This is Chapter 16-4 of a serial fantasy novel. This part contain scenes of violence that may not suitable for younger readers.

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Chapter 16: The Chillcrafter

Part 4

The stonelight died. Viktor’s remaining weapons dropped, hit the ground and bounced away. Xe had been stepping forward, now xe stumbled and went to one knee, grabbing at xis head.

She felt her own energy sap as well, in tandem with the choked stone. The sensory feeling of the whole town dropped away, bringing back the inner chamber with sharpness and clarity. But she was still hooked in via her third probe, which fed her the energy necessary to hold the downcycle in place. The system bucked and kicked against her, trying to bring itself back to a full cycle.

Viktor got back up. Thanks to the accelerated plan, it wasn’t a complete downcycle, and xe was still technically a threat. June was glad for the blade, as it would make silencing xim an energy neutral event. It was what he had intended for her.

She walked over to xim, and sensed xim trying to cycle up what defenses xe had. It wouldn't be enough. Testing this idea, she swept some Distanska low across xis legs. Xe was slow at blocking, and the force sent xim back to xis knees.

June wiped some sweat away, and let out a big breath. Everything was an effort now, with the stone struggling against her stranglehold.

Vik tried to stand again, but she kept xim down with some minor Icevein, paralyzing the joints in xis ankles.

“You're brave,” she said, testing her grip with the awkward sword.

“And you're a coward,” xe gasped.

“Be those your last words?”

Xe looked up, face strained, eyes bulging. She nodded, brought the sword up, and sensed an object coming fast at her from behind. June sidestepped and swung the blade. A flat, disc-like rock smacked off her sword. She spun, picking up a new signature.

A tingling blast caught at her face, tugging at her hair and pulling her clothes. Someone was running along the edge, and she made to knock them over when the probes gave a sickening lurch. She put her power into steadying the damn things, trying to make sure Vik was covered, when another little blast punched into her eyes.

Cursing, June knelt low and swept her sword low and flat, making sure it was mostly between her and Vik. With her free hand, she let fly some icy violence towards the general vicinity of her new attacker, hoping to at least send them on the defensive.

She leapt out of the kneel, vision returning. Vik was up, moving close, angling a blade at her. She twisted as best she could as the sounds of her projectile bombardment popped off the far walls. Her sword came up and they slammed into one another.

She gasped. Searing pain ripped over her left leg. She heard something rattle on the ground. Viktor held onto her, almost a hug. Her razor, dimming now, burst out from xis low back, slick with blood. It looked black against the blue.

Chancing nothing, she tore it out of xim, sideways and up. Xe heaved a wretched wail and fell, body steam misting away, sopping guts and blood spattering the floor.

Junelight stood over the mess, not quite believing what she had just done. These were the kind of weapons Falsesparkers used on one another? Then the probes ached again and her leg flared in agony. She collapsed sideways onto the ground.

“Atrocity!” Viktor roared, xis voice somehow strong.

Up on her elbows, June could see xis crystals flickering fast, eyes doing the same.

“Vik!” a call from somewhere on the other side of the dais.

“Atrocity! Get out! Run!”

A disorganized fireburst bloomed out of Viktor, the last of xim surely gathered up in it. It curled in a sheet as it rose from xis crumpled, bloodied body and buried itself in the underside of the wood beam ceiling.

“Oh, fuck me,” June said, her hand pressed to her leg. It was sliced deep, and her own blood was pooling out next to the fallen Torchkeeper’s. She thought she heard yells and shouts from outside but the gathering roar from the fire overhead drowned it out.

Her natural Bodyanchor tried to close her wound, but now she needed many more cycles to stop the Bayth blasted flames. The probes started to buck and become untangled. The heat rose, and she coughed in smoke.

Wound, probes, fire.

Enough energy for two.

The pyre would get them all killed. She spent a moment on stabilizing the probes. Full concentration. If the damn girl was still around, she could walk right up and snap June’s neck if she pleased. No one came to kill her, and she got the probes in check.

The ceiling was really starting to go now. It was hot enough to singe her hair, and she’d be dead from the smoke by now if the whole building wasn’t designed to let air flow through and out. When her probes were in a decent place, she yanked a new surge of power from the system, undoing all that stability work in an instant.

But she had fresh cycles now, and crafted them into a classic rhythm of Chillcrafter practice: Thermaya Artwork. The heat died away fast, then it became cool around her. She weathered a wave of dizziness, then pushed the growing freeze into the heart of the fire. There were snaps and crunches as several planks froze and shattered. Steam billowed and whistled through the myriad of slats.

She let go, switching back to reeling in the again-angry probes. Somewhere in it all, she had ended up on her back, and she saw the ceiling: criss crossed planks, those closest to her frosted in blue-white, streaked with the black of their recent burn. Snow drifted down, mixed with fog and ash and splintered sawdust. The strange precipitation of an arctic volcano. No sounds of burning, but definite sounds of fighting from far away.

It was cool, and cozy. Somewhere, her leg pulsed, but it was numb for the most part. There was a trickling sensation.

The probes held, held, held. She kept them that way. No more restructuring. Not enough energy. If she let go, the warring outside would come to an end. She needed that war. Uliyah needed that war.

Her baseline Bodyanchor might slow the blood. Junelight found it hard to care. The floor was comfortable, and getting warmer and lighter. All she had to do now was hold on to that third probe, keeping its incorporeal, tensile form in place. That was all.

Time became funny, and she might have dreamed. Drifting, running, dancing. Spinning a skipping rope, made of sparkling blue light, as her little boy jumped and laughed and sang.

 

 

Continued in Chapter 17, Part 1: The Seedwind

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