Regulators Revealed

by Toby Neighbors

A flash of red light forced Dex to drop to the ground, and roll out of the path of an orange flash that caused the turf where he’d been standing to spray up into the air from the impact of the deadly magic. Dex, summoning the power of his opal, levitated the Lord Marshyl just a couple of inches off the ground, then sent him gliding over to where Kyp and Squirrel were waiting just inside the wall. They grabbed the Lord Marshyl and pulled him inside, just as Dex turned his attention back to his father.

  Maslow had come out from behind the mound of stones. He was limping, the woolen trousers he wore were wet with blood on his left leg. Yet he seemed completely unfazed by the clumps of Marshyl Knights fighting back from where they hid behind piles of rubble and stacks of building supplies. Outrider Reegan slipped out from the cover he was safe behind, raising his sword and shield, much like Dex remembered seeing back in Rycaster when the fearless Marshyl had faced a vicious ring mage. Maslow was fast. He had a wand that dripped with a dark substance. Dex wasn’t sure, but it looked as if the wand was dripping with blood.

  Red light shot from the wand. Reegan raised his shield and slid sideways, but the spell clipped the edge of the shield, slamming it back and knocking Reegan off his feet. Dex saw the look of murderous rage in his father’s eyes as he pointed the bloody wand at the Outrider, who lay on his back helpless to escape.

  Dex bounded to his feet, dashing into the fray, screaming at the top of his lungs. Maslow started to curse Dex, but hesitated for a second as Dex raised the Lord Marshyl’s sword. Then a blast of yellow light erupted from Maslow’s bloody wand.

  “Cashuh!” Dex said, sending, his body sliding suddenly to his right.

  Maslow’s face pinched in fury as he cast another spell at Dex.

  “Saultia!”

  The young Marshyl flipped away, landing halfway up a mound of rubble, the spell smashing into the debris below him. Dex jumped, summoning the levitating magic of his opal and soaring across the courtyard. Maslow tried several times to bring Dex down, but in the grip of the opal’s magic he could zig and zag at will avoiding the spells and giving him the time to cast one of his own.

  The bone basher spell was intrinsic to the Lord Marshyl’s sword, part of the dwarf beard that had been forged into the blue steel. It shot like a living shadow down toward his father, who jumped out of the way, but fell as the ground where he’d stood blasted apart as if it had been hit with a giant hammer.

  Dex dropped to the ground, sweat running down from his thick hair. He swiped it away as he glanced toward the wall. Kyp and Squirrel were running to help him. Dex levitated Reegan’s body, much the way he’d done with the Lord Marshyl.

  “Get him out of here!” Dex yelled, just as Maslow was getting back to his feet.

  “Whuzzat!” Dex shouted, sending the red killing spell straight at his father.

  Maslow waved his wand in a careless gesture, as if he were lazily shooing a fly away. The red light of the killing spell bent in midair and angled off course, smashing harmlessly into a pile of wood.

  Without hesitating Dex cursed his father with the elvish ending from the Lord Marshyl’s sword. The spell flashed a beam of golden light and needed no verbal incantation, but Maslow sensed it coming just the same. He raised his wand into a defensive position, much like a swordsman, catching the spell and sending it flying away. To Dex’s horror, the curse hit Squirrel who dropped to the ground, his body stiff as Kyp labored to drag Reegan to safety.

  “You can’t stop me, Dex,” Maslow said. “I tried to warn you.”

  “I’ll kill you,” Dex threatened.

  “You can’t, none of you can. The magic of the Marshyl Guild is waning. I tried to get you to see the truth, but you’re stubborn, so stubborn.”

  Dex understood that he couldn’t fight his father with magic. The Elusive Executioner simply knew too much. Dex didn’t understand why his father’s magic was so powerful, but it was undeniably superior to what the Marshyls were wielding. Yet Dex also knew that if he could get close enough, the Lord Marshyl’s sword had a razor edge that was as deadly as any dark magic.

  Even without his armor Dex sprinted toward his father. The flick of the wand was warning enough, and Dex jumped into the air, the magic of the opal ring that was bonded to his skin lifting him. He angled down, racing toward his father, the sword thrusting straight for Maslow’s heart.

  Then, without warning, Dex froze in midair. He hung there, helpless, as if held in the grip of an invisible giant. He was twelve feet off the ground, yet his magic seemed to have fled away and he was powerless.

  “You have heart,” Maslow said. “But you fail to see the pointlessness of your actions. I’m too strong for you, son. I always have been.”

  As Dex watched in horror, Maslow pointed his wand at Dex and sent a flash of green light straight at him. Dex tried to move, but couldn’t. The spell struck home, but instead of pain or injury, the magic jerked the Lord Marshyl’s sword from Dex’s hand. The leaf-shaped blade flew toward Maslow, who caught it easily and spent a split second admiring the craftsmanship.

  Without warning, and from different places around the courtyard, nearly a dozen Marshyl Knights jumped into the fray, casting spells at Maslow from different angles. He dodged some and blocked others, but a few crashed through his defenses and sent him staggering backward.

  Dex fell unexpectedly, catching himself with the levitating power of the opal just in time to avoid getting hurt as he hit the ground. When he looked up he saw Maslow fighting back against the renewed attack from the Marshyl Knights. Dex recognized the elvish ending curse as knights froze in their advance.

  “Ozztia!” Dex said, utilizing the opal’s magic to cast the sweeping spell, but the magic hit Maslow at an odd angle.

  Dex felt his father’s bloody leg give a little, and Maslow staggered but didn’t fall. All around Dex were rock fragments and broken chunks of timber from the reconstruction of the Marshyl compound. He levitated them and sent them hurtling toward his father. Maslow was able to redirect most of the debris flying toward him, but Dex’s mastery of the levitation spell allowed him to slip a few of the dangerous objects through his father’s defenses. One hit Maslow’s shoulder, another tore through his shirt where it slammed into his stomach.

  The Executioner bent low from the impact of the debris and Dex managed to get a small stone to impact Maslow’s head, opening a gash above his right eye. The murderous outlaw screamed in pain, as more Marshyls appeared. The Executioner shot two bone basher spells into piles of loose stone and sent them flying in all directions. Dex had to dive behind a pile of timber to avoid the cascades of rock. When he peeked over the edge of his cover, Dex saw Maslow moving toward the gate in the wall.

  He was fleeing, and Dex was determined to stop him, once and for all. He jumped onto the pile of timber and flung himself forward, using the opal ring to levitate himself straight toward Maslow. The Executioner saw Dex from the corner of his eye, and turned at the last second to ward him off, but he was too slow. Dex collided with his father and they both fell, rolling across the ground.

  The next thing Dex knew his father was on top of him. All his weight seemed to be pinning Dex down. The young Marshyl could barely breathe, and Maslow stared into his eyes.

  “I didn’t want this,” he said.

  Dex’s hand found his silver dagger and he stabbed the ornamental blade upward. Maslow shouted in pain and punched Dex hard, the blow impacting Dex’s cheekbone and making him lose consciousness for a second. When Dex came around Maslow was looking at the silver dagger.

  “Cute trinket,” he snarled. “But it will take more than that to kill me, Dex!”

  “I will kill you,” Dex shouted angrily.

  “I didn’t want to do this,” Maslow shouted.

  He slammed the dagger toward Dex, who squirmed but couldn’t avoid the blow. The silver blade tore into the muscle just above his collar bone. The pain sent a jolt through Dex that made him feel completely out of control. Fire seemed to be burning through his neck, across his
shoulder, and down into his chest.

  Without even thinking Dex hurled his father from him using the power of the opal. Somehow Maslow managed to land on his feet. He cast several more curses then stooped as if to retrieve something. Dex hadn’t moved. He started to, but pain shot through his body and he felt weak. Suddenly Maslow was standing over him. The Elusive Executioner had Squirrel over one shoulder, the Keeper’s small body was stiff from the elvish ending curse.

  “This is the end Dex,” Maslow said. “You made your choice.”

  The ground beneath Dex began to shake. It made the pain in his shoulder lance through his entire body and Dex’s vision blurred with tears. The great wall that enclosed the Marshyl compound shook, and dust began to billow from between the massive blocks of stone. Dex could hear the screams of terror and he felt as if the world were about to end.

  Bliss dropped from sky silently, her talons outstretched. Dex saw her coming to his aid, always loyal and fearless. She dove onto Maslow’s back, ripping the flesh with her long claws, before swooping upward again. Maslow fell to his knees, looking up with an expression of pure hatred. Dex saw more Marshyls dashing toward them. Maslow aimed the Lord Marshyl’s sword at the gate to the wall and sent the bone basher spell to smash it to pieces. Then he scooped up Squirrel and ran for his life.

  Epilogue

  The Marshyls didn’t find Maslow, not even a trail of blood. He had vanished, perhaps fleeing into the snowy woods, but more likely using some arcane magic to speed his escape. Dex remained pinned to the ground after the battle until Kyp appeared. He pulled the dagger from Dex’s shoulder and the pain caused him to pass out.

  When Dex woke up again he was in a room with several other Marshyls. Reegan was there, nursing a broken arm. Dex could move, but his neck and shoulder were still very painful.

  “Look who’s awake,” Reegan said.

  “You’re okay?”

  “I’m fine,” Reegan said.

  “And the Lord Marshyl?”

  “The healers are still with him,” the Outrider said. “If he survives he’ll have your friends to thank. I can’t imagine that the Executioner would have left him alive if he’d had his say.”

  “Did they catch him?”

  “No,” Reegan said sadly. “He’s gone. He took Squirrel.”

  “But the compound is safe, right?”

  “It is. I’ve heard the stories. Your phoenix saved the day. It’s too bad she didn’t rip out the bastard’s throat.”

  “We have to go after him,” Dex said as he slowly sat up. “We have to save Squirrel.”

  “Don’t worry, I’ve already got a plan working,” Reegan said. “But we can’t leave until we’re healed. Bliss has given several feathers, so it’s just a matter of time.”

  “Where is she?”

  “I suspect she’s off doing some healing of her own,” the Outrider said. “All we can do for now is to pray for the Lord Marshyl.”

  An hour later Dex was feeling much better, although he still felt tired. When he was able, Dex left the infirmary with Reegan. They were met outside by Kyp. The big forger looked like a different person. He was wearing armor much like Dex’s, only with a smaller shield and a war hammer hanging from his belt.

  “What’s this?” Dex said.

  “We’re going after Squirrel,” the big Forger said. “I just finished your armor.”

  “I have armor,” Dex said.

  “Not you,” Kyp said. “I think maybe his brains were addled in the fight.”

  “We’re all daft,” Reegan said. “Even with the dragon armor, we’re not likely to survive another encounter with the Executioner.”

  “We can’t just let him flee with Squirrel,” Dex said.

  “No, we can’t. We have to stop him,” Reegan said.

  “But how are we going to find him?” Kyp said. “The Rangers tried to track him. He just disappeared.”

  “We don’t know where he’s gone,” Reegan said. “But we know where he’ll go once he interrogates Squirrel.”

  “Lawrenshire,” Dex said.

  “That’s right,” Reegan agreed. “We know what he wants.”

  “Not just him,” Dex said. “Maslow said his master, this sorcerer Crane, has a group of wizards trained just like my dad. They’ll all be coming to steal the Sylykron. That’s all they care about.”

  “Then we’ll have to stop them,” Kyp said.

  “Just us?” Dex asked.

  “We’re the only ones who have the armor,” Kyp said. “I used all the dragon scale they brought from the cavern under the city when Squirrel returned from Lawrenshire.”

  “We will need help,” Reegan said with a glint in his eye. “And I know just where to get it. Have either of you ever heard of the Griffin Warriors of Ushami?”

  Hungry for more great fantasy?

  Try My Lady Sorceress

  book one of the My Lady series

  Prologue

  Crucifus the Red was circling high above the deep interior of the Western Realm. It was a land of magic, a bright, fertile continent that was home to many races of intelligent beings, dragons being just one. But few were as old, or as wise as Crucifus the Red. An ancient proverb described wisdom as knowing how much one truly didn’t know, but Crucifus knew more than most. He remembered the Great War, when the evil of the elvish Sorcerer Mastiphus spread like a plague across the Realm. There were traces of that blight still marring the beauty of Crucifus’ homeland. Those pockets of cruelty and perversion were of little concern. The nature of such evil was self limiting, it was destructive by its very nature. Only goodness was prone to grow.

  Still, the great, red dragon had cause to be alarmed. Something new was spreading, a hunger and viciousness that Crucifus had never seen before. The dragon, high above the great plain in the center of the vast continent watched as a group of dire wolves ravaged a herd of bison. The buffalo had few natural enemies, but the wolves were larger than even the buffalo and unlike normal wolves they weren’t content to simply kill for food. The wolves tore through the herd, slaughtering the bison simply for the joy they found in killing. It wasn’t madness; Crucifus had seen animals inflicted with disease, foaming at the mouth as they attacked anything and everything in sight, but the madness killed the host, ravaging their helpless bodies until they hardly resembled the animal they once had been. The dire wolves were not sickly, there was no scent of disease about them, but they were killers without equal in the Western Realm.

  It wasn’t just the pack of dire wolves that worried Crucifus, something was changing the world as it had once been. Something was infecting and deforming, something dark, something evil; he knew it had to be stopped, but he had yet to locate the source. He could feel the dark magic at work in the world below him, and he knew if it continued to spread it would consume everything. Crucifus had heard stories as a fledgling from the old fathers, the ancient dragons, of a time in the past when the Western Realm was not a safe place, when every creature was to be feared. He had thought the tales were simply stories made up to help young dragons see the need for goodness in the world, but he was beginning to think that perhaps those stories were based in truth.

  Crucifus understood that if magic was driven out of the Western Realm, if it was lost or somehow forgotten, if no one pure of heart and noble in character arose to wield it, the world as he knew it would fade away. Many wondrous creatures depended on magic to survive, and the more the great dragon thought it, the more he realized that in the last century fewer sorcerers had arose to support and revive the magic in the land. It was like a fire that needed constant tending, but there were few willing or able to control it. The elves had once been powerful wizards, but the Great War had robbed them of the will to act beyond their own enchanted species. Crucifus would have to look elsewhere, to the newer, younger races, but first he had to deal with the carnage below.

  There were few things as terrifying as a full-grown dragon descending at speed, roaring in furry. The buffalo herd was already
in a panic, stampeding away from the pack of dire wolves, but as Crucifus dove toward them they scattered. The great beasts of the plain were not the dragon’s prey, although he had enjoyed feasting on buffalo many times in his long life. Crucifus ignored the frightened bison and charged straight for the alpha in the pack of dire wolves. The huge predator didn’t panic at the sight of the enormous red dragon, instead it growled menacingly then darted forward, leaping high into the air, its muzzle open wide to reveal savage-looking teeth that might possibly be able to penetrate dragon scales. Crucifus did not give the brute a chance to try. With one massive blast of fire the dire wolf was not just blown backward in mid leap, it was also killed instantly. The body of the wolf dropped toward the ground, but with a mighty flap of wings Crucifus shot forward and snapped his massive jaws onto the blackened body of the dead wolf. Bones could be heard snapping as they splintered under the pressure of the dragon’s bite.

  The wolves left below Crucifus howled and barked as they watched the dragon consume their leader. They circled below, unsure what to do, as Crucifus turned in a wide, wheeling arc before diving toward them again. There was a time when the great red dragon could have eaten half the pack without slowing, but age had finally caught up to Crucifus. The dire wolf sat heavy in the dragon’s stomach, making him slow and tired. On his second pass he spewed fire at the wolves but they were smart enough to scatter. As Crucifus turned again, his sharp eyes caught the pack reforming and then racing away. He wanted to chase them, to drive them hard and then destroy them all, but the old dragon was suddenly too tired. He needed rest, and so Crucifus rose up higher in the air, his massive head drooping just a little as he turned east toward the Mountain Veil that separated the rich, verdant interior from the coastal lands where man ruled. His lair was high in the mountains, and far away from the great plains, but Crucifus locked his wings in place and let the air currents propel him along. He would rest, regain his strength, and then take up his hunt for someone worthy of his mark.