Curselock

Chapter 167: Beam

Chapter 167: Beam

A winged beast as long as a caravan swiveled through the sky, erecting a wall of teal magic like a mason laying a foundation. The teal exploded upward, slicing through the open air and colliding with a golden Harbinger priest. Blood sprayed but a holy song rebuffed the man, washing him in golden light until his wounds stitched themselves over.

In response, six other golden Harbingers did something. That something sprouted from their backs like wings, ushering in a magic capable of heinous penance. The magic combined, sticking out in the form of a mangled giant’s fist. The punch slammed into the beast, knocking it away like a swatted fly.

Two cultists wearing white robes and radiating crimson power revealed themselves, dipping out of invisibility with daggers drawn. The first stabbed into their target, a priest, killing him instantly and sending his body sailing down to the hard ground. The second’s dagger grew in size and scope, sheering into the other five priests. Of the five, three fell to the ground dead, the others basking in golden light and clashing against the new attackers.

Meanwhile, the beast had recovered, joining the fray across the way and coming to the protection of a grouping of defenders fighting both priests and cultists.

All across the sky, battles blazed and people died. Some noticed the sudden lack of clouds and rain, but as each person was committed to deathly combat, none could risk the minutes it would take to figure out why.

Except, that was not true for one being.

Far away from the battle, sitting just beside the beam of white energy cutting into the sky and revealing the Void, it studied. Not human, not dwarf, not monster, the being scanned the sky for the clouds it created, the clouds it used to hide its experiment. As the minutes ticked by, the being realized who removed its clouds didn’t matter, and recreating them did.

The sky began to cry, permeating the liquid stuck in the air. The trick was something it had learned long ago, something it had experimented with its first few years in this world. So, covering the sky, and more importantly the Void, with clouds came with a simple wave of the “hand.”

The being didn’t actually have hands, but the gesture hung in its mind. It had learned so much from the humans, but it was time to leave. To return to its masters, to go home.

How many attempts had it been? Six. Yes, that sounded right. Six. And this attempt was by far the worst. The gaping wound across its flank proved as much. Who would have thought something could actually damage it in this body, certainly not itself. But then again, human magic always surprised it.

The clouds finished appearing, blotting out the sky, the Void, and all of the lines of sight. Since there was not enough water in the air, there was no rain. But the Archon already sought to rectify that by rerouting the current of water treading through the soil by the force of gravity. It was a simple shift, along with the natural evaporation, and soon the protective rains would appear.

The Archon looked at its ultimate creation, its ultimate hope of getting home. The white beam of power was an unfortunate side effect, one that acted as a beacon to the warriors above, but the true device was as small as a stone. It rested beside the Archon, mana and energy spilling from it as it “warmed up.”

Soon, likely in another two days, the device will be fully powered and the Archon could escape this world for its own.

Yet, from the distance that made the Archon look like a speck on the horizon, a young human looked on. Sybil didn’t know why she was looking at it, nor did she truly understand what she was looking at. To her, all she saw was the base of the white beam of light splitting the sky. She couldn’t see the small stone that created the energy, nor the being that sat wounded beside it.

But she felt it. She felt such unequivocal sadness, a sadness all too familiar to her. Like a bird stuck in a cage, still singing its song to all those who would listen, she felt it. Like a princess locked in her room at the top of her castle, watching the city below thrive. Like a weak, powerless girl longing to be something more.

Sybil felt something from the base of the light beam. And while she didn’t know what it was, she understood she had to speak to it. To help it. To help herself.

Around her, the powerful Sky Dwarves discussed with Isobel and Leland, their conversation more of the same. Battle plans, pleas for help, polite declining, simple question, extended answer, and repeat. Sybil had stopped listening once the Erupting Skies Champion explained that the Void was their ticket home.

He pivoted, turning on the Erupting Skies Champion. “What do we need to do?”

The dwarf shrugged, a similar gesture passing through each of his two friends. “Can’t tell you, we don’t know.”

“Your Lord didn’t give you a hint?”

“No. Only to tell you that it was ‘the ticket home.’ Everything else is on you.”

As Leland mulled over the statement, Isobel stepped in. “Why are you still here then?”

Her tone, while harsh, wasn’t accusatory. To her, when a job was complete it was time to leave. But obviously the dwarves still had things to do.

The Champion pointed to the sky. “We’re to step in up there. Those priests are an evil bunch. And the cultists aren’t much better for that matter.”

“So you’re leaving us?” Leland muttered.

“Aye, lad.”

“Can you at least help us get down there?” He pointed to the great beam rocketing white magic into the clouds.

A smirk befell the man’s face. “Aye lad, I think we can swing that.”

The Champion turned, his tattoos sparking to life with the roar of ripping wind. Within heartbeats a gale pushed through the slick rocks, casting away all beaded droplets of water before stringing them along like a horizontal waterfall. The water and wind rushed toward the white beam, growing in power until a weightlessness overtook the group.

One by one the Sky Dwarves did a little jump, allowing the wind to catch them. They shot off like blown leaves, leaving the others to do the same.

“Are we ready?” the Champion asked, his voice carrying despite the roaring wind.

And just liked that, Sybil jumped, the wind gripping her with a million invisible cushioned hands, despite her flailing. Isobel followed suit right after, both gliding down through the rocky path yet never touching the stones themselves.

The Champion gave Leland a friendly smile before jumping himself. Leland did the same.