More than a Wizard

by M. Lee Madder

  The first full turning revealed no one. The blood stream had thinned. By the end of the second winding it had faded to drops, and she heard talking, an urging.

  After the third wind of steps she came into another room, a quarter of the size of the room above, with closed doors leading to more rooms. The next flight down began across the room, and on the top step a man sat, holding someone in his arms.

  “A little further,” he urged. “Just a little further, my little one. I’ll kill Snossi as well, and you’ll have your revenge, but we must go further.”

  Corrie leaned against the cold stone. The dampening spell urged her weary body to rest. She ignored it.

  The man sensed her. He looked around.

  “You would be Arne, I suppose?”

  Gently he lowered Katya to the cold stone. He turned toward Corrie as he stood. When he tossed his head back, she remembered him.

  Silver had lightened his golden hair and flowing beard. He’d braided his beard into three plaits, an affectation she didn’t remember, but she did recall the braids in his long hair. And the double loop piercing one earlobe. She knew his face and his eyes, the latter so like her father’s. Seeing him was like seeing her father aged. She hadn’t realized how close their basic bone structure was: same cheekbones and jawline, same nose and chin, same eye slant, same long neck and squared bony shoulders. As a child, she’d only noticed that her father was dark while his brother was light. Yet her father had had a lightness to his spirit while pale Arne was dark, all dark.

  “Little Corrissidy. My niece.”

  She winced at his use of her birth name, for he had the upperhand now. “You remember me, Uncle Arne.”

  “I have reason to. I knew Enstigorr would find you again. When he brought you here the first time, I was careful to give you no reason to see me.”

  “Because I would then know you lured my father to his death.”

  “You are sharp as a steel blade. I did not want to cut myself on you. Better for Enstigorr to cut himself. As he did. You killed him.” He glanced down. “And he killed my Katya.”

  “Aye, Tigorr-Ensroon is dead.” His gaze flashed up at her use of the Prime’s birth name. “I saw what you did to Raicha.”

  “She deserved such a death.”

  “But you let Snossi run.”

  He shrugged. “I was busy with Katya. Her death needed a thousand cuts. Raicha was surprised when I attacked her, even more surprised when her spells were useless.”

  “You used her own blood against her. Enstigorr’s trick.”

  “He is—was the master of all spells. I am certain you learned from him as well. Or are you too righteous to claim that training?”

  “I did learn from him. I hated what I learned, but I used it to kill him. I will use it against you.”

  “Will you? He was weakened by Raicha’s and Omonte’s deaths. I am not weakened. I am the first of the Hand. I could have been Prime myself.”

  She scanned him as he talked and knew he spoke truly. His power ran as deeply as Enstigorr’s. And she was sapped from that battle.

  “I could have been Prime,” he repeated. Then his gaze switched to her. “He tricked me, Enstigorr did, years and years ago, and I never could be free of him. I’m free of him now. I knew the very moment he died. A huge weight lifted away. All my power surged back into me, and I made the knives cutting Raicha cut ever more deeply.” He glanced back at the young wizard. “It means nothing without Katya. I might have thanked you for freeing me. I’ll never have to do his evil again. But it no longer matters, not without her.”

  But Corrie had backed up. “His evil? You have evil enough bloodying your own hands. You have a taint running so deeply that you cannot cleanse it. You caused your own brother’s death.”

  “A grievous sin. Did Enstigorr tell you?”

  “He had no chance. Yet I knew, as soon as I saw you.”

  “While I have known for months that my brother’s daughter became a wizard. I did not expect to see Teigellin staring from your eyes. He walked as sharp a blade as you do.”

  “How did my father die, dear Uncle Arne?”

  “Enstigorr. All Enstigorr. Tei wouldn’t bend, and so he broke him and then killed him.”

  “You are not wholly innocent. You lured him into Enstigorr’s trap. Did you tell him my father’s true name?” He flinched at the thrust, and Corrie ground her teeth. “You wholly betrayed your birth brother, to your own benefit, and you have continued that betrayal for all these years.”

  He gave her no warning. He lifted a hand and shot power at her. Unlike Snossi, he didn’t have to gather it. It appeared, and lightning-bright foxfire streamed toward her.

  Corrie threw up a shield and diverted the power. It hit the walls hard. The spell defused in two directions, and the tower shook, the stones thundering as the spell ran through them. She snatched torch flame, as she had against Enstigorr, shaped it into a spear, then threw the concentrated power.

  Arne blocked it. “Enstigorr’s prize pet is more clever than I realized. But your training will fail you. Freithe owed loyalty to me. She taught you nothing useful for battle.”

  He shaped another spell so rapidly his hands were a blur. She hurriedly yanked power from the stones, then his spell hit her. She stumbled into the wall. The world darkened then blinked back, hazily. Arne grew taller. Then she realized she was sagging down the wall.

  He threw another spell. Air sucked away. She couldn’t breathe.

  “Poor little Corrissidy.”

  She heard a loud clang, but things were going hazy as she fought for air.

  Light flashed. She heard yells. Her eyelids sagged down.

  Then she was grabbed and jerked forward. Her ears popped.

  And she could breathe. She sucked in great gulps of air.

  “Corrie, breathe. That’s right. That’s good. Gods.”

  A high-pitched whine warned that spells crossed. Another clang that hurt her ears. Someone was cursing, a steady stream of Vale words mixed with Norther.

  “That would be Brom.”

  “Sverr.” She whispered his name as she realized who held her.

  “Come back to us, Lyse Oyne. Come on, we need you. Brom and Mannemous can’t hold him much longer.”

  Him? Him. Arne. Her own uncle. “Help me stand, Sverr.”

  “You’re still shaky,” but he lifted her, steadied her, gave her his body to lean against. “Enstigorr.”

  “Dead. I don’t have a lot left, Sverr.”

  “Can you push? If I throw something, can you push it harder, faster? Keep him from seeing it until it’s on him?”

  “Aye,” she said shakily. She risked a glance at the three battling.

  Arne threw a spell even as he deflected an attacking spell. Brom, dark to Sverr’s light, wielded golden power, deeper than Mannemous’. Yet they were no match for her uncle. Even a swift glance revealed that.

  Sverr drew the Elvish blades. “The second one, fast behind the first.”

  “Wait. A second.” She felt sluggish, and the workings of the spell he’d asked for didn’t want to fall into the pattern she needed. She flicked the forms of the spell around, worked them over, tugged at them—and the spell’s pattern settled into place. The second blade vanished in his hand.

  He grinned. “Lyse Oyne, you have my heart.” And he threw the still visible blade.

  Arne batted it away with ease. He didn’t expect and didn’t see the second knife until it winked in bare seconds behind the first. The blade thrust into his upper chest, heart-true, and Corrie’s added impetus drove it to the hilt.

  Arne faltered. His shield ebbed away. He stared at the knife. He tried to dislodge it—but Corrie kept force on it, shoving it into his chest, into his heart.

  He fell to his knees.

  He didn’t look at them. His gaze swung to Katya. He tried to crawl to her, but his legs slipped from beneath him. He sprawled, still reaching for her. He died reaching for her.

  And the room felt empty an
d cavernous.

  . ~ . ~ . ~ .

  Sverr retrieved his knives, wiping the blood on Arne’s clothes. Mannemous closed the wizard’s eyes.

  Brom stopped beside Corrie. “They turned on each other with Enstigorr’s death.” She didn’t correct him. “You’ll be Sverr’s Corrie.”

  “You’ll be his Brom.” The strong pale face smiled although his eyes remained shadowed. She remembered her hollowed spirit when first she’d escaped the cells. Tilting her head, she examined Brom. Dark hair to Sverr’s pale, dark eyes to Sverr’s ice. Like her father and Arne. “You and Sverr are birth brothers.”

  “Brothers, not twins. He’s the ancient one.”

  Sverr slipped an arm around Corrie’s waist. “By one year.” He touched her chin, tilting her face up. “Are you hurt, Lyse Oyne?”

  “Are you ever going to tell me what that means?”

  Brom laughed. “You should answer the woman.”

  “It means ‘Bright Eyes’. Your eyes fire up when you use power and when you—well.” He dipped his head and whispered in her ear. “First chance, Lyse Oyne, it’s a wild ride we’ll be having.”

  His brother laughed. “I see the reason you call her that.”

  She blinked rapidly.

  Mannemous came back to them. “Reunion over. We’ve got people in the cells below us, and a lord who’s lost powerful wizards he’ll want to replace. I’d rather not give him the chance to contract with wizards and witches while Enstigorr’s taint is still on them. Who’s with me?”

  “I’ll go,” Brom said. “It will give me great pleasure to unlock those cages. And I owe some of them.”

  When Corrie shuddered, Sverr tightened his hold on her. “We’ll see to things up here.”

  “What things?” she retorted. “They’re all dead. We’ll go, too. I may know some tucked-away cells they might miss.”

  The sky drifted snow when they emerged, following the last straggling prisoner out of the tower. The people picked their way through the rubble fallen from the tower’s upper story.

  “A job for your drogger,” Mannemous peered at the tower’s uneven roofline, “bringing it down.”

  “My drogger and his family,” she retorted. “But Stone-Destroyer is long gone.”

  Movement came near them instead of clambering away from them. Sverr and Brom turned to face the threat. Then Brom fell back. “I forgot. My sword lies broken, somewhere in Ornestreigon.”

  “A word,” a man said out of the snowy dark.

  “It’s that captain,” the bane witch identified for them.

  The man came forward. “It is indeed.” He looked at the destruction scattered around them and then up at the tower’s broken upper story. Then he gestured behind him, at the collapsed outer wall and gateway. “All this your doing, wizard?”

  Corrie glanced up. The destroyed walls left a jagged hole. She looked back at the captain. “Not mine.”

  “You may not have caused it, wizard, but you had a hand in causing all this.”

  “A finger, maybe, no more. Do not credit me with more than I did.”

  “We saw the lightning during your battle with the Prime.”

  “Lightning?” Perhaps to those watching below, her spell had looked like lightning. She remembered Enstigorr’s spell that had blown out the walls and shivered. Sverr’s arm tightened briefly, reminding her that she was no longer alone, no longer facing that danger. She had survived. Corrie allowed a frown at this captain. “Your Prime and his hand are dead. These men killed Omonte, and the Hand turned on each other.”

  “And you killed the Prime?”

  “Do you accuse us as a matter of law? He and his were evil. You should know the number of bodies that left this tower, drained of life and blood.” She gestured toward the upper floors of the tower. “Look at what they did to each other. And the misery we just released from the cells. Do not inhabit this tower, captain. Evil haunts it.”

  “Best to tear it down,” Brom added, “before more victims return to its cells.”

  The captain shrugged. “I took no orders from wizards, only my lord. The Prime served two lords before my current one. And now Lord Hardraste has lost his wizard allies. He’ll be looking for replacements.”

  Mannemous snorted. “Tell him to be more selective next time.”

  The captain stepped closer. He ignored Sverr’s protective shielding of her. He seemed to have eyes only for Corrie. “You can be Hardraste’s next wizard.”

  “I think not, captain,” Sverr said. “She’s bound for other places.”

  He ignored Sverr. “I am not overstepping my office to offer you riches. You saw what the Prime and the Hand had. Rich jewels, more than comfortable living quarters, anything that coin could provide them. Hardraste will double any amount I offer you. You need not fear that he will be ungenerous.”

  She pushed a hand out. If it had had power behind it, the captain would have staggered back. “That life is not for me, captain. Do not ask again. And do not ask these poor people around us. Even when they regain their powers, if they regain the powers Enstigorr sucked from them, they will be no match for me. I will destroy any who try to take Enstigorr’s place. Tell your lord Hardraste that. I will bring my drogger and more wizards than these with me against whoever sets himself up as Enstigorr did. Know this. Tell your lord. Spread the word. I am the Bane Wizard. None can withstand me.”

  He glanced up again then around him at the rubble. “I believe you. After this night’s work, many will believe you.” He offered a courtly bow and retreated.

  A figure stood off to the side, unnoticed until the captain left. Then he limped forward. Again Sverr acted to protect her, but Corrie stayed him with a touch to his arm. “Pynim.”

  “Corrie. Bane wizard.”

  She grimaced. “Do not call me that. We shared a cell together.”

  “You are the bane wizard. Who else could have defeated the Prime and his Hand?”

  “These men helped, no small task, Pynim, and Arne killed Raicha. I had little to do.”

  Mannemous cleared his throat. “You killed the Prime and the First in his Hand. That is not ‘little’, Corrie. Acknowledge what you did.”

  “I couldn’t have done any of it without your help. Omonte’s death gave me the first edge I needed.” She looked back at the youth. “I wish you had not been re-taken.”

  “So do I. Dreilldah’s dead.”

  “Katya told me. And she is dead, killed by Raicha and Snossi. Her murder is the reason Arne killed Raicha.”

  “Her family will grieve.”

  “Her family will have no new grief, for they have mourned since the day they lost her to Enstigorr.” Corrie stated the truth, and the youth nodded. Silence came between them, heavy, not drifting like the snow. “Where will you go, Pynim?”

  “Home. We—,” he looked at the huddles of wizards and witches. “Many of us will start out in the morning. Others must stay a while to heal.”

  “They will not stay long,” Mannemous said, “not while I can call up a whisper of power.” He headed for the closest huddle. After a hesitation, Brom followed.

  Pynim watched them go then looked back. “The Norther is a good ally. He had some tricks Omonte didn’t expect. Omonte certainly didn’t expect these two, this man and the bane witch, to come in using hidden daggers and other cantrips rather than obvious power.”

  “Expect the unexpected, my old swordmaster taught us. They didn’t even look for small weapons, just dumped us into Brom’s cell and left. I didn’t see you.”

  “I was on a lower level. They moved me down yesterday, no, the day before yesterday.”

  Moving to a lower level put him into Raicha and Snossi’s control. Corrie shivered and rubbed her chilled arms. “Then I am glad we freed you tonight.”

  “Did you see Katya—speak to her before she died?”

  “Pynim, she was—she worked with Arne. They must have been lovers, the way he grieved over her. She led the troop that brought me back here.”

/>   “She led a troop? Riding free? I thought she was in the cells, like me.”

  Corrie didn’t want to deepen his disillusion. For whatever reason, he’d given Katya a pedestal in his mind. She would not further crash that image. She merely repeated, “She led the troop that brought me back here.”

  He nodded and turned away . . . then turned back. “You did a great deed this night, Corrie, Bane Wizard. I know you had help. I know you too well to think you will ever openly acknowledge what you did. But—you did a great deed, and I thank you. They all would thank you if they understood.”

  Corrie didn’t know what to say. She leaned against Sverr and watched Pynim return to the others.

  Brom picked his way through the rubble, back toward them. “Mannemous deems me more hindrance than help,” he announced. “I recognize your horse in that corral over there. I’d rather not linger here for days. What say you that we mount up and ride out of here?”

  “That suits me, brother.”

  They grinned at each other, then Sverr scooped her forward. “Come on, Lyse Oyne. We’re heading north.”

  “I thought you were in the vale looking for a talisman.”

  He dropped a kiss on her opened mouth. “I found her.”

  . ~ . ~ . ~ .

  Also by M. Lee Madder ~

  Warring Passions, published January 2016.

  Glynis Bardaric hates the Normans who conquered her England. Because of them, she lost her father and her home. She has tried to stand between her Saxon people and her brutish uncle Tauville, who was gifted with her home by William the Conqueror. Her strong-willed stance has kept her at odds with her uncle for four years.

  Determined to rid himself of his niece Glynis, Tauville takes her along with his family to a nearby wedding celebration, hoping to find a Norman baron who would marry her. He bargains with her: she will accept the first offer of marriage she receives; if she refuses that offer, he will give her to his loutish knight du Crecy. If she manages not to receive an offer of marriage, he will pay the dowry necessary for her to enter a convent. Glynis agrees, never expecting to meet the one man who will make her forget her vow of hatred against all Normans.