Attacks rained down on Ranvir. Saleema was attacking so rapidly, even her enhanced spatial perception couldn’t keep up the accuracy. Stone, boulders, and whenever she got close, the sword. All of it raging through the arena of her Discipline.
Her presence, so strongly rooted in this cramped zone she’d trapped him in, any of his spatial manipulations were like trekking through mud and breathing through molasses. The air was thick with her power. It felt as if his spirit would be overwhelmed just by remaining within.
The air buzzed and cracked as pebbles missed, yet more struck with cracks against Bastion. He careened through the air, rushing away from Saleema, yet that only seemed to lead him into more attacks.
Both he and the spirit within strained to maintain Bastion. No one attack shook the grounds of his defense, yet they piled on. Latresekt’s spawn let out a whining, groaning sound as they slipped from a rain of pebbles, only to find a boulder.
It had little of the speed created by her towers. The clash rang Ranvir’s ears. Though Perception swiftly cleared his senses, he found himself falling in a new direction. Again, he fell through a hailstorm of pebbles. Each capable of punching clean through a man.
Ranvir’s body rattled as hard as his soul. Though Bastion never halted, pain blazed high in his thigh. A new fire within his rotted realm. Amidst the glory of a victory turned sour.
Then she came, her sword blazing bright as ever. Saleema raced forward, weapon held high. An attack his defenses couldn’t hold against. Not trapped within the morass of her trap.
He’d been forced to retrieve Loce since the field shredded the locust faster than he could rejuvenate them. At least while maintaining his defenses. But this field wasn’t made up of singular power effects, which made the hive more effective in attacking the structure. But to stretch Loce that far.
Ranvir would risk dissolution. The swarm could die. Only to escape a repeatable technique? There would be no point.
No, in the highs of momentarily turning the fight, Ranvir had forgotten his goal. Running the clock on Saleema, forcing her to stretch out. Straining her soul. Every second, every indrawn breath that she maintained the field meant a further strain. Even she could not maintain this farce of a technique forever.
Sweat dripped into Ranvir’s eyes as he turned a gouging stab into a graze across his ribs. Saleema’s eyes, dark and determined, burned into his as he made an escape. Did any of the pebbles and rocks even hit the ground? Or were they simply flung back up into the air?
He could spare neither the time nor effort to figure it out.
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Breakfast had turned to ash Dovar’s mouth. The bowl now lay abandoned in the courtyard as he hovered in the air, watching the fight.
He shook his head and scoffed. Fight. This was not a fight. No fight ever looked like this. The violet bubbled hovered in the sky outside the city, transparent enough that Dovar could make out the combat inside with his bare eyes. Enough rubble to rebuild a city was crashing through the air, fast enough that it should have torn apart on its own.
Most of the time, he couldn’t find Ranvir. An unnatural disaster hiding him from sight both physically and spiritually. If he closed his eyes, he could almost believe Saleema had grown to fit her Discipline. She was only recognizable from the occasional rainbow flash from the sword, making it through the rubble.
His insides seemed to gnaw holes in themselves. There was nothing they could do. Dovar couldn’t go inside, even if he could somehow get through the barrier. His hand rested on the sword at his hip.
Remarkable in this realm for both its craftsmanship and material. He’d but bought it a shop on Korfyi. Similarly, he knew quite a few members of the school were equipped with tools that would be deemed extraordinary by the rest of society. Still, for all their access, they couldn’t make a difference in that fight.
Stolen from Royal Road, this story should be reported if encountered on Amazon.
If Dovar joined, he would simply crumble within the field. Dying to the first stone that got to him. He gazed down into the city. Smoke marked most squared throughout. The processions had finally been halted by the army in order to keep the streets clear for the most important routes.
Their chants still continued, the incense they burned faintly aromatic, even from this great distance. The people were down there, the citizens. Asny, and the rest of his family. Frightened, he knew that much. Whatever else the processions were feeling, whatever fervor was racing through the populace, fear was key to it.
And here he was, as distant from her as he could be. Abandoning her yet again. Yet how much longer could Ranvir last? This couldn’t go on forever. Not even that much longer, he suspected. Was his help that valuable to the upcoming fight? If these were to be their last moments, should he not be with her? Protect her with all he could. Then, wouldn’t that protection go farther for being with the counteracting forces? This was the entire purpose of training their tether-senses to attack.
His shoulders slumped as he descended to the ground. There were others, of course, who’d risen into the sky, but he could stay up there no longer. Turning back to the cloister and the tower, he noticed a shadow racing across the gardens towards the structure. While not exceptionally fast, it was completely invisible to his other senses. If it had stuck to the shadows, he’d have never seen it.
Others were noticing as well, and the blob of darkness slowed down. By the time Dovar landed, Kasos had emerged from the darkness and was speaking to the others.
“…need five minutes. He needs five minutes.”
Dovar looked around and saw others were approaching to listen in. “That’s suicide!” one listener cried.
“Not if we do it right,” Kasos replied firmly. “This will not be us attempting to kill her, or even injure her. Ranvir needs five minutes. No more than that.”
Asmar stood in the distance, stroking his chin as Idrees muttered into his ear. Dovar didn’t think it likely that the Sleeping Sons would add much aid to this task. Fighting Saleema would have to be done without all the aces they’d developed. Any surprise they gave away now would only hurt them in the future.
One glance at Sansir, Grev, and the others revealed all Dovar needed to know. They were going. The school was approaching as well, but many of those had been too close to the fight to enlist for this cause.
Morphos stepped forward, his bald top glistening in the refracted morning light. He’d trimmed what hair he had recently. Somehow, the look made him both seem younger and older at the same time. The hair was darker than expected, but without the distraction from the long strands, the wrinkles seemed more pronounced.
“I’ll help what I can. Ain’t go much directly offensive power, though.”
“That’s fine,” Dovar said, stepping in. “If this is going to work, we’ll only need more support people than ones who’ll get in her face.”
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Kirs scratched a circle in her notes. Or perhaps she had a few notes on her paper of circles. Her hand was stained with ink, the paper smeared where she’d run her hand over it.
The messenger asking for the triplet master’s aid had left only recently. Zubair had taken much pleasure in saying no, while Saif reluctantly gave a yes. Whatever squad they were putting together, Kirs hadn’t been part of it.
She glanced out the window again. The group of tethered were rising from the courtyard. Three large platforms of obsidian and ice keeping all airborne. They intermingled enough that she couldn’t count them all. A score, maybe two. Was Esmund among them?
The icy dome peeled open, allowing the group to pass, after which it was sealed shut once more. Not an effect of the ritual, but a tethered. They sped up, racing toward the vast sphere hanging in the sky. What could they hope to achieve against that? The barrier was impenetrable. Space dominated defensive techniques.
She watched with narrowed eyes as the group halted before Saleema’s wall. Light flashed, painfully bright but tinted with rainbow at the edges. Mana rushed over her, as power spilled from the broken shell.
“They were close enough to touch,” she said to herself.
“Indeed.”
Zubair continued speaking, but Kirs stopped listening to him. Saif had been right. Zubair was a cruel man. Esmund was in the group, fighting for his life and the life of Ranvir. And she was just sitting in this damned tower. Feeling all alone and miserable.
“I’m sorry, Zubair,” she said, cutting off his diatribe. “I need to concentrate. Could you do your bodyguarding on the other side of the door?”
She had lost a lot of ground, wasted her fair share of time on pity and not enough on pain. If she was going to look Esmund in the eyes once this was all over, she couldn’t let herself be trapped in her own mind.
For once in her life, she actually needed to work. She returned to her focus on the mana-well.
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The space was dark. There were no shadows, for there was no light to cast them. It was small, less than two meters on a side. A hand rested on his shoulder, comforting and cooling to his soul.
“Understand, if you do this, the results of the fight might not matter.”
“Death by her or death by spirit.”
Kasos nodded, but in the dark the move could not be seen, yet Ranvir sensed it nonetheless.