Beyond -- Chapter 6

Nearly two hours passed as Naga waited in the rain. She had stopped shivering, no longer sensing the arctic infused air leech the heat from her skin. The cold, however, was the last thing on her mind.

The surge of energy caught her by complete surprise. It coursed through her veins, starting from her neck and ending in her fingertips. Warmth spread through her extremities, washing away the anesthetics of the cold—and with it, all the doubt that once governed her mind.

I am ready.

She stretched her arms to revitalize them from their hibernation. Next, she placed her index and middle finger on her neck, finding the exact spot, where a black tattoo resided beneath her dark veil. The mark of a scorpion’s tail began to fade, melting away like frost on her skin.

The effect was instantaneous.

Like turbulent water breaching free from a dam, Naga felt the presence of an entity merge with her body. She inhaled the mountain air, feeling as if she hadn’t breathed in ages.

One last time she prayed to her ancestors.

This is the beginning of the end.

On command, her dark cape expanded in size, wrapping around her entire body. She evaded the pockets of light cast by the low hanging moon. With the fluidity of apuff of smoke, she ascended the rampart and lowered into the shadows of the main garden. High-pitched clinks resonated from raindrops on marble sculptures.

Besides the sole guard that fought to keep himself dry rather than keeping watch, the courtyard was devoid of human presence. There was no sound of alarm, nothing that told her that anyone had sighted her infiltration.

Naga moved past the first group of unsuspecting guards. Every so often, she stopped under archways to survey a bell tower at the center of the garden. Shielded from the rain, two guards circled its perimeter, casting routinely gazes to the low ground. She watched their lips through the haze, mimicking their movement with her own.

“Where is everyone? Aren’t there supposed to be four of us taking turns tonight? My shift ended over an hour ago.”

“Something happened at two of the coastal villages. Apparently, the tides flooded a few of their granaries. More than half left to help them move to higher ground.”

“Even so, someone ought to take over. I told my wife that I’d be home early today for once.”

“Quit complaining. This storm’s the worst we’ve had in a decade. Even the Grandmaster’s daughter went with them. We’re lucky they’re not making us keep watch all night.”

As they faced away from her, Naga proceeded to follow the map in her mind as if she held it in front of her. Half an hour later, she arrived at a rather insignificantly looking pavilion. Open on all four sides with a hipped roof, the structure seemed to be neglected of care compared to the architectural wonders.

Two guards were in her visor. One patrolled the ground, while the other sat on a bench under the pavilion, close to dozing off.

She waited for the patrolling guard to the turn the corner and began to move towards the rear of the one seated. Any remnants of noise from her movements were drowned out by the rain.

As she came within striking distance, Naga revealed a pale hand from under her veil. With the gentle brush of the wind, her hand cupped over the guard’s nose and mouth. Startled, he cried out and grabbed the ghostly arm, only to sense a chill creep down his spine as his body went stiff as a board.

Eyes wide, the guard gasped for air, his unresponsive body driving his heart rate into full throttle.

He regretted his action immediately. Instead of cool, fresh air, a pungent odor filled his lungs. The sour substance pierced like a thousand needles from within. From his ribcage, the agony journeyed to his throat—and finally—to his brain.In a matter of seconds, the guard collapsed to the ground.

Seconds later, the patrolling guard slumped to the floor even before her lithe frame registered in his eyes.

This was her strength. Not brute force… not confrontation.

It’s the silent knife that cuts the deepest.

Naga strode over their bodies towards a well-hidden trap door, its outline barely made visible by rain water that had gathered around its outer gap.

After stepping down uneven stairs, she moved along stone corridors, navigating in a system of tunnels that spidered through the subterraneous fortress. The air was damp and mixed with the hard bite of mountain air.

She maneuvered precisely through the labyrinth, evading groups of patrolling guards whose candlelight shown like beacons in the darkness. Their lights flickered orange against the moss-overgrown walls. Her sight adjusted to the dimness. The darkness doing things to her eyes what light did to others. To her, the guards moved like blind men, pathetically groping their way through unfamiliar halls. Halting in the shadows, she waited for them to pass before continuing.

After what seemed like an hour, the darkness receded and she entered a brightly lit passageway with a pair of red doors at its end. A lone guard secured the exit.

Naga ducked out of view and rested to catch her breath. Even from her vantage point, she could hear the resurfacing howl of fierce winds from behind the doors.

She closed her eyes and let her thoughts slip. As she reopened them, the passageway disappeared; in its place was a windowless chamber constructed of slabs of grey bricks. A single candle on a worn desk illuminated the room from its center. At each of the four walls was an old shelf. Engravements of ivies, shrubs and various creatures were chiseled in the antique oak. The shelves totaled over one hundred small compartments, all equal in size. Many of these stood empty, resided only by cobwebs; while dust covered vials filled with strange liquids occupied the rest.

Naga recalled the first time she entered the Athenaeum. She was just eight years old at the time, the arrival a complete surprise. The single room had felt like a prison from which there was no escape. She cried for days, thinking she would die there. When she finally had managed to break free from the trance, did she realize that mere minutes had passed.

Her hands brushed past the assortment of glass veils—some to conjure sleep, others to inflict pain—before she reached for one shaped into the contour of a curled slug. Delicately, she poured a small amount of liquid from the vial’s orifice into her hand. The odorless liquid began to evaporate instantly, enclosing her hand in a transparent cloud.

Withdrawing from the meditation, she focused once again on the passageway before her. She shadowed the patrolling guard, moving out of his line of sight. As with the others, she covered his nose and mouth with the toxin. The guard went limp at once.

The first is to paralyze.

In the blink of an eye, she returned to the Athenaeum and poured a second liquid from a tree-shaped bottle. This was a dark-grayish slush. It was heavy and cold, and like liquid metal, it sloshed in her palm.

The second is to reward you for your services to the Grandmaster.

She heard the guard gag as he inhaled the liquid, choking on his own saliva as the strength left his body. Like an unpropped mannequin, he sagged to the floor.

Naga was about to head for the double doors, when the face of the fallen guard seized her attention. He was young, maybe twenty-one or twenty-two—about her age. There was no doubt in her mind that his handsome face, now frozen in a state of anguish, once captured many admirers.

She lingered there—a moment too long as another sentry appeared from the labyrinth. He wore a grey robe. A pendant with five swirls of air hung from his neck.

At the sight of the fallen guard, the man’s initial confusion turned into hostility.

A furious shout escaped him. In a swift motion, he swung his hand in an arc. Naga dodged to the left. The clear hiss of razor sharp air pierced past her ear. Behind her, on the wall, a deep slash materialized in solid rock.

The sentry charged at her, launching another jet of air—another miss—as this one whizzed over her head.

Naga lunged towards her assailant in a flurry of dashes, visible only as a flow of black silk. The sentry fired again and again, each time missing the centered body, as pieces of fabric glided to the floor.

Spinning in an aerial cartwheel, Naga dodged another attack and shifted behind the wind-weaver with an outstretched hand. Alarmed by the close skirmish, he rolled forwards to evade her grasp.

Footsteps echoed from the corridor. Naga knew she was losing time.

From the labyrinth, she could see another six aeromancers—all in grey robes with a pedant around their neck—emerge from the darkness. Her opponent kept his distance; his confident stance told her that he was waiting for support, soon ready to make his assault. Behind her, the heavy set doors swung open with a low screech. Two more men entered the hallway. Immediately, they rushed at her.

Naga hesitated for a split second before sprinting towards the two oncoming men. Just before they jettisoned their attack, her black cloak swelled into a plume. Strands of black fabric shot out in every direction, whipping in the air like wildfire, turning the well-lit room into night.

Spinning frantically, the wind-weavers fired all around them. Waterfalls of silk fell left and right. Before the torrent of black strands settled, Naga had already past the two guards and escaped through the open doors. 

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If you liked this chapter, feel free to take a look at how it all started in the prologue.