"Butterworth works with steam," said Kommora under her breath. Seiren could barely hear her. "He's fast and his powers explosive, but his flaws are his arrogance and that blind spot on his right side. We can make good use of those."
"But there's a water source everywhere. The entire tunnel is his arsenal," said Seiren, biting her lip.
"True. But don't forget the most basic of how magic is channeled, Nithercott."
The celestial energy can be harvested by those who can combine it with their own magic reserve, those identified to have potential as mages, in the form of rune, flash, or burst magic. How much is useful energy depends on how well-trained one is to channel it. It was as if she'd only read the textbooks yesterday.
"He may have the potential for an endless attack, but there is only so much he can channel--"
A torrent of steam poured in, drowning the surroundings in a hazy smog. Shadows moved in the background, but it was impossible to determine if they were friend or foe -- or anybody at all. Felora and Peron's guns would be useless if they couldn't see their target; they'd just as easily hit Kommora or Seiren. As if realising that at the same time, footsteps retreated behind Seiren as the soldiers sought a better vantage point. Seiren followed them, pulling out her chalk and paper. When the mist grew thinner, she squatted and waterproofed her runes before sketching a series of blue runes, modifying it the same way she'd seen Kommora alter the red runes to give it an extra burst. From within the steam cloud, the sound of sizzling and explosions emanated. Seiren wrapped the runes around the throwing knives.
She closed her eyes, emptying her mind. The act came easier now. She found the flow of her magic. Blood drummed in her ears, but that also faded. Her eyes flew open. Energy poured down her arms. With a clap of her hand, she threw the magic out in a rush of burst. A torrent of wind tore out from the palms of her hands. The steam parted, fleetingly, just in time to see Kommora's violet rune get soaked in mid-air. Kommora tsked in annoyance and fished for another rune, but before she could, Butterworth rushed at her and kicked her square in the chest.
Kommora's feet left the ground before she crashed onto the tunnel's rubble-strewn ground on her back. She coughed, clutching her front.
"Don't think you can keep up with someone twenty years your junior, Kommora!" Butterworth called out with a laugh. "Your runes might be fancy, but there's only so much they can do in combat."
He cracked his neck left and right before interlocking his fingers and stretching them out. A sinister grin stretched across his scarred face, his single visible hazel eye glinting with triumph.
"Well, it was nice knowing you, Kommora Haigh. Rest assured, I will remember this moment as one of my happiest. Who knows, maybe I'll even think of you instead of how successful I was with the Woodbeads' fall when I next use flash magic."
Seiren's legs pounded the ground before she registered what was happening. Butterworth gestured. Steam swirled before him. With still hands, Seiren sketched the same rune she'd seen Kommora use when fighting against Jarsdel's sound waves. She hoped against hope it would still activate. It was not a pristine drawing being on the go, despite all the practice she'd had before. She skidded before Kommora and threw up the rune in the air as she'd seen the old mage do, and snapped her fingers. The steam rushed towards her for the kill. The violet flashed. The solidifying element did activate, but the see-through wall she conjured was uneven. The majority of the steam aiming for her ran along the invisible surface but seeped through the cracks. Definitely not as well-prepared as the one she'd used in Acrise.
The steam withdrew. Butterworth opened his mouth, but shut it before he could utter a word and leapt backwards, waving his arm. Several violet runes activated on the wall to his side and bricks shot out at him. They would have skewered him had he not reacted in time -- and had the runes not been wonky due to Kommora's compromised position, making their activation slow and weaker.
"You're irritating me now, Seiren Nithercott," he said, the jaunty manner disappearing.
"What do you mean how successful you were with the Woodbeads' fall?" she demanded, squaring her stance before Kommora.
"Don't waste time for idle chit-chat!" spat the old mage behind her. Seiren ignored her, glaring into Butterworth's face, which lit up once more.
"Ah, you're asking about one of the happiest moments in my life. See..." He laced his fingers behind him; they could have been out on a walk having a pleasant conversation out in the sun. He casually paced back and forth behind the brick pillars Kommora had created with her haphazard runes. "We had a good thing going, we king's mages and everyone else. Don't mind our business, and we won't mind yours. We had interests that a certain busybody didn't like."
Kommora's breathing was heavy behind Seiren, but she kept facing Butterworth, not wanting his attention to drift back to Kommora.
"What, like betraying the country?"
"No, just..." He cocked his head. "Furthering one's powers, you could say. It's for the greater good, you know? If there isn't one single body strong enough for others to stay submissive, then inevitably there would be more war, more conflict, more deaths. It'll be like Acrise and Ebbsfleet all over again -- but then, you'll be too young to have remembered anything like that. So stay away from adult topics, especially ones you don't understand."
"Nothing justifies killing people for your own gain. Stop using righteous excuses. You're power-hungry and selfish. Just admit it."
"Okay, I admit it." He held up both hands. Seiren stared. He'd surrendered quicker than she'd expected. "You're right. And you know what? Humans are trash. They squabble and fight over the smallest things. Once you achieve peace, they squabble again. It's an endless, pathetic cycle. And I don't want to be caught up in it, but guess what? As long as you have magic and you belong to Karma, your hands are tied. These old farts from the previous generation only see us as commodities. They're better off dead as far as I'm concerned."
Seiren hesitated. Commodities. Mages were sworn to service the moment they left King's Academy. They had no choice. They were the weapons of the country and would serve her people.
"And you would kill your own mages. You killed Loren, and all those mages you'd summoned. You're just as bad as the people you look down on."
"Rummage was Karis's handiwork, but..." He shrugged again. "She got in the way. She was just collateral. Just as the other mages and the Woodbeads were. Edgard Woodbead meddled. We ensured he would never meddle again."
"And Rowan was collateral, too? You scarred him. You made him a laughing stock of the magical world. He blames himself for the fall of his family."
"Maura Woodbead was the one who wanted him assigned to a job worthy of the name, even when the brat wasn't ready for it. I only obliged. Don't blame the messenger. It was what Maura Woodbead wanted."
Seiren's mouth ran dry, recalling the self-loathing from Maura when she told her what happened with Eiden Slora in Ebbsfleet when Rowan overstepped his lines, and Rowan's regrets. An entire, distinguished family fallen, because the king's mages decided so. It was frightening how powerful they were. She stuck her hands in her cloak pockets, watchful of his next move.
Butterworth's lips curled. "It was just as well the Woodbead chump was so eager to please, like a wounded dog. He made my life so easy."
"You're talking about that failed mission in Acrise."
"Of course." He bowed. "One of my highlights."
With a growl, Seiren gripped her orange runes and threw them down at the ground, ensuring the outlet aimed directly at Butterworth, and snapped her fingers. A burst of fire rushed at him, less powerful than flash, but spreading across the diameter of the tunnels so he had no place to run. He vanished briefly as the flames tore past the malformed wall. With one graceful gesture, he buffeted the flames aside. His eyes widened when Seiren launched a knife through the fire.
He swept that aside with a last-minute rush of steam. Seiren snapped her fingers. The blue rune on the handle crackled and the electricity struck Butterworth. He groaned, arching his back. His eyes rolled; his entire body stiffened and he crashed to the ground. Seiren thumbed through her runes, drawing out a violet rune and running at him.
"Nithercott -- don't be an idiot!" came Kommora's strained voice. "You're not trained in combat--"
Just as she stopped at what she felt was a sufficiently safe distance and made to apply the rune, Butterworth's head snapped up and he swept his leg round, catching her in the back of the knees. The world upended. The air left her chest as she slammed onto the rubble-covered ground. Stars exploded in her mind's eye and her ears rang. Pulses of pain shot from her elbows, lower back, and knees.
"You're an annoyance," he hissed, getting up stiffly. He picked up the knife that had electrocuted him. "You don't need any of your arms, at this rate, right?"
There was a bang and Butterworth stepped back, swearing. One of the soldiers must have fired in the background. He flung his arm out. They were drowned in steam once more.
Seiren snarled back, rolling away and getting onto shaky feet. The world still wobbled in the haze, as did her legs, but his nonchalance about Rowan's family's downfall incensed her. How dare he? How dare he be so blase about Loren's death, about the things that plagued Rowan for so many years and broke Maura's heart because of her fiance's death?
He threw out a gush of steam. She slammed down a violet rune, bringing up a stone wall that crashed into the ceiling, showering debris, but it didn't cover the entire opening. Steam tendrils poured from the sides, scorching her skin. She yelped, stepping back. Her skin was pink, irritated, but not blistered.
Her desire to kill freshly ignited, she slammed her hands together. Her fury burst forth, streaking down her arms, and red and golden sparks danced on her fingertips. With a yell, she leapt through the steam clouds and thrust them forth. Butterworth's eyes widened. The tiny sparks jumped erratically through the air. He attempted to brush them off with steam, but the water droplets sizzled away before they made contact, and her flash shot through without much hindrance. Swearing, Butterworth yanked off his cloak when the sparks made contact. His cloak burst into flames.
The tunnel suddenly lit with the orange glow from the cloak, Seiren caught sight of the stirring Zor Jarsdel, laid against the wall behind Butterworth.
"What's the matter?" said Butterworth, straightening up. "Not much witty backtalk? I'm disappointed, Nithercott."
Seiren spat at him.
"Guess you couldn't play the game after all, Nithercott. Your dear mother didn't want you, and there's no sweet Madeleine to keep you company. You're just another play piece--"
An insurmountable rage overtook her. She strode forward, slamming her hands together. Energy flooded down one side. A small white ball of sparks formed in the palm of her right hand, crackling. It felt so unstable, its surface rippling with tense energy, as if one slip and it would blow Seiren herself up. Just about maintaining control over the volatile substance, she launched it with all her might at Butterworth. With a growl, he jerked his head. The steam condensed into water and formed a wall before him. Seiren's ball struck the surface, sending ripples across, before the entire wall burst into vapour and dissipated. Butterworth barely ducked out of the way; the sparkling ball of energy skimmed his floppy brown hair and then embedded in the brick wall behind before it contracted and exploded outwards; the impact sent her tumbling backwards and Butterworth onto all fours.
Pins and needles pulsed down the length of Seiren's arm. The skin was undamaged, but the muscles spasmed with fatigue. Each breath was laborious; sweat radiated from her. She still couldn't control the flash, and it sucked up so much reserve. The anger simmered. She could still use it, but she wasn't sure how much she could contain it. Her magic reserve was painfully low; she hadn't felt this drained since her mother's death--
No. She wasn't dead. Her father was. Madeleine almost was. But Mother wasn't. And she purposefully deceived them all.
Seiren raised a trembling arm, the fatigue searing at each muscle fibre. She wasn't done.
A hand circled her wrist.
"Hold fire, Nithercott," said Halen Ashworth's smoky voice. "You're going to kill yourself at this rate."
Butterworth got up onto all fours, breathing heavily, glaring at the newcomers. Jarsdel got to his feet, analysing the situation from afar. Seiren swallowed, her eyes locked on him. Ashworth was right. She was spent. But there they both stood, alive, and Jarsdel backed into the steam.
As if sensing her killing intent still, Ashworth yanked her back.
"Take a break. Tesla and I will take over. Let the adults do some work, for a change."
Seiren's lip quirked at the corner. Too exhausted and drenched in sweat to speak, she nodded, taking several steps back and finding herself on the other side of the steam field Butterworth still controlled. Felora hoisted her up by the arm, seeing how she was on the verge of collapse.
"We'll take over here, Kommora," said Tesla Relish, her dark brown eyes fixated in the haze. "You and Nithercott need to go stop Pollin."
When Relish disappeared into the steam, Seiren didn't meet Kommora's eyes and spun round, taking off deeper into the tunnels.
Remember to vote!