“You can put your sword away. Whatever it is, it doesn’t sound threatening.”
He spoke as he slid his sword home, “Now that your Windwalker magic has been released, who knows what you’ll hear. Perhaps the trees are talking to you.”
She smiled at that. What a wonderful thought—talking to a wizened tree. One that had witnessed centuries of evolution. Oh, the stories they could tell.
The image of carrying on a conversation with a tree lifted her spirits. Spilling its knowledge to teach her…
Her eyes grew wide as the mysterious words started to make sense. The image of the old tree reminded her of Devius and their brief time together in the octagonal chamber atop the tower. His wizard’s sanctum consisted of eight enormous panes of glass—each one erected to coincide with a specific direction. Large cushions were placed at the base of each window for…
“Fleabag?”
Junior blinked at her, appearing taken aback. “Excuse me?”
She started toward the trees.
“Where are you going?” Junior pulled his sword free, having to jog to keep up. “You don’t know what’s in there.”
“No. You’re wrong. I think I do. It’s a white lion.”
Junior stopped and gaped. “Are you crazy? If there’s a lion in there, we need to get out of here. What do you plan on doing if you’re right? Pet it?”
Reecah turned to look at him, realizing she had never mentioned Devius’ companion to Junior. A sly grin inched up her face. “Exactly.”
The Power to Seize a Kingdom
J’kwaad lingered by the north gate, hidden beneath his cowl and observing the comings and goings of the people of Arcanium. Most people paid him no mind, their concentration on the recently extinguished fire. The witches’ abode had taken three other buildings with it before its warding spells had run their gambit and ceased causing more damage.
After torching the Wizard’s Staff, they had made their way back to the witches’ building and filtered into the gathered throng of busybodies to watch the building rip itself apart.
Twice J’kwaad witnessed a bystander get pummeled with a piece of flying debris. Served them right. Hadn’t they better things to do than stand around lollygagging and making unintelligent observations about what could have caused the inferno?
He had taken a keen interest in a gaggle of witches fretting over the destruction—likely the surviving residents. Eavesdropping on their hushed conversation he learned that Nelly and Devius had taken refuge in a second story room near the back of the building. There was no mention of whether the two had survived or not, but he knew that if they had, they would have fled.
Not wishing to take any chances, he had made his way to the nearest city exit and waited. Calor remained standing watch at the witches’ house, observing everyone who came and went.
A great yawn split his unkempt goatee—he hadn’t had time for personal grooming recently, nor did he expect to rest anytime soon.
No one had attempted to pass beyond the northern gate since he had set up watch. If Nelly and Devius were going to flee, they would have done so by now. There was always the chance that they had left the city by another route, but he doubted it. That either meant they were gone or they were still somewhere around the witches’ house and were eluding his detection.
Shrugging free of the tattered surcoat he wore overtop of his prince’s attire, he let it fall to the ground. It was time to elevate his search to an official capacity. Silken black robes inlaid with gold piping fluttered behind him as he strode with royal arrogance up the cobblestone street toward the chaos surrounding the witches’ abode unseen around a distant bend.
Calor leaned against a low building across the street, its façade blackened but remarkably otherwise untouched by the destruction. He stood with one boot propped on a chunk of scattered debris, his expression revealing that he noticed J’kwaad’s change in appearance.
J’kwaad nodded and Calor fell in step beside him as they approached a knot of wizardly looking old men speaking to the witches. The Serpent’s Eye, hidden beneath his black gloves irritated his finger as much as it had while in the presence of the oak tree in the commons
“Can I be of any help?” J’kwaad asked, his gaze taking in the destruction.
A stooped, white robed wizard leaning on a cane turned in annoyance—eyeing the prince through a monocle on the end of a wire stick clutched in his withered hand. “We don’t need…oh! Prince J’kwaad.”
J’kwaad faked a smile. He was used to the reaction. He indicated the blackened, skeletal remains of the witches’ house and the ruins on either side of it. “Any idea what happened?”
The old wizard studied J’kwaad, the monocle shaking in his grasp.
J’kwaad satisfied himself that not all of the man’s trembling was due to his age. He took great delight with how his presence cowed the most arrogant people in the land. Even the formidable high wizard of Arcanium, Imrynn Carmichael—the father of the duke of Zephyr’s resident wizard, Thunor. He’d have to deal with their meddlesome family soon enough, but first he had another wizard to collar.
“If my senses tell me true, this was no ordinary fire,” Imrynn’s strong voice belied his frail appearance.
“Oh, do tell, Master Imrynn. I’m all ears.”
Imrynn’s wrinkled visage hardened. “If I have the right of it, J’kwaad, the fire is a result of two people. A master magician and someone who still has much to learn.”
The slight of not including his royal title wasn’t lost on the prince. With practised ease, J’kwaad lied, “Two people? I’m impressed that you’ve come to that conclusion just by surveying the wreckage. I’d say only a master magician would be capable of arriving at such a conclusion.” He looked beyond Imrynn, his shrewd eyes taking in each wizard in turn. “And which of you still has much to learn?”
Imrynn sputtered, unable to form the words he wanted to throw at J’kwaad. The old wizard appeared on the verge of an apoplectic fit.
A sinister smile lifted the corner of J’kwaad’s mouth. “Oh, don’t take it personally, Master Imrynn. A simple practitioner of magic like myself likes to give credit where it’s due.”
Imrynn’s face went from red to purple. “If you’re insinuating that I had something to do with this you are…are…”
“Yes? Do go on.”
Imrynn wiped the spittle from his bottom lip. He lowered his voice and grumbled. “Mistaken.”
“Ah! Yes. Well, if you’ll excuse me, I shall leave you to your observations.”
J’kwaad didn’t wait for an answer. Raising his eyebrows at Calor, he stepped over the rubble around the gathered witches, not sparing them a sideways glance. The Serpent’s Eye confirmed none of them were nearly as powerful as Nelly.
“Hey! You can’t go in there,” one of the witches yelled after him.
He turned slowly. “Are you giving a prince of the Great Kingdom an order?”
The witch swallowed and bowed her head with a subtle shake.
Thankful for his leather gloves and flame-retardant clothing, J’kwaad carefully navigated the debris where the side of the witches’ abode had stood. Hanging onto a charred post to help balance himself, his ring finger burned more painfully than while in Imrynn’s company. He put it down to the fact that the thick post likely retained the last vestiges of the heat wizard’s fire brought with it.
Stepping between a section of curled rooftop and something he didn’t recognize, he pulled his hand free to look for the next handhold, but instead of relieving him of the intense pain, the fire in his ring finger intensified.
He pulled his glove free and removed the offending ring, its touch warm even through the leather of his other glove. He checked the skin where the ring had sat. Though red, there was no sign of damage.
He followed the Serpent’s Eye—its elongated black pupil, set in an iris of flames, stared at the rear of the collapsed building. Several quick steps brought him level with a pile of twisted and burnt timbe
rs that supported another section of rooftop. Wisps of smoke lifted on the breeze and drifted overhead.
Though he couldn’t see the source, something beneath the rubble attracted the Serpent’s Eye—the attraction so intense, its gaze almost tugged at his hand. His defenses went up but he instinctively knew he was no match for whatever power lay hidden there. If it was a demon or someone wishing him ill, his quest to rule the Great Kingdom would end right here, and yet, it didn’t deter his need to know.
He pointed with his ungloved hand—a fireball materializing in his palm. “See what’s in there.”
Calor nodded. Without so much as to question what he was looking for, he bent low and stepped beneath the collapsed section of roof. He tossed chunks of debris aside, careful not to shift the weight of the unstable pile looming over him. “I see something.”
J’kwaad checked to ensure no one followed them. Curious stares watched them from the street but nobody made a move into the alley. Satisfied, he turned to watch Calor manoeuvre his big frame further into the tight spot. “Is it alive?”
Calor looked questioningly at him, bumping his head against the underneath of the roof. “Alive? No, my prince.”
“Then get in there and get it.” J’kwaad sighed his impatience and let his fireball dissipate.
Calor held his stare before returning his attention to the rubble. “I can’t…” He stretched a long arm into the wreckage. “Quite reach…” Repositioning his feet, he braced his shoulders against the rooftop and pushed up, grunting with the effort.
Impressively, the section of roof rose.
The strain on Calor’s face was intense. He cast a troubled gaze at J’kwaad. “I can’t reach it.” The debris resting precariously on his shoulders appeared ready to collapse at any moment.
J’kwaad secured the Serpent’s Eye in a hidden pocket inside his robes, replaced his glove, and slipped in front of Calor. Intense heat blasted his face. Glowing embers shone in the darkness—a hotspot that wasn’t soon to cool.
A gasp escaped the prince as his eyes fell on one of the most beautiful things he had ever seen. On hands and knees, oblivious to the danger, he stretched onto his stomach and latched onto an octagonal brass bowl.
His chest swelled with the significance. Devius’ coveted scrying bowl. With the latent arcane power locked in the artifact available to those who commanded the power to wield it, he no longer required the use of the fugitive high wizard. The kingdom now lay in his grasp.
The wreckage shifted, showering him with soot.
Calor staggered, sweat dripping from his face. “I can’t hold it much longer!”
Try as he might, the vessel refused to budge. “Lift it higher!”
Calor’s body trembled under the weight. The rooftop settled a fraction more.
J’kwaad winced, expecting to be crushed, but he refused to release his hold—his leather gloves unable to protect him from the intense heat of the metal.
“Lift it, damn it!”
Calor shook his head, looking on the verge of collapse, but he pressed into the rooftop. His agonized shout coincided with a subtle shift in the wreckage.
The scrying bowl scraped free of its resting place. Gathering it to his chest, J’kwaad crept backward as fast as he could.
The rooftop groaned and dropped with a heavy thump, crushing the wreckage beneath it and sending a shower of sparks high above.
J’kwaad hugged the vessel, expecting the worst, but accumulated debris prevented the rooftop from crushing him. Fearing the worst, he spotted Calor lying on his side—the man’s blackened face staring back at him. His apprentice appeared dead, but a blink and a subtle smile lifted a lump into J’kwaad’s throat. Whether he liked to admit it or not, Calor’s life mattered to him.
Prince J’kwaad broke into a fit of laughter—a sound not many people had heard. In his hands lay the power to seize a kingdom.
Creatures to Die By
“Fleabag?” Reecah approached the dense copse of pines. She leaned on her staff, hunching to peer into the gloom between the low boughs. So confident she knew who lie in wait, she didn’t bother conjuring one of her small fireballs—the effort of creating the fiery spell still distracted her to the point that she had a hard time concentrating on anything else.
A flutter of black wings and a swaying bough overhead marked Raver’s appearance.
Junior hunched over her back, sword at the ready. The scared look in his eyes told her he didn’t share her confidence about confronting a lion.
A faint growl made Junior clutch Reecah’s shoulders as a pair of golden eyes glowed from between the tree trunks deep within.
Reecah bent at the knees, wiggling her fingers. “Psst-psst. Here kitty. Come to Reecah.”
The glowing eyes lowered to the ground and backed away.
“It’s okay, Fleabag. Remember me? I won’t hurt you.”
“You come. Devius gets hurt. Leave me.”
The soft voice startled her. She shook her head as Fleabag’s words sunk in. “No, please. You don’t understand. I had nothing to do with Devius getting hurt.”
Fleabag growled.
“Are you crazy? He’s gonna eat you.”
Reecah glanced up. Junior looked like he wanted nothing else to do but run away. If not for his love of her, he would likely be at the gates of Arcanium by now. She swallowed her growing discomfort. “Fleabag is a she.”
“Whatever. She still has big teeth.”
Reecah forced a smile. “It’ll be okay. Walk away. She’s probably afraid of your sword.”
Junior shook his head.
“Trust me. Fleabag might be the only one who can lead us to Devius.”
Junior’s eyes darted between Reecah and the trees.
“Go.”
Junior took a tentative step backward.
“Please Junior.” Her anger rose to the surface. Trying hard to keep the bitterness from her voice, she snapped. “How am I going to prove to anyone that I can look after myself if no one is ever going to trust me? Just go!”
She didn’t think he was going to obey, but with a subtle nod, he turned and walked a couple dozen steps, never taking his eyes off the trees. He stopped and raised his eyebrows for her to continue her efforts to coax Fleabag into the open.
She sighed. It was obvious he wasn’t going any farther, so she turned to the trees. “You don’t have to worry about Junior. He’s with me. He’s like Aramyss and Anvil. He wants to help Devius.”
She couldn’t see Fleabag’s eyes anymore. Fearing the lioness had fled out the far side, Reecah dropped to her hands and poked her head under the first bow.
A low growl sounded right beside her head. She stiffened. Fleabag had snuck up on her.
“Reecah!”
The chinking of Junior’s chainmail told her that Junior was reacting exactly like she feared—trying to protect her.
Fleabag burst from beneath the bough and roared.
Junior dropped her quarterstaff and raised his sword.
“No!” Reecah spun and wrapped her arms around Fleabag’s neck, trying to hold the lion at bay while preventing Junior from striking.
Fleabag dragged her across the ground, but she refused to let go.
“It’s okay, girl. He’s scared of you. He thinks you’re going to hurt me. Like the nasty men at your tower. Remember? They were trying to kill me too.”
Fleabag stopped advancing, but the lioness’ eyes never left Junior. “Where is Devius?”
Reecah cried with giddiness as the tension of the moment eased—her relief overshadowed by the wonder of the moment. Devius had claimed the time would come. She was actually talking to Fleabag.
Scratching Fleabag behind the ears, the lion leaned her head into her hand, turning her face to allow Reecah access to her cheeks and under her chin.
Junior gaped, breathing in heavy gasps. He let his sword tip fall to the ground, forgotten. “You’re talking to it, aren’t you?”
“Fleabag is a she, not an it.” Ree
cah’s dimples diverted her tears down the side of her face. “You want to pat her?”
“Fleabag?”
“Pat her! Pat her!”
Fleabag pulled her head away, her keen eyes locking on Raver.
Reecah wagged a finger at Fleabag. “He’s my friend. You’re not allowed to eat Raver.”
“Eat Raver! Eat Raver!”
Reecah spit out a wet laugh. Wiping her face, conscious of what a wreck she must look like to Junior, she said, “No, featherbrain. Don’t eat Raver.”
Raver tilted his head to the side but said no more.
The look in Junior’s eyes as he knelt and offered an outstretched hand reminded Reecah of Brynhild when she first met the dragons.
Fleabag ignored him at first, backing away a step but Junior kept his shaking hand out.
“It’s okay.” Reecah rubbed Fleabag between the shoulder blades. “He’s my friend.”
Reecah’s tears began anew as Fleabag sniffed at Junior and rubbed the side of her face against his knuckles. The wonder on Junior’s face was priceless.
“She likes you! See, I told you she wouldn’t eat you.”
“Eat you! Eat you!”
Junior scowled at Raver and examined their surroundings. “So now what? I don’t imagine we can take a lion into Arcanium.”
Reecah wrapped her arm around his waist, following his southward gaze. “No, probably not.”
“Hey!” Junior cried out as Fleabag forced her way between them.
Reecah patted the lion’s side, an idea forming. She knelt and laughed, letting Fleabag lick her wet cheeks. “Ya, ya, I missed you too. I want to ask you a question. You can understand me, right?”
“Yes.”
“Did you come here with Devius?”
“Yes.”
“Where is he now?”
“He went to the city”
“Do you know why?”
“To find someone.”
“Did he say who?”
“Nelly.”
“Who’s Nelly?”
Legends of the Lurker Box Set Page 78