Frances heard Helias’s singing before she saw him and had already started preparing a spell. Brown eyes tracking the tauroll charging up the hill, Frances pointed Ivy’s Sting ahead of her target and let her imagination do the work.
The snow and soil underneath Helias’s feet began to sink as Frances turned the slope around Helias into a mudslide. The tauroll struggled to regain his footing, seizing a nearby sapling, only to have Frances send a firebolt that set the tree alight. As the tauroll tumbled, she prepared to land a killing strike, only to have a sharp wedge of pain drive into her mind. Spiderweb cracks appeared around her magic shield as the remaining goblin mage hammered rocks and bolts of magic into her defenses, forcing her to retreat back over the edge of the plateau.
Frances sucked in gasping breaths of air as she released her shield. As much as she wanted to ignore it, a bone-aching fatigue was seeping into her chest and stomach.
“Hattie, are the refugees almost through yet?” Frances demanded.
The half-troll looked up from where she’d shoved another rock pile over and ran over to look at the tunnel. “They’re almost through!”
“But not yet. Damnit!” Frances straightened as she heard something drop next to her, but it was only one of their harpies.
“Stormcaller. There’s a group of cavalry charging up the path,” said the harpy.
“How many?” Frances demanded.
“A hundred,” said the harpy.
Frances swallowed and bellowed, “Harpies withdraw and get out of here! Captain Aloudin! We have an entire second company coming your way!”
The harpy nodded and flew off to tell her fellows, whilst Aloudin groaned. “Fantastic!”
Frances whipped her head back at Hattie. “You need to get out of here as well. I don’t want you caught out here too!”
“I can fight—”
Frances picked up a deep voice in the air and without further ado, whipped her wand up and faced the edge once again. Right on cue, Helias charged over the edge of the plateau, surrounded by a brilliant red shield, his sword glowing with magic. Frances blasted a fireball at him, and followed up with a barrage of rocks from one of the nearby piles. The tauroll blocked the fireball and the hail of stones, but it pinned him in place just long enough for Frances to hit the earth below him.
The edge of the plateau collapsed, sending the general falling back down the slope and out of sight. But Frances was sure he’d be back.
“Holy shit.” Frances glared at the wide-eyed Hattie, who spun around and ran for the tunnel.
“Aloudin set fire to the barricade! Everybody else, kick those last rockfalls over and fall back!” Frances screamed.
What few piles of rocks weren’t kicked over were soon and the volunteers and Aloudin’s squad were soon racing back toward the tunnel, the barricade lit by a spell from Aloudin’s wand.
Frances, last of the crowd, could see Helias and his soldiers already tearing over the edge and fired several more spells at them to keep their heads down. Continuing to run, she could see the tunnel looming ahead.
Several carts had been abandoned and now just a few refugees, and the last defenders were tearing into the tunnel. Aloudin and Dayren were firing spells at the enemy as they rushed the refugees and volunteers into the tunnel. Epomonia had holstered her pistols and was now firing a shortbow with vicious proficiency .
The fusillade of fire was slowing the wolf riders. It did nothing to hinder Helias’s progress. The general bulled through the magic bolts, snarling as he did so.
Frances could see the grim resignation in Aloudin’s jaw, the panic growing in Epomonia’s wide eyes. She could hear the refugees screaming, hear Dayren yelling for the frozen Hattie to get behind him. She took this all in a glance and with that in mind, Frances breathed out and collected herself.
“Ivy, if I’m going to beat him without hurting myself, I’m going to need your help,” she said.
Got it, Frances. Let’s do this.
“Thanks Ivy. Can you also please remind me if I start to run out of magic?” Frances asked.
Of course. Now focus. Open your mind. He’s on us.
Helias led with a scything blade of magic that erupted from his sword. Frances parried it with a bolt of magic, like how she’d practiced with her estoc, before countering with a flick of her wand. One of the abandoned carts slammed into Helias’s side, right in his blindspot, sending him stumbling. The tauroll stepped in to close the distance, bellowing a low throaty note to channel his magic. A red sword of magic extended from his blade, spearing towards Frances as the general scythed it towards her.
Habit made Frances almost try to block the slash, but Ivy’s reminder nudged her into a different response. For before Frances had started to rely heavily on her lightning spell and her sheer power, she’d trained with her mother. In those training sessions, Frances had never been able to match her mother in sheer force. The only way to even come close to beating her was to be as creative as possible.
Frances yanked on the packed snow near Helias’s foot, freezing it into ice and spearing it upwards towards his swinging hands. Only sheer reaction speed let the general escape his hands from being cut open. As he sidestepped the ice spear, Ivy suggested a spell to Frances.
Agreeing with her wand, Frances cast the spell, but instead of on a larger area, she just targeted Helias’s right boot.
The spell in question was “Slippy Slidey” which for a brief second, removed friction from a surface. So as Helias sidestepped he slid and slammed into the ground. Before the general could get up, Frances blasted him with a small bolt of lightning.
Helias just managed to block the blinding flash with a hastily thrown up magic barrier. As it was, he was forced to stay on the ground and scramble away from Frances as she continued to pummel him with spells. Frances didn’t have the magic left for the power-shots that she normally used. So she resorted to using her environment. She ripped tiles from the rooftops of the village houses. She hardened clumps of snow into fist-sized hailstones that she battered into Helias’s shield. When that didn’t crack Helias’s shield, Frances fired several spells at nearby trees in quick succession. Helias had a moment to stare at Frances and get up, only to leap away, screaming a Word of Power to reinforce his shield. The trees Frances had spelled all fell towards Helias in a splintering of wood and shower of pine fronds and cones.
Exhausted herself, Frances ran for the tunnel. Only Aloudin and Epomonia were outside now and they grabbed her and dragged her in. Bullets and arrows screeched over their heads as they sprinted into the darkness.
“Dayren blow it! Blow it!” Aloudin bellowed.
Ahead of them, the half-goblin half-human pointed his staff at the ceiling and cried out a Word of Power. The last thing that Frances felt was a blast of compacted air thrusting her forward and facefirst into the ground.
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Helias glared at the rubble that had been the entrance to the tunnel in Thornspear village. He knew his soldiers were stepping away from him. He didn’t care. It was good that they were scared of him.
To think that Thornspear had a tunnel. To where Helias had no idea, but Frances and Timur had escaped through it and that meant one thing.
The tauroll glared at his troops. “Well, what are you waiting for? Get digging!”
“Sir? Are you sure? They might have escaped by that time,” said a goblin.
“They didn’t have time to rig the tunnel to completely collapse and we need to find out where they went. So get digging. Or are you going to ask more stupid questions?” The general smiled as his troops shook their heads and ran to the rubble. “Bring up the third and fourth companies as well. We are not letting them get away!”
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Frances wasn’t sure if she’d woken up or not. Everything was quite dark and so she wasn’t sure if her eyes were open or not.
Blinking, she winced. Her face, probably due to her fall, felt like it’d been squashed. She also seemed to be shaking.
Her eyes opened to a rock-hewn ceiling, with shadows of human-like forms playing across it. She was in a cart, she was certain of it now, and they must be in the tunnel. That had to mean they were safe, or at least, that’s what Frances hoped.
Just as Frances sat up though, she froze, for sitting across from her was Hattie, and in her hands, was Ivy’s Sting. The half-troll was crouched, examining the wand intently. Her eyes were tinged red, and filled with unshed tears.
“Hattie, what are you doing with my wand?” Frances asked.
The hafling started and wiped her eyes. “Nothing! I was just looking!” Hattie thrust the wand out at Frances, who took it cautiously.
Ivy? Are you alright?
To her relief, her wand responded immediately and as their minds joined, Frances could sense her wand wasn’t panicked. I’m fine, Frances. She was just looking. I did catch a glimpse of her mind, though. We need to commune.
“Is Ivy’s Sting the name of your wand?” Hattie asked.
Frances nodded. “Mm hmm. What’s going on?”
“We’re in the tunnel now. I heard it’s going to be five days before we reach the Greenway. I’ll let Prince Timur know that you’re awake.” Before Frances could say anything Hattie slipped out of the cart and back into the line of refugees and villagers trailing behind them.
“Oh, you’re up now Frances! That’s awesome,” said the cart’s driver. Frances, rubbing the tiredness from her eyes, turned to find the troll Joa and the ogre Venne sitting next to one another.
“Yes, thanks. Um, if you don’t mind, was Hattie really just watching over me?” Frances asked.
Joa’s blue eyes widened and she whirled on Venne. “I thought you said Frances was safe! You didn’t tell me that was Hattie!”
Venne blinked. “She was, well, is! Hattie’s just a kid, and she wouldn’t hurt a fly.”
The archer buried her face in her hands. “Venne, Hattie’s a good kid, but Frances killed her dad!”
Venne’s eyes widened. “Oooooh. Sorry Frances.”
Shaking her head, Frances smiled. “It’s alright. She didn’t hurt me.” She glanced at her wand, and remembered the unshed tears in the young half-troll’s eyes. “If Timur shows up, I’m in the back.
Closing the canvas entrance to the cart, Frances focused on her wand.
Ivy, what happened? Was Hattie crying?
It’s probably better if I show you, Frances. I don’t do this often because it’s… confusing for my wielder, but I know a spell that can let you see what I saw.
Intrigued, Frances sent an affirmative note to Ivy. What do you need?
Stolen from its rightful author, this tale is not meant to be on Amazon; report any sightings.
I’ll be pulling on your magic for a bit so brace yourself. This is going to be strange.
Feeling a strange tug at the top of her head, Frances suddenly felt like she was rising into the air. She blinked and yelped as she found herself staring up at Hattie’s face. She could even feel her fingers wrapping around her midsection? She didn’t have arms for some reason, but she could also feel herself being lifted into the air.
And she could see well, herself, that is, her unconscious body, lying on a bedroll in the cart, snoring quietly.
Hattie came to the cart saying that she wanted to help watch over you while Venne drove the cart. Venne let her and well, she sat down and just stared at you for some time.
She just sat there? Frances asked.
Yes. Then she picked me up. She didn’t realize I was a Named Wand. She was just curious. I wasn’t prepared for that and our minds touched.
In the memory as Hattie examined Ivy’s Sting closer, Frances saw a flash. It wasn’t one of Hattie’s memories. Or to be exact, it wasn’t just one of her memories. It was just an intense burst of emotion scattered with fractured images and sensations, held together by one overriding tone.
Self-loathing, hatred and pain, so much pain.
At that moment, Hattie almost dropped the wand, if not for Ivy calling out: “Wait! It’s alright!”
“What are you?” Hattie whispered.
“I’m Ivy’s Sting, Frances’s wand. You don’t have to be afraid.
“You’re a Named Wand,” Hattie whispered. “Is… is that why Frances is so strong?”
“I’m the least of the reasons for Frances’s strength,” said Ivy.
In the present, Frances nudged her wand’s mind as the memory played out, sensing a quiet thanks from Ivy in response.
“Then why is she so strong? How could she be so strong after everything that’s happened to her?” Hattie demanded, the strength and the intensity of her conviction channeling into Ivy, now burnt in the back of Frances’s mind.
“Why is that so important to you?” Ivy asked.
Hattie clutched Ivy’s Sting tighter and another splinter of her memories came. Frances saw the memory of a girl on the street of an uncaring city, starving, hiding from the elements and from mobs of human-hating Alavari. Sometimes she was successful, at times she wasn’t.
“She’s one of the most powerful mages on the continent. She even beat General Helias while still recovering from her fight with King Thorgoth. She did it all without even having parents!” Hattie hissed. Gripping Ivy with a white-knuckle grip, the half-troll glared at the wand. “If you feel anything for killing my father tell me how!”
“I’m so sorry for what you’ve gone through Hattie—”
“I don’t want an apology, I want answers!” Hattie glared at the wand, only for the memory-Frances to start to stir. Just like that the memory faded and Frances found herself sitting in the cart, Ivy’s Sting caressed in her hands.
“Ivy, thank you. Are you alright?” Frances asked.
Oh of course. Sharing my memories isn’t a hard spell.
Frances smiled. “I mean, how are you with what Hattie shared with you?”
The wand fell quiet, her thoughts drawn inward so deeply that Frances couldn’t sense what Ivy was thinking.
I feel guilty, like you do and helpless. I want to help her, but I don’t know how.
“Well, I think there is one thing we can start with, and I think its something we can do that will help others as well,” said Frances. Her wand, reading her mind, sent her master an affirmative thought.
“Frances! You’re alright!” Timur exclaimed, leaping onto the cart. He landed somewhat unsteadily, his half-limp tail flicking wildly to try to balance himself and Frances had to grab him. Soon, they were pulling each other into a tight embrace.
“I’m alright. I’m alright. I’m sorry I had to worry you,” she said.
“You don’t need to apologize. I know you had to help them,” said Timur, burying his nose in her hair.
Finding it rather ticklish, Frances giggled. “You’re… taking this a bit better than I thought.”
“My mother gave me some advice before we left. She reminded me that you are your own person.” Timur squeezed her tightly. “I can’t stop you from being who you are. I love you too much for that.”
Her boyfriend couldn’t see it, but Frances was smiling so widely the edges of her mouth hurt.
“You don’t know how much that means to me, Timur,” Frances whispered. “When I was fighting, all I could think about was getting back to you alive.”
“Did it help?” Timur asked, smirking slightly.
“A little. It helped remind me not to push myself too much,” said Frances. Sitting down next to her prince, she rested her head on his shoulder. “I’m still not sure how Helias can cast magic with a sword and not a wand.”
Timur blinked. “Wait, he’s got a Fangroar?”
“Fangroar?” Frances felt her stomach drop. “Is that… Helias has a Named Wand?”
“Oh Galena no. Fangroars are the result of an experiment. About a century ago, during the Third Great War, Alavari researchers were looking to create weapons that could cast magic like wands, but it didn’t quite work out,” said Timur.
Frances frowned and her cheeks burned. “Timur, this is a bit of a silly question, but why can’t we make weapons that cast magic? I thought any stick of wood could be used to cast magic.”
“It’s not a silly question. It’s a damn good question that’s frustrated hundreds of researchers and mages.” The prince pulled out his own varnished wand. “For some reason when we stick iron or any kind of metal on wood it does something to the spellcasting, often causing the spells to backfire.” Timur made a fist, before flaring out his fingers. “Boom.”
“Wait, we don’t know why? Then how is Helias able to have one of these Fangroars?” Frances asked.
Timur shrugged. “Most of us aren’t sure how they succeeded either. All we know is that during the Third Great War, a number of Alavari mages succeeded in making a bunch of weapons that could cast. For whatever reason, they couldn’t repeat their success and many of these were subsequently lost in the chaos of the Third Great War. Helias must have come across one of them.”
Well, I’m not sure how these Fangroars work, but I think I have a guess as to why you can’t make a wand or staff into a physical weapon.
Timur stared at the wand. “Oh Galena, Ivy can you explain, please?” The note of pleading and eagerness in his tone was so keen that it made Frances wince and smile at the same time.
Ivy’s Sting laughed, an almost musical-like sound that tinkled like small bells. With pleasure. I think that spells need to be channelled by an organic component. That’s why whenever someone tries to put a metal spearhead or say a wand in a sword, they can’t cast spells.
“That makes sense. Magic can only be performed by humans and Alavari and it can be performed by hand.” Frances pursed her lips. “But then why can we still store magic in gems and use rings as focal points for casting magic? We can even use cards to store and activate spells.”
“Wait, but nobody has ever used a ring to cast magic. Magic rings need to be used together with wands or staffs,” said Timur.
And cards are made of paper, which was once organic matter.
“It’s really that simple? Why did nobody figure this out?” Frances whispered, crossing her arms. Suddenly straightening, she snapped her fingers. “Oh, oh of course nobody would have discovered it. You only had this theory because of your special ability right, Ivy?”
Yes, Frances. My ability is in understanding and remembering. I noticed that as I absorbed different spells and understood how to use them that they all had a certain similarity. They always were channelled through the living or formerly living fibre of the casting device, whether it be a wand, staff or one’s hand.
“Hmm, then shouldn’t it be harder to cast a spell by wand or staff rather than by hand?” Frances mused and shook her head. “Sorry, back to the topic of the Fangroars, we’re certain Helias doesn’t have more of them?”
“Yes. They were incredibly rare. The group making them were mostly killed too, and their records burned,” said Timur.
“By who?” Frances asked.
“Lost to history. Unless you know, Ivy?” Timur asked.
Ivy’s tone was rueful. Sorry to disappoint you, Your Highness, but I know of what happened to them, but not who.
“Oh, that’s alright. You just helped me answer a few hundred year old question. I’m very happy,” said Timur, patting the wand.
“Happier than me coming back alive?” Frances asked, arching an eyebrow.
“Oh no, you kicking Helias’s ass made me ecstatic. Aloudin told me all about it. You made a fool of him, but if you don’t believe me… ” Timur leaned in and kissed Frances, right above her ear. “How’s that for proof.”
Frances faced Timur, tilting her chin up. “Give me another one, and I’ll forgive you.”
She could hear Ivy titter, but she didn’t mind, and neither did Timur because he leaned in and pinned his lips against hers. Or was she the one pressing hers against his?
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As a way to protect them, and to keep them out of trouble, the thirty-or so orphans were placed in the middle of the refugee convoy. With all the adults attending to their own families or helping to move the convoy alone, the orphans were left mostly to attend to themselves. When they had been fleeing Helias’s troops and helping to set traps, this had been fine.
Now, as Frances walked past marching villagers and refugees to find the orphans, she didn’t have to look hard. They were the only ones who didn’t hold their oil lamps and lanterns steady, but waved them around, casting shadows on the wall. Their fingers making shadow puppets that strutted and danced in the bright backdrop.
The adults that watched this crowd from a good distance were either glaring at them, or looked just plain exasperated. As Frances approached, they looked at her with curiosity.
The youths however, stopped playing, their wary eyes settling on her.
Frances actually rather welcomed this attention for once. It meant she didn’t have to catch their attention and she could ask them the question she really wanted to.
Clapping her hands, the mage smiled warmly. “So, who wants to learn magic?
The jaws of some of the youths, and some of the nearby adults fell open, whilst others whispered amongst themselves.
“Is this some kind of joke?” Hattie growled.
Continuing to walk so the column wasn’t stopping, Frances shook her head. “Nope. Timur said it was a fantastic idea.”
“But what are you getting out of it?” asked a half-goblin kid.
“I’m bored, I’m worried that you’re bored and you get to learn how to defend yourself, which will make things easier for all of us. What say you all? How would you like to learn from the Stormcaller?” Frances asked.
Normally, Frances preferred not to drop her mage epithet, but in this case, she needed everything to convince the orphans to follow her lead.
To her relief, she was met with a lot of nods.
“What are you starting us with?” one of the youths, a half-orc, asked.
Frances glanced at Hattie, and found the half-troll completely focused on her. The wariness hadn’t left her eyes, but she was watching her.
“Let’s start with something that won’t collapse the tunnel. Here’s how to do a shield spell…”
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Erisdale…
Elizabeth gently stroked the hair of the sleeping harpy, Diana. The harpy had had another nightmare and it was Elizabeth’s turn to minister to the children they rescued.
“Nightmare Duty” was never fun. Over the course of the eight hour shift, one’s sleep schedule would be well and truly wrecked. You had to have nerves of steel as children just broke down in front of you without any warning, started writhing in their sleep like they were under attack, or in the rare case, try to kill themselves.
One child had hurt himself so badly it’d taken a whole night of desperate medical attention from Ayax and the battalion doctor. That had led to Elizabeth forbidding the soldiers on Nightmare Duty from taking their weapons into the tent. An overwhelmed Renia was counselling poor Valesp and from what Elizabeth had been told, he was not in danger any longer, but they needed to keep a close eye on him.
Walking through the large tent that held the children, Elizabeth stepped softly past rows and rows of bedrolls, watching them sleep. Some of them not as contentedly as the others.
Over the course of their operations against Duke Darius’s army, the Lightning Battalion had now found over fifty children from three different laboratories. There had been more children kept at the labs, but not all of them had survived.
Heart heavy, Elizabeth walked to the rest area in the tent. A small camp stove set up in it had a kettle of Hearthsange, whilst the table sported a few well-hugged plushies, and a platter of cookies.
It was there that Elizabeth found Ayax talking to a young goblin child, barely older than ten years. The child was holding onto an elephant plush, his eyelids closing slowly. Watching her girlfriend, Elizabeth grinned as Ayax continued to tell the bedtime story, until the child finally fell asleep.
“Good job, Ayax,” said Elizabeth.
The troll looked up, grinning. “Thanks Liz. Can you help me with him?” Nodding, Elizabeth helped Ayax carry the boy to his bedroll where they tucked him in and returned to the rest area.
“I thought you turned in for the night,” said Elizabeth.
Ayax shook her head. “I couldn’t sleep. I’ve been trying to come up with an idea of how to break the siege on Salpheron.”
Elizabeth sighed. “We’ve only just arrived, Ayax. There’s nothing we can do but keep at it.”
“I know, but… well, the sooner the better.” The troll glanced around her and lowered her tone. “I’m not sure how long we can take care of these children, Elizabeth.”
The Otherworlder frowned. “What do you mean? They are our priority, Ayax.”
Ayax winced and shook her head. “Sorry, I didn’t say that very well. What I mean is that this army camp is not the best place for these children, Liz. We’re fighting, going to war. We need to find a safe place for them, where we can keep them safe.”
Elizabeth pursed her lips. “I know what you mean and I agree with you. It’s just easier said than done now.”
Ayax held onto Elizabeth’s hand. “I know. Erlenberg has so many refugees that taking more there, especially young children, seems like a recipe for disaster. They’re overwhelmed as it is. Last I heard was that they’re camping people outside the city walls.”
“Damn. So not an option. And we’re having no luck with Erisdale,” said Elizabeth.
Her expression darkening, Ayax’s grip on Elizabeth’s hand tightened. “That’s an understatement. If they’re not outright speciest, they refuse to take them in and come up with all kinds of excuses.”
“Some were more valid than others, Ayax,” said Elizabeth.
Ayax narrowed her eyes. “You don’t really believe that town didn’t have enough space don’t you?”
“No I don’t, but we can’t force them to change their opinions. We just need to find a solution and fast.” Elizabeth scowled. “Frances and the refugees are coming, and if we can’t find homes for a hundred children… how are we going to find a place for more than two hundred refugees.”
“Don’t forget the villagers that are coming with them,” said Ayax.
Elizabeth groaned, burying her head in her hands. “Kwent has some room and half of the town has a population of Alavari but it’s not ideal. There’s just not enough room within the walls.”
“Hmm, we need to talk to ‘Cuz about this. She might have an idea that we haven’t considered,” said Ayax.
“Wouldn’t it just worry her more?” Elizabeth asked.
“Would you rather surprise her when she comes, Liz?” Ayax countered in a gentle tone.
“No. You’re right. Let’s call her tomorrow,” said Elizabeth.
Some time ago before Delbarria…
“Kitten, do I really need to do this?” Ginger asked Ayax as she floated in the troll’s magic.
Ayax smiled sardonically. “Mages tend to resort to throwing people away from them when they’re panicked. You need to learn how to land on your feet after being tossed..”
“Unlike you, though, I don’t have a tail!” Ginger snapped, not liking how she was starting to spin upside down.
Ayax laughed. “Yes, but there are still a few things you could learn. Besides, this won’t hurt.”
“Oh really,” Ginger grumbled.
“No seriously,” said Ayax, turning Ginger around so she could see the mound of freshly shorn sheep’s wool behind them, Frances and Elizabeth waving cheerfully from where they stood beside the mounds. “You won’t get hurt.”
“And if I have to do this, you have to do it too!” Martin exclaimed, piping up from where he was floating on his back, arms spreadeagle.
Ginger sighed. “Oh alright.”
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