Chapter 14

  Take a stroll up the stairs and kill a man, that was what Ag told himself as he took the steps two at a time. That was all they had to do, that was all that was left at the end of this botched job, except this man could throw lighting. He’d never backed out of a job, even near the end of his tour of sorts with the Black Hand and now didn’t seem like the time to start. All that talk of survival and here he was, ready to take on a red captain with a Therudi. The world really had gone to hell.

  Nacine had drawn a long, single edged sword with a sweeping crossguard on the blade side. It was polished steel with inlays and symbols masterfully cut into its length. This was a sword very clearly not made by men. From its style and structure it was not a sword made for war but for one on one dueling. It was a far cry from Huk, in both style and make. A pinnacle of one’s craft made with elegance, while Ag’s weapon was made for function and adorned with the spoils of combat.

  The stairwell was illuminated with a pale light that emanated from Nacine. Her eyes glowed a ghostly white blue and even her skin seemed suffused with power. Her face was set with determination, revenge, Ag guessed, was what drove her on. Vengeance for her fallen kin.

  They climbed flight after flight, Flat stretches that marked floors blurred together until Ag didn’t know how high they’d climbed, only that his legs burned and air seemed very hard to get. The tower shuddered, almost imperceptibly. Power hummed through the walls filling the air with an eerie vibrating song. It wasn’t a good song, that much was obvious.

  Calls echoed up the stairs, stone skins, just what they needed. If Nacine heard them she didn’t even flinch, her pace stayed the same resolute stride. They were nearing the top, the humming was louder and cracks of thunder resounded through the stairwell. Red light bounced off the walls, fighting with the blue and white of Nacine. The calls were growing louder, footsteps sounded and scrapes against the stone of the spire.

  A door appeared as they followed the curve of the tower. The door was double wide, made of hardened oak and bound with iron. The end of the climb. The calls were louder than ever, the wretched servants of the red captain heeding their masters' call.

  “Guard the door.” Nacine ordered. She stood before the mighty doors, small in comparison to their height and width. “I’ll handle the red captain.”

  Ag nodded, and together they pushed on the doors. With a creak of ill tended hinges they opened and revealed their final challenge. The room was wide and well decorated, a huge bed and dresser on one side with a solid desk on the other. Beyond was a balcony that overlooked the mountains and fortress surrounding the spire and stood upon it was their quarry. The sky roiled with lightning, the deafening thunder that followed rang throughout the room. Nacine stepped forward, her glow burning twice as bright as before, as Ag turned to face the door and the creatures that followed them.

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  Balasar Stood atop the Scarlet Spire, his cloak whipped by the wind, his hands clutching the railing. The sky boiled with thunder and lightning and the rain was whipped by the wind. A storm had gathered, summoned to aid him, or so the voices whispered. The lighting had a bloody tinge to it as it crept ever closer to the spire.The wretched huntress had held against him, Balasar, lord of the spire, undone by a Therudi and her vindictive god. If he’d had more time, more information, he might have made a new race of stone skins, or elevated himself nearly to the level of a god. Time had run out.

  The door behind him was thrown open and that cursed huntress stepped in, bristling with power. A ripple of light appeared between them, another shield to ward off his blows in drain his strength but he had strength to spare. In a flash his arms were up and red lightning crackled from his hands hitting the shield and arcing off. Furniture, rugs, and anything not made of stone caught and burned.

  Thunder boomed again and the lighting that preceded it lit up the room with a mighty flash. Balasar felt it strike the tower's peak, its energy transferring to the tower. He could feel it seeping from the walls and with a thought he pulled it free, threads of blood seeping from stone to fuel him.

  He felt the energy surging inside him, a maelstrom of power ready to be called on. He lashed out again and again, his strikes weakening the barrier between him and his prey. The huntress sank to one knee, the strain of holding him back taking everything she had. A wicked smile crossed his face. This was not the end, not for him or the experiments he was performing. Another round of lighting flew from his fingers as the world seemed to slow. Above, another strike was preparing to fall and he reached for it, his outstretched hand crackling with power.

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  The lightning strike flashed but before it could impact the tower he pulled it down letting it strike him directly. It swirled around him like a crackling tornado as he leveled his hands and channeled everything into a final strike. Again time seemed to slow as if to give him a good view of his enemies demise. The torrent of power he unleashed surged forward, shattering the shield the huntress had erected as if it was nothing but smoke in the air. Incredibly she dove to the side before she could be incinerated, holding her blessed blade between her and the crackling storm.

  Behind her was a man who turned to see his death approach. Balasar had no idea where he’d been nor what he’d been doing but at least someone would die.

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  Ag saw a tidal wave of bodies surged up the stairs towards him, their glowing eyes growing larger by the second. “Watch the door.” He laughed to himself before slamming the double doors shut. He threw the latch just in time. A wall of bodies slammed into the hardened wood pushing them inward and bending the metal bar that secured them shut. Hand reached for him but he slashed as many as he could. The metal creaked under the strain of the pushing horde, threatening to break beneath their weight.

  Ag took hold of Huk in both hands and began stabbing through the gap, using his weapon as a spear. Screams echoed in the stairwell, a chorus of voices raised with the mad rage that only stone skins could call upon.

  He didn’t know long he stayed at the door, stabbing and slashing anything he could. It might have been only a few minutes or hours he couldn’t tell. At some point during his futile defense of the door he felt the hairs on the back of his neck stand on end and a deafening crack filled the air. This wasn’t the smoke and fire of the burning furniture but the destructive crackle of electricity. He turned, almost without thinking and saw his death speeding towards him, a funnel of red, roiling lightning careening towards him at impossible speeds.

  He moved, not by conscious thought or even his own volition, but he did move. Diving into a roll as the door behind him was thrown open by the mass of stone skin beyond. He saw it happen almost like in a dream.

  The lightning summoned from the red captain slammed into the charging horde, incinerating any that got in the way. Their stone growths seemed to act as focal points for the red tide, catching bolts and sending electricity through their entire bodies before it lept to the next. Faster than Ag would have thought possible the surge of power had careened down the stairs, using the stone skins as a bridge to continue its mad dash. The tower shook as if its very foundations were shaken by the massive burst of power that had been unleashed.

  All noise had faded from the world, muffled under the greatest crack of thunder ever heard. Ag stood, shakily, his legs like jelly beneath him. He could see Nacine across from him, it looked like she’d been thrown against the far wall and lay in a heap, her clothes smoking. With eyes still stamped with the red glow of whatever had been thrown at him, Ag saw the red captain on one knee, clutching his right arm. Through the haze of smoke and his own poor vision Ag could make out the blackened remains of what had been the man’s arm, charred to the bone, as had part of his chest.

  With what little strength he had left, Ag stepped forward, then again and again, slowly making his way towards the sorcerer. He wasn’t holding Huk, he didn’t know when he’d dropped his weapon but it was nowhere to be seen. With shaking fingers he pulled his belt knife, a simple weapon he’d used to kill or craft for years.

  The man on the balcony saw him coming and struggled to rise, his left hand beginning to glow red. The thunder and lightning had ceased, all that remained was black clouds and sheeting rain. With a final effort Ag threw himself towards the red captain, knocking him over.

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  Balasar fell back onto the smooth stone of the balcony, a bolt of pain from his arm bringing him out of his stupor. It had been too much all at once and his body had paid the price and this man, this strange man from nowhere was still standing.

  He swore and lashed out with what little power was left sending a weak strand of lightning off in a wild direction. His attacker rolled away and that gave Balasar enough time to stand but that was all. He was on him again, pushing him back against the railing and another pain shot through him, this time from his gut. The pain was immense, his whole body seeming to contract around the knife inside him.

  “Just die already.” The man hissed and stabbed again, this time between his ribs.

  The voices were becoming quieter, the insane cacophony retreating from his mind. Just like that, he was alone, abandoned by the whispers that had promised him glory beyond measure and the chance to form new life as he saw fit. The knife went deep in his throat and he knew it was the end. He couldn’t breath with the blood gushing down his throat, his heart pumping without thought, all the blood from his veins out through the holes the knife had carved.

  He pitched back over the railing, his body losing all weight, his mind all sense of self. The fall was far longer than it should have been, even if he never noticed when he hit the bottom. His mind spun visions of everything he’d done, all the things he might have done. All of it, for nothing.