Endless Knight (Darkling Mage 9)

Perhaps some divine form of magic allowed Mason to keep us all protected from the shower of ice, every spike as sharp as a knife, shattering like blades of glass against his shield. He grunted as the icicles fell harder and faster, and we only ventured to peek outside of our makeshift umbrella when the pinging and crashing had dwindled to nothing.

The ground was littered in shards of melting ice. Above us, the Agathas continued their blighted song, untouched by the torrent of frost. But all around us, the circle of green hellfire had disappeared, doused and vanquished by the same person who had once saved me from Mammon’s flames.

“Herald,” I said, my heart bursting with sunshine at the sight of him, and of the rest of our friends.

“No time to talk,” he said, rushing to my side, then ushering us away from the ring of witches. “We can fight them from outside their circle. No telling what they have planned, but we’ll have a better chance of breaking their seal that way.”

“Fair enough,” I said, stumbling along after him, hope blooming in my chest as I caught the faces of the rest of Team Borica. Bastion, Prudence, Romira, and Royce were there, as were Carver and, of all people, Mama Rosa. But what truly heartened me was the sight of the crowd of people behind them.

“We brought reinforcements,” Bastion announced, his chest puffed up, his voice deeper as he stood tall and proud. I recognized some faces from working with them, but I found so many more, dozens that I didn’t know. Men and women from the Lorica, come to help with the battle. Humanity was finally fighting for humanity.

And then I saw them, even more shapes emerging from out of the darkness, streaming in from all directions. More and more people, mages, each and every one, spells already prepped in the palms of their hands. I recognized Frau Helena near the front. My blood thrummed with renewed confidence. This wasn’t just the Lorica. The mages of the world were rallying to defend our home.

Wordlessly, as one, we turned on the witches, and the night sky lit up with the horrific brilliance of raw magic unleashed. This was nothing compared to the battle against the White Mother, or the massive fight with the Overthroat. Anything and everything I’d ever encountered in the arcane underground up to that point would have been slaughtered by the assault of so many mages, easily a hundred of us working in symphonic unity, blasting with abandon.

Someone called a halt, the river of magic stopping at the sound of a barked order from Frau Helena. The air cleared, the smoke of fires lit in the grass by flame and lightning blowing away in a gentle breeze. I gritted my teeth at the sight of the thirteen witches completely unharmed and untouched. I clenched my fist.

“We barely made a dent,” I cried out.

I spun on my heels, looking at the faces of the mages gathered there, their skin red in the light of Agatha Black’s sorceries. They were just as worried as I was, though a few of their number were busy with other concerns. Bastion and Royce were speaking to each other rapidly, practically yelling. I noticed a third in their cluster, Odessa, another Scion of the Lorica famed for her talent with erecting powerful shields. She was involved in the argument as well, but it ended quickly enough when she bent closer to suggest something in a whisper. The three of them nodded as Bastion stepped forward to address us all.

“Everyone, back,” he said, to the protestation of some of the Hooded Council’s members, who shouted at him in a colorful array of languages. “No. Back. Those of you who can create shields, lend us your power. We’re calling in a strike.”

I knew exactly what that meant, and instinctively I tugged on Herald’s wrist and ran towards the rest of the mages. Asher and the others followed suit. My eyes landed on Royce, who had two fingers pressed to his temple. He was speaking to someone who wasn’t physically with us, telepathically relaying his orders.

“Ready,” Bastion cried out, thrusting his arm towards the sky.

A wave of force emitted from the palm of his hand, and I marveled as Odessa and more and more of the mages contributed their essence to the shield, lifting ensorcelled fingers and hands and wands to the sky. A faint humming emanated from all around us, the air vibrating with the concentration of so much power. The gleam of magic around us solidified into a massive dome, one big enough to protect every mage by the hilltop. We needed to be properly defended for what was coming.

Royce pointed his finger directly at the circle of witches. “Open fire!”

I searched the night sky for a sign of the Lorica’s fullest fury, looking for the gleam of red magic among the streams of similarly colored radiance issuing from each of Agatha Black’s manifestations. That was the advantage – they wouldn’t really see the attack coming, not until it was too late.

And

soon, there it was in the sky, like a crimson sun: a massive, terrifying beam of roaring energy, screaming from out of the clouds, the orbital strike that Royce, Bastion, Odessa, and the other Scions had summoned through their occult mastery. The red pillar of howling fire descended to earth, reaching hungry fingers for Agatha Black’s circle.

The Heart wants what it wants.

Chapter 28

The pillar of red death roared from the clouds, the stray tendrils of energy at its tip clumping into what could almost pass for a gigantic fist. My breath hung in my chest for what felt like ages. I was keenly aware that everyone around me was quiet, too, the air still in their lungs, all of us waiting for imminent destruction.

I’d rarely ever seen anything that was at once so beautiful and so terrifying. The Heart’s beam spilled over the hilltop like a gout of ruby fire, as if breathed by some celestial dragon hidden far above the clouds. It sounded that way, too, as if the raw energies of the Scion’s inner circle were being emitted directly from the growling, rumbling maw of an ancient behemoth.

The force of the blast was so violent, so tremendous that it shook the earth, even though it lasted mere seconds. But as the last of the ruby flames died out, I heard the sweetest noise, the sound that mattered the most. Exactly what we were hoping for: the shattering of glass.

Agatha’s shields were down.

Our magical assault returned with new vigor. Launching blasts of fire felt so natural and so easy when my blood was singing with so much confidence. Surely Agatha couldn’t stand against the might of a hundred mages. And I was right, to a point. Her manifestations weren’t ignoring us anymore. As one, the thirteen witches turned to us, raising their hands to erect new shields, defending themselves.

It was a start. With every Agatha distracted, it meant that they were diverting power away from prying open the gateway for the Eldest. The hole in the sky was bigger, but not nearly big enough for the eldritch thing to push through. It blinked at us in malevolent silence. It felt as if the thing was looking directly at me. I know, it seems egotistical, but it made sense. I wasn’t special, or better than anyone else around me. I just happened to be the man that Thea Morgana stabbed through the heart.

But I could feel the shard of star-metal in my heart burning, tugging, like something was beckoning to me, calling me into its dark service. I dug my nails into the palm of my hand and bit my lips, praying that the pain would keep the uncanny new voice out of my head. I couldn’t understand the words, only knowing that they came from the thing in the sky. But I knew what it wanted. My fealty, my cooperation. Everything that Agatha Black had once told me. I was to be their heir, the ruler of their new world.

Fat fucking chance. The next fireball I threw was larger, heavier with the heat of my anger. I wanted Agatha to burn. All we had to do was get rid of her, and the Eldest would leave the earth alone forever. One could hope.

Yet I knew that we were in a stalemate. The Heart’s fire had destroyed Agatha’s shields, and our combined attack was draining enough of her attention away from tearing open her interdimensional portal. It was a battle of attrition, a sorcerous tug of war, and we needed something to nudge it all in our favor.