Valentine

We checked the elevators, but nothing happened when Wally hit the button.

"I think the rain's probably brought down the power lines. The escalators weren't working either."

"Is that a problem?"

"Well, it's going to be a pain in the ass for Agemmemnon if the mall's still standing, but for us, it means we're gonna need to take the stairs."

I winced, Wally's enchantment was more than enough for me, but the climb would be rough on the big man.

"I'll be fine," he assured me, "Come on, if I get tired, you can carry me on your shoulders."

"I would if I could."

Wally looked down at me with a grin, a response on his lips, but he paused when he saw my earnest expression.

His enormous hand came down lightly on the top of my head, and he ruffled my hair, "Thanks, Val. But don't worry. It's only the fourth tallest building in the city."

"Wally, you need to stop and rest- here, let's stop at the landing."

He shook his head wordlessly, rounded the corner, and began powering up the next flight of stairs.

"We're more... than halfway..." he gasped, "If I stop now... I won't be able... to start going again. God damn stairs," he wheezed, "I'm here to kill a god. God damn stairs."

It seemed as if Wally would only make half a dozen steps before we'd hit the next landing. He'd stumble, turn, and start back up again. Every time he gave up what momentum he'd built up, and he never got the chance to get up to speed.

He wasn't built for this maze of concrete and steel. He was wise and clever, but what did a world like this offer a man like Wallace? Was he to work as a scribe, sitting in a dusty office, his hands clutching a quill or pen too small for his massive hands? Wally had told me something of what he'd done before. True, it had provided him with the knowledge that made his enchantments so effective, but that only counted for anything once he found himself here with me.

No, this city was no place for Wallace. It was too cramped, too orderly. How high might he have risen back on Earth? Not very, that much is clear. His world had given him few chances to make the most of his gifts.

I thought of the first drawing I'd done, with Wallace relaxing among a harem of scantily clad women, eager to please. Wally deserved a world in which he could make the most of himself. A world where his enormous size and incredible strength were gifts that would have the more credulous regarding him as a demi-god, to say nothing of his talent for magic.

That's where Wally belonged, and if not a harem, then a battlefield. Gods, for all Wally feared his own anger, the nobles of Pelignos were lucky he had such a gentle soul. Lucky that he was satisfied to have me, a few friends, and his hotel. Lucky that he did not choose as Simon did.

Simon had been at his game for years and had yet to come out the clear winner. With Wally, I doubted he would need a tenth the time.

This is why it saddened me so, to watch him continue to struggle up the stairs. This was beneath him, but Wallace did it because it needed doing.

He tried to keep his head up, watching the next flight of stairs for anyone waiting to intercept us, but it was all he could do to keep moving forwards. So I was left to split my time between watching the path ahead and keeping an eye on Wallace.

He was exhausted to the point it was making him unsteady, and his feet weren't going quite where he wanted them to.

He stumbled on the last flight, as he had countless times already, but this time he was too slow to regain his footing. His hand went out as he fell, and it caught the railing.

Metal screeched, and bolts ricocheted off the concrete as they were pulled out of the wall. Wallace fell, landing hard, though he kept his head from smacking against the steps.

I'd hardly the time to check if he was alright before he groaned and rolled onto his side, arm extended towards the door to the roof.

There was blood welling up around a gash in his forearm and his forehead drenched in sweat, but he kept his tired eyes fixed on that door, ready to blast the next thing to step through it.

"Wally."

"See? Resting, just like I promised."

"There is no possible way that went unheard," I muttered, inspecting the mess of twisted metal that had been the railing until a moment ago.

"Ears are really delicate," Wally groaned as he hauled himself up the last few steps, "Could be too damaged to be any good," he sighed as he rested his back against the wall.

He'd taken maybe a dozen deep breaths before I heard one of the fire doors being shoved open somewhere below, followed shortly by two fey voices.

"Fuck," Wally groaned.

He pulled himself unsteadily to his feet and paid no heed to my whispered protestations.

"Listen," he whispered, his mouth a grim line, "They're not in a hurry. They just need to know that noise wasn't the roof coming in. We've got to hit the god now, before they get wise, then turn to deal with them."

"Damn you," I growled.

I reached the door first. It had a horizontal bar across its middle, as was common in many human structures. I leaned my weight against it as quietly as I could, in the vain hope the high pitched metallic sound wouldn't carry in the confined and echo-prone space of the concrete stairwell.

While I heard an exclamation, it came from below and not outside. That would need to be enough.

The outside smelt of smoke, decaying flesh, and burning plastic. This may not have been hell, though I wouldn't have been surprised to see a demon perched on a rooftop somewhere eagerly scribbling down notes with a bloody quill.

Instead of a scarlet-skinned creature with goat's legs and bull's horns, a thin man stood on the far corner of the roof, surrounded by a dozen standing corpses with vacant eyes and facing out over the city.

Wally raised his hand, a piece of the railing gripped tightly in his fist. Droplets of fire rained down to sear the metal, leaving black streaks of soot, but those that might have reached Wally's skin stopped an inch from his flesh and ran off a covering none could see. A slight narrowing of the eyes was all that betrayed his focus, and the railing flew from his grip, a silvery blur speeding towards the back of the god's head.

It struck the thin man with such force that it reduced its skull to pieces. It was a surprisingly bloodless affair, considering it left the walking corpse with nothing above the neck.

I was hardly thinking, busy with my own spell. The last thing we needed was a dozen zombies nipping at our heels while we fought the fey.

The lighting god, the undead and headless lighting god, caught himself on the edge of the roof and turned, arm upraised.

The shock shattered the spell I'd prepared, but Wallace was not caught unawares, and he had the mindfulness to act.

I felt his fingers ball up into a fist, gathering up the material at the back of my flight suit, and he threw me backwards.

I'd not even landed before a hundred sun-bright streaks filled my vision, the pattern something like the branches of a tree.

Wallace went limp, and his knees buckled as he fell over backwards, eyelids fluttering senselessly. He didn't make a sound as his head hit the concrete.

I'd been readying a fire spell, using the droplets as they ran harmlessly off my hair. If it could survive without its head, what could I possibly...

Hemerythrin. Wally had said it gave my skin and blood its violet colour and that it contained iron. I drew on the Movement mana within it, and as much Body mana as I could grasp.

I screamed at the pain of a white-hot brand being ground against my chest and fell to my knees, unable to support myself.

The spell threw the thin man backwards with such force that as the desiccated body slammed into the half-wall around the roof, it broke into pieces, which were flung into the open air.

I fumbled clumsily in the neck of my suit for my pistols. I felt the familiar checkering against my palm and tore the double-barrel wheellock from its holster. The wheellock's complex lockwork caught against its twin, but I mustered the strength to try again, and when I jerked the pistol free, the other came loose as well and went skittering across the roof. The impact knocked loose the shot, and the black powder was flung from the barrels as the pistol spun on the roof. It caught almost immediately, but unconstrained by the brass barrel, it did little more than throw up a puff of smoke that obscured my view of those foes that remained on the roof.

I fired once, twice, and while both shots found their mark, the creature's gait did not hesitate.

I saw Wally move. He was trying to turn to the side-

Oh gods, his shield.

The spell keeping the droplets from his skin had failed, and he was trying to turn his face away from the falling rain but struggled even with that. His hands had found his chest, and his fingers groped blindly while his whole body shuddered.

My pistol, useless now, had brass fittings. By the time I felt the touch of iron under my fingers, it would be too late, but the brass...

Copper and zinc. Copper gave me fire, electricity, and healing. All useful, but at the moment, that gave me no way to project a spell. The zinc, that was illusion, protection, and transformation. Then there was the gold scrollwork and the protection and strengthening mana within. Again, a good start, but I needed something right now to make it matter.

I always had Body mana-

I reached into my collar, and my fingers found the holster for my pistols. I hardly had Body mana to spare, I couldn't even stand, but the leather would serve.

The gold scrollwork turned to dust before my eyes, and the leather disappeared from my grasp.

I screamed, tore another piece from the leather holster, and leapt. I flew clear across the rooftop, over Wally's struggling form, and into the mass of undead. I hit one feet first, driving it down into the ground, and screamed again as the pommel of my pistol smashed its head to pieces.

Bits of my pistol began to disintegrate even as I tore more scraps of leather from my holsters, and each time one of the zombies fell, their bodies reduced to something even less than what Lady Death had created.

I fell to my knees and let the remains of my wheellock, just some wood furniture and bits of clockwork, slip from my fingers.

The other pistol, the copper used to make the brass, I can heal Wally.

I tried to push myself to my feet but stumbled and scraped my palms as I caught myself. Even if I couldn't get a healing spell together, my flight suit and hair were enough to keep the rain off me, I could cover Wally's precious face at least-

The door to the roof slammed open, and two fey, shrouded by shields like Wallace had used, stepped out.

Shock was evident on their faces, but it took only a moment to evaporate, replaced with smug satisfaction.

"Ah, my Lady Valentine. It seems you've already learned your place," one of them taunted.

"Please," his companion retorted, "This is Valentine we're talking about. Her foul little mind gets excited crawling around like this. Just look at her. She's nearly hysterical."

The one who spoke first paused to prod Wallace with a toe. The big man had rolled onto his side and was curled up into a ball.

Gods, Wally. I shouldn't have taken you from Temerity.

The other paused beside him, "Is it dead? Simon warned us not to kill him."

"No, Simon said we couldn't kill him, and warned us not to try, note the distinction," the fey nearer Wallace replied, "It hardly matters, though perhaps we can expect an additional boon if we bring word."

"You should listen to Simon," Wallace croaked, "He's a pretty clever guy."

Wallace slapped his hand against the ground, and the roof around him buckled and sagged. The two fey let out a strangled cry of regret, both tripping over themselves to back away, but it was too late. The roof around Wallace gave way, and all three men fell.