“Wizard Zack was Artemus’ father,” Darlan explained. “He was a decent magma wizard, one of the first war wizards to die battling the Dark Prophet’s forces. Perhaps Howell was Aretemus’ name before he stood before the Bowl of Souls. May I see it?”
“Of course.” Justan took off the glasses and handed the book to his mother, feeling a bit foolish. Of course Artemus would be a named wizard.
Darlan began to read. “Oh, Justan, I should have made you keep a journal.” She read a bit further and smiled. “I have that pie recipe!”
Justan sighed and looked to Locksher. The wizard shrugged. They all stood there for a while, watching Darlan read, grinning and muttering to herself.
“Doesn’t the ring thing get in the way while you read?” Fist asked.
“That is what I was wondering,” Jhonate said.
“No,” Justan said. “When you have them on you can’t even see it.”
“Ohh,” the ogre replied and everyone nodded in understanding.
They waited a little longer before Locksher finally picked a book up off his desk and started to read. Vannya pulled a chair over for Darlan and the wizardess sat with barely a wave of acknowledgement.
“Anything interesting, mother?” Justan asked. She gave him a dismissive shake of her head and went back to reading, a smile of amusement stuck on her face. She chuckled to herself and turned another page.
Justan! Gwyrtha’s thoughts interrupted Justan’s irritation. She was standing in front of the bridge to the Rune Tower, her ears pricked and her hackles raised.
Yes, sweetheart?
Come quick. I smell Deathclaw’s sister. She growled. Talon is here somewhere! Many Talons!
“We’re under attack!” Justan announced, startling everyone but Fist, who had heard Gwyrtha’s warning and already had his mace in his hand. Darlan even looked up from the book. How many?
I smell four, she sent. There might be more.
“What is it?” Jhonate said.
“Somehow Talon is somewhere on the Mage School property and she is not alone,” Justan says. “Gwyrtha says there are at least four, maybe more and they’re raptoids like her and Deathclaw.”
“There are more of them?” Locksher said in shock.
“Somehow,” Justan replied. He shuddered to think what Ewzad could do with even a small army of raptoid soldiers.
“Beth was right. This will be a bad night,” Jhonate said. She twirled her staff and ran for the door. Fist followed close at her heels.
“Assassins,” Darlan said. “Valtrek’s spy warned us that assassins were coming. But no one thought they’d be able to get inside the walls.”
“We’ll go and alert the guard,” Justan said. “Locksher and Vannya, tell the rest of the council. Talon could be after them. If anyone sees her, watch out for her tail!” He ran after Jhonate.
“I’d better warn Valtrek,” Darlan declared, stowing the book and glasses in her robe and hurrying after him.
Justan ran down the hallway and started down the stairs, hoping to catch up with Jhonate, but she had flown down the stairs and Fist was in his way. The ogre was having difficulty descending quickly with his large feet. Finally he moved aside so Justan could get by.
Justan focused, putting his mind in a battle ready state as Deathclaw had taught him. His mind in complete awareness and control of his body, he ran smoothly, taking the stairs four at a time. He reached the bottom and ran past the library, dodging startled students, and pounded across the bridge. Jhonate was nowhere to be seen, but Gwyrtha was waiting, growling, her body in a half crouch.
Where is Jhonate? he asked, breathing heavily. He pulled more energy from her as he talked. His body needed to hold up!
She went that way, she replied and her mind showed him Jhonate heading towards the center square. But I can smell one of the Talons this way. Her mind showed him the buildings to the right of the Rune Tower. That was where the academy students were staying.
Take me there. Justan wanted to be with Jhonate, but the beast was more important. Gwyrtha ran. Fist, stay with my mother.
Fist halted in front of the library doors. He had taken a tumble at the bottom of the stairs and students were staring, some of them asking what was going on. But-.
If I was Mellinda, I’d want all the leaders dead. If they know Valtrek’s in charge of spies, mother could be in great danger.
I . . . okay, Fist said reluctantly and ran in the direction Darlan had gone.
Gwyrtha sped off to the right, passing startled people as she followed the scent. She ran past the dining hall and the dormitories and to Justan’s surprise stopped at the Hall of Elements. One is in there.
Justan slid down from her saddle and drew Peace. All anticipation and fear for everyone’s safety left his mind and he focused on the task at hand. Why would an assassin enter the Hall of Elements? This wasn’t a gaming night. His mage sight showed him that the building’s magic was activated, but the sound wards were also on so he couldn’t hear what was going on inside. He grasped the door with his right hand and pulled it open.
Inside the hall was a massacre. The enchanted tables were overturned in a jumble and cards were scattered everywhere. Red-robed wizards were sprawled across the room, torn and bloodied, very few of them moving.
As Justan stepped in, he saw a large figure, engulfed in flame, swipe down with one thick arm, tearing into a wizard’s chest with fiery claws. The wizard stumbled back and Justan saw that it was Wizard Munsey. The High Council Fire Wizard had a pleading look in his eyes before he collapsed.
As Munsey fell, the flames around the attacker died down. Its skin was blackened and charred in most places, but there was no mistaking what it was. The beast was a hulking raptoid, perhaps a half foot taller and twice as muscular as Deathclaw.
“See? Your burns meant nothing to me, wizard!” it said with a deep growling voice, and from the way it moved, it didn’t seem to be pained.
It stomped on Munsey’s still form and turned its head to look at Justan. Its eyes were yellow and slitted, its cheekbones broad, and its jaw thick and wide. An orange moonrat eye bulged unblinkingly from the center of its chest, looking only partially singed.
“You,” it said. It pointed one steaming finger at him and smiled, the blackened scales on its lips splitting. “You are Sir Edge. You have been marked for death.”
Chapter Twenty Five
“Just hide. We are under attack!” Fist told the students as he ran after Darlan. His grip on his mace increased his speed and he knocked a few startled classmates aside, but he didn’t have time for apologies. Squirrel sat on his shoulder, shaking a tiny fist at the students too slow to get out of the way.
Fist’s guts churned. He wanted to be with Justan. He had just gotten him back and with Talon around and possibly more like her, this was the worst time for them to be separated. Keep him safe, Gwyrtha!
We found one, she replied and the image of the burned and smiling raptoid flashed through his mind.
Fist stopped, his hand on the handle of the plain door leading down to Valtrek’s offices. This was foolishness. There might not even be a raptoid down there. But he couldn’t fault Justan’s logic. Mistress Darlan was more powerful and capable than her son knew, but she had never fought anything like Talon or Deathclaw.
With a growl, Fist threw the door open. He was forced to put his mace away as he descended the stairs. He had enough difficulty navigating the stairs without having it speed up his movements. His back still throbbed from the fall he had taken at the bottom of Locksher’s stairs on the way down. Squirrel was lucky he hadn’t been crushed.
Half way down, he heard the door at the bottom slam. Mistress Darlan wasn’t too far ahead. Squirrel sniffed the air and Fist felt a surge of fear coming from him. Raptoid!
There was one down there! He focused and reached the bottom as quickly as he could, not slipping once. When he opened the door, he saw the dust-covered hallway beyond had two sets of boot prints; one large, a man’s, an
d the other Darlan’s. Scattered between them, were another set of tracks. Claw marks.
Fist pulled his mace and rumbled down the low ceilinged corridor as fast as he could while hunched over. Valtrek’s door was thrown open, light pouring from inside, and Fist could hear faint sounds of struggle. He surged through the doorway and saw papers scattered everywhere. Darlan was kneeling by a bloodied form, her arms held out over it. The sounds of struggle echoed from the doorway in the back of the offices.
Darlan glanced back at him quickly and turned her attention back to the body in front of her. Fist saw that it was Wizard Valtrek. His torn robes were more crimson than blue now and there were deep gashes across his face. Darlan closed her eyes and her brow furrowed as she poured elemental magic into him.
She licked her lips. “Fist, he’s barely alive. I’m doing my best to save him, but whatever attacked him went through the door to the dungeons. There was screaming when I first arrived. Go! I’ll be down as soon as I can.”
“Squirrel, stay with Mistress Darlan!” he ordered. “Tell me if something happens.”
Yes! Squirrel replied, leaping down to stand alertly by her side.
Fist spared one last glance for Valtrek and shoved aside a turned over desk so he could reach the open doorway. He heard grunting and hissing from down the stairs. He grimaced. These were the most treacherous stairs in the tower. He wished he had time to use earth magic to turn them to dirt so that he could go down them safely. Instead, he grimaced and half-ran, half-slid down them, considering himself lucky when he reached the bottom without falling.
“Slow down, you freakish beast!” Bellowed an angry voice from the doorway in front of him.
Fist barreled into the dungeon. The prisoner’s cages had been lowered from the ceiling. All of them held the gory remains of Mellinda’s spies, except for one.
Stout Harley stood in front of the last cage, facing off against a hissing raptoid with shield and hammer. Cowering in the back of the cage was the ex-wizard DeVargas, eyes wide with fear.
Stout Harley wore his full suit of platemail, missing only the helmet. The raptoid, a lithe and thin female, was dodging his hammer swings and striking out with clawed limbs that seemed to stretch out impossibly far in search of a gap in his armor. Only Harley’s expert stance kept its attacks from making it through.
The defensive specialist shifted his arms and legs and used his wide shield to close any gap before her strikes could land. Despite his efforts, he hadn’t gone unharmed. Blood poured down the side of his head from two long gashes that extended from the center of his forehead back into his hair.
His eyes never left the raptoid, but he noticed Fist’s entrance. “Ogre!” he said, stepping to the side to keep the raptoid from darting around him. “Stay back. You’re not ready for this one. It’s fast and I think its claws are poison!”
Fist swallowed. Stout Harley knew his skill level pretty well. For the last month, he had been teaching Fist the use of shield and breastplate in battle. Unfortunately, Fist didn’t have his shield or breastplate with him.
“No!” Fist said shaking his head. Stout Harley was hurt and if he was poisoned, he needed Fist’s help. Besides, Harley didn’t know everything that he could do. Fist sent black strands of earth magic plunging into the stone floor around him in preparation for a spell. He didn’t have the sophisticated touch of many of the students, but the things Darlan had taught him didn’t need it. “Hey! Talon’s friend! Fight me instead!”
The raptoid leapt back to dodge one of Stout Harley’s swings, and turned to face Fist. Its face was mostly razor-like teeth, its huge mouth taking up the majority of its head. Reptilian eyes sat near the top of its skull with two tiny nasal slits just above its teeth. Red bits of flesh were stuck in its teeth and bloody strands of saliva hung from its lower jaw. An orange moonrat eye was embedded at the base of its throat.
“Don’t be a fool, ogre! You can’t defend against this!” Stout Harley stepped forward and swung again, but the raptoid didn’t even look at him as it dodged the attack, its body seeming to stretch to get out of the way.
“Go, both of you!” DeVargas yelled. He had stopped cowering and stood. “It’s here to kill me. The witch’s been taunting me through that orange eye from the moment it came in here, so just either set me free and let me fight it or leave and let it kill me!”
“The witch’s been talking to me too, Nikoli,” Harley said. “She wants me dead just as bad as you.”
“She wants us all to die,” Fist said. He readied his mind and wove strands of air and earth up along his body and around his mace. He set the strands vibrating against each other, then pointed at the raptoid with his free hand and demanded, “Come at me!”
The raptoid slid forward, stopping just outside of the portion of the floor Fist had control of. It cocked its head and chirped. Fist worried. Did it know? Could it use mage sight?
“What is she saying to you?” Nikoli asked.
“Nothing,” Fist said. He rolled his shoulders and kept his mace at the ready. “Are you too stupid to talk to me, Mellinda?”
At the sound of the witch’s name, the raptoid screeched. It launched itself toward him and Stout Harley was right. It was very fast. It moved too quickly for him to enact the earth spell he had planned.
He brought his mace in a back swing, aiming for the center of the thing, but its body contorted out of the way. It ducked and kicked off the ground, reaching with stretching arms. As Fist knew would happen, its claws pierced his clothing and tore into the muscle of his chest.
Bright arcs of electricity flared from Fist’s skin, running up its arms, sending its body into convulsions. He grabbed its throat with his free hand and squeezed as he commanded the stone under its body to surge upwards. The rock flowed soft as mud, encasing its jittering body, and stopping right under Fist’s hand. He continued to pour the electricity into the thing, while squeezing its neck and willing the rock to harden.
Its neck yielded under his grip but there was no breakage of bone. The orange eye pressed against his palm and he distantly felt pressure as if something was trying to break into his mind but the bond was in the way. He squeezed harder until, finally, the orange eye burst.
He let go and stepped back, pulling the raptoid’s claws from his chest and cutting off the flow of magic. He staggered and grasped the bars of the cage next to him, breathing heavy and wincing at the pain of his wounds. Darlan had made him practice both of those spells but he had never tried enacting both of them at once. Using the mace and all that magic at the same time had taken a lot out of him.
The raptoid screeched wildly, its eyes bulging as it flailed the portion of its arms that protruded from the rock. The bones of its arms stretched, but it could only stretch so far. The rest of it was immobilized.
“Good work, ogre,” Stout Harley said. His breathing was labored and he was leaning against his shield. “Didn’t know you were that far along in your studies.”
“Mistress Darlan is a good teacher,” Fist replied.
“You’re hurt, though,” Harley replied. “We might both die from this poison.”
Fist was starting to feel its effects. His skin was hot and his vision beginning to blur, but he wasn’t too worried. “Mistress Darlan will heal us.”
“Will you just kill the stupid thing!” Wizard Nikoli begged. The raptoid hadn’t stopped screeching.
Fist looked down and saw the staring and unseeing eyes of Mage Lolly looking back up at him. He grit his teeth. “Yes, sir.”
He pushed himself away from the cage and swung his weapon back. Electricity shot along the head of his mace as he brought the spiked end down on the raptoid’s screeching face.
Heat buffeted Justan and the sound of crackling flames built around him as he stepped in to the fire section of the hall where the floor and ceiling were painted red. He edged to the right while Gwyrtha crept to the left through the gold painted air section, wind ruffling her mane.
Stay back, Justan warned her,
keeping his eyes on the large raptoid in the center of the hall. It stood in the adjoining space of all four elemental sections on the broken and burnt remains of the great center table where the Elements Finals were usually played. One of its arms was in air, one in water, while its tail swayed back and forth in the rumbling earth section. It had extended its grinning head towards Justan in the fire section, so far ignoring Gwyrtha. Don’t attack unless I have its full attention. We don’t know what Ewzad has done to it yet.
I am fast. I am hard. I am strong, Gwyrtha said and Justan sensed her body changing. I am fast. I am hard. I am strong. She repeated it like a spoken spell and Justan realized that while Fist had been learning from Darlan, she had spent the last month practicing taking control of her body’s ability.
He pushed the train of thought from his mind, letting Peace take the interest away. He was proud of the growth of his bonded while he was gone, but he didn’t have time to think about it now. His body was tired but he let Peace suck that away too.
The raptoid gurgled a laugh. “You think to surround me, Edge? You can try. But your pet horse is nothing. I am too strong. You can try to cut me with your swords, but I will heal.”
As Justan watched, he saw that it was true. The blackened scales on its body were flaking away, exposing new undamaged scales underneath. This raptoid healed much faster than Deathclaw. It had taken on the spells of Munsey, the school’s most powerful fire wizard and overcame them.
I am fast. I am hard. I am strong, Gwyrtha chanted.
Justan twirled his swords, feeling the power inside Rage build. It must have absorbed a lot of emotion from Justan while he was unconscious, because it was buzzing with it.
He focused in, the world slowing around him as he continued to edge around the room. His senses intensified and he ignored the bodies around him, stepping over them as he moved. He did not look at their faces. He could not. He might recognize one of them and that would be a distraction the raptoid could use.
The Bowl of Souls: Book 05 - Mother of the Moonrat Page 30
