The Bone Mask Trilogy: (An Epic Fantasy Boxed Set), page 113
Power roared.
It flung Vinezi across the room. He crashed to the floor and rolled. Gaining his feet, he tore at the pieces of the now splintered breastplate as he stumbled for Marinus. The man was rising, movements unsteady. A dark scorch-mark covered his silver breastplate but the charm was gone.
Rael still glowed but Marinus was slow to respond.
Vinezi’s own ears rang as he drove himself forward, slamming his brother to the stone floor. Marinus grunted in pain but lashed out with a Compelling. Vinezi screamed when his knee shattered. Unprotected, his vision blurred by tears; he clawed for his belt knife, for anything – when a shape flashed before him.
Something thundered into the floor.
He blinked.
Kanis knelt beside Marinus. From fist to wrist, blood covered the Renovar’s arm. And his brother’s breastplate bore a gaping red hole. Marinus choked, blood spilling from the edges of his mask as he convulsed. He fell still.
Kanis sat back and exhaled. “You owe me now, Vinezi.”
Chapter 54.
Notch drew his father’s sword and rushed after Sofia.
Chaos filled what appeared to be an expansive altar room; a giant slab of onyx overlooking bodies strewn across a patterned floor. One figure was slumped on the altar, something about his shape familiar. Elsewhere Gigansi and Ecsoli – giant bones and dust and blood, and within it all, three figures still moved.
Vinezi.
The man wore the fragments of a Greatsuit where he knelt before an Ecsoli corpse, his back providing a clear target. Beside him was...Kanis? Kanis faced Vinezi, one arm blood-covered.
Were they arguing, voices low? Was Kanis up to something?
Another man in a similarly rent Greatsuit held a broken mask in one hand and had pulled another man up into his lap. Before them lay some giant, insect-like skeleton, motionless. “Vinezi!” the fellow shouted. “Do something. Tarvilus is dead.”
Vinezi spun to his feet, wobbling.
Even from across the room, Notch saw Vinezi’s face pale. The big man took a step, dragged his leg and then stopped when he noticed Sofia and Notch. Argeon glowed blue as she cried out, flinging her hands at him.
Stone rumbled. High above, a piece of one of the columns cracked. Vinezi fell back and Kanis dived aside but the stone fell wide of both men. Sofia swore as Vinezi snatched something from the dead man.
Greatmask.
Notch flipped a dagger into his hand and cast it at the hobbling man. Vinezi’s uneven gait blessed him; the blade flew just wide of the villain. Vinezi reached the stricken man and emitted a cry of anguish. “Help him,” the first said.
Vinezi glanced back to Sofia, his eyes feral in their desperation, as if he’d turned half-animal. He raised the Greatmask and darkness fell.
Notch dropped into a crouch.
“Sofia,” Emilio called.
“I’ll lift the darkness,” she said. “Protect the others. Seto, your mask.”
Somewhere behind Notch, the bird of the sun squawked. He kept his blade ready, pointed toward where Vinezi had stood.
A red glow bloomed and Vinezi hollered something in Ecsoli. Almost instantly, the glow faded but his ranting continued. Red flashed again. He didn’t seem to be addressing his fellow Ecsoli. A few words were familiar, but not enough. “What’s he saying?”
Wayrn whispered. “I’m not...wait...he’s demanding that someone? Rael? Restore ‘him’.”
“Him? The dead man?” Notch asked.
“Yes, his brother. Vinezi is demanding that the Greatmask restore his brother.”
Notch drew in a breath. No Greatmask would honour such a demand – would its refusal be dangerous?
Light snapped back.
Sofia straightened, stepping forward. “Argeon, stop –”
Stone erupted. Notch fell back, shielding his eyes as fragments sprayed the group. When he lowered his arm, his heart stopped. Sofia was down. Blood trickled from a cut on her forehead, Argeon resting beside her. Emilio was at her side in a single stride.
“Get her back,” Notch shouted.
Seto swept forward, Chelona on his face. He calmed the erupting stone.
Vinezi was still ranting, only now his hand had been engulfed in the red glow of the mask. His tone became pleading. The crimson glow slowed and Vinezi finally gave a nod. Then he shoved the mask onto his face.
But there he did not stop.
He continued to push the Greatmask – until it sank through the flesh. A sizzling, sweet burning scent crossed the stones and Notch flinched back as Vinezi began to tremble with a strange violence – only the man’s legs, torso and free arm shook. The hand that pressed the mask so deep it seemed to be merging with his very skull – that hand remained stock still.
And then Vinezi stopped. He spun on the sitting man. “Hold them back, Julas.” The command thundered from his face, now broken around the Greatmask. Then he scooped up the body of the second man and charged for a set of stairs – his gait restored.
Seto cursed, waving his hand and flinging shards of stone after him. All bounced off an unseen barrier.
Julas stood.
“Keep her safe,” Notch said as he ran to intercept.
Julas drew his own blade, hurling himself across the stone floor toward him. Notch growled, changing his line. He met the man in a clash of swords, shoving the lighter opponent back. Yet Julas leaped forward again with barely a misstep.
Notch deflected a strike and swung his own blade, twice high, left then right.
The man deflected the blows and spun out of reach, positioning himself at the foot of the stair. “No further, Anaskari,” he said. His face did bear some resemblance to Vinezi – mostly the arrogance.
Notch grinned. “Worried about your brother?”
Julas spat but didn’t attack.
Emilio appeared beside Notch, his own sword drawn. “Surrender and we may spare you.”
The Ecsoli leaped forward, driving Emilio back. The Captain held his own but Notch found he couldn’t flank Julas, as the Ecsoli continued to position Emilio as a shield.
“She’s awake,” Wayrn called.
Notch circled and slashed at Julas’ leg. The man skipped away, disengaging Emilio. He paused, then drove himself forward again, feinting and moving with such speed that Emilio was caught off guard. Julas ducked a slash and rose, driving his shoulder into Emilio’s chest, flinging the Shield to the ground before charging Notch.
Notch gave ground, fending off the man’s sword as he did.
A slash caught his forearm and he grunted. The Ecsoli was even faster than he’d first appeared. Did the ruins of his Greatsuit lend him speed?
Between flashes of steel, Notch saw the others. Wayrn had helped Emilio up and Sofia, Seto and Ain were heading up the stairs after Vinezi, but Sofia had paused. Her eyes were full of worry.
“Go!” he shouted. “Stop Vinezi.”
Julas pushed harder. Notch doubted Julas had even heard his words; the man’s eyes burned. His attack was relentless. Notch gave more ground. He glanced behind – mute forms of the Gigansi. He angled back toward the centre of the room, earning another stinging cut – this one to his thigh.
Emilio approached from behind, sword ready, face set. If he had any doubts about letting Sofia go on alone, they looked to be buried in determination to finish Julas quickly.
Notch ducked a vicious swipe. He rolled and slashed up with his blade, driving the man back. Emilio closed, swinging his longsword.
Yet Julas was already moving.
He pivoted in a continuation of the leap that took him away from Notch’s attack, flicking his blade as he did. Blood flashed and Emilio dropped his sword. Julas pressed his advantage, driving Emilio back. The Captain already had his knife in hand but it was not enough – Julas closed and cut through Emilio’s deflection, slashing deep into his thigh.
Emilio collapsed with a curse.
Julas loomed over the Shield.
Notch bent and snatched a piece of stone, hurling it at the man as he charged. The rock struck Julas’ head and then Notch was upon him, forcing the Ecsoli to engage him once more. Notch slowed his attack enough to catch his breath, once again crossing blades with the Ecsoli and once again, he shoved them apart.
The man resumed his attack as Emilio dragged himself out of range.
Julas lunged.
Notch gave ground. The man lunged again and Notch swatted the blade aside. His opponent paused, took a breath and grinned. “You’re slowing down, Anaskari.”
“When Sofia kills your brother there will be no-one to regenerate you – once I end this.”
He passed his sword from hand to hand. “Do you think so? Maybe we will use your body and hers to regenerate Tarvilus. I’d simply use more of your countrymen from that village nearby, but I hear there’s no-one left. And you must admit, this way will be more poetic.”
Notch froze.
More from the village. Vinezi used people from Casa-Cielo for his foul ritual.
Father.
Mother.
Amina.
“Oh, I see I’ve struck a nerve.” Julas pointed with his sword. “You knew them? Yes, you did. My, my. Perhaps you even had family there? Well, how about we finish this and then you can join them.”
A red film fell across Notch’s vision as he leaped forward with a roar.
Julas caught his blade with his own. Sparks flew. “Ready?” He spun away and launched a new line of attack. The Ecsoli’s blows cascaded down, the pattern unpredictable, a variety of speeds and angles difficult to respond to.
It was no style Notch had ever faced before. No-one in Anaskar, no Renovar, no Medah warrior, no-one fought the way Julas now fought. And the rage that coursed through Notch’s limbs didn’t help. Julas’ speed was too great – he landed another cut, this time a light one across Notch’s chest.
Notch fell back again, the clash of blades ringing over his shuffling steps. He kicked at bones as he stumbled, deflecting another slash but catching a third nick from the riposte. The man was not smiling, not revelling in the upper hand anymore, his face was all focus.
Think, Notch, think!
He had to let go of the rage long enough to figure a way out.
Everything was about the sword for Julas. Nothing else existed save defeating his adversary – that much was clear.
Notch ground his teeth.
He couldn’t beat this man. He didn’t have the skill; he’d drawn a master bladesman, additional speed or no, and now he would die because of it. Emilio was wounded. Sofia and the others were finally putting a stop to Vinezi.
And here he was, about to die in an empty temple; his village unavenged, his last chance to speak to Father, to Amina, to learn how to forgive himself, all of it gone, gone, gone!
Notch deflected an overhead blow that drove him back deeper.
He had failed.
No! If you give up before the fight is over then you will lose every time. I’m bigger but you can find a way to beat me. Be faster or smarter – find a way.
Father’s snarl when they’d train each summer.
Do what you can to control the enemy’s movement, even if it’s just tripping them.
Raff trying to convince a new recruit on the black sands of Medah.
You always know one more trick.
Luik, after Notch had broken a man’s nose with his head in order to settle a brawl in a tavern.
All movement favoured Julas.
He’d driven Notch nearly back to the hall’s entry – he had to turn it against the man. Notch deflected another strike then another, waiting for his opening. React just a little slower, show some signs of impending defeat, a gasp here, a grunt with that parry, a curse, let the man close in.
Let Julas grow more confident.
Let him pounce.
There.
Julas drew near and swung down. Notch lifted his blade to meet the sword...and dropped his weapon.
Julas’ face registered shock. He hesitated.
It was enough.
Notch clamped his rising hands over the Ecsoli’s wrists and fell with the blow, using the other man’s existing momentum against him, a foot on the man’s chest to fling Julas into a wall as Notch rolled. Bone cracked from the impact.
Notch leaped after, dagger in hand.
Julas struggled to find his feet. Steel flashed and the man screamed. Notch stood back, panting. The Ecsoli griped the knife where it protruded from his stomach. Without taking his eyes from his enemy, Notch bent for his sword, lifting his father’s blade – finding it light as a feather somehow.
He approached Julas with a slight nod. It had been a worthy struggle. Was it more than the man deserved? Perhaps, but that was the way of such battles and Julas had fought well. Between two soldiers, during a sword fight, it all came down to muscle, bone and steel.
Everything else was for afterwards.
Julas writhed, gasping for air as Notch stood over him. He kicked Julas’ sword aside. The Ecsoli’s eyes still held little but fury – only pain joined it now.
Everything else was for Vinezi to reap.
Notch lifted his sword and swung, ending it.
Chapter 55.
“I am Father Lucianos,” the white-haired man said. “You are welcome to seek refuge here.” He gestured to the narrow rooms where Flir and Danillo stood in the quiet dark behind the altar room.
Flir thanked him, a sigh of relief escaping.
“It is an honour to host both the Lord Protector and The Pale Girl,” he said. “The children and the others are sleeping further along, but I believe Mayla is awake; I will tell her you are here.”
Good. Dilo had delivered on her promise. Flir stepped into one of the austere rooms and sat on the cot. Danillo stood by the door.
“What next, Danillo?” she asked. “Want to storm the palace with me?”
He smiled. “Tempting.”
Mayla appeared. Her blue eyes were weary but she showed no other signs of what must have been her exhaustion. “Where will we run to next, then? I assume you two are working on a better solution.”
“We are,” Danillo said. “What happened?”
She shrugged. “I never truly saw it, but Metti felt it. She said that a creature of bone and shadow was attempting to break through the passage. The rubble held for a while, but then the sound of stones being shifted followed. We sent Dilo then.”
Flir stood, offering Mayla the cot, but the woman waved it away. “Thank you, Flir, but I will seek my own bed and sleep soon.”
“Were you able to bring any bone with you?” Danillo asked.
“We brought it all.”
“That is well. I think it is finally time I attempted to make a suit of our own,” the Lord Protector said.
“Is that possible?” Flir asked.
“I am mostly familiar with Carving but I believe, with study, I might be able to discern their construction.”
Mayla sighed. “You don’t have time for that, Danillo. The Ecsoli are everywhere.”
“But it’s still a good idea,” Flir said. “We can start –”
“Lord Protector!” A shout echoed down the hall. Father Lucianos appeared, breathing hard. “The Ecsoli are here. They are demanding that you surrender both Greatmask and Lady Flir.”
Flir shot to her feet. The bastards never let up.
“They haven’t attacked?” Danillo asked.
“No. They do not wish to lift a hand against the Temple. Captain Medoro posited that such a thing might be so when we discussed the theft of our dead.”
“Yet they still stole,” Flir said. “So we might expect something underhanded.”
Mayla nodded, as did Danillo. “Yes. As they distract us with negotiation, perhaps? Still, I will see these Ecsoli.”
“And Osani?” Flir asked.
“They do not need to know what has happened – for now,” he said. “Go now, each of you and be ready to leave the city on my command. Father, I trust there is a quiet way from the temple?”
“The aqueducts – assuming they are clear.”
“I’ll have Ciano check,” Flir said.
Lucianos took Mayla back down the hall and Flir followed Danillo to the altar room. They passed the basins but stopped before reaching the entryway, a small group of Ecsoli visible beyond the stone robes of Ana. The leader stood taller than the others. From her shape, Flir guessed the Ecsoli was a woman. She gestured with her hands as she spoke to one of her fellow Ecsoli, her gauntlets painted red. Or was it blood?
“What will you say?” Flir asked.
“I will ask them if they mean to defile Ana’s Temple,” Danillo said. He held the hunk of melted stone and bone that was all that remained of Osani.
“And if they say yes?”
“Then we shall see if Osani still has any power. If that happens – lead them to safety, Flir. Flee the city. Regroup.”
“I will.”
Danillo raised his voice. “People of the Land of the Sun, hear me.”
“We hear you,” the leader replied in Anaskari – definitely a woman from her voice.
“Is it your intent to defile the Goddess’ Temple as you have the rest of the city?”
“No, Lord Protector. It is not, but I will, if you force my hand. Deliver the mask and the White Woman and we will spare you.”
Flir snorted.
“And to whom do I speak?” Danillo asked.
“Bethana is my name.” She rested one hand on her hip, appearing assured, utterly at ease. Expectant of submission. “What will it be?”
Danillo ran a hand over Osani. His jaw tightened and he looked to Flir. “There is little here that will aid us now. On my word, Flir.”
“What will you do?”
“Collapse the entryway when they come – but I want you to give the others a lead.”
Bethana shouted from outside. “Your answer?”
“Very well,” Danillo said. “I will send her out.” To Flir he nodded. She ran for the others then paused. Shouts of confusion rose from outside. “Wait,” Danillo called softly. “See.”
Flir dashed back.
A cloud of yellow butterflies, some in gold and some pale as lemon and every shade between, had descended upon the Ecsoli. Their tiny wings stirred a dust that covered the blue-cloaks, who waved their hands at first, in annoyance – yet when one man fell to the ground and lay motionless, the others began to panic.
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