161. Attack On The Clones (Patreon)

“Get Mira and the boss into the fortress!” Merlin commanded, yelling from the ground floor. “Hold the door, Eins.”

“What about you?” a Spellweaver asked, coming up the stairs. Merlin heard Eins grumble as the two clones squeezed past each other. The hum that came with the fortress’s door opening followed a moment later.

“In a moment.” Merlin waved the clone over as he stood over the Portable Phoenix Forge. He simultaneously cast another storm spell, this time casting a deafening boom through the Arcane Mind, which made all the windows on the upper floor shatter and the ones on the ground floor rattle in their frames. It had two purposes: stunning a bunch of attackers and giving the Stalkers a moment to throw up Shadowsteel defenses, and also alerting all city forces who weren’t already aware of chaos within the city.

Unlike Iskander, the Grey invested heavily in its protection. The guards weren’t under the thumb of criminal organizations, trade syndicates, nobles, or the merchants. They were a mixed force serving the city council and the crown. The Union also had forces protecting all of its interests and working with the city guard.

It was more than likely that all of them already had eyes on the property, but he couldn’t be sure of their information network. He was almost sure that Ace’s final explosion and the rising black smoke had drawn reasonable attention, but he needed to ensure that anyone who missed the noise would be coming to help: Penelope, Shae, and Bass included. He wouldn’t be as concerned if El-Prime was up or Mira was in fighting shape. 

There was no telling how many fighters the attackers had brought, who they were, or what their full capabilities were. Merlin got the feeling the swarm was only a distraction or meant to whittle them down before the people behind them descended. Evacuation felt like the only option.

“I’ve got an idea,” Merlin told the Spellweaver that joined him. “But it’s going to cost us our security deposit, and then some. We don’t have enough juice to take care of whatever the fuck is coming, and the Stalkers aren’t doing so great. It’s humbling—”

The Spellweaver grinned. “Tell me what I need to do.”

“Eins won’t be happy about this, but—” Merlin tapped the Portable Phoenix Forge. “Can you turn this into a bomb?”

“Are you sure about this? I could create explosive wards and do a kamikaze attack instead.” The Spellweaver paused for a moment, eyes darting toward the front door as another explosion caused something to fly into the front door. They had enchanted it and reinforced the surrounding walls with wards. The wood and metal shook, but stood strong. The question was for how long. “El-Prime won’t be happy bout losing this. It’s too valuable.”

“He won’t be, but he’ll understand.” 

Merlin’s heart caught in his throat as the projected Arcane Mind saw the first Stalker fall. It wasn’t to the rabble. Despite their numbers, they were struggling against the clones. Between the tier-three Soul and Body pillars, the Stalkers were just too strong. They had Alter Metal Mass to switch between incredible levels of sturdiness and speed. Then there was Steel Weave for increased levels of physical defense and Dracosteel Scales for arcane protection. 

Thanks to Shadowsteel and Quicksilver, they weren’t short of weapons and constructs. Since most of the benefits of Stormdragon’s Eye came from its passive effects, they enjoyed those, too. The only department where they suffered was their spell-weaving prowess and the volume of magic and storm energy they contained. The Stalkers were as good as the tier-three close combatants of the top guilds. They had suffered injuries, but were holding strong.

Then, a duo appeared who stood out from the average attacker. Merlin spotted the woman first. She wore heavy plate armor, sculpted for her body shape. Its chrome-like luster made his stomach drop. It was dracometal, if not a dracometal alloy. A Stalker launched a barrage of electrified Shadowsteel projectiles at her. 

“We’re fucked,” Merlin whispered when the projectiles lost the crackling energy dancing around them a couple of feet from the woman. Their velocity dropped next. Then, within a blink of the Shadowsteel touching the ground, the constructs dissolved, losing tangibility and disappearing. “That’s a fucking anti-magic field.”

To test his hypothesis, Merlin shot a powerful storm spell at his target. Since accuracy was a concern, he settled for making it bigger, thereby harder to avoid. The woman’s hands shot to her ears, and she stumbled a couple of steps but didn’t fall. Meanwhile, the lightning failed to reach her, disappearing a couple of feet from her. 

Meanwhile, her companion, an awakened male Elder Wyrmkin with white scales and long glassy hair, had prepared a spell. Lustrous white dragonfire spread from him before meeting above the head of the Stalker who had attacked her companion. They spiraled, coalescing as a giant sphere of viscous green fluid. It dropped on the Stalker, enveloping him. Shade’s Mantle continued to dance within, but the Shadowsteel armor rapidly bubbled and dissolved. The clone’s flesh followed.

The green ooze didn’t lie inert. Instead, it came to life, edging toward Oberon like a slug. The illusory fire that assaulted it proved useless. “Did the bastard really create life?” Merlin wandered loudly before dropping a storm spell on the monster. The sonic blast blew the ooze open, throwing chunks of the emerald fluid into the air. Meanwhile, the lightning left bits of it boiling. It recovered annoyingly fast. The main body continued toward its target while the smaller spread-out chunks came together in clumps before latching onto any living entity that passed, regardless of whether they were a clone, hired goon, or fleeing civilian. All appeared to have the same acid potency.

The Elder Wyrmkin mage turned his attention to a Stalker fighting a dozen attackers simultaneously. Instead of another green ooze, the white flames came together as a tornado of metal shrapnel that ripped deep gouges in the Shadowsteel armor.

The armored woman charged past the ooze at Oberon. She unsheathed a thick sword with a curved blade, ignoring the projectiles that came at her. The illusory projectiles didn’t deter her much like the ooze. They fizzled out a couple of feet from her. However, the crystal javelins he created out of the Dreamfire reached their target, albeit the pink light pulsing within faded before contact.

“It is antimagic,” Merlin said, grinding his teeth. “How is it looking?” He glanced at the Spellweaver. “We’re not going to come out on top. These bastards are going to make it in.”

The Arcane Mind observed the armored woman swing her weapon through Oberon. It hit nothing. Instead, his Illusory copy dissolved. It seemed her antimagic field worked better on magic than shard abilities. It was valuable knowledge that Merlin hoped El-Prime could use to his advantage later.

The second Stalker fell as the storm of metal shrapnel ripped him to shreds. Oberon was out of sight, but Merlin was sure he wouldn’t last for long. 

“I’m mostly done. You can go down. I’ll hold the line.”

“No. I’m going down with the ship. You need to—”

“You’re the boss and got the best arsenal,” the Spellweaver interrupted. “I can do this. Trust me.”

“It’s not a matter of trust,” Merlin told him. “You Spellweavers are better at gathering and generating magic. There is no telling what will happen to the fortress if its energy goes into deficit. I need you lot keeping things afloat until El-Prime wakes up.”

“Fine.” The Portable Phoenix Forge flared orange as the Spellweaver unraveled the threads of magic, drawing energy from the phoenix core within. He coiled them into a pulsating, untidy sphere. A ward followed, connecting the spell to all of the entrances. “I’m almost done here. Are you sure you don’t want to come with me?”

“No. Close the door behind you. I’m going to find out as much as I can about this lot.”

The Spellweaver eyed the focus Merlin on his right arm. “That’s El-Prime’s favorite focus, you know. He won’t be happy about losing it and the Phoenix Forge.”

“He’ll deal with it. He has the staff and Eins will make something out of dracosteel sooner or later.”

Things were getting too hectic outside to pay attention to the Spellweaver. The clone continued talking but went ignored. He had instructions, and Merlin could only hope they would be followed. 

The illusory copy currently dancing around the Elder Wyrmkin’s white fire and evading the knife abruptly disappeared. All Dreamfire constructs on the field simultaneously disappeared. Merlin was sure Oberon had perished. Most of the rabble rushing at the building had perished, were disabled, or had fled. Only the armored woman and the sorcerer remained. Merlin was almost sure there was another person amongst them, but no matter how hard he searched through the Arcane Mind’s wide range of vision, he failed to find anyone.

On the bright side, assistance had started to arrive. Merlin couldn’t tell for sure who had come, but he could see conflict brewing just beyond the smoke and haze. The remainder of the rabble the attackers had employed were now engaged in combat. 

Meanwhile, the attackers were already at the door. Merlin gave up on firing spells through the Arcane Mind and rushed to the Phoenix Forge. He studied the spell his fellow clone had woven. Since his end was near, Merlin poured more magic into it and added to the spell, ensuring the blast would be channeled upwards instead of outward. El-Prime liked the city and appreciated the council’s favor. He didn’t want to lose any remaining goodwill. It wasn’t the time to worry about such things, but the future business empire was heavily reliant on cheap, high-quality materials from the Grey.

Maybe we’ll find a natural method of growing aether crystals and won’t need this place anymore.

The front door burst open. Merlin pushed the forge past its overload point, ready to go down with the building. Before the explosion could end his existence, the clone glanced at the door. His eyes locked with the young man, almost as young as the body El-Prime inhabited. The man’s shoulders fell. “You’re not him.” He sighed.

Merlin willed the forge to explode, but it refused. Instead, the tangle of arcane threads teetered at the point of critical mass, refusing to budge. He assembled a spell using storm energy and flared Shade’s Mantle, but neither obeyed. He couldn’t be sure whether it was the man or the armored woman outside. They were dealing with arcane suppression or a powerful anti-magic field. He couldn’t be sure.

“Did we piss off your mother?” Merlin asked, trying to buy time as he brainstormed ideas.

The door to Shadowsteel Fortress was closed. Reinforcements had arrived, and would hopefully capture, if not all, part of the attackers. There was nothing Merlin could do now, besides waste time.

“In a manner of speaking, yes,” the man said, strolling in. An air of familiarity followed him which Merlin couldn’t quite figure out. “You broke her heart.”

“I’d ask if I’m your father, but I don’t usually go for older women,” Merlin replied. 

“What does he call you? El-One. El-Thirteen. El-vis.”

“Hold on a moment.” Merlin paused, releasing the magic he was working on. It didn’t go off, much to his disappointment. Instead, all the work the Spellweaver had done seemed to reverse. The Portable Phoenix Forge returned to its unaltered state. “Esther—”

“You haven’t figured it out yet?” The man raised an eyebrow. He studied his surroundings, wandering in. The door remained open behind him, but the armored woman and the Elder Wyrmkin didn’t follow. 

“Silverspine.”

“That’s Lady Silverspine,” the man corrected, tutting and shaking his head. “Three years out of her service and already dropping honorifics. How disappointing.” He smiled, holding his arms out on either side of himself and doing a twirl. “Do you not recognize me?”

“Should I?” Merlin asked, shrugging. “More importantly, why is Silverspine sicking her dogs on us? We did our time and ensured her interests were taken care of. Why do all of this?”

“You flout the Great Silver Dragon’s gifts and think that’ll go ignored? I’ll tell you what: take me to the original. Your El-Prime. We’ll talk things through, and hopefully, he’ll see reason. Lady Silverspine is an excellent mistress. Just take care of her interests once in a while and let your relic feed her information, and she’ll be happy. Why be difficult?”

“Maybe we enjoy being difficult,” Merlin said, smiling. He made a final attempt at blowing up the forge and failed. Attempts at dispelling himself also didn’t go the way he intended. “How about you tell me who you are and how to find you, and report it all to the boss? He’ll get back to you with an answer in seven-to-ten working days.”

“I’m afraid that’s not good enough,” the man said, crossing his arms and leaning against a pillar. “You think you’re in a good bargaining position, but you’re really not. There are two options. I hold you and the soul fragment fueling you hostage until he plays along. Report to him through the relic.”

“And if I don’t?”

“I’ll torture the soul fragment, get my witchy friends to hex it, while the Cult of Silverspine hunts Lukas and the rest of you clones to every corner of Fracture. It’s simple, really.”

Merlin poured everything he had into a last-ditch effort. The Arcane Mind was still outside. He poured all the magic he had remaining into the biggest storm spell he or the clones had ever cast, tapping into Attunement Library for every compatible string of magic. Shadowfire joined the mix, enveloping the space in darkness, and tentacles made of coiled Shadowsteel wires sprang from the darkness, just outside. They grabbed at the stranger and didn’t abruptly dissolve. Instead, they ceased to obey Merlin as soon as they had wrapped around his left wrist, right ankle, and neck. 

“Nice try.”

Whatever force was keeping Merlin from using magic or abilities within the building faltered for a second, and that was all he needed. In any other situation, he would’ve exploded the Portable Phoenix Forge. There was no telling whether his plan would work. He worried the man and his companions wouldn’t suffer any damage if any at all. Instead, Merlin settled for the next big thing. He dispelled himself, dissolving into shadows, ensuring the soul fragment within returned to its source.