Dire Sparks (Song of the Aura, Book Five) (24 page)

“
I am no one’s servant!” the king snarled. Without warning he lurched to his feet, throwing out a fist and bellowing,
“For my son!”

For my son.

Blue lightning flashed into existence, arcing from man to Aura faster than the eye could follow. But even quicker was Automo’s reaction. In a trice he had lifted his own fist, and a bolt of red lightning crashed into the blue. For a deadly moment the two arcs dueled between the combatants, perfectly aligned, crackling and bursting in a thousand places, growing brighter and brighter until Lauro’s eyes were forced shut by the sheer brilliance.

Then an explosion like no other rocked the crater, and Larion Vale was hurled into the air more than fifty feet, his body a smoking, sparking inferno.

“
NO!
Souls of the dead, NO!”
Lauro screamed, shattering Automo’s bonds instantly with the force of his anger.

The prince dropped to the ground, raising his hands and calling down lightning to smite the bloody demon in his heart. Automo spun, hand smoking from the force of his attack, rusty froth flying from his metal lips, and raised his shield just in time. Lightning crashed down from the sky, redirecting off Lauro’s upraised hands and flying towards Automo with incredible force.

But the attack never hit. Though it should have been impossible, the blast was deflected off the Aura’s shield and up into the heavens, and Lauro soon had no energy to continue the Stride. How had his father held lightning for so long? The prince made ready to summon more, but Automo had already lowered his shield and reached out…

“
ENOUGH!”

The concussive power of the voice caused both Lauro and Automo to halt and look towards its source. Smoke had risen from the fiery pillar’s strike, and striding through it with all the confidence of a victor…

…
was Gribly.

“
Enough, I say!”
the Prophet roared. His voice was as powerful as any Aura’s, but this time Automo sneered contemptuously.

“
You think to challenge me, Prophet? We’ll see…”

Without warning, the Red Aura hurled his shield at Gribly’s unprotected chest. It ripped through the Prophet’s body and skittered off into the battle haze beyond. Lauro’s mouth dropped open in astonishment… Gribly hadn’t even flinched. The spiked disk had sliced right through him, never leaving a mark!

Automo was equally confused. With a guttural roar, he leaped across the crater in a single bound, landing right on top of Gribly. Instead of being crushed, the Prophet flickered like the flame of a candle, sputtering, fading… and disappearing completely. His laughter echoed across the empty space for several long seconds.

Then the Red Aura’s armor rippled like water, wavered, and was torn from his body, cape and all, in a single violent motion. It was as if the metal had turned to wax and had been peeled off by some giant, invisible hand. The Aura shrieked in pain, arching his back and revealing the vaguely human-shaped mass of gears and chains, plates and orbs that formed his body…

…
and a dark form leaped from the shadows of the rubble, black coat flying, to land on Automo’s back, stabbing him through the heart with a curved white blade.

“
It’s called an
illusion,
Fool,” Gramling said, wrenching his sword left and right as the mechanical abomination screeched in horror and anguish. “I taught it to my brother ten minutes ago. You of all people should know to watch for it… Traitor.”

The crimson glow around the Aura’s body flickered and died, but his eyes flashed with red flame. As Lauro watched, astonished, the mechanical head creaked and rotated, turning until it faced backwards at the Pit Strider.

“
You’ll need more than that to stop me, Boy,”
the Aura hissed.

“
Something like
this?”
yelled a girl’s voice. Lauro spun to the right, as Elia herself burst from the smoke, followed closely behind by Gribly… the
real
one. “Gramling, move!” she yelled. What was wrong with her hair… and her eyes? Was she
blind?

Gramling leaped off to the side in an arcing flip. Elia stretched her hands out like grasping claws, and sparks leaped wildly across her palms. Blue-white fire burst from her hands, engulfing Automo in a raging inferno.

The Pit Strider landed roughly on top of Lauro, bowling him over, and, luckily, out of range of the fire. It rushed across where they had both been a moment before, and in unison they scrambled further out of reach.

“
She’s not one to anger, is she?” Gramling chuckled grimly. Lauro shook his head, overwhelmed.

For almost a minute the fires raged, and when Elia allowed them to fade, Automo was a crouching, oil-spewing wretch, only barely recognizable as a person at all. Where he had not been burned, he appeared to have frozen solid. Lauro’s eyes bulged, but he rose to his feet and slowly walked inward, as did the other three. Soon they formed a rough circle around the fallen Aura, faces ashen but morbidly pleased.

“
He’s still alive,” Gribly said, clutching his staff tightly as if he might fall without its support. “He’s just… reduced.”

“
I… will… still… triumph…”
wheezed Automo, his head still twisted all wrong. Lauro’s heart froze in place.
Father!

Without waiting for his friends’ reaction, the prince wheeled about and charged back across the pitted crater and over the cracked ground beyond, falling to his knees at the site where King Larion lay bleeding and burnt. A harsh whining filled the air, and Lauro looked back to see that Automo had begun to glow brighter than the sun. Foreboding filled him, and he yelled back at the trio gathered around the Aura.

“
Get away! Get away! He’ll burn you to death when he disappears!”

Gribly, Gramling, and Elia all leaped back as one, then ran as swiftly as they could towards where Lauro kneeled by his father. Automo’s glow grew so hot the prince could feel it from the distance between them. This was different from the time Lauro had witnessed it in the Giant’s Mount… this time, it would kill them all.

Crouching, Lauro huddled himself over his father’s heaving form. If he could just protect the king from the blast, perhaps someone would find him and heal him later… The heat and light grew unbearable, and Automo’s cackling laughter filled the air.

“
You cannot kill a god, you fools! And I AM a god! I am more powerful than any of the Aura! Bow to me! Bow to my might!”

He’s showing his true form,
Lauro realized. That meant two equally deadly things: that Automo had well and truly turned from the Light… and that the ancient spirits could now directly interfere with worldly events.
But he proved that already, didn’t he, Father?
Even worse, the Midnight Sword was back at the Gray Cathedral, far from use. Lauro wanted to pick up his father in his arms, flying them away… but he couldn’t. He was too weak. Too drained…. There was no hope…

“
Peace,”
whispered a voice, and the sound reverberated through eternity.

Everything went silent. The heat on his back vanished.

Lauro turned his head to look, infinitely slow… and Automo’s glow exploded outward in a wave of light. It roared towards the fleeing Striders, towards
him
…

…
and stopped. Past the edge of the crater, it was held back by a luminous sheet of mist that dropped from the clouds above like a living thunderclap. Incandescent flame surged out on the opposite side, plunging the still-approaching Golden Nation army into fiery destruction… but on this side of the misty wall, all was silent.

Lauro watched the massacre with a grim face, as the two twins and Elia approached him slowly, faces aghast as they backed away from the explosion, no longer running. They were safe… he was safe… Vastion’s army was safe… but the Golden Army was dying by the droves as Automo’s blast expanded ever outward, wider and wider…

“
Master of Wind and Rain,” Elia was breathing heavily, falling to her knees, hands clasped in Gribly’s and Gramling’s. “The blood, the blood… how they scream as they die! The water is burned up like kindling… their lives are ending by thousands and thousands…” She was weeping uncontrollably; her eyes squeezed shut and tears streamed down her cheeks.

But Lauro had no care for the Coalskins.

“
Father… Father,” he moaned, cradling the king’s head in his arm and clasping his hand tightly in the hopes of reviving him.

Impossibly, Larion Vale’s eyes flickered open. “S… Son…” he breathed, and a smile crept across his blood-smeared face.

Then the Wind King of Vastion sighed, breathing his last. Lauro cried aloud, screaming his frustration and sorrow to the Heavens, and all eyes turned to him instantly.

“
FATHER!!! Father!
Father…”
His scream died to a moan, and bent over his father’s body, sobbing inconsolably.

He did not stop, not even when the blast of light died away, and the curtain of mist rolled back into the heavens. He did not stop when his friends tried to console him, or when the Windmasters led the armies of Vastion in a charge that swept around him and into the battle-ridden distance. He let them go, and sate their bloodlust on whoever had survived the massacre Automo had wrought on his own army in vain rage.

He did not stop weeping until his tears had run out, and Gribly nudged him into awareness of a new arrival.

“
We won, Lauro,” the young Prophet said, voice compassionate. “Traveller stopped the blast from hurting us. Look… he’s coming now.”

Then, and only then, did Lauro look up. And he saw not only Traveller, but the full order all the Vastic clerics who still lived. High Cleric Sotheland was at their head, and his candlestaff was alight with a brilliant white flame.

Lauro let his father’s head rest gently on the stone again. He closed the dead king’s eyes then rose to face the Gray Aura.

The smoke cleared from the face of the earth. Lauro stood, the body of his father at his feet, winged crown lying bent in the dust. Behind him stood Gribly, the Prophet, Elia, the Halanyad, and Gramling, their enemy turned ally. Gribly had told him of the plan to bring them back… but he had not thought it possible.
I was wrong… about that… about my father… about so many things. What right have I to lead?

Across from Lauro, Traveller halted. The clerics halted behind him.

And then, the Gray Aura bowed, falling to one knee.

“
Hail, King Lauro Vale!”
Traveller’s voice echoed across the battlefield, and much of the passing army stopped to stare and even cheer at what they saw. High Cleric Sotheland knelt behind the Aura, as did all his brethren, about twenty in all. Then Traveller stood, walked over to where King Larion’s crown had rolled, picked it up, and dusted it off. When he approached Lauro again, the crown had suddenly become sparkling and new.

“
Kneel, Lauro,” High Cleric Sotheland whispered.

Feeling nervous, and somewhat sad, Lauro kneeled.

“
Warriors of Vastion, behold!”
cried Traveller. “By the power vested in me by the Creator of the world, I pronounce Lauro Vale, son of Larion Vale,
High King of Vastion!”

Lauro closed his eyes and the mortal weight of the winged crown pressed onto his head. Traveller stepped away, turning.

“
Do you accept him as your king?” the Gray Aura asked the gathered clerics. Lauro opened his eyes.

As one, they rose, answering,
“Yes.”

Traveller turned, nodding to Lauro. The prince, now king, stepped to his feet, looking out at the scene around him. The charge of Vastion had almost ground to a halt, as legion upon legion of beleaguered warriors stopped to watch the crowning of their new liege.

Traveller turned to the young king, smiling. “Then it is finished, Lauro Vale. You are now the commander of the last free force in Vast.

“
King Lauro,” Gribly remarked in astonishment. “I never would have believed it, when I met you. But you did it, didn’t you? You really did it.”