Chapter 3, and the story's finally getting going.
Thanks to voltagelisa for the kind review
Please do tell me anything you think of, perhaps if I'm getting a little long-winded (7,634 words is a big ask I know, but I really wanted to wrap things up in one chapter, let me know if anything could be cut out), or what you think of how I've written about magic etc.
Night, and Phaedra dozed in the warmth of her bed, on the verge of dreams. Though she did still have some trouble calming the lingering haze of excitement, left behind from the Harvest Festival. Despite everything, she had been quite carried away by the atmosphere; it had been quite a spectacle. Everyone in West Harbour had gathered together, the centre of the village had been set up with tables, groaning with more food and drink than she'd ever seen in one place, homes and trees festooned with fabulous decorations. As for Daeghun, that boar had found its way to the table after all, though he had quickly absented himself from the celebration, everyone had thanked him for it. There'd been marvellous music and stories from the merchant Galen about the outside world were as interesting and harrowing as ever. According to him the great Luskan mages of the Hostower had declared war on the nation of Ruathym, the vast fleets of the City of Sails were gathering at the call of their magical overlords, and a fierce and protracted conflict seemed inevitable. Such news reached West Harbour rarely, whenever it did Phaedra found it at once fascinating and appalling, wondering what moved these vast powers in their bloody warring. Thankfully her village was under the stewardship of Neverwinter, a distant, but protective overlord. Since that fearsome War around the time Phaedra had been born West Harbour had been at peace, allowing time for the village to grow.
Even after all that there had been the long-awaited Harvest Dance, Amie had had her dances, three in all, with one of Galen's guards, a real warrior from Neverwinter with a dashing smile. He'd asked Phaedra once too, and even Bevil seemed to have been having fun, what with the mead flowing freely he'd plucked up the courage to ask Phaedra for a dance, to his mother's delight. She shifted uncomfortably in the covers, though the dance had been…nice, there had been something there, something between them, something it looked like he had wanted to say the whole night, but he never quite managed it, and Phaedra had not quite been able to set aside the shock Amie had given her only this morning, no need to consider that now anyway. It had all quite exhausted her, right now she was all too ready to sleep, let her dreams take her…
As it was, the somnolent thoughts lulled her, and she was about to drift off when suddenly she caught a vague noise, a thump, somewhere outside the room. Instantly she started to full awareness, her eyes snapping open, quite confused. Was that Daeghun out on the stairs? She hadn't seen him since he'd left the festival, but she'd assumed he had already retired long ago. As she lay there, wondering, there was another sound, another thud, and at once she pushed herself upward to a sitting position, scattering the bedclothes. She didn't quite know why these sounds should put her so on edge, but something, some sneaking cold instinct was clasping at her heart, or was that nothing more than the sheer darkness of the room, it had to be very close to midnight. Slowly, keeping an eye on the doorway for reasons she couldn't quite understand, she bent over to pick up a small wax candle lying on the table by her bed, murmuring a word to conjure a small, flickering flame at its tip. At once the room was plunged into sombre, flickering light, the meagre flame touched the shadows of everything familiar around the room, casting great, looming shadows up the walls, while Phaedra sat in the midst of it, entirely still, her senses straining, trying to puzzle through the vague, but shockingly intense, sense of unease rippling through her.
At once the door to her room was flung open, crashing on its hinges into the wall, and Phaedra leapt back, giving out a cry of alarm. Bevil, and Amie, what in the name of the Gods? Yes, it was them, and this was no dream, they were both standing in her doorway, and looking as though something awful was happening, something terrible. They were framed by the dark, ghoulish shadows of the night outside, and both gasping and breathing heavily. Bevil wore his militia armour, chainmail, heavy over his broad shoulders, and he carried in his hands his longsword, naked, gleaming, and streaked with something dark…something very much like blood. Beside him Amie was alight with terror, fear burning in her gaze, but she clasped at the side of her dress determinedly. She had summoned power, Phaedra sensed with a sudden shock, she had used magic…
"Phaedra!" Bevil shouted at once, his voice hoarse, through great, gasping breaths "Thank the Gods you're okay! We were sure they'd come here!"
"Bevil, what is it?" Phaedra staggered up from the bed, her heart suddenly beating faster, painfully in her chest. His voice, it cracked with shock, with real terror, oh Gods, what was happening?
"Someone, something's attacking the village!" Bevil gasped roughly "These monsters, out of the Mere"
"What?" Phaedra cried desperately, pulling her leather boots frantically on up her shins "From where? Who?"
"I don't know" Bevil could barely keep his voice under control, it almost cracked once again under the strain "They just attacked, from the swamp, these creatures…killing, burning houses. We just ran here, tried to kill some of them on the way. We still don't know what they were, still…"
"There were some near the house" Amie sobbed hysterically "They were coming in. We need to get out of here, now!"
"The militia will be gathering, we have to find Georg" Bevil answered, forcing some measure of strength, of control into his voice as he recalled his duty as a member of the militia "He'll know what to do" Phaedra grasped, fingers shaking hopelessly at the longbow which hung near her bed, pulling it down and clasping her quiver round her neck. West Harbour…under attack! It was impossible! That didn't happen, not here, it couldn't!
"Then we have to get moving!" She gasped, staggering to the doorway, they fell in behind her almost automatically "Come on!" She stumbled through, glancing frantically around the passageway, still, silent and filled only with shadows "Did you see my father?" she asked desperately. The door to his room was flung wide open, but the bedroom was entirely empty, there was no sign of him.
"No" Bevil shook his head darkly "We wanted to warn him, but…" Phaedra shuddered, where was Daeghun? What could have happened to him?
Steadying herself, she leapt onto the stairs, staggering down them as fast as she could. Amie and Bevil quickly ran down behind her, and they burst together into the entrance hall of Daeghun's house, flooded with pale moonlight, the fireplace empty and cold. At once the front door cracked, splitting in two, breaking apart into splinters of wood, and three creatures leapt inwards, greedy eyes scanning the room, settling on where Phaedra stood, stunned by their appearance, and at once their gazes burned with rage and bloodlust. They were almost like men and all the more horrific for it, for they were squat and ugly, though they stood to about the height of a man's chest there was such menace about them, their bodies were broad across the shoulder, covered in patched, mismatched pieces of leather armour, their skin a pale, leached grey, their eyes like shards of dark iron. Each one bore a weapon, a mace, a dagger and a long sword, stained, she realised, with a shocking lurch deep within, with dark, streaking blood, but…whose?
"Mystra protect us!" Amie screamed "They're here!" Instantly, moving as though by instinct, Phaedra drew an arrow, emptying her mind of all else, she, as the creatures ran forward, bellowing harsh battle-cries, drew back her bowstring, slotting the arrow into place, aimed, and fired. At this range she couldn't have missed, the arrow struck down the nearest of the creatures, right through the head, he fell without a sound. Phaedra felt a harsh clenching around her stomach at the thought, never had she used an arrow to kill, but no, keep herself under control, she had to do this. Meanwhile Bevil leapt in to intercept one of them, the full length of his longsword burning in the uneven light.
The blade rang as it met the creature's mace, gasping furiously Bevil quickly attacked again, his body moving seemingly automatically through each attack, parry, counter-attack the militia had taught him. Amie raised a hand, her voice, chanting an arcane incantation echoed through the room, and a burst of light launched at the last of the creatures. He leapt back, grunting as the spell struck him in the chest, then Phaedra quickly shot him through the neck, as he fell, choking on his blood, she staggered back, horrified and then Bevil's blade sliced across the chest of his opponent and that one too fell. They were threatening everything she held dear, killers, murderers, and yet, sickness oozed from her stomach as blood splattered across the living room which had been theirs, hers and Daeghun's, for as long as she could remember…
"They're dead" Amie gasped, as though unable to believe it
"By the Gods" Phaedra whispered, staring down, almost transfixed, at the dead creatures, their harsh features contorted in the agony of their last moments "What are they, where do they come from?"
"It doesn't matter, we've got to find Georg, and my family" Bevil insisted; oh Gods, the Starlings, the children.
"Phaedra" Amie cried, pulling at her friend's sleeve "Come on, let's just go!" Yes, Amie was right. Phaedra quickly ran over to the shattered doorway and forced it open, stumbling outside onto the path. It was the dead of night, but across the river great sheets of fires blazed, illuminating the swarm of creatures pouring out of the swamps, and a crowd of fleeing villagers running back towards them. Screams and shouts shattered the silence of the night, the sounds of battle, the sounds of dying, and the harsh crack of the flames crackled as barns, homes, burned under the shadows of the night was harsh and dreadful. At once, as they stared transfixed at the horrifying spectacle, there was a great burst of light, bright, brilliant, across the river, from somewhere beyond one of the homes, Phaedra felt a sudden painful ache of magical intuition, she grasped at her chest, staggered by the strength of the response, someone, was using magic, strong magic…
"Did you feel it as well?" Amie gasped
"Yes" Phaedra whispered
"Tarmas, it has to be" Amie glanced frantically down the hill, searching the shadows "He's fighting, he might be in trouble, we've got to find him!"
"And my family" Bevil gripped his blade tight, the muscles of his jaw clenched with tension, Phaedra suddenly realised that he must have come to Daeghun's house, to her, before even knowing if his family were truly safe…why? She could have died without him, and Amie's help, in return she had to help save his family!
At once a figure ran up to them, a shadow in the dark, then a flash of the flames across the river illuminated Brother Merring, still wearing his golden and crimson robes, though these were spattered with blood, none of it his own, his face pale and fearful, wracked by exhaustion. Even though he was from beyond the village, from Neverwinter, by the horror in his eyes it was clear he had never seen anything remotely like this before…
"Phaedra, you're safe" he gasped, staggering with exhaustion "I saw those creatures go into your house and I feared…Thank Lathander." He shook his head, cold sweat stained his brow. "I managed to gather some of those wounded in the attacks here. I'm doing what I can, but if those creatures break through...Listen Georg said he'll hold them at the bridge but he will need help, you must go to him!"
"Georg is at the bridge?" Bevil stumbled forward "We have to go there now!"
"Take this blessing of Lathander before you go" Merring raised his hands, and at once a sense of light gathered about his palms, a light as warm and welcome as the dawn. Phaedra felt her exhaustion washed away as sudden new strength flooded through her muscles and spirit. She had felt Lathander's blessings before, but never in this way. Beyond the simple gesture the God moved, like the touch of dawn's light upon her skin; even here in this darkness and terror Lathander was guarding her. The other two seemed affected as well, standing straighter, with greater strength in their gazes, though they did not serve Lathander as she did.
"Lathander protect you" Phaedra whispered, just down the hill from where Merring had come, still forms, lying amidst the shadows. They were Harbourmen, people she knew, wounded, killed, by these monsters! She had to stop this now, they all did before anyone else was hurt, before these…monsters destroyed anything else!
Spurred by new determination and by Lathander's strength, she stepped onto the path and ran down the hill, quickly and closely followed by both Bevil and Amie. Everything, this familiar road she had walked each day was made ghoulish and terrifying by the horrors of the night, by the awful, flickering light that burned beyond the river as people's homes, and their entire lives, burned bright against the darkness, throwing a stream of sparks and smoke into the still night air. Beneath the mounting terror, the forced determination, it almost seemed as though, this couldn't be real, it couldn't be true, as though it were born of a world of pain, of horror, she had up till now never touched and could never have imagined. Then they rounded the ridge, and the village opened out beneath them. The black, glassy surface of the river burned with the light of the flames set behind it, but beyond the fires the darkness cloaked everything, for a moment her gaze flicked over the whole scene. The Starling household on the far side was, thankfully, to her intense relief, untouched by flame or violence, of Tarmas, and the magical battle she had momentarily glimpsed, there was no sign, it had to be hidden behind one of the looming shadows. But down on the bridge the fight was clearly, shockingly visible. Georg, and two members of the West Harbour militia stood on their side of the bridge, in full armour, blades out and ready, it was Pierson Lannon, and Ian Harman, both seeming, as each flash of the flames illuminated their sweat-streaked faces, completely terrified out of their wits, but nonetheless they held firm. Georg himself, standing at the fore, was enraged, he looked ready to tear those he faced across the river to pieces if only he were unleashed upon them. And, he faced them, there were more of the creatures, the pallid, ashen dwarf-like creatures clustered across the river, and standing before them, in ghastly echo of Georg's commanding presence, there was another, a monster, its back was bowed, its lithe body covered in tiny scales, grey, fleshy. Its arms were long, at each elbow and wrist, and rising from each shoulder there was a sharp bone-like spine. Its face was scarcely human, long, almost reptilian, the eyes gleamed with unnatural light. Yet it too wore armour, of strange design, long leather straps bound tight around its body, and bore a hooked, curved sword. It had to be some kind of commander, a leader of these beasts…these monsters.
"Come then!"" Georg bellowed, his voice, harsh, raw with fury ripped through the air and the furious crackle of the flames, even in the face of these hideous creatures, there was not the slightest trace of fear in it "I'll gut you all for the people you've killed!"
"Foolish" A tremble ran down Phaedra's even as she leapt down the hill toward Georg. The spined creature spoke! Its harsh, sibilant voice was cruel, entirely devoid of pity. "Kill them all!" It roared, and the grey dwarves surged forward, drawing their weapons, streaked with blood black in the dark, and pitted and marred by conflict. Georg and the two militiamen ran to meet them, swords clashed, blood sprayed out into the night against the bright flames within the river's furious currents, as Georg slashed into the chest of the first dwarf he encountered, rising to meet the next with a furious battle-cry.
"We've got to help them" Bevil yelled, leading them onwards, his longsword flashing in the awful firelight "Hurry!" Phaedra, staggering over the small mound just before the bridge, pulled back her hands, summoning the power deep within her, feeding it, turning it outward. It felt, right, like drawing in a deep breath, she welcomed it, gasping out arcane words, the spell, the release, this torrent of energy demanded. As she spoke, light gathered around her fingers, a white light, pure, and powerful, the power within changing to energy without, energy she could direct at will. Her gaze swung to where Ian Harman fought with one of the fierce dwarven creatures, he was struggling, his foe bore down on him with the blades of a great axe, striking with such strength he could barely hold the creature back, and more were coming, circling around eagerly like vultures. Quickly she cried out the last words of the incantation, weaving the spell together, and a ray of light seared outward, slicing through the air, and into the body of the dwarf threatening Ian. The loathsome creature gave a grunt of surprise, staggering back, it collapsed against the side of the bridge, as Ian stared at it with shock, then the body tumbled over the side and into the river with a great splash, and it was drawn quickly away by the deadly swift current.
But it was hardly over yet. Bevil was the first to reach the bridge; he ploughed into the first dwarf he encountered, fighting toward his militia comrades, hammering his sword into his foe again and again. Phaedra leapt up onto the ridge near the bank, drawing her bow upwards and ready with one hand, the other slammed into the air forward, through heaving breaths she cried out another spell, and lightning shimmered over her fingers, crackling through the fibres of her dress. Her words tamed it, controlled it, and at the last sent it searing through the air, striking down a second dwarf in a spray of furious energy. Amie leapt up beside Phaedra, and, at once, from her whispered words, and outstretched hands, another spell, a shard of ice that cleaved through the air like a dagger, was launched into their foes, the dwarves scattered, Phaedra glanced at her friend, beneath the tension, the obvious fear, and strain, Amie was set, determined to drive these creatures from her village by any means she could. It was time for Phaedra to be the same! She drew her bowstring back, aimed, and fired, in a single elegant movement, cutting down one of the creatures closest to where Bevil sparred with one wielding a ferocious warhammer. Quickly, seizing the initiative and forcing down a surge of nausea, she poured arrow after arrow into the gap. At this range, she couldn't miss. Bevil and Georg fought side by side now, their swords sweeping, clashing with the blades of their foes.
Then suddenly the spined creature, the seeming leader of this horde, gave a horrific cry of rage, and bounded forward, pulling the hooked blade up into the air. In its rage it cast aside its own minions, clawing its way toward where Georg and Bevil fought. Quickly Phaedra lifted her bow, aimed…and fired, the arrow struck it in the shoulder, it gave a horrific scream of pain, but still, it kept coming, its eyes wild, its reptilian face contorted with bloodlust and fury. As Phaedra desperately struggled with her bow, pulling another arrow from her quiver with trembling hands, Pierson threw himself in its path, his sword caught on its hooked blade, it roared, slammed its arm upwards, and pulled the sword from Pierson's hands. There was an instant, an instant in which Pierson pulled back in terror, where Phaedra grasped at her bow, gasping with horror, where Amie beside her cried out the words of the spell that might have stopped the creature in its tracks, then the creature's blade swung down, and Pierson fell, crying out in agony, to the floor amidst the dead dwarves, his blood fell thick and black upon the cracked wood of the bridge…and he was still. Phaedra froze, stunned, as the spell died in Amie's grasp; he had killed…Pierson. She found herself so shaken that she could only watch as Georg, with a cry of rage at the murder of the young man under his command, launched himself at the killer, his sword hammered into its own, the clash rang across the bridge, as the two combatants fought furiously, each driven by an equal force of sheer fury. It was no battle of finesse, of skill…they pounded at each other, trying to break through to their opponent by force of strength alone…watching it forced Phaedra to come back to herself. This was no time for her to stand back. Her gifts might turn the tide, might save others, in response to the surge of her will her power flared into life, gathering around her hands in a nimbus of pure, pale light…
It was easy, easier than she had expected to give way to it, to draw it out of her in a greater surge of energy than she had dared beyond practice sessions with Tarmas, to speak the words, the complex intonations of the spell poured smoothly from her lips, and, as she opened her outstretched fingers, a flame burst into burning existence within her palm. She poured more of her magic into the weave of the spell, her words shaped it, brought it life, and the flame grow hot and strong, twining around her fingers, around her raised arm. It did not burn her, though it tore through the darkness around her, stirring up the tumultuous dry air, and the stream of ashes from the fires across the river, and she felt its warmth within her, the power of her magic sparking into a font of heat and light. As she chanted the last words, drawn out from her by the spell, as she lowered her arm, that trembled with the seeming weight of the power it bore, as her eyes fluttered, her head straining, sweat staining her brow, though she forced a clarity of focus through the roiling tide of magic…the spell wove itself to its end, and she let loose. Bolts of fire, one after the other, poured from her hand, from the fire she bore, from the power within, she directed them, and they tore into those dwarves remaining, sending sprays of lucent sparks out into the night, burning, searing, consuming each of them in great veils of fire…they screamed, in pain, in mindless pain, and fell…into the obsidian waters below, where steam seared upwards in great clouds about the bridge. Phaedra gasped, her head reeling with the aftermath of channelling the conflagration of magical fury. She staggered, but managed to keep herself upright by sheer force of will. It had been enough, just, and the spell had also given Georg a second's advantage, an advantage he violently tore into, cutting his opponent right across the chest, its watery grey blood splashed in the wake of his sword. It gave a screech of agony, inhuman, high, piercing, then it staggered to its knees, and Georg's blade thrust deep into its chest, and it fell. Phaedra closed her eyes, raising a hand to her aching forehead. The creature was dead, it was done. Slowly, it still felt like a dream, like some horrific nightmare, as though she were dragged forward by some force beyond her control, she walked down to the bridge, beside her Amie's footsteps were heavy, her friend was breathing heavily…
"You, thank the Gods you three got here" Georg Redfell raised his head as they reached him, his voice was hoarse, his normally piercing gaze clouded as it travelled over Bevil, Phaedra and Amie each in turn, but still his commanding presence was intact, he held himself upright with that remarkable iron control which had always so distinguished the leader of the West Harbour militia. "Did you see anyone else?"
"Only Brother Merring, up the ridge" Phaedra answered quickly "But, my father, and the others, I don't know…"
"We're trying to gather the militia, mount some kind of defence" Georg glanced away, at the burning homes, the sheet of flames beyond the waters "They've taken half the village, and I don't know where most of my men are"
"Wait, what did you mean?" Amie gasped. She sounded almost hysterical, her voice cracked with strain "But, we killed that thing? Wasn't…it the leader?"
"No" Georg replied bitterly "There are more of them, don't even know how many more"
"Pierson" Bevil looked up from where he knelt over the young man's body "Georg, he's dead…" Phaedra's eyes stung, but she could not look away. Pierson, the attack, all of it, she realised the truth of it had not sunk in until now, only yesterday Pierson had been alive, happy, expecting his first child, now…she couldn't bear to think of it.
"Damn them!" Georg snarled "We've got to drive them back, now!" He lifted his sword, and his gaze held the three of them "Listen to me, we don't have much time, I'll get back to Merring, maybe some of the militia will have got together up there, but I'll need you three to go on ahead. Amie, Phaedra, your magic seems to be the thing which can clinch this for our side, and Bevil, I know you're good enough with a sword to keep these two safe." Bevil stood and nodded determinedly, he glanced quickly at Amie and Phaedra, set and ready to fulfil his charge "Anyone you can find out there, get them ready for battle, and kill as many of the bastards as you can. We'll meet you at the Starling farm, there we're going to make a stand, understood?"
"Yes sir" Bevil clutched at his sword, as Phaedra breathed deeply, settling herself, and nodded. Georg could always take charge of situations, now, even in this most desperate hour, perhaps it would be enough to save the village. No it had to be enough…
"We have to find Tarmas…" Amie added tearfully "He might need our help"
"You're right, Tarmas will be able to turn things around for us" Phaedra glanced at her friend, hoping to give some hope and strength to Amie, whose worry for her guardian was written so clearly across her ashen face "Let's go" She glanced down the bridge, the thick shadows were silent, still, there didn't seem to be any of the creatures on the bank, perhaps the fight on the bridge had driven them from this part of the village, but that did not mean they would not face more of them, she had to be ready. It was her who took the first step along the bridge, followed quickly by Bevil and Amie, as Georg and Ian vanished up toward the ridge, their pounding footsteps soon disappearing beneath the harsh sound of the flames
But, something far worse than anything they had witnessed even this terrible night awaited them as the village opened out on the opposite bank. The homes here were largely intact, looming shadows, empty and unsympathetic, their windows dark, cold, like the eyes of the dead. The path wound between them, stirred up, the pounding of footsteps could be clearly glimpsed in the troubled surface, cutting deep into the earth. Just as it curved down toward the Starling farmstead on the outskirts of the village, there, a figure, Tarmas! His shadowed form was wreathed in light, wreathed in a shield of pure magic, a globe of silvery light that enveloped his whole body, clutched in his hand the staff Phaedra had scarcely ever seen him wield blazed, rippling with arcs of incandescent energy. His robes whipped about him, cast this way and that in the furious storm of magic that surrounded him. He chanted ferocious incantations, his voice echoing across the distance between them, each syllable alive with power, and around his hands the energy of magic gathered. By the Gods, he was in a duel against another creature, standing on the small hillock on the other side of the path, it, this creature was different to the others, far more magisterial, far more powerful…
It…was like nothing Phaedra had ever seen, or even read about, almost human in its form, almost, but it stood taller than any man could be. It was lean and sinewy, all angular muscle and bone and its skin was green and mottled with yellowish speckles, stretched tight over its body so that the veins pulsed just beneath the surface, its gauntness gave it an animalistic savagery in its appearance, as though it were some half-starved beast, subsisting solely on rage. Its face, too, burned with hatred, hatred that had carved deep grooves amidst its features, the eyes were sunken amidst heavy ridges of bone, yellow, pinched, and alight with evil intent, its teeth, sharp points, were clamped down in concentration upon its thin, curling lips. The nose had recessed entirely, leaving only two thin nostrils, slits, drawn back and cut deep into its skull. Over its body it wore an ornate leather armour, with two bands running up its thin legs, to armour that was ornamented with a host of jewels that flashed in the light of the magical contest, set amidst scorched leather straps that enclosed its body like the carapace of some exotic insect. A headdress, leather also, but adorned with a spray of grey feathers at its crown, was strapped tight under its chin, over jet-black wiry hair. This creature commanded magic, magic so strong that the sight of it scorched Phaedra's arcane sense. This magic seared about it, a torrent that burned like fire in the air, enfolding it, enveloping it, in a stream of constant, relentless power. Tarmas' hoarse incantations, his furious gestures, the energy that he flung, lancing through the air, towards it, that it brushed away so carelessly, seemed…almost feeble in comparison, as in a hissing voice, it summoned its own to bear. From its clawed, grasping hands poured fire, liquid fire, that gathered in a great tide, a sheet of flame which seared towards Tarmas, scorching the earth before it.
"You three…!" Tarmas bellowed, his gaze snapping over to them for a moment, before his staff whipped up before him, blazing with swathes of incandescent power, he thrust his hand forward, the outstretched fingers clasping within the surface of the rippling shield that surrounded him, pouring more of his power into the weave of its substance. "Get out of here!" He cried "Go! Now…!" But Phaedra, stunned by the sight, by the power that burned in the very air about her, could only watch in horror, hearing Amie give a short, sharp scream of terror, as the wave of fire swept over her mentor, searing against his shield, enveloping it in a tide of blistering heat. It was so strong that Tarmas' shield wavered before it, but, trembling with the effort, he drove the flickering embers of his power into the protective globe of magic, and it held. But Phaedra suddenly knew, with sickening, aching certainty, that here her teacher was outmatched, this creature was just…too strong.
"No!" Amie suddenly darted forward, before anyone could have stopped her, she leapt to her master's side, the flashing werelight of magic gleamed over her pale features, frightened but determined "I won't let you!"
"Amie…no!" Tarmas roared, he started forward towards his apprentice, but at once Amie cried out the words of a spell, and the light of power gleamed about her. Tarmas froze…fear and strain flashed over his face, then Amie gave voice to the magic reeling around her, and from her hands a stream of light seared outwards into a bolt of luminous energy that arced in a great curve, sparking across the night, and struck toward the creature with a thunderous crack. The impact of the spell lit up the darkness with a sudden flash of blazing white light so bright that Phaedra threw her arms across her face, gasping at the surge of heat that washed over her, such power…it had to…no. As she lowered her hands she saw it; the creature…standing there, entirely unharmed, a cold, cruel smile across its harsh, alien features, its hands held before it, fingers woven together. About them glowed the remnants of a spell, a ward, silvery light that faded even as they stared at it in horror. This ward, it had nullified the energy of Amie's spell…deflected it, destroyed it entirely. No spark of that formidable energy had touched it. It seemed almost impossible but here the creature stood, in front of them, its hand lifting upwards towards its lips, which moved as it whispered harsh words in an arcane tongue and something flickered in its hand, pulsing like the beat of some diseased heart, something that set Phaedra's head aching and throbbing with the sense of dark sorcery…
"Well, what is this? This whelp truly believes she can face me?" At last it spoke, its voice was haughty, cruel with a strange guttural accent. It lifted its hand away from its mouth, slowly, almost languorously extending it forward towards them, a sickly red glow burned within its palm, weaving amongst the darkness, so that the shadows dripped thick and bloody over its long, bony fingers. This was some curse, some dark magic, its flame-like light fell over Amie's face, she was horrified, but she stayed at her master's side, shocked perhaps into stillness, no, that was not it, her courage stayed her in place, ready to fight on if she could "Such arrogance, perhaps you should have taught her better, wizard" The oozing light gleamed over its sharp teeth, as it smiled coldly "Let me be the one to correct this oversight…"
"Phaedra!" Bevil caught her, taking Phaedra's arm, steadying her, as she stumbled backwards "What do we do?" He gasped in her ear, he was unaffected by the searing pain this spell drove into her head, he had no arcane sense, to be wracked by this agony "Phaedra?"
"Get out of here!" Tarmas threw out his arms, his staff blazed, his voice hoarse, quavering with panic. Phaedra froze, grasped at something, to help them, but her magic, stirring, deep within her, was all but exhausted, and this curse, it was like nothing she had ever sensed…and terror pounded at her head, at her heart "Amie…go!"
"Too late" The creature hissed, it pushed its hand forward, and the spell it held blazed with crimson fire. The aching sense of dark energy intensified, so harsh it was almost crippling, searing over Phaedra's consciousness, it was so strong, this sense, she could hardly think, Amie! At once, it was so sudden, after each slow instant of mounting terror that this fevered confrontation had encompassed, the spell was unleashed, and a roaring, howling flood of light, that same sickly, draining red, parting, into strands of light that arced outwards, lighting up the creature's harsh smile, then they surged toward Amie, all of them, pouring inwards, as though they were about to converge upon her, she drew back, raising her hands as though to shield herself, terror flashing over her face, Amie!
"No!" Tarmas roared, he swept his staff upwards, and a sweep of power broke across the ground, it was a storm of energy, light, crackling, blazing. Phaedra started forward, throwing off Bevil's hands…she did not know what she could have done, what she would have done, but Amie needed her, she had to do something. Then Tarmas's spell struck the dark energy pouring from the creature, the curse tore through it like paper, scattering shards of white light across the ground…its dark power was like a great wave breaking through a wall, leaving Amie defenceless. Phaedra staggered toward them, but, if she even could have done anything, she arrived far too late. Amie turned to face the spell, hopelessly raising her hands to cast, something, anything, her face a mask of fear. But, almost the instant before Phaedra reached her, the strands of red light together poured into her chest, just where her heart was, and as they met within her a great flash of crimson light shattered the darkness. Amie cried out, a single, piercing scream of pain and horror, it ripped through everything, tearing into Phaedra like a spear of sorrow, and agony, no, it couldn't be, after, everything…
"Amie!" Phaedra screamed, her voice, hoarse, screeching, broke through the echoes of Amie's cry…even as the spell drained what was left of the girl's life from her body, turning on her feet, her legs trembling, giving way, even as the blood left her cheeks…even as the cursed light over her body dimmed to nothing "Amie!" She cried again, as though the name alone could provide some kind of protection from the force that took her friend from her before her eyes "Amie! No…" As Amie fell, Phaedra staggered to her side, unable to keep herself upright, she dropped her knees, and caught Amie across her arms. She was light, ridiculously light, as though all the weight had left her, all the life, impossible! It couldn't be, Amie couldn't be, though her limbs arms hung limp over Phaedra's chest, though her eyes were closed, her breath stilled, her skin so pale; surely it couldn't be like this? Then a tear of piercing agony ripped through her, clawing across her heart, ripping her apart, her body clenched up with it, her head falling to her chest, over Amie, no…it…no…why?
"So, this is it then?" At first she hardly heard the creature, the murderer speak, but its voice became like a knife-point of anguish and anger driven into her head "All this village can muster, children, petty magicians, disappointing" She heard the press of its feet on the grass, as it stepped back toward the darkness of the Mere that stretched out around and behind it "I have no reason to remain here anymore then, it is not here after all." Again that rustle, another step, and around it, the slightest pinprick of her magical sense intruded, the creature, it was. She glanced up, no…it was escaping. She wanted to find some way to stop it, but she couldn't leave Amie, couldn't not hold her, just in case, it…her friend…oh Amie. The creature drew its hand across its face, its fingers spread outward, and the shadows shifted, twining around it, delving it into a profound darkness, as though the Mere reached out, surrounded it, and took it from them, for it vanished. a concealment spell. It was gone, gone, leaving only devastation and death. The word, for the first time she had thought it, tightened the agony squeezing her, at her throat, at her heart, Amie, dead, no.
"Phaedra" She hardly felt Bevil kneel by her, Tarmas stepping over, but as Bevil tentatively placed his arm over her thin shoulders, she looked up. He looked devastated, still in shock, but there was an intensity of anxiety, for her, that broke through…he was putting her, her shock, her anguish, before even his own "Oh Gods, no"
"Bevil…" She gasped, choking, and suddenly, before she could even hope to control it a flood of tears burst from her eyes, hot, painful, a flood she could not restrain. She gulped a huge gasp of air, scarcely able to breathe through the enormous pressure on her chest, on her throat "Amie…she…"
"She's dead." Bevil groaned hoarsely, he was holding back tears himself, she could see them, through the clouded gaze of her own sorrow, glistening in his bloodshot eyes "She, it killed her…"
"I warned her…" Tarmas' voice cracked. When he had first come, he had seemed, broken, his shoulders collapsed, his whole being shattered, drawn into himself, into a dry, tearless knot of agony, but, as he spoke, he straightened, burying his grief, his affection for the girl he had raised beneath the bluster he had often adopted with his apprentices "I warned her not to get involved, I warned all of you." He shook his head, the shiver seemed to run through his whole body for an instant, then he grasped at his arm, and forced control into himself "No, we haven't any time, that creature, its gone, but it left a sizeable force" He raised a hand to his forehead, straining, stained with sweat "I can sense them, we're still needed!"
"Damn it wizard, she just needs a minute" Bevil snapped, with a harsh anger in his voice she had never heard before, his arm tightening around Phaedra's shoulders, as she felt herself wilt before Tarmas, she couldn't move, not here from Amie
"Georg doesn't have a minute!" Tarmas snarled "Or had you forgotten that you have a duty, she is not the only one to have died this night, and others will join her unless we make a stand!"
"Phaedra" Bevil lowered his fevered, angered gaze from Tarmas, leaning closer to her "It, it's already too late, there's nothing we can do here, we have to get moving, we need to help Georg" Phaedra shook her head. She felt the hot tears burning her eyes, scratching her cheeks raw, it didn't, no, she couldn't leave…Amie, her hands tightened around the girl's shoulders "Phaedra…" Bevil reached forward, his hand alighted on hers, warm, rough, and it closed around her fingers, gently prising each one from the fabric of Amie's nightgown. She did not resist, she did not seem to have the strength. Bevil raised her hand, in his… "Amie wouldn't have wanted this, she would have wanted to save the others" He murmured hoarsely "Can you stand, Phaedra, come on, we have to get up"
"Bevil, I…can't" Phaedra breathed, she couldn't…what? Stand, fight, do nothing, Amie had always been the strong one, not her.
"You have to…" Bevil's grip on her shoulders tightened. Slowly he stood, guiding her upwards as well, she stood, on shaking legs, leaning heavily on him, leaving Amie, just lying there on the moss-stained ground, what could she do? But then the flames burned before her, the village, home, West Harbour, Retta, the Starlings, her friends, no, she had to do something! Stumbling, she managed to take a step away from Bevil, he let her go, with a sadness that she realised had always been there in his eyes, only now it was on the surface for a moment. It was Amie, but it was also her, something in her, what did he see?
"Good, we cannot all lose our heads like Amie did, poor girl" Tarmas folded his arms, she glanced at him. This hardness, she could see it was only a shell, to keep him from falling utterly to the grief that tore at him from within, that cut through the harsh exterior for that instant, for his foster-daughter.
"You don't think, Brother Merring..." Phaedra whispered, Lathander, for the life of an innocent, for Amie's life, could You put forth Your power for this one prayer, but she knew deep in her heart, that Amie was beyond even the power of the Gods. Even Brother Merring could not heal this…
"You know better, Phaedra" Tarmas shook his head sadly "Come, the Starling Farm" Yes, the Starlings. She had to, Bevil…she had to help him now. Amie was gone to the Gods, but this attack had to stop now, before anyone else, before, she lost someone else. Somehow, somewhere she had to find the strength to fight.