Magic Underground: The Complete Collection (Magic Underground Anthologies Book 4)

by Melinda Kucsera

  Abandoned in a world not his own, James is left to care for himself and their son who refuses to speak since watching his mother get sucked into a magic ball of light. James swore to protect Margaret at all costs, but neither of them expected their son to be the price.

  Chapter One

  Margaret opened her eyes. The light around the room was blinding. Or was it a room at all? She couldn’t tell. The space felt so vast, yet the breath squeezed out of her lungs as if caught in a vice. That’s when she remembered.

  Cold talons pressed against her flesh, tearing into her one fine point at a time. The air smelled of green flames, a particular kind of magic. How could she forget?

  “I see you have awakened, my Queen,” came a brusk, hate-filled voice, one she knew all too well. A sour maleness overtook the electric charged scent of portals and crackling dragon fire.

  “Raynor,” Margaret snapped, effecting her best monarchal tone. “What is the meaning of this?” As she attempted to rise and brush the sand from her dress, the dragon’s claw tore deeper into her side. She yelped but caught the cry before it carried far beyond her lips. Raynor’s love of inflicting pain was legendary throughout the kingdoms. She would not deign to give him such pleasure. “Unhand me!”

  King Raynor stepped around his wretched dragon, Sabadtein, and into Margaret’s line of sight. He seemed thinner and paler than when she’d last encountered him. Tyranny had not been good to the former hero. His heeled boot clicked on the hard floor’s surface with each footfall. So, they were indoors. “Now, if I give in to every whim of our dearly departed Queen, am I not as pathetic as the rest of your lackeys?”

  The way Raynor involuntarily moved his head gave Margaret the impression that her men were nearby. If only she could get to them somehow and make her presence known. Maybe they could save her from this monster.

  “No good will come of this.” Margaret’s skin prickled where the dragon breathed its green smoke down on her. The magic seeped into her blood, drawing out every ounce of energy.

  “Oh, I believe much good has already come of this.” Raynor made a low noise under his breath, which caused Sabadtein to grip Margaret tighter. “You see,” he said, pausing to smile at Margaret, revealing brown and broken teeth – a testament to surviving many battles on this side of the portal. “You are here, with me… at my mercy one might venture, and your precious James is out there.” Raynor pointed a long, crooked finger to the empty space where the portal once hung. Its blue light faded to nothing, snuffed out by the oppressive darkness.

  King Raynor’s use of James’s assumed name wasn’t lost on Margaret either. He had been watching them in their new world for some time. All of this had been planned, and now executed, but to what end? Surely, she wasn’t the one he’d been after. That portal had to be for James… or worse yet, their son.

  Jim was but a child. Innocent and utterly vulnerable against Raynor’s schemes. It’s why they had fled Valonde in the first place, ran for his life. Raynor had sworn to never let them go. And now...

  Margaret shook her head. Now was the time to focus. She was here, wherever here was, not James or little Jim. That meant Raynor’s plans had to adapt. There was still a way out. If she could get the upper hand, out maneuver him while he was off his game, she could escape. She needed to escape, to rescue her men. To get back to Earth.

  Chapter Two

  James still found himself on the floor minutes, or hours, later. With Jim cradled in his lap, they rocked back and forth in silence. Time whirred faster than the speed of light all around them. The sun rose outside their grimy farmhouse window, then set again without ceremony. At some point, there came a knock at the door, then worried voices, then nothing. The world went quiet. And there they sat, unsure of what to do next.

  Margaret was gone.

  The phrase played in his head so many times each word lost its own meaning and tasted like dust. One jumble of sounds after another.

  It took much longer than it should have, longer than James cared to admit, to realize the lad hadn’t spoken since releasing the rune. Or since the rune released them, he corrected. Jim had lain, placid, for more than a day in his father’s arms.

  James wondered for a moment if he, too, had fallen mute. Had he spoken her name out loud or in his heart?

  Though, it meant no matter. The lad’s lips had never quelled for longer than a second, even in sleep. No, his worst fears became truth that day.

  Margaret was gone and Jim, in his own way, was too.

  Everything he’d fought so hard to protect his young family from, everything he fled his home world to escape was happening anyway. Now.

  James nudged his son, gentle at first, then more urgent. Soon, the most violent shaking he could force himself to inflict upon the lad elicited no response. Jim didn’t even tense or try to pull away. He was lost, mentally and physically.

  “Please, lad,” James begged. “I’m here with ye. I’m sorry. But dinna fash. Da will make it better. Just come back to me. Come back.” Though it was his son’s thin frame James clung to, his plea lifted to the heavens of both realms. “Come back.”

  James stared, unwavering, at the empty space in his living room where the portal once crackled. It amazed him that the small television set he’d just bought Margaret for her birthday still sat unused. So much had happened to them in these past few days; he never set it up for her. And now…

  “Come back… come back…” James chanted to both his lad and his wife.

  Jim’s head hurt. His eyes and his skin and his whole body hurt. So many people kept calling him in his mind, wanting him to come with them far away from his Ma and Da.

  Why? He’d let go of the pretty rock. Why didn’t they stop?

  Through his tears, Jim looked to the empty space in the air where the giant light stole his ma. The bad man’s monster got her and it was all his fault. Why did he touch the rock? They had told him not to touch it so many times and every night he woke up standing in front of the drawer.

  He didn’t mean to touch it this time either. He just woke up and it was there, in his hands, talking to him with every voice in the world at once. Making him talk all those funny words.

  His head hurt so bad now. If only he could go to sleep. That would make it all better. But he couldn’t. Da needed him. The voices said so.

  Jim felt his da’s tear drop, hot on top of his head, but didn’t move. He didn’t do anything. When his Da shook him and begged him to talk; nothing would come out. Jim saw how bad it scared his Da, but he had to stay quiet. Da wouldn’t like what he had to say.

  It was better this way. Let Da get it all out while he could. Let him rest a while and be together one last time before he went to get the thing. The thing wouldn’t work, but Da didn’t need to know that. He needed to think he was helping.

  And then, then Jim could save them both.

  Together, huddled on the floor they rocked. Da chanted, “Come back,” to his Ma for countless hours until he stood and picked Jim up.

  Jim let Da carry him like a baby just this once. It made both of them feel a little bit better, and his Da would remember this day for the rest of his life.

  Chapter Three

  Margaret wasted no time lunging to mount an attack on the dragon holding her. Although it didn’t get her far - the dragon tightened its grip around her midsection - it did give her the element of surprise. It was also her first chance to size up the beast that could kill her at any moment.

  Sabadtein, as King Raynor had called him, looked to be hundreds of years old. A wiry gray tuft of hair sprouted from his pointed chin. His horns, turned back and twisted like a daemon’s, stretched halfway down his long serpentine neck. His mouth, which now stood agape after her struggle, had lines etched deep around his snout.

  Margaret considered the fact that she never realized dragons could get wrinkles as she swiped at Sabadtein’s open mouth with her bare hands. Snatching her in the middle of the night in only her bed clothes had left Margaret at
somewhat of a disadvantage. Thinking it was enough to scare her into submission had left Raynor at an even greater disadvantage.

  “I said unhand me!” Margaret roared, and pulled back a handful of gray dragon beard.

  King Raynor raised a hand to strike Margaret. Still, he’d made the grave error of leaning into her face to taunt her moments earlier. With his own long white beard nearly touching Margaret’s birthmark on her cheek, a vehement sign of disrespect in her land, Raynor couldn’t see Sabadtein’s reaction to being plucked.

  No sooner had Raynor reared back to strike Margaret, Sabadtein let out an indignant roar. Green flames licked the tarnished crown atop Raynor’s head. As the ailing king stumbled away, swatting at his singed hair, Margaret noticed one of the crown jewels was missing from its setting. She filed that piece of information away for later and wasted no time prying the dragon’s talons from around her.

  For his part, ever the loyal guardian, Sabadtein cared more about the injuries he’d inflicted upon his master than a lowly female prisoner. At the slightest tug, his grip released and Margaret ran.

  She didn’t look back to see if she was being pursued. Instead, she looked toward the far wall where Raynor kept glancing as he espoused his evil plans. Her men were behind that wall.

  Chapter Four

  The rune.

  It had lain quiet the entire time James and little Jim sat in shock. Now, as James stood, determined to save his family, it flickered to life. Warm, comforting rays of gold reached for him.

  James stepped closer. The cursed medallion cost him everything, and yet, he couldn’t stop himself from wanting it. Every breath he drew without the rune weight in his hand felt like drowning. His body ached with the need of it. How had he let it fall away for so long?

  Another step.

  All would be whole again with the rune. It knew just what to do. It always knew.

  James leaned over to pick up the glorious savior and felt a great pain in his leg. He turned to see Jim, tears streaming down his face, wailing as if he’d been doing so for a long time.

  The rune spun in a circle, casting rays of golden light against the backdrop of their modest home. The voices rose up once more. James hadn’t even realized they were calling him until that moment.

  Against every rational thought and the sound of his lad’s ragged breaths, Odin help him, he still yearned to take it in his hands and make the world go away.

  “Now there, lad.” James comforted both Jim and himself. “I willna leave ye. Come now.” James led a shuddering Jim down the hallway to the room he shared with his dear Margaret, until the night before. Every footstep beat like a fading drum and before long, the rune’s beckoning released him.

  In the bedroom, after assuring Jim the door was locked, and shoving the lounge chair under the handle to be cautious, James knelt beside the bed and prayed.

  Achanaidh Comhnadh

  Iomain fein sinn do chleidh's do chaimir,

  Seun sinn fo do bhrot riomhach reidh;

  A Sgeith dhidinn, dion ri 'r mairionn.

  Bi-sa do chlaidheamh cruaidh, cosgarra,

  Chon sinne dhion a irinn arrais,

  Bho fhigeirich is bho fheadaine frinne fuara,

  'S bho dheathach ruadh an aigeil.

  M' anam an urrachd an Ard Righ,

  Micheil murrach an comhdhail m' anama

  Then, James repeated the rite in English in hopes the lad would join in. Though he was the only voice echoing in the bedchamber, the lad did seem to rouse a bit as he spoke.

  Prayer For Protection

  Tend Thou us to the cot and the fold,

  Sain us beneath Thine own glorious mantle;

  Thou Shield of protection, guard us for ever.

  Be Thou a hard triumphant glave

  To shield us securely from wicked hell,

  From the fiends and from the stieve snell gullies,

  And from the lurid smoke of the abyss.

  Be my soul in the trustance of the High King,

  Be Michael the powerful meeting my soul.

  Once finished, James kissed Jim on the forehead and promised to bring his mother home safe. Then, he did the one thing he swore to never do. James strode across the room and pulled the treasure box out of its hiding place.

  King Ase was livid. He'd allowed the vile despot Raynor to best him in battle. Now here he sat, huddled in a cold damp cell with his loyal soldiers, barely a scrap of leather to share between them. Not only had King Raynor stripped them of their rune, and their land, but half their clothing, too.

  Ase’s teeth clenched as he replayed the final moments of the battle over again. He saw the fear and anger in his men’s eyes as the rune slipped from his hand and into the clutches of his mortal enemy. Every life lost ‘til that moment had been wasted. Every drop of blood for naught.

  Evil had won out and his remaining men were here beside him now, doomed.

  What could he have done differently to change their fate? And what could he do now to avenge his men? To save his kingdom?

  Ase stood from the scant warmth of his fellow men and paced the room. He felt around the cramped cell for anything that could help them escape. The stone walls dripped icy water and sludge. The air tasted stale. They had to be far below ground with no chance of fighting their way to the outside world.

  Dejected, Ase dropped his wet hands to his side, and felt the inviting rough strap of his sword, Gwrinhan. At first, he didn’t believe it. What would possess Raynor to strip the men of their pelts but not their weapons? Did he expect them to cower in a corner and freeze in one shivering bare mass? Or was the sword at his side a token of false hope?

  He shook his head. It didn’t matter. Whatever the reason, he would take that hope and shove it down Raynor’s despicable throat.

  “Rise,” Ase commanded.

  Though clearly freezing and pained, the soldiers obeyed.

  Ase whispered to his raised sword, “Aotrom,” and light filled the room. Then as quickly as it had appeared, it was swallowed by dark shadows slithering down from the torches.

  Still, the momentary flash of pale gold was enough to breathe new life into his men. Through the pitch black, Ase heard his men fumbling for their own swords, then the familiar shings of metal slicing through air.

  The hair on Ase’s neck and arms prickled. He could smell the need for battle raging inside his men. “Some of us may fall here today, but he can’t take us all. We shall fight with everything we have. In Odin’s name, we will vanquish this evil.”

  By the time he finished, the soldiers had clustered around him. Snorts and grunts sounded off from every direction as they lathered themselves up for war.

  The chill had left them. Ase’s own chest burned with the fire inside him. It was time.

  There came a knock at the door and all heads turned. The men rushed to the noise, yelling and growling. The knock turned to an insistent pounding.

  One wooden door stood between the kings and their soldiers. Yes, one had a dragon under his spell, but the other had honor and the gods. “Breech the hold, ye coward!” King Ase taunted his foe.

  “We’ll take yer heads!” came an embittered howl from the crowd.

  Another blow glanced off the large wooden door, like a battering ram.

  The various cries from the men turned to one unanimous call for the heads of Raynor and Sabadtein.

  Flames engulfed the cell.

  Chapter Five

  If she strained hard enough, Margaret could hear the sounds of voices echoing from a distance. She followed them, stumbling and crashing into furniture along the way. The only light in the vast room had been the dragon’s green fire, and now that was lost to her.

  Margaret pressed her hands together and spoke softly into them. They began to warm. A pale yellow light glowed between her fingertips. She spread them wide, letting the ball of light breathe. Before it could rise far enough into the air to illuminate her prison, a wisp of shadow snuffed it out. Margaret rubbed her hands and tried agai
n. And again. Each time the orb grew strong enough to lift off, the shadow engulfed it.

  Still, Margaret found her footing with each spark of new light, until she saw a door. She ran full speed, protecting the orb for as long as possible. The shadow caught them as Margaret’s hand tried the intricately carved golden handle.

  The urgent voices on the other side became frantic. Men called out and threatened to destroy King Raynor if he breached the barrier.

  Margaret hurried, trying in vain to open the locked door. She wanted to answer their cries, assure them that it was her, not Raynor. But to do so would mean immediate discovery. She would have to take her chances.

  Margaret's fists pounded on the thick wood until bruised. Her shoulder ached from ramming into the magically secured door. Her men continued to cry out in mutiny on the other side.

  When she was about to stop pounding long enough to conjure another orb, a great wall of green flames barreled toward her. The heat from the dragon’s fire melted the metal latches beneath Margaret’s fingers. But the light, before being snuffed out by black flame torches along the walls, crept far enough down the corridor to show Margaret a way through.

  Dark pewter armor stood against the wall beside her, so close, and yet unseen in the pitch black room. Margaret felt around the empty armor in search of a sword. Finding none, she ripped the chest plate off and climbed inside. Another blast of heat blew through the hall, culminating in a mushroom cloud where she’d been standing seconds ago.

  The door frame buckled in on itself and Margaret’s men forced their way through the rubble.

  Raynor, outnumbered even with a dragon, and his own army at his command, retreated into the dark.