Loopbreaker

An explosion erupted when the two spells connected, displayed on the magical screen the mages had created. Everything seemed fine for a moment before energy washed over the entire battlefield, tossing everyone nearby to the ground.

Where the sheets of black magic had been racing forward, they began to ignite with a green and red glow before arcing through the air.

Each drop of rain raced upward, no longer something that appeared to heal at all but instead a stream of magical power that climbed back into the sky and into the clouds, sending out a deafening boom upon the magical energy reaching the sky.

Pain from the sound wasn’t the worst part of this for Francis.

His entire body felt as though something was coursing through it, seeking out something deep inside and trying to draw it out.

He knew he was screaming. His mind told him that, yet his ears couldn’t hear anything over the howls of others nearby.

Suddenly, it all vanished. A different wave of pressure pushed from behind him, and the sensation was gone just as quickly as it had come.

Sound came, but it was distant, a ringing in his ears. Glancing around, Francis saw that a few others were struggling as he was. Stenson and the King were both moving, appearing to be shouting, and giving orders.

The general turned, his lips moving, but Francis couldn’t hear anything. The general paused and then motioned to someone to approach Francis.

Hands pressed against Francis’ head, and a sensation he knew from the early-morning training flowed through his head.

“He is fine now,” Dawn’s voice announced from behind him. “I need to care for the others.”

“Francis! Did you see this and not tell us?!” the general demanded.

“No… I did not. The magic… what was that?”

Smoke emanated from the center of the battleground, leaving a horrible stench even from this distance. It burnt his nose and the cries of pain reached Francis now that his ears were healed.

“Something far rarer than I know of,” Stenson replied as he snapped his fingers. “Mages, I need a count! How many are down?! How long till the artifacts will work again?!”

Baxter stood there, gazing through a telescope, his whole body shaking.

People scattered, moving toward the stairs and shouting.

They’re running… because magic isn’t working?

“Those spells… Did they cancel each other’s magic?” Francis asked.

A huff came from the general, who flicked open his telescope and handed it to Francis.

“Look at the battleground and tell me what you see.”

Without waiting, Francis took the tube and held it up to his eyes, peering across the countless bodies, some of which were thankfully rising.

In the middle, where the two spells had met, a red and purple haze seemed to float across the destruction.

Half of the distance of the field was covered in it, bodies littered and torn apart, some smashed together in misshapen balls of body parts without care if the appendages had been from man or beastkin.

Every so often, a spark of something black or green erupted in the mist-like substance, destroying whatever it touched.

“It’s a magical distortion,” Stenson said. “To my knowledge, no one knows how to create such a thing… for those two spells to have done that…”

“Means they aren’t of our world at all,” Baxter said as he moved to join them. “What we are facing is way beyond what we had feared. They have magic that confused our casters for so long, but now… now we know it’s not like what we ever thought was possible.”

Francis could see the frown on the king’s face, which was not the usual one of displeasure. His eyes were narrowed not in anger but in confusion.

How can we hope to stop them if they aren’t from our world?

“How long, Priscilla?” Baxter called out.

“I… I don’t know,” the woman shouted from behind. “None of our items or even my own magic is working. Only the healers seem to be… the gods! It has to be our gods.”

All of them turned to see the red-haired woman looking disheveled. Her blue eyes seemed tired, and her robe clung to her.

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Sweat?

“You think the gods have something to do with this?” Baxter asked.

Grimacing, the woman shrugged before bobbing her head. “It’s the only thing I can think of right now,” she replied. “We all know there are many gods, and the Goddess Meana is the one who grants us the power of magic. Goddess Meilora grants the healing art, and they are different. One is mana-focused, and the other is… Perhaps…”

She trailed off, tapping her chin for a moment. “If whatever magic they used was from an opposite god… it could create what we are experiencing.”

“Forget the lecture and give me a time frame?” Baxter asked. “Can we attack? Are they just as weak? What are my options?”

“No… pull back. Anyone who gets near that fog will die,” she replied. “How long it lasts, I don’t know, but I wouldn’t risk casting a spell over it. That might cause it to expand or the cloud may even seek the next person casting a spell.”

Grunting, the king nodded. Stenson whistled, a young warrior approaching the general.

“Sound the horns to mark our retreat,” Baxter said. “Add the beat to check the wounded. We’ll then need to have others go and help while we have light. With the number of injured, we’re going to be busy for a while.”

Bowing, the warrior took off toward the stairs.

“I need to know our options as soon as you have any,” Baxter called out. “We’ll form up for defense, have guards on the lookout… when possible, we’ll need to make sure the woods are warded and–”

“Do not worry, my King,” Stenson said. “I will handle it. You’ll have enough to deal with. Leave the small things to me.”

Baxter laughed, an eerie and unexpected sound rolling off the platform, making most people stop and look at him.

“Small things?” the king asked. “My friend, you fool yourself if you believe for a minute any of this is small. You and I both know that what comes next will be many sleepless nights and no combat, provided we are lucky.”

“Yet we will survive,” Stenson replied, his voice never wavering as the man stood tall. “The gods gave us this gift beside us, so all we can do right now is deal with the problems at hand. Stay here. I’ll take charge of what is down below.”

Both men smiled and shook hands before the general gave a slight nod of his head and moved toward the stairs.

“Sage Francis, join me,” Stenson called out.

Without waiting, he took off, moving quickly to follow the older man, who never seemed to tire or struggle.

“Where are we going?” Francis asked.

“To do what leaders must,” replied the general of a disorganized army. “Take care of things no one else wants to.”

***

The sun was almost set behind the mountains far to the east, and the haze of magical energy still crackled in the fading sunlight. A glow drifted across the field, preventing them from seeing through to the other side, as it rose hundreds of yards into the air.

“Over five hundred years,” Francis muttered as he stood next to Kels. “Impossible to believe it has been that long since a recorded document of something like this happened.”

The knight nodded, arms crossed, as they stood gazing across the grounds where people moved, the soldiers trying to heal the injured while preparing defenses. None was certain if they would be needed.

“I really wish we could lead a group into the woods. With our wards down, surely theirs must be also,” the knight stated. “Think of what we might learn or see if we could reach their side?”

“While dodging all the traps and non-magical defenses, Stenson ordered to be set up?” Francis asked.

“You’re no fun,” Kels replied. “Where is your sense of adventure? Who needs magical power when you have this right here?” The young knight tapped the sword on his hip a few times. “Actually, I feel better than I ever have right now. No need to worry about some fireball or other spell coming at me that I can’t dodge or defend against.”

“Doesn’t an arrow hurt just as bad?”

A punch came from the trainer, who clipped Francis.

“Stop ruining my moment,” Kels complained. “Magic, while dangerous, has its limits, but a blade in the hands of a skilled warrior is just as dangerous.”

“Except when cut down by an archer or a mage.”

Sighing, Kels nodded. “Once more, ruining my moment. However, you are right. For warriors, we live for this chance to test ourselves against another person or beast, see if our skill and ability will secure victory.”

“It’s like you didn’t listen when I shared what lies across that battlefield,” Francis said. “A beastkin capable of killing Stenson, though it would lose an arm in the process.”

“Part of me feels you’re making a joke at the expense of an old man like Stenson. But then again, it does seem fitting if the very thing that killed that bastard would lose an arm in the process as well.”

“Are you ever going to tell me how he lost his arm?” Francis asked, his voice rising slightly to learn what no one wanted to discuss finally.

“Only a handful of people know, and none of them will tell anyone,” Kels replied.

Francis grunted, watching the last rays of sunlight vanish as the sun hid from the carnage below. “I guess I’ll go check in on my brother. Still sucks that we can’t train tonight.”

“Everyone is going to suffer tonight,” the knight replied. “Don’t forget, no magic works. The food is just food. The ground you stand on has no enchantment to remove fatigue. Every magical object does nothing; for an army dependent upon such things, it is a very scary thing.”

“So you’re saying everyone here has to live like I have my whole life?” Francis said bluntly.

Pretending to have been wounded, Kels clutched his chest before sobering and nodding. “That, my young Sage, is probably the wisest thing you have ever said. Now, I need to turn in. I haven’t slept in days, and I can feel the fatigue about to bowl me over.”

Francis nodded, watching as the knight moved toward a tent. Once the warrior was gone, he let out a yawn--glad for a few hours of sleep last night--and turned to where the tent Michael was in.

***

“Why do I feel like nothing is going as you planned?” his brother asked.

“Because I couldn’t see any of this,” Francis replied, ignoring the look Michael was giving him.

A chuckle escaped Francis’ lips as he knew for the first time in his life, he could actually kick his brother's ass with ease.

“Had I known, I would have told them,” Francis said. “Right now, most of them are dead on their feet, fast asleep, and this camp is in lockdown. Tonight is going to be scary for many of them, having never been this open and unprotected before.”

“The tents aren’t warded, are they?” Michael asked.

Francis shook his head.

“Damn, it must suck for them,” his older brother said. “Having to live like us… Whatever will they do?”

“I said the same thing. Now then, if you don’t mind, blow out that lamp and let’s turn in. I for one won’t have a problem falling asleep in a soft bed with blankets.”

Both young men chuckled, and Michael leaned over, turned down the wick, and blew out the flame.

“Imagine living like the 8th and 9th son,” Francis said in the darkness. “Doesn’t sound like a fun life at all.”