“Oh, they’re hidden among the shadows. I’d be more concerned with your own wellbeing.”
Ed grunted. “What have your damned Gliss done to me?”
“Seems I’ll have to get answers from you another way.” Orla clenched the bars.
“I can’t tell you what I don’t know.”
“Oh, I have no doubt Rhiannon would have shielded your mind. Perhaps even erased those memories.”
“If she did, you’d never get them,” he growled. “You might be strong, but she is the archdruid. No one is more powerful than her.”
The outer door creaked open as Ceara stumbled inside.
“Where were you?” Orla demanded. “I’ve had people looking for you everywhere.”
Ceara wiped what looked like blood off her face. “I was needed elsewhere. Have you broken him yet?”
Ed closed his eyes. Something clawed at the edge of his mind. Like a caged animal wanting to be let out. It felt raw and primal.
Ed pushed the uncomfortable feeling away. Too weak to pay much attention to it.
“You never tell us anything,” Ceara said. “Maybe we should admit defeat. He won’t break.”
“Nonsense. Everyone breaks eventually,” Orla snapped. “He’s almost there; I can see it.”
Ceara sighed. “He’s so weak. He will die soon. Then we’ll get nothing out of him.”
The sound of a slap reverberated from the air. From Orla no doubt.
“You break him. I know you’ve been going easy on him because you think of him as your brother,” Orla hissed. “You’re weak. Either you break him, or I’ll kill you. You won’t risk your own life for him, will you?”
The cell door swung open with a creak as Ceara came into his cell. Ed. I’m sorry, Wolfie. I have to do this. It’s the only way to make you stronger. Ann still needs you.
What are you talking about? Ed opened his eyes.
The strange presence clawed his mind again. Not a voice—like a strong feeling pushing its way through. Light flared between Ceara’s brows as she placed her hands on either side of his head.
“Ceara, please don’t do this. I’m still your brother. We were family, remember?”
More power hit him like an oncoming tidal wave.
Not again. Ed gritted his teeth. I’ll never tell you anything about Urien. I’ll die before I’d let that murdering bastard come back. An image of Ann appeared in front of him. Waves of pain washed over him — her pain, her sorrow.
The flash of a knife as Ceara plunged through his chest.
Red flashed before his eyes as anger heated his blood. Ed clawed at the floor as the other presence in his mind fought for control. Spirits, what have they done to me? Has something possessed me? Maybe they put a demon or some sort of being into his body. That must be why he lost so much time. Bone and muscle cracked and popped as the thing took over. Fangs burst forth in his mouth. Claws engulfed his fingers.
Rage heated his blood and Ed felt his control slipping away. But part of him didn’t care.
He snarled and let out a loud growl as he rose and bowed his legs.
Ceara drew back in fright. “Gods, you were right. He is a beast.” Orla smirked.
“Ed, it’s okay.” Ceara raised her hands in surrender. “You—”
“You hurt what’s mine,” his voice came out low and guttural. Nothing like his own voice.
He lashed out with his claws, tearing through the sleeve of her leather bodysuit.
Ceara pulled out one of her shock rods and aimed it at him.
Ed knocked her aside and threw her against the wall. She hit the wall, hard, then slumped to the ground.
Ed left her there. She no longer mattered.
He advanced toward Orla, who raised her hand. Invisible waves of power rippled against him. He shrugged it off. It did little more than tickle against his skin.
“Guards!” Orla called out into the passageway. “You can’t harm me, beast. I control you.”
The beast gave a harsh laugh. “You will never control me.” He lunged at her, fangs digging into her throat. The taste of her demon blood tasted like sewage in his mouth. He shoved Orla aside and spat the blood out. He slashed his claws across her face. He left her in a screaming bloody mess on the ground.
Ed? Ed, where are you? A familiar voice called out to him.
He moved into the passageway. A guard came at him with a sword. Ed knocked the man aside as one would a pesky insect.
Where did that voice from?
Ed opened another door and ascended the steps into a larger hole. Four Gliss stood there and came at him with their shock rods. Another raised her hand and her power rippled over him.
The beast shook it off and shot past the guards before any of them had a chance to touch him.
Ed, where are you? I need you.
An image of a pretty blond-haired woman with blue eyes, wearing a long black cloak flashed through his mind.
More guards charged at him. The beast tore them apart one by one, slashing with both his fangs and claws. He moved in a blur, only hearing the faint echo of their screams. The sight of their mangled bodies meant nothing to him.
He blurred, using his newfound speed until he appeared outside. He took a deep breath, the fresh air assaulting his senses. The glowing white walls of the palace loomed above him.
Ann, he thought. That’s the voice that called him.
One way or another, he would find his way back to her. She was his heart and his home.
About the Author
Tiffany Shand is the author of urban and epic fantasy short stories and books. She spends most of her time defending her desk from her two feline demons—cats—and battling with her dragon who writes books for her. In the real world, she works as a copy editor and copywriter, helping other authors to get their books ready for publication. When she’s not busy working on books, she enjoys spending time with her family and indulging her love of photography.
Check out her books at tiffanyshand.com.
Spell of Scales & Steel
Melinda Kucsera
In Spell of Scales & Steel, forgotten magic threatens not just Nulthir when he faces a mythical entity from his past, but Thing and his son face it too when they run into a power neither can see. It’s so dark; it obscures its true purpose. What can two mind-talking creatures do against a terrifying magic they cannot understand? Nor are they the only ones threatened by it. The dark creature they lost is alive and well, and it’s after a young mage and his brother.
Melinda Kucsera
Thing thought he had it all figured out when he and his son followed the thief to his lair. But his plan goes to hell in a hurry when the thief runs straight to a young mage. Is that boy the mastermind of the attack on the prison that started this whole mess, or is he just another pawn in what has become a terrifying game of spells? Find out in “Spell of Scales & Steel.”
Chapter One
Thing rolled onto his side to fly through a narrow gap between two columns. Ahead, the gray-robed thief slowed his mad dash to a walk. Was the chase finally ending?
Probably not since there was nothing here except a long tunnel knifing through the subterranean complex. Thing glided over fantastical rock formations. Sparkling green magic crawled over them, but where was it coming from?
Thing ground his beak at the proof of his worst fears. There was a powerful mage mixed up in all this. What the hell should I do about that? He kept that thought locked down inside his mind, where no one else could hear it.
Where’s he going? Crispin asked mind-to-mind. His son had given up flying several bends ago. Instead, Crispin bounded on all fours from rock to rock, using his cat-like agility.
Thing swerved around a white stalactite that glistened like new-fallen snow in the soft light suffusing everything from the bands of lumir crystals in the walls. They hummed with power, offering further proof there was a mage at the end of this chase. Please, let it not be the mage I saw in the thief’s mind, Thing begged the Creator S
pirit that inhabited every living thing. He took care to keep that thought to himself. That was one complication they didn’t need right now.
Dad, answer me. Crispin grabbed the tip of a stalactite with his tail and swung over a large gap between stones.
You’ll see soon enough, Thing sent, but that didn’t mollify his son.
Why can’t you just tell me what you saw in his mind? I’m not a child. Whatever it is, I can handle it. Crispin’s claws clicked loudly on the stone ledge he loped across, and it echoed, disturbing the quiet. Anger made him careless.
But their quarry must’ve been close to his destination, because one quick over-the-shoulder glance was enough to convince the gray-clad thief his back trail was clear. Of course, the thief didn’t bother to look up, or he’d have seen two shadows tailing him. One shadow darted cat-quick through the gloom veiling the ceiling, and one flew soundlessly overhead. But humans never did look up.
Thing clucked his tongue at that mistake as he swooped down, paralleling the sloping ceiling and twisted to fly between two stalactites glowing a soft green from the stone mage’s power. When not a single feather so much as grazed either one, Thing let out the breath he’d been holding.
That was too close. Maybe we should find another way to tail him. That mage’s power is everywhere. Crispin dove for another rock formation as green magic swarmed over the one he’d just left.
You could fly, Thing pointed out. There’s no magic in the air, just on the rocks.
Crispin shot him a glare for that comment. If my wings weren’t so tired, I would. We don’t all have your stamina.
You mean practice. Thing narrowed his yellow raptorial eyes at his son, but Crispin was immune to his glares.
Kits today. Thing rolled his eyes. They led soft lives and cultivated even softer bodies ill-suited for the rigors of a good chase. Soon, Crispin would run out of rocks that weren’t overrun with magic to run on. Find somewhere to hold up. I’ll tail him the rest of the way. The mage can’t sense me unless I get too close to his magic, and I won’t.
I’m not quitting. If you can tail him, then I can too. Crispin leaped off another outcropping moments before it too was engulfed by shining green magic. The magic kept spreading over more surfaces, but that was all it did. Are you sure we’re not heading into a trap? Crispin landed on another ledge, which was free of magic for the moment.
That was a good question. Thing scanned the way ahead. It was clear of obstacles for twenty wing beats. That would have to do. He reached out with invisible claws and hooked them into the gray-cloaked figure ahead. Gah, that mind was full of meaningless prattle about an ‘angel’ interspersed with garish images of smoke and fire, but nothing about those shards, or the creature that had been inside them. Or about the mage generating all the magic crawling around the tunnel.
Did you get anything from your mind scan? Crispin asked the instant Thing had retracted his mind.
Nothing that unravels the mystery any more than we already have. And that bothered Thing. Had they chosen the wrong person to follow?
No, that mender had headed for the infirmary, so he’d be easy to track down again. But what about the creature that had been in that broken bespelled glass? Where had it gone? Was it even gone, or had it just gone dormant for some reason?
The little Thing knew about it flashed through his mind, and he back winged in alarm. Ahead, green light, warm, inviting, and blindingly bright, spilled out of a cave. A bad feeling sliced through Thing, shoving aside all thoughts of that dark creature. He wheeled around to face his son; one claw raised to his beak to signal for silence.
Crispin raised his head; his whiskers twitched. His owlish wings lay neatly folded against his back, but he raised them in preparation for flight as he rose from a crouch to stand easily on two clawed paws on the ledge above Thing.
His son was more cat-like than Thing was, except for his eyes. They were the raptorial gold of Thing’s eyes, and they focused expectantly on him. Stay here. Don’t speak aloud until I say so. Speak to me in here. Thing touched his temple.
Something was very wrong here. Magic saturated the cave and the tunnel leading to it, but it was tense and watchful. It scanned the thief as he entered, freezing the gray-robed man in place for a long moment before it relaxed its guard and let him cross the threshold. If the thief noticed that momentary delay, he didn’t show it.
Crispin pointed at the cave as he backed away. The mage is in there, isn’t he?
Yes, a stone mage by the color and feel of his magic. Thing landed on the lintel and wrapped his tail around a metal spike jutting out of the stone a foot above the cave’s entrance.
I don’t think you should do that. What if the mage senses you? Dad? Crispin asked when Thing didn’t reply.
Crispin was worrying in vain. Earth mages weren’t known for their speed at spellcasting. A fast glance should’ve been okay, and that’s all Thing needed to confirm the mage’s identity. Clinging to the spike above his perch, Thing hung upside-down and peered inside. As long as no one looked up, they wouldn’t see the top of his feathered head.
Now, if only that thief would move. His voluminous robes were blocking the other occupant of this cave from sight while he fumbled with the bag he’d been carrying. Just dump it out already. Stop making everything into a production.
Dad, are you sure you should—? Crispin asked telepathically, thank the Creator, but Thing cut him off.
Yes, stop distracting me. Thing willed the thief to move. He could’ve dived into the thief’s mind and make him, but that would’ve drawn too much attention, especially if that dark creature was only pretending to be gone. Instead, Thing fought the urge to click his claws in impatience.
Finally, glass tinkled, and stones clicked as the thief dumped the contents of his bag on to the floor. Come on, move out of the way, Thing thought at him. The thief squatted down revealing a pile of dark glass shards and crystals. One of the crystals rolled to a stop by a bare, dirty foot. It lit up the instant it passed into the green corona of power surrounding a teenage boy with eyes as bright and green as his magic.
Thing cursed mentally. Of all the mages in hiding, why did it have to be him?
Dad, who’s in there? Crispin asked, but his mind-voice sounded like it came from a long way off.
Thing rubbed his eyes. He must’ve been mistaken. That mage boy couldn’t have been there. All humans looked alike, but even he recognized the two boys sitting side by side, arms around each other. Time had altered them but not for the better. The older boy was even ganglier than the last time Thing had seen him. His clothes were rattier, and his brilliant green eyes were troubled. His little brother was in a similar state, but his eyes were still as brown as bark, marking him as the non-magical one in the family.
That happened when two brothers took after different parents, especially when they didn’t have both parents in common. It was obvious just by looking at them they were half-brothers, but close ones given the way they clung to each other.
But none of that woolgathering explained what the hell they were doing in a cave under Mount Eredren, or why that thief had brought the very object that had started all Thing’s troubles to the two brothers. Unless that mage boy wasn’t alone inside his head. Thing didn’t even want to consider that, but it was the only reason that made sense.
Crispin landed beside him and wrapped his tail around Thing’s tail so he too could lean down and peer inside. “That’s Sar—” Crispin squawked before Thing could muffle him.
Thing rolled his eyes. Kits today were so impatient. Thanks to his son’s outburst, Sarn looked over at them, and hope flowered in his too-bright eyes, confirming all was not well with him. But did that matter?
Thing let go of his perch and extended his wings. For a heartbeat, he stayed framed in the doorway holding his staring son. Sarn’s eyes widened in surprise and maybe recognition too, but Thing flew away before the mage boy could do more than that.
Chapter Two
Sarn sta
red at the creature hovering in the entrance. It had an owl’s head and wings, a cat’s hindquarters and small human-looking hands which gripped a more cat-like winged creature who was staring right at him.
“That’s—” Miren said, but Sarn clapped both hands over his little brother’s mouth before the boy could call any more attention to those creatures. Miren glared at him for the interruption, but Sarn just inclined his head toward the muttering Shade. Something was off about their friend, and sometimes protector, and had been for a while now. “Mmhhmm.” Miren gave the entrance a pointed look.
Those owlish creatures weren’t darkening their door anymore. They’d flown away on silent wings the instant Sarn had looked away. Damn it. More questions without answers, just what Sarn didn’t need right now.
Miren squirmed until he let go. There was no reason to muffle the boy anymore. Shade hadn’t even glanced in their direction. Shadows clung to his mysterious friend, and Sarn debated sending his magic over to find out why. But his magic didn’t like people. It preferred rocks, and there were tons of rocks for it to explore since they were sitting under a mountain. Maybe he should leave Shade alone.
Miren tapped Sarn on the shoulder. “Why’d you silence me? That was Thing and one of his sons. He had two if I remember correctly.”
His kid brother hadn’t taken the hint. Sarn suppressed a sigh and cut the boy some slack. After all, Miren was only eight or was he nine now? Since every day was the same under the mountain, Sarn had lost all track of time, not that age really mattered down here. But one thing hadn’t changed, he was still six years older than Miren.
Miren elbowed Sarn in the side. “They could have helped us.”
“Maybe.” Sarn looped his long arms around his knees, then shook his head because no one ever stuck around long enough to help them. Why should that change now? Even Shade was drifting away. Sarn looked away from his friend. “Then again, maybe not. They did fly away without even saying hello. Maybe those creatures weren’t them.”
Forgotten Magic (Magic Underground Anthologies Book 3) Page 11
