The Years of Apocalypse - A Time Loop Progression Fantasy

Chapter 10 - …And Then It Ends

Mirian didn't scream, but plenty of other people did. Instead, she crouched down and got ready to run. For a fraction of a second, a brief memory surfaced. Something like this had happened before. There'd been an explosion, just nearby—

She looked around, ready to fight someone. But there was no one to fight, just broken glass spread across the cobblestones and smoke pouring out of the third floor window.

At least this time, the guards came. Two of them approached, one from the courtyard, one from a nearby street. "What happened?" one of them said, hand on his revolver holster.

"It just exploded!" a fourth year student said.

"Yeah, there was a green flash, and then... is it on fire? Look at all that smoke!" a second year student said.

A crowd was quickly forming. Mirian knew she had to get to class but she couldn't take her eyes off the smoke.

"Get the sorcerers," one of the guards said to the other. The other one took off running.

Another second year student by Mirian said, "We should... like... cast a wind spell or something. To put out the flames. Does anyone..."

"No!" she snapped. "Putting more air in there is just going to make the fire hotter. Or spread whatever just exploded around. There's a reason they called for someone who knows what they're doing." She said it with a lot more anger than she meant to. The girl backed away from her, eyes wide.

A bell started clanging, getting louder as it approached them. It was a fire wagon, a horseless carriage powered by a spell engine, loaded with supplies. As it approached, the driver shouted at the crowd to move. Gradually, it parted, and the wagon rolled up to the building.

Two sorcerers dressed in red trousers and jackets leapt down, bandoliers with a dozen wands strapped across their torsos. "Do we know the kind of fire?" one of them asked.

"No," Mirian said.

The first sorcerer pulled out a wand from his bandolier and held it in front of him. Bright lines traced their way through the smoke. "Probably a magic start, but it's mundane now. Keep this area clear in case there's a secondary explosion," he told the guard.

The guard started yelling for the crowd to back up, and the two sorcerers rushed into the building, grabbing for a second wand. Wands only could contain one spell, but most were designed with enhancements already built in. It didn't look like much, but those sorcerers were packing some serious power.

It took a few minutes, but then a force barrier spread across the third floor window and the smoke abruptly stopped coming out. She could see it building up across the barrier, and then it churned and was drawn back away from that barrier. Some sort of gas-collection spell, she guessed, and then sapping the heat energy from it so all the smoke became inert ash.

The force barrier vanished, and one of the sorcerer's leaned out the window. "Clear," he said. "Get a priest."

Mirian's heart sank.

The crowd started to disperse, but Mirian stayed. She had to know: Who? Probably, she didn't know them. There were a lot of students at the Academy. And why had they been in the building so early? The Alchemistry building didn't have classes before 6 o'clock.

The sorcerers brought out the body, and it was clear they hadn't summoned the priest for healing, but for last rites. They'd found some cloth to veil the body; apparently none of the wands they carried had any sort of illusion spell that could do that. It was badly burned, but when the wind caught the sheet, Mirian briefly saw who it was.

Platus was dead.

She hadn't liked Platus. He wasn't nice, and when she'd worked with him on a group project her first year, he'd been a total pain to work with. But she'd known him. And he was... dead.

Her mind went to the cloaked figures she'd been seeing. Had they done this? What were they even after? And who could she tell? Not the guards. Could she trust the sorcerers? Or would they just tell the guards?

In a daze, she turned and walked. Where was she going? Class, she realized. Really? She was just going to walk into class, twenty minutes late, and... what? Pretend everything was normal?

Yeah, she realized. Better to get distracted by arcane theory, so she didn't have to think about what happened.

Of course, it didn't work very well. She kept finding herself tuning out whatever Professor Torres was saying. What had happened? Was it going to happen again? More, there was that memory the explosion had triggered. She'd forgotten about it, but it was there. When she searched for it, it was like looking through a fogged glass; it was too indistinct, but the emotions were there, and her heart kept racing.

Her focus in Enchantments wasn't any better. And of course, third period, class was canceled. No one was being allowed into the Alchemistry building; even Professor Atger was outside.

By Arcane Physics, apparently word had gotten around. Professor Endresen started the lecture with, "I suppose by now you've all heard." She didn't say anything after that for a long time. Then, she said, simply, "It's a dangerous profession, the one you've chosen. That danger is only mitigated by knowledge. Nothing else." Endresen looked out the window then, and for a minute, said nothing. That minute dragged on, and then she said, "I suppose I'll begin today's lecture."

Mirian didn't go to dueling, like she normally did. The sky was dark, but she cast a looped light spell before she left the dorm, then left her spellbook. The spell would illuminate her way for at least an hour before her auric mana couldn't sustain the draw. She headed for the Mage's Grove. She ran, much harder than she normally did, pushing herself until she'd be too tired to think, and every time she thought about what happened, ran hard, ran faster. There had to be nothing left.

When she got to the dorm, Lily was there.

"Was it really him?" she asked.

"Yeah," Mirian said. "I didn't... know him very well."

"We'd been in so many classes together. Then... he wasn't there. I mean, I... I don't want to speak ill of the dead. But everyone else was there, and he wasn't. And we heard... shit. Does anyone know what happened?"

Mirian shook her head. "I don't know."

They hugged each other, but they didn't say much after that.

That weekend, Mirian enmeshed herself in studying. She found that if she focused everything on studying, then ran until exhaustion, she could avoid thinking about it.

Seventhday, she went to the temple. The sermon was about Altrukyst, the Traveler. He spoke of the great journeys of life, but all Mirian could think was, what if that journey ends too soon?

After the sermon, she waited to talk to the priest. "Holy one, why is there death?" she asked.

"That's the question, isn't it? One of the prophets asked the Ominian. The response seems to be that it's an inevitable part of the universe. That doesn't make it any easier, though, does it?" The priest looked at her with sympathy. She could tell he'd had this conversation before. In the coming days, perhaps a lot more.

"No, it doesn't," she said.

"My next sermon, I will discuss it."

Mirian nodded, and headed back to her dorm. The next morning, they found a notice posted on the doors: Classes canceled for 26th of Solem, Firstday. The Academy would be doing a security review of the academic buildings.

So she and Lily spent the day talking and studying. Lily took her to the practice range, and Mirian let off some steam by using her flame beam spell on a target, while Lily showed off her ability to spear a target with an enhanced force missile.

Again, she found herself yanking Lily's arm as they turned back toward the Plaza.

Mirian set her eyes on the Kiroscent Dome. When the tower had shattered, a huge stone chunk had been sent flying into it, but its sturdy construction had weathered the blow. Only one of the front columns had collapsed. They had to climb over one of the fallen marble pillars, but they made it inside.

There, a small crowd had gathered in the rotunda. The mood was mixed. Some were huddling in the center. Some were pacing about. Others were tearing up benches and whatever they could find to make barricades. A few were gathered on the stage beyond the rotunda, near the statue of Yiaverunan, the patron God of the Academy. Yiaverunan's four arms were spread wide with her symbols, and for a moment, it seemed to Mirian the God's statue was staring at them, past the blindfold that covered her eyes, with pity.

She looked around for anyone she knew. She recognized Valen, Selesia, and Professor Viridian. Viridian's eyes had rings around them, and he was silent, staring at the entrance.

Mirian couldn't think of anyone better to talk to. "Professor!" she said, approaching him. "What do we do?"

He looked at her, but she had never before seen such a look of hopelessness. "I don't know," he said.

"What's going on? Who is attacking us, and why are Baracuel soldiers here, and firing at us, and—"

Another explosion interrupted her, making the building shake and sending screams through the crowd. Gunfire erupted just outside, echoing through the Academy plaza. "What do we do? What do we do?" Mirian hadn't studied for this. That felt so unfair. She'd worked so hard, and right now, none of it mattered. She turned to the crowd. "Does anyone have ink? A glyph pen? Rune powder? Spellbooks? We have to organize a defense! Those soldiers could come in at any moment, and they're firing on everyone!"

To her surprise, it was Valen that spoke first. "I have my spellbook. But it's mostly utility spells."

Selesia just shook her head, and sat with her arms wrapped around her knees. She was crying softly.

"Lily, you can do enhanced spells. Can you...?"

"I dropped my spellbook in the field," she said. "I tried to tell you."

Oh, Mirian thought. "Shit."

"No, we probably would have died if I'd gotten it."

"I have my spellbook," another student offered.

Since no one else seemed to be taking charge, Mirian started ordering people around, though she had no idea what she was doing. "Uh, if you have a lift object spell, you can change the keirn glyph to cossali and channel it. Flip it sideways, and that can deflect objects. Maybe it'll work on bullets."

"It won't," another student said. He had the silver tassels of a fifth year. "My dad's a corporal. If they think they're attacking arcanists, they'll be using magebreaker ammunition. Cuts right through force shields."

"Magnetic spell?"

"Stops a dueling sword great," he said, gesturing to Mirian's sheathed practice sword. "No one here has a spell that can stop a bullet."

"Maybe if we wave a bunch of white cloth at them they'll understand surrender. Who the hell is attacking us, anyways?"

It was Selesia who answered. "Akana Praediar," she said. More gunfire echoed across the square.

"Why?"

She didn't answer.

"Shit. Well how do you say 'I'm a civilian, please don't hurt us' in Eskanar?"

Selesia shook her head again. "If they want prisoners, they'll take them. If they don't...."

Mirian opened her mouth to say something, then closed it. She looked like a fish, she knew, but she couldn't put it into words. Akana Praediar was Baracuel's ally! They had, like, fifty different treaties and had passed laws protecting civilians in war. She didn't know a damn thing about history, but she knew that. Why is this happening?

Then the blue and white uniforms of the Akanans appeared in the door. They lowered rifles.

Mirian raised her arms above her head. "Civilians!" she said.

The gunfire was so loud. It echoed in the halls and all around the rotunda. Someone screamed. Whatever organization Mirian had tried to impose evaporated in an instant; everything descended into chaos. She saw Valen trying to light the uniforms of the soldiers on fire with basic fire spells, but something was suppressing the spells. Three students collapsed, bleeding, one making a horrible gurgling screech as they clutched their chest.

Mirian dove behind one of the makeshift barricades. The wood benches and plush fabric did nothing to stop the bullets. When three of them perforated her hiding spot, she ran for it. Lily was beside her, and Valen. Behind her, she saw Viridian standing, spellbook in hand. The pages glowed beneath his hand as he flipped through them. She blinked, hesitating as she saw what he was doing—every spell he was casting was quickened. Some sort of arcane shield she'd never seen before protected him. He brought down a stone relief on the top of two soldiers, then shot out lightning that took out another.

A combat-sorcerer stepped through the entrance, wand in hand, and tore apart the shield. Two more sorcerers pressed him, wands blazing with light, and Viridian didn't stand a chance in that brief but overwhelming assault. He fell after that, three bullets spraying blood behind him as they tore him apart.

This time, it was Lily dragging Mirian's hand. "Keep going. Keep going," she said.

As they moved behind pillars, a lightning spell caught Valen and she went sprawling. A fireball blasted the center of the rotunda, and the pressure wave made it so Mirian went sprawling too, totally deaf again. She scrambled to her feet and grabbed for Lily, who was close to her. Valen was on the ground, not moving, and they were still being shot at. Gods, she didn't like her, but she didn't want her to die. There were so many dead, the screams were piercing, the shouting, the shooting.

"We can hide in the back, there's rooms back there—" Mirian said. Lily didn't have her glasses anymore. And she couldn't hear, either, Mirian guessed. She tried to guide her up the stairs, but then suddenly Lily went limp in her arms.

Mirian blinked. A force-blade spell had carved open her torso. One of the blades had sliced up Mirian's arm, though the shock must have been overwhelming her, because though she saw the blood, she couldn't feel it. Instead, all she could do was gape at Lily.

"No, no, no," she said. Not Lily. Not her friend. They'd known each other since their first year, talked endlessly about everything, been there even when things were hardest. When Mirian was at her lowest, there was Lily, with a cup of tea, or a hug, or just a listening ear. When Lily had learned her grandma died, Mirian had been with her and comforted her.

The tears were pouring down. She looked back. The blue and white uniformed soldiers were advancing. They'd made it to the barricades, and there was nothing opposing them. Just corpses littering the rotunda, bodies strewn about like dolls.

Fear gripped Mirian. She dropped her friend and ran across the stage, towards the dark rooms beyond promising safety.

The bullet that went through her gut felt like a line of hot fire. She collapsed to the ground, legs suddenly not working. The soldiers kept coming forward, shouting in that strange tongue of theirs. Mirian felt cold. The floor was wet. Why was it wet?

Blood, she realized. Her blood.

She crawled to the statue of Yiaverunan, praying, begging. No, she thought. Not me. Not yet. She wasn't ready. She had only just begun life. The statue held her hourglass, star, hammer, and wheel. Time, she thought. I need more time. Her Mom and Dad—they were relying on her. She was going to finally be able to support them. Support her little brother. Oh Gods, Zayd. What would Zayd do without his big sister, his Mi-ri?

An Akana soldier climbed up on the stage, wand in one hand, pistol in the other. She looked at Mirian with cold blue eyes, gaze icy as the winter, skin as pale as her hair. "Please. Please," Mirian found herself begging, crawling through her own blood to the statue. She leaned back on the statue, praying it might protect her. Praying for anything. In the oculus at the zenith of the dome, she looked for the light of heaven, but something had blotted out the stars. "Mercy," she whispered.

But she was given none. The combat sorcerer said something, then raised her wand. The force-blade spell carved her to pieces, the blades powerful enough to cut through the statue.