Spellbound

by Kodilynn Calhoun

  “Stand down,” Romas commanded to the guards, who had stiffened and raised their hands in a warning. Romas’s voice hinted at a cruel smile. “I’m here to deliver the slave to our Sovereign. I’m sure he’d be pretty pissed off if you hurt the boy before he got a chance to.”

  The guards shot Kascien a look, but unlike their earlier annoyance, when he was just a bound slave, their eyes were filled with shock and an ounce of fear. They could no doubt feel his energy. He kept it close to his body, thrumming just beneath the skin. He tried to jerk out of Romas’s grip, but the man only shook his head and waved the guards off.

  “Our lord is not to be bothered while he deals with the slave. You know how much he’s been looking forwards to this moment. You are not to go through the door, no matter what you hear. And believe me; you’ll hear things you’d wished you hadn’t.” Romas smirked, then shoved Kascien towards the door. “Go, rat.”

  And then, as the guards shuffled off down the hall, Romas did something unexpected: He winked at him. Kascien felt another leap of hope. His hand rested on the doorknob for a moment as he steeled himself. He turned. “Romas, I need to ask you a favor.”

  “What?”

  “Go to Esperidion. I have friends there, trying to rescue our dragons. I just…I want Wylde to be safe. So that if something happens, the Sovereign can’t use her against me. Please.” His breath hitched in his throat. “Just get them out safely.”

  Romas stared at him for a minute before he nodded sharply, ending their conversation.

  Kascien had to win. All he had was Irianthe and the power coursing through his veins, willing and ready to be released. That would have to be enough.

  With one deep breath, Kascien shoved the door open and walked into the cold atmosphere of his ex-master’s suite. The Sovereign sat in his chair, a glass of blood-red burgundy in one hand. He looked down his nose at the boy and a slow, sick smile appeared on his lips.

  “I’ve been waiting for you, Kascien.”

  ***

  “Come on.” Castor’s voice was eerily calm as he led the Wyverns through the winding halls of the Esperidion. There were hardly any Magi roaming the corridor, which was a plus, but it made Wylde nervous. What if they were gathered together, waiting for them wherever they were keeping the dragons? What if it was going to be a massive bloodbath that the Jiria had no hope of winning?

  Wylde’s boots clicked softly on the bright white of the tile as she followed at Yuri’s heels, her hand wrapped around the worn leather hilt of her blade. It wasn’t that she didn’t trust the Jirians… It was just that they had no reason to protect her if things went south. The only person she could rely on here was herself.

  We just have to make it through. Find the dragons and get the hell out of here. She brushed bangs out of her eyes as she hurried. And then they’d have to pray that Kascien could do the rest. Her stomach jolted. Goddess, she couldn’t bear the idea of losing him. She shook her head fiercely to dislodge the dark thoughts swarming through her mind.

  Kascien would be fine. He would beat the Sovereign.

  Wylde’s step faltered as they turned the corner, a gasp seeping between her lips, hissing into the air. The halls were lined with glass plates, but behind the glass was room upon room of…experiments. That’s all they really could be. The rooms were filled with huge, tubular glass chambers filled with blue liquid. Some of them were empty, wires and tubes hanging loose from the tops of the tanks.

  But the rest of them were filled with different stages of mutants. Some mere embryos, and some… Wylde shuddered and stared as a half-grown Wyvern mutant lifted its head, the gel making it sluggish. Its soulless eyes met hers and her stomach twisted violently. She felt a hand on her arm, heard a voice in her ear, but she could only gape at the monstrosity laid out before her.

  Why would the Magi even do this? This was her blood. Her kin, twisted and corrupt and destroyed, just for the sake of what? Magic and science? She placed a hand on the glass nearest the Wyvern’s chamber and the creature jerked, a snarl on its lips. Air bubbles floated through the liquid as it growled.

  This was so much worse than the drakehounds. At least they had souls and free will. These creatures were abominations, designed to kill. And if something happened and the Sovereign won, he wouldn’t hesitate to sic the next fleet of mutants on them.

  “Let’s go, princess.” Yuri’s voice snapped her out of it, the woman jerking on her arm hard enough to dislocate her shoulder.

  Wylde shot her a look and pulled out of reach. “I have to do something.”

  Yuri snarled a response, but Wylde didn’t hear it; she was already moving. She tried the handle of the glass door and a little red light blinked. Locked. Just as she’d thought. She spun on the group, who were hanging back, watching her with anxious expressions on their faces. All except for Mackie, who wore her typical scowl.

  “Wylde. We’re on a mission.” Castor met her gaze and held it. “Get the dragons. Get out. That’s what we’re here to do. Come on.” His voice was soothing.

  “I can’t,” she murmured, closing her hand into a fist so hard that it trembled. Deep blue scales rippled over her skin, shielding her hand in armor, and she swung back. The glass shattered in one punch, shards sprinkling the tile as a siren wailed and lights began to flash.

  “Goddamnit!” Mackie howled. “You’re a fucking idiot!”

  Wylde snapped her head up. “Either you’re with me or you’re not. Come on, guys. Help me. We have to sever the power to the tanks.” She burst through the hole in the glass, her armor keeping her from getting cut up. Magi swarmed in through the back of the room with shouts and the fizzle of magic

  From behind, Yuri let loose a cry, and the fight was on.

  All she could hear were the chaotic, bloody sounds of battle as she grabbed the first buzzing power cord and hacked it down the middle with her blade. Then two more. She barely dodged a power blast, feeling it sear past her skin with a touch of fire. She swung her sword and it arced through the air and then through the throat of a Mage woman.

  The woman gurgled as she died, but Wylde could only force her breathing in and out, then cut down the lines feeding power to the tanks. A shout rose up, above the clamor of steel and magic: “Wylde, move!”

  But there were still more. Her eyes met the thrashing form of a Wyvern suspended by wires and gel. She had to kill them. She had to put them out of their mutated misery. She knocked back two more Magi, jabbing outwards and puncturing their lungs with two fluid motions. Nausea roiled up her throat, but she swallowed it back. There wasn’t time for this!

  “Help me!”

  Then Bluff was there at her side, fighting off the bad guys, playing the hero as she severed the final cord. The power hummed as it shut down and went silent. The nearest mutant’s head jerked up, its eyes boring into hers as she stared down the mirror image of herself, only wilder. Feral. She placed her hand splay-fingered against the glass and the Wyvern beast swiped its claws at her, bubbles bursting in the gel as it struggled and slowly suffocated.

  “Let’s go!” Yuri clamped a hand around Wylde’s wrist, jerking her down the hall. Wylde stumbled and regained her balance and then she was sprinting after the rest of the clan, the sirens still piercing the air in empty, hollow shrieks.

  Their search for the dragons had turned into chaos as they ran, glancing from side to side, darting down halls and dodging Magi. Mackie screamed as she sunk her blade into the gut of a man, then lopped off his partner’s head with one fell swoop. Blood splattered her face and pooled on the floor. Wylde slipped in it, but Bluff and Yuri kept her upright.

  “Princess!”

  The voice was so sharp in her mind. Wylde slammed on the brakes, glancing around wildly. Bluff reached for her, but she threw a hand out, stiffening. Feeling for the pull of mental energy Neeve had exerted. She turned to the side and felt a tug at her heart.

  “There!” she said, breaking away from the group, heading down the hallway at her left.

  �
��Idiot girl!” Mackie grumbled from behind, but Wylde was too focused on Neeve to care. Feet pounded the tile behind her as the group followed. And at the very end of the hall, behind gleaming sterling silver bars, were the dragons.

  Ileen stood tall, his neck arched and fangs bared as he protected his ward. Neeve huddled beneath him. Her entire body trembled, magic glistening on her scales. Her tail whipped back and forth, anxious like a cat’s.

  “I’ll get you out of there,” Wylde said when she reached the gate. Neeve butted her head up against the bars despite the sizzle of silver against her skin. A whine tore up her throat. Wylde’s fingers brushed the little dragon’s nose, doing her best to comfort her. “I promise. You’ll be back at the keep in no time.”

  Then Neeve jerked away and both dragons let out warning growls. Wylde turned her head and froze. Standing in the hall was the man who had trapped her here the first time. Anger rose up, followed quickly by fear. She remembered that Mage’s power, his blistering hate towards her, and her stomach dropped. There was no way they would be getting out of here. Alive, anyway.

  But she wasn’t going down without a fight. She turned to the Mage with a sneer on her lips, pulling her sword from its duster. The silvery sound of blades being drawn told her that the Jiria were right behind her.

  The Mage lifted a hand in warning.

  Bring it on.

  Chapter Twenty-One

  Kascien’s hand tightened around Irianthe as he edged closer, eyes locked on the man who had owned him for eleven long, painful years. He was wary, and rightfully so. The Sovereign cracked a smile and raised a hand, but Kascien was faster; he warded the blow, feeling the man’s power glance off him and bounce harmlessly to the floor.

  “So I see you’ve been trained.” The Sovereign’s voice hitched in amusement. “Just makes it all the more fun to kill you. I won’t feel like I’m stepping on a useless bug. Rather…a bug with a sword.” He barked out a laugh and narrowed his eyes. “You’ll never win.”

  “I’ll die trying.”

  “Oh, you’ll die. I can promise you that.” He lunged for Kascien, hand outstretched.

  Kascien reached up, deflecting again, their power clashing like the fangs of fighting drakehounds. But goddamn, the man was strong. He could feel the press of the Mage’s prowess all around him, closing around his body like a vice. He lashed out, slicing through the magic with a dash of his own special brand.

  The Sovereign laughed. “Pathetic, really, but I admire your spunk. But then again, you’ve always been a rebellious little shit. Running away from us when you were naught but a child, thinking you could actually get away from me? I should’ve seen this coming.”

  Kascien swung Irianthe wide, feigning left. He felt the pull of flesh as she nicked the Sovereign’s arm. Sweat beaded on Kascien’s temple as he pushed as hard as he could against the other Mage’s magic. He could feel a trickle of the Sovereign’s power traipsing gently up his arm, fueling him, but it was little compared to the gush he’d felt with Yuri.

  But they’d told him that the blessing on the blade worked slowly. They’d told him to give it time.

  The man began to laugh again, his movements slow and wizened, where Kascien’s were haphazard, flighty as he tried to protect himself. A miscalculated move sent Kascien slamming back against the wall hard enough to draw all the breath from his lungs. He rolled to the side and gathered himself as the Sovereign began to rant anew.

  “So weak. I’ve always loathed the weak. They’re like little ants on a map, trying to find their way back to the ant hill, and I’m the giant who stomps on hundreds of them at a time. My father was one of the weakest Magi I’ve ever known. Funny, that he became Sovereign. He never once stepped on the lesser man, instead befriending them. All those pep talks about being the best I could be, when I had such a shitty example?”

  Kascien braced against the power that was slashed sideways, then lunged with Irianthe again. Another slice, blood soaking the arm of the Sovereign’s coat, but the Mage merely shook his head, as if he was just biding his time to when he got to squash Kascien for good.

  “I recently had the honor of ending his pathetic life. It felt nice. I should’ve done it so long ago. I’m the strongest Sovereign the Magi have ever had lead, and until the day that I die, I will protect my rightful throne. Do you know how many infants I’ve destroyed, just so they’d never mature into their power?”

  Kascien’s stomach twisted at that cold laugh. That could’ve been him. If he hadn’t had his power bound as a child…would the Sovereign have killed him? Anger jetting up like a fountain, he slammed the blade into the man’s arm hard enough to hear a yelp, and then pressed his power downwards. Energy burst through his palms and the Sovereign’s eyes widened as he toppled under Kascien’s weight.

  He got two good punches in, but it didn’t last for long. He felt the tendrils of magic jerking him to the ground, even as he thrashed for release. The Sovereign’s grin was satisfied as he pinned Kascien with his knee to the boy’s chest, pressing him to the floor.

  “Of course, you were the one who got away. Your father knew that I’d kill you; he bound your magic only minutes after your birth. He pleaded with me to let you live. A binding should’ve been permanent…and I felt pity. Shame on me. He’s paying for it now, though. Such a weakling.”

  “Father?” Kascien couldn’t bite the word back, even as he willed his energy to push out. The Sovereign slid back far enough for Kascien to regain his footing and he swung Irianthe. The blade hummed as it missed the man’s gut by goddamn centimeters, but Kascien could feel the Mage’s magic slowly strengthening him, wrapping around his core and fueling it with raw power. Would it be enough?

  “Of course. You don’t know?” A pause and a laugh. “Of course you don’t. He never claimed you. He left you to become a slave after your dear mother died.” The way he spoke it, Kascien had the sinking feeling that the Sovereign had been the one to orphan him. “But there’s no harm in telling you the truth, I suppose. You’re not long for this world, Kascien Harper.”

  Kascien’s breath caught in his throat, successfully clogging it even as he tried to draw a breath. He had a dad. The words rang out in his head, thoughts springing to mind, swirling like a twister through his soul.

  Vik. After all these years… Of course it was Vik. How had he been so blind? Vik had helped him get into Esperidion. Vik had been the one to help him escape. His heart ached. Was he still alive, or had this bastard truly killed the one remaining link to Kascien’s past?

  A snarl burst free as he lashed out with enough force to break bone, but the Sovereign merely smiled. Kascien felt the slam of power as the energies clashed, rebelled, and threw Kascien backwards. He hit the ground hard, scrambling, but the Sovereign was faster.

  With one hand raised, all it took was a flick of his finger. Kascien felt icy fingers of energy wrap around his throat and squeeze, suffocating him. He struggled, slowly dropping to his knees on the floor as he tried to relax it off. But he knew better. He was dead. Done. The fight was over and he was the loser. But he’d already known the ending going in, hadn’t he? Why was it such a surprise now?

  The Sovereign drew close, their noses inches apart, a smirk growing on his lips. “I’ve waited for this moment for sixteen long years, slave rat,” he whispered, but Kascien barely heard him.

  Because he had a father. Because he had Wylde. They were counting on him, and he was going to let them down. Tears burned the backs of Kascien’s eyes as his arms dropped to his side. He heard the clink of Irianthe’s blade touching the tile floor and his mind reared up, unwilling to back off. Not yet.

  In one last, desperate attempt, Kascien willed the magic to fill his arm until it became light and effortless to hold the blade.

  Then he swung outwards.

  Irianthe practically screamed with glory as she sailed through the air. There was half a moment of shock that filled the Sovereign’s pale, twisted face…before it was filled with agony, crumpling in on its
elf. A thick gash gaped up at Kascien, torrents of blood pumping out of the man’s slit throat with each beat of his heart. It splattered hot against Kascien’s face.

  He felt the tendrils around his throat tighten, furious, even as the man bled out. His vision shifted, blurring around the edges as the man who had once owned him like a hated pet, slumped to the ground, his body twitching, but his magic still holding on with a death grip.

  And as his lungs screamed for air, as his magic turned inwards, crying for help, Kascien closed his eyes.

  He’d done what he came here to do. He’d won. The Sovereign who had run rampant for so long, was no longer the strongest man among the Magi.

  Wylde.

  His vision shimmered and on the screen that was the backs of his eyelids, he saw Wylde. His Wylde, on her face a beautiful smile. Her hair was longer, curling around her chin in wispy waves, but her eyes were sad. They ripped his heart from his chest as it slowly stopped beating.

  I love you. I’m sorry…

  And then he couldn’t fight the darkness any longer.

  ***

  The Mage’s eyes widened and his outstretched hand clamped into a fist. “Stand down, Wyvern.”

  Wylde hissed low in her throat. “Why? So you can have a few more pretties for your little dragon collection? I don’t think so.” She took a step closer, her pulse thundering in her skull as if someone was playing the drums on her temples.

  “No, snake. Believe it or not, I’ve been sent here to help you.” The look on the man’s face was contemptuous, as if he couldn’t imagine helping a couple of Wyvern renegades trying to free the Magi’s dragons. As if he had no choice.

  “By who?”

  “Kascien.”

  Wylde wavered. Kascien wouldn’t send someone so dangerous their way. Her head spun and she tightened her grip on her blade. No. This was a trap! She reached back to swing it outwards, but Castor’s warm hand wrapped around her wrist made her pause. Her eyes met his and he slowly shook his head, clearing his throat.