Guild Mage: Apprentice

Many of the creatures that Jurian conjured from the dreams of the invaders were nearly formless: indistinct shapes with little more to distinguish them than sharp teeth or claws and hungry, shining eyes. Others were more defined: spiders, snakes, rats, wolves or sharks, the sort of creatures that well might kill an unwary or unlucky person.

Liv caught a glimpse of them before she pitched forward. When she opened her eyes again, the wave of exhaustion had passed. There’s no possible way I should be able to fight off an archmage’s Authority, she realized. With a groan, Liv rolled over, then got her arms under her and pushed herself back up.

It was difficult to judge how much time had passed - some, from the corpses of mercenaries, Eld and hunters that littered the beach. Nightmares feasted upon the wounded and the dead, and screams of pain echoed through the evening. Still, it could not have been a bell or more, because the fighting was still ongoing.

From her vantage point, Liv could see that not nearly all of the enemies who’d come to Coral Bay had been put to sleep. She tried to guess how many rings of mana Jurian must have used, and could only assume that he’d brought pearls or mana stones to fuel such a grand spell. Still, even such an impressive piece of magic had limits. If she had to guess - and it was only a guess - his authority had spread out over the shore and affected those of weakest will first. That would explain how she was able to resist the worst of the spell’s effects: if he’d focused his entire Authority onto Liv, she knew that she wouldn’t have a chance of fending Jurian off.

At a quick glance, Liv judged that perhaps a score of cultists had been put to sleep, creating an equal number of nightmare constructs. The constructs would be, Liv assumed, no more under Jurian’s direct control than her soldiers of sculpted ice. He would have imparted his intent to them, and they would fight his enemies savagely for as long as they lasted. Against a force made entirely of normal soldiers, this would likely have been enough to break the enemy, and send the cultists fleeing back into the waystone, which remained lit and active like a torch in the night.

Unfortunately, Liv could see at a glance that the Lady of Blood had not sent normal soldiers alone. The hunters, with their bows, knives, and clothing made from supple leather, collapsed in on themselves. For a moment, darkly wet shapes stood in their place, and then those, too, were gone, replaced by an entire colony of bats winging upward to where Jurian stood above the battle on a platform of shaped-mana. They swarmed up at him, only to impact a mana-shield. The leading bats were stunned, falling out of the sky, while those to the rear of the flock were able to turn aside at the last moment, peeling up and out before turning back and splitting to approach the archmage from all sides.

On the beach, the cultists were rallying. The enormous serpent closed its mouth around a shining wolf of blue and gold mana, tearing it in half. A man in jack of plate, wielding a warhammer and shield, rallied a knot of soldiers to his side, and they fell into a battle line. An old man in curious robes stretched out his withered arm, and a gout of flame erupted forth, sweeping across the beach to burn away nightmares, while his own sleeping allies, collapsed on the sand, lay below the billows of flame.

Worst of all, an massive figure, entirely armored in metal like the barons of a century ago, strode out across the sandbars, splashing through the breakers alone. It was madness: there was no way that he would be able to swim in even jack of plate, let alone encased in steel like he was.

Liv’s eyes flicked back up to Jurian. As the bats swarmed in, a dozen spikes of blue mana erupted out from his staff, sawing through the flocking forms, and dropping more winged creatures out of the sky, to fall into either the surf, or onto the wet sand below. Some of them turned back into people when they landed, screaming out in pain, but others simply lay unmoving, or were swallowed up by the sea.

An arrow whistled down from the roof of the dockmaster’s office; it struck the old man who was throwing fire, piercing through his extended forearm and cutting off his spell. He screamed, clutching his wounded arm to his chest. A nightmare spider the size of a horse nearly leapt upon him, in his moment of weakness, but the man with the warhammer grabbed the old man and pulled him back behind the line of soldiers.

With a thump, Wren dropped down from the roof and dashed over to Liv. “I should have known I’d find you here,” the huntress said, fitting another arrow to her bow. “Right in the middle of a mess.”

“They haven’t seen me yet,” Liv said. “Where were you?”

“Watching the warehouse,” Wren told her, leaning out around the corner of the building and loosing her arrow, then ducking back. “I followed them once they marched out, and once it was clear they were headed down to the bay, I went to warn Jurian.”

“Let me guess,” Liv said. “You couldn’t get past the barrier.”

“Went up right as I was coming in,” Wren confirmed. “So I came back here to watch and see what they were going to do. When Ractia’s commanders started piling out of the waystone, I knew I couldn’t do anything by myself. But if I can whittle down the numbers, Jurian can.”

“Tell me who I’m looking at,” Liv said.

“The withered old goat throwing fire is Aariv,” Wren told her. “From the east. He’s going to burn everything you put in front of him, but if you get someone up in his face, he’ll back up quick. The one commanding that line of soldiers is Manfred, and he’s going to be a problem. If we don’t take him out, the rest of his men will never break.”

“What about the crazy one walking out to the reef?” Liv asked.

“Karis,” Wren answered. “He’s an Antrian. Built, not born. That isn’t armor he’s wearing, Liv. That’s what he is: machinery through and through. I don’t think he even needs to breathe - he’s probably just going to keep right on walking, and let the waves rise over his head. I doubt it will bother him at all.”

“Alright,” Liv said, looking over the battlefield. “This is what we’re going to do. You focus on Aariv and Manfred. If you can wound them enough they have to retreat, all the better, but at least slow them down until Jurian’s done dealing with the bats. Those are your people, aren’t they?”

Wren nodded.

“Alright. I’m going to add to the numbers on our side,” Liv said. “And then I’ll go stop Karis. Whatever they’re after, it's in the ruins beneath the reef, and we can’t let them get it. Jurian can probably drive them back on his own, but I don’t know if he’s even noticed that thing, and once it's beneath the water, it’ll be too late. That must be their plan - everything else is to draw attention, to distract from what he’s going to do down there.”

“Don’t get yourself killed,” Wren chided her. “I don’t want to have to go back to Whitehill and tell everyone.”

“I’ll do my best,” Liv said. “First - Celent’he Encve Manim!” She drew her wand, stepped out from around the building, and pointed it down at the beach. Five soldiers of ice coalesced out of the air, wielding a mixture of swords and spears. She would have liked to have simply conjured them behind Manfred’s line, but she recalled how draining it had been to extend her chutes of ice down the mountain slopes at such a distance, so Liv conjured them not so far away, and then set them to charging down onto the beach from the flank, instead.

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Having bolstered the remaining force of nightmares, and trusting Wren to distract the leaders, Liv set her mind to getting out where she needed to be. Not for the first time, she envied Wren’s ability to turn into a bat and fly wherever she needed to. If Liv had wings, she’d simply swoop out over the beach and ignore the fighting. She could create a platform or a hand to ride, but both options were awkward. She was getting sick of having to cling to them with one hand.

“Aluthet Avia,” Liv intoned, shaping her intent. Gold and blue wisps of mana streamed out of her wand, gathering before her and forming into a winged construct in the shape of an enormous, oversized gyrfalcon. It stretched a wing out, and Liv carefully climbed up, settling her legs about its neck. She leaned in close, wrapped one arm around it, and wondered whether she could alter the spell to include a saddle and reins. Then, there was no more time for thought, because she was in the air.

With a powerful downbeat of its wings, the mana-construct carried Liv upward, above the roofs of the buildings that made up Coral Bay, over the beach in a moment, and then out above the bay, skimming over the waves faster than a horse could run. She caught up to the Antrian as it was descending the second sandbar, with waves crashing around its shoulders and head.

Liv clicked a button on her wand, and stabbed the length of enchanted bone out as she swooped past Karis on her conjured falcon. Needle-thin shards of adamant ice lanced down at the thing in the waves, but it merely raised its right arm. Vædic sigils flared to life, glowing a baleful red as if burned into the metal of Karis’ gauntlet, and a pane of blue mana intercepted Liv’s frozen shards before flickering out again.

The gyrfalcon banked, coming around for another pass, but this time Karis did not content himself with merely defending. The metal plates on his shoulders opened, revealing bundles of metal pipe, similar to the enchanted clay pipes that brought warm water into the bath chamber at High Hall. The pipes began to spin, barking out loud, concussive sounds like the impact of a blacksmith’s hammer on hot metal.

A cloud of - something - ripped into the conjured falcon that Luv was riding, tearing through the solidified construct of mana as easily as her own frozen shards might pierce unprotected flesh. Chunks of mana were ripped away, and the construct lost coherence, breaking apart into wisps and sparks of blue and gold light.

Liv had just enough time to close her eyes and hold her breath before she hit the water. She was tumbling so fast that it felt like hitting solid ground, and she could swear that she actually bounced once, in a bone-jarring spray of water, before going under.

She was grateful for the leather thong Jurian had insisted be attached to her wand, and Liv was certain that was the only reason she didn’t lose her weapon, for she certainly wasn’t able to hold onto it. She opened her eyes, despite the stinging of salt water, trying to get her bearings. Instead of sunlight, the harsh white glare of the still-open waystone filtered down through the shallow water, and she caught sight of the reef.

Liv's dress and armor were dragging her down, making it hard to move, even more difficult to swim. She kicked and pulled for the reef, struggling to make it before she couldn’t keep her mouth closed any longer. The coral was sharp when she reached out to grab it, cutting her hands, and Liv was grateful that she hadn’t tried to kick off her boots. She finally got her feet under her, and hoisted herself to the highest point of the coral, where a line of breakers crashed around her but she could at least get her head out of the water. She crouched there, gasping for air and thoroughly soaked, looking for any sign of the Antrian.

For a moment, Liv worried that she was too late. Back on the first sandbar, two of her soldiers were nothing more than chunks of ice, rapidly melting into the bay. The other three, combined with a handful of remaining nightmare constructs, still pressed Manfred and his armored troops. As Liv scanned the battle, she saw another arrow whistle down, this one taking a mercenary in the throat. Wren was still fighting, then.

Above the bay, Jurian had finished turning aside the Great Bats. Liv gave thanks when she saw a much-diminished colony wing their way back into the pillar of light that reached up from the waystone, vanishing. Back to Varuna, she guessed. Good. For all they were on the wrong side, they were Wren’s people, and Liv couldn’t imagine what the huntress must be feeling as she watched them die.

An eruption of fire roared up from behind Manfred’s lines, and it broke around a bubble of blue mana that protected Jurian from the magical assault. His platform lowered, and Liv realized the next phase of the battle would be fought between the Archmage and the fire-mage from the east, Aariv. But that wasn’t something she could help with right now. Had Karis already found his way into the ruins? Liv was just considering ripping away as much of her dress as she could, in order to dive, when a massive form broke up out of the water, clambering onto the reef not twenty feet from her.

“I knew the fall would not be enough to kill you,” Karis said, the Antrian’s voice a hollow, rumbling thing, utterly inhuman. “Not one of the rebel Cotheeria.” Liv recognized the word - it was old Vædic. ‘House Slave.’

“I’m not a slave,” Liv shouted back, her voice raised over the sound of the crashing surf.

“You look like one of Celris’ playthings,” the machine continued. “White hair. Blue eyes. Pale skin. Too young to be one of his daughters. Who are you?”

“Livara Tär Valtteri,” she answered. “My grandfather was Auris Ka Syvä, son of Celris.”

“Auris,” Karis echoed, and the horrid machine drew the sound out like a hissing of steam from a boiling kettle. “Yes, I knew your grandfather. Fought him. Does he still draw breath?”

“He died from his wounds,” Liv spat back, “after your people attacked the Hall of Ancestors.”

“Only meat, in the end,” Karis said, with a horrible rumbling sound that Liv realized must be laughter. “Even the son of a god grows old and weak. If you had half his wisdom, girl, you would flee now.” The armor on its shoulder moved aside again, revealing the bundle of tubes, and they began to spin up.

Liv clicked a second button on her wand, and drew it in a horizontal line across the uneven coral beneath her. A wall of adamant ice climbed upward, rising from the waves, and she ducked down beneath it, lowering her head as another series of rapid, sharp cracks erupted from the Antrian’s strange weapon. Impact after impact shook the wall, and for a moment Liv feared it wouldn’t hold. Finally, the horrible sounds stopped, and she chanced opening her eyes.

The wall was cracked and pitted, crumbling in front of Liv, but somehow it had stopped everything. There were strange pieces of metal trapped in the ice. Before Liv had any time to wonder what they were, or how they worked, a massive blade cleaved through what was left of the wall, and she had to throw herself backward, scrambling across the wet coral, cutting herself again on the sharp edges.

Karis stalked through the sundered wall of ice, shouldering aside crumbling chunks to make room for his enormous, armored body. The metal bundle of pipes at the construct’s shoulder was steaming, and had stopped spinning. Liv wondered whether that might be a weakness - if Karis’ strange weapon produced too much heat, could it be melted? For that matter, it was made entirely of steel, at least outwardly. Steel could be heated in a forged, made liquid, and reshaped. If she had a word like Master Grenfell’s, one that conjured fire, could she melt Karis away entirely?

There was no time to think any further, for that great blade, extended from Karis’ left arm, swung down at her. Now that there was no wall between them, Liv could see an edge of glowing blue light along the steel - an edge of raw mana?

“Aluthet Ai’Veh Demia!” Liv shouted, desperately rolling aside to avoid the blow. A bubble of solid blue mana, coruscating with veins of gold, leapt into existence around her body, and the blade rebounded off. Without giving Karis a chance to recover, Liv flicked her wand and spoke another incantation. “Celent Ai’Veh Creim!”

Karis raised its arm for another blow, and crystals of ice shot up from the surf all around him. They grew rapidly in clusters, hemming the war-machine in on all sides, grinding and crushing against its armored plates of steel. For a moment, Liv dared to hope that would be the end of it. The crystals were of adamant ice, and they should have been at least as strong as the Antrian’s armor.

She hadn’t counted on the mana-reinforced edge of Karis’ blade, or the mana-shield enchanted into its other arm. Once again, sigils lit up in burning red, and Karis used its shield on one side, and blade on the other, to crush and smash the crystals away, clearing a space around it until it could move freely once again.

“Is that all you have, Livara, daughter of slaves?” Karis rumbled. “How far your people have fallen. To think, they once had the power to strive against gods, and now, they are reduced to - this.” The Antrian waved its arm at her in contempt.

Liv let the bubble of mana around her flicker and die. She had only half a dozen rings of mana left, before she would need to begin drawing on what was stored in her pearl, her guild-ring, and the gold bracelet she’d won from the princess.

“Lucet Æ’Karis,” she gasped.

Above the bay, thunder rolled.