“All right, where does Ricky live?” Even as the words left his mouth, he cringed. From now on, the scholar would have to be referred to in the past tense.
“Two flats down from us,” Amy replied, rubbing her eyes. “Please be careful and protect Simon. I can’t lose three of my friends in one night.”
“I promise,” Tobias said, the lie sitting like acid on his tongue. There was no way to promise that the madman wouldn’t murder them both before they could utter a single spell. The only reason he knew Simon was still alive was because the Soul Flame in his chest was still burning. It hadn’t gone cold, so Simon was still kicking. He knew he was working with limited time and had to move fast.
He grabbed his cloak and said, “Amelia, I’ve got potions to calm him down and you could use one, too. Lab’s two doors down to your left. You should both remain here until this is over. Don’t worry. Thornhill shall take no more from any of us.”
Tobias stepped outside and used magic to teleport into town, directly into Ricky’s flat. The smell of iron was strong now, because Ricky had bled out all over the kitchen floor. It was like someone had flash-fried pennies, as the blood had been heated by the boiling water.
Tobias clapped his hand over his mouth to keep from vomiting as he stared at the words on the wall. They radiated with a familiar magic, that of the Core in the Chapel. All he needed to do was follow the trail before it went cold.
He closed his eyes and uttered a prayer that Amy’s prediction was right … and that Simon would at least work with him. If he wouldn’t, Tobias was afraid that all would be lost.
He followed the magical trail on foot, going past the square, the school, the park, and down to a familiar place. Moonspell Manor, the ancestral home of the man he loved. Of course, it made sense now. Thornhill had stolen his magic, so of course he’d steal his hideout as well.
Only one name shall remain, Tobias repeated in his mind. And he’s confident that that name will be his. He’s sadly mistaken.
There was a jolt of magic and he felt his Soul Flame flicker. Pressing his hand to his chest he whispered, “Don’t worry: I’m coming.”
* * *
Simon approached the manor from the still standing side, hoping that Thornhill wasn’t peering out from a window or a spyglass. The element of surprise was all he had left now to level the playing field. If he could keep cover until he figured out where the fake mage was, he had a chance at survival. If Thornhill caught him, all hope went out the window.
The magic was strong, but it was so wrong. Simon could easily tell that the magic was stolen now that it had been within Thornhill for so long. And if Thornhill was permitted to keep it, it would eventually corrupt all magic until the world was a dark mess of violence and hate. The Core was supposed to represent the creation of magic, the very formation of Light. What Thornhill was doing to it was unacceptable.
The east wing of the manor was decimated, and one could see right inside. Simon wished he had a spyglass of his own, but wishes weren’t going to cut it now. He stopped and closed his eyes, willing the magic within him to pinpoint Thornhill inside. It took a moment, but eventually it did feel the heaviest concentration was in the dining hall.
When he and Tobias had been at the manor after the battle, the hall had been only half-destroyed.
Of course, he’s there, he thought. He needs nature to use the magic because it’s stolen. He has no magic within him to use, so he must have it powered from the sun or moon.
That made it easier. Just get him inside and the magic wouldn’t work for him. If he could get the upper hand early on, it was just a matter of time.
Keeping low, ducking in between bits of fallen stone, he managed to make his way into the foyer, which was now more of a walkway, as there were no walls or ceiling. The stone was precarious here, and he needed to watch himself. The few columns and pillars still standing could break and crush him in a moment.
He saw the dining room entrance, with only half the ceiling still intact. Sitting at the head of the table, what had formerly been his seat, was Thornhill. Magic crackled around him like static electricity, and he looked like a king.
You won’t be smirking for much longer, Simon thought. He jumped out from his hiding spot and attacked without preamble.
“Corrumpo!”
The blast caused the long marble table to explode, and he ducked to avoid being accidentally beheaded by the debris.
Thornhill screamed, and Simon popped up in time to see an energy shield fall away. Thornhill was now covered in grey dust, his face cut in multiple places from flying marble shrapnel.
“I thought you looked a bit too cosy in my home,” Simon said, building another energy blast in his hand.
“It won’t be yours much longer. Once I kill you and hang your head on a post outside the front gate, that is.”
Simon smirked. “Have fun trying. Because even if you do beat me, you think you can beat Bloodworth? Not a chance.”
Thornhill smiled as though the two of them were sharing a secret. “I spent months with Bloodworth at my side. I know his every weakness. I could defeat him with one hand behind my back.”
“You just might need to.” Simon sent the energy at his left hand, which was needed to cast curses and hexes, the more dangerous spells. Thornhill moved out of the way, his sleeve and pinky only getting the damage.
He retaliated with a blast of his own. “Adsequor!”
Simon ducked, but the ball followed him. He grabbed a piece of the exploded marble and used it as a shield. The energy burst the marble and knocked Simon on his back, his hands bloody and his ankle twisted.
He shot another hex from there on the ground, this one causing Thornhill to bend backward, almost in half, to avoid bursting into flames.
It gave Simon enough time to stand up straight, testing his ankle. Not great, but he could manage as long as he put more pressure on his left than his right.
“Apis!” Simon cast, sending forth energy that turned itself into a swarm of angry bees. It was an old trick, one that children used to taunt each other, but was capable of great damage.
Thornhill yelped and swatted as he cast, “Confuto!” It stopped the bees’ progression, turning them back into energy. But Simon could see the man had been stung at least three times. The stings were swelling, one right over his left eye.
They cast a few more spells each, seeming to be evenly matched. Simon kept moving inwards, so that there was less sky and more ceiling covering them. It would weaken Thornhill even more.
Thornhill began an attack and Simon prepared his defence, but it didn’t hit him. Instead the energy went upwards, crashing into the ceiling. The second floor was gone there, so it gave way to the night sky above.
Simon jumped back to avoid being hit and that was what Thornhill had evidently been waiting for, that one moment of his being unable to defend himself.
Thornhill sent a shard of stone straight at Simon’s throat, and he had no time to move or put up a shield. His heart momentarily stopped beating as he thought that he was going to lose, to die. He closed his eyes, unable to watch the shard coming closer and closer as if in slow motion.
There was an explosion, and he felt his face being tickled by pebbles. Opening his eyes, he saw that the piece of stone had been decimated. The flame in his heart began to heat and he knew who had once again saved him.
Standing to the right was Tobias. His long black cloak billowed out behind him, and his black eyes were as hard as onyx.
How the Hell did he know what was going on? Simon wondered, wishing with all his heart that he didn’t perk up, and have his flame brighten, at the sight of the lying bastard.
“Look who decided to show up and make this easier on me,” Thornhill said. “I don’t have to trek all the way to your manor to kill you now.”
“The only one who’s going to be dying tonight is you.” Tobias looked so calm, even in the face of someone so evil.
Sure, he’s calm, Simon thought. He used to
work for him. That alone should’ve told me I couldn’t trust him!
Thornhill laughed, tossing magic balls from hand to hand like he was in a circus act. “I know you inside and out, Bloodworth. You are no match for me.”
“You did know me,” Tobias corrected. “You knew my anger, my determination, and even my weakness. But there’s one thing you didn’t know about me, and that is going to be your downfall.” He sent off a magic blast, which Thornhill was only able to block at the last moment, staggering from the power of it.
Tobias sent off another blast and said, “You don’t know my love. All you know is power and corruption, and your black heart couldn’t fathom the magnitude of it. When I was by your side, I was prepared to fight anyone to the death. Now I know that I don’t have to die … but you do.”
Thornhill walked a little closer and said, “You talk quite a big game. But believe me when I say that I will take pleasure in silencing you forever.”
He sent off a hex that would have turned Tobias to dust had the man not ducked in time. As it was, it burnt off the edge of his long ponytail. Simon got back in the action and sent off a freezing charm.
Thornhill sent out fire and the two magics collided. It created a spectacular display of sparks that knocked both men a few inches backward with sheer force.
“Two against one, mate,” Simon said. “Might want to surrender. At least your death will be quick then.”
Thornhill chuckled. “Your magic is nothing compared to that which had lain within the Chapel for centuries. I … am … invincible.” He sent out electric sparks, like bits of lightning.
Simon was hit across the cheek, but Tobias put up a shield around them both, though his palm was burnt in the process.
“I don’t want your help,” Simon snapped.
“I know it goes against your nature, but for the love of God don’t be a stubborn prick,” Tobias said. “You heard Amelia. It’s together or nothing.”
Tobias lowered the shield and sent a blast of energy at Thornhill, who had been listening intently to their conversation.
He blocked the magic, which went somewhere behind him, shattering a cabinet full of china that had somehow survived till then. Stalking forward, he sent out shards of silver, which both mages avoided, barely. Tobias’ cloak, however, was ruined.
“Trouble in love, gentlemen?” Thornhill asked. “Perhaps you can reconcile in Hell, since you’ll both be going there soon.”
Simon straightened up and said, “The only one dying right now is you, false mage! You dared to steal magic, to fake your way into our ancient ranks. Then you’ll get to die like one of us.”
He held his hand out and said, “Fabrico: harpe!” A long, thin sword appeared in his hand, glowing faintly red from the magic within him. This was going to end here, leaving just the two rightful mages alive.
“Very well,” Thornhill said, creating his own blades: one small one in each hand. “Are you ready to die?”
They both leapt at each other, blades extended before them. Metal clashed into metal, Simon feeling the vibrations in his soul. He wasn’t much of a swordsman, but he could bet that Thornhill was even worse, especially since he only made those small daggers.
They battled together, and Simon almost forgot that Tobias was even a part of this. All he knew was that he needed to get rid of this abomination of a man.
Simon twisted to his right, slicing deep into Thornhill’s arm and making him drop the one dagger. Thornhill screamed in pain and left himself open for Simon to slice through the thick robes he wore, bearing his chest.
As he lunged forward, he felt a cold, stabbing pain in his stomach and the sword missed its mark, simply slicing through skin, a flesh wound.
Looking down, he saw that Thornhill had stabbed him in the stomach, on the left side. Blood began to leak from around the blade as he felt the wound pulse as though it had a heartbeat.
He fell to the ground, unable to hold himself up any longer, as he heard Thornhill laugh.
* * *
“NO!” Tobias cried, unaware that he’d spoken aloud. That great, bloody idiot! We were supposed to do this together! He saw Thornhill laughing despite his own wounds and felt a rage flare up in him like nothing he’d ever experienced before. The flame in his chest was an inferno, engulfing his every emotion.
He didn’t think, he could only focus on the evil man who was laughing over Simon’s prostrate body. Magic filled his body, silvery wisps leaking from his palms and fingertips. Tobias ran toward Thornhill, who was so startled that he couldn’t even properly defend himself.
Tobias grappled with him, sending him to the ground. He heard a bone snap and Thornhill screamed. He pressed his fingertips to the open wound in Thornhill’s chest and felt his magic pulling at the magic that had been stolen.
“You don't deserve to call yourself one of us,” he said.
Thornhill screamed again, his hands grasping at Tobias’ wrist to try and pry them away from him, but the mage held fast.
“You dare to take the man I love, I’ll take the only thing you ever loved: your power.”
The magic from the Chapel was fighting, begging to be let out of Thornhill’s body, and Tobias pressed his fingers into the wound, feeling the hot blood trickling onto his skin and he pulled with all his might, yanking the magic out as if it were a tangible thing.
He watched in awe as the pure white magic escaped its prison, swirling around in the air, free as it was meant to be.
Thornhill was motionless, blood pumping freely from the wound now. It wouldn’t be long before he succumbed, but Tobias didn’t want to wait that long. He held his hand out and made a swirling motion as he said, “Torqueo.” Thornhill’s limp head twisted round, and there was a loud crack as his neck broke, ending his reign of terror on their village.
Tobias stood up and stepped backward, feeling lightheaded. He’d never killed anyone before now, and he wasn’t sure what to do, or how this would affect him in the near future.
There was a small tug in his Soul Flame and it was then he realised that it hadn’t gone cold. Turning, he went to Simon’s side, careful not to kneel on anything sharp.
Simon’s skin was pale and cold, his grey eyes were glazed over. The only thing keeping him alive was that dagger, and it would soon disappear, because Thornhill was dead.
“Simon? Can you hear me?” Tobias asked, putting an arm under his head.
He didn’t say anything, but locked his eyes on Tobias’ with difficulty.
“I’m sorry I never told you about Amelia’s prediction,” Tobias said. “But it was never meant to be a deception. I’ve wanted you for a long time, and that only gave me the courage to do what I could not have otherwise.
“I love you, Simon. And I can’t lose you now, not when we’ve just found each other. Please … don’t die on me.” His breath caught as he held back a sob.
Simon took a shuddering breath and whispered, “After what I did to you … I didn’t think you could ever love me.”
“You’re wrong,” Tobias said, brushing a dirty curl from his face.
“At least now you don’t … have to … kill me,” he said with difficulty. “The prophecy…”
“The prophecy wasn’t about that!” Tobias cried. “That’s what I was trying to tell you earlier. We’re not meant to die, Simon. It doesn’t say one mage can remain. It says one name can remain. You don’t have to die… I don’t want you to die, damn it!” Tears fell freely now, and his Soul Flame kept burning.
Simon gasped in pain, back arched, and Tobias saw that the dagger was flickering, and then it disappeared. Blood began to flow and Tobias said, “Obturo.” The bleeding slowed, but he knew it wouldn’t work long-term. The blade had punctured Simon’s liver, and there was nothing he could do to heal that.
“I wish…” Simon coughed, and there was blood on his lips. “I wish we’d had more time.”
Tobias cried harder, anger and grief and despair swirling within him. The magic, the Chapel’s Core t
hat gave all mages their power, was still there, still surrounding them, and that made him feel worse.
“What good is it having this life if I’m to live it alone?” Tobias asked the Core. “Why give me him, why give us a way out of the prophecy, if you’re just going to let him die?”
The Soul Flame was getting stronger with each passing second, and Tobias realised that he could see them, his and Simon’s. Simon’s was weak, flickering, while his was as strong as a torch.
“What is this?” Simon asked.
“Our love,” Tobias whispered, kissing him despite the blood on his lips. “The flame was never that you owed me for saving you. It was the physical manifestation that we belonged together, you and I.”
The Core brightened around them, encasing them in a haze of white.
“Please,” Tobias said to it. “Take mine and give it to him if you must.”
“No,” Simon protested weakly. “You can't.” He groaned, the spell that was stoppering the wound was weakening. “Please stay with me, Tobias. I don’t want to die alone.”
Tobias held him to his chest, unable to take the pain in his heart.
The Core began to swirl faster and faster, startling them both.
“What’s happening?” Simon asked.
There was a deep burning in Tobias’ chest, like he was being scalded from the inside. He moved Simon away from him and saw that the Soul Flame was nearly outside his chest now. He glanced at the Core and saw that the tendrils of white were coming toward them, mingling with the red of their flames. It came together in a red and white and silver swirl, joining the two men together.
He felt the magic pulling at him, at Simon, he even felt Simon’s wound in his own side before everything became too much and he fell away in a faint.
* * *
When Tobias next opened his eyes, he was still staring up at the night sky. Much time couldn’t have passed at all. All at once, what had happened came back to him and he shot straight up, looking around him.
Bloodspell: An MM, BDSM High Fantasy Novella Page 7
