"You fool!" Elami shrieked as she pushed April off her. "Why did you interrupt the spell?!"
April attempted to push herself up but her muscles felt like jelly against the weight pressing against her back, gluing her to the floor. Her borrowed sword had clattered somewhere beyond both of them. What's happening outside? Was it already chaos? What would a falling city look like to people underneath? To the people on it?
"Witch," April hissed back. "Why did you tamper with it in the first place?"
Elami paused her slow crawl towards the pedestal, turning to April with enough venom in her eyes to poison a grown fairy. "I don't explain myself to the likes of you," she said. "The Heiress is not going to be happy about this."
April stretched her hand and gripped Elami's shins. Then, with a grunt, she dragged the Potentate down. "You can all go to hell," she said. "Stay here. I'll fix this. Then, you and the entire council will spend your eternity in the dungeons. Witches and traitors, the lot of you."
"No!" Elami dug her nails against April's skin, hard enough to draw blood. Still, April held on. She continued pulling back. Elami continued trying to dislodge April's hold. "You will not defeat me, brat!"
April eyed the ball of light in the middle of the room. It quivered and knocked against the invisible chains holding it inches atop the pedestal. The spell's not going to last another second. With hooked fingers, her nails scratched against the room's stone floor, dragging herself up, up. She's slower than an overworked dagrine but she'd get there.
Something clawed at her leg. Elami's nails tore a strip down April's leg. When April looked back, the Potentate had such a feral look on her face as she bared her teeth. Panic overrode everything. April drew her leg back and kicked. Her heel hit Elami in the chin. The nails clawing against April's skin lessened their grip.
The rumbling heightened. April cursed. Hurry. The heat turned a notch as Elami's scream filled the air. April felt the hairs at the back of her neck stand. She ducked just in time for a bolt of magic to strike past her before slamming into the pedestal. Debris exploded and almost dimmed the orb's shine. Rock groaned and crumbled. To April's relief, the pedestal still stood, albeit a little bent from a crevice punched in its body.
April whipped back. "Are you crazy?!" she yelled through the island-wide grumbling of the ground. "Why would you do that?"
Elami's smile was bordering on crazy. "Better death than facing the Heiress' wrath," she hissed. "You don't want to see it. I promise you."
April knew better. It's not like she could trust the word of a traitor. "Stay put," she said.
Elami answered by firing another spell at April. The light blinded April. Wait. Where was it headed? Too late. The spell smacked into her.
Except it didn't. When she opened her eyes, a dagger shone in her periphery and apart from the stinging pain in her leg, she was fine.
A voice called from the sky. "April, what are you doing? Go!"
She craned her neck at Ilvi whose black wings zipped forward. Did he just throw a dagger at her? While being weighed down by the landmass of the island escaping from its bonds? Unbelievable. She'd have his head for this later.
Still, she was grateful for the save. It was quite nice too. April flashed Ilvi a nod when she looked backward. The soldier moved painstakingly down to retrieve Elami who began sliding away, her nails tapping against the floor in her search for something to sink her nails to. April smiled. They were both thinking the same thing. It was a crime to let a criminal go.
April turned to the dagger sticking out of the stone beside her ear. A little miscalculation and it would have sliced her auditory organ altogether. She erased that image out of her head. How had Ilvi even made it here that fast?
No matter. That's not her concern now.
With a grunt, she gripped the dagger, noticed its eerie, dark sheen, and yanked it out. Then, aiming for a spot higher than her head, she stabbed down. She used it as an anchor to haul herself up. It was better than using her nails. Where did Ilvi get this? Fallen somewhere in the corridors?
April gritted her teeth. Heave. Yank. Stab. Repeat. Soon, when she thought the screaming in her arm muscles couldn't handle it any longer, she reached the lip of the pedestal. Up ahead, the orb's bright light shone a steady but faint blanket over her. Okay. Here goes.
She grabbed the dagger from the floor and stabbed the side of the pedestal. Then, she heaved herself up. Slowly. Carefully. Behind her, sounds of scuffle and bone hitting flesh resounded. She could only hope Ilvi was giving Elami the beating the Potentate deserved.
She turned back to the job at hand. An artificial breeze generated by the swirling power inside the orb swept her hair in wild arcs, driving it away from her face or sometimes making it slap her cheeks and slither down her neck. Curse this long hair. She'd do herself a favor by cutting it later.
Her eyes roamed the orb for any method to stop Elami's spell from degrading it further. First things first, the dwarven dagger. Leaning all her weight on the other dagger down the pedestal, she stretched her hand towards the hilt. The wisps of magic curling off the orb turned her sleeve into a pretty shade of pink but also was hot enough to burn through the cloth. Oh dear. How did Elami manage to stab something in it without getting hurt?
April grunted as her fingers brushed the dagger's hilt. Come on. Higher. Stretched beyond her limit, her shoulders whining against their joints, she gave one last lunge. Her fingers closed around the hilt. Ha. Now, pull.
The dagger broke away from the orb. But not without something in return. The orb quivered once more, spewing a slew of fiery wisps of magic. One blast caught April's wrist. Sharp pain tore through her skin and flesh, driving a cry from her lips. She stumbled back, the longer and more tapered dagger clattering out of her grip. She almost let go of the other dagger stuck to the pedestal but she gritted her teeth and held on.
April cursed, the pain on her other hand surging. Damn. What was that orb made of?
Next stop, the jasclume container. It might not be placed around the orb but its mere presence could be causing some disturbances on how the magic worked. She raised her hand once again, wincing at the sight of blood freely pouring from deep cuts plaguing her forearm. One last reach.
The jasclume container flew away from the pedestal in a wide arc when April slapped it off. It landed with a stringent crash before bouncing away, seemingly unaffected by the weight crushing April and the squabbling sprites behind her. Well, now that she noticed it, the force had lessened. At least she was able to stand up without her knees quivering under the weight.
That also meant Ilvi and Elami could fight better now. April sneaked a glance. Elami staggered up, clutching her arm. It appeared to be broken. Ilvi had retrieved his sword and leveled it at the Potentate. The air around April felt thick and hot with magical influence. Hurry. It wouldn't last forever. Elami didn't look it, but she was a formidable warrior in her day as well. Her desperation might unearth those skills and use it against Ilvi.
April turned back to the pedestal. The rumbling still hasn't quietened, meaning Falkirta was still falling, its landmass still seeping from the walls of the orb. Okay. Spell. She needed a repair spell. But where would she even start?
The idea slapped her mind. Of course. The Scholar. With her bleeding hand, she dug out the parchment stuck inside her breastplate. As usual, it was still gibberish. She squinted at the script, nothing about the particular swirls resembling Keijula or even remotely Ylanenla. Come on. If this turned out to be a scam, she'd hunt down the Scholar herself and skewer him alive.
Something flickered at the edge of her vision. She knitted her eyebrows as she tilted the parchment into the light of the orb. The glint resided somewhere in the letters. Magic. A cloaking spell. And how could she get rid of that? Her eyes landed on the dagger still stuck against the pedestal. With her good hand, she yanked it free. Then, with her heart pounding loudly, she laid the tip against the parchment.
A wave of green passed across the parchment and the letters rearranged themselves to form some kind of poetry. It's the spell. Whoever thought it was a good idea to ascribe power into sentences with rhyming words? April had no idea.
She took a deep breath. Her magic answered her call through the intensifying rumble in her ears. She glanced down at the parchment, eyes skimming through the words. She didn't want to mess this up.
Then, she opened her mouth and the repair spell poured off her lips.
An incredible force gripped her heart, almost stopping it from beating altogether. April swayed on her feet, her magic flickering and flaring at random intervals. Her legs felt weak, her muscles burning against her wishes. The spell took more and more, never stopping until it smoothed out her entire reserves. Still, she pushed on.
The light on the orb intensified, enough to melt her nose if it desired. The rumbling lessened with each sentence she spewed out. Her magic bled off her much like the blood dripping from her wounds.
And I call to the gods for the power to make the great small.
The rumbling stopped. The weight vanished altogether, its sudden absence throwing April off-balance. Her rear hit the floor which was once again stabilized. Someone grunted behind her. She whirled back to find Ilvi pinning Elami down, her cheek pressed against the ground.
"Unhand me," Elami growled but for once, April was glad Ilvi had mastered his flat expression so much he stared the Potentate into silence.
With her magic spent, everything in her form ached a thousand times more. April sighed and let herself fall back and plop against the floor. The cold seeping through her tunic and skin meant nothing at the face of a little rest.
A few distances from her, the orb holding Falkirta's landmass glowed in a much steadier light. A strangled but amused laugh echoed from her lips. Then, came another. And another. Pretty soon, April was laughing to herself on the floor.
Because she did it. She finally, really did it.
She saved Falkirta.
Despite what everyone told her, despite who stood in the way, she knocked them down a thousand times over and saved her territory. In your faces, witches.
She didn't know how long she was lying on the ground but after a while, a set of boots crunched towards her. They stopped inches from her ear. She turned and raised her eyes to Ilvi who towered over her like a mountain of muscle and dark feathers.
"Hey," April waved her hand at his expressionless face. "Want to build Falkirta anew with me?"
For the first time in forever, Ilvi smiled, grasped her hand, and pulled her upright. "Sure," was all he said.