The Baron of Wings was pinned to a wall by one of Black-Hand’s smoldering sickles. The redcap laughed and drove his skull into the baron’s head, cackling. Black-Hand pulled the sickle out of the baron’s side and simply watched as the baron fell on his face. The baron’s wings dimmed, and the light issuing from Al’s and Urk’s weapons began to dim as well.
Black-Hand stepped on one of the baron’s wings to prevent him from crawling away. “Now. Do I kill you first so they can see it? Or do I kill them first so you can watch them die? Choices, choices.”
“Kill him and leave us,” shouted Al’rashal.
“What?” shouted Urk, pulling a wolf from his arm and casting it against a near wall.
“It’s not worth it, Urk. Black-Hand has all the power here.”
“And why would I let you live?”
“We’ve already killed half of your men. You’ll need people like us to help rule this kingdom of darkness.”
Black-Hand chuckled. “Kingdom of Darkness. I like the ring of that. Drop ya weapons and I’ll let you live.”
Urk looked to her, and she nodded in response. “I break my oath to the Baron of Wings and will no longer protect him.” With that, she dropped the glaive.
“I break my oath to the Baron of Wings and will no longer protect him,” repeated Urkjorman, dropping his sword to the earth.
Black-Hand laughed as he kicked the baron over onto his back and lifted both sickles into the air. “And comes darkness.” With that, he plunged both blades into the baron’s chest.
Chapter Seven
Let There Be
Light exploded from the Baron of Wings, blasting back the shadows and sending the darkness fleeing the Old Aerie. Black-Hand grasped his eyes and howled in agony as the baron rose.
Al’rashal acted first, drawing her sword and cutting one of the assassins in half. Urkjorman was a fraction slower but still fast enough to shoulder past the bear to the man adorned with bone. The shaman lashed out, stabbing him in the side with a short sword, but Urk still managed to grasp the staff and wrench it from his hand. Closing his fist, he snapped the staff in half, cutting the current of energy flowing to the moonstone. Immediately the lykin reverted, as if falling from their animal forms into their natural states. Urk hurled the remains of the staff across the room.
“No!” shouted Black-Hand. “How?”
The baron pulled the iron sickles from his body, but now it was as if the weapons were boiling at the touch of his flesh and blood, instead of the opposite. “Never break a pact with Auvithia.”
Black-Hand rushed the baron, who casually kicked the redcap in the face and sent him crashing into the far wall.
The air was driven from Urk’s lungs as a hammer collided with his side. Though returned to his natural state as a human, the lykin that had been a bear was still monstrously strong. The man swung again, and this time Urk blocked with the glowing shield. A kick to the man’s leg sent him to his knees, and a fist to the skull sent him down. The shaman was running toward the remains of the staff. “Al!” he shouted, but she was being driven into cover by arrows and bolts of blood.
He found the silver sword he’d cast aside and lifted it in time to deflect a hatchet hurled at his skull. The ax thrower threw another one, which bounced of Urk’s shield, and closed on him with another warrior, both drawing swords. The blade of the first one bounced off his shield. The second was parried by his blade, but he knew they were just playing for time. The shaman had reached the remains of the staff and was trying to pry the moonstone from it. The next time Urk swung, he wrapped the blade in lightning, and when the warrior blocked, electricity surged into him to cook his flesh and boil his blood. The other warrior sprang back, trying to avoid a similar fate, and lost his head as the Baron of Wings swept by and destroyed his neck with a sweep of his wing. Urk and the baron shared a nod of understanding before he flew across the room to help Al’rashal.
The shaman grasped the stone, and light began to pour from between his fingers as he grew. Urkjorman drew the silver-tipped javelins from his back and launched them one after the other into the shaman as he charged. The first two sank into the growing creature’s flesh, the third was deflected, and the fourth went wide. Urk bought his sword down as the creature, which looked like a cross between a bear and a tiger, lifted his arm to block. The blade sank deep, but the shaman countered by driving his glowing fist into Urk’s face, sending the minotaur stumbling backward. The creature hammered another massive fist into his face, a third punch to his stomach, and the fourth Urk blocked with his shield. He grasped the creature’s right arm before he could strike again, and headbutted him, then followed by punching him in the face with his silver gauntlet, sending the thing reeling. Before the shaman could fully recover, Urk grasped his right wrist and twisted, snapping the wrist and sending his fingers spasming in pain.
“No,” cried the shaman as the glowing orb fell from his grasp.
Urk capitalized by lifting his knee into the creature’s side as he shrank. Grasping the javelins still lodged in the creature’s chest, Urk drove him backward into the near wall, fracturing the stone with the impact. The creature raked him with his claws, carving long lines into Urk’s chest even as the thing continued to shrink. Urk pushed forward, driving the javelins deeper until the tips pushed out of his back and into the wall. With the creature pinned there, Urkjorman headbutted him again, and again blanketed his face in blood and fragments of bone.
Urk released a weary sigh as he turned about, ready to face the remaining two lykin, but the fight seemed to have fled them. The minotaur picked up the moonstone to be sure and watched as Al’rashal pulled her sword out of the last of her attackers. All that was left now was Black-Hand.
Perhaps if the baron were at his weakest, or Black-Hand at his strongest, it would have been a contest, but now, with his power restored, the Baron of Wings was unstoppable. What few fairies remained were already bowing in supplication as the baron held Black-Hand aloft by the throat. The redcap was reduced to little more than screaming incoherently as the baron looked on with amusement.
“Want us to execute this one too?” asked Al.
“No. This pleasure I take for myself,” said the baron. His wings fanned out and shone with blinding light. When it was gone, there was nothing of Black-Hand but ash and a few strands of blood-soaked fabric. Then he looked to the two. “Thank you, for betraying me.”
Al’rashal curtsied. “You said if we broke the pact, the power you were storing would be yours.”
“So, you have power enough to set things right?” asked Urkjorman.
The baron looked up at the sky, and the darkness peeled back. Stars appeared in the firmament, the broken moon shone through the clouds, and slowly the sun pulled back up from the west to sit on the horizon, bathing the land in twilight once more. “Yes.”
“And for us?” asked Al.
The baron shook his head. “Restoring myself does not leave me enough power to pay you what you are owed.”
Urk sucked his teeth.
“However,” said the baron, placing his hand on Urk’s fist, “this bit of moonstone is full of power, and maybe I can do something with that.”
The baron took one of Al’s hands and placed it on top of the stone, then placed his hands so that one was atop both of theirs and the other beneath. The world filled with light again.
The light seemed to fade, or his eyes adjusted, and Urk could see everything washed in a thin silvery radiance. Sound felt muted; time seemed to crawl. And then, in the way one knows when a predator is stalking one from a distance, Urk became aware of a presence. His eyes were pulled to the east, to the low valley, and then, as though rising from the ocean, it appeared. She appeared, he corrected, somehow understanding without knowing why. The thing that rose into view was too large to be here; she was too large to be anywhere. Her breasts were larger than mountains. Her swollen belly could span the ocean. Arms that could reach the moon swayed at her side, and somewhere atop it al
l was a face that was every face he had ever known or could imagine. He wanted to ask what was happening, but he barely had the presence of mind to think, let alone speak. The baron, however, did not seem as overwhelmed as he and his wife.
The Baron of Wings spoke with words that tasted like honey and smelled like wildflowers. The thing, the impossible thing, responded with a voice that sounded like the birth wail of every child that had ever drawn breath. Urk’s ears burned, or his mind did—he found it hard to keep track of what he was in the presence of such a being.
The baron bowed. The thing seemed to curtsy, and then everything was back to normal.
Urkjorman fell over, Al’rashal vomited, and the baron smiled.
“What … what was that?” demanded Al.
“My master,” answered the baron.
“That was Larashu?” exclaimed Urk. “That was a god?”
The baron nodded simply as though Urk had asked him whether the sky was blue. “You see why they appoint us Auvithia as go-betweens to act in their stead. Simply being the focus of a god’s attention can destroy you, let alone conversing and bartering with them. You must have experienced something like that before, Urk.”
“Once,” said the minotaur with a nod. “When I was near death and filled with Kurgen’Kahl’s radiance. But it was nothing compared to that.”
“Well, be that as it may, you can thank me now.”
“Thank you? For what?” asked Al.
“What are you, deaf? I got Larashu to grant you your wish, despite you getting me stabbed and breaking your oath.”
“Does … does that mean I’m pregnant?”
The Baron of Wings laughed. “No, of course not. Larashu said that on this night, the second full moon in the time of spring, will you be fertile, for him.”
Urk was so stunned by the revelation he couldn’t even think. He hadn’t really expected to survive this all, let alone be rewarded. “So we …”
“Have sex, yes,” said the baron with an amused grin. “And if I were you, I would get to it. Time is different here in the Bounds Reverie, but a day is still a day.”
The Baron of Wings lifted into the air and turned south. “I would love to watch, but I do have a house to put in order and people to educate. It seems many have forgotten why one does not betray Auvithia. When you are finished and the little boy or girl or whatever is born, I do hope you will come and visit. I feel like something of a godparent.”
The Baron of Wings laughed as he soared off toward the Aerie, his glowing wings leaving a rainbow of light in his wake. Urkjorman considered the fairy lord for only a moment before taking Al’rashal in his arms. “One night.”
“A good night.”
They kissed.
Al’rashal and Urkjorman learn what couples have learned since the start of time. Parenting is the most difficult job in the world! It takes sacrifice, heart, and maybe a little bit of magic. Can they protect their family, their children or will they learn the one lesson a parent never should? That nothing is more painful than outliving a child. Find out in Forgotten Magic.
About the Author
S. Wallace is an aspiring author who's just hit the scene. Their stories range from the far future to realms of magic and monsters with yet more to come. They look forward to showing you all the great stories they’re producing and sharing the amazing ones they’re reading. See you between the pages!
For more information about the author, please visit: www.amazon.com/-/e/B0829M14QS To keep up to date on upcoming stories.
Don't forget to grab your copy of next anthology, Forgotten Magic, now!
The Deh’anin Unveiled
Alesha Escobar
When Augustina seeks dangerous magic, it will either bring her great power or destruction. This story is about a villain who can't help but try and tame wayward magic. Writing this story was an interesting and challenging departure from my usual protagonists who tend to be the “heroes” or “good guys.” Please enjoy!
Alesha Escobar
Being branded as a Dabbler in the Dark Arts is the least of Augustina's worries. She's an exile on a mission, and she's just been given her deadliest task. She seeks forbidden magic which will place her above other dark mages in a powerful hierarchy, where only the strong survive.
The Deh’anin Unveiled
Augustina gathered her burgundy cloak about her as she knelt before the governor in Divhan Hall. She had run all the way from the Temple ruins. As her own sharp intake of breath pierced the silence looming in the hall, she dared not look Ialen Divhan in the face until he had addressed her. All she could think was how she would convince the Dark Lord to send her to Rhinland without revealing her plans. Would he even consent if she did have a valid reason?
Although she was Divhan’s apprentice, she was not trusted—certainly not trusted to leave his sight. Two years ago, when she had failed in an important mission, she had come to Boathe only to receive a cold welcome from the governing Dark Council. She had to start all over again in the eyes of most.
At first she was grateful to play the errand-girl, carrying messages back and forth among Divhan, his staff, and other Dark Lords. She even waited on guests in Lord Divhan’s castle as if she were a lowborn maid. But now, she was near her breaking point and believed that the Dark Council would never see her debt as paid.
“Augustina,” Divhan said as he shifted in his dark chair. “I’m assigning you an undertaking that I believe will be nearly impossible to blunder.”
Her cheeks reddened. “My Lord, how may I serve you?”
“I am glad you’re still eager to do what I ask,” he said wryly. “But let’s be open with each other. I know you returned to Boathe expecting retribution for your mistakes,”—he hissed the last word, allowing it to linger—“but as you well know, the information you gave us was useful. Where Ronan Silvanus failed in his tutelage, we will succeed.”
“Lord Divhan,” Augustina said, her gray eyes meeting his. “I understand that many here in Boathe perceive me as…weak. However, I feel my progress in my training speaks for itself.” She handed him a crystal vial. The liquid inside glowed a warm golden-yellow.
Divhan held the vial to view. “Very good. I’ve not seen this one in thirty years. Your Helper must be a skilled spirit.”
The vial contained a magical substance that would be examined by a special group of mages. The Dark Lords believed that the composition of such substances with the aid of Helper spirits would unlock the key to the Grand Elixir—a brew that granted immortality.
Creating one’s portion was not like mixing ingredients in a cooking pot. Less than half of the trainees actually managed to create a magically infused blend, and some of them ended up falling prey to their own Helpers. The fact that Divhan was impressed with her mixture eased Augustina’s tension. It gave her hope that he would grant her request to go to Rhinland.
“I’m glad that my blend pleases you. Perhaps this means I can have more freedom?”
Divhan scoffed. “The fact remains that you let Corabelle Lansing escape. So did Lord Ronan, and for that, he rightly died.”
The unspoken threat of and so could you, hung in the air.
“Then what is this new mission, my Lord?” Augustina rose from her position. Her knees ached.
Divhan’s lips parted in an answer, but silently closed when the hall door opened and shut. A hooded figure in black entered. Augustina instinctively turned but hesitated to kneel or bow. She could usually recognize other dark mages and Lords even with their hoods up, but this person was unfamiliar. Also, she could not sense a trace of magic on the visitor, so he probably wasn’t even a mage.
“Ialen Divhan,” a soft, feminine voice spoke from under the hood. “Is everything in order for my trip?”
Divhan’s eyes narrowed at the woman’s offhand address. Not only was he a member of the Dark Council, he was also a Dark Lord, and governor of the southeast province of Boathe.
“Of course, Lady Akela. Augustina will join you and
obey you in all things.” His gaze darted between the two women, waiting for a response.
“So, this is your apprentice?” Akela asked, lifting her hood and revealing her delicate face. Her black eyes sparkled with intelligence and mirth. Her pitch-black hair was pulled back into a single long braid, and she stood at least a head taller than Augustina.
“Lord Divhan,” Augustina said. “May I ask where I am to go with this…woman?”
“You may call me Mylen,” the woman answered. “And any further questions will be addressed to me. From now on, I am your new mistress.”
Augustina bit her tongue in an effort to avoid lashing out. Who did this woman think she was? And why did she suddenly look familiar to her?
As if reading her thoughts, Mylen assured her, “I am a mage, and why I choose to cloak my powers is none of your concern. All you need to know is that I am the one who requested that Divhan train you, and that I control whether you live or die.”
Augustina stiffened then gave her a slight bow. “Of course, Mistress Mylen.”
This could’ve been just another test, or even a cruel joke, but if she was going to leave Boathe with this woman, this could be her opportunity to escape and chase after that map. If she could find the famed Black Rod, she would be the one determining others’ fates.
“You will accompany Lady Akela to Rhinland,” Divhan told Augustina. “You are to assist her in bringing down House d’Eveka and aid in the rise of a dark mage who will take over the Kingdom.”
Magic Underground: The Complete Collection (Magic Underground Anthologies Book 4) Page 101
