War of the Wisps

Strands of magic were woven together like a net. Halcyon was caught in the light, dragging toward the center of the basin. Peter ran after him. He stretched his hand out for the Wisp. Then he slipped on the slope of the basin and tumbled forward. His hand passed into the wave of magic as he fell. It was like warm air, vibrating. Then it was gone.

Peter rolled into the fall and came up on his knees. He scrambled to his feet. The magic split over the fountain. There were eight nets, now, each centered on one of the gems, and filled with Wisps that radiated red and yellow light. Halcyon’s blue was overwhelmed by all the red as he was pulled into the gemstone on the fountain’s edge.

Peter grit his teeth. He drew his sword out as he ran, ignoring the whirling around to see him. All his focus was directed on the gemstone pulling in the little blue Wisp.

Peter felt a force crash into him as the mage cast a spell. All the wind rushed out of his lungs and he rolled onto his back. His eyes were watering by reflex. He blinked it away. The magic weaves were still hovering over the fountain, glowing Wisps caught inside.

“Who-“ began the mage. It was a woman’s voice. As Peter pushed himself back to his feet again, he saw her face. It was difficult to get much through the shadows of her hood, save the impression of sharp features framed by blond hair.

An arrow whizzed through the space by the woman’s head. She spun and sent another wave of force up the slope. Peter found himself grinning, knowing that Andrew had bought enough time for him. Jumped the last few steps, and brought the pommel of his sword down on the gem. It cracked.

“No!” the mage screamed. Lights flashed as the Wisps trapped inside were released. Their influence slammed into him, and he stumbled back a few paces. Then a wash of calm joined the other emotions. Halcyon was floating right next to his head. “Glad to see you,” Peter told the wisp. Halcyon pulsed at that, though Peter couldn’t tell if the Wisp was responding to him, or if he was just happy to be out of the stone trap.

“You must be the royal Wisp Seekers,” the mage said. She looked between Peter and the others at the edge of the clearing. She’d conjured a shield between herself and the others. “I didn’t think you’d stay here so long,” she continued, turning back to the shattered crystal on the old fountain. “We’ve lost so much time already.”

“Oh, that sounds like what we were hopping to ask you about,” Peter said. “You know, if we ran into you.”

The woman looked at him, and Peter caught a flash of ice-blue eyes before she raised her staff again. Peter tensed, ready to roll to jump out of the way. Instead, Wisps began rising out of the remaining seven gems.

It felt like a crowd had begun a riot in his head, even with Halcyon’s help. The entire group of burning lights was focused on him as the mage pointed her staff at him. His vision blurred. His first instinct was to try and shove them away. Failing that, he knew he couldn’t stay mixed up with the whole group. He had to run.

He could still feel Halcyon in the midst of it. The blue Wisp was like a single candle flame before a burning tree, flickering a little, but calm before the storm. Peter focused on that. He screwed his eyes shut and focused on the little island of calm.

As he did, he realized something. The influence—all of the influence—was in his head. As much as the wisps swirled around them, their tendrils of light drifting over Peter like smoke, they weren’t a prison. When he focused on the horde, he couldn’t bring himself to move.

He focused on the one Wisp next to him.

He snapped his eyes open and leapt forward, slashing with his sword. The mage flinched, but Peter was only going for her staff. He knocked it out of her hands, then swung the blade back holding it up to her throat. As soon as the staff fell, the wisps all returned to the crystals the mage had trapped them in, and Peter felt their influence disappearing.

The mage’s magic shield dropped, and she glared at him. No, Peter realized, she was glaring at Halcyon. Still, she held up her hands in surrender. “I… well, we need some questions answered,” Peter said.

The woman looked at him. “I’m not really in the mood, boy,” she said. “You’ll need a very good reason to convince me to talk.”

Peter grinned. He drew in a breath and yelled, “JARNVAROR!” After a moment, Peter heard the dragon’s distant reply. “How’s that?” he asked.

“Better than the sword,” the mage grumbled. She closed her eyes. “Fine. Ask away.”

“Who are you?” Peter began. With his free hand, he gestured for the other two to come and join him.

“An Elvish mage,” she said.

“A local?” Peter asked.

“Not from this part of the wood, no. I grew up far to the east. I—”

“We don’t need your life story,” Andrew interrupted. He looked at Peter. “You shouldn’t have just charged in like that!”

“It worked, didn’t it?” Peter said. “I got Halcyon back.”

“It was still dangerous,” Andrew said. “It would have been better to try following her after she left.”

Peter just shrugged. “Well this way we can get some information out of her,” he said. He gestured to the Mage. “Ask her anything.”

Andrew sighed, then turned to the mage. He thought for a moment, then asked, “Who are you working with?”

“No one,” the Elf woman said.

“Try again,” Peter said. “We already know somebody is trading Wisps to bandits.”

Now the woman smiled. “I am. It’s good money.”

“Off of bandits?” Andrew asked. “Anna, how skilled of a mage do you think this is?”

“With what training I have?” Anna said. “She’s good. Maybe not as good as Sol, but…”

“I’m flattered you compare me to the Archmage,” the woman said.

“Right,” Andrew said. “Seems like bandits would be small fry for someone like you, then. So, who all are you working with?”

“Anyone who’s willing to pay,” the mage said.

“Okay,” Peter replied. “But what about, you know, specifics?”

“That’s a pretty long list, boy,” the mage said. A warm vibration ran through the air, and Peter suddenly realized the woman had never opened her eyes. “And… um… giving away trade secrets is bad for business.”

Peter leapt between the mage and his companions just as a whirlwind exploded from her. He caught a glimpse of a glowing gemstone on her belt, just as the winds hit him. The three went sprawling.

“Another Anchor,” Anna managed to groan, sitting back up from the blast. Peter sat up and saw the mage retrieve her staff she waved it, and the gemstones, blown away by her whirlwind, floated back to her, into a pouch on her belt.

Peter jumped to his feet, readying his sword. The mage smiled at him. “Nice try,” she said in a sweet voice. “But you’re not taking me by surprise again. Just leave me to my business. Go home.”

Peter dashed for her.

“Peter wait!” Andrew yelled. “We can’t fight her!”

The mage pointed her staff at Peter and strands of light shot out. They looked like the same glowing nets that had gone out in waves before, and Peter tried to dodge under them. But they curved around to meet him. They spun around him and flung him up into the air.

Peter found himself spinning up in the treetops. The strands of light were attached to him still, like burning ropes. Then they were gone. He flailed his arms around for a moment, trying to reorient himself. He succeeded. Right before he hit the ground with a crunch.

Anna let out a horrified scream, and Peter wasn’t sure why. He knew he was dazed, and the wind had definitely been knocked out of him again, but nothing else really hurt. Then he tried to sit up. A pain like he’d never felt before shot through his entire body. He couldn’t identify it. He couldn’t compare it to anything else. Burns, maybe, but burns deep inside, somewhere. He managed to raise just his head alright. The mage was looking at him as if she was impressed he could still move. Then he looked down a little more.

He blinked. He opened his mouth, then closed it. Then he opened it again. “My legs aren’t supposed to do that,” he managed, still trying to make sense of all the extra bends and the sharp shards sticking out from various places.

“No,” he heard the mage reply. But her voice sounded muffled. A roar split the air overhead, but even that sounded more distant, and Peter could only understand half of it. The mage woman continued, saying something else that he couldn’t hear, before turning and running into the forest.

Peter blinked. He saw Jarnvaror land. The dragon was clearly roaring after her, but all was silent. Andrew and Anna both appeared in Peter’s vision, which seemed to be shrinking a lot. They were waving to the dragon. Jarnvaror turned, and the last thing Peter saw was the dragon’s snout coming closer, and feeling the breath wash over him.

Then he couldn’t stay up anymore. He fell back, unconscious.