Chapter 22

Morals are such a hindrance when it comes to a good fracas. I had enough circumstantial evidence that I should have opened right up on the Beckers. However, worry stayed my hand. What if the fabricata they had been charging was innocent? I was already on probation with Mr. Maki and the League and attacking his former students wouldn’t improve my situation one bit. Perhaps we’d be laughing about the misunderstanding over beers in a half hour, with the only harm being to the Starlight’s structural integrity?

The brothers looked at each other for an instant and nodded. Hans dropped his wires, twisting his fingers into casting position. “Celestial Arrow!”

So much for that. My Mimic Sight had given me a hair more warning than I ought to have had, so I was able to duck under the energy structure.

In retrospect, it wasn’t the optimal play; the spell concentrated its power in one spot. It was best used on hard targets, not unarmored ones like me. He’d have been better off with a wider attack, like Magic Bolt. Then again, everyone was a bit buzzed. Thank the Dark Lord for my tolerance.

A feminine shriek from behind derailed my tactical thinking. “Heida!”

That moment of distraction gave Hans to chance to charge out of the stall while I was off balance. His shoulder caught me in the chest like a sledgehammer. The runes in his uniform flashed gold as it interpreted the sudden impact as an attack against the elder Becker. I’ll have to remember that trick.

I slammed tailbone-first into the bathroom’s hard tile. Ignoring the pain, I mentally ran through my spells. In theory, I could have chosen any of my human spells, but one tends to specialize. In the heat of battle, an improper hand gesture or mental image while casting the perfect spell can get one killed. Don’t be fancy, be deadly!

So, I fell back on the first human combat spell I’d learned. “Ice Spear!” The humid restroom air coalesced and flash-froze in an instant, sending a spike right into Hans’ chest. His uniform protected him, though the impact sent him staggering back.

I chanced a look over my shoulder. The way Heida had shrieked before, I was worried I’d see her nursing an arrow wound. Instead, she stood hyperventilating in the doorway. “Heida?”

She didn’t respond, and I realized the odds are decidedly against me; it was me against two armored Wizard Corpsmen in a restroom with three stalls, and I had to worry about her getting caught in the crossifre. The only place to move was the area around the urinals and sinks. Like fighting in a foul-smelling closet. My only saving grace was that they seemed to be unarmed. If they’d had swords, they could have hacked me to pieces before I could cast a spell in response.

Hans’ breathing was still labored after my strike, but Mark had also dropped the leads to the fabricata. Now they both had their hands free, blast it all!

“Svalinn’s Wrath!” The energy formed a dark dagger of energy in my hand. I gripped it tight and lunged forward at the stunned brother.

“Fireball!” I mostly twisted out of the way of the softball-sized attack from Mark, though I smelled burnt hair. It put me off-balance, though, and I rammed shoulder-first into the nearest bathroom stall.

“I’ve got the blonde!” barked Hans in a strained voice.

“Focus on Ma—” Mark was cut short when I hurled the energy dagger at him. He twisted out of the way, but the sharp edge traced a line across his arm. The black uniform flashed brightly in response before the dagger embedded itself in a framed picture of the cover of Abbey Road.

“Diamond Shower!” I thrust my hand out as I cast Ice Spear’s smaller cousin. The remaining moisture coalesced into dozens of needle-shaped icicles. None of them would be able to penetrate the uniform’s protection, but defending against them would eat up Mark’s magical energy. I got lucky, and the younger brother howled in pain. His hands flew to his eye, and I was pleased to see red blood seeping between his fingers.

I grinned savagely. A wizard with occupied hands was a dead wizard.

Hans reminded me he wasn’t out of the fight, though. “Spectral Web!”

I spat out a curse as a luminescent blue energy structure flew from his hand, gluing my foot to the floor. Hans followed up by charging in again, and there was something glowing around his fingers. I kept my balance, narrowly ducking under a powerful right hook. Thank the Dark Lord I did, because he smashed a hole in the stall’s wall the size of my head. That seemed impossible, until I saw the fabricata brass knuckles!

“Those are orc killers! Seems a little overkill for little old me!”

“We know what you did in the Tower,” spat Hans. “We aren’t taking any chances. It’s time for you to pay for—”

“Magic Bolt!” Heida had finally gotten ahold of herself, tagging Hans in the back with a streaking ball of energy. His red capelet flashed orange before falling to pieces, but it had done its job, and the bolt was mostly spent when it smashed into his back. The blow sent him headfirst into the floor beside me. He went limp.

“That was wonderful and awful timing.” He’d almost been about to tell me what this bloody business was for. It was painfully obvious, though. They’re Holy Brothers, the sad remnants of the extremists I wiped out, here to avenge Maggie and her ilk!

Thankfully, Spectral Web had a short half-life, and it had already begun to disintegrate into residuum. Another few seconds and I’d be able to pull free!

“Soren, above you!”

The adrenaline sang through my blood, making the world move in slow motion. That was the only reason I caught a glimpse of Mark floating just shy of the low ceiling an instant before gravity reclaimed him. His knees dug into my gut, driving the wind from my lungs. Our Father Below, he was as heavy as a damned orc! It seemed he could choose how heavily he landed. My eyes filled with stars, and I was worried I’d pass out.

I soon had bigger concerns as the German’s meaty hands wrapped around my throat. Blood dripped from his ruined eye as he loomed over me. A smart comment about him being a cyclops died on my lips for lack of air, and my vision swam more. Where was Heida?

Mark’s grip somehow found a way to tighten more, and my vision began to tunnel. I had no strength or leverage, and I clawed uselessly at his armored wrists.

I felt a strange peace descend over me, but I wasn’t about to have any of it! Don’t close your eyes, Malthus, or you won’t open them again! Some pissant Holy Brother isn’t going to be the one to take you down! I clenched my fist, hoping that my lack of focus hadn’t dispelled my lost blade.

I could just hear a satisfying crunch as the Svalinn’s Wrath flew out of the Beatles poster and slammed into the back of Mark’s head. Shame it’s the blunt end. It did the job, though, and he flopped onto the ground, rolling in apparent agony.

I wasn’t doing much better. My poor, abused throat didn’t want to get with the program and start taking in air right away. I was better off than the dazed Beckers, though Hans was starting to show signs of life.

I’ll have something to say about that. I didn’t want anybody who could expose my brief career as a Holy Brother falling into custody. I suspected Heida cut Hans off before he could use my codename, Brother Mockingbird. Rather inconvenient they’re both knocked silly instead of dead. I’d have to figure out a way to get Heida out of the way. She had flexible ethics, but I doubted she’d approve of an execution.

“Soren!” She kept her distance, hugging the wall. “That was… are you alright?”

I meant to say something reassuring, like, ‘Never fear, my dear.’ Instead, it sounded more like a sustained wheeze. Hell’s bells, no spellcasting for me.

Heida edged closer to me, finally venturing close enough to pick me up. “Your throat looks awful.”

The problem with fighting in a bathroom is that there are mirrors all over the place. I couldn’t disagree with her; I didn’t feel it then, but those bruises were going to ache in the morning.

“You okay?” I croaked.

Heida’s tears flowed freely. “Of course! I’m not the one who—”

The next few moments were a blur. I smelled roasting walnuts again, and I reflexively shoved Heida back towards the shattered doorway.

“Celestial Arrow!” The brothers seemed to be fond of that spell. There wasn’t the time or room to dodge again, and the hard light structure pierced my left thigh, just below my buttock.

With hindsight, I can be thankful that he hadn’t gone with a different spell. Celestial Arrow leaves a relatively clean puncture wound, albeit a large one. Magic Bolt would have simply lopped my leg off, and even an Alheln couldn’t fix that.

I didn’t quite appreciate my good fortune in the moment, though. Adrenaline is a powerful thing, and I felt the grievous wound more as an intense pressure. I spun about, willing my blackened energy of dagger to my hand. Only Mark was at my feet, and residuum showered around him as his spell faded.

“Donnerwetter!” It struck me as odd for him to curse, when I was the one he’d stuck like a pig. He’d probably meant to aim higher; being short an eye wasn’t bound to help his accuracy.

Pity for him I didn’t miss. The poor idiot had given me all the excuse I needed to silence him. I’d rated the spell good enough to wound a Sverðhvalur; the human throat was no match for the energy knife at full speed.

“Mark!” Hans had run back to the largest stall, and he’d gone back to work charging up the fabricata.

Rather cooperative of him to pin himself down like that. I had no way of knowing what the magical artifact could do, but I wasn’t eager to find out. I willed the Svalinn’s Wrath back into my hand.

Nothing.

I hazarded a glance down, and it was my turn to curse. The scattering magical sparks told me the impact into the tile floor had been too much for the weapon. With my leg punctured, my hand empty, and my throat barely able to croak out two words, I was well and truly stuck.

“Heida?” I managed. I turned to see the woman gaping, eyes transfixed by either my wounded leg or Mark’s corpse. I couldn’t be sure which. Both were upsetting, though dash it all, I needed her to snap out of it!

Hans’ eyes flitted between the two of us for a moment, and he dropped the wire. “I don’t want to be around when this goes off anyway.”

“Not willing to die for your cause?” My words were coming back, which meant that I could cast another spell!

“You first,” he replied, lunging forward. It seemed he’d realized the same thing, and he had a quicker way to deal with me. Those enhanced brass knuckles were the most dangerous thing in the room, and he’d be on me in an instant. So, I did the most natural thing in the world: I collapsed in a heap.

I grit my teeth and let out an agonized grunt. The adrenaline high was wearing off, and my perforated left leg reminded there was quite a bit of it missing.

Still, my desperate gambit paid off, and Hans tripped over me. The front of his uniform flashed as he slammed chest-first into floor. Even with the magic armor, it sounded like it hurt.

I twisted to face my opponent, ignoring my protesting leg. He’d risen to his to his hands and knees, but I didn’t give him a chance to act. “Celestial Arrow!” This was a proper use for the attack, as I was facing mostly intact armor.

I hit dead center, and Hans gurgled and slumped over. I wasn’t far behind.

Heida’s horrified face filled my vision. “Soren! You need help”

“Then get it,” I groaned. The floor was slick with what I hoped wasn’t my blood. I hoped, but I was also a realist.

She nodded mutely and ran out of the restroom.

Good. I didn’t need her around for what came next. You aren’t done yet, Malthus. I grit my teeth, preparing for the pain to come. I crawled over to Hans. “You’d better not be dead yet,” I said, making my way over on hands and knees.

He tried to lever himself up, but his strength failed him. “S-soon enough, you traitor.”

“So, who sent you? I wasn’t aware the Brotherhood had an Icelandic chapter.” I loomed over him and looked him square in his glassy eyes. “Out with it; you haven’t got all day.”

Hans laughed, spattering flecks of blood on his black beard. “The Brotherhood? They’re a spent force. No, Beckers are winners, and I think we both know who’s winning this war, Malthus.”

My heart stopped at the sound of my real name. “Wh-what? How did you… You’re a demonkin?”

“Seemed like the smart way to go,” he wheezed. His bloody lips twisted into a wry grin. “Didn’t pay off, though.” He closed his eyes and settled back down.

“Don’t you dare die on me now!” I took him by the collar and slapped him across the face. “No, you have to tell me! Who sent you? Who else knows? Speak!”

It was for nothing, though. He was already gone, taking with him what little sense of security I had left.