Wilder Mage
Page 31
The dim path he followed slowly ascended, the way becoming rocky and less hospitable. Trees cast long, hoary shadows in the blush of the eastern sky. Sunrise was coming fast, and now Justus hurried, taking long, trotting strides. He burst into a rounded meadow of grass, long-stemmed and crackling.
The sunrise touched the tops of the hundred-year-old oaks, turning them to fire as he made his way to the middle of the bowl-shaped clearing. He stopped and grimly steeled himself.
Emotions coursed through him, careened into his mind—confusion, rage, betrayal...his emotions. It threatened to overwhelm him and nearly did every time he dropped his guard.
Spirit.
Except for brief periods when Justus had set the ward stone aside, it shielded him not only from the other wizards but also from Spirit. There was nothing between him and the element. Even now, it rumbled in a basso-throated roar, subdued, but eager to escape his control. And that leash he held on the volatile element was like a slender thread, easily broken if it gained even a mote of momentum.
Now the fight was on between him and the element of Spirit, the dark embodiment of magic that permeated everything and everyone.
He was strong enough to fight it.
He had to be, or no one was safe.
The End
Acknowledgments
Writing begins in a quiet place. It’s only later when the voices begin hollering for attention that you need help. My help arrived in many forms.
Penny Smith-Hickey, my niece and first reader. See what you started.
Charity Bradford and Marcy Hatch, My Pearls of Great Price. You honored me twice. Once when you critiqued Magic and second when you allowed me to read your books.
Angela Kelly, my editor, my friend. Truly, you are a miracle worker.
To my hubby and daughter, who put up with a glassy-eyed woman that talked constantly to herself, and did the Snoopy Dance when Musa Publishing asked her to join their team; sorry, but I’m still glassy-eyed and listening to the Voices. Thanks for your smiles and pats on the back. It means a lot.
To my Once and Future Readers, always and forever my gratitude.
About the Author
When my teacher started reading the Little House books to her second grade class, I was hooked. I wanted to be Laura Ingalls Wilder, have chickens, and milk a cow. I achieved that goal when I married my farmer-husband and started living the dream. But my imagination was always too big for the rural life. Sci-fi and fantasy—from Robert Heinlein to JRR Tolkien—intervened.
With a passion for dogs, good writing, and Doritos as companions, locating Middle-Earth on a dusty road in rural Missouri wasn’t difficult. All it took was a little Magic, hours of reading, and an overactive imagination.
As a dedicated acolyte of fantasy, I love all flavors. Urban, Epic, Contemporary, Dark, Paranormal, S&S, High. My writing passion is Urban/Contemporary but I dabble in Epic and I am always on the lookout for new writers.
With the help of Marcy Hatch and Charity Bradford, we three started the critique site, Unicorn Bell, where we give back to the community that made us what we are.
Yeah, paybacks are hell.
Table of Contents
Title
Copyright
Dedication
Chapter One
Chapter Two
Chapter Three
Chapter Four
Chapter Five
Chapter Six
Chapter Seven
Chapter Eight
Chapter Nine
Chapter Ten
Chapter Eleven
Chapter Twelve
Chapter Thirteen
Chapter Fourteen
Chapter Fifteen
Chapter Sixteen
Chapter Seventeen
Chapter Eighteen
Chapter Nineteen
Chapter Twenty
Chapter Twenty-One
Chapter Twenty-Two
Chapter Twenty-Three
Chapter Twenty-Four
Chapter Twenty-Five
Chapter Twenty-Six
Chapter Twenty-Seven
Chapter Twenty-Eight
Chapter Twenty-Nine
Chapter Thirty
Acknowledgments
About the Author