Magician's Heir

by D Bruce Cotton

  “NO!” SCREAMED ALECIA. She raced uphill, sliding to her knees at Adam’s side. Aristomus arrived only a moment later. “Please, father! Heal him!”

  “I will do my best. Please, Alecia, give me room.” Placing his staff against Adam’s chest, Aristomus struggled to summon the Power. All but drained, he had not much left to give. But he refused to fail his daughter. After several long moments, the tentative connection with the Power sprang to life, and he concentrated its energy on healing Adam.

  Minutes passed before he sat back and sighed. Alecia read the verdict in his eyes even before the shake of his head. Falling to her knees, she covered her face with both hands and wept. Craigen and Torlaine knelt beside her, murmuring in sympathy. At last, Craigen picked Alecia up, cradling her in his arms. The giant glanced back, but Aristomus shook his head; not yet ready to leave. When the time came, he would carry Adam back to Herrenbourn himself. That at least he could do for his friend.

  Tears dripped from his chin as Aristomus reached over to close Adam’s eyes. As he stared at the pale, drawn face, the old mage struggled to find the right words to say goodbye. Wait, he thought. That is odd. He leaned in close and studied Adam’s features. The boy’s face went beyond pale. It had become... translucent!

  With one hand placed over Adam’s chest, Aristomus called out for the others to return. When he looked back down, Adam faded from sight! And his own hand... it disappeared, too!

  When Craigen and Alecia hurried back, empty ground greeted them. Only a few crushed sprigs of grass showed where two men had existed just moments ago. Adam and Aristomus were gone.

  Chapter 36, Home

  Adam groaned as the king of all headaches pounded in his skull. His head felt like someone had used it for batting practice. A weak grin flickered over his lips as he thought how much he’d enjoy explaining baseball to Alecia.

  He touched his wounded head with care. Despite the pulsing headache, it seemed whole again. Aristomus had healed him then. And from the softness of the pallet under him, they’d brought him back to Herrenbourn.

  Adam thought back to his battle with the Dark Mage. He’d been so close to giving up. Without the help of his friends, he’d be dead now. But with Tantris free and the Dark Mage dead, they’d won instead; an accomplishment he could be proud of for the rest of his life.

  Rubbing sleep from his eyes, Adam sat up in the dark room, the bed squeaking under his weight. But now he noticed a dim green glow just to his right. Weird, he thought as he shielded his eyes to look closer.

  Digital numbers—12:08—glowed green in the dark. As he watched, the numbers flicked over to 12:09. “Oh, no!” he whispered. As Adam grabbed for the clock, his fingers snagged a slender metal chain.

  A click and bright light flooded the room, dazzling his eyes. The cold, steady light came from a small lamp on his bedside table—an electric lamp! No! This can’t be! Have I gone crazy?

  Looking down, he saw he still wore his work shirt and jacket, both wrinkled. On his wrist he found the watch he’d traded for Alecia’s locket. He held it to his ear and the faint tick-tick-tick told him it still worked.

  On the floor at his feet lay a glass bottle with several small brown pellets strewn across the rug. Adam stooped to pick one up and held it to his nose. No smell of vanilla. With a grimace, he popped it into his mouth. Nothing. Just a simple dried bean.

  “Was it a dream?” Adam asked the empty room. Legs weak, his knees folded, landing him on the bed again. Something buzzed in his pants. In a daze, he dug into his pocket, pulling out his cell phone. The screen lit up with a number he didn’t recognize. Adam pressed the decline button, but not before he saw the date—April 6—in white letters. “That’s impossible,” he whispered. “How can it still be the same night? It’s been months!” But unless broken, the clock showed less than five hours had passed since he’d returned home from work at the magic shop. He rubbed his face with both hands as he struggled to hold on to his sanity.

  Adam’s head snapped up as he heard a thump in the front room. What now? Could this night get any worse? He grabbed the baseball bat from under his bed and tiptoed across the small bedroom. Darkness filled the front room; the only light spilling from the doorway to Adam’s bedroom.

  A shrouded figure lay on the floor just past the tiny kitchen table. It moved, shifting under what at first appeared a gray blanket. A strange odor filled the air. It smelled like... smoke. The figure gave a loud groan. Adam crept closer, bat held at the ready.

  Just as he reached down to pull aside the blanket, the figure sat up. Adam stumbled back, the bat falling from nerveless fingers as a familiar face looked up at him.

  “Aristomus? Oh, my God! What are you doing here?”

  Epilogue

  The Unsouled wandered, aimless, its damaged mind fixed only on the unending, gnawing hunger driving it onward. It staggered during the day, blinded by the sun. Its eyesight returned only after the sun dropped below the horizon. Through meadows of high grass and blooming wildflowers, past forests tangled with wild undergrowth, it stumbled onward in its search, driven by need.

  At times it startled field mice or a lone rabbit and pounced quickly. Once it happened upon a rattlesnake, coiled on a rocky shelf to sun itself. Had the snake not sounded its rattle, the creature might have passed it by, unaware. Instead, the Unsouled grabbed the serpent, unmindful as the fangs struck again and again. It tore into the snake, swallowing bloody chunks of meat as fast as its rotting teeth could tear them loose. In minutes, the rattlesnake disappeared.

  The creature drifted without purpose or direction, sometimes retracing its route more than once, but at last reaching a lonely and abandoned hillside. The earth here showed signs of battle. Gashed and torn, it had bare spots where large swaths of grass had burned away. Those dead patches made the ground appear leprous. Some terrible cataclysm had happened in the not too distant past.

  But the Unsouled remained unaware of the surrounding destruction. The creature stopped, cocking its head to one side as though listening for something. It remained in place, unmoving, for one hour, then two. At last its head straightened, and it shambled uphill, not stopping until it reached a wide strip of blackened earth. A gaping hole like an open wound marked the ground here. A sulfurous stink rose on waves of scorching heat and from far below came the soft, bubbling sound of molten rock. The creature moved to the rim of the pit, so close the edge threatened to collapse under its weight. There it stopped, motionless.

  Time passed, marked only by the pop and hiss of magma. Then a soft scrabbling noise came from somewhere below. Small, dislodged rocks clinked as they fell into the deep. A grunt of effort was followed by a harsh cry of triumph.

  A hand, its skin torn and hideously burned, rose trembling from the pit. Fingers tipped with long, cracked nails, wrapped themselves around the Unsouled’s ankle. A black ring molded in the shape of a screaming face hung from the center finger. A sinister cackle echoed up from the depths, rising higher until, stripped of all mirth, it grew into a howl of terrible rage.

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  Did you enjoy Magician’s Heir? Then you should read Book II of the Dark Mage Series: Magician’s Return by D. Bruce Cotton.

  ADAM GRAY IS DEAD...

  ...so when he awakens in the quiet dark of his small apartment, the young man’s sanity seems far from certain. For the past six months, he’s battled the undead, befriended giants, fallen in love, and struggled against an ultimate evil. Just a dream? Or has he fallen into complete madness?

  Maybe he should ask the wizard passed out on his couch.

  Thus begins Adam’s desperate struggle to return to Tantris; a magical land that’s undergone a terrible transformation. Friends and loved ones are all dead; slain at the command of the Dark Mage. Armies of Unsouled roam the land, slaughtering and devouring the scattered few who dare to fight back.

  Burdened by a terrible guilt, Adam must undo the death and devastation wrought by the Dark Mage. With the might he wielded before now turned against him, he must search for another way to save those most precious to him.

  The future of Tantris lies in its past and on Adam’s pursuit of a mythical token of power: the Talisman of Time.

  DON’T STOP NOW! TURN the page for a special, three-chapter sneak peek of Magician’s Return. Then find out how to buy your copy today at https://dbrucecotton.com!

  Magician’s Return, Book II of the Dark Mage Series

  Chapter 1, Awakening

  The old man groaned, head pounding in time to his beating heart. Forcing open crusty eyelids, he blinked, and saw nothing but dark. A thick cloth covered his face, scratchy and hot, blocking his vision. He fought the throbbing pain and tried to sit up. But his stomach rebelled, clenching into a hard, queasy knot. With a loud thump, his head fell back and he moaned in renewed misery.

  Taking a deep breath, he pushed back against the pulsing ache, tried to think. Where am I? He seemed to remember... a highland meadow, marked by skiffs of snow, and the stink of... sulfur?

  The creak of a wooden board shattered his concentration. Stealthy footsteps drew nearer. Fear slammed through the old man’s veins. Forgetting his pain, he sat up. The heavy cloth fell from his face and he heard a familiar voice...

  “Aristomus? Oh, my God! What are you doing here?”

  THE BROWN SWIRL OF tea in the chipped mug comforted the old mage; much as the bitter liquid soothed his pounding head. It tasted familiar; a remembrance of home in a world gone mad. Across the battered wooden table sat Adam, a young man he’d known only a few months, but who he now considered closer than a friend; a man he expected would someday marry his daughter; a man who, a short time ago, was dead.

  Adam raked both hands through his wavy brown hair. Green eyes, as intense as the expression he now wore, stared at the table’s scratched surface. “I don’t remember much about the end. The Dark Mage... I wanted him dead, Aristomus. And I came so close to killing him. But... I couldn’t. And then... well, everything else is a blank.”

  “He hit you with his staff, Adam. Your injury...” The old mage cleared his throat; his voice heavy with sudden emotion. “It is little wonder you can remember nothing.

  “When Alecia and I arrived, you were near to death,” he continued. “We linked; tried to add our meager strength to your own.”

  Adam’s eyes grew wide. “She saved me, didn’t she? It’s all so hazy, but somehow I’m certain of that.”

  “Aye. But I know not how, Adam. She and I were both spent, unable to touch the Power. We had no aid to give you. Yet when she grasped your hand...” Aristomus shook his head in amazement. “You came back to yourself and you... you defeated him, Adam. The Dark Mage,” he whispered in awe, “is no more!”

  Both men remained silent a moment, relief at the Dark Mage’s fall palpable in the small room. “But then how did we end up here?” asked Adam.

  Aristomus sighed, unsure how to tell Adam what happened next. “You... died,” whispered the mage.

  “Died? You’re crazy!” Adam poked himself in the chest several times. “I’m here. Do I look like a dead man to you? I’m just as alive as you are.”

  The old mage held up both hands in surrender. “I know, Adam. I cannot explain it. But you did not breathe. You had no pulse. And the damage to your head... If not true, I would not say this. Believe me, you were dead.

  “I remained behind to carry you back to Herrenbourn and...” Aristomus hesitated, knowing what he said next would sound ludicrous. “You faded, Adam. Somehow, you faded away to nothingness and carried me with you.”

  The mage reached across the table, grabbing Adam’s arm. “Take me back, Adam. I know not where we are, but this is not Tantris.” Aristomus sniffed, his nose crinkling in disgust. “Can you not smell it? Corruption taints the very air!”

  Adam gave the back of Aristomus’ hand a gentle pat. “Yes. Strange how I never noticed it before.” Reaching into his pocket, Adam pulled out the small bottle of magic beans and placed it on the table. “This isn’t my world now. I want to go back, too. But I don’t know how. They don’t work anymore, Aristomus,” he said, pushing the bottle toward the mage.

  Aristomus grabbed the bottle and pulled out the cork. It gave with a tiny pop. Leaning closer, he sniffed. Did he detect a faint scent of vanilla? It smelled so weak and indistinct it might well be his imagination. Turning the bottle, he shook free a bean and popped it into his mouth. No taste at all. His shoulders slumped as he spat the bean into his palm.

  “Trapped,” he muttered. He looked at Adam, genuine fear in his eyes. “No, there must be something... some step we can take.”

  Adam pressed the cork back in place. “You’re the mage,” he answered, pointing to Aristomus’ staff where it leaned against the table. “Can’t you use your staff to take us back?”

  Aristomus stood and took his staff in both hands. Eyes clamped shut, he concentrated, focusing on the staff as he tried to connect to the Power. The moments dragged by until, at last, a tiny brief spark flickered on the metal-shod tip, only to disappear a second later.

  Gasping, the old mage leaned against the table. “I did not believe you,” he panted. “You said your world did not have magic, but I could not comprehend how such a thing could be.”

  “But I saw...”

  “That? Less than nothing, Adam.” He slumped back in his seat, defeated. “Perhaps merely some small residue of the Power I brought with me. I searched, but could find nothing,” he whispered, looking pale and lost. “It is as though the Power does not exist.”

  They sat in silence for a few moments while Adam gave the mage time to recover. Not wanting to give the old man false hope, he spoke with caution. “Maybe,” he said, “if we can find the man who gave me the bottle...”

  Aristomus’ eyes flashed. “You are right! Makzendrix! He will help us!”

  “Whoa, now,” Adam cautioned. “It’s Max Hendricks, remember? I know the names are similar, but it doesn’t mean they’re the same person. And I’ve only seen him once; when he walked into my magic shop yesterday. Finding him might prove harder than we think.”

  “Yesterday?” Aristomus looked confused. “How is it possible? You were in Tantris for months!”

  Adam’s head slumped. “Yeah, there’s something else I have to tell you about. It’s weird, but it appears only five hours have passed here.”

  “Impossible!”

  “I wish you were right.” Adam looked down at his watch. “It’s only been an hour since we woke up. But in Tantris...” He took a deep breath before plunging on. “In Tantris, a full month has passed.”

  The old mage’s face drained of color as he processed the news. Then his jaw hardened in determination. “Then returning to Tantris is but the first of our tasks.”

  “What do you mean?”

  “The second is to do so quickly.”

  Ch
apter 2, Elliston

  Adam woke with a start. Early morning sunlight peeked past the cheap curtains covering the window in his small bedroom. Sitting up, he rubbed both hands over his face, wondering again if this was all some kind of nightmare. Once past the bedroom door, he saw Aristomus still asleep, his long legs poking out past the end of the small couch.

  He looks uncomfortable, he thought. But when you’ve been sleeping on the road for as long as we have, I bet it feels as plush as a feather bed.

  Walking over to the small kitchenette, he put water on to boil for tea. He’d preferred coffee for as long as he could remember, but it seemed his tastes had changed in the last six months. Or the last few hours? This whole time difference messes with your head.

  Aristomus wanted to start the search right away. It took some persuading to convince him things didn’t work that way here. In the middle of the night, they’d find nothing open but a few beer joints and Adam felt sure they wouldn’t find Max in some sleazy honky-tonk or biker bar. No, to find him, they’d have to be smart about how they searched. He glanced at his watch and grimaced. Another seven hours gone—seven or eight months in Tantris.

  I wonder what Alecia is doing. Has she given up on me yet?

  Aristomus stirred when the kettle came to a boil, the piercing whistle echoing through the silent apartment. Adding tea bags to two mugs, he filled them with the boiling water and carried one to Aristomus. The mage nodded his thanks as Adam took a seat in a sagging armchair.

  “What is our first step, Adam? We must begin the search soon. Time is not our ally in this venture.”

  After a tentative sip, Adam replied, “Yeah, I know, but first things first. I’ll get cleaned up and head out to find you some clothes. No offense, but you look like a homeless wino in that robe. The last thing we need is someone reporting us to the cops.”