by J. Gertori
Abifa stood, controlling Crissa with her tensed hand.
“Ha!” Ellis shouted. He turned the rear of Abifa’s robe to cement.
The Artifec stumbled backward but used her other hand to shatter the stone into a fine dust. Still wrenching Crissa, Abifa kicked dirt into that air and pushed it forward. She spread her fingers, enlarging the debris so wads of rocks careened toward Ellis.
Thinking quick, Ellis swung his wand in a looping motion. The projectiles curved before him and proceeded to Luvoy and the vials.
Sam aimed at Abifa. The muddy ashes peeled off his wand, which had reduced to an inch. He painted a vivid picture of ropes wrapped around Abifa, ten times stronger than Crissa’s restraints. But he was knocked away by Ellis, who Luvoy had sent flying.
Luvoy paraded toward the groaning men and seized the reporter’s wand from the ground. He stood beside the unknown man on the rock and removed the debris that collected on his garb. “Just a few more moments. Hang in there,” Luvoy whispered.
With her arms outstretched, Crissa trembled and blood drizzled from her nose.
“I can crush you,” Abifa said, “but how boring that would be.” She released Crissa, who hunched as if her bones couldn’t support the weight of her skin. “Pick up your wand.”
With all the commotion, Sam hadn’t thought of the counter curse or Obsolete Offering until Luvoy guided the cauldron to the prisoners and said, “Will, come help me. It’s time we break this curse and take back our roots as Mondays.”
The Octavius student’s passionate words brought as gasp out of Dara. To stop the creation of the counter curse, the group needed to know what haunted the suspect, but they were far too late.
Sam rolled beside the rock from which Simon lay. Trickled atop the boulder’s tan discolorations were blue droplets. And all at once it came to him. Why Willem had conjured the rain clouds, giving him ample reason to leave the manor. Why the gate jumpers chose this place to carry out their brewing. Why Simon, the insomniac giant, lay here. It was him all along. His blood was the Obsolete Offering, and Sam had served the giant on a silver platter.
“The Eternal Lovers,” shouted Sam. He pushed Ellis off his leg and searched for Rowen, who had gone missing.
Abifa sneered. “A sweet title to such an imbecilic curse. If I were Constantine Monday, I would’ve killed my daughter’s lover . . . after ample torture. But had he not cursed them, we wouldn’t have the opportunity to right his wrongs.” She stood beside the unknown man on the rock. “Their father will pass soon, but not before Luvoy inherits the Artifec title.”
“It won’t work,” said Crissa. She grimaced as she bent for her wand. “You mean to undo the curse then transfer Sir Gaspare’s soul into their father’s body before he dies. But the Monday name is soiled. The counter curse won’t change that. ”
Willem had reached Luvoy, and they removed their robes. The teen yelled out, “Those powers belong to our family. It started with us, and it will end with us.”
“Once Luvoy becomes the Artifec of healing, we will conceive a child to inherit our powers. Trida will never erase my name from its history,” Abifa said.
“But you’re, like, sixty,” blurted Ellis. Abifa smashed her balled fist in Ellis’ direction. The ground behind him crumbled into a deep crater, and he and Sam tumbled to its bottom.
“If your qualms are with Sir Gaspare, why did you kill Ned Mack?” said Dara, trying to throw her voice over her shoulder.
Luvoy sneered. “We cut ties with him after his actions at the manor.”
“Mack might’ve cursed my sister, but you cursed him,” Crissa said, through labored breaths.
“And you call yourself a scrutor? Those are baseless accusations.”
“There were empty bottles on Mack’s desk: Petro Sap and Angel’s Ale. Both are well known to any wizard who’s attended a university.”
“We didn’t kill Mack!” Luvoy yelled.
“But when mixed, the two create Rumuthis Poison. I learned this during my second year at Belle Reets, thanks to my housemate.” Crissa looked at Willem. “Do you know the other name for Rumuthis Poison?”
Luvoy stepped between Willem and Crissa, and he aimed the feathered wand.
“Instant Death curse,” she said. “Mack wouldn’t have time to drink the mixture and reseal the bottles. An amateur set the scene; one too young to have known better.”
Luvoy’s stare flattened. He looked at his brother. “Is this true?”
Willem’s eyes swelled. “We paid Mack, and he didn’t bring us the cursed lovers. Not the man, not the woman, not even a drop of their blood. Then he conjured that curse and drew the attention of the mages and scrutors. I got rid of him to keep us from getting caught.”
“Will, that wasn’t what we planned,” said Luvoy.
“The Artifec title will go to you, not me. It doesn’t matter what I do, or if my magic is stripped away or not. I just wanted to make sure you got the title.”
Abifa turned to the brothers. “You’ve done well, Willem. You tied the loose ends and took matters into your own—”
“Did you know about this?” said Luvoy.
“Of course not, but soon we’ll make it all irrelevant. Give the giant the counter curse.”
“We’ve gotta help Simon and Gaspare,” Sam said to Ellis. He ripped at the dirt, desperate to reach the crater’s edge but failed with each attempt.
“Sam—your shoes. Let me see your heels.” Sam lifted his foot for Ellis’ inspection. “Alright, you’ve got a single shot. After you click the heels together, take off your right shoe and heave it as far as you can. Also, keep your knees to your chest and protect your neck. I’ll find a way out.”
“Okay, but before I go, I’ve got an idea. Please tell me you know the Socius spells.”
Abifa taunted Crissa. “Let’s see what you’ve got.”
Crissa exhaled. “Scalpo.” The tip of her shortened wand fizzed red, forming a fiery lance.
“Clever girl. A physical duel rather than outmatched magic.” Abifa opened her palm and Luvoy’s registered wand snapped into her grasp. “I hate these wands, but it would be fitting for you to die under the stifled magic you care to protect.” The tip simmered without a word further, and the women moved forward with their knife-like weapons.
Rowen darted from the hall, blind to the arguing brothers. Having retrieved Dara’s wand and her bag of curiosities, he waited for an opportunity to run to her.
Sam clicked his heels together, and the dirt around his feet scattered. He removed his right shoe, threw it to the corner of the chamber, and collapsed into himself. The sturdy shoe banged against the rocks near Dara.
“Handle that, Luv,” said Abifa, in a calm manner.
Luvoy broke from his task and shuffled to the crater. He locked eyes with Sam, but the fleshling was vacuumed into his left shoe and tumbled out the pair he had thrown. In a dizzying squat, he stared at Dara then noticed that the shoe had returned to his foot.
As Abifa looked at Sam, Crissa sprang forward, but her hand was sliced before she could attack. For an older woman, Abifa had comparable speed. The scrutor stepped back, watching the trickles of blood bead on her wound. She angled inward once more, weaving by several slices to deliver a cut that sent a piece of Abifa’s robe flying. The Artifec looked as though she would verbally retaliate. But Crissa lunged and made a shallow slice on Abifa’s shoulder.
The Artifec didn’t flinch. Yanking Crissa forward, she plunging the wand into the scrutor’s stomach. But the glowing blade diverted. Abifa twirled her wand, slicing a chunk of Crissa’s sweater. Again the scrutor found herself with a hole in her midsection, and her metal scales exposed; however, they didn’t look as uniform as before. In fact, a few had bent out of shape and looked withered.
“That’s a nasty hex, but you’re close to ridding yourself of it,” said Abifa. “Allow me to help.” The Artifec scrunched her palms together and punched her balled fist forward. The air sizzled between the two women, and Crissa’
s scales dented as if Abifa hit every inch of the shiny skin with a hammer.
“Gahh!” Crissa’s eyes were glossy as she tried her best to stay upright. Scale after scale fell to the ground, revealing her dark red stomach. She dropped to her knees, surrounded by the silver flakes.
Dara screamed for her sister, and Sam rushed to undo her tight vines. Suddenly, a growl came from the hall, loud enough to drown every noise inside the chamber. Pike, the only enraged scrutor not placed in restraints, had awoken.
Finding his opportunity, Rowen sped to Sam’s side and handed Dara her wand.
“Scalprus,” Dara said. She zipped her ignited stick across the vines, releasing herself.
Rowen devoured a vial of Gobbleplum. In an instant, the feisty runt ballooned to the size of a plump child.
Pike leapt toward Abifa. With her free hand, she scooped him into the air and flung him onto the canisters. The diversion gave Crissa enough time to spring forward. She cut Abifa’s wand-wielding hand clean off, and the Artifec fell to the ground with hair-raising howls.
Luvoy halted his pursuit of Sam and ran to his lover’s aid. With a backhanded swing, he sent an eight-foot wave of sand smashing over Rowen and Dara.
Crissa hollered for her sister, but Willem fired at the ground beneath her and Sam. The rubble under them smoked bright red as if it sizzled into lava. Sam made a break for the registered wand, still in the squeeze of Abifa’s dismembered hand. He managed to release the stick and launched it into the deep crater that housed Ellis.
“Trudo!” yelled Crissa, sending a hulking boulder into Willem’s path. With a jab, he pulverized the rock into a thick sand. Willem rattled his wand until a dozen improvised arrows formed from the powder. He spun his wrist until their pointy ends faced Sam before commanding them to strike.
“Capto!” shouted Ellis, hanging onto the crater’s rim. The rock arrows at the front swerved. “Exolvo,” he uttered, redirected weapons onto the walls.
Crissa screamed “Arma” as she tackled Sam. The rear arrows ricocheted off her shield.
The enraged teen stomped closer to Ellis and sent a wave of magic into the hole. Its ridges crumbled into jagged teeth that were closing around the reporter.
“Light!” shouted Dara, her beaming wand blinded Willem. She gripped Rowen’s overalls, and her hair flashed orange as she spun. With enormous power, she chucked the hudger across the chamber. By the time Willem had uncovered his eyes, Rowen had crashed into him, obliterating his stomach.
The hudger retrieved Willem’s rogue wand and halted the crater from swallowing Ellis whole. Instead, the abyss filled and vaulted the reporter into the air like a trampoline.
Propping Abifa upright, Luvoy brandished the quill wand, seething. A long, rope-like flame ejected from the stick’s end and thudded on the ground. With a wild looping motion, Luvoy lashed the flaming whip across the entire group. Rowen sped to the middle and sparked rogue magic of his own: a wall of roots gushed from the ground and sundered the flames before retreating into the floor. Luvoy screamed out as saliva strung from his lip.
Abifa’s hand rose as she twisted her fingers. A blur rushed by Sam, and then another passed through Rowen.
“Gahh!” shouted Luvoy, dropping to his palms. “I’m in the wron’ body. She switched us—Luvoy’s next to ya!”
Sam spun to Rowen. The hudger had a maniacal expression. He aimed the rogue wand at Sam’s chest. A booming crackle catapulted the fleshling, who dropped on top of the unconscious mages as steam escaped his skin.
“Attono!” said Crissa. Before her stun spell could connect, Abifa wrenched her fingers. The souls of Rowen and Luvoy rushed into their original shells.
“Argghh!” Rowen grunted, spitting as he rolled to the floor. “It’s me, fer fuck’s sake.”
Sam wobbled as he rose from the heap of giants. Blood traveled behind his ears and collected at his chin. With the final inch of his wand, Sam pulled the miniature helmet that had been poking at his chest all day. He enlarged it back to scale and fitted it onto his head.
“Let’s see what being an arrogant scrutor is like,” uttered Luvoy. He prompted Abifa, but white sheets encircled them. Cliff, the notepad, detached its many pages and swirled into a dusty tornado. Mavis plummeted into the whirlwind and yanked the feathered wand from Luvoy.
With the faded-red sliver behind him, Sam shot forward faster than the rushing bikes. Like a page out of Rowen’s book, Sam tackled Luvoy, who curled around the helmet like a horseshoe. The student slumped, unconscious.
Abifa forced herself upright, eyes bloodshot. She stood alone with Dara, Crissa, Rowen, and Ellis ready to unleash spell after spell upon her. She waved across her exposed wrist, cauterizing the injury before their eyes. As if nothing had occurred, her face became calm. Her hand went still, and everything in sight levitated.
Ellis targeted the one-handed Artifec. “Malivolen!” he shouted, trying to keep his aim steady.
In a silent pulse, the group flew to the nearest wall, paralyzed under a tremendous exertion of gravity. Sam’s vision phased in and out. Despite being immobile, a force tugged him from the wall. As he stared at Crissa across the way, he saw her doing the same—or at least a shadowy semblance of her. Abifa attempted to expel five souls at the same time.
Shrill squawks came from the halls, and like a gray wave, an army of birds poured into the chamber. They flew a lap around Simon and dove at Abifa. Their distraction allowed Sam some movement. The birds took turns rushing at the Artifec, and a distinguished blue bird rushed in the thick of the flock. It plunged at Abifa, slicing her cheek. The pressure on Sam’s arms released, though his hips remained planted to the wall.
Abifa trembled. In clusters, the birds peeled off, shrieking in agony, until the blue bird fought alone. As valiant an effort as it exhibited, the bird dove into the dirt, immobilized. Abifa refocused on the group, but again the brave pen and notepad intervened.
“Attono,” said Crissa, pointing her wand. A bright bolt climbed Abifa’s leg as she growled.
Ellis and Dara followed suit. “Attono!”
An orb shot from Rowen’s rogue wand, forcing a thick vein to climb Abifa’s neck. In a violent tremble, she lifted her hand to the person in her wake: Ellis. Her convulsing fingers took a reddish hue as her magic accumulated, and then she fired the intense beam.
A bursting sound crawled into Sam’s ears, punching deeper into his canal. He fought to see past the harsh glare, confident he’d find the reporter reduced to a pile of bones. But as the air cleared, Ellis remained intact. Between him and Abifa floated Cliff, the notepad. Using Crissa’s metal scales, Cliff’s sheets held them together like a shield that took the entire force of the Artifec’s attack. The melted scales dropped onto the dirt, and what little of Cliff remained, crumbled as ashes.
Ellis let out a cry. He, along with Rowen, Dara, and Crissa, intertwined their magic into a second wave. They dropped Abifa face-first onto the ground—dead.
TWENTY-THREE
The Other End
“If I may have a say in the matter,” said Simon, “I would like to drink the counter curse.”
“But if the stories are true, yer centuries old. Time will catch up with ya,” Rowen said.
“Yeah, Simon. Let’s think about this,” Sam mumbled.
“My friends, I have seen this land and its people change. I have forgiven enemies and stood idly by as they perished. I have promised friends I would watch over their kin, only to outlive them as well. This is my chance to see the other end, and I embrace it.”
“If that is what you want, I will slow the process as best as I can. Then I, too, will pass,” said Gaspare, held upright by several mages.
“What?” blurted Sam. “Is there some sort of death agreement I’m unaware of?”
“Sam, the Mondays took me at my most vulnerable—outside of Trida. For days they suppressed my abilities with hexes from Viola’s spellbooks. They tortured me for answers about Sir Monday’s curse; the information they believed I had
inherited.” He moved his robe aside to reveal rips in his clothing and dark red bruises covering his entire midsection. “It takes a great deal out of me to heal injuries of considerable size. Mending my wounds to stay alive has nearly killed me. Ironic? Yes. But if I do it any further, I still may die. I can be greedy, and risk everything, or I can grant Simon’s wish. In ways, Simon is the reason my family received the Artifec title. And I have enjoyed enough in my one-hundred-and-one years of age.”
Sam paused. “You’re a hundred and one? You’re not thinking straight Mr. Gaspare—somebody back me on this.”
None of the surrounding wizards dare speak against the seasoned Artifec.
Gaspare laughed then grimaced as he cradled his stomach. “This decision has been made with a clear enough mind to inform you that you’ve been skimping on rent.”
The fleshling fell silent and just about jumped on board with Gaspare’s choice. A crying woman collapsed into the embrace of a man, and Sam recognized her as Ms. Sinclair, the woman who always visited his landlord’s apartment.
A mob of mages filled the chamber, jotting notes and snapping pictures with their wands. They were under the command of Grand Mage Zubair Singh, who paid Sam little mind. Zubair ordered the removal of Luvoy and Willem; the brothers had to be dragged from the chambers, limp-bodied and balling over their father, who had passed while they were unconscious.
Two Artifecs, whom Sam hadn’t met, stood near Abifa’s lifeless body. Sir Otto Gilbeaux, the Artifec of transformation, wore a bowtie and had parted hair, and Lady Civy Oxnora, the Artifec of rifting, had warm brown complexion and a gold headband.
Distributed among the crowd were Sam’s friends. Ellis, who had admitted Cliff was his first enchantment, sat in the corner with his head buried in his lap. Mavis and Dara stayed by his side. The orange ends of Dara’s hair had vanished, and her eyes looked heavy as she rubbed Ellis’ back. At the opposite end of the chamber, Crissa rested her head on Evie. They watched as Ms. Ward and Pike receive care. But soon, full attention would be on Simon and Gaspare.
