Spellscribed: Resurgence (5 page)

She winced as her headache spiked into knives of pain, but drew another arrow and turned it towards the remaining eight men. "Two."

The other two men that were armed and ready lifted their shields and drew their swords, advancing on Bridget, but keeping their shields raised. The rest of the group started edging their hands towards their weapons. To her credit, Bridget did a good job acting unconcerned. "One."

Tanya let out the breath she had been holding in her agony, and released another arrow. It impacted one of the shield-bearing soldiers, the arrow piercing through the wooden barricade and through the arm of the man, coming to a stop embedded against the man's ribs. He cried out in pain, his arm pinned and in great pain, drawing the attention of both soldiers away from Bridget. While they were distracted, Bridget cut the uninjured man down with one practiced swing of her wooden arm.

"Zero." She said, the body still in the process of slumping to the floor.

The remaining men leapt up from their seats, snatching up their weapons and splitting up. Three men went charging into Tanya's direction while three joined the injured one in attacking Bridget. Tanya responded by firing off several quick shots, forsaking power in favor of speed. One of the arrows flew wide, but the second shot hit the lead soldier in the arm, spinning him just in time for the last arrow to strike him in the back, dropping him to the ground in a mist of blood.

Bridget swept her large blade in a horizontal arc. The soldiers were trained in phalanx combat and were all able to bring their shields up in time, but the force of her swing carved a trench in their shields and staggered the three back a step. She moved forward, lunging with her other hand to catch the fourth man, who thought he could step in right after the first swing, stabbing him in his undamaged arm. He groaned in pain and stumbled back, his sword falling from nerveless fingers.

Tanya had to backpedal as the two remaining men charged at her, drawing one arrow up and trying to get a parting shot in. While the two were mostly relying on their shields for cover, and by consequence, left the lower half of their bodies defenseless, Tanya's increasingly painful headache slowed her response time down. The first of the two lunged forward with a spear, forcing her to abandon her shot and leap back. She shifted her grip on the arrow, clutching it like the handle of a dagger.

The second man thrust his spear at her and she knocked it off course with a sweep from her bow. She started to move forward, and barely caught the first soldier's new attack out of the corner of her eye. She aborted her forward motion and the spearhead lanced the air where her chest would have been, had she not halted. She planted her forward foot strongly and changed direction, turning her motion into an arrow-point lunge with her whole body weight behind it. The arrow hit home, piercing the light mail that was covering the furs, but the arrow shaft snapped before she could confirm it hit deeply or glanced off his ribs. The man let out a grunt when it struck, not retaliating as she twirled around him, using his body as a shield against his comrade who rightfully hesitated for an instant.

Bridget fought almost lazily, swinging her blades deliberately slow, and using the excessive weight of her large cleaving blade to batter the soldiers around, while effectively defending herself with her smaller blade. Perhaps, if they'd had the time to plan, they would have sent the spearmen after Bridget and the swordsmen after Tanya, but battle hardly ever turned out as planned. Bridget was giving the men a sporting chance, or perhaps she was just depressed that her opponents were so poorly skilled. She swung a little too hard, and the rightmost of the three soldiers lost his arm as her sword sheared through his shield and carved open his chest along the way.

The remaining two soldiers lunged forward with a pair of stabs, one high and one low. Bridget swept her larger blade in a circle, catching the low blade first before sweeping it up to tangle with the high blade. In their momentary opening, she stabbed with her other blade, nearly cleaving off the biceps of the remaining rightmost soldier. He fell to the ground screaming, and Bridget was able to dispatch the other soldier with a sigh as he panicked and swung wildly at her.

Tanya shoulder checked the human shield she had acquired, stumbling him towards his ally while she quickly snatched up a new arrow and nocked it alongside the broken arrow onto the bow. She released both as the two spearmen oriented on her, knowing full well the splintered arrow shaft would not be anywhere near accurate or deadly. It turned out she was not accounting for the close range. The broken arrow veered immediately, so instead of putting an arrow in the head and throat of the uninjured spearman, she hit him in the throat and the other shaft went wild, hitting the surviving man in the groin. Even if it didn't penetrate the armor, the spearman dropped, clutching his crotch as his weapon fell to the ground beside him. The other spearman fell to the ground with a gurgle of blood.

In the moments of calm after the fight, the only thing that could be heard was the groans and muffled screams of the beaten soldiers. Bridget looked over at Tanya and winced. "Oh, right in the groin. You're mean." she said approvingly. "My part's done."

Tanya kicked the suffering man over and drew her dagger, plunging it into his chest as he tried to grab for his spear. "You're not done." she declared. "You left like, half your lot alive."

"Did not!" Bridget exclaimed.

Tanya wiped the dagger off before putting it away. "Two guys with nearly severed arms don't count as done. They could survive, come back to get vengeance. You know, like what you'd do."

Bridget grunted. "Got a point there." she said, taking the time to finish off the dying. "Though maybe it would have been a good enough reason to actually train. I've seen farmers with more battle experience than these soldiers."

Tanya sleeved her bow and walked over to Bridget. "I don't know," she said, shrugging. "If these are the normal opponents we will face, maybe we should only send one man for every two or three they have."

Bridget cleaned and sheathed her weapons, walking over to Bridget. "We cleared this one out." she said. "And while I like the challenge, I feel bad about tearing through these guys, I just can't figure out why."

"We're Draugnoa, not warriors." Tanya reminded her. "We serve the Spengur, not the kingdom. We have only agreed to help because our goals and theirs match up for now. If they later take it in a direction away from finding Endrance, we leave."

A horse could be heard riding towards them, coming from the west. It was either a messenger of Balen's or escaping Iron Kingdom soldiers. Tanya pulled out an arrow and held it at the ready. Her headache had dulled a little, but she knew it would come back in an instant.

The source of the noise came into view; it was a single horse bearing an injured Iron Kingdom rider. He raced along the patrol route, desperately looking to warn his people of Balator's attack. Tanya's face scrunched as she lifted her bow and aimed. Her headache started coming back, worsening with each beat of her heart, and so she only let two beats pass before she fired.

The arrow darted out, hitting the man in the back right shoulder with a thwack. He cried out, but kept going. Tanya fired again before he rode out of sight. The pain in her head bloomed into full strength, and she let go of the arrow a little too soon. The shot went low, hitting the horse in the leg and toppling it and the rider.

Bridget growled in frustration, drawing one sword and rushing to come at the runner from an angle. Tanya grabbed another arrow, trying to fight through the pain. She pulled back on the bowstring, and a sudden 'crack' accompanied her stumbling backwards and falling onto her back. The bowstring had snapped, slashing her as the bow recoiled. Her left arm was bleeding from a newly opened cut across her biceps and wrapping around her elbow.

Bridget got to the horse, and found no one underneath it. A trail of footprints and droplets of blood led off into a nearby copse of trees, disappearing into the cover of leaves and bushes. Bridget cursed, turning back to rush towards Tanya.

"Shit. Got away." Bridget complained, putting her sword away. She bent down and helped Tanya stand. "You all right?"

Tanya dug into a belt pouch, fishing around until she found the little tied off sack of shredded leaves. "Should be." she said. "Bowstring snapped. Probably got damaged when those two guys charged me."

Bridget watched as her fellow Draugnoa chewed on the leaves for a few seconds before spitting the resulting paste back out. Tanya smeared it over the wound, so used to the sting she hardly flinched when it set to work. The bloodroot leaf paste worked exceptionally well at stopping the bleeding, so while it was taking effect, Bridget searched the bodies of the dead for medical supplies. One of the tents had some basic bandages, as well as a needle and thread.

Bridget helped stitch up Tanya's wound and then bandaged it. By the time they were done, four warriors on horseback arrived, surveying the campsite. Tanya told them about the escaped soldier, and three of the men dismounted and set into the forest to track him down. The fourth gave them directions to General Balen's location, and then rounded his horse and rode off. The two Draugnoa took their time returning to their horses and riding back, noticing that if they hadn't scouted the very patrol route that morning, they would have thought it had always been occupied by barbarian forces. It appeared as if they had just rolled over the Iron Kingdom camps without even bothering to fight them.

"If that man gets to report to their king, this will be a whole lot harder." Tanya observed. She let her left arm hang loose, guiding the horse with her legs and one hand on the reins.

Bridget smiled happily, pulling ahead on her horse. "But Tanya," she protested. "That's the kind of fight we are looking for!"

Endrance concentrated, not quite in meditation, but not quite out of it either. Maintaining the impression he was using was not the hard part; using the power it granted him was.

In his frustration over Kaelob's victory against him in his own mind, Endrance turned to focusing on other ways to deal with the situation. He wasn't going to be sleeping any time soon, so he concluded that the man, if he had indeed retreated into Endrance's subconscious, would not pose a threat anytime soon. For the time being, he was trying to find a way out of the Bastille.

He had almost overlooked the sand hornet's impression on his mind. It was small and weak, but it had something that gave Endrance a glimmer of hope. The sand hornets were part of a hive mind, and the creature had developed its latent magical talent to stay connected.

The creature's mind was so alien that Endrance had spent countless hours interpreting its thought patterns. Now, he was finally attempting to reach out and find the creature's hive.

He kept getting close, but he was never quite able to make a link with any other sand hornets. Perhaps he could have put some of his power into it, but the prison was constantly leeching away his power as fast as he could recover it. Using any of it would risk a response from the prison and also leave him hurting. With the warden dead, there was little to no chance he'd be saved if he mistakenly triggered an alarm.

It seemed that without another sand hornet to use as a bridge, he had little chance of successfully making contact. Nonetheless, Endrance kept trying. Little chance was far better than no chance, and all he had was time.

Endrance winced, losing the connection he had tentatively made. He had already spent hours preparing his mind for making contact, but he wasn't able to tolerate it for more than a few seconds before he cut the connection.

In the library of his mind, he had envisioned the connection as a crystal orb set on a balcony overlooking the central wing of the library. The crystal glowed with the flicker of light. That was the representation of his perception outside the oubliette. It had taken him so long to learn how to develop his senses in order to even recognize there were thoughts in the darkness.

He wasn't able to form a link with another mage, or even a human. Only the sand hornet had memories of being a part of a greater hive mind, and that was with creatures of the same kind. Endrance could hardly recognize a sand hornet's thoughts in the space between. He wasn't sure what a human mind would even look like.

It would have been easier if he was able to use his magic, but the prison's wards siphoned all his power away before it could be shaped. It left just enough power in his meridians to keep a Mercanian alive. Unlike his father who needed such power to fuel his body, Endrance was half human and needed life energy to keep going. Endrance knew he technically needed both, but neither alone would kill him; or so he hoped.

A thought sprang to his mind. There had to be a means to prevent the prison from burning up the last of his power and committing suicide, or using it to destroy anything in one last burst of retribution.

He sighed, opening his eyes for the first time in days. The lights of the crystalphage spires were a dull amber color. They pulsed in unison, their light fluctuating from pitch darkness to unbearably bright in a slow and steady pace. Endrance likened it to the heartbeat of the Bastille.

He held up his left hand and stared at it.

"I suppose I could risk a finger if it would improve my odds of getting out." He muttered to himself.

He concentrated on his smallest finger, feeling the flow of power that was trickling through it.  He mentally felt around, locating the deep meridian that ran with both life energy and power. He hesitated, worried what would happen if he followed through.

After a few seconds, he shook his head. If a finger would be all it took, he'd consider it a bargain. Hell, if it took his whole arm, at least then he'd finally have something in common with Bridget. He could always get a wooden replacement.

He braced himself for the pain and mentally dragged just the life energy out of his finger, obstructing the flow so more wouldn't flow in. He pulled that little bit of excess through his deep meridians to his heart, which the elves believed was the source that generated life magic. It, of all places in his body, could hold the power without risk of harm.

His finger immediately went numb, like he had been sitting on it. It was hard to tell in the darkness, but Endrance thought he could see it turn gray and ashen.

The Bastille stirred, the light rising and a hum trembling subtly through the chamber. Endrance could see his finger had indeed turned ashen gray, and would not move when he willed it.

The knot of life energy at the base of his pinky started hurting, first dully, and increasing in severity with each heartbeat.

Endrance felt a familiar tingle across his skin as a spell was enacted, and there was a sudden rushing sound right before he fell unconscious.

***                                                                                                 

He awoke in what felt like a second later to find his finger was restored, but his meridians were not touched. Extending his senses, he saw that his mental block of his life energy had faded when he was no longer concentrating on it.

He checked his heart, and was glad to discover that the extra amount of power remained. Considering how much total was being allowed through his meridians, he came out with a small surplus. The wards didn't quite siphon out as much life energy as before. So the defenses made sure he had just enough in his veins, so to speak, but not too much.

He wasn't sure how long it would take, but he knew this disparity would give him an advantage. The spells couldn't tell he had been harboring life magic; just that his deep meridians were full enough to sustain life, had he been Mercanian.

He took that little bit of life energy and slowly, cautiously, slipped it back into his meridians. As it trickled back out he mentally tugged a little power in its place. The Bastille's defenses did not react.

He retreated back into the library of his mind. In the center, over the reflecting pool of silver, he visualized that little surplus of power as a ball of light.

He reached out and held it, judging its potency and weight.

"You're not really very much." Endrance muttered, "But let's see what you're good for."

He focused his mind. Stepping into the water and falling through, the world flipped back into his study. He walked over to his spell table and set the light in the center.

Endrance would have to spend dozens of hours actually composing a spell from scratch, but with his spell form table he could quickly apply different precepts, and he could automatically intuit whether a particular array of spell form components would work. It was markedly similar to how one could know the answer to simple math equations without having to think the question through.

He would still have to fit the components together, and he could use the table to better test the spell as he progressed. Though it was all a visualization of purely mental processes, the table made concentrating on it extremely easy.

He went through a dozen different configurations, but could not find a single spell that would be helpful. The power he had to work with was too meager. He would need much more than he had to do anything useful, but there was no way the Bastille would miss that much activity.

He thought about how the Bastille could only monitor his health, and the amount of power he had. It couldn't sense his life energy. If there was a way he could convert...

Inspiration struck him, and he set to work shaping the scant power he had saved. He couldn't convert his life force into power, or vice-versa, but he could try embezzling some of his life force. The Bastille would keep him alive, and with a proper spell to keep the excess energy from dissipating he should be able to stockpile something he could use.

Endrance opened the few books on life magic he had assembled. The conceptual boundary between life magic and actual life force was something Endrance had a tough time crossing; it was the primary reason he needed Pentarch, his Grandstaff, for any kind of life magic.

If there was anything that would help him now, it was the knowledge he'd already been taught. Some things had been hard to comprehend. Some had been incredibly easy to understand, yet nearly impossible to pull off for a novice.

He had the time to try to figure it out. Time passed as he reviewed everything he had been taught. He cross-indexed what he already knew in other fields with his most recent teachings.

Endrance was loathe to admit it, but Kaelob's aura impression had managed to glean a great deal more magical knowledge and other esoterica. Even with the knowledge gained from all the mages he'd fought before, Kaelob's addition was sufficient to nearly double the number of books on his shelves. That was even considering that Endrance was merging overlapping information.

The newer information Endrance had at his disposal was extraordinarily helpful in rounding out his education. The memories were far less useful, not to mention distracting. He didn't need to see hundreds of years of life experiences, even if he was lonely and sometimes mentally exhausted.

The research went well. He was able to finally use that little bit of power to construct a matrix that could theoretically fold large quantities of life essence into itself and store it safely within his body. For as far as he could theorize, there would be some side effects, but he would have it deal with those as they happened.

He let the 'spell matrix' that he had conceived start assembling automatically by pushing the rate process of assembling the existing minutiae into a complete spell form to the back of his thoughts. It was just like being so used to knitting that one could do so without putting much attention to it. Except that, instead of being just one person, he had accumulated over a thousand years of spell construction experience.

He reflected on how he, at just under his second decade of life, had already mastered over a millennia of study, in both traditional and quite esoteric fields. It was, for all intents and purposes, pretty much cheating. It was also incredibly unfair to the mages who'd spent centuries in libraries honing their skills, only to be shown up by a teenage wizard from a town barely large enough to warrant a name.

Endrance knew there wasn't really anything he could do about it, but he still felt bad. He hadn't asked to be born this way.

Endrance sighed. He was mentally wearing out faster than the Bastille's magic could sustain him. He already felt mental and emotional fatigue, and he wished for once that he could sleep.

Except he couldn't. The Bastille wouldn't allow it for some reason. Perhaps true Mercanians didn't sleep?

A cool hand touched his shoulders, suffusing him with a moment of relief. Endrance dully turned to face the blonde woman who stood before him in his mind.

"Dear husband." Anna said, her fine features showing concern, "You're letting your thoughts fray again."

He should have been concerned that she was there; not just because he thought her presence had faded, but also because she was in the partitioned part of his mind. However, too much of his mind was working on the rest of his escape plan, so the thought escaped him.

"Does it matter?" Endrance sighed.

Anna stepped up to him and pulled him into her cool embrace. He hadn't realized how feverish he was feeling.

"You've been channeling too much power through your mind, my love." Anna murmured. "You will burn up soon unless you stop."

Endrance merely shrugged.

"And at what cost?" Anna replied "You'll escape the prison, only to shackle yourself to a burnt out shell you can never escape."

Endrance looked up at her. "What do I do, then?" he asked.

"We will slow it down, release some of that energy." Anna explained. "Then we will get out of this stuffy library and take a break."

Endrance mentally did so, and his frustration and rapidly scattering thoughts started to clear.

"Okay." Endrance said. "Where shall we go?"

Anna pulled out of the embrace. "I heard you left me a room, did you not?" She asked giving him a wink and a grin. "I wish to spend time with you."

Endrance blinked, confused. "Are you suggesting that we…?" he asked.

Anna smiled. "I have always been yours, to help you in any way that I can. This is well within my capacity, dear husband."

"Should I even wonder…" Endrance began, but shook his head and gave it up mid-thought. "You know what? I don't even care right now." He smiled at her and gestured to the reflecting pool. "Shall we?" he asked, holding out a hand.

Anna took his hand in hers. "Absolutely." she said.

***

Some interminable time had passed where Endrance had thought about very little except his time with Anna. He'd had so precious little time with her before she had died, and every moment he spent with her impression felt like she was the real thing.

On an unspoken level, he knew it was a farce. He had known that all impressions stored in his mind were only impressions transferred from the patterns those memories and thoughts etched on the currents of power he had absorbed. He knew that her apparent actions were fueled by his volition, not her own.