Just like Mike, I'm back! This is the longest chapter so far, and certainly, the longest one I'll write in the near future. Now, there are some points I wanted to write about:
1. Ron will be back for the next chapter. Not gonna lie, I've missed writing about him.
2. This chapter is divided into four parts of similar length; although I think the second one is the shortest. They all have pretty much the same structure.
3. All of the chapter's fights are quite spectacular, and maybe, a bit of a mess in some aspects because there are certain mechanics which aren't explained as I've done in past chapters. I really like setting rules and limits to the magical system that bound all the characters; but not today. Why? Because a few of the characters that appear here are some of the story's top dogs, and so it comes naturally to them to use magic to its fullest. However, all the mechanics will be explained in future chapters from the younger characters' POVs as they learn them.
4. From this day to the end of the year, hopefully, I'm gonna rewrite every single chapter from the 1st to the 22nd as I continue the story. The content won't change, and neither will the plot nor the conversations or any important thing. It will change nothing within the story. I just think chapter 22 is the one in which my writing becomes decent, and I can't help myself but cringe at what I used to write. All I will change is the way I repeat some words; use a wider vocabulary; the way paragraphs are set... those kinds of minor things.
Now, I hope you all enjoy the chapter!
Scala ad Caelum
Chapter 33: A ring of promise
Part 1: To be whole again
For as much as she thought about it, Shana could not come to a decision. As a bright sun shone upon the witch, fear and nervousness gripped her mind like they had never done before; but still, the many eyes which were set on her back urged the witch to take the first step. At that time and place, she was their leader, and so, they waited for her command.
Cursed be Elend and his stupid plans! The pureblood lord had the fantastic idea to split their forces into four different groups; each of them commanded by a general. Truth to be told, hers was the only group with more than one member—Ludwig Larsson and the Shawn brothers had gone on their own as the one-man-army they thought of themselves to be. In the back of Shana's mind, that was just another proof of the fact they did not trust her enough to carry out her part of the mission by herself.
"The clock is ticking, lady Shana," Nathan Miller cleared his throat at her back. Mutterings of agreement followed it, but Shana completely ignored them. She would face many obstacles on this day, and the first of them stood right in front of her.
Her finger went across the surface of the magical barrier as she walked by its side. It was enormous, to a point her eyes could not make out where it ended—both vertically and horizontally—and completely opaque, almost black, like a wall of solid smoke. Yet when her digit tried to go through it she found no resistance—just a cold touch, but no force was there to stop her entry. Magical barriers were not created to be used this way. It just does not make sense. It did make a lot of sense, and she was very well aware of it.
"Ludwig and the Shawn brothers must already be inside," Erik Nystrom let her know.
This time, Shana did turn around. The boy—barely an adult and a few years younger than her—opened his blue eyes in surprise. He was tall, almost as Ludwig Larsson himself, but way less buffed than the older man. From the little Shana knew about him, he was a half-blood wizard whose parents died in the Swedish wastelands after the attack of a graphorn. He and his sister were found by Larsson, and since then they had lived with him; some kind of ward and paternal figure relationship, she recalled. Despite his arrogance and confidence, he was a handsome man—of short, reddish-blond hair and without a single trace of facial hair in his sharp features, Erik Nystrom eluded her annoyed gaze as he covered his face with a scarlet veil which only left his eyes uncovered.
His big sister, around three years older and a woman practically identical to her brother, although a bit shorter and of slightly longer hair, scolded him with her cold eyes. "Ludwig told us to follow lady Shana's command, Erik," Stine Nystrom said. "Besides, are you really going to wear that into battle?" That strange veil of his was the only difference between their attires—some old, grey cloak over the tight jackets and the flexible trousers of the same colour, and with their feet covered by high, leather boots.
"That's my shit to decide," the brother bit back. He tried to cover it under a mask of annoyance, but his voice gave away how embarrassed he felt. "Besides, it helps me to get in the mood..." They kept bickering, but Shana paid them no attention.
Do we just go inside? I mean, it is the only way to go, but it is so evident this is a cheap trap that I feel like a foolish girl! Just like always, Shana had no idea about how to proceed. Suddenly, the sound of footsteps pulled the witch out of her mental rambling.
By her side and just before the magical barrier, Erik Nystrom came to stand. "I am sorry," he apologised. "I'm nervous as hell, and I did the first thing I thought of to avert my mind from the danger that awaits us." He realised Shana's eyes were fixed onto the strange veil which covered his face, of a red-blood shade. "Oh, if you are wondering about this veil, well, I once read a story of a great warrior from the Ancient Times who only covered his face when he was about to kill an enemy. The very few times I've needed to kill someone or some creature—in self-defence, of course—I wore this veil to cover my face. So far, it worked. As you can see, I'm pretty much alive." Shana just raised a brow, so the wizard averted his eyes from her as he cleared his throat. "Anyhow, this is a very evident trap, right?"
"It is, indeed," Shana nodded her head. "Most of the time, when a person creates a magical barrier, it is with the objective of preventing another person from entering a specific location." The red-haired witch stuck her finger through the barrier. It went inside, cleanly. "This one offers no resistance, and so, it can only mean one thing."
"They want us to go inside."
"Yes, and once we are inside, we won't be able to go out through the barrier unless we kill whoever is keeping it alive," Shana confirmed. Just as Elend had told them, the Order of Merlin and their supporters wanted to get rid of them for good once and for all. "Probably, right at the middle of the territory circled by the barrier." The theory was easy enough, indeed, but there still were many incognites there—the most important one being how much terrain the barrier covered. The larger a barrier was, the hardest it was to keep it alive. Also, to achieve a more powerful barrier, the one to cast it needed to be inside it—after all, power always came with a price.
"They want the same as us, then," Nathan Miller piped in with that grave voice of his. "To finish this shit once and for all. No second chances for us this time. Either we win or we die. That is why they have no problem letting us through. Most likely, they know we won't go after the barrier caster since the Horcrux is all we care about."
"If so, let's give those bastards what they want," Stine growled. "We were given clear orders, lady Shana—to obey your command, of course, but also to destroy whoever stood in our way. I fear that the second part will need to be executed in the very near future. Let's get inside and finish this for good."
Her brother tightened the veil around his head with a shaky hand; even if he tried to dissimulate it, he was not as experienced as his sister. Shana pondered about those words. To her, it was very clear what they needed to do; still, she doubted. Once they were inside, a battle would occur, and her skills would be tested once again—hers, not Valkyrie's. Her skills; the ones which had failed her in the last two missions, against Ashram and Jin the Stranger. Moreover, you aren't alone this time. There is a group of people you must protect; that's what being a leader means. Shana shut that voice out of her head. Then, not uttering a single word, the former Master stepped into the barrier.
It was a cold sensation, the one which enveloped her body and mind; like a very cold shower. Although it quickly went away, it left a bad sensation behind. The blackness of the barrier followed it, and Shana was welcomed by a very beautiful picture.
At the feet of a low valley, which preceded two high mountains of limestone and ordinary rocks of different colours that went from white to reddish ones, with specs of grey among them, there was a long and thick river which separated the two large ends of green land and dense vegetation, just as it separated the canyon as it got deeper into the land. It was far from her position, around seven kilometres at best, maybe, but it was beautiful enough to make her stare linger on it a bit longer than she would have wanted. The river's water flowed peacefully, just as the tall trees of dark logs were swayed by a soft, warm wind.
There was no trace of their enemies, she noted. They were not close enough for the witch to feel their magical auras—partly because they must have been concealing it, and partly because the barrier was powerful enough to fill the atmosphere with a faint aura of some strange magic. Sometimes, filtering the different traces of magic around oneself was the hardest part of mastering the said art.
Nathan Miller came after her; the former mercenary just walked to her side, as silent as usual. Then came the Nystrom siblings, with Stine closing the rearguard, and Nathan's men, a bunch of nameless men and women whom Shana never had the intention to know—not as if she trusted them, either way, but they had been paid to execute a job, and they were supposed to be quite good at it, or so Nathan had told her.
"Certainly, we do not have places like this one in Sweden," Erik let out a loud whistle. "A shame it won't look so nice in a few hours." He was right. Even if they also were conceiving their presences, such a large group of people entering inside the barrier was similar to lighting a flare amidst the darkness of the night to those who casted it. Stealth was never an option in his mission.
"Come on, lads, it's time to get the wands out and search for anything strange around here!" Nathan gave his soldiers quite the variety of orders; some were sent to explore both of the forests, others mounted atop of brooms and ploughed through the skies in the mountain's direction, while a few got ready to dive into the river in search of hidden traps. Stine went with them; as she departed, the subtle look the witch sent to his brother didn't go unnoticed by the former Master.
Meanwhile, Shana tried to imagine the many scenarios which could happen in the very near future; both the worst and the most favourable ones. Yet she was not prepared to anticipate their enemies' action.
Suddenly, as she walked towards the valley, accompanied by Nathan and Erik, around where the river ended, a strong yet calm aura surprised them all—one she did not know to whom it belonged. At the same time, the river exploded like a volcano; the water rose into the air a hundred metres or so, just to fall down over them like soft rain some seconds after it, while the group readied themselves for the surprise attack. Shana unsheathed both her wand and Valkyrie's sword as she casted a faint Protego around herself; it wasn't quick enough to shield her body from the rain which damped her hair and soaked her yellow robes, but it certainly worked against a very little projectile that came with it. With a quick look at it, Shana realised it was a human hand.
And just like that, hell was set loose and the beautiful place became a battlefield.
A rain of Exploding Curses—or so she hoped for them to be, at least—fell over them. Shana ran, leaving everyone behind due to her augmented physical capacities. Into the forest and beyond, the trees seemed to move away from her. Jump after jump, stride after stride, both the noise and the many magical auras she could feel at her back, from the battlefield, became fainter.
All but one.
A sudden flash of white amidst the dense vegetation caught her attention. With her body still in the air due to a long jump, Shana raised the sword to parry some kind of spike. The two steels clashed and the forest's silence was broken with a loud and acute sound. The former Master landed near a thick pine, on the soft grass; just in time to see the way the spike returned, as if pulled by some non-magical force, from where it had just come. Shana expanded her aura, and there, as if unbothered to conceal her presence, a woman stepped out of the thicket with a quick and agile stride.
It belonged to a witch who wore full white robes, of a similar style to Shana's; she even looked to be wearing trousers under the long, parted skirt. Her hair was of a platinum blonde shade, tidied into a long ponytail, and her eyes two shining amethysts—although they did not look to be set on Shana, or even to be set on anything at all. However, even with her exotic and beautiful looks, she was rather petite; around a full head shorter than Shana, who wasn't a very tall woman, to begin with.
The witch jumped over those little rocks she found in her way; her feet moved with grace to avoid stepping over the few and tiny branches as she got closer to Shana. In her right hand, a wand—of a white wood with outlines of the same colour spiralling around the thin stick—was clutched with a delicate grip, almost relying solely on the strength of her fingers, while coiled around her left arm was a long and thin chain of black steel. At its end hung the long and sharp spike which had almost impaled her seconds ago, swaying to the tune of each step.
There is something strange about her aura. It felt way different to all the magical auras Shana had ever analysed. In all the wizards and witches she had ever crossed paths with, their magical auras came out of their magical cores, deep within their bodies; from there, respectively, it would be either expanded or hidden in order to detect other auras or to hide their own ones. Of course, this was not different here. But the way her aura expanded around was. To Shana, it felt as if the woman's aura slithered through all the surfaces and objects around her, making contact with them... Like mist, she realised. Her eyes don't look to be focused on anything at all... Is she moving by sheer instinct? The theory came to her mind; could this woman have no sight at all?
The mysterious witch suddenly came to a halt; she stood on one leg before Shana, around fifty metres from her position. None talked, yet it was her strange aura which unsettled the former Master once again. As it moved forward, almost enveloping her, Shana could barely feel it. Though she did feel the sensations it seemed to carry. This woman was curious, she could tell—maybe about Shana herself, or perhaps about her skills. The red-haired witch took a gulp of air as a shiver went down her spine. Why did she always need to face special people?
Let's get on with this! Magic flowed through her core to the wand, which traced a long arc in front of her. The earth below the mysterious woman exploded and an eruption of debris went at her. Still, she jumped into the air before any damage could be caused to her. Shana's wand continued the motion and traced a large circle, its tip now glowing with a green tonality. The trees answered her call; some bent as they tried to coil their logs around her enemy, while others were splintered, their sharp and thin branches trying to impale the white-haired woman.
She just dodged all her attacks—if any tree or natural blade got close enough to her, it just exploded in a burst of white flames, almost effortless. Her magical aura had been recalled from Shana's position, and now the mist-like aura danced around the witch to whom it belonged; neither a single tree nor branch went undetected by it. Due to the nature of her attacks, Shana realised a long clearing had been created—where dense vegetation and some fertile soil had been present, now they had been replaced by cracks on the burnt ground and splintered pines everywhere.
Shana could not doubt at that moment, she knew it very well. "Avada Kedavra!" She chanted the moment her enemy left a brief opening in her defence. The green curse travelled across the battlefield like a bolt of lightning, so faint and quick even Shana, who had cast it, had trouble locating it. Yet as soon as the curse graced the mist-like aura, the mysterious woman turned around with the speed of sound to parry the Killing Curse with her spike.
That was no ordinary steel, she could tell. At that exact moment, Shana almost smacked herself—thanks to her Allomancy, she could control metals! That had been Valkyrie's speciality, but now it was hers; it needed to be hers. The former Master tried to find any pulse of metal coming out of her enemy, but there was none. Obviously, Isaac must have warned this witch about her special powers.
The woman landed at the other end of the now destroyed clearing; there were multiple craters where the earth had been manipulated, and hundreds of trees pulled out of their roots or cut in a half. Still, her white robes remained pristine. She sent Shana a sad smile; something which upset the former Master. She has yet to attack me. And it wasn't because of a lack of opportunity. Suddenly, the spike was pointed in her direction, right at her heart.
Then, Shana found herself unable to move, just as no magic seemed to come from her core.
The hell is happening here? I-I can't find my magic! Never ever had she been so scared—if it could, her body would have trembled like some scared chick, but it could not accomplish the most simple of the movements. She was totally bound to nothing! Amidst Shana's suffering, the mysterious woman walked towards her position, calmly, as if the battle couldn't bother her less. She could have ended her a thousand times in the way, but she did not. Shana tried to cast any spell for the hundredth time in that brief span of time. It was impossible.
Finally, the woman made it to her. She just stood in front of Shana; her lost eyes observed her face as her magical aura enveloped her body. Could it be examining her? Shana tried to push her enemy away with magic, but no matter what she tried, nothing happened. The woman's facial expression changed out of a sudden; was she..., disappointed? Why would she? She had won the battle with a single move! Oh, if only Valkyrie was there, then they could have done something. Suddenly, the witch tapped Shana's temple with one of her fingers, and then walked a few steps away; her eyes did not leave the former Master for a second, and neither did her aura.
What the…? Wait, is she playing with me? My head? She wants me to use my head? Why on earth would she do that?At that moment, Shana understood she did not care about the reason behind those actions, if there was one, to begin with—she had been granted an opportunity to fight back. Shana took a calming breath and focused all her attention into the task of feeling; her body, her magic and her enemy's... There it was; some kind of air shield—or an air prison, better said—around her body. That explained why she couldn't move. Now, why couldn't she use her magic? Feel around, you idiot! You are the only one who can save yourself! Shana could still feel her magical aura, but she could not manipulate it... Or could she? There was a very strange layer of raw magic around her body, just under the air prison. Could it be?
It was time to bet it all at one play; as per usual.
Shana covered herself with a strong Protego, and then imploded the area around her—that little space between the magical net and her skin. A sudden wave of exhaustion hit her like a bludger, but the witch felt how her magic overpowered the magical prison the mysterious woman had created. The tie was broken and she was sent backwards. Her back hit a tree and the air was rushed out of her lungs—it hurt so much she almost fell to the ground. When her eyes rose, the white-haired witch dissipated the cloud of smoke with a simple flick of her fingers.
All around them, the battlefield had been destroyed—if there had been dozens of craters before, now they all formed a single one of a much larger diameter, with each one of the witches at the opposite ends. "Why would you do that?" Shana found herself asking with a raspy voice. "You could have killed me a hundred times. Why?"
The woman just smiled at her once again; this time it was no sad one. No words came out of her, and so she began to walk towards Shana, who prepared herself for the second round. Shit, that spell left me pretty tired. I can't beat her like this! The former Master got ready for the next attack—for the time being, a defensive stance was the best option for her. Their magic would clash as much as their weapons did.
However, out of a sudden, another presence stormed into their fight—this time, she knew to whom it belonged. The two witches turned around to stare at the masked figure who observed them from atop of the crater. "Long time no see, Shana," Snake greeted her with an emotionless voice. Her former High Inquisitor had not changed a bit—he was the same shady man who always wore black robes and his snake mask. "I see you have already met the woman who took after your position of Fifth Master. Unlike you, lady Adigele the Fifth doesn't have a quick tongue on hers, but her skills certainly surpass yours by a great margin."
Shana observed her former sworn wand and shield—the news didn't surprise her at all. It was known Isaac the First wanted to make the Order of Merlin, his Order, the greatest of all time; probably, that old bastard did not hesitate a second to replace her. That being said, what really surprised her was Snake's state—his voice might have been calm and collected, but his robes were torn and burnt at many points, and even her mask lacked a few fragments. "It seems I'm not the only one whose skills might not be enough," Shana bit back. She needed to win as much time as possible with the conversation in order to come up with a plan good enough to save her life—Merlin knew she could barely hold her ground against Adigele, much less to fight two opponents.
"A brat gave me some problems, but his skills were no match for mine," Snake hissed. He had always been a very proud man, Shana remembered; there it was her point to strike. From his robes, the Inquisitor pulled out some kind of veil; a red veil. It was Erik's. "Most likely, you won't even know his name nor recognise his face—hell, after the cold treatment you gave me and Fox, I highly doubt you can even name a single one of the soldiers who came to fight a battle you began many years ago, lady Shana. No one seems to be important enough for you to spare a single thought on them." He tossed the veil at her, and she allowed it to fly down without showing a single emotion on her face. Erik Nystrom might have been a fine, brave man—someone whom she wouldn't have minded to get to know a bit better—but Snake was right on one thing: no one was important enough to get her attention away from the real prize.
Snake unsheathed his wand and rolled his sleeves back. "Am I allowed to fight her, Master Adigele?" the High Inquisitor requested. Then, without waiting for the answer, he jumped down. Only that he clashed against some invisible wall. "The hell?"
In front of Shana, Adigele the Fifth stood with her hand raised at the Inquisitor. Despite that, her purple eyes were fixed on the witch who preceded her. "Have it your way, then, my lady," Snake spat from above. The man stormed out of the battlefield without further preamble—knowing his character, the Inquisitor had probably gone in search of some enemies to vent his rage on.
Sweat falling down her forehead and a ragged breathing accompanying his frenetic heartbeat, Shana got ready for the final assault. "The bastard was quite unfortunate with the Masters he had to serve, don't you think so?" As soon as the sentence was finished Shana began to dance with her Illusions. That was her real talent; the power which turned her into the Fifth Master and the skill that could save her life. Her Illusions started this story, and so, they will need to finish it.
A dozen Shanas appeared in the clearing—around the crater, atop of the trees and in front of the real one, each one of them replicated the original's magical aura to perfection. For a moment, Adigele looked stunned; until the first illusion stepped towards her, that's it. The illusion exploded in a rain of light vollutes after a spell hit it, but it gave Shana enough time to run around the Fifth Master, looking for the blind spot to strike. As her mist-like aura started to sound out the witch's surroundings, the replicas which were in its area fell one after the another. Still, the blond witch looked extremely confused.
Your magical aura might guide you with extreme precision, but it's worthless the moment it finds a dozen presences that matches the way I feel to you. Shana allowed herself a moment to smile—she had a chance to win this battle! It was time to up her game. With a flick of the wand, she used the fact Adigele had just annihilated most of her replicas to alter the terrain. The residual magic of nature was the hardest to replicate—just as the lack of it was the maximum counter to her Illusions—but in that strange place there was a lot of it. And so, the moment her powers made Adigele believe the ground rose to trap her under a dome, she exploded it with a quick Exploding Curse. This tactic was repeated again and again; in all of them the Master bit the bait, using more and more magic to destroy the fake attacks.
Unlike during her battles against Jin the Stranger or Ashram, in which their sheer power had surpassed hers, in this one Shana was the perfect match to counter Adigele's talents and disabilities. In fact, the witch felt at the top of her game today—this strange place allowed her Illusions to replicate the terrain with extreme precision. Despite that, Adigele kept blasting away each one of her threats. Favourable match or not, Shana started to feel the exhaustion eating her resolution away as the seconds passed and no critical blows were given.
Then it all changed.
Suddenly, Adigele stood still as a bar of iron—the illusion of a sharpened log went through the witch without her moving an inch from her spot, and the same results were obtained by Shana's replica, whose fake sword went through the skull. What the hell? So faint Shana had to squint her eyes, the former Master noticed her replacement now emitted a golden gleam—a golden gleam accompanied by little, ethereal particles of the same colour.
The realisation hit her all at once, yet Shana had trouble assimilating it—that was the aura of an Essentia! Moreover, it was an aura she had already felt in the past. "Kayle?" The words came out of her mouth by themselves. It was such a shocking outcome that Shana was unable to react for the next attack. It hit her fast and short. From one moment to another, the red-haired witch found herself pressed against some large mound; tiny and sharp rocks were driven into her back, very superficial wounds, but she could already feel the blood running down her spine.
An obnoxious feeling of oppression seemed to be all Shana could feel—this time, she couldn't even move her neck. These were the same kind of air and magical prison she had broken through at the start of the battle; they shared the essence, but not the intensity. Both her wand and sword had been dropped along the way, just where Adigele stood at that moment. Her eyes were cold and expressionless, and so was the step that snapped in half Shana's wand as the Fifth Master walked towards her.
The white-haired woman did not move her lips, yet a voice came from her. "You were not supposed to face me this day, Shana." It was Kayle's voice—she would never forget her voice, much less the day they met. "You served me well. Or you tried, at least. It was your decisions that made Isaac accelerate his plans—yours and those of the allies you made. It was long ago when I started to suspect about that man, or, better said, about who might be whispering all those details into his ear. You betrayed him and his Order, and that allowed me to infiltrate my protege." Adigele was so close to Shana she could almost feel the woman's fingers on her temples. "However, your role has come to an end. I respect you, and only because of that, a deep slumber is all you shall receive. I am sorry, but I do not need more unexpected elements when I am about to find both Herpo and Kassandra."
Adigele's hands were finally set over her head—very gently, just like the way darkness fell over Shana. Her heart beat; it echoed all over that void. It became the only sound she could hear. That and the one of her breathing, which also resounded. Those two rhythms enveloped her; they put her into a trance. It felt good. Better than she had felt in years, actually.
Still, there was some annoying whisper at the back of it. It was a familiar voice—wait, was it a voice or just a mere sound? "Wake the hell up, you weakass girl!" It was also rude, that cannot be denied. Shana wasn't a girl anymore! It had been long since then. In fact, no one could ever look down on everything she had accomplished at such a young age! In the past, she's been a timid and scared girl, that was a truth, but that kid became a very talented witch, and then Shana the Fifth was born. One of the world's most prestigious organisations had recruited her just because of how awesome her talents were. Because of her Illusions! Of course, not everything was so pretty—they had its disadvantages, and some were rather nasty.
For example, when Shana used her Talent to recreate other people, she needed to become one with whoever she impersonated—a connection so deep she often forgot who she really was. In fact, Valkyrie, her childhood friend and the one person who had always accompanied her, was proof of… No, Valkyrie was proof of nothing. She wasn't a mistake like all those fake personalities she took temporarily.
Valkyrie was her other self, and she was as real as Shana was… Right?
The darkness came to an end, but prior to the light, it was a very familiar sound, the one she heard—one she was very fond of. Some dry logs burn in the fireplace, almost consumed by the flames; there was a pile of ashes under it. Shana would need to clean it later, a task she hated dearly. Around her, a very warm and cosy hut was formed. Of wooden walls with a few windows here and there—which allowed her to observe how the snowflakes crowded around the ledge—there barely was any furniture around. A blue sofa with some blankets over it, a red carpet that covered almost the entirety of the wooden floor, some canvas of dim illustrations she couldn't recognise… It was home.
Suddenly, a very old man appeared, sat on the couch. He had a white beard and some thin mops of hair of the same colour. The man wore a red, warm-looking jersey and some blanket over his legs. "Here you have, Shana." He offered her a smoking cup—from its smell, the girl knew it was hot chocolate. A pair of tiny hands quickly grabbed the cup as if someone could take it away from her—since when were her hands so small? His warm smile made all those questions go away. This was home, and it was all that mattered to her.
Time passed and nothing changed—just some timid whisper at the back of her mind that refused to leave her alone. "Come on! Wake the hell up, you weakass girl!" Would it shut up anytime soon? It didn't allow Shana to hear grandpa's tale!
The old man had just begun his story, and Shana put all her focus into it. "Once, there was a brave heroine who went by the name of Valkyrie. To help others was her one and only duty, and she carried it out happily, for it was all she wanted to do. One night, the brave heroine walked through one of the most dangerous suburbs of the city, and then, some scared shouts alerted her. Someone was in danger—someone needed her. Valkyrie ran, with her swords as the only company she needed in that cold night." Shana had already listened to that story a dozen times, but it was her favourite one. "Some big and strong men—thieves, better said—were trying to steal a little girl's pet. Her cries spurred our heroine, and so, bravely and fairly, she defeated those bad men. The little girl cried, relieved and scared, but she raised her eyes to look at her saviour—there, she discovered the kind of woman she wanted to become. A fair and brave woman who put everyone's else wellbeing before hers—a fair and brave woman who, no matter what, stood against those who wanted to commit evil deeds."
A fair and brave woman, that's who Shana wanted to become—someone strong enough to protect herself and those others who deserved it. The tale continued, but grandpa's voice became fainter; so much it couldn't be heard over the subtle sound of the fireplace. Valkyrie was that and much more—strong, yes, but the tale's heroine also knew how to act in each situation. For her, it was very clear who the bad guys were, just as those who needed her help.
The end of the story was close, Shana could tell. It was a happy ending, as it always happened in Valkyrie's tales. Yet there was some kind of uneasiness that put her at the edge. Why? This was just another night in their simple life! "That's your biggest flaw, Shana," that voice said, suddenly and much clearer than before. It sounded so familiar! "You run away from all that frightens you—to put those fears and traumas at the end of your memory is all you do. You are weak, Shana, and because of that, I was born. Because of that, you created me."
Right after that, the door opened with force. A streak of cold air entered the hut, suffocating with ease the warmth of the fireplace. Snow followed it, but it was the boots of three men that turned the parquet into a mess of white, dirty footsteps. Grandpa rose to his feet with terror written all over his face, while Shana just stood rooted in her seat. What was happening there? Who were these men?
The three strangers started to talk in rushed words, but they made no sound—still, the fingers of one were pointed at Shana. At that moment, grandpa ran; maybe, to reach the kitchen was his intention, but one of those men tackled him midway. It was awful to see how his face turned all red just to then lose all its colour as he was put on a headlock. "You must remember what happened," the familiar voice said. Why was it so similar to Shana's? "We have reached the point of no return—either you embrace those parts of your life you erased, or you will remain as some scared, worthless girl for the rest of your existence."
Now there was a knife at grandpa's throat, and there was another one in the hands of the man who came to get her. It all happened in a mere second. First, a red line, like a shady smile, appeared over grandpa's neck as the knife sliced his throat. Shana shouted, but her eyes were set onto the second knife, the one reserved for her. Then, one of those rare things which usually happened around the little girl saved her. Fast and out of nowhere, something seemed to hit the three men, who were blasted away along the hut's wall, right into the dark forest that surrounded it. I killed them—the first people I ever killed were these men. She remembered it now—their faces, her own fear… And grandpa's fate.
"No, this is not what happened that day," the voice thundered around. But this time it didn't came alone. In front of Shana there was an exact replica of herself, only that this one's hair was as dark as night itself. The name came to her mind with ease—it was Valkyrie, her counterpart and guardian. "If you want to get rid of me, to become the woman you were always meant to be, what happened this day must be remembered. It is about time for you to transform my strength into yours, not to share it with me." Her words were cold and grave, but Shana knew they spoke the truth. Otherwise, it wouldn't feel so bad. "Destroy me like all those fake identities you have adopted within the years. It is time to fly high, Shana."
The most recent events were pulled backwards in time, like a rapid succession of images. Yes, Shana remembered it all. The knives were at their throats, that didn't change, but the men's faces did—if they had shown ruthlessness and malice before, now it was confusion and pale skin all they gave away. "No girl was supposed to be here, Matt," the one who had grandpa in a headlock said with a hoarse voice. "What the hell are we gonna do now?"
The man who walked towards the girl smiled at her; his lip trembled, but it was a warm one. "You don't need to be afraid of us," he started. "It is a cold night outside, and we are hungry and frozen to the bone. Why don't you sit there and wait for us to solve everything with your old man? I'm sure he was pretty surprised to see us appearing out of nowhere, but there is nothing a good talk can't fix, right?"
He sounded like one of those villains Valkyrie used to fight in her tales—those who hid their vile acts behind nice words. But what was she supposed to do? Shana was no heroine, and neither was she the main character of a tale—she was a little and confused girl. Only that I wasn't a common girl. Thanks to my magic, even though I had no idea about its existence back then, these thieves did not stand a chance. The former Master knew very well what was about to occur—and it did nothing to ease the pain.
Still, she waited for a certain moment to take place.
Shana sent one last look at his grandpa, who tried to smile at her, reassuringly. This was not Valkyrie's doing; neither were many things that came later. It was me all along; under her mask, but it was me. I killed them—I killed grandpa.The next events played out so quickly she couldn't pay attention to any of them but one. It had been Shana's magic that bursted all around her; floor, furniture and living beings, nothing could escape from it. One of those common episodes of sudden manifestation of magic children used to suffer in hard situations. Only that, in her case, so scared of these three men, it had caused way more damage than good.
This was a very old memory—one she had erased from her mind, or, better said, one she had cursed Valkyrie with. A perfect excuse to create her.
This was the memory her counterpart had been born to—just another of Shana's countless mistakes. Many more faces came to her mind, all those she had tried to forget. Since the very beginning, every deed Shana had been troubled to carry out, it had been Valkyrie the one to assume control. Foolish me thought it was okay to hide under a mask each time a situation surpassed my weak will; how pathetic can I be? I did all those things myself. I am the only culprit of my incompetence. It is time to abandon my weaknesses and embrace all my powers as they are—just another part of me.
Shana had always been scared of her own powers, and Valkyrie embraced them as much as it was needed. Shana had always run away from adversity, and Valkyrie faced it for the two of them. Shana had always hidden like the coward she was, and Valkyrie was the perfect mask to lose control without feeling the burden of the consequences. Shana had hated herself so much that Valkyrie had to be born.
It all needed to change.
"Self acceptance is just the first step; though there are a thousand more to go, you weakass girl." Valkyrie's message had just one intention; it was a farewell. No, that wasn't Valkyrie's voice. It was her own voice.
With a sad smile and a single tear running down her face, Shana opened her eyes. The bright light hit her in the face instantly, and her mouth tasted like dirt. The witch had problems standing up, to a point in which the world around her started to spiral the moment she got onto her feet. Shana felt…, different? Maybe, lonely was the adequate word. She touched her own face; it was the same as always, from the large scar that went from the forehead to the chin, to the sweaty, red-hair that stuck to her damped forehead. Yet there was something she couldn't recognise that put her at ease, given the circumstances—she remembered it all now, and perhaps, it was time to step up and fly high as Valkyrie had said.
But before accepting her new self, there was something she needed to do. In front of her and above the crater, Adigele stood with her eyes set at the south and her back towards Shana. Why was she still there? Certainly, Kayle's magic could still be felt around. "I see you broke through my protegee's magic," the Essentia's voice startled the former Master. "That is quite a surprise, but it is of no importance at this moment. Come here, Shana, we will not hurt you, for you are not our enemy."
After hesitating for a few seconds, Shana did as told—the witch was far too exhausted to fight for her life, and if Kayle wanted her dead, she wouldn't be there to hear the spirit's reassuring words. On the way, Shana spotted her broken wand. A blow of sadness hit her; after all, that had been her very first and only wand, the one Master Lawrence ordered for her. Valkyrie's sword… No, her sword was also there; half sunken into the ground, but without any visible dent on its dark steel.
With great effort, Shana finally made the way uphill. Then, the picture in front of her left the witch frozen. There was a huge tornado, which seemed to be made of black smoke or another kind of dense substance, spiralling around some far mountain in the south. "What is that?" The words came out by themselves, but it was genuine doubt that they expressed. Was that the direction Elend had taken? It was in the south, so it had to be—Shana herself had taken the north, while Ludwig and Nalar took the east and west respectively.
"I know not," Kayle's words reached her ears. By Shana's side, Adigele stood still as a rock, but if looked carefully, one could appreciate her evident nervousness—the Fifth Master's hands trembled a bit, and her feet softly tapped against the barren land in a rhythmless melody. "However, I am sure about Herpo's return." Suddenly, her ethereal, golden figure appeared over Adigele's shoulder. She wore some kind of golden armour that matched the colour of her gleaming, and her eyes did not leave the black tornado for an instant. "I have not felt a sensation like this one in more than two thousand years—since Herpo exhaled his last breath right in front of me, with my spear sunken on his heart. He is so close! Dead, but also more alive than ever!"
So subtly it almost went unnoticed, Shana appreciated the way Adigele tightened her grip over the white wand. At the same time, Kayle turned to look at the former Master. "I did not form a Link with my protegee, and so, the time I have in this realm is very precious to me." A Link? What did she mean by that? "Herpo is here, and I need to confront both him and some woman from my past life. Stand in our way, and you will die, Shana—move aside, and you will survive. As simple as it can get. Now, which option will you choose?"
Considering how weak she was, it was a rather easy decision to take. "Will you destroy Herpo's Horcrux?" It was a very stupid question, given what she knew about the Essentia. However, Shana needed to be sure of it—no matter by which hand it was, Isaac the Frist and his ambition needed to be extinguished.
"It is the only reason why I am still here."
Then, it was done—Shana had failed once again, but her hopes now rested on very capable hands. She had been granted another day to live; another opportunity to fight. First and foremost, the witch needed to accept this new version of hers; the one in which she was all alone to deal with her mistakes and achievements. And there only was one way to start her new life: she needed to find Elend and the rest of her allies. This one time, it would be her the one to help them out. "Please, do not allow Master Isaac to win. Who knows what it will be of us if he succeeds?"
"I have waited for this moment for more than two millenia. I do not plan to fail here, not when Herpo is at my sight's reach." As those words were carried by the wind, Adigele sprinted towards the mountain.
Elend, Kayle… It does not matter who will be the one to do it, but, for the sake of this world, for the sake of our future, Isaac the First needs to be put down.
Part 2: A small man
Jin dodged a sharp cascade of water with a quick stride.
It was always during these moments when he doubted the most, even if his subordinates would not have believed it. Maybe, it was that old and little part of him that still wanted to change the world, the one to blame—oh, damned be those childish dreams of greatness! He had become Jin the Stranger; a ruthless and strong man. He was supposed to thrill facing the possibility of a good battle, just like his against Nalar Shawn was.
If only they knew...
Unlike Jin, his enemy did not falter. Powerful currents of water were sent in his direction with no pause. Nevertheless, they all crashed against the invisible barrier which protected his body.
The world belonged to the strongest; it was the only truth that rigged the planet. It did not matter whether it was a wizard, a muggle or an animal; the hegemony of the food chain had to be respected by every living being. Jin himself was nothing but a hierarchy of the many which compounded it—one at the top, of course, but in the end, he wasn't more important than a lone wolf of a pack.
Almost unconsciously, Jin transfigured the gigantic wave which came at him into a wall of ice. He was very good at transfiguring—in fact, the said branch of magic had always been his best resource, especially if it was a simple molecular change like the solidification of water was.
Sometimes, when fighting a strong opponent, Jin always asked himself if it could be him the one to stand at the other side of the battle—if it could be him the one to stand against the bad guys. However, those silly doubts were quickly banished from his mind as soon as he remembered certain events of the past; those which made an awful man like Jin the Stranger to be born. Had he not become an Auror right after graduating from Ilvermorny to change the world? Indeed, he had.
Unfortunately, the world only belonged to the strongest, and he was not one of them.
"You haven't lost your touch, Nalar!" Jin exclaimed, no longer pondering about the past. At that moment, only his duel against the pureblood wizard was of importance. He and his wand needed to become one. "Not gonna lie, I was afraid that your time as a Royal Knight could have stained your wonderful talents as a duellist. But hey, you are proving me wrong!"
Propelled by a current of water, Nalar Shawn landed atop of a large mound of limestone. "Warm-up is over, mercenary," the blond wizard said with a cold voice.
Jin used that moment of rest to observe his enemy. Only three years younger than his brother Elend, it was almost scary to look at the many resemblances between them—hell, had he drunk a couple cups of whiskey before the battle, as he often did, Jin would have probably confused their faces! Obviously, it wasn't just a matter of physical resemblance. Those cold eyes which looked down at the mercenary as if he was a mere rat; that proud stance of his; the way his head was proudly held up... It was the attitude of an arrogant bastard—the one of a man who knew he counted with Magic's favour.
And one of the things Jin hated the most.
Nalar Shawn pointed his wand at the masked mercenary. "It is time to get serious," he threatened. "I cannot waste my time here, Stranger. Isaac the First needs to be put down. That is why I came to this place today."
Those arrogant words made Jin remember how fervently he hated special people like Nalar Shawn. Had he been with his eyes closed, he could have imagined those sentences coming from a hundred different faces. Many pureblood lords thought of themselves as the kings of the present age of the Wizarding World, but even among the proudest bastards of the planet, very few could reach the level of those who belonged to the Great House of Shawn. Nalar and Elend, just like their father Edwin before them, were the perfect embodiments of everything Jin hated—incredibly talented and gifted people who delighted themselves in that perfect world of theirs. Hell, if only they tried!
Certainly, Nalar did not care about his mental crisis. The Knight just extended his arm forward—there, under a cloud of mist, a long, fine sword was materialised. Look at that. He can also summon that hellish sword as his brother does. This one really resembled one of those Japanese katanas, but, unlike them, that blade did not seem to be weak on the sides. Jin eyed the sword with a keen look. It was of very elegant silver, embellished by an ethereal-green gleam its edge emitted. On the contrary, the pommel was of a very austere black that seemed to absorb the light around it; could it be obsidian?
That sword was a piece of art—a very deathly one, Jin reckoned. "Damn, that's some fine weapon," the mercenary began his taunt. "Did dear Elend lend it to you? His blade looks way more threatening, though."
Just as he expected, Nalar did not fall for it. With a single hand, the Knight just raised the blade above his head as he looked down on Jin. "I do not have patience nor time for your silly games," Nalar stated. His wand remained firmly gripped in his left hand as the sword slashed the air down. It was a swift thrust, but it only took Jin an instant to understand that his ever trustful barrier did not stand a chance against the magical cut of that hellish blade.
The mercenary jumped high into the air, as much as his Allomancy allowed him. Oh, at moments like these, when he had no other option but to use his unique gift, Jin remembered the fact he also belonged to those special people he hated so much—unfortunately, his powers had not been enough to change the world. However, they sure saved his life once again. He landed atop of another mound of limestone; one of the same height as his enemy's. There, the two of them crossed looks. "I struck a nerve, didn't I?" Jin said with a cold voice—long gone was the irony he liked so much. "Ever the goody-goody brother, eh? All you do is follow your brother's command, no matter what it is. A man like you is no better than a slave, Nalar—a slave of his honour, but a slave in the end."
Mental games were very important factors of battles—Jin was very well aware of it, just as much as he had perfected the said art. Although, normally, they were pretty useless against enemies of Nalar's calibre, just the faintest of the advantages could decide a duel between two opponents of similar level. And the barely noticeable grimace which appeared in the Knight's impassable face proved him right once again.
The blade slashed the air once again, and Jin jumped away. This time, his wand did the talking. From it, with a simple motion, came a rain of white spells. The hillside—some muddy surface of dirty, grey stone—was exploded by the hundred explosions, creating as many craters on its surface as tons of debris flew away. Jin finally landed; his wand moved like a whip and part of the debris was transfigured into a huge swarm of locusts, while the rest glided around the battlefield as if carried by the strongest of the gales.
Jin ran and ran, dodging every current of water or magical slash which came in his way. It is time to test your focus, Nalar. Columns of debris were directed at the blond wizard, who didn't even bother to move away. Still atop of the limestone mound, the wizard let out a furious roar and the air around him exploded, turning the debris into mere dust. The Knight had acted just as he expected. Jin moved his wand in circles above his head; the storm of dust condensed and surrounded his enemy. His free hand grabbed one of the many daggers he always carried on his robes—one made of goblin steel—and threw it at Nalar with his enhanced strength. The dark dagger ploughed through the air until it entered the cloud of dust.
No sound was heard.
Jin's body tensed in anticipation; an action which allowed him to react in time. Nalar launched himself out of the dust cloud atop of a water current—above the battlefield, his wand gleamed with a faint touch of red, like a bright flame. The fastest spell Jin had ever seen came from it; so quick all he could do, even with his enhanced senses, was to take a single step to the left side. The red spell missed his face by millimetres, but the famous mask he always wore was not as lucky as the mercenary who made it feared by many in the underworld. Graced by the red spell, the grey mask—a face half smiley and half sad—was turned into ashes by a sudden combustion. Jin blew away the straps that attached it to his face as he took a few steps back.
His grey hair and beard were ruffled by the air; that wasn't supposed to happen during a battle. He always fought with his face covered by the mask. "Never ever has my mask been broken like that in the middle of a battle," the mercenary muttered, his eyes set on the carbonised piece of wood. Jin raised his head to look at Nalar, who landed far from him with a relaxed stance.
That was no ordinary spell. Jin used his Allomancy to combust a bit of tin—his enhanced sight allowed him to observe his enemy's face with much more detail. There were drops of sweat falling down his face, and his breath came out raggedly; such was the force of the spell, enough to make a wizard like Nalar to instantly feel its tool. Had it hit me... Jin suppressed the shiver which went down his spine; the spell had not hit him, thus he was alive. Certainly, he came here today with the intention to get rid of me as quickly as possible. Your first bullet is down, Nalar; let's see how many you can store into your clip!
He was losing the battle; it was time to change the strategy. At his command, the swarm of locusts hunted the man down—each one of Nalar's slashes, let it be by wand or sword, cut the insects in half by the ton as he moved around the battlefield. Jin sprinted by the side of the swarm, waiting for the best opportunity to strike. It came the moment Nalar cornered himself against a high mound, with the swarm of locusts coming from every direction. The mercenary transfigured those above him into their original form as those from the sides and the front were transfigured into a storm of fire.
Nalar's howl was heard all over the place. "Protego Maxima!" The force of the spell was enough to absorb all the damage Jin's tactic could have caused him, but the distraction had worked. As his enemy focused on the defence, Jin shut his magic down. Time to use the blessing that made you ascend through the underworld's hierarchy! It was time for the coward's route! The mercenary ran until he found the labyrinth of deep and irregular cracks on the ground his Exploding Curses had created, then he just jumped down and waited for Nalar to dispel his attack—the game of the cat and the mouse, one of his favourite tactics! Though it was time to guess who would be which.
The cracks went deep into the ground, like a bunch of dark and narrow corridors of irregular form. Jin walked through them as silent as he could, trying to hide his figure under the many rock protrusion or holes into the wall around him. On the surface, the mercenary could still feel Nalar's aura—the Knight had no idea about his location or intention, and so, he could not conceive his magic from Jin; unless he wanted to leave his body totally unprotected, of course. Now, would Nalar be so reckless to try to bait him? Jin really doubted it. Elend Shawn was the one brother to go all in at the first given chance, instead, Nalar was pure style and swiftness.
In the end, the sound of a loud thud proved him right—Nalar had taken the safest choice: to go after him in a closed space, where his back would be guarded at every second. There also was that hellish sword of his, but to counter that, Jin had his second dagger of goblin steel, much better in close combat situations. The noise of some footsteps coming in his direction pulled the mercenary out of his thoughts. Jin moved as stealthy as he could through the irregular corridors, advancing through the labyrinth as fast as he could; trying to find the perfect corridor to attack Nalar on a blind spot.
After some minutes of frantic persecution, the mercenary found it. Jin stepped out of a corner right on time to spot Nalar walking ahead of him—taking very short steps and with his blade in front of his body at every instant—almost at the end of the passage. A sudden and violent combustion of pewter was all it took for him to sprint like a cheetah. However, his steps were not silenced with magic, and so, the Knight was fast enough to turn around and parry his dagger's thrust—shame, it was a nice one through the ribs!
Jin's enhanced strength was enough to send the blonde wizard against the wall behind him. The mercenary kept pushing, but the dagger was firmly stuck between the wall and the sword's hilt; it didn't matter how much stronger he was. "You bastard have quick reflexes, eh?" Jin muttered between gritted teeth. His punch came like a bolt of light, but Nalar was able to move his head aside at the last second—the fist was left sunk on the rock. As the mercenary tried to pull it back, a strong knee impacted on his gut, leaving him breathless.
That granted Nalar enough time to get his wand out. Fortunately, in that brief period of time, Jin retreated with a jump back—as the wand started to gleam with a red shade, the mercenary grabbed something from his belt. It was a smoke bomb, of muggle handicraft and improved with a magical touch. Wizards never expected for him to use such an artefact, much less a proud, pureblood Knight like Nalar was. The rain of fireworks—sparks of uncountable colours—appeared as soon as the dense smoke filled the passage.
Nalar took his chance and impulsed himself out of the labyrinth with some spell. Shit, I need to get out of here, too. Jin allowed magic to flow through his body once again; then he used a simple Depulso to get out of there, just in time to see how a sudden light brightened every of the cracks. "Protego," he chanted just before the labyrinth exploded. Chunks of rock and tons of dust were repelled by the shield as Jin's feet touched the ground. Where his playzone last stood, now there was a huge, smoking crater. At the other end of it, Nalar sent him a cold look.
Fucking hell! I hate when some bastard can overcome every single one of my plans just because of him being more powerful. It ain't no fun like that! However, this was not a matter of fun; it hadn't been since the very beginning. Jin was running out of ideas, truth to be told, but the man was sure Nalar Shawn was far more tired than he was planless. One of Jin's many talents was to exhaust his enemies with countless of unorthodox tactics and moves; it was very satisfying to observe the way those bastards used all their magic as he made them lose hope little by little.
The sun shone bright atop of the sky—it was a hot day, enough to make him sweat like a pig under his heavy robes. Many hours had passed since they were deployed here, but Jin still needed to make time for Isaac. Then, once the signal came, he would run the hell out of that place. I have one more chance to surprise him. Muggle weapons were his ace in the hole against oblivious, pureblood enemies—and at that exact moment, his revolver was begging to be used! One bullet while he's distracted, that's all I need. As soon as I deem it oportune, I will grab it from my belt. If I'm fortunate enough, he'll think it's my dagger.
"You said you were in a rush, didn't you?" Jin shouted at the top of his lungs, catching the blond wizard by surprise. "To stop Isaac the First and all that shit, right? Then let's finish this now, like real men do! You need to get past me and I don't care what happens to me anymore—I'm old and all I desire for is to go out with a bang. That is all the name Jin the Stranger deserves." Nalar did not move an inch. "Come on, man! There is no trick here; just some old mercenary, who is quite tired about his exhausting work, and who wishes for either a dramatic final or a tale-worthy victory!"
Nalar Shawn's back subtly tensed a bit, just as his knees were flexed. Yet he didn't move an inch. "Come on!" Jin urged. "Ah, I know what's troubling you—silly me! There is no need for you to get past me because you know your brother will handle everything no matter what happens here!" His knees tensed a bit more. "It must be painful to be under his shadow all the time, isn't it? I mean, the man I was before becoming the Stranger crumbled under the pureblood's society, but you? Oh, man, you crumbled under Elend's shadow—your own brother ate you, Nalar!"
The wizard's magic bursted everything around him, and beams of all kinds of nature came at Jin in a very beautiful yet deathly spectacle—let it be water, light or spells, produced by either sword or wand, the mercenary did not allow himself to be touched. Jin ran, but he also casted shield after shield over his body; maybe, just as many Protegos as curses he parried with his wand and dagger.
At some moment during his stride, he caught a glimpse of Nalar's gleaming sword behind the cloud of dust that surrounded him; maybe, it was just a product of his tired mind. Either way, Jin did not falter. Some curse parried with his dagger, which later was thrown at the Knight in a futile try to catch him with his guard down; a large jump over a sharp cascade of water that almost cut him in half; his ever-trustful shield doing his work against the beams of light… All of Jin's moves were automatic—this was the sharpest he had ever been. A perfect combination of his past and present life, that of an innocent Auror and that of the King of the Underworld.
Finally and suddenly, Nalar Shawn came out of the cloud dust. His magical slash almost severed Jin's head, but it was the second, a regular one, that almost ended him. He managed to jump back in time; the blade slightly graced his forearm, but it was enough to melt the armour hidden under his robes. It caused a very nasty and burning pain—hell, it bloody seemed to suck his energies away! Still, the mercenary fought it with all his might.
Then he realised Nalar's wand was already pointed at his heart. It gleamed the same way it had done back when that hellish spell almost killed him in less than a blink. And the worst of all was the look of success in the Knight's face—so arrogant and proud it stirred all the resentment Jin's soul had stored all over the years. It was the same kind of look lord Grace had when he got that Auror who dreamt of a fairer world out of the Corps. It had the same giddiness on it as lord Kerr's when he was declared innocent against all charges of abuse and extortion presented against his persona. It was the same as Colonel Sheppard's when he expelled Jin from the Civil Guard Aurors.
The spell came out, but it was Jin's blood-red cape that it consumed. The next second, the mercenary's fist impacted against the pureblood's jaw—blood and teeth came out, but not as fast as the kneel to the stomach did. Nalar Shawn seemed to crumble under the pain and fatigue, but he was a tough bastard. The hilt of his sword hit Jin right in the temple—the world spiralled, but his battle experience took control from that moment onwards. The two wizard's magical auras repelled each other, and so the fight continued the old-fashioned way.
Until Jin saw his chance; the one he had been waiting for so long! As Nalar's sword made its way to the mercenary's neck, gripped by both of his hands due to the exhaustion, his side was totally exposed and wand forgotten. The whole sequence seemed to be in slow motion, but his mind saw it water clear. Jin's right elbow managed to deviate the blade in the last instant, then, before Nalar could restore his guard, the muggle revolver was taken out of his bell by the left hand.
A loud bang echoed around as the bullet went through Nalar's stomach.
Unfortunately, before Jin could pull the trigger once again, that hellish blade cut the barrel with a quick slash down. The Knight's aura gave away his intentions, and so the mercenary jumped away from him, just in time to avoid the tendrils of water that now danced around Nalar; they seemed much slower than those he had casted at the beginning of the fight.
Jin landed not far from there; with a quick look at his revolver, he realised his robes were soaked in blood. And most of it wasn't his. In front of him, Nalar Shawn fell to one knee—his sword had been cast away, and only the wand guarded his body as his bad hand tried to stop the haemorrhage. Jin was so close to victory he could almost taste its glorious flavour! And what a great one this was—probably, the best battle of his life. However, there was something that set him off—Nalar's eyes, despite his grave wound, did not stare at it, and neither at Jin. No, they were set on the far horizon at the mercenary's back.
Jin turned around, and what he saw left him speechless. There, up in the sky, towards the south-west, there was a huge tornado of black clouds that spiralled around some far mountain—if his mind did not betray him, that was the direction in which Isaac had ventured himself. Deep inside him, a sense of duty urged Jin to march there. It came from his past self, the stupid Auror who couldn't do a thing without following an order from a superior. However, a sudden sound made him discard that idea.
With a lot of trouble, Nalar managed to stand up. There was a frenzied look in his eyes, but his face was pale and scared. No, that wasn't fear—it was surprise what Jin saw! That bastard could not grasp the fact he had just lost a battle against some simple mercenary. Against some smaller man. In the end, they all share the same nature. What a shame. If only they realised how much they could do to help others. However, that wasn't a matter of his incumbency anymore. "You've lost, Nalar Shawn," Jin said as he pointed at the black tornado. "That thing gotta be Isaac's doing."
"It ain't over until we all exhale our last breath," the Knight cut in. His hand, soaked in blood, trembled over his stomach—yet the bastard refused to give up. Probably, the bullet had not caused as much damage as it should have, Jin lamented. Still, the battle was over. "I might be about to exhale my last one, but there is no way Ludwig or Elend will lose. Trust me, you have no idea how strong they are."
"Maybe you are right," Jin replied with a shrug of his shoulders. "That's some fantastic admiration that you feel towards them—a shame they will not get to hear it from your mouth, though." The mercenary raised his wand to end the Knight's life, but he hesitated; even if he hated to admit it. Obviously, he had no problems spilling his pure blood, however, if the underworld life taught him something, that was to be clever—the man who used his head the most lasted longer than those mightier than him. Jin had no idea whether Elend or Ludwig had survived. Hhell, even that traitorous harlot of Shana could still be alive and kicking!
In such a case, Nalar Shawn could become a very valuable hostage. That would be a very interesting outcome, but risky as hell. No, it was better to kill him at this moment—the safer a decision was, the more probable for him to live another day.
Actually, as he had told the Knight, Jin didn't dislike the idea of going out in a memorable battle—after all, he was tired of the underworld life. How many lives have I taken? Far too many to count them, that's for sure. What would that dreamy kid say of the person he would become? Without any doubts, he would cry about it, completely devastated—though not as if it mattered since he was buried long ago. I'm still a hero to my granddaughter… Maybe I should retire to spend a bit of time with her before Isaac gets me killed.
A weak curse shattered against his ever-present Protego—one could say many bad things about Nalar Shawn, but he sure did not give up easily. "Was it necessary?" Jin asked with a tired sigh, his wand still pointed at the Knight. "Now that I think about it—not as if it would have made any difference—you did not use the Killing Curse during our battle. Why? Certainly, your brother wouldn't have hesitated given the chance. Oh, come on, don't tell me you are one of those stupid wizards who refuse to use it just because of how evil it is said to be? Man, talk about unexpected things."
Nalar had trouble finding the words, but as he was about to speak, Jin raised his hand to shut him up—the black tornado had been dispelled at some point during their conversation. Where a few seconds ago a natural disaster could be spotted, at that moment there was no trace of it. However, now it was a sea of dense, black clouds that covered the sky. And the worst of it, from its direction came something. A sudden combustion of tin allowed him to sight two figures atop of a broom. "Shit, are they your pals or mine?"
Given their speed, they would reach their location in less than a minute; most likely, even less. Jin needed to move in that exact moment. Moreover, he needed to conceive his presence to erase every trace of him. If those two were enemies, he was far too exhausted to fight them, and if they were allies… Well, they would get rid of Nalar for him. His stupid doubts had cost him a very valuable hostage, and maybe, if he didn't move out of there quickly enough and those bastards turned out to be from the other side, his life.
Not looking backwards, the mercenary ran away—as soon as he made it to a way downhill, he began his descent through it. The ground was slippery due to the rock dust and the prominent inclination, and the fact he couldn't use magic only added more problems to the pile. But finally, after some minutes of slow descent, Jin found a deep cave that went deep through the slope.
If those bastards turned out to be enemies, they would not go in his search, right? Sure, some quick look around was a given, but there was no room for anything else in a battlefield. Whatever it may be, I'll wait for it. As the mercenary sat on the cold and hard ground, with his back leant on the rock wall, he enjoyed the calmness of that dark, silent place.
Tomorrow, he would come to know whether Isaac the First had triumphed or not, and also, whether he would continue to serve him. Obtaining Herpo's Horcrux was all the bastard had desired since they had known each other—that had been the reason why the Master had bought his services for life. In the way, many other jobs came, of course; some shadier than others. But, if there was something Jin was aware of, it was the fact the Master's ambitions knew no limits.
Yeah, probably, Isaac would end up killing himself and everyone around him—and that did not have room in Jin's plans. I should jump down the ship while I can. Yes, that doesn't sound so bad at all! Surely, Aura the Fourth will try her best to protect the First Master and those around him—Jin was far too old for that shite. Anyway, I was never a fan of that immortality bullshit.
Though he sure was a fan of a deserved rest—and so, knowing his last dance had come to an end, Jin the Stranger closed his eyes to enjoy a very well-deserved nap.
Part 3: Stormspear
It wasn't a good day to die; too beautiful for that.
A warm, bright sun shone amidst one of the clearest and bluest skies Levitt had ever seen. There were no clouds, and because of that, the only stains painted on it belonged to the soldiers of the Wings of Liberty, who mounted their brooms as they waited for the enemy to come—half of them, those from Michael's squad, wore green cloaks over the blue uniform, with the other half wearing the very same attire but of green cloaks over the black uniform.
Most of them, arrogant and young fools, believed themselves to be the hunter who awaits for his prey. Only a few knew what was to come: death, blood and tears. Those who survived would become a husk of what they once were, while those who died… They would be remembered and live in their comrade's hearts—at least, until the threads of their lives were cut by death, that cruel and unique truth which judged every creature equally.
Standing atop of a high mound of limestone, Levitt observed them all with a sombre aura around him. Those twenty men and women were under his care. It was the only thought in his mind. However, those weren't his orders. To stop Elend Shawn and his group, even if their lives needed to be sacrificed; those had been Master Isaac's words—in truth, he never cared about them nor about the man, but they still added to the pile. Now, Jordan's orders had been the true problem. "I trust you to deal with our enemies, Levitt." Different sentences and yet the same meaning behind them.
I will save as many as I can, the Allomancer swore for the tenth time in that week. Many would die—just a few, if he was fortunate. But only Magic itself knew how far he was willing to go in order to accomplish his goal.
The sound of a broom ploughing through the air pulled the soldier out of his thoughts. "Leader, there is no visual contact with the objective yet," Mikko informed him. "Are there any updates from the Captain or the other squads?"
Shit, I need to focus on the mission. An entire hour had passed since he last opened his book of contact. Levitt pulled the book out of his robes. As soon as it was opened his eyes quickly scanned the yellowish paper. 'The enemy has entered the barrier, just as we supposed they'd do,' Captain Jordan had told all the officials of the company. Those had been the only updates—predictable, but it was all the information they had.
"Is the battlefield ready for the Point Defence Plan?" Levitt asked his soldier as he closed the book.
"Of course!"
"Good, then you know what to do." With a last nod of his head, the blond wizard raised to the sky. At the same time, the Allomancer felt a pair of eyes in his back.
"Are they on the way?" Hikari Sakai practically interrogated him. Levitt turned around to look at her. The female Inquisitor had been obligated to partner with him by her Master's orders, much to their discomfort. Jordan had instantly agreed, of course. His best soldier's life was at risk, and the help of a very skilled witch would help him to survive for another day.
"Isaac's plan has been on point, so far," he let her know as the young woman stood up. She had been sitting atop of a limestone mound for more than an hour—one quite similar to his, but a bit higher, damned be her need to surpass him in every detail. "We wait as we were ordered. If someone comes, we kill him. If not, we remain on watch duty."
"Those fools really want to end this venture today, eh?" Sakai sighed as she stretched her body like a cat. Not even a minute after that, she jumped from mound to mound, landing right next to Levitt. "I've seen the way you look at your fellow subordinates," she pointed out. "They must not distract you from the real objective."
That was a warning, one he didn't like a bit. "You worry about yourself, I worry about my shit," Levitt bit back. "My orders will be fulfilled, but I won't sacrifice my soldiers for your Master's sake."
"Isaac ain't the Master I swore to serve," she calmly replied. "Besides, it was your Captain the one to get all of you knees deep in this shit. Blessed be him, by the way. Otherwise, I wouldn't be alive to have this conversation." She was right on that.
Jordan and his mysterious dreams had been the ones to get the Wings of Liberty in this situation. Despite that, all of them were ready to die to make those ambitions come true, whichever the hell they were. "I'm powerful," Levitt said after a few seconds of silence. "I'm very powerful, and I'll use my talents to their fullest to protect my people as I fulfil my orders," then he turned to look at her eye to eye. "I won't ask you to protect them, but don't you dare to use their lives as if they were mere cattle."
"I won't," Sakai nodded her head with no hesitation. "It must be hard to work with others. I don't envy you."
"It has its advantages."
"Those are pretty words, but you don't believe in them." It wasn't a pun, just an honest thought. One he shared. "Your mind won't ever focus at its fullest on the combat as long as your people are around. Not only do you have to protect them from the enemy, but you also need to restrain yourself to not kill them by accident," the Inquisitor rambled as she raised her gaze to the sky. "I tried once, you know? To work with others, I mean. It wasn't my wisest decision, and since then, I've always worked alone."
Levitt was about to answer when a magical presence appeared. It was far from them, and yet, it was incredibly powerful; to a point in which his body subconsciously trembled in anticipation. "They are here," Sakai muttered with a cold voice, her two duelling canes already being wielded in her hands.
Above them, many soldiers turned their brooms to look at the west, where the magical presence slowly made its way towards them. Levitt felt them getting ready for the battle; their magical auras not being conceived anymore. It was at that moment when a terrifying realisation hit him. All those magical auras above him combined were insignificant when compared to the one coming.
Levitt burned pewter and jumped from his mound—such was the force of it that the limestone cracked under the force of his feet. After a few seconds in the air, he landed at the edge of the plain. There, he looked down. His enhanced sight allowed him to observe his enemy as the tall man walked uphill.
Each one of his steps denoted arrogance. He wore some sleeveless, grey robes which showed a pair of arms that looked strong enough to crush rocks without the need of magic—it was proof of a great physique that, along with a huge magical prowess, turned him into a very serious threat. Still, what set all the alarms in Levitt's mind was the calmness that accompanied every of the wizard's movements. That wasn't the attitude of a man who came to fight his enemies with his life at risk. No, it was the one of a man who came to wipe out a bunch of nuisances just because they dared to stand in his way.
A sudden noise alerted him; the Inquisitor landed at his side. "Say, does that man have some dark tattoos on his head's sides?" Sakai asked.
Levitt made an effort to look closely, using his left hand to protect his eyes from the sunlight. It took him a few seconds and the combustion of a bit of tin, but there they were. The man had a military cut, one which allowed the Allomancer to see those dark tattoos the Inquisitor had just talked about. "Do you know who he is?" Levitt asked back as he unsheathed his wand and his sword.
"When I took over my mother as a High Inquisitor, she gave me a list with a few names," Sakai answered as she rolled back the black sleeves of her black robes. "There weren't many, a dozen or so to be exact. Those were all the people I was supposed to avoid fighting unless there wasn't another way to protect my Master. On top of it there was that man's name: Ludwig Larsson, also known as Stormspear."
Levitt never judged people based on what was said about them—it didn't even matter if it was the opinion of a very capable witch like the Inquisitor was. No, he needed more than that. But this time he really was worried. Hell, he was almost scared. Stormspear was a name which caused fear and respect alike within the underworld. A madman who openly welcomed anyone to try to steal his most precious possessions; enough to make a man live as a king for the rest of his days. However, it was long ago when the last fool attempted to take on him. Too much blood and corpses had shown it wasn't a feat a regular person could accomplish…
Levitt raised his hand over his head, with two of his fingers pointed at the sky. It was the signal Mikko had been waiting for: 'stay back and let me deal with the enemy,' it said. The fool would eventually ignore it to help his Leader, but the Allomancer trusted his second in command. He would protect the others as best as he could.
Then, he jumped and ran downhill to meet his enemy.
Despite the great speed of his stride, he observed how an amused smile formed on his enemy's face. "Lux Gladii," Levitt muttered. A dozen light swords started to dance around his body, ready to guard it just as they were to lunge forward at his command.
Larsson extended his arm to his side—a gesture which made the Allomancer to speed his stride. He already knew what kind of weapon would come of it. Half of the light swords were launched at the tall man, but he just repelled them with a swing of the long spear which had just materialised in his hands—another of those danmed weapons of Alazthi steel.
It was a huge weapon, one very beautiful and deadly. In each of the two ends there was a triangular, sharp edge, like a long arrowhead, made of a black metal; one devoid of any colour. The body of the spear must have been around three metres long—three metres of a very complex pattern, one akin to a spiral, of white wood over the identical black metal, the same one the ends were made of. However, at the middle, where the man gripped the spear with both hands, there was a slight thickening in which the patter was interrupted, carved there were many unintelligible symbols over the white wood.
Levitt pointed his wand at the ground below Larsson. The rock broke with ease, and from it was born a twisting jet of flames that quickly hunted down his enemy, coiling around his frame. His lack of defence surprised Levitt, although it didn't last more than an instant. In fact, it was thanks to his battle instinct, greatly developed after countless fights, that he decided to propel himself away by conjuring a strong gale of winds. Only thanks to that, he could dodge the thunderous lighting that struck the place where he had just been.
Levitt landed far from it. There, he saw how the man emerged from the fire with a calm stride, a very thin and translucent shield around his figure which ate the flames at a very fast pace. No words were spoken between the two warriors, who just stared into each other's eyes—they didn't need it nor cared enough about their opponent to know the mere bit of information about him.
Suddenly, another presence came to his side. The familiar aura of Hikari Sakai made her presence known. Of course she fucking would! It had been a good opportunity to strike Larsson by surprise, if that was even possible. Yet, in her noble and stupid mind, such scenario had not even been thought of. She was ready to swallow her pride and fight her enemy in a two against one battle, but that was it—to attack an enemy with a honourless stab in the back? That was too damn dirty for her!
At least, she spoke no words before attacking. The canes danced in her hands as the rock creviced under her feet—out of the ground, a limestone snake was born, longer and thicker than a large tree. With incredible speed, the snake lunged at their enemy, who just jumped up in the air to receive it.
Ludwig's spear blocked the snake's jaw as it closed onto him. Levitt used that fickle instant of weakness to strike—he had never liked using the Killing Curse, but this was not a battle in which he could act prickly. A rain of green curses fell over Larsson, whose only move to defend himself consisted in twisting his spear around. Since it was sunk on the snake's mouth, the motion of the movement twisted its neck in an extreme angle, only for it to be blown away moments later by the mercenary's curses in a rain of white rock fragments.
Levitt burned pewter at that moment, like an explosion—the metal imploded inside of him, much stronger than it had felt in months. He ran, and just when his sword was about to cut Larsson's throat, the thick handler of the spear stopped his lunge. Up in the air, slightly above his enemy, the mercenary was able to catch a glimpse of his smirk. Levitt propelled himself away from the tall man with a strong kick on his spear, just in time to avoid the beam of light that had been sent at them.
The dense cloud of dust was carried away by the mountain's wind, revealing the figure of a man who had yet to break the first sweat. "That speed of yours is quite nasty," Larsson said as he walked towards them, his spear carried by his right hand. "I was told both of you possessed some forgotten magic from the Ancient Times, but I did not expect to fight the two of you at the same time."
Once the wizard stopped in front of them, around ten metres away from their position, Levitt slowly walked around him in circles, his eyes not leaving his figure for a second. His robes are dusty, the Allomancer noted. That had been the result of their initial attacks. I guess I finally met a man who lives up to his reputation.
"Your venture is bound to end," Hikari replied with a calm voice. "Turn around and go back to your family, Stormspear. It will not matter how hard you all try, the Order of Merlin cannot be defeated—it prevailed century after century, and that won't change today."
"I was also told very nasty stuff about you and your group of self-centred idiots, you know?" The Swedish went on, following Levitt's movements with the corner of his eyes. "Elend Shawn does not lie about these kinds of topics. Yet what I see in front of me is far from what he told me." He stopped a moment to guard his body with his spear, now gripped by his two hands. "I have fought many vile bastards back in war times, just as many as those I killed. Also, I've killed many men for the thrill of it—just when they shared that sentiment, of course. That being said, based on my first impression, I can't label either of you in any group."
Levitt's wand, hidden under his back, was just starting to emit a yellow gleam when he sensed a subtle change in Larsson's magical aura. By sheer instinct, he jumped away. Had he not done that, he would have been caught in the circle of lighting that formed around his enemy's body—that sick bastard had just created a dome-like forcefield in less than a second! From his spot, still up in the air but falling down, Levitt appreciated the blue lightning bolts that swarmed a little area around Larsson.
"Unfortunately for you, I do fully trust Elend," his potent voice echoed around as the frequency of the forcefield increased. "And because of that, you must die."
With a simple thrust of his spear, the entire might of the forcefield was directed at Levitt. The mercenary opened his eyes in surprise, and he barely had time to raise his sword to receive the impact. I'm not gonna make it! Based on that hunch, a great amount of his magic gathered around his short blade in a desperate effort to stop the attack.
For a few seconds, the smell of ozone and burnt flesh was all his brain perceived before going numb. Then he felt his body spun again and again before hard surface stopped his fall—wait, was he even falling? From where? Levitt took a long breath of air as his eyes fought to open—those dark curtains went away to welcome back the light, but it was fickle as a blink. His magic shielded him from the rain of rocks that fell over him as the Allomancer was buried under tons of debris.
Across his whole body, a thousand needles seemed to be picking at it. He was used to pain, but not to that of this intensity. In a breath of clarity, the Allomancer stopped the combustion of tin so his senses could process in what state he really was. The pain went down a bit as its threshold was decreased. However, it didn't help him at all—Levitt felt so blind and lost without his enhanced senses, to a point in which he decided to revert his last action.
The pain came back at him with the intensity of a gale, but it also woke him up. He stood there, under the weight of a thousand rocks, as his magic protected him from getting turned into human dust. How much time had passed since he received the attack? Levitt had no idea nor a way to know it, yet he couldn't do a thing but wait for his body to react. I can't… I need to fight. The thought of his fellow soldiers came to him—they did not stand a chance against Stormspear.
But he did.
His magic let out a thunderous roar in the form of an explosion. The debris was blown away as the rocks turned into dust. It fell all over him like a soft rain; the grey robes and green cape were covered by a white layer of dust. Levitt looked down at his arm, from where the worst pain came.
Skin and silk alike had been completely charred—threads of grey silk stuck to the burnt and bloodied flesh of his left forearm. He could barely move his arm, hell, Levitt could almost hear his nerves roaring in pain, yet he did not care. His fingers still had a strong grip on his sword, which didn't have a single scratch on its dark surface despite having received the most powerful spell Levitt had ever seen.
If he was alive, he could fight. If he could fight, his comrades might live to see another dawn.
Levitt was enveloped by a cold calm, even though his heart started to pump blood faster and faster into his body. He jumped high in the air as the winds carried him. There, he saw it all. Fifteen figures swarmed Stormspear, who swung his deadly weapon, accompanied by a swarm of lightning bolts, from side to side—fifteen, of which only fourteen flew atop of a broom, aiding the lonely woman who fought against their enemy as best as she could.
Six of the soldiers under his care had died, and he had done nothing to protect them.
A lonely bolt of lightning made its way towards him, but it crashed against a magical shield, metres away from his body. Levitt was pulled down by the gravity; he knew what to do. As soon as his feet touched the ground, he tossed a metal coin backwards and pushed against it. The mercenary rocketed forward, towards his prey. He was tired and wounded, but his magic answered the call of battle—Levitt conjured a storm of fire around his flying body, and it leashed, in the form of fire tendrils, against Ludwig's lightning bolts whenever they came at him.
The sudden look of surprise on the berserker's face filled him with a dark mirth. Shame that it went away as soon as they engaged in close combat—the short sword met the large spear; a weapon of goblin steel clashed against that of Alazthi steel. Levitt's enhanced capacities allowed him to take the upper hand, but that bastard barely had any trouble answering his attacks.
Sparks flew in every direction as the two magical weapons took part in a deathly dance; though none was crowned as the victor. Levitt waited for Sakai to make an appearance, but seconds passed and the mercenary found himself alone, still immersed in that frenzied dance of death. He dodged a thrust aimed at his neck; the tip of the spear was tinted in red as it grazed his flesh. The flat front of his sword hit Larsson right in his left wrist, but the man quickly answered with a sweep of his spear, which was blocked by a backhander of the blade.
Sword and spear, fire and lighting… They all clashed alike in a furious sequence of movements. It was at that moment when Levitt realised why no one had come to his aid. Around the two fighters, a storm of flames and blue bolts of lightning acted as a forcefield, following each of the warrior's movements.
Levitt pulled out of the fight by pushing against some far source of metal. His body, covered by a bubble of magic, went through the forcefield with little trouble as the flames allowed him an easy exit. In a matter of seconds, as Larsson mimicked his move, that magical disaster they had just created got extinguished.
Several curses—among which figured some as lethal as the Killing Curse or Sakai's spheres of energy—were blown away by Larsson's sheer magical aura. Indeed, monsters were a real thing.
"You sure took your time to wake up, boy," Larsson said before spitting at the ground. His breath was slightly rushed, and Levitt realised there were multiple cuts and bloodied wounds all over his body. Yet none looked to be a serious thing. Sakai placed herself right behind Larsson, at a prudent distance but ready for the combat—just as Levitt's soldiers flew away from them after his order. The Swedish wizard analysed all his surroundings as he talked. "Not gonna lie, I thought you were about to get me good back there. Elend and Shana didn't lie when talking about your skills."
The tall man let out some ironic huff. "You changed in the spur of a second," Larsson stated as he looked the mercenary dead in the eyes. "Say, what was the reason? Do you really care so much about those men I killed?" He paused a moment to look upwards, where the fourteen flying soldiers were seconds ago. "I see," he hummed. "You are a good man. I will remember you, Levitt from the Wings of Liberty—I really wish we could have met in better circumstances."
For the first time in years, Levitt experienced a fear he thought to be buried deep inside him—that of losing a battle. That of losing his own life. Ludwig Larsson was far more powerful than him. Hell, his body still trembled after the short but intense duel they had a few seconds ago.
Higher towers did crumble. It certainly wasn't the first time Levitt had felt overwhelmed in a fight; after all, The Tartarus had hardened him like nothing else could have ever done. Let it be a fight of power against skill, then. No one else will die on my watch. I swear. From the tip of Levitt's wand was born a bright, black flare that rose to the sky under the watchful eyes of everyone. A black flare was a signal to start the Point Defence strategy, one his soldiers understood in an instant.
A rain of Exploding Curses fell over the three remaining combatants. As he dodged them with ease, Levitt caught a glimpse of his two soon-to-be dancing partners—Sakai looked really confused as multiple shields of light protected her from the curses, while Stormspear… That bastard had a crazed smile plastered on his face!
Levitt gulped down two glass vials in one go, which contained a solution of diluted steel and iron, respectively. As the battlefield was destroyed, the familiar and ethereal blue lines appeared in his sight—better said, they became much more prominent now that they weren't hidden under the mountain's surface. Those that connected every nearby source of metal to his allomantic core.
The strategy of Point Defence; the ace in the hole of the Wings of Liberty. Once the company reached a battlefield, the soldiers hid or placed big and heavy sources of metal all over the place. If the fight came to it, they would be used to allow Levitt to dominate the dispute.
The Allomancer pushed and pulled from every source he found in his way, gliding through the battlefield without the need to consume his reserves of magic. Bolts of lightning followed him everywhere, but Stormspear's magic was too slow—or maybe, he was too fast. His movements became erratic; there was no brain ordering his body this time, it was just sheer instinct. The rain of Exploding Curses had caused a storm of dust and debris, and because of that, Levitt almost collided with Stormspear midair in their game of seek and kill. That bastard had also hidden his magical aura! Unlike him, Larsson couldn't fly without normal magic, so he needed to use it in streaks to reduce how detectable he was—and so he fell as the sword clashed against the spear for the thousandth time that day.
Suddenly, the Swedish's aura came to life with the violence of a volcano, ready to repel Levitt's offence. Yet he could not point his spear at the mercenary. From the other end of the battlefield, two beams of white light made him turn around; sparks of the same colour lightened the field as the spear dispelled them. Levitt's wand seemed to move by itself as a rain of curses came from it. He didn't even know what kind of spells were—moving and trying to kill his enemy were the only two orders his mind and body reacted to.
Ludwig Larsson was a good fighter—far too damn good.
Levitt jumped backwards to avoid a wall of lighting which, had it hit, there wouldn't have been a body to retrieve. The flow of magic seemed to track him, but it was much slower than his gliding. From one source of metal to another, the mercenary rebounded on each before his feet could even touch it. He is getting slower.
Stormspear had been surrounded by eight stars of light that sent beams of magic in every direction as they moved around him—all those beams which couldn't hit the target always found another star that reflected them, turning the attack into an infinite rain of beams. Levitt spotted Hikari at the other end of the battlefield—the High Inquisitor stood rooted atop of a mound with her eyes closed and mouth uttering words in a frenzied song, her two canes firmly clutched in front of her body.
To his left, Mikko descended at the head of an arrowhead formation, with six soldiers, three in each of his sides, behind him. As they flew above Larsson, in each pass they made, curses rained from their wands—some were meant to immobilise an enemy, others to kill and hurt, and a few to protect the other twin formation which had joined the fight. Little by little, thanks to everyone's effort, Hikari, inch after inch, closed the circle of light stars around Stormspear; the beams of magic got faster and faster, and the number of them which hit the wizard grew exponentially.
Still, the bastard kept moving and defending himself—let it be by spear or magic, Ludwig Larsson did not fall.
Levitt used the moment of peace—if it could be called as so—to rest his body a bit. His muscles hurt, but not nearly as much as his head did; probably, due to an abuse of Allomancy. Despite that, he pulled through it and replenished his reserves of metals by drinking each one of the last four vials his belt stored. His hands gripped both sword and wand with renewed strength—not because he had restored his energies, for he felt as exhausted and pained as he could be, but because the perfect chance to kill a monster was about to present itself in front of him.
With a sudden combustion of tin—even though the sun almost blinded him—Levit observed Stormspear, who stood more than two hundred metres away from him. Much to his satisfaction, the Swedish wizard looked terrified. Levitt prepared himself to jump into the battle, even though Mikko seemed to have everything under control as he and soldiers swarmed their enemy like a flock of crows. Suddenly, some words of past times came to his mind. "There is no greater danger in this world than that of facing a scared beast; don't ever forget this, Levitt."
A cold shiver went down his spine. "Mikko!" The Allomancer shouted as he pulled from one source to another, getting closer to the battle. "Pull out! Now!" His soldiers didn't hear him—maybe, because the fight looked to be already won, or perhaps, because Levitt still was too far away from them to hear his order.
The mercenary sped up.
A loud roar, almost beastly, was heard all over the battlefield. At the same time, a sudden burst of raw magic, the most powerful one Levitt had ever felt, shook the mountain and its surroundings. Hikari's stars were dispelled like dust carried by the wind, and Mikko and the rest of the soldiers were sent flying backwards. A soft wind around Larsson was born, and quickly enough, it became a gale—lightning bolts and wind alike started to spiral around Stormspear, turning him into the core of a tornado.
Bolts of electricity attacked, randomly, at everything or anything they found in their way. "Everyone, shields up!" Mikko ordered. The soldiers obeyed, but it did not matter for some. The shields of those with a lesser magical mastery were pierced through with ease; their bodies fell down from the brooms, completely charred. Levitt felt the rage and guilt boil inside him as he flew past Mikko, who followed him without a second though.
Midair, the Allomancer focused all his magic into the wand. A hot sensation recovered his entire body, from toes to the crown of his head, as the wand slashed the air down. His mind almost gave up as some black points appeared in his sight, but Levitt did not surrender, and so, the tornado was covered by a giant bubble of magic, which, little by little, got smaller and smaller, closing onto it. Some loud whistling was all he could hear, but the bolts of lightning had already disappeared. Finally, after an entire minute which felt like an eternity, the tornado was extinguished as the bubble closed around it.
Faint voices, unintelligible ones, could be heard around—they screamed something about escaping and pursuing. Levitt felt how the gravity did its work as his body fell to the ground, but, somehow, by the next second, the freefall stopped. "Leader, can you hear me?" A feminine voice asked—well, she almost screamed into his ear, better said. The sound of brooms ploughing through the air grabbed his attention. It became fainter with each second, as if they were getting far away from them. At some point after that, he was thrown onto solid ground.
"Okay, I need you to drink this," the woman went on. Now that he thought about it, it really sounded familiar—could her name be Sarah? Sarah, as one of the company's healers? Levitt drank some kind of horrid beverage which helped the wizard to clear his mind a bit; at least, colours didn't look so bright anymore. A warm sensation filled his body as Sarah muttered some words by his side.
Snap out of it, you little fucker. Right, he had a mission to complete—he had people to protect. "Where is everyone else?" Levitt asked as he managed to stand on his feet. He almost cursed himself to the death for getting up so quickly; if it wasn't enough, now he had to deal with a very annoying feeling of dizziness.
"Ludwig Larsson ran away, and Mikko led the charge after him," Sarah replied, looking at him with shocked eyes. "Leader... Look, I don't think you should be up so soon. What you did a few minutes ago... It was incredible, but it almost killed you. Rest will be needed, Sir. I think we need to pull you out."
Levitt eyed what was left of the battlefield—a bunch of craters, charred ground and lifeless bodies abandoned here and there. He had failed once again. "Sarah, I need you to retrieve the bodies of those comrades we lost today," the Allomancer said as he grabbed some nearby Nimbus. With it, he could join the persecution—that bastard would not escape alive.
"But, Sir-" She was silenced with a cold glare.
"Do as I say." Levitt hopped onto the broom. And just at that moment, a warm sensation near his chest stopped him dead in his tracks. No, that could not be happening so soon. With trouble, the Allomancer pulled his book of contact from the robe's chest pocket—it emitted a white gleam. Jordan needed him for the second phase of his plan, whatever it might be. It was a very tough decision to make—one that would make Levitt hate himself for years—but the promise he swore to Jordan years ago prevailed in the end. "There is a change of plans, Sarah. I want you to join the persecution and help as many comrades as you can."
She looked stunned for a few seconds. "Ehm, okay. I mean, of course, Sir!" Sarah hesitated a bit to form the next question. "May I ask the reason behind this sudden change of plans?"
Levitt just walked away from her. The face of Mikko and everyone else appeared in his mind, clear as water. It was said duty was the heaviest of the weights, and Levitt agreed with all his heart.
Hikari led the persecution—accompanied by a bunch of people she didn't know and in hunt of a rabid beast.
Her mother had warned her to never go against wizards like Ludwig Larsson, and yet here she was; doing her best to not be killed by that monster. With a backwards look as she flew atop of a Nimbus, the High Inquisitor didn't spot Levitt; if even with her enhanced sight there wasn't a trace of the mercenary leader, it was because he had not accompanied them. That worried her, but it wasn't an emotion as big as the embarrassment she felt by the next second. Since when did she, a High Inquisitor at the service of Aura the Fourth, needed the help of a man to feel safe? That was utter rubbish.
Ahead of them—a company of ten men who had survived the tornado before Levitt could dispel it—Stormspear used the winds to jump and jump away from Hikari and the rest. Each time the man's feet touched the ground, a trace of blood was left behind. At that moment, Ludwig Larsson was nothing but a cornered beast. One by one, the mercenaries started to go past her—it was very clear Hikari's skills atop of a broom were nowhere close to theirs. The Inquisitor cursed herself in a low whisper. She needed to kill, or at least capture, Stormspear. The honour of Aura Lessard depended on her.
"Come on, guys!" Mikko Kovanen, Levitt's right hand, spurred the soldiers to keep up the pace. "That fucker is on his last breath! The sooner we get rid of him, the sooner we'll be drinking ourselves to death!"
The nine remaining mercenaries acclaimed those words with loud cheers. "And with a nice bag of gold secured under our belt!" One of the few women in the group added in a loud shout.
Those bastards accelerated even more, leaving an exhausted Hikari behind. "Eh, don't go so fast!" The Inquisitor exclaimed at them, who completely ignored her words. That angered the witch. Shit, cursed be those fools! Don't they understand this is the most fragile step of the plan? Now more than ever, we need to act with the utmost care!Still, their figures got further away with each second. On the good side, Mikko Kovanen and his men were catching up with Larsson, but what would come up next? Yes, Stormspear's wounds looked to be severe, but even in such a state, those mercenaries did not stand a chance without her. Come on, Hikari! It's this stupid broom really gonna defeat you?
Severe wounds or not, Ludwig Larsson kept his pace—judging the Nimbus' speed, Mikko Kovanen and the rest would catch up with him in less than a minute. However, her mental estimations failed the moment Stormspear fell midair, during one of his glidings.
The limestone mountain had been left behind, and now it was a slight downhill covered by a layer of fresh grass with many flowers of different kinds and colours. The constant change of scenery of that place, added to how different they were between them, was not a product of nature. Could this entire place be one of those locations altered by a strong magical seat?
Focus on the mission, you stupid woman! By the time she made it to where Stormspear had fallen, the Wings of Liberty had already surrounded the wounded man. Ludwig Larsson, still looking as menacing as always, kneeled on the ground with a dozen light cords firmly tied around his neck and limbs. There was a large, open wound in his forehead which couldn't stop bleeding—his robes looked to be soaked in blood, and his left arm hung in a very weird angle.
Kovanen took a few steps towards the Swedish wizard. Then he kicked the hell out of him. Just one hit was all that it took to tumble Stormspear, who fell over his back with a dislocated jaw. The berserker managed to roll over his right side after a few tries; a slow flow of spittle, of a red colour, came out of his mouth. On it there was much more blood than spite, with a few solid fragments of a white colour that Hikari noted as teeth. The mercenary grabbed the tumbled man by the neck of his grey robes. "You thought you could take on us all, eh, Stormspear?" Mikko spat in his face. "No matter how big the legend your name carries is, you are nothing to our Leader."
Ludwig managed to flex his neck so he could stare at the mercenary eye to eye. Then he smiled; a toothless and bloodied smile. "He ain't around anymore, is he?" The wizard said with no little trouble. "You fool. I am the storm."
Hikari had only enough time to draw her two canes before a strong shockwave shook them all. The Inquisitor managed to create some earth shield before her that stopped the strong explosion. To her left, the figure of Mikko Kovanen was sent flying away—fortunately, the young wizard managed to manipulate the earth to create some kind of bubble that covered his body.
The situation had gotten out of control.
Multiple screams could be heard all over the place as the sky let out thunderous roars above them. "Oh, the beautiful and mighty Great Cherry Tree," Hikari began to sing in a low whisper. Magic started to pour from every inch of her body as the song progressed. It was an act of madness, the one she was about to pull out, but Merlin struck her if it didn't feel correct! Stars of light, made of pure magic, were formed everywhere, guided by the sheer accuracy of her magical sense—over a woman who was about to get fried by a bolt of lighting, in front of Mikko whose bubble was about to disappear… And around Stormspear, who could only fight them away with beams of electricity.
"Loved by everyone and envied by many, oh the beautiful and mighty Great Cherry Tree." One of her two wands, the one inside her left cane, directed her magic into the stars of light. Meanwhile, the one held by her right hand, would do the killing. Not the Killing Curse; that's too easy to predict. "Until a day, a foolish samurai, lost in his sea of rage and envy, tried to steal a flower to conquer the love of the princess he desired." A very fine thread of air started to condense around the end of the cane, so faint even she had trouble seeing it. "And so, the man sinned and cut one of the Tree's branches. Oh, how the Great Cherry Tree cried that night."
Soon enough, the tread became a thin blade. Now, for her attack to go unnoticed, it was time to create chaos; so much of it that Stormspear could not detect a simple spell from the storm of magic that roared around them. "And so, when the news about his act reached the town, the woman he loved was horrorized of him." Her stars of light replied to each one of the lighting bolts, like improvised shields; far too many to count them by now. Her mind almost gave up when another wave of exhaustion hit her, but Hikari did not falter—she was so close to the end!
Finally, her earth shield was casted away, and so she was almost sent flying away by the strong gale, but her body, reinforced by the little Allomancy she had left, survived the assault. Then she saw him. Ludwig Larsson stood at the centre of the storm, resting his hands over his knees, at the very same spot where he had been chained, though he was no longer captive. Around him, wind and electricity filled the air in equal measure.
The man didn't raise his eyes to meet her gaze, and so Hikari strode forward, against the wind and all odds. The High Inquisitor cut through the gale like a sharp blade—slowly but surely, the witch made her way towards her enemy. Mother, I am about to kill a man you forbid me to fight against. Look at me, mother! I am about to honour the great Aura Lessard! The wizard kept his head down—less than a hundred steps separated their bodies, only for them to become fifty. The Inquisitor could no longer hear the screams of her allies; whether it was because of the storm or because they were all dead was something she did not care about at that moment.
"Oh, how the tears fell from the samurai's eyes as he struck the woman he loved down." Thirty steps; those were far too many, still. Stormspear finally raised his gaze—the gale became much stronger, and the bolts of light more frequent. Twenty steps! "That night, the Great Cherry Tree cried, for its beauty had caused so much pain." Her cane was pointed at Ludwig Larsson, who looked, with sheer terror writen all over his face, as his attacks were all stopped by her light stars. "Oh, how the beautiful and mighty Great Cherry Tree cried!"
The air blade was launched from the cane, just as some spear of light came from Ludwig's weapon, which had been summoned mere seconds ago, to intercept Hikari's spell. The attacks were centimetres away from colliding, but each one of them continued its way. Hikari fell to the ground as the pain numbled her legs—the spear had hit her right on the gut, but it hurt so much all over her body! It burnt so much!
She managed to roll over her side so the blood in her throat and mouth would not kill her out of choking; that move, such a simple one, almost made the witch lose the conscience. My Allomancy… I need to… With great effort, the combustion of tin was stopped—a sudden moment of clarity hit her, enough to look upwards.
The sky, which had been clear and beautiful that day, now was coal black. Covered by a great mass of spiralling clouds that seemed to come from the south-east, the blackness, little by little, was spread all over the horizon; towards Hikari and away from her. Could it be a product of her imagination? Certainly, her blurry sight did little to help her understand the situation. Black spots started to appear in her vision. Mother, did I do it? Did I kill that man?
A solitary figure ploughed through the skies, in her direction. That was the last thing Hikari Sakai saw.
Part 4: The fallen phoenix
Elend kneeled over one leg as he observed the large canyon in front of him, atop of a large and grassy hill.
Of several kinds of sedimentary rocks and with a large river flowing through it, its walls ascended more than a few hundreds of metres. The flow of water had been cut into two, creating a path across the river that led inside the canyon until his sight could see. Elend was no Allomancer, and so his eyes weren't so useful here. He knew Nalar was fighting a tough opponent, and he also was aware of Ludwig's disadvantage in his encounter against the Wings of Liberty—though none of that mattered at that moment.
Isaac the First, accompanied by his two High Inquisitors and Aura the Forth, had walked through the river path into the canyon. He had felt their auras; in fact, he could still feel the remnants of the spell Unicorn had used to part the river. The Horcrux was so close, and yet so far... Elend was very aware of how polished his skills were—he had survived the war against Lord Voldemort, after all—but such a battle was impossible to win. Here, wits were far more important than power.
Because of that, he conceived his magical aura and walked downhill; towards the canyon. This way, it would take him much more time, but it was necessary. If his guess was right, the Horcrux had to be protected by many curses and traps. Isaac wouldn't risk it all when his precious ambition was so close to be accomplished; no, he would take as much time as needed to retrieve it without any complication. That was Elend's chance to get close enough to surprise them. If it came to a battle, then he would risk his life as much as it needed to be done, but that was the last resource of his plan.
As he ran towards the river, still a full kilometre away from it, Elend grabbed a glass vial from the belt under his blue robes. It contained a black liquid with white, moving specs all over it—a full dose of Nightwalker Potion.
Not waiting for the second thoughts to ruin his plans, he gulped it down in one go. A foul taste quickly filled his mouth, just as dizziness hit him. Elend almost missed his step, let it be due to the great pain his head was under or because of how light he felt. Or maybe, it was the voices the man heard in his head that distracted him—voices of those shadows that danced around him. In the end, he regained his focus just in time to jump into the parted water of the river, on his way inside the canyon.
The Nightwalker Potion was one of the most complicated and expensive beverages to brew. Its ingredients were so difficult to collect that lives needed to be risked, and only a master of the art could truly accomplish a fine product. It took years to nurture, but, if done properly, even the most pathetic of the wizards could become the most capable assassin in the entire world.
By conceiving one's magical aura, a wizard could avoid being detected by the magical sense of another one, yet he still was vulnerable to wards and certain spells to reveal a form of life. The Nightwalker Potion could turn a man into a Creature of the Shadow—it came with a high price, in the form of weakness, excruciating pain and a state close to madness, but it was the only way to become fully untraceable—it was his only way to succeed this time.
From the outside, what seconds ago was the proud figure of lord Elend Shawn, had turned into an ethereal shadow which could barely be seen or detected. It was said a person could only use the potion a few times before losing his mind for good, but Elend just wanted it for this special occasion. He sprinted through the path with a silent stride, almost as if his feet couldn't touch the solid ground; there must have been plenty of wards in that place, but he could not detect them, just as their magic was unable to identify him. To use such a tactic was proof of how important this day was. Endure the pain and the suffering. Move forward until finishing what must be done. That was the way a true Shawn lived his life.
Elend could feel a thousand eyes staring at him from everywhere, just as a hundred voices whispered nonsense into his ears. They laughed at him, at the cruel fate that awaited him and every person he loved—whispers of horrible deaths, of eternal punishment. The water of the river was so pale it almost lacked colour, and the ground below him was as grey as steel itself. The sun shone bright upon him, but it wasn't warm nor a comforting sight—of a red colour, its rays were so cold Elend had to wrap himself into his robes a bit more. This was what the users of the Nightwalker Potion called the World of Shadows, he reckoned.
World of Shadows or not, lord Elend Shawn pulled himself together and continued the path.
"Oh, foolish wizard, you who dare to come into our world, nothing but the worst of the deaths awaits you,"a whisper echoed around. It was a very familiar voice, one he wouldn't ever forget despite having heard it just once—it belonged to Lord Voldemort. "Oh, foolish wizard, you who think you can stop me, nothing but to see the world crumble under my hand is all that awaits you."That was Isaac the First's voice. Elend was scared, there was no denying. Still, he kept moving forward—fear was an emotion for every person, but only the weak were defeated by it.
Elend spotted the first Shadow. It moved by his side, atop of the river's water, observing every single of his movements. Its figure was of the purest black the wizard had ever seen—enough to make the night look like a bright fire–but, unlike a Dementor, creatures that wore some kind of sombre silk over their bodies, the Shadow was made of pure darkness.
Suddenly, its eyes and mouth gleamed in a pearly white tonality. "Humans must not enter this realm," the Shadow said. Its voice was unlike any other Elend had ever heard; crude and hoarse, yes, but it could be understood with ease. "Fools, you who try to use us for your stupid ambitions. It is too late for you now, Elend Shawn, for you will carry our mark for the rest of your life. Until one of us finds you, no peace shall ever come to you." A cold shiver went down the wizard's spine—visions of death and blood filled his mind.
"I do not fear you, Lethifold," Elend said. The Shadow did not reply; it just kept staring at him. "I know about the after effects of the Nightwalker Potion, and so do I know the number of wizards who died, under mysterious circumstances, after consuming it. This potion contains the essence of a Lethifold. Probably, an aberration which should not have been even thought of. However, I need to use your powers today. Come after me as much as you want—if I survive this day, of course. I am not like those other wizards you have killed before."
"Oh, you understand nothing, Elend Shawn." A crude laughter echoed all over the place; it came from every direction. At the same time, the visions replayed in his mind stopped. The Shadow started to disappear, but the words kept coming; fainter, but still there. "I will be there to watch how you, wizards, destroy the world. Oh, be sure I will be there to delight myself once again. After this many centuries, there is nothing I crave for more. Indeed, I and only I shall have your soul. That is a promise, Elend Shawn."
The voices stopped and the World of Shadows became silent once again. Elend used his Occlumency to push those thoughts to the back of his mind. He had a mission to complete and some madman to stop.
Aura Lessard waited for the worst to happen. Today, her mind was divided in two—on the one hand, she feared for the life of her High Inquisitor, Hikari Sakai, who must have been fighting for her life at that moment, while, on the other, she, secretly, wished for Isaac the First to fail.
She was Aura the Fourth, and her main duty was to assist the First Master in everything he needed; no matter against who or what the situation was. And she would do it; cursed be her if she wouldn't! However, one thing were her actions and another, a very different one, were her desires. Isaac the First was mad, of that she harboured no doubts—mad in his search of fame and recognition as the last, and the best, descendant of Merlin.
Herpo the Foul's Horcrux! The first time Aura heard about his intentions, she almost fainted on the spot. Indeed, such a discovery would put his name in every history book; but what would the cost be, she wondered. Horcruxes were an aberration of nature that shouldn't have been created. No one could understand their nature, and, in her opinion, it needed to remain that way. Sometimes, she envied Shana's courage—after all, she did stand up against the Order of Merlin as soon as Isaac's plans became her knowledge.
"We are being watched," Tiger let her know.
That statement made the witch tighten her high bun for the upteenth time that day; a nervous tick which had always accompanied her. "We have been observed for quite a while," Aura corrected him. Tiger, the oldest of her High Inquisitors, was a fine warrior and a fearless man, but the magical sense had never been a fortitude of his. It had been almost an hour ago when she detected the two magical presences who kept their eyes over them—or, better said, over the cave's entrance they guarded. "The one above us, atop of the canyon, is no other but Raven the Unspeakable. While the second presence belongs to Captain Jordan."
That was both good and bad.
Fortunately, neither Elend Shawn nor his brother or Stormpear had found them. On the bad side, these two men, while way weaker and easier to subjugate, were completely unpredictable. At least, their intentions were.
Aura knew very well what Raven wanted: to obtain the Horcrux for himself to study it and nothing else. That being said, how far he was ready to go still worried her. Because, if there was another thing she was sure of, it was the fact that the Unspeakable needed both sides to lose in order for him to win.
Now, in regard to the mercenary captain, the Fourth Master was as lost as she could be. That man was a total incognite. Aura could not read his face nor his intentions. And that was what really troubled her the most. Jordan was a man who founded a company of mercenaries out of nowhere, and just the same way, he raised it to the skies of the underworld—the Wings of Liberty had never betrayed their contract, but everything was bound to end at some point.
A sudden seism pulled the Master out of her thoughts. To her side, Tiger tensed, notably—a very understandable attitude, for the stakes were so high this day. "Maybe, I should get inside to help them," the Inquisitor proposed. Ever the brave protector he was, Tiger would not allow her to enter one of Herpo's sanctuaries. "This was the fifth earthquake in less than twenty minutes."
"Isaac can take care of himself," Aura dismissed the proposal. "Besides, he has Unicorn and Dragon by his side. Our duty lies here. If we abandon it, who else will guard the entrance to the sanctuary?" That, and the fact Isaac the First needed to fall this afternoon, before his ambition could take them all out. Tiger nodded in response—Aura could still see the doubts in his face, but he would never disobey a direct order.
The time passed, and the minutes turned into a full hour. Both Raven and Jordan kept their watch, but there was no trace of anyone from Shana's group. To Aura, it was very clear the confrontation would take place sooner or later, but she really hoped for Shana to not show up—the Fourth Master was fond of the girl, and she didn't deserve to die at such an early age.
Suddenly, there was a noise beneath the cliff they stood over. Both Tiger and Aura got ready for the worst, but nothing happened. For much she tried, the witch couldn't detect any magical aura. "I will take a look from the edge," the High Inquisitor said. The tall man walked to the edge of the cliff, around fifty metres away from the cave's entrance—beneath them, all he would find was a freefall of a few hundred metres, into the large river which went through the canyon. After some seconds of concentration, he spoke again. "Everything looks pretty normal to me."
Just at that moment, there was something that caught the Master's eye. Out of nowhere, some kind of very fine and black threads, which spiralled as they moved forward, appeared near Tiger. They were so faint Aura swore she had imagined them out of stress. However, that proved to be a fatal mistake.
An exclamation of warning was still in her mouth when one of the threads caressed the Inquisitor's neck. Then his head was separated from his body with a swift cut. Tiger made no noise, and his eyes didn't show any fear, for he wasn't granted the time to accept his death. His body fell down to the river as the head rolled down the grey stone of the cliff. It left a trail of blood behind it.
Out of instinct, Aura pointed her hand at the spot those black threads had just been. A beam of white flames, fueled by her rage, destroyed a huge diametre around the rock it struck; with a thunderous noise, half of the cliff's surface fell to the river in an avalanche of rock fragments and debris.
However, so lost in her moment of rage to notice it, the threads were almost onto her. Aura prepared a strong shield to stop whatever the hell this force was, but, suddenly and out of a hunch, the witch just apparated herself away. The wards allowed her to apparate into the other end of the now destroyed cliff. The moment she landed, her magic filled every single inch of his body, ready to avenge the man who had served her for more than thirty years.
Still, her determination and bloodlust were moved aside by the stupor—a sudden magical aura had appeared right in front of her, one she knew very well to whom it belonged. The black threads, which were spiralling in the air, started to condense, and, after a few seconds, a figure formed out of them. Under azure-blue robes with golden ornaments around the neck and shoulders, the pale face of lord Elend Shawn stared at the Fourth Master dead in the eyes. The man carried his greatsword, Legatum, in his hands; the edge was stained with Tiger's blood.
How? What is the meaning of this? The blond wizard didn't even grant her enough time to blink. In his left hand, some white and brown ball of energy moved between his fingers. Beneath her, the ground creviced, but Aura, predicting his move, placed both of her hands down, touching the solid earth. "Finite Incantatem," she muttered in a low whisper. Not even waiting for the man's reaction to her move, the Master apparated right above him. She became a bolt of light herself in her way down, yet Elend mimicked her prior move and apparated away.
Immediately, Aura took a few steps back, towards the entrance of the cave; the ground where she had just landed was left charred. "We finally meet, Aura the Fourth," lord Elend Shawn said. The man took a vigilant stance as he, slowly, walked to the right and left—his greatsword, made of some pale steel that ended at black handler and with a slightly curved edge, guarded his body from any frontal attack as his wand, held in the left hand and crossed over the blade's hilt, was ready to restart the fight. "You stand in my way."
Aura managed to push the thoughts of revenge away; before anything, she had a duty to comply. "I would have never imagined you to be the kind of man to use such methods," Aura started. During his brief introduction, the answer to the black threads' mystery had come to her mind—this wizard who stood in front of her had used the Nightwalker Potion! Was he so desperate to stop Isaac the First? Maybe, if Shawn believed for the situation to be so grave, she could step aside and allow him to stop Isaac… Maybe, she could obtain her desired freedom.
"I am ready to risk it all," the man continued, gravely. His eyes made a brief pause over Tiger's head; then he blinked it away. "If you appreciated this man, I am sorry. He just stood on the wrong side of the story. Just as you do, Aura Lessard. Please, allow me to get inside that cave—allow me to stop Isaac before it is too late for us all."
The Fourth Master's sole purpose was to serve the First Master—Aura's sole purpose was to serve Isaac. The witch came to a decision. "Sorry, but I cannot do what you ask of me."
This old woman was all that stood between Elend and the end of his venture; between him and the birth of a new dark lord. Still, that witch was no other person but Aura the Fourth. Her green eyes did not show an ounce of weakness, and her hair—with more white strands than blonde's—was proof that her age wasn't a hindrance to her magical prowess.
Aura's stance had no fissures, though she had yet to draw her wand. "Then, you must die," Elend stated after her refusal. It was an unnecessary death, but it was long ago when he stopped caring about those silly things.
Exhaling a rather calm sigh, Aura the Fourth observed him with sad eyes. A halo of magic started to form around her body, dimly—was her magical aura so powerful that it could be seen so brightly? Certainly, his magical senses, developed by years of training and fighting, were witness of it. "You understand nothing, Elend Shawn," the Master said. "I am the strongest."
It came so fast all Elend could do was to create a shield around his body rather than repelling the attack. A sudden streak of air sent him flying into the skies, but Aura Lessard did not stop there. She jumped and mounted the winds as her hands manipulated those around him. Soon enough, the entrance to the cave became a litte, black spot amids a great mass of rock. The wizard managed to propel his shield away from him, taking the manipulated winds with it.
However, the Fourth Master was nowhere to be seen. His questions were answered as soon as he looked upwards. Aura was right over him, and her hands were pointed right at his chest. "Depulso," the witch chanted in a calm voice—such a simple spell, one even mere children could perform, yet powerful enough to send Elend and his shield downwards, into the surface of one of the canyon's walls.
The wizard managed to point his wand at the ground at the last moment. "Arresto Momento Duo." The spell stopped his body metres away from impacting with the reddish stone. Still in the air, Elend backflipped to stand on his feet once again.
His enemy landed a hundred metres away from him; a hundred metres closer to that cave. Up there, the wind—natural of the place—which waved his cape also carried a lot of dust with it. "I need to get rid of you as soon as possible, Aura Lessard," Elend said with a cold voice. "I have already lost too much time on my way here."
For this battle, he would use his maximum power. If it killed him, at least, he hoped for that to happen after there was not a single of his enemies alive. "Emedec'noc ut azruf, Soid led Ogeuf." The Alazthi words, those of the spell he had honed to perfection in the last few months, made his body tremble in anticipation. His magic roared, triumphantly, as a sea of flames was born out of him. From Elend and towards every direction, the infernal fire ate everything away. Finally, the flames created a dome around the two fighters.
The heat became a problem, but Elend endured it—on the contrary, Aura rolled her sleeves back and unclasped the white cloak that covered her red robes. Her magical aura was immense, but so was Elend's. "So, to bet our fate in just one attack is your decision, then," the witch acknowledged, right on the spot. "Fast and direct, just the way I like men. Shame one of us will die today."
Elend kept conjuring fire at expense of his raw magic—soon enough, if that pace was to be maintained, he would reach exhaustion. Yet he needed more power. Sweat covered his whole body, just as his skin protested in the form of stinging pain. I need more! Elend needed so much fire Aura could not stop his attack, no matter how strong she turned out to be. The witch just placed both of her hands in front of her body and furrowed her brow—her green eyes did not show an ounce of fear.
This was hell itself that he had brought upon them. And it was the best Elend got.
The flames gathered around him; around his wand and sword. Then the assault finally began. The fire, a huge torrent of it, akin to the eruption of a volcano, was directed at the Fourth Master. This would be a battle of endurance between the man who had conjured the fire and the woman who needed to survive in a hell in the form of a prison.
Aura Lessard withstood the first assault, and so, Elend poured more fire into it. He had never felt so alive before! There, at the verge of death or victory, the wizard felt spurred by the pride his Alazthi ancestors must have been feeling! This was magic in its purest form! So alive and warm it prickled every inch of his being! From the walls of the dome, currents of fire joined the assault from every direction.
However, they all merged around Aura's hands.
Elend, puzzled, started to wonder what was happening there—his ultimate spell could not be stopped by the likes of her. She was a regular woman, just as he was a regular man. This spell was only meant to fail against monsters like Voldemort or Dumbledore were, whose powers were beyond any regular wizard's understanding. "Sort'secna soim! Emedec'noc ortseuv redop!" The hell he created roared, furiously, at the embarrasment it felt at being stopped—Elend's magic fueled that sentiment.
Yet nothing changed.
All the flames were condensed into a smoking, little ball of energy Aura kept before her hands. Her face was red, almost burnt, and her eyes could barely remain opened. Still, a tremendous amount of magic could be felt from her position. And it had as much of Elend's touch as it had Aura's. At that moment, Elend understood what was happening. Yet he refused to believe it. "How?" He managed to ask between ragged breaths. The effort was so intense the man had to kneel to keep the equilibrium.
Aura Lessard took a few steps in his direction. Her stance did not change, and so each step had to be fought against the currents of fire. A battle she was winning. "I was born with a Talent," the Fourth Master confessed with great effort. The distance between them was severed with each second. "The talent to use the magic around me, let it be from nature or from others, just as good as I can control mine. This hell you have created is nothing but a complex conjuration fueled by your magic. A battle of sheer power against sheer power—unless the magic turns out to be too much for my core to manipulate it—is a battle I will never lose. That was your mistake, Elend Shawn. This was not a battle you could win by subduing me."
The first rays of sun could be seen through the holes of Elend's hell. The wizard refused to surrender, but for much he tried, even if he knew how useless it was, his enemy was too strong. I cannot lose here! This couldn't be the end—Isaac the First couldn't triumph! A cool breeze started to wave his cape once again. Why? Why did I have to lose? Aura was around thirty steps from him. This wasn't supposed to happen? This spell was meant to be enough! Why did Aura, among all the Talents she could've had, possess the only one that could defeat him? Did Magic, or whatever force stood above them, want Isaac to win? Was that the reason behind his failure?
Was the world fated to crumble under a new dark lord, just like the Lethigold had told him?
Elend's resistance reached an end—he was exhausted beyond words. He had lost the battle.
Aura Lessard gathered all the fire she could in the little ball of magic her hands nested. Just as Elend had conjured fire out of his raw magic, that woman had turned the fire back into energy; into a condensed ball of magic, product of the two forces which had just clashed, surely, with enough power to destroy the entire canyon. Flaming tongues of fire danced around them, trying to scorch the reddish stone of the canyon—those were the little remnants of the hell Elend had created.
The Fourth Master pointed the ball of magic at Elend—at the defeated man who needed to lean all his weight into a greatsword so he could sit up. Pathetic, there was no other word to describe him. For a few minutes, as hell itself had roared to the sound of his magic, Elend had believed himself to be invincible. Never should've Aura won this battle. And, much less, to look at him with such eyes full of pity.
In the end, the witch sent the ball of magic upwards, to the clear sky. There she exploded it. The skies roared, a sound not even a thousand thunders would have replicated. In just a few seconds, a very dense and large mass of black smoke ate the blue sky and the few white clouds it contained. "You have lost, Elend Shawn," Aura Lessard stated in a soft voice, her eyes still set on the sky. "But you do not have to die today. Stand up and leave this place. Go back to your family and pray for Isaac to act as noble as he can. The First Master, although a very ambitious man, is no dark lord. I will also pray for him to not fall victim of the Horcrux's sheer evilness."
Elend's hand tightened the grip over Legatum's handler—why was this woman sparing his life? Not only was he an enemy of the Order she belonged to, but he had also killed one of her fellow High Inquisitors. To pray for Isaac the First to succeed against the Horcrux? That was madness. No, Elend could still fight—he was exhausted, but not dead.
As the wizard tried to stand up, some words echoed around the place, carried by the wind of that high mountain. "Quite the comforting words, my dear Aura." With a slow stride, Isaac the First walked towards them. His bald head was covered by the white hood of his robes, of the same colour but burnt and torn apart here and there. His skin, of a light brown, was also dirtied by soot and some bloodied wounds. Right behind him, his High Inquisitor, a tall figure whose face was hidden under an unicorn mask, adopted a tense posture; his state was as bad as that of the Master he served, only that his robes were black instead of white. "I knew you were capable enough to handle the situation," the leader of the Order of Merlin said as he sent Elend a cold glare.
"Is it done, then?" Aura Lessard asked back.
"Yes, it is done."
Those words were repeated a dozen times in Elend's head—Isaac had obtained Herpo's Horcrux. There was nothing he could do to stop the future. Not even praying for his enemy to act in a noble way, because, after the look Isaac had just sent him, there was no way he was getting out of this encounter alive.
However, the First Master and everyone else averted their eyes from the pureblood lord. A new magical aura had appeared near them—one Elend had no trouble to identify. From the border of the canyon, Raven walked towards their position. The Unspeakable wore his usual robes—the black tunic and the winged mask of a crow. No one uttered a word as they waited for him, but as soon as he got close enough, Unicorn stepped between him and Isaac.
That puzzled him a bit, enough to make the man's stride falter. "What's the meaning of this, Master Isaac?" Raven asked in a cold voice. The High Inquisitor stood between the two wizards, firm as a rock and cold as ice itself, with his wand unsheathed. "We had an agreement."
"Yeah, we have an agreement," Isaac repeated with a nod of his head. His eyes were back on Elend. "I will allow you to study the Horcrux so you can complete that project of yours, the one your family started generations ago. That being said, even if I gave it to you at this moment, you wouldn't know what to do with it. And neither do I, truth to be told. Though there is one person in this world who knows the way—hers is the right to interact with it first. Then, I will announce to the entire world my great discovery, and once I get the recognition I deserve—that my lineage deserves—it will be yours and only yours."
For a few seconds, Raven stood rooted on the spot. Then he nodded his head, defeated. "It will be done as you say, Isaac," the Unspeakable almost spat the Master's name, but he still took a few steps back. Finally, his eyes also stopped onto Elend's figure. "We must kill Elend Shawn. In fact, I don't know why he is still alive. He's right in front of our noses, defeated and wounded like some stray dog." Through the little holes his mask had, one could see his dark irises; it was pure hatred that they directed at Elend, true, but also disappointment.
"That is something you will need to ask Aura about," the First Master replied in a low whisper. His attention wasn't on the conversation nor the people around him, Elend noted. His eyes kept going down, in barely noticeable movements, to a ring the third finger of his right hand carried. It was a very austere piece of jewellery, of a very polished and grey steel. From his spot, Elend noticed some carved script on its sides in some language he couldn't identify. "Unicorn, kill this man."
The order came and Elend jumped onto his feet. Legatum, his loyal sword, guarded his body from the upcoming attack. Shit, in the best scenario, I, maybe, will be able to withstand a full minute against a High Inquisitor. He needed to get out of there—that, or hoping for reinforcements to come in his aid.
Fortunately, Aura Lessard raised her hand in the air to stop the Inquisitor. Her eyes were set on the sky. "Wait a moment, Unicorn. There is something weird going on here. Look upwards. The wind isn't strong enough by itself to make the smoke spiral that way." Just at that moment, as everyone tensed, the spiralling smoke fell over them like a tornado.
In a matter of seconds, the storm hit the canyon and covered everything like a huge and dense wall of black smoke. Taking the safest route, Elend casted a shield around his body and stood in guard, ready to react to whatever came next. His magical sense allowed the man to locate each one of his four enemies, who had imitated his tactic. Elend could use the environment to his favour, creating flows of magic, akin to the shield that protected him, in many different places in order to confuse his enemies. But so can they. There was a reason why no one had dispelled the sea of smoke around them—sometimes, it was better to react rather than creating the openings yourself.
There had been no hope for Elend and his cause, but now… Now he had been given the chance to fight once again! First and foremost, I need to get information. Elend sharpened his magical sense to the best of his capacity; at least, to that his exhausted state allowed him to. With ease, he managed to locate the two Masters, the Inquisitor and Raven—each one of them had been scattered around by the wall of smoke, but their proximity to each other would allow them to react in case something happened.
I need to go further! From the south to the north, from the east to the west and even beyond, until Elend finally managed to find a faint magical aura located very far from them. It was a weak one, but the task it performed was huge, and so it was found. Moreover, it was a familiar aura. It belonged to Captain Jordan, from the Wings of Liberty. That discovery stunned Elend; why on earth was that man attacking his own side? And what did he hope to accomplish with such inoffensive technique?
The answer to his questions came soon enough, when Isaac roared in pain. Thanks to their magical auras, Elend knew Unicorn had run in the Master's aid, while Aura… Suddenly, a burst of magic dispelled the dense wall of smoke; carried by a strong gale, it only took her five seconds to make everything visible again. When that happened, Elend could do nothing but stare at the picture before him, totally stunned.
Isaac the First had fallen to the ground, on his knees; his right arm severed at the elbow's height. His wand lay over the reddish stone, surrounded by a pool of blood. Unicorn tried to cut the haemorrhage with some spell as he took out some potions from his belt, yet the Master pushed him aside with the little strength he had left. "There, go after him!" He hissed as best as he could, pointing at the north.
Elend, and everyone else, followed his indication. There, running as fast from them as his enhanced speed allowed him to, was Levitt the mercenary, who carried Isaac's stump in his hand—Isaac's right arm, where the ring had been set around his finger. Raven was the first to react, who transformed himself into a huge crow and flapped his large wings in persecution of the mercenary.
"Unicorn, tend Isaac's wounds!" Aura Lessard exclaimed. "I will get the Horcrux back!"
The woman mounted the winds, and so, Elend was left alone with Isaac and his Inquisitor. "I will kill those traitors!" the First Master screamed atop of his lungs. "No, I will make them regret the moment they were born!" His face looked paler and paler with each second, just as his voice started to falter. "I promise… I-I will find you all."
At that moment, a huge dilemma stormed through Elend's mind. The Horcrux had been stolen by the Wings of Liberty, but, in his current condition, he couldn't pursue them; not when Captain Jordan had hidden his magical aura, and certainly, not when Levitt could do the same as he escaped thanks to his Allomancy. Moreover, even if Isaac was out of the picture, Unicorn would annihilate him in single combat. However, the High Inquisitor was busy tending the Master, so Elend could… No, it was a foolish idea.
Elend needed to escape from there so he could live to fight another day.
The proud lord didn't even bother to hide his presence or whatsoever; he just ran towards the cliff of the canyon, and there, he jumped down, to the large river that crossed between the two mountains. It was a long fall; one in which he tried to shut the voice in his mind that accused him of running away. Corward, it said—that and many, and worse, insults. When he was about to hit the water's surface, Elend just stopped his descent with a simple Slowing Charm.
The dive refreshed his tired mind; it felt so good he almost stayed there. Almost. Many things needed to be done, starting by searching for his allies—if there was anyone alive, that's it. Elend swam towards the bank, a grassy and muddy-looking carpet shadowed by the canyon above it. It took him quite the effort to reach it. Hell, he even needed to use Legatum like a common pole! In the end, he made it; just to sat there, exhausted and soaked to the bones.
Coward, the voice inside his head repeated again and again—that was so true, however, cowards usually lived to fight another day. What was the point of dying just for the sake of it when all was lost? None; that was what Elend said to himself as he stood up. The first steps were the worst, those towards the wall of the canyon. He had conceived his presence, but, just in the case Unicorn felt like looking down, it was better to cover himself as much as he could.
The first two kilometres were as silent and peaceful as they could be. Then a familiar sound came to his ears, that of a broom ploughing through the air. Elend got face down on the ground as his sword remained at the verge of being summoned. There were far too many incognites regarding the battle not to be so careful. Had Nalar and Ludwig won his battles? And what about Shana? Ludwig couldn't have lost, that was a given, but the man didn't have much faith in the young witch.
Despite that, it was a familiar flash of red hair the first thing he spotted. Shana, atop of a Nimbus, flew towards where Isaac and Unicorn had last been seen. Elend rose to his feet as fast as his tired legs allowed him. "Shana, here!" The man shouted as loud as possible..
The former Master almost fell from the broom, too startled to get a good hold over it. Her eyes quickly scanned the place, and the moment they fell over his figure, she let out a silent yell. Without a second thought, she descended to meet him, landing right in front of him. "Elend, what happened? Are you wounded? Oh, dear Merlin, you are wounded!" It all came out of her in a few seconds, but Elend raised his hand to silence her.
"I'm more exhausted than wounded, do not worry about me," the man sighed. His eyes fell to the ground as he couldn't hold hers—she had been successful whereas he had failed. He, who had the most important role in the team! "I was defeated by Aura Lessard." Her gasp did nothing but to increase his misery, yet Elend endured it because it was all he deserved. "At first, Master Isaac obtained the Horcrux, but then, out of nowhere and with a very calculated plan, Captain Jordan and Levitt managed to steal it from him."
Shana could barely articulate any word due to how surprised she was. "H-How? I mean, how could it happen? This is Isaac the First we are talking about! Besides, they were supposed to be allies, right? And the Wings of Liberty had never broken a contract… Argh, I'm so lost here!"
"It was a very clever plan," Elend snorted in response, mirthlessly. "Jordan created an incredible distraction at the perfect moment. Then Levitt, thanks to the stealth his Allomancy grants him, conceived every trace of his presence and severed Isaac's arm in a swift cut, where the Horcrux, a simple ring of silver, was set around one of his fingers. By the time we all realised what was happening, that damned man was far from us—though Aura the Fourth and Raven went after him."
"They won't catch him," Shana stated in a low whisper. "That man… He is special. I don't know how, but he always wins, no matter the situation." She raised Elend's chin with her finger so they could both make eye contact. "Rise your head, Elend Shawn—this is not you. Where is the proud and powerful lord I met two years ago? Tell me, where is he? Hidden under this defeated man I see in front of me? Rubbish! Wake the hell up! We need to go back home so we can discuss how to get going."
Elend, completely stunned, looked at the young witch with new eyes. The situation was so unbelievable he let out a few guffaws. "What's wrong with you?" Shana asked, about to lose her cool.
"Many things," the man replied, still amazed by her change of character. "I don't know what happened to you this day, but you've grown up a lot since we came here this morning. More than you did in these past two years. Trust my word—you shine with a new light now."
Her face became almost as red as her hair. "Shut the fuck up," she huffed. "Come on, hop in. We need to find Nalar and Ludwig."
The Former Master was left with a few words in her tongue, but Elend did not need her to say them aloud. Yes, they needed to find Nalar and Ludwig; and Nathan Miller, too. If there was something of them to retrieve, that was it. Oh, dear Magic, if you are up there, hear my pleas one last time! Tell me they are alive!
Well, here it is. There won't be another large battle in quite a while; this one really blocked me more than once.
See you!