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Toren Daen

A small line greeted us as we approached the massive stalactite that held the portal. Aurora’s relic sat on my shoulder as we got closer, the starlike eyes of her construct illuminating the dark cavern.

With a bare flex of my mana, I enveloped our small group in a sound shroud. The air oscillated slightly from the application of my power, but with my level of control, I knew none would be able to sense it.

“Is the signal ready?” I asked Borzen, keeping my eyes forward.

“It is,” the dwarf replied, running a nervous hand through his red hair. “The troops we have stationed across the city are waiting for our call. And I assume your Scythe is ready to play her part too, Toren?”

I nodded slowly. A small contingent from the Alacryan fleet of steamships was sailing near the mouth of the Grand Mountain Strait, ready to close in and block off any attempted assistance to the Darvish cause by sea. Seris was there, of course, waiting on my mark.

But the primary actors in this particular conflict wouldn’t be us Alacryans–and that was by design. This was a dwarvish cause, and the dwarves would be the driving force behind it. “She’s on standby as well.”

Borzen looked toward the stalactite, taking a deep breath. Gruhnd patted him on the shoulder in a gesture of support. He said something that was–for the millionth time–entirely undecipherable because of his beard.

“Thanks, friend,” Borzen said. “You always know what to say to make these challenges seem less daunting.”

Gruhnd said something that sounded vaguely affirming. Olfred gave us a stern look, his eyes flashing like dark coals.

“I’ll be moving as planned shortly,” he said in a gruff voice. “Stick to the plan, and things should go swimmingly.”

As we reached the back of the line, I finally spotted the portal a ways ahead. A few dwarven guards, each wrapped from head to toe in solid steel armor, stood grimly on either side of the stone frame. Another mage stood in front, inspecting those in line to pass through the teleportation gate.

As people approached the guards on either side of the stone frame, they were instructed to show identification, and for good measure, lift up their shirts to display their lower backs. Afterward, they were waved on through the portal without issue.

My brow furrowed in confusion. It appeared that the guard was checking for spellforms–but as far as I knew, it shouldn’t yet be common knowledge amongst the Dicathian military that all mages bore a rune on their lower backs. It was only after Arthur ascended to white core that he discovered this information.

It’s a small discrepancy, I thought as I followed after Olfred, but has huge implications. Did something change because of me, or was this knowledge commonplace beforehand?

As our group neared the gates, I banished those thoughts. I needed to be in the headspace for battle, not contemplation. Aurora’s relic trilled softly on my shoulder, reinforcing my words.

We finally reached the head of the line after a few minutes. The dwarven officiant–a pot-bellied man with a bulbous nose–droned on as he scribbled on his clipboard. “Identification and destination,” he said, his monotone voice clearly exhausted from a long day’s work.

“Cladence Ruthsen,” Olfred said, flashing the same identification he’d used with the Earthborn twins. “And we’re all off to Blackbend City.”

The officiant nodded, his glazed eyes noting all four of us. “I’ll need to see your lower back,” the man said. “Just lift up your shirt so I can see the base of your spine.”

Olfred turned, raising his roughspun tunic slightly to prove he didn’t have any runes. When the officiant scribbled something on their notepad, he looked back at us. “I’ll wait by the portal frame for you to get through with this,” he said simply, but I saw how his eyes flashed knowingly. “So we can all go through together.”

The officiant waved him off, and Olfred sauntered toward the large teleportation gate. He waited a bit off to the side, rousing the attention of the guards. They tried to question him, but he gestured animatedly toward us, clearly indicating he was waiting for the rest of his party.

I felt my nerves rise slightly as Borzen went through the check, then Gruhnd. They proceeded to move toward Olfred, lounging noticeably close to the guards on either side of the portal.

I stepped forward next, feeling quiet anticipation running through my body that I had to forcibly suppress. My mouth felt suddenly dry as I faced the officiant.

“Identification and destination,” the dwarf said in the same, utterly bored tone. His eyes lingered on Aurora’s construct, however, and I noticed his brows furrowing in slight confusion.

“Toren Daen,” I said honestly. “And I’m on my way to Blackbend as well.” My signet ring–which sat comfortably on my left hand–glimmered in the low light as I held it up to the officiant. “This should be enough for identification, no?”

The dwarf craned his neck to look up at me, a slightly curious cadence to his voice as he spoke again after scribbling words into his pad of paper. “Daen? I don’t recognize that house.”

“I wouldn’t expect you to,” I said with a sigh. “We’re from the coast of the Sehz River, and only recently got back our fortunes. Truth be told, I’m the last of my family,” I added with a shrug. The best lies always held a grain of truth. “And why is everyone needing to have their back checked? Is there some sort of disease going around that only shows spots there or something?” I asked, trying to sound genuinely curious.

The dwarf shook his head. “No. Recent word from the Council says that all Alacryan mages have strange tattoos on their backs, so we need to check from now on. Some aren’t happy with the intrusion, but it’s not my decision.”

I nodded slowly. “That’s fair,” I said, feeling a strange looseness in my shoulders as the officiant looked at me expectantly, clearly waiting for me to turn around and raise my shirt. “And I’m sorry about this.”

The man didn’t even have time to widen his eyes in surprise before my fist impacted him solidly in the side, right over his liver. His eyes bulged unnaturally and I felt something in his internals break as my mana-enhanced blow laid him out cold.

The entire stalactite room erupted into chaos. Using my attack as the signal, my dwarven companions immediately moved into action. The guards near them had barely laid their hands on their weapons, their mouths opening in alarm, before they too were subdued by quick strikes to the head and a particularly brutal kick to the groin from Gruhnd.

I immediately sensed the mana of a dozen nearby mages stationed all throughout the cavern flaring. A few spells came flying my way from the corners of the room as some more quick-witted soldiers shouted in alarm, quickly understanding what was happening.

Sensing my quiet request, Aurora’s puppet leapt off my shoulder, beelining for the oncoming spells. I quickly grabbed the tether that connected to her shade’s hands, then shifted it to my core. The djinni relic glowed red-hot as it screeched aloud, the shape twisting and expanding as she unfurled to her full size as it became Vessel form.

Suddenly, a phoenix-like automaton of solid bronze stood between me and the enemy soldiers. The few spells sent my way splashed harmlessly against her pristine, brassy exterior. She screeched deafeningly, daring the mages to try once more.

That instant caused the entire chamber to fall still as the sudden intrusion of the massive avian construct caused waves of confusion to assault the already disorganized guards.

I glanced to the side as I withdrew Inversion from my dimension ring, checking up on my compatriots. Gruhnd was fiddling with a device in his hands as he sat stiffly near the portal frame, clearly working on his part of the plan to change the portal’s destination. Borzen stood protectively near his friend, watching for any spellfire that might target him.

Olfred watched this all transpire from the sidelines, clenching a hammer made of magma.

A few of the dwarven soldiers seemed to belatedly realize what Gruhnd was trying to do. They hurled their spells and tried to rush toward him, a maddened frenzy in their movements as they attempted to halt his action.

But I was faster. I appeared in front of a dwarven augmenter who was covered from head to toe in a layer of solid stone as they tried to reach my comrade, a massive axe emblazoned with runes ready to cleave him in two. Instead, my hand smashed their attack aside with contemptuous ease.

The dwarf’s arm snapped audibly from my forceful deflection, but I didn’t have time to spare them a more merciful defeat. I twisted, slamming a telekinetic fist into their chest as I used Inversion to deflect the spear of another wayward attacker.

The axe-wielding augmenter wheezed as I cratered their ribcage, their heartfire flickering weakly to my ears. I knew in the back of my mind that my attack would be fatal if they didn’t receive medical attention, but I didn’t have the time to think it through.

I used the white-patterned horn of Inversion to deflect another thrust from a spear. The dwarf wielding it had a full helmet that only allowed me to see his eyes, each pupil burning with fear and adrenaline.

This time I didn’t let my opponent pull back their weapon. I levied my telekinetic emblem as I pulled on the errant spearhead, causing the dwarven soldier to fall off balance.

And right into the jagged point of my dagger-like weapon. Inversion tore a bloody gash across the dwarf’s stomach, and their eyes widened behind their mask. I felt their intent shift from fear to outright terror as they clutched their stomach, burbling as they tried to keep their insides from spilling out. Those terrified eyes held my own in an uncomprehending manner.

I’m going to die, they accused. And you’ve killed me.

But I couldn’t afford to stay in one place at all. To even think of my actions. Even as I felt the simmering heartfires of my opponents, I needed to constantly move to try and protect Gruhnd from the errant blasts of chaotic spellfire and desperate attacks of Dicathians.

Aurora’s massive relic blockaded the bridge to the stalactite, her screeches and bursts of plasma acting as more than a deterrent to most that tried to approach. Olfred’s earth golems battled any dwarves who got close to the portal, and the man himself buried more than a few men and women who dared approach him.

But by now, an alarm bell was sounding throughout the cavern of Burim, declaring that the teleportation gate was in danger.

Exactly as planned. Yet even as a ringing alarm echoed throughout the cave, I heard as a slowly pulsing heartfire evaporated into the din, a painful void of intent taking its place. Somehow, that lack of sound was louder than anything the warning bells could create. Someone died–but from the chaos of battle and my constant efforts to just keep Gruhnd from being overwhelmed, I didn’t know who. Or if I was the one to deal the final blow.

I gritted my teeth, nausea coiling in my stomach even as Inversion embedded itself into the shoulder of an elven soldier, clearly a representative of Elenoir. He screamed in pain as his blood coated my sleeve, dropping his shortsword from where he’d attempted to run me through from behind.

I ripped my weapon from the meat of his flesh, feeling the terrible intent of my enemies all around me. Not terrible in its fury; no. Terrible in its fear. Terrible in its courage. Terrible in its readiness to die.

I grabbed the elf’s collar, barely able to process everything. I hurled his body toward the exit of the cavern, watching as he tumbled past Aurora’s relic with a weak cry. Maybe he wouldn’t die from that wound. Maybe he would.

Even as the meager troops in the stalactite cave were slowly defeated or forced from the portal room, I sensed as the Dicathian response force gradually mustered beyond. At least a few score mages were slowly gathering from all corners of the ceiling-leashed city, swarming toward the stalactite in small groups as they went to arms.

Gruhnd stepped away from the portal, giving me a solemn nod as he pressed a few buttons on a device in his palm. Even without words, I knew exactly what he was saying. This gate was properly keyed to the portal of the rebellion’s forces elsewhere. Now, all that was left was to send the signal.

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I exhaled a shuddering breath as the scent of blood and piss scraped against my nose. The heartfires of the dying rumbled in my ears, audible condemnation of my actions. Of my sin.

I looked down at a body near my feet, feeling my throat constrict for a moment. The spear-wielding dwarf whom I’d practically disemboweled in the heat of combat stared up at me with sightless eyes. Though they no longer pleaded with fear, now they were as deep as a void.

I killed this man, I thought, my body numb as I stared down at the corpse. I belatedly recognized that I’d been able to sense when he’d finally bled out. When his intent–so potent and real–finally misted away. Like a candle flame extinguished. He didn’t deserve to die. He was only fighting for what he believed was right. And I took that from him. Took everything from him.

“Focus, Toren,” Aurora’s voice chastised in my head, ripping through my thoughts as she focused on her own task. Her warmth was gone, replaced by the cool grit of a warrior as her voice thundered over our bond. “You are a soldier. And on the battlefield, lamenting for your enemies will get you killed. The time will come to think on your actions, but that time is not now.”

I forcefully pulled my eyes away from the slew of corpses around me, keeping my eyes forward as I slowly plodded toward where my bond blocked the only entrance to the stalactite cavern. She’s right, I chastised myself, even as my heart squeezed painfully in my chest. You resolved yourself to this. To do what you believed was necessary. Remember what Cylrit said to you.

I trusted Seris. I trusted her vision.

Olfred passed me as he slowly marched to the entrance of the stalactite cavern. The man began to tie his hair back, smoothing it out in a familiar way. He conjured a bit of fire over his finger, running it over his beard to trim it down artificially.

In a surprisingly short amount of time, the dwarf–who used to look like a wayward vagabond–resembled his old self once more. A Lance marched grimly toward the bridge we’d taken to come here.

Arrayed on the opposite end, what looked like a small army of men and women watched on standby, barely restrained by their commanders. More than a few scorched corpses lay on the bridge, each an unrecognizable, smoking crisp from where my bond’s attacks had struck them. The first soldiers who had attempted to cross the bridge, I assumed.

“It is a risk to try and attack this location,” the phoenix shade thought gravely, the casualties she’d reaped already out of her mind. “This narrow bridge is the only access point for the teleportation gate, meaning their advantage of numbers decreases immensely. And their commanders know that we may be able to field troops from the teleportation gates, further creating a problem. They need to think of a solution fast, and before we can act.”

I leaned against the metallic outline of my phoenix bond. Despite barely having expended any mana or energy, I felt a deep sense of exhaustion thrumming through my bones as I used her solid hull as support.

“And it's already too late for them to act,” I said, my eyes trailing Olfred as he stepped out onto the bridge.

A few mages threw spells at him on instinct–bolts of fire, shards of metal, or sickles of earth. But Olfred waved those aside with casual ease, beginning to float as a small army of magma golems slowly appeared around him, pulling themselves from the bridge.

And immediately, I watched as the many dwarves within the defending contingent cried out in shock and dismay as they recognized their Lance. The intent wafting from the opposing dwarves became murky and uncertain as Olfred stared down at them from above.

The air held its breath, seeming frozen in time as if by a dragon’s aevum spell.

“You all know me,” Olfred said, his voice echoing through the cavern. “Lance Olfred Warend, leashed to the Triunion Council of Dicathen. I was forced to keep faith with those who cared not for Darv. But no longer,” he said, flaring his mana. “I come here not as an envoy of the Alacryans or as a dog to their whims. No, I come here to fulfill my father’s vision of a free Darv. And all of you arrayed against us?” He scanned the nervous crowd of soldiers facing him, drawing out their tension like sap. “You stand in our way. Stand aside, and you’ll be allowed on your way. But fight…”

Olfred’s words settled over the soldiers–most of whom were dwarves–like a thick blanket. I thought I could taste the dread and uncertainty that shifted through them at their Lance’s words.

It was brilliant, really. The forces of Dicathen weren’t even given time to react before each of Seris’ planned moves systematically decimated their defenses and morale. These citizens of Burim were facing their very own Lance in battle. Not to mention, his sheer power as a white core mage was intimidating enough, but this was a lot like fighting your own mascot–if your mascot could summon legions of soldiers crafted from molten rock and crater your face in with a bare flick of his wrist.

A dwarf I vaguely recognized bullied his way to the front of the opposing line, glaring daggers up at the hovering Olfred. “We don’t submit to the whims of traitors,” Skarn Earthborn snarled, hefting his axe as he pointed it up at the former general. “If ya think it’ll be so easy to take our home from us with your lies, you’re wrong, Warend.”

With those words of defiance, Olfred shook his head with disappointment. “This city is my home too,” he said. “And that’s why I fight here and now.”

Olfred began to gather his mana, preparing to fight as a coating of magma slowly seeped over his body. The nervous and morale-deprived forces of Dicathen across from him were slow to react, a few rushing across the bridge in an attempt to get to the portals.

The Lance’s magma golems met them halfway, holding the bridge with relative ease as they clashed with soldiers on the narrow walkway. But I knew they’d break through soon.

I turned around, looking back at Borzen. In his hand was his communication artifact, ready to send the signal to the dwarves throughout Burim. I nodded to him.

He pressed the button.

And chaos erupted–but not on our side. As soon as the silent pulse of mana radiated from Borzen’s little artifact, it was as if a grenade went off within the center of the Council line as more than a few dwarves–though insubstantial to the total whole–turned on their commanders. I watched with grim eyes as rebels revealed themselves, throwing themselves at their former commanders in suicidal charges. Cries of “Darv!” and “Dicathen!” echoed out as blood sprayed.

But the massacre had barely begun. Rebel dwarven soldiers streamed from the portal in droves, flooding over the bridge and chanting war cries as they supported their Lance. The cavern, which had been a picture of strange calm as Olfred spoke a minute before, became awash with the sound of clashing steel, roaring spellfire, and shattering stone.

Aurora’s relic surged forward, flying above the rabble before screaming her defiance. She exhaled a beam of plasma, cutting through a swath of Dicathians too slow to defend themselves. A wing with feathers sharp as knives served as her shield as spellfire rained down on her, but I knew she could handle herself.

I threw myself forward into the fray, ignoring the biting disgust that burbled in my stomach. Even though our numbers were far fewer, the loyalist forces were retreating at astounding speed from the onslaught of the rebels, tracking over bridges and giving up ‘ground’ at a breakneck pace.

I marched with Olfred’s magma golems and the roaring Darvish rebels as the loyalists slowly fell back. They still threw themselves at our approaching line, but none made it past my position.

Time fell away as my blood thundered in my ears. My only dictate became adrenaline as my shrouded saber reaped the lives of any who tried to test themselves against me. But every unnamed soldier I slew, every masked man I ended, made the next step I needed to take a hundred times weightier. But I was a cog in the machine; a single point on a stretching line.

I tried to be merciful with my attacks. Tried to leave those I fought alive. But in the heat of battle and the necessity of fighting for my life, I knew I failed. The air stank of blood and shit as bodies fell from the ledges of stone to the cavern floor far below, never to be seen again. With every man that fell, their eyes accused me. Condemned me, even as they vanished into the blackness.

“Toren!” my bond’s voice thundered through my head, ripping me from my savagery. I blinked, realizing now how many corpses surrounded me. Somehow in the chaos, I’d become separated from the main line of battle. In the haze, I’d… I’d slaughtered an entire division. At least ten men lay at my feet, every single one of their heartfires slowly drifting away.

I can heal them, I thought, staring at a boy not much older than me. He was curled around a gut wound I’d given him, crying for his mother as he slowly died. Soldiers lay around him in heaps. Were they friends before? Family? Did he have a lover amongst them that I killed? I’m a healer. That’s what I can do. I just need to use my heartfire, right? They won’t die.

I looked down at my hands, calling on my lifeforce. But what I saw made my heart rise to my throat.

They were covered in blood. So, so much blood. But it wasn’t mine. No. Not my blood. The blood of–

“They’re threatening the portal with a group spell!” Aurora cried across my bond, a note of worry in her voice. She used her own emotions to rip away the slow madness I’d found myself drowning in, injecting my mind with a shot of awareness. “I can’t get to them in time! You’re closer!”

Feeling my bond’s mental direction, I turned away from the body of the boy as he died as well, feeling something in me crack as I did so. But what I saw on a faraway platform made my adrenaline resurge once more.

A small group of dwarven mages were working together on a spell far away, pooling their mana as they began to form a massive boulder. It was still growing, and it was easily forty feet in diameter already. And it was aimed at the massive stalactite that bore the teleportation gate.

My eyes widened. They’ll destroy it, I realized, my hands clenching around Inversion. Even though they were slick with blood, somehow the horn refused to budge in my grip. I couldn’t let them bring down that stalactite. Inside, Gruhnd and Borzen coordinated with their troops. If it fell, they would die.

I jumped upward, using a few nearby bridges and lavaducts as anchors as I surged toward the dwarves a couple of hundred feet away. The wind whipped at my hair as I honed in on their location, fire trailing behind me.

The dwarves noticed me coming. I gathered that most were conjurers from how they were summoning a massive cannonball of compacted earth above them, and from the fact that a few shields of metal and projectiles of magma tried to knock me out of the air.

I thrust a hand forward, creating a pushing shield of telekinetic force that redirected most of the attacks coming my way. A few splinters of metal dug into my arms as they broke through my telekinetic shroud. I shot straight through a fireball twice my size with only a few burns and the ends of my hair singed, but nothing they threw at me was sufficient to ward me away.

I darted to the side, using a hanging stalactite as a handhold before zipping away as it was peppered with spellfire. The spike of earth fell to the cavern far below with the sound of grinding stone.

I cocked my hand back, holding Inversion by its knife-point tip. I lined up my sights, honing in on the massive boulder the conjurers were working in tandem to form. Then I threw it with a burst of telekinesis, aiming for a single spot.

The sound barrier broke as Inversion shot off in a white streak. The mages around cried out in surprise, and then confusion as the horn embedded itself into the outside of the massive boulder with a shattering thunk.

I arrived barely a second later, lashing myself to the massive spherical stone–which was nearly fifty feet across at this point. I was bombarded with a wave of spellfire that ripped my telekinetic shroud to pieces. Scythes of metal opened cuts along my body. Fire scorched my arms, and fists of earth bruised my legs. This close to their origin, each spell was far more potent.

But I grit my teeth through it all. I imbued my fist with a layer of sound and fire, compressing and condensing the energy as I reared back. More and more mana flowed from my core as I felt a feral snarl stretch across my face. My eyes flashed with repressed fury and barely as I stared at the point where Inversion had embedded into the boulder.

I yelled in rage as I slammed my fist into the back of my weapon like a hammer driving a nail. With the amount of force I’d imbued, I felt the bones in my arm break and my shoulder strain in its socket as I used undue force. The fire and sound mana built up along my knuckles flowed through Inversion’s structure even as it embedded itself deeper into the stone.

And then it erupted. My sound mana burst outward from within, wave after wave of vibrating particles smashing together and making the entire boulder shudder. A moment later, an explosion of fire followed it.

The boulder–weakened by being split by Inversion and the subsequent sound spell–exploded with a deafening sound that seemed to consume the entire cavern. Chunks of flaming rock each the size of a grown man sprayed everywhere like shrapnel, as if dynamite had been set off from within.

But for all that the boulder was dangerous to the stalactite, it was far more deadly to its own conjurers. A few were flattened by their very own spell, several tons of stone crashing into them and silencing their cries. A few dwarves tried to run away, but the exploding rock obliterated most of the platform, leaving the soldiers to tumble to their deaths below with horrible screams as the darkness swallowed them like a gaping maw. The platform shifted slightly with a groan, cracks running through its entire structure and more than a few holes blown into it.

My body fell to what was left of the platform below, burning and bleeding from a hundred different wounds. I sank to my knees, staring at the yawning abyss below which I’d condemned these dwarves to for simply trying to protect their home. I heaved for breath as my heartfire slowly washed my wounds away, leaving me feeling drained and exhausted.

Then I vomited over the edge, tears clouding my vision. Distantly, I could hear the sounds of battle far away–the battle I’d left behind. But that sound was drowned out by the utter emptiness of the place I now knelt. My hand clenched my chest, feeling where my heart beat in erratic pulses.

And so it was that I barely avoided the swing of an axe as it nearly cut off my head. I acted on instinct, calling toward the only thing I could to give me comfort. With an effort of will, I called out to Inversion, honing in on that strange bond I had with it. It shot toward my hand in an outline of white just as I spun, preparing to drive it into my assailant.

Inversion sank into my enemy easily enough. Skarn Earthborn coughed up blood as my dagger pierced his mana core, burying itself deep. He dropped the axe he’d tried to use to cut off my head, a bloody hand scratching at my arms as he sank to his knees, glaring up at me with hatred and fury as he slowly bled out.

I watched, feeling a strange sense of detachment as the dwarf slowly died. I heard his lifeforce as it slowly evaporated on his blood, seeping away like water out of a punctured wineskin. My hands fell limp as I watched the dwarf die.

He was dead. Someone I’d read about. Someone I’d… I’d journeyed with. I’d… I’d killed…

“Brother!” a mournful, heartwrenching voice called out, the ambient mana suddenly sick with panic and fear. I slowly, painfully raised my head, feeling as if I were a corpse myself.

Hornfels Earthborn, twin brother to Skarn Earthborn, stared at the body of his brother with wide, broken eyes.