Mageborn: Book 04 - The God-Stone War

  Looking down, Thillmarius saw that his lower legs were fully encased in granite that had until recently, been street paving stones. Struggling to free himself, he tried to withdraw his blade from my back, to begin a new weaving, but I had the wrist of his knife-hand firmly within my grasp.

  The child’s body he occupied was no match for my adult frame, but the effort caused even more pain to shoot through my body. Showing his teeth, he growled at me, “Does it hurt? That body can’t take much more before it expires, and unlike me… you can die.”

  “You really shouldn’t piss me off,” I bit back through clenched jaws. “Do you think it’s that easy to hold all that back?” my eyes flicked upwards, and then I dropped the building on our heads.

  Thillmarius’ expression was priceless as he saw the stone wall and heavy timbers falling toward him, but I kept his hand firmly in my grip, and his feet were completely trapped. His body was crushed under untold tons of wreckage… while my own slipped through, stone and wood parting like water to let my human form pass unharmed.

  Pulling free I left the dagger and the hand clutching it behind, while I used my now free magic to lift myself up and out of the pile of rubble, that had once been part of my neighbor’s rather large and ostentatious home. As I climbed down from the top of the heap, I let my mind collapse inward, becoming once more merely human.

  My physical condition was alarming, to say the least. The cuts I had received earlier had left me light headed from loss of blood, and my new stab wound had done terrible damage to my left kidney and some of the muscles in my back. I was still hemorrhaging, and my strength was diminishing with each passing second. Pain made it nearly impossible to move, and I already regretted leaving my ‘idiot-trance’, but it was clear that if I hadn’t, I might have ignored my wounds until they left me dead.

  Looking back at the wreckage I had just left behind, I prepared to finish what I had started. My wounds were dangerous but they didn’t worry me too much. Given a moment’s respite I could stop the bleeding, and with a bit more effort I should be able to restore myself to full health. Regaining my energy would take longer, but that was simply a matter of proper rest.

  More important was eradicating the undead creature I had temporarily beaten. I knew better than to think Thillmarius was permanently defeated. My ancestor had burned him to ash and yet the magic that kept him alive had still preserved his spirit against the void, until first Balinthor, and then later, Millicenth, could resurrect him.

  I had no way of unraveling the spell-weaving that kept his spirit and its eternal hatred tied to our world, but I could at least do as much as my predecessors had done, and destroy his body. Drawing my will inward, I focused my remaining magic and readied myself to turn the pile of rubble into a funeral pyre… even stone will burn if you get it hot enough, and I planned to spare nothing to make sure Thillmarius was thoroughly eradicated.

  “Mordecai?!” came Penny’s voice, yelling from a block away.

  As I turned to look backward, the wound in my back caught when damaged muscles failed to do their job. Stumbling, I fell and found myself having difficulty getting back to my feet. Shit, maybe I should have fixed my back first, I thought silently, but I knew I had little time. My magesight, now that my focus had expanded, showed me that the carriage containing my family was returning, with Dorian, Rose, and the children still inside it. They were a few blocks further away but approaching quickly. For some reason Penny had chosen to run ahead, using her strength and speed to arrive sooner.

  My attempt to stand didn’t go well, so I quickly abandoned it. On hands and knees, I returned my attention to my fallen foe; I didn’t need to be on my feet to incinerate him. My head came around just in time to intercept a heavy piece of masonry, as the pile of wood and stone exploded outward. I was fortunate in that the blow was a glancing one, otherwise it might have crushed my skull. Lady Luck wasn’t doing me any favors though; her idea of ‘fortunate’ was more painful than being killed outright. I heard a snap, followed by blinding pain that sent me tumbling back as my jaw broke from the force of the impact.

  Things became much more confused after that point, for I lost track of the world around me for an uncertain period of time. As my senses returned I noticed two things immediately; one, Thillmarius was now standing over me, and two, Penny was racing towards him at a speed that would have made a racehorse jealous. She had her sword in hand, and her skirts had again been hacked off. And that’s why we can’t have nice things, I said silently to myself, because you keep chopping up your dresses. Of course, I had to be silent, my jaw was a mass of blood and pain… speaking aloud wasn’t an option. That’s going to make magic more difficult too, I realized, not that I had much strength left.

  My enemy didn’t look like much now; his body had originally been that of a child, and it appeared to have been through some hard use… being crushed under a wall often had that effect. It was animated now purely by magic, and I could see that his bones had been shattered in numerous places, not that it seemed to bother him much. My chance to finish him off had disappeared, turning my hard won victory into a crushing defeat.

  Gesturing idly with one hand, he sent a twenty pound block of stone flying toward my enraged wife. It shot toward her as if it had been fired from a siege engine, with bone crushing speed, but even before he had finished that weaving, I saw he had begun another spell weaving with his other hand.

  Penny leapt skyward, taking to the air like a falcon springing into flight, rising over the stone and twisting in mid-air, to prepare for her landing. Thillmarius released his second spell as soon as he had seen her trajectory, sending a writhing mass of snakelike bands to intercept her as she came down. Her sword flicked out to strike the spell-weaving, but it flowed up and around it, catching woman and weapon alike in a tangled mesh of magic.

  Penny screamed in anger as the tendrils of magic constricted around her painfully, but she refused to surrender, struggling with a strength that caused the bindings to cut into her skin and flesh. She might have torn free, but the shiggreth reached her first, putting his hand to her cheek.

  “Relax Penelope, it will be so much less painful if you relax,” he said, as his touch began to drain her life away. A shudder ran through her as she felt once again the cold touch that had haunted her for so many years after her kidnapping, and a look of wild terror passed across her face. It disappeared quickly though as she sagged downward, gradually losing the will or energy to fight.

  An expression of delight and pleasure was on Thillmarius’ face now as he followed her to the ground, and I could see some of his wounds healing even as he drew out her life, with one hand on her neck and the other on her bare thigh.

  I might have roared my indignation, but my mouth was no longer cooperating. Drawing on my will, I sent a lance of force toward him, hoping to drive him away, but my magic dissipated the moment it touched his undead body. I cursed my own stupidity for wasting my last chance, as a wave of dizziness washed over me. My eyesight was growing dim and unconsciousness was approaching when I heard Moira’s voice.

  “Momma!” she shrieked, in a high tone that pierced my heart, and as she cried, I saw as much as felt her power awaken, blooming outward in a flash of aythar. The carriage had drawn close, and somehow she had gotten out before Dorian or Rose could stop her. The sight of Penny dying had driven her to desperation. Her call was a summons, a heartfelt plea to her mother to rise and resist the creature that was killing her, but it fell on deaf ears. Penny no longer had the strength to stand, much less fight off her attacker.

  But someone else heard her cry, a different mother that Moira knew nothing of… and she answered instantly. Rising from the broken road, was the earthen form of Moira Centyr, the magical remnant of my daughter’s actual mother.

  Thillmarius was so surprised at her sudden appearance, that he released Penny and took two steps backward, but even caught off guard, his hands were already moving, preparing new attacks. He stood now directly in front of
me, and I feared his next move would kill one of us.

  The ground rippled and a wave of earth carried Penny back toward the carriage where Dorian and the others now stood. I am fading already, this is more than I can handle, said Moira Centyr within my mind.

  Save them if you can, I responded instantly, pleading.

  It might have been my imagination, but her gemstone eyes focused upon me for a moment before the world shook, and a massive ring of bedrock rose up around the carriage until it had formed an unbroken sphere.

  Thillmarius turned and looked down, mock pity in his gaze. “So much for the cavalry, animal, but at least they’re safe… right? Everyone gets a happy ending but you.” He smiled, showing shattered teeth as he bent down to run his fingers through my hair. A cold wind passed through my soul, as I felt even that brief touch draw away some of my remaining vitality.

  Drawing his hand back he spoke again, “I’m lying of course. Once I finish with you, I’ll take that dome apart and give the rest of your family my undivided attention. It’s just a pity that I can’t keep you alive to see it; you’re just too dangerous to ignore. I bet you wished you had learned that lesson before today… don’t you? You almost won.”

  I struggled to speak but nothing worked, and I only managed to spit more blood upon the ground. My strength was gone, my magic weak and ultimately useless against the creature standing above me. My only hope was my abilities as an archmage, but I could no longer hear the voices of the earth and wind. They were drowned out by the dissonant wailing of the voice of death, loud and incessant.

  The awful sound grew yet louder as Thillmarius reached down again, placing his hand on my neck. “What did you say earlier? You’ve got a collection of gods at home? Your boasting was meaningless to me. I’m the last lore-warden of the She’Har and my people created the gods. No matter what your bestial kind achieves, you’ll never be more than animals in our eyes.”

  My last sight was his terrible eyes staring hatefully down at me. My last regret was that I couldn’t respond with something clever before I passed away. Stupid broken jaw, I thought, and then darkness stole the world from me.

  Chapter 41

  In the darkness I saw a single light, but as I focused my attention it grew until I found myself sitting beside it, a lone candle in a darkened room. A table was before me, and sitting across it was another man, one I recognized.

  “Hello,” I said amiably.

  “Hello,” answered my twin with a smug expression. I could tell already that my alter ego was just as much of a smart-ass as I was, the arrogant bastard.

  “Where am I?” I asked, deciding not to drag the conversation out.

  “This is the end for us… or the beginning, depending on your perspective,” said my other self.

  “Listen,” I told my doppelganger, “I know how much I enjoy being cryptic, but how about we dispense with the circumlocutions and just speak plainly. It won’t be long before even this dream is gone.”

  “Not exactly,” the other me replied, “Time is an illusion. In a certain sense, this conversation will last forever… in another sense it is already over… and for some, it has just begun.”

  I groaned, “I’m starting to wish it was already over. If this is the afterlife, please cancel my membership.”

  “This isn’t the afterlife. You haven’t died yet.”

  My eyes narrowed, “Then who are you?”

  “I’m you,” my other-self replied.

  “Really? I thought you’d be more handsome,” I shot back.

  We both laughed at that; until I realized that it was rather pathetic, laughing at my own jokes with an imaginary friend… while I was dying. I wondered if Marc’s experience had been similar.

  “I’m here to offer you a choice,” said my twin, bringing my attention back to the conversation.

  “What choice?”

  “Knowledge… or ignorance,” my hallucination answered, and opening his hands he held out a small object toward me.

  My eyes were drawn toward it, even as I retorted, “What difference will it make?”

  “Exactly.”

  The object he held was a fruit, pinkish-yellow in color, with a high luster, and a jolt of recognition shot through me when I saw it. It was something the She’Har had called a ‘loshti’, a rare creation of their mother and father-trees. The best name for it in our language would have been ‘ancestor fruit’.

  “This is where it began,” I said, lecturing my alter ego. “When our ancestor stole the loshti…” My eyes bore down on it and it seemed to grow in size. I had crossed the threshold… the door within my mind had opened, and now I chose to look into, to stare at, the knowledge that previously paralyzed me with fear.

  Two thousand years of men and women struggling and living ran through my mind, the memories of my ancestors, stretching out behind me in a line that reached back to the point of my fear… the moment when my original ancestor stole and ate the loshti of the Illeniel grove. Looking deeper I saw the memories continued beyond that point, to alien thoughts and foreign dreams… the dreams of the trees. The trees we had slain.

  The loshti was the vehicle by which the She’Har had passed down their collected wisdom, from one generation to the next. It was never meant for human kind, and yet he had stolen it anyway, in his quest for recognition… and power. It was the hidden place in my mind, the knowledge I hid from myself. It was what had lain hidden behind the name, ‘Illeniel’s Doom’, for its theft and the knowledge it granted had led to the destruction of an entire race, and very nearly humankind as well.

  The memories of the trees stretched out into the distance for untold millennia, making the two thousand years of human memories seem small in comparison. The knowledge of the loshti had taken root in the mind of the first human to steal it, but being housed within a being that was not of the She’Har, it had passed itself on to the next generation in a new way. From that point on, it had entered the first born of each generation of the new Illeniels, carrying with it the memories of each ancestor that had gone before… including those of the trees.

  My fear had only partly been of the atrocities hidden within those memories. In large part I had been afraid of the alien, the ‘other’, tens of thousands of years of knowledge that would inevitably overwhelm my own humanity.

  I gazed at my mirror image, meeting his eyes. “We were right to hide this. No one can live with such knowledge.”

  “You aren’t living… you’re dying,” my other-self responded.

  I knew now the nature of the spell-weaving that Thillmarius had used to preserve himself against the ages, against time, and against death itself. I still couldn’t use it though… being human I was incapable of spell-weaving, but I had other abilities. Things no She’Har could do, even as vast has their powers had been.

  Closing my inner eyes, I left the vision behind and listened again to the world, for it was still there all around me. One song stood out above it all, the dissonance that I had come to associate with death. I had first heard it when I brought Walter back from the void, but in the months that Thillmarius had stalked and spied upon me I had become intimately familiar with it.

  “An archmage does not wield power, Mordecai,” I heard again the words of Moira Centyr, “An archmage becomes that which they seek to wield.” Opening my mind, I felt the death-song that Thillmarius Prathion had become, and I embraced it.

  My eyes opened again on the physical world and I saw my foe’s expression change to one of fear as I gazed upward at him. “What? That’s not possible,” he said, shocked as I reached out to him.

  An outside observer might have thought that I had died and awakened, a new and ultimately empty shiggreth, as had happened to so many others. Nothing was further from the truth. My life still burned faintly, but it was changing, warping to adapt to my new song.

  My hand passed through Thillmarius’ chest, as if his flesh were merely an illusion, to touch his core, an intangible thing wrapped in the blackest of She’Ha
r magic. Listening carefully I made it my own, and it unwrapped suddenly, leaving the undead She’Har’s spirit unprotected as his ancient spell-woven curse shifted and wound itself around the source of my own life instead.

  A look of horror crossed his face, and then his body collapsed, much like a puppet whose strings had been cut. Thillmarius Prathion, last lore-warden of the She’Har, and prisoner of his own hatred and death-magic, was finally free… his spirit passed on into the void, and mine took its place within his cage.

  A shocking cold washed over me and I might have screamed, had it not been for my still ruined jaw. I was forced to settle for a miserable gurgle. What have I done? I wondered, as the world changed around me. Looking within, I found only darkness where the wellspring of my life, my vitality, and my power had been, a cold impenetrable shell had encased the center of my being.

  The colors of the world were different now, intense and garish, at times both too bright and too dark… a medley of contrasts. I could still hear the voices of the earth, the wind, and all too loudly, the voice of death, but they seemed more distant now. My magesight had remained even though my native wizardry, made possible by my living aythar, had vanished.

  To put it succinctly, I was confused as hell.

  I was still lying, battered and bloody, upon the torn stones of the road. Tired and bewildered I closed my eyes… I needed rest, and the world could worry about itself for a little while. I had done enough.

  I wasn’t aware of having fallen asleep, but some time passed before I was startled by the sound of a voice nearby.

  “He’s still here,” I heard Dorian say.

  My eyes were still closed but my magesight revealed Penny, Rose, and my children clambering out of a hole in the stone shell that had surrounded them. It appeared that Dorian had been forced to hew and carve his way through the solid stone with his sword, a task that might have taken him hours. How long have I been lying here?

  He stopped before reaching me, and his breath seemed to catch in his throat. “Don’t come any closer, Penny. You shouldn’t see this,” he told my wife, who was now some twenty feet away.