Part 6 - 2

GATHERING OF THE MAGI

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            Ryan tied a second quiver to his belt and strapped it down. He drank another pitcher of water and began to stretch. Elaine watched from the other side of the room. “Must you go?” He paused. Under any other circumstance, he would have replied with an ‘affirmative’ and ran out the door. But for some reason, he found it hard to leave. He walked over to his wife and gently lay a hand on her cheek. “This could change the world, love. I need to.” She began to cry. Ryan was never good with tears. He wrapped his arms around her and just stood there as she wept.

            Ryan’s thoughts went out to Tyrell, Alec, and Norton. They were all fighting to the death in Atlantis, and he was here; at a comfy estate living in luxury with his beautiful – howbeit obsessive – wife. Pain from the loss of Peterson, Chrystal, and Kelvin mixed with his hatred for Xander and disappointment at Ro’ahn. This concoction created a swathe of adamancy that led him towards the battle at Atlantis. Yet, his powerful emotions were being dampened by Helen’s tears. Ryan smiled at the irony of actually enjoying one of his father’s terrible schemes. The young man had never felt any emotional attachment to anyone like he did to Elaine, and they had barely spoken. Even as he thought about leaving, she buried herself deeper in his arms.

            Tears began to well up in Ryan’s eyes as he eased his grip. He whispered softly. “I don’t want to lose you…I have to go.” She stayed pressed against him as much as she could. After a moment, she finally spoke, “I understand. But…how do I know you won’t run off? How do I know you’ll come back?” Ryan didn’t have an answer for that. She was obsessive; if she did not like his answer, she could – and would – subdue him until he had given up hope of escape. “I swore till death,” he began, “Didn’t I? Am I the man to break an oath not three days after I made it?” She shook her head vigorously, slightly undoing her bun. She quickly attempted to fix it, slightly flustered but completely embarrassed. In doing so, she backed away enough for Ryan to make his move; so he did.

            Ro’ahn walked alongside Siren Guile and the Harbinger of Calamity. The two meandered out to the center of the temple, looking for the Pillars. The mages hid them. As the Harbinger struck down another acolyte, Ro’ahn turned. “They are coming, are they not?” Guile asked, a hint of amusement in his muffled voice. Ro’ahn nodded and reached for Muras’yume. “Hold, demon.” The Harbinger turned to Guilt. “Sirens Guilt and Guile, deal with them. You will come with me to find the Pillars.” Guilt nodded a masked head and began to set up traps and unlock his weightier weapons. His fighting style had changed drastically since he joined, and he now relied more on his tactics and range rather than his power and knowledge of pressure points. Guile had done the opposite during his command of the Sirens.

            Ro’ahn took one last look at the two Sirens as he and the Harbinger stepped farther inside the temple. Ro’ahn turned forward, only briefly hearing the two Aeons arrive to face their foes.

            Tyrell and Alec burst into the temple and came face to mask with the most powerful of the Sirens: Guilt and Guile. Alec brandished Pompeii and Tyrell extended his scythe to its full length. Guile pulled out his own scythe, a weapon that gave him the name Reaper among the Col soldiers. Guilt wasted no time, revealing and throwing two tomahawks at the Aeons. Tyrell was able to block them both with a spin of his weapon. But now the Sirens and Aeons were ready, and the battle was ready to begin.

            Elaine made no effort to stop Ryan. She was too focused on the bun to notice his movements until it was too late. He caressed her face and proceeded to kiss her. Elaine jolted in her shock, undoing her bun even further. Ryan, seizing a second opportunity, pulled the pin out of her hair, letting it tumble down to her waist. Without even losing a second, he wrapped his arms around her and kissed her again. His wife made no further objections. After a long moment, he pulled away and gazed into her face. It was bright red. “I hope that will serve as a more powerful promise. I’ll be back.” Elaine stammered for a moment.

            “Y-you had better.” He smiled and turned towards the door. “I’ll send up a flare when the battle is over. Look for it, alright?” He took a few steps and felt a tug on his cloak. Elaine held onto it with a fearful death-grip. “I don’t…” She took off one of her earrings and handed it to him. Ryan nodded. Ryan removed his Reedman Crest from his ear and tossed it over his shoulder. He pushed the stud into the now empty space. “Thank you, darling.” She grabbed his cloak tighter and took a sharp breath. “Ryan…please…don’t…” she paused and wiped her eyes, “Don’t be late for dinner; I’m making soup.” Ryan smiled sadly and tightened the grip on his bow. He turned and stepped out into the noonday sun. Magic flowed from his focus into his body. In one magic infused leap he was at the fence of the estate. Elaine watched from the patio. “Elaine!” She focused on him as he waved to her. Ryan called out, “I won’t miss it for the world!” She called something back to him, but he drowned it out to keep back the tears.

            Ryan distracted himself with the inner workings of Sapphire-magic inoculation. While the use of Sapphire magic caused muscle degeneration and dehydration, Sapphire inoculation caused the users muscles to take infinitely more abuse than normal, and no amount of physical activity caused the user to become dehydrated or exhausted. This was dangerous, as the inoculation did eventually wear off. And then, the side effects of Sapphire strike. Thankfully, his memory would stay intact. It had taken him the better part of a month to recover from the last time he used a mentally damaging spell. He took another leap and cleared the forest surrounding his estate. From here, it was straight shot to Atlantis. He landed and took off in sprint.

            After twenty minutes of running, Ryan saw the west gate. A very large, fissured obsidian focus fell from the sky as a beam of magic shot out from the temple. I’m too late! Ryan gave pushed a bit more and felt his speed increase. As he crested the hill, a mass of Sirens rose from the ground. I don’t have time for this! The man cried out as he leapt from the hill. The enemy was focused on the small force of Col guards to notice the slip of a boy. Well, this boy had had enough of being underestimated. Ryan loosed a burst of raw magic from his focus and held onto it. Wait for the moment, Ryan. Just before impact, Ryan charged up a pulse of lighting magic. Upon landing, a shockwave of raw magic and lightning mixed with some other spells he had subconsciously cast. Without the slightest resistance, the Sirens fell over and reverted to their puddles of boiling goo. A boom of thunder followed.

            Ryan stood and looked at the soldiers. The twenty or so were in awe at Ryan’s entry. “L-lord Regale?” Ryan nodded and pointed behind him towards the estate. “Go west until you reach my estate;” he said, “My men will keep you safe there.”

            “But sir, General Norton gave us orders to stay here.” Ryan nodded and stepped inside the city. A mysterious and painful weight dropped on his shoulder. The atmosphere was heavy with smoke and death. Ryan choked on it for a moment and readied his bow. “Where is Norton?”

            “By the South Gate, but the streets are a killing field! You won’t be able to make it, boy.” Ryan smirked out of frustration. “Remember though,” he called out, “this boy just saved your life.” And with that, Ryan took off across the blood-slick streets to the South Gate, leaving the gate guards in a stupor. His feet fell lightly on the cobblestone, echoing ever so slightly. Any given day, he would have felt so safe in these wide corridors and well lit alleys. Today however, safety was nowhere to be found. A group of around sixty soldiers arrived and startled Ryan. A small team of Daylanians were in the lead. When did they get here? Ryan hailed them, and told them his story. The group went off to gather any civilians and lead them to Ryan’s estate.

            Ryan slowed to a jog and weakened his magic. He kept it flowing so that he wouldn’t collapse. Ryan’s eyes looked for the commanding officer, and he found Xander. Ryan leveled his bow and notched an arrow. “Xander!” the mage turned and motioned towards him. Ryan looked on until the Emperor, who was next to the man, nodded. The two mages were taking a break while a group of spell casters took their place. “Well met Lord –” The young lord met the young commander with a punch to the face. “Where is he?!” Xander held his cheek as Ryan readied struck again. The Emperor firmly grabbed his shoulder. “Peace lad, he’s on our side.” Ryan slowly backed down as Xander gave some orders to his soldiers. “What brings you here, boy?” Ryan’s blood dropped from boiling to a simmer in order to answer the question.

            “I’m looking for Tyrell.”

            “Hate to tell ya this,” Norton spoke as he stumbled out of the recovery tent, “But he went with your friend to the temple.” His peg clicked on the stones. The quartz peg on his leg was reinforced with Daylanian Black Iron and oak, which made for both an impressive focus and a sturdy leg. “Norton! What happened?!” Norton downed another mug of some liquor, Ryan supposed, and tossed it aside. “Nothing of consequence. I hated that leg anyway.” Ryan had to accept that explaination.

            “He is supposed to be recovering.” Medical staff tried to get him down, but once he was up, there was no settling the man. He pushed them aside and half-walked half-stumbled over to Xander. “How do you use this repulsive thing?!” Norton grumbled whilst trying to keep his balance. Norton was not used to the peg yet, but at least now he could use magic to assist his balance.

            “It’s called a focus, Norton.” Xander said with a hint of amusement in his voice. “Try focusing.” Xander chortled at his statement while Norton stared at him with death in his eyes. “I really hate you. You know that, right?” Xander snorted and turned back towards his army. The Sirens were coming in groups of five now, and they were slowly overpowering his men. Norton hobbled up to the front lines, but it was apparent that he wouldn’t last too long. “Boy –”

            “My name is Ryan.” Ryan corrected.

            “Forgive me. Ryan, you are free to stay here and fight, or go find Tyrell. However, there are hundreds of Sirens between here and there. And you will need to fight them alone.” Ryan nodded and ran off in the direction of the Temple.

            “Ah…to be young again.” The emperor said as he stood up to go and fight. His focus was exhausted. Xander’s was as well, but he didn’t care about the effects of wind magic on his mind. He had a pretty childish view of the world anyway. A field spell would be fine to maintain without a reserve.  However, the Emperor’s Euroclydon spell could not be maintained without physical harm, so it was out of his power to continue using his empty focus.

            However, Xander was more worried about Norton. The man was injured and not fit for battle. But without him, the Col Guard didn’t stand a chance. He was an anchor for the morale, and Xander knew what it was like to have an army with low morale. Unable to do anything but watch and focus, Xander returned to his magic. Norton returned to the front lines, and the Emperor joined him.

            Emperor Rickard Beston Col II was not a popular ruler. Because of that, his people considered him to be weak. One would not take him as a soldier, scholar, or even mage. But he was all of them and more. While he was a large man, all his bulk was muscle mass. His youthful appearance masked the wisdom of age, and burning passion fueled two hidden Wind foci. Each of his Prophet-Level foci were fashioned with an overflow guard that prevented it from leaking excess magic. After a few days, Emperor Beston held enough magic to level Atlantis. After a month, he could level it and then rebuild it.

            His style of fencing inspired the creation of the Col Dragoons, the Royal Guards, and the Col Guard. The emperor would leap above his foes and plummet onto them in their shock. Once on the ground, he adapted a more defensive style. No matter the weapon, it was deflected, avoided, or blocked with ease. Occasionally, he would use a shield, but a rapier was best alone. Efficient while commanding his forces; no wasted lives and no wasted effort.

            Rickard ducked under a blow and parried another. He snapped the foil to his side, tossing the corrosive fluid off the weapon. A half-heartbeat later, and the monster was on the ground, dead. These new Sirens were still difficult to kill. But their near invulnerability gave them a false sense of confidence. They became sloppy, reckless; they became easier to kill in this more powerful form. The lines of the Siren forces crumbled as the human-hurricanes dashed through foe after foe. Within half an hour, Rickard and Norton had pushed them back outside the gate.

            Norton was caught in a furious fight with a Siren that had been more tactful than the others. It had managed to keep the General at bay. Finally, the weakened soldier fell on his back. It took this chance, pouncing on the man. He thrust his peg up into the oncoming attack. The foci blocked the Siren; magic to counter magic. The creature snapped, becoming bestial. It bit at his face, dripping small amounts of the acidic substance on Norton’s face. It burned and scarred his face, but these droplets were not large enough to kill him. “Repulsive beast!” The focus began to glow with a faint white light. “Why don’t,” Norton kicked the thing off of him, “you die?!” It lunged again. However, this time, Norton’s kick shot out a burst of white light. The Siren exploded into a pile of ash. He stumbled to a stand and looked at the pile. Norton shook his head and walked away. “I hate this job.”

            Ryan darted in and out of Siren filled streets. The battle raged around him to the point where it was near impossible to avoid the combat. He would launch an arrow or two to slay a monster, but these Sirens were not exactly the same as the others. Ryan had not seen these kinds of Sirens. But magic seemed to work. He didn’t want to drain his magic reserves this soon however. Ryan placed a thin coating of magic around the next projectile. Ryan, in an expert show of sleight of hand, removed the arrow from the bow. The action released the string, sending the magical shell flying at a Siren. The move worked, and one Siren fell down. The others looked at him in shock. They recognized him. And now, they marked him as a threat.

            Something inside him told him that his main quiver was nearly empty. Ten more arrows, he guessed. Ryan took a leap and fired off three arrows enlaced with magic, all at once. Each arrow found its mark. He landed in a puddle of water. The ripples gave him an idea. It was reckless, one that only Tyrell would try. He avoided another attack and fired a few arrows. He found a clearing and climbed up onto the roof. Without giving his foes a time to react, he jumped off and reached for an arrow. He found none. No! I thought I had more. He fumbled with the strap on the extra quiver. It was locked tightly.

             It was during this time - midair over a pack of monsters in a blood frenzy without a plan - that he thought about his mistake. I should have checked how many arrows I had. I shouldn’t have guessed.. He dumped most of his magical reserve into his fist. Ryan’s eyes lit up with a deep blue color. “Watery wrath, come forth!” A deluge gushed out from the point of impact. Its magical properties dissolved the Sirens, and the Atlantian drainage system took care of the excess water. His way to the temple cleared, he tried again with his quiver. The straps to secure it had prevented it from opening. And, his acrobatics in the last bout snapped all but a handful of his arrows. That gave him three bodkin arrows and four anti-dragon arrows. He carried extra shafts, but without arrow heads, they were next to useless.

            Enraged, he sent the shafts clattering across the cobblestone street. Ryan then tossed aside his main quiver and removed his unnecessary equipment: Food pouches, additional armor, medical supplies, whetstones, oil, fletching and more. One piece he was about to shed was a large tube with a fuse on the end. He replaced that into its pouch on his belt. He downed the contents of his canteen and tossed that into the gutter. A deep blue glow lit up the surrounding alley. “I’m coming for you, Gii’rohn!” A magic infused leap took him to the entrance of the temple. The sounds of steel and magic resounded. Ryan took a deep breath and prepared for the battle.

            “Milady, ‘twould be best if you removed yourself from the porch.” Elaine jolted. The young butler bowed respectfully. “It is the lady’s job to entertain guests.”

            “They are soldiers, Winston. They may take care of themselves.” The butler smiled, but took a step closer. “I mean it, ma’am. It is much safer inside at this point.” He was the only servant to hold a civilized argument with her. She thought it was because the rest feared that they would one day become the outlet for her fits of insanity. “Milady; I assure you, the young master will return.”

            “How can you be so sure?” She returned to watching the city. The smoke had settled, but she could see streaks of magic from the all corners of the city. “Because you need him.” She was confused at his logic and a bit annoyed at his lack of respect. “If I may be so bold, Lady Elaine, you have made it obvious that you require his constant – perhaps obsessive – attention.”

            “That still doesn’t explain –”

            “When was your last fit?” She paused to think. “About a month ago, at our second courtship dinner.” Winston nodded, a smile broadening on his tan face. “And before that?” She paused again in shame. “The day before that…” she said quietly. “And before that?” She nodded, finally understanding. Winston finally resumed his air of regality. “Since Master Ryan’s arrival, you have been free from your fits. He noticed. And you know firsthand, that when he notices something that he can help with, he will do it if it kills him. That is why he left for Atlantis, no?” She stared up at the clouds.

            “Winston.” The man bowed, “Yes, milady?”

            “Tell the others to prepare the mint and herbs tea for lunch; it will help the soldier’s wounds. Prepare any meal they request, women and children first. Also, see if Father Boris and his monks can come down and provide healing for the injured.”

            “And you, milady?”

            “I have business to attend to.” She said as she slipped upstairs. “I can’t let my people see me so slovenly. I need to be a pillar for them, and I do not intend to dress like an urchin.” She turned and smiled. It was a pure smile, one of joy and duty. She put on an air of refinement around herself and continued walking. “After all,” she called down, “It is my job.” Winston smiled and got to work. “You had best hurry Master Ryan; it is not wise to keep such a lady waiting.”

            Tyrell and Alec jumped to separate sides as Guilt landed. A tremor shook the building from his impact. The powerful Siren earth mage turned towards Alec. Guile rushed in with his scythe. Tyrell and Guile clashed blades and traded swings. Ro’ahn and Calamity watched from the sidelines as they plotted how to destroy the monoliths in the next room. Tyrell swung his own scythe at Guile, but turned it at the last minute. Guile’s counter blow caught only air. The ex-Aeon took this moment and planted a heavy boot in his gut. With Guile distracted, he ran over to help Alec. The bow’s sword was no use in close combat. Tyrell slashed. Guilt leapt back to safety, holding his arm.

            “That was a good hit.” Guilt’s left arm was cut deeply. Not even magic could seal that up for the rest of the fight. “Ro’ahn, I need help!” Ro’ahn activated his focus, forming his arm. Guilt took a knee behind the swordsman. “Ro’ahn, you traitor.” Alec’s blade, Pompeii, ignited. Guilt put some kind of black salve on the wound. “Alec, lets go!” Tyrell rushed at the swordsman. Guile recovered and moved to block him. Alec swung his flaming sword, but Ro’ahn’s demon katana blocked the strike, flames and all. Ro’ahn pushed back Alec and the two faced off. “I’ve always wanted to fight you, Ro’ahn.” The swordsman nodded and leveled Muras’ume. Alec readied Pompeii. But he caught a glimpse of Guilt out of the corner of his eye. “Tyrell, look out!” Guilt stabbed at one of Tyrell’s pressure points. “Don’t get distracted!” Before he could react, Muras’ume was traveling towards his throat.

            There was a clash of steel and a soft thud. Ryan had entered into the room unnoticed. He had fired an arrow at Ro’ahn and had absorbed the blow for Tyrell. The point on Ryan’s arm that Gobehyz’s hand stabbed was a magical pressure point. It doubled the amount of magic Ryan could pool and release at a time. The arrow had knocked Muras’ume off course just enough to miss Alec’s head. All heads turned to Ryan, and all noise silenced.

“Now then,” Ryan said, a cocky smile on his face, “Let the festivities commence.”