Devius had said as much. The wizard emphasized their lives were of little consequence should she come to harm before she met with the dragon queen. ‘This is where you must go. Into the desert. Search for the Draakvuur Colony. The home of the dragon queen. There you will learn the way your gift was intended to be used.’
And yet, knowing all that, Reecah’s instincts told her that was the wrong course of action. Devius had no way of knowing about the gift Grimelda had left for her.
She looked over her shoulder and saw the deep concern for her reflected in Junior’s eyes. She squeezed his hand against her shoulder with her cheek.
The moon looked so far away. So cold. So ever lonely as it made its thankless path across the star-speckled sky.
Absently stroking Raver’s head, she swallowed her misgivings. It was time to save the magic.
Wizard’s Wrath
Prince J’kwaad growled, “I’ve had it with witches. It’s time to raze this place to the ground.”
An audible buzz emanated from J’kwaad’s person as his talismans and trinkets flared to life. Tendrils of magical essence swirled from several rings while a white vapour wisped into the mix from the opal amulet dangling from his neck.
Flames licked along Calor’s fingertips. His apprentice hadn’t mastered the art of hurling spells, but the man knew what to do with the skills he had. Reaching behind him, Calor placed his palms against the walls. The wood darkened beneath his touch. Flames caught and started to spread.
The eyes of the cats at the base of the stairwell shone brighter than they had a right to, demanding J’kwaad’s attention. An equal-sized fireball and iceball formed in his hands. Prepared to launch them at the sinister felines, his Serpent’s Eye ring burned his skin. The wide-open eye stared directly at the empty, opposite stairwell.
The faintest shimmer made him drop to his backside on the top step, careful to keep his active spells from inflicting damage to himself. “Calor, down!”
An electrical arc materialized from the middle of the opposing staircase and blasted a smoking hole where J’kwaad had just been standing.
Flipping to his knees, J’kwaad rose higher than the thick railing and launched his iceball across the foyer, immediately followed by a fireball.
A shout of surprise arose as the iceball struck and the semblance of a stooped, old woman draped in black robes flashed into existence—her warding charm absorbing most of J’kwaad’s icy blast, but not all. Parts of her exposed skin crystalized during the moment it took for the fireball to explode into her with killing force.
Engulfed in flames, the witch’s dying screams followed her body as it tumbled down the steps, a fiery trail catching hold in her wake.
The cats shrieked and dissolved into a cloud of black smoke.
Before J’kwaad formed another spell, Calor burst past him, throwing himself headfirst down the stairway—his arms spread wide and flames licking at his fingertips.
J’kwaad winced as Calor’s huge frame slammed against the unforgiving floor.
The mist dispersed to reveal two young women underneath him—their bodies had broken his fall before they could cast spells of their own.
J’kwaad feared Calor had done himself serious injury, but his trusty apprentice rose to his knees, hands wrapped around a struggling witch’s neck—her face turning an appropriate purply-green colour. J’kwaad reached the ground floor with spells at the ready, but the witch fell limp and struggled no more.
The second witch lay beneath Calor’s legs, a pool of blood spreading from beneath a splay of blonde hair.
The prince searched the foyer for similar, tell-tale disturbances like the witch had made as she had stood hidden on the staircase. His inspection lingered on the closed door at the rear of the foyer. He had a premonition that the lone doorway bore some significance, but nothing moved.
The Serpent’s Eye remained open; darting from one place to another, never settling on one spot. The ring’s agitation informed J’kwaad that the building was inhabited by many witches, but that was to be expected.
The ruckus their battle had made must have alerted the building’s inhabitants to their presence. That and the flames spreading along the top of the walled-in walkway between the two staircases. It was time to leave.
“You good to go?” J’kwaad offered Calor a hand up.
Calor lifted his left arm over his head and winced. Without a word, he nodded and stepped past the fallen witches.
“Watch it,” J’kwaad warned and made quick work of the twelve wards on the door. Pushing it open, he wondered about disarming the thirteenth on the outside step but movement at the rear of the foyer changed his mind. Several women of various ages stepped through the rear door, pointing at them.
“Avoid the top step!” the prince cried out, allowing Calor to vault down the steps ahead of him. He turned on the threshold and launched his spells in quick succession; not sticking around to validate their effectiveness.
Two detonations accompanied by screams of pain and anger gave J’kwaad the satisfaction of knowing his spells hadn’t been wasted.
He hesitated at the base of steps, wondering which way Nelly and Devius had fled. The Serpent’s Eye flicked every which way at once. Following the street north would take them toward the city gate and the rugged wilderness beyond. Out in the open, Devius and the witch would be vulnerable.
“This way.” The prince started down the road toward the town square. With any luck, Nelly would return to the Wizard’s Staff where she could either mount a formidable defense, or gather up anything she deemed valuable before spiriting Devius away.
Calor’s heavy footfalls kept pace behind him, but their irregular cadence informed J’kwaad that his apprentice had sustained more hurt than he let on.
Entering Arcanium’s commons, the Serpent’s Eye irritated J’kwaad’s finger. If not for his inner, defensive magic, the ring would have seared his flesh to the bone as it pointed at the damned tree. He wished he had paid more attention to Devius’ monotonous history lessons as a child. When this dragon campaign was put to rest and his brother and father were dealt with, he promised himself to return and investigate the tree more thoroughly.
The town square bustled with minor magicians setting up stands and leaning tents to hock their baubles and minor trinkets.
The Wizard’s Staff stood dark in the early morning shadows; its brown walls unremarkable. The door gave way beneath J’kwaad’s hand; the interior smelling of stale mead and damp wood.
The young barmaid from the previous night was busy mopping the floor in the back corner. She stopped and flicked a strand of hair from her face. “If you’re wanting to break your fast, I’m afraid the kitchen’s closed this morning.”
J’kwaad strolled up to the young woman, his directness making her stumble against the wall. “Where’s Nelly?”
The barmaid cowered, hanging onto the wooden mop handle as if her life depended on it. She shook her head. “I-I don’t know, mister. She wasn’t in her room this morning when I went to rouse her. Is something wrong?”
J’kwaad studied her face to see if she was lying. Checking the Serpent’s Eye, it stared in the direction of the oak tree. So incensed by Nelly’s deception, he struggled to keep from backhanding the barmaid. “Get out.”
The barmaid stared, dumbfounded.
J’kwaad latched onto the mop handle and yanked it from her hands.
She stumbled forward.
“I said, get out!”
The barmaid squealed in fright. Lifting her skirts high, she bolted from the Wizard’s Staff.
The eerie silence of the inn weighed heavily on the prince. He had been outsmarted, not once, but twice. Gritting his teeth, he glared at the bar and the kitchen door behind it, trying to calm his heavy breathing. When the day came that he caught the nettlesome witch, he intended to show her the full fury of a wizard’s wrath.
He threw the mop to the floor. “Burn it to the ground.”
Calor uncharacteristica
lly hesitated, his gaze taking in the stairwell leading to the second floor where Nelly rented rooms. “My prince?”
Had he not needed Calor to assist him in attaining the Ivory Throne, he would have blasted the man right there. No one questioned his orders.
A fireball formed in his hand. Growing in size, it grew larger than Calor’s head before the prince threw it across the room.
A thunderous explosion rocked the top of the staircase, engulfing the steps and the unseen hallway beyond.
Walking casually toward the exit, muffled shouts and screams of panic greeted them from the second story. Floorboards creaked and doors banged. A terrified face appeared beyond the flames at the head of the stairs but there was no way for the barely clad woman to get past the inferno.
“Help me! Please!”
J’kwaad gave her a baleful glare as he opened the door and disappeared into the beautiful morning sunshine cresting the eastern edge of the square.
Acrid smoke curled beneath the door of a rear room in the witches’ abode near Arcanium’s north gate.
Nelly pried at the solitary, stained-glass window, her years of acquired strength barely enough to lift the swollen wooden window frame. “Help me, you old fool.”
Devius struggled to hang onto his gnarled staff with one hand and a leather satchel tightly stretched around his scrying bowl with his other, as he stuffed a crumpled duvet against the bottom of the door with his foot. No matter how he jammed the fabric into the gap, the killing smoke wafted into the room.
He hobbled over to Nelly. Setting the sack down, he leaned his staff against the wall and squeezed in beside her. Even with his help, the window only lifted enough to help suck the smoke toward them.
He grabbed his staff. Hidden runes came to life, glowing orange along its length. “Step back, woman.”
Nelly snatched the staff from his fingers. “Have you taken leave of your senses? That’s witch’s glass. It’ll throw us across the room if you strike it.” She shook her head. “Get out of the way, you old dodderer.”
Devius bristled. It seemed that everyone had unfairly taken to calling him that. Why, he had no idea. Just because he had discovered a way to extend his lifespan well beyond the typical years given a human was no reason to belittle him. His eyes grew wide as he realized what Nelly was about to do.
“No, you crazy woman! You’ll break it.” He reached out to stop her, but it was too late.
Nelly jammed the bottom of his staff between the window and the frame, using it as a pry bar.
The window creaked open a bit more, but not enough for either one of them to slip through.
She adjusted the staff’s position and applied more pressure. The staff bent in her hands.
“Nelly, no!” Devius grabbed hold of the staff and tried to push her backward with his backside, but her girth was thrice his. She wasn’t budging.
Wood groaned and the staff snapped downward as the window frame opened some more, the sudden movement making Devius fall into Nelly. They hit the carpeted floor in a heap of robes and skirts—Devius’ head ending up against Nelly’s bust.
She pushed him away, “We’ve no time for that, you old fool.”
He cast her an incredulous look as he struggled to get back to his feet. He bit back the retort on his lips and located the staff lying beneath the window sill.
Inspecting the length of wood for damage, he glared. “You’re lucky, woman.”
“Pfft. Or what. You’d burn alive in this room?” She gained her feet and surveyed the window. Trying to manually lift it, she grunted and dropped her hands to her sides in defeat. It was stuck tight.
Flames lapped at the edges of the doorframe.
“Your skinny carcass should fit now. You need to get out. The ledge beneath the window will take you to the rooftop of the next building.”
Devius glanced at the opening. “What about you?”
Her resigned stare met his. She shrugged.
“I’m not leaving you here to die.”
A blanket of smoke crept around their ankles, swirling up and over the windowsill. Nelly coughed. “No point both of us dying. You’re the important one.”
Devius put a hand over his nose and mouth, shaking his head, unable to speak.
“Go on, you old fool, before it’s too late. Find the Windwalker and help her set things right.”
“What about the scrying bowl. It won’t fit. I can’t leave it behind.”
“You have no choice. It’ll be fine. You said it can withstand dragon fire.”
Tears blurred his vision, the sensation strange to him. He hadn’t cried since the day they had buried Marinah. Everything he had fought for was crumbling around him. His magic, His ability to help the dragons. Nelly. “I know. I’ll cast a fireball through the wall.”
Nelly gave him her condescending face—a look he knew well. “And what? Blow us both to smithereens? You keep forgetting this is a witch’s house. The exterior walls are constructed to protect against spells. Now go, before I stuff your bony carcass through the window myself.”
When he didn’t move, she stepped toward him, the intent in her eyes plain. He surprised her and wrapped his bony arms around her shoulders, his lips crushing hers.
He released her and hiked up his robes to slip a leg through the tight space. It took him a considerable amount of manoeuvring to get his stiff body on the sill and through the window feet first.
Nelly held him by the forearms as he struggled to find the ledge Nelly said ran along the exterior wall. Fearing he was about to fall to his death, the toe of his thin boot located the thin ledge. Turning his head sideways to squeeze it through the gap, he pulled his staff after him.
Nelly bent low. “Now go and make me proud. Be the high wizard a real king would desire.”
Devius stared long and hard at the only woman he had ever been with. A genuinely happy woman who had been nothing but kind to him throughout their strange relationship. They had gone long intervals without seeing one another over the years, but whenever he returned to Arcanium, Nelly welcomed him as if he had never left.
The title of king’s wizard carried a heady responsibility, not only to the crown, but to the better good of the people. When those responsibilities clashed, his decisions invariably bore more weight than a royal edict. The trick was to make the king think those decisions had been of his making. Having such responsibility had left Devius little time to enjoy the simpler things in life.
Nelly’s chubby face smiled at him. “Go on, you fool. The world needs you.”
He couldn’t restrain his tears. Wiping his cheeks on his shoulders, he reached through the window to touch her one last time. The lump in his throat prevented him from speaking so he mouthed the words he had never quite been able to say, ‘I love you.’
Nelly’s cheeks lifted in a sad smile; her big eyes full of anguish. She nodded her head and squeezed his hands. Pushing his arms out of the room she released him and pointed to the back of the building.
The door behind her erupted into flames, the fire quickly spreading along the inside walls and shooting across the ceiling.
Devius couldn’t bear to watch. He lamented the fact that Nelly had convinced him that the best way to deceive J’kwaad was to make him think they had fled the building, when in fact they had run in the opposite direction and slipped through the door at the back of the foyer.
A servant’s stairwell had brought them to the second floor near the rear of the large building. If she hadn’t been hanging on to him while they were caught up in her enchantment, he doubted his mind would have allowed him to navigate the reverse direction illusions Nelly and her cohorts were so good at casting. Still, he should have known J’kwaad didn’t have the capacity for restraint.
Nelly the witch. The irony made him smile despite the heartbreaking grief crushing his soul. He remembered fondly the surprise she elicited amongst his peers all those years ago when she first demonstrated her proficiency at casting illusion spells. She had demonst
rated great promise to become a leader in the arcane community but she had never desired the notoriety. She had been content to run her little establishment and serve Arcanium in her own subtle ways.
Thick smoke billowed from the window.
He looked away, hating himself. Breathing in ragged gasps, he swallowed heavily and firmed up his resolve. If the common people expected him to save the beauty in the world, he couldn’t think of a better place to start than Nelly.
Stepping back to the window, he heard Nelly coughing above the growing noise of the fire.
A window further along the ledge shattered under the intense heat and flames shot into the alleyway, scorching the stonewall of the neighbouring building.
“What are you doing?” Nelly screamed at him. “You need to get out of here!”
“Not without my crazy woman!”
“Devius, no! You’ll die!”
He didn’t argue with her. He would rather die than leave her behind.
The window sat slightly askew in its track. He pointed to the low side. “Take my staff! Use it to pry here! Hurry, perhaps we can jiggle it back and forth!”
Another window blew out, setting off one of the witch’s warding spells. A whole section of wall exploded into the alleyway with a tumultuous roar.
Devius raised a hand over his head and cowered beneath his flame-retardant cloak as fiery debris rained down on him.
Nelly looked over her shoulder at the room, its far wall no longer visible. She pried at the window with the staff, but it wouldn’t move.
“Harder! Don’t worry about the staff!” Devius shouted, placing his hands on the underside of the window pane. He pushed for all his slight form was worth—his feet precariously close to slipping off the ledge. The window refused to move.
“It won’t budge!” Nelly screamed.
Intense heat radiated onto the ledge. He had no idea how she could stand it inside the burning room. “It has to! Keep trying!”
He hammered his palms into the bottom of the stubborn window frame, the blows bruising his hands and cutting his skin, but he drove them into it with every ounce of strength he could muster.
Legends of the Lurker Box Set Page 75
