The Sword and the Sorcerer

by John Phythyon

  A moment later, there were three loud thunks as the arrows found their marks. The nearest archer stole past him en route to the camp. Devon could have touched him as he went by, he was so close.

  At first, he relaxed, grateful not to have been discovered. Then he cursed himself. He probably could have killed the man, springing the trap. Was that what Calibot would have wanted though? He hadn’t been very clear on when they were to ambush their pursuers.

  Devon couldn’t quite see the camp from his position, but he could hear well enough. The archers moved in cautiously and checked on their work. Devon started creeping quietly towards the perimeter. It was time to strike.

  “It’s a ruse,” one of them called out. “They aren’t here. They’ve made up beds to give the appearance they’re sleeping, but they aren’t.”

  “Luminos,” a female voice said from behind him.

  A burst of light shot up into the air and lit the night. It hung above them like a star, banishing the safety of the darkness. Devon froze. Calibot’s plan of striking unseen was in ruins.

  “Search the prairie grass,” the woman said. “They can’t be far. If they tied up their horses and went to the trouble of making false beds, they’re here waiting for us.”

  “Yes, Lord Vicia,” one of the archers said.

  Lord Vicia. She’d been the most vociferous of the Elders in refusing Calibot his father’s body. Somehow, it wasn’t surprising she was leading the expedition to recover Gothemus’s ashes. If Calibot was right about these being the people who murdered his father, Devon suspected Vicia was the one who had done the deed.

  The archers drew swords and moved back into the tallgrass from the small clearing where the camp was. Devon moved slowly from his belly to a crouch and waited. He forced his muscles to relax, so he’d be able to spring from his hiding position and attack before the Eldenbergian could react.

  The closest man wasn’t coming directly towards him. He was drifting to the right. Devon adjusted his stance and waited. He might be able to sneak up behind him.

  Just then, one of the men cried out. Devon turned and saw him drop his sword and clutch at his knee. A moment later, he fell over.

  “What is it?” Vicia said.

  The other two ran to where their companion had fallen. If Devon had his bearings correct, the Eldenbergian went down near where Liliana was hiding. Had she worked some magic?

  “By the gods, he’s dead,” one of the men said.

  “How?” Vicia demanded.

  “It looks like he’s been bitten, probably by a snake,” he answered. “But I’ve never heard of snake venom acting so quickly.”

  “There’s no sign of a snake,” the other man said. “There’s just a staff here.”

  “Magic,” Vicia said, as though she were cursing. “Apparently, the sorcerer’s apprentice knows how to transform her staff into a serpent.

  “All right, both of you get back to the clearing. We’ll handle this another way.”

  She stalked through the grass, making no attempt to conceal herself. Devon gauged the distance between them. She would pass close to him, but too far for him to ambush her. She’d see him coming. He decided to wait.

  The three of them converged in the camp – two huntsmen with bows and swords, and a magician in a red traveling cloak carrying a staff. She surveyed the tallgrass encircling them.

  “We’ll burn them out,” she said.

  “What? Wait a minute,” one of the huntsmen protested. “This grass is getting dry; it’s late in the season. If you set it on fire, you may not be able to control it, Lord Vicia. You could kill us all.”

  “Relax, Erebus,” she said, sounding irritated. “I’m not an apprentice like the wench helping Calibot. I’m a master magician. I wouldn’t be an Elder if I wasn’t.”

  “I’ll remind you that ‘wench’ killed Marcellus,” Erebus said.

  “Which is why we’re doing this,” she retorted. “I’m not going to sit here and wait for them to take us out one by one. We’ll fry them and then take what we need off the bodies.”

  “Assuming we can get to them,” Erebus said.

  “Shut up,” Lord Vicia said. “I know what I’m doing.”

  She raised her staff and spread her arms. Devon’s heart was pounding. What could he do?

  Lord Vicia opened her mouth and began speaking the magic words to ignite the prairie grass. But she got out only one syllable before she was interrupted. Calibot leaped from his hiding place and charged her, screaming like a wild man.

  All three Eldenbergians turned and gaped at him for a moment. Then Erebus dropped his sword and fumbled for an arrow from his quiver. He got one out and started fitting it into his bow.

  Devon sprang up and charged too. He didn’t scream, though. Calibot was almost completely opposite them and had their attention. He was hoping Vicia and the huntsmen wouldn’t notice him.

  Vicia spun to face Calibot and raised her staff. Erebus drew back the arrow and took aim. Devon ran as fast as he could, faster than it seemed he ever had. He was not about to let this wild huntsman kill the man he loved.

  He got there just in time. He opened his arms and tackled Erebus to the ground just as he loosed the arrow. The shot went high and wide as a result.

  Devon didn’t waste any time. He raised his sword and drove it into Erebus’s throat. The huntsman died with a horrible gurgling, drenching Devon in his blood.

  Vicia waved her staff and shouted something Devon didn’t understand. A ball of green fire blasted towards Calibot.

  “No!” Devon shouted, but he needn’t have worried. Calibot swatted the eldritch energy aside with Wyrmblade, which blazed with unnatural flame.

  A second later, he was on top of her. He raised his sword up high to cut her down. She dropped into a defensive stance and put her staff between the two of them. He brought the sword down hard. It made contact with her staff and sundered it.

  As soon as the shaft cracked, there was a tremendous explosion. Devon was blinded by the release of magical energy, and it took several moments for his vision to clear. He couldn’t see anything but spots.

  Then there was darkness. He heard the final huntsman running through the grass. Despite being dazzled, he could perceive the sounds were receding. He was fleeing. They should probably give chase, but Devon didn’t see how they practically could.

  His vision finally cleared. What he saw stunned him. Lord Vicia lay burned and bloodied in the center of a smoking circle of bare ground. She was surrounded by prairie grass that had been turned to what looked like glass. It glinted in the moonlight and cast her in an eerie light.

  Calibot stood over her. His sword still flamed, illuminating the scene dimly. She still gripped pieces of her staff in her hands, but the ends were splintered. The earth around them suppurated, and an horrific stench oozed up from it. Small stones that had grown legs and tails crawled slowly over it as if confused by their sudden, newfound life. Devon wasn’t sure if he was disgusted, amazed, or horrified.

  “Is she dead?” Devon said.

  “I believe so,” Calibot answered.

  Liliana came cautiously forward. As she moved through the transformed tallgrass, it shattered and fell to the ground in tiny pieces. She stopped briefly and boggled at what she’d done. Then she continued forward until she stood, slack-jawed, in the circle with Calibot.

  “I’ve never seen that done,” she said, her voice full of awe. “I’ve heard of it, but I didn’t know it could really be done.”

  “What could,” Devon asked, still stupefied.

  “A wizard’s staff is one of the hardest things there is,” she answered. “It’s sealed by magic to keep its power in. It’s supposed to be unbreakable for just the reason you see. If it’s sundered, all the magic is released explosively.”

  “Is that why the grass turned to glass, and all . . . this happened?” Devon said.

  “I suspect so,” she said. “When the magic was released in raw form, it must have had a transformative e
ffect on the environment.”

  No one said anything for a moment. Liliana and Devon continued to stare. Then a thought occurred to him.

  “Why aren’t you dead too,” he asked Calibot.

  “The magic of the sword must have protected him,” Liliana said. “It must have created some sort of . . . force field around him the explosion couldn’t penetrate.”

  Devon thought about that. A theory started forming in his mind.

  “Is that how you swatted her spell away?” he said.

  “I guess,” Calibot replied. “I really don’t know how I do that, but it’s the second time.”

  “So it stands to reason you’re immune to magic as long as you’re wielding Wyrmblade,” Devon posited.

  “Wow,” Liliana said with an awed sigh.

  Devon didn’t like the implications of this revelation. There was too much magic at work here to begin with.

  “We need to put some distance between us and this place,” he said.

  “Why?” Liliana said. “She’s dead.”

  “Because one of them escaped,” Devon answered. “And if there are more pursuing us, I don’t want to be sleeping here when they come back.

  “And because I don’t want to stay here with three dead bodies and . . . this,” he said indicating the transformed environment. “This business tonight has been disturbing enough.”

  Calibot nodded and sheathed his sword. The flames went out, casting them all in darkness.

  “Let’s get packed,” he said.

  Devon sighed. They couldn’t be done with this adventure soon enough.

  Chapter 19: Battle with an Immortal

  Zod rolled to his left just as Elmanax’s energy bolt blasted the earth where he’d been. He felt heat lick at his back, and the ground shook with the impact.

  He continued rolling, got to his knees, and then jumped to his feet. His middle-aged muscles complained briefly, but he barely noticed. Adrenaline coursed through him.

  He snatched his sword out of its sheath and turned to face the gnome, putting himself in a fighting stance. Elmanax laughed derisively.

  “A sword?” the gnome taunted. “You’re facing me with a sword? I wield the magic of the earth! Your pitiful piece of steel is useless against me!”

  “I wounded you with a sword once, you little toad,” Zod replied. “This time, I’ll make sure it’s fatal.”

  Zod hoped he wasn’t bluffing. He knew the iron in his blade was harmful to fairies, but he wasn’t certain it would kill him. Regardless, he wasn’t about to show Elmanax any sign of fear.

  “That was a long time ago, thief,” Elmanax said, his expression darkening. “And you don’t have your brother here to distract me this time.”

  Zod charged him. Elmanax wasn’t the first fiend he’d dispatched.

  But the fairy dropped to a knee and put his hand on the ground. The earth beneath Zod seemed to turn to water. A wave rippled towards him and crested just under his feet. He was thrown forward, sailing through the air over Elmanax’s head. Zod had enough presence of mind to swing his sword at the little bastard as he passed, but Elmanax ducked it easily. Zod landed with a hard thud a few feet away.

  Pain rocked through his hip on impact, but he rolled to his feet again and ignored it. He charged again. This time, Elmanax held his ground. Zod brought his sword back, preparing to cleave the gnome in two. When he reached him, he swung.

  Elmanax vanished. Zod was thrown off balance, felt a twinge in his back from the overexertion, and fell to the ground again. Peals of laughter assaulted his ears. He turned to see the fairy standing behind him.

  Elmanax clapped his hands, and fists of earth seized Zod. He struggled against his bonds, but they held him fast. Elmanax approached and stood at his feet.

  “Well,” the gnome said, “it seems you’re a little undermanned without your brother’s magic to protect you. Yes, I’m sure his wizardry would have been most efficacious against me. He probably could have laid me low with only a few spells.

  “Too bad he couldn’t protect himself from Lord Vicia’s treachery. It’s ironic, don’t you think, that the most powerful magician in the Known World was laid low by something as mundane as poisoned wine.”

  Zod kicked Elmanax as hard as he could. He caught him in the chest and midsection. Elmanax flew backwards like a doll. The earthen hands released Zod, transforming quickly to dirt again.

  Zod grabbed his sword and sprang up. He rushed Elmanax while the gnome still lay on the ground. He brought the tip of the blade crashing down, intending to impale him. Elmanax rolled to his right. Zod’s sword found a little soft flesh on the fairy’s arm, but that was all.

  Elmanax cried out. Zod was disappointed. If his blow had found vital organs perhaps it would have been fatal. Still, he took some satisfaction at causing the little bastard pain.

  “So my sword is useless against you, eh?” he taunted. “This reminds me of the last time we met, Elmanax. I hurt you then too. It may take me a little longer than Gothemus to kill you, but that will only prolong your agony.”

  Zod advanced again and chopped at the gnome’s miniature body. Elmanax vanished a second time. Zod’s blade cut nothing but earth.

  The ground beneath him suddenly turned soft. Before he could move, Zod sank in to his knees. The ground thickened immediately, turning into a sticky quagmire. He tried to free himself, but it was no use. He was trapped. Elmanax appeared in front of him again.

  “You’re overmatched, you arrogant fool,” Elmanax said. “Your brother’s dead, and soon you will be too. Once I’ve unlocked the tower, I’ll get back what you stole. Before that, you’re going to pay dearly for what you’ve done to me.”

  Zod swung wildly at him, but Elmanax was careful to stay out of his range this time. The blade cut only air.

  “I’m not an idiot, Zod the Fearless,” Elmanax said. “You got lucky with one blow, but, just like last time, it’s the only one that will land. Better make your peace with your gods; you’re about to join your brother in Hell.”

  He raised his hands to cast a spell, but, before he could, Alistair rushed in front of Zod and brandished his staff at the gnome.

  “Get back,” Alistair ordered, “or I’ll turn you to dust where you stand.”

  Elmanax threw back his head and laughed. He fixed Zod’s advisor with a sinister leer.

  “Turn me to dust?” he howled. “I am a gnome – an earth spirit! Your magic has no power over me, human. Turn me to dust, indeed.”

  “You may be an earth spirit,” Alistair countered, “but I bet you’re susceptible to the power of water.”

  He waved his staff and shouted something Zod couldn’t understand. Then an undulating arm of water rose up out of Silver Lake, rushed forward, and blasted Elmanax in the back. The gnome flew forward, flying past Zod and the magician.

  When he landed, the water held Elmanax to the ground, pinning him by the chest. Alistair turned to face him.

  “Tell me, earth spirit,” Alistair said, “what do you think of the power of air?”

  He waved the staff and shouted more magic words. A lightning bolt leaped from the clouds and struck Elmanax.

  Zod was temporarily blinded. When his vision cleared, Elmanax was gone. Smoke rose softly from the ground where he’d been.

  “Is he dead?” Zod said, flabbergasted.

  “I doubt it,” Alistair replied. “He’s a fairy, which makes him immortal. He’s susceptible to iron and some forms of magic, but it’s unlikely I would be able to kill him with a simple lightning strike. He’s probably hurt pretty badly, though, and will need time to recover.

  “Let’s see about getting you out of there.

  “Liquefiet,” he said, touching his staff to the ground.

  The sticky mud turned to quicksand. Zod sank immediately to his mid-thighs, but Alistair reached out his staff and helped him climb out. It didn’t take long. When he was free, Zod collapsed onto his back.

  “Thank the gods you studied elemental magic,” he sa
id.

  “So now what?” Alistair said.

  “I’m not sure,” Zod answered. “One thing’s for certain, though. We need to get in that tower. Elmanax wants the Eye of the Dragon, and I need Wyrmblade if I’m going to stop him from getting it.”

  Chapter 20: Reunion of Rivals

  The first things Vicia perceived were colors. Streams of purple, blue, and green light seemed to float towards her out of the blackness. As they reached her, they became larger, and she could see something sparkling within them. She wasn’t sure why, but she thought it might be fairy dust.

  Then, just beyond the reach of understanding, she heard voices. They weren’t whispering, but they were awfully quiet. They grew louder, but they had a strong buzz to them – as though the words were being spoken by some giant insect. They irritated her ears and seemed to drive a spike through the center of her mind.

  She became aware of pain. Her head hurt terribly, and the sensation traveled slowly from her brain down to the rest of her body, putting her awash in dull, throbbing aches everywhere.

  “She’s coming around,” someone said.

  Her eyes gradually slipped open, and light poured in. The pain in her head intensified. She tried to lift a hand to shield her vision, but it hurt too much.

  “Lord Vicia, can you hear me?” someone said.

  What kind of a stupid question was that? Of course she could hear him. She had ears didn’t she?

  “Lord Vicia, can you hear me?” the voice repeated more insistently.

  She tried to answer him, but no sound came out. She moved her lips, though. She was moving her lips, wasn’t she?

  “Get her some water,” the voice said.

  A moment later, something cold was being pressed to her lips. Cool liquid spilled over her teeth and rushed into her mouth, which she suddenly realized felt completely arid. Some of it got down her throat before she could swallow. She choked, and each cough caused more pain to smash through her.

  Suddenly, there were hands underneath her, helping her sit up. She continued spluttering but accepted the aid. A second later, the ladle of water was back, and she gulped at it.