Transformed (Ancestral Magic Book 2)

by Michael DeAngelo

  As slow as everything seemed to move, Adelia was shocked to see Merlin before her, shielding her with his body. A bone-shattering crunch resounded as the arrow thudded into her friend’s chest.

  Merlin collapsed backward, and it was as if the weight of the world had fallen upon Adelia. She eased him to the ground as the fireworks shot off into the sky. His eyes were already closed, and she could sense him drifting away. Trevor was there beside her, unable to think of anything to say that could ease her pain.

  Those tears that welled up in her eyes stung, and she could feel a rage like she had never felt before eating away at her insides. She looked up, noting Gaston on the stairs, a pained expression on his face. As Adelia rose to her feet, the sage realized he was about to witness another casualty of the battle. Flames danced on the girl’s hand, and she raced toward the closer flight of stairs.

  “Miss Kreegan!” Gaston warned. He turned about and moved down his own stone steps, glimpsing his assistant as she cast forth a fierce beam of fire toward the cowering invaders from Sungarden. “No,” the sage cried. In an instant, his magic was realized, a pillar of ice appearing to shield those frightened troops.

  Adelia could not be swayed. She brought her other hand forward, empowering the magical blaze enough to punch a hole through the first layers of ice. Gaston’s pleas were lost to her, with only the sound of the fire in her mind.

  Above the heated duel, Trevor dropped to his knees to investigate his wounded ally. When he touched the feathered missile, a sharp gasp rose out. Merlin’s eyes opened wide, and he winced as he gnashed his teeth together. Surprised, Trevor swept the transformed cat’s cloak open. Shattered pieces of magical ice surrounded the arrow. The rose that had been pierced—the symbol of his heroics—began to melt, soaking his chest.

  “Let’s get you up,” Trevor bade.

  “Lucinda, I need you!” Gaston cried.

  The woman in purple pushed through the crowd of werebears and lent her power to Gaston’s. Her magic reinforced the wall of ice, but she could see it would not last for long. With a worried glance, she looked to Orson.

  The bearman knew what had to be done. He stepped aside, inching toward the stairs. Adelia was so taken by her need for vengeance that she didn’t see the werebear sidle up just below her. Neither did she see Merlin on the opposite set of stairs, propped up with help from Trevor.

  One touch was all it took. When Orson brushed against her leg with his paw, the fire magic she summoned sputtered out. Her face was covered in perspiration, and she blinked away the wave of fatigue that washed over her. The sage’s apprentice toppled over, landing on her rump when she fell to the stone steps. With her fading vision, she saw Merlin reaching out to her.

  As she collapsed and faded away into unconsciousness, Gaston turned his attention to the enemy he had protected. “You’re all lucky to be alive. Drop your weapons, all of you.”

  Ivan rode in behind them then, a hefty sword in his hand. The fireworks still boomed behind him, and his horse bucked, trying to rid itself of its burden. With a growl, he hopped from the saddle, landing awkwardly.

  Another blast of trumpets resounded, that time much closer. Everyone in attendance could hear it.

  “Enough!” Gaston shouted as Ivan tried to push past his men. “You are beaten, sir, and badly at that. But know this: you could have been decimated. We’ve left you sore, with bruised egos, but we chose before you arrived to spare your lives. Now, with the White Knights of Gardone en route to cast judgement on you, I will say to you again: surrender. There is no victory for you this day.”

  Ivan grimaced as he looked over his shoulders. Sure enough, the erupting fireworks displayed cavalry in sparkling white armor on the horizon, Edric beside them.

  The magistrate threw his sword to the ground.

  He was beaten.

  Chapter Fifteen: A New Home

  The lady in purple sauntered out of the keep as the sun reached the gardens. She pursed her lips and furrowed her brow as she looked upon them. They would never be the same. The wildflowers had all been trampled, and the topiaries were singed and lopsided. Despite the reminder of the cost of that battle, Lucinda couldn’t refrain from smiling as she passed the final hedge creature. A dragon that she had transformed to look more lifelike the night before looked miserable then, the area around its mouth charred beyond repair.

  When the fellow behind her cleared his throat, she was pulled from her thoughts. “I hear you back there, Prior Taylor,” Lucinda said. “It won’t hurt them to wait another moment or two, will it?”

  “They’ve waited long enough,” the man in sparkling white armor declared. “It’s time to give them terms. And this time, Romsford will be glad to take them.”

  “Very well,” she conceded. “I suppose Gaston has his own timeline he’d like to keep as well, after all.” The sorceress proceeded along with her white shadow in tow, until she came to the clearing where the makeshift prison had been erected. “Good morning, you handsome lot,” she bade. “I trust your stay wasn’t too uncomfortable.”

  The prisoners said very little, grumbling away their fatigue and the guest who had put them in a cage with no conceivable exit in the first place.

  “Now don’t be like that,” Lucinda teased. “I would like to think a little weariness and a few cramps would be a small price to pay for attempting the merciless murder of innocent people.” The clearing of Taylor’s throat behind her had the sorceress smiling. “I digress. I’m sure you’re hungry as well, and there’s still the matter of actually signing the terms of the surrender. All of you are invited to the courtyard, should you be interested. Now that the sun is up, though, none of you will be forced.” Lucinda snapped her fingers, and in a flash of light, the prison she had fashioned returned back to its true form of branches and blankets.

  Free men, the soldiers of Sungarden turned to their leader for guidance. Ivan Romsford wore an angry scowl, but he rose from the ground and offered a nod. “Let’s get this over with.”

  Together, the defeated army from Sungarden accompanied Lucinda and the prior from the White Knights through the dilapidated gardens. When they entered the courtyard, they realized not all was as quiet that morning as they had believed. Lavish tables had been set outside with spreads of food on each of them. The rest of the troops from Gardone mingled with the refugees of Sungarden—the new residents of Forsynthia.

  When the sage responsible for it all noticed his most recent group of guests, he set a glass on the steps leading up toward his study and clapped his hands together. “Now that everyone is present, let us break bread, so to speak.” An intense stare from the sorceress across the way reminded him of an important notion. “My friend wanted me to avoid being disingenuous. I am but a humble wizard. The keep is the extent of my wealth, and we’ve never had much in the food stores. But, by Lucinda’s hand, simple rolls have become great pastries, hunks of mutton, and dozens upon dozens of eggs. This is not being told all just to puff up her chest. It’s a warning.

  “Things transformed always transform back to what they once were. The bears you were so worried about were still human beneath. And these wonderful spreads of food are just rolls. My recommendation? Eat up, all of you. It’s going to be a long walk or ride back to wherever you’re going, and when these delicious items revert to their true form, I suspect you’ll be hungry indeed. So relax, gorge yourself in as much food as you can muster, and set your worries aside. That will be reserved for the signing of our treaty,” he teased.

  At once, the lids were lifted from those fancy trays, and a delicious aroma filled the courtyard. Up on the second floor of the keep, a door opened.

  *****

  The scent of eggs and toast and so many other delicacies woke the young lady with a smile. When Adelia opened her eyes, that smile grew even wider, for there was Merlin, sitting in a chair in the corner of the room, looking no worse for wear.

  “It wasn’t a dream,” she muttered. “You’re all right.”

  �
�That I am,” he said. “Thanks to the hero’s badge you pinned to my chest.” He rose from his chair and sat down on the bed beside Adelia. “You gave the rest of us a terrible fright, though. When your magic was blocked by Orson, you passed out almost at once. It was such a deep sleep, we were worried you’d never wake.”

  “And then you brought me the miracle that is eggs.”

  Merlin smiled. “All the rest of them out there are enjoying a breakfast feast. It seemed only fair we’d have one of our own.”

  As he gathered a tray from that corner he sat in, Adelia reflected on his words. “So what happened? Did the rest of the plan work?”

  He nodded. “The White Knights of Gardone arrived and policed everyone, as expected, and Lucinda put the soldiers from Sungarden in a cage. Now they’re all out there—friend and foe alike—preparing to sign the agreement that will keep the wildfolk safe.”

  “I should be out there,” Adelia said. As she attempted to swing her legs off the bed, Merlin placed his hand on her shoulder and shook his head. “What’s the matter?”

  “Ivan is always going to be a terrible person, fearful of what he doesn’t understand. But he found something worth fearing more.”

  Adelia’s jaw dropped as the realization washed over her. “Me,” she whispered.

  “So, let’s take a moment, enjoy this food, and when they are distracted by the treaty, perhaps that is when you won’t be such a…distraction.”

  The aspiring sorceress shrugged and reached for a slice of toast.

  *****

  Prior Taylor cleared his throat as he removed his gauntlets. Edric handed him the parchment with a wide grin upon his face.

  “Part of the stipulation of these terms is that I read them aloud for all to hear. This agreement will be between two men: Gaston Camlann and Ivan Romsford. However, they will be abided by everyone in attendance, as well as the citizens of two cities: the capital city of Sungarden and the newly recognized city of Forsynthia.” The wildfolk broke into applause, as did several of the keep’s prior laborers and some empathetic knights of Gardone.

  Taylor brought up his hand to placate the crowd. Once he found his place upon the unfurled parchment, he continued. “The magistrate of Sungarden recognizes all citizens of his fair city who wished to leave and start life anew in Forsynthia are free to do so, with no penalty to them or the friends they left behind. Any ill will harbored will be expressed silently—to himself—and not through unjust means.

  “In exchange for their freedom, the invaders from Sungarden will forfeit the following: any equipment they used in the attack, including weapons, armor, and shields, as well as horses, which will be cared for and utilized by the people of Forsynthia from this point on.” Taylor had to once again quell the mass of people, even raising his voice at one point. “It states here if any such belongings are of personal or sentimental value, an accord may be made whereby the ownership may trade hands again.

  “Lastly, it must be understood that while this separation may be painful in some ways, as a whole, both cities represent the nation of Daltain. If our country ever falls prey to an invading force, it is understood both will stand against it, putting aside any differences they might have had.”

  Prior Taylor set the parchment on the table between Gaston and Ivan. The sage, with a grin on his face, signed the accord before turning the parchment to his other half. He held out the quill, staring with intent at his rival. Ivan sighed and wrote his name on the parchment as well, rising from his seat the very next moment.

  “It is written, and it shall be upheld,” Taylor said. “The refugees from Sungarden—all of them—are hereby released of citizenship and allowed entry to their new home of Forsynthia.”

  A great cheer rose again, and that one was not placated. Still, Ivan rested his hand on the back of his chair and sent a fierce stare toward the sage of Forsynthia.

  “You heard him,” the magistrate said. “The invaders from Sungarden are free. It’s time for you to release Plumstead.”

  Gaston’s grin spread wide across his face. “You mean the former captain of your guard? Oh, he was never a hostage. We asked him to return to Sungarden, and so he did.” The sage rose and looked past the magistrate, and an even brighter smile appeared. “It seems he has returned—with the rest of the refugees.”

  With his eyes going so wide those around him thought they might roll from his head, Ivan spun about. His former captain led a procession at least a hundred strong, citizens whose faces he recalled entered the keep, accompanied by wagons that flew the flag of Gardone.

  Ivan turned back to Gaston, seething and frothing. “What is the meaning of this?”

  “Those are the new citizens of Forsynthia. Some are friends and family of the people you threatened and ostracized. Others merely want a new start. And I must say, we’re all very grateful for you agreeing to the terms.”

  The corpulent magistrate squeezed the back of the chair hard enough for the wood to protest. “I’ll have your head for this.”

  “Not today,” Gaston promised.

  Ivan could see a bright flame take shape behind the sage. He looked up and saw Adelia there on the second floor of the keep, her eyebrow arched and her gaze daring. The magistrate growled and turned around, bidding his men to move before their bellies felt empty.

  As those troops took their leave, some saying farewells to people they knew well, Gaston turned to the young lady he was familiar with.

  Adelia offered a warm smile the sage couldn’t resist sharing.

  Chapter Sixteen: One Last Goodnight

  Forsynthia was abuzz with activity. Hammers struck stone and metal, saws tore through wood, and fires roared as the new citizens and laborers on loan from Gardone set to work. Still, a dozen or more were out beyond Forsynthia’s reach, foraging and hunting to fill up the city’s food stores. Gaston was not exaggerating when he told that morning’s attendants that food would be scarce there after the signing of the accord.

  While the majority of those folk in Forsynthia toiled away, some respite was offered to one young lady. Adelia still wore the fatigue of her actions from the night before. While Gaston and Lucinda offered their magic to aid the labors in the city, the sage’s apprentice was ordered to refrain from using the arcane arts at all.

  Without being able to offer any help, Adelia walked through the bustling courtyard, imagining she was the foreman of the project. Stones were being moved into place beyond the south wall of the keep, and Lucinda’s magic had opened a new door there. The young sorceress had heard chatter about a new barracks being built there, headed by Reya, who was promoted to captain in her new home.

  Beyond there, the wall would be extended—the whole city deserved the same protection those in the keep had, Gaston reasoned. Still, that was a long while off. A perimeter would be drawn, but walls would come long after homes were built.

  Adelia passed through the new tunnel, arriving just south of the wall of the keep. In the distance, she could see several of the new citizens felling trees. Gaston had always liked those, she recalled. He truly wanted the best for the people they fought for.

  The sage was not far then. A dozen people trailed him, listening to his ideas for where he believed businesses and homes should be erected. Every few moments, though, he reminded those in attendance that his words were not rule. The new citizens had every right to determine amongst themselves how the new and improved Forsynthia should be shaped and styled.

  His pupil thought better of bothering him and proceeded along that new perimeter of stone. At its end, a makeshift forge had been crafted, where Lucinda lingered, flirting shamelessly with the craftsmen while she assisted with her magic. The coals heated and cooled, but that lewd sorceress’ temperature always ran hot.

  Not far from there, another familiar face was seen. Nooma, the tailor from Sungarden, was among Forsynthia’s new citizens. She worked magic of her own, turning bolts of cloth into fine tents that would offer meager shelter while the other laborers prep
ared for real houses. Adelia grinned when she considered what must have been said to Lucinda when they met once again. That smile grew even wider as she witnessed the interactions between the seamstress and Lydick, who bent wood into place to keep the tents upright. She wondered what Trevor would think of the way his father looked at the newcomer.

  Adelia scanned the area, looking for someone to talk to, but everyone was busy in their own way. She saw more workers in the gardens and stepped over the stone perimeter as she set her sights upon another familiar face.

  Merlin was out amongst the western sun, wiping his brow every few moments as he tugged flowers from the ground. Adelia was shocked at first, until she saw him placing them into a wagon not from there. She just started to approach the transformed feline when she noticed Orson outside the keep. He sat behind a table, painstakingly studying whatever it was before him. Adelia nodded and chose her new destination.

  “Ah, Miss Kreegan,” the apothecary said. She almost heard a bit of Gaston’s voice in those words. “What brings you out this way? I imagined you’d be resting in your room still.”

  “There’s only so long you can rest before you begin calling it boredom,” she replied. “What does the sage of Forsynthia have you doing over here?”

  Orson waved his hands above a collection of plants and flowers on that table. “Master Camlann assured me this was one of the most important jobs of all. It seems he truly cares about these gardens, so he asked me to do what I could to ensure they see a spark of life again. I’ve employed our friend to help me collect any of the flowers that won’t survive till the next season. They aren’t without their purpose, though. Some of the seeds will produce new life. This place will be just as beautiful as before.”