Quintessential Tales: A Magic of Solendrea Anthology (16 page)

A groan from the head of the table indicated that Tiadaria was finally coming around. Her blonde hair was streaked with blood from where she’d been thrown to the pavement by the overzealous creature who had grabbed her by the ankles. Tionne had checked the wound herself. It was shallow and superficial, but scalp wounds bled more than any other. She wouldn’t have lost enough blood to cause any permanent harm. That was something that Tionne intended to take care of for herself. Though there would be plenty of time for that later. Right now, dinner was getting cold.

Tionne slid into the worn wooden seat and glanced at the plate Nerillia passed to her. The roast beast was rare, a river of pink swirling about the steamed root vegetables and the whipped potatoes that the
Lamiad seemed to be so fond of. An ancient mystical creature of incredible power, and Nerillia was happiest when she was in a well-stocked kitchen, puttering around with pots and pans. Not that Tionne minded. She was well fed and happy for it. The disparity of it tickled her funny bone, however.

She sat the plate down and took a bite, making an
exaggerated noise of pleasure in the back of her throat. Not too much of an exaggeration, though. The meal was damn good, especially for the limited resources they had available in the farmhouse. Nerillia could do wonders with everything from trail rations to the finest ingredients gold could buy.

Movement caught her eye and every thought about her amazing repast were replaced with burning hatred. Tiadaria’s eyes darted around the room, taking in her predicament. She said nothing, but her eyes spoke volumes. They landed on Nerillia and narrowed. Then on Tionne and narrowed even further.

“I’m going to kill you,” Tiadaria said, straining against the bonds that held her to the chair. “I’m going to kill you both.”

“Oh come now,” Tionne said with a bark of laughter. “You’re not going to be killing anyone.

You’re our guest! It would be terribly rude for you to kill us at our own table, don’t you think?”

Nerillia shot a look her way, but said nothing. She busied herself with the plate in front of her, instead. She speared the tender meat with her fork, as if she wished it were the
Swordmage she were impaling, not a piece of prize beast.

“I’m not overly concerned with what you think or where we are, Tionne. You’re going to pay for what you did to me. To Faxon. To Wynn. I’m going to see that you pay all those debts with your life.”

“And what about what you’ve done to me?” Tionne slammed the table with her fists so hard that the tables and other dinnerware leapt up and crashed back down. “You’re all the same! The King, your Captain, Faxon and his cronies. Not a single one of you ever cared about what you’d done to me. I didn’t want to be taken to the tower. I didn’t want to become Faxon’s pet project. I just wanted to be left alone. But you won’t leave me alone. Not now. Not ever. Not until I kill you. Then, I’ll be able to relax. Then Nerillia and I can live in peace!”

“You’ll never know peace, Tionne.” Tiadaria’s voice was sad, and Tionne hated her even more for that. She didn’t need the pity of a girl barely her elder. She needed no one’s pity.

“You’ve killed too many and gone too far.”

Tionne snatched her glass from the table and hurled it at Tiadaria. It hit her in the chest with a solid thump, a thin ribbon of amber liquid trailing behind it. The
Swordmage winced away from the impact and a cruel, cold smile twisted Tionne’s lip.

“If I’m already too far gone to know peace, then killing you won’t much matter.” Tionne picked up a carving knife from the table. “In for a fraction, in for the crown.”

“Wait,” Nerillia hissed, holding up a hand to forestall Tionne’s wrath. “Did you hear that?”

The fury coursing through Tionne didn’t want to be delayed or denied. It screamed for blood
, and in that instant, there was a moment when Tionne thought that Nerillia’s blood would do just as well as Tiadaria’s. Even so, she managed to push the blood lust aside and listen for what the Lamiad heard.

Outside, the reedy whistle that accompanied the creatures’ endless shuffle around the house had reached an alarmed warble. There was something outside that was disturbing their creations.

Tionne rushed to the window, peering into the darkness outside. The only thing she saw was the moist glistening of the pumpkin-monsters as they continued their patrol of the perimeter.

“Oh,” Tiadaria breathed, her voice barely audible above the increasing din outside.

“What?” Tionne demanded. “What did you do?” A wicked smile crept across Tiadaria’s face.

“It’s not me you need to worry about, Tionne. Our transgressions always come calling.”

Tionne took a step toward the Swordmage. She’d end this nonsense now. With her bare hands, if necessary. Before she could move any further, a brilliant white light appeared in the yard. It streamed in through the windows as if the noon sun had descended at midnight. It raced toward the house, and Tionne had to throw up an arm to protect her eyes from its radiance.

The entire house shuddered. Outside, the bleating of the creatures had become screaming as they were consumed by the conflagration. Then, as quickly as it had appeared, the light faded to deep darkness. Tionne blinked a couple times, trying to rid herself of the artifacts that still danced in her vision.

It took her a few moments to realize that what she saw wasn’t the afterimage of the sudden light. There was a glowing apparition standing next to the chair where Tiadaria was bound. The image of a young man leaning on a staff. Then Tionne realized she could see through the translucent shade standing before her.

“Who are you?” the blood witch demanded, her eyes blazing. “I’ll kill you too.”

“You’re far too late for that,” Tiadaria said with grim humor. “He’s already dead.”

Even as Wynn stood in the common room between Tiadaria and her captors, he felt the siren’s lure of the Etheric Plane calling him back to his resting place.
Tonight, when the barrier between the physical and etheric realms was thin enough to pass through at will, the euphoric calmness of the sphere sang to him, calling him back from the duties he knew he must perform.

“You!” Tionne stabbed a finger at Wynn, a snarl curling her lip. “I recognize you now. You can’t be here, you’re dead.”

Wynn laughed, the sound like fingernails on a slate board. When he spoke, his voice had an odd, echoing quality to it. As if he was standing at the end of a long hallway.

“Very observant, Tionne. The barrier between our worlds is thinnest on All Souls Eve.

Threaten to kill me all you like, child. Those threats mean nothing to me now.”

“You’re just a ghost,” Tionne retorted. She snatched another glass from the table and hurled it at Wynn’s apparition. It passed through the misty form and shattered against the wall beyond.

“What are you going to do? Try to frighten me to death?”

“Tionne
—” Nerillia began in warning, but Wynn cut her off.

“You’re right, of course, Tionne,” he said with quiet malice. “I can’t manipulate anything that exists solely in the physical realm.” He walked to the table, passing his hand through the plates that were there, the food on them forgotten. He looked longingly at the morsels for a moment, then smiled. “But there’s something you’re not taking into consideration…”

Tionne rolled her eyes. “Which is that you’re going to bore me to death instead?”

“No.” Wynn held out a spectral hand, a ball of roaring flame springing to life. “The
Quintessential Sphere doesn’t exist solely in the physical realm.”

Wynn snapped his wrist, sending the ball of flame toward the blood witch and her companion, who dove out of the way without a moment to spare. The magical flames slammed into the wall, igniting the window coverings.

While Tionne and Nerillia struggled to react to the sudden assault, Wynn phased out from where he was standing and appeared behind Tiadaria. He summoned a tiny flame and set it dancing against her restraints. A moment later, her arms were free and she made short work of the knots that bound her ankles to the chair. She leapt to her feet and turned toward the ghost.

Tiadaria tried to lay a hand against his cheek, but it passed through the shimmering form. Her arm went cold, as if she’d plunged it into ice water. She winced and Wynn shook his head, his eyes sad.

“It’s good to see you again, Tia.”

A screeching howl and the sound of splintering wood from behind them prevented Tiadaria from answering. The pumpkin-headed monsters had broken through the door and were climbing over each other to get into the small farmhouse. Glancing over her shoulder, Tiadaria saw Nerillia standing among the flames, her lips moving in silent invocation. The
Lamiad had summoned the creatures from outside. She had quite the advantage, especially considering that Tiadaria was unarmed.

A large pumpkin monster passed through Wynn’s shade and he vanished with a flash. Tiadaria knew that she couldn’t count on Wynn to save her. His presence in their realm had bought her some time, but her situation was still dire. She threw a punch, putting the weight of her body behind it.

Where her fist hit the pulpy flesh of the beast, it cracked and her hand plunged into a sticky black morass of ichor that sprayed up her arm.

“Oh eww!” she cried involuntarily, pulling her arm from the monster as it collapsed to the floor. She shook her arm, trying to dislodge the wors
t of the gore that clung to her.

Tiadaria had little time to be disgusted. The creatures pushing through the door had broken down a large portion of the wall and were now pouring into the common room. They reached out, trying to entangle her in their writhing tentacles. On the opposite end of the room, the conflagration had started in earnest, the burning window coverings having caught the wall and ceiling on fire. She sa
w Tionne dart from behind the counter and through the burning doorway toward the back of the house. Nerillia followed her. Tiadaria followed both of them. Perhaps the fire would at least slow down the creatures pursuing her.

The
Swordmage passed through an anteroom, through an open door, and out into the backyard of the little house. A quick shift into sphere sight told Tiadaria that Nerillia and Tionne weren’t in the yard. Her swords and belt were there, tossed in a haphazard pile on the back porch. She snatched up the weapons, thankful for the welcome pain they brought, and circled the belt around her waist.

She glanced around, searching for a clue that would lead her to Tionne and the
Lamiad. There! A large section of corn that had been trampled down just beyond the fence. Tiadaria ran, vaulted over the fence, and landed in the cornfield, dashing through the trampled corn. She finally had an advantage. Tionne and Nerillia would have to force their way through the growth, Tiadaria could just follow.

She followed the trampled path through the corn rows for w
hat seemed like hours before it came to an abrupt end in the center of the field where the rows were spaced further apart. It would have been easy for her quarry to slip down one of the side rows and out the side without leaving a trace. Tiadaria balled her fists, slamming them into her thighs in impotent fury. “Damn it!”

She crouched, looking at the soft earth. There were two different sets of footprints. One went left, the other right. They’d split up, knowing full well that she wouldn’t be able to follow both of them. Tionne. She had to find Tionne. They’d deal with Nerillia later. Tiadaria was sure that Tionne was behind the attack on Havenhedge and everything they had seen there. Nerillia had seemed different, almost subdued. Not that Tiadaria doubted for a moment that the
Lamiad was involved, but bringing Tionne back to Dragonfell to answer for what she had done had to take priority.

Getting to her feet, she slipped into
sphere sight and followed the smaller set of footprints through the endless rows of corn. The grey wash of her augmented vision made it much easier to see where she was going in the darkness, so when she was rammed from the side and thrown deeper into the stalks, she was taken aback. Switching back to her normal vision, she saw the outline of one of the monsters bearing down on her, its maw open, teeth gnashing with anticipation.

Instinct took control of Tiadaria
, and her right hand dropped to the hilt of her scimitar, yanking it free and sweeping it upward in a strike that sliced easily through the creature’s head. It shuddered, wavering atop its quivering tentacles for a moment before collapsing into the dirt and lying still. She spared a quick glance at it and then was off again, in pursuit of Tionne.

Tiadaria wasn’t sure how long she followed the footprints in the soft earth, but eventually she came to the edge of the field, breaking out into a wide open expanse of grassland that, judging by the close cropped grass, was probably a pasture. The moon was bright enough that she could see Tionne’s form bounding across the flat land. She had a considerable lead on Tiadaria, but the Swordmage was motivated to close ranks.

Calling on the power of the Quintessential Sphere, Tiadaria burst forward, her feet flying over the short grass, barely touching the ground. The burning in her chest was immense, and she knew she wouldn’t be able to keep up such a grueling pace for long. She didn’t need to. She just had to catch up with Tionne. The girl was still running across the field, but she hadn’t seen that Tiadaria was almost upon her.