Chapter 2 #3
Theira's chest eased further. As confident as she was, this challenge was the first big step for both of them in what came next, and she wasn't sure where Varius stood. She didn't think he knew where he stood, because he hadn't begun to consider what could be possible.
He wasn't with her. Not yet.
But he wasn't working against her anymore. He was on her side. And that mattered more than she wanted to admit.
So she would take this step for both of them, and give him some reason to hope.
Her heart pounded in anticipation. She'd recognized the voice leading the task force, too, and it simplified things. Kryseia had no interest in being saved.
"Out of sight," Theira said, "but feel free to watch the show. Toss me that mug?"
Varius sketched a bow with good humor and retreated. An empty mug sailed her way, and she caught it with magic.
Then Theira threw open the door, slamming it against her house with a bang, and advanced onto her doorstep.
One first-tier adept, with a passel of lower-tier sorcerers. The most skilled sorceresses worked alone, but they would know it would take more than one to take her down on her own turf if it came to that.
And oh, it would come to that.
"Hello, Kryseia," Theira addressed the sorceress in charge of this expedition, pretending to take a sip of tea. "Lovely weather in my garden today, don't you think?"
Kryseia's ice blue eyes flickered at the reminder that she stood on Theira's prepared ground.
Or maybe it was at her disrespect.
Kryseia tossed her elaborately and immaculately styled platinum hair, such a contrast to Theira's wild dark locks streaming around her. "My title is First-Tier Adept Kryseia."
"Likewise mine," Theira said idly. "Unless you mean to suggest that having more time to myself has worsened my skill?"
Kryseia glared, but none of the others even exchanged glances; they had chosen to obey Kryseia without question, which meant there was nothing Theira could do for them.
Kryseia had long since attached her star to orbiting the Sorcerer Ascendant Tychon', had probably volunteered for this mission to recover her dignity after Theira had shown her up on the battlefield not once, but twice.
"I'm not here to exchange pleasantries with you, the so-called Sorceress Transcendent, who abandoned her duty," Kryseia declared. "We know you're holding the former legatus Varius Aurelian. Bring him out, and we'll be on our way out of your life once more."
That title. It probably didn't bode well for Theira, if even the Sorcerer Ascendant's top lackeys were using it. Kryseia's bitterness was a bigger surprise but easily accounted for by the fact that Theira had any title that she didn't.
Theira waited for Kryseia to finish.
Then she calmly took another mock-sip of tea, drawing it out.
Two of the lower-tier sorcerers broke their stare without moving, gazes flicking around for activity.
Wise. Much too late, but admirable instincts.
Kryseia ground her teeth.
"You don't call, you don't write, and you show up at my doorstep making demands," Theira said. "I'm retired, Kryseia. And even if I weren't, I don't take orders from you."
That undeniable refusal was the signal Kryseia's team was evidently waiting for. They began to fan out, their spells activating.
Theira had to give Kryseia credit though; for all her personal dislike, she had to know how this could go, and she gave it one last shot.
No doubt on the chance it might distract her, because Kryseia, too, would have learned to use every possible advantage.
"You don't want to do this, Theira," Kryseia said, her voice all false sympathy, with no effort to disguise her condescension.
"You know as well as anyone what Varius has done to Korossia.
We can take him off your hands, and you can keep your little retirement and never have to fight again. This doesn't have to be your problem."
Theira smiled.
And without moving slammed the door shut behind her.
"I believe there has been a misunderstanding, Kryseia," Theira said gently. "You seem to be under the impression that I have lost my taste for battle."
Vines erupted out of the ground, grabbing a portion of Kryseia's party who'd begun casting at her house and snapping their necks in an instant.
She grinned widely at Kryseia.
"I assure you," Theira purred, her blood singing, "this is not the case."
Kryseia's eyes went wide, but she didn't miss a beat, yelling orders and snapping a hand out in the same moment to fire a blast of sheer power at Theira. Her own power, even, no doubt to buy time to finish getting other spells into place.
Had Theira been unprepared, this would have been very impressive. But no first-tier adept, and Theira least of all, was ever that unprepared.
Not to mention they were on Theira's ground.
Kryseia's blast bounced off her.
Theira strolled forward, her advance activating enchantments with each step, her hair rising to crackle around her, electrified by her power.
Strangled screams echoed in the background as the protections she'd placed on her house reacted violently to their not-quite-subtle-enough intrusions, as beautiful flowers' poisonous gas choked off the strike team's air, as the roots under her garden dragged them beneath to feed on.
She paid them no mind. Her garden needed no further guidance from her for sorcerers of their caliber. They weren't even a distraction from the real battle before her.
Theira reached for the power of her garden, and threw it against Kryseia's next assault.
Their eyes met, and Theira knew this was what Kryseia had wanted.
Her, too.
She was glad to no longer be part of the endless, stupid, horrible war.
She did sometimes miss the freedom of wreaking rampant destruction.
Kryseia flung spell after spell at her, and Theira deflected every sally without apparent effort, driving Kryseia back step by step.
She'd missed this, too. The matching of power and wits against someone who could stand against her.
But Kryseia, for all her sorcery, was no Varius.
Kryseia could use the life force of the garden, too, but not as efficiently. Theira knew every plant, its location and potential.
She knew every spell she'd woven into the ground.
Kryseia's breath came increasingly fast as she struggled under Theira's assault. Her rhythm didn't break, but Theira could see her casting around for inspiration, for power, for something that could turn the tide.
Theira almost didn't recognize the feint for what it was, until the mug she still carried shattered in her hand.
Kryseia grinned triumphantly.
A piece of her new home, new life, broken in an instant act of malice. A challenge, that Theira could not, in fact, protect herself or anyone else.
Kryseia's power closed around her. She'd attempted to break Theira's flow, and she'd succeeded.
But Theira reached for the wild flame of her own power and exploded it outward.
"Congratulations," she told the sorceress who'd jumped clear but now watched her warily; Theira was known for not committing her own power. "You have my full attention."
And then Theira stopped playing.
Kryseia cast furiously, but it was no use against Theira actually tapping into her own power along with the garden.
It was a matter of moments before she'd shepherded Kryseia just where she wanted her: a spell laid in advance. Once she stepped into the circle, poisonous vines snaked around her ankles and thorns bit through her spells and skin, immobilizing her.
In moments she'd be unable to move at all—not a muscle, certainly. But not her lungs, either, or her heart.
She could have still cast, except Theira also pressed her own shroud of power around Kyrseia like a smothering pillow.
It was done, without so much as an explosion to mark her passing, and from Kryseia's furious gaze, she knew it. She would fade quietly out of this world with nothing to show for it. But first—
"You would do all this," she hissed, "for a man? An Aurelian worm who's killed scores of us?"
Which part of Varius offended her most? It didn't matter.
"This is my house," Theira said gently. "This is my ground. Here you are supplicant, not master. I will do what I wish, and you cannot force me."
"So if I'd said 'pretty please will you do this favor to all your sisters', you'd have said yes?" Kryseia sneered.
The expression faltered as she lost control of her facial muscles.
Theira smiled. "Of course not."
And then she stabbed Kryseia through the heart with a shard of the broken mug.
No need to draw it out when the fun was done. Now all that was left was clean-up.
Kryseia's wide eyes met hers, and Theira saw mania there. "He'll come for you," she gasped. "You'll have no peace now."
So that was what Kryseia was doing here. She must have lost too much influence at court after Theira's success in spite of the Sorcerer Ascendant. She could reclaim her status only by beating her.
And failing that, at least she'd ensured Theira's downfall.
Theira could have let Kryseia die believing she could rest easy, that even if it had gone like this, she'd won.
Instead she leaned forward and whispered in Kryseia's ear, "I'm counting on it."