James Davis: Circle of Skulls

Within moments they grew more cautious, more conservative with their spells, and Mara pressed them further, forcing the circle of nine to divide their attentions between the alley they were bound to and the body they had possessed. Hungrily she accepted the minor pain of their fire or a well-aimed bolt of acid, still smelling the precious scent of their souls as she wore them down.

NIGHTAL 22, THE YEAR OF DEEP WATER DRIFTING (1480 DR)

Wild eyed and breathless, Quessahn descended the stairs slowly, her gaze fixed on the spinning energies of the ritual, unable to look away. She flinched as Jinn reached for her arm, shying away from his touch. The wooden chest at the center of the spell glowed with a brilliant blue light and she imagined she could hear voices calling from within, emanating through the dried flesh and bloodstained fingernails of the collected fingers.

The walls hummed with power and she shivered.

"It's gone too far…," she said, the terrible light dancing in her eyes as she drew away from the circle, visions of destruction still flashing through her mind as

Jinn took her by the shoulders.

"Quess," he said quietly, holding her tight. "There isn't much time."

"Don't," she said. "Don't ask it. It's not safe-"

"Did the spell work? Do you know?" he asked, glancing at Rilyana as the human slumped forward on her hands, slowly recovering from the eladrin's attack.

Quessahn lowered her eyes and turned away.

"I saw it all," she answered quietly. "Like the beginning of the end."

"Where are they?" he pressed. "Where are the souls of the skulls?"

"No…," Rilyana muttered. "Say nothing. He doesn't care about you or anyone…"

Quess glared at the human for several breaths, unsurprised to find Rilyana Saerfynn alive with Archmage Tallus dead at her feet. She drew her runic dagger as Rilyana stood, grinning slyly, her hands smeared with blood. Quessahn felt trapped between the skulls' ritual and the angel's prophecy, either condemning hundreds, possibly thousands, to horrible deaths. Jinn placed a hand on her shoulder, and for a moment she gripped the handle of the dagger tightly, but the ritual had begun and the prophecy would stand as long as Sathariel lived.

"Pharra's Alley-," she began, the words catching in her throat as the floor buckled and the walls shook. Dust rained down around them, accompanied by a hideous, droning chant from within the ritual circle.

"Silence!" Rilyana shouted, her hands clasped on either side of the wooden chest as a howling chant growled from within her. Vines curled through the walls, slithering like thorn-covered snakes and thrashing as they surrounded Quessahn and the deva.

They took on beastly shapes as they neared, forcing Quess away from Jinn and blocking the remote escape of the basement stairway. Thorns hissed against one another, dry leaves on the vines shuddering like ghastly whispers. Jinn took up his sword, slashing madly as they closed in upon him, though for each vine he cut, several more curled into being. They whipped at his face and arms, drawing tiny lines of blood on his pale skin.

Quessahn felt a tug on her ankle as arcane phrases spilled from her lips. Thorns pierced her boots as the vines tightened. The spell rushed through her arms and burned across her skin, gripping the thorns in a tight embrace. Dark patches of living metal spread over her flesh, encasing her and repelling the vines as she raised her dagger. Kissing the blade, she whispered a forgotten star's name across the steel. Flames leaped from the dagger, white hot and roaring, as she directed them to the vines.

She strode through the thorns as they blackened and withered, crumbling embers surrounding her in a sparkling cloud. Spreading fires at her whim, she freed Jinn in a shower of orange light and smoke before facing the ritual circle, its light reflecting off her black steel skin, tendrils of smoke rising from her shoulders as she regarded the furious Rilyana.

"You doom us all, eladrin!" the human shouted.

"Is she right, Jinn?" Quessahn asked. "You'll be giving Sathariel what he wants."

"No, I will have what he wants," Jinn replied. "There is a difference. I have a choice."

"You choose death, deva! Death, over and over again… but this time, you take thousands with you!" Rilyana shouted and chuckled low in her throat, though she appeared tired and drained, leaning on the pedestal as the house shook around them.

Quessahn turned to Jinn, looking deep into his golden eyes.

"Whom shall you trust?" he asked. "That is your choice."

She stared at him a moment longer, glancing once at the blood-covered Rilyana. She knew that either way, if Jinn or the angel failed, that thousands could die, souls fed to angels and gods that cared little for mortal choice. With a final burst of flame, she seared the wall of thorns blocking the stairway, reducing them to little more than ash and tumbling char.

"Pharra's Alley, buried deep beneath where the skulls gather," she said, the words cold and haunting as she said them, one burden lifted though it was quickly replaced by another. Rilyana's face twisted in fury, haloed by the eldritch light of the ritual. Quess took a defensive stance, raising her dagger as spells welled within her mind. "Go now. Kill the angel… I shall take care of his whore."

She wondered briefly if Jinn would hesitate, spare her a glance or a word before disappearing up the stairs and into the dark beyond, but his step was whisper quiet, and wordlessly, he was gone before even the ash had settled upon the stairs.

"He is a fool," Rilyana growled, mirroring Quess's stance, hands poised and standing in front of the wooden chest defensively.

"No, he is a single-minded bastard with little thought for anyone or anything that gets in his way," Quessahn replied, a cruel grin crawling across her steel-skinned lips as she kissed her blade again, invoking the names of ancient and powerful beings, terrible stars that streaked through her mind's eye like burning titans hurled from the heavens. "But he means well."

Quessahn stumbled back as the ritual circle flared with scarlet light, blinding her as the howling energy spun ever faster. More tremors shook the house, and she shielded her eyes, searching for Rilyana in the brilliant glare. She heard laughter within the circle, saw a pale silhouette with arms upraised, and Quess began to chant, tiny stars gathering along the length of her dagger.

The stars streaked toward the human, spinning around her and stabbing her with shafts of burning light. Rilyana screamed and writhed, batting at the stars even as she shouted her own spell. Force coalesced in the air between them and rushed from Rilyana's outstretched hand, slamming hard into Quessahn's chest. The eladrin crashed into the basement wall, the coppery taste of blood filling her mouth. She snarled, biting her tongue for more blood as she worked her next spell, speaking the words as the magic's red component stained her lips.

She traded burning shadows for numbing ice, foul curses for searing acid as they fought, neither gaining ground. The ritual pulsed onward, possessed of its own life. The steel skin she had summoned smoked from the human's last spell, hissing as the last remnants of a blast of acid ate through her enchanted flesh and drew blood through the arcane steel. Her legs ached with exhaustion, and her mind burned with each spell she cast, but she still stood.

"This is futile, elf," Rilyana cried. "You cannot stop this. All you do is earn yourself an early death."

Quessahn's heart pounded and her legs felt heavy, every step seeming prelude to a fall that never came. Arcane patterns and constellations wheeled through her thoughts ponderously, pulsing with power in tune to the blood in her veins.