Fate’s Pawn

You can’t win them all.

- Famous last words of General Chiryp

Kusa rushed across the distance between them, grabbed Raziel by the throat, and kept running. Raziel choked, grasping at the thin strands of his magic to keep himself alive. The world began to go dark as Raziel strangled, but he felt the gem pulsing with the magic he needed to escape.

Razie instinctively reached for that magic. The moment he did, life and strength screamed into his body. He dug his feet into the ground. It wasn’t enough.

Raziel smashed into something. He came to a sudden stop and saw he was inside a building. There was a hole in the front wall with Kusa peering through. The spirit stepped through the hole, its head tilted at a curious angle.

“Kusa, stop. You don’t have to—”

Kusa crossed the room in the blink of an eye. Raziel saw its kick coming. By some miracle, he was fast enough to block. The impact sent a jolt of pain through his whole body and flung him back against a wall.

Raziel forced himself to his feet as Kusa came at him. Kusa swung again and Raziel jerked back. The attack ripped his shirt. There wasn’t time to think. Kusa moved with terrifying speed. Raziel dodged and blocked hits that should have torn him apart. The magic was moving him rather than the other way around. Even so, he could tell that his body couldn’t keep up for long; the strikes he blocked were grinding his bones and tearing his tendons.

He knew he had to hit back, that staying on the defensive would get him killed. The gem’s magic showed him brief openings in Kusa’s guard, told him when and where to strike. He just couldn’t take advantage of them.

Raziel had been in dozens of fights in his life. Some he’d chosen and others that had been forced on him. He’d been in fights that were fun and fights that were necessary. He’d been in play fights and fights with his life on the line.

But he’d never once been in a fight he didn’t, on some level, want. Whatever Kusa had become, Raziel couldn’t see a monster in it. He only saw a creature that had tried its best to help and protect him. There was nothing in him that wanted to hurt someone like that.

Kusa was getting faster or he was getting slower. The distinction didn’t matter; either would get him killed. The spirit let loose with a flurry of punches. Raziel tried to keep up, but there were too many. He took a hit on the chin that stunned him. His neck jerked as pain bloomed across his face. Something hit his legs, and he was on the ground.

He curled in to protect his stomach just in time. Kusa’s kick threw him across the room. He crashed into a shelf that rained books on him before falling itself. Raziel groaned as he tried to summon the strength to push the bookshelf off, but his arms and legs trembled under the heavy wood.

Kusa lifted it and tossed it across the room like it weighed no more than a pillow. Raziel looked up from his hands and knees, expecting another kick, but Kusa was just standing there, looking at him.

Kusa was unnaturally still, staring down. The mask was a horror not just because of the transformation it represented but because it took away all of Kusa’s personality. It wasn’t a living creature anymore. It was just a tool in Mask’s hands.

And yet, it didn’t move to attack him again. It just stood there, looking. It suddenly came to Raziel that it wasn’t looking at him. Slowly, like it was resisting some force to do so, it reached down slowly and picked up a book. It had fallen open and its own weight had bent the pages. It straightened the pages, trying to bend them back into shape before carefully shutting the book and setting it down and moving to the next.

It didn’t want to hurt the books. There was some of Kusa still in there beneath the mask. Hope surged in Raziel’s chest. If there was still that much of the creature left, then maybe he could be saved.

“Kusa?”

Its head jerked up at him, and Raziel flinched back. Kusa trembled violently for a moment before turning its head back to the next book.

Raziel’s mind raced. He had no idea how to wake Kusa up from Mask’s control. The only option that he could come up with was to knock it out and take it to Miles or Dominic. One of them would surely know how to help.

Raziel took a deep breath and reached towards the gem in his hand with his mind. It reached back and strength flooded into him like spring rain.

Kusa’s face snapped back towards him, sensing the surge in magic. Whatever power it had to resist Mask fractured, and it dove at him. Raziel was ready. He thrust his hands forward. A burst of blue light caught Kusa in the chest and flung it back across the room.

Raziel stood and brought his hands up, ready to fight. He didn’t want to hurt Kusa, but he didn’t see that he had any other choice if he was going to save the spirit.

They crashed together in the center of the room. Again Kusa threw a flurry of swift punches. Raziel ducked and slipped aside, letting the gem guide his body, drive him screaming past his own limits. A few of Kusa’s hits struck home, catching his chest and face. Throbbing agony exploded through him with each blow, but he only pressed in harder.

His own punches were too slow to pierce Kusa’s guard at first, but he was adjusting quickly to the spirit’s speed. With the gem guiding him, he didn’t have to think, only act. With each passing moment, he gave more of himself over to its power. He didn’t have the speed advantage, but Kusa was shorter than him. He had the spirit in reach.

He danced back, forcing Kusa to come after him. With the added distance, Raziel could read Kusa’s movements, prepare for them. Counter them.

The first jab he landed surprised Kusa. It stepped back, shaking its head, trying to clear it. Raziel didn’t give it time. His fist smashed into the mask and a spike of pain lanced through his fist. The strike sent the spirit staggering back.

Raziel grinned and stepped in again and his magic gave out.

His legs locked up and the floor rose up to meet him. He realized that he was breathing in huge gasps, like he’d tried running a marathon at a full sprint. His heart was pounding in his chest and his eyes wouldn’t focus.

Blackness was creeping in at the edges of his vision. Desperate, he smacked his head against the floor, trying to jar his senses back into order. He knew he wouldn’t have long until Kusa was after him again.

With a massive effort, he pushed himself back to his feet. Kusa was stepping toward him, wary caution in its posture. Raziel took a few more deep breaths and fixed the image of Kusa’s face in his mind. He drew strength from the image, from the thought of tearing the mask off the creature, of freeing it. He clenched his torn, bloody hands into fists and readied himself for the final round. His body was on the edge of ruin, unable to support the strain of more magic but he had to win.

They moved as one, partners in a dance. Kusa came in low; Raziel slipped back. He made Kusa wade through a flurry of punches to reach him. He knew the spirit could take them. Stopping it wasn’t the point. He just needed to slow it down. Kusa drove in and struck at Raziel’s stomach. Raziel stepped back, stealing the punch’s momentum, and still his legs trembled at the blow. Kusa saw his instant of weakness and pounced. Raziel knew it was coming and put everything he had left into his counter.

Kusa’s fist plunged into his gut as Raziel’s strike exploded with a blast of blue light against its mask. Kusa hit the ground and broke the floorboards. Raziel lurched drunkenly back. He fell, and his stomach revolted. He spat bile on the ground, and it was an effort not to fall into it.

He eased himself down and trembled with the effort of looking at Kusa. The spirit was twitching on the ground, and Razel feared he’d killed it. It went still; Raziel stopped breathing. Then it rose with mechanical smooth motion, and fear sank into Raziel’s heart like a knife. Kusa stood, swayed just a little, and began to walk towards Raziel. Raziel tried to get up and couldn’t. He looked down and saw that the gem was broken, some pieces of it sticking in his flesh and others falling to the floor. He turned his eyes back to Kusa.

“Please. Don’t,” he mumbled.

Kusa reached for Raziel’s throat. Raziel searched for some sign of recognition or hesitation in it. There was no mercy in its painted eyes.

Hoeru hit Kusa like a bolt of lightning. He came through a broken window and kicked Kusa across the room.

“Watch her,” Hoeru said, setting the skeletal girl beside Raziel. Raziel saw in his eyes the same deadly purpose the changeling had turned on the wolf at the fort. In the room’s opposite corner, Kusa stood and turned towards its new opponent. Raziel couldn’t move, could barely breathe. He couldn’t even beg his friends not to kill each other. He could only lay there and watch.

Kusa and Raziel were gone before Keira could react. Mask meanwhile casually dragged his foot through the dust and blood where Alban had made the circle that called him here, closing the window in the air with a wave of his hand. Only then did he turn his full attention on Keira. She put up her hands in a guard, expecting a charge.

Mask didn’t charge. He sauntered towards her, utterly without hurry or concern. He even put one hand in his pocket.

Keira was exhausted. It had been a long night, and she’d never used so much magic over such a long time before. Worse, she knew she had utterly failed. She’d wanted to stop Mask on her own, to show Basil that she could help him. The city was burning because she hadn’t gone to him the moment she’d overheard Mask and Alban’s plans. She couldn’t know how many people had paid for her pride, but she did know that that Death had come to the city because of her.

When Mask had stepped through the portal she’d been afraid, and when Kusa came through she’d known they were beaten. Mask was faster than her and probably at least as strong. Worse, he was far more skilled than she was with magic. The illusions he’d done were more than enough to prove that. Maybe if Raziel had been there, they could have come up with some plan to escape, but he was gone. The most she could do was try to hold Mask from joining Kusa against Raziel. If Mask had rushed her then, she’d have fought knowing she couldn’t win.

But that lazy walk shifted something in her. She didn’t even realize she was feeling it until she heard her jaw pop as she clenched her teeth. Every careless, dallying step Mask took stoked the fire of her frustration. Suddenly she didn’t care that Mask completely outclassed her fighting abilities. It didn’t matter if he was a hundred times faster than her or a thousand times stronger. If he was going to try to kill her, she was going to make him take it seriously.

Keira flung her mind out to the world around her. She reached into the fires burning brightly all around the city. She dug deep into the stones and touched the winds howling in the night sky. She could feel the mingling lights of fading stars and dawn’s coming dancing in her mind. The whole world sang with power, and she would take it all.

Exploding against the wolf in the forest had been the first time in years she’d really pushed herself to gather as much magic as she could. She’d grabbed a lot of magic at once to escape the gremlins, but grasping at so many sources of magic all at once and trying to hold them all inside her at once had been too much. Fighting the wolf, she’d had more time to order the magic inside her and managed a much stronger, intentional attack.

Mask’s slow pace was giving her time, so she was going to use it. In all her training with Miyo she’d been forced focus on tiny, miniscule amounts of magic. It was time to find out what she could do when she stopped holding back. It was time to cut loose.

She took the power of the earth beneath her for a foundation. Then she reached for all the fires that she could touch around the city and felt in her mind when they went out, one by one. Mask paused as the ambient light around them dimmed. He looked around, then continued towards her.

The power built inside her, but she held it in check as she added the force of the wind to the mix. She was trembling with the pent-up energy, could feel the mark scratching its way across her arm, as Mask came to stand within a few feet of her. He was watching her with curiosity. She knew he had to be able to sense the magic building within her. His complacency pushed her rage to new heights, and she began to draw in the power of the starlight.

The mark on her arm began to burn and in her mind she felt it like a wall, trying to separate her from her magic. In the air around her, dozens of balls of pale light burst into existence before disappearing with a pop as the energy she gathered began to slip out of her, beyond her control. She could feel the air heating up as she struggled to harness the power she’d gathered.

Still she struggled to draw in more of the magic. If Mask was willing to stand there and let her, she might as well pull in all the power she could, but try as she might, she couldn’t force any more magic inside.

“Impressive,” Mask said, his unbearably smug voice was the final straw.

Keira felt the ground sink beneath her foot as she flung herself at Mask. He jerked back but not fast enough to escape. Her fist crashed into his mask with an utterly satisfying jolt of pain.

The blow knocked him back; she charged while he was off-balance. He threw an awkward hook that she saw coming. It was as easy as breathing to slip under and throw an uppercut of her own. The punch lifted Mask off the ground and, putting the strength of her entire body into the blow, she slammed her other fist into Mask’s stomach.

Mask soared back, bouncing on the cobblestones like a rubber ball. She dashed after him, not wanting to give Mask a chance to recover. He was pushing himself up when she got close and kicked at his head. The kick passed through Mask’s face like it was made of air. Without an impact to slow her foot, it was Keira’s turn to slip off balance.

She fell gracelessly but was pushing herself back up in an instant. Mask was rising to his own feet as well, eyes locked on her. From behind Mask stepped another, identical figure. Then another copy stepped out from both of them. Moments later more than a dozen Masks encircled her.

Before she could react, three of them stepped in to attack. She instinctively tried to block and dodge them all, but all three of the attacks passed through her the same way she’d passed through Mask. But she’d had to step closer to the outer ring to avoid the attacks. One of those Masks stepped forward and smacked her across the face. The blow exploded against her cheek, making her ears ring with the force of it.

He’d slapped her. He hadn’t thrown a real punch or a kick. He still wasn’t taking her seriously. Enraged, she tried to catch the Mask that had actually hit her, but she’d lost track of him. Her grasping hand slid through a Mask with no resistance. That Mask and the two beside him stopped moving and laughed at her. The tripled sound reverberated strangely.

She felt a tap on her shoulder and spun, throwing back her elbow to try and smash his face. Her attack passed through both of the Masks behind her. They stood there, painted grins taunting her as they put their hands to their cheeks in mock horror.

A hand reached out from her side and tweaked her nose. She swung wildly in the direction of the hand, but the moment she turned her head it wasn’t Mask standing there but Raziel. Without thinking she jerked her punch to avoid hitting him. He smiled as his hand reached up and popped her in the nose. The attack stung but didn’t do any real damage. Tears sprang into her eyes, making her vision blur. Another slap landed against her other cheek as she stumbled back.

“Is this the best you can do? This is pitiful,” the Masks all said in mocking chorus.

Keira screamed in rage and swung wildly, trying to hit every one of the Masks. Her blows passed through all of them; they just laughed. It was a crowd now, hundreds of Masks standing elbow to elbow, or holding one another as they pointed at her and laughed. They filled the street, some standing on nearby rooftops, others peeking between the legs of companions. Everywhere she looked, Mask was there laughing at her.

Her control of the magic was beginning to slip as her hatred and rage was boiling over. She could feel it building in her, a fiery explosion like the one that had killed the gremlins that surrounded her when this all began. She welcomed it this time, wanted to feed it, make it bigger and bigger so Mask would have no way to escape.

A memory struck her like a slap in the face: the moment she’d nearly exploded in Dominic’s office before this had all started. The whole point of everything she’d done had been to prove Basil wrong. What she was about to do would only prove him right. The fury flowing through her didn’t dissolve or dissipate. But it did cool. Clear thoughts finally began to go through her mind, and she saw what Mask had been trying to do. If she used all that magic in a single burst without taking Mask down, he would have her. There’d be no way she could recover quickly enough to put up any further fight after a move like that.

If she couldn’t hit all of these Masks at once, she had to find a way to find the real one. Her mind raced, trying to think of a way to manage it, to trick Mask into revealing himself. Then an idea, so simple she couldn’t believe she hadn’t thought of it already, struck her.

She closed her eyes and reached out with her mind, sensing the magic flowing all around her. She felt the hundreds of Mask clones all around her. They were creatures of light, just a thin shell of magic, but they were all connected by threads of magic as thin as spider’s silk. Those threads joined them all to one another and to their source.

Keira opened her eyes and turned to her right. Her magical senses still fully extended, she knew exactly which Mask was the real one. She took a single deliberate step towards him, still holding in the storm of magic within her through the iron force of her will. Two of the fakes broke off from the crowd and stepped in. They threw meaningless punches that couldn’t stir a single hair on her head. She ignored them as she raised one hand towards the true Mask. The dozens of Masks hurled insults that accomplished no more than the incorporeal strikes. Her word was stronger.

“Shine.” She did not cry out the word. Long ago, her father had taught her that it wasn’t how loud you said a spell that mattered. The real power was the confidence behind the word. She said it simply and plainly, channeling much, but not all, of the magic she’d gathered into it.

Light and sound burst into existence at her command and screamed their way toward Mask. All of the fakes disappeared like soap bubbles bursting as the spell struck him. The bloom of energy swept over and around him, enveloping Mask in her blazing power. A moment ago, in the heat of her anger, that would have been the whole of her plan, but now, with cool, collected thoughts, she knew not to underestimate Mask.

And so when the blast abated and Mask came charging forward, smoke curling from his burnt and blackened clothes, she was not surprised. She was ready.

Her punch caught Mask full in the face with all the strength she could muster multiplied by his own momentum. The impact sounded like a cannon going off, and Mask flew back like he was the cannonball. Keira watched him soar back and smack into the cobblestones before rolling bonelessly to a stop. He lay there, completely still this time. She took a deep, satisfied breath.

Then he twitched. Keira held herself ready for anything, but Mask just pushed himself to a sitting position. He rested there for a few long moments before getting unsteadily to his feet. Blood dripped from the chin of his mask. He reached up, touched it, looked at his fingers with what seemed to be surprise. And then he laughed.

“Wow. That was a good punch,” he said.

“Plenty more where that came from,” she lied. She wasn’t completely drained, but cold sweat was covering her body and, though she tried to hide it, the strain of the magic she’d used was beginning to make her tremble.

“There will be no need for that. I know who you are. Besides, it seems I’m out of time to play,” Mask said and then, like a blown out candle flame, he disappeared.

“What?” she asked, reaching out towards him with her magical senses but finding nothing. It was only then that she heard footsteps behind her. She turned and heard Mask’s voice seeming to come from everywhere and nowhere. It wasn’t Mask standing behind her. It was her brother. Basil watched her with cold, furious eyes as Mask’s parting words rolled over both of them.

“You certainly are your father’s child.”