The Mage's Grave: Mages of Martir Book #1 (33 page)

“Try as much as you'd like, mortal, but you can't even touch me,” said Uron. “Even with the blessing of a god, you are nothing more than a weak mortal who is destined to perish.”

“Put him down!” Skimif yelled. “Or I'll—”

“Or you'll what?” said Uron. “So long as I hold Darek, I know you won't try to touch me. You risk killing him if you attack me. Trust me, I know how much you hate putting the lives of mortals in danger, Skimif.”

Uron twisted Darek around in his hand until Darek was now facing Skimif. It was hard to focus on the God of Martir, however, when his broken arm continued to send waves of pain into his body, especially now that it was hanging limply at his side in the air.

“Now, then,” said Uron. His breathing was harder than usual, like he was getting tired. “We can end this battle very easily, Skimif, if you would but let me touch you once with the God-killer. In exchange, I will let Darek go free.”

“That's a deceptive deal and you know it,” said Skimif, shaking his head. “You will kill Darek no matter what I do as part of your plan to destroy Martir. I wasn't born yesterday, Uron.”

“I didn't think you were,” said Uron. “But that doesn't mean I can't use your own fondness for your former kind against you.”

Then Uron brought Darek's ear closer to his mouth, allowing Darek to smell his breath, which smelled like a decaying corpse in the sun.

“Tell me, Darek, who do you think will kill you?” said Uron in a whisper that was probably loud enough for Skimif to hear. “Will it be Skimif, who finally understands the importance of making small sacrifices for the greater good, or will it be me, who understands that in order to build something great, you must first destroy something terrible, like yourself?”

Darek was in too much pain to respond. He just grabbed his broken arm, but that didn't do much to get rid of the pain. He wanted to spit in Uron's face, but unfortunately he wasn't facing the pseudo-deity.

“I guess he'd rather wait and see than make a wrong prediction,” said Uron as he thrust Darek out before him, away from his terrible breath. “That makes him wiser than you, Skimif, and he isn't even a god.”

Skimif, like Uron, was panting, which Darek did not take to be a very good sign. Yet for some reason he didn't look as worried as he should and his eyes kept flicking up toward the sky, as if he expected it to start raining any minute now.

“I am still waiting for your answer,” said Uron. His fingers dug deeper into Darek's head, applying more pressure to his skull. “Will you kill Darek or will I? Those are your only two options.”

Then, unbelievably, Skimif smiled. “False dichotomy, Uron. There is one more choice you forgot about. Or, rather, a choice you didn't even know I had.”

Darek felt Uron's fingers tense around his head. Uron said, “What are you babbling about? What other choice do you have that I do not know about?”

Skimif's eyes met Darek's for a brief moment, but in that brief moment, Darek understood exactly what Skimif wanted him to do. He didn't understand exactly why Skimif wanted him to do it, but he figured that Skimif had to have a plan behind it, so he decided to ignore his broken arm and act.

Darek reached behind himself as far as he could with his one good arm and unleashed a burst of ice at Uron's face. It worked. Uron dropped Darek like a rock as he yelled in surprise, but before Darek even fell to the ground, Skimif's disembodied hand appeared out of nowhere and grabbed his collar, stopping his fall with a jerk and sending even more pain up his shoulder.

When Darek blinked, he found himself sitting on the ground next to Skimif. Ahead of them, Uron was tearing at the ice that Darek had splattered over his body, which was more than Darek had expected to be able to summon in this situation.

“Darek, get down,” said Skimif, without looking at him. “We win.”

Darek didn't understand what Skimif meant and didn't get a chance to ask, because Skimif raised one hand and snapped his fingers.

From the sky above Uron, a loud roaring noise, like the engine of an airship, tore through the air. Darek only had enough time to see two massive pillars of orange energy blasts descend from the mist before Skimif shoved him to the ground and covered him with his body.

Before Darek could protest that this position hurt his arm, a massive
bang
echoed through the graveyard. Then flames and hot energy covered them, but Darek didn't actually get hurt because Skimif's body acted as a shield. Still, Darek heard and saw the flames and even heard what might have been Uron shouting in pure agony, but it was hard to tell because the roar of the flames drowned out every other sound, even the sound of Darek's own thoughts.

Just as the lights and sound were beginning to wind down, there was another
bang
and another round of massive flames and energy swept over them like a tidal wave. This time, Darek closed his eyes and covered his face with his other arm, trying to keep his calm and succeeding just barely.

The
bang
came again and again, each time louder than the last. The
bang
happened so much that Darek was certain that Skimif was somehow using his power to destroy not just Uron, but the whole school, and maybe the whole world as well.

But then, as quickly as the
bang
s came, they were gone. The flames and energy passed away and night returned, although due to the heat radiating from the ground, it wasn't as cold as it had been a moment ago.

Then Skimif stood upright and looked over his shoulder in the direction where Uron had been standing. “Looks like he's gone.”

Darek sat upright, again ignoring his broken arm so he could focus on what the graveyard looked like now that the energy pillars were no longer destroying the world.

The last of the mist was totally gone now, likely evaporated by the flames and heat. Without the mist obscuring the graveyard, Darek saw that the spot where Uron had been standing was a large, deep crater that looked like something you'd find on the Volcanic Isles rather than on a graveyard in the Great Berg. The air smelled like flame and ash, an awful smell that made Darek's stomach churn. There was not even a hint of Uron's existence anywhere, like he had simply vanished—or was blasted—into nothingness.

That didn't mean Darek let his guard down, though. For all he knew, Uron was hiding somewhere and would strike as soon as he or Skimif relaxed. That seemed like the sort of thing Uron would do.

“He's not here anymore,” said Skimif.

Darek looked up at Skimif. “How did you know what I was—”

“I guessed,” said Skimif. “After all, I was once a mortal myself, so I know how you mortals tend to think.”

“But how do you know he's gone?” said Darek. “I mean, I can't sense him anywhere, but that could mean he's just hiding.”

“Unlikely,” said Skimif, shaking his head. “If Uron was still here, I'd still be fighting him. He's gone, likely slithered back into whatever hole he crawled out from in the first place.”

The pain in Darek's broken arm spiked, but he was so interested in what had happened to Uron that he managed to ignore it for the moment. “So Uron is still alive?”

“Unfortunately, yes,” said Skimif. “I intended those blasts to turn him into dust, but I think all it did was convince him that he needed to retreat for now and rethink his plans. I don't know where he is, but I'm sure he's still out there somewhere.”

Darek tried to stand, but the pain in his broken arm forced him to remain where he was. “Then we have to stop him, we have to look for him, we—”

Skimif bent over and grabbed Darek's broken arm. He squeezed it gently and Darek felt some kind of warmth pass through his arm. In a second, it no longer hurt, and when Skimif let go of it, Darek experimentally moved his arm. Though it was slightly stiff, it didn't hurt at all.

“Darek,” said Skimif in an unusually authoritative tone. “You need to rest. I know the Ghostly God's protection offered you some of his strength, but you're still mortal and you still have all of the same limitations as any other mortal.”

Darek rolled his shoulders. “I know, but—”

“I am going to have another word with the Ghostly God about recklessly putting the lives of mortals in danger like this,” said Skimif with a scowl.

“Doesn't matter,” said Darek. “I don't know if you know, but I've already pledged my life to him for ten years. And I don't intend to go back on my word, even after this.”

Skimif looked at Darek uncomprehendingly. “A mortal serving a southern god? I know Aorja served the Ghostly God, but I thought it was because she was crazy. Yet you seem perfectly sane to me.”

“I'm not so sure about that,” said Darek, as he began to realize just how reckless his offer to the Ghostly God had been. “But anyway, what caused those massive energy pillars from earlier? Did you summon them?”

“Sort of,” said Skimif. “But I had a little help.”

He pointed at the sky, causing Darek to look up to see what he was pointing at.

Hovering in the air over the crater where Uron stood was a large airship, one much bigger than the
Soaring Sea
had been. Two gigantic cannons hung from its underside, smoke trailing from their barrels. The airship itself was as blue as the ocean sea on a summer day, with aquarian words written on it in white paint.

Darek blinked. “Is that an airship?”

“From the Undersea Institute, yes,” said Skimif. “It's more like a warship, which doesn't make sense for a school to have, but it's a good thing they had it.”

“The Undersea Institute?” said Darek in surprise. “Is there anyone on board I would know?”

“Yorak, for one,” said Skimif, nodding. “She's piloting the ship herself, actually. She's a pretty amazing woman despite her old age.”

“But I don't understand,” said Darek, scratching the back of his head. “I thought the Undersea Institute didn't want anything to do with the Academy anymore. Why did they come here?”

“It's not because Yorak wants to apologize to the Magical Superior or anything like that,” said Skimif. “She came because I went to the Institute and told her that I might require her aid in defeating Uron. Actually, that was before I knew about Uron, but I knew that there was a powerful threat, equal to my own, just waiting to show up. So I recruited Yorak to help me prepare for it.”

“But … what was that stuff she shot from the cannons of her ship earlier?” said Darek. “That kind of power is far too much for your average mage to hold. Even Yorak couldn't control that much energy.”

“I gave them some of my own,” said Skimif. He gestured at the large cannons. “Those cannons on their ship are designed specifically to hold and fire magical energy. I had to redesign them so they could withstand my own energy—it's too much for the average mortal machine to hold—but it wasn't a problem.”

“Let me get this straight,” said Darek. “You put some of your energy into those cannons so that the Institute mages could blow Uron to bits?”

“More or less,” said Skimif. “I had called them in earlier today so they could be here by tonight, but they were supposed to be a last resort. I thought the other gods and I would be enough to take him down on my own, but when those cowards ran, I had to bring in the big guns.”

He spoke fairly neutrally about the other gods, which surprised Darek, as he would have been incredibly angry if the same had happened to him. The only indication that Skimif was displeased with the other gods was the word he used to describe them: 'cowards.' Even then, Darek didn't hear any disapproval in the god's tone. It seemed like Skimif was trying to hide his true feelings about the other gods for some reason.

That made Darek feel eerie, so in order to ignore those eerie feelings, he said, “Well, I'm glad you did. That seemed to have done the trick.”

“For now,” said Skimif. “There's no telling where or when Uron will show up again. I will have to make sure that the other gods are ready to take him down at a moment's notice.”

“We can help,” said Darek. “The other mages and I here. I bet if you asked, every one of us would do whatever we could to help you find Uron.”

Skimif shook his head. “Thank you for the offer, but I am afraid I must reject it. Uron is too dangerous for you mortals to fight or even help fight. Even the Magical Superior and Yorak are no match for him in a straight fight. This is a job for the gods and the gods alone.”

Darek knew he shouldn't argue with the God of Martir, but he was so determined to help that he felt it was justified. “But Uron has the God-killer. He can kill gods now. You saw what he did to the Avian Goddess.”

Skimif winced, like Darek had punched him in the gut. “Yes, but we're still the only ones who can deal with him. I will simply let all of the gods know to remain out of arm's reach of him and not to engage him if they find themselves alone with him.”

“Are you sure there isn't anything we can do to help?” said Darek. “I mean, we mages dedicated ourselves to the gods, after all. We are your servants and followers. There's a reason we're known as the People of the Gods, after all.”

Skimif scratched the back of his head. “I don't want any of you hurt. You mages have your own role to play in this world, and that role doesn't involve hunting down genocidal ex-scientists hellbent on shattering the foundations of this world in order to bring back theirs.”

“But—”

Skimif glared at Darek. That look alone was enough to shut up Darek, who suddenly realized just how angry Skimif was. He had been so caught up in coming up with objections to Skimif's orders that he had never noticed the way Skimif was scowling.

“Don't question me,” said Skimif, the gentleness in his voice gone, replaced by an authority that did not tolerate dissent. “If you truly are dedicated to the gods, you will listen to my orders, which are to stay out of the Uron situation, and not question them.”

Even with Skimif's glare and angry tone, Darek still managed to sputter, “But I—”

“Uron almost killed you back there,” said Skimif. Then he turned away. “I have to go. Uron is probably going to lay low only for a little while. I have a lot of important things to get in order so that we will be ready for when he reappears.”