by Brett P. S.
“La protection.”
A veiling blue aura surrounds my body, a glowing shield of sorts. With that done, it’s time to come out from hiding. The first shot wasn’t enough to scare them off, but hesitation did follow. Conserving my magic is a hard thing to do under such pressing matters.
“Détruisez! Détruisez!”
Smaller blasts graze the ground, exploding in a frantic frenzy once connected with something solid, which more than likely would be the highwaymen. Life is not precious here. My aim is to kill, and so I have, noticing the first one left in his little hole. Being closer, there’s something odd about it…odd about the mangled corpse suffering from skinless burns.
He “Seems pretty frightened.”
An arrow pecks at my aura, feebly bouncing off, dropping to the ground…then another and another. It’s no good you fool. You should’ve run. You should’ve…
“Ack…?”
Grinding pain sings through my body at the sight of a single arrow piercing my breast. I look down to see how the damage sank through…how it got past my perfect spell. The arrow was lucky, running right through Hector’s charm, tearing through a small satchel not more than a few inches wide.
Before I can contemplate further, I cry out, “Détruisez!” to which the final bandit falls to the ground in silence after a furious agonizing scream.
His charm must’ve been countering my own magic, interfering with it on some level. Hector, you really are worthless. You really are…
Chapter IX
Réveiller de Sommeil
“Wha…?”
My eyes open, revealing a blurred scenario, gray brick smashed between dirt and shoddy fillings. There’s a warm fuzzy feeling traveling through my skull, pulsing like the flow of fresh tea as I drink on a spring morning. It hurts somewhat, though certainly must be better than the bitter cold of a mountain’s embrace.
“Where am…I?” I ask
Staring blankly at dozens of neatly doused candles, their smoke whispering softly into musty air, I notice a familiar scent among them. With all my strength, I try to prop up against a wall, sliding across cobblestone most uncomfortably, my body covered by a find fleece blanket.
A sharp and crippling pain jolts up my left wrist as I hobble to stand. Out of curiosity, I take a look noticing a scar that wasn’t there before, white and radiant, as if imbued with some kind of magic.
“How amusing,” a dark voice beckons. “Of all things, it actually worked.”
“Who…are you?” I ask. “Where…are you?”
“Do not mind my presence, little one. You should be proud of him…for what he gave to make you whole.”
“Wait,” to make me what? “Oh no! Hector!”
Beside me, he sits lazily with an empty stare and without a care, gazing off into some other world. He looks at me for a moment, promptly averting his eyes as if he’d barely noticed anything at all, completely devoid of any real sense.
“His mind is broken, you see.”
My legs grow weary, weakened by heavy tears as I collapse to the ground, lending out a hand to caress a face so alien. Dirt smears all over his face, caked into the stubble and scratches of a budding beard.
“No, Hector, you shouldn’t have done this.”
“Aye, but he did anyway.”
Like a child waking, he turns to me and asks, “Hello? Who are you?”
Whirling around without hesitation, I point a spell hand to where I heard it and declare, “Demon! What have you done?”
“Me?” it scoffs. “Nothing of the sort!”
“What’s happened to him?”
“The lad will never again remember what life you two once shared. The memories, his very heart, hath been ripped out as payment for the spell.”
Spell? Carefully, I look back astonished. Setting atop his lap is a marvelous old tome, adorned with gold trim and pages thick as my palm. An aura surpassing life itself emanates from it, trying desperately to keep the candles lit, though failing in the process.
“You used the Grimoire, didn’t you?” I ask Hector.
“That old thing?” he replies. “I…I can’t recall. Did I do something bad, miss?”
I knew Hector couldn’t have achieved this feat all by himself, no matter if a spell did in fact exist. He used Fantastica. He fed a ravenous monster his soul to do the impossible.
“Demon,” I turn back my eyes, “I am leaving. You will show me the way.”
It chuckles, a booming laughter echoing throughout the myriad of halls I assume make up this disease-infested labyrinth. What foul beasts call this realm home have no place to question the strength of a third tier wizard.
“What a jest,” it replies, “to order me around?”
“You will do as I say, or I’ll kill you.”
Neatly fashioned eyes form over the gate, manifesting themselves through sheer willpower gained through years of solitude and sorrow, a natural result of being bound to an object for as long as it must’ve been. Hector couldn’t defeat this demon, but I’ll have no issue.
With the robe wrapped tightly around me, a firm finger remains outstretched, ready to lash out with a spell of destruction that would kill us both. As it examines my intent, I feel it too knows the truth; the devil is no match for this kind of mage.
“Y…you certainly would now,” it stutters, “wouldn’t you, sorceress?”
“I won’t tell you again.”
It replies, “Very well, child. I’ll make the path safe.”
With fatigue, I walk over to Hector and lend a hand, finding a stump of a thing offered back. It doesn’t take much contemplation to realize how it must’ve happened.
“Come on Hector. We’re going home.”
“Home?”
“Yes…home.”
