Hunted Sorcery (Jon Oklar Book 2)

by B. T. Narro

  He must know I could heal, as he certainly had contact with Cason. Yet he was still confident he would beat me.

  I flicked the callring on my finger, but I was only able to do it once before he threw me against the closed door again. He held me there this time, suspended, as the dteria crushed my body against the wood.

  A groan was forced out as I tried to physically push it off me so I could get my feet on the ground. His arm remained pointed toward me, his hand a claw, his face strained. His dteria was a wall of nearly invisible energy that blurred everything through it, contorting around my body in a tight grip.

  The energy morphed around my hands as I tried to push it. It was like trying to shove away water, only it was more solid.

  Pain made it difficult to focus as it pinned me against the door, but I concentrated enough to put my all into my next casting of Expel. My spell hit Henrik and swept him up, flipping him over the desk. His body caught on the cloth covering, pulling it off and tugging down a couple of boxes.

  There was a crossbow sitting on the other end of the desk that had been undisturbed by the motion of the cloth and boxes. It was already pointed right at me.

  His spell came to an end, but he popped up from behind the desk with a mean scowl and pushed me against the door once again with his dteria. I didn’t have the stamina to compete with him. Anyone else would’ve tired by now, but the only sign of fatigue I saw was sweat dripping down his face.

  He held one hand out at me as he crouched in front of the crossbow and grabbed it with his other hand, an arrow already loaded. I didn’t worry much about it, for I already had another spell prepared. I blasted Henrik and the crossbow, tossing him back away from the desk. But the crossbow didn’t budge.

  The damn thing was nailed down! It was mounted on a wooden base with a short pole, I saw, and it was the base that was attached to the desk. Henrik kept up his spell as he grabbed the desk and got back into position. “I’d like to see you heal a shot to your heart,” he grumbled through his strain.

  Fear took hold of me. It wasn’t a coincidence that he had me against the door, the very spot where the crossbow was aimed. All of this had been planned. They had expected me to come.

  I had underestimated my enemies, and now I might die for it.

  Still unable to reach the ground, I protected myself by crossing my arms over my chest. I didn’t imagine the arrow would go through my arms and my chest bone. I could yank it out and heal my injury. But then I noticed Henrik pulling down on the back end of the crossbow to aim higher, his new target my head.

  I lifted my arms in front of my face, but he didn’t shoot. I couldn’t hold them there while checking to see where he was aiming. At least it bought me enough time to ready another spell.

  I casted Expel, but I held the energy out in front of me like a shield. It wasn’t as dense as, say, a wall of water like Leon could make, but I hoped it would slow the arrow enough for my hand to stop it. I lowered one hand to hold in front of my chest, my other in front of my face, for I didn’t know which vulnerability he would target.

  I screamed as I felt a sudden pain in my right hand and chest. I dropped, finally free from his spell. I looked down at the arrow. It had gone through my hand, the tip stuck in the muscle of my chest just to the left of my heart. It wasn’t deep enough to have gone through bone.

  Henrik cursed me as he came around the desk with his dagger in hand. There was no time to heal myself. I tried to get up and grab my sword from its sheath, but my hand was stuck, the arrow holding it against my chest.

  I had to pull my sword out with my left hand, swiping at him using the same awkward motion as I grabbed it from my left hip. He just stuck his arm out to block the weak attack as he stabbed at my head.

  I fell away from him to avoid it, but he came down on top of me as he slammed the dagger deep into my shoulder.

  I screamed as pain tore through me. He ripped the dagger out as I tried to make some distance, my right hand still stuck. My left hand had my sword, but I was gripping the hilt the wrong way with no time to switch.

  I threw him back with Expel. He just stumbled a few feet. It still would’ve given me time to switch my grip on the sword, but then he extended his hand and suddenly I was being lifted up from the ground as dteria held my waist in a death grip.

  Not only did I have a difficult time using a sword with my left hand, but apparently I was used to casting with my right hand as well. I tried to hit him with another spell, but there was no power behind it as I thrust out my left hand. The only reason for this was unfamiliarity, as mana was the same no matter where it came out of me.

  He barreled toward me, right through my spell. He did have a bloody shallow cut on the arm he’d used to block my weak sword strike earlier, but it didn’t seem to slow him at all. I wasn’t about to attempt another.

  I dropped my sword, grabbed the shaft of the arrow holding my hand against my chest, and yanked it out with a horrible pain to my right hand. I swiped the arrow at his face as he came at me with his dagger.

  He yelped as he stumbled away from me, his dteria dispersing. He held his face as he turned and glared at me, then he let down his hand and I saw the wound I had given him.

  There was a deep cut near his eye. I was glad it looked like it hurt.

  I had time to either flick my callring or heal myself a little. I decided on the latter as I put my right hand over my chest and focused the healing spell on both bloody wounds.

  The spell lasted for just a moment before Henrik was charging me again. I still couldn’t quite make a fist with my right hand. I needed more time.

  Exhaustion was getting to me as I pushed him back once more with Expel, but the heavy man’s momentum was too much. He leaned into the spell, knowing it was coming, and it barely slowed him.

  But I was fast for my size. I ducked down and slipped past him, though he did grab my shirt near my left shoulder. Pain in my shoulder ripped a scream out of my throat, reminding me that he had stabbed me there.

  I squirmed out of his grasp and found myself near the large desk with the unloaded crossbow. I thought about blasting the desk into him, but I remembered how it had not moved earlier. Looking down, I saw that it was nailed to the floor.

  I was panting as I reached down among the assorted items on the floor and picked up a heavy book I assumed to be a ledger. Still having to use my left hand, I didn’t feel entirely comfortable as I held it up to block a knife attack at my head.

  Henrik’s power took the book out of my hand. He lifted his other to make a claw. Dteria struck me at a downward angle and pushed me against the floor.

  Suddenly he was on top of me with the knife hoisted up. But my legs were free and uninjured. I gave him a hard knee to his rear end. He fell on top of my face, his gargantuan torso suffocating me. I tried to push him off, but he was too heavy, so I let dvinia do it.

  The force of the spell made me regret it momentarily as the energy ricocheted off him and struck my stomach, taking the last of my air out of my lungs, but it did toss him sideways off me.

  I gasped for breath as I weakly got up and careened away from him. I needed a breath before I could face him again.

  Then came the dagger in my back.

  The force of the attack nearly sent me back to the floor. Sensing he was right behind me, I found my footing and lurched back, hard, throwing my head back as well.

  There was a horrible clash, stars in my eyes. I was on the floor without remembering falling. I gingerly made my way back to my feet as I struggled for breath. Henrik was even slower getting up. In fact, he seemed to have trouble finding his footing at all as he looked dizzy, slipping and stumbling around, a gash across his forehead where the back of my head must’ve struck him.

  I reached around my back and ripped out the knife through dreadful pain. Then I charged the big man. He looked up at me and tried to get his hands up, but they didn’t protect him enough.

  He fell, motionless, the dagger deep in his skull.
r />   I collapsed from exhaustion. In between breaths, I cursed the man a few times, until I eventually realized it was pointless.

  There was blood everywhere, his clothes, the floor. Most of it seemed to be on me, though. I didn’t know what to heal first. I decided to go with my shoulder and right hand, but not before I flicked the callring calmly in a steady rhythm. I didn’t know if anyone was already on their way from the single flick I’d given it, but I also didn’t know if there might be other enemies coming. It was best to be safe.

  The signal I sent to the king’s callring was that I wasn’t in immediate danger. I didn’t need more than a few people, and they didn’t have to rush over on horseback.

  I healed my shoulder and hand, but the room started to spin as soon as I was done with the painful ordeal. I regretted not moving farther from the man’s corpse as I fell forward and put my hands out to catch myself, splashing up our mixed blood.

  I cursed a few more times as I crawled away from him, keeled over, and passed out.

  I awoke a short time later. I was still bleeding, still exhausted. I had to heal my back, the biggest wound left, but I barely had the strength. I’d exerted myself too hard closing the wound and repairing the damage to my shoulder and hand. I didn’t want to pass out again.

  I healed the stab wound in my back, too exhausted to scream, and nearly lost consciousness when I was done. My jaw ached. I must’ve gritted my teeth together during the healing.

  I had to take a long break before I could heal my chest and then finally the back of my head. I felt as though I might lie on the bloodstained floor and pass out for a while, but I could hear someone’s footsteps a little ways down the hall.

  “Jon?” It was Michael’s voice.

  I stumbled over to the door of the office and opened it. “In here,” I said, then leaned against the wall for support.

  Michael and Reuben ran down the hall, but both stopped in shock as they came close.

  “Good god, are you all right?” Michael asked.

  “Just exhausted now. I’ve almost healed myself completely.”

  “Nox’s blade!” Reuben exclaimed as he looked into the room. “Who’s that man?” He pointed.

  “He said his name is Henrik, but he told me many lies.” Feeling a tiny bit better now, I walked back into the room and finished off my healing with a muffled scream.

  I started to search the man’s body, ignoring the dagger in his skull as I gave Michael and Reuben a quick recapitulation. While I told them the short tale, I found a coin purse with a few silvers that I handed over to Reuben to give to the king, mostly so he wouldn’t give me a hard time about possibly keeping it. Then I found what I was looking for: the man’s identification papers.

  “What the hell?” I said. “His name really is Henrik Plumb, unless these are forged.”

  “Let me see.” Reuben took them from my hands. “No, these are real.”

  Michael suggested, “Maybe he just uses his real name and made up the rest about his relationship to the innkeeper.”

  “And the fact that they share the same last name is a coincidence?” I asked skeptically.

  Michael pursed his lips. “I didn’t know the innkeeper had the same last name.”

  “We need to report this to Byron,” I said. “Someone should stay here to make sure no one comes into the inn as we wait for guards to investigate and clean up.”

  Michael and Reuben both gave me a similar look of concern. No, they gave my clothes this look. I glanced down at myself. I was covered in blood, so it was probably best if I didn’t walk through the city like this.

  “Fine, I’ll stay. Just be quick.”

  “Are you sure there’s no one else coming for you?” Michael asked.

  “Unless he had a callring that I never saw, then no other enemies should know I’m here. They had clearly prepared a trap in case I came, but it didn’t seem like they knew exactly when I would arrive. They expected Henrik to…take care of me himself.”

  “Lock the door after us,” Reuben said. “I’m going to pick up a cloak for you after we get Byron, for the walk back to the castle.”

  “Thank you. I’ll pay you back for it.”

  “There’s no need.”

  CHAPTER SEVENTEEN

  It was Byron himself who arrived sometime later while I searched the inn for anything that might offer a clue as to what happened to Mathew Plumb. All I found was what seemed to be a blood stain in one of the bedrooms. It was on the floor and didn’t appear too old, strategically covered with a rug that didn’t look like it belonged there given how it didn’t quite fit in the space allotted.

  I did also locate a hammer, which I used to dismantle the crossbow from the short wooden bar holding it to the desk.

  Byron and Michael met me in the same room, where I’d fought and killed Henrik. I still felt numb to the whole thing. A few other guards, who’d come with Byron, started searching the rest of the empty inn while Reuben was out buying me a cloak.

  I looked forward to getting back, changing out of these clothes, and checking my wounds to make sure I’d healed them all properly. Phantom pain seemed to be lingering, as had happened to my ankle after I’d healed the broken bones caused by Cason.

  “They really were cousins,” Byron informed us as he gaped at the body. “I almost can’t believe that Henrik was working with Cason. I just spoke with him yesterday. He was aggressively defensive about his cousin’s safety.” Byron glanced at me, specifically at the blood all over my clothes. “Are you sure you’re all right?”

  “I am, but are you completely sure they’re cousins?”

  He nodded. “I investigated to make sure. They were.”

  So Mathew had reached out to his tough cousin for help, yet his cousin had been working with Cason for a long time. I felt immense pity for the innkeeper. He had been scared for weeks…before his worst fear had come true. No, worse than his worst fear. He’d probably never thought that his own family member would be the one to kill him.

  I couldn’t believe someone would do that. Even with dteria warping their mind, what kind of callous person would be fine with murdering their own cousin who reached out for help?

  Perhaps I had underestimated the corruptive strength of dteria. It made me wonder if even Cason was someone completely different before he started using it.

  Then I started to wonder who, among my peers, might be headed down the same dark path. Dteria was right in the middle range of mana, close to fire and water. That made it easier for mages like Remi and Kataleya to use it, because they were already familiar with notes around that range, but I didn’t put it past the other sorcerers who might’ve lied about their range since the beginning of all of this.

  “What about the crossbow?” I suggested. We made our way over to the desk, stepping around the body and the pools of blood. The crossbow was painted black. I didn’t know anything about crafting such weapons, except that no two crossbows were the exact same.

  “Yes, the crossbow is our biggest clue right now,” Byron said. “Somebody made this weapon, and that person sold it to one of our enemies. I know someone in Tryn who might be able to identify the craftsmen if it originated from there, but given all the recent activity here I have a feeling it was made closer to Newhaven, maybe even within the city. It’s best to take it to the king for investigation.”

  *****

  After Reuben returned with a cloak for me, we headed back to the castle. Michael and I had spoken with Byron for a little while, but it was a depressing conversation because it didn’t lead to anything concrete. Byron had been entrusted with watching Kataleya’s family and Luther Prigg, the possible father of Aliana.

  The cloak was about as nice as the hazel one I usually wore, this one black. I had meant to purchase more clothing, and I especially had to now after my best shirt was ripped from the fight with Henrik.

  I had killed yet another man, but I knew it had to be done. Otherwise, I would’ve been the body on the floor in that office.


  My first emotion finally came on our way back to the castle. I was scared. He had almost killed me. One man, alone. My confidence was shattered. It wasn’t long ago that I had taken on three men in the home of a dark mage, one of them a dteria sorcerer. I had been tired from my punishment, weaponless as well. Though during that whole encounter, I’d never thought my life was at risk.

  The fight against Henrik was like the one against Cason. I’d felt outmatched.

  It could’ve easily gone the other way.

  I would speak to the king about resuming my offensive training. It wasn’t like I was going to learn how to sustain an illusion long enough to spy anyway. The best I could do with ordia was figure out how to identify enchantments.

  “Jon?” Michael asked.

  “What?”

  “Did you hear what I said?”

  “No, sorry.”

  “Let him be for now,” Reuben suggested to Michael.

  I didn’t know what they saw in my eyes, but both seemed concerned.

  I vaguely remembered Michael asking me about the fight just now. Reuben was right, I preferred not to speak. I would have to tell the king soon anyway; they could hear it then.

  Eventually we arrived. We marched into the castle, through the courtyard, and straight into the dining hall. It was lunchtime, and the rest of our peers were eating already.

  The king sat at his table on the other side of the long dining room, his daughter on one side and his wife on the other. Everyone, including the royal family, stopped eating when they saw us approaching. I noticed most everyone’s gaze on me, as I no longer hid the crossbow behind the large black cloak Reuben had bought for me. Blood stained my clothes under the open cloak, but I knew none of the people in this room needed to be shielded from the sight of a little blood after everything else that had happened.

  I walked up to the royal table as I heard my peers getting up and coming after me. A few murmured questions about what had happened, but I blocked out their voices to focus only on the king for now.

  “What is this crossbow?” Nykal asked as he stood and gestured at it. Then he lowered his eyebrows. “Is that blood on your clothes? Jon,” he lectured, his tone grim. “You used the callring calmly to signify you didn’t need urgent assistance.”