Post by Croswynd on Feb 11, 2015 14:55:44 GMT -5
Our world is dying.
Whatever my deeds or crimes, this must be remembered. I do not plead innocence—I cannot. Neither do I see myself as the hero. I am simply fighting to keep safe our world. The dwarves know it is failing, yet refuse to act against the will of the earth. My race prefers to sit mired in what they see as progress, too busy to see the life around them fading.
I have done many things to attain my goal and I am not done yet. I write this now as a record, for good or ill, of my world's fate. Whether I end as the savior or villain of the piece remains to be seen, but what has come before has already been written.
My only wish is you to understand.
Chapter 1
The bodies of the patrol were strewn about the rough dirt path in haphazard fashions. Blood pooled in the ruts from wagon wheels, staining the earth a ruddy brown in the early morning moonlight. Three of the victims lay where they had been cut down, punctures and lacerations mute testament to how they met their end.
The two other bodies, however, were different.
One of them, a woman dressed in leather armor liveried with the dark blue of the Fairland’s Guard, lay on the ground not far from the others. The left side of her body was blackened, armor boiled from extreme amounts of heat. Her face was unrecognizable, but the grimace of immense pain was clear to see in the light of a torch.
Another guardsman lay against a tree, staring straight ahead with a look of surprise on his face. There was a blue tinge to his skin and a white rime on the iron armor he wore, but otherwise no evident cause of death.
My suspicions on what caused it were confirmed when I reached out to touch the armor. The iron felt like it had been dipped in a pond during the dead of winter.
A horse nickered behind me.
“As you can see, the signs are the same as the reports said, Sorceress Samantha. Someone has been using magic.”
I stood and turned toward the voice.
My gaze came to rest at a large figure mounted atop a grey steed. Steel encased the man from the neck down, along with an unassuming brown cloak that did nothing to disguise his regal demeanour. The man’s head was turned to the forest, fair hair falling in straight strands to his shoulders. Grey eyes stared out at the world with a brooding intensity.
Two of his men flanked him on either side, one in iron armor looking disgustedly at the scene, while the other’s face was shadowed by a forest-green hood. Both wore their weapons visibly, a sword and shield on the first and a large bow slung along the back of the second.
“A terrible way to go, to be sure,” a gruff, feminine voice spoke from my left, “and I cannot doubt that the hand of sorcery was at work here. These other tracks and imprints though... it looks as if your patrol wasn’t taken totally by a surprise. I’d guess your men felled two of them at the least. Have ye any leads on the culprits, Sir Ashcroft?”
Blain Ashcroft grimaced, scratching at his jaw. “None, Warden. There have been armed bandits in the area, of course, and they’ve attacked my patrols before, but they were beaten back easily enough. They’ve mostly preyed on the villagers, yet even then they were little more than a nuisance. All I can imagine is that a new group has entered the territory.”
“With a mage in their service?” I asked, glancing down at the guard’s burned corpse. “They had to know an incident involving magic would turn the eye of the Duke on the area.”
The Knight of Fairland Keep sighed and shook his head. “I cannot say what these bandits were thinking. I can only give you what I know.”
I exchanged a look with my Warden, Daenza.
The dwarf stroked her small, wispy beard and nodded.
I turned back to Ashcroft and looked to the two guards on either side of him. “What of you two? Have you anything to say?”
The iron armored man answered first, his face filled with scorn. “I’ve heard nothing of use to you, Sorceress, but I do hope you find whoever did this and leave swiftly with their head on a pike. Magic is nothing but a curse.”
Ashcroft clucked his tongue. “Watch your words, Michael. If you’ve nothing to say that can help, remain silent.” The knight shifted in his saddle to look at the other guardsman. “Have you heard anything, Soren?”
“There have been rumblings of mysterious lights in the forest, sir,” a mild voice came from the shadow of the hood. “Some say it’s haunted, but it may be the work of this mage.”
I furrowed my brows at that information, tapping my lip thoughtfully. “When did you hear this? Why didn’t you include it in the report of the other deaths?”
The man shrugged, the creak of leather audible. “I was not aware of any written report until Sir Ashcroft mentioned it to me this morning. Besides, I thought it little more than a village rumor. The same as any you’d hear throughout Dranen. Hope that helps.”
“Aye, it does,” Daenza confirmed, adjusting the scabbard of the longsword that ran the length of her back. “Gives us a place to start our investigation, anywho. Do ye remember who told you of the lights?”
Soren nodded and pointed ahead. “The village up the road. A woman by the name of Margaret first told me of them a week prior while I was roaming the area searching for poachers.”
Daenza nodded. “Thank ye, boy.”
“Would you prefer to stay at the keep until dawn, Sorceress?” Ashcroft asked, staring at me with a twitch of a smile on his lips. It fell away when he looked back to the bodies. “I’m sure you and your Keeper are weary after riding all the way from Highcliff.”
I shook my head and glanced at the sky. “No, but thank you, Sir. It’s best we get started as soon as possible, given the circumstances.”
The knight nodded morosely and dismounted. “Unfortunately, I have to agree. If you need anything from me or my men, just ask. Soren, Michael, let’s get these poor souls on the horses. We’ll bring them to their families.”
“At once, Sir,” the two guardsmen said, both jumping to the ground to help.
I turned to Daenza and sighed, walking with her to our own mounts, a horse and a small pony. “Would that we could stay to help.”
Daenza grunted, patting her pony on the neck. “Would that we didn’t have the need. Come, let’s be off. I’d like to poke around the tavern, if they have one, while we wait for dawn. This Margaret woman will most likely not be awake for a few hours.”
I mounted my brown gelding and joked, “Anything to get a drink in, eh Daen’?”
The dwarf smiled sadly. “A toast to the dead is in order, after all. May their souls be at rest in whatever afterlife they believed in.”
*****
We reached the small village just as the heavens began to turn a soft pink. Lamps hung from posts and the houses. Their flames guttered cheerily against the failing darkness. The village was a small one compared to some I had visited, but it was large enough to have a blacksmith, based on the clinking impacts of hammer and anvil. It was a steady cadence, counterpoint to the rustling of leaves from the forest on the right side of the road.
Wispy clouds whisked above in the same wind, their soft undersides lit by the glow of the sun. The stars were already beginning to disappear behind the first morning rays, though the moon remained full in the sky.
“Ah, finally, an inn! I was beginning to think that this little village wouldn’t have one!”
My horse slowed, and Daenza’s voice drawing me out of my reverie.
I looked up to see the dwarf dismounting in front of a sturdy stone building. A sign above the door testified that it was indeed an inn. I stared curiously through the windows. Morning dew clouded the glass, though I could see a few people buzzing about inside.
Light spilled into the street as the door opened.
A man walked out yawning, his clothing suggesting that he was a craftsman of some sort. Soot stained the cloth in patches along the sleeves and upper chest, while thick arms stuck out from the plain woven tunic.
“Oi, ‘scuse me,” Daenza called out.
The villager turned at the voice, sleepily rubbing an eye. “Aye?”
“If ye time, might you point me in the direction of a Margaret? One of the guardsmen in the keep suggested we talk to her about the lights in the forest,” the dwarf replied, dismounting from her pony. Her large boots thumped against the ground and she sighed with relief.
The craftsman’s brows drew down darkly. “Who’re you to ask?”
“Warden Daenza, on commission from the Duke,” my keeper said dryly.
“M-my apologies, m’lady,” the man stuttered, bending forward in a rough approximation of a bow. “I didn’t realize—me name’s Den. Den Cooper.”
Daenza waved the man’s concerns away. “Bah, I’m no more a lady than you are a lord, Goodman Cooper. No harm done.”
I fell to the ground and strode up beside my companion, smiling at the man. “Do you know where we might find Margaret? It seems like you know of her.”
The craftsman nodded several times before speaking. “Aye… she’s me cousin. She lives in the house near the forest, down the road a ways.” He pointed to our right, around the inn, before his face darkened with a realization. “She’s not in trouble, is she? I promise, she’s a good woman. Has no truck with magic of any kind.”
“Nothing of the sort, Goodman,” I replied quickly with a shake of my head. “We simply want to ask what she saw.”
“Oh,” he replied, staring dumbly at me.
I flashed him another easy smile. “Thank you. We’ll be on our way.”
“Ah, you’re welcome,” the man replied, suddenly starting and moving away. He glanced back over his shoulder at us a few times before disappearing around a corner.
“Bit dull, that boy,” Daenza said after a moment. I gave her a wry look, and she clapped her hands against her hips. “Ah, well, time to get inside and order me a drink.”
I followed my companion into the small inn, stepping across creaky floorboards. A woman turned at our approach with a sponge and bucket in both hands, surprise on her features.
“Pardon the mess, Miss dwarf, Miss. Next shift’s not due for another few hours,” she explained, putting the bucket and sponge away before wiping her hands on her apron. “What can I do you for?”
Daenza stepped toward the bar and arranged herself on the stool with a deft hop. Her scabbard thudded solidly against her back, but she seemed unaffected by it. Eagerness in her eyes, she pointed at a barrel behind the corner. “Black lager, if you have it. I’ll provide the mug. Dislike to make sweets like yourself clean up after a slob like meself.”
The woman smiled and took the proffered, stone-chiseled mug. “Brings a joy to me heart to hear that, Miss dwarf.”
“That certainly never stops you from leaving your dirty socks around back at home,” I muttered to her as I slipped in beside the dwarf.
She shot me a wounded look. “A dwarf’s domain’s a different matter altogether, youngin’. It’s mine.”
“I know dwarves have a reputation for digging in the dirt, but that doesn’t mean you have to emulate it with what you have available,” I replied tapping the wooden bar with a finger and tracing one of its whorls.
“Pah, you and your fancy words,” Daen’ replied, her eyes brightening up considerably when the barmaid appeared from around the corner with her mug.
The barmaid set the chalice down on the table and turned to me with a questioning glance. I shook my head as Daenza took a sip and let out an appreciative belch.
“That’s more like it,” the dwarf said before slamming back another draft.
“If you need anything more, just let me know,” the barmaid said, walking back to her sponge and bucket.
I sighed, crossing my arms on the table and allowing my head to sink into them. The feeling of my sheep-skin lined blouse was comfortably warm after a night of rushing through cool air, and my eyes were grateful for the rest. As much as I had told Ashcroft that I hadn’t been tired, I was exhausted from the ride.
“Sleep awhile if you wish, me girl,” Daenza said, yawning as she thudded her mug against the wood. “There’s little to be done until the town starts to wake.”
I nodded, squeezing my head between my biceps in an effort to stop its pounding. Sleep sounded nice right then. I pulled the stool closer to the bar with my legs and set my boots on its rungs for support. It wasn’t the most comfortable position, but I had dealt with worse.
*****
The sound of the bell above the door tinkling woke me up. My body tensed, and I was already on the alert. Adrenaline ran through my veins as I picked my head up and turned around to see who had entered. The morning sunlight spilling through the door momentarily blinded me, but my eyes quickly adjusted with a muttered spell.
It was a man in the doorway, slim and ragged looking. Bits of detritus from the forest adorned his clothes and a few scrapes on his dark skin spoke of a swift run through the forest. Tired eyes looked at me with dark bags beneath them. They widened slightly before falling back to disinterest.
Alarm bells rang in my head at that, but I was still a little fuzzy from my nap. I continued to stare at him as he casually walked to the bar on the other side of Daenza, who was eyeing the man speculatively.
Instead of sitting, the man placed both hands on the bar, startlingly black against the light wood, darker even than his skin. Almost as if he has been burned...
“Annabelle?” the man called out softly, his voice hoarse. He glanced at us out of the corner of his eyes, but otherwise remained unmoved by our presence. The man casually reached up to scratch his neck, showing further pink scarring.
The old barmaid walked out of the doorway behind the bar, washing her hands on what once had been a white rag. “Fiere? What’re you doin’ out here so early? And why are you all dirtied up like you ran with the wolves?”
Fiere glanced at us before walking around Daen’ and I. He circled the bar and grabbed the barmaid’s arm when he was in reach, pulling her close to whisper in her ear.
I furrowed my brows, starting to wonder what this strange man wanted kept quiet.
“Oh,” the barmaid said, glancing at us momentarily as she listened. “Come in, Fiere, behind the bar.”
Daenza cleared her throat loudly. “Something we can help with?”
“No!” the skinny man said, eyes guilty. “No. There’s... nothing you can do for me.”
“Are you sure?” I asked, further interested by his reactions. “We can protect you if you’re in trouble.”
Fiere looked away, his eyes dark. “It’s nothing but a matter of owed money. Please, don’t inquire further, m’lady. My troubles are below your station.”
With that, he disappeared through the door, the barmaid patting him soothingly on the back as she followed him. The man sent one more glance back at us before he left.
Hinges crooned softly, and the door tapped lightly against the wooden threshold.
I drummed my fingers against the bar, sparing a glance at my companion. “Below my station? Do I look like a lady?”
“Well, the long hair and physique’d give it away,” Daenza replied with a twinkle in her eye, “but I’m not sure that’s what he was referring to. Did ye see the way he looked at you when he came in?”
I nodded, thinking back to that moment. Had I done something to cause the man to think I was someone of high station?
Daenza sighed, steadying the scabbard on her back as she dropped off the stool. “Ye casted a spell, didn’t ye?”
I frowned. “There’s no way he could tell, unless...”
“Unless he’s a touch o’ the gift,” Daenza finished, stretching and walking around to the bar. “Aye, I think we’ve found our mage. Did ye see his hands?”
“They looked as if they were burned,” I confirmed, a steely resolve coming over me. “A self-taught mage, then. That’s dangerous. We should be careful about this.”
The dwarf rubbed a sleeve under her nose and snorted. “Got a plan, do ye?”
I set my jaw grimly, nodding. “We wait and follow him when he leaves. If I’m right, he’ll head away from the town now that he knows we’re here. I suspect he might even go to the forest.”
“One thing still bothers me,” Daenza said as we walked to the front door. “Those scars on his neck. They were new. And why would he look like he ran through the forest? Sorcerers aren’t usually the type to run, especially when they’re unpracticed. No offense.”
“You taught me otherwise, Daen’,” I replied, muttering a spell to quiet the bell as we left. “All the spells in the world don’t matter if you’re surrounded by steel and arrow.”
*****
It was less than an hour before the furtive mage left through the back door. He had changed into a short, brown tunic, though his breeches seemed to be the same. There was a small poniard at his hip. One hand tightened around the hilt of the weapon as he glanced around like a frightened animal and rushed off into the forest.
Daenza and I waited a few moments before we followed after him, previously hidden behind one of the houses in the village.
Despite her short stature, Daenza was able to keep up with my long-legged stride, and soon we were on Fiere’s trail.
It wasn’t difficult to follow—even I could see how the mage had trampled through the forest with little regard for his tracks.
I gritted my teeth, trying to puzzle out exactly why he was running and, more importantly, who he was running from.
It was clear that while we were a threat, something larger was on his mind or he would have left immediately after seeing us. I mentioned as much to Daenza, whispering to the dwarf as we carefully made our way through the brush.
“Could be he had a disagreement with those bandits,” my companion said quietly, brushing a branch aside. “Greed’s always an issue, or maybe he just had a change of heart.”
The last possibility was one I rolled around in my head with distaste. Even if the man had a change of heart, that still didn’t absolve him of the deaths of the patrol or the three villagers murdered through magical means. Such actions meant the man was unpredictable, perhaps prone to whimsy.
Sunrays shot down through the foliage in shafts of spearing light, painting the otherwise green conifers and bushy ground in spots of gold. Squirrels chattered at our passing, and a rabbit bounded away in a loping run.
Daenza’s longsword was quiet even with the pace. Part of the inscriptions lining the scabbard were infused with a spell similar to the one I had casted on the inn’s bell earlier.
The dwarf stopped suddenly, holding up a fist.
I halted, crouching and looking around. I saw nothing but trees and a few large boulders embedded in the steadily incline the forest floor took ahead.
“Tracks’re gone,” Daenza muttered. Sne reached a hand behind her back to draw the longsword. It gleamed briefly in one of the shafts of sunlight, the blade almost as long as her. The dwarf’s muscles bulged under the weight of the weapon, but I knew from experience she could wield it longer than any human, and most dwarves, I’d met.
I reached for the obsidian dagger at my hip, drawing confidence from its wire-bound hilt. It was an old gift from my old magister, one of the possessions he’d left to me after his passing. With it had been a letter, one final lesson.
Magic is a powerful weapon, but when your reserves have run dry, it is always preferable to have a blade at your side.
“Did he take to the rocks?” I whispered, eyes dancing from one tree to the next, boulder to depression in the hill.
“Could be,” Daenza said doubtfully, grabbing her sword in both hands and turning in a circle. “Be ready.”
There was a rustle to our left.
We both turned toward the sound, weapons bared at the area. For a moment, nothing happened.
It was only when I felt the tip of a sword on the back of my neck that I realized we’d been tricked. My skin tingled around the feel of the steel, its metal cold and sharp.
Daenza was similarly indisposed, a dagger to her throat being held by a woman clothed all in forest green.
A man stepped out of the brush where we had heard the sound, clad in leather guard armor. Where the blue of the Fairlands had been was now a deep scarlet that almost blended with the treated leather. Throwing daggers decorated both sides of his chest in a dual bandoleer, their sharp points cloaked by the black sheaths.
“Huh,” he muttered, holding his hands behind his back and staring at me with startlingly blue eyes. “Who are you, and why are you in my woods?”
I looked back into his eyes unerringly. “We’re chasing a man who owes us money.”
The man smirked, glancing down at Daenza before returning his gaze to me. “Oh, really? Funny that, since we’re doing the same. Shame we ran into each other, though.”
“I’d let us go, lad.” My companion sighed. “We’ve more important tasks than talking with ye.”
“Oh really?” the bandit leader asked, chuckling. “And how do you propose to convince me to let you go when you talk to me as if I were nothing more than a common peasant? Seems a little rude, don’t you think?”
Before the dwarf could say something suitably insulting, I interrupted her. “Forgive my associate. You know how dwarves are. But we really would enjoy being free to find our man.”
“I don’t believe I caught your name, Lady...”
I gave him a grim smile. “Names are dangerous things to bandy about.”
The man furrowed his brows, as if he wasn’t expecting that answer. “Yes, I suppose you’re right. Very well, since you seem so… intelligent, I’ll let you go. For the price of your weapons, armor and...” he eyed me up and down speculatively, “your company. I’ll even help you track down your man.”
“I think you’ll find my company more than it’s worth,” I replied, steeling myself.
“Oh, I doubt tha—”
He was cut off by flames engulfing his head with a sickening crackle.
The man screamed, thrashing around and beating at the fire. The sword on my neck fell away as my captor drew back in surprise.
I took advantage of the opening and dove forward, picking up my dagger and turning around to meet an attack.
Deadly steel descened to split me in twain, wielded by a large, dark-skinned woman with a snarl on her face.
I dodged to the side, hastily casting a spell. An arrow of pure light slashed forward, catching the unprepared bandit in the shoulder and sending her spinning.
The sound of metal against metal clanged to my left, and I allowed myself a glance.
Daenza was trading blows with an unlucky bandit not even old enough to grow a full beard. A line of blood oozed from a shallow cut on the dwarf’s neck, but she was otherwise unharmed.
Confident in my companion’s capabilities, I turned back to my own problem and tried to ignore the last gasps of the dying man. My eyes danced across the forest to spot anything out of the ordinary.
The spell that had taken the bandit’s leader hadn’t been one of mine.
The sword-wielding bandit charged me before I could investigate further. One hand held her bleeding shoulder and the other her weapon.
She hacked at me in a devastating side-swipe, nearly catching me in the side as I twirled away.
My boots gained purchase easily on the forest ground, crunching through the fall-colored leaves and dew-covered grasses.
Before I could attempt to sign a more powerful binding spell, the woman pushed her attack.
I dodged backward again, cursing as the weapon slashed through my vest. The blow left a shallow sting across my ribs. I resisted the urge to look at the wound. Instead, I brought my dagger up, calculations running through my head.
“Die!” the woman roared victoriously. She swung her sword in a diagonal slice, aiming for my neck.
Less than a second before impact, I darted forward, bringing my dagger up to meet the larger weapon.
When they hit, runes lit up across the obsidian in gold, and a numbness shot through my arm. I gritted my teeth and shoved the sword aside just enough to deflect it from its course.
The woman stumbled forward, off balance.
I continued my forward motion, slamming into her left shoulder. My legs strained against the woman’s larger size, but my attack was enough to cause her to further stumble. Her body twisted to the left, and she tripped over her own foot. She thudded to the ground, her grip on her sword failing.
Before she could regain her footing, I moved my hands through the signs of a binding spell. My hands deftly flicked through the studiously remembered formula, eldritch words tumbling out of my mouth quickly and precisely.
A subtle blue light encased the warrior woman’s hands. The spell bound her wrists together in a gel-like substance that would be impossible to break without magical assistance. Her legs were likewise bound, and a final flick of my hands sent one more band crossing around her head at mouth level.
Fatigue filled my body when I finished my incantation, and I leaned against a nearby tree for support.
Mindful of the situation, I looked around, searching for the elusive mage who’d saved us, intentional or not. I narrowed my eyes at the tree trunks and whispering leaves, the creak of branches waving slightly in the wind filling the silence that battle had only recently occupied.
“Ah, but I always enjoy a good fight,” Daenza said into the quiet. “Were you not a bandit, I’d compliment ye on yer skill, lad.
I turned to look at the dwarf, who was towering over the young man whom she had been fighting.
Daenza’s sword was at the boy’s throat. Her opponent’s dagger lay on the ground nearby, half covered by the leaves.
At a nod from the dwarf, I performed the same binding I had on the other bandit, leaving Daenza to withdraw her sword and peer at the new notches in the steel. When I finished my spell, I looked to the leader’s corpse. It was still smoking in the crisp autumn air.
Daenza noticed my look and nodded appreciatively. “Nice spell there, lass. Didn’t even hear you mutter the incantation.”
“It wasn’t mine,” I replied, and I closed my eyes to see if I could hear anything where my sight failed. Only the forest’s song came to my ears. “That mage helped us.”
My companion leveled the sword in front of her, her bushy black brows furrowed. “Do you sense him?”
I shook my head and glanced down at the bandit woman.
She glared daggers at me, her mouth twitching behind the mystical gag. Blood leaked from her shoulder.
“No. He must have left when we started fighting,” I said finally.
“Damnation,” the dwarf growled darkly. “Did you at least feel the direction the spell came from? I can continue to track him, provided he left any clues.”
There was a rustle of leaves behind me, followed by a tremulous voice. “N-no need, Warden.”
I turned at the voice, dagger up and a spell already at my lips.
Daenza cursed and leveled her own weapon, one hand extended to ward off any magical attacks.
Fiere stared with haunted eyes at the body of the bandit leader. The mage’s sleeves sent wisps of smoke into the air, singed from his casting.
I prepared to counterspell any attempt he made to finish the other two off, but aside from continuous twitching, his hands made no move. After a moment, his eyes met mine. There was a spark of pain and relief warring in them.
“I... I killed him,” he said, walking woodenly forward.
I held my ground, ice in my stomach at the thoughts of what a mage without a Warden could accomplish.
He looked up at me, tears in his eyes. “I-I didn’t mean to. But he was... going to hurt you. Because of me.”
“Hold, lad,” Daenza said. She held a hand up placatingly, steel in in her voice. “No further with you.”
The mage’s eyes flicked to the dwarf, his hands twitching even harder now.
I could silence him now. He wouldn’t even know what was going on. Yet something stopped me, curiosity filling my mind. This wasn’t the act of a murderer.
Fiere’s eyes widened when he looked at his hands, bringing them palm up. “My-my hands...”
“You burned yourself casting the spell, Fiere,” I explained, my voice sharper than I intended. I softened it, continuing, “We can help you. You just need to sit down and explain what’s happened to you.”
“Sam...” Daenza started warningly.
Fiere looked back to me, pain filling his eyes, winning against the relief. He glanced back at his hands, gasping. “It-it hurts. She said you could help me, but it hurts!”
“Fiere, look at me,” I pleaded, drawing his gaze again. “I can help you. I just need to know who told you I could. Can you do that, Fiere?”
Daenza moved ever so slightly to the left while the mage’s attention was on me.
I dared not look at her. I kept my eyes locked with Fiere’s.
There was a rustle of leaves beside me as the warrior woman began to squirm against her restraints, but I continued to stare into Fiere’s eyes. This was a dangerous moment, one that could tip in any direction. I was determined to make sure it was one favorable to everyone.
“A-a woman,” the mage croaked, swallowing. “She was... bli—”
An arrow sang through the morning air, slamming into the mage’s back.
Fiere’s mouth fell open, eyes completely consumed with pain. Another arrow hit him, sending him stumbling forward, the wooden shafts quivering as he began to scream.
I cursed, throwing up a shield just in time to catch the worse of the sonic explosion.
The spell blew past my shield, cracking trees like glass, sending splinters sailing through the air.
I dropped to the ground as my barrier fell and landed next to the warrior woman.
Her eyes were wide open. Blood streamed out of her ears.
A grimace darkened my lips. The last-second spell had negated the full brunt of Fiere’s own panicked one on me, but it clearly hadn’t been strong enough to protect the bandit. I glanced to the left, pushing myself up, soft dirt falling from my hands in clumps.
Daenza was already rushing forward, a wooden spike hanging from her scaled armor.
A blast of fire swept toward the dwarf, sent forth in a fit of dying rage from the kneeling Fiere.
Daenza dove to the side, keeping her sword in hand as she rolled.
I had to stop this uncontrolled magic before the mage obliterated Daenza, the bandits... the whole area. Gritting my teeth, I walked forward, holding both hands up in the most powerful shield I could summon.
The drain from casting the spell caused my stomach to twist in knots.
An inferno was churning around the mortally wounded mage, fire issuing from his eyes as if possessed by some spawn of hell. A bubble of white-hot fire expanded outward, crashing into my barrier with enough force to send me gasping. It sounded like a demonic kettle letting out steam in a screeching whistle.
My mind reeled at the thought of how much power this mage possessed, how much good he could have done were he trained like I was. If only he had been found before this.
I closed my eyes, the first hints of the flame sneaking past my shield to kiss my cheek. I ignored the scent of faintly burning skin, my face pinched and itching from the heat.
It started to get difficult to breath. The flames eagerly sucked up all the air around me.
When I judged myself close enough, I opened my eyes enough to squint. They instantly began to dry, pain searing into my retinas from both the intensity of the light and the ferocity of the fire.
Fiere’s mouth was open in a silent scream, a jet of flame streaming from his steadily widening maw. All of his exposed skin was crusted over, rendered little more than shell now, but he was still somehow alive.
The stench of his burned skin wafted in waves. My shield was little more than a single column around which the flames burned. My armor was beginning to heat up, the protective runes embroidered in the material starting to fail.
“Daen’!” I yelled out my last intake of air just as my shield failed.
The heat evaporated instantaneously.
I fell to my knees, my body numb, tumbling to the dirt with no control. My cheek touched what was left of the grass. Searing ashes burned into my skin.
I felt nothing. I stared across a sea of blackened foliage that abruptly shifted to green a few meters away. A few fires still burned through the dry leaves, embers hopping from one to the next in dying sparks.
With my energy sapped and body reeling from exhaustion and pain, my vision fell away, too.
