The Forsaken Hero

The inquisitor’s words rang in my ears, adding to a mounting sense of dread. I called out to Zephyriss, only to find my mind blocked by the wall. I could feel the threads of the nexus and my mark traveling throughout the world, but nothing passed in or out, something not even Haven fully accomplished.

”He’s right,” Fyren’s growl burned hotly in my mind. Hearing him seemed a small comfort, but his following words shattered that illusion. ”Unless we kill the bastard, we’re effectively helpless here.”

”But how? I can’t even touch Haven, and my magic is useless,” I returned, panic seeping into my thoughts. ”I don’t even know if I’ll be able to resist a fourth-level spell, much less an eighth!”

”Faith. We’ll figure something out,” he said.

But what? I looked around, and my eyes settled on the body of an inquisitor, shrouded in bloodied black robes. My gaze slid to Kahlen. His floating swords had clattered to the deck of the ship, but he looked...unworried. Like a hunter waiting for its prey. My mind brushed against his, and he nodded.

”Not so strong are you, demon,” Victor spat, stalking toward Fyren, ignorant of our internal conversation. ”That a wretched creature like you dared touch me...you will pay dearly. Justice demands it.”

”Justice?” Fyren asked, shifting his stance to grip the massive broadsword in both hands. ”Look at yourself, hero. You’re just a dog, a plaything of the gods.”

There was no reaching Victor, not through the shadows of the curse binding his heart. His eyes narrowed, and he lunged forward. Fyren’s sword barely rose in time, parrying the spear, only for a hammer to swing from behind, catching him on the flat of his back. Fyren grunted, his weakened armor cracking, and staggered a step, falling right into the path of the hero’s floating sword. Her jerked his head back, but the blade tasted his blood, drawing a crimson line across his cheek.

”Damnation,” Jenna snarled, trying to cast a spell, only to have it fizzle with a pathetic whimper.

Her face paled as she tried again, only for her mana to slip away like water from a cup. Kahlen, Gith, and Luxxa fared better, having physical weapons to use, but were quickly driven back as even the third-level soldiers now matched their strength. They sheltered behind the improvised fortifications they’d taken just moments ago, cut off from me by a line of advancing inquisitors.

I staggered back, looking for an opening to join them, only to trip over the body of a dead soldier. The weight of the inquisitor’s domain pressed down on me, relentless, and I fell to the ground, my head spinning. My knees hurt where the splintered deck had scraped them, my hands torn and red with blood.

”Focus,” I mumbled, gritting my teeth. With a trembling hand, I reached out, picking my staff back up. It served as my only real connection to my magic, as without it, I simply lacked the power.

”You don’t worship the sun god,” I whispered hoarsely as I struggled to my feet.

The inquisitor, who had been casually walking toward me, stopped a few steps away. Though aged, he was tall and strong, pride carved in every line of his face.

”Of course not. The god of justice holds my faith. Who else could grant this power and opportunity to me? It was our every intention to claim you at the Grove. Even the Fate Hero was certain you would be there. But to think you’d deliver yourself to us in the sky, saving us the effort and collateral damage. I only wish you had surrendered to the inevitable before slaughtering half of my company.”

He gestured behind me, to the corpses of those the star guard had slain littered the deck. I bowed my head, refusing to look, and he chuckled.

”Submitting to me already? I see you haven’t forgotten your true nature. But it’s too late for that. You’ve lost any chance of grace. You’re only alive now because our order wishes to learn all that you know, but I warn you that I’ve the authority to slay you on the spot, should it seem you’re likely to escape again. Lord Evlon will simply seethe when he discovers I’m the one who finally caught you. He always was a step behind me.”

He threw back his head, laughing at that, a wheezing, grating sound. He was so caught up in his pride, so certain of victory, that he hardly paid me any attention, though as an eighth-level mage, he wouldn’t exactly miss it if I even tried to cast a spell. But he couldn’t sense the nexus, or my mark, through which I reassured myself of my companion’s states. Fyren fought on, slowly accumulating wounds, while the star guard had been cornered on the broken prow of the ship. They were all bruised and bloody, but alive.

”Do you know the story of what happened at Western University?” I asked, causing him to look at me.

”Who wouldn’t know of your first betrayal? You caused the death or disability of thousands of promising mages. It was that incident that finally paved the way for your dismissal. That should have been the end, but that foolish lord prolonged your life for some reason known only to him.”

I flinched, touching my chest, where the slave crest had once branded me. The inquisitor didn’t miss the gesture, and his grin grew more malicious.

”Did you know the mage there?” I asked, biting my lip.

He didn’t have to ask which one I meant. ”All of my strength in this world knew of Slivera. One of the strongest mages in the world, behind only his Holiness and, perhaps, Nithalee herself. Her loss was mourned.”

”And do you know how she died?”

A flash of irritation crossed his face. ”So many questions, filthblood.” His frown smoothed into another smile, sending a chill down my spine. ”But I suppose it’s fair. After all, after this, I’ll be the one asking you the questions. So tell me, how do you think a mage like Slivera could come to pass?”

”You don’t know,” I said with a confidence I didn’t quite feel. Not that it mattered. Drawing his focus was the only thing that did.

”Arrogant filth. I was part of that investigation. I know of the demonkin cult that snuck into the cathedral there, and assassinated her as she prepared the city’s defenses. A knife in the back. How typical of you and your filthblood kin.”

He spat, and a warm glob struck my cheek. I flinched, ducking my head, expecting the sting of his palm to follow. It didn’t, and Kahlen’s mind pressed against mine, a silent reassurance that let me curl my fingers around my staff rather than crumple to the deck.

Hot, slimy spittle dribbled down my cheek, but I ignored it. Raising my head, I whispered, ”That’s not why she died.”

That caused him to pause, looking down at me and scrutinizing me closely. I let out an unconscious whimper, fragmented memories of inquisitors looking just like that as they carved up my flesh flashing through my mind. But I endured it, forcing myself to meet his gaze.

”She died because she never thought she could.”

His eyes narrowed with anger, and he opened his mouth. But before he could snap at me, he stiffened, his wards flaring up behind him. He started to turn, his soul flaring with mana, but he wasn’t fast enough. A narrow, gleaming blade emerged from the center of his chest, punching through his robe and sending a spurt of blood spraying across my face. His mouth lolled, a breathless scream chasing a stream of blood between his lips.

”H-heal...” he gasped, summoning a fourth-circle life spell.

But the instant it appeared, the circle vanished, disrupted by the chaotic mana emanating from the blade. It was then, and only then, that he knew terror. His eyes widened, his lips gaping wordlessly, as he scrabbled back. He clutched at the dagger feebly, cutting his hand as he tried to dislodge it. He fell over a broken timber, landing flat on his back. He jerked as the impact drove the blade deeper, sending it up into his heart. He spasmed once, spurting blood everywhere, and then went still.

As the light in his eyes faded, the colossal magic circle shuddered, cracks spiderwebbing through the translucent curtains. The air hushed, the clash of battle and the drone of the skyship fading away. For the space of a single breath, there was only the soft patter of blood and the shuddering of the stricken ship.

Then, with a discordant toll, the Interdiction shattered. I gasped for breath as the weight was lifted from my chest, letting sweet, bloodstained air fill my lungs. Auras erupted behind me as my allies regained their power, the sudden surge very nearly tearing the ship asunder. But it broke around me as I recast my wards, savoring the warmth of my mana in my chest.

Once my wards were restored, I dragged myself to my feet. My entire body groaned in protest, and I tasted blood, but I tottered over to the fallen high inquisitor, held aloft by my staff alone. As I walked, a soft, warm glow surrounded me, thick with Selena’s comforting touch. It healed the ache and soothed my exhaustion, enough to let me stand straight again.

I looked at the High Inquisitor’s body and let out a shuddering sigh. ”Thank the stars it was you. Lord Evlon would have listened.”