Chapter 93
Rohak
Ithrust my sword at Alois, a move he expected and parried easily. I was not trying to kill my friend—even if that term was loose at best at this point in our lives.
But we could still salvage all those decades of friendship, right?
I’d fight him if it meant saving Faylinn.
But I wouldn’t kill him.
No matter how disappointed I was in him, no matter the anger his actions caused—nothing was worth him dying.
“You can do better than that, Rohak,” Alois panted as he readjusted his hold on the sword. I passed mine from hand to hand, desperately searching for a dry place to grip. The deluge of rain coupled with the sweat on my palms made that impossible.
We stood panting, chests heaving with exertion, merely feet apart from each other, but it felt like an impassable chasm.
How did we get to this point?
Alois had been by my side for decades—he was practically my brother.
Yet he colluded with the enemy and did nothing to fix the issues that rotted and festered within Elyria. All apparently for some higher purpose.
Gripping my weapon in both hands, I swung my sword down in an arc that would have cleaved Alois in two if he hadn’t parried in time.
The clang of steel on steel reverberated up my hands and into my arms, nearly causing me to drop my sword from the force.
I spun away, barely out of the reach of Alois’ return strike, before planting my feet and stepping aggressively toward him.
Our swords met in the space between our bodies, the blades shaking with the strain of our efforts.
The steel screeched as I planted a boot into Alois’ gut and thrust him back, clearing the space once more. Alois grinned as he rubbed what was sure to be a large bruise on his stomach.
“Always did favor that move, didn’t you, old friend?” I didn’t deign him with a response—we’d sparred together enough over the decades that we knew each other’s tells and preferred moves intimately.
That knowledge promised that neither of us would gain the upper hand in this little skirmish. I preferred long-range attacks—the ability to see my opponents project their moves was paramount—while Alois favored more close-quarters jabs and strikes.
He smiled wanly before brushing a wet lock of black hair off his forehead with his shoulder. The sleeping tunic he wore was see-through at this point, exposing the entirety of his chest and abdomen.
“Where are your blacks?” I called, much to Alois’ surprise. Talking during a fight was also not something I erred toward, but maybe if I threw him off enough, I could disarm him quickly before finding Faylinn.
My heart rate spiked; not from the feint Alois executed before charging into my space again, forcing me back a few steps as I worked to parry his quick thrusts and strikes, but from the thought of Faylinn in danger.
Faylinn unprotected.
Faylinn dying from a magical attack when I was too distracted to protect her.
I gritted my teeth as I backpedaled, sweat leaking down my brow to join the moisture on my skin.
We moved and danced like that for some time, neither of us gaining the upper hand as we struck and dodged, parried and attacked.
All the while, the Battle for Vespera raged around us.
I vaguely registered the sounds of Mages as they loosed their own attacks or the screams when a human target was struck.
The acrid scent of burning flesh and petrichor from the rain above did little to distract me from my conflict with Alois.
Somehow, by some act of fate, neither of us was hit by an errant magical strike.
Twice, I came close to taking a direct hit, first from an errant fireball and second from an arrow fashioned by an Earth Mage, but both times they veered slightly off course at the last minute.
The back of my neck prickled and almost itched each time, but I fought the urge to scratch at it.
My attention needed to be devoted to Alois.
“Rohak! Fight like you mean it. FIGHT ME!” Alois screamed as I parried yet another one of his attacks—our age and lack of practice began to show, each of our strikes becoming sloppier and more predictable as time wore on.
I stepped away from Alois and watched as he greedily sucked in lungfuls of air, his chest heaving with exertion.
“No,” I said again, but my words were drowned by an unnatural thunder—one that was different than the rolling crack in the skies.
This sounded like the beat of a thousand horses as it grew from a rolling rumble to a steady roar.
Alois whipped his head to the left, and mine quickly followed when I saw the look of total horror and failure etched on his face.
His sword hand dropped loosely to his side before his weapon followed, the clattering of steel against stone completely eclipsed by the noise of battle and whatever was barreling toward us.
My eyes widened in disbelief as I caught sight of what I assumed to be Solace with her arms outstretched, long fingers curling toward each other as if gripping an invisible ball in each hand.
But my gaze was quickly torn from her to regard the source of the noise—a lump formed in the stone courtyard, roughly two men wide and three deep, and it was speeding toward Alois and I.
Stones crumbled and gave way, others were thrust feet into the air before crashing to the ground, creating a widespread arc of destruction.
Air Magic.
Mages and Vessels locked in intimate battle were caught unaware, and I watched as three were flattened completely—a quick, soft crunching noise and a macabre splatter of blood indicating their deaths.
It wasn’t long before others noticed the unformed mass as it ate through the courtyard stone like it was butter; some froze in shock, their momentary lapse in concentration leading to their untimely deaths either by sword or magic.
Others turned and fled immediately, running pell-mell without care between battling Mages.
Still, others tried to stop the incoming force, throwing a variety of different magics at it, but each disintegrated upon contact.
Alois and I stood frozen in awed horror, in the air bubble’s direct path of destruction.
There was no time to flee, no time to erect defenses.
Even my Destruction Magic would be useless against it—I’d be able to destroy the bricks, but the force of the air that was hurling toward us at inhuman speeds would cause just as much, if not more, damage than the stones themselves.
Just as the roaring grew to an intense, all-encompassing explosion of sound, the air bubble detonated.
One second, my feet were firmly planted to the stones beneath, the next, I was hurdling toward the ground, dozens of feet away from where I fought Alois.
Seconds felt like hours as I fell through the sky to land heavily on my back with a loud crunch, my head smacking against the stone.
Instantly, any air I’d held in my lungs left my body with a whoosh, and I was fairly certain I lost consciousness for a moment.
Something is definitely broken. I could barely feel my legs, let alone move them.
Panicked and in pain, I desperately tried to get my lungs to take in a full breath, but they seemed to contract around nothing. The muscles in my chest and back spasmed and screamed as I choked, slowly suffocating.
A wheezing groan sounded from my right, and I slid my eyes in the direction of the noise, only to see Alois in much the same position as me. Though the positioning of his body looked unnatural, even from my current angle.
Why does his body look so weird?
I squinted, trying to muddle through it, but the conclusion kept wafting away, like my brain was scrambled from the hit it took.
“Rohak,” Alois wheezed, pointing a shaky finger toward the sky. I turned my gaze from my friend in time to see what looked like tiny grey specs in the early morning sky. The longer I looked, the bigger they became, until my eyes widened in fear.
The blast that leveled Alois and I clearly took out a section of the courtyard stone, and it was currently hurtling toward us at a breakneck speed.
Fuck. Fuck. Do something . . . do something!
“Rohak.” There was urgency in Alois’ voice and something I would’ve attributed to fear, but that was impossible. King d’Refan was never afraid. “You can’t die here, Rohak. You can’t. The outcome is different if you die.”
The panicked ramblings of my best friend barely registered as I watched in horror as the stone blocks fell ever closer.
I reached for my Destruction Magic, intent on vaporizing the missiles before they reached us .
. . only to remember that I now had a Vessel.
A Vessel that was not currently attached to my exposed skin.
We were defenseless and unable to move from their path.
I closed my eyes, making peace with my death.
I thought of Faylinn, of the way her eyes lit from within when she discovered something new, of her fierceness and loyalty.
Of the intimate embrace we shared in my office.
The feel of her soft body pressed against mine, the smell of her hair washed over me, and I felt at peace.
Calm.
I heard the stones whistling through the early morning air. It was only a matter of time—seconds, really.
Just as I was certain I would be squashed to death, my innards exploding from my body to rain on unsuspecting nearby Mages, I felt a small hand wrap around my forearm. My eyes shot open, focusing on the spot of contact, and saw Gisei’s pale hand, her knuckles even whiter as she squeezed.
“Pull,” she whispered, conviction lacing her command.
Her capacity to hold Destruction Magic was low—maybe the same contents as two crystals.
I’d need at least that much power to eradicate the death that was hurtling toward Alois and me.
There was a very real risk I would deplete her completely or even burn her out, reducing her to nothing more than a husk if she was lucky.