I lifted a half-ton boulder, flapping hard with my wings and straining with Em’s flight-spell – the satyr-strength could’ve managed it if I had my feet on the ground but that was impossible up here. Some of the eolastyr’s victims were pinned halfway up ruined towers like this one, towers whose upper levels had been constructed by wizards with little concern for ordinary physics. While I shifted the massive stone, my imps scurried beneath into the wreckage, working the three dying people free. I felt it would be in exceedingly bad taste to reanimate their dead friends for extra assistance in their recovery, so I did it the slightly-longer way.
I had a modicum of care again, now that I was no longer under the subtle influence of my vampire. The influence of my newly-dark unicorn was far less subtle, and had likewise been dismissed – until I could more thoroughly assess her condition… until I had need of bladed index fingers that would be ineffective against evil creatures…
Gilaela might’ve been improved in the demon’s eyes, but to me she’d been powered-down, her usefulness dramatically decreased. If only that had been the sole price we’d paid, it would’ve been worth it. But we’d lost Withertongue, someone I’d only met a handful of times. I’d hardly said fifty words to the elf in the months since we were introduced, yet a loss was a loss. We’d already been low on wizards. And Vardae had gotten away with Orieg and Arxine… This was a bleak day for our odds in future confrontations.
It could’ve been worse. Em could’ve died, so easily… Tanra almost did… And what nearly happened to Timesnatcher… It’s all on my head.
But the arch-demon died. We killed her, together.
We lost the twins, we lost Withertongue. We lost several dozen innocent civilians, killed instantly by rubble or left to perish when the team of healers had been overwhelmed by the dying champions and arch-magisters.
A fraction. A tiny, tiny fraction of what might’ve been.
She didn’t even get one of our souls, I mused as my imps slid the last of the three crying people free of the debris. I carefully placed the massive block down where it wouldn’t cause an avalanche and tapped my wraith-essence once more, easing my arm-muscles.
When I let Avaelar out to heal their injuries, I floated there above them, light enough that I felt the cold breeze flowing through my flesh.
Jaevette and another arch-druid bearing the Magisterium mark arrived to relieve me, and as I rejoined with my sylph and cast about I saw that it was done. Magisters were crawling all over everything, and officials from construction guilds were already on the scene, assessing everything with minions taking down their words. Most of the champions had left, returning to their homes, their families. I’d just glyphed a message to Jaid and Jaroan to reassure them everything was okay, and continued helping the trapped. This kind of thing was as much my job as the demon-fighting. More, when it came down to it. The whole point of fighting the demons, the darkmages, Evil in all its varied forms, was to save lives. Wasn’t it?
Whether it was just the string of failures and defeats that culminated in an empty victory, or something one of my eldritches had infected me with – I wasn’t feeling the joy in saving lives today. The victory hadn’t felt empty when it was actually happening. Evening had fallen, and I’d dismissed my vampire and unicorn for fear they were causing me harm of the less-easily discerned kind… psychic, mental harm… but even without their malign presences within my body I felt disconnected. I was acting mechanically.
I wanted her back. I wanted to smash her out of the sky like that again.
This content has been misappropriated from Royal Road; report any instances of this story if found elsewhere.
Damn it, I growled, reliving the fateful moments in my memory.
My eyes met Em’s across the debris-littered streets. She was wrapped in her storm, floating over the ruins to survey the scene like me. Her eyes were radiant, cobalt fire crackling in her irises, visible at a distance of a hundred feet even without my vampire’s sight.
I approached her – she looked over at me as I neared her.
“You feel it too?” she asked me.
I nodded, wordless.
“Let’s get out of zis place,” she said, seeming to suppress a shudder.
I shook my head, then, unable to help myself, gripped her about the waist and pulled her into my arms. She lost her breath in surprise at the suddenness of my motion, but she closed her eyes in submission, crushing herself to me – our lips met, and the fire that had been in her eyes was on her tongue, her energy consuming me from within, the passion scorching every facet of my being.
We weren’t so far from Treetown, not the way we flew, frenzied in the throes of the kiss that took us up, far beyond the gaze of those below. We were there in our secluded spot within a couple of minutes, long seconds of intensity, of craving, of purifying hunger and biting desire such that I didn’t even notice when we arrived, not until she started pulling off my mask.
This time, I knew – I knew what she had felt after the battle at the library. I knew the desire, the blood-heat, the battle-lust. We fought the eolastyr together. We killed her, together. It was me now, and I was it. I would never be the same again.
Evening passed into night, and I didn’t go home, didn’t go to see Jaid and Jaroan before the Mourning Bells started ringing.
* * *
Gong! Gong! Gong!
I’d been slumbering, Em sleeping with her head on my chest, warm despite the mountain wind rippling through the trees’ branches. As the discordant pealing reached my ears I jolted awake – Em raised her head and I sat up.
“I swear,” I growled, fumbling for my clothing, “I am never going to sleep again.”
“She must have triggered something!” Em snapped, as though suddenly angry at one or both of us, pulling on her robe. “Vot did ve miss?”
“A thousand things – one thing – it doesn’t matter now, does it?” I retorted, standing up, locating my mask. “A dropping Incursion. An Incursion, on Yearsend… If they dare go near Mud Lane again –“
“Kas!” She pulled out her glyphstone.
Rather than wait for her to finish and make her give me a summary, I thought it would save time and energy to just retrieve my own.
I held it up, and was treated to a view of Zakimel. He was standing before a fireplace in what looked very much like a house – his house? It was definitely no Maginox chamber, for once. The mantelpiece behind him was bereft of all ornament, save two extremely expensive-looking crystal decanters, both empty. The old diviner looked weary beyond measure, even more unkempt than the last time I saw him – but he was still going. None of his fatigue showed in his voice.
“All champions,” he began, waiting a heartbeat before continuing, “we have multiple breaches in at least three locations. Preliminary scryings suggest the eolastyr’s former servants were sequestered about the city, waiting for the signal to begin, and her early demise may have moved up the time-table. Expect the typical levels of disorder. We make out a minimum of four summoners at Hidebent Square in Hightown, four at the Greybridge in Rivertown, and two at the Treetown Gate. The Magisterium bids you battle hard, and good luck. Ismethyl and Yune be with us all.“
The very instant he started to lower his glyphstone, a vision of Timesnatcher started to come through.
“Feychilde and Stormsword… I’m assigning you both to the Greybridge. Gods know you work well together… I realise you’re closer to the Treetown Gate but they’re really going to need you down there. Glancefall will be looking out to link you. Good luck.”
I blinked away the trance, lowered my own stone, and looked at Em.
Timesnatcher had extended his apology, even if he hadn’t come out and said it. Just acknowledging me and Em ‘worked well’ together – it was enough for me, for now. Enough to tell me he was on my side.
Stormsword met my gaze, and the electric fire in her eyes reignited.
“The Magisterium didn’t contradict his orders?” I asked, feeling an awful, hollow excitement bubble up within me.
She just shook her head.
Why was it that I almost wanted to smile? Why was it that she looked like she was fighting back her own urge to loose her wolfish grin?
We flew south, riding the tails of the thunder-wave she unleashed before us, as if sending the demons a warning, a condemnation, a prophecy of their doom.
* * *