After one last, hard shove, he leaped for his staff. He’d just got his fingers around the shaft when the table crashed to the floor and the Unsouled charged. Adam tried to lift the staff, but he’d landed on top, trapping it under his body. He shoved his hands up as the creature crashed into him.
The thing’s knee landed on his stomach, forcing the air from Adam’s lungs with a whoosh. Grabbing a handful of the creature’s grimy coat, he stopped its lunge just as decayed and rotting teeth snapped shut bare inches from his face. The creature’s knee dug deeper into Adam’s stomach and he gasped, desperate for air. Black spots danced before his eyes. Only seconds remained before...
His hand closed around a chunk of firewood. He swung with all his remaining strength, smashing the wood into the Unsouled’s head hard enough to knock the creature to the side. Adam gasped, rolling to his hands and knees, desperate to regain his breath. He didn’t open his eyes until he heard a shrill scream.
When it fell over, the Unsouled landed against the bed. Attracted by the girl’s sobs, the creature now had both arms extended as it reached for her. Had the space between the floor and bed not been so small, it might already have succeeded. Adam tried to yell, attract the thing’s attention, but his shout came out as a hoarse rasp.
Lunging forward, he grabbed one of the creature’s legs to pull it away. With a hiss, the Unsouled rolled over and swung at him. Adam recoiled, and the long, ragged nails somehow missed his face. Again, he groped for his staff. Desperate fingers closed on the shaft just as the creature climbed to its feet. Adam swung the staff between them as the Unsouled came for him.
But something had changed. Dead in his hands, the staff exuded no warmth, no vibration, and certainly no flames of any kind. Panicked, Adam braced his staff against the edge of the fireplace and tried to use it to hold off the monster. But the Unsouled ignored the staff, its attention focused only on Adam. It pressed harder and harder against the wood as it reached for him.
At last the pressure became too great. The creature impaled itself on the staff. The wooden shaft punched through its belly and out its back. Still it didn’t stop. The thing grabbed the staff and pulled itself toward Adam. Inch by inch, the Unsouled drew closer.
Frozen in fear, Adam stared approaching death in the face. But then he remembered the little girl. She would die, too. At the heart of his fear, there burned a small spark of anger. He held on to it, nursed the spark into a flame, a bonfire, a white-hot furnace burning away all fear... and his staff responded.
It burst into white flame. Adam fed it all his rage and fury and the flames flared higher. Heat like the heart of a sun pulsed through the Unsouled. The creature’s body glowed, became incandescent... and then the flames winked out.
The Unsouled remained impaled on Adam’s staff, but now black and featureless, like a mannequin made of charred wood. As soon as Adam moved, the body collapsed into ash, leaving behind nothing but a pile of black powder. Adam brushed it from his robe in disgust. He tried to stand, but failed, exhaustion breaking over him in waves.
The child’s cries forced him to move. He picked up his staff, so tired he didn’t notice the wood had burned clean of blood and gore, and crawled over to the bed. In a weak voice he whispered, “It’s okay. You’re safe now.”
The little girl wriggled out from under the bed and grabbed his neck. Her tears felt damp against his cheek as he used the staff to lever himself up from the floor. One arm around the child, he whispered, “Shhh. It’s okay now. I’ve got you.” She kept her face buried in his shoulder and sobbed.
Adam staggered to the doorway and peeked around the frame. To his relief, the battle had ended. While he’d fought to save the little girl, the rest of Henslow’s men and reinforcements arrived from Codtown. Soldiers dispatched the last few Unsouled, careful to avoid the snapping teeth and grasping hands from bodies already dismembered. The Dread lay in a crumpled heap, its ebony body wreathed in smoke and pincushioned by arrows. With the darkness gone, Adam had to shield his eyes from the now bright fires. Bodies covered the churned-up ground. Some still moved and terrible moans and cries of pain came from the injured. Already halfway to the house, Aristomus gasped in relief when Adam staggered outside.
“Adam! Thank the Power! I did not think to find you alive. Are you injured?”
“No, I’m okay. Just... so tired.” He swayed before catching himself with his staff.
“I am not surprised,” replied the mage. “What you did... I have never seen such a display of the Power. And the form in which you used it... from one untrained. Adam, you are very lucky to be alive.”
“Yes, I know. I don’t... know what I was thinking. Those things... almost killed me.”
“I do not mean the Unsouled, Adam. Though they, too, might have slain you. I refer to your display of power. Such an outpouring of energy might well have drained your life force.”
“I think... maybe it did.” Adam staggered forward, handing the child to Aristomus just before everything went black.
ADAM FLOATED ON A GENTLE river, rocking back and forth, weightless and without form. He saw no light, no sound, just felt the soft, tender caress of the current. The young man had no idea where it took him, nor did he care.
And then he heard a voice; soft and so far away. Even as he strained to listen, tried to pull it into focus, the voice retreated, fading away. The thought of being alone, abandoned to the dark, seemed unbearable. He strained, grasped with nonexistent fingers for his last link with humanity... and the voice returned.
“Master Gray,” it called, as though from a dream. “Wake up, Master Gray. You must come back.”
As he concentrated, the sense of weightlessness receded. Body sluggish, he felt burdened by an exhaustion so deep and profound he didn’t know how to endure it. Yet he struggled and clung to the sensation of solidity... and the voice.
It grew stronger, more substantial. The floating sensation receded, and he felt a soft surface beneath him, the touch of someone’s hand in his own. Then his eyes fluttered open... and he looked up into the pale face of a young woman. Coal black hair fell below her shoulders; the strands tangled and in need of a brush. Her stained clothing reeked of smoke.
The woman started when she saw his eyes open. Dropping his hand, she rushed to the door. “Master Aristomus! Come quickly!”
Footsteps pounded down the hallway and cloth rustled outside the door. Then Aristomus hurried into the room and over to the bed. The mage appeared haggard, his face pale and drawn. Still dressed in the robe supplied by the inn, Adam saw it was now filthy, stained with dirt, soot and dried blood. His hands appeared clean enough, though, and he held his staff out against Adam’s chest, right over his heart. The faint white aura sprang up around him. This time, exhaustion overcame fear.
Meager strength flowed into him from the mage’s touch and he shivered at the icy pulse of energy. After a few moments, Aristomus sat back with a sigh. “I think you will live, Adam,” he said, a note of amazement in his voice. “For the past day and a night, you have hovered near death. But I believe you are now out of danger.” The old mage rubbed his eyes with thumb and forefinger. “I do not understand it. Several times I tried to provide healing while you lay unconscious. But... you blocked me somehow. I have never experienced anything like it.”
“I...” Adam croaked. He paused while the woman held a cup of water to his lips. The cool drink soothed his parched throat. “What happened? Where am I?”
“You are back in the Fisherman’s Rest, Adam. These are Nestor Burliman’s private rooms. Once he learned what you had done, he insisted you take his quarters.” He glanced at the woman on the other side of the bed. “You will understand when I introduce the young lady who has given you such excellent care. Adam, this is Talia, Nestor Burliman’s daughter.”
Adam looked over at the woman. To his surprise, tears flowed down her cheeks.
“She is also the mother of the child you saved.”
Talia engulfed Adam in a tight hug. Be
tween sobs, she thanked him over and over. After a few moments, Aristomus patted her back. “There, there, Talia. Let the poor boy breathe!”
Talia drew back, her face flushed and wet with tears. “M-my daughter, Jenna, she means e-everything to me.”
Adam blushed. “It was noth...” he stopped as he realized what he’d been about to say. To this woman, what he’d done bordered on the heroic. “I’m just glad I could help,” he amended.
Talia bowed and thanked him again. “My Jenna, she also wishes to thank you. Perhaps when you are better rested?”
“Sure. Is she okay?”
Oh, aye,” she replied. “No doubt she will have nightmares for a time, but for now she is in good health and well-protected by her grandfather.” Leaning down, she kissed him on the forehead before turning to hurry from the room.
Aristomus sat down in Talia’s chair beside the bed. He looked as tired as Adam felt. “You did a fine thing, Adam. Burliman says she lost her husband in an attack a few years ago. Had she lost her daughter as well...” He sighed, weary to his bones. “So, it would appear I must satisfy your curiosity. In truth, we were lucky. Very lucky, indeed. Only one Dread controlled the Unsouled. Had there been two...” He shook his head.
“Still, it is hard to call this a victory. We lost more than two score villagers, some of them women and children. Codtown’s guard force, for the most part villagers themselves...” Aristomus shook his head. “Decimated. And half the village homes burned to the ground.
“Henslow lost six of his men in what the locals are calling ‘the Battle of the Village Green.’” The mage snorted a humorless laugh. “Their friends and loved ones are not yet cold in their graves, yet already they seek to glorify what happened here.
“Regardless, we will remain for a day or two to rest and recover. Captain Henslow wishes to consult with the commander of the local garrison on how best to protect the town from further attacks. He would brook no arguments and, truth be told, I had none to offer. Since the battle ended, I have spent much of my time healing those grievously injured in the attack. Bites from the Unsouled fester if not treated, and magic often provides the only cure. I admit my exhaustion is profound, and I welcome the chance to recover.
“But first, we must discuss your use of magic.”
Adam had expected Aristomus to broach the matter but couldn’t decide how he should respond. At last he said, “Look, I told you the truth when I said I knew nothing about real magic. I don’t know what happened. It just... did.”
Aristomus nodded. “Of course, Adam. I do not doubt your sincerity. But even you must admit such a show of strength in the Power must come from somewhere. Think back. What did you feel at the time it happened?”
Adam looked up at the ceiling and tried to recall his feelings. “Well... I remember being terrified,” he said. “I mean, they’d overrun us. I thought we would all die. But then I heard the little girl’s... Jenna’s... screams. I saw those things running toward her and... it seemed like my fear no longer mattered. I remember being angrier than I’ve ever been in my life. A little girl was about to die before her life had even begun.
“I had no other weapon but my staff. No one could’ve been more surprised than me by what happened next.”
Aristomus looked thoughtful as he nodded. “It is difficult to separate magic from our emotions. They are inextricably linked and yet another reason why years of intense study and practice is necessary. Without control, a mage is a constant danger to himself and those around him. Can you imagine what might happen, for example, should an untrained mage stub his toe against a chair? A sudden burst of anger might prove disastrous, even deadly.
“But, Adam, the Power you showed last night...” Aristomus hesitated a moment as he searched for the right words. “I have known full mages unable to summon such puissance. I do not think even I could channel so much of the Power, and my strength is not insignificant.
“But it pales in consideration to the type of Power demonstrated.” Now Aristomus grew excited. Despite his fatigue, he rose from the chair and paced around the small room. “White flame! Never have I heard of a mage summoning more than normal fire, and that with difficulty.” Aristomus propped his staff in a corner and picked up Adam’s. He brought it over to the bed and thrust it at Adam. “And look at this! Undamaged! I would have sworn on my life a staff unprotected by metal could not survive such a torrent of magic.”
Aristomus fell back down in the bedside chair, his burst of energy spent. He dropped the staff to the floor. “Stranger still, I did not sense your use of the Power. And after your collapse, you somehow blocked me from providing healing. Impossibilities stacked upon still more impossibilities.” He held his head in both hands and whispered, “So many questions. And I fear our time runs out.”
Adam felt bad for the mage, but he had no choice. “There’s something else, Aristomus. Last night, when we left Codtown through the side gate, I-I’d seen the village before.” Adam flashed back to the previous night. In his mind’s eye, he once again saw people as they fled through the streets while fire raged and swept from house to house; the same vision he’d had back in his apartment when he opened the bottle.
Aristomus’ head came up with a snap, his eyes wide. “Precognition? You have had other such visions?”
Hesitating, Adam told him his vision of the Unsouled woman he’d fought on the road. “Along with the village, two things have come true. Nothing like this has ever happened before. I... I don’t understand any of this.”
Aristomus took a deep breath and shook his head. “Nor do I, Adam. Nor do I. When we arrive in Seir, we must take council with Master Serton. He has intimate experience with precognition. Perhaps he can shed understanding on what this means.
“But in the meantime,” Aristomus stood up, “I think it wise we both rest. It is likely we will need our strength in the days ahead.”
Adam yawned as the mage made his way across the room and closed the door behind him. Already he felt the exhaustion he’d held at bay overtake him. He had one last thought before sleep claimed him. How about that? he mused. I guess I’m a magician after all.
Chapter 9, Recovery
Adam slept the rest of the day and through the night. When Talia and her father roused him early the next morning, they carried a huge tray of food with them. Adam put away enough to satisfy three men while Burliman sat at the side of the bed, compulsively wiping his hands on the edge of his apron. He started to speak several times, but each time stopped short as though amending what he would say. Adam suspected Burliman was a man seldom at a loss for words.
At last he blurted out, “Master Gray, I... I find myself deep in your debt. You saved my granddaughter’s life at great risk to your own and, well, I wish you to know should you ever find yourself in need, you can count on Nestor Burliman to come to your aid.”
Adam blushed at the outburst. “Thank you, Mr. Burliman. That means a lot. I’m glad I could help.” Then he noticed a small head peeking around the edge of the doorway. “Looks like someone else stopped by to say hello.” Burliman and Talia turned to the door and motioned for the child to enter.
When Jenna made her way into the room, Burliman scooped her up in his massive arms and planted a big kiss on her forehead. Then he placed her at the side of the bed. Jenna looked at Adam for a few moments before leaning over and giving him a big hug. “Thank you so much, Master Gray. I was so scared and... thank you for helping me!”
Adam hugged her back hard. “You’re welcome, Jenna. You take good care of your mom and grandfather. That’s all the thanks I need.”
“Well, I hate to break up such a happy gathering, but I must speak with Adam.” Aristomus walked through the door, a broad smile revealed his pleasure at the reunion. “Captain Henslow is making plans to depart. If we do not soon make an appearance, he may leave without us.”
Talia picked up her daughter. “Come along, Jenna. The Masters have important matters to discuss. And we have much to do ourselves.” S
he followed behind Burliman, but turned and mouthed a silent ‘Thank you,’ before she closed the door.
Adam swung his legs out of the bed and stood with care. Though still tired, and wobbly as well, rest and food had done much to revive him. Someone had cleaned his clothing, leaving it folded in a neat pile on the bedside table. Aristomus spoke while he dressed.
“You appear much better today, Adam. I, too, am much recovered. That is well. Captain Henslow chafes at every delay. The Dark Mage grows bolder and the Captain’s fears increase with each day we are absent from Lakeshore.” Aristomus did look well-rested as he paced back and forth across the room. “Finished? Good, good. Come, we will find Captain Henslow and see how the preparations go.” He reached down, picked up Adam’s staff and stared at it a few moments. Then, he shook his head and tossed it to Adam. “Here. I think it best you keep this with you for now. I doubt Captain Henslow will have any objections.”
The staff felt good in Adam’s hand. Comfortable, like it belonged to him. But nothing indicated it might be anything other than a plain piece of wood. The warmth and the faint vibration he’d experienced at the time of the attack had disappeared. And for a certainty, no hint of flame, white or otherwise, existed. Shrugging, he followed Aristomus out the doorway.
Burliman’s room was on the main floor of the inn. They walked down a short hallway and into the kitchen. The heavenly aroma of baking bread, roast pork, and spicy fish stew set Adam’s mouth to watering despite the large meal he’d just eaten. Assistants who kneaded dough, stirred kettles, scrubbed pots and turned spits crowded the kitchen. The cook, a huge woman dressed all in white, flourished a heavy iron ladle as she prevailed in a one-sided argument with a red-faced Burliman. She gave Burliman’s head a hearty smack with the ladle as she emphasized each of her points. The innkeeper spotted Aristomus and Adam and excused himself. He accompanied them through a curtained doorway into the common room.
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