Spellshift (Spellsaga Book 2) Page 2

  Aethis smiled. “Oh, your questions make much more sense now. You want to be lied to.”

  He was close enough to strike, and she still disregarded him in every way. He wasn’t ready to make lethal use of his blade yet, but she clearly needed more convincing.

  Garen cut forward to pin her against the corner. She moved faster than he expected and hopped up on the railing. He tried to leap after her, but his footing slipped. He looked down and saw how far the platform had tilted. Soon, the floor was more vertical than it was horizontal. Garen slid backward along it. It tilted fully and Garen lost all traction. He summoned a quick burst of wind to push him sideways toward the platform. He grabbed onto the railing, hanging twenty feet over the cavern floor as it descended. Eventually, he let go and stepped back as the lifter thudded against the ground.

  Above him, Aethis sat on the top of the railing, now turned completely on its side. She kicked her bare feet back and forth with playful nonchalance and giggled.

  “What’s your plan, now?” Garen yelled up at her. “Are you going to laugh me to death?”

  “I had slightly higher hopes for you. But if you insist on asking me pointless questions, the Apatten will probably handle the death part.”

  Chapter 2

  Garen spun to witness hundreds of Apatten rushing to surround him. These creatures appeared and behaved much differently than the awkward, lanky ones he’d seen above. They had the same gray skin and purple eyes, but their abnormally long limbs were now muscular. The color and physique made their arms look like chiseled stone. They had square jaws, thin noses, and short dark hair. One set of eyes would be further apart than another’s, or a jawline more pronounced, but they were otherwise identical to each other. He wasn’t sure how they transformed the gangly messes into these warriors, and he wasn’t looking forward to finding out.

  Garen brought the metal band on his wrist toward his mouth. A thin stone along the center glowed blue. “Yeah, I botched it.”

  A snarky female voice replied from the stone. “Of course you did.”

  Garen stared at the sea of Apatten, all waiting on him to make his choice—just like Aethis. He would have preferred to be the reactive one, dealing with a rush of brutes that charged in for him. For all her quirks, Aethis had a point about his lack of initiative. He could do better.

  “You fine men haven’t seen a giant hammer-wielding, shield-smashing fellow around here, have you? Real scary looking, but lovable once you get to know him. Goes by Argus.”

  A thundering crack echoed through the cave. Every eye in the room turned upward. The stones erupted from the cavern ceiling and a burly man emerged. His tanned, stubble-covered face showcased a reckless grin. He rode atop a shield glowing green and yellow from the exposed geonodes. He readied the enormous war hammer from his back as he swept down. With a battle cry, he leapt off the shield, hammer grasped with both hands behind his head.

  Garen saw the first glint of natural emotion from the Apatten. It was fear. They dove out of his way. Argus landed, his hammer striking stone. A combination of his own strength and intense earth magic rippled solid stone like water. The cavern floor shook, and those nearest were thrown back within the cloud of pulverized rock.

  “Never mind,” Garen said. “Found him.”

  He dashed away from the distracted Apatten and followed the cavern’s edge. It stretched further than he could see in the dim lighting. There were entire buildings underneath the surface, enough to house, feed, and train this kind of army. They had crafted a village from the stone and kept it hidden from the rest of the world. If Micah wanted to know the size of their operation, Garen would need to venture deeper. He hoped that wouldn’t involve braving the center of the fray. He couldn’t see Argus in the middle of the crowd, but a wave of bodies shot into the air. Garen knew his friend’s hammer was doing fine work and had no interest getting in the way.

  Some of the Apatten followed Garen at a distance. Others stood their ground up ahead, watching him with cold, purple stares. A pair of Apatten to his side pulled the broadswords from their linen belts and sprinted after him. Their athleticism was terrifying. They would easily catch up with Garen in a fair race, but few things were truly fair when Spellswords were involved. Garen drew from the depth his Light Spirit granted him, an infinite supply of that element.

  He laced his steps with a touch a light, outrunning any of them individually. The flashes of light at his feet drew more of their attention. Apatten deeper within the dim cave ran toward him. The cavern’s edge curved inward, and Garen found himself cornered a moment sooner than he planned. The Apatten recognized his predicament and surrounded him against the alcove.

  Garen planted his feet and dropped low into a defensive stance.

  “Are you things capable of deciding who dies first? Or do I get the privilege?”

  The dozen Apatten nearest him charged in unison. Garen needed to test how skilled these creatures were with a sword, but twelve-on-one was far too high a gamble for him. Only magic could even those kinds of odds.

  Before Garen could craft a spell of his own, a stream of water burst from the rock behind him and raced over his shoulder. The flow changed direction mid-air, knocking half the attackers off their feet and sweeping them straight through the others. The Apatten seemed clumsy once more, all twelve trying to free themselves from the sopping tangle of bodies.

  A girl with long dark hair emerged from the gap in the wall. She wore a leather jerkin like Garen’s and had both her short sword and parrying dagger drawn. Another group of Apatten charged. She summoned a second thread of water and cracked it at them. It struck the Apatten in front, sending its body spinning through the air. Those rushing behind it stopped to reevaluate exactly who they were attacking. The young Water Spellsword stepped in front of Garen. Both braids of water danced between her and the Apatten, begging for someone to challenge her.

  “I heard you needed some help,” Naia said.

  “Just a little. You don’t know if Micah’s sending any, do you?”

  “Oh ho, so funny,” Naia rolled her eyes. “No sign of Sarkos, I’m guessing?”

  “None, thankfully. Surrounded in stone wouldn’t be my first choice for that reunion. But I think we’re looking at his handiwork.”

  Naia took a second to take in the enormous cavern and the buildings nestled inside it. “Alright, let’s see how deep it goes.”

  She gathered the tendrils of water and spun them into a ring around her and Garen. She added chunks of ice to the mix, growing it vertically until it formed a rushing, circular wall almost as tall as them. They ran straight for the Apatten blocking their way. The mere threat of her barrier did half the work. Several stepped back to assess its force. Those who stood their ground were swept aside by the ice-laden current.

  Naia and Garen ran deeper into the cave. One Apatten put its height advantage to use by leaping straight at them. He made it through without being knocked away. Garen quickly fixed that. He clashed swords and pulled a layer of stone over the Apatten’s foot. It was locked in place while Garen and Naia kept running. The wall of water gave it a parting thrash.

  Garen spotted a broadsword spinning through the air toward them. The confines of Naia’s water shield did not give him the space to sidestep it. Garen dropped to the ground, sparing himself an untimely impaling. He also proved to every watching eye how effective the strategy was.

  As Garen made it back to his feet, another weapon sailed toward him. He pivoted within the water walls and deflected the blade aside. More followed suit, chucking their swords into Naia’s path. Garen raised a pair of stone pillars up from the ground to block them. Another Apatten prepared to throw. Garen twisted the light to make him appear much further behind. The Apatten chucked his weapon into an expanse of nothing. More swords came raining in from further away. It would take something stronger than water or light to shield them.

  “Taking cover,” Garen shouted. He tackled her to the ground and raised a wall of stone beside them.
The broadswords clattered against it at first, but the stone cracked. The weight of their barrage broke through and covered them in the debris. Garen laid flat against the ground and kept a hand across Naia. Standing could be the last mistake he ever made. He heard the whir of another broadsword spin above the tip of his nose. Naia coughed the stone dust from her lungs. She formed a shield of ice where the stone had failed.

  The ice melted instantly. An oppressive heat filled the cavern. Garen craned his neck enough to see the Apatten running away from them. Another gust of heat and a burst of flame rolled over them. This time Garen heard the Apatten wail like animals. Black boots stepped beside him. He looked up to see the Fire Spellsword crafting another orb of flame between her hands. The flicker of light displayed her short, tousled hair and the faint curve of a smile on her face. It wasn’t from the joy of battle or any violent glee. She merely took humble satisfaction in protecting her sister.

  “Maybe you kids should leave this to the professionals,” Morgan said, offering them both a hand. The scowl on Naia’s face told them she wasn’t fine with being yanked around.

  Morgan tossed her orb of fire at an Apatten who crept closer. The rest kept their distance. “Are we ready to leave?” she asked.

  “Almost,” Garen said. “Micah’s going to press me for details, and I have no idea how deep this monster coop goes.”

  “What he means,” Naia twirled the parrying dagger in her hand, “is there’s probably someone or other who doesn’t know we’re here yet. Our invisible scout wants to go announce his presence.”

  Morgan shrugged. “Let’s make some introductions, then.”

  Despite her complaining, Naia followed Morgan closely. She resumed her defensive ring of water. Morgan sent any Apatten in their way recoiling in flames. The bursts of fire did wonders for Garen’s vision, too, illuminating the buildings they moved toward.

  These structures were nothing like the plain, bare halls above. The stone of these buildings curved like the northern spirit shrines, built by those crazy few who worshipped magic like a god. Morgan’s fire revealed how much color and grandeur they added to the cave. The larger, simpler buildings were hollow save for hundreds of beds clustered and bunked together. He saw another with the tools to forge steel and an arsenal of broadswords in production.

  The rear of the cave came into view. Against it sat a temple that made every other building seem plain. The curved, elaborately carved wood was shaped into a dome. The highest part was trimmed with outcroppings of gold. Wood, along with anything complex enough to live and grow, was some of the most difficult material to shape with magic. This was a feat beyond comprehension. If Garen had seen the building anywhere else in the world, he would assume every detail was crafted by hand. But today, he’d seen a tree sprouted from stone, turn to gold, and then disappear, so all bets were off.

  The Apatten ranks thinned the closer they came to the shrine. At a point, they stopped abruptly and refused to come any closer. The line they formed was too perfect to be an accident. The door to the temple opened. Men and women in highly decorated robes stepped out and stood shoulder to shoulder in front of it. Their robes bore the same arrowhead-within-a-diamond insignia as Aethis.

  An elderly woman at the center took a step forward. One of her hands appeared to be coated in silver. “You will not violate our sanctuary.”

  Garen shook his head in astonishment. “No, you don’t get to have connections with a lowlife like Sarkos, build an underground army, and expect us to respect your privacy. Move, or we’ll move you.”

  They stood their ground. Enough seconds passed that Morgan deemed it necessary to deliver on his threat. She punched two volleys of fire toward the middle of them. The blasts were slow but scorching, ideal for scaring someone out of the way.

  None of them moved. The robed group reached their hands forward. As the fire reached them, it dissipated entirely. Naia released her own onslaught of ice blades into them. These were less of a warning shot. The ice would cut into them whether they tried to flee or not. Without any sign of strain, they once again absorbed the projectiles out of existence.

  “Your days of enslaving us with the elements are over!” the woman shouted.

  A familiar voice cleared his throat from behind them. “We don’t need you enslaved. We need you moved.” A gust of wind stronger than any natural gale picked the robed mages off their feet and flung them to the side. The man left standing as the dust cleared had long brown hair. Though mussed by the wind, it was straight and well kept. His leather jerkin and the green tunic beneath it were finer than anything else worn by the group, but he didn’t turn his nose up at them. He smiled knowingly.

  “Drake, where did…when did you—?” Garen stammered.

  Drake brushed a stray clump of cavern debris from his sleeve. “Please, don’t insult me.” He stepped to the door and held it open for them. “I’d like to leave as soon as possible. Learn what you can while I clear a path for Argus.”

  Garen nodded and laughed. “That’s assuming he left any for you to clear.” He ran through the shrine’s doorway behind Naia and Morgan. The walls inside shimmered like gold. It took only a few tiny geonodes to light the room vibrantly.

  Garen’s smile fell from his face like a brick. An unconscious man lay chained to a table. There were other insignia-clad followers cowering against the wall. They shrieked and backed away in fear. With Garen blocking the only exit to the room, they had no way to flee. Only one prisoner lay in the center. Garen recognized the man’s face, yet he couldn’t bring a name to mind. He couldn’t properly focus, either. All Garen could picture was his own father held captive the same way. Helpless. Tortured. Unaware of how little time he had left.

  Garen pushed the memory aside. He stepped over to the table and used his depth to crack the metal braces holding the man’s arms and legs in place. His head was shaved and half-wrapped in bandages. The series of scars along his body were in precise intervals. They formed a checkered pattern across his skin, entirely different from the scars of torture left on his father’s body. Garen examined him up close. The familiarity clicked. This man had the same nose, mouth, and square jawline as every Apatten he’d seen. The features looked far more natural on someone without gray skin. He was tall, too, but not to the same exaggerated proportions as the Apatten.

  They’d have time to figure out his purpose later. Garen motioned for help moving the fellow. He was starved half to death, but given his stature, it was more than Garen could carry alone.

  “Do you think that’s safe?” Morgan asked.

  “I don’t know what to think,” Garen said, taking him by the shoulders while Morgan supported his legs. “But I’ve seen how Sarkos treats his prisoners, and I’m not leaving him to face that.”

  Naia wandered the room, examining the knives and measuring rods strewn about. She picked up a caliper and examined smears of blood along the metal. She flung it at the robed followers trembling in the corner. “What is wrong with you people?” None were brave enough to respond.

  “This can’t be good for him. Try this,” Morgan said. The air between them swirled until it formed a pale translucence. Garen let go and allowed Morgan to guide the man forward on the disc of wind.

  Halfway to the door, their view changed dramatically. The golden walls disappeared. Parchments and hundreds of illustrations of the human body fluttered to the ground. The huddled followers shrieked again and scattered.

  Aethis stood at the front of the Apatten. They filed tightly into ranks behind her. “I’m actually pleased that you would try to rescue this man. It tells me we value the same things. But this man’s sacrifice is helping us free hundreds, and over time, thousands in more dire need.”

  Naia stepped toward her and formed dozens of icy daggers in the air. “I don’t know who you think you’re helping. But torturing some guy and making these freaks isn’t doing it.”

  “Wait!” Garen called out, but Naia was already launching them. They spiraled toward Aethis w
ith perfect precision. Every one of them disappeared before striking its target. Aethis shook her head.

  “Your vision is so clouded by magic that you can’t tell truth from lies.” She spoke every word with calm disappointment. “You accept a world of luxuries and don’t question where they come from. It’s because you don’t want to know. You don’t want to witness the Eastern Kingdom’s slavetowers. You’d rather stay blind and run around solving the kinds of problems you can plunge a sword into.”

  Her tone softened. “I want to help you see through the lies like the rest of my students. I will ensure that Sarkos gives you that chance.” Her kindness vanished. “After that, if you insist on fighting us blindly, I will watch you die one by one. And you’ll have no one to blame but your own delusion.”

  Aethis’ words were punctuated by the nasal shriek of a distant Apatten. Another clump of bodies flung into the air as Argus and Drake took flight. The Apatten behind Aethis didn’t flinch or look toward the sound.

  “Make them leave,” she commanded. Aethis raised one of her arms, now coursing with golden stripes. The Apatten bolted forward. They closed the distance in seconds. Garen had his katana ready to hold his ground. He recognized how futile that would be against an endless onslaught. Morgan bought them a few seconds with a cone of flame. Patches of gray skin ignited all along the front of the charge. The Apatten behind leapt over the charred bodies and crashed toward the Spellswords.

  “We’re going now!” Drake shouted from the air. Garen felt the bonds of wind course around him. He remained still until his arms were locked in place. It was a good thing he trusted Drake, or that feeling of paralysis would not have been welcome with this many swords coming for his head.

  Drake launched each of the Spellswords and the unconscious man off the ground. A yellow geonode lit on Argus’ shield. The ceiling cracked. They shot upward at the narrow slit. Drake had full control of their movement, guiding them single-file through two dozen feet of clay and stone. Garen held his breath. His face flew within inches of a jagged edge. They emerged into the warm sunlight over the badlands, and he exhaled sweet relief.