the man falls, his eyes are again drawn to the now blindingly white light. “Oh no,” he breathes as recognition comes.
“What?” asks Stig from where he’s parrying a series of attacks.
“We’re all dead,” he says with finality. Memories of the explosion that rocked the night when they escaped the City of Light play through his mind. Casting one more glance to the growing doom behind him, he turns back to the battle at hand.
The High Lord Magus, the most powerful mage in the Empire, is on his knees as magic continues to flow from him. Unable to stop it, he watches as the bubble before him grows ever larger. At one point, the light coming from it robs him of his sight as the brightness burns his retinas away.
As he falls to the ground he can feel his skin beginning to shrivel itself upon his bones as his life leaves him. Sadness grips him. Sadness of the loss of magical advances. Sadness over the loss of the many friends already dead behind him. But most of all, he’s sad for what the future may hold. The School of the Arcane helped control and direct those who practiced magic so the world wouldn’t have to endure atrocities. Now, without their influence, how many more Baerustin’s will there be?
His lungs quit working and finally, his heart grinds to a stop. Kerith-Ayxt, High Lord of all the Magi, dies.
The bubble, now brighter than the sun reaches critical mass. The magic within it too great for it to last much longer. When at last the bubble gives out…
Schtk!
…and time suddenly freezes just as the magic was about to explode outward.
Men stand frozen across the battlefield. Poised to attack, their swords remain stationary in the air. Arrows are halted in midair on their way to their targets. A surreal quiet settles over the battlefield as all sound is stilled.
Moving across the field of battle, a man winds his way through the men frozen in combat. On one side he sees a Raider with the point of a sword protruding from his back from the thrust of an enemy. On the other a head that was shorn from a nearby headless torso hovers two feet from the ground, waiting for time to start again before finishing its fall.
The man reaches where the Star of Morcyth lies upon the ground, still pulsating with light as if in defiance of the stoppage of time. Next he comes to Miko and pauses. Bending down, he runs his hand along the side of his face, caressing it as a father would his beloved child.
Standing up again, he continues along until coming to James. Glancing over to the bubble, frozen at the moment of detonation, the man shakes his head. “Why did you have to do that James?” he asks. “Couldn’t you see another way?” Gazing at the unconscious James, a tear wells from his eye.
Of all the probably outcomes of bringing James to this world, this was one of the ones they feared the most. The only one they had feared more was his death before he finished what he was brought here to do. Now, the world stands upon the brink. Time, once a friend has become the enemy.
Returning his gaze to the man in whom the hope of the world had been placed, he just shakes his head sadly. Raising his hands, he creates a protective barrier around James and the rest of the defenders, a shield against the blast. That much he is allowed to do, no more. What happens from this point on rests in James’ hands.
Once the shield is in place, the man straightens his blue vest and pushes back his felt hat. “Good luck, James,” he says then vanishes. Once the man is gone, the passing of time resumes.
Booooooom!
Chapter Twenty Nine
The sky turns red as fire burns across the top of the barrier in the blink of an eye. Many soldiers of the Empire are caught on the other side of the barrier and are incinerated in an instant. The ground leaps and ripples causing everyone to lose their balance and hit the ground.
Heat from the fire burning on the far side of the barrier passes through and is incredibly hot. Even with the protection the barrier affords, hair smokes and those caught at the edges suffer great burns.
A full minute does the ground move until finally settling down. Illan is the first to return to his feet. Staring up at the blaze which is covering the top of the dome, he asks under his breath, “James, what did you do?” In every direction, the fire burns. How are they even alive?
“What happened?” comes a voice behind him.
Illan turns to find Ceadric approaching, his head turning this way and that as he looks at the fire.
“I don’t know,” Illan replies. The smell of burnt hair comes to him and he looks to where the edge of the barrier touches ground and the dead men lying next to it have begun to smolder. “Get everyone away from the edges,” he says. “Everyone to the center.”
Ceadric nods and begins gathering men. “Up you dogs!” he yells to those still on the ground. “Pull the injured to the center. Away from the flame’s edge!”
Jiron and Scar help Potbelly to the center. During the fighting, he had suffered a severe wound to the leg. A tourniquet is tied securely around his upper thigh to stop the flow of blood. “Can’t take him anywhere,” Scar comments to Jiron.
“Shut up,” says Potbelly weakly. “Don’t need any help.”
Jiron sees Stig and shouts to him, “Get Miko! Potbelly needs him.”
“Right,” replies Stig and then hurries over to where Miko was last seen. He finds Delia there with the slingers helping Brother Willim and the rest of the Hand to organize the wounded. Miko lies there with the rest of them, unconscious.
“Is he alright?” he asks her. “Potbelly needs him.”
“I don’t know,” she replies and then nods to where the Star has been returned to his hand. “If that can’t help him nothing can.”
Stig turns back to Scar and Jiron. “Over here!” he yells and they begin making their way over to them.
“Is the entire world burning?” he asks to no one in particular.
“I don’t know,” replies a soldier bringing a wounded comrade to the brothers for healing, “maybe.”
The barrier had encompassed less than a hundred soldiers of the Empire. Hedry took it upon himself to round them up with the help of other Raiders and bring them to a central area where they could be kept under surveillance. The enemy soldiers who were too badly wounded were given a quick end.
Less than half their force remains. All the recently armed freed slaves perished in the fighting and most of the crossbowmen as well. Of the Raiders, only three hundred are left. Illan is amazed there are even that many left. Coming to where James is laid out, he asks Delia, “Is he alive?”
“Barely,” she tells him. “His skin is hot to the touch and he trembles every now and then.” She looks up at him and says, “I’m not sure if he’ll survive.”
“Can’t you do anything?” Illan asks, turning to Brother Willim.
“He was the first one we saw to,” he explains. “What’s happening to him is beyond what we can do.” Nodding to where Miko lies unconscious he adds, “Maybe with the Star Miko could do more, but until he awakens there’s nothing more that can be done.”
To Delia he says, “Let me know if his condition changes.”
“I will,” she replies.
As the fire rages across the barrier, the temperature within continues to rise. Men begin shedding their armor and soon all are wearing nothing more than their small clothes.
Half an hour later, blue sky filled with billowing black clouds begins to be seen through the top of the barrier as the fire starts subsiding. Shortly after that, Miko regains consciousness. Groaning, he opens his eyes then snaps them closed again as light stabs them like hot knives.
“He’s awake,” he hears a female voice say, “get Illan.”
A hand touches his chest and gives a little shake. “Miko,” he hears the voice say again and then realizes that it’s Delia who is talking to him.
“Water,” he croaks. A moment later his head is raised slightly and the neck of a water flask is put to his lips. He takes several small swallows before the water flask is taken away.
