Did you return to Salthimere?"

The female's eyes hardened for a split second at the mention of the country, but softened again. "No." she replied. "We've been out and about in the human lands. My pawn has been essential in helping pave the way for the coming conflict."

"Coming conflict?" the mage said, puzzled.

The elven female nodded. "Not this one, where mother clashes with father and the son fights them both, but the one that comes after that. And the one that comes after that one. The world will always be in danger of ending, child. Not just the end of your species."

Endrance looked into the flames. "I see." he said. "Thank you for returning Joven to me."

The elf nodded, also returning her gaze to the fire. "I will need his aid again, in the times to come." she said. "Try not to break him again."

Endrance sighed. "All right." he agreed. He stared into the fire for several moments before curiosity overtook him. "What are you looking for in the fire?"

The elven female gave a slight shake of her head. "Nothing." she replied. "It is cold up here and I enjoy the warmth."

Joven came into the central hall from the opposite side Endrance had come from. He carried a cloth covered basket. He had also donned a shirt, though it appeared that the shirt would not survive the man doing anything resembling flexing an arm.

"There aren't many fruits or vegetables." Joven said in 'hdi, his voice still scratchy. "You know how we prefer meat." He looked up, noticing Endrance.

The elven female slipped around the brazier and approached Joven. "It will have to do. Have you had a talk with Endrance?"

Joven nodded.

"Then you are free to assist him." she instructed. "But when this is all over, return to me. We are not yet finished."

Joven looked at her for several seconds before nodding again. Endrance couldn't read what the expression on Joven's face meant as the big man looked into the wispy elf's eyes. Some kind of conflict happened in the barbarian's mind, but it ended when he nodded.

"Thank you." Joven said, holding out the basket. The elf peered through its contents, plucking an apple from it. Joven walked out over to the brazier and gestured aimlessly with his free hand while the elf took a bite from her fruit.

"I have some dried meats here." Joven said, switching back to the common tongue. "But it looked like no one actually lived here for months."

Endrance squinted across the flames at his friend. "Hey," he asks. "Before we continue here, what happened to your voice?"

Joven rolled his eyes. "So, you know how monsters can be tougher on the outside than the inside?"

Endrance remembered the Blood Tiger and her incredibly rugged hide. "Yeah?"

"Turns out," Joven continued. "Being fireproof is kind of like that too."

"You're fireproof?" Endrance asked incredulously.

Joven shook his head. "Not all the time." he replied. "And well, I made the mistake of breathing in while I was on fire. Scorched my lungs."

"He nearly died, were it not for my intervention." the female added in 'hdi.

"So she healed me, but my voice isn't at full strength yet." Joven replied. "Been trying to let it heal."

Endrance smiled at his friend. "Then, you don't have to say anything." Endrance exclaimed. He reached out and patted Joven's arm. "You can explain things in time."

"Oh good." Joven muttered, and turned to follow Endrance. The mage stopped before the elf who had brought his friend.

"How did you know I was in trouble?" Endrance asked. "I don't mean to be ungrateful, but…"

"We had been in Balator for a few days." The elf replied. "Joven had insisted that we stay for a few weeks so that he could reunite with his loved ones. Your arrival had not gone unnoticed, so we had the time to make our way up the mountain to greet you. I did not expect that you would be under attack until we heard the fighting."

"Ah." Endrance murmured. "Well, thank you again for the help."

"I did not assist you, Endrance." The elf replied. "I did everything I could to assist you when I helped Joven bring Pentarch to life. I've tampered with your conflict enough as it is."

"Then?" Endrance asked, confused.

She tilted her head towards the barbarian. "He interfered without my orders." she said. "Though I am not against his actions."

"I don't understand." Endrance stated. "Why couldn't you help anymore?"

The elf sighed. "I made an agreement, a long time ago even by my standards. I cannot break it, or else I forfeit everything I've worked for."

Endrance considered the female for a long while. "Well, thank you. For what you have done. I don't even know your name."

The elf raised her chin slightly. "When I lived among the humans in Ironsoul, I was known as Meryl. Your friend here crashed through my shop when Mastadon was mortally wounded."

Endrance was going to speak again when Meryl reached out and grasped his shoulder. In that instant, he felt the sum total of the power the elf had within her. Though the power of his aura was not insignificant, this female's power made him feel like he was a child comparing himself to the Archmagus. A sea of power that he had felt back then had, over time, become something measurable to him; something he could compare to, and even surpass in time. With her, it was beyond his imagining.

"Endrance." She said, aware of what he had sensed. "You must retrieve Pentarch, and stop Valeria. You have to do it soon, or your conflict will end, and not in your favor."

The mage blinked, shaking off the overwhelming sensation her power had given him. "How?" Endrance asked. "I have no way of tracking them."

"Endrance, have you not learned anything?" she asked. "When those attackers died, you gained their knowledge, did you not?"

Endrance shook his head, smacking his forehead with the heel of his hand. "By the…" he muttered. "I'm such a fool."

"You're… not wrong." Meryl replied with a smirk.

Endrance closed his eyes, plumbing the depths of their memories and accumulated knowledge. Though their lives were full, they had been enslaved by Valeria and forced to fight for her. Their understanding of magic was minor; nothing they knew was new to him. Endrance felt a tinge of irritation that they had used the very same anti-magic tablets he had created and left among his things in Balator. As he filtered through their memories, he finally found the information that he wanted.

"I found her." Endrance replied, opening his eyes. "I discovered how to get to Valeria."

Meryl tilted her head. "Oh?"

Endrance raised an eyebrow with a smile. "And," he added. "She's alone. That makes her vulnerable."

"Joven?" he asked. The barbarian nodded. "Can you bring the food to the three? I've got some planning to do."

Joven nodded again.

Endrance!
Gullin's voice boomed in his mind. The longhouse shuddered as something massive enough to rock foot-thick stone landed on the roof. The elven female looked up at the ceiling.

"There appears to be a firebird of great proportions attempting to tear the roof off of the building." she observed.

I'm okay now!
Endrance replied hastily.
Please don't destroy my house.

To the outside world, he groaned. "That's my familiar, Gullin. He must have flown here from Ironsoul when he felt me come under attack.

I got here in less than half an hour at my maximum speed.
Gullin said proudly.

That's quite fast.
Endrance replied.

Endrance could feel a bit of smug pride in his familiar's mental voice.
Perhaps your world is just too small. He answered.

"The familiar is extraordinary." Meryl admitted. "He will prove helpful in recovering Pentarch and defeating Valeria."

Endrance nodded. "I would have needed to call on him either way."

I will be able to find Ashia after this.
Gullin advised.

Chapter 19.

Far to the west of the shield wall, just a few miles north of the old fortress that once watched over the shores of the western sea, lay a ruin. The stones were old, a thousand years weathered and beaten by the wind, rain, and the passage of time. Strangely, though by the coast, the ruins looked to be but the corner of an ancient city. The stones were once so thick and so large that humans could have carved houses out of the individual stones, but they were only the walls of what must have been a greater civilization.

Grass, weeds, and even trees grew through the broken stones now, the trail of a devastated city leading right up to the edge of the water, where riptides swirled and sucked at anything unfortunate enough to fall in; leading into depths that should have been impossible so close to the mainland. The light of the suns was not as strong as further south, so a cold chill cut the air, even in summer months. Come winter, the area would be blanketed in a thick layer of snow; so much so that the stone ruins would be all but forgotten in the frosted-white landscape.

Strewn out in the water was a cluster of small island marshes. They were small, uneven, and the largest of them barely rose a few feet out of water during high tide. Clusters of mangrove trees dotted the seascape where the salty water and unnatural currents were weak enough to allow them to take root. The islands stretched out into the horizon.

This land, looking like it was once another country, had been dubbed ‘the shatter’ by the locals. Valeria was finding the place abhorrent.

The Litch stood on one of the largest stone chunks, one that could easily have formed a home for a family of eight. It was cold; her withered, dried flesh didn’t care. The salty sea spray seemed incapable of restoring her dried body’s moisture; it simply dripped off of her. The few bits of clothing she wore would hardly protect anyone from the elements. A simple pair of three layers thick linen, once white, swathed her bony chest and hips. Dozens of piercings, necklaces, and bangles of gold and platinum adorned her desiccated body, each gleaming with orange gems cut so perfectly they glowed with their own internal suns. Once, long ago, she could have been called alluring. As she was now, terrifying was the only word that came to mind.

Her head had almost all of her hair, though the strands seemed thin and wispy, almost as if they were cobwebs in the breeze. Once regal features were constricted into a rictus of death, with perfect white teeth bared. Once, she had beautiful green eyes. Now, a baleful green light flickered in her sockets. It looked as if the outer edge of her eye sockets had burned out, like a flame had erupted from within her eyes, leaving her scorched.

She looked out over the sea and ground her teeth. Her bony, near-skeletal hands clenched and trembling. Though no one was around, she screeched out over the waves. Her keening wail resonated out over the sea, the sound loaded with her despair, betrayal, and a vehemence beyond the ken of mortals. In the immediate vicinity a flight of seagulls that had wandered too close plummeted from the skies, struck dead by her very wail.

Her voice was swallowed up by the sea, indifferent to both her grief and her necromantic powers. She sank to the ground, sitting on her heels as she tried to think.

Her musings lasted days. The suns fell, the moons arose, and then those fell to be replaced by the suns again. Still, she did not move. A squall came through the area, pouring rain and still she did not move, the sluicing rain not even causing the emerald fires in her eyes to flicker. Her posture was perfectly maintained, dead flesh not fearing fatigue or pain. Once, during her musings, the last of her mage-slaves teleported in, tried to report to her, and then teleported away. Even when she sensed their lives were snuffed out, she did not move.

But then Perro Andrews, a mage she had enslaved merely because he was weak, and could be placed in charge of one of her hideaways, died. The realization sparked a thought that dragged her out of her stillness. The five slaves died just before Perro Andrews had died, and he was pretending to be the Spengur of Balator, her brother’s kingdom. Only a few people would think to check, after all the chaos that ensued with Mastadon’s death.

She stood, her bones no slower for having weathered a week of inaction. With a twist of her wrist and a practiced word, she cast her senses out. To the sea-no. No, not to the sea. She knew what lay there. The traitor. Instead she cast it south and east, to the capitol of the once-great kingdom of Ironsoul. Her senses would have hit a barrier when she came to the Bastille, as it was warded from scrying. Instead, her sight continued unabated into the depths beneath the throne.

The quicksilver shell of the Bastille had been broken, the burnt carcasses of giant insects crumbled around the base. A large exoskeleton was pushed away from a large crack in the silver, and she explored further, ready to pull her senses back if the defenses were to somehow activate. She saw inside. The interior bubble of glass was shattered, and every crystalphage spire had been dismantled and cut apart. There was no body. No signs that the prisoner within had died.

Her senses catapulted back into her body. She dropped to the ground and stalked back and forth before the large stone, perplexed. She had made the plans long ago, checked them so many times. How had he managed to escape? Nothing she had known or taught would have enabled him to do so. She had such a detailed hand in his training, there was no way that he alone could have escaped-

Perhaps some of his friends survived. She knew she should have taken steps to eliminate them. But she had discounted their abilities. Underestimated them. No matter, she would kill them and then return to Melan-

She shrieked again, whirling and thrusting her hand into the stone. Her bones cracked as they impacted, but she buried her fist up to the wrist into the solid stone. She couldn’t return to him. The Mercanian had abandoned her, burned her, and snubbed her. She had been discarded along the seaside, left behind as so much chaff. The stone around her fist darkened, blotted with blackness that spread. In moments the stone began to collapse in on itself.

A sound of air being disturbed drew her attention away from her own misery. She pulled her fist from the crumbling stone and turned away as the rock swiftly eroded into piles of black sand. In the sky, many many miles away, a large bird winged its way steadily towards her.

The Fjallar. She would have thought it was coming at her betrayer’s call, but it was all the more evident it was Endrances. He had killed her slaves. He had survived her machinations. He was coming for her. In a wash of melancholy, Valeria stood still, watching as the bird came ever closer.

She could have fled or spent the time preparing defenses or even started on the attack. Instead, some sliver of her old self wanted to see what came of the grand experiment she had died to see come to fruition. Some part of her still loved her baby boy, and no matter how she tried she couldn’t shake it off. She knew that she was perpetually stuck feeling what she felt at the moment of her death, locked into an emotional entropy that nothing could change. The unlife within her couldn’t tolerate her affections for him, and she was constantly torn by her own eternal desires. She loved him. She wanted him dead.

She stood waiting for him to approach. Her body was as still as the grave, a statue easily overlooked were she not out in the open. Only the burning flames in her eyes tracked the crimson bird's approach. When the disturbance of his flapping wings sent wind and dust flying, she did not, could not blink nor did she shield her eyes as any normal person would do.

Endrance hopped off Gullin's back as he hovered as close to the ground as he dared. He landed in a crouch, directing all the shock of his impact back into the earth with a finely worked spell. His companions landed shortly after, in a loose pattern behind him. As his friends approached Endrance eyed her, his expression grim but determined. She loathed his face; she couldn’t be prouder.

"Valeria." Endrance said in a low voice, his wards already shining with force. "Where is my father?"

She remained still for just a second, considering. She decided to speak instead of wiping them out of her sight.

"Gone." she answered, her voice slipping out from between her teeth like it had echoed in from far away.

Endrance slowly nodded. "He left you." he guessed, taking a half step forward. "He got what he needed out of you and left you."

"He used me." She replied. "But not unwillingly."

"You killed a lot of people." Endrance accused, his voice still low. "You ruined my life and the lives of thousands of others just to be discarded like the rest of us. You enslaved hundreds of other mages… people like you! And for what? This?" he gestured towards the broken and waterlogged landscape. "For a land that no longer even exists?"

"My son." she replied, her susurrations barely heard over the sound of wind and waves. Gullin had taken back to the sky, circling overhead. She knew he was likely relaying information to her son about what he could see down below. "You could never understand." she said. "They were… gods."

"Gods?" Endrance spurted. "Murderers! Slavers! But not gods."

"They were gods." Valeria echoed. "Even at our peak of our power, we were never as good as they were on their worst year. Even their children could outperform all but the Magus. We were theirs. Always. And we should have died with them."

"But we didn't." Endrance countered. "They destroyed themselves and we survived."

Endrance's companions spread out slowly, anticipating the conversation will not end in anything but violence.

"They did not destroy themselves, my son." she finally moved as she spoke raising a hand and shaking her head. Endrance's companions raised their weapons defensively. "I know that now."

"Know what?" Endrance asked.

She turned from him and gestured to the pile of black sand.  "Come." she beckoned. "Sit with me. We can await their return together, and then, you will be able to see."

She took a step away from him. "There's still so much I can teach you. Things I learned since my death. You would be strong enough that your father would accept you."

"Accept me?" Endrance asked. "Not interested."

"No matter." Valeria replied almost too quickly. "You're going to learn one way or the other."

Valeria spoke just as Endrance was about to, activating her own wards. Immediately Endrance took a step back.

"You will learn, or you will die." Valeria declared, turning back to face him.

Endrance raised his hands. "You've never done it any other way."

Though both were prepared to fight, it was Tanya who acted first. She raised her bow and concentrated. The litch's chest seemed to magnify in her vision, the threads of her linen wrap becoming able to be easily counted. She exhaled and the runes carved in the bow glowed golden. She let loose with her arrow. The flight leapt across the intervening distance.

Her arrow exploded against the litch's wards, but it managed to move Valeria, cutting lines in the black sand as she skidded back. As the splinters of wood blackened and crumbled to ash, Valeria was already in motion.

The litch threw out a hand, unleashing a torrent of grey-green flames that rushed out over a dozen yards, the fires screaming and shrieking in all-too human voices. As the flames burned out of her left hand she threw her right hand up into the sky and released another spell.

Blackness erupted from her hand, darkening the area as fire slammed into Endrance's wards. Endrance let the fire burn, instead drawing up a tiny sliver of power and casting his nimbus of lights spell. The bright lights erupting from his hand cracked the darkness, shattering it as the balls of light exploded against the expanding sphere of shadows.

Someone dove through the flames, cutting through the heat. Endrance's eyes cleared to see Joven push through the fire, the pale green heat dancing across the man's skin without searing. The barbarian reached through the fire and intertwined his fingers with Valerias in a vicious grab the snapped a finger. The flames squelched as they were extinguished.

Joven moved with a speed and precision that mimicked Endrance's speed increasing spell. His balance and strength was formidable before, but was somehow even more titanic. The man levered her arm up.

Bridget dashed off at an angle avoiding the streams of dispersing fire. A strange moss had grown across her wooden arm as she held both cleaving blades at a horizontal. She was ready to roll out of the way of attacks, but the litch was preoccupied by Joven's rough grappling.

Selene took to the air, having shifted into her fighting form. Swooping overhead, she come down at Valeria with claws extended. It looked like their victory would be swift.

And then Valeria responded, her broken fingers grasping Joven's hand. She grasped his wrist with her other hand and spun with inhuman strength, picking up the surprised barbarian and twirling him in a circle. The man's flailing legs nearly caught Bridget in the head, causing her to duck and breaking her charge. Valeria released him with an upward tilt as she completed her spin, tossing the man into the air to crash into Selene, who could only grunt as the two of them went flying back to crash to the ground.

Tanya released another arrow, the shaft flying true but shattering against the litch's wards. True to form, the arrow carried significant kinetic impact and Valeria again slid back several inches from the hit. Tanya cursed and drew another arrow from her quiver. She had to take her time to empower each shot, otherwise she'd have been able to put three times as many arrows into the dead mage.