Atissa
“Wake up!”
It was the shaking more than the shouting which brought Atissa back to her senses. But with the return of her consciousness also came pain. Her face felt like one big bruise and she could taste blood in her mouth.
Somebody shook her again.
“Yes,” she croaked, feebly fighting the hands that were hurting her. “I’m awake.”
She spat out the blood, gasping as the sudden movement brought more pain.
Her senses were slowly coming back enough for her to take in her surroundings. The smoke in the air, the heat. A single spark bit in her unprotected forearm.
“Can you stand?” The speaker didn’t wait for her response. Hands grabbed her arm and pulled her to her feet.
For a moment, Atissa had to hold on to the rough helper before she found her center. She looked up and blinked. It took her a heartbeat to recognize Omiri, mistress Bel’Sara’s companion. The older girl was covered in ash and grime. And was that blood on her hands?
“Must move! Now!” Omiri dragged her along.
Atissa had trouble keeping up and taking in what was happening around her at the same time. Her head was still swimming.
“What’s happening?” she shouted against the noise around her. The building seemed to be on fire.
Omiri didn’t turn around.
They entered a wide, open room and Atissa recognized the entrance hall immediately.
“Good, you are back on your feet!” Bel’Sara joined them. “Close your mouth, will you.”
Caught staring, Atissa quickly complied.
The sage was wearing an undertunic and was almost as covered in ash as Omiri. Her white hair was disheveled, and her eyes looked weary but she walked upright, holding her staff in both hands.
“I have blown the bastard through half the building, but he keeps getting up,” the sage said.
“The Assanaten magi?” Atissa asked.
“We need to get out,” Bel’Sara said, ignoring her question. “That guy has the old demon’s attention.”
Is she talking about the god Assan, Atissa thought? She tried to make use of her senses but even with her Gift, she couldn’t get much through the heat, noise, and smoke. The pain from the warrior’s punches wasn’t helping either.
She touched her face carefully. It hurt. Parts of it felt swollen and her lips were split but at least her nose wasn’t broken and she could breathe unimpeded.
With Omiri’s help, she crossed the hall while Bel’Sara covered them from behind. Just when they reached the door, a wave of hot air hit them from behind.
Atissa looked over her shoulder and felt her breath catch in her throat.
The Assanaten magi was walking out of one of the corridors. Flames danced around his feet, flaring and spreading with every step.
Atissa could see that he was bleeding from a wound over his left eye. His robe was ripped and he was limping a bit. But his gaze was shining with hatred and single-minded determination.
Then their eyes met.
The magi screamed and the flames around him shot towards the sky.
“Out! Now!” Bel’Sara shouted.
Slipping through the heavy door, Atissa had an idea. “Help me close it!”
“That won’t stop him,” Bel’Sara said.
“Slow him down,” Omiri said, already pulling on the bronze doorknob. When the door closed, Atissa pulled her tunic over her head and started to twist it.
“What are you doing, girl?” Bel’Sara asked.
Omiri only looked at her for a heartbeat before bracing herself against the wood.
Something hit the door from the inside, causing a tremor.
Omiri held the door shut while Atissa used her tunic to bind the doorknobs of both halves together.
“Smart,” the sage said.
“I don’t know how long this will hold,” Atissa said. “He might just burn through it.”
“When you’re done come and stand behind me.” Bel’Sara started to walk away. After a couple of steps, she began to recite something. She was speaking in a Helcenaean dialect that Atissa could barely follow but it sounded like some kind of prayer.
She made a knot and pulled it as tight as possible.
Another tremor rang through the wood. Both Atissa and Omiri were pushed back but the twisted tunic held. For the moment, Atissa thought.
“Enough,” Omiri said, gripping Atissa’s arm. Smoke had begun to come out from under the door.
They ran across the street to where Bel’Sara waited. The old woman was a strange sight. Legs and staff firmly planted on the ground, she held her right arm high above her head. Her lips moved rapidly, mumbling words Atissa couldn’t make out. One of the symbols on her staff was glowing like burning wood and emitting a fine wisp of smoke.
Atissa looked back towards the residence. The first flames licked out of the roof and the noise of cracking explosions came from the inside.
“What’s going on here?” a male voice shouted.
A group of men, mostly warriors, came hurtling down the street. Atissa could see Delios with them. The young man pushed himself to the front.
More men and women flooded out of surrounding buildings up and down the street. Some carried weapons, others buckets.
“We must put this fire out now,” a male voice shouted from the forming crowd, “we cannot let it spread”.
“Form a line,” a woman shouted.
Atissa scanned the swarms of people but could find neither Mark nor Hermistos. Did they make it out?
“Stay back!” Bel’Sara’s voice, boosted by whatever powers she commanded, drowned out the noise from the crowd. “This fight isn’t over yet.”
“Honorable sage”, a grim-looking man, standing next to Delios, said, “this is my home to defend. Who is attacking me?”
The Anax, Atissa thought.
He was taller and darker than Delios with arms covered with scars. Yet, standing next to his son, Atissa could see the resemblance.
Something smashed into the doors from the inside with enormous force, ripping one half off its hinges. It hurled across the street and smashed against the wall of another building causing sparks and fragments to rain down on the crowd.
Just as the people turned their attention back to the entrance, a figure covered in flames stepped out. Atissa could barely make out the magi’s face through the fire. He seemed not to feel it at all.
His head turned slowly, his eyes searching the crowd until he spotted Bel’Sara standing slightly in front. Having located his enemy, he began striding toward her.
The crowd took a collective step back all at once, feeling the menace emanating from the burning figure.
Everybody except the sage and the anax.
When the magi spoke, his voice sounded forced. “Give me the girl,” he said, in heavily accented Helcenaean. “Give her up or Assan’s wrath will consume every last man, woman, and child in this city. Now!”
What?
Atissa looked around. She wasn’t the only one confused by the magi’s demand. People began glancing in her direction. Including the anax.
Mistress Bel’Sara didn’t. With her eyes half-closed, she continued her chant.
The anax half turned to her without taking his eyes off the enemy. “Mistress…”
At that moment, the sage’s eyes flew open. “It’s time old man,” she said. “Pay back the favor!”
“Excuse me?” the anax asked, frowning.
“Tsk! …not you.”
Lightning split the sky. It came down so fast nobody had time to react.
The glare blinded Atissa momentarily. Instinctively, she stepped backward and trip on something, dropping onto her butt.
People gasped and squealed.
Blinking the dancing spots in her field of view away, flickering white light made her look up. There, right in front of her, towered the sage, one arm raised high above her head clutching lightning.
She wasn’t quite holding it as you would hold a spear. It seemed more like the light was caught above her hand, crackling loudly.
Atissa blinked a couple of times. Watching the sage’s face, she swallowed.
Mistress Bel’Sara’s eyes were wide open now, staring down her opponent across the street.
The magi had stopped in his tracks. The scene of the woman holding a lightning bolt, caught straight from the sky seemed to make even him hesitate.
“You…,” his forced voice started.
“Oh, shut it!” Bel’Sara said and threw her weapon.
A glare split the night between them, followed immediately by a loud cracking sound. The burning figure was struck in the chest and flew backward, hitting the ground only a couple of paces away from the door he had just destroyed. His fire winked out.
Silence fell and for a moment all that could be heard was the crackling of the burning building filling the night. Everybody, including Atissa and the anax, stared openmouthed from the smoking figure to the sage and back.
“Ah, damn,” Bel’Sara said, shaking her fingers. “That stings.”
“You…you struck him down!” Delios said. “You struck him down with the power of…”
“Yes, yes,” Bel’Sara said, interrupting him. “But that was the last one, the old philanderer owed me.” She rubbed her fingers together. “I hate this feeling.”
A raindrop hit Atissa’s face. And then another. Looking up, she saw that clouds had formed over the city, covering the night sky. They must have come in from the sea, she thought.
“Of course, you had to send rain,” Bel’Sara grumbled. “Touchy old oak.” She looked down at Atissa. “Are you going to stay down there and stare all night?”
Atissa shook her head and quickly jumped to her feet.
The ban broken, the crowd started murmuring behind them.
Delios stepped forward pushing a sword Atissa had not noticed before into his scabbard. “Mistress Bel’Sara, is it over?”
They all looked over to where the smoking body of the magi lay in the rain. A black column started to rise from the building behind. Protected by the roof, the fire was too strong to be extinguished quickly by the soft summer rain. But it would help to keep it from spreading further.
A group of men appeared around the corner of the residence and Atissa breathed a sigh of relief. Mark was with them. Seeing her friend an anxiety she’d barely noticed in the confusion lifted. Before she could think about it, she was running over to him.
Standing at the corner of the building, he had not spotted her yet. While the warriors with him came over to join their comrades and families, he just stood there in the rain, seemingly taking in the scene. He looked miserable.
“Mark!” Atissa waved her hand.
He turned his head.
An explosion followed by a wave of burning heat threw Atissa off her feet. She landed hard but tucked in her chin to keep her head from hitting the ground. Rolling onto her side, she saw a stream of fire reaching out of the door, reigniting the magi’s body.
With an inhuman scream, the magi struggled back to his feet.
Between the flames, Atissa could see the damage the lightning had done. The lower part of his face, the throat, and half of his chest were missing the top layers of skin and flesh, the area below red and black. While flames danced over the rest of his body as they had before, the charred areas stayed untouched. If anything, it made the magi look even more menacing.
“You!” The half-destroyed face turned to Atissa.
She looked around terrified. One of the warriors she had passed came in from the side, spear raised.
Somehow the tip of the weapon missed the burning figure. Seeing it up close, it looked to Atissa as if it was pulled off target right before it could pierce the magi’s side.
Not meeting the expected resistance, the warrior stumbled forward into the magi’s arms.
Atissa could see the horror on the man’s face when burning hands gripped his head. He screamed. And the magi spit fire into his open mouth and face.
Atissa looked away. I must run!
She tried to scramble to her feet, only to jump sideways when flames hit the ground beside her. Turned on her back, she saw the magi let go of the dead warrior's charred head. His eyes on Atissa, he stepped over the still body.
Unable to take her eyes off the burning figure towering over her, Atissa tried to scoot backward.
“Stop struggling,” he said in his forced tone. It sounded as if it was painful for him to speak.
He reached down to her.
Feeling the heat on her skin, Atissa turned her head away and saw Mark approaching the magi from behind his staff raised over his head.
“No, don’t!” she screamed, the fear for her friend overwriting her panic. “Run!”
The magi hesitated. What was left of his face seemed to frown in confusion.
Following her gaze, he turned his head and looked over his shoulder.
Spotting Mark standing right behind him he froze. “Where…”
The staff came down, hitting the magi square on the head.
He went to his knees a look of surprise in his eyes. Then the staff connected with his temple and he dropped sideways.
Mark didn't stop there. The staff came down a third, fourth, and fifth time.
The flames slowly winked out.
Atissa could only stare as her friend, smashed the Assanaten magi’s skull, while carefully sidestepping splattering fluids.
Atissa
“Wake up!”
It was the shaking more than the shouting which brought Atissa back to her senses. But with the return of her consciousness also came pain. Her face felt like one big bruise and she could taste blood in her mouth.
Somebody shook her again.
“Yes,” she croaked, feebly fighting the hands that were hurting her. “I’m awake.”
She spat out the blood, gasping as the sudden movement brought more pain.
Her senses were slowly coming back enough for her to take in her surroundings. The smoke in the air, the heat. A single spark bit in her unprotected forearm.
“Can you stand?” The speaker didn’t wait for her response. Hands grabbed her arm and pulled her to her feet.
For a moment, Atissa had to hold on to the rough helper before she found her center. She looked up and blinked. It took her a heartbeat to recognize Omiri, mistress Bel’Sara’s companion. The older girl was covered in ash and grime. And was that blood on her hands?
“Must move! Now!” Omiri dragged her along.
Atissa had trouble keeping up and taking in what was happening around her at the same time. Her head was still swimming.
“What’s happening?” she shouted against the noise around her. The building seemed to be on fire.
Omiri didn’t turn around.
They entered a wide, open room and Atissa recognized the entrance hall immediately.
“Good, you are back on your feet!” Bel’Sara joined them. “Close your mouth, will you.”
Caught staring, Atissa quickly complied.
The sage was wearing an undertunic and was almost as covered in ash as Omiri. Her white hair was disheveled, and her eyes looked weary but she walked upright, holding her staff in both hands.
“I have blown the bastard through half the building, but he keeps getting up,” the sage said.
“The Assanaten magi?” Atissa asked.
“We need to get out,” Bel’Sara said, ignoring her question. “That guy has the old demon’s attention.”
Is she talking about the god Assan, Atissa thought? She tried to make use of her senses but even with her Gift, she couldn’t get much through the heat, noise, and smoke. The pain from the warrior’s punches wasn’t helping either.
She touched her face carefully. It hurt. Parts of it felt swollen and her lips were split but at least her nose wasn’t broken and she could breathe unimpeded.
With Omiri’s help, she crossed the hall while Bel’Sara covered them from behind. Just when they reached the door, a wave of hot air hit them from behind.
Atissa looked over her shoulder and felt her breath catch in her throat.
The Assanaten magi was walking out of one of the corridors. Flames danced around his feet, flaring and spreading with every step.
Atissa could see that he was bleeding from a wound over his left eye. His robe was ripped and he was limping a bit. But his gaze was shining with hatred and single-minded determination.
Then their eyes met.
The magi screamed and the flames around him shot towards the sky.
“Out! Now!” Bel’Sara shouted.
Slipping through the heavy door, Atissa had an idea. “Help me close it!”
“That won’t stop him,” Bel’Sara said.
“Slow him down,” Omiri said, already pulling on the bronze doorknob. When the door closed, Atissa pulled her tunic over her head and started to twist it.
“What are you doing, girl?” Bel’Sara asked.
Omiri only looked at her for a heartbeat before bracing herself against the wood.
Something hit the door from the inside, causing a tremor.
Omiri held the door shut while Atissa used her tunic to bind the doorknobs of both halves together.
“Smart,” the sage said.
“I don’t know how long this will hold,” Atissa said. “He might just burn through it.”
“When you’re done come and stand behind me.” Bel’Sara started to walk away. After a couple of steps, she began to recite something. She was speaking in a Helcenaean dialect that Atissa could barely follow but it sounded like some kind of prayer.
She made a knot and pulled it as tight as possible.
Another tremor rang through the wood. Both Atissa and Omiri were pushed back but the twisted tunic held. For the moment, Atissa thought.
“Enough,” Omiri said, gripping Atissa’s arm. Smoke had begun to come out from under the door.
They ran across the street to where Bel’Sara waited. The old woman was a strange sight. Legs and staff firmly planted on the ground, she held her right arm high above her head. Her lips moved rapidly, mumbling words Atissa couldn’t make out. One of the symbols on her staff was glowing like burning wood and emitting a fine wisp of smoke.
Atissa looked back towards the residence. The first flames licked out of the roof and the noise of cracking explosions came from the inside.
“What’s going on here?” a male voice shouted.
A group of men, mostly warriors, came hurtling down the street. Atissa could see Delios with them. The young man pushed himself to the front.
More men and women flooded out of surrounding buildings up and down the street. Some carried weapons, others buckets.
“We must put this fire out now,” a male voice shouted from the forming crowd, “we cannot let it spread”.
“Form a line,” a woman shouted.
Atissa scanned the swarms of people but could find neither Mark nor Hermistos. Did they make it out?
“Stay back!” Bel’Sara’s voice, boosted by whatever powers she commanded, drowned out the noise from the crowd. “This fight isn’t over yet.”
“Honorable sage”, a grim-looking man, standing next to Delios, said, “this is my home to defend. Who is attacking me?”
The Anax, Atissa thought.
He was taller and darker than Delios with arms covered with scars. Yet, standing next to his son, Atissa could see the resemblance.
Something smashed into the doors from the inside with enormous force, ripping one half off its hinges. It hurled across the street and smashed against the wall of another building causing sparks and fragments to rain down on the crowd.
Just as the people turned their attention back to the entrance, a figure covered in flames stepped out. Atissa could barely make out the magi’s face through the fire. He seemed not to feel it at all.
His head turned slowly, his eyes searching the crowd until he spotted Bel’Sara standing slightly in front. Having located his enemy, he began striding toward her.
The crowd took a collective step back all at once, feeling the menace emanating from the burning figure.
Everybody except the sage and the anax.
When the magi spoke, his voice sounded forced. “Give me the girl,” he said, in heavily accented Helcenaean. “Give her up or Assan’s wrath will consume every last man, woman, and child in this city. Now!”
What?
Atissa looked around. She wasn’t the only one confused by the magi’s demand. People began glancing in her direction. Including the anax.
Mistress Bel’Sara didn’t. With her eyes half-closed, she continued her chant.
The anax half turned to her without taking his eyes off the enemy. “Mistress…”
At that moment, the sage’s eyes flew open. “It’s time old man,” she said. “Pay back the favor!”
“Excuse me?” the anax asked, frowning.
“Tsk! …not you.”
Lightning split the sky. It came down so fast nobody had time to react.
The glare blinded Atissa momentarily. Instinctively, she stepped backward and trip on something, dropping onto her butt.
People gasped and squealed.
Blinking the dancing spots in her field of view away, flickering white light made her look up. There, right in front of her, towered the sage, one arm raised high above her head clutching lightning.
She wasn’t quite holding it as you would hold a spear. It seemed more like the light was caught above her hand, crackling loudly.
Atissa blinked a couple of times. Watching the sage’s face, she swallowed.
Mistress Bel’Sara’s eyes were wide open now, staring down her opponent across the street.
The magi had stopped in his tracks. The scene of the woman holding a lightning bolt, caught straight from the sky seemed to make even him hesitate.
“You…,” his forced voice started.
“Oh, shut it!” Bel’Sara said and threw her weapon.
A glare split the night between them, followed immediately by a loud cracking sound. The burning figure was struck in the chest and flew backward, hitting the ground only a couple of paces away from the door he had just destroyed. His fire winked out.
Silence fell and for a moment all that could be heard was the crackling of the burning building filling the night. Everybody, including Atissa and the anax, stared openmouthed from the smoking figure to the sage and back.
“Ah, damn,” Bel’Sara said, shaking her fingers. “That stings.”
“You…you struck him down!” Delios said. “You struck him down with the power of…”
“Yes, yes,” Bel’Sara said, interrupting him. “But that was the last one, the old philanderer owed me.” She rubbed her fingers together. “I hate this feeling.”
A raindrop hit Atissa’s face. And then another. Looking up, she saw that clouds had formed over the city, covering the night sky. They must have come in from the sea, she thought.
“Of course, you had to send rain,” Bel’Sara grumbled. “Touchy old oak.” She looked down at Atissa. “Are you going to stay down there and stare all night?”
Atissa shook her head and quickly jumped to her feet.
The ban broken, the crowd started murmuring behind them.
Delios stepped forward pushing a sword Atissa had not noticed before into his scabbard. “Mistress Bel’Sara, is it over?”
They all looked over to where the smoking body of the magi lay in the rain. A black column started to rise from the building behind. Protected by the roof, the fire was too strong to be extinguished quickly by the soft summer rain. But it would help to keep it from spreading further.
A group of men appeared around the corner of the residence and Atissa breathed a sigh of relief. Mark was with them. Seeing her friend an anxiety she’d barely noticed in the confusion lifted. Before she could think about it, she was running over to him.
Standing at the corner of the building, he had not spotted her yet. While the warriors with him came over to join their comrades and families, he just stood there in the rain, seemingly taking in the scene. He looked miserable.
“Mark!” Atissa waved her hand.
He turned his head.
An explosion followed by a wave of burning heat threw Atissa off her feet. She landed hard but tucked in her chin to keep her head from hitting the ground. Rolling onto her side, she saw a stream of fire reaching out of the door, reigniting the magi’s body.
With an inhuman scream, the magi struggled back to his feet.
Between the flames, Atissa could see the damage the lightning had done. The lower part of his face, the throat, and half of his chest were missing the top layers of skin and flesh, the area below red and black. While flames danced over the rest of his body as they had before, the charred areas stayed untouched. If anything, it made the magi look even more menacing.
“You!” The half-destroyed face turned to Atissa.
She looked around terrified. One of the warriors she had passed came in from the side, spear raised.
Somehow the tip of the weapon missed the burning figure. Seeing it up close, it looked to Atissa as if it was pulled off target right before it could pierce the magi’s side.
Not meeting the expected resistance, the warrior stumbled forward into the magi’s arms.
Atissa could see the horror on the man’s face when burning hands gripped his head. He screamed. And the magi spit fire into his open mouth and face.
Atissa looked away. I must run!
She tried to scramble to her feet, only to jump sideways when flames hit the ground beside her. Turned on her back, she saw the magi let go of the dead warrior's charred head. His eyes on Atissa, he stepped over the still body.
Unable to take her eyes off the burning figure towering over her, Atissa tried to scoot backward.
“Stop struggling,” he said in his forced tone. It sounded as if it was painful for him to speak.
He reached down to her.
Feeling the heat on her skin, Atissa turned her head away and saw Mark approaching the magi from behind his staff raised over his head.
“No, don’t!” she screamed, the fear for her friend overwriting her panic. “Run!”
The magi hesitated. What was left of his face seemed to frown in confusion.
Following her gaze, he turned his head and looked over his shoulder.
Spotting Mark standing right behind him he froze. “Where…”
The staff came down, hitting the magi square on the head.
He went to his knees a look of surprise in his eyes. Then the staff connected with his temple and he dropped sideways.
Mark didn't stop there. The staff came down a third, fourth, and fifth time.
The flames slowly winked out.
Atissa could only stare as her friend, smashed the Assanaten magi’s skull, while carefully sidestepping splattering fluids.
