The Way of the Power Read online

  Abrazkia stood before this statue. She had put on a robe striped like her hair. The robe had golden fringes and a dark hood. Raising her arms toward the statue, she brandished a knife long enough to be considered a short sword.

  To Malja’s ears, Abrazkia’s incessant chanting lacked a discernible tune. Likewise, the words bore no relation to any language Malja had ever heard. But each time Abrazkia lifted the knife, she sang out louder and more intensely. Then she lowered the knife and her head, and her voice followed suit.

  Malja crouched low and approached. As she neared the altar, her foot scraped on a chain and made a slight noise. Staying stationary, primed to jump for the woman’s throat, she watched Abrazkia.

  Nothing. Either Abrazkia could not hear anything above her own non-musical chanting, or she now listened carefully, planning to strike when Malja closed the distance even more. Only one way to find out.

  Rather than continue approaching in such a vulnerable position, Malja stood straight and kept Viper at the ready. Still no recognition from Abrazkia. The Artisoll, however, had her eyes fixed on Malja’s every move.

  As if reading her mind — and Malja considered that as a real possibility — the Artisoll changed. Her skin rippled as her body shrunk. In seconds, she had become the girl she had been the first time Malja saved her. Perfect for Malja’s current needs — light enough at that Malja could carry her away but not fragile like an infant.

  She glanced back. Stray watched from the door. She motioned for him to put out his hands. He did so, though his face showed confusion. With her fingers easily seen by both the Artisoll and Stray, Malja counted down — 3 ... 2 ... 1 ...

  Malja sprang forward, lifted the Artisoll, and threw her toward the door. Stray’s shock did not prevent him from acting. He caught the Artisoll and hugged her tight.

  Abrazkia spun around, her eyes blazing as she took in the scene. She reacted fast, shooting a strand of her do-kha at Malja. The attack hit hard, knocking Malja to the ground.

  Malja backrolled straight to her feet. Though it made her vulnerable, she took a second to check that Stray had left. Through the open door, she saw none of her group. Good. They all had the sense to head for the top of the Temple. Even Tommy went — Malja couldn’t hide a bit of pain at that, but pride, too. The warrior in him knew that her sacrifice meant nothing if he did not help the Artisoll get to the Rising. But if she had her way, there would be no sacrifice.

  She had spent too many seconds with her thoughts, and Abrazkia took advantage. One of the tall, iron candle holders smacked into Malja’s side and clanged against the hard floor. Abrazkia picked up another candle holder and wielded it like a sword.

  “What a sad, weak thing you are,” she said. “You think you’ll somehow survive this, that the Artisoll will become Queen, that all will work out.”

  “No. I don’t think I’ll survive.”

  “A noble sacrifice? Even sadder.”

  Malja held Viper before her, ready to deflect any attack. Abrazkia’s verbal insults meant nothing. The insult of the candle holder, however, scratched under Malja’s skin. Abrazkia had shown her do-kha’s strength previously. To face Malja with this silly weapon reeked of contempt — as if to say You’re not worth any more of my energy than this stupid weapon. But Malja refused to be goaded into a sloppy assault and figured that the longer Abrazkia insulted, the more time that gave the Artisoll.

  Abrazkia snickered. “When Harskill brought you to me, I had such hopes. You could have been a daughter to me.”

  “Never would have happened.”

  “You think so? I wonder. If you had known then that I could have brought you to the world where you were born, would you still have jumped through that window? If you had known then that I could have introduced you to blood relations of yours, would you still have jumped?”

  “I already have all the family I need,” Malja said, and felt stronger knowing that she meant it.

  Abrazkia dropped the candle holder. “Damn. I had thought maybe I could change your mind just now. We could have left here and let the Artisoll go do her bit. I wouldn’t mind losing her power, if I could gain you. I could show you the wonders of all the worlds while I took you to your real family.”

  “I’ve had that offer before. Doesn’t seem to turn out too well.”

  “Then I’m back to gaining the Artisoll’s power. So, you’ll have to move out of my way.”

  Rolling her shoulders, Abrazkia removed her ceremonial robe. Underneath, she wore only her do-kha, and it glistened as she approached Malja. She cracked her knuckles and rolled her neck.

  Malja slid Viper away — her wonderful blade would be of no use against Abrazkia’s do-kha. Abrazkia stopped at arm’s length. Without another word, she punched towards Malja’s head.

  Holding her ground, Malja cocked her head to the side, and Abrazkia’s fist found only air. Abrazkia swung and jabbed and crosscut, but none of her strikes made contact. Frustration flushed her cheeks, and she stepped back before raising her hand above her head.

  Malja had no thoughts beyond the fight. Her pinpoint focus told her all she needed to know — Abrazkia was about to use her do-kha. Well, Malja had a do-kha, too.

  Abrazkia’s do-kha struck with two tendrils. Malja cartwheeled to the right, evading both attacks. As the two tendrils snapped back, a new one thrust straight out and landed in Malja’s gut.

  The air rushed from her lungs, but she avoided doubling over. Keeping her head up, she saw the next attack — a swipe at her legs. Kicking out, she threw herself back a few feet but lost her balance. She hit the floor hard, and Abrazkia’s do-kha grabbed her by the leg. Abrazkia reeled her across the room, letting her crash into the stone altar.

  Ignoring her pains, Malja launched back at Abrazkia. With a swift motion of her hand, Abrazkia knocked Malja aside. Bringing out her tendrils once more, she attacked Malja.

  But when the tendrils hit Malja, they connected with an iron-hard surface. Malja stood, her do-kha finally kicking in. Abrazkia attempted another attack and another, yet Malja made no attempt to block. Her do-kha absorbed the strikes with ease.

  “Enough of this,” Abrazkia said. “You think you understand your do-kha?”

  Abrazkia moved back toward the altar, putting the massive stone slab between her and Malja. She then closed her eyes for a moment. Her do-kha stretched upward, slithering over her head, until it covered her entire face, leaving only her striped hair visible. Her legs thickened. Her arms, too. Muscles grew throughout her torso. Even her neck became a tree trunk of muscle. Her face lost all recognizable form, and instead, took on the likeness of a long-snouted animal. She opened her mouth, revealing the sharp teeth of a predator, and she roared.

  “Wonderful,” Malja said before hightailing her way out of the room.

  Chapter 24

  The sounds of Abrazkia demolishing the hallways nipped at Malja’s back as she raced up the stairs. She knew not to waste time looking back — either she would outrun Abrazkia or she would feel a final blow pierce her spine. The avalanche of destruction following her offered no other choice at the moment.

  Sweat drenched her body and stung her eyes. Her legs ached from stair after stair. But she pressed on.

  Abrazkia’s maddened growls followed the sound of a wooden door smashing to pieces. Malja felt a spark of hope — Abrazkia was pausing to break down doors. She was checking to see if Malja had hidden behind one instead of continuing up the stairs, and that gave Malja time.

  With renewed energy, Malja climbed faster until she heard the clambering feet of her friends up ahead. Fawbry came into view first. When he saw her, his face brightened.

  “You killed her?”

  The rest of the group stopped and looked back.

  “No. She’s coming up behind me fast, and she’s become a ... thing.”

  “What are you leading her to us for?”

  “She wasn’t going to follow me away from the Artisoll.”

  Fawbry wanted to argue the point more, b
ut Stray shot him a warning glare. He looked to the Old Men. “Can you make it to the roof?”

  Sweat dappled Big Nose’s bald head. Malja thought he might pass out, but he nodded. Stray handed him the Artisoll. She wrapped her little girl arms around Big Nose, but Malja thought she saw something wise and mature in the Artisoll’s eyes. Her body really was just a form — her brain had not changed at all.

  “Go,” Stray said. Big Nose carried the Artisoll further up the stairs.

  Malja said nothing to Stray, but a quick look passed between them that said everything. “You, too, Tommy,” Malja said. “If we can’t hold Abrazkia off long enough, it’ll be up to you. Get up to the roof and start preparing some kind of spell.”

  Tommy rushed off.

  “If we’re going to be throwing our lives away again,” Fawbry said, “could Hirasa and I please have a decent weapon?”

  Malja wanted to laugh — her old Fawbry through and through. “You didn’t bring anything?”

  An angry roar from below halted any retort. Stray handed one of his scimitars to Hirasa. The heavy blade took her by surprise but then she lifted it firmly.

  “And me?” Fawbry said. Stray reached to the back of his belt and produced a simple dagger. “That’s it? She gets one of your massive blades and I get a toothpick?”

  Another deep roar rolled up the stairwell. Fawbry snatched the dagger and backed up a few steps.

  “Be ready,” Malja said. “She’s big.”

  As Abrazkia approached, the group all put their weapons in front, ready to strike. The long-snouted head came first, followed by her over-sized muscular body. Slobbering as she climbed closer, Abrazkia saw the additional warriors and her eyes narrowed.

  Stray launched into an attack, and though Malja would have preferred to have waited for a better opportunity, she jumped into the fight with all her power. Abrazkia blocked each strike with her arms. The do-kha made them hard as blades, and a distinct, metallic clang followed each block. She moved fast and attempted to counterstrike many of the attacks.

  Stray’s furious pace matched Abrazkia’s blow for blow. His frenzy afforded Malja an extra few seconds to be strategic. She parried Abrazkia’s attacks with ease — Abrazkia’s focus stayed on Stray with only the occasional strike at Malja to keep her from causing trouble — and waited for an opportunity to open up.

  Abrazkia increased her furious strikes. She took several hits to the side in order to shift to a stronger offensive. Her do-kha whipped tendrils at Stray and Malja — liquid in movement but hard as steel when they made contact.

  Backing up the stairs, Malja and Stray reluctantly gave ground. Malja didn’t hear Fawbry behind her. Nor Hirasa. Until they rounded the next section.

  “Coming to a landing,” Fawbry said. “Looks big.”

  Malja felt the stairs flatten as she stepped back into the open room. She moved off to the left and Stray went right. Hirasa and Fawbry spread out to complete an arc around the entrance to the landing.

  Abrazkia hissed as her head scanned her enemies. Though her do-kha had protected her, she looked winded. Malja wondered how much energy she expended to maintain her form. Perhaps they could simply wait her out.

  Huffing and sweating, Stray clanged his sword on the stone floor to get Abrazkia’s attention. “You are strong and fast, but there are four of us. You are not that strong nor that fast. Turn around. Leave this Temple and we will spare you.”

  Malja didn’t think Stray believed his words. If they worked that would be great, but more likely, he was simply stalling. He needed a few moments to breathe, and every second longer helped the Artisoll.

  But Abrazkia had no interest in waiting. She barked sharply, and her do-kha created four massive arms. Each one ended in a sharp, club-like shape — capable of both cutting and bludgeoning. She stepped forward and all four arms attacked.

  Malja ducked a swipe at her head. She heard the ring of steel as Hirasa blocked her attack. Stray parried and Fawbry jumped back. But the attacks continued to come fast and hard. Each arm acted independent of the others.

  Malja blocked two more strikes and attempted to counter a third. The weaponized arm came in at her, and she sliced downward with Viper. Sparks flew as she knocked the attack from the cutting blade to the round bludgeoning side. Abrazkia made contact, bashing Malja in the shoulder. The hit deadened all sensation in her hand, but she maintained her grip on Viper. A second hit followed up, bashing Malja in the side.

  Dropping to the floor, she avoided a third strike to the head. Hirasa had been backed into a corner and Fawbry spent most of his time dodging non-stop attacks. Stray had locked his sword against Abrazkia’s arm, but such contests of strength would only last a short moment. Soon, he would be sent backward and have to return to a straight fight.

  Then Malja saw something that electrified her skin with hope — bits of Abrazkia’s calf. Stretching the do-kha in four directions across the room had its limits. It wasn’t infinite in size, yet Abrazkia continued to force it further than it could handle. It had to leave her feet in order to reach her enemies.

  Malja’s pulse quickened and she smelled her own ambition like an animal sensing the pheromones of a dangerous predator. She needed one thing to make this work. “Keep fighting back!” To her pleasure, she saw Fawbry and Hirasa find deeper wells of strength. They both launched forward, surprising Abrazkia with their sudden vigor. Stray, of course, never once backed down.

  Malja parried off three swipes at her head. She checked again — even more of Abrazkia’s right calf had become uncovered. With a pure rush of joy, Malja maneuvered close to Abrazkia. Having seen her target with clear eyes, her body advanced with expert skill, denying Abrazkia an easy target and blocking the tendrils of do-kha that came too close. She spun low in a wide arc. Viper sang as it glided through the exposed knee.

  Abrazkia’s head tilted back. Her shrill cry reverberated on the walls. Blood splashed out of the open wound. The do-kha tendrils fighting Fawbry flicked back, reabsorbed into the torso, and then reformed below as a simple pegleg.

  With anguished moans, Abrazkia clubbed Stray hard enough to lift him off the floor. Before he landed, she hit him again. He struggled to get back to his feet, falling over twice. Checking that he would be okay, Malja missed the sweep at her feet. She fell, and Abrazkia cracked her across the chest.

  Hirasa tried to take advantage of the situation and chopped down on the nearest tendril. It swished out of the way and returned with blazing speed. Battering her in the head, the tendril dazed her long enough to wrap itself around her waist and whisk her toward the ceiling. Twice, Abrazkia’s do-kha thumped Hirasa into the ceiling before throwing her at the far wall.

  Hirasa screamed as she plowed clear through into a small study on the opposite side. Stone and wood crumbled around her and she continued to bawl in pain. Her legs bent at the wrong angles.

  Malja and Stray were back on their feet, working hard to keep Abrazkia busy. When Fawbry slipped by, Malja stopped worrying about Hirasa. Though not a great fighter, Fawbry had always been the one to save those caught in the crossfire of Malja and her enemies.

  To help him out, Malja got Stray’s attention and nodded toward the stairwell leading further up. Together they allowed Abrazkia to push them back. Once they had climbed the stairs, Abrazkia was fully committed to staying with them. If she tried to deal a killing blow to either Fawbry or Hirasa, she would turn her back to Malja. Do-kha or not, Malja would have put everything she had into ripping Abrazkia apart.

  But Malja never seriously considered that Abrazkia might turn away. That grotesque being wanted the Artisoll most of all, and the only way to get that was up the stairs. As Fawbry carried Hirasa off, she felt Stray move alongside her.

  “We can’t beat this thing. Not here. She’s going to get to the roof.”

  “We hold her as long as we can.”

  Stray ducked a blow and jabbed with his blade. “Let me stay here. I can hold her long enough for you to get to the others. You need to
be the last defense.”

  Malja blocked a tendril even as she saw the sacrifice in Stray’s eyes. No sorrow, no regret. Instead, honest joy. He had spent his life training to do this — give himself over to protect the Artisoll.

  “Go,” he said.

  Malja bolted up the stairs. She wanted to be there for him, but he had spoken true. She needed to mount a final defense — give the Artisoll all the time she required.

  Flying step over step, Malja’s chest swelled for Fawbry and Stray and Hirasa. She couldn’t have asked for better people with which to fight an impossible foe. Her heart dampened with determination. She would see this through. If she had to die, so be it.

  But she would see Abrazkia die first.

  Chapter 25

  When she climbed the last stair and put her feet on the top of the Tunistall cliffs, Malja wanted to collapse. Despite her do-kha’s best efforts to cool her body, sweat covered her skin. Her legs pulsed one ache after another. Between fighting and climbing, she had expended more energy than any fight before. From the flushed face of Big Nose, she could see she wasn’t the only exhausted one.

  “Normally, we have an entire day to make this climb,” he said, dabbing his forehead with the sleeve of his robe. “Plenty of stops along the way to greet people and rest, too.”

  Malja wanted to say something back, even a simple encouraging remark, but her throat constricted at the sight beyond Big Nose. The Artisoll — once more a young woman — lay flat and asleep about four feet in the air. A soft glow like the morning sun radiated out of her.

  “Is this it? The Rising?”

  “No,” Big Nose said. “We need the Queen. Without her, this will never happen.”

  “What?” Part of Malja wanted to take Viper and turn the Old Man into Old Man stew. But she noticed Tommy standing by the Artisoll, and her heart lurched for him. “We can’t leave her floating in the air, and Abrazkia’s coming up here soon enough, and you want to tell me that we’re missing a damn Queen?”

  “Normally, the Queen would be here, sitting by the Artisoll’s head. The Queen would be dying — for just as there is only one Artisoll, there is only ever one Queen. As her last act, the Queen would release herself from her mortal being and let her soul shock the Artisoll into a new life as Queen.”