Spellscribed: Resurgence (8 page)

Anna broke the sudden silence as Endrance tried to reconcile his thoughts. Even in his subconscious, the sudden upset of his mind caused the room to dim and the walls to tremble as the library above most certainly went through sudden modifications. "All right, I'll admit I did not expect this." she declared, stepping in between the two mages, her shield raised and her grip on her spear tightened. "Endrance, it seems that your mother is in your head."

"Literally, and figuratively." Valeria provided. "And now that you know I'm here, I'm afraid things are going to get a little complicated."

Endrance shook his head mentally and gently nudged Anna aside. "Valeria." he started. "How long have you been here?"

The ex-Archmagus, looking very much alive, chuckled. "I've been here since the beginning, my son." she said plainly, with affection in her voice as she talked. "Dying was a painful thing. Take it from me."

Endrance started piecing the puzzle together. "When I was born. You died, and I absorbed your imprint."

"And without the bracers to focus it, or even being self aware, your infant mind had no way of handling my presence." Valeria said. "So, in order to not smother your mind with mine, I hid myself away in your subconscious, where my influence would be minimal."

"And you had an influence on my life!" Endrance exclaimed.

Valeria nodded. "Yes. I did." she replied. "Since I was there from the moment you became aware of your own thoughts, my presence was never questioned, and I was able to steal away enough of your volition to make a place for myself here. And then I just had to watch, wait, and nudge your behavior in the direction I needed you to go."

"You made me come here," Endrance concluded. "To the Bastille."

Valeria shrugged, walking around the statue as she spoke. "Not very difficult." she commented. "I mean, you really wanted to believe that Kaelob was on your side. You knew you had gotten more powerful, too. All I had to do was dampen your common sense and give your confidence just the slightest of boosts. You did all the rest."

Endrance touched his forehead and sighed. "By all magic." he swore. What part of my life haven't you tinkered with?"

"What parts?" Valeria asked, her eyebrow raised. "Do you really want to know the answer?"

Endrance groaned in frustration, his hands clenched in clawlike grasps as he struggled with the urge to attempt throttling the woman. "No!" he said. "I guess maybe, it's important to know how much of my life was tampered with."

"Then, all of it." Valeria replied flatly. "Your life, in its entirety, was tampered with by me. You were the third attempt at making a half-human, half-Mercanian child. You were intended to be but a skeleton key for me to pry open the Bastille, but the complications from the pregnancy were unexpectedly fatal."

"Why?" Endrance asked.

Valeria pursed her lips. "Well, it's not like I was young anymore." she replied, and I had two failed attempts before. I should have anticipated the effect you had when you were born, but since neither of the two children prior had come to term…"

"It was because humans are not magical by nature." Endrance responded. "And trying to mix a magically native creature with one that is not will only work if the non-native donor has sufficient power in their body to fake being one. You would have had to keep power flowing through your body constantly during the pregnancy."

Valeria nodded. "Painful, but not impossible. It's something that you can do once you get as skilled as I was. You were able to do it hundreds of years before you normally would have been able to, were you a normal man." she commented.

"My spellscribing." Endrance continued. "You were here, making sure I not only matched him in blood, but also in markings."

"You needed to grow your surface channels to match your father's, so I have had to step in and guide your scribing."

"Then, the tattoo on my back?" Endrance asked.

"Ah, that spell circle." Valeria proclaimed wistfully. I only wish I could have had one myself. But yes, I was the one alone who drew it upon your back. You didn't have the know-how or the skill to even draw the outer ring, and you being high on that barbarian's 'spirit paste' was the perfect opportunity to step out of the subconscious and stretch my legs a little."

"So Gullin was also worked into your plans." Endrance concluded. "I don't suppose he was also in on it?"

"The Firebirds of the Apocalypse?" Valeria asked, shaking her head. "Something so trivial as the manipulation of a child is beneath even their hatchlings. Tutoring one who may forestall the end of the world, however, was more than sufficient bait to bind one into your service."

Endrance let out a small sigh of relief. At least his familiar was his own. "So he's been fully on my side."

"Annoyingly so, but yes."

"You've been awfully cooperative." Anna observed. "Why?"

Valeria smiled. "I'm confident that what I tell you will have no effect on my continued existence. Endrance has lived so long with my part of his volition gone. I laid the foundation for the library of his mind, even set it up so that I could reach into his dreaming thoughts so that I could will him to do what I need. If I were to give up this volition, I would be handing control of his foundation over to him. I am certain he knows that adjusting to the sudden acquisition of control over his very mental foundation would be disastrous."

Endrance sighed. "All right. I understand what you're saying, Valeria, but there's two points you're missing."

"Oh?" she asked. "Those being?"

Endrance held up a hand. "One." he said. "I'm down here looking for Kaelob, not you. Now that I'm aware of your existence I can take steps to protect myself, but you're not important enough at the moment for me to waste time and make your aforementioned risk in dealing with you."

"And the second?" she asked, her eyebrow rising.

"The Bastille you worked so hard to put me into is slowly killing me." Endrance declared, his voice sharp. "It's life-supporting magic only seems to work correctly on a full Mercanian. And since I'm not fully Mercanian, I'm slowly starving to death."

The impression of Valeria appeared shocked. "What?" she asked. "No! My calculations were perfect. Even so, the warden should be back in time to fix this."

"The warden may be dead." Endrance stated. "It's been months and both you and my father escaped. They would have checked the cell, at the very least to see how you pulled it off. Since they haven't, then I can only assume that the warden is gone and no one else can get to me."

Endrance shook his head. "Either way, I need to find a way out of this."

Valeria rolled her eyes. "If there was anything you could do to get out of this prison, your father would have done it centuries ago." she countered. Though she was derisive, Anna could see a hint of fear in her face. "Though, the idea of being slowly malnourished until dead is a particularly gruesome prospect too."

"So…" Endrance said, his stance ready for conflict. "Where do you stand? Are you going to help, or are you going to get in my way?"

Valeria's rigid posture almost entirely melted, her pose relaxing as she looked at her son with tearful eyes. "Endrance, my son, I am not against you. I used you, yes. But I was not entirely without heart. You were supposed to be released from the Bastille within a few years, once your father took control of the warden and restored the empire. You would have been brought into their society."

Endrance's eyes narrowed, but he had a more urgent priority than discovering Valeria's long term plans. "Whatever. We will have plenty of time to talk about this - if I escape and survive." he growled. "Now tell me what you know about the Bastille."

Valeria looked around the room, and flicked a hand. Endrance and Anna felt a moment of disorientation as the room they were in was replaced with a more comfortable chamber of the same size, but filled with cushioned chairs encircling a round table in the center. The thin layer of water still coated the floor of the room, surprisingly, but the furniture sat easily on top of it.

Valeria pulled out a chair and sat herself, looking at the two expectantly. "Well then, let's have a seat." she said. "I want to be done with this and get you out of my way as quickly as possible."

Anna sat, setting her shield on the table. "What could you possibly be working on in Endrance's head that's more important than his survival?" she asked. Endrance noted Anna had not set down the spear, but instead kept a casual grip on it.

Valeria sighed. "Every mage has her projects, you should know." she said. "And since I was forcibly retired by my demise, I have had nothing to do but use that bit of volition I have to further my spell designs." She turned to Endrance and tilted her head. "Don't worry." she said. "While it is above your ability, nothing of it is dangerous to you, inherently."

Endrance waved a hand. "I don't want you rummaging around my head, even if you're locked in the mental equivalent of the basement. Get on with it and let's finish this."

Valeria nodded. "You're remarkably astute, my son." she said. "I suspect you only have a four months left before you starve to the point you could no longer effect an escape, unless you have my help."

She held up a hand and snapped her fingers. Kaelob, in his younger less insane form, appeared sitting in the chair next to hers. "Let us begin." she said.

"Ooh, that was fun." Kaelob admitted, patting his hands together. "I've never been yanked quite like that before."

"She's just demonstrating her control over things within the subconscious part of my mind." Endrance stated flatly. "You've been a pain in the ass, running away like that."

Kaelob was grinning wildly. "Oh I know. What fun it is to be able to still best you even after I'm dead." he declared.

Endrance grumbled to himself. "Looks like I've got a bit of house cleaning to do once this is over."

"You’ve got a lot of everything to do when this is over." Valeria observed. "If you want to have a chance of beating my corporeal form."

Endrance sighed. "We need to continue on then. Pressing concerns first, then we can sort out the who-kills-who later."

Anna sat back as the three began a heated discussion of their situation. In her perspective, the idea that Endrance was actually just arguing with two parts of his own mind inside his head while trapped naked in a glass bubble that was slowly starving him to death was just a tad bit on the side of insane, but she loved him and would do her best to help ease his burden. Of course, she was just another part of his mind, but when Anna's impression was running it, it might as well be her.

The conversation broke into another argument and Anna sighed, resting her head in her hands. It was going to be a long four months.

The interior courtyard of the Iron castle was large enough that two hundred men could practice arms maneuvers and leave room for the servants to move around them.  Most of the men were on the walls, while only a few ran through the courtyard to send requests for more ammunition or to relay information from the front. General Wrach had started sieging the castle anew, this time using his catapults to hurl clusters of smaller rocks, raining fist-sized stones haphazardly along the walls.

A large well in the corner of the courtyard was drawn upon, independent of the city's water supply. Opposite the corner of the well, close to the inner castle walls, was the grate leading to the sewers. Heavy iron bars crossed in a filth covered lattice that weighed hundreds of pounds.

The sewage grate had gone for days ignored as a point of attack. The only way to get to the castle through them was to travel the sewers through the city, climb a ten foot vertical shaft, and navigate a small maze of tunnels. Getting a large enough force to take the castle through the sewer system would be impossible for any normal military force.

However, Balator didn't have anything resembling an ordinary military force. Bridget looked back down the passage to the small cluster of warriors and wolves that were crammed tight behind her.

"All right, just like we planned." she said.

Four warriors moved in around her, with their weapons stowed. They dropped to a knee around her and reached out with their hands, interlocking them. The sewage welled up around their thighs, but their feet could brace against the walls and their interlocking arms made the four into a somewhat sturdy platform. Four wolves climbed up on the backs of those warriors, so their hands could reach the grate. Gripping the grate with one hand, the four incanted some kind of quiet spell, exhaling on the bars set into the stone.

Their breath came out in a thick fog which rolled over the bars and clung to them. Flakes of rust rained down on them as the grate slowly sank into the pit, dragged down with a barely audible squeal by the weight of the four wolves and the rapid weakening of the metal.

The four wolves hopped down, and with a word from Bridget the four warriors released their grip and stood, catching the grate before the bars fully gave out. A tug was all that was needed to snap the metal, and they set it aside. Using the now vertical grate as a foothold, the four wolves surged up and out of the sewage pit, securing the immediate environs.

"Go." Bridget said, looking at the remaining fighters. Paired groups climbed up, one wolf and one warrior. Bridget's head snapped up as she heard the sound of a muffled scream and steel biting into flesh. She was able to step aside as a corpse dropped down beside her, splashing into the refuse.

The rest of the warriors and wolfmen climbed up, leaving Bridget alone in the tunnel. She sighed, drew her short cleaver, and started climbing up. In the few seconds it took her to get to the top, her invasion group had been discovered, and the fight had started in the courtyard.

Bridget ducked on reflex as she thought she saw something moving towards her, and was rewarded with the sight of a hastily shot arrow glancing off her armor. With a growl that would match her wolfmen comrades, she pulled her large blade free and pointed it towards the outer walls.

"Push forward!" She cried. "Take down archers! Kill the mages!"

The soldiers that had rushed out to stop them were too few. Bridget had more to fear from catching an enemy arrow than from one getting close to her in the melee. Her warriors made short work of the foot soldiers, many falling with broken swords or shattered shields.

By the time most of the archers knew to turn around, the wolfmen had already scaled the walls with leaps and bounds, finding purchase on the thinnest ledges and cracks in the stones.

The warning bells were ringing in the background, and the doors of interior fortress of the castle burst open to disgorge dozens of protectors. Bridget gestured and called three quarters of the forces still in the courtyard to stop the new defenders, while she took the remainder near the gates.

Of the warriors she brought with her, a few had already fallen, but they were doing remarkably well against these enemies. A soldier with full field plate and a longsword and shield charged her just as she was trying to figure out why these men were such poor fighters.

She swung her light blade in an arc, knocking the soldier's lunge off course, and followed up with a casual lopping swing from her heavy blade. The soldier managed to raise his shield in time, and the steel banding held. The impact knocked the helmet off the man's head and left him stumbling.

The man appeared to not only be old and gray, but also underfed. Bridget frowned, tilting her head.

"You sure you want to do this?" she asked, walking lightly around the man as he re-set his fighting stance. "I don't want to kill you if I don't have to."

The man didn't reply, instead he moved in aggressively, swinging his sword left and right. Bridget hopped back out of his reach, and swung her large cleaver at the man's shield arm hard. The metal on the shield gave, wood splintered from her strike and the man's arm gave an audible crunch as bone was pulverized. She reversed her blade and swung it around towards the man's sword arm. He desperately tried to parry it, but the weapon bent and went flying from his grip.

She stepped up to the man and kicked him in the chest, sending the injured man sprawling. "Surrender if you can." she said, an anger burning in her eyes. "Because I am the only one who would show you mercy."

The man cried for mercy, grasping his broken forearm. Bridget sighed and shook her head as she walked away. There were two gates, one iron banded wood, and the other an iron portcullis. They were designed so the gates would open with a pull of two levers, but the portcullis had to be raised on a wheel crank. It had been designed to drop at a moment's notice, which meant that it would take time and manpower to retract. She whistled and pointed, sending two of her warriors.

They just had to hold the gatehouse long enough to get the doors open. Now, without the archers to rain death down on them, Wrach's troops could surge up the streets despite the slicked roads.

She turned back towards the courtyard, surveying the battle. Though there were nearly three times as many soldiers as there were fighters on her side, they were doing remarkably well. The wolfmen were literally tearing through the archers on the walls. They weren't actually as strong or hale as the Balatoran warriors, but they had many traits of the wolves that gave them distinct advantages. The older ones were actually harder to kill than the younger; it seemed like they healed faster and faster the older they became.

"Have we found the mage?" Bridget asked aloud of the six men and women guarding the gatehouse. One of the women shook her head, drawing a hatchet from her belt and throwing it into the melee across the courtyard with ease. The tumbling axe caught a soldier in the head, sticking an inch into the plate of his helmet and dropping him like a puppet with cut strings.

"Nope." she replied, drawing another hatchet and taking aim. "There was a guy in clothes running around, but I think the wolves chased him back inside the castle."

Bridget nodded, watching as the woman threw another axe into the melee. Her target managed to raise his shield in time to catch the weapon, though the axe stuck to the shield and weighed it down. The woman grimaced in disappointment.

"I'm going to go over there and see if we can find that wizard." Bridget declared. "Get that portcullis open, no matter what."

"Got it." the woman replied. Bridget set off at a trot towards the melee.

She had a dozen yards of open ground to cross, and she picked up speed as she anticipated participating in the battle. Why the enemies were so weak, and why this castle had so little serious defenses, none of that mattered right now. Only the fight mattered at the moment. She gave her weapons a twirl as she charged.

A warrior of her side fell in front of her, blood spraying into the air as a lucky stab from an opponent caught him in the neck. Bridget leapt over the body and into the blood spray, while bringing her large cleaver down in a overhand chop. The swordsman who had struck down the warrior had hardly a split second to feel the rush of victory before Bridget hit him so hard she very nearly split him in two. Her blade slid free of his body easily, and she spun, swinging her short blade in a circle as she did so.

The stroke battered a soldier's shield out of the way of her large cleaver and forced two soldiers to jump back to avoid being hit. A hatchet flipped through the air and punched into the breastplate of the soldier whose shield she'd knocked out of position. Bridget turned the close range chop she had wound up into a lunging stab towards one of the two others, now that her primary target was down. The first one was incapable of bringing his shield up in time, and her cleaver pierced straight through his chest.

Other warriors under Bridget's command were moving away from her, giving her room to fight. Most barbarians fought in large sweeps and heavy blows, and were trained to avoid each other's reach in battle. It didn't hurt that Bridget had earned a reputation of being an exceedingly aggressive fighter with almost inhuman strength and most didn't want to risk getting clipped by her weapons.

She didn't pull the cleaver from the man's body immediately, instead reversing her grip on the blade as she spun around him, cutting the head off the second soldier with her shorter cleaver. She swung the large cleaver, letting the body fall off as she brought the blade to bear on another defender trying to stop her advance. The man ducked under the blade, lunging forward to try to stab her with his sword.

The blade glanced off a couple of metal bands, though a sharp sting did register in the back of Bridget's mind. She brought the short cleaver around as she completed her spin, chopping into the top of the man's helmet before he could rise from his low lunge. He fell to the stones at her left. Finding no one within easy engagement range, Bridget moved forward to the castle doors.

The doors were heavily damaged, one was torn off entirely while the other hung on one hinge alone. She shoved past them, stepping over the bodies of the defenders and her warriors as well. The interior of the castle was simple, and she found the ongoing fight within twenty paces of the doors.

Two of the wolves were either dead or badly injured, lying on the floor as their blood pooled. Several more of her warriors had fallen, almost an equal amount to the dead defenders. This must have been where the well-trained members of the Iron Kingdom's military were stationed. If it was the throne room, it was small and plain, with a simple iron chair in the back of the room where a man in clothes sat, looking amused.

Twelve wolves and six warriors fought against ten men in heavy armor. The defenders wore some kind of heavy plate mail, with so much metal that it was impossible to see the man inside, and yet they moved with the grace and speed of an unencumbered warrior. Bridget did a quick scan of the room and noticed that the man in the iron chair wore no crown, and he was flicking the fingers of his left hand very subtly.

Bridget had worked with Endrance for years now, and knew when he was trying to maintain a spell unobtrusively or deceptively. Sometimes he could pull it off; sometimes the spell required mobile interaction from him and he had to do little things - like that little index finger flick the man across the room was doing. Bridget grinned. So that was the mage. It was time to see if she was back on her game.

She sheathed the short cleaver, and dug into a belt pouch that had thankfully been on the other side of where she had been cut. She pulled out a handful of blue mustard seed-sized grains in her gloved hand and slapped them against the back of her wooden hand. She smeared the grains up her sleeve, spreading the stuff along the willow surface and dusting powder along her injured side, which protested with another burst of stinging pain.

She wiped her hand off on her thigh and gripped her cleaver in two hands before setting off at a run along the side of the room. She could feel the seeds taking root, and hoped that the cold from her time in Balator hadn't slowed down their growth.

The armored knight closest to her was wielding a halberd and a shield, and swung at her as she dashed past. She threw herself into a tumble, and narrowly avoided getting split open by the halberd's steel head. Two of her wolves used that opening to sink their swords into the side of the knight, but somehow he managed to turn back towards them and swing again.

The mage on the throne turned to look at her, the grin on his face infuriating Bridget as he didn't even seem concerned.

"Oh, one invader managed to get through?" he asked aloud. "Impressive."

Bridget shouldered her cleaver, jerking her thumb at the knights. "Nice trick." she said mockingly. "Endrance has done better."

The man's grin disappeared the moment she mentioned Endrance's name, contorting into a snarl of rage. "Endrance!" he hissed. "This is all his fault! You will tell me where he is!" the man demanded, rising from his seat.

Bridget took her cleaver up in both hands, readying it. She felt a warmth in her right arm, and knew it was ready. "Sure." she said. "Like I'd do that."

The man raised his arm, pointing it at her. "I'll take you captive then, and get the information from you one way or another." he snarled. Bridget couldn't feel magic, but she would be an idiot to think he wasn't getting ready to launch a spell at her.