(Publishing every other Wednesday unless otherwise noted)

Chapter 136: Fading Strength

Magic and technology are not opposites, but two sides of the same coin. A mind, a soul, has no tangible influence on the world around it, until it acts through a body. The body uses what the mind has learned, what the soul wills, to effect change in the world around them. Whether this change is invoked by runes or enacted by clockwork, the change stems from the same place: from an act of will, girded by knowledge, enacted by a body capable of realizing the union of these two forces.

-Alazlam Durai, "Guest Lecture at the Machinist Academy in Goug"

The laser speared through the air. Reis rose to meet it. The shadow of black wings formed around her, and she slashed towards the laser with hands that seemed too big, too full of claws and scales. The red laser splashed against neon fire, and the heat of it sent Ramza staggering.

Ramza's eyes were burning, his chest tight: he fought to stay standing as the ground shook beneath his feet and the ceiling cracked above his head. The Worker stomped closer, as the poison fog (so like Cuchulainn's deadly breath) thickened around them. The red light in its metal chest gleamed, and it fired another laser. Reis smashed this one aside, then lunged towards the Worker. The Worker lunged towards her-

Past her.

It swept past her, scooped Mustadio up in its metal arms, and hurtled towards the door on the far side of the room. Beowulf leapt towards it, too late: it threw one arm out wide, ripped the lintel from above the door, and sent stone crashing down behind it.

Crashing down around them.

The ceiling was giving way, huge chunks of stone raining down among them in a burst of silver sand and old dust. Reis roared, and her roar shook the air, and shook the stone, and shook their bones: the shadow of the dragon grew more palpable around her, its outline suggested all around them, mighty limbs and broad wings reaching up to hold back the worst of the damage, to keep them from being entombed.

"Here!" Alicia called, and Ramza whirled, found Alicia and Lavian huddled over Rafa, both their hands clutched tight around the rune-etched quarterstaff Lavian had fashioned for her use. Golden light unfurled from the top of the staff, a shimmering dome to buttress the falling stone, to keep them from being buried alive. Ramza stumbled towards them, his breath hitching in his chest, his head spinning-

He could fight this.

Since he was a cadet fighting the Death Corps, he had made a habit of carving simple runes into whatever chestpiece he wore. There were six of them now—one for adrenaline, one for warmth, one for healing, and one for numbness. The last two—the oldest two—eased his breathing, and helped his immune system fight against foreign toxins.

He slapped those two runes now, and willed.

Strength and warmth flowed through his chest, and his stumble turned to a sprint. He slid the last few yalm towards them on his knees, and flung his hands around Lavian's staff, adding his magic to theirs. Even then, it was not enough: he felt the weight of the stone and sand pressing down on them, felt it like pressure in his veins, like an ache inside his bones. He struggled to hold on, to add his power to theirs-

Two more hands closed upon the staff. Hands that, just for a moment, looked like claws.

Reis added her immense magic to theirs. The groaning and grumbling of the collapsing room eased. The golden light stabled into a sphere around them. Most of the room had collapsed, and sand and stone piled thick against the golden protection they'd woven for themselves. The stairway survived intact, though it was half-clogged with rubble.

For a minute or so, they stayed like that, as the silver dust trickled down past their protective sphere, and pebbles clattered to stillness. Perhaps half the ceiling had collapsed, leaving new dunes of silver sand, and leaning hulks of broken stone. A faint trace of green fog lingered in the air outside the sphere, though none inside of it.

"Poison." Lavian's voice was thin, and full of self-loathing. "After Cuchulainn, I should be better against such..."

"It was a trap." Alicia's voice was equally thin, and full of pleading. "We were all caught off-guard."

"Can we move?" Reis asked, with a slight tremble in her voice.

Lavian's big eyes flickered around them. "Maybe..." But then her eyes fell on Rafa, sprawled at their feet, wheezing. "But she can't."

Ramza looked at Rafa, face-down on the floor, with her hands tight around her throat. His head swam with exertion, but the sight of her in such a state helped steady him. "You're the one powering this, right?" Ramza asked. Lavian nodded, and Ramza muttered, "If the three of you can hold the barrier...I can try to help her."

Lavian and Alicia exchanged glances. Before they could answer, Reis said, "The three of you hold it first."

Ramza nodded, tightened his grip, took a deep breath. A wave of dizziness ran through him as Reis took her hands away, and the sphere wavered around them, struggling to hold back the crushing weight. Reis slashed across her palm with a claw-like finger, then slashed across Rafa's hand with the same. Shimmering light flowed from the wound her in palm, and into the wound in Rafa's. When she lifted her weary head back to Ramza, both wounds had closed. She took up the staff again, nodding as her eyelids fluttered and her hands shook.

For a moment longer, Ramza kept his grip upon the staff, feeding it his power. Then, he snapped his hands down. Another wave of dizziness rocked him, and he had to rest his hands upon the rubble-strewn floor to steady himself. Then he looked at Rafa again. Moving on instinct, he unbuckled Izlude's gauntlets, then drew his throwing knife from its place on his hip. He found the old scar on his left palm with the knife's edge, and cut along it with barely a wince. He traced the two runes he'd used for so long on Rafa's wrists in his own blood, then gripped them, and willed magic into her.

Her breathing steadied a little. But her eyes were still closed.

He frowned down at her, then repeated the process, this time sketching the runes on her forehead. But he did not use them right away. He frowned down at her, thinking. He didn't know what kind of poison had filled her lungs, but he had learned a little of these things in his time at war. Many poisons operated against veins and muscles. The same strength that served her so well in battle might be working against her now, making the poison more powerful in her by turning that strength against her.

And they needed her strong again, if they were going to get out of here...

He thought a moment longer, looking down at his hands. In his battles against Wiegraf, Elmdor, and Bremondt, he had started to learn a new way of fighting, combining some of what his allies had taught him. To steal ambient magic from his enemies, as a Vampire Knight did; to use that magic to strengthen his body, as Rafa did; to wield that magic with explosive force, as Agrias did.

Was there anyway to use what he'd learned to help her.

He sat for a moment, put his hands just above the bloody runes upon her head, but did not activate them. He reached out for her with his magic, as though he was trying to drain her, but did not try to steal any of her strength for himself. Slowly, he started to feel the rock-solid power of her. It was a little like the power of the Lucavi, but more like the half-magic half-flesh of the dragon Cardinal Bremondt had become. And he could feel that power had turned sluggish somehow, like mud starting to harden around her. His instincts had been right: her own immense strength worked against her, and she had breathed so much poison...!

He took a steadying breath, and slowly lowered his hands to the bloody runes upon her forehead. Still, he felt for her magic. And when he activated the runes, he focused them, not on her body, but on her own deep well of strength. He tried to act as an intermediary between his own strength and hers: he tried to show her power what it was supposed to be, and what it was supposed to do. And he tried to give as much of himself too her as he could manage.

His stomach clenched, as though her were about to vomit. Darkness rimmed his vision, and he slumped to one side, barely able to keep from collapsing. But at the same moment, Rafa gave a convulsive gasp, and sat up.

Her breath still hitched: there was a rasp to her panicked breathing, and Ramza winced as he heard a hint of his father's dying in the sound. Her eyes were wild and staring. Ramza wanted to reach out to comfort her: he didn't have the strength.

"Easy." It was Lavian's voice, soft and soothing. "Easy. Just focus on breathing."

Rafa stared at Lavian blankly for several seconds. Slowly, her breathing eased, and her trembling quieted. Finally, her eyes focused: first on Lavian, then on their surroundings. "What..." Her voice was hoarse and thin. "What happened?"

"Some kind of trap." Alicia's voice was flat and strained. "Maybe the same kind of bomb we were sent here to stop."

Rafa nodded. She ran a hand over her chest, her wrists, her forehead. She looked around the rubble-strewn room, dimly lit by Lavian's shield. Finally, she looked at the staircase. "And you need me to..."

"Yes." Lavian's voice was still soft and soothing. "You're the only one who can."

Rafa nodded, and flexed her hands. "I...I need a moment."

"We can give you more than one," Lavian said.

"But not a lot more," Alicia added grimly.

Rafa nodded. She shifted inside the dome, helped Ramza sit up. "Thank you."

Ramza shook his head, and regretted it at once: the world swam around him. "You've done more than that for me."

Rafa shook her head, but said nothing else. She closed her eyes, pressed her mouth into a thin line, and breathed deep. Then her eyes snapped open, and she stood up and moved to the rubble. "Stay just behind me. Be ready to adjust your magic as needed."

Without another word, she began.

The stairs were in bad shape: more than one crumbled underfoot, sending Rafa skidding downwards. Once, adjusting one large piece of fallen stonework triggered another collapse in the ceiling, and Alicia and Lavian gasped with the effort of keeping the shield up and keeping the rubble off of them. Rafa was notably weaker than usual: her skid down the broken steps actually drew blood, and even small pieces of rubble cost her immensely. But she stayed silent, rising to each new task with no more complaint than a hiss of pain or a groan of effort.

But then they reached the last landing before the exit, and she sank back as though she were drowning. Ramza, near the rear of the group, felt his own heart sink.

The collapse here was worse than anywhere else. Only a single step was visible: the rest were obscured by a weight of crushing stone and trickling silver sand. Lavian, Alicia, and Reis were huddled around Lavian's staff, clinging to it as though it were keeping them upright, rather than the other way around.

Slowly, Rafa turned back to face them. Her eyes were wide with dismay. "I can't..." She shook her head. "It's...too much. And...and even if I could, I...I might make it worse."

Ramza could feel the weight of that stone in his mind. His skin felt too tight: the darkness around their dome seemed to carry palpable weight. Ramza wasn't sure how long they stayed there, looking up at the collapse, trying not to panic.

"...za. Rafa. Anyone."

Ramza blinked. "Did you hear-"

Rafa nodded. "That's Malak's voice.

It was thin, and muffled. But it kept repeating, growing louder with every moment. "Ramza. Rafa. Anyone." There was an edge of panic to it.

"Here, Malak!" Rafa cried.

Silence. Then, a moment later. "Hold on!"

In the thin golden light, a scorpion slipped from the broken stone, and tumbled down the one visible step. Its black carapace had already started to melt from the strain of the magic. "You're alive!" Malak's voice was harsh with pain and relief. "Thank God!"

"We can't get out," Rafa said.

"Maybe you can." The scorpion was lying in the sludge of its own melted body, and Malak's voice was getting thinner all the time. "Agrias and Melia think they can cut their way through, but...but they don't know what that will do to the rest of the rubble." The scorpion's remaining limbs went rigged for a moment. When Malak spoke again, his voice was cracked with pain. "But Raf, if you can lead them out...!"

"Mal." Rafa's voice was a ragged whisper. "I'm not sure I'm strong enough."

"I'm not sure we've got a choice." Another moment's silence. There was more black ooze on the step than there had been before. "Agrias says...we go in...120...seconds..."

His last words were practically a rasp. The scorpion finished melting into goo. A taut silence hung over the group.

"110 seconds left," Alicia whispered.

Rafa stared up at the rubble. Her eyes were as wide and helpless as they'd been before Malak had spoken through the scorpion, drifting helplessly around the group. Finally, they settled on Ramza.

"100 seconds."

Ramza straightened up. His head no long swam so dizzily: his muscles, ached, but he could bear it. "Rafa?"

"90."

Rafa nodded. "You told me...you were learning to...fight like me?"

"Kind of," Ramza answered.

"80."

"I felt it," Rafa said. "When you...healed me."

She held a hand up to her chest, and took a deep breath.

"70."

"I can't...do it alone," Rafa said. "But if we do it together...let me take the hits, while you pull us out..."

Ramza nodded.

"60."

They had a little rope between them, and tied themselves together.

"50."

Rafa waded to the front of the group. Ramza followed her, half-staggering from step to step.

"40."

They looked back at their friends. Lavian stood at the center, with the other two nearby, ready to conjure the golden dome once again.

"30."

"Wait until we hear the explosion," Rafa said. "We need to let the rubble start falling before we fight our way out."

"20."

Ramza felt for his magic. That effort alone sucked the strength from his legs: he took a deep, unsteady breath.

"10...9...8...7...6...5...4...3...2..."

Alicia screamed, "NOW!"

As though her words had spoken it into existence, an explosion of silver fire boomed ahead of them. Ramza felt rather than saw the sharp edge of Melia and Beowulf's magic, cutting through the explosion, cutting apart the worst of the rubble. Ahead of them, around them, stone cracked, rumbled, groaned. Finally, it began to collapse down upon them with the weight of an avalanche.

Rafa lunged forwards, into the collapse. Stone broke against her form: with a rough effort, she hurled one slab of rock away from them. But she was already stumbling, already struggling, and Ramza leapt to her side. He focused on his magic, focused on his limbs: he lashed out with one clumsy fist. A flash of light, a mild poof like rushing wind, and some of the falling rubble shied away from: too little. His head was swimming again, but Ramza struck—once, then twice, then thrice. Each time he managed to clear their path a little further. And the collapse was clearer ahead of them, as their friends cut through the rubble above

"TOGETHER!" Rafa's voice was somewhere between a scream and a groan, and she heaved forward with lurching steps. Ramza staggered up behind her, lashed out with another clumsy back hand. Through the haze of falling rock and silver flame, they spied a sliver of night sky beyond. Close now, so close-

The rope pulled taut around Ramza's waist. He snapped his head around, saw Alicia on her knees, Lavian desperately trying to heave her to her feet. The stone to either side of them was giving way, the rope was pulled tight, Ramza couldn't reach them-

Reis grabbed each of the mages by the wrist, and lunged. The shadow of wings appeared around her: the air whooshed past Ramza's head, almost knocked him from his feet. The rope around his waist went slack, then pulled taut as Reis burst into the air, pulling all of them along behind her with the force of her leap.

In a shower of silver sparks, they hurtled up into the desert night. A moment later, and they struck the grey dust of the Wastes. Slowly, the clatter of collapsing stone murmured down to silence, and the earth ceased its trembling.

"Ramza!"

One calloused hand cupped his cheek, while another flitted around his body like a butterfly, gently prodding him. Ramza winced, particularly in the old aching spot in his thigh where one of Zalera's talons had ripped through. But nothing hurt him too badly, even around his waist where the rope had pulled so tight.

"I'm alright, Rad," he managed, though the words rasped in his throat.

"Don't call me that." She kissed his forehead, and helped him to his feet.

He almost fell over. He couldn't remember the last time he'd felt this weak. Even fighting the Lucavi hadn't left him this exhausted: he'd pushed himself too hard, and in too many ways, and in spite of the runes on his chest, the poison was still in him. His head swam, and his throat felt tight.

It was hard to see even Radia beside him: darkness rimmed his vision, deepening the night around him. Vaguely, he saw Beowulf holding up Reis, the same way Radia was holding up Ramza: Alicia and Lavian were sprawled in the sand, with Agrias standing over them like an anxious chicken over her eggs. He couldn't make out Melia, Malak, or Rafa.

"Where's Mustadio?" Agrias asked.

Ramza shook his head. "Worker...took him."

"Took him?" There was a strangled note in Agrias' voice. "Where?"

"Out...down below. Before it..."

It hurt too much to talk.

A strange sound filled the air: almost like the hum of their war caravan, but more awkward, at once offset by a deeper rumble and a high whine. A moment later, and the caravan vaulted unsteadily over the distant dunes and careened towards them, wobbling erratically over every yalm. It lurched unsteadily towards them: then the sound cut, and it hit the silver sand in a great scratching puff perhaps fifty yalms away.

"Saint Above, but I hate these things." Melia clambered out from inside the caravan, wiping sweat from her brow. "Bring everyone here."

Melia had been right to bring the caravan closer to them: it took a long time to drag everyone who'd been down below over to it. Rafa and Malak were the worst off, both nearly immobile with their exertions, and needed Agrias, Melia, Reis, and Beowulf to carry them. Ramza, Alicia, and Lavian were only a little better off: each of them had to stop to catch their breath on the way back to their caravan. Even Reis, strong enough to help carry Malak, was struggling: her face was pale, and her eyes glistened as though she was fighting tears with every step.

They had taken ample supplies from Bremondt's expedition. They had a few potions and tinctures to help ease the poison and restore their strength: they had bandages and poultices to treat the worst of their wounds. But most of their injuries were magical, mental, and spiritual: the poison lingered inside each of them from down below, but they didn't know enough to combat it, especially with Lavian so exhausted. So they struggled to move, and did the best they could, as the stars dimmed above them, and dawn began to brighten the dark horizon.

"We need to move," Agrias groused, pacing anxiously around the perimeter of the makeshift camp they'd formed around the caravan. "Those Workers know where we were."

"We can't move," Radia replied. "Look at them."

She gestured to the group. Lavian was asleep, with Alicia anxiously running her rune-inscribed staff up and down her body, sending golden waves pulsing unsteadily down, to slip beneath her skin. Malak and Rafa were likewise unconscious, though both had awoken long enough to assure the group they just needed to rest. Reis was sitting next to Ramza, her eyes closed. Ramza had only barely stayed awake: every few minutes, at Radia's insistence, he would touch the two runes on his chest, to help his body battle the poison inside him. It seemed to be working so far, though it left him more tired with every spell.

Agrias scowled, but said nothing else, and resumed her pacing.

"What happened on your end?" Reis asked. Her eyes were still closed, but her voice sounded surprisingly clear.

Agrias managed a jerking shrug. "We heard something from down the stairs. The Worker attacked, and its attack seemed to do...something."

"It was part of a trap," Melia said, emerging from inside the caravan where she'd been tending to Rafa and Malak. "Whatever poison you set off down below, whatever caused the collapse, whatever made the Worker move...it was all part of one system. That's why the Worker didn't move. It was bait."

Agrias' scowl deepened. "Mustadio could probably explain it." She stoped, and glared off into the night. "We need to find him."

"I don't know...where it took him." Cold fingers squeezed Ramza's heart. "I don't...don't even know if he's..."

"He's alive." Agrias' voice was firm. "It wouldn't have bothered taking him if it was just going to kill him. It didn't bother trying to take any of us."

Ramza nodded, though he didn't quite believe it. Terrible images whirled in his head—images of Zeakden, and Orbonne, and Riovanes: of Radia sprawled on the ground with a sword at her throat; of Alma, terrified in Wiegraf's grasp; of Teta, spinning silently through the snowy air. The icy hand squeezed his heart again.

For a time, there was nothing but silence. Nothing but rest. Ramza found himself drowsing, jerking awake to find the tableau of the people around him had changed: Radia was no longer at his side, then Agrias was gone, then Melia had taken her place. The sky had turned to pale blue with the rising sun, and the eastern horizon, dimly shadowed by distant mountains, was a rhapsody of pink, gold, and red.

"Move!"

Ramza jerked awake. It was Malak's voice, raw and rasping.

"Move?" Ramza repeated.

"Malak!" Melia scowled. "You should be resting."

Malak shook his head. "Mustadio."

Ramza shot to his feet, fought to stay standing as his head swam with exertion. "What?"

"My blood." Malak tapped a healing cut on the inside of his left forearm. "Gave some...to Rafa. But...she dropped it, when you all..."

He looked away from the brightening horizon, and pointed into the distance. "But I feel it."

Ramza looked in the direction he pointed. No one spoke for a time.

"So let's get moving!" Agrias barked, charging from her position behind a nearby dune. And though his head was spinning, Ramza moved after her. He would not lose another friend. He would not...he...would...not...!

His brief, stumbling run turned to a stagger. A moment later, and Radia was at his side. "You sit in the caravan," she said firmly. "Rest. While you can."

Ramza allowed himself to be led to the caravan, as Malak clumsily clambered back inside. Rest, yes. Catch his breath. Gather his strength. Ready himself to save his friend.