Wizard Hall Chronicles Box Set

by Sheryl Steines

  But they were all linked to the pin. What would link the demons?

  The river wound around a bend. The fast rapids bounced around the curve and down the hill. The small group trekked up it.

  Annie released the magic to the fireball. Expending even that small amount of magical energy was exhausting. They turned again, adjusting their direction and heading northeast again.

  Her thoughts turned to Gila Donaldson telling Annie how she’d found the coven. She had told her it was through Donaldson blood. Gila could find her ancestors through her familial link.

  Blood!

  To find the coven, Annie had been given a vial of Gila Donaldson’s blood.

  Blood was life, history, the past, and the future all wrapped up in tiny little veins and arteries that linked families or groups of people from the same region.

  It’s always blood!

  Annie relit the fireball. As her heart beat faster, the flames danced more quickly, keeping rhythm with her.

  Blood-to-blood.

  For Annie, it was the first time since she learned of the prophecy that she discovered an answer that had been in front of her the whole time. If there was something in the blood that all demons possessed, then maybe she could burn the blood of one and the magic would stretch across the land, searching for the demons with that blood, and lighting them all on fire all at the same time.

  Even the demon in Tartarus!

  Annie smiled.

  “You okay gir—Annie?” Gibbs asked.

  “Awesome!” Annie said.

  Kolgaar turned. “We’ll stop here and eat.”

  They found a small patch of open, dry land and lay out a sleeping bag. There Brite passed out lunch, and they took a much needed rest.

  Chapter 21

  The forest thinned and eventually was fully behind them as they climbed the final hill. There at the crest, they could see Jorvik spread out in the valley. It was surrounded on two sides by fields and farms that stretched to the south. To the north, it was bordered by more forests and the river that ran through it.

  Annie stared at the village, which was larger than she expected. Streets wound through the town haphazardly, and yet they all led toward the center where a large longhouse stood. Smoke billowed from each chimney, so Annie assumed it was currently in use.

  On either side of narrow streets were simple cottages amongst two-story buildings. People led horses to the stables at the edge of town and pushed carts carrying goods to the market near the longhouse. Smoke billowed from what Annie could only guess was a foundry, a blacksmith’s booth.

  Beyond the longhouse, the village tapered off into fields that, in the midst of growing season, were thick and full of grain. Several large buildings, appearing to be something akin to barns and accompanying cottages, were scattered across the fields.

  Kolgaar picked up his pace, anxious to return home. Annie, Gibbs, and Brite followed closely. As they got closer to the town, the ancient smells of close quarters, animals, food, smoke, and human waste wafted to them.

  “I’m…” Annie began. “This is a lot larger than I expected.” She stood in awe.

  “We need to keep moving,” Kolgaar said.

  “It looks very English,” Brite commented.

  “If I know English history, the Vikings first conquered England in 793. They seem pretty well established. I wonder how far out we are from that date,” Gibbs whispered.

  Still unaccustomed to the silence that had surrounded them, Annie was pleasantly surprised by the noises wafting from the longhouse. Singing, shouting, and music played as if there was no demon threat at all.

  They entered Jorvik, passing the first cottage. Annie glanced inside the window and caught a glimpse of a mother, father, and small child eating a midday meal at the table. She continued after Kolgaar, taking a passage into the center of the village.

  I wonder where Sturtagaard is now?

  Cottages were occupied, as shown by the smoke billowing from chimneys. They passed the blacksmith’s building where he pounded against metal in a fiery hot space. Carts rolled through town. Horses left droppings everywhere or else were fenced inside stalls along the narrow street.

  Women carried baskets filled with laundry or food, while the men carried tools and headed to work or home. Despite their busyness, the residents of Jorvik watched them with fear on their faces, staring at them, at their clothes, at their bags.

  Brite pulled closer to Annie. His left hand rested on her lower back and his right hand faced out should he need to shoot off a spell.

  They soon reached the longhouse, which vibrated with life and energy. On either side of the heavy wooden doors were cold sconces Annie was sure would be lit at sunset. Her stomach lurched as she recognized the carvings that were currently on the thick doors. These doors would be brought to the new world and would one day hang at the Wizard Hall Library. For now, the door was nearly empty; much wizard history hadn’t happened yet.

  She swallowed hard. “The finished product sits at the library entrance,” Annie said as she touched the heavy doors.

  “Really? I didn’t know that,” Brite said as he looked at the earliest carvings, eyelevel to the left.

  “Yeah. It’s obviously not finished, but these here… I recognize them,” she said.

  Kolgaar glanced at them, unaware that this precious building would soon be dismantled and shipped off to a foreign land. He opened the thick doors.

  Annie squeezed Brite’s hand and reached for Gibbs. Her emotions tormented her. She would soon set eyes on Sturtagaard.

  What will I do if I see him?

  They followed Kolgaar inside. She could feel all eyes set upon them as they stepped through. A man as tall and as wide as Kolgaar raced toward them and wrapped Kolgaar in a bear hug.

  “Kolgaar!”

  “Svenson,” he responded.

  “You made it safe, my friend, and so quickly too,” the man said, a large smile on his face.

  “Did you understand him, too?” Annie whispered to Gibbs.

  “Talismans work,” Gibbs said.

  “So, we’re in the correct time and place,” Annie surmised aloud.

  “Of course. He just left just yesterday. I see you brought the witch. Good work, man,” Svenson said in a jolly voice.

  How do we understand him too?

  Kolgaar led Annie, Gibbs, and Brite through the longhouse. The din grew silent and the crowd parted. The intense scrutiny left Annie with extreme anxiety and a sense of hopelessness. Gibbs squeezed her hand.

  With so many people, two fireplaces, and a central fire pit, the room was warm, smoky, and suffocating. The fires were attended to by people Annie guessed had a lower social status, given their plain clothing and lack of adornments.

  Everyone stared at them as they walked toward the far side of the longhouse.

  While Annie and Gibbs held hands, Brite kept a firm grip on her upper arm. Gibbs and Brite scanned the crowd looking for any person that might harm her; Annie looked for Sturtagaard.

  The Vikings were curious above all else and began to inch closer to them, choking off their already narrow path. Annie felt strangled and batted about. Gibbs tightened his grip; she could feel the heat from his skin. He whipped his palm out, a motion the Vikings apparently understood—most backed away.

  A baby cried out and the crowd turned toward the wailing. The mother turned away, patting the baby’s back, and whispering sweet nothings to her young one to quiet the child. With nothing left to see, the room returned their focus on Annie. Meanwhile, Annie returned her attention to the longhouse, taking in the wooden walls, the posts that held up the ceiling, the iron sconces that lined the walls.

  She couldn’t place the familiarity of the sconce design as she continued on what was becoming the longest walk she had ever attempted.

  The pathway parted, revealing the king on his wood throne. It was thick and the high back was carved in three points. Annie held her breath as she took in the wood, the shine, a newly carved struct
ure that in the present day was nearly eleven hundred years old.

  “That’s the chair in the Wizard Council room,” Annie said with wonder.

  Gibbs, not typically one to be impressed by much, said, “I’ll be damned. It is.” He waved his palms, forcing the crowd back.

  “Really?” Brite asked with much curiosity. Of the three of them, he was not a Wizard Council member and had never been permitted inside the Wizard Council chamber.

  “It is,” Annie said.

  While she was well familiar with wizard history, she had never realized how much of it was tied to the Viking community of Jorvik. The things she grew up with she knew were old, but not this old, and she had never known that the coven was linked to Jorvik.

  As they continued through the crowd, Annie realized that she was observing history in real time, and she was so much a part of it. She suddenly understood the connections from the past to the future, making her task all the more real.

  She turned her attention to the king, the formidable man sitting on the throne. Even if she hadn’t seen him sitting there, she would have known he was the king; he wore the most furs and wore a gold crown on his shaved head except for the lone braid that sprung out of the back of his skull.

  They were separated from the throne by a long wooden table covered with wooden bowls brimming with dried fish and bread like the kind Kolgaar carried with him. The food smelled rotten. Annie refrained from making a face and concentrated on the family that surrounded the king on either side of the throne. His wife sat on his left, a slender woman with a long, thin face and lips that were pursed so tightly that Annie couldn’t tell for sure if she actually had lips. Either the queen was fearful of them or just annoyed.

  Annie estimated she was thirty-five. Her hair was white, braided in multiple ropes that hung down her back in one plait. On the top of her head was a crown of golden flowers. Her steely blue eyes stared at Annie. As Annie returned the woman’s stare, she knew this wasn’t someone to underestimate.

  Refocusing, Annie observed the girl to the king’s right. She was young—Annie estimated twelve or thirteen—and her golden hair shined in the fireplace light. Her hair was braided from the temples to the back of her head, and the rest flowed down her back. Her dress was well made of a shiny material, more fitting to a princess than a warrior, and yet she too stared at Annie with a glare that wouldn’t back down.

  Sensing no fear or unease within the royal family, Annie turned her attention to the cause of her current anxiety, and scanned the crowd for Sturtagaard. His dark eyes, pale skin, and tall, lean frame were etched in her mind, but here all the men were tall and wide, dressed in tunics, pants, and boots. There were too many of them, too many sets of eyes watching her every move.

  The king observed the three travelers. His gaze stopped on Annie and he smirked. To Annie, it was offensive and creepy; she felt as though she were a piece of meat or a potential mistress. She grew uncomfortable under his glare and tensed.

  Svenson took a place behind the king as if he might be a member of his royal guard. He fondled the ax tied to his belt.

  Annie wouldn’t have recognized him if she hadn’t been looking so carefully for that familiar face. But she eventually spied Sturtagaard sitting with his pretty, young wife. He had a human smile, devoid of the familiar fangs and sneer. His eyes were dark blue and sparkled as he smiled at his baby boy, who was an exact copy of the father.

  Sturtagaard’s eyes are blue!

  Sturtagaard looked at Annie. She could sense the soul he carried her heart skipped a beat. She found it hard to breathe as she looked at his human form, knowing that in several centuries, he would set in motion the plan that would destroy her family, turn her mother against her, and set one of the most dangerous ancient societies on her. Sturtagaard in that moment had no idea what he would become and how much Annie loathed him.

  “King Hrothgar.” Kolgaar bowed to his king. “I have brought the girl who will save us from the demons,” he said.

  “I see this lovely creature in front of me. I have a difficult time believing she is the warrior who will rid the land of the demons,” he said.

  Annie glanced at the king, her face stony, her hands balled in tight fists. If she could get away with it, she would have liked to punch the chauvinist in the mouth.

  “I assure you, I’m far more capable of ridding you of the demons than you are,” she said.

  With that, King Hrothgar laughed heartily. It was followed by the laughter of his men behind him and the general audience around her. Annie’s cheeks flushed. That seemed to entertain the king further.

  “Anaise. You are welcome, as are your friends. Welcome to Jorvik.”

  The noise in the longhouse grew louder as those still in attendance returned to their previous machinations. Annie, Brite, and Gibbs were led to a table and offered seats.

  “Now what?” Brite asked. Annie watched the others. There was no silverware, just metal plates and knives. She reached for a piece of dried fish and took a sniff.

  “I’m not sure I can do this,” she said and placed the fish on the plate.

  The king sat across from her and placed a cup cut from a horn in front of her. “Have this,” he said and smiled at her. She offered a wan smile and looked at the Queen, her pursed lips deepened, her eyes angry.

  “Thanks,” Annie said. Her voice was gravelly and her mouth parched. She took a sip and coughed. It was far stronger than she was used to. She felt her cheeks flush in embarrassment for a second time when he laughed at her.

  “Leave it to the coven to bring me a little scrawny nothing and two witches that couldn’t last in a fight.” The king took a swig of his mead.

  Annie looked to Gibbs and then to Brite, their eyebrows raised at the insult.

  “This is John Gibbs and Michael Brite. It would be unwise to underestimate us,” Annie said.

  The king took another sip of his mead. “Tell me. We were only expecting you. Why should I not kill them?” He pointed to Gibbs and Brite. His smile was jovial as if he were teasing them, bullying them, showing his power.

  Annie played with her mead and took a sip. The second time, it went down a little smoother. She observed the king cautiously and matched his stare. “You won’t kill them because as much as you fear the coven, you need us.” She took another sip and quickly felt the effects of the drink.

  “We do not fear the magic,” the king scoffed.

  She held her hand out and formed a fireball. As she added more magic, it grew to the size of a basketball. She wiggled her fingers, and the flames danced at her command. King Hrothgar’s eyes grew wide with anticipation.

  “I can burn down the entirety of Jorvik with one flick of my wrist. I can burn the forests and the grass and scorch the earth. I am Anaise.” The longhouse grew quiet as everyone watched the exchange. Annie could feel the heat of the king’s gaze on her. It was not completely fearful and definitely not friendly.

  The fire roared above her palm, pulsing with life. Through the flames, Annie watched the princess smile, almost giddy at Annie’s interaction with her father.

  It was Sturtagaard’s reaction that intrigued her the most. Just minutes ago, he was happy with his family, but in this instant his face radiated fear. Fear of her and the power she wielded. He held onto his wife and child tightly. His son squirmed, far more interested in the lady with the fire. Annie stood and tossed the fireball into the already raging fire in the fireplace. It brightened and settled.

  King Hrothgar raised his glass and said, “Skol!” toasting them as if this were some sick joke. The others joined in. A musical pipe began to play somewhere in the corner as the rest of those in attendance returned to their festivities.

  All except Sturtagaard, who continued to look upon Annie with fear and curiosity. Even in the past, her presence pushed his buttons.

  Nothing’s changed.

  The king removed himself from the table and sat beside his wife, still laughing, still leering at Annie. He raised his glass
to her.

  She returned the action, but took no more of the mead. Her head already pounded.

  “You okay, girl? Annie?” Gibbs asked.

  “When in Rome.” She took another bite of food, but her stomach roiled at the strangeness, at Sturtagaard’s reaction to her magic.

  “Sturtagaard’s afraid of us,” Annie said. She reached for a bit of bread. It was dry and rough. She swallowed the mass that sat in her stomach like a rock.

  “Where is he?” Gibbs asked.

  “To the right by the wall.”

  Gibbs and Brite took turns searching, both finding the future vampire.

  “He’s helpless, he’s human,” Gibbs said.

  Annie pushed the food away, anxious to be gone from the longhouse and the people within. “I’m not going to kill him. I’ll wait until we get back. I’m really pissed at the Sturtagaard rotting in Tartarus.”

  While Annie believed that when she said it, she remained obsessed with Sturtagaard the human and couldn’t stop watching him. Even when Kolgaar joined his brother and had an animated discussion, she couldn’t look away.

  “Do you think he’s asking how Sturtagaard got to the future?” Brite asked as he reached for more food.

  “I don’t know. He can’t tell him.” She stood. “The coven did him a disservice by not preparing him or the people of Jorvik for this. Makes me trust them even less.” She walked to the brothers. “Kolgaar, a word, please.” Annie pulled on his arm, dragging him with her.

  “He doesn’t remember,” Kolgaar said when they were far enough away from Sturtagaard.

  “We told you he was a vampire. A demon who can live forever. He must never know what his future holds. You cannot tell anyone what you saw in the future. No one must know what’s to come.”

  Kolgaar stared at Annie. “Did I cause damage?”

  Annie stared at Sturtagaard, protectively holding his child and glaring at her—a more familiar look to Annie.

  “Tell him you were mistaken. There was a person in the future who looked just like him. You were confused. I don’t care what. He must never know!” Annie said.