The War of the Witches: Part 3
Azo’lah gingerly gripped the handle of her zali’thir, like it was a fragile, new lifeform and not a deadly stiletto honed for violence. “You are sure the magic will not harm it?”
“Do no harm is the first tenant of magic,” Everly recited as though answering a question posed by a professor. When Azo’lah didn’t release the weapon, Everly held up her hands. “It’s an inanimate object, Myax. The metal will take the enchantment well, as it comes from nature. That’s why all of our weapons are made from naturally occurring materials.”
Hours previous, just as night fell, we had reached our destination, shrouded beneath the trees at the top of the hill that overlooked the Temple of Delto. Though our trek had been zombie-free, it had not been easy. Huxorian terrain was hilly in the extreme, requiring a great deal of thigh strength to navigate. Though I had spent the last couple hours seated upon a particularly welcoming boulder, my legs still weren’t ready to carry me across the moon-soaked field that laid just past the ridgeline.
Anthea and Everly placed Azo’lah’s zali’thir on a flat rock, linked hands, and, along with the other four witches present, chanted over it. Moonlight filtered down through the leafy canopy and glinted along the keen edges of the zali’thir. Power coalesced in their hands, the same quicksilver light that had transported our ship out of sight upon our arrival. It sank slowly into the blade. The chant died, but the light didn’t. It pulsed softly in a steady rhythm, a magical beating heart.
Anthea returned the magic-infused zali’thir to Azo’lah. She cradled it reverently in her long-fingered hand.
Ryan handed Anthea the crossbow and hip quiver they’d been loaned for the next stage of Azo’lah’s Temple Infiltration Plan. We all watched raptly as Anthea and Everly chanted over them. The same light poured into Ryan’s crossbow and bolts. Their eyes danced with glee as they accepted their enchanted weapons, showing them off to Fleetwood.
Matt’s crisp voice cut through the humid night air. Even with our Ran’dyl’s on the lowest volume setting, in this silence, it sounded like he was screaming. “Ground team, this is the Qu’een. After securing the Gold Dust Wo’man, your distraction duo is in place. Awaiting your signal.”
“I’m still pissed about being banished from the field,” Chester groused. I could imagine him in the co-pilot’s seat, frustrated at being separated from us, most especially Fleetwood, in such a dangerous scenario. “And here’s a more accurate scan of what you’re about to walk into. You’re welcome.”
The rendering generated by Matt and Chester’s covert flyover appeared above our wrists. My pulse jumped. We were really doing this.
“Captain Thorley to Killer Qu’een,” Ryan responded cheerily. I glanced up, searching for the ship through the trees. I hadn’t even heard the engines.
“Outstanding job executing stage one,” Ryan continued. “Chester, your complaint is noted again, but we need you doing what only you can do.” Ryan studied the rendering Chester had sent. The steep hillside leading into the large, flat field the temple sat upon rotated slowly over their Ran’dyl. Matt and Chester had even surveyed the terrain on the opposite side of the temple, a sharp cliff-face above the churning sea. “How many hostiles are we looking at?”
The hologram shifted. A lone figure glowing red as a stoked ember stood inside the temple. Chester said, “Infrared shows one—I’m assuming that’s a necromancer.”
“Just the one?” Azo’lah asked, double-checking the scan for more live bodies.
“One is all the infrared picked up,” Chester said. The image above our wrists expanded to show more of the wild landscape around the temple. Along the fringes of Chester’s scan, a handful of red dots glowed dangerously. “I’ve been scanning the surrounding area and have picked up a few more, but none close enough to make your job harder.”
“Good,” Anthea said, “it would appear as though our sending Zorina and the others to the southern side of Sotu’s Ridge to draw the necromancers away worked.”
I bit my thumbnail. I hoped the witches who were causing a distractionary ruckus twenty miles away stayed safe. Logically, I understood what they were doing was necessary—there was no way our miniature strike force stood a chance against a large number of necromancers. But that didn’t stop me from wishing more people didn’t have to put themselves in danger to help get me to the Temple of Delto.
“What about zombies?” Ryan asked.
“Obviously, no infrared is going to pick them up,” Chester groused, “and the dark didn’t help. But Matt was able to get us close enough for me to take some high-def pictures. I’ve got rough numbers and locations for you. Twenty undead are situated at the top of the hill. They’re staggered along the ridge that drops down into the field, blocking your route. There are another seven guarding the temple.”
“Those numbers aren’t great,” Ryan said, assessing our group of ten, “but we can handle it. We’re waiting for the moon to reach its zenith so the witches can power up. Stay close by.”
Matt signed off, “Roger that, Captain. Killer Qu’een standing by.”
“Fulyiti, I believe you are next,” Anthea said, beckoning Fleetwood to their makeshift altar. Fleetwood eagerly offered up her favorite knife to the witches.
Azo’lah came to stand in front of me. “I’m fine,” I told her before she could ask.
Azo’lah raised one suspicious eyebrow as she sheathed her glowing zali’thir. “That’s why your leg is bouncing? Because you are fine?”
“Well, I am understandably nervous. Running across a field full of zombie guards will do that.”
Azo’lah’s palm settled on my thigh, stilling it. “Do not fear, Myaxi. We will protect you. And the crystal.”
I looked up and blinked, surprised to find her so close. Her gaze was as warm and grounding as the pressure on my leg.
“It’s a good plan,” I said honestly. And it was. Even without the addition of the witches, my contribution in a fight would be laughable. It had been decided that my job was to take the crystal and let the others protect me as I ran to the temple like the fate of the universe depended on it. “I just wish I was, you know, fast.” I gestured at the lower half of her body. “Or long-legged like you and Fleetwood.”
“You’ve been training with Milyna.” Azo’lah’s fingers reached behind my ear, smoothing down some hair that had come free of my ponytail earlier in the day. “Have faith in yourself, Myaxi. As I do.”
I squeezed the hand on my leg in gratitude as all of our Ran’dyl’s beeped in perfect harmony. I peered through the trees at the bulging moon of Huxor as it reached its apex. “Showtime,” I sighed, releasing Azo’lah’s hand and hopping off my boulder.
“God damn it,” Ryan muttered. I glanced at them to see what was wrong, but they just flapped their free hand dismissively. “Don’t worry about it. It’s nothing.”
Anthea nodded. “It is time.” She whistled, long and low, and a creature with a massive wingspan swept down from a branch. It resembled a leopard the size of a domesticated cat with the hyper-extended wings of a bat. It landed gracefully on Anthea’s shoulder. At our quizzical looks, Anthea said, “My familiar, Woden. He has been scouting the woods, looking for necromancers hidden in the shadowed crannies your ships could not see. He shall be joining us.”
The witches linked hands, forming a circle. They chorused, low and quiet in the ancient, musical language of Huxor. Like Azo’lah’s zali’thir minutes before, the witches began to shine as if they were absorbing the moonlight. It pulsed under their skin—vibrant living weapons against the darkness of unnatural resurrection. I suddenly understood why the witches' jackets were hooded as they pulled them up, obscuring the preternatural radiance of their faces.
Anthea pulled off the leather bag slung across her torso and handed it to me. I accepted it, looping it over my left shoulder so that it crisscrossed my bandolier. The weight of the crystal inside settled against my hip. “This bag has been enchanted against the necromancer’s weapons and their magic,” Anthea explained. “Even if they succeed in taking it from you, they will not be able to open it.”
I sighed, relieved to have another layer of protection standing between the bad guys and the crystal.
“Remember, we will have the advantage of the high ground,” Azo’lah said to the witches. “Fan out along the ridge and clear as many undead up top as possible. Use your long-range attacks from the top of the hill before you head down to the temple. Everly will lead the charge, clearing the way for Gretchen. Fleetwood and I will follow. Our job is to keep Gretchen’s path clear and safe. Anthea,” Azo’lah turned to the Ephemeris, “do you and your sisters require further preparation?”
Anthea shook her head. “We are ready.”
Azo’lah nodded to Ryan. Our captain notched one of the bolts from the quiver attached to their belt before activating their Ran’dyl. “Killer Qu’een, this is Captain Thorley. Comm channels remain open from here on out.”
“Roger that, Captain,” Matt replied crisply.
“Chester here. Does Her Highness have any music requests?”
“Surprise me, my beloved,” Fleetwood said, spinning her dagger in her palm. She grinned at Azo’lah, who mirrored the movement with her own blade. For a moment, I felt bad for feeling excited to watch these zombies bite the dust a second time at their hands.
“Take us away, Killer Qu’een,” Ryan instructed.
“What the—” Everly muttered as the Qu’een momentarily eclipsed the moon. The rest of what she said was lost as Matt and Chester soared over the treeline, blasting music loud enough I imagined it would rival Coachella. Was that Sandstorm? The ship dipped, the multi-colored lights on its sting-ray-shaped wings flashing in tandem with the annoying beat. I wasn’t sure if it was the loud music or the flashing lights that caught their attention, but all of the zombie guards atop the hill turned slowly, just as the Qu’een opened fire.
“Give us a slight head start,” Azo’lah told me.
“One more hit, then we’re heading over to Sotu Ridge to check on Zorina and the others, Captain,” Matt called over the Ran’dyl.
“Stay smart, stay safe, and stay in touch,” Ryan instructed.
“Always,” Matt replied as the music blasting from the Qu’een’s speakers changed. As they spun in the air, the rainbow lights swept across the treetops, flickering at an alarming rate to keep up with the new frantic electric pace.
“Alright, witches.” Ryan brought up their crossbow as they surveyed the landscape, “Move out!”
Woden took off from Anthea’s shoulder as my friends, Everly in the lead, darted out from the treeline. Ryan covered them from behind while our small strike team spread out along the ridge. Overhead, the Qu’een swooped low, knocking over the zombies ringing the hill’s perimeter like bowling pins made of bones. Inexplicably, it didn’t slow them down much. As Everly skirted past the piles of remains, the skeletal warriors were already knitting themselves back together. They got to their feet, a few of them chasing after Everly as she barrelled down the hill, magical flames trailing from her palms, leaving an afterburn in the night air like sparklers.
Unfortunately for the skeleton zombies, Azo’lah, Fleetwood, and the witches caught up to them. Spells and bewitched crystals collided with the zombies, beheading two before our strike team even made it to them. Three of the witches, with Woden covering them from the sky, rushed along the left side of the ridge, cutting off the path of half of the zombies. Anthea and the other witch took the zombies on the right, leaving the central group for Azo’lah and Fleetwood to dispatch.
Azo’lah reached the enemy first.
And...oh. I realized that while I’d seen Azo’lah employ her zali’thir in training, I’d never actually seen her wield it with intent until this very moment. I thought she simply favored her glowing javelin and hybrid vambrace/shield for the amount of damage she could inflict with the pair. But now I realized that damage paled in comparison to what she was capable of with her zali’thir in her hand.
She fought with the brutal grace of a lioness bringing down a wildebeest. I gave myself a couple of seconds to appreciate the view as Fleetwood grabbed an undead witch by the robes, spinning it into Azo’lah’s path. Azo’lah flipped her grip on her zali’thir, skewering the witch right above its empty third eye socket. The zombie sizzled into a plume of golden ashes, like macabre pixie dust. To our left, there was a howl like a wolf then an explosion of violet light. Skeletal limbs went flying, and golden dust showered down. The witches cheered triumphantly. Azo’lah and Fleetwood ignored all this, turning back-to-back to draw more of the zombies to them. “Gretchen,” Ryan yelled as they sent a crossbow bolt into the fray. “Go!”
I started, remembering that I had a part to play. Fleetwood and Azo’lah’s path of destruction had succeeded in its purpose: there was a clear opening for me to catch up with Everly.
I left the safety of the trees, sprinting down the bone-strewn path my friends had created. Bag thumping against my side with every step, I hopped over a severed zombie arm and crested the ridge. The hill’s slope was steeper than I thought, and I lost my footing against the dusty terrain. I skidded down almost ten feet, biting back a scream as I threw out my arms to steady myself.
I spotted Everly in the distance. She was already halfway across the field, luring the seven guards from the temple’s door as she lobbed fireballs at them. The skeletal undead shambled across the field in a V formation, the leader taking the brunt of Everly’s fiery assault.
“They’re distracted. You’ll be safe,” Everly said as I caught up with her. From the pouch on the side of her chair, she launched three hexed crystals into the torso of the left-most zombie; it groaned then began trembling, shriveling into itself until it was nothing but a heap of gold dust. “Go now. We will catch up.”
I inhaled sharply, my lungs stinging with the effort of running. “I can’t just leave you to handle this yourself!”
A crossbow bolt zinged past my right cheek. Ryan landed a shot square in the rotting sternum of the skeletal guard closing in on us. I blinked against the sudden shower of golden dust. “I’ve got her back,” Ryan said, their long legs carrying them to Everly’s side. I turned to see Fleetwood and Azo’lah sprinting down the hill, Anthea and her four witch sisters following in close pursuit. Ryan shoved at my shoulder. “Get to the safety of the temple, Borowicz. Wait for us there.”
The fire dancing across Everly’s fingers extinguished. Sweat dotted her hairline as she refocused her hands and said, “I’ll get the door for you.”
With four zombies bearing down on us, I did not wait for further instruction. I darted for the temple, my legs burning. The monumental stone doors opened, pried apart by the gold-kissed moonlight surging from Everly’s clasped palms.
I ducked under the beam, crouched low and ready to throw myself into the opening the minute it became large enough for me to fit through.
But then, darkness, blacker than a starless night, manifested into a wall that slammed into Everly’s light. It sent her magic dangerously off-course, cutting a trench six feet deep down the middle of the field. I dodged the blast, tucking thoughtlessly into one of the rolls Milyna had me practice relentlessly. I regained my feet. Cold seeped into my bones like all the warmth had been sucked out of the atmosphere. It emanated from the small figure framed perfectly by the mammoth temple doors.
The sole, live necromancer that Chester had noted on his scan had finally made his appearance. And he was a child. Swallowed by the fabric of his flowing robes, he looked to be Orla’s age, if not younger. His face was blank as he gazed at us, no flicker of life across his small, sallow features.
As he met my eyes, the earth trembled. Or, it might’ve been me.
A terrible wave of sound, like a hundred dying, exhales being forced back into unwilling lungs swept up the cliff face, past the temple, and across the field, louder even than the crash of the waves below. My hair came loose from my ponytail, and I stumbled with the force of the gale.
The child-necromancer laughed as darkness seeped from him and spread like water from a leaky hose.
I heard someone behind me shout my name, tell me to retreat. But I was frozen to the dewy grass as the black fog swirled around my legs, spreading as far as I could see.
“W-what’s happening?” I whispered to no one.
I blinked as the mist dissipated to reveal a horrific sight. Bones jutted from the earth, hands reaching past the soil for the moon. Heads and torsos hauled themselves out of the ground. Bodies, long devoid of flesh and soul, returned. An entire army of the dead. And not all were human. I spotted flashes of claws and tails, snouts, and fangs. Skeletons knitted together into fantastical shapes beyond my wildest imaginings and worst nightmares. Huge, four-legged creatures who resembled dinosaurs stood beside horse-octopus hybrids. Witches, some horrifyingly still covered in flesh, joined these creatures as they all moved in perfect synchronization to attack.
A pair of undead witches were closest to me. I shouted as their hollowed eye cavities focused on me.
“Gretchen!” Azo’lah’s voice sounded from inside my head and without. Like a lightning strike, Azo’lah lunged in front of me, Fleetwood following. Their blades ripped through flesh and bone, eviscerating the two witches into gold dust with astounding, efficient ferocity.
The tiny necromancer raised his hand toward Fleetwood. With a growl, Azo’lah dove at him. There was a brilliant flash of light and a cry of pain. I barely heard Ryan’s bellow, Chester’s voice over our comms, or the yelling of the witches battling their way to us. All I heard was my shout as I reached for Azo’lah. Fleetwood tugged on my arm, snaring me in a tight hold.
One of the huge dinosaur-like creatures with a large diamond-shaped bony plate around its head lumbered toward us. It extended its long neck and snapped huge, sharp teeth that were uneroded by its time underground. Fleetwood slashed wildly at it with her dagger, attempting to get it to back off. Unfortunately, the edge of her blade caught on the crystal’s bag at my side. Fleetwood tugged her weapon free, ripping right through the leather. With the force of her yank, the crystal was sent airborne. Fleetwood and I both went for it, momentarily forgetting the massive skeletal creature threatening us. The crystal landed in Fleetwood’s palm, just as the dinosaur-thing’s bony snout connected with her hand.
The crystal flared, moon-bright, and emitted a roiling pulse of power that obliterated the zombies that swarmed us into dust. When it slammed into the child necromancer, he wilted into Azo’lah’s arms, like the life he had re-gifted to the undead had been forcibly drained from him.
Azo’lah threw his unresponsive body at Anthea. She caught his unconscious form in a beam of silver-gold light. Everly bound his prone form in fiery ropes before Anthea forcefully levitated him up to the top of the ridge.
The only enemy that remained was the skeletal creature who stood opposite us. Its previously empty eye sockets were now filled with swirling orbs of dewy mist, like expressive crystal balls. It stepped forward.
Fleetwood shoved the crystal into my hands and pushed me up the temple steps. She sunk into a defensive stance. I tripped into Azo’lah’s waiting arms. She set me on my feet while raising her zali’thir at the creature who was slowly pursuing Fleetwood as she backed up. Its spiny tail lashed happily side to side, scattering fading golden ashes across the upturned earth. The creature didn’t seem perturbed by the enchanted knife Fleetwood wielded. It tilted its head to the side as Anthea, Everly, Ryan, and the rest of the witches rushed to surround it.
Azo’lah, saffron-colored blood dripping down her face from a nasty cut and a concerning charred hole in the front of her spacesuit, pulled her zali’thir back, ready to let it fly.
“Wait!” Anthea threw out her arms. She approached the creature slowly and held out a hand. The creature inclined its head gracefully, its unnatural eyes trained on Anthea. “Welcome back, faithful one,” Anthea breathed as Woden landed on the creature’s shoulder. The creature turned and reared, resting its chin lightly between Fleetwood’s disheveled buns.
“Congratulations, Fulyiti,” Anthea said with a small, bemused smile. “It appears you have acquired a familiar.”
Fleetwood reached up awkwardly and patted the beak-like snout of the creature’s skull.
Ryan lowered their crossbow. “Let’s, uh, put a pin in that, get inside, and lock the doors before the necromancers come back.”
Immediately, Azo’lah’s arm tightened around my waist as she pulled me further into the temple’s safety.
“What is it with us and temples, huh?” I joked lamely, tugging my bandana off to stem the bleeding on her face.
We moved quickly inside. Anthea raised her hands, sealing the doors until the only light to see by was the misty eyes of Fleetwood’s new companion and the Crystal of Cajlire, which shone faintly in my hand.
Ryan dabbed the sweat off their brow, unwittingly smearing dirt on their forehead. They wiped their palm on their pants before activating their Ran’dyl. “Killer Qu’een, status update.”
“All good over here. Zorina and Gideon have everything under control at Sotu’s Ridge. Chester and I headed back your way to track any necromancer movement near the temple,” Matt responded. “How are you all?”
“We’re fine,” Ryan said automatically. I cast a skeptical glance at them, which I doubted they could see. Ryan’s outline was hardly distinguishable from the darkness shrouding the room. Fine had a wide variety of definitions. Alive seemed like a better word choice.
I pushed up on my tiptoes to more easily reach Azo’lah’s face and assess her injuries. The glowing colors of the crystal turned the blood still leaking from the cut on her forehead into a gory watercolor sunset. The back of her suit was shredded, revealing her Myax tattoo.
Light, bright and clear, blossomed in the darkness. It was Anthea conjuring orbs of light from her fingertips. With a sweeping gesture, she dispersed the lights overhead. We were in a small room constructed of stone and marble with a barrel-vaulted ceiling. The walls were clean of any ornamentation or sigil, save for a detailed engraving of the Goddess Delto suspended in the heavens, a heavy moon hanging behind her. I desperately hoped that we got the crystal to its proper resting place soon. I couldn’t bear the thought of this beautiful, storied place being ripped apart, let alone the universe.
“I’m gonna need a more precise definition of fine,” Chester said when Ryan didn’t elaborate after a few long moments. “FleetMerc?”
Fleetwood deftly dodged the path of the giant skeletal creature, which was parading in front of her like an overeager Labradoodle begging for attention. She looked around the room. “Our crew is battered and bruised but otherwise well, dearheart,” she reported, downplaying the bruises already discoloring her neck and arm. “Our six witches are badass bitches and thus fared better than we.” Our witchy escort chuckled at that assessment, already nursing their small injuries and resecuring their tactical gear. Anthea cradled Woden close, whispering to him as she caressed his left-wing tenderly.
Fleetwood’s undead familiar nudged her arm. Charmed, she grinned and stroked his snout. “I have a new friend,” Fleetwood informed Matt and Chester over the comms. “He looks like the supersized version of little Orla’s familiar.”
Anthea came to stand next to Fleetwood, Woden in hand, nuzzling her neck. “Woden says that he is a returned soul, a witch’s familiar long-departed brought back by contact with the crystal and Delto’s will. You should gift him a name,” the Ephemeris said. “He no longer remembers his own. As you are not a witch, it is unlikely that you will be able to communicate with him as we do. Don’t worry,” Anthea added at Fleetwood’s crestfallen look. “Delto’s creatures do not choose lightly in any form. You will find a way.”
Fleetwood ran her hand underneath the creatures’ jaw bone, expression solemn. “I took my name from two legends of Earth rock music. So too, shall you be named but a different genre. I dub thee, LinManHammerSchwartzSondHermStein.”
I had to glance away from Azo’lah because her expression made me want to laugh. “I can’t even say that once, let alone five times fast,” Chester said, not bothering to hide his amusement as Fleetwood crammed the composers of all her favorite broadway musicals into a lengthy, hardly pronounceable portmanteau.
“Maybe we’ll just use LinManHam for comms purposes,” Ryan said as the newly christened LinManHam rubbed itself against Fleetwood.
“Heads up, Cap. We’ve got necromancer movement over by you!” Matt reported. “Damn that magic transportation witches can do. Chester, numbers?”
“We’ve got five life signs and visuals of at least thirty undead,” Chester rattled off. My throat clogged as I suppressed the abrupt need to vomit. Chester shouted, “Guys, brace the door, now.”
Azo’lah pushed my hand away from her face. She turned to Anthea as Woden clambered back onto the Ephemeris’s shoulder. “We need to move. How long will your magic hold?”
Boom. The door to the temple shook, the echo passing by us into the shadowed depths of the temple.
“Not long enough against those numbers,” Everly said grimly. Anthea directed a stream of power at the doors to reinforce them. Everly’s signature fire flared across her palms as she added, “Let’s not forget the possibility of the necromancers using cloaking spells. There could be more of them anywhere.”
“Fucking necromancers,” Ryan spat.
“You stay here,” Anthea directed two of her four witches. “Hold the door as long as you can.” The witches eyed each other before nodding their assent. Anthea cupped their faces in her hands. “May Delto’s light guide your spells, sisters.”
I fought back tears at the bravery of these two young women who had just accepted what was, for all intents and purposes, a suicide mission. Fleetwood moved to me, wrapping her arm across my shoulder. The motion was meant to be comforting, and it was, but the comfort just intensified my desire to cry. And we didn’t have time for that.
Azo’lah moved to my other side. She nudged the crystal and, while her eyes were understanding, her tone was firm as the temple door rattled again. “Gather yourself, Myaxi. We must be quick for our sisters in arms.”
Fleetwood squeezed me tight as her familiar nudged the back of my head. “We won’t tow away our shot.”
“Killer Qu’een, do whatever you can to help at the door. And be ready for potential extraction,” Ryan instructed.
“Roger that,” Matt said. “Chester and I are going bone bowling.”
“Be careful. All of you,” Chester added. The temple shook again, but I wasn’t sure if it was the necromancers or the obnoxious song that was undoubtedly blasting from the Qu’een’s sound system as Matt probably, executed some tricky flying in order to harry those outside.
“We shall take the lead.” Anthea indicated herself and Everly, already moving toward the doorway into the temple. “We do not know what potential traps Daxolos and his followers may have laid for us. It’s best for us witches to go first.” I bit my lip. I hadn’t even thought of potential magical necromancer booby traps. Anthea’s gaze landed on her remaining two warriors. “And cover the rear.”
“Yes, Ephemeris,” they replied.
“Myax, front or back?” Ryan asked.
“Middle.” Azo’lah positioned herself in front of Fleetwood but at my back.
Fleetwood extended up onto her tiptoes and patted her familiar on its beaky snout. “Stay here, LinManHam, and help guard the door.”
The skeleton whined its indignation but obeyed Fleetwood’s instructions.
Ryan hefted their crossbow. “Alright, Ephemeris, lead on.”
I followed behind Ryan as we exited the antechamber, the crystal clutched in both hands. Azo’lah pulled up Chester’s scan of the temple, its holographic form eerie in the semi-gloom of the temple. The temple, with the exception of the square entryway we’d just left, was formed by three concurrent circular chambers. The innermost one was a communal meeting space for rituals to the Goddess Delto, who’s massive likeness presided in the center of the room. The next circular chamber was bisected into two, each half mimicking the stages of the moon they were named for, Waxing and Waning, respectively. The outermost ring, was called the Ascension Chamber and was used solely for the witches’ coming of age ritual. That’s where we were now.
The Ascension Chamber’s walls were etched with the various phases of the moon. On either side of us, the floor inclined downward, disappearing out of sight as it wrapped around the bulging walls of the inner sanctuary.
Like in their mountain safehouse, the inner doors of the temple required a witch’s touch. Anthea laid both of her palms flat against the wall and shut her eyes, reverently. I had a strange, disquieting sense of deja vu that harkened back to my first mission at Temple of Aluthua.
Everly’s hands joined Anthea’s against the wall. Two doorways, shaped like mirrored gibbous moons, appeared.
“Both the Waning and Waxing chambers lead to the entrance for the central chamber, where the statue is,” Anthea explained. “I do not think we should divide our numbers.”
“Agreed,” Azolah said and made to follow Anthea and Everly through the left-hand door.
“Wait!” I latched onto the back of Azo’lah’s jacket, which tore even further under my hand. Whoops. The group turned to me. “The Waxing Chamber is for birth and manifestation. But the Waning Chamber is used for blessings on the sick and last rights for the dying, right? Wouldn’t the necromancers feel more at home there? I think we should take the right, it’s likely to have fewer traps as they probably spend more time in it, worshipping Death or whatever.” I gripped the crystal in my left hand and gnawed on my right thumbnail before realizing how disgusting it probably was. “Never mind, I’m sure—”
“I think they’re both equally full of nasty necromancer magic that’ll try to kill us,” Everly shrugged. “But you make a good argument.”
“To the right then,” Ryan said firmly.
Fleetwood reached around Azo’lah and patted my shoulder in reassurance. “Good thinking, Gret’chen.”
I grimaced as we fell back into formation, Everly, and Anthea at the front, Anthea’s orbs lighting our way. The Waxing Hall was a sharp crescent curve lined with multiple altars, the stone of which was so white it glowed.
“Ugh!” Ryan clapped a hand over their nose and mouth. The odor hit me, triggering my gag reflex. It was sulfurous with an edge of sweetness. Like meat and fruit left out to rot.
The only one of us not clutching her nose, Anthea sent orbs of light to illuminate the nearest altar.
I squinted, craning around Ryan to get a better look. “What is that?”
Azo’lah pulled me back, her hand firm but gentle. Her mouth was set in a grim, determined line.
It took a moment for me to catch her meaning, but when I did, my knees almost gave out. “You don’t mean—” I stared at the glowing altar. “Those aren’t people, are they?”
“It would appear Daxolos’s repugnance knows no bounds,” Anthea replied, heartbreak etched into every line of her face. “To use magic to kill other witches is heresy of the highest order, but to lay them upon the altar of gratitude to our Goddess is beyond anything I could’ve imagined.” Even from my Azo’lah enforced distance, I could tell the body was too small to be an adult.
Horrified nausea knotted my stomach.
“Come,” Anthea said, stroking Woden’s fur as he rubbed his cheek against hers in comfort. “We will properly lay the remains of our brothers and sisters to rest once Daxolos has been dealt with.
We followed Anthea and Everly at a snail’s pace through the room as they used magic to detect possible danger.
As we passed each altar, Fleetwood whispered in Ancient Destyrian at my back. I turned my head minutely in an attempt to catch what she was saying. Azo’lah gripped my neck and forced my attention forward. “It is the Ancient Destyrian prayer,” she whispered. “It asks the seven stars to guide their souls to peace.”
The final altar had only a stack of bones atop it. Fleetwood’s quiet prayer faded into the unnatural stillness.
“I’d say this was feeling too easy, but I’m not going to be that asshole,” Ryan whispered as we inched closer to the crescent’s upper point, where the concealed door into the central chamber was.
“But by saying that, aren’t you in effect saying it?” Everly pointed out. She made a beckoning gesture, summoning Anthea’s lights closer.
“Semantics,” Ryan replied.
At my back, Azo’lah stilled. “What was that?”
“What was—” My question was cut off by a sharp smacking, like a palm hitting a countertop.
“Everly, get them into the central chamber,” Anthea commanded as she strode back toward where we came, the two remaining witches flanking her. “No matter what you may hear or see, you are not to stop, you are not to turn back. You get that door open and return the crystal to the statue.”
“Yes, Ephemeris,” Everly said, refocusing her attention and magic on the wall where our chamber and the neighboring Waning chamber merged into a short, narrow hallway. Anthea turned her gaze to me, and for a moment, I felt every inch of her power. Instead of making me tremble, it strengthened me. “Go, Gretchen. We will cover your backs.”
“Cover our backs from what?” I asked as Ryan grabbed my hand and tugged me forward. Azo’lah maneuvered Fleetwood beside me, guarding the rear.
“Woden, up.” Anthea’s familiar soared into the air, his bat wings black against the orbs, all but one of which returned to circle the Ephemeris. By their light, I could see that the altars were now empty. That explained the earlier sound.
I tugged against Ryan’s hold, my back colliding with Azo’lah’s front. “We can’t just leave them to fight all those raised bodies on their own!” I argued.
Fleetwood said, “We’ve never run from an ass-kicking before!”
“Everly, get the...” Ryan trailed off. Their eyes widened at something at my back. “Cubist Meat Zombie!”
I spun around and screamed. There were not five separate reanimated corpses, but instead, one giant misshapen monster constructed from all their rearranged, misaligned parts. Decomposing arm attached to bone attached to decomposing arm. Thighs welded together stacked atop a hubcap-sized smattering of kneecaps. Feet, attached at the heels, fanned out like flower petals to support it. The torso was a horrific interlocking of rib cages. The five skulls, two with cartilage still attached to the nose, laid across the shoulders like grotesque bobbleheads across a dashboard.
I threw up across the floor of the Waning Hall.
Anthea sprinted for the cubist meat zombie. Half a dozen crystals flew from her waist and cut through its bloated, piecemeal flesh, but it did not slow it down. Instead, it seemed invigorated by the violence. It reached down and plucked one of the witches from the ground. I shut my eyes against the sound of rending bone.
The witch dropped to the floor like a ragdoll.
“Myaxi,” Azo’lah yelled. She pushed me at Ryan, who yelled, “Duck!”
There was a sizzle as something collided with Azo’lah’s vambrace-shield. It dropped to the floor with a sickening clatter, spraying red in its wake. The monster was throwing bones, torn and broken to jagged points from the newly murdered witch’s body. I heaved but had nothing left to throw up.
“Hurry,” Everly hollered, wheeling into the narrow hallway. Fleetwood grabbed my hand, deflecting another bone missile with her knife.
I stumbled as quickly as I could after Everly and Fleetwood. Azo’lah’s playing a sick kind of goalie behind us, covering our retreat. A shriek of pain and terror chased us down the winding hall. Anthea’s familiar growled.
“Don’t look back,” Everly commanded, though she sounded as though she was convincing herself more than us. She brought her chair to a jerking stop, incinerating one of the smaller bone projectiles Azo’lah had missed with a burst of fire. Everly threw her arms wide, palms flat against the stone. Like a moon waxing to fullness, a round door outlined with glowing sigils appeared.
“Fuck!” I shouted as Azo’lah pulled me, Ryan, and Fleetwood close. She hunched over us, her shield expanding over our heads as much as it could. Bones like needles pinged off its pink surface and rained down at our feet.
“Let’s go,” Everly said through gritted teeth. “I can’t hold it for very long.”
We sprinted through the open door, Everly zipping in behind us as it disappeared.
I skidded to a stop and looked up at the Goddess Delto. She was glorious. Rendered in the same white stone of the temple’s altars and towering, she looked down upon us with the understanding of a mother. Her hair fell down her back in finely engraved waves, and her mouth was turned up in a gentle, welcoming smile. Like the witches of Huxor, she had a third eye, except Delto’s was closed.
Her arms were slightly extended, and her palms cupped together. Like a cradle. Above the statue, situated in the domed roof, there was a circular skylight that let the light of the moon filter onto the goddess as it meandered overhead. Rows of curved benches, which I assumed were for worshippers, lined the walls. A deep trench followed the entire periphery of the room, and it was filled with a familiar silver liquid.
Why was the mysterious liquid found in the Temple of Aluthua on Vas Roya in the Temple of Delto?
I leaned over the trench.
“Holy fuckballs, we made it,” Ryan whooped as they galloped around the statue’s base.
“Gretchen, what are you waiting for?” Everly gasped. I tore my attention from the liquid to find the witch doubled-over in her wheelchair, sweat-drenched and panting with exertion. “The crystal now. I’d levitate it up, but I need a moment.” Ryan immediately crossed to Everly, crouching down beside her. I figured there was nothing Ryan could do to help the young witch, she had simply used too much magic too fast, but I didn’t have the heart to break up their tender moment.
“Right, right,” I looked down at the crystal, its glow seemed to strengthen the closer it came to the statue. I glanced up at where Delto’s hands were cupped, well above my head. “Fleetwood, Azo’lah, a hand possibly?”
“Of course, dearest, Gret’chen,” Fleetwood replied. The cousins hoisted me onto their shoulders. Fleetwood used the palm of her hand to push me up higher to make up for the height difference between them. I almost toppled backward, but Azo’lah’s hand clamped around my thigh for stability. We cautiously approached the statue.
I leaned forward and sent my own prayer up to Delto. I released the crystal into her palms. After a long moment of silence, I asked, “Did it work? Everly, do you feel anything… you know, uhm, magically changing?”
“No,” she sighed.
“Are you positive, young witch?” Azo’lah asked. The cousins turned around with me still on their shoulders. “You used up a great deal of your magic in protecting us.”
“Put me down,” I demanded, patting both their heads.
They lowered me as Everly replied, “Doesn’t matter how much magic I’ve used, I would know.” Everly bit her lip. “This wasn’t right. The necromancers still have power.”
“How right you are,” came the voice of a man from the back of the central chamber. A pale, gaunt man in a hooded robe, flanked by two others in hooded robes, materialized through the solid walls. The chamber got darker, colder. A chill stole into my very blood.
Necromancers.
Everly’s palms ignited. “Daxolos.”
The leader of the necromancers grinned, feral and haunted. “Thank you so very much for bringing the crystal to me. It makes destroying it all the easier.”
“Really?” I blurted without thinking.
Daxolos halted his creepy stalk across the floor. The final rasp of his stilling cloak on the stone floor heralded a silence broken only by the trickling of the silver liquid as it circumnavigated its trough.
Ryan looked at me as if I were crazy. And I might be. But my unintentional outburst had one positive outcome. Daxolos was focused on me and not the crystal sitting in the statue’s hands above us.
Daxolos’s unsettling gaze swept over me. “You’re no witch.”
Fleetwood and Azo’lah pressed in close on either side of me, their weapons brandished defensively.
“Wow. Didn’t need the extra eye to spot that one,” I taunted. I thwapped Azo’lah frantically on the thigh, too distracted by trying to keep Daxolos’s attention to muster the concentration needed to initiate technopathic contact.
Myaxi? The word cut through my frantic plotting.
The short necromancer to the left of Daxolos raised his hand. “Let me, my Umbra,” the young man hissed from within the shadow of his hood. A visible miasma of malodorous gas coalesced over his head. It writhed like a swarm of maggots.
Get it while he’s not looking, I sent Azo’lah as best I could while being preoccupied with death by pestilence. Everly, I added, hoping she got what I was going for.
Daxolos gestured with his slender, knobbed hand, signaling his follower to stand down. “In a moment, dear one. First, this human must divulge why the Ephemeris would send those ungifted by their wayward goddess to do such important work.”
“Pfffffttt.” I gestured at his dark ensemble. “Why would anyone be scared of you? Can you even walk at a normal pace without tripping over your robes?” Azo’lah rocked on her heels at my side. “At this rate, I’m surprised you even have a nose. Harry called, he wants his villain back.” Ryan let out a hysterical little laugh.
“You have courage, human,” Daxolos’s voice was terribly laborious as if every word had to claw its way through his vocal cords to be heard. “But you are also very stupid. There may only be three of us here, but four more of our brothers are outside the temple. Those they have brought back to this plane are keeping your friends busy. You met their newest project on your way here, I believe. And the rest of my order is about to strike your last mountain safe house.”
“No,” Everly gasped, thinking, as I was, of Orla and Gideon and the rest of the witches falsely assuming their safety in the mountain. Loathing for this man who looked like a B-list Hollywood villain, who murdered children and desecrated their bodies in the name of power, ripped through me. If I had magic, I would light this asshole up and feel no remorse letting him burn.
Now, Gretchen! Azo’lah leaped, reaching for the crystal. “Everly!” she shouted. Azo’lah’s snatched up the crystal, just as Daxalos’s overeager minion launched the necromancer equivalent of a fart bomb at her. She dodged it but lost her grip on the crystal, which fell to the temple floor. The magical pestilence cloud set into Delto’s robes. The stone, which until then had been pristinely white, blackened with decades worth of age and disregard in seconds.
“Thirty-two, fifty-five hut!” Fleetwood yelled. She dove onto the crystal, cradling it against her belly. Daxolos raised his arms, chanting. The walls of the temple shivered as if fending off a sudden chill.
Ryan fired a bolt at his head, but it was consumed by a wave of fire that shattered the skylight. Azo’lah hurtled for Fleetwood, shielding her as glass rained down. I scuttled out of range of the falling glass with my arms thrown up to protect my head. In my haste, I tripped over Delto’s big toe and landed ungracefully on my ass.
Fleetwood popped up to her feet as I turned over on my stomach, trying to push myself off the floor. Through the open skylight, a half-decayed corpse descended in a grotesque approximation of what Everly had done to me earlier in the mountain. Fleetwood turned to face the resurrected witch.
“An Ephemeris carries the gift of Delto long past her death,” Daxolos said, with a grin that showed off all of his yellowed teeth. Wow, that wasn’t a good look for him. And also, wow, it did not bode well for us that Daxolos had the power to resurrect the bodies of past Ephemerises who could still use magic.
“Everly, catch!” Fleetwood chucked the crystal over her shoulder like a bride tossing the bouquet before bodily launching herself at the taller of Daxolos’s companions. Azo’lah followed right after her.
The crystal fell short of Everly’s grasp, but Ryan kicked upwards with the side of their foot. It, miraculously, landed in Everly’s lap. The Undead Ephemeris splayed her rotting hands, releasing a barrage of lighting, turning the spherical temple into an oversized plasma ball. I tucked myself into the side of the statue for cover.
Ryan ducked behind Everly’s chair. Everly threw up her hand, a huge, round shield of gilded light erupting from it like the young witch had managed to manifest the moon inside the chamber itself. The dead Ephemeris’s lightning crackled against the shield, ricocheting toward—
“Azo’lah, watch out!” I screamed. Azo’lah had already thrown her glowing vambrace- shield over Fleetwood, but the magic pierced right through it, hitting them both. They cried out, rolling in a tangle of smoking limbs before crashing into the closest bench. The sickening smell of burning fabric and hair wafted through the space.
Everly groaned under the effort of maintaining her shield.
Ryan popped up on the side of Everly’s chair. They pressed Everly’s hand to the crystal in her lap. “Use it!” Ryan yelled, blue eyes wide. Their short hair was standing straight up like a frozen wave. “It amplifies power, right?” Everly nodded, grabbing the crystal. Her shield expanded, bisecting the room, its light almost blinding.
Fleetwood was on her knees, crawling toward Azo’lah, who had propped herself up on her right forearm. It looked like the necromancer had landed a curse on Azo’lah. The sleeve of her jacket was singed, the skin a network of angry, glowing burns. Her neck was a putrid brown and yellow color, rotted unnaturally by the necromancer’s spell. Under her tattered Wicked shirt, Fleetwood’s back was burned like Azo’lah’s arm—like the magic lightning was still trapped under her skin.
The necromancer they had tackled reached forward, his arm bleeding with a long gash. Darkness swirled across his hand, red sparks crackling up from it. He drew his hand back, ready to launch the spell. I ran for them but couldn’t get past Everly’s barrier.
“Drop it!” I screamed. I gestured at where Fleetwood and Azo’lah lay next to each other on the floor, the agony plain on their faces. “They’ll die!”
But Everly was aflame from within. All three of her eyes were the same incandescent, eerie gold of the shield that the undead Ephemeris, Daxolos, and his remaining minion continued to batter with spells. Ryan was shaking her, trying to prize her hand off the crystal to no avail.
Warm air swept the chamber as the door appeared. Fleetwood’s familiar, LinManHam, charged full tilt to Fleetwood. He knocked Ryan into Everly’s lap, passing through the shield like it wasn’t there.
He leaped in front of Fleetwood and Azo’lah, his huge, beak-like mouth open, just as the necromancer let go of the spell. LinManHam swallowed the sparking ball of darkness before regurgitating the spell at the necromancer.
Rapidly spreading embers dotted the necromancer's skin like millions of tiny, blistering rubies, consuming his flesh. He gasped for breath, choking on the dark, ash-filled cloud that surrounded him. Azo’lah wrapped her good arm around Fleetwood and scrambled away from the necromancer as the smoke coalesced, becoming opaque.
He exploded outward like a tiny nuclear bomb. LinManHam curled protectively over Fleetwood and Azo’lah forcing them onto their backs. Azo’lah’s injured arm slipped into the trench flowing with silver liquid.
“Ryan! Clap her out it!” Fleetwood cried, as Daxolos laughing, even in the face of his follower’s gruesome demise, prepared to cast another spell.
“One by one, death will welcome you all,” Daxalos rasped. “But I will pull you back. You will never know Delto’s embrace.”
Ryan grabbed Every’s face and kissed her full on the mouth. And, maybe, love really did break the spell because Everly blinked. The golden shield flickered. I sprinted forward, sliding under it, not sure at all what I could do but knowing that Azo’lah was there and—
“Don’t touch the liquid!” It was Everly, panting hard. Her eyes were still glowing as she used the crystal, but she was present, a vessel for the power instead of overwhelmed by it. Without even moving her hands, she lashed out with twin infernos, pressing the undead Ephemeris back into Daxolos. Ryan distracted the small necromancer with a barrage of well-aimed bolts that didn’t do much damage but kept him too busy to aid his master. LinManHam joined them, chomping on any wayward spells, fighting with his own strange, belching brand of magic.
“Azo’lah,” Fleetwood said, pulling weakly at her cousin. Azo’lah’s arm was still in the silver liquid we’d been warned not to touch. Her usually sharp, navy eyes were distant and glazed. I worried for a moment that she was concussed. I plunged my hand into the silver liquid grasping for her hand.
The world blurred as disjointed images raced by me. Azo’lah seated on the Auhtula’s throne, looking distinctly unhappy. Shockley clean-shaven and in a button-up wearing glasses in front of a classroom. The witches’ mountain safe house under attack, the bridge of a strange ship, the statue of the First Auhtula wearing a cloak in the Temple of Aluthua, Fleetwood in a Myax uniform—
Azo’lah! I thought at her, trying to focus. I just needed to get to her hand... there. My fingers wrapped around hers. Azo’lah, come on!
The liquid rippled. Electricity zinged up my arm from my fingers. It felt strangely familiar, warm.
Myaxi. My hand was suddenly free of the liquid. It dripped off my skin but clung to Azo’lah’s, moving against gravity up her arm, wrapping around her wounds. It’s technology. The message flashed across my mind like Azo’lah had sent it without meaning to. And something else. The water climbed up her neck, revealing her arm, the angry brown bruising remained, but it was now free of the deadly rot.
“Watch out!” Fleetwood called, followed by “GOOD BOY!” as LinManHam stampeded for us. He swallowed and regurgitated an incoming fireball.
“A little help here!” Ryan yelled as their crossbow was knocked from their hand by a nasty-looking spell.
“Land ho!” Fleetwood cried, swinging up onto the back of her familiar and riding to Ryan’s rescue, even as Azo’lah tugged me to my feet.
“This liquid —” she started.
“It’s in the Temple of Aluthua too, in the Tomb of the First Auhtula,” I said hurriedly. “Zombie!” I yelped. The Undead Ephemeris crashed into us, blown backward by one of Everly’s spells. While I flailed, tripping, Azo’lah grabbed the Undead Ephemeris by her exposed vertebrae, slid her zali’thir into the witch’s third eye, and kicked her into the silver liquid. The Undead Ephemeris sunk slowly, the silver liquid bubbling angrily up to engulf her. Once she disappeared, it settled to its regular, steady trickle.
“Fleetwood!” Azo’lah grabbed my hand and sprinted across the chamber. “Knock him into the liquid. Just don’t touch it yourself!”
Fleetwood trilled a battle cry and directed LinManHam to ram the necromancer while simultaneously burping a cloud of pestilence in his face. The necromancer stumbled backward, screaming, and hit the wall with a sickening thud. I was too distracted watching him slowly slide into the silver liquid that I didn’t notice the blast of midnight blue fire heading my way until I was blown off my feet.
I had liked my cheekbone the way it was, I thought, splayed on the floor of the temple. I rolled over, tears springing to my eyes as pain seared my wrist. Most likely broken. I stared up at the mockingly serene face of Delto. Her two eyes staring down at me. Her third closed in repose. I wanted to rest, too. Everything hurt, from my face to my feet. The ache in my wrist was overwhelming, and I was so—WAIT.
Her third eye was closed. But all of the witches’ third eye acted in tandem with their other two. So why would they make their goddess, not in their own image?
Her gift is present in her sight…
I shot up, my cheek burning from its collision with the floor. It wasn’t a riddle. It was literal. The crystal belonged in Delto’s third eye.
“We have to get her third eye open!” I yelled. I scrambled toward the statue, repeating, “It’s her eye! It goes in her eye! Everly!” Azo’lah, Fleetwood on her bony steed, and Ryan hurried toward me.
“I’m busy!” The young witch grit out. She had been holding her own against Daxolos for too long, and she’d used a great deal of magic fighting to reach the temple before that. Even with the crystal’s aid she would run out of power soon.
The door opened. Anthea ran in, bleeding and battered, reeking of rotting meat, but gloriously alive. She took one look at the situation, strode forward, and placed one hand on Everly’s shoulder. Gore dripped from Anthea’s forehead as she said, “Help the others. I have this.”
“Give me a boost!” I demanded. Azo’lah gripped my hips and lifted me toward Delto’s cupped hands. I bit back pain, pressing down on Delto’s palm with the forearm of my injured hand, struggling for leverage. I managed to jimmy my way to standing, scurrying up the folds of the goddess’ stone robes. My foot slipped, and I screamed, sliding down.
Suddenly, I was airborne, then deposited gently on the goddesses head. I looked down at my friends—which was a mistake. I shut my eyes tight against the vertigo. I took a deep breath and gripped the waves of Delto’s hair with my thighs. I opened my eyes and reached down with my uninjured hand, tugging fruitlessly at the closed eyelid of her third eye. “We need to get her eye open!”
Everly, slumped in her chair, rallied as best she could. Channeling the power of the crystal, she sent several different spells to the statue, but the eyelid refused to budge.
I was ready to cry in pain and frustration, I was so sure I was right. Why wouldn’t it open? Was there a hidden button or…
No. That was too insane. Why would witches protect the cradle of their magic with technology? But then, why did they have the silver liquid from the Temple of Aluthua here in the first place? It was worth a shot.
Azo’lah, I sent to her. You try.
Azo’lah glanced at Everly. “Try again,” Azo’lah instructed. She rounded the statue like she was examining the back of it. Instead, she placed her hand on the stone. After a few moments, Azo’lah reached out with her other hand. A small trail of silver liquid slithered across the floor, like a snake composed of Mercury. It wound up the goddess’ robes, higher and higher. It wrapped around her neck, ever so briefly, before sinking into the stone. There was the loud, grating sound of something shifting that hadn’t been moved in quite some time. Beneath me, the statue beneath me vibrated. I flattened myself against it as Delto’s third eyelid slowly fell open to reveal an empty eye socket.
“Everly! The crystal!” I shouted. Everly groaned, using the last of her stores to levitate the crystal up to me. I caught it with my good hand and placed it carefully in the goddess’ third eyeball.
The eyelid closed and then opened, again, like the statue was waking up after a millennia-long nap. The light from the crystal intensified, forming a glittering beam that gathered in Delto’s cupped palms. Slowly, the goddess’ palms turned outward like she was proffering the light. A shockwave shook the temple. The witches and Azo’lah cried out, collapsing. In its trench, the silver liquid bubbled before flying upward, a molten, reflective wall. LinManHam tilted his head back to the moon and roared.
The world stilled and quieted. The air crackled like the night immediately after a summer storm. On the floor, Daxolos curled in on himself, his hands pressed over his third eye, shivering uncontrollably. It was like the crystal’s light had sucked all of the villainy showmanship out of him. He seemed smaller, reduced, and a bit pathetic.
Fleetwood guided LinManHam over to the fallen necromancer. LinManHam sat, draping one huge bony foot across Daxolos’ chest, pinning him to the floor. Neither seemed all that concerned with Daxolos’ apparent pain. Thinking back to the desiccated bodies we’d seen earlier, I couldn’t find it in myself to care about it either.
“Are you okay?” Ryan limped toward Everly. “Oh my god, your eye!”
“What’s going on? It worked, right?” I asked, unable to see from my perch on Delto’s head.
“Her third eye is clear now! It’s really pretty, too.”
Azo’lah offered Anthea a hand, helping her to her feet. “The Empheris’s third eye is also clear,” she noted. “How do you feel?”
Anthea smiled. “Centered in a way I never have.” The Ephemeris turned to smile up at me. “Delto’s gift indeed.”
“I feel amazing,” Everly, stretching her arms overhead. “But also like I could sleep for a week.”
“Before you do that,” I called. “Could someone help get me down, please?” My friends broke out into slightly hysterical, relieved laughter. Even my anxiety couldn’t convince me that they were laughing at me. Anthea flicked her wrist, and I levitated slowly away from Delto’s sculpted locks, bathed in the warm light of the crystal.
Azo’lah held out her arms, her smile brighter than any spell. “I have you, Myaxi.”
“Gretchen!” Matt’s voice echoed into the antechamber. “It’s starting soon!”
The delighted squeals of children followed his pronouncement.
“Sounds like things have already started. I’ll be out in a second,” I shouted back. It was a blatant lie. There was no way I’d be done with my sketch in a second. From my spot, seated on the stone floor, I looked up at Delto engraved in the wall, the full moon framing her smiling face and flowing locks. In the light of the orbs that Anthea had conjured for me, I held my sketch up to compare the images side by side. I was close to capturing the warm welcome in Delto’s eyes, but not quite.
There was a crunch of boots behind me. “Mate, seriously?” Matt asked. He squatted beside me with a mug of something dark that wafted a pleasant cinnamon scent into the air. He tapped my Ran’dyl. “You always do this. You know this thing can take pictures for you, right?”
“Don’t be a prick.” I pushed his shoulder until he toppled onto his ass, laughing. He held his mug high so he wouldn’t spill.
“I took three dozen pictures already,” I said. “But there’s something...magical about her that photos just won’t capture. Maybe with this,” I shook my sketchpad, “I can.”
“Can you capture that magic in the next forty-five seconds? Because they’re about to start, and ancient magical rituals beneath the light of the full moon wait for no archaeologist. Even if she is the planet’s hero.”
I shrugged sheepishly. “I’m not a hero. I just did what anyone with my training would’ve done.”
“Uh-huh, because there are so many real-life archaeologists in history known for stopping a war and the destruction of the universe,” Matt said.
He turned to look out the open doors onto the field that only three days prior had been a battlefield full of the undead. Now, the grass was now thick and lush, and even in the darkness of night, it shone verdant emerald. It was incredible what reconstructive magic could do. I followed his gaze to watch a pack of giggling little witches chase after LinManHam, who was stampeding between roaring bonfires. Adults milled about, passing around mugs and making last-minute preparations.
“Hard to believe I sprinted across that field when it was full of zombies trying to kill me,” I said.
Matt nodded at the pristine field and gestured toward the inner chambers of the Temple of Delto. “These witches work right quick when they set their minds to it. Those repairs to the central chamber took the same amount of time it takes me to run diagnostics on the Gold Dust Wo’man.”
He wasn’t lying. Once Daxolos and the rest of his followers, powerless and defeated, were transferred to a secure holding place, Anthea and her brethren wasted no time in repairing the destruction and desecration the necromancers had caused.
“Speaking of repairs,” Matt cautiously grasped my wrist, “should you even be using your hand this much so soon after healing?”
“Good as new,” I said, rolling my freshly healed wrist in a circle and then flapping it up and down. “The witches’ healing magic is quite powerful. It’s like it was never fractured.”
“Whatever you say, Gretch. He stood, brushed off his pants, and held out his hand to me. “Come on. You can finish that up later.”
“But we leave tomorrow morning,” I argued but tucked my pencil into my bandolier and closed my sketchbook all the same. I accepted his hand up.
He pulled me to my feet. “I promise not to take off until after you’ve finished your sketch.”
“There you two are,” a voice called.
“Jesus, Delto, and all the Covlax saints!” I gasped, spinning to find Azo’lah leaning against the open temple doors. She was dressed in a clean spacesuit, but instead of having her hair pulled back in a low, serviceable ponytail, she wore it half-up, with the rest falling in an icy cascade down her back. The light of the orbs above glinted off the silver strands giving her an ethereal glow.
“You survived multiple attacks from the undead and defeated necromancers,” Azo’lah said with a small smile. “Don’t tell me you’re still caught off guard so easily, Myaxi?”
“It doesn’t matter how many adventures we go on, Azo’lah,” I said, “I’m always going to freak out when you sneak up on me.”
Azo’lah beckoned us outside. With one last yearning look at Delto and another promise from Matt that I’d get the time to finish my sketch the following morning, I exited out into the nighttime air.
Azo’lah led us through the throng of celebrating witches to the bonfire where Ryan and Everly waited. The two had been inseparable since our death run through the Temple of Delto, constantly sneaking off and returning a half-hour later, looking a little dazed, their hair mussed.
“There you are,” Ryan cheered as they spotted me. “We thought you were going to miss it.”
I eyed where their fingers were entwined with Everly’s. “I’m surprised you even noticed I was missing,” I returned with a sly smile.
“This crew really needs to work on not sassing the Captain,” Ryan said, swaying closer to Everly. “Let’s add it to the training roster.”
Matt and I groaned. Everly grinned. “Are you always this strict, Captain Thorley?”
Not wanting that conversation to gain any traction, I asked, overly loud, “Where are Fleetwood and Chester?”
“Where do you think,” Azo’lah said, looking out across the bonfire speckled field to where LinManHam was frolicking. Closer now, I spotted the two shrieking figures sitting astride his back.
“How are they even comfortable like that?” I asked, wincing at the thought of resting on the sharp ridge of bones.
“Chester and Fleetwood fashioned saddles out of cushions we had on-board the Qu’een,” Matt replied.
“Did you get everything situated for him?” Everly asked.
“Ended up refitting a storage room for the flight back for the big guy,” Matt said.
Azo’lah nodded. “Once we are back on Destyr Chester, in tandem with our engineers, will design something for the bridge of the ship to keep LinManHam safe.”
“Yeah, we’re going to need a long-term solution to strap him in if we come under fire on one of our missions,” Ryan said. “For however long he’s with us.”
“He’s a familiar bestowed upon Fleetwood by the Goddess.” Everly smiled up at the burgeoning moon. “He will stay with her and protect her until she has completed her sacred task set before her by Delto.”
This was the fourth time this had been explained to us, and it still sounded ominous. The concept of Delto setting out a sacred task for Fleetwood was nerve-wracking. It wasn’t as though Fleetwood needed a new excuse to go in search of an adventure. But regardless of Delto’s reasons, for the foreseeable future, it appeared we had a giant, alien-dinosaur skeleton joining our crew.
“So cool,” Ryan murmured as LinManHam, under shouted orders from the Fulyiti herself, sauntered over to us.
“Whoa, there, LinManHam,” Fleetwood called as the familiar skidded to a halt scant inches from our bonfire, sending a cloud of grass and dirt into the flames.
“Have fun entertaining the small ones, Fulyiti?” Azo’lah asked as she helped Fleetwood and Chester disembark from LinManHam’s back.
“We had big bunches of fun, didn’t we, Hammy?” Fleetwood crooned, reaching up to cradle the massive creature's skull in her palms. She kissed the bottom of his jaw. LinManHam’s tail swished contentedly in the grass.
“Everly,” a witch called across the field. “It is time.”
“That’s my cue.” Everly kissed Ryan before leaving our group. She joined Anthea, Zorina, and three other witches who had already congregated on the temple’s front steps. At Anthea’s nod, Everly raised her arms, and every fire across the field roared toward the heavens. The gathered witches quieted immediately.
With Woden perched on her shoulder, Anthea placed her palm against her throat and then said, “Welcome, brothers and sisters, to our first Moon Rite since the return of peace.” Though she was not shouting, I heard the Ephemeris as though she was standing right next to me. “We have much to be thankful for and much to mourn. With help from friends, we returned the Crystal of Cajlire to its rightful place and eliminated the threat of the necromancers.” A cheer went up across the field and spells sparked through the air like small fireworks. “The natural balance has been restored. Delto’s has returned our strength to us while taking the magic of those who used her gifts to defy her natural order. For those who use Delto’s gifts out of malice, forfeit their gifts in the eye of the Goddess.”
“Serves them right,” Matt muttered. “Necromancer bastards.”
“Still don’t understand how it works,” Chester said from where he was tucked beneath Fleetwood’s arm. “Scientifically speaking, their abilities shouldn’t—”
Ryan nudged him in the ribs with an elbow. “Not science. Magic.”
“We have lost much. The sacrifices of our brothers and sisters will never be forgotten,” Anthea continued. “Tonight, we honor them beneath the light of the Goddess,” Anthea continued. Many of the witches around us bowed their heads. “We offer our gratitude for all that was given for us to attain peace, and for the unrestrained power of our Goddess to flow back to us and the other gifted species of this Quadrant.”
Around us, the witches, from youngest to oldest, all touched their foreheads, right above their recently opened third eyes. I caught Chester’s skeptical head shake at the mention of magic flourishing, not just amongst the witches but across the species whose ancient languages were engraved on the Crystal of Cajlire. Knowing how rare Azo’lah’s Iz’waij powers were, it was impossible for me to imagine Destyr suddenly abundant with them.
Anthea’s voice strengthened as she said, “The basis of our magic is in nature’s balance and the connections within it. And now we can all see our strongest affinities, our connection to this planet and each other. Gifts from the Goddess beyond our wildest imaginations.”
In demonstration, the flames before us reached ever higher, like fingers grasping for the stars. Upon the opening of her third eye, Everly’s gift with summoning and controlling fire was made even stronger. She no longer needed to say a spell, draw a sigil, or even move her hands to summon the flames—just a thought from the young witch could spark an ember into an inferno.
It was the same for all of the witches we were learning. While they could still perform all forms of magic, everyone had one specific gift from Delto—a gift that was so inherent to each witch, it was like breathing.
“Tonight,” Anthea’s eyes found our bonfire, and she smiled. “We honor our friends, who came to us in our hour of desperation and offered their help. May the Delto’s light shine upon all our nights.”
“May Delto’s light shine upon all our nights,” we all recited back.
“Sisters,” Anthea said, reaching for the hands of the witches upon the steps with her. They formed a circle, linking hands. A silver-glow pulsed from their chests and bled into the Temple of Delto.
For a long moment, we waited with bated breath. Then, a golden beam shot up from the center of the temple into the night sky, creating a direct link between the statue of Delto and the moon. Around us, the witches cheered and danced, shouting gratitude to their Goddess.
“Holy shit,” I breathed as the beam lit the field up like a midnight sun. I turned to see Azo’lah grinning unabashedly up at the sky.
“Alright, fine,” Chester conceded, “you guys are right. Magic is cool.”
The next morning, Matt kept his word. He didn’t even start take-off procedures until after I had returned with my completed sketch. Anthea and Everly came to say goodbye.
“You are welcome on Huxor for the rest of your days,” Anthea offered. “And if there is ever a time we can return your help, you need only ask.”
Fleetwood bowed deeply in gratitude. “You honor us greatly, Ephemeris.”
LinManHam bounded aboard the Gold Dust Wo’man and settled into the converted storage. Like the rest of us, it appeared he was just happy to go where Fleetwood went.
The rest of us boarded the ship to afford Everly and Ryan a private goodbye, but after a third systems check, Azo’lah bit the bullet and went back out to fetch our captain.
Ryan entered the bridge, unnaturally silent. They dropped into their Captain’s chair dejectedly.
“You alright, Cap?” Matt asked, spinning his seat to face them.
Ryan scrubbed their hand through their hair. “Yeah. Just sucks. We decided to just be friends. Living on separate planets doesn’t exactly make dating easy, you know?” They leaned back in their seat and groaned. “Of course, I meet the perfect person, and she lives on a planet on the opposite side of the Quadrant.”
“You gonna be okay, Captain?” Chester asked.
“I’ll be fine. Everly’s great, and I’m lucky to have her as a friend. It just… sucks. But enough about that,” Ryan said with forced cheerfulness. “You ready to conquer the stars, flyboy?”
Matt spun back around and initiated take-off. “Always, Captain.” Less than three minutes later, we were streaking out of Huxor’s atmosphere, settling in for the half-day trip back to Destyr.
Ryan yawned and stretched their arms above their head.
“Anybody up for some ice cream and some Cosmic Conquerors in the lounge?” I suggested. Even if Ryan had a supremely mature outlook about their situation with Everly, that didn’t mean they didn’t need a little comfort.
“Yes!” Ryan cheered, standing from their seat.
“I’m in. I can keep track of auto-pilot with my Ran’dyl,” Matt announced.
Fleetwood leaped from her seat. “Chester, will you make hot chocolate?” Her Ran’dyl tinkled a gentle chime. She tapped at her wrist and said, “Ooooh, Zerin just sent me a message.”
“Is all well back home?” Azo’lah moved to her cousin’s side.
Fleetwood pulled up the message as we all gathered around her. Zerin’s laughing face appeared. He did not waste time on a greeting, instead saying, “Cousin, you will not believe what you are missing! It’s hysterical. The whole planet’s in a right state. Hurry home so we can have a good laugh over this. The unoriginality of these liars makes it all the funnier. Iz’waij? Honestly!” My heart plummeted into my stomach as Zerin rolled his eyes. “I’ve attached a news link for your enjoyment. Give Chester and my sister my love!”
Zerin disappeared, replaced by a Destyrian news article announcing: Healer Confirms Birth of Western Continent’s First Iz’waij in Over 10,000 Binary Cycles.
Iz’waij. The word practically punched me across the face as I read it.
“This cannot be right,” Azo’lah whispered as she scanned the article.
Anthea’s words from the night before came back to me: For the unrestrained power of our Goddess to flow back to us and the other gifted species of this Quadrant.
Ryan said, “So is anyone ever going to tell me what the hell an Iz’waij is and why everyone keeps talking about them?”
“It means technopaths,” Chester said, ushering Ryan toward the lounge. “But they’re just an old Destyrian myth.”
As I followed them, half-listening to Fleetwood’s made-up song about hot chocolate, I caught Azo’lah’s eye and smiled. For now, her secret was safe, and so were we.