Michael Foster - She Who Has No Name

‘I’ve got you!’ Goodfellow called, holding out his hands as if to catch a baby.

‘No!’ Samuel called, but Goodfellow was beneath him. The two of them crashed together, leaving Samuel sprawled on top of his flattened friend.

‘Are you all right?’ Eric asked with concern.

‘Yes,’ Samuel groaned.

‘No!’ Goodfellow protested. ‘I think you’ve broken my bum. What were you doing up there? I thought you were behind us?’

‘I miscalculated a little,’ Samuel said, standing and helping his bruised friend to his feet. ‘It doesn’t matter. Quickly. We can climb in through the window.’

It only took a minor effort for each of them to swing over the edge and clamber into the command room. They called out their presence as they did so, not wishing to be set upon by any nervous soldiers.

Inside, they found Captain Yarn surrounded by the last of his men. Bodies of Turians and Paatin lay spread about the room and it was obvious that at some stage the door had been broken in. It was now barricaded with what little furniture has been in the room, and Samuel could easily sense the Paatingatheringon the other side. General Mar lay on the floor, with bandages tied tightly around his middle. He was still leaking blood from a wound that would soon see him dead and his face was as white as a sheet.

‘Magicians!’ Captain Yarn called out. ‘Thank goodness you have arrived. We must get the general to safety.’

But General Mar would hear none of it. He coughed and clawed his fingers towards the magicians, signalling for them to come to his side. ‘The citadel must be destroyed,’ he gasped, with wet and laboured breaths. ‘If the Paatin have it, they will control the passage to the east. Cast Ghant into the chasm and their path will be blocked. Their host cannotbe allowed topass this way or they will have free reign of inner Turia.’

‘But how?’ Samuel asked of the dying man.

‘It was Tudor’s plan. Bring down the walls and towers of Ghant and half the mountain will follow. He was supposed to be here to see us through, but it seems he, too, has fallen. He should have been here long ago.’ The muscles in the gruff general’s jaw bunched up and he stiffened in pain. There was no way to plug up the ruin that had been done to the man.

With that, General Mar perished,his scintillating aura of energy swallowed up by the darkness of death. Captain Yarn bent down and closed the dead man’s staring eyes with the palm of his hand.

The three young men looked at each other with concern.

‘How can we do it?’ Eric asked. ‘I can’t imagine that even Grand Master Tudor was capable of bringing down this place. What could he have had planned?’

‘A Moving spell of some kind,’ Samuel suggested. ‘Perhaps if we could damage Ghant’s foundations, the main tower would follow.’

Eric shook his head. ‘I don’t think any of usiscapable of such a feat. And where do the foundations begin? This place is spread over half the mountainside. Samuel?’

But Samuel only shook his head.

‘Do you thinkthe Grand Masteris really dead?’ Goodfellow asked.

‘I don’t know,’ Eric replied, ‘but in his absence, his responsibilities fall to us.’

Samuel considered the ring. It had enough power for a single,staggering blow before it overwhelmed him, but he was not even certain that such a spell would be enough. ‘I can’t think of any sure way that we can destroy this place,’ he had to admit.

‘With a Manyspell,’ Goodfellow then said with sudden enthusiasm. ‘Together we can do it.’

Samuel was not convinced. ‘Do you think that even our combined power would be enough? We need to obliterate the place, not just let it slide into the chasm and form a bridge from the rubble, and anything so powerful would be dangerous for anyone nearby-namely us.’

Goodfellow seemed confident. ‘I have a plan. If we make a spell and turn it in upon itself, then we can intensify the power manyfold. We can let it build until it has enough power to obliterate this place and Eric can Journey us away at the last moment.’

‘Can you do it?’ Samuel asked the dark-haired magician. ‘Can you take us all?’

Eric dwelled on the thought only momentarily. ‘I think so, but it won’t be easy. Up ’til now, I’ve onlyusedthe spell on myself and anything within about arm’s length. I’ve never tried taking people with me, but I don’t see why not. I can take other things so you two should be no different.’

‘Captain,’ Samuel said and the portly Captain Yarn, now commander of Ghant, stepped to attention. ‘Sound the retreat-a full evacuation of the citadel. We will give you as much time as we can, then we will destroy Ghant.’

‘So be it,’ the man said and alerted his staff. They immediately began blowing their shrill horns and the alarm was taken up and repeated from stations all over the citadel.

‘I will stay and help you however I can,’ the gruff captain declared.

‘No, you can’t help,’ Samuel told him. ‘Do your best to clear the fortress. All you need to do is shut the door on the way out. We will do the rest. Ghant shall be decimated and the Paatin shall not pass, as required.’

‘What a sad day, but our defeat is a not total loss as long as Ghant does not fall into the hands of the Paatin. We should be able to escape if we can just make the next floor. This place is filled with hidden rooms and passages that I’m sure the Paatin have yet to discover. But what about you? How will you escape?’

‘Don’t worry. We don’t intend to die,’ Eric told him. ‘Now hurry. We will prepare the spell now. It will take some time, but once it’s ready, we will not be able to delay.’

Captain Yarn began barking orders and his men gathered what they needed and burst from the room with a roar and a clatter of swords upon the desert-men lurking there. One of Yarn’s men carried a short bugle and he blurted out a series of rasping notes as they went, repeating it over as they fought their way free.

Once they had gone, it was eerily quiet in the room. Eric crafted a spell of Bonding upon the shattered door to keep it held tightly shut, and ensured the task by using his spells to wedge the tables and benches into place.

‘There,’ he declared. ‘The door is sealed. Let us begin.’

Samuel took one last look out of the high window. Below he could hear shouts and see Turian men in the act of abandoning the fortress. Whatever kind of signal Yarn’s man had played, it was potent, for the soldiers literally turned and fled as the sound was propagated all around, leaving the Paatin cutting the air behind them.

‘We should start,’ Goodfellow stated, and the three of them stood together in the centre of the room. ‘I will charge the spell. Samuel, you shield and contain it. Eric, you help me mould the magic and keep it stable. At the end, you will need to prepare our escape-and quickly. Samuel? Can you do it?’

Samuel already had the ring from his pocket and was turning it over in his fingers. Goodfellow was looking at him intensely and Samuel was sure from his looks that he somehow knew about his dependency on the thing. Eric was looking between them both, but his eye had not yet fallen onto the relic in Samuel’s fingers.

‘Are you going to help us or not?’ Goodfellow asked him again. ‘We need you, now. This is not the time to hesitate.’

‘Of course,’ Samuel told him. ‘I can help.’

With that, he put his finger into the Argum Stone and fell into its depths. The power took hold of him and shook him, but he seemed to be growing more accustomed to the shock of being submersed in such boundless magic. After barely a heartbeat had passed, he calmed the power raging within him and looked at his friends with clarity. ‘I am ready.’