“It would appear that my allies have arrived, brother. Now, I can concentrate on you,” Isaiah states with a sad smile.
“Their actions are of little interest to me,” Kalam claims.
“You could never admit when you were worried,” Isaiah sighs disappointedly.
“They can destroy as many of my minions as they want,” the vampire says with a sneer. “I can always make more.”
A spiral of ice erupts from Isaiah’s palm and violently collides with a shield of fire that appears around Kalam. The necrocaster is pushed back a few feet by the impact before he swerves to the side. Two trees are covered in ice as Kalam fires back with a bubbling ball of black energy. Isaiah stands his ground while he casts a solid ball of light at Kalam’s spell. Again the opposing energies explode in the air above the undead swarm and the brothers are left gasping for air. A drop of blood falls from Kalam’s brow while Isaiah pats his cheeks with the sleeve of his robe.
“I thought you had gone soft after all these years,” Isaiah coughs.
“Don’t mistake my isolation for hiding. I was practicing and perfecting my skills for this day,” Kalam announces hungrily.
“I wish you would simply forget about me,” Isaiah admits.
“How could I forget the one who betrayed me?” Kalam screeches in rage. He opens his mouth and spits a glistening beam of violet energy at his brother.
“Give it up, brother,” Isaiah snaps. He deflects the spell into the air with a shield of wind. The sky above the battlefield turns a putrid purple and the clouds begin to melt away.
Kalam stares at his brother, his eyes widening from rage. “You were the one who sent me to that vampire!”
“What are you talking about?” Isaiah asks, refusing to let Kalam’s fury intimidate him.
“One hundred and thirty nine years ago,” Kalam growls, his fangs growing with hunger. “I followed the map, which you left for me to find. It led me into the waiting fangs of a vampire and forced me to live in the shadows for eternity. It took me years to master my new powers and learn how to use my magic again. You can never imagine the pain and frustration that you caused me.”
“You’re a fool. That map was left on my desk for me to use,” Isaiah argues, trying not to laugh. “I was going to hunt down and destroy the vampire. You invaded my private study out of jealousy and greed. The only person who you can blame for your downfall is yourself.”
“The only thing I am guilty of is staying in your shadow for too long!” exclaims the white-scaled necrocaster.
“An angry caster is a careless one,” Isaiah mockingly whispers.
Kalam chuckles with an evil sneer. “That was the first and only lesson that our father ever taught us. Is this why you refuse to show me any emotions?”
“I release the proper amount of emotion depending on the situation. It is an easier life than one of rage masked by false civility,” Isaiah states with a toothy grin. “By the way, I think you’re water ghasts are done.”
Kalam looks at the battle below him to see that over half of his undead army has been torn to shreds, burned beyond use, or pierced in the head with an arrow. The only dead water ghast that he can see is the one that is fastened to a tree by an arrow. He is confused about Isaiah’s taunt until he notices Nyx with her hand in the river. A thick steam is rising from the bubbling surface of the water, which has lowered several inches below the initial riverbank. There are a few dark forms in the water and it takes the necrocaster a few seconds to recognize the bloated, disfigured water ghasts. All of them have been instantly boiled before they could escape the river.
“I’m impressed,” Kalam admits in shock. He raises a rigid claw toward Nyx, but quickly lets his arm drop to his side.
“Are you scared of her?” Isaiah curiously inquires.
A sickening grin crosses the vampire’s face. “I’m simply not in the mood to face two casters at once.”
“For an angry, murderous brother, you sure are talkative,” Isaiah mentions, a worm of worry slipping into his heart.
“We are still brothers,” Kalam admits with a shrug. “My hate for you is rivaled only by my love at seeing your face again.”
Isaiah snorts and releases a puff of smoke from his nostrils. “You never did make any sense, brother.”
An extra pair of arms burst out of Kalam’s chest and all four limbs begin a bombardment of fireballs. The incoming spells curve slightly through the air as they whistle towards Isaiah. The first of the fireballs singes the side of Isaiah’s head before he can freeze the remaining spells with a wave of icy wind. The freezing spell has barely dissipated into the air before the extra limbs of Kalam erupt from below. Isaiah is hit in the jaw by the disembodied right arm, which sends the caster reeling back in the air. He is about to cast a spell at the flying arm when the left arm strikes him in the back. Isaiah struggles to track the arms, but they move so fast that they continuously vanish into the mass of bodies littering the battlefield below him. A moment after Isaiah loses track of the arms, he feels a tight grip on his tail. Before he can get free, he is slammed against the ground.
“Having some trouble?” Kalam cackles gleefully.
“I’m simply rusty,” Isaiah groans, struggling to his feet. He can feel a push of air hit his face before he ducks away from the flying arms.
Kalam yawns and pats his mouth. “Excuses are not your style, brother.”
Isaiah shakes the entire clearing when he roars and digs his feet into the corpse-covered ground. The flying arms streak toward the old caster and collide with a loud slam that sounds like a charging bull hitting an iron wall. Kalam stops grinning when he sees Isaiah has caught the arms by the wrists. Isaiah leaves deep gouges in the ground while the arms push him back. With another roar, Isaiah shatters their wrists and tosses the useless limbs to the ground.
“Is that your best?” Isaiah snarls, turning back to Kalam.
“No,” the vampire replies, “but I believe my distractions have worked.”
A cold hand of terror grips Isaiah’s heart when he realizes that he has been tricked. “Distractions?”
“Did you really think that I wanted to talk so much with you?” Kalam asks, his voice dripping with hatred. “I needed the time to finish casting my spell. I made it special for you.”
“You were always the dramatic one,” Isaiah mutters under his breath.
The forest behind Kalam explodes into a shower of splinters when an orb of magical energy rises from the ground. A few distorted images of Isaiah can be seen in the putrid surface of the black orb. With an evil grin, Kalam stretches his arms behind him until they are inches away from the immense spell. He moves the throbbing orb above his head and puts more of his energy into it. Everyone in the clearing and in the nearby town can feel their blood freeze as they watch the orb abruptly grow to the size of a two-story house.
Isaiah gathers his energy while he analyzes the amazing spell before him. He hates to admit that he is impressed with his brother’s spell. He marvels at the highly charged spell that he could not sense by an enemy until it was completed. Isaiah guesses that all of Kalam’s previous spells were distractions while his tail made the subtle motions for the big spell. The strain of preparing such a large spell, while hurling minor spells, must have been so intense that a vampire could survive the casting. The more Isaiah thinks about the spell, the more he realizes that he only knows one spell that can stop it. A spell so powerful that he is not even sure he can survive casting it with such little preparation.
Kalam announces, “Now, to destroy that which has threatened me.”
Isaiah launches himself into the air and immediately summons an orb of blinding, white magic that barely matches the size of Kalam’s orb of darkness. Both of the casters are in the midst of hurling their spells when a metallic object hits Kalam in the shoulder. The vampire stares at the thin hilt of a stiletto sticking out of his shoulder while his spell speeds from his palms. At the same time, Isaiah hurls his counter spell toward the dark
orb. Both casters watch in shock when the images in the black orb change from those of Isaiah casting his spells to Luke hurling his stiletto at Kalam. The seconds feel like hours as the opposing spells swerve away from Isaiah and toward the battlefield below.
Isaiah collapses to the ground where he gets a clear view of the confused and worried Luke. The forest tracker is petrified as the spells race toward him. The fireskin’s heart sinks even more when he sees Nyx rush toward Luke in an attempt to tackle him to safety. Instead, Luke catches Nyx by the shoulders and hurls her away from him where Isaiah is unable to see if she is safe or still in the range of the black orb. The last thing that Isaiah sees before passing out is Luke being enveloped in a towering pillar of swirling light and shadow.
9
The Lich and Trinity wait patiently on the magically hidden balcony of Kalam’s lair. Trinity yawns and rubs at her bare shoulders while she watches the sun move across the cloudless sky. The sheer, black gown that she is wearing whips around in the dry and sour-smelling wind. She can hear the Lich give a small yank to the dirt-covered rope in his hand. The other end of the rope is tied around the neck of a nervous, pale-skinned woman who silently stares at her bare, callused feet. Trinity turns away from the sun to look at the servant that they decided to bring with them. The woman’s tattered clothes and dirt-patched skin make her look old and diseased. With good clothes and a long bath, the tired servant would probably look no older than her late twenties. Trinity rubs her eyes and yawns again before giving no more thought to the tired woman.
“Any idea what happened to Kalam?” Trinity asks in a sleepy voice. “He sounded tired, but slightly excited when he sent us that message. At least, before the message suddenly died.”
“He probably wore himself out and had just enough energy to send us part of a message and cast a spell to get back to his lair,” the Lich drones callously. He gives another violent tug to the rope. The servant falls to her knees and coughs weakly before feebly pulling at the tight rope. “He won’t be back for at least an hour if all he could cast was a speed enhancer. I do find it strange that he wanted us up here so quickly and with a meal.”
Trinity shivers in the cool breeze. “Maybe he succeeded.”
“He could have killed Isaiah,” the Lich admits. “Although, I am reserving some doubts due to that pillar of magic that we saw a few minutes ago.”
“That could only be caused by opposing spells of great power impacting with each other. Only Isaiah could have enough power to cause that kind of reaction with Kalam’s magic,” Trinity says. She shivers again when another possibility crosses her mind. “Unless Nyx improved her magic since the last time I fought her.”
The Lich is about to say something when a steaming form crashes into the balcony. Trinity takes a sudden step back from the growling figure as it struggles to its foot. A bone-chilling roar escapes from the monster’s mouth before Trinity and the Lich recognize Kalam. The scaly necrocaster keeps his balance by gripping the balcony’s railing hard enough to crack the stone. Breathing heavily, he turns with a feral grin toward the others. He is about to leap at Trinity until the Lich pushes the terrified servant into Kalam’s path. A short, gurgling scream cuts through the evening air as the vampire clamps his reptilian jaws around the woman’s throat. Mad with pain and hunger, he gnaws on her throat instead of cleanly draining her. Trinity steps away from the grotesque scene after a sliver of flesh hits her nose.
“Disgusting. We better not have been asked up here simply to feed him,” Trinity hisses, igniting the sticky gore on her face. The flesh turns to ash and blows away in the wind.
“Calm down. He will compose himself soon enough,” the Lich promises.
“I am better,” Kalam announces, hunkering over the twitching remains of the woman. “I will need some sleep in my chair before I return to my old self. I used too much energy and was unable to control my hunger.”
“I assume this means that you defeated Isaiah,” the Lich says.
“My brother lives, but he is depleted. It will be a few days before he regains consciousness and even longer before he can cast again,” Kalam reports, taking another bite of the woman. “I thought I told you to bring me the gypsy girl. Is there a problem with her?”
“I decided that it would be better to bring you one of your older servants,” Trinity replies, her voice confident and firm. “I am sorry if you are unhappy, but the gypsy girl still has too much energy for her to be wasted as an emergency meal. She is much more valuable to you as a serving girl, a maid, and a small indulgence until she looses her fire like this one.”
“You are probably right, Queen Trinity. I thank you for your decision on my behalf,” Kalam says with blood dripping from his mouth.
“So . . . the attack was a failure,” the Lich mutters in disappointment.
“Not entirely. My brother is not dead, but I proved that we are equal. What is that light?” inquires Kalam who is staring into the distance.
Trinity and the Lich follow his gaze toward Haven. The sky above the town is still filled with the evening’s pinks and oranges, which partially mask the subtle plume of light. It is a brief and curved light that erupts from behind the distant trees. After disappearing, the plume of light reappears a few yards away from the previous eruption. As the sky begins to darken, Trinity finally recognizes the eruptions of fire licking at the treetops.
“That's fire magic,” the chaos elf answers, curiosity eating at her nerves. “Did you leave the remainder of your army in the path of Nyx? I admit that she isn’t much of a physical fighter, but her magic should never be underestimated.”
“My army was destroyed before I left,” Kalam responds matter-of-factly.
“Then, why is the girl casting her magic as if in battle?” the Lich asks.
“She is probably releasing her rage and sadness,” the exhausted vampire replies. He rises to his foot and hobbles back to the railing. “I was surprised by her power. My anti-magic shield barely saved me from her spell. It was some form of firestorm banishment that I had never seen before. I can only assume that she wanted me to go away and die, but she did not have any clear idea on how to do it. So, her magical instincts attempted to do both and sent me back here with severe injuries. I might want to capture her for study. A prodigy of her caliber must have some secrets in her blood.”
“You claim that your brother is still alive and that Nyx is both angry and sad. This does not make sense,” the Lich swears, his voice growing high with impatience. “I demand to know what happened on that battlefield.”
Kalam sneers wickedly at his old student. “I had my brother at death’s door thanks to my greatest spell being at its full potency. It would have sucked my brother’s soul out of his body and slowly scattered it across Windemere over the course of ten years. He managed to cast a counter spell, but it would have been too weak to stop the entirety of my spell. At best, his soul would have been obliterated the moment my spell touched him. Unfortunately, my spell was designed to attack whoever was the most recent threat to my body. This is why I only fought with my brother and made sure not to antagonize any of the others into attacking me. The plan was perfect.”
“Then, what happened?” the Lich interrupts.
“This . . . stupid . . . pointy-eared . . . brat through a stiletto at me!” Kalam angrily spits. He points at the dirty stiletto that is embedded in his shoulder.
Trinity gingerly interjects, “You mean a half-elf with twin sabers and a disregard for his own well-being?”
“I take it you know him,” the vampire growls.
“We know him very well. He is the youngest of the Callindor lineage,” the Lich mentions.
“You mean he was,” Kalam states with an evil grin.
“You . . . ki . . . killed Luke Callindor?” the Lich stutters in disbelief.
“That boy threw his stiletto at me a moment before I released my spell. Isaiah launched his spell as well and both spells hit the boy. I can only imagine the severe amount of pa
in he endured when his body coursed with opposing magics,” the vampire says, licking his fangs in wonder. “Unfortunately, that female caster banished me before I could see his body. That is if there was a body because that explosion could have disintegrated it. The only thing that I am certain of is that my soul shatter spell hit that foolish child. I can still feel his death scream rumbling in my aura.”
“He was killed by an accident,” mutters the stunned Lich.
“Now, are you going to help me with my next attack?” Kalam inquires, ignoring his former apprentice. “Even with your help, it will take several days to rebuild my army.”
“Your victory today is most appreciated and will be rewarded by our continued assistance,” Trinity assures him. “After all, Isaiah still lives and he remains in the area, so our deal has not reached completion. We will give you whatever reasonable help you request of us until your brother is dead or he has left Haven.” She leans closer to the vampire with her arms behind her back. “You understand that we do not have the resources to aid you in a world-wide hunt if your brother flees.”
Kalam smiles wide enough to reveal his glistening fangs. “I understand completely. Now, is that offer of a Sword Dragon still on the table?”
“I will notify our master when the time is right, so that the beast will meet us at the battlefield,” Trinity obediently declares. “It is far too risky to have such a large monster travel to our current location.”
“Good. I must retire for a day or two,” he states, turning to the Lich. “Please, send me some company tomorrow evening.”
“Of course, Kalam, but don’t kill whoever we send to you. You will need to conserve your resources before the next battle with your brother,” Trinity kindly warns him, blowing a small kiss at the vampire.
“Very true. Goodnight to both of you,” Kalam says. He makes a small gesture with his left hand and vanishes in a puff of black smoke. The Lich and Trinity turn to look at Haven where a final blast of fire lances into the smoky sky.
Legends of Windemere: 03 - Allure of the Gypsies Page 20
