Silverstone

by C E Johnson

  Do you have your words ready? Vuk asked with concern. Bind that monster to your hand. Focus, my link!

  I’m going to tell it to obey my every command, Malachi promised even as he retched on the floor. The tiny room felt like it was shrinking. His vomit mixed with the rank scent of rot and gangrene. The Mavet raa was now solid. It was formed. Malachi’s mind felt like it was going to burst. He wondered what exactly to say first while rubbing his flushed face with one hand. Drogor hadn’t told him if there was some protocol or key words.

  Compel it, shackle it to your commands, Vuk urged.

  Clearing his throat of the acidic reflux he was regurgitating, Malachi moistened his lips to give his first directive, but even that action seemed to take too long. The Mavet raa wasn’t waiting on him. Even before Malachi could talk, the bumbling, awkward Mavet raa burst forward lurching at Malachi surprisingly fast in the close quarters. The room was so small Malachi couldn’t escape the beast.

  It’s attacking me, he roared to Vuk in a confused panic. A hysteria was overtaking him.

  “You should have taken my offer,” the beast screeched. Claws raked Malachi’s arm that he raised to ward off the monster, and he cursed his stupidity. Reeling back against the wall as his blood spilled to the ground from his arm, he screamed in terror.

  Bind it or kill it, Vuk ordered, howling in Malachi’s head.

  I can’t get away from it in this blasted small room, Malachi cried out to Vuk in pain. His sweat-soaked hair was covering his eyes as he dodged to the side. He blurted out a fireball incantation, but the spell had no effect on the Mavet raa, bouncing harmlessly off the wall.

  The Mavet raa Drogor bared his hideous teeth and leaned toward Malachi, hissing, “You made the wrong choice.” All at once, the creature slammed into him as it attacked again. Malachi shook with the shock of impact. There was nowhere to run. The Mavet raa’s nails sheared effortlessly through his armor, skin, and bone with a splintering, sickening sound. As Drogor’s teeth penetrated Malachi’s skin, the light from Malachi’s finger liquefied into ash.

  My body’s becoming cold as snow, he whispered to Vuk, but Vuk wasn’t listening anymore. Malachi could picture Vuk also disintegrating. He had failed his bondsmate. Abruptly, a new process was set into motion. He tried to yell, but only a hideous croak emerged from his mouth. Wincing inwardly, he realized how badly he had been fooled. He was dying.

  “Malachi!” Amanda wailed from the cell next to his own. Malachi imagined Loff Retz biting into her perfect skin, shredding her perfect hair.

  “I’m sorry!” he screamed to Amanda in the room next to him. “I’m so sorry.”

  “Now we battle for the body,” Drogor intoned. A roaring filled Malachi’s ears, and a wind burst from nowhere. Malachi was locked in a mental battle with Drogor for supremacy of the forming half-dead vampire body, but he knew from the onset he wasn’t going to win. Drogor had prepared for this moment for an eon.

  Why even fight? Malachi asked himself. He imagined the disapproval in his elven mother’s eyes as he surrendered to Drogor. With one of his last thoughts, he wondered why he hadn’t heeded Emily Dalton’s advice.

  “You will now gain the whole world,” Drogor promised. “You will be my prime assimilation.” Malachi could feel his essence feeding the thirsty formation of a vampire half-dead. His body began liquify to water under Drogor’s power.

  “Yet I will never forfeit my soul to you,” Malachi vowed with his last words on Earth. As his final sentence was voiced, he burst into a death-light that erupted like an explosion in the small room. However, as dazzling as the resulting brilliance was, it didn’t affect the transforming half-dead in any manner whatsoever.

  * * * Drogor * * *

  “Finally,” Drogor thundered as the process was complete. Gazing down at his newly made, perfect vampire body, he felt giddy with joy. He was formed from a black magician elf, one of the most powerful beings in the universe. He pounded on the stone partition next to him. “Loff, is it done?” he rumbled out his question. “Did you win?”

  “I’m an ogre,” Loff confirmed from behind the wall. “You were right. I defeated Amanda with ease. She was nothing more than a naïve adolescent.”

  Drogor ripped away the locked partition and stared at the massive naked ogre who was filling the cell next to his own. “Loff, you’re splendid, my friend,” Drogor roared.

  “We did it!” Loff crowed. “The small rooms worked to perfection.” Besides the ogre and vampire, only shadows filled their two cells, but Drogor could now see in the dark with ease. There was no more night.

  “Keep everything in order,” Drogor ordered. Loff nodded, he understood Drogor’s desires. Loff ripped away the last partitions between the other cells. He made sure each half-dead on their council had been created in the sequential rooms. After receiving a thumbs-up sign from Loff, Drogor instantly felt thirstier than he had ever felt in his life. He wanted more magus. “Call for the prisoners, Loff!” he ordered.

  Loff pounded a massive fist on the wall of his cell. “Send down the prisoners!” he roared. The sealing stone was removed, and the twelve prisoner magicians were forced to climb slowly down into the pit by Iscar and Ullr. Once within their tomb, the sealing stone was replaced.

  The council members pushed the sacrificial lambs into the rooms of Drogor and Loff. Drogor himself ripped six of the shaking magicians to pieces in his greed and lust. He thrived on their energy. Loff partook of four. The two remaining prisoners were split between the half-deads on the high council. They would only be allowed to have a fraction of Drogor’s power. There would be no competition to his rule.

  “We are bound to nothing, correct Drogor?” Loff asked with a broad grin covering his wide face that was smeared with blood.

  “We are free to do as we wish,” Drogor answered confidently. “We are half-deads without masters. We killed our creators before we were bound. We can do anything. We can live forever.”

  “Is it time to emerge from this grave?” Loff asked with raised eyebrows. “I’m dying to see something real again.”

  “The time has come,” Drogor exclaimed. Loff pounded on the wall again, and the sealing stone was removed a final time. Drogor somehow managed to push past the enormous ogre and he scrambled up the ladder first. He could feel heat and cold. There were colors that he hadn’t seen in generations. Springing into the room above, he felt truly alive. His council came up from the depths and grouped around him.

  The goblin squad rushed forward to kneel at Drogor’s feet. “Master,” they intoned as one. They stood and clothed Drogor and his council in black leather armor and dark cloaks of wool that they had waiting.

  Drogor acknowledged the goblins’ actions with a dismissive wave as he studied the room. Iscar was before him with Brytam at his side. They stared at him wide-eyed from the two thrones. “Where is Malachi?” Iscar said in a hushed voice, a stunned expression dominating his face. “Their bondsmates evaporated.” Iscar kept glancing from Drogor to the opening, but no one else was coming out.

  “Malachi is within me now,” Drogor intoned. “My council answers only to my command.”

  Brytam inhaled sharply. She looked to Iscar with panic on her face. Iscar staggered a step to the side. Shock was etched into Iscar’s every feature. He kneeled shakily before Drogor, “Welcome, my king,” he sputtered. Brytam fell to a knee at Iscar’s side.

  Drogor laughed wickedly. “Did our troops arrive with Malachi?” he asked. He went to one of the vacated thrones and sat in it. Loff went to the second throne and heavily reclined in the stone chair.

  “They have,” a goblin chortled. “It’s a big army.”

  “Perfect,” Drogor thundered. “Bring me a score of magicians from Malachi’s army. I need to feed with my council.” He glanced around the room with a proud expression on his face. “I think Maaca’s going to like it here.”

  CHAPTER 16

  Dr. D

  The world was still, and the air was growing colder daily. Emily rubb
ed her hands together to get some warmth into them. “I feel like my blood is turning into ice,” she said to Isabelle.

  Isabelle pursed her lips and laid a finger aside her nose. “Quiet, Em, more are coming in.” Isabelle’s hushed voice was raised just above a whisper, “If we don’t spook them, I’ve found it doesn’t take much of my magus at all.”

  “Did I really say I’d do this from now until the end of my days?” Elizabeth asked with wide, innocent eyes as she attempted to act confused and bewildered.

  “You most certainly did,” Isabelle muttered. “Don’t put on your dumbfounded act for us.” Emily and Elizabeth giggled. Emily felt as if a huge weight had been lifted off her shoulders since Wuldur and his half-deads had been sent away. She hoped she could find a way to deal with Doeg and Delores, but that challenge could wait a little while.

  “I think today is the day for you, Isabelle,” Elizabeth began hopefully as she stared into the woods. “Your bondsmate is probably in there right now.” Elizabeth spoke encouragingly, but to Isabelle her words rang hollow.

  “I’m sure I’ve drawn every animal in Louisiana to us during our travels,” Isabelle grumbled in a flat tone full of disappointment. “If I, the greatest indigo magician of all time, can’t pull a bondsmate out of this state, then I think my heart is going to burst.” It was morning, and they were waiting for Isabelle to finish her incantation before riding the last few miles to meet with Dr. D’s army. Anna’s golden eagle, Soane, had flown in the direction of the awaiting forces in New Orleans several times making sure everything looked safe and proper for their approach. Emily couldn’t wait to see her father, but she knew how important this was to Isabelle. There wouldn’t be as many animals around once they approached the awaiting army.

  “Did you dream-link with Dr. D?” Elizabeth asked Emily while surveying the creatures moving toward them in waves, ebbing forward and then gradually withdrawing. She took a sip of a hot tea Anna had made for them. The warm liquid was sending up a small cloud of steam.

  “I did,” Emily answered tenderly.

  “Is he really going to be there?” Elizabeth asked while raising an eyebrow in question. “I can’t wait to see him again. For some reason he represents safety and security to me.”

  “He’s there,” Emily assured her while thinking similar thoughts about her father. She was sitting down shoulder to shoulder with Elizabeth and Isabelle on a blanket that rested on the snow. They were just above the banks of the Mississippi River watching a steady stream of animals continue to approach and depart an open field abutting the water’s edge. Isabelle had started performing her spell both in the morning and in the evening to increase the odds that she would find her bondsmate.

  “In my heart, I was sure I would find my link before we reached New Orleans,” Isabelle murmured. Pushing her brown curls out of her eyes, her face betrayed her vulnerability. “Now, I’m not so sure.”

  “We’ll find her,” Elizabeth promised. She was holding her bondsmate Lia against her chest.

  “We just have to keep trying,” Emily said, echoing Elizabeth’s hope. She squeezed Isabelle’s hand, attempting to send hope across to Isabelle through their touch. Emily then closed her eyes and evaluated the animals through her other senses. She felt so alive since her magus had finally become fully restored over the last week. Even her wounds had healed with only a few new scars to add to her collection. I don’t know why Luke finds me attractive, she thought to herself. I’m a bundle of ugly flaws.

  You’re beautiful, Xena whispered.

  You’d say that no matter what I looked like, Emily retorted with a smile in her thoughts.

  True, Xena answered back with her own amusement passing across their link. Now, I do wish you had some more soft fur, Xena teased.

  Is there a spell for that? Emily snorted her question with laughter. She took an even deeper breath and focused on the feel of this moment—the smell of the outdoors, the even breathing of her friends. Everything felt right. It had taken days, but she had finally shaken away the fatigue that had tried to bore into her soul like an aggressive parasite. Oliver had returned to their group, and everything seemed to be falling into line. Even their horses had returned thanks to Isabelle’s guidance.

  Luke’s heading your way, Xena whispered from her position by the tents where she hoped she wouldn’t disturb the animal parade.

  Opening her eyes, Emily stared down the path toward camp until Luke’s head came into view. His presence relaxed her. He would always be her knight riding on a white horse ready to save her time and again. Spirit even more restored as she caught sight of him, Emily sighed in contentment.

  “We should leave soon,” Luke called out. Emily waved to let him know she heard him. She liked how he was taking more control of the day-to-day duties. There was a strong power burning within him and he was learning how to become a leader.

  Isabelle began to quietly sing a song. The words described how she was facing a weary battle, but she was strong and could face any challenges that came her way. Emily smiled to herself while rubbing Isabelle’s back lightly hoping to give her some comfort and compassion. “Do you really think I’ll find her, Em?” Isabelle asked. Her voice was strained with emotion.

  “I know you will,” Emily answered as firmly as she was able. She looked to the sky for inspiration, but the ash was irritating to her. It felt thick in her eyes and she squinted with irritation. Scattered birds were trilling their songs, but they sounded weak and unsure of themselves. Emily wondered how many animals would survive the challenges in this new world.

  “There seems to be fewer flowers every day as the weather changes,” Elizabeth said in a sorrowful voice. She began absently picking several new blossoms rising above the grass in a patch sheltered from the snow.

  “When she’s looking for flowers, she seems oblivious to the cold,” Emily whispered to Isabelle with a knowing smile.

  Elizabeth began weaving the blooms in her favorite pastime. Suddenly, she dropped her developing crown. “Look over there!” She grew silent while pointing toward a bird coming in fast. Elizabeth appeared transfixed by the beauty before her, mouth agape.

  “Something’s different about this one,” Isabelle exclaimed. Her fingernails dug into Emily’s palms, and Emily could feel the hope in Isabelle’s trembling hand. The bird grew bigger and Emily thought it might be a falcon. Isabelle began to laugh, but her laugh began to shake until it faded away altogether.

  “It’s going to happen just like we thought,” Elizabeth marveled with hopeful excitement, “I can feel magic in the air.” She had dropped her voice as if worried she might scare the bird away, but the falcon didn’t alter its course. It landed in a swift downward motion settling on a tree just above Isabelle in a surprisingly delicate manner which was in contrast to the sharp glint of its deadly talons. Isabelle and the falcon locked eyes, and Emily caught Isabelle’s head as her body went into convulsions.

  “It’s really happening,” Elizabeth crowed with relief. Gracefully, she caught the falcon as it fell from its perch. She gently placed the flapping and flopping bird of prey on their blanket. The animals in the vicinity began to bark and snort and Emily could hear Rune and Xena’s howls rising above it all. Sweat began to trickle down Isabelle’s face, and the girls watched the evolution in the silence that formed after the animals went quiet. After the vinculum had passed, the falcon raised her head ever so slowly.

  “She’s beautiful,” Isabelle whispered. She wore a triumphant smile on her face as Emily helped her to sit up, her brown eyes glittering with pride. Emily and Elizabeth helped her to stand and they steadied her as she swayed back and forth until she caught her balance. “Her name is Erma,” she informed them in a satisfied voice. Lifting the falcon from the blanket, Elizabeth placed the bird in Isabelle’s hands.

  “The black on her head gives her the appearance that she’s wearing a small helmet,” Emily marveled. Erma’s eyes and wings were the darkest black, which were a similar shade to the feathers
on her head. The falcon had snow white under-feathers, with faint linear shades of gray along her sides which matched the colors of her fierce beak and talons.

  “They’re the fastest animal on Earth,” Elizabeth taught as she stared at Erma with pride. She began to describe several other characteristics of the falcon that she must have learned in school. “I’m so happy for you, Isabelle,” she gushed while flashing Isabelle an angelic smile. “And happy for me that I don’t have to sit with you any more on these early mornings and late evenings.”

  When they had finished giggling, Isabelle began stroking the bird’s outer feathers. Lia, Xena, and Rune appeared together, but Erma, standing still as she was sniffed, didn’t even ruffle her feathers at the approach of the other bondsmates. After the animal introductions were over, Erma moved to Isabelle’s arm. “She wants to fly,” Isabelle exclaimed excitedly. Isabelle lifted her arm in a rapid motion helping Erma gain speed and altitude in a rush. All at once she was joined in the cold sky by Soane, and the two soared on outstretched wings over their camp.

  “She’s gorgeous,” Anna murmured appreciatively while giving Isabelle a hug. She and Luke had arrived to congratulate their friend. “You’ll be amazed at how much your magus will be bolstered by having a bondsmate.”

  “Our team is fully formed,” Luke said with a smile. He appeared especially pleased. “If we can just survive a few more battles and get to Acacia, we can all live hundreds of years together in a peaceful retirement.”

  “I like the idea of retirement a lot,” Oliver chuckled with them. “Maybe I’ll go with you to this land without compare that you keep describing.” He had helped Luke break down the camp and was holding the reins of their horses.

  “Thank you,” Emily said. She reached out to accept Apache’s reins. Leaping into the saddle, she studied Oliver, the only one of their coaches to survive. Wearing a mud-splattered black cloak of wool, he appeared to be settling into his life of travel and war. He was certainly thinner and drawn with his cheekbones more pronounced, but his muscles were becoming wiry, strong, and increasingly defined.