Weaver

by Ingrid Seymour

  He squeezed Perry’s hand. The Sorcerer helped him stand.

  Veridan was headed toward the door, Ashby blocking his path.

  “You have to pay for what you’ve done,” Ashby said. “For your many years of complicity to Danata.”

  Veridan laughed. “If you only knew! Now, get out of my way and quit wasting my time.”

  Ashby looked over the Sorcerer’s shoulder, his gaze locking with Greg’s for an instant, then he shrugged and stepped aside, sweeping his hand in invitation. Veridan took two steps forward, then as if sensing the danger, stopped and slowly looked over his shoulder.

  Greg wasn’t supposed to lead the charge, but he couldn’t help himself, especially when a look of utter panic registered on Veridan’s face. With the sword clasped tightly in his hands, he didn’t have to cower from the Sorcerer. Maybe he should have—the sword didn’t make him immune—but there was no way in hell he would shrink from this evil.

  He ran toward Veridan, the sword raised. Perry followed close behind him, shooting bolts of energy from his hands. They crashed against Veridan’s shield and dissolved into nothing.

  The older Sorcerer released a bolt of his own. Greg angled the sword to deflect the blow but, to his surprise and relief, it dissolved, too. Perry had also surrounded them with a protective shield.

  Panic still in his eyes, Veridan rushed backward out of the office and into a bigger area lined with desks. As he went, he released a few more useless attacks.

  Emboldened by Perry’s protection, Greg ran faster, sword held high in the air. Knowing the sword would cut through their barrier as well as Veridan’s, Greg crouched low, feigned to one side, then twirled in the opposite direction. The blade cut the air, slicing through Perry’s shield first, then Veridan’s.

  Greg braced himself for the impact of metal against bone, pointedly aware of the fact that he was about to kill someone, but willing to carry that load if it meant saving everyone else and ridding the world of a vile creature.

  He forced his eyes to stay open, even as they fought to close and spare him the gruesome sight. Instead, what they forced him to witness was Veridan’s disappearing act just as the sword came within mere inches of cutting him in half.

  Carried by momentum, the weapon swung wide, missing Perry by an inch.

  “Bloody hell,” Perry exclaimed, leaning backward and taking a hand to his neck. “Damn, the bastard is fast with spells!”

  “Where did he go?!” Greg growled.

  “He could be anywhere by now.”

  Greg was oddly relieved. He wanted Veridan dead, but maybe he wasn’t so eager to become a murderer. Besides, there was only one person he cared to find.

  “Where is Sam?” he demanded.

  “My guess would be the cells,” Ashby said from the door to the office where Greg had materialized from his time in limbo.

  “Take me to her, now!” Greg demanded.

  “Perry, you take him. I’ll stay here.” He stepped to one side and pointed toward a limp body on the floor.

  Greg couldn’t see the woman’s face, just her black hair spilling around her head and a crimson stain at her neckline. Brooke and Finley stood past the body, pale and speechless.

  “Who—?” Greg began.

  “My mother.”

  “Is she . . . ?”

  “No. She’s not dead. It’s just a sedative. The blood is fake.”

  “Oh, thank God!” Brooke exclaimed.

  “We thought it would make anyone on her side stand down,” Ashby continued, “but Veridan seems to be up to something of his own.”

  “We?” Perry asked, clearly as clueless as Greg.

  “Mirante and I. We didn’t want to rely on your acting abilities. It had to appear real.” Ashby turned back toward the office. “I’d better get MORF in here to help. We have to find Veridan before he causes trouble.”

  “C’mon, take me to Sam,” Greg said.

  “Okay.” Perry led the way, and Greg followed, heart hammering as they rushed through endless corridors.

  I’m coming, Sam. I’m coming.

  Chapter 57

  Sam

  Sam slept fitfully, tossing from side to side. Nightmares assaulted her from the moment she closed her eyes.

  A huge, dark monster roiled above her. Darkness-covered hands stretched in her direction, reaching, reaching, eager to pull her in.

  She startled awake. The feeling that something was terribly wrong soaked her skin. Bringing her manacled hands to her face, she sat up and stared at the floor.

  What if she never got out of this place? What if her destiny was to weave people over and over so Danata could tear them apart again?

  Despair gripped her heart.

  As horrible as that thought was, though, it was that dark thing she’d seen in Veridan’s room that disturbed her the most. She had no idea what it could be, but her spine turned to ice every time she thought of it.

  Evil was the only word that came to mind whenever she tried to describe it.

  A sound outside the door made her muscles tense. Muffled voices, too loud not to be shouts. Still, she couldn’t make out what they were saying.

  Something crashed against the door outside. Sam jumped to her feet, heart thumping. She’d figured they’d leave her alone tonight since the ball was taking place, but . . .

  She thought of her vinculums. They had shredded that cup and could do the same to someone’s face, but then she remembered they were dead.

  She pressed her back to the back wall, eyes wide and on the door. For a moment, everything went silent, and her heart skipped a beat for Jacob. Were they here to get him? Panicked, she took a step forward, but she was thrown back against the wall by the force of an explosion.

  Limp as a rag, Sam slid down the wall and hit the floor. Her ears rang and red sparks danced in front of her eyes. She blinked to dissipate them, then wished she hadn’t. Veridan was standing amid the billowing smoke with Simeon lying battered or perhaps dead behind him.

  Something tugged inside of Sam. It felt like one of her vinculums, but it was probably just her fear. Her widened eyes could not leave Veridan’s.

  The Sorcerer threw a glance over his shoulder, then rushed into the cell. Sam cowered against the wall as if to melt into it, but there was no escaping, not even by scratching at the Sorcerer’s hands as he grabbed for her.

  “I don’t have time for this,” Veridan spat, throwing a spell directly into her face.

  Sam went rigid, unable to move a muscle. After another quick glance over his shoulder, Veridan yanked Sam away from the wall, laid her flat on her back, and pulled a small vial from his jacket’s pocket.

  The word “no” rose in Sam’s throat, but it just stuck there.

  Veridan poured the glittering, green liquid into her mouth and pressed a hand over her lips and nose. He didn’t remove his hand until she swallowed, and the potion had time to set into her empty stomach like a load of bricks.

  The Sorcerer took hold of his amulet and issued the transfer conjuration. Sam tried to fight, to will herself into staying. The cell was preferable to wherever Veridan wanted to take her.

  Sam’s stomach lurched as the spell took hold. Steps echoed outside her cell, and just as she began to dissolve someone appeared at the door.

  “Sam!”

  Greg!

  He rushed toward her, a hand extended in her direction, but it was too late. The cell fell away as Sam tumbled into nothingness.

  Chapter 58

  Ashby

  After getting in contact with MORF and summoning a few trusted guards, Ashby left his unconscious mother in their care and set out in search of Sam, with Brooke and Finley right behind him.

  “Which way are the dungeons?” Brooke asked, looking right and left off the hall outside Danata’s office.

  “They are not really dungeons, but this way,” Ashby said.

  They’d barely taken a few steps when Perry and Greg turned the corner, running at a full pelt.

  “
Where is she?!” Brooke asked.

  “Veridan took her just as we got there. He used a transfer spell,” Perry said.

  Greg was breathing heavily, sword in hand, and looking ready to behead Veridan or whoever stood in his way.

  Ashby thought for a moment and, for some reason, remembered what he and Perry had once seen in Veridan’s chambers. The Sorcerer was up to no good, and something told Ashby that the dark, sinister blob Veridan kept in his room had something to do with it.

  “Follow me. I have a feeling he didn’t go far,” he said, turning and running toward the north end of the castle.

  Steps echoed through the halls as they ran, blindly turning corners and knocking furniture down in their haste. When they made it to Veridan’s chamber, Ashby tried the door, but it was locked.

  “Perry, can you open this?” Ashby asked.

  “But of course.” Perry waved a hand over the lock, then twisted the knob. Nothing. He winced. “It might take me a few minutes. The bastard has sealed it with magic.”

  Perry tried one more time with the same result. “Um, I’ll keep working on it.”

  Ashby banged on the door.

  “I doubt he’s going to just let us in,” Brooke put in. “Can’t one of you just give it a good kick?”

  Greg stepped forward and, without preamble, released an explosive kick close to the lock. He bounced back and hopped on one foot, wincing in pain.

  “Well, that was a bad idea,” Brooke quipped. “Sorry, Greg.”

  “Maybe if we all push at once,” Finley offered.

  Ashby ran a hand through his hair, trying to figure out what to do. Perry was still casting spells as he clung to his amulet, but it didn’t seem as if he would be able to bridge Veridan’s magic.

  An explosion inside the room rattled the door and made the walls tremble. They all exchanged wary glances.

  “I almost got it,” Perry said, sweat dripping down his forehead. If a lock was giving him this much trouble, what could he do against Veridan?

  Greg threw a few more kicks at the door. The wood dented where his heel struck. The hinges groaned.

  “Wow,” Brooke said under her breath. “Perry, you might want to give it a rest. I think Greg’s got it.”

  Perry gave her a mean look and tried harder.

  “Sorcerers,” Brooke said with a roll of her eyes.

  A few seconds passed, then Perry exclaimed, “Got it!”

  The lock clicked opened. They rushed inside, Greg leading the charge just to run into another barred door.

  Perry pushed to the front. “It should be easier this time,” he said as he got to work.

  Greg readied his sword and stood firmly, his shoulders rising and falling at an accelerated rate.

  “Oh, God, Sam,” Brooke said, biting her nails in worry. Finley put a hand on her arm to console her.

  Just as Greg seemed ready to explode into another fit of useless kicks, the narrow door to Veridan’s alcove cracked open.

  Wasting not a second, Greg rushed in, the sword ready for the kill.

  Chapter 59

  Veridan

  Veridan didn’t have to travel far. Going to his chamber within the castle was possibly the shortest transfer he’d ever performed, but maybe the most crucial.

  “Good, you got her,” Fina said with delight. “Let me check her mark.”

  “No time for that. Things have changed,” Veridan said. “Her Keeper has just arrived.”

  “I thought you said they had been ripped.”

  “Yes, but he’s relentless. He wields a Sorcerer-forged sword, now. But we don’t have time for explanations.” Veridan pushed past the door into his small alcove. The nebula floated, throbbing and roiling as if the souls trapped inside knew what was coming.

  “It’s fortunate I was able to convince everyone, then,” Fina said.

  Veridan hadn’t stopped to contemplate any other possibility. Fina had promised to act fast, and he had trusted her to deliver. He hadn’t been wrong.

  Fina followed him into the alcove, the girl floating behind under one of her spells. He had to smile at that. It was as if the Sorceress could read his mind. She would make an excellent partner against humans.

  “They await on the other side, atop the mountain,” Fina said.

  “How many?”

  “Seven Sorcerers and five Warriors,” she responded.

  Veridan was momentarily awestruck. She had gathered twelve Morphids of powerful castes in such a short time.

  It was regrettable how, in this realm, Morphidkind had been unable to prosper, but their numbers had been so low since the beginning that it had been an uphill battle. Now, however, with fresh blood from Nymphalia, it would be much different.

  An insistent pounding came at the door. Magic reinforced the wood and lock but, depending on who was on the other side, it might be only a matter of time before they broke through.

  Fina looked over her shoulder from the alcove’s threshold.

  “Expecting someone?” she asked, taking a hold of her amulet.

  Behind her, the girl’s eyes swiveled in their sockets, as if to scream for help.

  Veridan cursed. He needed time to go into the nebula and open the portal for his guests. They would also need space to disembark, especially since a battle was knocking at their door. This room was entirely too small.

  As he searched for an answer, his gaze stopped on the wall to his left. He pursed his lips and raised an eyebrow, considering. He wouldn’t need this chamber any longer. He wouldn’t need the stupid castle, for that matter. His sights were on far more than just an isolated corner of the world where he could hide and subsist.

  He tightened his grip on his amulet as the pounding at the door became violent. A quick spell issued from his lips and the wall exploded outward, ancient stones spitting into the night sky like cannonballs. When the dust cleared, a hole as wide as a limousine stretched before them. Crisp air blew into the small alcove. With a flick of his hand, he shut the door and applied a magical seal that should hold his pursuers for a few minutes.

  “Help me,” he said to Fina, as he cast a gentle spell toward the nebula.

  Fina joined him as soon as she realized his intention. She cast a similar spell, and the nebula began to move through the hole. It went past the stone wall and floated outside in midair. Fina and Veridan followed it, stopped at the edge of the demolished wall, and kept pushing. The nebula traveled over the topiary, as they directed it to a small clearing in the far end. There, they deposited it with care, then leapt down to the garden minutes before the door to the alcove burst open.

  They stepped softly onto the grass below, their landing cushioned by magic. Samantha floated behind them like a dog on a leash. Laying a hand on Fina and the girl, Veridan transported them to the nebula with a quick spell. They appeared behind a tall hedge that hid them from view. The seclusion of the spot would buy Veridan the time he needed to open the portal and set his scheme in motion. As an extra measure, he released a few spells around the area that would disguise their presence to the casual eye.

  Satisfied, he took Fina’s hand in his and smiled down at her. She smiled back, her eyes glinting with an intensity that made him want her. Oh, what a delicious future awaited him. Fate was a poor architect compared to what he was able to accomplish.

  Hand in hand, they stepped into the nebula, ready to change the world.

  Chapter 60

  Greg

  “Damn it,” Greg cursed, rushing to a huge hole in the stone wall.

  They were gone, leaving behind no clue of where they’d gone. Again. The garden below was empty, no sign of Veridan or Sam, just tall shrubs in obscenely manicured shapes.

  Ashby joined Greg and peered out.

  Behind them, Perry said, “That thing is gone.”

  Greg and Ashby turned to Perry who was gesturing toward the far corner.

  “What thing?” Brooke asked, but Perry shook his head and didn’t offer an explanation.

  “Perry,
can you figure out where they’ve gone?” Ashby asked.

  The Sorcerer walked closer and surveyed the garden, a hand on his amulet. After a strained moment, he shook his head. “No, there’s a concealment spell of some sort, but they couldn’t have gone far, not with that . . . thing.” He exchanged a look with Ashby. “They’re down there somewhere.” He narrowed his eyes into the dark night.

  “The thing, the thing!” Brooke exclaimed, exasperated. “What the hell are you talking about?”

  “We don’t really know what it is,” Perry said. “All we know is that it’s a nasty bit of dark magic that can’t be good.”

  Greg didn’t care about some stupid, indescribable thing. Only Sam mattered. He turned, faced the hole, then leaped down. Behind him, Brooke’s panicked voice called out his name. Greg landed in a crouch twelve feet below. He looked back over his shoulder to find the four of them peering down with surprised expressions.

  “I guess you don’t care about the thing,” Perry called out with a sigh. “Everyone,” he put a hand out. “Let’s go, unless you feel like jumping.”

  Three hands landed on top of Perry’s. The spell came quickly and, in a dizzying jolt, transferred them down to the garden next to a massive swan-shaped bush.

  Ashby stepped away from the bush. “Let’s find, Sam.”

  “Took you long enough,” Greg said, slipping off his uncomfortable jacket and bow tie and flinging them to the ground. “They’re near.” He shook his head. “I don’t know how, but I can sense Sam.”

  At first, when he’d been running with Perry toward the jail cell and he’d felt a tug in the depths of his soul, he thought he’d imagined it, but when they burst into the cell and found Sam in Veridan’s grip, the pull had been so strong he almost fell to his knees.

  He could have slammed his head against the wall as Sam disappeared right before his eyes. They’d been too late, and the awareness he’d felt in his soul, the familiar Keeper instincts trying to come to the surface, had disappeared with Sam.