What could he do? The summons would fade soon. How could he raise more power?
By slitting his own throat? By dying to reach the magic? Death magic was far more powerful than blood magic.
He supposed he could use Sumach. But the mare was too far away to reach in time. And it felt evil to kill her for his poor planning. If he’d placed Hreshith bone at each pyre, he wouldn’t be in this mess.
If he cut his throat, he’d have only seconds to ignite the fire – and to complete the summons.
He saw no way around it. Besides, he’d rather die than become a death mage.
Viper raised the knife to his throat.
A foggy, cold hand grasped his wrist. Frederick scowled at him. “Dying doesn’t accomplish anything. Believe me.”
He had no choice. “I have to reach enough power to awaken the scimitar before the fire summons fails.”
“We have enough power.” Frederick smiled, but his eyes were sad. “I’ve enjoyed traveling with you. Use me wisely.”
The ghost shimmered into a sparkling gold-and-green mist of pure power.
His sense of ‘Frederick’ dissolved. Completely. Only power remained. Viper gasped, sobbed, and pulled the magic into himself.
He released his bloody wrist and pointed it at the woodpile. “Ignite!”
Flames roared into the sky.
He pointed south, at a tall, snow-capped mountain. “Fire’s heart, I call you. Become a weapon to save our world.”
The summit exploded. Lava and burning boulders soared into the air. Trees ignited into a massive forest fire.
Orange and red smoke burst out of the volcano and hurtled toward him. The swirling cloud grew clawed legs that quickly stretched into warhorse proportions. A huge head full of dagger teeth emerged out of a muscular neck. A long, spiked tail whipped behind the hazy creature. Even at this distance, it appeared to be bigger than a dragon. Bigger than a Hreshith. Bigger than a mountain.
No wonder the lava lizard was so willing to attack. It thought it was bigger than everything it met.
Burning red eyes glared directly into his. Orange saliva dripped from its jaws. The monstrous lava lizard wasn’t interested in the scimitar. Or even in the bonfire. It clearly intended to devour him.
He wasn’t about to let Frederick’s sacrifice go to waste.
Viper pointed at the fire, and waved his hand at the scimitar. His blood spattered over the sword. “Become a weapon to save our world.”
Lavender mist surrounded the weapon. Gold-and-green smoke danced above the pyre.
The lava lizard fought his will, writhing hard enough to knock distant trees down with its tail, but he clung to its essense, using both blood magic and Frederick’s sacrifice. He forced it to obey him.
It plunged into the flames. The pyre exploded, burning a thousand times higher than before.
The explosion flung him away from the pyres, across the camp. He tumbled across the sand like a dried up weed until he slammed against RedAdder’s shield wall.
Gold-and-green ash swirled into the pale mist hovering over the scimitar.
Breathless and aching, he wanted to collapse, but he still had to seal the ghost into the weapon. However, this time he knew its true name. “Volcano Conqueror, become the Weapon of the Fire.”
The overgrown lizard shoved its head out of the flames and spat fire at him.
“Hatchling!”
“Duck!” Viper grabbed RedAdder’s shield and wrapped it around the Kyridon and himself.
RedAdder screamed and burst into ghostly slag. The Hreshith skeleton behind her exploded into ash.
Viper grabbed the Hreshith’s power and turned back to the lava lizard. “Volcano Conqueror who is Bigger than Everything, become the Weapon of the Fire. Now!”
He caught the image of a mental pout, but the lizard shrank. And shrank. Its energy blanketed the scimitar and burned into the bone sword.
The weapon of fire glowed redder than iron on a blacksmith’s forge for several seconds before dulling into ash gray.
Living flames danced along the blade. The runes he’d carved up its length remained brilliant scarlet. So did a series of tiny skulls and clawed footprints. The lava lizard would be remembered. Forever.
His blood dripped into the sand. He needed to do something about that. Maybe Tsai’dona would sew him together.
The chilly drizzle strengthened into cold, steady rain. He held his bloody arm out from his body. With luck, the shower would wash away some of the gore before the girls saw it. He was too tired to cope with their scolding.
Sudden agony lanced through his slit wrist and drove him to his knees.
***
A volcano just south of them exploded. Tsai shouted something silly that sounded kinda like a swearword.
The horses screamed and took off running. Blood in the Weave. She’d need hours to chase them down. Didn’t have minutes right now.
She jumped down to the sand, squishing a few sea stars, and staggered back to the keg.
A big old rock thudded to the ground not ten feet from the back of the wagon, mashing seven hundred starfish. Cooking them, from the smell of it. Steam sizzled up from squashed bodies, from drizzling rain, from melting sand.
Sing to the Weaver for allies, even an accidental one, but she wasn’t going nowhere near some rock hot enough to burn sand.
She filled her mouth with acid. Her next trip took her to the roof. Would starfish make good roof tiles? They were kinda pretty. Once they were dead.
Six hundred trips later, she’d sprayed down all the roof and most of both sides. She might actually live through this. But she’d never let the kid cook with vinegar again.
Tsai screamed like a little girl. Where’d she get the breath?
Lorel wanted to say, “Now what?” but her lips were too numb to make the words.
Tsai pointed south, but her finger moved up. And up.
A ginormous red monster flew right at them. Right over the wagon. She could see clear through it. And it didn’t have no wings.
Lorel flattened herself against the dead sea stars on the roof. No way could she fight a ghost.
The kid shouted something and waved his hand. Blood splattered all over the scimitar.
How’d he get hurt? How could she defend him? Kyri-thing was still wrestling with the snaky woman. That was no help.
The giant red lizard dove into the bonfire, and the blood-woven fire exploded.
The kid tumbled across the sand, but picked himself up quick. He always was tougher than he looked. She needed to remember that, especially when he got pissy.
The monster stuck its head out of the fire. Sing to the Weaver, it wasn’t nearly so big now.
Kyri-thing shouted, “Hatchling!”
“Duck!” the kid yelled back.
She ducked so fast she nearly fell off the roof.
The lizard critter puked out flames and lava and pure demon’s-hell.
Hiding on the far side of the roof, Lorel got only a little singed. She popped back up to see the action. She’d never had so much fun watching magic. Usually the kid sputtered bad poetry at her.
Dead starfish repelled the flames, protecting the wagon even after a bunch of them fell off. Looked like the wheels were nearly clean. Count on some monster to do what she couldn’t, vinegar and all.
The kid hopped up and shouted at the lizard.
The sea empress skeleton nearest the camp vanished into dust. The vinegar keg in its middle exploded.
The monster shrunk to the size of the little lava lizard she’d killed so long ago. And it kept on shrinking.
Sprawled flat in the sand, Tsai looked scared witless, but her hair wasn’t standing up. That gotta mean the magic was finally done. Maybe the blood-woven starfish would quit growing so fast. A few more mouthfuls of vinegar, and the torture would be over.
The kid looked soggy, sweaty, and pale, but as far as she could tell he had everything under control. She jumped down from the roof and staggered off for another swig of–
Weaver drowned in tears. The keg was smashed to bits. How was she gonna kill the rest of the miswoven sea stars?
***
The Kyridon tugged its fangs out of his flesh. “The hatchling was exceptionally imprudent when implementing blood magic.”
Pain eased back until he could think again.
The serpent shouldn’t scold him. He knew before he tried it that blood magic was stupid. Good thing the snake didn’t know he’d attempted death magic, too. He’d never hear the end of it.
Still, it had no business fanging him, no matter what he’d done. “You have no room to talk.” He raised his bloody, venom-swollen wrist.
And stiffened.
The bleeding had stopped.
“This one possesses no healing magic.” The Dreshin Viper rearranged its coils like a fussy old woman adjusting the drape of her skirts. “However, this one recalls rudimentary venom-based therapies capable of redirecting the passage of plasma.”
He couldn’t argue with that, especially since he barely understood it. He used his least gory coat sleeve to wipe blood off the serpent’s snout. “Is RedAdder really gone?”
The Kyridon tilted its head as though it were unsure of the question. “The wizard’s spirit will require several lunars to reassemble its person.”
That was good enough for him. “Is Frederick dead?”
The serpentine head tilted the other way. “The magician’s spirit has been dead for some time. This one did not inquire as to how extensive a period.”
Smart aleck. “Can Frederick ‘reassemble its person’?”
The Kyridon’s whole body drooped. “This one is unaware of a magician’s spirit reestablishing after apparent annihilation.” Its neck stretched upwards abruptly. “However, this one has not studied the subject. If the magician’s spirit is able to reconstruct, it will most likely follow its former conveyance.” Blue eyes blinked at him slowly. “The hatchling employed the spirit’s sacrifice commendably.”
He’d murdered a friend to support the quest, and now he was praised for it? Well, it was suicide, not murder. And Frederick was already dead before he… died. The whole business was too confusing. He needed time to think about it.
He’d need years to forgive himself. If he hadn’t attempted death magic, it wouldn’t have happened.
Frederick gave up his existence to further the Kyridon’s quest. The ghost hadn’t quit, no matter the cost. Even though it wasn’t his quest.
Viper swore he’d never quit either. Too much rode on his shoulders. Besides, Trevor would never forgive him if his convictions proved weaker than a magician’s.
Another wave roared up the beach, but fell short of the camp. Thunder thrummed through the air. Icy rain sheeted down.
Steam rose above the burning forest. The fire appeared quenched. Praise the Thunderer. That was one burden off his conscience.
“Hey, kid? We could use a little help over here.” Lorel’s voice sounded slurred and stressed, but not panicked.
He needed to keep better track of his other responsibilities. He staggered toward the far side of the wagon, where he thought he heard both girls cussing, but paused before he got there.
His wagon had turned blue.
Piles of seven-inch-wide, spiny, yellow-edged blue starfish surrounded the wagon. Some wiggled weakly, but most appeared stiff. Thousands more were stuck to the wagon’s roof, sides and wheels, tiling it with seaside souvenirs.
Altogether strange. He’d seen several of the species in his wanders on the beach, but never so many together. And never so far away from the water. How had they gotten clear up here?
What were they doing stuck to his wagon?
“Um, kid?” Drumming rain almost drowned her voice.
Maybe Lorel would know. He hobbled toward her. Hundreds of dead starfish littered the ground. A smoldering, red-tinged chunk of lava had missed the wagon by only fifteen feet. Blast. He hadn’t realized the volcano’s aftereffects had reached so far.
The stench of burnt fish and rain vaporizing on molten rock lingered in the air, mixed with something fruity. He couldn’t quite place the acidic scent.
“About time you got here.” Lorel appeared to be trying to pry a dead starfish off a wheel with her short sword. Why would she bother?
“Kid, you all right?” She stopped poking at the sea star and stared at him. “How’d your coat get all bloody?”
He didn’t really remember at the moment. “Why are you torturing the sea life?”
Lorel shrugged. “Didn’t plan to.”
Tsai’dona punched the turybird’s shoulder. “They invaded. We’re trying to get rid of them.”
“Why didn’t you just move the wagon further inland?”
Both girls stared at him like he’d just crawled into an abuelo snake’s den and begged the monster to eat him.
Lorel shook her head slowly. “Because the horses run off?”
Considering all the noise and fury the ceremony generated, he couldn’t blame the poor creatures. Which way had they gone? North, he guessed, to get away from the volcano. He turned that way and shouted, “Poppy! Periwinkle! Come home!”
“They gotta be the only horses that come when they’re called.” Lorel shrugged and managed a weak grin. “No matter how far away you are.”
Red dye stained her lips and chin. Tsai’dona’s, too. What had they been up too?
He sniffed the air. “What have you done with my vinegar?”
Lorel actually cringed. Rain dripping from her curly hair made her look even more pathetic.
He suspected he didn’t want to hear the answer. “Well?”
“Well, it’s a long story.”
Tsai’dona snorted. “But one that can wait. Shouldn’t we pack up the weapons before a horse steps on one?”
Lightning strike him. He’d completely forgotten the weapons. He spun around–
And would have fallen flat on his nose if Lorel hadn’t appeared at his side and grabbed his coat’s collar. “Slow down, kid. Any reason we can’t pick them things up?”
Other than the fact that both girls looked as ready to fall over as he felt? As he was, honestly.
Tsai’dona grinned at him. “They’re weapons. We can’t hurt them.”
“And you made them, so they won’t hurt us.” Lorel patted his back, quite gently for her. “It’s time for the next part of the toad’s quest.”
Praise the Thunderer. She was right. The weapons were as complete as they could be until he found their wielders, and found a wizard to bind them together.
“You’re both right.” He looked through the rainclouds and located the sun’s aura. It wasn’t yet noon. “Pack up everything. Let’s head out right now.”
Tsai’dona’s eyes widened.
Lorel shoved rain-drenched curls out of her face. “Now?”
Viper reached out and squeezed his friends’ vinegar-stained, sticky hands. “It’s an easy trip east along the coast to Noran.” At least, it couldn’t be as difficult to get there as it was to get here. “We’re ready to start the next stage of the quest.”
He had all the elements. Four magic weapons, three steady friends, two fabulous horses, and one starfish-coated wagon. What else could he need to save the world?
Dedication
I dedicate this novel to Dona Salisbury,
Michael Pennington,
and to Forward Motion, a forum for writers.
Thanks to all of you for your help.
I couldn’t have finished this novel without you.
About the Author
I’m a misplaced Californian who now lives in Texas, but I’ve also lived in Colorado and Northern England. I’ve been a waitress, a receptionist, and a computer programmer, and I’d love to become an interstellar traveler.
The novels in The Mindbender’s Rise series are
Fantasy Novels by D. J. Salisbury
Illusion’s Child
Sorcery’s Child
Serpent’s Child
; Dragon’s Child – Coming Soon
Feda’s Anchor is a stand-alone novel based in the same world.
You can read more about my novels at www.djsalisburysbooks.com.
I’m also the owner of The Mantua-Maker, quality historical sewing patterns for the modern sewing artist, established in 1993. I fell in love with costuming when my boyfriend took me to BayCon’s Masquerade, and I’ve been making historical and fantastic clothing ever since.
If you’re interested in costume history, please have a look at my nonfiction books:
Elephant’s Breath and London Smoke:
Historical Color Names, Definitions, and Uses in Fashion, Fabric and Art
Now in its second edition.
Fabric à la Romantic Regency:
A Glossary of Fabrics from Original Sources 1795 – 1836
Victorian Bathing and Bathing Suits:
The Culture of the Two-Piece Bathing Dress from 1837 – 1901
The Art of the Mantua-Maker: 1870 - 1879
Fashion, Sewing, and Clothes Care Advice
You can see my costumes and patterns at www.mantua-maker.com.
Serpent's Child (The Mindbender's Rise Book 3) Page 37
