“Stand aside!”
Taelord, who had been holding the door with the other Volcarrens, looked behind him. Utgar stood there, Vydar with him, and behind them… that must be the Wellspring.
The strange even light illuminated Utgar perfectly, allowing Taelord to see that his injuries had vanished. How… somehow Utgar had opened the Wellspring. He held out a single hand, palm outwards, facing the door.
“Move!” Taelord yelled, grabbing the nearest person and throwing them and himself out of the way. He remembered well Ahnvad’s warning about using Wellspring powers in enclosed spaces. Hopefully Utgar did as well.
The farmers and Volcarrens scattered, and a moment later, the door burst to splinters, revealing a mass of Imperial troops. They hesitated as they saw the Wellspring, and Utgar standing before it.
And then heat blasted from Utgar’s palm. A roar, like the air itself was bellowing in pain, filled the room, pressing against Taelord’s ears. A blast of wind accompanied it, throwing him against the far wall, away from the door. Heat seared his skin, worse than when he had fought the fire at Elet’s house, so hot he thought his very bones might melt.
And then came light. Orange, yellow, red, and blinding white. Fire poured, streamed, jetted from Utgar, slamming into the soldiers like a mountain falling from the heavens. Squinting, Taelord saw that they weren’t thrown backwards. They were simply incinerated. They turned to ash, and then to nothing, the fire stripping them away so fast that there was never a hint they had even existed.
And then there was silence, darkness, and blessed, blessed coolness. Taelord blinked, trying to rid his eyes of the afterimage of the flame. He could barely make out where the door to the Wellspring chamber had been. Now it was nothing more than empty space. The entire front half of the room had been torn open, blocks sent speeding outwards to punch holes in the outer ceiling, through which stars could now be seen. There was no dust – apparently the fire had incinerated that as well – leaving only scattered stone wreckage, blackened and crumbling.
The remnants of the Imperial force lay beyond, scattered between the Wellspring chamber and the inner wall. Very few moved. Their armor streamed from them in a molten mass, and the few who were still alive whimpered and cried out in pain.
And then, a strange sound came to Taelord: whooping. A wordless, joyful shout, picked up and echoed against stone. It didn’t come from the Volcarrens or the farmers, and certainly not from the soldiers. It came from beyond the inner wall, from the hall they had all run down.
And then the source of the sound charged into view, picking its way over the rubble of the inner wall, which had partially crumbled against Utgar’s power. Farmers – practically the entire population of Helsng – charged forwards, swinging axes and swords into the few Imperials who still moved, cheering and yelling.
Taelord spied Rehs at their head, running for the Wellspring, waving his arms and grinning ear to ear at the defeat of the Empire. So he hadn’t been in the battle after all. Taelord breathed a sigh of relief.
And then a sound, a terrible, familiar sound, filled the air. A rushing. A bellowing. A blast of air. Valkyrie magic.
But the blast didn’t come from Utgar. It came from overhead. Once again, Taelord was thrown against the wall by a strong wind. But this time, it was cold which washed over him, not heat. The air itself seemed to crystalize, and he found it difficult to breathe, as if his lungs had frozen solid. There was no brilliant light, but there was a whiteness, a refraction of light into a hundred colors against the walls. And then there was a terrible scraping and grinding, as a thousand million shards of ice fell from above, grating against stone.
Taelord was protected. He had been flung up against the side of the room by Utgar’s attack, and though the front of the room had been blasted away, the section where he was still had a fragment of roof. It deflected the bulk of the attack.
Others were not so fortunate.
Taelord saw Veth and Scar-shoulder, who had been in the mob at Leran’s house, and had unwisely stood up after Utgar’s attack, get leveled by the ice. They simply… exploded. Whiteness slammed into them, crushing them against the floor, and then ice shredded into them, leaving nothing behind but a fine red mist.
Kran, on the other side of the room, lost a leg in the blink of an eye. He managed to roll to the side, where a section of roof kept him from the rest. There was no blood. His leg was simply gone, a black stump where it had been.
Taelord saw Vydar and Einar, huddled in separate corners of the room with a handful of their soldiers, sheltered from the attack by remnants of the roof. Utgar too, despite standing in the open, seemed protected by some kind of magical forcefield.
Rehs was not so lucky. Taelord fully expected to see him vanish from sight, obliterated by magic, but he dodged to the side at the last moment, diving beneath a large stone block which was nearby, tilted up enough to allow him space beneath it.
Unfortunately, the stone had already been subjected to one Valkyrie’s attack. Two seemed to be too much for it. It shattered over Rehs, the shards protecting parts of him while allowing others to be struck. Rehs screamed, ice tearing into him, rock falling on top of him, and then he was silent. Just like that. Cut off as if by a knife.
The rushing of the air ended with Rehs’ scream. Silence returned, and this time it was returning warmth which was welcome to Taelord’s skin. He took a breath with difficulty, and peeked out from under his section of roof, struggling to see where the attack had come from.
Jandar landed before Utgar, ice crystalizing along his armor. He had lost his helm at some point, and his hair – a fair blonde – was wild, plastered about his face and frozen stiff. Mist still curled up from his hands, and his expression seemed frozen into a look of horror.
Utgar had survived the assault. Almost by instinct, he had thrust his hand upwards, and an invisible barrier had appeared around him. The ice had passed around it harmlessly. Now he lowered his hand, and watched warily as Jandar, weaponless, approached.
Jandar stopped before him. He said nothing, but his jaw worked, and his fists slowly clenched and unclenched.
Utgar was still processing what he had seen. Not to mention the absolute devastation which had been caused. Some large chunks of the outer ceiling had fallen in completely, allowing him to see that night had fallen outside. Had they been in the keep that long?
“You kept some water back,” he finally said, watching Jandar. “When you stole from me.”
Jandar nodded curtly.
“Why didn’t you use it? You could have stopped this… all of this…” A sudden wave of anger took Utgar. “And you blame me for this? You dare to put this blood on my hands? When you could have stopped it in an instant?”
“Think!” Jandar hissed, his teeth clenched. “There were centuries of war because of the Wellsprings. Hundreds of years. Valhalla went into revolt at the mere rumor of a Wellspring in the Volcarren. And you think I would have used this power to quell a simple rebellion? Yes, I kept some water back, because I guessed how desperate you might be, just how far you might go. But I knew the cost of using it. I swore I would drink of it to do one thing only: stop another Valkyrie. And now you’ve forced my hand…”
He stood still for a moment, staring at Utgar with burning eyes. “Have you any idea what you’ve begun?” he whispered.
“I only ever sought peace,” Utgar said. He was silent for a moment, watching Jandar. After the terrible sound of the attacks, everything seemed quiet, still. “Maybe I was a fool to do so,” he said. “Maybe peace was never possible. Maybe… maybe this was inevitable. You and me, standing here, Wellspring water in our veins.”
Jandar glared at him. “If you had let us seal your Wellspring from the beginning, none of this would have happened.”
“Had I allowed that,” Utgar said, “what assurance would I have had that we wouldn’t be thrown straight back into the Volcarren?”
“Mine!” Jandar said. “I would have sworn it to you, Utgar.”
Utgar watched him for a moment, and then shook his head. “I couldn’t have trusted you,” he said. “I still can’t.”
Jandar took a deep, shaky breath. “What is done is done,” he said. “Let us end this now, before more lives are lost. I swear to you now, if you lay aside the Wellspring water and surrender to me, I will do everything in my power to see that you and those who follow you are treated fairly. You can live in freedom, away from the Empire.”
Utgar watched him. Could he trust this Jandar? Perhaps. But could he trust the Empire? After what they had done? The deceptions and plots they had woven? The way they treated their own people? Could he really rely on them for his own safety? For Runa’s?
“I’m sorry,” he whispered. “I can’t trust you, any more than you could trust me with Wellspring water.”
Jandar watched him for a moment, his scowl deepening. “Then we are destined to do this again,” he said. “Aren’t we? You will seek peace the only way you can: through the destruction of the Empire. And I will seek to stop you.”
“Maybe the Empire needs to fall,” Utgar said. “This doesn’t need to be bloody, Jandar.”
“The Empire is irrelevant,” Jandar said. “It has been falling for years. But you… you would open the Wellsprings. That I cannot allow. You would usher in a thousand years of war on Valhalla, all for your own peace of mind.”
Maybe he was right. But then, what choice did Utgar have? He would not gamble with Runa’s fate. Never. He needed to be sure, and the Wellspring was the only way.
Jandar took a deep breath. “I can see the time for negotiations is over,” he said. “I had hoped to avoid this, but I see now that is impossible. You and I, Utgar – we have nothing left to say to each other. You have made your decision, I mine. Now… Now Valhalla must face the consequences.”
“So be it,” Utgar said quietly.
“So be it,” Jandar echoed. “I will meet you on the field of battle.”
He turned, and sprang upwards, flying through a gap in the roof. No one bothered trying to stop him. Not when he could turn and level half the city in an instant.
Utgar watched him go. He had thought maybe Jandar would attack… but that would have been foolish. For all their might, Valkyrie could only focus their powers in one direction, and those loyal to Utgar were scattered around the ruins of the Wellspring Chamber. Jandar could have been surrounded.
Jandar disappeared into the night, and Utgar lowered his gaze, a deep sense of… finality settling on him. It was comforting in a way. He knew his path now. he would have to fight for freedom, for peace, for the life Runa deserved. Negotiation had failed. Perhaps it had never been possible. Now, there was only… war.
He might have known. He was a Volcarren. A fighter. A killer. How else could things have turned out?