City of Steel (Chaos Awakens Book 3) (21 page)

Xandrith clawed at the hand holding his head, trying to break free.  He was running out of air.  His claws tore at the flesh of the massive creature, raking lines in the skin but not penetrating all the thick layers.  Each attempt he made grew weaker as he spent his vital oxygen on the effort to break away.  The troll shook him, snapping his body like a whip with his head being used as the handle.  Had Xan been entirely human, he was certain that his neck would have snapped.  As he was, he felt the last of his fight fleeing him.  The pain and the lack of air was too much.  He couldn’t muster the strength to keep at it. 

He reached up and dug his claws into the hand holding him one more time, unwilling to give in entirely while he could still force himself to move.  To his surprise the hand around his head convulsed and suddenly Xan was falling to the ground.  He hit hard, landing on both feet and jarring his broken leg so badly that bright white lights exploded in front of his eyes.  He barely noticed.  He was far too busy dragging air into his lungs as quickly as he could.  All around him was confusion.  The troll was thrashing around, roaring into the air, and there was movement all around.  Xandrith tried to focus on what was happening, but he was still gasping for air. 

It took him nearly ten seconds to gather his wits enough again to see what was happening. There were people fighting the troll. Two quick forms darted in and out of his line of sight, and they appeared to be winning. How was that even possible? What kind of people could fight a troll of that size and win? He tried to stand, to go to the aid of the people who’d come to his, but a firm hand rested on his shoulder, stopping him from getting up. Xandrith looked up into a set of warm brown eyes set in the face of an elderly woman.

“Sit still, Xandrith. You’re far too injured to join this fight. Haley and Crow will take care of it.” Her voice was calm and soothing, but her words were a jarring shock.

“Haley?”  Xandrith asked, alarmed.  “She’s alive?”  The surge of relief that swept through Xandrith was so vast that for just a moment he was taken completely by surprise.  He hadn’t allowed himself to hope that she was still alive.  When he’d found the knife that Kassa had used to stab him and seen that it had been Haley’s blade, he’d believed that she was dead.  He might have tried to tell himself that it wasn’t true, but in his heart he’d already accepted her death.  To find out she was alive was a complete shock. 

“Yes, she’s alive.  Now be calm, relax.  Your friends will be finished with the troll shortly.”  These words brought Xandrith back into the moment and he turned his head to look at the struggle taking place between his apprentice and the troll.  The fight was already over.  The troll was slumping to the ground, its head missing from its shoulders.  Crow jumped from its back as it toppled, and Xan saw Haley walking around it from the side. Her black axe was in her right hand, dripping thick black blood.  They’d killed the beast faster than Xandrith could have done even on his best of days. 

Haley came running in his direction when she spotted him on the ground.  “Xan!”  She called out, and hearing her voice instantly put a smile on the old assassin’s face.  He’d never thought to hear her speak again. 

“Be careful girl.  Your friend is badly injured.”  The older woman spoke, slowing Haley in her tracks. 

Crow cleaned off his weapon before returning it to its scabbard, then he too approached Xan, though somewhat more hesitantly.  The young girl was still wearing her fox mask, though her expression of surprised relief was evident through the magical device. 

“We thought you died in the gray halls!”  She exclaimed, kneeling down next to where Xandrith lay. 

“And I thought you’d both been killed by Kassa when she turned.”  Xan replied. 

Haley seemed anxious. “She attacked us. Crow and I were talking, passing the time, and I started talking about my magic and how I thought I might be able to use it to break the bonds of the bonesteel weapons. I guess Kassa was possessed again. She came at us, her eyes all black. Crow saved us. He has a gift that allows him to move himself and whoever he’s physically in contact with to a place he’s been in the last day. He took us outside the wall, but Kassa stabbed him first. How did you get out of the halls?”

Xandrith shrugged and immediately regretted doing so. “I thought I had escaped by my own wits, but I doubt that now. I think I was freed so that I could finish my mission. That god-thing wanted me to find its brother and to see what had come of him. When I exited the halls, Kassa was waiting for me. She told me that you two had attacked her and run off. We hadn’t been on the best of terms at that time so I didn’t doubt her until it was too late. In fact, I didn’t doubt her until the moment she tried to kill me.”

Haley leaned forward and touched the edge of the broken horn on Xandrith’s head. The second horn had ripped out at skull level, but there was still a partial piece on Xan’s right side. “What happened to you?”

“It took a lot of magic to open the great vault.  Too much.  I burned the ability out of myself, but not before it changed me even more.  I’m almost as much troll as I am human, but with the magic gone the rage that it brought with it seems to have subsided.” Xandrith explained. He didn’t bother to add that he now had an imaginary version of himself that he held long conversations with.

The older woman was investigating Xandrith’s wounds as he lay on the ground, bleeding everywhere. “You’re in terrible condition.” She said when there was a break in the conversation. “Your leg, as far as I can tell, is fractured in five different places. You have several broken ribs, and your stomach has been punctured in multiple places. You’re probably going to die without some magical healing.”

Xan let out a sigh. “Well, that’s good to know. Who are you?”

“I’m Tilda.  I was a healer for the Order before they cut me and cast me out.”  She held up her hands, and something about seeing that she was Eight, just like Xandrith, made him feel at ease. 

“She saved Crow’s life.” Haley explained. “She found us in the woods after Crow had gotten us free from the Reach.”

Tilda ignored the praise.  “I hadn’t seen other people in a long while.  It was nice to have the company, and when I realized that they were friends of yours Xandrith, I felt they were owed as much help as I could offer.  I was an acquaintance of Johndin Shawl.  We’d never met in person, but we had shared many letters via bird over the years. The children thought you were dead, and after Haley discovered that she had a knack for breaking complicated spells like the one I’d had etched on my back for most of my life, I felt I owed them even more.  I decided to take them here, to Forge Haven.  I had friends here.  They had assured me that even if the entire world fell down, the Forge would stand.  It appears that they wrong.” 

Xandrith was shocked at everything he was learning.  Haley had broken the spell of binding the mages placed on the backs of all their initiates?  That was incredible.  He nodded weakly.  “The trolls had someone inside the city.  They were let inside by the head of security.  Did you say Haley broke the spell of binding?” 

Haley nodded eagerly. “I did, and that’s not all.” She held up her gore covered axe. “I broke the connection on our bonesteel weapons. They’re safe to use now. The evil that possessed them is gone.”

“I don’t understand how that’s possible.”

“And now isn’t the best time to talk about it.  We’ll have to finish catching up later, Xandrith.  If we don’t get to work on your wounds, you’re going to bleed out here.”  Tilda interrupted the millions of questions that Xan wanted to ask at that moment.  “Crow, come over here.”  She waved to the young man to come closer.  He did, uneasily.  Xandrith and Crow hadn’t been on the best of terms last time they’d seen one another. 

“I’ve been teaching this young one some healing techniques.  It’s not easy without magic of my own, but I was a great healer in my time.  I tried teaching Haley, but her powers don’t work anything like those I’ve dealt with before.  I dare say that no mage before her has ever had quite the same skill set that she does.  That though, is a problem for another day.  Crow, I need you to align the healing glyphs with Xan’s body, you can use me as the source of energy.”  Tilda spoke calmly, though Crow looked nervous. 

“I’ve never actually done this before.  I don’t really understand all of the anatomy I’ll be working with.”  The young rogue definitely seemed uncertain. 

The older woman nodded confidently. “That’s why you’re not going to do any shaping. I just want you to align the healing glyphs and poor magic into them. That will allow Xandrith’s body to heal itself without you needing to know how to do anything.” She turned to Xandrith. “I’m going to have to set your leg as well as I can, otherwise it will heal completely twisted and broken. It’s never going to be as good as it was before. In fact, you’re probably going to be in pain for the rest of your life. There is too much damage here for a novice to repair, but you’ll survive. If we do nothing you’re going to die here. Do you understand?”

“I don’t want to steal your life just to save myself.” Xandrith told the old woman. “I’ll recover on my own. I heal quickly.”

“You don’t heal quickly enough, young man. These wounds will kill you, and if they don’t kill you, they’ll keep you from doing what you need to do. Healing magic doesn’t take much life force, especially with someone as powerful as Crow manipulating the glyphs. I may lose a few days, but I have them to spare. Crow will probably be worse off than I am when we finish. Now be quiet and let us work.”

Xandrith gave a hesitant nod. “Do what you have to.”

Tilda smiled and placed a hand on Xan’s forehead, a motherly gesture. “Good, brave boy.” She got up and moved down to the bottom of Xan’s leg. “Let me know when the glyphs are aligned. I’ll set the bones as soon as you’re ready and then I’ll tell you when to start pouring in the magic.”

A look of concentration settled on Crow’s face as he began the process of aligning the glyphs to join his healing magic with Xan.  He was quiet for a few moments and then he shook his head.

“His body isn’t normal, Tilda.  I can’t get the glyphs to line up properly with the magic channels.  Everything is broken and twisted.” 

Tilda just smiled. “No doubt that has a lot to do with him being part troll, but that doesn’t make a difference. Trolls were human once. Don’t line up the fine channels, just the major points. You won’t be doing any detail work anyway. We just want to start the flow of power into his body.”

Crow nodded and the look of concentration returned to his face.  Xandrith couldn’t feel anything other than the pain of his broken body.  For some reason he felt like he should have been able to tell what Crow was doing, but there was nothing.  For all that Xan could tell, the boy was just standing over him with his arms raised. 

“I think he has two hearts.” Crow said after a moment, a look of puzzlement crossing his face.

“Yeah, I found that out the hard way.”  Xandrith commented with a half grin. 

“Just connect the glyph to his human heart, don’t worry about the other.”  Tilda noted, still looking nonplussed. 

Crow nodded once, and then a moment later spoke again. “I’m finished. I think.”

“Alright, this is going to hurt Xan. Are you …” She pulled hard on his leg, white light exploded in front of Xan’s vision, and then large black spots. “Ready?” She added after the deed was done.

Xandrith let out a long, stuttering breath.  “No.” 

“Let the power flow, Crow.”

He couldn’t feel the magic itself as it entered his body, but the effect on his flesh was unmistakable.  His wounds immediately began to close up, scabbing over and then healing as though weeks had passed.  His leg tingled and then itched madly as the bone grew back together and the damaged muscle and flesh repaired itself.  It wasn’t painful, but it was an unsettling feeling.  Places Xandrith didn’t even know he was injured were tingling and shifting as unseen wounds healed themselves. 

The agony of his injuries diminished, and Xandrith felt a fog clear from his mind.  He felt alert and awake, better than he had in a long while.  He looked over at Crow.  The young man was listing heavily to one side.  His head had dropped and his hands, still held up in front of him, were shaking.  He was obviously using more magic than he was use to handling.  Tilda may have been the one losing her life, but the toll of making magic a useable force was rough on the inexperienced.  Xandrith was about to say something on Crow’s behalf, but Tilda spoke first. 

“That’s enough.  Sit down a moment.  You’re going to need some time to recover.”  She instructed the young rogue.  Crow didn’t need to be told twice.  He nearly collapsed as he released the magic.  His brow was covered in sweat, exhaustion evident on his face. 

“Thank you, Crow.  Thank you, Tilda.”  Xandrith said, pushing himself up to a sitting position. 

“Be careful, Xandrith.” Tilda cautioned. “You might be feeling better, but the magic hasn’t completely done its work yet. You will need a few hours of rest, both you and Crow, if you want to be back to your best. We will take a few minutes now to rest, and then we will go somewhere away from this troll corpse and set up a camp for the night. We have much to discuss, and we might as well do it somewhere that doesn’t smell like rot and death. The front doors of the forge aren’t far from here. We should get close enough to at least have access to some fresh air. Though let’s not get too close, it’s rather cold outside.”

Tilda’s suggestion seemed fine to Xandrith.  He enjoyed that he wasn’t having to decide things at that moment.  He crossed his legs and relaxed as well as he could with a giant troll corpse sitting a few feet away.  They didn’t talk much as they waited for Crow to recover enough to move, though it was clear there was a lot to be said between them. 

Xandrith was happy to get up when it was time to move.  He stepped gingerly on his healed leg at first.  It ached dully up and down its full length, but it seemed steady and solid.  The muscles protested as he moved on them.  Some of that would work itself out as the healing magic finished its work, but some of it would be permanent.  His leg was going to hurt for the rest of his life.  It wouldn’t be the first such wound he’d taken over the years, but it would certainly be the most substantial.  He was getting old.