Page 14

CAMBION

Mercenary Stronghold

The beaker cracks and sizzles. Liquid pours onto my hands and I toss yet another failed experiment into the refuse pile. Zir doesn’t seem to be making much progress either as we stretch our minds to the limit to find solutions for the…

BOOM!

The sound is deafening. Dust falls from the ceiling. I drop to the ground as the mortal realm quakes beneath a relentless force. Zir climbs to her feet first and helps me to mine. We hurry to the ladder at the far end of her lab that leads back to the streets.

Noni runs right into my legs. A hobgoblin toddles along beside her. The house brownie bounces up and down, gripping my pants tightly.

“Mr. Cambion! Mr. Cambion! The Stronghold is under attack. Master and the others are fighting. Noni no find Mr. Flumph!”

I drop to my knees and lift Noni into my arms. The hobgoblin climbs me like a tree without invitation.

I recognize him as Bombri, the assistant of the head scribe at the archives.

His job is to keep track of all history pertaining to the ancient humans.

Instead, he spends most of his time adapting to their old habits.

The hobgoblin perches on my back and strikes a match to light a tobacco roll hanging off his lip.

“Don’t worry, I’ll tell you everything!” the little creature squeals.

He has tiny eyes and a hook nose. Bombri’s thick eyebrows cover most the top half of his face while the other half is dominated by a protruding chin.

His body is slender, but his feet are much larger than any normal hobgoblin’s.

Jagged teeth—stained with whatever he last ate—flash as he speaks above Noni.

“There I was minding my own business in the tombs, when all of a sudden, I hear a low growl. It stops me in my tracks and I’m shitting myself at this point.”

“Get to it,” I demand.

“Fine. Fine. That was when I saw the ass end of something out of my nightmares. You ever see that 2004 Hellboy movie? Not good, not bad, but just sorta meh.”

“No, seeing as it doesn’t exist anymore.”

“I have a copy in my room next to the stack of yellowed nudie mags I found in the archives,” Bombri snickers.

“Anyway. There’s this freaky demon in the movie.

It’s sorta blue with a bunch of spidery eyeballs and tentacle things.

It’s real ugly and probably smells worse than Flumph after that bean stew the cooks make.

Anyway, the thing is unkillable and can regenerate. ”

“How is that relevant?”

“’Cause if whatever I just say is the same thing I saw in the archives, then we got a big problem! I’ll sacrifice all of you tall ones to strike my name off the lunch menu of that thing.” Bombri tumbles from my back as I hurry down the passageway without much thought on his demon.

The hobgoblin follows.

Noni points me in the right direction and I see more forces approaching the stronghold in the distance.

She squeals and hides in my jacket. I race back down the alley and throw open the door to the Mage’s Sanctuary.

So caught up in their studies, none of the mages realize the fortress is under attack.

“All of you come with me. We have to stagger the attack so we aren’t overwhelmed. ”

The mages follow me to the walls that haven’t been touched by Variant’s magic. We scale to the top and climb over, placing ourselves between the massive forces and the Mercenary Stronghold.

“On my mark, funnel your power into my shield!” I shout above the bang and clang of iron armor that races towards us. The orcs and demons get closer. Beasts with wings and pointed ears swoop down from the sky. I wait until the very last second. “Now!”

With the strength of the guild at my back, the force of the shield knocks the army several meters away from the stronghold.

They bash their hammers and axes against the invisible barrier with seething anger.

I can feel the powerful shield spreading all the way around the decrepit walls.

The archmages step forward to lend me a hand.

I use the brief moment of relief to tap into my communication ring.

Above me, I see Myerdoth and Dragan fighting the winged demons.

“What the hell is it? Can’t you see I’m busy?!” the former King of Shadows barks at me over the device.

“I see no end to Variant’s forces,” I respond. “He’s using Oronrel’s soldiers and Morrigan’s army. If the angels show up, then we have no hope of surviving. We must act now.”

Dragan sighs over the com. “What do you suggest?”

“We must evacuate any survivors and pray we find refuge elsewhere.”

The others tap into the channel one by one. Baron’s snarls are an equal match for Dragan’s grumbling. “Even if half the people in the stronghold have been killed, that’s still a lot of people to walk through the desert without a portal or a gateway nearby,” the vampire cuts in.

“It’s a risk we’ll have to take if any of us are going to make it,” I respond.

“How do we get all of those people out of here without Variant detecting us?” Dragan asks.

I grit my teeth and push more power into the shield.

“We’ll need a distraction. If I get a potion from Baron to rejuvenate my power, I can drop the shield long enough for Theren and me to force the army back while Pyre casts a portal.

Even if it won’t take us far, it’ll buy us enough time to get as many people to safety as possible.

Once we find a place where we can hunker down, we can send scouts back to search for survivors.

But we must act now. I’m getting weaker. ”

Zir’s voice rings through the com louder than all the others. “The southern gate has been breached,” she reports.

“I’m nearly drained, but I think I can do it,” Pyre says. “I’ll need Baron’s help.”

***

THEREN

Mercenary Stronghold

The conversation in my head comes to an end.

I look up to where Pyre fires an endless stream of arrows.

Though I don’t know how my presence will be accepted, I kick a demon back and leap onto the roof of a building near me.

Several of the winged creatures drop down beside me.

I sprint, jumping from one roof to the next as I use my magic to attack my pursuers.

The tower is there in front of me. I jump, catching the edge of the brick with my fingers.

Pyre reaches down and pulls me up. A heartbeat later, the necromancer notches another arrow and fires it at the creatures hunting me.

He lowers his mask and stares me in the eyes with an unnatural violet gaze.

“You need to use your magic,” he hisses. His face is ashen. The spirit eyes disappear and he is once again sightless. Pyre replaces the mask and yet his aim is just as accurate.

“Why do you use eyes if you don’t need them?” I ask as I use the end of one of his arrows to slice open my palm.

“My bow is one with my body. It knows all. But... my eyes can’t see Eilish.

I needed to be certain she was alright before I redirected my power.

” Pyre covers me as I summon the Staff of Scorn.

He watches with surprised eyes as the staff responds to me.

“I must admit I’m shocked to see you’ve mastered blood magic to the extent that the staff obeys you.

It’s a feat not many have accomplished.”

I smile at him. “Did you just compliment me?”

“Your magic, not your personality,” he quips. “There you could still use improvement.” Pyre’s off-beat humor causes me to laugh quietly. He is... unusual, but I feel as if he understands me more than others do. Actually, I’m quite sure he understands everyone.

“I find it inspiring that you broke your vows of chastity for Eilish. Furthermore, you’ve given up half of your guardianship to Baron.”

Pyre leaps over me, where I crouch beside him, and fires three arrows at once. I stand with the Staff of Scorn in my hands, bracing myself for the flood of magic preparing to erupt from my body.

Pyre summons a storm. It brews overhead, washing the desert stronghold in a curtain of rain. It obscures the orcs’ vision as they slam into one another. A clever trick, I must admit.

Pyre looks at me then. “The Sons of Elioth have been given gifts tied directly to your father’s bloodline. If Elioth dies, that power will leave you.”

“You think my father will rise?”

Pyre falls silent as we fight. Variant’s gaze is on us. He thrusts his palm towards the tower and lightning strikes the stone, causing it to buckle. The tower falls slowly at first and then so quickly, I act on instinct alone.

I toss Pyre with a burst of magic and he collapses to the sands below.

I am quick to follow but an excruciating pain explodes from my leg as part of the tower crushes me beneath it.

Pyre straps his bow to his back and lifts the stones away from my leg as I try not to scream with the agony.

I look down at the damage and instantly wish I hadn’t. The bone protrudes from the skin.

“Don’t use all your power to heal me,” I tell him through pained breaths. “Save it for the portal.”

An Unseelie spellcaster sneaks up on Pyre.

I grab Pyre and spin, taking the blow to my back.

I grab the staff from the ground and use the bladed end to slice open my stomach.

Blood pours from my middle, but the mystical wound brings me no pain.

Hundreds of orcs fall as blood flows like a river.

I absorb their life forces to heal the wounds on my body.

“The radius of your spell is too wide,” Pyre says. “Taking out that many enemies will drain you too quickly.”

He covers me once more. We fight side by side in a way that summons memories of Cambion and I training in our youth. Pyre’s words about my father bring forth a lot of questions I haven’t asked myself. Meanwhile, Pyre sets to healing me as quickly and potently as he can.

The area around us is clear. “Go to the others,” I say to him. “I’ll find my. We have to start the evacuation soon or else it’ll be too late to save these people.”

“Farewell, Theren.”

He disappears before my eyes as if he never existed.

No puff of smoke or shroud of shadow, just nothingness.

I run along the remnants of the wall in search for Cambion.

My brother’s magic is hard to detect in the middle of all of the mages, but I follow the blood in my veins that always tries to lead us back to each other.

My heart nearly stops when I see an orc blade piercing through his weakening shield, missing Cambion by just a few inches. He looks up and meets my stare.

Desperation fills his gaze.

I know now that my brother doesn’t think we will survive.