Magic Underground: The Complete Collection (Magic Underground Anthologies Book 4)

by Melinda Kucsera

  Hedda glared at him with the utmost contempt. Prince Marcel’s face went pale. Corabelle’s insides knotted. Whatever she did in the kitchen, why did it have to happen tonight? There was no one to stop Lorenc if he wanted to apprehend her that very moment.

  “Tell me, kitchen-girl,” Lorenc snarled at Corabelle, emphasizing her title as if she were an imposter, “is the cook’s daughter all right? I heard the old man was in an uproar about her.”

  Corabelle’s heart pounded in her chest and her brain felt feverish. She would have given anything to melt away and disappear right then and there.

  “Just as I said, Lorenc,” Hedda cut in, “you dishonor your hosts by your meddling. Any affairs in the Ordurin household will be brought to the proper person’s attention.”

  Lorenc sneered. “Perhaps I am the proper person.”

  Corabelle swooned. As Hedda raced toward her, Augustina let out a nervous giggle and rang a small bell that signaled for more wine.

  “Going around scaring young girls, Lorenc?” Hedda asked in a dangerous tone as she grabbed hold of Corabelle. She hoped the older woman would keep a firm grasp and not give her up to Lorenc.

  “Come with me.” Hedda gently pulled her away.

  She escorted Corabelle to an adjacent room and sat her on a plush sofa. She couldn’t tell if Hedda was worried or simply agitated.

  “What is your name?”

  “Corabelle Lansing.”

  “How old are you?”

  “I just came of age last week. Please don’t let him take me away, I didn’t mean to—”

  “That fool won’t harm a hair on your head!”

  “But I…earlier in the kitchen—”

  “I know—I sensed it.”

  She knows? But how? She was just about to admit for the first time that she really did perform that healing, and Hedda brushed it off as if it were nothing.

  “Have you done this before?”

  “Never,” she flatly replied.

  “What about visions? Or a severe illness? Have you ever had these?”

  Corabelle shook her head. Hedda studied her for a minute. “Most unusual. I wonder if you are a shaman?”

  Corabelle remained silent—she could hear Lorenc’s and the others’ voices in the next room.

  “I will help you, Corabelle, if you help me.” Hedda’s gaze held her attention.

  “What is it?”

  “You might have heard that King Henrick is ill, but that is only part of the truth. He’s been cursed with a disease by a dark mage, and everyone is too cowardly or too foolish to do anything about it. And he must be a powerful dark mage, else I would’ve uncovered him myself. I am not a healer, so it seems I will have to take a chance with you.”

  She grabbed Corabelle by the wrist and pulled her off the sofa. With her free arm, Hedda lifted her hand and made a gesture as if pointing, except that she pointed with both her index and middle fingers. A stream of light along the wall mimicked the movement of her hand and forced the wall open, forming a perfect hole they could step through and into the hallway.

  “We’ll want to avoid being seen,” Hedda explained, “so let’s take this corridor.”

  “Mistress,” she asked, trembling. “Where are we going?”

  “Don’t pretend you don’t know—we’re going to heal the king.”

  With that, they vanished into the dark hallway, the magic hole in the wall diminishing until it disappeared.

  After running and turning down several corridors, Hedda finally stopped at a large door with the Ordurin coat-of-arms symbol engraved in the middle. She released Corabelle’s wrist and paused to catch her breath.

  “Quickly,” Hedda whispered as she turned the handle and pulled the door open. “Few know this, but his health fades by the hour.” She held out her palm, and with an incantation produced a small red flame that illuminated the room.

  They stepped into the king’s decadent apartments. Tapestries and paintings of Ordurin patriarchs and matriarchs lined the walls, and just ahead stood the door to his bedchambers. As they reached the bedroom door, they heard the first outer-door open.

  “Go inside,” Hedda said. “I’ll meet whoever’s coming.”

  Corabelle’s hands trembled as she opened the door and slipped inside. A fitful cough came from King Henrick’s canopied bed. The sheer silk drapes of the canopy were drawn back and a small oil lamp sat on the nightstand next to the bed, emanating a soft warm glow.

  Corabelle paused and realized this was the first, and probably the last, time she would be this close to the king. He was kind and generous, and in many ways simple—which made her even more in awe of him. On her birthday, when she had gone to the kitchen to pick up her present from Mister Brenner, she found King Henrick out of bed, against the doctor’s orders, eating pastries and drinking “to the birthday girl’s good health.”

  She was so shocked to see him—the king himself—just sitting there with the cook, she ran back into the courtyard and wouldn’t go back inside the kitchen until he had departed.

  Now she was at his bedside to restore him.

  She smoothed her skirt and approached. Kneeling beside the king, Corabelle hesitantly took his right hand in both of hers.

  “Your Majesty,” she whispered in a soft voice that stirred him. Henrick’s eyes widened in surprise at the sight of her. “Hedda Shardar sent me. If you let me, I’ll try to heal you.”

  Henrick’s surprised look turned into one of recognition as he clasped his left hand over hers and attempted to smile, but his face was pale and sickly. She panicked when Hedda’s voice rose in the next room. Whoever came in wasn’t a friend.

  Corabelle concentrated as hard as she could. Perhaps if she felt the way she did when Sira was hurt, she could duplicate the healing spell. Before she could puzzle out what to do next, a whoosh and a crashing sound shook the room. Hedda flew backward into the bedroom, thrown by an invisible force. She hit the wall with a loud thud and collapsed onto the floor.

  “I thought you’d be in here,” Augustina Ordurin said as she stepped into view. Her hair was unkempt and her left cheek red and swollen.

  With a flick of her hand, Augustina slammed Hedda into the wall, holding her in an upright position. Hedda gasped in pain as an invisible scourge flogged her, leaving welts and bruises on her face and tearing through her silk shawl.

  The king propped himself up and urgently motioned toward the nightstand drawer. Corabelle opened it and found a multitude of vials and herbs. She noticed a unique small glass bottle with a thick liquid inside and took it out.

  These must be the medicines Doctor Benethor sent.

  As she held the bottle up to Henrick for confirmation, it lit up with a soft glow. The king’s eyes widened at the bottle, and he finally managed to speak in his raspy voice. “A Healer’s Touch…a bit of this,” the king explained, “will break the curse and partly restore me.”

  Corabelle opened the bottle and glanced toward Hedda. Augustina had apparently grown bored of striking Hedda with her invisible scourge. The dark mage filled her hands with magic and engulfed Hedda’s upper body in blue flames that left no visible marks. Hedda shrieked in agony.

  Corabelle handed the mysterious serum to Henrick. If no one stopped Augustina, she would kill Hedda. As soon as the serum touched the king’s lips, Corabelle bolted over toward the women.

  “Leave her alone!” Corabelle yanked Augustina’s golden mane with all her might. She wished she’d kept Seth’s sword.

  The dark mage spun around and slapped Corabelle so hard she stumbled and fell to the floor. Her face throbbed and the taste of blood filled her mouth.

  “What is she doing here, Hedda?” she asked in a husky voice. “Who is she?” Augustina walked over to Corabelle, scrutinizing her. “A mysterious one, this girl is…”

  The dark mage raised her hand and uttered an incantation, and a red light flowed from her palm. Corabelle flinched and threw her arms up, but a bright white globe of light encircled her and repelle
d the spell.

  The red light clashed with the light of the protective circle and dissipated. With a sneer, Augustina aimed her spell over Corabelle’s head toward Henrick, who had created the protective circle. The king managed to deflect Augustina’s attack. Suddenly, Hedda jumped to her feet and hit the other woman from behind with a stun spell. Augustina doubled over and slumped to the floor, her face screwed up in concentration as she fought off the effects.

  Corabelle ran for Hedda and helped the older woman to her feet. “What should I do?”

  “Help the king,” Hedda replied.

  Henrick lay on his side motionless, and Augustina was nowhere to be seen. Corabelle rushed toward Henrick. She checked his breathing and propped him up.

  “Your Majesty, are you hurt?”

  “I will live,” he said.

  “You’re still coughing, didn’t the medicine help?”

  “It helped enough, though it will take me a while to fully recover.” He groaned as Hedda and Corabelle helped him to his feet. “Hedda, this girl is a shaman.” He displayed the empty medicine bottle as if it were irrefutable proof.

  “My lord—”

  “When was the last time you’ve heard of a shaman? You must take the girl and flee the city.”

  Hedda frowned. “But Lorenc Wyle will use our leaving against you, and I can’t allow that. You need me here. He’ll charge you with aiding a magic-user and have the whole palace swarming with Enforcers.”

  “Forget about Wyle for now. I’ll handle him. Consider how a dark mage knew to specifically target us though we are powerful enough to cloak ourselves and cautious enough not to display our powers. Augustina sensed this girl and will come after her. I refuse to lose a shaman.”

  Hedda sighed, knowing where he intended them to go. “We will leave immediately.”

  Before Corabelle could question their plan, Quillan Mercer, the Legionnaire Captain, and an officer barged into the room.

  “My lord, the prince is dead.” Quillan’s voice broke as he spoke.

  The color drained from Henrick’s face. For a moment, he couldn’t form any words, but he finally stammered, “M-My son…is dead?”

  Quillan nodded. “He wasn’t killed by human hands or weapons…”

  Henrick motioned Quillan to be silent. The king had a glazed look in his eyes.

  “Master Hale,” the king said, addressing the officer next to Quillan, “escort these two women to my brother’s home.” Henrick faced Quillan. “Augustina is the murderer. She is a dark mage. Alert the palace and send notice to the Watch Captain at the city gate. She must not be allowed to leave the city.”

  Quillan turned on his heel and raced into the outer-apartments and down the corridor.

  Hedda wore a pained expression. “I’m sorry about Marcel. Perhaps I can stay and help.”

  The king shook his head. “Get to safety, or you will be next.”

  Hale grabbed Hedda and Corabelle each by an arm and dragged them away. Corabelle looked over her shoulder and watched the king slump to the floor and sob.

  Lorenc waited at the Watch Captain’s station with his sword at his side and his hand ready to draw. Hedda’s disappearance confirmed his suspicions and anything she did was at the king’s behest.

  He’d have orchestrated the demise of Henrick Ordurin a long time ago, except that those in the position to strike the deadly blow were superstitious about openly opposing an Ordurin. Also, Hedda Shardar constantly thwarted his schemes.

  Once he had the girl though, things would change. She would be evidence—proof of Henrick’s consorting with magic-users. The king’s own foolish father signed the Enforcers Decree, authorizing the League to hunt “dark” mages, although a mage and a dark mage were tantamount to each other. The treaty had taken effect fifty years ago and would hold for two more months. Lorenc knew Henrick wanted the compact to come to an end, so he had to act quickly. All Lorenc had to do was catch the little witch, then one of the powerful houses would surely have the backbone and justification to condemn Ordurin, depose him, and take his place.

  The Watch Captain stood at the gate inspecting a merchant’s cart. The torches at the station blazed in the darkness, and an ice-cold wind permeated the night. A young Legionnaire, no more than nineteen and obviously a trainee, came running toward Lorenc. The soldier’s short sword swung at his side, and he carried a small shield.

  “Seal the gate! Let no one else through.” The young man carried a letter and showed it to Lorenc. The letter bore the wax seal of Henrick Ordurin.

  “What’s this?” Lorenc asked.

  “Prince Marcel has been murdered and the city’s on alert.”

  Yes! Now the witch has committed murder as well. He’d have her paraded through the streets and executed in no time. Perhaps he could even indict Hedda as an accomplice.

  “What’s that, General?” the Watch Captain called out.

  Lorenc snatched the letter from the Legionnaire and handed it to the Captain. “I believe it’s addressed to you, Captain Chandler.”

  He opened the letter and read its contents. He spun around and began barking orders at his guardsmen.

  Lorenc gazed at the Legionnaire. “Are you any good with that sword, trainee?”

  “Yes! This is my second year—”

  Lorenc waved his hand, signaling the young man to be silent. “It might be useful to have another sword. Would you like to come with me?”

  The Legionnaire gave him a puzzled look. “May I ask where to?”

  Lorenc grinned and walked toward Market Square, knowing the intrigued Legionnaire would not be far behind him. “Have you ever been witch-hunting before?”

  The young man’s eyes widened with excitement. He fell into step with the Enforcer, and they headed down the desolate street.

  “By the way General Wyle, my name’s Seth Radnor.”

  “Keep up little one, we need to make it outside the gate as soon as possible.” Master Hale shot an annoyed glance over his shoulder at Corabelle as she trotted slowly behind on her mare. She had almost fallen off twice and had let the horse lead her in the opposite direction of her traveling companions.

  “I thought you said you knew how to ride a horse,” Hedda said.

  “Well this one’s awfully difficult!”

  They neared Market Square. The horses’ hooves clacked against the gravel as they made their way down the street. Corabelle shivered, despite wearing a thick wool surcoat. The two women flanked Hale as he drew his sword. Someone from the opposite side approached.

  “Who goes there?” a voice asked from across the square. The outlines of two men emerged.

  “I am Dovier Hale, Master at Arms. The king has charged me with an escort. Who are you?”

  Corabelle almost fell off her horse for the third time. Intentionally blocking her path was none other than Lorenc Wyle and—fool!—Seth Radnor. What was he getting himself into?

  “Those two women are to be brought in for questioning. Hand them over to me,” Lorenc said.

  “I don’t need to honor your requests,” Hale said. “I’m a king’s man.”

  “Well your king is breaking the law by helping a witch to flee!”

  Lorenc lunged toward Corabelle, but Master Hale wheeled his horse and blocked the Enforcer. Lorenc drew his sword and made a slash at Hale, who blocked his strike with his own weapon.

  “Cora!” Seth called, dashing toward her and Hedda. “Get away from her, she’s a dark mage!” He drew his sword.

  “That wicked man is after me, Seth! Hedda is trying to help.”

  Seth glanced at Master Hale and Lorenc as they fought. Lorenc had knocked Hale off his horse and made quick thrusts as his opponent parried.

  Hale got the upper hand and disarmed Lorenc. The Enforcer dodged his slash and feigned reaching for his sword but then quickly tossed a handful of dirt into Hale’s face and rushed him. They fell to the ground and grappled.

  “Quick, Seth!” Lorenc rose to his feet and balanced himself. “Grab the gir
l. Slit the old woman’s throat if you have to!”

  “What’s happening, Cora? Are you really a mage?” Seth asked in a half-exasperated, half-confused voice.

  Hedda chimed in. “There’s no time to explain. Now will you help your friend or not? We need to get out of here.”

  Corabelle pleaded with her eyes, begging in her heart of hearts that Seth wouldn’t walk away in disgust. “He’ll kill me.”

  The young man paused and gazed into Corabelle’s petrified face. He had never seen his best friend look as frightened as she did now. He strode over to Lorenc’s sword and threw it out of reach.

  Hale’s arms quivered as he held Lorenc in a grip with all his strength. Seth held his blade at Lorenc’s neck.

  “You’re making a mistake,” Lorenc said as he dropped to his knees and lifted his arms in a gesture of surrender. “An irreversible one.”

  Hale retrieved his sword and pulled out a pair of cuffs, shackling Lorenc’s hands behind his back.

  “Why are you after Corabelle?” Seth asked.

  “She’s a magic-user. And no matter where she runs, I’ll find her. For this, she won’t even get a trial—I’ll run her through myself.”

  Seth punched Lorenc in the face. The man hit the ground hard, and his head slammed against the cold gravel.

  Hale slapped Seth upside his head.

  “Ouch! What was that for?”

  “For running around with that dung-heap!”

  “Sorry, Master Hale. I was…misinformed.”

  “In his defense,” Corabelle said, “he does a lot of idiotic things.”

  Hedda faced Seth. “You will ride with Cora, young man. We are taking her to safety.”

  Master Hale mounted his steed and motioned for everyone to follow. Corabelle was all too glad to hand over the reins to Seth and sit behind him.

  “Really though,” she whispered in his ear as they took off, galloping into the night, “I’m glad you’re here. I’ll be safe now—I’ll be free.”