The Leveler could hear the blood roaring in her ears.
The city of Ash was choked with its namesake, ribbons of swirling, burning dust that veiled anything more than a few yards ahead. Fireballs of burnt stone mushroomed skyward as rune spells flashed back and forth. Statues of old Ash rulers toppled with slow, inevitable majesty, breaking into pieces as they fell.
Dust blasted into their faces, fighting them as hard as the Old Masters’ battle mages. Leveler limped forwards into the teeth of the hurricane, watching explosions slide and skid off the thin screen of Blademaiden’s barrier rune. The lean woman gritted her teeth and fought to keep pace, the sabre in her right hand blazing with yellow light. At the Leveler’s other shoulder her Apprentice threw out his hands, and there was a sharp cry from the opposing mages as they were scooped up and hurled across the palace atrium. They hit the ground and tumbled for another five metres, finally cracking to a stop against the plinth of a ruined statue. The Hole threw her pike, and a glimmer of starlight whistled past Leveler to poleaxe another enemy mage off his feet.
The Burning One was a laughing, leering cyclone of fire off to Leveler’s left, while to her right Redmoor splintered the columns of the atrium. Tiles rattled and slithered from the roof, shattering as they hit the floor. Behind her, a rag-tag battalion of former slaves thumped weapons against shields, chanting defiance in her name. The Arbiter and Weaver were urging them on.
Leveler and her Apprentice raised their hands together, and the gold-inlaid doors of the palace thundered inward, priceless carvings splintering across the mosaic floor. Dust and ash billowed in, mantling the Leveler as she stepped across the threshold. For a moment the storm died and all she could hear was the breath tearing raggedly in her own chest. Then the air screamed.
Lightning slithered back and forth, crackling off rune wards and blasting chunks out of the walls. Blademaiden’s shield imploded, forcing the Leveler to spread her hands and raise her own. She felt the impact immediately, searing up her arms and compressing her brain inside her own skull. Electric fire boiled all around. The roof beams failed with a groaning crunch. As the roof caved in, the fires inside gleefully sucked in oxygen and gusted up, leaping ten metres high.
As daylight streamed into the palace, the unrelenting barrage trailed off, and the unbearable pressure inside Leveler’s head ceased. She saw her enemies plain, shielding their faces from the light with claw-like hands.
The Old Masters. Old men, old women; fingers crooked and swollen red from rune-inflamed arthritis, shoulders bowed under the weight of silken robes and gold chains. Across the brief lull in the battle, they stared at her with bitter hatred.
“Leveler.” one of them spoke. Her voice was cold, sharp - the kind of voice that a murderer’s dagger would use if it could speak. “There’s a lot of blood on your hands. And not nearly enough of it is yours.”
“There’s going to be more yet.”
When the Leveler had pictured this moment, she hadn’t been sure what she would feel. She had fled; she had denounced the Old Masters; she had stolen runes and built an army that would change the face of the Valley forever. First slaves, then mercenaries, then famed mages like Blademaiden and the Grey Sisters, all fighting for her cause. Her cause was change - the end of the old order - but her hatred was personal. And now she had won, and the Old Masters must know it.
“You sent my parents to die in the war.” she accused the dessicated husks in front of her. “They believed in you, and you spent their lives like cheap coins.”
“Child!” the Old Master spat. “You think you know what’s best for this city’s people?”
“What’s best for you.” the Leveler replied coldly. “You know why I recruit slaves? For the first time, I understand something of what they feel.”
“Then I think you need the full experience.” The withered Old Masters raised their hands as one, limbs running with electric light. “Your day has come, Leveler.”
When the Leveler had pictured this moment, she hadn’t been sure what she would feel. And now she found herself smiling. “And yours is about to end.”
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