Vantra intoned a shield as they entered the rain; the fat drops bounced off in an incessant roar. Lorgan quirked a smile and planted a watery layer above hers, one that absorbed the water, lessening the sound, and dribbled it over the side. He could have chosen Ether Touch and outdistanced her and Laken, but he ran with them. How thoughtful!
A bubble of unnatural pitch-darkness rose from the beach, encasing the length of the shore. The surface reflected nothing, a blight against the mottled clouds and rich green treetops.
“Shit,” the scholar said, echoing Verryn’s worry.
They pelted down the path that led to the ocean, going opposite the general flow of ghostly stragglers caught in the rain. By their fearful expressions, they noticed the darkness dome and the unexpected dome terrified them.
The wrongness of it shuddered through Vantra’s essence. Instead of the gentle shadows she associated with the Darkness acolytes, the magic absorbed the light rather than mellowing it.
“I sense nymph magic,” Lorgan said.
“Nymph magic?”
Before he answered, they reached the edge of the bubble; Kjaelle and Mera stood in the center of the path, heads down, concentrating, while Vesh and Tally guarded each side, he with his bow, she holding a long pole axe with deadly points. An annoyed rumble rose from Lorgan’s throat.
“That isn’t going to work,” he said bluntly as he stuttered to a halt near the group. Kjaelle remained stationary for a moment more, then popped up and whirled, eyes glinting, teeth clenched. “It’s water-based magic, using the rain as a power source. You aren’t going to break through with a mixed Darkness- and Light-oriented spell in this storm, at least not without draining yourselves into discorporating.”
“You’ve a better way?” she snarled.
“Yes. We have an ocean’s worth of water within easy reach. Punch through with that.”
“The dome’s blocked the entire beach,” Tally called. “I can’t sense the ocean.”
“I can.” Lorgan veered right, aiming for the side where the bodies of the deceased rested among the evacuation boats. They followed, Vantra struggling to keep step with Vesh and Kjaelle. She felt terrible, because she suspected the twins slowed because of her.
They ran through wet foliage, snapping small twigs, ducking away from bursts of droplets flung from leaves and jumping over fallen trunks and scraggly bushes. If she were not already dead, she would have worried about encountering an upset snake or pissy frondhopper who might take a bad day out on her. Instead, she dashed with abandon, Laken smashed to her chest and held in place with her lower arms.
Light flared within the dome but did not breach the bubble. Mera whimpered, and Vantra’s worry increased.
They broke through the thicker undergrowth and hit the small rise where the beach rose to intercept the tree line. Lorgan jumped down from the rocky edge and waded through the frantic waves, some breaking waist-high, staggering him. He stopped just before he touched the dome and stuck his hands into the foaming water lapping against it. The surge turned a bright early-year green.
The swell of magic around him shocked Vantra in its potency. Why had the Finders discarded him in favor of Nolaris? Her ex-mentor, while powerful, did not maintain near the energy she sensed filling the water. Lorgan, in scholarship and power, would have made a better sage.
No wonder the nymphs accepted him into one of their elite schools.
Black shadows erupted out of the waves and surrounded them. The twins faced the threat as Kjaelle held out her arms; a long, curved dagger appeared in each hand, Darkness lightning sizzling across the blades. Vesh and Vantra planted themselves next to Lorgan; she placed shield layers around them as fast as she could make them while the acolyte kept his weapon ready.
Their enemy remained featureless, just smears of essence against the raging sea, but darker power whirled in their centers. Darkness magic, but not familiar to her. The finality of Death infused the energy, rather than the alluring shadows she typically sensed around Veer Tul acolytes. Had this something to do with nymph magic? Her lack of experience shamed her, and she vowed to do something about her woeful dearth of knowledge concerning spells not within the Sun’s leaning.
“Vantra, when I tell you, drop the shields,” Lorgan murmured.
“Alright.” That would leave him unprotected. Disliking the thought, she raced through the magic literature she had studied, her mind focusing on the descriptions of rings. She could do that; drop the shield into a ring, retaining the layers, then once he finished his spell, reinstate them. Considering the waves for lengths distant glowed green, she did not think he would have the power to form his own after triggering his creation.
“There’s something wrong with them,” Laken said, his voice raspier than normal.
“Not wrong. Different,” Vesh denied. “They follow an older Darkness approach as promoted by the nymph before Veer Tul. What they’re doing on a Windtwist Island, though, I don’t know. Rezenarza’s in exile, and his acolytes usually don’t stray much from Fading Light.” He pulled the string back and a nasty arrow crackling with purple lightning formed before he released. His target did not evade the strike, and while the tip only clipped the edge of the ghostly shell, it exploded. The essence blew apart, and the remainder discorporated, falling into the waves.
The ghost’s fellows raised extra shielding but did not touch their stricken comrade. The essence began to break apart on the waves, bits floating away from the core, then snuffing out as rain pelted them. Were they going to just let the unlucky one meet the Final Death? Concerned, she scanned the fighters; none bothered with the fallen.
Firming her lips, hoping she did not commit an egregious wrong in the eyes of her companions, she focused on the remaining essence and formed a shield about the being, then attached it to the sandy bottom, the anchor deep enough the ghost would not be swept away, but float in the rough surf.
“Why’d you do that?” Laken snarled. She did not answer, because she doubted any explanation concerning a soft heart would sway him.
The shadows surrounded Kjaelle, oblivious to Mera and Tally until the twins engaged. Then they turned and send a burst of the dissimilar Darkness at them, granting the elfine the opportunity to attack. Purple lightning arced over the wall of ashen beings, leaving behind sparks the desperate tried to scuff off. The twins stabbed those that failed, or Vesh struck them with an arrow, and they discorporated in a blinding flash of pale yellow or purple light. Vantra placed her protections around each one and anchored them.
“Stand back!” Lorgan screamed. Vantra dropped the shields and ran; Mera and Vesh joined her, but too many surrounded Kjaelle, and Tally stood on the opposite side, in deeper water. The shadows whipped around and lunged, intent on Lorgan, as the waves naturally washed back, then reared up, snagging every spirit, including Lorgan, within. The mass rose higher and smashed into the black dome.
It broke.
Nausea filled Vantra at the touch of the mangled Darkness rushing from it.
The ring, which the waves had swept up with Lorgan, reshielded. She raced to his collapsed form as Vesh and Mera sprinted to the discorporated shadows and Kjaelle and Tally, who lay amidst them, a Darkness and Light shield protecting them. Vantra snagged the scholar’s hand and shoved power into him; he sucked it up like a thirsty man downed a jug of water.
The waves rushed back to sea, and he initiated Ether Touch, linked to the ring, and floated to non-inundated sand before collapsing.
Vantra sank next to him, and he set his hand on her thigh, absorbing what she gave. She faced the beach, Laken clasped to her chest, and swallowed. Light and Darkness swirled—
“Vantra! An attack!” the captain screamed.
Mangled Darkness shot towards them, shattering the ring’s shields. She flung up a new one and piled on layers, holding her free hand out in a symbolic repelling of the assault. “Anznet emi! Us is!”
The magic firmed into points and struck, causing glass-like cracks. Twisted wisps of smoke rose from the fractures, trailing into the air and expanding, only to have the winds shred the essence apart. “Us is.” she chanted, the repetition calming her as she stayed a hair in front of the vicious tips, erecting shields just before they punched through.
“Shit,” Laken quavered. “Who’s that?”
Vantra scanned the beach as she continued to intone. Verryn held a shield over the buried pirates—well, some of them. A gaping hole rested where the syimlin had confined the water witch, and unlucky natives and essences caught on the edges no longer existed.
A bare-foot nymph in an ashen grey, long-sleeved shirt and skirt floated above the destruction, her pitch-black hair whipping about her frame in frantic curls. Floating mid-air meant spirit, but the woman struck her as alive, though she could not define why.
The mangled Darkness came from her. Vantra searched but did not see Katta and Red. Had they fallen? Were they among the deceased at the edge of the pit?
A delighted skreich jerked her attention back to the mini-Joyful and the shadows. A gangly nymph with dark green hair and tea-green skin attacked Kjaelle, her grey nails the length of her palms. She tore at the elfine’s shields, shredding them and grazing her essence, leaving smoky slashes behind. Dozens of shadowy enemies confronted Vesh, Mera and Tally, though the three shoved more magic at their companion than they used to defend themselves.
Did that explain Kjaelle’s slower response, that she attempted to juggle absorbing the power while fighting a challenging foe?
Static crackled, and the mangled darkness jerked back as Verryn’s red-tinged attack sliced through. Cut off from its source, the entire length poofed into smoke that was torn apart by the increasing winds and pounding rain.
The floating woman shrieked as Verryn’s magic spears slammed into her shields, cracks darting away from the tips, chunks breaking away and dissolving. She hastily renewed them, only to have them shatter again.
“Kjaelle!” Tally shouted.
The attacker sliced the elfine down her chest, flinging the clinging wisps of essence away. She dodged, avoiding another slash as she leaked essence across the surging waves, and swung her weapons in unison. She grazed her opponent’s shoulder, leaving purple lightning flashing around the wound.
More shadows popped up along the beach like a line of toaster bread. Power snaked from them to the nymph, and she raised her hands, each encircled by a flaming darkness ball coated in pale grey-blue streaks. The elfine threw up shields and jumped, rolled, as the spell tore through them and dug into the shore behind where she stood, blasting a hole deep enough to bury a boat. Sand and water erupted into the air, marring sight of Verryn.
“She’s not able to absorb the Light as she can the Darkness,” Lorgan said. He cupped his free hand to his chest, looking more grey than a typical ghostly presence. “The nymph can suck all she wants from those shadows, who are taking power from the rain and surf.”
She needed to help.
She overlapped her shields in quick succession, then smashed Laken’s base into the sand next to the scholar. He frowned as the captain snarled.
“Vantra!”
She whirled and triggered Ether Touch, floating through the shielding and towards the three fighting the increasing number of shadows. “Use me!” she screamed. “I can be a conduit!”
The slam of instant Light knocked her back; using the link created through shield triggers, Vesh dragged the extra energy from her, coated in that shadowy part of her power. Kjaelle sucked it from him using the same link, and she glowed with the infusion. Vantra fought not to lose her Ether form as the heady flow rushed into her and poured out.
Katta said her power possessed a twist, something darker than typically found in Sun acolytes. Good thing he was right.
Shadows rushed to her. She formed a ring in the sand at her feet with Sun light, and rays shot from the grains to surround her. Her Sun badge, an innocuous item until it activated, blazed in response and the nearest enemies reared back, arms covering their faces, shrieks as terrifying as a gyirindi scream erupting from them. Their essences quivered at the bright touch; Kjaelle twirled through them, holding her daggers towards the pommel, the blades arching back towards her elbows, and sliced their essences, leaving yellow-tinged purple lightning glancing across their shells.
The nymph barreled to Kjaelle, her clawed fingers coated in black sparks, wincing hard against the Sun’s rays. She slashed; the elfine avoided the charge, pivoted, and buried a blade in her back. The enemy screamed and whirled, the act pulling the dagger through her essence, and dug both hands into the Light-coated Darkness shielding. It exploded, the magic backlash ripping through her and obliterating her arms. Kjaelle tumbled back, triggering Ether Touch and using the gusts to flow away from any follow-up attack.
Wind battered Vantra’s shields, the rain digging in and washing away bits of magic; she stabilized the protection and slammed layer after layer on top. Another gush of Light filled her and Vesh yanked it away. White mist crept across her vision, making everything soft, unreal, dreamlike in how she missed the connecting movements of those in battle.
The enemy appeared in front of her, searing delight for the pain she would cause animating her dull features. She reached back, glints of black racing about her fingertips, and smacked her other hand against the shields.
Kjaelle snagged her cocked arm. The nymph’s flashing forest-green eyes widened in shock as the elfine wrenched her away and, using a hefty dose of Light-infused Darkness, threw her across the beach. She landed in a flumph and did not switch to Ether form before Kjaelle reached her, flipped her weapons, and buried both blades into her chest. The ghost’s shriek echoed into a fathomless call as she slipped into Ether form and fled the successful attack, trailing black wisps behind.
“There will be other times.”
Vantra whimpered. The guttural darkness coating the voice reflected the power of the floating nymph; mangled, out of sync, comfortable in the deep darkness yet unable to wholly succumb to it.
“And they will fail as this one,” Verryn snarled, command and whiplash hate blazing through his tone.
“I’ve no wish to be Passion, or you would lie dead among those you sought to manipulate.”
“If you could, you would have shredded me bare,” he growled. “Any syimlin power would please your master. Another failure, and one you will regret.”
She barred her teeth and hissed. Terror trickled through Vantra’s essence, biting into faded memories of childhood nightmares and a darkness that would swallow her and leave her without form, thought, only incapacitating fear. Her sight blurred, and she panicked, fighting to retain her form, but she collapsed to the sand. Kjaelle bent over her, clutching her chest to prevent more leakage of essence through pale blue-grey cuts, and she knew, something bad had happened. Something terrible would continue, if the blue infection from the nymph was not cared for. She fought to remain conscious, and reached, for who, she knew not.
“Please, Kjaelle needs you.”
