CHAPTER 18 : THE BATTLE FOR LITTLE ABBEY

“Beware the silence above the sand, for death hunts below.”

~Author Unknown, Written In Blood On The Azure Temple’s Walls

AVARIS

Being a vessel for so much magic is a painful experience.

It's like trying to fill a glass of water using a tidal wave. The overflow will sweep you away if you don't have an anchor. Mine is Tirma, who helps guide the excess magic out of me and stream it into the soil. It kills crops, spoils seeds, and suffocates burrowing animals. Millions of insects and worms die in an instant.

But it can’t be helped.

The pressure makes my ears pop and threatens to suck the air out of my lungs, along with my insides, but I focus on the spell.

It hasn’t been tested yet. We've run drills, sure, but nothing of this magnitude. We haven’t needed to—no one has dared march on Little Abbey since I stamped my name on it.

But the Battle for Blackthorn Peak was a long time ago. Human memories, like their life-spans, are short. The people must have forgotten why they changed the mountain’s name to Broken Peak.

It's time I remind them who Avaris Lyonsmar really is.

The magic comes from so many sources, making it more volatile than usual. It scratches at my skin and pushes at the back of my eyes, but just when I think I’m going to explode—Tirma is right there with me. She channels the thorny barbs away. Her hand tightens in mine.

We stand together, side by side on top of Little Abbey’s roof.

The wind whips around us with unnatural force, picking up specks of soil, pebbles and ripping the leaves from nearby trees. The shingles beneath my feet rattle and shake. My aura, an inch above my skin, glows brighter as I pull in more and more havoc.

I’ve become a beacon at the center of Rock Valley, easily seen from eons away.

Let’s get started, shall we?

The first thing I do is crush the rogue witch’s dampening spell. She pushes back against me, but I am a giant boot and she is an ant. After a moment of resistance, I pop her bubble of magic and the fog lifts instantly.

Tirma inhales sharply through her nose. I can hear a few of the girls inside cheering. They have access to their own chaos again. Good.

The excitement is short-lived though, as they now can sense the havoc of the five hundred approaching men. I frown. Not just men. There is something in the ground too.

Something big, but it’s too far away to make out yet.

I return my focus to what I can see. Our invaders.

The army is divided into three factions.

The Blue Thorns, who fight with barbed pikes and arrows dipped in the poison of the bluethorn cactus, are to the East. They are covered from head to toe in thick, shell-like armor. Enormous cannons are being rolled to the front of the company, dragged forward by huge crabs painted in their flag’s colors, blue and white.

Descending the hills in the North are the Dune Dreamers. They dress in dark cotton wraps, matching the black sands they hail from, and wear their long, red hair in tight braids to their waists. A few commanders ride forked-tongued serpents, crushing trees in their wake. They all carry narrow swords at their waists, and they know how to use them. Each sword is dipped in a special oil, and when unsheathed will create a spark that sets the blade alight with an eerie, red flame.

Pale Smoke, with their snow-white skin and pupiless eyes, are crossing the river to the West. They wear wispy gray breeches, while their heads are shaved and their chests are left bare. They never burn, despite living under the unforgiving sun. Their movements are jittery, like bugs, because of their skeletal, double-jointed limbs. They prefer close-combat scythes and bring no animals that I can see.

None of them worry me. They are only men.

The one to watch is their witch.

Behind the Blue Thorns, who have almost reached the open farmland, I see a black figure rise into the air, red havoc swirling around her feet.

There you are.

“Witches of Little Abbey! The time is upon us!” I shout over the wind. “We are Children of Leviathans! Women of Chaos! We do not run from darkness, we laugh at it! Lend me your power so we may vanquish our foes this night!”

One by one the girls in the tower close their eyes. They dig for their havoc cores and unravel them. Even little Heedee manages. I pull their power into me, and Tirma is careful to control the flow.

Pride surges through my heart. I've trained them well. This is our Abbey. Our home. And I'll be damned to let a pitiful army of mortals burn it to the ground.

I begin the spell and draw the complex sequence of runes into the air with both hands, contorting my fingers to form the right shapes. Cloudless lightning crackles in the sky high above the tower, booming with endless thunder.

The enemy witch realizes what I’m doing and tries to cut off the spell. She shoots three fireballs, gleaming red, straight for me.

Yendy is there in an instant, shield up. Her havoc shines bright yellow, like butter. She stands on the balcony below Tirma and I, sweat building on the back of her neck. Her shield cracks as more fireballs crash into it—but it holds.

“Anytime now, Avaris!” she shouts up at me.

I move my hands faster. First set of runes is done. Then the next. And the next. My teeth threaten to break, but I hold on. The havoc has nearly reached its apex and Tirma drops to one knee, shaking like a leaf in a hurricane, still holding my hand.

If I don’t let the magic go soon we’ll both go up in smoke.

Some of the men have hesitated at the sight of the blue lightning storm, but their commanders urge them on, and the witch isn’t allowing a retreat. The Blue Thorns reach the outer ring of farmed soil. They line up their cannons and their crabs snap their pincers. Then the Dune Dreamers arrive and remove their swords from their sheaths, illuminating their entire army in a halo of shimmering red firelight. The men are like shadows between the flames.

Wait until they’re out of the trees. Don’t give them a chance to retreat. Hold...Hold...Hold—

My eyes shoot open, glowing blue, and I spell the final rune of power. "WAKE!"

Ripples cascade out from the tower in circles, one after the other. The tilled soil shakes and the dry ground cracks with each wave. Hills rise where the land was once flat, rolling and heaving.

Little Abbey obeys my command.

The tower lifts off the ground using a set of chicken legs, nearly doubling its own height. Bits of grass and soil rain down from the foundation.

The Blue Thorns fire, but their cannonballs whizz right past my tower’s skinny legs. They scramble to reload. A few commanders leap onto the giant crabs and shout for their men to follow.

I’ll have to watch out for those claws.

Pale Smoke has parted in the middle to allow for the cannon fire, which must have been a planned strategy. The missed cannonballs crash into the trees behind them. They surge ahead like a set of white pincers. Their blank eyes show no fear.

It is only the Dune Dreamers who slow their assault at the sight of my tower growing legs. Several men bump into each other as the front rows try to back away, looking up at the Abbey in both terror and awe.

The witch is screaming something at the Blue Thorns, who’s foot soldiers have been taken off guard and struggle to regroup. Pale Smoke is already upon me. A few try to scale the tower’s new legs like tree trunks, scythes clenched between their teeth.

The Abbey’s huge feet, marked by three sharp talons each, clench. It then jumps across the valley’s fields. The Pale Thorns who tried to climb its legs cannot hold on and fall to their deaths. The talons land and crush a cluster of Blue Thorns beneath its weight. The soil explodes from the impact, and the sound of crunched bone is drowned out by the screaming.

Panic sets in, and the men try to scurry away like rats from a flood.

I don’t think so.

I move my hands, controlling the Abbey like a puppet master. With each footstep I squish dozens of men, displacing their army. The tower stomps around the fields, chasing them away.

KICK! BREAK! CRUNCH!

That’s right, run from me. Run from the arbiter of darkness. Run from your new goddess of chaos!

I grin from ear to ear. The power is bubbling behind my eyes, overflowing. Tirma gently slides into my view, she’s holding my face in her hands, trying to speak.

But I can’t hear her.

The pure, unstoppable, endless chaos. I don’t even need the tower. I could snuff out these men’s lives with the snap of my fingers, rip their cores from their chests as if they were nothing more than warm, beating hearts and destroy them at the source.

The Leviathan wrapped around the Endless’ molten core roars in approval, and I can’t stop cackling—

SLAP!

I stumble backwards, shocked.

Tirma’s hand is raised for a second blow.

“No!” I shout, touching my sore jaw. “I’m fine!”

“Are you sure?” Her palm shakes, threatening to do it again.

“Yes! Sorry! My bad!”

The tower halts as I regain my bearings. The havoc in the air slips away from me. The carnage on the ground is like splatters of red paint. Twisted carcasses of crushed men, crabs and snakes litter the farm.

Some of the grass and trees are on fire, the weevils have broken out of their cage and are shooting streams of flame as they chase straggling men.

The witch stands among the dead, knee-deep in guts, red light swirling around her...

I recognize the runes and swear.

With great effort, as the havoc feels heavier now than it did before and I’ve already used up the students’ power, I direct the Abbey to march over to the witch.

I have to stop her before—

She signs the final rune. Red light spreads from her fingertips and weaves through the battlefield. One by one the dead rise, bones exposed, bodies crushed, and begin to limp towards the tower.

“Necromancy,” Tirma breathes, both impressed and afraid, “the cost to her body alone...”

I stop listening. The chicken legs wobble. It takes all my strength to keep the tower from toppling over.

This is bad.

EGG

Nilah is running ahead of me, not slowing down in the slightest as I hobble after her. At first I can see her back, but as the distance between us grows I only catch sight of her hair ribbon, her skirt, and then...nothing.

“Nilah!” I shout into the dark woods.

No answer.

“Bloody witches,” I mutter under my breath and continue to limp towards the Abbey.

This time I know where I’m going, because a blue spiral of lightning is gathering in the sky above the tower like an ominous tornado of magic. Not to mention all the small animals that are running away from it. Squirrels, mice, foxes and badgers all race past me, not caring that they’re passing underfoot. Birds and bats take to the air and shoot past my head, forcing me to duck.

“Nilah!” I shout again. “Nil—”

I freeze.

Nilah is suspended by her neck over a deep ravine, legs kicking. A slender man with skin and eyes the color of chalk tightens his fingers around her throat. In his other hand is a small scythe.

Three more men similarly armed turn their heads to look at me.

Stolen from its rightful author, this tale is not meant to be on Amazon; report any sightings.

“Gut him.”

I stumble backwards as one of them approaches me, his lanky legs bending like a stick-bug. “Wait, wait—!” My heel knocks against a tree root and I fall to the ground. I raise my hand to protect myself—

BOOM!

A tunnel of yellow light shoots from my palm and blows a hand-sized hole right through the man’s chest. He stands there for a moment, more surprised than in pain.

I can see right through him.

My stomach turns. Stars, what have I done?

After a second of silence, blood sputters from his pale lips and drips down his chin. He collapses forward and falls on top of me.

I struggle to push him off. The other two men are just as stunned, but the one that holds Nilah is shouting orders at them.

My heart picks up speed, panicking as I unsuccessfully try to shove the man’s limp body off of me. Blood is pouring out of him and onto my chest and it's slick and wet and warm—I hold back the urge to hurl.

That’s when I feel Nilah’s cool hand touching mine. But how? She’s over there...?

The ghostly sensation squeezes, reassuring me.

I can barely see from beneath the corpse, except that a purple mist is rising and rising...and it smells like lavender.

We’re immersed now, the fog is thick as soup. All I hear is a scream in the general direction of Nilah and her captor—and it didn’t come from Nilah.

My hand is glowing way too bright to allow the mist to hide me, and it only takes a few seconds for the other two to find me. They must assume I'm the cause of the mist, and one of them lunges, bellowing, scythe raised. He’s so close I can see the bulge in his neck. I brace myself for impact—but then he’s gone, yanked back into the mist by a giant, invisible hand.

His scream is cut short.

The final man drops his scythe and runs.

Finally, I manage to scoot out from underneath the body and stand up. The mist clears as quickly as it came and I hear Nilah gasp.

“Egg! You’re hurt!”

I look down at my body. My clothes are soaked in blood.

Bile floods my throat and I run to the ravine to hurl. When I’m done, I wipe my mouth and shake my head. “No, it’s...it’s not mine. How did you do that?”

“I don’t know!” She says, and she’s far too excited for anyone normal. “The runes just worked and the havoc was just there and—” She stops and follows my gaze.

The man I killed is lying face first in a puddle of blood that is slowly seeping into the ground. The hole in his chest is like a red target on a white field of snow.

“You had to,” she assures me.

“I know...but I didn’t mean to.” I look down at my palm in both amazement and horror. “What did you do to me, Nilah?”

“What?! It’s not my fault! Blame your creepy kidnappers in the clouds. They did something to your havoc.”

I cast her an exhausted look.

She blushes. “Well, it might be a tiny bit my fault.”

I return to examine my palm and frown. The yellow light is crackling around the edges of the hole, almost as though it’s peeling back my skin, like the edges of burning parchment. “Does it look bigger to you?”

“No. Now, let’s get out of here. There will be more soldiers where those came from.”

“How are we going to get into the Abbey? They’ll have raised the stairs.”

“We’ll figure that out when we get there. With how powerful your havoc supply is, I can probably just levitate us. Come on!”

She takes off again and I groan. Not more running.

I hurry after her, adrenaline still flooding my veins just enough to keep my feet moving.

I burst out of the trees to see three huge companies of soldiers, all in differently colored armor, surging from the woods on three sides of the Abbey. Nilah is already half-way across the field, beelining for the tower.

Cursing, I follow.

Above the roof crackles a storm of blue lightning. Its tendrils spiral outwards, creating a whirlpool of magic. The sheer size of it makes my head spin. They’ll be able to see that all the way from Starfloat.

I spot a slender figure with blonde hair and a billowing blue dress standing on top of the roof beside the chimney stacks. Is that the Warden? Beside her is Tirma, and below her is Yendy. A shimmering, concave yellow shield spreads out in the air, protecting the Warden and Tirma from a flurry of angry fireballs.

This is crazy! I think as I hop over a stone. We’re no match for three armies. The whole valley is going to be overrun.

I spot more of the pale men streaming towards the tower. Nilah slows, realizing she’ll never make it before they do. We’re too close to the tower to run back to the woods without being seen. We have to hide, I think desperately.

And there’s only one place close enough to do that.

I’m going to regret this.

I catch up with Nilah and grab her by the elbow. “This way! I know a safe place!”

That's when the whole tower lifts into the air, raised up on a pair of—

Unbelievable. This is on purpose, isn’t it? Why couldn’t it be frog legs? Or rabbit legs?!

Nilah cackles out loud. She’s not even afraid anymore. “Look at the Warden go!”

Her glee is cut short as I drag her through the animal pen gate, kick open the chicken coop door and shove Nilah inside. I crawl in after her and slam the door shut.

“This is your safe place?” she asks incredulously.

“I don’t think the Warden will step on the chickens.” I brace myself as another nearby jolt rocks the ground. “I hope.”

The chickens, for once, aren’t trying to peck me to death. They’re shivering in their boxes, hiding themselves in the bundles of yellow straw. Norasmus, thankfully, is safe inside too.

Strangely, he's looking through a gap in the wooden planks, watching the battle unfold.

Then again, after seeing the tower literally grow chicken legs, nothing really seems strange anymore.

Nilah and I fall into silence as the screams start. It’s all around us and it doesn’t stop. A cacophony of terror and pain that only grows louder as time passes.

We sit at the back of the coop, feet splayed out in front of us, up against the wall. Every footstep of the tower shakes the coop, knocking dust, straw and feathers loose from the rafters.

Norasmus hops down and cuddles close to my leg, clearly nervous.

I pet him with my right hand, trying to calm him down. Either he doesn't notice the swirling ball of magical energy in my palm, or he doesn't care. Slowly, his shivering stops.

Nilah inches closer to me too, holding her hands over her ears to block out the screaming, eyes shut.

I hesitate, then wrap my left arm around her shoulders and slowly pull her close. I half expect her to hit me, but instead she sinks against my chest.

“I’m sorry,” she whispers.

“For what?” I whisper back.

“I was mean. Especially at the well. I could have been nicer to you.”

“Don’t do that.”

“Do what?”

“Confess like we’re about to die. We’re not going to die.”

“How do you know?”

I roll the ring on my finger. “Because there are things left to do. You want to be famous, right?”

She nods.

“I want something too. And I’m not dying until I get it.”

“What’s that?”

Lyara. Revenge. Justice. Truth.

“Breakfast. I bet Yendy will cook the most amazing pancakes after this is over.”

Nilah bursts out laughing.

It drowns out the screams...for a little while, anyways.

AVARIS

I’m almost out of juice.

The tower uses the last of its magic to shakily walk back into place. It sinks into the ground, where it stays.

The bridge over the pond has crumbled into the water, the animals are out of their pens and running amok through the dead bodies, and that thing, whatever it is, still lurks beneath the surface.

I hang on to my reserves, trying to tighten the strings of havoc back together. I’ll need every bit I can get if I’m taking on a necromancer. I wrap one arm around a crooked chimney to keep my balance.

After expending that much havoc, I don’t trust my legs anymore.

Tirma has hopped down to the balcony to help Yendy. One of the fireballs must have slipped through, because she’s badly burned. She lies in the laps of several of the students, who can’t do much but watch.

Tirma is already exhausted, but she concentrates her own reserves of havoc to take away Yendy’s pain and heal the skin as best she can.

Neither will be able to help me.

I’m on my own.

The rogue witch has successfully raised her army of corpses. They slink towards the tower and begin to climb the walls, broken bodies unfeeling of pain.

I try to shoot a bolt of lightning from my palm, but the magic recoils and snaps back against me. I narrowly avoid electrocution and struggle to command my havoc. I am your master. Do as I say.

But it isn’t listening. It’s cracking, breaking apart.

I’ve overextended myself.

One of the girl’s screams. A corpse has reached a lower balcony. I lean over the edge and spot a head of red hair. It’s Revory. She slams the door on its head. Other students race down the stairs to help.

No! You can’t kill the undead! I think desperately, but can’t muster the strength to speak.

I shut my eyes.

A war cry sounds from the North.

I scan the fields and spot a blue blur darting out of the trees.

Bavetna!

She’s being chased by a man on a large snake. It snaps at her, hissing. She feigns right and just as it stretches out to bite her she grabs its reins and pulls herself on top of its head.

The rider immediately tries to decapitate her with his flaming sword, but she blocks it with a blade of her own. When did she get a sword? They fight, slashing at each other, but Bavetna’s multiple limbs are to her advantage. She grabs him by the neck and throws him off the snake, then pulls back on the reins, slowing it down until it stops.

She cuts off its saddle and the snake turns tail, disappearing back into the woods from where it came.

A few straggling men who have not been crushed see her, her sword, and take up arms. She’s fast, and cuts them down one by one as she makes her way towards the necromancer. One arm has a sword, two more use the bow with deadly accuracy. She ignores the reanimated corpses, eyes set on the rogue witch.

Yes! I silently cheer.

The soil rumbles beneath Bavetna’s feet.

Realization clicks into place. It was too deep for me to see it clearly but now—I grip the edge of the roof. “Get out of there!” I shout down at her.

But it’s too late.

The ground opens up and swallows Bavetna whole.

Where she was just standing is now a huge, saw-toothed worm. It bends back and forth, wiggling.

My chin falls to my chest.

Below me the corpses are rising, slowly taking over the tower. Bavetna is gone. Yendy is injured. Tirma and the students are spent.

I’m out of magic.

Nothing will save Little Abbey now.

“GRRRAAAH!”

My head snaps up.

Bavetna’s eight hands...feet...WHO CARES are holding onto the worm’s lips for dear life. Her elbows shake as she struggles to keep its mouth wide open, body suspended above its rotating teeth.

She’s covered from head to toe in slime and scratches, but she’s alive!

With another warrior’s scream she straightens her limbs and tears the worm apart. The beast collapses. Bavetna rolls out of its mouth, flicks some slime off her shoulder, and then rummages around its guts. She pulls out her bow and sword and marches towards the witch.

The witch throws corpse after corpse at Bavetna, but she shrugs them off. The necromancy has already cost the woman. Her skin has turned black as charcoal, her hair is gone, her dress is gone, and all that remains is a living skeleton of what was once a witch.

Bavetna raises her sword.

I look away, but I hear the witch’s head hit the ground, followed shortly by the limp bodies of every other corpse on the battlefield—rightfully dead once more.

Relief floods through me. Little Abbey is safe. Exhaustion takes over and all my muscles give way at once. I tumble off the roof.

The stars fall away and the ground rushes skyward. The wind whistles past me. I’m unafraid. I’ve lived a long time.

They can bury me under the poplar trees—

“Oomph.”

A blue arm catches me halfway up.

With the ease of a spider monkey, Bavetna gently carries me back down the tower, cradling me like an infant.

“This is embarrassing.”

Bavetna chuckles. “I will not tell anyone.”

Inside the tower, the girls are all fast asleep, snoring.

Outside, groans and screams of agony from injured soldiers linger, but the danger is gone. What is left of the armies have retreated, likely to tell a tale of warning—if you value your lives, leave the witching tower in Rock Valley alone.

I frown, counting the remaining kernels of havoc with what remains of my awareness. One is missing.

“Oh no,” I whisper.

Tirma emerges from the tower, lowering the stairs. Her hands are shaking. She makes it down, deftly lifting her skirt to step over the bloody bodies. Her face is streaked with tears.

“Avaris—” she starts.

Bavetna sets me down on my two trembling legs, supporting my weight with her arms. “I know.” I say as Tirma throws herself onto me, sobbing into my shoulder.

“What are we going to tell the girls?” she asks.

I pat her hair and whisper calm reassurances into her ear, but inside I feel numb.

“Who?” Fear flashes across Bavetna’s face. “One of the students? Is it Moroka?” she asks with urgency.

“No,” I sniff, “it’s—”

A loud BANG interrupts our grief.

The chicken coop shakes and someone hollers a stream of profanity. The door bends outwards, then bursts open and Egg tumbles out of it, landing on his back. Chicken feathers spot his hair, and he spits one out of his mouth.

Nilah follows, tripping and landing on Egg. She spins around and points, pushing herself backwards with her heels. “There’s a...a...”

The three of us limp towards them. Bavetna readies her sword, still dripping slime, and although Tirma and I have no havoc left to speak of, we raise our fists.

“Is it a soldier?” Tirma asks.

“A necromancer?”

“A worm?!”

Tirma and I slowly look up at Bavetna.

She shrugs and brushes her knuckles across her chin, cracking her neck. “It could be a worm.”

"No!" Nilah’s pointed finger trembles. A stream of chickens race out of the coop, stomping all over her and Egg. "There’s a naked man inside the chicken coop!”