Chapter 7
It might have been excessive, but I poured my mana into Entreyu's proxy until I simply couldn't anymore. More than half of my available mana disappeared into their link. Not just my presence, but somehow my internal mana was used as well.
I lost my grip on the strange overlap of my inner world and the physical one. Time resumed flowing at its normal pace, while I felt an ache somewhere deep inside me. Like a bone bruise affecting my soul. Whatever I had done, it carried a heavy cost. I could tell that my meridians were strained, and smaller blood vessels had burst all over my body. Even my thoughts were sluggish and clouded.
Entreyu screamed, partly in rage, and partly in pain. He clutched at the injured hip of his proxy, no longer moving with the strange, disjointed speed he had previously displayed. Unfortunately, I could also now feel the true strength of his spirit flowing through the Tribeta boy's body.
*He looks to be slower now, but he will be stronger.* I sent to Myta over our bond. *You cannot afford to be hit again.*
I felt her acknowledgment, but my flame devoted all her attention to the fight. I sent her all of the mana I could still spare, and then backed away from the two circling fighters.
"You've grown, Ishantur. I'm proud of what you've become." Entreyu's malicious grin belied his words. Myta, for her part, had passed beyond her rage into a state of eerie calm.
"That isn't my name." Her voice matched her expression, detached and cold. "Do you remember yours? Do you even know who you are anymore?"
Entreyu snarled, disregarding his pain to launch a vicious overhand strike. Myta dodged easily, but allowed the mallet to pass near her, giving the impression that the attack had come closer than it really had. Stones cracked under the force of the blow, showering both combatants with jagged shards. Leaving them bleeding from numerous shallow wounds.
My vas shielded her eyes from the deceptively dangerous projectiles. Entreyu didn't bother. He followed up with a backswing, bouncing the mana wood hammer off the stone. This attack nearly did take my vas unawares, exploiting her brief distraction.
But Myta could use my senses as easily as I could draw on hers. With my mind open to her, she saw the blow coming. Her mana flared as she darted back from the swing, then swept her glaive down in an executioner's chop. Severing Entreyu's arm at the elbow. The light body of the Tribeta boy continued to spin, carried around by inertia. Meanwhile the separated limb and mallet flew off, cracking a nearby wall with the force of their flight.
The monk screamed again, entering a state of near-berserk fury. But the fight was effectively over. Still, Myta did not disregard the danger her opponent still posed. Even without a weapon, and missing one arm, the warlord of the Pure could deal plenty of damage.
But now he seemed unwilling to take more serious blows, and without the unnatural motions of earlier Myta was faster, more graceful. She whittled her foe down with a dozed small injuries. When the end finally came I could feel Entreyu's frustration as he let out a final scream.
Something snapped, some tension in the mana around us. Entreyu's foul mana began to flare, uncontrolled, from the form of his host. Even as a lance of pure flame burst from Myta's grave to consume his heart. Entreyu was gone, leaving only his hapless proxy behind.
In a moment of panicked desperation, I tried to seize the loose mana. Enreyu's aspect, let out uncontrolled, could level an entire city block. Or poison hundreds of people with insane hatred. I wasn't sure which would be worse. Actually, the idea of hundreds of would-be Entreyus was far worse, but neither option was acceptable.
I extended what presence I had left, pulling mana back from Myta. Setting my will, I refused to allow Entreyu's final, petty tantrum. He had always been spiteful and destructive, lacking the strength to learn from his failures. Seeking to punish others for his own weaknesses. Such a tattered soul was nothing before my resolve.
My presence wasn't enough. Myta's presence wasn't enough. But my focus never wavered, and I felt my soul throb with a new burst of pain. My vas cried out, fear marring her face as she stared at me. I tried to smile reassuringly at her, but found myself coughing uncontrollably, a coppery wet tang filling my mouth.
Even so,my will triumphed. Even as I spat blood onto the street, the looming sense of threat vanished. The remains of the Tribeta boy, not much more than a few charred hunks of meat now, hit the ground sizzling. But there was no explosion, no burst of uncontrolled mana seeking to tear us apart. The dismembered remnant of Entreyu's spirit was safely sequestered in my domain.
The monk wasn't dead, or gone. But he was grievously injured. I could tell from the spiritual remains that my former student had cut away a part of his own heart node. I only wished that I could have filled that wound with my killing intent. He'd not be interfering with us again soon. Not so directly, at least.
I returned Myta's mana, falling to my knees on the rough paving stones, then onto my face. I coughed again, feeling the fluid burbling in my lungs. Blood flooded my nostrils as well, making it that much more difficult to catch my breath. My flame was speaking to me, shouting something, but her voice echoed distantly. Unintelligible.
Darkness overwhelmed me.
* * *
When I next woke, it was to Hati's grinning face.
I was surprised, but pleased, to see the burly sergeant. Her broad frame and solid earthen aspect brought me a feeling of comfortable security. Myta was nearby, in the room right next to mine. She was sleeping, her exhaustion having won out over her fear. With a thought, I soothed her dreams. Reassuring her that I was safe, so that she could get some real rest.
"Good to see you awake Esur." Hati wasn't the greatest stickler for formality, something I appreciated recently. "You've been asleep for two days."
I furrowed my brow, resisting the urge to scoff in disbelief. I'd bet the sergeant was absolutely the kind of woman to play practical jokes on others, but this didn't feel like a gag. I took careful stock of my own condition. I had been washed, my clothes had been changed, and yet I still smelled slightly rank. I was hungry, and thirsty, though not nearly as much as I should have been if the sergeant's words were to be believed.
"Was someone feeding me?"
The large woman shook her head. "Yatek said to leave you be, that you'd wake before you needed it. I should go wake Mytan. She's been worried sick over you."
"No need," I held up my clenched fist to bring her to a stop. "She's getting some real sleep now, but I need to speak with Tarun."
"I'll take your word on Mytan, but Tarun is just the first of those you need to meet," she laughed. "The commander wants to know what happened, but so does the minister, and some foul-mouthed southerner came by to shout at you."
"Gerid is here already?" I grinned. "Was there a woman with him? Older, stone-faced, tough as nails?"
