Transcendence, page 15
part #6 of The Beginning After The End Series
The thatch of unruly black hair that fell over her face rustled as she began fitting the broken pieces together in a desperate attempt to make them whole. Then she clutched the pile she had so desperately gathered, clawing the ground along with it.
“My mask!” she screeched, gripping at the shards until her hands bled.
Watching the particles of mana congregating to form a murky green aura around her, I had no time to think.
The faint purple particles of aether started vibrating as I activated Static Void once more. Ignoring my body’s protests, I rushed forward to strike the witch before the corroding aura completely enveloped her again.
With time stopped, I could close the gap without fear that she would be able to react to me, but on this attempt, I wouldn’t be able to utilize the mana in the atmosphere as I had done before—only the meager reserves in my core.
Jagged vines of white crackled around the teal blade of my sword as I advanced on the witch. My spell was considerably weaker now, however, and a sense of doubt began creeping up inside me.
I released Static Void just as the flattened tip of my sword buried itself in the opening in the green aura, just above her left knee. The familiar sensation of metal piercing through flesh was accompanied by the crackle of electricity spreading through the witch’s body. Yet the blood that leaked from her wound wasn’t the same red that came from her hands and neck but rather a muddy green.
The site where the wound should have been hissed as the murky green blood began congealing around Dawn’s Ballad.
As the witch raised her gaze from the ground, her thick wiry hair parted, revealing what she had been so desperately trying to hide.
I tugged at Dawn’s Ballad, wanting nothing more than to retreat. It wasn’t just her gnarled skin, which looked more aged than the bark of the centuries-old trees surrounding us, or the two narrow slits between her sunken cheeks. It wasn’t even her thin leathery lips, darker than her hair, or her jagged yellow-stained teeth.
It was her blood-curdling stare, radiating from a ghoulish pair of misshapen eyes, that filled me with a sense of dread. Unlike any monster or beast I’d faced since coming to this world, the dark hollow eyes, which seemed like they had been gouged out and shoved back deep inside her skull, made me wonder if this was the sort of demon that spawned from the depths of hell.
“Now that you’ve seen me in this state, I’m afraid I can’t keep you as a pet,” she muttered, nearly whispering as she gripped my sword with one of her bloody hands.
I winced involuntarily as she spoke. My mind spun as I tried feebly to pull Dawn’s Ballad out of her grasp, trying to figure out what to do in this situation.
I tore my gaze away from her terrifying stare, and watched in despair as her aura enveloped almost her whole body.
Unable to muster up the strength to trigger Static Void again, I looked down at my legs. I could still hear Lady Myre’s voice warning me not to use Burst Step. Glancing up, I saw the murky green cloud spread slowly, until only faint gaps the width of a feather were left.
I made my decision.
Letting go of my precious sword, I drew a shuttering breath, bracing myself for the pain soon to come. Like the pistons of an engine from my old world, mana burst into specific muscles in rapid procession, the timing precise down to the span of a millisecond, and I flashed from my original position almost instantly.
I gritted my teeth against the mind-numbing pain—it felt like the bones in my lower body were slowly smoldering in a fire—and stabbed my hand through the faint chasm in her aura. Even with Absolute Zero coalesced around my hand, the deteriorating effects of her defenses seeped into my flesh when I made contact with her skin.
The witch growled in pain as she tried to pull herself away, but my grip around her right arm stayed strong.
The skin of my bare hand soon became red and painful as more and more layers of flesh began to corrode. However, the effects of my spell were beginning to show, so I knew it was working. Her right arm, which had been gripping my sword impaled in her left thigh, turned a dark sickly color. Unlike naturally-occurring frostbite, which would begin in the fingers, her arm had begun to freeze from where I was gripping her. The layers of skin and tissues had frozen, and she could no longer move her arm.
Before the effects of Absolute Zero could spread to her body, the witch slashed down at her frozen arm with her other hand, tearing the limb completely from the shoulder.
A sharp, burning pain spread through my hand, a reminder of the injury I had sustained in exchange for her severed arm. The limb shattered like glass when I dropped it on the ground.
I wasn’t sure whether or not it was a good thing, but the wound on my hand looked worse than it felt. Almost as if my left hand had been dipped in a vat of acid, yellow pus formed on the raw flesh of my hand, and a surge of pain went through me with even the slightest twitch.
Ripping a piece of cloth from the end of my mantle, I gently wrapped it around my injured hand, keeping my jaw clenched against the pain throughout the entire process.
“How dare you!” the witch snarled. With a deranged fire in her hollow green eyes, she tore off chunks of her thick black hair to reveal a small stump just above her forehead.
“I am a Vritra! I’ll make sure you feel the consequences of making a lady go through such… disgrace!” she screamed while she ripped off more of her mangled hair. “I’ll melt your limbs off and keep you as a trophy! I’ll cut off your tongue and feed you through a tube so you can only dream about dying!”
“Oh? You’ll have to be at least a Scythe to even think about doing that,” I huffed, hoping she’d take the bait.
“A Scythe? A Scythe?” she howled, hobbling toward a nearby tree, Dawn’s Ballad still impaled in her left knee. “I’ll wipe that condescending woman off the face of Alacrya and take her place! Just because she’s a little attractive and her grunts fawn over her, she thinks she’s better than me? I’ll show her how degrading it is to be her retainer!”
Remembering how the witch had healed her hand earlier by submerging it inside a tree, I ignored the shrieks of protest from my legs and rushed to her.
She swung her remaining arm, releasing another gust of the smoke that had nearly melted my lungs.
I activated Burst Step once more, dodging the poisonous smoke and closing the gap between us in a blink. Tendrils of black lightning coiled around my right arm. Rather than attempting to break through her corroding aura and risk mutilating my other hand, I gripped the handle of my sword, which was still embedded in her thigh. The sword acted as a conductor, and the branches of electricity coiled down it and into the witch’s body.
Her limbs immediately stiffened and jerked in a fit of convulsions from the current of lightning passing through her body. I could see her trying to fight back, but I became hopeful as her hollow eyes went dim.
Despite the spasms jolting her thin frame, there was still strength in her when her glossy eyes slowly came back into focus. The witch’s gnarled face cracked like dry soil as splotches of charred skin spread over her body.
Please, just die, I pleaded in my head. My decreasing mana reserves were making me fear for the possibility of backlash.
Suddenly, I was wrenched back from the witch. As if I had been prodded by an iron brand, a searing pain radiated from my shoulder and I was sent tumbling back on the ground. Without looking back, I coated my hand in an icy aura and reached over my shoulder to pry off the fingers of mana she had conjured.
The witch was once again desperately trying to reach a nearby tree, just a few feet away, so I conjured an earthen wall.
Despite the thick wall surrounding her, she pressed on, staggering but unfaltering. Despite her apparent weakness, the green aura that surrounded her still managed to easily dissolve the wall. I knew I had no choice but to rely on Burst Step once more to keep her from healing her wounds.
Then a wonderfully familiar voice rang in my head.
‘Arthur!’ Sylvie cried, just as I saw her shadow ripple across the forest floor.
Perfect timing, I replied, my voice sounding strained even in my head. Gathering up as much mana as my body would allow without succumbing to the harsh effects of backlash, I conjured a torrent of wind underneath the witch’s feet.
“Catch!” I roared, and sent my opponent spiraling up into the air toward my bond.
Sylvie immediately dived to grasp the witch in her long claws. In her weakened state, the witch’s aura had little effect on the dragon’s tough hide. Sylvie’s armored scales protected her long enough for her to soar up into the sky.
The two of them were lost in the clouds, but still Sylvie carried the Vritra higher.
‘She’s lost consciousness,’ Sylvie stated, the mental transmission sounding distant and muffled.
Drop her here, I transmitted from my spot on the ground.
‘I’ll do a little more than drop,’ she sent with a growl.
After meditating a bit longer for one last spell, I struggled up to my feet, my trembling legs barely keeping me standing.
Raising my good arm, I converged mana to form the head of a spear. The runes on my arms flickered and dimmed but remained, helping me utilize as much of the mana in the atmosphere as possible. I could feel the temperature drop as the spear of ice expanded to the size of a tree.
I steadily condensed the ice until the crude pike that I’d conjured took shape: a mighty lance large enough to be wielded by a titan. The lance continually changed, further refining itself as I condensed and molded it with the surrounding mana.
Feeling my legs beginning to give out, I quickly raised the ground around me to support them, planting me to the ground in an earthen splint.
I compressed and sharpened the spell so that the spear of ice, once the size of a tree, was now just a few feet taller than me. Suspended in the air, it glimmered like the sky during the Aurora Constellate.
The taste of metal filled my mouth as blood trickled down my chin, my body warning me of the wretched state I was in.
Moments later, I caught sight of the witch. The once-mighty Vritra, who had seemed almost untouchable, was hurtling down like a meteor fragment. Sylvie must’ve thrown her, judging by the speed at which she was plummeting toward me; it took only the span of a few heartbeats for her to be close enough that I could calculate where she’d land.
The Vritra’s mangled body plummeted right into the tip of my spear, impacting with the force of a catapult stone. It took all my remaining energy to hold the form of the spear together as it buried itself into the witch’s body. The earthen brace collapsed and I slumped to the ground at the same instant that the witch struck the earth.
Shattered rocks and splinters of wood bombarded me as a thunderous explosion resounded throughout the forest, shaking every tree in the vicinity.
I fell in and out of consciousness as I tumbled across the ground, blown away by the ferocity of her impact, my body barreling through old logs and branches and whatever else was on the forest floor, until the trunk of a large tree finally stopped me.
‘Hang on, Papa!’ Sylvie cried.
I thought… it was beneath you… to call me… Papa, I managed, my consciousness faltering.
She remained silent, but I could feel the rampant emotions leaking out of her—desperation, guilt, anger, sorrow.
My perception of time was unreliable, and I couldn’t tell how long it had taken Sylvie to arrive, but suddenly I realized she was by my side, her large black snout hovering over me.
Her translucent yellow eyes were lined with tears as she slowly opened her jaw. She let out a soft breath, but rather than air, a shimmering mist of purple enveloped me.
The cacophony of pains all over my body soon dulled as the soothing mist seeped into me.
“Vivum,” I muttered weakly.
‘Don’t talk,’ she scolded as she continued healing me.
Just like your grandmother. I managed a weak smile. For such a scary-looking dragon, your powers turned out be rather… docile.
A faint sense of amusement sparked in her at my comment. ‘If you have the energy for such lame humor, I’m sure you’ll be fine.’
Of course; who do you think I am?
‘A rash and idiotic child with no sense of self-preservation,’ she grunted as she closed her jaw. ‘I warned you of the enemy coming your way, yet you still decided it was necessary to fight her on your own!’
A fit of strained coughs racked my body as I reached out to stroke my bond’s snout.
I’m sorry. At least it’s over—it is over, right?
“See for yourself,” Sylvie said aloud, the gentle, mellow timbre of her voice soothing after the witch’s shrieks.
Using my elbow, I propped myself up on the base of the tree I had collided with, and my bond moved to the side.
Less than fifty feet away was a crater the size of a home, a thin layer of dust still apparent. In the center of the large depression was the spear of ice buried halfway into the ground. The witch’s lifeless body lay dangling in the air, the spear impaled straight through her chest.
Steam still hissed from the witch’s corpse as her corrosive skin tried to eat away at the ice, but to no avail.
She was dead.
Chapter 19
Pinnacle’s Height
CAPTAIN JARNAS AUDDYR
“Ulric,” I whispered, signaling him to move out left as I crouched down low behind a fallen log. The massive augmenter silently gathered his small team of five mages, and they began making their way through the dense trees.
“Brier.” I tilted my head in the direction of the small path to our right, signaling for him and his troops to come with me. Brier nodded in reply as he unsheathed both of his serrated daggers. The well-built augmenter quickly navigated through the dense forest, his stride long and confident. I followed at the rear of the quiet procession, my fingers anxiously positioned on the grip of my artifact, ready to strike.
I’d come to be thankful for the frigid gale that constantly howled through the trees, tearing through the branches and stripping their foliage. It served to cover the sound of our footsteps as we made our way deeper into the forest.
Clearings were frequent but I navigated my troops away from them, lest we be exposed to this great danger Captain Glory had warned me about. I suppressed the urge to scoff at her ridiculousness—believing the words of a teen who had somehow snaked his way into being a Lance! He’d probably made up the story about this powerful foe so he could escape by himself to avoid battle.
I’ll apprehend him on sight if I catch him running away, I thought. Perhaps my role in driving off the Alacryan forces and capturing the rogue Lance will earn me a well-deserved promotion.
I’d grudgingly followed Captain Glory when she abruptly started ordering her troops to retreat. It had been a mistake to so blindly trust her judgment.
After Captain Glory had informed me of what that Lance had instructed her to do, I immediately turned my troops back. She had some nerve to throw away the battle and risk bringing the entire fight to the cooks and medics back at the encampment—but I was not her subordinate.
The battle had become chaotic after the troops started retreating, leaving only my men to fight. However, taking advantage of the fact that the Alacryans tried to go after the retreating troops, it was easy for my soldiers to subdue many of the preoccupied enemy forces.
Better yet, Captain Glory had received her consequences for such poor judgment in battle; she’d sustained a sizeable injury to her side that left me in charge of both allied forces. I used my expertise as a commander to quickly mesh together the disjointed troops, and we resumed the fight—until an explosion sounded just a bit south of the battleground.
Unexpectedly, the enemy leaders began ordering their men to fall back, giving us a remarkable victory. The sound of my cheering troops filled me with a sense of satisfaction and reminded me of what it meant to be a figure of power.
Resuming my duties as the acting general in charge of both divisions, I ordered every able-bodied soldier to retrieve an ally’s body and head back to camp. I also ordered the capture of any Alacryan soldiers found alive, so they could be interrogated later.
I had wanted to go straight to the Council and debrief them on what had happened here, but Captain Glory stopped me. She suspected that the explosion had something to do with the boy Lance and the foe he was supposedly fighting, and wanted me to take some troops to see what happened.
If not for the possibility of apprehending the boy and bringing him in for punishment for running away in the midst of battle, and the chance to take his place as a Lance, I would’ve refused.
Perhaps the deities were finally rewarding me for my service to King Glayder and, now, the entirety of Dicathen. I would achieve the pinnacle of power in this continent.
The further south we trekked, the more careful we had to be with our footsteps. As the sun set, mist began pooling between the thick trunks of the trees, obscuring the ground even directly below us. Of more concern than the possibility of an imagined foe, I wanted to catch the boy off guard—accidentally snapping a twig might make him run and complicate the task.
My sources up in the Council’s castle told me Arthur had not accepted the artifact granted to each of the Lances to enhance their powers; nevertheless, it would be a mistake for me to be careless. However much of a coward he might be, the boy was still a Lance, after all.
Brier, my right-hand man, stopped and wordlessly motioned for me to come. Walking past the soldiers in his unit, I arrived at what seemed to have once been a tree.
Looking at the dark sludge pooled in the center of the tree trunk, I reached out to touch it, but Brier swatted my hand away. My eyes narrowed as I shot my subordinate a glance, but Brier merely shook his head, unstrapped a spare knife from his thigh, and dipped it into the puddle.
With a faint hiss, the blade of the knife completely dissolved in a matter of mere seconds. Shifting my gaze to the rest of the tree, which seemed to have toppled over fairly recently, I pointed to it, wordlessly asking Brier if he thought this acid was what caused it.
