Then I felt a massive exertion of power from Anyan, and a few feet of earth at the very end of the cliff broke off and tumbled into the sea.
Blondie, meanwhile was setting up a hugely powerful repulsion glamour, the likes of which I’d never felt. I almost wanted to leave, it was so strong. But I understood why, when I looked to my right and saw a random assortment of cottages, probably only about three, making up what used to be a farmhouse and its converted outbuildings.
Another surge of power from Anyan, and I saw another few feet of cliff tumble into the sea. Meanwhile, sleepy humans emerged from their houses, saw what was happening—Blondie glamoured them so they didn’t see why—and quickly gathered together their families and a few belongings before beating a hasty retreat in their vehicles.
There was a good chance that, after this was all over, they wouldn’t have a home to come back to. But at least they’d have their lives, which was more than the Red would grant them.
I moved towards where Anyan stood, and to where I could now see the ocean, surging wildly below us. The winds were powerful in Whitby, and the sea was manic. When I called to it, its answer was swift and strong in my bones. It wanted to play.
Raising my arms I pulled, as hard as I could, and the ocean answered me with an enormous wave. Carefully, I cradled the wave in a net of power, one that Magog helped me pull up, like an enormous magical bucket, to where we stood on the cliff. Anyan helped by crumbling a few more feet of earth, so we had less land to avoid on the way up, and soon we had a net of water trapped high in the air.
The Red was nearly upon us, and I hastily did the same thing with three smaller nets, watching as the dragon released her burden. The relics crashed into the ground, midway between us and the abbey, breaking free of their gilded casket. Bones rolled everywhere, but before Magog could dart in, the Red had settled her bulk on top of them.
On the one hand, if that was where she needed to be to resurrect her lover, we were shit out of luck when it came to crumbling it away. It would take Anyan masses of time to make it that far back on the cliff. But, if we kept her busy long enough or, better yet, won the day, that could be our first move to keep the bones safe.
In the meantime, we had to keep her busy. Or destroy her.
I sort of liked the latter option, especially as I really didn’t fancy an even more evil Jarl running around.
That’s when I realized they were missing something rather important.
“Jarl’s not here!” I shouted to the others. “She’s got nobody to resurrect the White! We need to attack now!”
Taking my own advice, I pulled my magical water balloons closer to the dragon. Magog helped, pushing the air around them and buoying them along. Seeing what we were planning, the Red roared her disdain before pummeling our pockets of water with gouts of fire that whittled them down to nothing. We had a few though, and we were moving them in more quickly than she could dissipate them. We’d nearly gotten the largest to hover right over her, ready to drench, when a mage ball crashed into me from behind, knocking my shields hard enough to send me crashing to the ground.
“What the fuck?” I groaned, turning over to see my worst nightmare.
Skimming over the ground came the squirming, struggling form of Jarl. He was carried by a creature that looked to be the unholy combination of a snake and a man: the top half man, the bottom half snake. But this creature had wings, and was lit from within by unearthly blue flames.
It was only when I saw his glasses did I know who it was—the wyvern halfling, Lyman. Our supposed ally.
And that’s how Graeme escaped, I realized, wondering how deep this deception went. Was it only Lyman? Lyman and Jack? All of the so-called “rebels”?
But when I looked over at Magog, she appeared as confused and furious as I felt.
Power was blooming from Jarl, but it was weak, uncontrolled. I saw his head loll on his neck and I wondered if he’d been drugged. If he had been, however, they hadn’t given him enough as he was clearly reviving.
Blondie, meanwhile, was keeping the Red busy. They were blasting at each other with waves of power so strong the earth was being riven from ricocheting force.
“Stop Lyman!” I shouted to Magog and Anyan, both of whom moved in to attack. It was Jarl, ultimately, who saved himself, however. A massive mushroom cloud of magic bloomed from him in an untidy explosion, knocking all three of us back on our asses. It also sent Lyman shooting upward, minus one Alfar, and then hurtling back to the ground. He landed with a thud, and that’s when I had my umpteenth nasty surprise of that day.
Jarl came hurtling towards me, crying out for help.
Obviously still not quite with it, his steps were erratic and his shields were at their bare minimum. They wouldn’t stop a whisper, let alone a mage ball. I had my chance.
I could kill him, right then, without even blinking. All of that suffering, all of that grief he’d brought me, would be revenged.
But instead I let the power fade within me, not creating the mage ball that would have killed him. He’d asked for help, and he was powerless. I had changed in a lot of ways, mostly because of Jarl. But I hadn’t changed that much.
So it wasn’t my mage ball that smashed into Jarl’s face, blowing up his head like that mad comedian Gallagher blowing up watermelons.
Just like that, the man I once thought was my greatest enemy had died.
I turned around to see Blondie, Jarl’s executioner, watching in triumph as the Red trumpeted her grief. Whatever of Morrigan remained in that form was obviously distraught, and she went lumbering towards his body, leaving the relics uncovered.
Like a raptor, Magog was in the air and then shooting downward to claim two of the largest bones. The rest of us were racing towards the gruesome pile as well but, realizing her mistake, the Red spun about, blasting at us with a wave of power.
Blondie took the brunt, and she staggered, but her shields held. I pulled the ax, which jumped into my hands, eager to meet the enemy it was created to fight. Its power streamed forward to replace Blondie’s, and she fell back gratefully, sinking to the earth. Anyan went to attend her as I took a few faltering steps forward, the power of the ax helping me gain on the Red.
I heard the cry from behind me, but it was Magog who later told me how she’d been attacked by the now conscious Lyman. He’d managed to knock her out of the sky and reclaim the bones she held, bearing them back to the pile.
“Stop him!” snarled Blondie, who was back on her feet, being held up by Anyan. Together, they held the Red while I turned on my heel to chase after Lyman. The wyvern halfling was having none of it, though, and he was strong. He was also experienced in offense, and even with the aid of the ax I was having trouble dodging or absorbing the powerful magics he sent winging my way. That said, I was coming at him from the side, and didn’t have far to cut him off.
Meanwhile, Blondie and Anyan were managing to keep the Red busy, but that was all. In fact, she was gaining on them, closing the distance between the two. Torn between returning to help them, especially since Jarl was out of the picture for Morrigan to use as a vessel, I skidded to a halt. Even though I was really close to Lyman by then, who cared about stopping Lyman from making a new pile of bones if my friends got themselves eaten?
Out of my peripheral vision I kept an eye on Lyman, who was closing in on the impromptu cairn. I was just about to add a swath of power to Blondie and Anyan to help them hold the Red till we could figure out what to do, when her enormously long, barbed tail lashed through the air.
For a split second, I thought she’d speared Anyan. I cried out, but then I realized she’d hit his shields, instead of him, with the flat side of her barbed tail. Any relief, however, was short lived as the barghest went sailing through the air.
Right to the pile of bones.
Suddenly understanding we’d been outwitted, again, I lunged, screaming, with the ax aloft. It cut through Lyman’s wrists like they were thick slices of cake, but I was too late. Either propelled by Lyman, the Red, or their own terrible awareness, the last few bones of the White sailed through the air to land on the pile just before Anyan’s form crashed on top of them. Then the Red was shouting something in sounds that predated language, and her magic hit like an atomic bomb. I was knocked onto my ass as everything went black.
What felt like hours later, but could only have been seconds, I raised my head. The cliff had gone from a lush green lawn to a barren, dirty moonscape. What had remained of the abbey was knocked down, and the houses next to it were smoldering.
My head was spinning and my ears ringing as I looked around, confused. Then I saw the Red, hunched over and panting into the ground like she’d just run the dragon version of a marathon.
Remembering through the haze of what turned out, later, to be a concussion, I lurched to my feet. I tried to run to Anyan but only managed a few faltering steps before my knee gave out in a blaze of pain that made my vision go red. I must have twisted it when I fell, and I’d never felt such agony. I nearly puked, but I managed to pull myself together and do a sort of agonizing, three-limbed crawl towards my lover.
He’d been motionless this whole time, and I prayed to every god I’d ever heard of that he was all right. I cried out when I saw him move.
