Magic Stars (Universe on Fire Book 3), page 15
Before Arsagor could say anything, the stranger sent the golem flying to the corner and knelt down next to the spells keeping him imprisoned. Arsagor felt power swell, more than he had ever felt before or even thought possible, and then the spells just crumbled to nothing, the chains keeping him imprisoned dissolving to ash and dust.
The stranger stood and smiled at Arsagor as he stretched his wings for the first time in eons. And then a massive presence filled the room, its power making the ground shake as space ripped apart and a man who looked like an Elvarr stepped through.
“HOW DARE YOU!” the Titan roared, his voice amplified with his power. Arsagor backed away, his head going to the floor, cowering from so much power. Images of his death filled him, and he knew in that moment that he would die. He should’ve never trusted the stranger. The Titan’s power was terrible and vast, and no one could hope to match it.
“YOU DARE REFUSE OUR OFFERS, YOU DARE DEFY US, AND NOW YOU INTERFERE WITH OUR BUSINESS? FREEING OUR PRISONER? YOU WILL PAY FOR THIS!” the Titan roared, his power building into an attack.
The stranger rolled his eyes, and then glanced at the Titan. The power in the room twisted, and all that the Titan had unleashed smashed back into him with such ferocity that Arsagor saw the being flinch and gasp. Then a different power exploded out of the stranger, the Heart of the Mountain, eclipsing anything that the Titan had shown. The very fabric of space twisted and brought the Titan to his knees, keeping him contained to his own body, pressing him down tightly.
“Did we not do this once already?” the stranger asked, as he walked over to the Titan. “Did I not warn you about what would happen if you got in my way? I thought that you would’ve learned some more respect, but you Titans are incapable of learning, it seems. You. Are. Small. I do not care for your rules, nor your tyranny. I do not particularly want to deal with you at all, but if you keep being arrogant pricks I will eventually have to make sure that you are no longer an annoyance to me. And trust me, you and yours will not like that.”
“You are a whelp,” the Titan ground out, “who does not know his place. We will show you where you belong.”
The stranger sighed. “What did Hestia say your name was? Bolu—something… Boluvar? Yes, Boluvar. Well, let me make myself perfectly clear, Boluvar, my friend. I don’t really care about what you do. I am not here to interfere with whatever it is you are doing all the time. But I have the need for this here dragon, and I will have him. If you touch him, I will consider it an act of war, and then I will be forced to kill you, and any other of your kind that comes after me. Then it will turn into this whole thing—me killing you, you sending more and more, until I kill enough of you so that you get the message or I run out of you. Just leave me alone, please. I don’t enjoy killing, but I am not averse to it, either.”
The Titan opened his mouth to speak, but the stranger waved his hand and the Titan was sent flying through the rip in space, and then it was closed forcibly from this side. A moment later, the ground stopped shaking and his power disappeared as if it had never been there.
“Right, that should get them nice and angry. Hopefully they will plot how to kill me for about a hundred or a thousand years and leave me in peace in the meantime. Now, where were we? Ah, right, I should probably heal him and get him out of that golem…” The stranger mused.
Arsagor blinked, and wondered just what kind of a creature stood before him. One thing was for certain: it had freed him, and it had handled a Titan as if it was a child in need of punishment. Arsagor felt like this being was someone worthy of his service, someone who could show him many things, help him reach the dreams that his people once had. He looked at the stranger and nodded his large head. “Yes, I shall speak with him and see if he is suitable.”
“Great!” The stranger clapped his hands and walked over to the golem, leaving Arsagor alone, which was a blessing, as he was still shaking from what had transpired just a few moments ago.
CHAPTER SEVENTEEN
Remi fired a lightning spell at a Rzan warlock from her spellslinger. Fueled by her armor, it held enormous power—the Rzan warlock tried to shield himself, but the spell broke through his attempt and struck him. The energy coursed through him, cooking his flesh and sending him flying back. Meanwhile, the crystallized dead were still pushing forward. The Rzan had brought in more troops from across the city, and the Emerith didn’t have the numbers to counter them.
The Archmage called for a retreat as she and her son held the enemy at bay, and Emerith troops retreated toward the secure teleport platforms in order to get back to the southern side of the city, while others retreated on foot. The teleporters could only be activated by a mage that was bound to the city, Remi had learned, but they were still planning on shutting them down after they’d retreated, as they didn’t know if they had more traitors in their midst. Remi had sent her troops and the tank back as well, as the tank had nearly exhausted its power cells and the troops were out of ammo. Remi and her siblings had run out of ammo too, and were now shooting lightning spells at the enemy as they pulled back. She hadn’t called the mech-frames or the fighters back since the enemy had showed their anti-air capability, especially since the Leviathan had been taken down. She didn’t know if he was still alive or not. The mech-frames were sturdy, built to take a lot of punishment—a fall like that wouldn’t harm it, but perhaps it would injure the pilot.
She shook her head. She couldn’t think about that. She had to focus on the fight.
Remi watched as the Archmage and the War Mage, her son, fought against the army. Vilariarin was a storm of fire and magic. He would send shockwaves of earth and stone rolling in front of him then send waves of fire behind them, incinerating the stunned opponents. Every once in a while he would make a beckoning gesture and the armor of the enemy soldiers would turn liquid and flow over to him, where it would harden into spears that he sent flying at the enemy, impaling them by the dozens. The Archmage had a very similar style, only she preferred to use lightning instead of fire.
By now the enemy had brought in their stronger magic users, and Remi could see the two being pushed back. It was amazing to watch—their hands never stopped moving as they cast spells, each flowing into the next without pause—but then Remi noticed a commotion in the distance, and a cart was brought in to the back lines where several Rzan warlocks gathered. She zoomed in and saw people: Elvarr, bruised and bloody being herded out of the cart. Then three of the warlocks started making elaborate patterns as two grabbed the closest of the struggling Elvarr and brought them close, then they stabbed a knife in their throat and cut it open. Blood flowed freely but instead of falling to the ground it rushed to gather in a sphere above the three warlocks that were casting the spell. In mere seconds the Elvarr was dead, and the warlocks grabbed another. Remi’s eyes widened and she pushed her speakers to the max.
“Vilariarin!” she shouted, startling probably everyone on the battlefield.
He looked up at her, and saw her pointing at the back line and the warlocks who were sacrificing people to fuel their spell. Vilariarin took to the air, evading a few bolts of fire and raising a shield to deflect another, and then he saw what was happening in the distance. His eyes widened and he turned to his mother. The Archmage didn’t look at him, but her posture changed and she started casting spells frantically. She managed to get enough room to teleport next to Remi and Vilariarin.
“Protect us!” Vilariarin said, and then the two of them started forming patterns together.
Remi’s eyes widened but she flew in front of them and activated her shield. The mages all around the battlefield stopped pursuing the retreating soldiers and focused on her, sending spell after spell at them. Remi could feel the power cell in her armor draining quickly, and she opened the comms to her siblings.
“Hit them with everything!” Remi ordered.
Dario flew from the eastern flank, his armor crackling with power as he charged the most powerful spell that had been woven into it. Red energy bounced between his palms, and then he unleashed the sunfire spell. He hit the front line and moved his hand over it, using it as a massive laser cannon that disintegrated everything in its path. A few Gor’wolok mages in the front lines tried to raise shields, but his spell was powered by both of his power cells, and for all intents and purposes it was overpowered. Then Anna and Emma arrived from the western side, sending blasts of magic bolts at any magic user that was targeting Remi and the mages behind her, forcing them to defend themselves.
But then the warlocks in the distance did something, and all the blood they had gathered into a large red orb above them burst. A red storm formed, surging over the Rzan forces, a cloud of red mist and crackling lightning. It poured red blood down on the field, and Remi saw it gather around the dead. Like the spell before it, it crystallized over them as some kind of armor, but this one did more—it didn’t just cover them, but instead grew over them, transforming the dead into monsters with elongated blood-red limbs and ragged spikes growing out of them at odd angles. They opened their mouths and let out a scratching screech.
She saw the Rzan withdrawing, leaving only the dead as their force. The cloud above them wept a bloody rain that coated everything in crimson. The storm drew closer, and the few Emerith mages who were close enough got struck by red lightning that started firing ahead of the army of the crystallized dead monsters and the cloud itself. Every snap of red lighting killed its target and its blood exploded into a cloud of red that was pulled back into the cloud.
And then the Archmage and the War Mage finished their spell. Remi felt a enormous amount of power rise up from the Archmage as she started to glow. Vilariarin faltered in the air and Remi flew to catch him, pulling him up and moving away from the Archmage, who had started to glow with white light—and then she raised her hands, and pillars of white light came down from the sky, impaling themselves into the stone all around the battlefield, surrounding the cloud. Red lightning struck out at them, but the white pillars’ glow prevented it from escaping the prison of light. The red monsters tried to pass through in between the pillars, but were rebounded. The brightness intensified, and then released as an explosion hit everything inside the prison of light. The crystallized blood shattered and the bodies cracked as if they had been burned without fire or smoked, before disappearing into flakes of ash. The blood cloud was roaring as the light pierced through it, and Remi saw it losing its power.
The Archmage turned and looked at Remi. “Retreat,” she said simply and flew ahead, Remi and the Dragons following behind. Vilariarin groaned in her hands as they left the battlefield behind them. She glanced back, seeing the red cloud dissipating and the enemy pulling back.
The battle was over. For now.
* * *
Remi sat in the command room. She had just finished her report to the Admiral. The UTS Council had mobilized the army, what under the Qash’vo’tar had used to be their policing force. It hadn’t been updated with magi-tech, as that had been reserved mostly for the fleet, but the events of the day had shown Remi that even their conventional technology could inflict significant damage to the enemy. They just needed to hold off until they could send the troops and machinery through the portal.
She stood up and walked out of the room. The scientists’ area was empty, as she had already ordered one of the transports back to the portal along with the civilians, leaving only the military in the compound. They were currently recharging the Dragons’ armor as well as the tank, resupplying with ammo, and resting. The Emerith had pulled back to the bridge, and were holding both sides. The council mages were there right now, aside from Vilariarin, who was resting. The Rzan had too many troops, and the Emerith did not think they could hold for much longer. Remi had assured the Archmage that help was on the way, and that they just needed to hold on for as long as possible.
Remi walked out of the MCV and into the courtyard, then stopped in her tracks when she saw a man in a white lab coat standing nearby, typing on his wrist unit.
“Doctor Reiss,” Remi said. “Didn’t I order all nonmilitary personnel to evacuate the city?”
The Doctor turned around, blinking at her in surprise. “Oh. Sorry, ma’am, but with a magical battle taking place in the city I couldn’t pass up the opportunity to take some readings. You don’t need to worry about me! I’ll stay back, nice and safe.”
Remi sighed and shook her head. “What kind of readings could possibly be worth risking your life?”
“Well, with the data I have now, I could already build a device that could detect magic use. With more readings I would probably be able to pinpoint what kind of spell is being used. Eventually, these magical sensors would be added to our mundane troops kits, and with them they would be able to survive much better against opponents that would otherwise be able to cast spells at them with no warning.”
Remi admitted that that would be useful tech, and seeing as the man had already started typing on his wrist unit, she decided to leave him be. There wasn’t any way to get him to safety now unless she had one of her mech-frames or Dragons carry him to the transport. She saw the Orion arrive from its mission and land in the courtyard, and she made her way over as Lt. Imari Okoye climbed down from the mech-frame.
“Anything?” Remi asked.
“Nothing. I followed the river for several kilometers, and there were no hits from Leviathan’s beacon,” Imari answered.
“It could’ve gotten damaged in the fall,” Remi said.
“Maybe.” Imari sighed.
“There’s still hope,” Remi said stridently. “He has his spellscripts—he could’ve left the mech-frame and blinked to safety.”
“He would’ve gotten back by now if he did,” Imari said.
“Not necessarily. He could be injured, or too tired to use his spellscripts to come back. You lack the power cells that we Dragons have, so he wouldn’t be able to do more than a few short-range blinks.”
Imari nodded, accepting the possibility, but Remi could tell that she didn’t really believe her.
“Get some rest,” Remi told her. “We will be fighting again, soon enough.”
Imari glanced toward the buildings and then saluted weakly before shuffling off toward her room.
Remi turned around and noticed a commotion at the entrance of the compound and headed over to see what was going on. At the gates she found the guards she’d posted speaking with some Elvarr, and by their dress she recognized them as being from the Enroki tribe.
“Greetings,” she said as she walked over and waved off the guards.
The Enroki tribe chief, Sentos, was there, and he bowed deeply to Remi. “We’ve come to give our thanks for your help earlier, during the attack on the summit.”
“There is no need to thank us. We’ve come to an agreement with your people—it was the least that we could do.”
“Not many would’ve done that, especially not for us. For that, we have come to help,” Sentos said.
“Help?” Remi questioned.
“Our people’s art is not very suited for battle, but this does not mean we cannot fight. I have sent most of my people out of the city back to our tribe to gather them and travel to your gate. I, and a few others, wish to remain with your people and help you in any way we can.”
Remi was in no position to refuse help. They needed all they could get as it is. She took a deep breath. “Are you certain? We are planning on holding the city until my people can send help. It might be a bloody battle.”
“We are certain. Few have shown us the respect that you have, and the Enroki do not turn their backs on their friends.”
Remi nodded, then used her comms to call Dario and have him deal with the Enroki. They would probably put them with the troops, to have them protect them while they fired. Afterward she went around the compound, checking to see that everything was all right. The sun was setting, and if the Rzan didn’t attack at night, they would most certainly do so with the dawn, and that meant another full day of fighting tomorrow.
CHAPTER EIGHTEEN
Arsagor the Storm Caller sat on his haunches, watching the creature lying on its back before him. Its chest was rising and falling, but it was asleep, and had been for hours, ever since the stranger had taken it out of the metal golem. The stranger had given him rules, strange ones, but ones that Arsagor had agreed to: keeping the knowledge of the stranger to itself, and not revealing anything that could even hint about its interference. The stranger had healed the creature. A human, as he called it—or him, rather. But he hadn’t healed everything, leaving the rest for Arsagor, should he decided to accept this human. The stranger had then left, leaving the decision completely in Arsagor’s hands. He could just leave this place, go and be free. He still did not know how to feel about that, but somehow he knew that if he left, the Titans would find him again and punish him again.
Still, Arsagor would not make such a decision lightly. He was patient. He watched the creature, and waited for it to wake up. Then, a while later, he saw the human stirring. He did so quickly—one moment he was asleep, and in the next his eyes opened wide and he tried to sit up, before wincing and groaning in pain. The human slowed down, his hands moving around him blindly, feeling for his surroundings. At first Arsagor assumed that the human was blind, but then he remembered that not all creatures could see in the dark. Arsagor took a deep breath and released it slowly, announcing his presence.
The human froze, then his head turned around in Arsagor’s direction, his eyes narrowing as he tried to see in the pitch darkness. Without the spells that kept him bound, there was no light this deep beneath the ground. Arsagor took another breath and the flames of his heart ignited, causing a gentle light to spring from beneath his scales and rise up from his chest and into his mouth. He saw the human’s eyes go wide as Arsagor blew out a gentle wisp of flame. Quickly he reached out with magic, ensnaring the fire into a sphere, using it as a light source. As he tied off the spell, he felt a dull pain inside his head. It had been a long time since he had used magic, and he was tired, weakened, nowhere near his full power.
