Sinners of Magic

by Lynette Creswell

  ‘I know this may seem a little unexpected, but Crystal, child of the elf realm, will you do me the greatest honour and become my wife?’

  Chapter 11

  Deep in the belly of Forusian’s castle ran a maze of dark and dangerous dungeons. Nekton and Amadeus had been thrown into prison by their captor and they sat huddled together in the dirty stench of a fleapit. When they arrived at the castle, fighting and clawing at the guards, they had expected to be tortured by the Nonhawk but instead they were taken down to the murder holes and kept there like caged animals, fed only pitiful scraps of rotting food to help keep them alive.

  ‘We’ve got to get out of here,’ said Amadeus, when the guard threw yet another lump of foul-smelling mess onto his plate.

  ‘And how do you propose we do that?’ asked Nekton, when his own food plopped in front of him.

  ‘I’m not too sure,’ replied Amadeus, flashing him a look, ‘but I can’t stay in this hellhole for very much longer.’

  Nekton reached out for the plate and began to eat; he went to take a second mouthful but stopped midway, his face turning green. He dropped the plate to the floor, turned and heaved the contents of his stomach into the farthest corner. Maggots spewed from his mouth and Amadeus’s lips hardened in disgust.

  ‘You’re right,’ Nekton choked, wiping his mouth with the back of his hand. ‘We must get out of here soon. If I stay in this stinking place much longer I will die from starvation, for I refuse to eat maggots, whether they be full of protein or not.’

  ‘Then we must come up with a plan,’ said Amadeus, nodding in agreement. ‘I think I could have one almost hatched inside here,’ he said, tapping the side of his head. ‘It’s time we put my half-cooked idea into action; after all, we have nothing to lose but our lives.’

  Amadeus bent down and drew a sketchy plan in the dirt with his fingertips. Nekton grew excited with each detail Amadeus added to the earth.

  ‘It might just work,’ said the dwarf with an encouraging smile, his stubby fingers tracing the outline of sand. ‘Anything is worth a try.’

  ‘Let’s do it tonight,’ said Amadeus, his eyes glistening with excitement. ‘I’ve noticed we’re watched by only one guard once they have finished dishing out that slop they call food.’

  Their bid for freedom came just a few hours later when the guards changed shift for the night.

  ‘Help!’ shouted Amadeus sounding desperate. ‘I think my companion’s dead.’

  A solitary guard looked through the spy hole in the centre of the door and watched Amadeus lean over the dwarf. The solider noted Amadeus’s distress and, sliding back the bolt, opened the door with extreme caution.

  ‘Get him out of here,’ Amadeus begged, jumping away from Nekton’s still body. ‘He’s probably riddled with disease.’

  ‘You,’ said the guard, pointing his sword and twitching it to the left, ‘move away from the door.’

  Amadeus did as he was told, dropping his gaze in an attempt to portray submission. The guard was holding his sword in one hand and a slop bucket in the other. He placed the bucket on the ground whilst he locked the door behind him and cautiously made his way towards Nekton. He bent over the body to get a better look, nudging the dwarf with the tip of his sword.

  In a flash, Nekton rolled over and grabbed his leg, taking the guard completely by surprise. Before he could yell for help, Amadeus was upon him from behind, gagging him with his huge hands and pulling him to the floor. Nekton grabbed the sword from the soldier’s grasp and twisted it with a flick of his wrist; a flash of metal held his stare before he stabbed the Nonhawk clean through his heart. His cry was stifled by Amadeus’s suffocating hand, the blood from his wound pumping freely like water from a well.

  With not a moment to lose Amadeus grabbed the dead soldier’s belt and searched through the mountain of keys dangling from it, desperate to find the right key before another sentry came looking for his comrade. His palms were sweaty and his fingers slipped whilst he tried each key in the rusty, old lock.

  ‘Hurry,’ urged Nekton, becoming anxious when the seconds ticked by, ‘or we’ll never make it out.’

  ‘I’m doing my best!’ Amadeus snapped, his jaw tightening. ‘Pressurising me at a time like this is not exactly helping!’

  At last they heard a ‘click’ and both gave a huge sigh of relief, but they couldn’t rest on their laurels for they were not free men yet. They fled from the dungeon, unsure of the castle’s layout, and their sense of direction was dulled due to the lack of food and sleep.

  ‘Do you know where you’re going?’ Nekton hissed, his frustration mounting. ‘Only I heard that somewhere inside this castle there’s a narrow corridor leading from the dungeon to the cliff top; it’s where Forusian has his prisoners thrown to their death.’

  ‘Yes, I’ve heard that story too,’ said the warrior, checking behind to see if they were being followed. ‘But, more importantly, I have heard there is a path which leads from the cliff to the shore.’

  Nekton shuddered.

  ‘Then we must find the corridor that leads to the cliff face.’

  Amadeus stopped dead mid step, raising his hand for Nekton to fall silent. Straight ahead a group of guards sat by a glowing fire, laughing and joking, oblivious to the two prisoners who had almost walked in on them. They doubled back and at a fierce pace raced away, feeling bursts of anxiety and claustrophobia engulf them, caused by the close confines of the stone walls. They swerved to the right when a V-shaped tunnel split into two but panic rose in their bellies when time and time again they found nothing but dead ends. Each time they were forced to turn back, retracing their steps until once again yet another blank wall greeted them.

  ‘We’re going in circles,’ Nekton gasped, when his breathing became more laboured. ‘I really thought for a while that we had a chance.’

  ‘We’re not beaten yet, old man,’ Amadeus hissed, feeling a thread of fresh air blow on his face. ‘Nekton, we’re so damn close, I can almost taste the sea.’

  They bore left, running with a sudden spurt of energy; their hands gripped the damp walls of the narrow passageway to steady themselves and when they came to the end of the outlet they could see the waves crashing against the shore and the blue of the sky, but their access was barred by a metal gate filled with rusty ironwork.

  ‘What do we do now?’ whined Nekton in despair. ‘We’re well and truly trapped; there’s no way we could break through these.’

  Amadeus stared at the bars, weighing them up before grabbing hold of the two in the centre with his bare hands.

  Nekton looked at him in astonishment.

  ‘You don’t honestly believe you can bend them, do you? Why, that’s just pure crazy.’

  Amadeus ignored him. He closed his eyes in concentration, working his mind on channelling all of his strength down through his arms and into his hands. He had been born with great strength and he was going to use it to get them out. With a determination that would have impressed even the king, Amadeus pulled with all his might and his body shook with his efforts, but the bars didn’t budge and he gritted his teeth, unwilling to be beaten.

  ‘It’s no good,’ said Nekton in dismay, ‘your strength alone is not enough.’

  A low growl escaped from deep within the warrior’s throat and he gripped the bars once more. Power pulsated from inside his body and sweat ran down his cheeks as he continued to channel his energy to where it was needed most. A faint creaking seeped from the rusty bars followed by an eerie squealing sound. Amadeus heaved a sigh before standing aside to expose a gap large enough for both of them to pass through. Weakened by the amount of energy he had just used, he leant on the wall for support. Nekton stood by his side.

  ‘Come on,’ he yelped in delight, ‘you’ve done it; you’ve managed to set us free.’ He tugged at Amadeus’s arm, but the warrior didn’t move.

  ‘I need a moment’s rest,’ he gasped, his arms hanging limp at his side. ‘I must get my strength back.’

  ‘We
have to keep moving, you know as well as I do it won’t be much longer before they realise we have escaped.’

  ‘Just another minute,’ Amadeus insisted, still weak, ‘that’s all I ask.’ Nekton could see Amadeus was totally exhausted, but time was of the essence and he could rest later. With a firm grip, he took hold of Amadeus’s arms; the warrior was a big man, but it was Nekton’s turn to use his own strength.

  ‘We cannot stay here,’ Nekton declared, gasping for breath when he realised just how heavy his comrade really was. ‘I’m much too old to be experiencing such an adventure,’ he added, when a spark of vitality twinkled in his watery, blue eyes.

  He dragged Amadeus through the opening and then dropped him like a stone on the velvety, soft grass. Amadeus gave a feeble smile.

  ‘I’ll never live it down if word gets out that I was saved by a dwarf,’ he scoffed with a grin.

  Nekton hauled him to his feet and they trudged the rough and winding pathway until they found the steps cut in the cliff that led to the shore. The steps were slippery from the sea spray, making them treacherous underfoot, and they made their way with much caution, forever glancing over their shoulders in fear of being caught.

  Once they hit the shore they hugged the shoreline until they made it to a road and then headed straight for the seclusion of trees. The night was drawing in and neither elf nor dwarf knew the woodland through which they roamed. Amadeus took the lead and Nekton followed close behind. They walked for many miles, wanting to stop and rest but fearful of the consequences, knowing they had to get out of Forusian’s territory if they were to have any chance of survival.

  Eventually, Nekton could go no further and he called to Amadeus to rest; although Amadeus was reluctant to do so, he realised he had no choice for Nekton had done well to keep up for one so old. Amadeus finally succumbed to his companion’s needs and decided they should take this time to find something to eat. The woods were alive with animal activity: owls hooted alerts on their leafy branches and bats flew low in search of their own tasty morsels of food. Amadeus was swift when he needed to be and when he spotted a plump rabbit several feet away, his elf feet moved like lightning.

  Nekton sat against a tree, resting his weary bones on the mossy bark. He lifted his head when he heard his friend return, grateful to him for allowing him to take a much-needed rest.

  ‘I have dinner,’ said Amadeus, holding up the dead rabbit. ‘We cannot stay here for the rest of the night and we shouldn’t really light a fire, but we are ravenous so we will eat a little, rest a little and move on.’

  ‘You speak wisely,’ Nekton agreed, ‘but I am old and cannot keep up with you; my legs have given up on me, I cannot move another step.’

  ‘Nonsense,’ scoffed Amadeus, whilst he searched the ground for something he could use to skin the rabbit. He picked up a few flat stones, throwing them down again before finding one which he felt was sharp enough to do the job.

  ‘You don’t give yourself enough credit; you have kept by my side and have not faltered once. We haven’t much further to travel before we enter the realm of the dwarves. There we can get horses and stock up with fresh supplies.’

  Nekton rose stiffly from his comfy spot and set out to find tinder and twigs to make a fire, contradicting what he’d just said about his feet.

  ‘What did you mean when you said ‘we’ can get horses and fresh supplies?’ the dwarf asked, lighting the fire with the ease of one who had done it many times before. ’You wouldn’t need much in the way of supplies once you reach my realm, why, you’re only a day’s ride away from your home.’

  ‘I’m not going home; no, I’m going with you to Raven’s Rainbow to find the wizard, Bridgemear.’

  ‘Is that the reason why you came to Raven’s Rainbow in the first place?’ asked Nekton, blowing gently onto the fire and watching it crackle into life.

  ‘Yes, I have orders from the king to tell him his daughter from the elf world has returned to the Kingdom of Nine Winters, but I was obviously intercepted by Forusian’s men to stop me from doing so.’

  The dwarf looked surprised – a wizard has a daughter by an elf? Could this be true?

  ‘How did Forusian know you were going to seek Bridgemear?’ he asked instead.

  ‘That’s a good question. There were only two other people who knew I had been asked to go on this quest; one of them was the king and I don’t believe for one minute it was him. No, there has been treachery here by another, and I know exactly who he is and I will seek him out and ensure he pays for his betrayal.’

  Amadeus finished skinning the rabbit before making a spit from an available branch. They ate by the light of the silvery moon, talking in whispers until it was time to put out the fire. The pair travelled throughout the night and by dawn somehow made it into dwarf territory.

  The sun was rising into a ball of orange when Amadeus turned to Nekton and swore an oath that he would make sure Bridgemear knew of his daughter’s return, even if it was the last thing he ever did and Nekton knew he meant every word.

  Chapter 12

  The damning news of the dwarf’s abduction finally reached the ears of the wizard Bridgemear. Suspicion was raised when a weary, weather-beaten traveller in great need of shelter and a bed for the night found the hut at Fortune’s End to be deserted.

  His disappointment soon changed to concern when he saw a horse tethered to the side of the hut and, once inside, found startling signs of a struggle with shards of broken glass covering the floor.

  Bridgemear was filled with outrage for who would dare to violate the laws of the land laid down by his ancient forefathers? The primordial magicians had ruled this land with strong hearts and justifiable moral standings and their voices filled his mind, like a phoenix rising from the ashes.

  … And the land shall have safekeeping, owned by none, ruled by neither, a place where the lonely traveller can rest without fear of interrogation or reprisal for his sins. No man, wizard, elf or dwarf will ever have the right to harm a hair or claim a soul from another. If the wish for peace is ever broken then the one who kisses the lips of death will willingly stumble upon his own demise and know his soul to be lost forever …

  His eyes flashed icy to match his mood, but they were as clear as running water. He looked down at the magician’s staff held in his clenched hand. It was a magnificent piece of magic, a stave passed down from generation to generation and embodied with mystical enchantments. The tip held a small, golden globe; inside something mysterious and cloudy swirled about, a sign of the unique power created by those who were now a part of Bridgemear’s ancestral descent.

  The wizard’s mind ran wild.

  Heavy will be their loss, he thought, when a bitter smile touched his lips, but first I must find out who has taken the keeper.

  Pointing his stave at a sixty-degree angle, his voice sounded strong and determined when he spoke an incantation. The golden sphere started to revolve, producing a dazzling bolt of light. The beam condensed into a long, thin tunnel of white, creating a projection of luminosity within the atmosphere.

  ‘Awaken, Adlanniel!’

  A face of immense beauty materialised from the prism of light, but her greatest asset was her voice; soft, husky, like music.

  ‘What do you wish of me, master?’

  ‘Show me Fortune’s End.’

  ‘I will take you to wherever your heart desires,’ she said, her voice smooth as silk. She melted away into the vapour which formed around her. To her magician the spirit revealed the lush, green woodland that was known to be Nekton’s home.

  Everything looked peaceful and serene and Bridgemear was disappointed to find there were no telltale signs of foul play. Frustration played upon his mind for he needed to know who had taken the keeper.

  It was someone clever who took him, he thought, someone who knew the consequences of their actions and someone who is not playing games.

  He made an instant decision: he must call together the other wizards of Oakwood and begin a qu
est to find and punish those responsible. He thought about his blood brothers, Elveria, Mordorma, Amafar and Voleton and how they would be eager to ride by his side, but where would they start? It would be tricky, but there were already rumours of an elf warrior who had been seen making his way through the woods the very night the keeper vanished.

  Bridgemear knew he was no longer welcome in the realm of Nine Winters, not since his affair with Princess Amella, and agonising memories of her rushed inside his head and he winced in physical pain. He shook his head in a bid to shake her image from his mind but it was no use; she would always haunt him. He had lost his heart to her many years before, his beautiful Amella; yet he had been the one to betray their love and the cold touch of truth made him shiver.

  When the Order of the Elders found out what they had done they had turned cruel, using the ancient scriptures and written laws of their time to punish them both for their crimes. Amella had suffered the most. They had taken everything from her, including her child, all in the name of justice and for what gain? Bridgemear winced; if only she hadn’t given the child the amulet, the key to her realm, she could have returned to her people, but Amella had wanted to give the child something other than the gift of life.

  The Elders explained the consequences to which they would accept the child as an offering to the realm. At the great table of wisdom, it was decreed what fate had in store for their daughter. It was proclaimed the child would be sent to the ordinary world to live with the plain folk, banished for her father’s sins and given to a mere mortal. A woman whose newborn child would die from cot death and therefore be replaced with the mage’s own flesh and blood.

  Amella loved Bridgemear so much she’d agreed to their terrible terms, fearing for her lover’s life. Bridgemear was overwhelmed with only one emotion – relief – and Amella’s continual stream of tears for her unborn child did nothing to soften his heart. He saw the babe only as a crucifix, a burden to be carried until such time they would be free of it. He believed the child had changed everything, ruining any chance of a life together, and so he wanted no part of it. Shortly before Crystal was born the love they shared grew strained. Resentment burned between them like a raging fire until the anger and misery they suffered finally erupted, tearing them apart. The final nail thrust deep into his heart was when he was told he was forbidden to ever set eyes on Amella again. This was a condition set to punish him by the Elders for all eternity and he felt the pain of her loss every day.