52 Project #33: Amaldis (Patreon)

The prince was young and handsome, as they all were, with the sort of arrogant good looks that wealth and power almost always brought. It was a tragedy that so many of these young men had to die, the old woman thought. Such a waste. She stepped out into the road, into the pathway of his horse.

The horse reared up as the prince pulled on the reins. "Out of my way, old woman!" he shouted.

"Are you going to the capital?" the woman asked. She was over 40, but well-fed, clean and well-dressed. His eyes flickered over her, as if trying to decide her station.

"Yes. What business is it of yours?"

"Have you come to join? To swear allegiance to the sorceress Amaldis?"

"No." The prince's hand tightened on the hilt of his sword as fury darkened his features. "I've come to kill the witch."

"Are you a fool, young man?" The woman's eyes blazed, and she stepped up to his horse, glaring up at him. "Threescore young men, brave and noble, have come to Cythia to kill the sorceress, and all of them have died. Are you so arrogant and foolish as to believe you'll succeed where so many have failed?"

"I don't fear the witch's sorcery," the prince said firmly. "I have a good sword and a trusty mount. That's all I need."

"Oh, you area fool. A younger son? Expendable? You need to do something impossible, to make a name for yourself?"

"She stole lands that belong to my father!" he shouted, his face purpling. "My family's honor is at stake!"

"And so you'll die for your family's honor."

"If I die, at least I'll die in glory."

"Glory?" There was cold fury in the woman's voice. "Let me tell you what glory is, boy. Glory is a corpse rotting in a field, the crows plucking its eyes. Glory is your lover weeping, knowing her man will never come home. Glory is children bereft of fathers, crops burning, women raped, people enslaved. I spit on your glory." And she did, spitting on his boots.

The prince drew his sword, provoked beyond endurance, and swung it to behead the woman. But she wasn't there. Startled, he looked about himself, trying to find her.

The ground rumbled. The trees lining the road shed leaves in a storm of colors, and the earth began to shake. The prince's horse reared up in terror, and tried to run, paying no heed when the prince pulled at the reins. Then a chasm opened at the horse's feet, and horse and prince tumbled in together, screaming.

The chasm closed, and all was normal again. Except for hoofprints that led to the midst of a meadow and vanished, it was as if the horse and rider had never been.

***

The scene vanished from the focusing crystal as the woman leaned back. Her apprentice, Joraine, asked, "Did you have to kill him?"

Amaldis turned. She was a stout woman of peasant stock, appearing to be a well-cared-for dowager of over 40 or so, with wavy black hair and blazing black eyes. The fire in those eyes died slightly, to be replaced by sorrow, as she spoke.

"Sometimes it can be avoided," she told Joraine, a large-boned woman in her late twenties or early thirties. "But not this time. You heard him. I tried to get him to turn back, but no. He was bound and determined to die gloriously."

"It seems so cruel," Joraine said. "All these brave young men, in the prime of their lives..."

"Yes. It is cruel, and a waste. But it's them or us. If they had their way, they would make you a serf; condemn you to backbreaking labor all your life, with only the bare necessities of life in return. Some would demand the right to rape you on your wedding night, or whenever you took their fancy; others would allow their priests to torture you for refusing to spout their doctrines; still others would conscript your sons to die in their wars." Amaldis shook her head. "Sooner or later, a group of these young heroes will come together and raise a truly massive army, perhaps a thousand men or more. That will be tragic. Because my powers won't be enough to hold them off entirely; and our people will have to fight and die."

"Why do they keep coming if you keep killing them?"

"You heard the one just now.  Honor and glory are worth more than their lives, and they think we stole their land."

"We did steal their land."

"Who gave them the right to own it?" Amaldis looked hard at Joraine, and some of the fire came back to her eyes. "We asked people if they wanted to be ruled by lords, or if they wanted to rule themselves. They wanted to rule themselves, so we extended the borders of Cythia to their areas and let them. As far as I'm concerned, the land belongs to the people who work it, not the nobles who get fat off it."

"Yes, but I'm saying, from their point of view we stole it."

"Yes. And so they'll never leave us alone." She sighed. "That's why I want you a master sorceress as soon as possible, Joraine. Our defenses are strong, but they all rest on me, and I'm only one woman. The most powerful sorceress in the world will still die if someone gets close enough to put a crossbow bolt through her throat."

"We have a militia, Amaldis. They'd die to defend you, and so would I. Anybodyin Cythia would-- all of us love you."

"But everyone else in the world is trying to kill me."

"Don't talk like that!" Joraine got up, distressed, and looked down at Amaldis. "Remember the First Rule? 'When a magician and a swordsman fight, the magician will always win, provided she is smarter.' You're certainly smarter."

"Amend that rule. 'Provided she is smarter and makes no mistakes.' I'm 200 years old, Joraine, and I'm tired of being paranoid. I'm tired of constantly scanning to see if anyone is after me. But I can never stop, because if I die, Cythia dies with me. Unless you can protect it."

"I'm only 35," Joraine said quietly. "You've got 8 score more years of power built up in you. Even when I turn master in a few years, I won't have nearly the power you do." She walked around to Amaldis and put her arms around her mentor's shoulders. "Is something wrong?"

"Yes..." Amaldis stared into space. "I've had a premonition."

"Of what?"

"I don't know. Something terrible. I don't know..."

Abruptly, awkwardly, Joraine hugged Amaldis. "I won't let it," she whispered fiercely. "Nothing's going to happen to you, so long as I have breath in my body to prevent it. You're the only mother I ever had, Amaldis, and I won't let you die."

***

Mor rode through the fields and woods of Cythia, heading steadily for the capital.

He was a big, brawny, barbarian type, proficient in any weapon but best with his broadsword, which was unbelievably large. He came from a country many, many miles away, where he had successfully killed over a dozen magic-wielders. He had also been offered the position of heir to the kingdom of Lowellan, if he could kill the sorceress Amaldis. And he had no doubts about his ability to do so.

All this Amaldis could gather just from watching him through the focusing crystal. It had been three days since the last prince had come, and she'd dispatched him; three days since she'd told Joraine about her premonition. A chill went down her spine, watching Mor ride. Something about his aura frightened her terribly. A dangerous man, moreso than any of the others. She was tempted to kill him now, without even trying to persuade him to turn back. But she had vowed she would always give them a chance.

So she focused herself, and appeared as an astral image, as solid as flesh but less real, standing in front of his horse's path. The horse didn't even slow down. It kept trotting on as if it would run her down, and Mor made no attempt to stop it.

Hastily she stepped back from its path. If it went through her, it would do her no harm-- but it would reveal her as an illusion. "Will you stop, Mor, and listen to what I have to say?" she said.

"There is nothing I need to hear from old women," he said.

Well. That settled it, then. She had given him a chance, and he had spit in her face.

Amaldis came back to herself, letting her astral image vanish. She looked deep into the crystal, focused, and spoke a Word. It resonated in the air around her. The resonation through the crystal was even greater. There, the Word whipped the trees and caused the ground to shake.

Mor's mount stood firm, holding in one place as Mor stroked its head. When the chasm started to open, the horse bolted as fast as it could go in the opposite direction, which happened to be the direction of the city. The chasm stopped widening before it could catch up to the fleeing beast, the power of the Word spent, and Mor and his animal made all possible speed for the city.

Amaldis threw another chasm in their way. They leapt it, outran its expansion, and kept going. She summoned demonic familiars and hobgoblins to waylay them. Mor slew them all. She cast illusions, which Mor paid little to no attention to; she summoned elementals, which Mor defeated; and she threw murderous obstacles in his path, which he destroyed, overcame, or bypassed. Amaldis had never seen anything like it. The man was at the outskirts of the city already, and still moving. Nothing magical had done more than slow him, and she was exhausted from rapid spellcasting.

Grieving in her heart, she called for a messenger, and told him to tell the militia about the threat. Good men and women would die at Mor's hands, she knew, and if it were merely her own life at stake, she would gladly die in their place. But she was founder, governor and defender of Cythia. Without her, morale would be destroyed, the government would become unstable, and Cythia would be wide open and vulnerable to whatever conqueror wanted to take it.

In her crystal, she watched as the militia went forth. Then she began preparing for the possibility that Mor would reach her. She set up some powerful and terrible binding spells, summoned a few invincible creatures from the lower planes, and set them to guard her door. Then she sent a messenger to Joraine.

"Tell her I want her to go to the belltower and prepare a Spell of Unbinding of Truths," she told the messenger. "When it's complete, I'll examine it." This particular spell took several hours to complete, and required its caster's full attention. Joraine had been telling the truth, 3 days ago-- she would even sacrifice her own life to preserve Amaldis'. Which would leave Cythia without a sorceress, if both of them were killed. Joraine had to be tricked into leaving the battlefield before the fight began.

That done, Amaldis turned to watch the battle in her crystal.

The militia were getting decimated. Amaldis sucked in her breath. How was this possible? Few of them were very good swordsmen, and Mor was the best of the best, yes. But still. It was impossible that one man could be doing such damage, and taking so little in return. One man, and not a magic-user at that. It wasn't even an enchanted blade he held-- Mor's contempt for magic was legendary. Without assistance from magic, it was just not conceivable that one man, no matter how skilled, could cut his way through an army, no matter how green. And yet Mor was doing it.

He had to be getting some sort of secret assistance. Amaldis focused in, looking for an invisible familiar, an enchanted item, something. There was nothing so obvious. If he had magical assistance, it was subtle and ran very deep. Sick at heart, Amaldis forced herself to watch the slaughter of her people. Here is your noble glory, all you young heroes. Here is what you wanted!

When she felt strong enough, she struck again, after sending a messenger ordering the decimated remains of the militia to retreat. It looked as if Mor would pursue them, and continue the combat until they were alldead, but he changed his mind when she called a thunderstorm down on him, as if remembering that she was his real opponent.

She rained lightning at him, but somehow, impossibly, he always managed to avoid them, fortuitiously moving at the same split-second she initiated the bolt. As he headed deeper and deeper into the city, people fled, knowing from the stormcloud that their governor was trying to stop the man, and failing. Amaldis sent all sorts of creatures at him. He killed them all, and kept coming. Even when one of her creatures managed to kill his horse, he leapt off the beast and kept coming.

If he were not in her city, she could swallow him with a chasm now, or put a ring of fire around him-- without his horse, he was more vulnerable. But this was her place, and she couldn't cause such damage to it. She notified the palace guard that he was coming, hoping desperately that he would be tired from the constant fighting, and easier to take down. She had given the guard strict instructions that if casualties were too heavy, they were to flee. But she didn't truly believe they would obey.

The palace guard met and fought Mor. He was still impossibly skilled-- his battles seemed to have barely blunted his edge. Again, Amaldis scanned him for magic, and this time she did catch a faint whiff. Quickly she focused her probe, sweeping him up and down, but at this range it still eluded her. When he got closer, perhaps she would be able to find it, and negate it; but of course, when he got closer she would have other things to worry about.

She began to scream into the crystal, ordering the guard to retreat, as Mor destroyed them. She appeared to them astrally, pleading with them to run and save themselves, but they ignored her. Mor was only a swordsman-- they should be able to take him down. The fact that they obviously couldn't meant nothing, when it was honor at stake. Tears burned in her eyes. How many more good people would die for honor's damnable sake?

Now nearly all her guard were dead. Amaldis steeled herself. He was coming this way. One way or another, even if he kills me, he won't live to enjoy his victory.

Then the door slammed open, and slammed shut behind as Mor strode into Amaldis's chamber.

"Time for you to die, witch," he said, advancing on her.

Amaldis released the demon guard. Invincible and tireless, the two launched themselves at him, battering him. The air rang with the clash of his sword on their metallic armor. While he was occupied with that, Amaldis searched him magically-- and finally found what she was looking for. There was a magical luck charm on him, cast before his birth, woven throughout his entire being. He had never failed at anything. And there was no way to remove the charm, not without negating her own power.

At this point, Mor defeated the invincible demons by thrusting his sword's point into their mouths. That shouldn't have killed them. But by now, Amaldis knew that the universe was on Mor's side. If an improbable occurrence was necessary for his survival, it would happen. If an impossible occurrence, even, was necessary, it would happen.

How could she defeat someone like that?

She spoke a Word, to activate a binding spell. He hated magic so much-- if she could make him see that he was using magic, perhaps he could renounce the spell, or perhaps he would leave her alone. It was not very likely, but the only other alternative was to negate all magic, and that would destroy her power, too. The spell caught Mor tight, holding him motionless. He struggled against the spell, as Amaldis spoke coldly. "You have such contempt for magic. But you yourself are a magic-user, Mor of Savann."

"You lie, witch," he grated out.

"No lie. How do you think it's possible that one lone man can kill over 50? That you miraculously survived everything I attacked you with? It's impossible. No one else has gotten even as far as the city, much less the palace, except for you--"

She sensed the bonds shattering before it happened. Somehow, he had broken her binding spell by flexing his muscles. That's not possible! Amaldis thought, and then remembered that Mor's luck charm could do the impossible. She leapt out of the way as he grasped his sword and swung it at her.

Amaldis cried a Word of power, and a bolt of light flashed out from her fingertips-- but he dodged. The laws of reality seemed to be breaking down to accomodate him. She threw up a magical shield, and his broadsword cut it in half. That wasn't possible, either.

Amend the rule, she thought, gasping, as she dodged another broadsword swing at her head. The magician will always win, provided the sword-wielding barbarian doesn't have magic of his own. It was getting harder to dodge, and there were fewer places to dodge to. Amaldis truly understood then that no magic could stop him. Even a sudden death spell would unravel against the luck charm placed on him. There was only one thing that could possibly work, and the notion filled her with horror.

There was a secret spell, jealously guarded by the few magicians who knew it. It was a last-resort weapon in magical combat, intended to take one's enemy down with one. The secret spell consisted of a single spoken Word, which could negate all magic within a certain radius. Mor was certainly within that radius. Unfortunately, by definition, so was the caster-- which was why it was a weapon of last resort. Amaldis had built up a great deal of power in 200 years. If she negated Mor's advantage, she lost all of that power, which might end up dooming Cythia as surely as if she died. And without her magic, she would be no match for him in combat anyway.

The sword smashed her crystal, scattering pieces everywhere, as she ducked behind it. Then there was a wall at her back, and nowhere to dodge to. Terror gripped her-- this was it. Only one chance-- and even that was more likely to see her avenged than saved. But it would be enough to be avenged, if that was all she could have.

She said the Word.

The magic drained out of the air. Amaldis sagged against the wall, feeling suddenly a thousand years old. For the first time, she could hear the pounding on the door, and realized it had been going on for some time.

Mor hesitated. He had sensed the change, apparently, though doubtless he couldn't understand what it signified. In that moment of hesitation, Amaldis flung herself to the side, and so when the broadsword came down it pierced through her shoulder, slicing away her arm, not her head. Amaldis screamed.

The door slammed open behind Mor, and there was a flash of light. Mor dropped, an expression of disbelief on his face. With rapidly glazing eyes, Amaldis saw through the pain that Joraine was running toward her. Then it became too dark to see anymore.

***

Amaldis wakened to the sound of Joraine weeping. "It can't be too late," Joraine was saying. "Come on, heal, Amaldis, heal! Please!"

Amaldis swallowed, and croaked in a hoarse voice, "I seem not to be dead. How surprising."

"You're back!" Joraine wiped her eyes and looked at Amaldis. "I brought you back! Oh thank you, Goddess, thank you, thank you..." She hugged Amaldis and began to weep again, this time for joy.

But as memory filtered back, Amaldis could see little cause to be joyful. She was alive, yes, and Mor was dead... but the cost had been her power. The only defense Cythia had had to keep it from a bloody war, and being overrun and conquered, had been her power. And now it was gone.

Tears welled in her eyes. After all her hard work, all the energy and enthusiasm her people had expended to make her dream a reality, one man with a magic charm could bring it all crashing down. What was the point to living, if her dream was dead? In a voice like ash, she said, "Joraine, my powers..."

Joraine lifted her head and looked down at her. "I know. I know."

"Cythia is finished." There was no strength, no life in her voice, just ruins and despair.

"No-- there's a way. There has to be a way."

"That's wishful thinking. " Amaldis changed the subject. "How did you find me? I told you to prepare a Spell of Unbinding..."

"The guard-- what was left of it-- broke in and told me you were fighting with that creature." Joraine's voice had an edge of fury to it. "I couldn't get the door open, at first--"

"His luck charm. It must have kept the door locked."

"When I got it open and saw he'd cut off your arm-- I almost went berserk. But it's all right now. I healed you. Your arm's fine."

"My arm's irrelevant, Joraine. My magic is gone. Without that..."

"No! We can buy time. We can keep going on a bluff for a while. I won'tlet your dream die like this!"

"Buy time for what?" Amaldis wanted to be swept away by Joraine's youthful determination, but 200 years of experience had told her that when something was doomed, it was doomed. There was nothing they could do. "It'll be another hundred years before you're powerful enough to defend Cythia by yourself..."

"Then we can't rely so much on magic. We need to find other solutions." Joraine got up off the bed. "We can buy time, like I said. And in that time, we can recruit more people. We can train all our citizens to fight and defend the country if they have to. We can try to recruit another magician. If we could get two or three magicians my age, we could all band together. Besides. Once people hear you killed Mor, they won't be eager to try you for some time. No one needs to know you're injured-- and as long as they send in their heroes one at a time, we can pick them off ourselves, the militia and I. We can send emissaries to other countries, and see if they have superior weapons or magical techniques we can use. There are all sorts of things we can try, Amaldis. You can't give up!"

"I'm old," Amaldis said softly. "I had a dream once, a revolutionary new idea, when I was young. But I'm no revolutionary anymore."

"You can't give up--"

"No. I'm not giving up. I'm passing the torch to you." Amaldis forced herself to a sitting position. The change made her dizzy and she swayed. Joraine quickly moved to prop pillows behind her. "You're right, of course. I'll continue to govern Cythia and to teach you magic-- I still know the techniques, I simply haven't got the power for them anymore. But you'll be in charge of devising our defense, Joraine. You're young and creative enough to see new ways of doing things. I can't anymore."

"I don't think you're as old and decrepit as you think you are, Amaldis," Joraine said. "Is this because you lost your magic?"

"Yesterday, for all my years, I was a young woman. Today I feel older than time itself. It has to be you, Joraine. I-- lost something vital when I lost my power, I think. Cythia's future is going to rest on you."

"You should rest," Joraine said, moving the pillows back so Amaldis could lay down. "Go to sleep. You'll feel better when you're recovered."

"I doubt it," Amaldis said softly, but allowed Joraine to put her to bed. The last thing she saw, through slitted eyes near the edge of sleep, was Joraine sitting by her bed. Her face seemed to Amaldis to look like her own had, when she was only thirty and had grandiose dreams for saving the world. Yes. The torch was in capable hands.

Amaldis slept.