CHAPTER 809: FIGHTING AS A PARTY

With the surprise of our attack holding fast, we made rapid progress through the city. Buildings blurred beneath us, one tiled roof replaced by the next. In only a minute, the cathedral had vanished into the skyline behind us, overshadowed by the great, curtain-like walls that encircled the city.

"Which keep is it?" Korra called.

I pointed directly ahead of us. "That one. It’s the main headquarters for the mages in the city. The one beyond it, on the waterline, is responsible for guarding the harbor. There’s an eighth-level mage there who will arrive in about two minutes."

"We’d better make this fast. If he shows up, we’ll be trapped for a long time, and that’s assuming we could eventually defeat someone that strong," Gayron said.

"There’s a second eighth-level somewhere, isn’t there?" R’lissea asked.

I shook my head, though I knew she couldn’t see me from her position ahead of me. "I heard mention, but they didn’t show up in a single vision. I think they must be away today, for some reason."

"Lucky us," Korra muttered.

A streak of fire roared over my shoulder, just missing Gayron. He spun out of the way, shooting a glare back.

"Don’t stop. They’ll get tangled up in the fleeing cross," I cried.

"They’re not strong enough to waste my time on. It’s more insulting than anything," he said, tail twitching irritably. It looked funny doing that when he was flying, like a snake chasing after him.

I froze, subtly checking behind me, and blushed. Apparently, it didn’t look any better resting on silver fur. More like a snake in the grass than swimming in water.

Fable rocked beneath me, and I squeaked, renewing my grip on his fur. We sailed high into the air, crossing the final few streets in a single bound. Instead of landing at the gate, he aimed for the walls. The keep was smaller than the one on the seaboard, enclosing a space only a half-mile wide, and a quarter mile deep.

Soldiers gaped up at us as we approached, shock turning to panic as we smashed atop the wall. The sheer force of the impact cratered the magically reinforced parapets and scattered a nearby detachment of soldiers, throwing some from the wall itself. A mana cannon some forty feet away swiveled toward us and discharged, and I threw up my hand. The light of adaptive resistance flared, absorbing the impact. I managed to conserve about a third of the explosion, funneling it into my soul. It was far from the efficiency I achieved when practicing earlier, but better than I expected, given how badly my hands were shaking.

Korra veered off, streaking toward the cannon like a blue meteor. A few arrows streaked toward her, but she gracefully spiralled around them, fist landing one of the mages frantically recharging the cannon. He screamed, his chest caving in from the blow, and was sent flying off the wall. Blood streamed after him, arcing from between his lips.

Before his comrades could react, Korra spun about, releasing a wave of water. As it crashed over them, she snapped, freezing it in place, trapping another two mages and the cannon, and partially catching several nearby archers. As they fought against the ice, she landed a swift kick against the ice, shattering it into pieces. The shards acted like swords, slicing through limb, stone, and steel. It was like a blender. A horrible, bloody blender.

I turned away from the scene, covering my mouth as my stomach twisted. An explosion rocked the wall on my other side, and I glanced up to see Gayron attacking a tower. Two clones circled it, launching fireballs at the arrow slits, while his main body had breached the turret. His sword flashed, releasing arcs of fire that extended the blade nearly twice its length. After a few decisive cuts, the mana cannon exploded, enveloping the entire tower in light.

Gayron flew out of the cloud, smashing hard against the wall, cracking it. He dropped almost thirty feet before he twitched, and another twenty before he managed to renew his combat art and stop his fall. He shook his head groggily before jerking out of the way of a dozen arrows and spells.

"Damn those things," he muttered through the mind link.

Korra’s laugh chased his frustration. "If you didn’t hit the crystal directly, they don’t explode. Killing the mages is more than enough to keep them from firing."

"Something you might have mentioned earlier," he retorted.

"Xiviyah, they can handle the outside. Let’s get into the keep," R’lissea called.

I nodded and wished the two luck before urging Fable down. He leaped off the wall, landing in the courtyard. R’lissea fluttered behind us, hovering a few feet off the ground.

The courtyards were large and spacious, and the ground was hard-packed dirt. Cobblestone roads led from the gates to the entrances in the stone-walled keep, likely to keep carts and wagons from rutting the earth.

Gates in the wall opened up, and several squads of soldiers charged out. R’lissea waved her staff, soul casting two fifth-circle spells.

"Shambling Guardian!"

Two twelve-foot magic circles materialized on the ground between us and the soldiers. They flashed, forming a gate-like apparatus. Torrents of vines, leaves, and bark flowed out, twisting together into towering tree-like creatures vaguely resembling the ogres I’d seen once. They roared and charged forward, laying into the soldiers with clublike hands and vicious, spear-like roots. A few mages unleashed fire at them, setting one ablaze, but R’lissea flew ahead.

"Ignore them, hurry!" She cried.

With her summons buying us time, Fable quickly overtook her and closed the distance to the central keep. A few fifth-level guards tensed at our coming, launching magical techniques and spells our way. I let them hit Adaptive resistance, siphoning as much mana as I could.

"Very good, you’re getting better," Emlica praised.

Her voice startled me, and I had to resist the urge to turn and look for her. She’d been as quiet as a ghost, acting like Fable’s shadow. A golden, and easily irritable shadow.

"Fable, the gates," I instructed.

But as he gathered his mana, my soul trembled.

"R’lissea, above us!" I cried.

She pulled up short, blasted ninety degrees to the side with a single jerk of her wings. The ground beneath where she’d been flying exploded, throwing cobblestones in all directions. I flinched as one slammed into Fable’s side, cracking against his mana-reinforced fur. Another whistled passed my head, causing my hair to stir. Perhaps it was the practice with Korra and Gayron, but I managed to ignore my pounding heart and focus on the figure emerging from the dust.

"You actually dodged," a man said, brushing his robes off, frowning at R’lissea. "You’re quick. And flying. Who taught you a spell like that?"

R’lissea glanced at me, and I nodded.

"He’s the one I mentioned before," I said through the mind link.

"I’ll handle him. Go," she said.

I gripped my skirt, eyes widening. "But you’re only–"

"Go!"

There was no time to argue. I relaxed my grip, and Fable lunged forward.

"Not so fast, filthblood," the mage cried. He waved his hand, unleashing several spears made entirely of water. Fable avoided the first by a hair, the spell slamming into the magically enhanced wall, penetrating it several feet before exploding, blasting rubble in all directions. I glanced at the explosion, judging its power, before asking Fable to take the rest.

The next two spears struck him in the flank and neck. I gasped as ice-cold droplets sprayed over me, but they held no more force than splashes of water.

"Impossible!" the mage gasped. "That was a seventh-level spell! You’re just a–"

Whatever else he cried was lost as Fable slammed into the reinforced gate with his shoulder. Unlike the cathedral, these doors were solid steel and didn’t shatter. Instead, they tore off their hinges and slammed against the far walls, crushing several soldiers who had awaited our entry.

My eyes skipped off their mangled corpses, and I croaked, "Left. I think."

Fable took off down the hallway, scattering servants and soldiers alike. None were prepared for the massive silver wolf, and even the bravest men and women dove to the ground, praying for mercy. Shockwaves rippled through the keep, shaking the walls and raining dust on my head. I hung low over Fable’s shoulder, ducking beneath the occasional attack or falling masonry that came my way.

"Korra, I need a hand!" R’lissea’s frantic voice sounded in my mind.

"On it. Try to maneuver him to the side. I’ll catch him off guard."

I breathed a sigh of relief, feeling my tail relax for the first time since we left the cathedral. This wasn’t like the last party of heroes I fought with. No one would be abandoned or fight alone.

After a few long hallways, several shattered doors, and a dozen dead guards who hadn’t the sense to surrender, we arrived in front of a plain wooden door. It was identical to the ones we passed in the servant corridors, but there was nothing ordinary about the enchantments woven within it. I took a deep breath and touched my chest, my heart racing beneath my fingers.

"We’re here," I whispered, letting my friends know through the link.

I slid off Fable’s back, hesitating a moment before lightly knocking on the door. "Nithalee? It’s Xiviyah. We have to talk."