“Insure his safety? That sword can take down every frost giant in this realm with a single touch,” I said. “Where’s the forge?”
The crow vacated my shoulder and began to fly. “This way, but there I take my leave of you.”
“Do whatever you feel is necessary,” I said. And so would I.
Through the dense mist, I spotted a row of watchful frost giants near a ring of standing stones. Thankfully, they were facing the inside of the circle. The stones were taller and wider than the giants and covered in frost. In the middle of the circle, a small fire flickered. The forge.
“If Hef is here,” I whispered, “the giants will protect him. Go for the sword or whoever has it.” The client had to be here, waiting to claim the prize.
We quietly removed our skis and crept toward the stones. I drew energy from the forge, stoking the fire magic inside me. I needed to create a diversion.
A voice boomed from inside the circle. “Your service is no longer required, dwarf,” he said. “Go now before I decide to test the quality of the blade.”
Peter frowned. “I know that voice.”
Oddly, it sounded familiar to me, too. We waited for Hef to emerge from between the stones. His expression turned to shock when he saw us. I quickly put a finger to my lips.
“You didn’t contact me,” I whispered.
“No warning,” he replied softly. “A harpy showed up and forced me here. She didn’t stick around, though.”
“Do you know the way out?” Peter asked quietly.
Hef nodded, but then glanced hesitantly at his lame leg.
I had an idea. “Is anyone else in the circle?” I whispered.
“No,” Hef replied.
I pulled out my wand and concentrated. I hated to use non-fire magic before a fight—I didn’t want to risk draining myself—but I didn’t have a choice. Hef would never make it out of here on foot. I used a manifestation spell to conjure a basic sled.
“Thanks,” Hef said, and climbed aboard.
“Give me one second,” I said. Now he only needed giants to pull him to safety. I turned back toward the stones and tapped one of the frost giants on the arm. He fixed his icy blue eyes on me. “You promised Muninn you’d see the dwarf to safety. He needs two giants to pull his sled to the border.”
The giant nodded slowly and nudged the one beside him.
“Am I boring you, frost giants?” the voice inside the circle said. “The sword has nearly cooled. I’ll be happy to demonstrate its power. I guarantee your interest will be renewed.”
Peter and I exchanged glances. The druid’s expression was grim. “Let me talk to him first,” he said.
I didn’t argue, but I kept my magic humming. I had a feeling we were going to need it.
“Barton,” Peter said, stepping into the circle.
The older druid stared at Peter in disbelief. “You found me here?”
“He may have had a little help,” I said, moving into view. The mist drifted through the center of the circle, shrouding part of Barton’s body. It was only when he lifted his arm that I saw it.
“You’re too late,” Barton said, displaying the intact sword. I recognized the hilt and crossguard from Hunter’s drawing.
“We’re not too late if you haven’t left the mist world yet,” Peter said. “That sword doesn’t belong in civilization.”
Barton motioned to the frost giants, but I held up a hand. “Not going to happen, druid. They were only tasked with observing you, not protecting you.”
The frost giants remained motionless, confirming my statement.
Barton laughed. “Then I’ll cut them all down with the tap of my blade.” He gazed at the sword in admiration. “A real beauty, isn’t it? Such exquisite craftsmanship.”
“Where’d you get the money to pay for this?” Peter asked. “For all those hired guns? To pay Eirlys?”
Barton stroked the hilt. “Some save for retirement. Others save for a rainy day. I’ve been saving for this moment for decades, ever since I remembered the stories my grandmother told me about this sword. Druids are steeped in oral tradition, as you well know.”
Peter gave me a pointed look. “We are very oral.”
“I learned about Eirlys and her crows from one of my clients,” Barton continued, “so I knew what they were capable of. I used emissaries wherever possible. It was best to cover my tracks when dealing with the level of paranormals necessary for this endeavor. Some were more dangerous than others.”
“Hang on a hot minute,” Peter said, his temper flaring. “That means you tried to kill us in Vegas. That maniac of a banshee worked for you.” Peter jammed a finger in the older druid’s direction.
“I didn’t hire her to kill you,” Barton said. “Only to scare you off. I wanted you to believe that she would kill you and it seems to have worked.”
“Except it didn’t stop us from pursuing the sword,” I said.
“Epic fail, bro,” Peter agreed.
“I don’t understand,” I said. “How did you manage to get both halves? Luke wasn’t able to find the bottom half in Halse.”
The druid laughed. “That’s because I sent two parties in search of it. They didn’t know about one another. Whichever one succeeded first, received the full bounty.”
“You didn’t tell Luke not to bother?” I asked. That was quite a trip to force him to make if it was unnecessary.
“It was a good diversion for you,” Barton said. “Besides, the satyr received payment for his trouble. It just wasn’t as much as I paid the other party.” He kissed the hilt of the sword. “There were a lot of moving parts to this plan, Danielle. Don’t hurt that pretty head of yours trying to keep track of them all.”
I clenched my wand, ready to jam the end of it into his sexist eyeball. Peter sensed my anger and placed a hand on my arm to calm me. He was right—angry magic was wasted magic.
“I can’t believe this was all you, Barton,” Peter said. “You have a perfectly nice, satisfying life. Why would you want to screw it up with that?” Peter pointed at the sword. “It didn’t work out so well for the last guy, did it?”
“That warrior was revered during his lifetime,” Barton said. “He had riches and women.”
Peter balked. “That’s what this is about? Hookers and blow? I thought you were into my mom. She’s your missing puzzle piece. Isn’t that what you’ve always said?”
“You don’t understand what it’s like,” the older druid told Peter. “You’re so much more than a typical druid. You have real power, like your father. Your mother was drawn to that, I know she was.”
Peter gaped at him. “And you thought if you were a badass killer, that my mom might finally see you as a romantic partner? Newsflash: she didn’t fall in love with my dad because of his bad boy image.”
“Didn’t she?” Barton asked. “You and your father possess power that most paranormals can’t begin to comprehend. That’s what I want.”
“But just because you want something doesn’t mean you get it,” Peter replied. “That’s not how the world works.”
“That’s how I made it work,” he practically spat. “I have every intention of using that sword to carve out a path of glory. Generations from now will talk about Barton, the Glorious, and his Doomsday Sword.” He hefted the sword over his head to punctuate his bold statement.
Peter’s brow wrinkled. “You’re calling it the Doomsday Sword?”
Barton looked slightly aggrieved. “What’s wrong with that? It’s a good name. Appropriately threatening.”
Peter raked a hand through his hair. “I don’t know, bro. Doomsday Sword sounds kind of lame. Like more to do with climate change or an apocalypse than murdering others with the touch of a blade.”
“What’s climate change?” Barton asked.
“This is what I mean,” Peter said, gesturing to me. “Paranormals should be required to spend time in Terrene as part of our culture. Barton, have you ever been to Terrene?”
The older drui
d snarled. “Why are you so concerned with nonsense when I have the power to destroy you with one tap of my blade?”
“It’s not nonsense,” Peter objected. “If you’d gone to Vegas and seen the Fountains at the Bellagio…” He sighed dramatically. “Who wants the power to destroy when there’s so much beauty still to create?”
Inwardly, I swooned. Peter was right. Not that I thought he’d convince Barton. He’d invested too many years in this plan to be rational now. He wanted power and now he had it. He wasn’t going to give it up without a fight.
“Give up the sword, Barton,” I said. “We’re not letting you leave this stone circle until you do.”
Barton threw back his head and laughed. “I’d like to see you try.”
I focused on the forge, calling to the flames. “Step back, giants,” I yelled. I didn’t want to burn them. Flames streaked from stone to stone, creating a fiery prison, similar to the individual ice prisons from my elemental magic lesson.
“We can end this now, Barton,” Peter said. “Nobody has to get hurt.”
My mind raced with all the spells I could do to prevent the sword from touching us. Protective bubbles. Immobilizing Barton.
Barton produced a decorative stick from his pocket and my heart dropped. “A gift from my harpy friend before her departure,” he said. “Go on and use that wand on me, Danielle. Expend all your energy.”
Peter shot me a quizzical look.
“It’s a spellbender,” I said, deflated. Okay, so my immobilizing spell was no longer viable. At least he couldn’t cut through the fire prison from where he stood. He’d have to move to the ring of stones. I wouldn’t give him the chance.
There was a reason we learned more than magic at Spellslingers and this moment was one of them. He’d never expect me to engage in a physical fight while he still held the sword—so that was exactly what I did.
I lunged at Barton, jamming both fists into his solar plexus before he had time to shift position. I heard the heavy sword land on the ground beside us with a thud. Barton doubled over, trying to catch his breath. I reached for the sword, but the older druid grabbed me first, hooking his arm around my neck. He pulled me up against him as I struggled to break free.
“Don’t move, boy, and I won’t have to murder your girlfriend right in front of you,” Barton said.
Peter didn’t flinch. “You’re not strong enough to kill her with your bare hands. She’ll kill you first.”
Barton inclined his head toward the sword on the ground. “I can grab that sword before anyone else.”
“Maybe so, but can you grab it faster than I can get my staff?” Peter reached behind his ear and produced a tiny stick that quickly widened and elongated into his Death Bringer staff. “I didn’t want to resort to this, but you’ve left me no choice. Your little spellbender stick has no effect on my staff.”
Barton grunted his approval. “You’re finally going to use the gifts your daddy gave you? Incredible. You should’ve gotten yourself a girlfriend sooner.”
Peter gripped the staff with both hands. “Let her go, Barton. Don’t make me use this. You know it’s not a power I take lightly.”
He tightened his grip on my neck and I found it harder to breathe. “You’ve miscalculated. It’ll be pretty easy for me to pick up the sword before you touch me with that staff, boy. Not to mention you run the risk of accidentally touching the wrong body.” He jiggled me around. “Would be a shame if I kill her. Even worse if you do.” He clucked his tongue. “Imagine the guilt you’d have to live with.”
“This is how you intend to win over my mother?” Peter asked. “By acting like a complete tool?”
I felt Barton’s breath hot on my neck. I had to get out of his grip before he reached that sword.
“You’ve forced my hand, Peter,” Barton said. “You had no stake in this. Why get involved? Because of a pretty witch? Trust me, boy, they’re never worth it.”
“Gee, I can’t imagine why his mother was never into you,” I choked out.
Barton responded by jabbing me in the side with the spellbender stick. Pain seared through me. I grimaced but refused to give him the satisfaction of crying out. If I could focus, I’d be able to use more fire magic—anything to force him to loosen his grip. Unfortunately, his tight hold was depriving me of too much oxygen. I worried about losing consciousness.
“You’re a healer, Barton,” Peter reminded him. “This isn’t who you are.”
“You’re a healer, too,” Barton said. “You also have the power of life and death, like a god. And now, so do I.” With one arm still wrapped around my neck, he bent to the side and reached for the sword.
I made my move.
Once his face was low enough, I cracked my elbow into his nose and twisted out of his grip. The spellbender stick dropped to the ground. We both went for the sword and latched onto the hilt at the same time, careful to keep the blade pointed away from us.
“Let go,” Barton demanded. He ignored the blood dripping from his nose. “Let go now and I swear I won’t harm you with it.”
I tightened my hold. “I can’t let you have it, Barton.” We tugged back and forth until I finally felt clear-headed enough to summon my magic. Energy crackled inside me and my hand began to warm until the hilt glowed with a blue light.
Barton screamed and released the sword, staring at his hand with an anguished expression. “What did you do?” he spat.
I ran to stand beside Peter, still wielding the sword. I managed to cool the hilt before I accidentally melted it.
“It’s over, Barton,” Peter said. “It’ll make this whole thing easier if you come peacefully.”
“You can take care of him, right?” I asked.
Peter peered at me. “Why? What are you going to do?”
“I’m going to consecrate this sword,” I said. “Make it mine, so that no one else can wield it.”
Peter’s mouth opened and closed.
“Ha! She’s as hungry for power as I am,” Barton sneered, still clutching his red and blistered hand. “I can see the attraction, Peter.”
Peter ignored him. “Why would you do that, princess? Just destroy it. Use your fire magic and melt that sucker, so it can never be used again.”
I examined the sword. “It can be mine. A powerful weapon like this….”
“What? You want to be twinsies?” Peter asked, shaking his staff. “We can go on dates with our matching death sticks? Do not consecrate that weapon, Dani.” His tone was firm, bordering on angry.
I straightened. “Are you telling me what to do?”
Peter motioned to Barton. “Can you freeze him with a spell now, so that I can talk to you?”
Barton was too slow to retrieve the spellbender stick. I used my wand to conjure an immobilization spell, similar to the one I’d used on the crow.
Peter placed his hands on my shoulders. “Dani, listen to me. Consecrating that sword is a mistake you do not want to make,” he said. “You’re worried about that slippery slope of magic and following in your grandmother’s footsteps? I can tell you right now that keeping that sword as your own is a major slide down that hill.”
“So you can have power over life and death, but I can’t?” I asked.
“I don’t want that power, Dani,” he said. “This would be a choice. I know who you are. Show me that you know, too.”
I stood perfectly still, my fingers wrapped around the hilt. Peter was right. The only thing to do was destroy the sword, so that no one could ever reforge it again. I exhaled deeply.
“You might want to give me a little space,” I said. “I wouldn’t want to burn you by accident.”
Peter moved several paces backward until he was next to a frozen Barton. I summoned the heat to my hands and gripped the crossguard. My magic spread from my hands to the blade until it was bathed in blue flame. Slowly, it melted until the entire weapon was nothing more than a puddle of liquid metal on the ground in front of me. I stepped over the puddle and showed Peter my
empty hands.
“Satisfied?” I asked.
He kissed each hand. “Very.”
“I need to conjure something to get Barton out of here,” I said.
“Save your magic,” a voice said. As I looked up, Muninn released a net from his beak and dropped it on the ground between us.
“I thought you were all done with us,” I said.
Muninn flew down and perched on Barton’s frozen shoulder. “I saw Hef return safely home and decided that if you could do the right thing, so could I.”
“Thanks,” I said. “Do me a favor, though. No more spying on me, okay? It’s creepy.”
The crow cawed. “My watch has ended.”
“Do you think your frost giant friends will help us to the border?” I asked. I splayed my hands and extinguished the fire prison that encircled us.
“I believe that can be arranged,” the crow said.
I smiled at Peter. “Come on, hot stuff. It’s time to go home.”
“Hot stuff?” he asked with a grin. “That should be your new nickname, although I’ll always be partial to princess.”
The crow flapped its wings in front of us. “Take care and heed my advice, unless you hope to end up in an ice castle of your own.”
“Ha!” Peter said. “She’s already got one of those. It’s called her heart.”
I glared at him menacingly. “Excuse me?”
His expression melted into one of pure innocence. “What? I’m totally kidding.” He looked at the crow and shook his head, mouthing the words “totally not kidding.”
I warmed all over and it wasn’t from my magic. As ridiculous as Peter could be, there was something irresistible about him. I couldn’t tell him that, of course, or I’d never hear the end of it.
“Goodbye, friend,” I said to the crow.
“Safe travels.” He gave a final caw before flying away.
Chapter Nineteen
I sprawled across my bed after gorging on dinner in the cafeteria. As much as I enjoyed charging around the world on an adventure, it was nice to be back in my own space with my friends.
Mia flopped on her bed. “I can’t believe that druid was so twisted that he thought a deadly sword would make Peter’s mom love him.”
Outfox: Spellslingers Academy of Magic (Sentry of the South Book 2) Page 18
