Wizard Hall Chronicles Box Set

by Sheryl Steines

  Sturtagaard strolled to the map, looking over his brother’s shoulder. “If she’s missing, she’ll be dead too.”

  “She hasn’t received her powers yet. She’s safe until she does,” Brite said.

  Sturtagaard pulled away and sat at the nearest table. “My child is gone. My wife disappeared, and when she returned, she was injured; a large piece of flesh had been eaten away. There is nothing I can do for her. She is dying.” He spat. “Why should we care where that girl is? She was supposed to save us. For not doing so, she must be punished.”

  Brite wanted to argue for Annie, lay out her sacrifices, explain all the good that she accomplished, but he could see that Sturtagaard was in distress and unreachable. It would fall on deaf ears. “Go care for your wife. There’s nothing more you can do here,” Brite said emotionlessly. He felt a heaviness in his chest as he saw Gibbs lying on a table in the corner of the longhouse. He knew Gibbs’s death would be hardest on Annie.

  Kolgaar tapped the map. “We know these caves. We will come with you.” He glanced at the king as if he would be ordered to do so, but the king was lost, deep inside his grief.

  “Keep someone with him,” Brite ordered. “He’s not in his right mind.” He tapped Etheldreda on the shoulder. “Anything with the princess?”

  Etheldreda shook her head and then hung it low as if shamed.

  “We’re going after Annie,” Brite told her.

  She nodded quickly and moved to a table on the other side of the longhouse.

  Brite took one more look at the monsoon outside the doors and pulled up his hood. He was followed by Kolgaar, Svenson, and, at the last moment, a reluctant Sturtagaard. They bent their heads low and headed east for the caves.

  *

  Annie slumped against the stone wall. Her head rolled forward.

  Where am I?

  She opened her eyes. Her pants and her hands were stained with mud and blood. She lifted her head. Her vision was fuzzy and dark. She closed her eyes again, took a deep breath, and was assaulted by the smell of burnt flesh, smoke, and the musty smell of water. The stench covered her hair, her clothes, her skin.

  What happened?

  She felt hard stone, bumpy yet smoothed by age and water, dig into her tender flesh. She ached from her feet to her head.

  Pictures formed in her head—demons, fire, Gibbs falling forward—but she couldn’t make sense of the images that rapidly flipped through her memory. She pulled her head back up; lightheaded, she turned her head and vomited.

  Annie closed her eyes again and let the images come back to her. Brite and Gibbs watching in horror.

  Why?

  “Zola,” she groaned and blacked out.

  *

  Metal pinged against rock in a slow, repetitive cadence and reverberated off the stone walls. The sound bounced around in Annie’s head. A musty, sour smell wafted to her. She grimaced at the puddle of vomit beside her.

  She was so exhausted; she could barely raise her arm to pull herself up. Instead, she pushed backwards against the stone wall until she stood. There was a heaviness around her waist. She glanced down and saw a metal chain strapped around her. As she moved, it clinked against the wall.

  Where am I?

  A heavy boulder blocked her view. She stumbled forward and held onto the rock as her eyes grew accustomed to the dim light. She found herself in a cavern of some sort. She scanned the small area, which included several niches filled with candles and a table on the far side. She blinked her eyes rapidly and looked at the table again. It was covered in items she couldn’t quite make out yet.

  Annie leaned against the boulder. She shuddered violently from wet clothing and the damp, cool air. She rubbed her arms for warmth.

  Again, she heard the sound of metal pinging.

  I’m not alone.

  The thick chain pulled on Annie’s waist. She turned and followed the chain up the wall where it was embedded in the stone. She yanked, but the chain was firmly attached.

  Fear gripped Annie. She closed her eyes and held her palms out to syphon any magical energy around her. She felt no tingling in her fingers, hands, or arms. The effort left her with a pounding headache and deeper exhaustion.

  Annie held the chain as she scooted around the edge of the boulder. Now accustomed to the low light, she could see the roaring fire in the fire pit and a work table covered in herbs, crystals, potion jars, books, and scrolls. Upon closer inspection, she noticed a basket of uneaten food on the floor where mice squealed in delight at their found feast.

  She heard another ping of metal, but Everard wasn’t in this part of this cavern.

  Where is he?

  She walked around the boulder as far as the chain would let her. She closed her eyes and listened to the cave sounds. The pinging continued off in the distance, water dripped from the ceiling, the fire roared, and a soft moan reverberated off of the stone walls.

  Annie slid to her knees and scanned the cave searching for the owner of the moan. Nausea and dizziness gripped her again. She turned and threw up against the rock. When her stomach emptied, she returned to the search. Unable to see in the darkest corners, she bitterly tossed a spell at the chain where it was embedded into the wall. Magic bounced across the metal and sent sparks everywhere. When the magic stopped, she tried again with the lock on the chain. Again, it bounced across the metal and flew against the walls.

  Of course.

  Annie leaned against the rock as she examined the table. There were too many shadows blocking a clear view. She held out her palm anyway and summoned keys, not expecting Everard had any. Her eyes widened when a set of heavy keys landed in her palm. Nearly giddy with relief, she placed the key in the lock at her waist and turned. It gave way easily. She pulled off the chain and ran toward the moaning sound. It came from the frail body of a girl dressed in thick robes. Her yellow hair fell around her face. The girl moaned again.

  Princess Gyda!

  “Gyda. It’s Anaise. I’m going to release you and get you out of here.” Annie knelt beside the girl who was attached to the wall like Annie had been. She fumbled with the key, found the lock, and released the girl.

  But how do I get her out of here?

  Annie summoned her flashlight, left the girl, and searched the room until she was back where she started – at a passageway that led to the cave system.

  I could be lost in there for days or weeks.

  A low menacing laughter echoed off the walls. Everard’s feeble form entered the cavern from the other side.

  “Where do you think you are doing? Do you really believe you can get her out of here?” Everard asked. He pulled the stool out and sat beside the table, pulling herbs and dumping them in the mortar. He picked up the pestle and began to grind them into a thick paste.

  “What are you making?” Annie asked as she leaned over for a better look.

  Everard dumped the ground herbs into a larger bowl and said “Fiero,” lighting the ingredients with fire. He turned to Annie. “You killed them. All of them. I am recreating them. Just like I did before.” He reached for another ingredient and dumped it into the stone bowl. The old man began to pound at the ingredients, the stone pestle scratching against the bowl. Princess Gyda moaned.

  “I can’t let you do that,” Annie said. She whipped her palm up at him, sending the mortar and pestle across the table and onto the floor.

  “You bitch! How dare you come here and kill my babies!” He picked up the broken stone and potion ingredients, placed them on the table, took his candle lantern, and shuffled to Annie.

  “What keeps you alive, old man?” she asked. She looked at his wrinkled face and the blackness of his eyes.

  Demon eyes?

  Everard smiled a crooked, yellow smile. “I’m an alchemist. I have secrets that you are not privy to. And now to keep you from ruining my plans any further…” He blasted Annie with a jinx. She flew backwards, her head bouncing against the rock, and slid to the floor.

  New pain radiated across her b
ack and down her legs, through her arms and to her head. She let out a groan.

  The world floated away from her, leaving her in an unfamiliar void. Princess Gyda moaned in the distance. Annie tried to speak, but she couldn’t make a sound. Trapped in her body, there was nothing she could do when she felt a spark of electricity and blacked out.

  *

  When Annie woke again, she was incapacitated against a hard board, her arms above her head, a strong magical rope binding her hands together. She attempted to move her legs, but they too were tied tightly and immobile.

  The old man shuffled across the floor and knelt beside Princess Gyda, reconnecting the chain around her waist. Annie turned and watched as he poured a potion down her throat.

  “What are you giving her?” Annie shouted.

  “Oh good, you’re awake. This is nothing for you to be concerned with.” Everard smiled and pulled himself up, his joints creaking and popping. His advanced age made it difficult for him to move with ease, but it didn’t hinder his ability to perform strong magic.

  Annie watched in horror as Everard easily floated a heavy stone above her. She feared he would bash her head in. “You can’t do this. Not until my powers come!” she shouted in fear.

  He laughed as he directed the large rock to her hands and let the magic go.

  “Ahhhhhhhh!” Her scream reverberated across the stone. She couldn’t help the tears that followed as she felt the pain from her two broken hands radiate down her arm to her shoulders. Her body shuddered as she cried out.

  “Shut up. I need to continue,” Everard said as he returned to the table and to his potion.

  Chapter 31

  Sturtagaard angrily marched with purpose as he, Kolgaar, and Svenson led Brite and Zola across the countryside in a blinding rain to the hidden caves where they might find Annie. Brite observed him carefully. He distrusted him immensely and was curious as to why Sturtagaard chose to leave his dying wife to assist in finding Annie.

  Whatever he does, he does for a price.

  They took a path around the coven village, which had once been completely hidden inside the forest. Now the forest had been burnt and its trees were mere sticks, charcoal, and ash. The longhouse was nothing but a rock foundation, the walls had crashed in and were piles of rubble. None of the cottages remained. Even the fire pit at the center of town was empty; whatever remained inside was smoldering as the rain drenched the last of the fires.

  The group slipped as they headed down the slope toward the river, which was heavy with white caps as it overflowed through the landscape. The riverbank was thick with mud. Their boots stuck in the muck with each step. They followed the brown, muddy river as it swung around and changed direction east.

  Sturtagaard pointed across the river. “The caves will start there,” he shouted over the pounding rain.

  Brite acknowledged him with a nod. They found a shallow point in the river and crossed. Icy water rushed up their legs, drenching them to their waist. Each step was painful as the water pounded them. By the time they reached the other side, they crawled along the bank, exhausted. Brite and Zola sat at the edge, breathing heavily. Sturtagaard staggered up and pointed.

  “It’s here!” he shouted.

  Brite and Zola scrambled to the cave entrance and clawed at the foliage, releasing the hold the vines had on the opening. What remained was a cave entrance, at ground level, only two feet wide and three feet high. Brite lay on the ground, his flashlight illuminating the short, narrow entrance. “Everard is too old to drag her through here. Is there another entrance?”

  Sturtagaard nodded. “This way.” They rounded the corner, rejoined the river’s edge. He led them to a narrow fissure in the rocks. Brite glanced inside with his light, estimating the narrowness at the beginning of the entrance expanding as they walked inside.

  Maybe he could bring her through here.

  Brite glanced at the Viking men. “Thanks for your help. You can go if you’d like,” he said as he turned sideways and entered. Zola entered next, shuffling sideways through the narrow space until the tunnel expanded.

  Kolgaar, Svenson, and Sturtagaard followed. Brite turned. “I said you can go.” He turned back and examined a long tunnel.

  “You might need our help,” Kolgaar said.

  Brite and Zola glanced at each other before Brite led them through the cave system. They stopped at an intersection between two passageways and listened. “Do you hear that?” he whispered. Kolgaar pointed to the right.

  Brite nodded and flashed his light in both directions before switching it off, turning on a low-level crystal and heading toward the sound. At each passage, they’d stop, listen for a clanking sound, and turn toward it, winding their way through the cave that languidly snaked through the earth. The sound grew louder. Brite pointed and Kolgaar nodded.

  A low, dim light emanated from a cavern up ahead. At the entrance, Sturtagaard, Svenson, and Kolgaar wielded their swords, staying behind Brite and Zola as they looked inside the opening. Brite entered, crouched behind a boulder, caught a sour stench, and looked down. He thought of Annie, grimaced, and returned to scanning the cavern.

  Princess Gyda lay motionless on the floor. Behind her, Everard was forcing something from his bowl into Annie’s mouth. Brite sprung up. “Get away from her!” His panicked voice reverberated around the stone walls and floors. Everard looked up, glared at him and continued with his business. Brite angrily whipped his hand toward the bowl. It flew from Everard’s grip and crashed against the stone wall. The potion splattered and dripped to the floor.

  Kolgaar lunged for Everard, knocking the old man to the ground. The wizard cried out as his rib cracked.

  “You’re not using her as a vessel,” Brite said. Kolgaar sat on Everard, holding his hands against his body with his thick legs. Brite summoned a vial, unstopping it. He grabbed the old man’s jaw and wrenched it open, pouring the clear and odorless liquid down his throat.

  Everard knew from his long life’s experiences what Brite had done. Within seconds, the old man went slack; his magical powers had been bound by the powerful potion.

  “What was that?” Kolgaar asked.

  “I bound his powers. He’s nothing more than an old man waiting to die,” Brite jeered. He ran for Annie. Brite released her arms from the bindings, her wrists were red and raw, her hands mangled and bloody.

  “What the hell did he do? Brite asked.

  She looked at him with puffy eyes and wet cheeks. “Gyda. She’s drugged over there.” Annie motioned with her head. Brite removed the straps from her legs and helped her sit, leaning her against the wall.

  “You okay for a minute? I’ll deal with her,” Brite said. Annie nodded and rested against the wall as Brite returned to Gyda. After checking her vital signs, he said, “She’s alive. Barely.” He motioned for the others. He checked the chain around her waist, found the lock, and waved a palm above it. When it wouldn’t open with magic, he summoned the keys, opened the lock, and tossed it across the cavern.

  “Take her back,” Brite said. Kolgaar lifted the slim princess, her clothes weighing more than she did. “Tell them she was drugged. The coven can give her an antidote.” Kolgaar nodded but stayed in place as he glanced at Annie. “Go,” Brite said again, waving him out.

  “What can I do?” Svenson asked.

  Brite led him to Everard and began the chore of tying his hands behind his back. When he finished binding the old man’s ankles, he yanked him up. “Bring him back to the coven. Tell them his powers are bound and inform them of what he did to Gyda and Annie.”

  Svenson nodded, pulled Everard from the floor, and flung him over his shoulder. Everard moaned. Brite couldn’t have cared less about the old man’s comfort.

  After the others had gone, Sturtagaard watched Annie intently; his eyes bore into her. Brite shuddered at his expression. Zola caught his reaction to a weakened Annie and stood between her charge and the future vampire. Sturtagaard stood still, his fingers twirling a knife behind his back.
He placed the knife back in his scabbard and walked away.

  Relieved he was gone, Brite ran back to Annie. “You okay?”

  “Yeah.” She looked at them and held her mangled hands for them to see, gritting her teeth.

  “What did he do?” Brite asked.

  “Broke them so I couldn’t use magic against him,” she murmured.

  “Hang in there. We’ll get you out of here.” Brite gently lifted her from the floor. Unable to teleport through the thick cave walls, he carried her back though the cave paths. Annie, succumbing to the pain, closed her eyes and leaned against his chest.

  At the cave entrance, Brite and Zola exchanged glances as they entered the torrential downpour.

  *

  Svenson and Kolgaar ran from the caves with the princess covered in Kolgaar’s cloak and Everard haphazardly tossed across Svenson’s shoulder without the benefit of protection. They followed the path they had taken to get there, first crossing at the shallow point in the river. It had been a tougher experience returning to Jorvik as both Vikings were entrusted with bodies unable to care for themselves. The extra weight made the walk through the whirling water most difficult. The waves continued to crash against their legs, and they were unable to fully see where they were going as they maneuvered across the water. At the river’s edge, Svenson tossed Everard to the ground, fell to his knees, and climbed from the water.

  Kolgaar grunted, lay the princess on the bank, and pulled himself out of the water. The rain blinded them as they gathered their charges again.

  “Do we wait?” Svenson shouted above the storm.

  “We need to get them back now!” Kolgaar shouted.

  Svenson nodded and pulled Everard up, tossing him across his shoulders again as Kolgaar gently picked up Princess Gyda. As Jorvik came into view, they ran faster into the wind and stepped inside the town. The streets were empty as they ran for the longhouse. Kolgaar threw open the doors, and they lunged inside where the air was warm and dry. Spotting the coven in the far corner, Svenson marched to them and dropped Everard on the ground.