Magician's Heir

by D Bruce Cotton

  Adam stabbed the creature in the back. The knife grated against bone, slicing but not penetrating to the Dread’s vitals. Its heavy fist swung back, connecting with Adam’s chest and knocking him to the ground. Stunned, he couldn’t draw breath as the beast advanced, snout drawn back over razor-sharp teeth promising a short, but painful death.

  But in its rush to deal with Adam, the Dread had forgotten Craigen. With a crash, the giant slammed into the beast, taking it to the ground in a tumble of arms and legs. His knife lost in the struggle, Craigen slipped an arm around the Dread’s throat in a stranglehold. The muscles in his arm stood out like steel cables as the giant strove to throttle the beast. The Dread’s claws scored deep cuts to Craigen’s arms and head, but the giant ignored the pain, squeezing harder and harder until the creature’s vertebrae gave way with a grinding snap.

  The panting giant allowed the Dread to slump to the ground. “Adam?” Concern tinged his voice. “Are you well?”

  Adam dragged a painful breath past the constriction in his chest. “Yeah,” he wheezed. “I think so.” He climbed to his feet, grimacing at bruised ribs. “I’d better look at you, though,” he said, indicating the blood flowing down the giant’s arms to spatter against the ground. “Some of those cuts look deep.”

  Craigen shook his head. “There is no time,” he growled, looking past the trees at the orange glow in the distance. “The Dread breached the gates. My people... Torlaine...” The giant clenched his fists so hard the tendons stood out like bone while blood dripped through his fingers. “We must go.”

  Adam gazed back at the smoke and flames rising above the trees and replied, “You’re right. Let’s do this.”

  FINDING THE DARK MAGE’S camp didn’t prove difficult. As the land sloped ever higher, it narrowed, funneling giant and mage toward the mountain pass. Just below the snow line, Adam and Craigen spotted a massive tent positioned to block access to the pass. A few dozen Unsouled wandered the grounds, but Dread ringed the tent, standing in a large semicircle at the eastern side of the camp. Adam grimaced as he counted ten of the creatures. Then he saw something more. At the northern end of the pavilion, at least a dozen people sat under the watchful eye of yet another Dread. As the captives shifted around, Adam spotted the glint of metal chains.

  “It appears the Dark Mage has taken prisoners,” growled Craigen. “To raise and strike his pavilion, no doubt. It is unlikely the Unsouled are skilled at such tasks.”

  “We have to help them, Craigen. You know what he’ll do to them.”

  “And perhaps we will have time to teach the Unsouled to dance as well,” chortled the giant. “Is our task not difficult enough?”

  Adam turned on the giant, his fury causing him to lash out. “Look. You’ve gotten me this far. You don’t have to go any further. I’ll handle it myself.”

  If the giant took offense, he hid it well behind a broad smile. “And allow you to have all the fun? No, Adam. I am here to the end.”

  Adam relented with a heavy sigh. “All right then. We can’t sneak in. There’s too many Dread watching and no ground cover. So here’s what we’ll do.”

  Craigen listened, eyes widening in dismay as Adam sketched out his plan.

  ADAM GAVE THE GIANT time to move into position, then stood and walked straight toward the Dark Mage’s pavilion. Eleven sets of eyes, heavy with venom and hatred, turned on him. He stumbled, legs weak, under the combined weight of the Dreads’ stares. As he drew closer, one beast ducked into the tent. By the time he came within a stone’s throw, the tent flap parted and the Dark Mage emerged.

  For just a moment, the Dark Mage looked uncertain, surprised by Adam’s appearance. Then he smiled and inclined his head in a slight bow.

  “Young Master Gray,” he smirked. “I see you have accepted my proposition after all. Good, good.” His scaly gray tongue flicked over his lips in anticipation. “Discard your staff.”

  “What guarantee do I have you’ll keep your word; take your forces and leave?”

  “Why, none at all,” the Dark Mage chuckled. “You will have to trust me.” His voice sharpened in command, “Put down the staff!”

  “Why? So you can turn me into one of your servants, like Rosner or Meloch?”

  “Oh, I have much more in mind for you. Do you see this body?” he asked. Spreading the black robe, he bared his chest to reveal a pale and emaciated torso; translucent skin stretched tight over knobs of hard bone. The Dark Mage smiled, sharp black teeth glinting with malevolence. “It has served me well over the centuries, but nears the end of its usefulness. I have life and the means to pursue more. But I long for a new body, one which will aid me in my quest for immortality. Your body, Adam Gray. Throw down the staff!”

  Adam swallowed hard; the Dark Mage’s plans revealed. “This?” he asked, holding out his staff. “It’s just a piece of wood. Why are you so afraid of it?”

  As Adam brandished the staff, the Dark Mage took an involuntary step back, red eyes burning with hatred. “Fool! I fear nothing!” To the Dread he ordered, “Take him!”

  As one, the eleven Dread stepped forward, their power linked in a way Adam had never seen. Instead of the terrible acid from previous battles, their black might combined to project a rounded dome which floated in the air above his head. The light cast by the stars and moon disappeared; effaced by the ebony canopy dropping toward him. As it neared, Adam felt his will to resist leach away, like water dripping from a cracked vessel. Maybe it would be better to lay it down, to give up the fight and rest, he thought. The black shroud dropped closer, forcing him to his knees. The staff grew loose in his grasp. With the last shred of his will, Adam raised his eyes, prepared to meet his fate.

  The Dark Mage gave a ravenous smile, fiery orbs burning like molten embers. But a slight motion behind him drew Adam’s attention. Craigen. He crouched among the prisoners, broken chains dangling from both hands. The giant gave a slight nod and a look of such confidence and trust it broke Adam’s heart. His affirmation stirred a spark in the young man’s breast. Is this what you’re going to do? he rebuked himself. Lie down and die? No, not even that. You’re giving yourself up without a fight, knowing a monster wearing your face will strike down the ones you love!

  Anger bloomed in Adam’s chest. His fingers closed on the wooden shaft, the texture smooth against his palm and providing a focal point as he fought against the coercion to give up. The black dome slowed its descent, stopping bare inches from Adam’s kneeling form. There it held, the Dread pouring all their strength into the black link, striving to force him to surrender, to break his will.

  A tiny white spark flared to life on the tip of Adam’s staff. It flickered, like the flame of a candle caught in a gust of wind. Then the flame grew, small at first, but building on the fuel of Adam’s growing will. The black canopy shrank back, loath to touch the clean, white fire.

  Adam regained his feet. Sweat dripped from his forehead as he clenched his teeth in concentration. The blaze grew, mounting higher, becoming a conflagration. A sudden flash of power, blinding in its purity, flared from the staff. With an ear-splitting roar, the Dreads’ ebony creation ignited, burning like oil-soaked tinder. The dome crumbled, black chunks aflame in the clean, white fire.

  Frozen in place, the Dread couldn’t drop their power. Silvery flames roared higher, burning through the black energy like a fuse, following it back to its source. The Dread convulsed, jerking and twitching like puppets at the end of an electrical cable. When Adam withdrew his power at last, each monster collapsed with smoke rising from their lifeless bodies.

  Panting, Adam swiped a hand across his sweaty forehead. The Dark Mage appeared stunned, staring in disbelief at his slain servants. When Adam took a step forward, the Dark Mage’s attention returned to him. “Do not think you have defeated me,” he snarled. “Fool! I have many weapons at my command!”

  An Unsouled crashed into Adam from behind, bowling him off his feet. The staff tumbled from his hand and the Power winked out like a snuffed candle
. The Unsouled clawed at the young mage, drawing welts on one cheek as it reached for him. Adam slammed a fist into the thing’s face, knocking it back and giving him room to scramble to his feet. He cast about for the fallen staff, but found himself surrounded by at least two dozen of the creatures. They’d cut him off!

  The Dark Mage smiled, once again in control. “Hold him, my children!” The Unsouled stepped in and seized Adam. Though he struggled with all his strength, Adam couldn’t move. The ghastly mage stepped closer until only a few inches separated them. Pebbled and coarse, his gray-green skin appeared lizard-like in texture. Rancid breath wafted over Adam’s face and he had to fight the urge to gag.

  “Now then, where were we?” the Dark Mage chuckled. “Ah, you were about to provide me with a new body, correct?” Taking a step back, he slammed the heel of his staff against the ground. Ravenous black flames enveloped his body, radiating a terrible cold. Adam shivered as the icy flames threatened to blister his skin. Then even the awful cold lost its importance as his world narrowed, dominated by two glowing, red eyes.

  Something forced his mouth open... wider, until his jaw creaked from the strain. Adam tried to fight, tried to deny what happened... and then a swirling tidal pool of pain sucked him down.

  Hideous demons scoured the flesh from his bones, slavering as they devoured the raw meat, laughing at his shrieks of torment. He hung by his wrists from chains as bubbling lava rose from the floor, enveloping him inch by inch in burning agony. Walls closed in from either side, crushing him in a tortuous embrace as his bones cracked and splintered. Cold more terrible than anything he’d ever known blistered and blackened his skin, shattering bone as his marrow froze. From one torture to the next, each somehow worse than the one before, Adam’s screams went on and on as he begged for release. Deep inside, some essential part of him stretched until, at last reaching the limits of endurance, it began to tear.

  The Dark Mage leaned in close, black drool oozing from his diseased lips in anticipation, as a smoky, white vapor rose from Adam’s mouth.

  Chapter 34, Struggle

  Alecia raised her staff as the Unsouled poured down the center of Herrenbourn. Aristomus stopped her with a gesture. “We must let the giants battle the Unsouled. What strength we have left must go to the Dread.”

  Compressed between the buildings, scores of the Unsouled went down as waves of arrows flew from the rooftops. The aerial assault thinned the creatures’ ranks enough for Torlaine and her soldiers to hold against the onslaught, if only just barely. The giants battled not just for their homes, but for their families, their friends, for their very existence as a race. Hundreds of Unsouled fell, but still more poured into the village. Given enough time, sheer numbers would wear the giants down.

  Crazed with bloodlust, the rabid Unsouled grappled with anything moving. One stumbled into a bonfire, spreading the flames to a nearby building. The giants on the rooftop escaped, leaping to another house. But the fire continued to spread. It might well prove as devastating to Herrenbourn as the Unsouled.

  “Torance! Take a company of warriors to guard our left flank!” ordered Torlaine. “If the Unsouled circle those buildings, we must be ready!” As the giant leaped to obey, another soldier jumped forward to crush the skull of an Unsouled with her long club. But the blow left her overextended. Half a dozen creatures seized her arm, pulling her away from any hope of aid. Torlaine tried to close her ears to the screams as the Unsouled tore the warrior apart. “Close ranks!” she shouted. “We must stay together if we are to prevail!”

  A home exploded, soon followed by a second as the Dread joined the battle. Air awash with wooden splinters and burning debris, Aristomus scanned the field, searching. “There!” he pointed at two hulking beasts at the edge of the village. “To the north!”

  “Two more to the south!” shouted Alecia, pointing out a second pair of Dread using a building as cover to launch their attacks.

  The Dread lobbed fist-sized orbs of black acid at the defenders. The acid splattered on impact, boiling and burning its way through exposed flesh. Against it, the giants had no defense. Shields melted or caught fire. Armor became a slag of liquefied metal. And in trying to dodge the deadly projectiles, they became more vulnerable to the attacks by the Unsouled.

  Just as the battle devolved into a rout, the two mages joined the fray. Aristomus attacked with a storm of lightning but it proved too weak to penetrate the Dreads’ defenses. Time and again, electrical discharge spat and crackled harmless to the ground. Alecia met with no more success. Her icy shafts shattered against the shields generated by the Dark Mage’s servants. Their magic diverted the Dreads’ assault against the giants, but did little else. Torlaine rallied her troops, battling the Unsouled to a momentary standstill.

  But it forced the mages to expend too much power. As their strength waned, they went on the defensive, barely able to protect themselves. Once again the giants retreated as the Dread rained acid on them. The battle lines bent, then fractured, and the fighting became a house-to-house struggle.

  Aristomus sank to his knees, unable to support his own weight. Alecia lay on the roof like a dead thing, unconscious and helpless. The old mage crawled to her side. She still lived, but death would come soon. Hugging her tight to his chest, he whispered his farewells, tears cutting twin tracks through the soot coating his face.

  A flash of dazzling white light lit the night sky, blinding in its intensity. A thunderous roar followed as though the sky itself erupted. Aristomus shielded his eyes, looking to the mountains rising in the distance. “Adam,” he breathed. “Fight, Adam. You are our last hope.”

  GASPS AND WHISPERS greeted Craigen as he slipped among the Dark Mage’s prisoners. Motioning for silence, he examined their bonds, searching for a weak point to exploit. He found each captive bound to the next, strung together by a single chain running through an iron band attached to shackles on their ankles. Built to hold humans rather than giants, the chain was still strong. Though it would take effort, Craigen believed it to be breakable.

  In the clearing below the pavilion, Adam and the Dark Mage spoke to each other. Their words came to him muffled, but an unmistakable tension tinged Adam’s voice. Craigen knew he had little time left.

  “Listen,” he said, voice hushed. “I will break these chains and you will be free. But what then? Do any of you believe the Dark Mage will let you escape?” The captives’ eyes shone white against their dirty, unwashed faces. Craigen had their full attention.

  “Your only chance at freedom is that young man down there,” he whispered, pointing in Adam’s direction. “Unless you aid him, all is lost.”

  “But we have no weapons,” wailed a feeble old man. “What chance have we few against the Dark Mage?”

  A frail woman stepped forward, her arm wrapped in a filthy bandage crusted with old blood. “You ask too much,” she snapped. “What purpose will our deaths serve?”

  “Aye, some of you will die,” Craigen hissed. “But you will at least die free. Is that not better than what the Dark Mage has planned for you?”

  The prisoners muttered and whispered among themselves. A few nodded while others argued. Craigen felt uncertain of their support but could waste no more time. Regardless, he refused to leave them to the Dark Mage’s foul designs.

  Seizing the iron links in both hands, he pulled. Thick muscles flexed as he pitted his giantish strength against the heavy chain. The restraints groaned under the strain, stretching... until it parted at last with a grinding snap.

  “Fool! I fear nothing!” The Dark Mage’s shout rang across the clearing. “Take him!”

  Craigen’s head snapped up in time to see all eleven Dread raise their arms. A storm of darkness gathered above the young mage’s head, pressing down, forcing him to his knees. Fight, Adam, urged the giant. Do not give up!

  As though he’d heard Craigen’s plea, Adam looked up, his eyes meeting the giant’s own. Craigen gave a brief nod, trying to project his confidence and trust. You can do this,
Adam!

  A flicker of light sparked from Adam’s staff. The giant held his breath, eyes clinging to the tiny white flame. It grew, forcing back the Dreads’ foul power. Craigen wanted to cheer as the young mage regained his feet. The staff rose in Adam’s hand...

  A sudden flare of white light struck Craigen blind. He dropped the chains and staggered back, covering his eyes with both hands. The ground shook with a deep, thunderous roar like an erupting volcano; the captives’ panicked screams drowned out by the terrible sound. Craigen blinked furiously, trying to see past the white afterimage floating before his eyes. As fast as it started, the burning roar fell silent.

  The giant scrubbed tears from his eyes but remained sightless. “What happens?” he begged the nearby humans. “Please! Can any of you see?” Only moans and whimpers came to his ears.

  Craigen cringed when the Dark Mage’s voice rose in a snarl, “Do not think you have defeated me! Fool! I have many weapons at my command!” The sounds of a short struggle ensued. Then, “Hold him, my children!”

  The giant tried to focus. Vague gray shadows grew more distinct. When at last his vision returned, Craigen saw Adam held captive by the Unsouled. The Dark Mage stood close, his voice low and indistinct. He motioned once with his staff and voracious black flames sprang up, wrapping his form in a cloak of blazing ebony. Adam threw back his head and screamed.

  THE GIANTS’ DEFENSE neared total collapse. Torlaine’s shouted commands rose over the crackling flames and shrieks of the injured as she tried to rally her warriors. Nothing stood between them and destruction but the raging hunger of the Unsouled. Many of the creatures paused to feast on the fallen rather than press their advantage.

  Cut off from the giants, Aristomus stared at the swarming tide of Unsouled. The Hall of Elders had not yet caught fire, but as the surrounding flames came closer, he had no doubt it would soon. Alecia roused at last, her pale features painted orange and yellow by the nearby flames.