Regret's Shadow (Sins of Earth Trilogy) (24 page)

Hade was inches away from the booted foot of the archmage, his vision still blurred from pain and whatever magic had been used against him. 

His hand came forward with his knife.  H
e was going to slash the man’s Achilles tendon.  He doubted even a powerful sorcerer could ignore that kind of injury.

Suddenly the boot stomped on his hand.  He screamed in pain as the
small bones shattered.  Black spots danced before his eyes, but despite the agony, his other hand reached forward to grip Tolwyn’s ankle. 

He’d had enough.

With a roar of rage, Hade yanked the man’s foot out from under him, and the wizard went down on his ass.  Even in his state, Hade heard the old man’s hip crack like a log on a fire. 

Pain was threatening his consciousness as he slumped to feel the cold stone on his cheek.

Reynolt sagged as the assault on his will ended.  His breath heaved like a bellows, and he looked up to see Tolwyn groaning on the ground, Hade sprawled out at his feet.  The young wizard summoned what remained of his strength, gripped his spear, and ran to the captain’s side.

Ethelrynne lost the last of her patience
.  She whipped her blade in a blinding pattern, while Calistra matched her with her sword.  The staccato of their clash rang through the chamber.  The baroness lost her cocky grin.

Finally, there was a split second where Emberlock missed a step.  It was a minor mistake that would never have been noticed by any of t
he others in the room, but the princess of the elves was no normal swordswoman. 

She set her body
slightly at an open angle to the baroness, and even though the woman was off-balance, she couldn’t resist the opening.

As Calistra lunged, Ethelrynne pivoted and brought her blade down in a semicircle.  The glamoured blade sheared through metal
, flesh, and bone, sending the baroness’s sword - and the hand holding it - spinning across the floor.

Emberlock let out an inarticulate screech that was cut short as Ethelrynne swept her head from her shoulders on the reverse stroke.  Her corpse sank to its knees
, gushing red, and then kiltered over as the glow from the green blade dimmed.

The p
rincess let out a shuddering sigh, bringing her blade to a guard position.  She looked around, noticing the team mopping up the last of Emberlock’s troops, and Reynolt moving to a prone Hade.

Fear sliced into her heart
as she ran to her fallen lover.

“He’s alive,” Reynolt said in a voice raspy with weariness, “But he’s been banged-up pretty good.”

Ethelrynne knelt to Hade’s side, as Reynolt stood and hefted his spear.

Hade looked up at her.

“Goddamn wizard packs a wallop,” he croaked.  She couldn’t help but grin, despite his obvious pain. 

She looked up as Reynolt stepped to the unconscious
archmage, spear raised to strike.  Her grin pulled into a grim line as the spear descended.

A wrinkled
hand shot up to grab the haft of the spear, stopping its descent.  Reynolt’s eyes widened in shock, as Tolwyn looked up at him, eyes still glowing.  The young wizard’s grip loosened as he felt his will being drained once more.

Tolwyn’s body rose from the ground weirdly, as if his heels were on a hinge with the floor.  As he reached his full height, his feet floa
ted an inch or two off the stones.  Reynolt shuddered under his gaze, as Ethelrynne gasped and stood, knowing she’d be too late to save the young wizard.

The victorious smile on Tolwyn’s lips froze as a blade ripped through his heart to thrust through the front of his robes.  He looked down at the blood-slicked length of steel, before the light in his eyes went out and he collapsed to the floor, dead.

Everyone looked in astonishment at the harried form of Dramus Hiltsman, still holding the bloody blade, and looking at the group with a mixture of surprise and determination. 

No one spoke.

The young scribe stepped forward and held up a small device with blinking numbers.

“I’m Dramus
Hiltsman, and I hold the death of thousands in my hand.” 

He looked
at each stunned person in turn.

“Help me
stop it.”

They raced through the corridors, carrying Hade along as best they could, while Dramus ran through a hasty explanation of what had happened. 

It took a fair bit of wording.

“If we can get far enough from the city, I can use my gift to transmute the weapon’s energy into light and sound,” Reynolt huffed.

“It should mitigate the damage to the city.”

“The…ship,” Hade gasped. 

Reynolt nodded, and gingerly took the core from Dramus.  He got a quick imp
ression of the thing’s power and repressed a shudder at its magnitude.

Five minutes later the group was standing on the warehouse roof,
reuniting with the crew of the airship.  Reynolt addressed the others.

“The power of this device is beyond anything I’ve encountered.  It’s quite possible I won’t be able to contain the entire blast.”

The group looked at each other and back to the wizard as the weight of what he was saying hit home.

“There must be another way,” Hade began.  He was standing as best he could with the help of Ethelrynne.

“No time,” Reynolt held up the timer.

7
:34

No one could argue with that.

He climbed aboard the ship, ordering the others to disembark.  Ms. Willow stood at the helm, resolute.

“Time to go,” Reynolt told her, jerking his head toward the others.

“You can’t fly this thing and do what you need to do,” she observed.

They stared at each other a moment, as meaning passed between them.

“Ms. Willow…” Franz breathed, fear widening his eyes.  She smiled sadly at him.

“Gotta be done, my friend.  We all play our part,” she looked back at Reynolt,
her gaze steady.

He
nodded ever-so-slightly.

“Alright, let’s fly.”

She took them up as the others looked on with a mix of anxiety and encouragement.

“It should be me going,” Dramus said.  His eyes were shadowed by sorrow. 

Hade put his good hand on the scribe’s shoulder.  Dramus turned to regard him.

“They know what’s at stake,” he nodded toward the receding ship.

“We all do.  It’s why Drejth can’t win.  Every one of us comes from a different place, with different backgrounds.  By rights we probably couldn’t agree on how to fry and egg properly.

“
In the end, however, each of us is can set aside our differences to succeed,” he looked up for a moment.

“
Each is willing to lay it all on the line to save our people,” returning his gaze to the scribe, he gave him a grim smile.

“It’s something people like the baroness, or Malavarius Drejth will never understand.”

Dramus looked doubtful, but returned his gaze to the shrinking airship.

“It still feels wrong.”

Hade could only nod.

Above,
Reynolt went into the cabin and retrieved a candle from the nightstand, as well as the pillowcase.  He quickly broke the candle and moved back to the helm.

“These might help…I’m not sure.  It’s possible your ears will burst,” he looked apolog
etic as he slid the wax into Ms. Willow’s ears.

He leaned in close, so she could hear.

“When it’s time, shield yourself as best you can behind the helm.  I’ll be facing away from you, so some of the light will be blocked by my body.”

She nodded quickly.  Tears were welling in her eyes, although from the wind or fear, he couldn’t tell.  She shot a glance to the device in his hand.

4:45

Her heart raced.  Biting her lower lip, she prayed that she’d have the strength to keep the ship airborne.

Reynolt tied the pillowcase around her head, covering her eyes and ears.  He then walked to the bow, ragged and exhausted, but running on adrenaline.

He could feel the core’s massive power, lurking, waiting for release.  He knew that it would be a massive discharge, like not
hing he’d experienced before.  Briefly, he wondered again if it would kill him.

2:00

He leaned slightly to look over the edge.  The land below was fading, in the dim light it appeared as a finely detailed drawing.  Lights had winked on in the city, like fireflies holding court.

1:00

The air was cold, and it was getting harder to breathe.  He turned to Ms. Willow and gave a nod before sitting down with the core in front of him. 

Ms. Willow hunkered behind the helm’s pedestal, stretching one arm to maintain
contact with the orb, cringing against the coming blast.

Flexing fingers growing numb, Reynolt reached for the core.  Fear knotted his gut, but he growled it into obedience.

0:10

Without further thought, he began to siphon the power. 
At first there was nothing; no reaction.  He briefly wondered if there was no threat, if the young stranger had been mistaken.  As the timer ticked away the last seconds, he felt the hair on the back of his neck rise; something was happening.

0:00

He was nearly crushed as the power overwhelmed him.  It was all he could do to simply hold on to consciousness.

He fought with everything he had to keep up with its outpouring of energy.
  The skin of his hands and arms began to bubble.  The pain was everything.

I can’t do this…

An ache of catastrophic proportions started in his arms as the energy rippled his bones.  The nightmare blast struggled against the shackles he sought to bind it with.

I HAVE to do this!

His senses dulled as a single moment stretched thin; the struggle of a lifetime contained in the blink of an eye.

Finally
, he lost all sense of himself; all he knew was the white-hot fire of a fusion reaction.

In the city below, r
evelers looked to the heavens as a bloom of light erupted across the night sky, blocking out the moon and stars.  A resounding boom shook the buildings of Galloway, shattering windows, and sending dogs yelping.

Hade and the others flinched away, covering their faces.  Blinking rapidly, they all searched the sky for any sign of their companions.

“There,” Ethelrynne pointed.

The airship was in freefall. 
The rosey glow of the mystical globes was faint, but a plume of smoke trailed its descent, marking it against the deep blue background.

“Oh no,” Franz moaned.  Dillon put a hand on his shoulder.

The air howled as Ms. Willow struggled for consciousness.  Even with the protective measures they’d taken, the blast had been too much for her.  Clawing her way up from darkness took everything she had.  Trembling fingers reached for the helm, fumbling as the ship plummeted.

Finally she made contact with the orb and beg
an to pour her magic into it. 

At first, nothing happened.  Then, with heartbreaking slowness, th
e ship eased its descent.  The wind dulled, and every muscle in Ms. Willow’s body tensed in anticipation of the impact.

Finally, the ship stopped.  It didn’t crash, it halted.
 

She pulled the blindfold from her face
, squinting to see buildings closed around her.  A woman was looking out of an apartment window directly at her, an expression of shock upon her face. 

Ms. Willow
rose to unsteady feet. Blinking away spots and hearing only ringing in her ears, and looked over the side. 

The cobblestones waited merely ten feet below.

Most remembered the return to Freehold as a blur.

They had first stopped at the baron’s palace, where his physicians had examined the comatose Reynolt. 

His wounds were terrible.  Both hands and arms to the elbows were blackened wreckage.  His clothing smoldered, and his face was cracked and red. 
Time and again he moaned, in agony despite being unconscious.

The doctors stabilized him as best they could, but informed the group that the king had the best healers in the Realm, and they should make all haste to the capital.

Hade gave a hurried report to the baron, before the large man shooed them off to save their friend. 

Time
oozed by in agitating slowness.

Finally
, they made the royal palace as dawn sent its first fingers of light across the clouds.  This time, the guards made no protest at a flying ship soaring over the walls.

There was a crush of people that swarmed the craft in the courtyard.  The king and queen, aides, guards, alchemists, and healers rushed to learn what had happened, help the party get to the kings’ solar, and offer succor to the wounded.

“I can imagine you’ve got quite a tale to tell,” Remiel said when everyone (save the comatose Reynolt) was comfortably seated in the solar.

“You can say that again,” Hade said, wincing as he reached for an offered glass of wine, only to switch to his good hand.  He took
a few gulps, eager to feel the warmth soothe his aching body.

“The important thing is, the baroness is dead and her plot died with her,” Ethelrynne said seriously.

The king nodded gravely.

“None of our efforts would have mattered if not for the bravery of young Master Hiltsman, here,” Jericho laid a hand on the nervous monk’s shoulder.

Remiel regarded Dramus with upraised eyebrows.

“Is that so?”

The king moved to shake hands with the anxious young man.

“You’ve won the gratitude of your king, and the entire Realm
.”

“Th-thank you, Your Highness,” Dramus stammered.
  He was at a loss.

The queen cleared her throat, “I think these folks have neen through a lot, Remiel. 
Perhaps we should allow them time to rest and recuperate before we go into those specifics.”

Many in the group were visibly relieved at Mirabelle’s words.  The king took the hint.

“Indeed.  We will speak later, when you’ve had time to heal. 

“Please know that you all have my deepest thanks.  Stout
citizens like you make me proud to be your king.”

He nodded to Ethelrynn, “Or your ally.”

She smiled honestly in return.

Two days passed, and the king and his advisors were sufficiently satisfied with the report of the Galloway incident provided by the group.  There was much to discuss, and plans were put in motion to head off the widening threat.

Drejth had been thwarted, but it was only a matter of time before he resurfaced.  The king planned to be ready

The queen organized a small celebration, disguised as one of her frequent socials.  An official victory party would invite all the wrong kinds of questions. 

Just the same, it was a chance for the heroes of Galloway to enjoy their success and they each relished it in their own ways.

Evening found the courtyard bedecked with lanterns of many colors, ribbons, and balloons.  The stables had been converted into a stage for a lively band of minstrels.  Long trestles had been moved outdoors and filled from end to end with culinary delights.

Hade danced with Ethelrynne, his wounds on the mend thanks to some healing magic provided by the Royal Alchemist.
 

They both knew that they’d be heading to Vizerburg in the morning, to begin the hard work of stopping the goblin advance.  But for now, they’d saved the Realm for a
few days, and that was good enough.

Dramus had been debriefed and b
athed and swaddled in fine new clothing.  The king had again personally congratulated him on his role in the success of the mission.  The young man had swelled with pride. 

Currently he sat at a desk in the stateroom he’d been provided with, penning a letter to
Gwyneth.  He felt out of place amongst the nobles and the merrymaking.  Dramus longed for home.

He’d been assured he would be returning to the Temple of
the Sacred Scroll in short order, but he wanted to let her know that he was okay, and that he’d explain everything. 

It helped to get his thoughts on paper. 
He just hoped that his friend would believe him, let alone understand what he’d had to do.

Even so
, he smiled as he wrote, thankful to be alive; thankful that he hadn’t destroyed a city to remain so.

Reynolt
slept in a massive bed in the palace.  Attended by a gaggle of nurses, his wounds were cleaned and dressed.  His hands were mangled, charred, and would likely need amputation. 

He hadn’t regained consciousness
since his ordeal with the bomb, but he’d been given healing unguents, and the Royal Alchemist assured the others that their friend would recover.

On the balcony above
the courtyard, Jericho Darkcloak stood just behind the king, silent as a shadow.

Remiel Van Uther looked down at the heroes assembled below, and thought of the young man in
his stateroom upstairs.  They’d saved the Realm, and, perhaps more importantly, saved his secret.

People of such caliber were incredibly valuable.  They would help him secure his rule
and beat back the goblin tide.

Still,
they had learned too much. 

So it was w
ith a heavy heart that he and Jericho returned to his solar, to begin planning ways to eventually eliminate them.