Three robed hooded figures in white masks attempt to rush in through the doorway. A purple hued energy picks them up and slings them back into my front yard. I look at Vithar, and he shakes his head from side to side and shrugs, bewildered. When I look at mom, she nods her head in the affirmative.
“I told you warding the house was unnecessary. I took care of it.”
“Okay,” I say, exaggerating the word.
There is a groan from outside. The rustling of the robes of the white masks signals they are all getting up.
“Come out here, demon,” one of them calls. “It is time to pay for your transgressions.”
Pay for my transgressions? Is this guy LARPing? His performance is a little over the top.
I walk close to the door to look into the yard.
“We don't want any wizard scout cookies today,” I shout. “Can you come back tomorrow?”
A hazy after-image-like barrier surrounds my house and is closing rapidly. It covers my yard, as well, and extends to the sidewalk. I have seen this before when I visited the wizard's guild.
“Did you ward the yard too?” I ask Mom.
“No, just the house. Hindsight, I suppose I should've covered everything.”
A gout of fire presses against my door frame. The sudden attack causes me to flinch, but it doesn't pass the ward placed there.
“I think they just tried to set me on fire. Have they not done their homework?”
“Fire is a very common discipline, and fireballs are easy to do,” Vithar says. “Remember when I threw one at you by accident?”
“Hah,” I laugh, “Yeah,” I startled him and had to duck under it as it flew over my head. Vithar steps close to the door and peers outside, scanning the completed barrier.
“They've got an illusory veil covering the area. This is an assassination,” he says.
“An attempt, at least,” I say in reply.
I only see the one in the yard, so I peek my head out of the doorway quickly in between his attacks. The other two white masks are standing on either side of my porch and chanting while the third continues to impotently throw fireballs at my door. The ward shimmers a translucent purple color as it repels the spell.
What? Why?
No, it's not necessary.
There's a pulse of my void that I didn't activate. The purple barrier at the door shimmers, pales slightly, then builds back up.
Hey! We didn't agree to that, stop!
“Mikael Amadi Balthazar!” Mom yells, “What do you think you're doing?”
“Why are you middle naming me? I didn't do that!”
She glares at me. I can feel the build up of him trying to create another void pulse, but I am ready this time. I shut it down before it unleashes.
We didn't agree to this.
I grit my teeth and strain against my own energy.
“They're trying to dispel the wards! That's what they have been chanting,” Vithar yells.
“Hm, wow,” mom says sarcastically as she glares at me. “I really didn't think they could,” she yells over the roaring flames that coat the doorway. “They'll have to thank you for the assist.”
“It wasn't me!” I yell. There are visible cracks spreading through the purple barrier. A small flame breaks through and drops to the floor. I stamp it out and cover the hole in the energy with my hand to keep it from lighting the house. This shielding is going down anyway. It's pointless to hope it holds up now.
“They're breaking through now and they would've set my porch on fire anyway. I'm gonna go out there and see what the hell's going on.” I release my overflowing void pulse to snuff out the fire. The purple energy of the wards shatters and the fire in the doorway extinguishes. An ill-prepared and wide-eyed white masked wizard stands just outside my doorway with his hands in front of him. Before he has a chance to recover, I kick at his chest, Sparta style. The extra force my demon eagerly contributes sends him flying off the porch and into the yard. He falls to the ground and lands on his back spread eagle, arms out.
I duck my head under the shattered remains of my poor front door and stop at the top step leading down from my porch. I glance at the two masked wizards by the doors before looking back down at the wizard I kicked.
“Why are you here?” I ask, letting some demonic bass into my voice. Mom and, to my surprise, Vithar, walk out behind me and confront the other two white masks on the porch.
“You and your ilk killed that poor girl,” he says, standing back up.
“What girl?” I ask.
“Her mind was breaking apart, and we could detect your abominable residue as the cause. I don't know what you did, but we followed her here. Now we will avenge her!”
They attack together, clearly a practiced team. The one in front of me uses fire again, and I let it flow over me, burning away most of my clothes. That's fine–it was gonna happen anyway.
I know that he's just saying that because he knows it resonates with me. But I also know that the bulk of his anger is directed at us being used as bait. That is what really gets to him. Regardless, he is right. I hate this. I am so tired of being angry. I was shocked at Rhal’s malicious execution of his goals, but this is worse somehow. Rhal did what he knew. These guys–they are supposed to be protectors, the guards of the uninitiated population of humans. They are supposed to keep them safe. My demon is right, even if it is for the wrong reasons. They used her as bait to have an excuse to get to me. To kill me. Heat courses through my veins, pulsing and wanting to burn–and I am about to let it. Before I can agree, though, Vithar screams in rage behind me.
“You knew. You knew she would die, and you used her to come here!” I glance back and see that he is following his words with action. Vithar casts quick spells with both hands while the white mask in front of him backs up toward the porch railing. He sends visible blades of wind slicing through the air toward his opponent with one hand, and follows it up with small rocks shooting out of his other hand like bullets. The white mask is completely on the defensive and losing ground fast as Vithar's attacks crash against the glowing personal shield-like barrier. Mom is engaged likewise, her purple energy crackling like lightning against her opponent’s shield.
The mask in front of me is preoccupied with yelling at Vithar. “You're nothing, Vithar! You've chosen this filth over your own brethren! Now I'll make sure to bury you with them!”
A maniacal scream issues from his throat as he crushes something that was grasped in his hand. The sound of his bones popping and lengthening rises above the sounds of fighting around me. His muscles stretch to encompass the rapid growth. His mask and robes must be enchanted, because they grow with him. I respond to his transformation with my own. My demon gleefully spreads our power throughout my limbs.
We charge headlong into the mask and crash to the ground together. The wizard's augmented body doesn't recoil from our strength as we trade punches, blow for blow. The grass beneath us dies from the flames covering our body. We continue the back and forth melee with the wizard. His skin sizzles under our punches, but doesn't leave a lasting mark. We break apart and get to our feet but he pursues quickly and delivers an uppercut. The impact makes us see a flash of white and we bite through a chunk of our tongue. We return the punishment with a couple of jabs and a haymaker that finally leaves burn scarred skin across his face. A barely connected piece of our tongue flaps painfully against our cheek and our mouth fills with blood. We dance away and spit the coppery fluid out, then step on it to burn it away against our blazing skin. Our breathing is becoming labored. The damage is beginning to take its toll already. I didn't know they could make themselves this strong. While the adrenaline high is keeping the soreness from setting in, we can feel the ache spiking higher the longer we fight. The wizard matches our brute force and makes it look easy. We can't just keep hitting each other like this. Even with our rapid healing, there is a point of diminishing returns if we keep layering it on. Our cheeks and eyes are swelling and could eventually swell shut, then we would just be swinging blindly. I could win this quickly if I could generate another wave of void to nullify their spell and return them to normal. Unfortunately, I used all the energy I had available to douse the fire they attacked my house with. It will be some time before I can use it again.
This content has been misappropriated from Royal Road; report any instances of this story if found elsewhere.
I had wanted to keep them talking longer to give my reserves more time to build, but Vithar is still screaming. He's too angry for talk. In fact, I don't know if I have really seen him angry until now.
“You call yourselves my brothers and sisters? You're everything that's wrong with the guild!” he yells, still making the white mask cower under a shield.
We only glimpse the scene on the porch briefly, but in that moment of distraction, the wizard sends a heavy kick that connects with our upper thigh. Our hip pops and we groan as a shock of pain travels down our left leg. We gnash our teeth and duck under another of the wizard's wild swings. Utilizing some of the training we have gone through, we take his arm and throw him over our hip. He falls to the ground as another bout of searing pain tears through the leg–but we accomplished what we wanted. Our enemy now lies on his stomach. We straddle his waist and sink our claws into his elbows when he tries to push himself up. He falls back to the ground, and we unleash a flurry of blows into the back of his head, driving his face into the grass and dirt.
The hum of magical energy that has been ringing in our ears since this fight began hits a peak. We search for the cause and see a bright light shining through a crack in the illusory barrier around my house. Then an unseen force shoves us off the hulking wizard. Hopping back up to scan the area, we put our weight on our right leg while spitting out blood again and wiping our mouth. A figure shimmers into sight and our eyes fall on someone we really don't want to see here.
Olvira, an Archwizard of the guild and my sometimes ally, steps through the shattered opening in the spell. Her frowning face shows nothing but contempt as she surveys the brawl. The barrier seals back up behind her and we brace for her next move. She raises her hand and the pitch of the warning sirens in my head are nearly unbearable. A black rod shoots up from the ground near the sidewalk in front of my house. Three thin black tendrils emerge from it and slither across the ground, snaking toward each of us.
We do, however, draw back, ready to fight off the grasping shadows. The tendrils, however, weren't intended for us. They constrict around the three white masked wizards instead. Once they have nearly cocooned the captives, the tendrils snap back to the rod. The impact of the wizards being pulled together makes us flinch. They are then bound to the pole and covered head to toe except for the eye slits in the masks. We are not quite sure what is happening, so our body is still tense, ready to react at a moment's notice.
“A moment of your time, Mr. Balthazar,” she says.
Our eyes flick to the bound wizards and back to her.
“Ah, yes,” she says. The energy surrounding the three wanes, shattering the shields. Olvira scowls at the large wizard. Her energy intensifies and she directs it fully at him. His form finally breaks and returns the mask that we were fighting back to his original size. She then makes large sweeping gestures and the ground rumbles. Huge black sheets of onyx-like stone erupt from the ground, surrounding the captives in a shiny black cube. Once they are enclosed, she turns her attention back to me. “Satisfied?” she asks.
“One sec,” we say with a slight lisp around our swollen tongue and hobble toward the house. I extinguish the burn when we walk through the door. I am not really looking to have a conversation in my demon form, and I'm definitely not gonna do it as a naked guy either. Grabbing some shorts that were on the floor in my room, I put them on and carefully move back down the stairs to talk to her. On the way through the living room, however, I stop to check on Anna. She still seems to be asleep. Her pulse feels strong, and her forehead isn't clammy. Everything at least seems normal, and she slept through the whole thing.
“Taking your time, dear?” my mom asks, standing in the broken doorway.
“I needed to make sure she was still alright,” I say flatly, but it still sounds slurred. I get up and walk toward the doorway.
“Careful, Mike,” Vithar says as I limp past him, “This could all be an act.”
“Thanks,” I say, moving slowly to and down the steps. She is crouching, inspecting the shattered remains of whatever the wizard used to grow. Her lip curls in a snarl, contorting her face. Her salt and pepper hair is shorter than it was the last time I had seen her–something closer to a pixie cut, but longer on the top than that. She is wearing light colored robes that make her tan skin seem darker. At my approach, she stands. “Olvira, good to see you.”
Her expression changes to a neutral mask and she inclines her head toward me. The light blue of her eyes seems calculating as she focuses her on me. “The threat I made at the end of our last meeting notwithstanding, this is not how I imagined we'd meet again.”
“You did say it could be on the field of battle.” My speech is normalizing, my mouth getting used to the injury.
She scoffs. “This wasn't a battlefield. It was children playing demonslayer. I owe you an apology on behalf of the guild, Mr. Balthazar.”
“Oh? And please, Mike is fine.”
“Yes,” she says. She clasps her hands behind her back and paces toward the cube. I watch her through half-swollen eyes. The swelling is already receding, but my face is hot with what feels like heavy bruising. I wish I could see the other guy’s face. Hopefully, he's in much the same condition. Olvira stops in front of them and continues. “These three were dispatched to the hospital when one of our monitors stationed there detected demonic activity within.”
I don't react. My policy lately has become 'don't offer any extra information,' and it has been paying off so far.
“They found the girl and should have either tried to assist, or at the very least, brought her to the guild for additional healing. Instead, they interrogated our monitor until they gave your description. Then, they released her and told her to come here. The monitor came to me and told me what happened. She said that it was all in an effort to say that they followed the trail to you as the one who had afflicted her mind. They did not get approval from the council for these actions.” She looks at the cube and the top opens. The black stone slides halfway down exposing their heads.
“So, that was the issue. Not that they were going to kill me, just that they didn't get approval first?”
“Every situation is not without nuance, Mr. Balthazar. Yes, the major violation is acting without the council's knowledge.” She looks over at the door and I glance back as well. Vithar is currently sliding through the broken doorway, leaving her line of sight. She sighs. “We have no quarrel with you. Yet.”
“Yet? Is that why you're here now?”
“Yes. I am here to find out what truly happened to cause the girl's death. I do not believe you to be a murderer, but I also cannot go against the evidence,” she says.
“Seems like a lot of assumptions and not necessarily evidence. Perhaps you should put down your rabid dogs,” Mom says. She steps off the porch and stands next to me.
“Hm,” Olvira grunts, with pursed lips. “Hello–what is it this time? Cordelia?”
“You can call me whatever you like. These came for my son and I demand justice,” she says.
I look back and forth between them, not sure how to inject myself into the conversation.
“Your justice and ours are not the same. However, depending on the outcome here, they will be punished according to the severity of their crime.” She turns her attention back to me. “Mr. Balthazar. Did you have anything to do with her illness?”
That's an excellent question. Technically yes, but actually no. I do think I made it worse at the hospital, though. I have no idea what she was like after I left, but her constant suspension of reality multiple times yesterday had to have been causing her more stress than when I tried to relieve it.
“You–” Mom starts. I put my hand out to stop her. I know she was about to launch into a truly devastating tirade.
“Mom, please?” I say pleadingly. She mumbles something under her breath, but takes a step back. “Technically, yes,” is what I go with.
Olvira's face darkens and the three bound mages start trying to speak around their covered mouths.
“But,” I continue, putting a finger up. “It was not me that did anything to her mind prior to yesterday.”
“Elaborate.”
“Do you remember when I came to you last year? About that blade and needing to find out maybe where the owner was?”
“The scrying? Of course,” she says and her eyes move to my doorway then back to me quickly. I assume she was looking for Vithar, but he has made himself scarce.
“Well, the one I was looking for was an Incubus. He used his abilities on her, and she was afflicted by the after effects when I voided his ability. I asked a friend of mine to help her, and he did. He alleviated the harsher ill effects and gave her mind a level of fortification to prevent it from happening again.”
“Who is this 'friend'?”
“That's none of your business. It's irrelevant to my story.” I bite the tongue flap just a little, but the pain makes my jaw open quickly, minimizing the stem look I was going for.
Her lip still curls in a small snarl at my remark. “Fine. What about yesterday? If the ill effects were gone, what happened there?”
“I noticed she was having issues–her personality was different, and she was disconnected from serious events. It kept happening within a matter of minutes so I used an ability of mine to sever any mind manipulating magic affecting her negatively, but it was only temporary. The effects of my ability were apparent immediately. She started to remember events as they actually happened. Something was causing new memories to be implanted. These new memories were…” I search for the right word. “Fighting, I guess? Fighting with the fortification, and it was causing damage to her mind,” I say, finishing my not so specific explanation.
“And when she came here? What happened to her? How did she die?”
The heads of the three bound wizards in the half cube turn to me with the corners of their eyes creasing in a smile. They think this is where I get caught. Olvira stares into my eyes, waiting for my answer with an unreadable expression. I don't know why I waited this long to say that she is alive. I suppose I was just pissed that they would attack without making sure first. Or perhaps I have a flair for the dramatic.
“Oh, she's not dead,” I say. “She's inside sleeping on the couch.”
The three captive wizards' eyes go wide.
“Come in and check.”