Chapter 17
The Retreat
“This way, everyone! Keep moving toward the city proper!” Krysta’s voice rang clear as day over the river, but Floyd could barely understand a word she was saying. They were back above the trench now, escorting the dozen or so prisoners that were left over the river bridge. Floyd stared out toward the city, and eastern port, swarming with soldiers that had been called in by Warren.
My fault…damn it! Floyd would have kicked at something, but there was no time for that.
“Floyd, pull it together!” A sudden vice on his arm brought Floyd into reality, shaking the fog from his brain. He couldn’t shake Warren’s taunts, both about their true nature and about his own foolishness lighting the spark of war. Yet he could still hear Torry.
“R-right…” The redhead didn’t know what he was saying, or what he was thinking. He felt lost and confused, like he didn’t know what the right path to take was. On any other day, he would have grabbed Torry and made a run for it.
On any other day.
This day, however, he couldn’t help but take in everything that had been wrought by him, charging in without any regards for the consequences.
The sounds of battle erupted from the trench, pulling Floyd further into his own head. What was there left for him to do that he wouldn’t just screw up? His nails dug into his hands and his teeth clenched, even while Torry tried to bring him back to the present. He’d let himself be led into a trap, led Terrill right to a fight with a devastating enemy, and now Warren had full control over the narrative.
I should have just stayed at the Academy…
“Floyd!” The slap came rough across his face, before gentle hands grabbed his cheeks, pulling him until his eyes were staring into those of Torry’s. “What is wrong with you right now? What’s in your brain?”
“Torry… I…I screwed up…”
“So what?” she screamed. Krysta looked at them from the volume of her voice, and Floyd was sure her shrill tones could be heard all the way to the port. That reminded him of where he was standing, and the lives of people scrambling back towards the city. “You’ve screwed up a lot of times before. What makes this one any different?”
Her words were harsh, but Floyd knew there was truth to them. He was always getting into trouble. “Someone died, and it’s…it’s my fault. I led them to do it, I…”
“Floyd!” Torry’s grip was now tighter, keeping his eyes locked on her. The anger she had shown in the trench over Warren’s words hadn’t subsided, but she kept going, operating on the task that had been given her. It was just like her. “When have you ever let that stop you, idiot?!”
Torry struck him again, this time hitting him on the head. He was dazed, but slowly coming back to his senses. “I got one of our classmates…or a soul, or whatever, he got-”
“What’s your point, Floyd? You’re going to shut down just because of that?!” Torry pushed him away from her, nearly sending him into the river, but he remained upright. His body spun itself to keep balance and he could see the gathering of troops starting to move in their direction. It was possible there was no way they could get the dignitaries to the city, leaving them with nowhere to go. He had no idea what to do except run, but that wasn’t an option. Not after this. Torry grabbed Floyd’s jacket, pulling him close. “You’re Floyd Margrove, the creator of Time Magic! You haven’t cared about boundaries or consequences since as long as I’ve known you! You wanted to always, always, always prove you were beyond them. That’s why I was so drawn to you…”
“Yeah, well, look at where that got us! Terrill’s fighting, and these people are in danger and I-”
“And you’ve always done whatever you wanted!”
“That’s the problem!” Floyd couldn’t believe his own words, echoing across the trenches. They drew more attention than perhaps they should have, but speaking the words aloud made them final. “I’m always doing what I want, and it nearly got you killed. It might get Terrill killed, and I…”
Torry made sure to pull him close again, pressing her soft lips against his own and then murmuring, “Then decide if you want this moment to be for you…or them?”
“What are you trying to say?” he whispered, the words meant only for them.
“I’m saying that I care for you no matter what, but if you think you made a wrong step, take one in the other direction. Just make up your damn mind right now.” A contingent of soldiers was close, near enough to the bridge, and Torry waved her hand, sending a stream of wind that knocked the soldiers over. They were really in it now.
Floyd’s fist uncurled, his surroundings returning in sharp color, and the far-off geyser of water, combined with the chaos in the city, made Torry’s words break through. She wasn’t expecting anything of him. None of them were. Yet each of them was doing their own best for something beyond themselves, something he had taken with too much levity before.
Now, it was real.
Now, he no longer could turn his back.
“You’re right, I’ve always done what I wanted,” Floyd said, gripping Torry’s shoulders and holding her away from him, “but Terrill hasn’t, has he? He’s always kept his eye on something greater, and now my mistake might hurt everything he’s worked for.”
“I seriously doubt that. That general would have made this happen one way or the other.”
“Maybe, but right now, I have to step up. I have to… I have to help a friend who’s done nothing but help others. Probably seems just as selfish.” Floyd chuckled, rubbing under his nose. The groans of the collapsed soldiers indicated they were stirring, and Floyd slapped at his cheeks. “I can’t say I know what path I should take right now; what’s selfish or helpful or any of that. But you’re right, Torry. It’s not like me to second guess myself. So, for now, I’ll have to trust we can all get out of here safe, just like Terrill would want.”
“Better.”
“Great, if you two are done with a heart-to-heart, do you mind helping out?!” Krysta’s voice interceded on their conversation, more than a little miffed. She wasn’t alone, standing on the other side of the bridge with the dozen escapees shivering behind her. A glance told Floyd there was no way to get them into the city, their only route of access through the eastern port closed off. With their heads wanted on a silver platter, they had no way out.
Come on, Floyd, you have a brain, use it! For once in your life, you’re not doing this to please anybody or yourself, so think! After a few seconds, he had managed to do just that, his eyes catching sight of the shimmering blue lakes that ringed Palace Invaria, all the way to the other side of the city, where the largest ships he’d ever seen floated in the western harbor. That’ll work. I hope. But no time to think about it.
“Torry, you’re up! Freeze that lake!”
“And go where exactly?” Krysta asked, eyeing the lake and everything that lay beyond it. Floyd grinned in the girl’s direction.
“To a ship on the other side, of course. We gotta get out of here before Warren can frame us for anything else.”
“And these people?” Krysta asked, jerking a thumb back towards the collection of cowardly escapees. “Don’t tell me you plan on them becoming fugitives with us? If we even make it out of here alive.”
“Hey, I’m trying my best. Maybe you can dump them with the prince,” Floyd gestured. When he finished, he reached behind his back and pulled out his daggers, tossing them. A shout came from behind, a soldier announcing his presence in the most dumbfounded of ways. To that, Floyd embraced the moment, kicking at the soldier and sending him into his companions. They were knocked over like pins. “His general might be a batshit crazy, warmongering Fiend, but he was pretty reasonable, right? And if they’re safe with him, then we might be able to hold the war off for a little longer, right?”
“Floyd, I didn’t know you cared so much,” Krysta said, but she had taken his suggestion to heart. Part of that had to do with Torry running for the lake, he figured. “That said, you’re right. Ricardo is a good man, but the western port is where the entire navy is. Not your brightest plan, and you’ve had many not-bright plans today.”
“Yeah, I know, but there’s a difference, Krysta,” Floyd said with a wink. At the same moment, Torry’s hands touched the water, their icy chill creating a bridge that spanned the lake until it could hit the causeway. “They’re not looking for us on that side. Not yet.”
“That’s just as reckless and crazy as I’d expect from you.” Krysta sighed, running a hand through her ponytail. “But right now, it’s our only option.”
“Excellent. Counting on you to keep them safe, then. You’re the best choice with the shields and all!” Floyd didn’t wait for any sort of response from her, spinning on his heel to cross back over the bridge and run for the trench.
“Floyd, just what do you-”
“We’ll meet you there, promise! Just get us a ship ready! We gotta get back to Valorda as soon as we’re out of here!”
Krysta muttered something about his brand of leadership, but it was all wind in Floyd’s ears. The soldiers that had recovered were split on who to track, deciding on following Krysta and Torry. He wasn’t sure if letting them go was the right choice, but Floyd stuck to his gut and ran for the trench, where it appeared a contingent of soldiers had been called away from the other trenches.
Just hold on a sec, you two…
Floyd knew he would have reached them in time, until he saw the dark blur heading for him in midair. Floyd dropped, the blade missing his neck. He rolled along the ground and sprung up, for his eyes to land upon that of the Phantom Knight, silent and unforgiving.
“You didn’t make it to the port, did you?” Floyd gulped, knowing he was more than outmatched by this malignant force of darkness that had been waiting for him. Still, he held his knives close in a cross, prepared to guard any attack that would come his way.
“Criminal of the state!” a shout called, one of the other soldiers that hadn’t pursued Krysta dashing over the bridge. He was joined by at least half a dozen soldiers, with yet more to come. Floyd grimaced, stuck where he was. “You are under arrest. You and your compatriots must stand down or face further severe-gack!”
Floyd missed the chance to see it happen, but the knight had moved, a nasty arrow of darkness shooting from his sword into the man’s chest. He held on for a moment, and then fell backwards. His body began to fade as soon as he hit the bridge, the reminder of their nature unsettling Floyd. He needed to run.
He wished he was quite so quick. His legs had barely turned when he felt the wind of the dark blade whoosh past him. The force sent Floyd tripping over his own feet, and then the blade pierced his upper shoulder.
“Damn…that hurts!” Floyd turned his dagger upon the knight, summoning a shot of flame that blasted into the knight’s face. The sword retracted, and Floyd ran for the trench as fast as he could, leaving the soldiers behind.
He didn’t have to make it even that far.
No sooner had he turned, than someone shot out of the trench, high into the air. At first, Floyd believed it to be Winifred, but the bulk was too large, and as their shadow gave way to the sun, Floyd could see who it was.
Walter landed upon the grass, wind expelling from near his feet. Held in his arms was a bloody, cut-up Terrill. Floyd’s eyes widened, listening for a moment as his friend’s breath came in ragged gasps, his eyes drifting between states of lucidity. From his body, the shadows leaked, and Floyd ran to the pair.
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“What happened to him?!” Floyd demanded as he helped take Terrill from Walter. The older man was also cut up, blood streaming down his forehead, over his bad eye. “Walter!”
“Not now!” Walter snapped as he looked back. There was good reason. Wind and water soared out of the trench, and riding upon them both were Winifred and Warren, respectively, each aiming to kill. Floyd almost dropped Terrill to prepare to defend himself, but Terrill, himself, precluded it.
“Gotta…hold them…off…” His mumbles were reaching incoherency, his body breaking down.
“Terrill, buddy, I don’t think you’re in a state to do that.”
“None of us are in a state for-” Walter’s abrupt end to his statement chilled even Floyd, and the redhead turned to find out what had shocked the man. It was the Phantom Knight, his blade dripping with the blood of the souls he had massacred. Now, he was turning to Walter, and just as in the trench, the man’s body radiated uncontrollable magical energy.
“Walter, now’s not the time, you know?” Floyd shouted. The Fiends had landed, behind them a contingent of the dead soldiers, fading away. They stalked closer, while nearby, Walter’s jagged energy threatened to cut Floyd’s skin. “Walter! Cut it out!”
“No. He’s here! He’s all that matters!”
“Right now, Terrill matters! Right now, we need to-!” Walter couldn’t hear, his rage too much. His spear snapped out, and the burst of magical energy and wind flung him forward to the deadly knight. The black blades flew up, matching the spear, but Walter whipped the butt around to strike against the knight’s helmet. Floyd lifted Terrill higher, his eyes back on the Fiends.
“His puppet’s defective, Warren. He was supposed to be waiting at the port to slaughter all the soldiers and anyone else who arrived,” Winifred said, her unfeeling words sending a shiver down Floyd’s spine. It appeared to instill more fighting spirit in Terrill, who tried to stand, though he nearly slipped away from the act of doing so.
“So it would seem, but neither are we perfect puppets, so it makes sense.”
“Tch.” Winifred’s delayed scoff was all Floyd needed. As Walter ducked under the knight’s slash, Floyd dropped one of his blades to the ground and held his hand out. The air started to cool as he reduced the temperature. It wasn’t much, but it managed to slow the Fiends enough for Floyd to move back. Terrill gripped at Floyd’s sleeve, his blood smearing across the redhead’s arm.
“No…have to…fight them…”
“Terrill, whatever you’d do with them, that’s not a fight. That’d be you dying.”
“I have to…protect…everyone…”
“You can’t protect anyone if you’re dead, dumbass!” Floyd’s shout made Terrill stop moving, and the man almost slipped from his hold. He looked up, his eyes blinking rapidly from the strain of staying conscious, and Floyd could see some tears slipping from their corners. “Look, I know I’m not qualified to say much, but if you want to protect people, you have to focus on staying alive, yourself. You’re no good to anyone dead, Terrill. So what if it means we get a few cuts and bruises? At least it means we’re alive.”
Terrill breathed out, sounding like he was gasping for any air he could hold on to. He was slipping, that much was true, but he wanted to say something. Floyd didn’t think he had the time to, not as a dark slash broke upon Walter, sending him back. “I…need…”
“Terrill,” Floyd said, holding him close to impart what he needed to. Walter looked at the pair, his hand quivering as he seemed to realize what was at stake here beyond the murderous knight. Floyd’s sphere started to flicker and fade, the Fiends nearly upon them. Floyd hitched Terrill up. “I’m not running this time, I promise. I got you into this mess. I’ll get you out. We’ll protect people. Together.”
Those words made the Phantom Knight stop. His head tilted curiously, his blade lowered for a moment, as though he was going to let them pass, or not fulfill the inhuman acts he had been tasked to. Floyd wasn’t sure why, but something he had said, or perhaps Terrill himself, had triggered a change.
“Defective piece of junk!” Winifred snapped. When the words left her lips, so did a harrowing gale from her body, knocking the knight across the river and into the guard station. The construct began to collapse. “Looks like he needs a little retethering.”
Winifred’s nasty act gave Terrill a final push, and the man put all his energies into grabbing Floyd and leaning to his ears for his last words.
“Full…speed… You can…give it…all… To…geth…” Terrill finally fell unconscious, though Floyd wasn’t sure if he’d be able to tell the difference between that and dead. He could hold on to hope that Terrill wasn’t the latter. They still had too much to talk about.
“You got it, buddy!” Floyd moved Terrill’s body up on to his back. The man’s stocky weight pressed down on him, and his blood drenched his back, but Floyd held steady. With a breath, he took both his dagger and Terrill’s sword from the ground. The knight was out of the picture for the moment, but the Fiends were still there, and Winifred was taking no prisoners. “Walter, you, too!”
“I have my own thing to-”
“I don’t care what you think you have to do!” Floyd shouted. Winifred was jetting off from the ground, her hands looking like claws that would impale the pair. Floyd had to start acting. The fire lit inside him, heat spreading through his veins. Everything became faster, his blood pumping swifter and his entire body poured steam from his pores. “We’re in this situation because we did some selfish stuff. All I cared was saving Torry and you about your revenge. Now, Terrill is bleeding so get your ass over here and help me fly!”
“You’ll fly to hell!” Winifred had arrived, her claws descending, and Floyd looked up, his dagger rising to meet her.
“That doesn’t even make sense!” The sparks flew to the grass, and the heat and wind uprooted the trees, walloping their branches. Then, Floyd felt a weight on his side. He grinned. “Burn up! Hasten and flow! Acceleration Burn!”
The words of his spell made him stronger. The tenuous tie his soul could feel to that Lifeblood of Fire made it burn ever brighter. A pocket of air appeared beneath his feet, while Walter gripped tight. This was their only chance. Floyd angled for the lake, Torry’s shining bridge of beautiful ice still intact as the soldiers crossed it to follow to…wherever Krysta had gone.
Fire spat out from his feet, and like a rocket, Floyd took off.
Winifred was blown off course, while Floyd and those attached to him were flung into the air. They soared over the river, Floyd’s feet serving as thrusters that burned upon the trio touching the grass, lighting the green carpet ablaze. Terrill’s head lolled on Floyd’s shoulder, but he didn’t stir.
“Hold tight!” There was no sphere slowing their pursuers down, but Floyd’s feet were faster than anything he had managed before. Like a blur, the three burned across the grass over to the lake. The ice bridge waited for them, inviting them to cross its surface. Walter gripped tight to Floyd’s shoulder.
“You keep us going fast as you can, friend. I’ll control steering!”
“Perfect to me! Hold on, Terrill. We’ll get you to Krysta and get out of here!” Floyd hunkered down, increasing his speed with all the magic he could. His burning blood sent a trail of steam behind him, overpowering the fatigue inside his legs. Walter held on, sending a gust of wind to the side as they hit the bridge.
Some of the soldiers turned in surprise, not expecting anyone to come racing through, but as soon as they saw that Floyd wouldn’t stop, they jumped into the lake. Behind Floyd, the bridge melted, until they were nearing the causeway. The doors of Palace Invaria were apparent, and sealed shut. Krysta was nowhere to be found, and nor was Torry or the other evacuees.
“Get us to the port!” Walter grunted, changing the trajectory of his unstable wind bursts. The first one wasn’t enough, sending them into a light hop, before the second one was much larger, catapulting the trio high into the air. The palace guards below could do nothing but stare as they flew over, dumbstruck at what was occurring before their eyes.
“You’re not leaving!” Floyd turned his head at the wrong time. Despite his speed, Winifred had manifested herself in midair, and struck Floyd’s stomach with a kick. The cyclone formed seconds before it sent the three afield. He kept hold of Terrill, and Walter was close to him as they hit the lake. Their velocity caused them to bounce once or twice across the small sheets of ice before landing in the western port square. Floyd’s steam started to dissipate, his lungs hacking out water.
Damn it…not now. I gotta move! Move, legs, move! Floyd’s screams were to no avail. The exhaustion of his spell had burned away too much, leaving his magic tank close to empty. Come on, you’ve got more than this, Floyd! You’ve got your potential! Tap into it! Come on!
Winifred landed, and Floyd’s ears cleared themselves of their ringing. People in the plaza were screaming, running for cover after the four had come crashing through fruit and fish stands to come to their rolling stops. Floyd wasn’t even aware of the wood splinters covering him, but he made sure to cover Terrill as he stood.
“We worked a long time to set this spark. Make it easier for us.”
“Ha! You don’t know me very well, then,” Floyd chuckled out. He managed to pull himself to his feet, backing up slowly towards the port, like jumping in the water would save him. The ships were just so close. If they could secure one, of course. “I never make things easier.”
“Yes, it made things ever more difficult.” The sound of a waterfall joined the conversation, and from a geyser of water emerged Warren, his glasses back on his face. Similar clanking was heard deeper in the city, approaching the port. They were running out of time. “Between stopping the pirates at Devil’s Haven and killing Blaise, we’ve had to work exceptionally hard to keep you in our line of sight. The Phantom Knight, kidnapping your friend, and many other associated acts. You just don’t stay still.”
“Gladly. You Fiends are a lot of trouble, and I’m not sure I want that trouble to visit the people I love.”
“Yes, well, gratefully, none of this is about what you want.”
To that, Floyd grinned, as he heard a different set of steps running in, these from the port. “You sure about that, general?”
“Floyd, air! Now!” Torry’s warning was all that he needed. His palm pressed the ground, an explosion of heat forming, and he fired.
The resultant blast ripped at stone, sending what was likely the rest of someone’s livelihood exploding into the air. It was an inferno that sent him airborne, Terrill still atop his back. Walter was there with him, trying to grab on to him as they turned for the port. Torry made her move.
“Flood Floor!” she shouted, bending low outside the radius of his attack and pressing. Water surged from her hands, not as a wave, but as a stream that covered the entire plaza in a thin layer of water. Then she started to crackle with electricity. “Flash!”
The lightning rumbled from within her and zapped itself onto the ground. The Fiends didn’t stand a chance, the electricity racing through the water and up their bodies until it burst with colorful blue and yellow sparks that showered the air. Walter reached Floyd, and the redhead fired another burst of fire to send them out of the plaza and down to the very docks where Torry was waiting.
It wasn’t an elegant landing, with Floyd falling flat on his face, but he pulled himself up in record time. “That won’t hold those Fiends for long.”
“Don’t I know it.”
“Indeed, it won’t. Wave.” Warren’s sword, if that’s what he was holding in the smoke, tapped the ground. The waters rose at the port, the ships rattling and shaking. Some broke off their moorings, beginning to drift out to sea. It crested higher and higher, until its shadow started to swallow the docks. Floyd swallowed. Loudly.
“What’s the plan now, hotshot?” Walter asked, clasping Floyd’s shoulder with a smidgen of fear.
“Run?”
“It’s about the only thing left. This way!” Torry was the first in front, grabbing Floyd’s hand and dragging him along the docks. The water raised higher and began to fall, crashing down upon the pier and shattering it into driftwood. Floyd held Terrill tighter, his body flopping up and down as they tried to outrace the wave. “This won’t work. Floyd, to the end of the dock! Krysta’s secured a fishing boat there!”
“A fishing boat? Are you crazy?! If the navy aims things at-” Walter didn’t care, taking Torry’s place in dragging Floyd forward. It was only then that the redhead noticed the older man was limping, his leg bleeding from a piece of wood that had embedded itself. Floyd huffed, and resigned himself to their only recourse of escape. He already knew what Torry planned to do.
Leaving her to her devices, Floyd held on to Walter, and he to him, the two running a bizarre three-legged race to the end of the pier. Grunting with effort, they dashed past the naval ships that had been untethered by the tidal wave, their crews running about in bewilderment. The trio continued on to where the commercial fishing vessels lay. It was there that they ran into the problem.
“How do we get across…?” Floyd asked, his breath expelling steam from his earlier spell. The pier had been destroyed, nothing but flotsam on the rippling waters, and the ship that was occupied had drifted too far for them to reach. Along the docks, there was a frozen air, Warren’s wave becoming locked in place as a wintery semi-tunnel. It didn’t help them get any closer. “My tank’s on empty. You?”
“I barely know magic to begin with. I’ve just been using it as it comes to me.”
“Well, aren’t we a sight…” Floyd grunted, moving as close to the edge of the pier as he could until the boat was…somewhat close. It was close enough to see Krysta, at least, unable to control the vessel as it slowly drifted further away. “Oi, Krysta, any hand you can lend us?”
“Do I look like I can fly, Floyd?” That answered that question, while the footsteps answered Torry’s arrival. She had the same reaction as Floyd, except for one very key difference.
“You’re up again, Torry, and make it fast.”
“Fast for what? If I freeze the water here, we’re not getting the ship out fast enough if another tidal wave strikes! We’re out of options.”
“Not really.” It was as subtle a clue as he could give, but Floyd picked up Terrill’s limp hand and slapped it against his own chest. Torry’s eyes widened.
“No. No. I’m not good at Earth Magic, yet. You know that!”
“Well, sink or swim, miss. I’m not that good at magic either, but they’re not letting us out of here. So, either act now, or go down.” Walter’s comments were scathing and brusque to Torry’s already fragile ego regarding this particular area, but Floyd knew they were just what she needed. Just in time, too, as the whistling of wind and water told the group that the Fiends were back on the move and leaving little to chance.
“Just one shot, Torry. Lift us into the air with the earth, then a jump straight over. You can do this. Remember what Terrill’s done.” Floyd, still holding to Terrill’s hand, placed it on Torry’s shoulder, hoping it would transfer that type of energy. She inhaled, and bent down.
“Rise above this earthly form, send us to the sky. Rock Pillar!” It was a basic name, but got the job done. The earth rumbled and cracked at their feet, breaking away from beneath the ocean and snapping the rest of the wooden pier in two. All four found themselves on the top of it as it rose higher and higher, the entire sea visible to their eyes, from the naval ships to the whirlpools. He even saw Winifred, preparing a sphere of wind that distorted the burns on her arms. Floyd grabbed both his companions. “Jumping time!”
He leapt at the same moment that Winifred fired, hoping that they would be able to close the gap between themselves and the boat, and hoping that Winifred’s gales wouldn’t reach it first.
They might have failed, were it not for one more spell from Torry, her palm flapping backwards until it sent a stable shot of wind towards the port, and brought them hurtling down. It didn’t take long for them to hit the deck, bouncing on its lacquered wood and rolling around. Terrill fell, hitting the floor until he bumped into the mast, but no one made a move to pick him up. Soon as they touched down, the sphere broke through the stone pillar, and with reduced force, hit the side of the ship, sending them on an uncontrollable course.
Worse than that, however, was where that uncontrollable direction was taking them: right towards one of the violent whirlpools just northwest of the port.