Shadow of the Otherverse (The Last Whisper of the Gods Saga Book 3) (39 page)

The reaction was instantaneous and, for the creature, cataclysmic. It jerked in mid-air as if suffering a seizure. The fire capering along its hide went out as if doused in water and it let out a wrenching bellow. There was a powerful detonation, louder than all the explosions caused by the fireballs, and the lifeless corpse dropped like a rock from the sky. But, even before it began to fall, Sorial pivoted and threw the weight of his power along a pathway of flecks stretching all the way to the second djinn. It was a reckless action; his first kill had made him a target, but he struck only seconds before his connection to the Otherverse was severed.

He connected with the creature, yanked as if pulling a rope, then felt nothing. His ability didn’t slip away like sands running through the neck of an hourglass. It was suddenly gone, as if a door had slammed shut. It was enough, however. The creature was flailing in mid-air, trying to stay aloft, but its fire was fading.  It took much longer to die than the first one but, eventually, it plummeted into the gorge in which Obis’ southern cliffs vanished.

Sorial was soaked. When Alicia’s power had deserted her, the carefully constructed water shield had collapsed, dousing him more thoroughly than a heavy rainstorm. Now, with wet robes clinging to him like a second skin in sub-freezing temperatures and without any magical protection, he remembered what it was like to be truly miserable in a Winter setting. Not since his days working in the stable had he been this cold.

Two djinn dead. It was as much as he could have hoped for. Justin would never have allowed for a greater body count, not where his prized instruments were concerned. It was quieter on this part of the wall now that they were gone, but the other six continued their work and there was nothing Sorial could do to slow them or repair their accumulating damage. At least they had forced Justin’s hand, and he had reacted as Sorial had surmised. Alicia hadn’t been the only wizard to learn the trick. The unanswered question was whether Justin had mastered it to the level where he could reverse it from within. Did he know the elves’ secret or was he bound by the rules that constrained Alicia?

It was strange not being able to sense the rock beneath his foot and the soil and stone on which the city was erected. It had been more than a year since Sorial had lived like this, unencumbered by an all-encompassing awareness of the earth around him. He hadn’t realized how different everything had become, how much it had all changed. Now, with that removed, he felt naked and vulnerable, helpless and weak.

He could tell Alicia was coping better than he was with the situation, but she had experienced this already. In fact, she had lived on the other continent within a void. Plus, her body was whole. He was more aware than ever of his missing arm and leg. The stone spur was little more than a crutch and not designed for navigation down a long flight of stairs. Alicia led the way and two of the guards helped him, eventually carrying him between them. When they reached the ground, Sorial was able to move under his own power, although his hobbling gait was painfully slow.

The initial plan, which had called for them to descend into the tunnels, had to be delayed. Sorial, whose teeth were already chattering, needed to dry out and warm up. The same was true of Alicia, who was as soaked as he was. The guards helped them into The Citadel and they sat on one of the stone benches surrounding the great fire that blazed in a pit large enough to burn whole tree trunks.

“An auspicious beginning,” said Alicia. She pushed back the hood of her robe. Her damp blond hair was pasted to her face and head. Her lips were blue but she wasn’t shivering as badly as Sorial. He kept his hood up.

“We didn’t get killed, if that’s what you mean,” he said.

“And two djinn are gone.”

“Now it gets really dangerous. But I just had an idea…” It felt strange, sitting so close to a gargantuan fire and not worrying about being spied on by Justin’s prying eyes. That at least was one advantage to the void, because if Justin heard what Sorial was suggesting, he would have been able to prepare a nasty rebuttal.

* * *

It was early afternoon when they entered the tunnel that would lead them where they needed to go. Its egress wasn’t ideal but it would get them close enough. They would emerge behind the lines and the rest - or at least much of it - would be up to the eighteen able militiamen who accompanied them. With magic dead, they were in many ways more important than the two they protected. Neither Sorial nor Alicia would be effective in a combat situation. Once, Sorial had been on his way to becoming a middling swordsman but that had been another lifetime. It was difficult for a one-armed, one-legged man to defend even himself with a knife, which is why Sorial didn’t carry one.

It was difficult to predict how things were going to progress. This was a guerilla operation, an attempt to cut off the snake’s head. It was a calculated risk, designed to force a confrontation. Sorial was no master of military tactics but, in his mind, the chances of winning were slim if he and his wife joined Queen Myselene in a place of safety while awaiting the return of magic. The walls would fall, the armies would battle and, in the end, it seemed unlikely the defenders would prevail. The dragon and djinn tipped the balance and, even with the ammunition Sorial had provided, it wouldn’t be possible to eradicate them all. In Sorial’s view, taking the battle to Justin, even with the odds of survival well below even, was a better option than sitting and waiting for the end.

“If he dies without releasing the void, Obis will forever be magic-free,” said Alicia, more to hear the sound of her voice than because she wanted to start a conversation. Being underground had always made her nervous. Now, stripped of her powers, she felt abnormally exposed. The claustrophobia of old had returned.

Sorial had no such issues, being comfortable buried under tons of dirt and rock even though the tunnel was unstable. Parts had already begun to sag and there were some minor cave-ins that took time to clear. That was the downside of digging too many tunnels in such a short time. In a season’s passage, most would be impassable or gone entirely, but they had never been intended to last.

“That would present an interesting challenge for future generations,” said Sorial. “The void wouldn’t die with Justin?”

“No. There’s no reason it would. At the Yu’Tar Library, the djinn killed all the elves and it continued. The conduit blockage needs to be removed; it doesn’t just go away. Maybe some future wizard will work out how to lift it but, if not, Obis could become a powerful gathering place for anti-magic dissidents.”

“You’re assuming a lot.”

“Just speculating and trying to be positive. I’d accept that future over any number of less savory ones, most of which end up with you and me dead. I have an irrational fondness for any opportunity that allows us to spend even a few more days or weeks together.”

It was a long journey and Sorial’s disability forced them to move at a slower pace than any of them would have preferred. Fortunately, with Justin’s magical abilities negated, there was no need to make the trip in darkness - something that would have unnerved Alicia even more. She held her husband’s hand the entire way, drawing strength from his calm. His palm was warm and dry. Hers was cool and clammy.

“We’re under the main body of the army now,” said one of the guards, lowering his voice as if it could be detected through twenty feet of earth. Down here, all was silent except their footfalls and the occasional clanking of a weapon. Not even the thunderous explosions from the city walls could be heard this deep.

Sorial couldn’t help but fantasizing about the damage he could wreak at this moment if he had control of his powers - things he could have done at Vantok if he had possessed the experience and knowledge and hadn’t been lured away to duel the efreet. But regrets were pointless. The past was fixed, immutable. Not so the future, which was why he was limping along on a stone leg on a journey that could generously be called arduous. All or nothing, now rather than later. And the winner would get to deal with the Otherverse. Maybe the loser would be the lucky one.

Time passed at a slug’s pace. Sorial imagined he could hear things through the earth but he knew that was a trick of the mind. Still, he could sense that the floor was angling gently upward toward the point where the tunnel would terminate. At that location, they would be about two-thousand feet from Justin’s position, assuming he hadn’t moved.

“What now?” asked the guard. The tunnel had come to an abrupt halt at a dead-end. “A collapse?”

“No. This is it. The way out. I couldn’t leave an opening for the enemy to find. Time to dig.”

* * *

Carannan surveyed the battle, his face a mask of grim determination. He was helpless. His men were helpless. The enemy was massed out in the field but they were beyond arrow range. Every time he tried to load a catapult, one of the djinn noticed it and blew it apart. The archers were taking heavy casualties. Arrows fired at the djinn were ineffective; they burned up before touching the creatures. Thus far, only two of the giant enemies had fallen, killed by Sorial. Not counting the two Justin held back, six remained to continue their relentless pounding and now, apparently, the wizards had lost their powers. He had been warned this might happen but knowing didn’t make it easier when facing the reality. Meanwhile, hundreds of his soldiers were dead with a greater number injured.

At the moment, he was waiting. Sorial had provided ammunition that could be lobbed by sling at the djinn. To Carannan, they looked like ordinary rocks but Sorial had assured him they would be singularly effective against the fiery enemy, although no more useful than regular stones if used against men or the as-yet unseen dragon.

This was Carannan’s second battle in as many seasons. A half-year ago, he had watched his home city collapse under the relentless assault of a smaller version of this invading army. He hoped some of the lessons he learned during that engagement could be put to use here.  Of course, his own situation was different. At Vantok, he had been one of the men holding the line, fighting back-to-back with Rotgut, an anonymous soldier with a sword trying to survive. Now, he was the one in charge of the battle plan. In theory, his life expectancy might be better this time. Generally, high-ranking generals survived wars unless they were rash enough to enter the fighting. Justin, however, didn’t play by the time-honored rules for prisoners of high rank. His treatment of Overcommander Vikon and King Azarak was proof of that. So, just because he wasn’t likely to be skewered by a sword in the field was no guarantee that he’d see another morning. Still, after his miraculous escape from death in Widow’s Pass, he considered every new moment a gift.

“Djinn in our era,” mused General Krukshang, Carannan’s hand-picked second-in-command, his tone more wondering than shocked. One of the top men in Obis’ army, he had a good mind for strategy and had been steadfast in his support for Queen Myselene. “I never would have believed it if I hadn’t seen it. First wizards, now djinn. It’s like the story book my old mam read to me as a boy come alive. And you say there’s a dragon, too?”

Carannan nodded. Where, he wondered, was the dragon, the most terrifying of all beasts Justin could summon? He didn’t like surprises and the creature’s absence bespoke one. Its arrival would petrify even the most stolid soldiers. The overcommander had to admit that the men had reacted surprisingly well to the djinn, in part due to rigorous preparation. Seeing something wasn’t the same as being told but only a few showed signs of panic. It might be different when the dragon appeared: a great, fire-belching, winged lizard swooping from the sky to kill men by the dozens.

“The walls will hold, don’t you think?” asked Krukshang. “Mighty strong they are. Nothing’s ever come close to breaching them. Can’t believe this upstart with his magic monsters will be the first one.” There was false bravado in the words; Carannan didn’t miss the worry. The man was asking for reassurance.

In fact, Carannan didn’t think the walls would hold - not for another hour, never mind the rest of the battle. Already, they looked on the verge of collapse - blackened, pitted, with small chunks missing near the top and noticeable cracks forming. The most solid was the south wall, which was no longer under relentless attack, but it was only a matter of time before the other three came down. Then the enemy would swarm into the streets.

“Order all the non-archers to pull back from the walls and retreat to their fallback positions,” said Carannan. A half-dozen couriers scurried from the room to relay the order. The overcommander envied the communications network established by the army of Obis. There were always couriers and messengers on hand to deliver orders and the flow of incoming information was nonstop.

A solider rushed up to Carannan, his chest heaving from the effort of running up 200 steps in full armor. “Overcommander,” he panted after executing a flawless bow. “General Maxtus reports that the wizards have left the city. They’re in the tunnels.”

At last!

“Pass the word to the sling commanders. All men in each group to target the same djinn. Commence as planned, on my mark.” Odd that they would use fire - the enemy’s element - as the means by which to signal the attack. But Sorial had said it would be safe, at least for a while, and it was the most effective way to synchronize the barrage. A cord of dry, aged wood was stacked on The Citadel’s roof. All that remained was for Carannan to give the command to have it lighted.

He waited for what seemed like an eternity, each minute stretching out like an hour. Finally, another messenger approached: the sling commanders were set. He turned to another runner: “Let them light the fire.”