Firegrass - 5. Getting back out again

"It was great once," said the sorcerer, pacing wildly and wringing his hands. His voice had a sing-song quality to it, and William was pretty sure that the man had finally gone completely mad. Or had been taken over by one of the spirits he had been speaking to. Either way, he was unpredictable, and dangerous.

"This was a great city. Magnificent, a city for the ages, all great and powerful. There was a flaw, though," the sorcerer said, turning his gaze to William. His eyes were green and brown, the same green as the city's magic. Green, brown, and insane. "Contamination. A source of power, yes, but contamination, ruining the city. It was cleansed, oh, yes, it was cleansed. We cleansed it!" The sorcerer's tone was one of triumph as he shook his balled fists at the air.

"But…" William prompted.

The sorcerer spun, a wild expression on his face. A little bit of spittle running down the corner of his mouth, and droplets of it were flung around with his sudden movement. "But there was damage! Damage and we were without power. We languished for so very long, broken, and without a focus to fix ourselves." He seemed to draw into himself as he said this, then exploded outward. "Now, we live again, we can work again. We shall be great again!" He gave a mad laugh and it echoed weirdly down the hall, sounding as if there were two voices instead of one.

William had a good idea where the power was coming from, and he seriously doubted that the life energy of a half dozen people would be enough to fix the city. He certainly didn't want to be one of the ones used in the failed attempt, and wasn't sure if success might be even worse than failure. The spirit of the city that the sorcerer had tapped into was obviously insane, as was the sorcerer itself, and from the condition of the women here they clearly had no regard for the people they used.

It was time to put a stop to this madman and his wild scheme, and for that William needed Ben. Hoping Ben was near, and knowing he had to be quick in case he was overheard, William reached out and nearly shouted with his mind.

Ben. Madman in the central tower, possessed by the city. Uses people for power, he's looking to...

William was cut off mid-thought by the sorcerer. "Silence!" he shouted.Yellow and gold pinwheels flared at each of his shoulders as the sorcerer called two of his spirits to action. They darted out, spinning madly and throwing off fat white sparks as they flew at William.

He dove aside and tried to deflect them, raising his hand in an attempt to weave a half-remembered spirit guard spell, but William's memory was incomplete and his hands too slow – the spirits slammed into him, one into his outstretched arm, the other into his head. A massive jolt of electricity flowed between them as his body crashed to the ground, jerking spasmodically; the pain of the impact dwarfed by that of the fire that danced in his veins. Then darkness, blissful darkness, fell.

* * *

"So I should go kill this controller and all will be well? What's to stop someone else from coming in and starting all over?"

"Because the city is a self-contained pocket realm with gateways only open when the city is active, of course," Drosnen said, again sounding contemptuous. "That means, barbarian," he said, speaking slowly and enunciating clearly in the way people do when speaking to small children and idiots, "that if you take the people out it will be hidden again."

"Can we get out?" Ben hardly relished the idea of being trapped inside the realm when its gates closed.

"Yes, of course, don't be stupid. Out is easy," Drosnen said, waving away the objection.

"Fine," Ben said. "Still, why should I help you? If the controller has the city behind him we're better off ignoring him, grabbing the girl, and leaving."

"Because, barbarian," Drosnan said, a nasty smile on his face, "the controller has your partner."

Ben scowled, not quite willing to believe Drosnen, yet more than willing to believe that William had gotten himself into deep trouble.

William's message reached him then, and Ben stiffened as a small part of the shock that fell William was transmitted across their link and ran through his body. William lived, Ben could tell, but nothing past that; no idea how badly injured he might be. A fury swept over Ben, driving away his caution and his curiosity, leaving only a burning need to find William and rescue him.

"You," he spat at Drosnen, "where is he?"

"I hardly think you're in any position to make demands," the construct said with a contemptuous sneer. Ben touched the symbol-inscribed band around his left bicep and spoke a single, harsh syllable. His left hand glowed a pale gold as it shot out and grabbed Drosnan by the throat. Much to the construct's surprise, Ben could touch him. Touch him and squeeze, quite uncomfortably.

"Positions change, construct," Ben said, the tip of his sword touching Drosnen's chest. Like Ben's hand, the sword made contact as well, cutting through the fabric of Drosnen's shirt. A tiny amount of blood appeared around the sword's point and trickled down the blade. The drip fell off the edge, turning into a tangle of wispy threads and disappearing a few inches before the floor. Ben paid it no mind.

"He's in the central control room with the controller and five other people and the city's central consciousness and the city is preparing to power up," Drosnen babbled, afraid for the first time since his imprinting millennia ago that he might be hurt.

"Access. Where?" Each word was emphasized with a squeeze.

"Out the door on the other side of the room, down the corridor, third on the left!"

Ben released Drosnen and sprinted across the room, fear and worry building with each step. The door Drosnen had mentioned was wide open, and the lights in the hallway beyond were lit just far enough to make it clear which door Ben should take. The stairs flew past as Ben ran to the top, slowing just before crossing the threshold, taking one last breath. He knew that as soon as he set foot off the stairs the city proper would know where he was.

"Barbarian!" The voice boomed out across the hall as Ben exited the stairwell. He'd emerged at the midpoint of the great hall and turned to his right to look down to the end. "I have your friend, barbarian! I could kill him if I chose!" The words were accompanied by a tittering laughter, making it clear the speaker was dancing on the knife-edge of insanity.

The speaker, the hooded sorcerer that William had earlier encountered, was sitting in the large central chair in the middle of the dais. In one hand he held a blade, bigger than a knife but smaller than a sword, and in the other he held... William. Ben could see him, white hair and bangles distinctive even at this distance, slumped and unconscious. The seats on either side of him, and their occupants, barely registered.

This man had roused an insane, murderous city, kidnapped an innocent girl, and now threatened William. Fury rose in Ben, fury and fire and rage.

He moved, slowly approaching, sword in hand. It hung low, near to dragging on the ground, but clearly ready, only a flick of the wrist away from dealing death. Runes, writ in black and gold, twined up the blade and pale flames danced along its edge. With each step the wind around him grew in strength, whipping around him as he approached, dust and grass circling him, outlining the cyclone. The flames spread, moving up his arm and around his body, the wind making them flicker and dance, tongues of yellow and orange, seemingly innocent, consuming nothing but somehow promising pain. His gaze was fixed on the sorcerer in front of him. A faint glow could be seen from deep inside Ben's eyes, visible if you could meet his gaze, tolerate the cold hatred that dwelt within it. The sorcerer couldn't, the laughter dying in his throat.

Behind the sorcerer one of the gemstones inset in the wall, on the edge of the pattern, twinkled. A construct of dirt and grass leapt at Ben from behind a broken slab of rock. Ben's sword flashed out once, cleaving it in half, the twin pieces falling to the ground, burning. His head never moved, his pace never faltered. Behind him his footsteps were obvious, blackened prints in the dried grass set farther apart than they should have been. Ben was covering ground though his stride was slow and even.

"Let him go." The words were said quietly, but they carried on the wind. The sorcerer heard them clearly, heard the menace the wind carried with them.

"N…no," the sorcerer replied. He cursed the quaver in his voice and the shaking in his hand. The knifepoint he held at William's throat moved in a nervous dance, the long blade amplifying the twitching of his hand. The voices around him were whispering, urging him to hold fast, to take action.

The wall panel behind the sorcerer started to glow again. A pair of stones glimmered, the scrollwork connecting them pulsed with a deep green light. Two more constructs leapt out. They fell to the ground in burning heaps before they got near. Ben hadn't bothered with the sword. The vortex around him grew larger, pushing outward, carrying the flames with it.

"Let. Him. Go." The words were spoken softly, but the sorcerer flinched with each like they were blows. His face broke out in a sweat, his tunic showing ragged smoldering tears, as if struck by a beast with burning claws. The whirlwind licked at the edge of the dais, stopping at the edge. Something glimmered there, a curtain of force only visible where it stopped the whirlwind, the swirling grass beating against it, the flames licking along its surface.

No further, barbarian," said the sorcerer. Any strength had fled from his voice, leaving it thin and reedy. The implied threat was almost laughable, save for the point of the knife so close to William's exposed neck.

The entire wall behind him was active now. Gemstones glittered and flashed all across it, while green and brown pulses of light raced around the intricate tracery of lines that connected them. From all around the dais they arose, a score or more, twisted reptilian creatures, borne of magic, built from stone and grass. It didn't matter. Even before they fully formed the constructs exploded, fist-sized stones and burning grass flying everywhere. Nothing reached Ben, the wall of wind surrounding him deflecting everything, sending the pieces flying to smash against the fallen columns and distant walls.

Ben reached the foot of the dais, the wall of wind and force in front of him making the air shimmer and dance. The sword flicked out, once, twice, slicing through the barrier as if it were nothing but air, the sparkling trails it left the only sign there had been anything there. He never stopped, never slowed, always moving forward like a force of nature.

"No! NO!" The sorcerer screamed as Ben mounted the stairs. He waved the knife at Ben, the voices and his fear eating away at his sanity like an acid on marble. William slumped to the ground as the arm supporting him instead waved at Ben, tracing a rune of summoning into the air. Behind him the gemstones in the mosaic wall all glowed, pulsing green and white. The ground shook, knocking down the few columns that had survived upright. The burning constructs all flared at once, burning away every last flammable bit, the hot stones shattering with the sudden heat.

From far behind Ben, at the other end of the massive hall, came a deep rumble. The ground shook, and a massive construct, taller than the ceiling and hunched over to fit, rose from the floor of the hall. Its thunderous footfalls causing the entire building to shake as it came. Ben ignored it as he reached the top of the stairs and stalked towards the sorcerer.

The rumbling of the hall as it shook, the crash of the columns as they fell, the roar of the creature as it approached, they were all ignored as Ben moved. The expression on the sorcerer's face was one of sheer terror, his eyes so wide they seemed to bulge, his body shaking so much he could barely hold onto his dagger.

"I'll kill him," shrieked the sorcerer. He raised his dagger to strike, ready to plunge it into William's unconscious body, sealing his fate.

Ben leapt forward, crossing the distance between them in a heartbeat. The gem in the pendant around the sorcerer's neck flared briefly, but fell dark as Ben's sword thrust through it and deep into the sorcerer's body. The sword hilt slammed into the pendant and shattered it, the sorcerer shuddered, and rumbling in the hall subsided as the life fled the body impaled on the sword. Ben relaxed his arm the lifeless body slid off the sword and slump on the ground.

Ben knelt down and checked William. He knew William was still alive, knew the link they shared was still intact, but worried William had been injured by the shock that had rendered him unconscious.

He had nothing that would help here, the healing salves and poultices he carried good for cuts and burns, potions that would help speed the knitting of broken bones or curse diseases, but nothing that would help this. For the first time in years he cursed the accident that robbed him of his Sight, that stole the ability to cast spells. He knew a dozen ways to heal William and could use none of them. In desperation he put his hand on William's forehead and relaxed, trying to let the mana he still had flow across the link they shared and into William, hoping that would be enough.

"Hey," William said weakly, his eyelids fluttering as he woke, "fancy meeting you here."

"You alright?" Ben asked, his normally gruff voice gentle.

"Yeah," William said, sitting up slowly. "Everything tingles." He winced and rubbed the back of his head. "Tingles and aches. The sorcerer?"

"Dead," Ben replied, his glance flicking to the corpse to make sure.

"The other girls?"

Ben looked around. In a seat to his left he saw a woman, slumped down, though still breathing. There was no one else in the room.

"Only one here," Ben said.

"Ah, damn," William said, trying to stand. His legs were wobbly and he didn't quite make it. Ben had to catch him, holding him upright as William leaned into him. "There were four others, though they really didn't look good."

"Are you in a state for a healing spell?" Ben asked, looking at William. William's eyes were a little glazed and Ben could feel him shaking a little.

"Gimme a second," William said. Ben could feel him relax, could feel the connection between them open, could feel the thudding in William's head subside a little. William muttered a few words of power and Ben felt the familiar tingle of magic as the simple spell cleared away the fog from William's brain and the numbness from his body.

"That'll do until I can get someplace I'm not thinking will try and kill me," William said. Ben released him and was glad to see William capable of standing on his own.

"We need to get the girl and get out of here," Ben said.

"Right. And these damn pendants have got to go," William said, stripping his off and tossing it away before moving over to the girl and removing hers. He was happy to see the gem in the center was still dark.

"No souvenirs?" Ben's voice had an amused chuckle to it.

William shivered. "No. Not a chance. Not from here, not ever." Despite that, Ben slipped the sorcerer's broken pendant into a pocket inside his cloak. Harmless, he hoped, with the gemstone destroyed, but perhaps it would be enough to allow them to return later. Despite its dangers the city had secrets that Ben found nearly irresistible.

William frowned and looked up. His skin was prickling with the feeling of a chill breeze, that deep uneasy feeling again troubling him. Wind was something that shouldn't be happening inside a building, even one as big as this one. He risked letting his Sight shift over, wincing with pain as his head throbbed.

The threads were thick and trembling as if they were being buffeted by a gale, streaming towards the far end of the hall. At the end, in the distance William could see a maelstrom, a swirling storm of magic, growing larger by the second. It was dark and menacing, and William could hear a quiet roar, like a distant hurricane.

"Ben," William said, turning to him. "We need to go. Now."

Wasting no time with questions, Ben turned, grabbed the girl, and threw her limp body over his shoulder. Together they ran to the stairs that led up to the central tower, Ben in the lead, William following close behind, shouting the words of the impromptu shielding spell he had made earlier. He drew as much power as he could, as much as he dared, from himself and Ben, hoping it would be enough to protect them from the storm he knew would soon come.

The building shuddered as they ran, both of them feeling the phantom wind, now coming from behind them. They felt it blow, felt the chill, felt it picking at them, though it made no trace in the dust of the room, had no effect on their clothing. There was no doubt a storm was raging, and gaining fast.

The twin doors in the great central chamber were still open, though they felt the wind. Their movement was irregular but they were swinging shut, caught in the same wind whipping around Ben and William. Ben slowed for a moment, risking the delay, and grabbed a small flask from a pocket in the lining of his cloak. With a word he threw it ahead of them, between the doors. It exploded with a loud bang, the concussion enough to bounce the doors back momentarily, the doorway obscured with acrid smoke which rose lazily towards the ceiling, unaffected by the winds attacking Ben and William.

Ben and William ran through it just as the storm overtook them. It was unreal but no less dangerous for that, the mystic fury sweeping past them, the wind pushing them out while unseen hands tried to drag them back. The raw hate burned like cold flame, the madness cut like razors, the fury choked them, and all around was the screaming of a half a million souls, the last shreds of every person the city had consumed. They wailed and shouted, spitting curses and bellowing warnings, trying to help and hinder in a schizophrenic cacophony of the damned.

Ben was spared the worst of the attack, his magical blindness for once a useful thing, but even he staggered under the onslaught. William was not so lucky, the storm's mad blast all too clear, and in his weakened state it was nearly too much, the power of the storm nearly knocking him off his feet.

Ben grabbed William as he was hit, scant feet from the edge of the stairs. Ben ran, one arm holding the girl on his shoulder, the other holding William, dragging him as much as supporting him as he sprinted down the stairs. He felt the storm weaken as they descended and, on a hunch, dropped to the ground, pulling William down and shielding both he and the girl with his body.

The storm raged overhead for a moment, spewing out from the tower, but its power had been spent in the initial blast, and it lasted only a minute longer. It faded away, leaving nothing but a ringing in their ears and a crawly, shuddering feeling at the backs of their necks.

Ben shifted a little and sat, looking down the stairs and out across the central road they opened onto. A dozen of the stone constructs stood before them, but they were motionless and dead, even the grass growing on them had turned brown and withered. Ben let out a breath, finally feeling safe.

William's daze had passed with the storm and he was up himself, tending to the innkeeper's daughter they'd rescued. She was unconscious still, but unharmed. The city hadn't drawn enough of her life to harm her, and William muttered a healing spell, hoping to rouse her from her stupor.

He was leaning over her as he cast the spell, and as her eyes opened his face was the first thing she saw, tanned and noble, flush with power, the sun over his shoulder making his hair glow.

"My hero," she said, planting a passionate kiss on William.

"Wonderful," Ben said dryly as he watched. "I save the day, and you get the girl."