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Magician's Heir

Page 21

by D Bruce Cotton


  Though a dark night, Adam saw the black silhouettes of the Unsouled against the snowy ground. Spread out and slow, the Unsouled still moved with purpose, as though herding something ahead of them. The soldiers continued to climb, the going difficult. But they still moved faster than the creatures creeping along below.

  “There,” whispered Marshel, pointing ahead. “We will set our ambush there.”

  Adam looked. The northern hills were closer now, funneling the Unsouled nearer to their position. A narrow divide between two hillocks provided a smooth stretch of ground from where they could sweep down in a mounted attack. Adam nodded in approval as Marshel motioned two of his men to the top of the knolls. Once there, the soldiers unlimbered their bows and waited. They would use the higher vantage to fire on the Dread when the attack began.

  Someone hissed a warning. Adam and Marshel scurried up the ridge and peered down into the valley. The Unsouled had disappeared into an expanding pool of darkness. “Damn!” hissed Marshel. “The Dread is attacking. They must be closer to the mages than we realized.”

  “What?” Adam gripped the man’s shoulder. “We’ve got to do something! They need our help!”

  Marshel shook the hand off. “What do you expect us to do?” he asked. “We stand no chance in open battle. The mages must lead them close enough for our ambush to work.”

  They waited, Adam praying under his breath, as the pool of darkness drew closer. Then he saw two figures break free. Clinging to one another, they ran through the deep snow.

  “That is it,” whispered Marshel. “Keep coming. Just a little closer...”

  The two figures slid to a sudden stop. One pointed in the direction of the ambush. Then they turned to stand back-to-back.

  “No!” rasped Adam. “Why are they stopping?”

  With their attention on the plain below, they received only a frantic warning shout from behind. Then darkness engulfed them. Black like the darkest pit of despair overwhelmed Adam. He clung with frantic strength to his staff and reached out with his free hand, desperate for something to hold on to.

  A nearby cry rang out, “Dread!” Even in his panic, Adam recognized Marshel’s voice. Though blind, the shout made clear his situation. Dread had approached from behind. Trapped between two forces, Aristomus and Alecia had no choice but to stop. And Marshel’s men floundered in the dark, useless. Alecia would die.

  “No,” Adam whispered between gritted teeth. “I can’t... I won’t let that happen.”

  Though unable to see, Adam stood, his staff clenched before him in both hands. Visualizing it, he recreated the staff—its texture, shape, and color. He pictured the runes carved into the metal-shod ends and added them to the image he formed in his mind. The staff now complete, he concentrated, imposing his will in one ardent and impassioned command: Fire!

  Nothing happened. The staff remained unresponsive, its power quiescent. Adam fell to his knees, the image in his mind falling to tatters. He’d failed again.

  Despair stunned him. He’d failed as a magician and a business owner. He’d failed his parents, first by wasting his life chasing futile dreams and again the fateful night of the car crash. Now he’d failed the one person who mattered to him most—the woman he loved.

  Adam squeezed fistfuls of snow into bitter ice, his hands growing numb with the cold. He wanted to immerse himself in the frozen landscape, burying the pain of his failures until the rest of him turned as cold and unfeeling as his hands.

  But he shook his head in refusal. If he couldn’t save Alecia, he would at least bear homage to her death. Still blinded by the Dread’s power, he climbed to his feet and turned to face where he’d last seen her.

  A brief flash of white light dazzled him. Rubbing his eyes, Adam stared harder, unsure of what he’d seen. The flickering light returned, shining down from the sky like a tiny spotlight on the ground below. A small break in the thick cloud cover had allowed a tiny shaft of moonlight to slice through the Dread’s dark power. Surrounded by eternal darkness, the pale light appeared as bright as the sun.

  In the small circle of light, Aristomus and Alecia stood, their staffs held ready. All around them, the hands of the Unsouled reached out of the black night, straining for them. Lightning cracked as Aristomus fought back. Then, as fast as it appeared, the moonlight flickered out as the clouds closed once again.

  The soft rattle of Serton’s voice echoed in Adam’s memory, “...if they are to avoid this doom, you must be there... you are their only hope of salvation.” Alecia’s voice followed, strong and commanding. “The Power must flow from within you! Reach deep inside...”

  Sudden rage burned away Adam’s despair. He snatched up his staff and stabbed it at the sky. “ALECIA!” he screamed, his body erupting in argent flame.

  CRAIGEN PANTED AS WHITE tendrils of breath steamed in the cold night air. The coppery taste of blood was hot in his mouth and his side throbbed in time to the beat of his heart. In his efforts to reach the mages in time, something had ruptured in his side. Now it appeared he’d arrived too late.

  The giant stared down from his vantage point in the northern hills at the two figures trapped between the Dark Mage’s forces. One Dread along with a few dozen Unsouled approached from the west while three more Dread and thousands of undead soldiers advanced from the east. Already their dark power flowed, swallowing the snow-covered ground in ravenous bites.

  The humans appeared beyond hope. Still, he had given Henslow his word. Craigen hefted the stone club he still carried from the caves beneath Mount Dismay and moved down from the hills, circling to approach the smaller, western group from behind. The enemy’s attention focused on the mages alone. Perhaps, if he took them by surprise, it would provide a brief avenue of escape for the humans to retreat the way they’d come.

  With no cover available, the giant had to rely on stealth and speed. Snow knee-deep on a human hardly reached past his ankles. Hugging the hillsides, he avoided the spreading darkness and approached the Dread from the rear. The beast held one razor-tipped claw extended. Black power flowed from it like a deadly cancer in ever-widening arcs. As he drew closer, Craigen saw frozen clumps of snow matted in the Dread’s black pelt. Closer still and the creature’s animal stench filled his nostrils. Raising the club, the giant prepared to spring. Just a few more steps...

  The Dread turned, deep, hissing laughter rolling from its fang-encrusted jaws. Balanced in its second claw, a sphere of black energy crackled and spat. Craigen’s shoulders slumped in defeat. So close, he thought. Though futile, he gathered himself, determined to attack and die fighting.

  White light exploded from the hills to the south, the sudden flash blinding the giant. Seconds later, a rumbling blast of energy drove him to one knee. The Dread staggered as well and its arc of ebony power winked out, like the flame of a candle snuffed by the wind. Craigen seized his chance. With a scream of rage, he leaped up, swinging the stone club in a mighty arc. It connected against the beast’s skull with a grinding crunch. Craigen swung a second time, and a third, before the monstrous head gave way, splattering the snow with black slime and steaming gray matter.

  Released from the Dread’s control, the Unsouled wandered, disoriented. Some continued moving east, following the last orders they’d received while most turned back, starting toward the giant with moans of excitement. Craigen hefted his weapon, flicking it once to remove the blood and hair matting its surface. He stared at the approaching creatures with a broad grin. “Come then, foul creatures. This is a battle more to my liking.” Bellowing a giantish war cry, he waded in, stone club cutting a swath of destruction on all sides.

  ALECIA AND HER FATHER stood, alone and exhausted, ready to make a final stand against the forces surrounding them. The pulsing darkness drew nearer, thick and viscid. Though impervious to her eyesight, Alecia knew violent death lurked within.

  She held her breath as the viscous dark closed around her, unwilling to breathe air tainted by the Dreads’ power. Though she recognized it as a futile e
ffort, Alecia gripped her staff and tried to summon the Power with the last dregs of her flagging strength. Ragged nails snagged the shoulder of her robe and she lashed out with the staff, the metal tip crunching into flesh and bone. Again, she tried to summon the Power, but to no avail. Exhausted and crushed by fear, both for herself and her father, the Power remained beyond her grasp. Like cupping water in her hands, the harder she tried to hold it, the faster it trickled between her fingers.

  A faint flicker of pale light, blinding in the inky darkness, drew a gasp of surprise. The light guttered and vanished, before reappearing again, stronger than before. Glancing up, she saw a small break in the clouds. The moon, full and bright, shone down on her, dispelling the Dreads’ power for a few feet on all sides. The hands of the Unsouled stretched from the darkness, reaching for them.

  “Do not despair, Alecia!” shouted Aristomus. “Hold to hope and do not despair!”

  Alecia reached deep within herself and gathered her final reserves. Though she knew its use might well mean her death, she tried once again to summon the Power. Brow wrinkled in concentration, she searched for the elusive link... and reached it at last.

  Frigid tendrils coursed through her body, bringing cold and warmth at the same time. She urged the Power to flow, focusing it into the wood she clenched in both hands. Frozen darts formed on the staff’s metal tip and she cast them at the undead creatures before her. The sharp crack of lightning sounded. Aristomus, too, had found the Power. Together, they somehow held back the enemy tide. Dozens fell, but hundreds more took their place. And the mages’ strength ebbed. Already, Alecia had fallen to her knees. And Aristomus’ lightning faded from brilliant white to pale yellow. Mere moments separated the mages from death. Then the rent in the clouds closed and darkness enveloped the two once again. Hope disappeared with the light. Strength gone, they hugged one another, waiting for the end.

  A brilliant, silver light exploded from the southern hills. Alecia had to blink back tears at the sparkling afterimage and raise a hand to shield her eyes. “What...?”

  A deep rumble, like distant thunder, echoed across the valley, followed right after by a blast of energy which blew past them at near hurricane force, making their robes ruffle and snap. The Dreads’ black power winked out; the Unsouled flattened by the concussion.

  Alecia’s eyes snapped wide open, her back arching as though struck by one of her father’s lightning bolts. A surge of heat raced through her body, washing away fatigue, sealing cuts and erasing bruises as though they never existed. Her body crowed with sweet, exuberant life.

  “Father!” she gasped.

  “Aye, Alecia!” he replied, voice ecstatic. “Healing! I do not understand... it is impossible. But it is glorious!”

  As fast as it came, the surge of energy passed. But the brilliant white glow to the south burned just as bright as ever, like a small sun transforming night into day. It moved now—bobbing up and down from the southern hills and toward the eastern mouth of the valley. But they had no more time to watch. The Unsouled gathered themselves and attacked once again. Vision now impaired, the creatures could still fight and kill. And their numbers seemed endless. Thousands staggered along the valley floor, all too many aimed straight for her and Aristomus.

  Alecia seized the Power. Never had it come so easy, rushing ice-cold through her veins—a torrent of raw, primal power. Her staff buckled under the flow, icy shards flying from its tip as fast as her mind sent the command. The Unsouled fell in waves, their bodies pierced and shredded by the rapid fire missiles. Behind her, lightning cracked and boomed as Aristomus brought his strength to bear. Though badly outnumbered, the mages cut a swath of destruction on all sides. But even with their renewed strength, too many enemies remained. Soon one of the Unsouled would get past their defenses and then...

  A clawed hand snagged the back of Alecia’s robe. Pulled off-balance, she struggled to turn and face her attacker. Aristomus held off three assailants and could do nothing as the creature ripped his daughter to the ground. Alecia struggled to pull free the staff trapped beneath her body as she stared up at the ghastly gray face of the Unsouled. It fell to its knees, mouth stretching to bite and tear...

  Its head disintegrated, smashed to pulp by a thick stone club longer than her staff. Alecia blinked, stunned by her near brush with death. Then a gigantic gray hand, five times larger than her own, reached down and enveloped her arm. Pulled to her feet, Alecia gasped as she stared up into the fierce eyes of a giant.

  “Captain Henslow sends his greetings,” he rumbled. The massive club swung again, crushing the chest of a charging Unsouled. “But for now,” he huffed as the club’s backswing decapitated a second creature, “perhaps you should consider rejoining the battle.”

  Her face flushed from the giant’s mild rebuke, Alecia dug through the snow to retrieve her staff. She returned to the fray with a vengeance, icy darts tearing through any Unsouled close enough to threaten them.

  The giant’s aid proved a tremendous boon. Though he stood farther apart, to allow room to swing his prodigious weapon, the giant protected their backs. It allowed the mages to concentrate their assault on the greater number of creatures attacking from the southwest. Still, their newfound companion had only bought them time. The three formed a tiny island in the midst of a raging storm of Unsouled.

  ADAM BURNED IN A COCOON of silver flames. Heat terrible enough to crisp his skin and blacken his bones projected outward instead, melting snow and scorching the ground while filling him with warmth as soft and gentle as a whisper. Pain and fatigue slipped from his shoulders like a discarded garment. Opening his eyes, he found the darkness projected by the Dark Mage’s foul creatures gone; he saw with a clearness and acuity beyond anything he’d ever known. Nearby, Marshel and his men rallied, no longer stumbling blind through the darkness cast by the Dreads’ power. In the valley below, thousands of Unsouled regained their feet while the three Dread strove to shake off the blast which felled them. And to the northwest...

  Alecia and Aristomus fought for their lives.

  “No!” Adam took a step forward, staff clasped to his chest while power thrummed through his veins like an electric charge. Another step, then another, and then he ran, desperate to reach them before it was too late. Argent flames pulsed in time to his beating heart, burning higher, hotter, as his distress grew. By the time he reached the plain, the Dread rallied their forces. Hundreds of Unsouled rushed forward while the Dread once again put forth their black power.

  Adam stretched out his arm and pushed. Silver flame shot from his staff, striking the closest Unsouled. The creature flashed, white-hot, before falling to smoking ash. The stream split, engulfing two more Unsouled. It split again, and again—a geometric expansion of power which burned scores, then hundreds of Unsouled.

  The three Dread came together, linking their power to create a sizzling, boulder-sized sphere of black power they hurled at him. The spitting orb arched through the air, expanding as it flew, growing until it reached the size of a small house. Adam reached out, seizing the hissing sphere with arms of power. Silver flames and deadly black acid clashed, tearing at one another in a battle for supremacy. Adam’s back bowed under the pressure, legs shaking as he fell to a knee, straining against a might strong enough to smash rock and break mountains.

  Adam surrendered himself to the Power. All of his rage, his fear, his dreams and desires, everything that made him Adam Gray, he threw into the struggle. Silver fire screamed from his staff, its metal caps glowing white-hot under the strain. Teeth clenched in a snarl, he straightened his shoulders, forced himself to stand. Clasping the staff in both hands, he strained, pressing against an intolerable weight.

  And he prevailed.

  The black sphere exploded with a silent concussion. Black droplets flew, smoking and hissing as they hit the ground. The Dread looked at one another, surprise giving way to fear as they fled the battlefield. The Unsouled snarled their displeasure, but also retreated.

  To Adam they
no longer existed. The Power continued to grow, burning through him as it threatened his tenuous control. He struggled to hold on. Like a rampaging beast, it battered at him, straining against his efforts to rein it in. For one panicked instant, Adam feared he’d gone too far, the raging Power unstoppable. And in that moment, part of him wanted to let go, to unleash the full might of his power as he raged against the heavens.

  Alecia saved him then. In his mind’s eye, he saw her looking down on him, pain and open disappointment in her gaze. Gasping, Adam somehow found the strength to pull back from the edge. The Power slowed to a trickle, only a few flickering flames dancing along the wood of his staff, before disappearing. Without the Power’s sustaining influence, his exhaustion returned, magnified by his exertions against the Dark Mage’s forces. Still, he forced himself into a painful, shambling run, unwilling to allow fatigue or anything else to keep him from Alecia.

  Around him, bodies dotted the landscape. Some scorched and burned; others riddled with melting shards of ice. A few still mimicked life with sluggish movement. Adam ignored them all as he struggled to remain upright. In the distance, he saw a lone figure moving toward him. Small at first, the figure grew taller, rising up from the mud- and snow-churned ground. One small part of his mind recognized this tall man from his visions. But then, two more figures appeared at the giant’s side—one reaching the tall man’s waist, the second shorter still.

  Adam faltered, holding his breath. The smaller figure wore a familiar, dark-green cloak, torn and frayed. “Alecia?” he whispered. A flash of reddish hair from beneath the hood provided the answer he’d prayed for. “Alecia!”

  They ran for each other, Alecia’s hood flying back to reveal thick auburn hair above a pale face smudged with dirt and soot. When they met, Adam wrapped his arms around her in a tight embrace. “Don’t you ever,” he rasped, “ever leave me behind again.”

 

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