by Sam Ferguson
He rose to his feet and brushed himself off. He took the dislodged emerald in hand and then flicked it across the room. There was only one option available to him now.
He rebuilt his illusion, taking on the form of Cyrus once again. It wouldn’t fool Kyra, but it would work on those he needed to deal with now.
He spoke an incantation and a dark cloud of fog formed on the other side of his desk. As the fog cleared, Janik was standing there.
“I really don’t like that,” Janik said. “I could have been anywhere, doing anything.”
Cyrus was not in the mood for arguing with his servant. He snapped his fingers and Janik’s mouth was closed so that the man could not speak. “Listen, and hear me well, for I have little time. Kyra broke my illusion. She knows I am not Cyrus.”
Janik’s eyes went wide.
“Don’t worry, she doesn’t know you have anything to do with me. She will believe you if you pretend to be surprised as well. What I want you to do is tell Master Fenn about my deception. Blame my presence for the monsters that have come recently. Then, send Feberik out to hunt me down. Tell them that you last saw me fleeing to the south after I had fought with Kyra. That way, when she returns, she will see you as an ally. She will continue to trust you on some level, even if she doesn’t become a close friend.” Cyrus took in a breath and folded his arms. “From time to time, I will send you instructions. As per your oath, I expect you to follow them exactly. Continue to serve me well and I will grant you two boons. The first is I will eventually give you some measure of magical abilities. The second, is I will help ensure Feberik becomes headmaster here after Master Fenn. Do you understand?”
Janik nodded.
Cyrus then loosed the man’s mouth and Janik reached up with his good hand to rub his jaw.
“That is all.”
“Where is Kyra now?” Janik asked.
“She is going to hunt the vampire. If she lives, then I would not cross her if I were you.”
Janik nodded. “I will do what I can to gain her trust. How exactly shall I inform Master Fenn about you?”
Cyrus thought for a moment and then nodded once he had the answer. “Tell them you were in the hallway and heard shouting between me and Kyra. You then heard a large commotion, like furniture being tossed around and spells cast at each other. You burst into the room, but Kyra was already gone and you found only a stranger in the room. Tell Fenn that you confronted me and found out that I was masquerading as Cyrus, but, due to your handicap, I escaped. If you look around, you will find pieces of my emerald ring. Show that to Fenn. It will be enough evidence, I am sure.”
Janik nodded. “And where will you go now?”
“I have some associates I need to meet with.”
Chapter 18
Cyrus walked through the stone corridors down to the antechamber outside the warlocks’ inner sanctum. He watched the door on the other side of the room for some time. They were making him wait longer than usual, it seemed.
Finally one of them came out and approached the stone table in the center of the antechamber. Cyrus watched him and smiled when the warlock sat across from him.
“I was told you had urgent news for the order,” the warlock said.
Cyrus smiled. He was done with pretenses and games. Now that a warlock had come out to see him, he had everything he needed. His right hand slid a long, slim, but deadly dagger out from the folds of his robes beneath the table.
“I have come to tell you of the developments that have occurred lately. Surely you can sense the vampire has come into the Middle Kingdom.”
The warlock nodded. “Yes, he—”
Cyrus snapped out with a flash of his hand, driving the dagger through the warlock’s left temple and slamming his head down onto the stone table. Quickly, he pulled the amulet off of the warlock’s neck. He left the dagger in the corpse though, for from here on out he would not need it.
He rose from his seat and his body began to stretch and shift. He called upon his magic to strengthen himself. His muscles grew denser, his skin hardened, and even his bones became thicker and fortified.
Cyrus walked to the door on the opposite side of the chamber and held up the amulet he had taken from the warlock. A slight shimmer of silver crossed over the door and then it opened to him.
He walked in and followed the hallway straight into the inner sanctum. At the first fork, he turned right. The last time he had been led through the hallways, he had memorized each and every tunnel he passed by, as well as the passages that led into the council chamber.
Down this hallway were two doors. He opened the first one and found a warlock hunched over a work bench with his back facing the door. He lifted up a beaker filled with dark brown liquid and studied it.
Cyrus raised his hand and sent a single, silent bolt of black lightning through the air. The energy blasted through the warlock’s back and left scorch marks on the wall where it had burst through. The warlock fell to the floor. His beaker burst open and smoke rose from the floor as the liquid spread out, hissing, along the stone.
Cyrus then turned to the next door and opened it. Inside he found not a warlock, but a young brown-haired woman dressed in meager clothes. He knew immediately that she was a servant to the others. Unfortunately, that meant she was bound by a wizard’s oath the same way Janik was bound to him. Sparing her life would only result in her attacking him at some point in the future.
She stood and was about to shout out a warning, but Cyrus lifted his left hand and made a gripping motion with it. The young woman clutched and clawed at an invisible force around her neck as her body was lifted from the ground and her face grew red. She kicked her legs against the spell, but it was no use. She was dead within moments, and her lifeless body was left to slump on the cold floor.
There were four warlocks left.
Cyrus left the short hallway and continued on his way until he came to another side tunnel. He followed this one and found four people in what appeared to be a kitchen complete with stone ovens and a large fire pit. A young boy was slicing venison at the far bench, while three women were scurrying about gathering pots and various vegetables.
Opting for silence rather than a large, fantastic spectacle, Cyrus used his magic to animate four kitchen knives. The instruments all levitated silently, and then darted out for their respective targets. None of the victims made more than a small groan before they fell lifeless before him.
“Such a waste,” Cyrus commented dryly. “I should have let them finish the meal first.”
He turned and continued along through the tunnels, making sure to stalk through each and every side passage and exterminate each of the servants he found.
Then, as he made his way toward the council chamber, another warlock came at him from the other end of the hall. Cyrus raised his hand, but the other warlock was able to call out a warning before Cyrus could end his life.
A flash of yellow streaked by Cyrus, glancing off his magical ward and blasting into the stone wall nearby. He answered the warlock by summoning large vines that broke through the walls and seized the warlock around each limb. A fifth vine came in from the ceiling and snaked into the warlock’s mouth. The warlock wriggled and fought to get free, but Cyrus only strengthened the vines as he approached the warlock.
The warlock’s neck widened as the vine made its way down into the man, and then there was a sudden jerk as the vine stabbed out from inside the warlock’s chest, blood dripping to the floor as the vine continued to grow out from the man and curl around his dead body.
Cyrus waved his hand and the vines disappeared altogether, dropping the corpse with a thump!
The air grew heavy then and Cyrus could feel the hairs on his arms standing on end. The others had heard the warning, and they were raising their defenses. Cyrus hesitated as a great mess of tangled lightning streaked across the hallway, effectively filling the entire tunnel. The sizzling, crackling energy then coursed down the tunnel toward him.
Cyrus be
nt down and took the amulet from the dead warlock. He had long ago done his research, and knew how to beat the order’s standard defenses.
He stood back from the corpse and placed the amulets he had taken over his neck, and stood motionless. The amulet would be able to save him, but only if he remained entirely still as the energy passed through the corridor.
The blue lightning disintegrated the dead warlock’s body, but passed over Cyrus with hardly more than a slight tickling sensation. The energy went to the end of the corridor, and then doubled in strength as it formed a magical barrier to any other would-be intruders.
Cyrus then crept down toward the council chamber as quietly as his leather boots would allow. When he reached the sealed door, he found several wards and traps covering it. He walked back ten yards and then carved a fist-sized stone from the wall with a magical beam of energy. Satisfied that the stone was large enough to trip the wards, he hurled it at the door.
A tremendous explosion rocked the hallway as smoke and bits of debris filled the immediate area. A wave of flame rolled out from the council room and blasted into the wall opposite the door. This was followed by several spears made of ice, and finally a lightning storm and a second explosion.
“A bit much,” Cyrus commented wryly as he stepped through the smoking mess to find the final three warlocks standing inside the council room. “Tell me, did you see this coming?”
The warlocks glanced to each other.
Cyrus smiled. “And that is why you are now being deposed. You have squandered your gift.” He sent a rather powerful gale toward the warlock on the left side of the table. Even with his ward, the warlock was thrown into the back wall, where he snapped his neck.
“You have betrayed us!” the gray haired warlock said.
Cyrus sent a bolt of lightning.
The gray-haired warlock summoned a shield of stone and deflected it.
The warlock on the right conjured a large, green snake that coiled and hissed atop the table. Cyrus laughed and dispelled the snake with a snap of his fingers.
The warlock on the right yelled and ran forward, shouting the words to a transformation spell as he advanced. Cyrus sent a spear of light at the man, but missed as the body transformed into that of a large, six-legged wolf. Cyrus prepared another spell, but the gray-haired warlock sent a whirlwind at him that sent him flying out the door.
He crashed upon the floor, but his hardened skin and strengthened sinews absorbed the blow without so much as a bruise to show for it. Cyrus moved to stand, but he was not fast enough to avoid the wolf. The creature landed on him hard and began clawing and biting. The front-most pair of legs managed to tear through Cyrus’ robes and gash his chest, but Cyrus ignored the pain, reached out, and clamped the wolf’s mouth shut.
Cyrus focused on a single spell, calling a blazing ball of energy into his hands. The wolf fought furiously, but Cyrus sent the ball of energy into the wolf’s head. The animal’s neck whipped back and a gray and black ring exploded out from its head. There were no abrasions or cuts on the wolf, but the animal was dead. Cyrus had put the energy directly into the transformed warlock’s brain.
He pushed the corpse to the side and stood up. He jerked his head to the side, cracking his neck, and then he rolled his shoulders and rubbed a hand over his chest. The gashes in his skin healed instantly, leaving only ripped clothing and some dried blood behind.
Another whirlwind was already coming for him, but Cyrus deflected it with a much stronger force of air that pushed the whirlwind back into the council chamber and toward the final warlock.
The gray-haired warlock then unleashed lightning at the ceiling as Cyrus made his way back into the chamber. Stones dislodged and fell, but Cyrus created a spherical shell around himself and the debris bounced off harmlessly.
“Who are you?” the gray-haired warlock demanded. “You are not Cyrus the wizard.”
“No,” Cyrus replied, “I am not.” He moved into the chamber confidently, letting his shell protect him from glaring lightning, intense flames, and magical arrows that the last warlock hurled at him. Then, as he got close to the gray-haired warlock, the sphere pushed the man up into the wall and held him there, pinned as though he was squished between two boulders.
“Why,” the gray-haired warlock asked.
Cyrus pouted his lip and raised his brows as he shrugged. “Why not?” He then dispelled his spherical shell and the gray-haired warlock fell to the ground and stumbled toward him. Cyrus slammed his magic-hardened fist into the warlock’s face. The warlock flew back into the wall and slid down the stone to land on his rump. Cyrus then bent down and put his thumb to the warlock’s forehead. “Don’t be angry, I will make this coven stronger than it has ever been before.”
“You?” the warlock asked breathlessly.
Cyrus nodded and the energy grew in his thumb until a fiery orb glowed in front of the warlock’s forehead. “Me,” Cyrus confirmed. The red orb shot into the warlock’s head and the man’s eyes went black as night. The warlock’s head then slumped to the side, and the coven was no more.
Cyrus stood up and took in a breath as he looked around the council chamber. He moved to the table and placed his hand on the chief seat. It would be good to have his own coven. There would be minimized running around for him now. He would recruit others to do the work for him. Hairen would help him find capable witches and warlocks to see into the future to give him an advantage over his foes. One way or another, he would have the dagger, and then he would finally have what he sought.
Chapter 19
After Kyra had escaped from Cyrus, she spent the entire day prepping the plan exactly the way her mother had instructed her to do. It had neither been pleasant, nor easy. Now she was in the middle of a forest deep in the mountains to the west of Caspen Manor, and the full moon was rising high in the night sky.
She rubbed a fresh gash in her left arm, wishing she had spent a little more time learning healing spells. Her mother’s plan had no place for any additional players, so she had decided to forego getting Leatherback before setting everything up. With a couple of fresh wounds and a stiff spine, she now thought that perhaps that had been a mistake.
Then again, her mother’s plan seemed to be her best line of attack.
For now, she had to focus on getting the dagger.
She trudged up the mountainside, following the clues her mother had spoken of in the long letter in her old library. Faint blue dots lit up under the moon, showing the way to the altar.
Her only hope was that the vampire had not already found the altar.
Everything would be for naught if he was waiting for her.
Kyra moved through the pine trees and up the mountain, scanning the area around her while she followed the dots. At one point she saw a bear meandering through the woods, but it didn’t seem interested in her, so she continued along on her way. She couldn’t afford to use any magic until she reached the altar. It would attract too much attention.
It took her another ninety minutes to reach the right clearing, which sat upon the top of a small bluff overlooking the heavily wooded hills and mountains around her. The moon hung large in the sky, giving her all the light she needed to see by. In the center of the clearing was a stone altar. The perfect cube stood three feet tall, with an intricately carved design lining the sides. The top was flat and void of any pattern, though there was a large crack in the right-hand side that broke through the cube and scarred one of its sides, reaching half-way down to the dirt below.
Dry pine needles crunched under her feet as she approached the altar. She set her book bag, which now had a fresh blood stain on one side, down at her feet and took in a couple of breaths. She pulled out Arts of the Soul Thief one more time, and read through everything there that her mother had instructed her to learn. Then she focused on all of the instructions in the letter.
Her heart was beating harder, and her stomach was twisted in knots. Without Leatherback, she felt so extremely vulnerable. Her eyes dar
ted up to the woods around her, as if she expected the vampire to emerge, laughing at her as he had in her nightmares.
“You can do this,” Kyra told herself.
She took in one final breath, and then bent down to retrieve the red book. She placed it on the altar, and then set her right hand down upon the book. A thin, green mist appeared over the book. It swirled outward and then fell into the altar as she watched.
Her fingers trembling, she opened the book to the correct page and read the words she had been told to read.
“Web of fate and silk of destiny, bring back the suspended offering, and release it to me. Habera bon’des derion, cul hemeth.”
The book began to glow, and then it hovered up into the air as green mist stretched out from the book and enveloped her hand and forearm, lifting her along with the book.
A bright yellow column of light connected the book to the altar, and the green mist receded from Kyra, allowing her to drop down and pull her arm back.
The book then snapped shut and a flash of blue light erupted from the altar, coursing high into the sky. The red book turned black, and then it opened once more and a large, curved dagger with rubies in the hilt emerged from it. It continued to grow before her as the book shrank away into nothingness. Soon, there was only the blue light dancing atop the altar and bathing the floating dagger in its glow.
Kyra smiled and reached out for the weapon.
She took it in her hand and felt a strange power flow from it. It coursed through her arm and filled her whole body with an added strength that she had not expected. Her eyes were fixed on the smooth, shining blade. One of the rubies began to glow, and then the altar went dark.
“You can feel it now, can’t you?” a smooth voice called out from the edge of the forest. “There is a power in that weapon, isn’t there?”
Kyra looked up and saw Njar emerge from the tree line. “Where have you been?” she asked accusingly.
“The vampire attacked me in Viverandon,” he said.
