*
The French Wizard Guard had once been a highly respected organization. It all changed after their overzealous and illegal use of memory modification spells on their own people was discovered. Now the French Wizard Guard was considered the lowest of the low in many magical circles.
While the remaining wizard guards still had their jobs, they were relegated to chasing vampires and demons. Real investigations were given to other Wizard Guard units in Europe, which left Jory and Roland in a limbo, doing boring, unfulfilling work. While they were grateful for the opportunity to work in the field doing something useful, it didn’t erase the bitterness they still had over the last six months during which they were punished for the actions of others. Seeing Fabien on the battlefield made them bitter.
“Fabien’s been helping them,” Jory scoffed as he leaned against the rock.
“Did they hire him too?” Roland spat.
“Can’t. He’s on probation. It’s against international law.”
“They better give us something important after this.”
“Maybe we’ll transfer to the U.S. Anything’s better than what we’ve been doing,” Jory said. He peered around the rock after the first alarm was sounded and teams exited from hiding.
“Only if we get into this action,” Roland said.
It hadn’t taken much time for the second alarm to be blared across the desert. “They’re breaking free!” Jory shouted.
They ran from their hiding spot toward the open desert, following several Fraternitatem members.
They crossed to the next boulder, where Roland was clocked in the nose by escaping adversaries. Blood poured down his face into his mouth. He threw a punch of his own, cracking the jaw of the woman who had hit him. Her head flew backwards and she groaned. Rather than waiting for her to go for him, he ran at her, leading with his shoulder and knocking her into the rock.
Taller and heavier than her, he pinned her into the stone as she kneed him in the groin. He yelped and backed away, bent over and nauseated. She limped off; Jory followed her as she headed into the desert.
*
It would have been naïve to think the Fraternitatem had no vehicles at their disposal. It was becoming common knowledge that not all Fraternitatem members were magical and those who were not needed the ability to move around. Lial believed a vehicle garage had to be somewhere in the cave system, under the sand or in the other cliff. What he couldn’t find on any of the maps was a way into a garage. While he watched the fighting from afar, he surveyed the cliff opposite him, searching for seams in the stone.
He wiped sweat from his forehead with the bottom of his already drenched shirt. He took a sip of water and proceeded to feel the bumps and the grooves in the rock. It was a long cliff. He glanced at the cliff with the Cave of Ages and back to the one where he stood. They were a mile apart. He wondered if maybe they had missed a subterranean tunnel beneath them, joining both cliffs.
Scratching, squeaking, and scrapping, the rock behind him shuttered and shook. Lial ran behind the next boulder and watched as the rock scraped against itself. Crouched low, he peered out as the stone door slid open.
Lial refrained from raising a signal; management would see the cars and he didn’t want draw attention to himself.
I might be able to stop them.
He snuck around the rock and tossed a spell at the second all-terrain vehicle as it exited the garage, blowing out the back tire. The car fishtailed in the sand as it tried to gain traction. The wheels continued to spin without moving and soon stopped, holding up the exodus. The driver exited, stared at the destroyed tire, cursed loudly, and kicked the car. Other cars began to skirt around the disabled vehicle as the angry driver searched for the person who had caused the tire to fail.
Lial moved to the other side of the rock and aimed his next spell at the next car to exit the cave. The back window blew apart and glass shattered across the inside of the vehicle. The angry driver got out of the car, stared at the back window, and turned to the direction from which the spell had come. Lial ducked behind the boulder. His breathing grew heavy and his heart pounded wildly.
Voices grew louder around him. Someone issued orders. Lial knelt low and glanced around the rocks. Several women were walking toward him. He stepped out from behind the rock and cast successive jinxes at the group. One fell, stiff as a board, and another fell to her knees, unable to move.
A third woman, glared at Lial, raised her arm and pointed at him. He whipped his arm roughly toward her, casting a jinx. She flew backwards, landing on a moving car.
Lial had little time to keep the flow from streaming out of the cave. He summoned several magical bombs, decided it was now or never, and rushed forward. With magic streaming from his palms, he pushed the bombs into the cave. Made of glass, they shattered easily, and their toxic magic burst forth. Unable to teleport for the wards around the outcropping, Lial ran for the fighting, hiding himself inside the storm of dust and sand that swirled around them all.
Lial ran through the bodies, some unconscious and some dead. He saw one woman alive and awake whose gaze met his.
She sat up; he ran at her and jumped over her like a hurdler. She shouted after him and pulled herself up. Still shaking from the magic that knocked her out, she held her gun and pointed at him, but he had immersed himself in the fighting.
Once he was far enough from the cars, he stopped, his breath ragged. He glanced back toward the caves. Several more cars had clogged up the exit, their engines billowing black smoke. He leaned against the stone and chuckled softly.
Lial wiped his face, which was covered in sweat, sand, and dirt. He peered around the rock. Men and women were escaping the vehicle caves. Many of them had burns from an acidic spell on their hands, faces, hair, and clothes.
“You ruined everything!” a female Fraternitatem member screeched.
Lial turned and faced her. She had a gun pointed at his head. He held his arms above his head as if to surrender, his palms pointing out at her.
He stepped back, glanced at his location and ran.
I need to get to the edge of the no-teleportation zone.
Tired, hot, and parched to the bone, he ran for the edge of the outcropping where the wards had been removed so the wizard guards could teleport.
He didn’t dare look, but he knew she was following. He could hear several gun shots as he ran.
He saw the marker flag.
Almost there!
As he leapt over the imaginary line and teleported away, he felt a burning pain in his back.
*
Annie and Spencer rushed for the decaying portal that separated the Louisiana market from the main market. Even with the anxious voices echoing across both markets, Annie could hear the portal crackle and hum like the air during a thunderstorm.
“Hey, wait your turn, bitch!” screamed a patron waiting to exit. Spencer glared at him and the man slunk back
Annie pushed forward, the magic inside her now ravaging through her veins; she itched and burned from every inch of her body. The closer she got to the portal, the more she could see it pulse rapidly in sync with her heartbeat.
It feels me.
Bolts of lightning shot from both sides of the portal. It singed whoever stood near. Even bits of sand turned to glass in the electric onslaught. Spencer held Annie’s shoulders as she touched the edge of the portal. Lightning struck her palms and she pulled away.
“Shit,” she murmured as she stared at her burnt skin.
She held her breath and blew out the air as she placed her hands against the magic for a second time. A summer thunderstorm began to build; wind swirled from the portal and battered Annie’s body. She tightened her muscles as Spencer supported her from behind.
She fed the portal with the magic that didn’t belong to her. It flew from her palms in an icy purple haze and seemingly calmed the overused portal. The more magic she added to it, the more relief came to her. The itching lessened.
“Anyone wh
o wants in or out, do it now!” Annie shouted above the wind. No one chose to re-enter; rather, they began a steady stream out of the main market and back through to Louisiana.
The portal fed on the magical traffic as wizards and witches escaped. It began to spin like a washing machine. Annie’s arms shook as the foreign magic drained from her. When it needed more, the portal consumed hers. She felt exhilarated and strong as the magic left her.
Behind her, a dragon blew out its fiery breath, setting the nearest booth on fire. The stench of burnt canvas assaulted Annie as she returned her concentration to the portal and keeping it stable. Her muscles burned and shook. Her head pounded.
“What are you doing?” Spencer asked.
“The portal can’t hold this many people. It’s going to explode,” she said. Her knees buckled and she fell to the ground—and yet she still held the portal.
“You’re going to get sick if you keep adding magic,” Spencer said.
Annie shrugged. Her phone beeped in her back pocket. Spencer pulled it out for her and read the message.
“You need to go!” he shouted.
“If I let go, we might get trapped inside,” she shouted back.
Spencer stuck his hand inside. His magic, not as strong as hers, could barely keep the portal stable.
“Go!” he shouted.
Though Annie was tired, the magic no longer itched beneath her skin. She joined the fray of the escapees and ran through the Louisiana market.
*
“Where are they going?” Petra murmured.
She followed the swishing hems of the Fraternitatem cloaks toward the back of the market. They stopped in the farthest corner. She hid behind a booth and watched as they held their hands to the wall.
“What are they doing?” she wondered, just before one of the men jammed an athame into the wall, opening a portal. “Shit!” she hissed.
Petra ran for the back corner and threw successive jinxes at the members, trying to keep them from entering the portal. One of the men made it through before she could reach him. The second was hit by a jinx and fell. His lower body remained in the market, but his upper body was in… She rushed forward and looked inside the portal. It was the Israeli desert.
“This is how they got around,” Petra said softly to herself.
She glanced into the rocky outcropping. A small cry escaped her lips as she looked on the fighting. She reached for the unconscious man and dragged him against the sand. She took one last look at the fighting, sighed, and closed the portal before imprisoning the unconscious man at her feet.
Chapter 35
Lial crashed into the ground, his face in the dirt. His body burned hot and wet, and the stench of iron filled his nose. He groaned lightly and felt for the source of his pain. His hand came away from his side covered in blood.
“Crap. Damn.” He gritted his teeth and raised his head taking in his location. He was in the teleportation clearing outside Tartarus. “Why am I here?” he murmured.
He rolled himself over, his arms tired and shaking. He glanced at the early morning sky, pondering how he got here and how he was going to get back to Wizard Hall. His muscles spasmed and his side burned.
Lial summoned his phone. The screen was blurry, appearing only as a burst of colors, a mash of spots. He pressed the button and spoke into the smartphone. “Tartarus Prison phone number.”
He groaned as the world swirled in front of him in multitudes of dusty browns and greens. He tried to keep his eyes open, to keep himself awake. “I’m Lial Peng,” he said through shallow breath. “I’m in the teleportation spot. I need help.”
He neither said goodby nor did he hang up; the voice on the phone continued to ask questions as the phone slipped from his fingers. Blood saturated his shirt from his waist to his chest—the upper band on his pants were now soaked. He groaned as his eyesight blurred. He assumed this is what eternity felt like as he waited for someone to at least check on him.
Soon a security guard entered the clearing and rushed forward. “Hi Lial. I’m Scott. I’ll stabilize you and get you to the hospital.” He wrapped a pressure bandage over the wound, took his pulse, and glanced into Lial’s eyes. “We weren’t expecting anyone from the battle. How’d you get here?” Scott asked.
“Don’t know,” Lial said. His breath was quick, his lungs burned as they grasped for oxygen, his wound stung. Colors danced wildly before his eyes, streams of colors like a snake through the grass, dots popping like bubbles. “So cold,” he murmured.
“It doesn’t matter. You got here and you’ll be okay,” Scott said when he finished with Lial’s basic care. “You’ve lost a lot of blood. We’re almost there.” He gently picked up Lial and teleported him to the hospital.
*
Dust kicked up around Brite as he ran through the boulders chasing the billowing red cloak. The woman he was following inserted herself into the wild crowd of people trying to escape. Losing sight of the hem of her cloak, Brite continued in the direction she had been running. He flicked his wrist and the sand dispersed, giving him a quick glance at the chaos.
There!
He spied her running for the open desert. When his spell dissipated, the sand reformed into a thick fog around them. Brite headed after.
Fireballs whizzed by and spells flew through the air and caught his arm, scorching his sleeve. He patted the embers and continued to follow the swirl of the red cloak.
As he exited the sandy fog, he searched the landscape; it was open, expansive, deserted, and scorching. He spotted her along an empty riverbed and ran after her.
With his wider strides, Brite easily caught up to her and lunged, forcing her into the sand. She wriggled underneath him. He quickly realized he had underestimated her strength. She pushed up and rolled him off of her, surprising him. While he was on his back, she jumped on him, grabbed his neck, and squeezed.
His arms flailed as he reached for her and punched at her side. Her eyes were wild, and her scowl was harsh and angry. She punched him in the head, in the jaw, in the neck. The world grayed. He raised his palms and cast the jinx; she flew up, pulling him with her.
As they flew, she released her hold on him. He landed feet from her and rolled away. The taste of iron was strong in his mouth, and his nose felt stuffed and achy. He wiped blood and sweat from his face and stared at her as she glowered at him.
From his knees, he cast successive spells, each one strong enough to knock her backward. In Brite’s anger, his frustration of what he had endured with Annie fueled him. One spell after the other hit the woman. Her body jerked, her head rolled backwards, and she slipped to the sand. And yet Brite couldn’t stop, even as her bruised and battered body lay still in the middle of the desert.
He felt a hand on his shoulder. “She’s unconscious. I think you’re done.”
At first, Brite didn’t recognize the heavy French accent. He lowered his palms and glanced behind his shoulder. Jory held out a hand and helped him up. Brite shook violently, shivered in the heat, and turned his head to vomit.
Jory let him be as he examined the woman in the sand. “She’s alive, but barely. We need to get her to the holding pen.” He picked her up and threw her over his shoulder.
Jory held his hand for Brite, who hobbled close behind. They were still within the confines of the magical wards; neither could teleport in or out of this section of desert.
“I don’t think I can make it. Too dizzy.” Brite slipped to his knees.
Jory pulled a bottle of water from his jacket. “Here. Take this and don’t move. I’ll come back for you when I can.”
Brite watched as Jory headed back to the rock outcropping, leaving him alone in the sand.
*
Below him, in the canyon, more members of the Fraternitatem were attempting to escape through a hidden garage and out into the open desert to never be heard from again.
“Come on, Lial,” Cham murmured. He watched from his perch. The wizard guards seemed outnumbered, and yet, the holding
pen was filling up.
Cham felt bad he couldn’t effect change from up there. Only Annie could do that. He stared at his phone.
I need her magical boost to end this.
They had thought they had enough juice, enough magic to do this without her, but the sheer number of Fraternitatem members pouring from the caves was much more than they expected.
He texted Annie.
As he was about to teleport into the canyon, he heard the groaning and grunting. Behind him, Jason dangled from the cliff top.
“Damn it.” Cham rushed to the edge, pulled him up from under his arms, and lay him in the dirt. He examined Jason. The older man’s hands were red and raw, burnt by the poisonous gas and magic. Cham summoned his field pack. “You’re human again. You should have worn gloves,” he chided. He opened a bottle of water, poured out the liquid, and warmed it above his palm before placing it on Jason’s injuries.
Jason grimaced.
“Sorry,” Cham said as he added more magic to the spell. While the magic reduced the size of the welts, he knew it must still burn and ache. Cham worried Jason’s hands might permanently be damaged by the magic. “It’s not working,” he said after a few minutes. “I’m going to cover them and you can go to the hospital.”
He gently wrapped Jason’s hands in gauze, then looked back at the fighting, conflicted about whether he should stay by Jason or join the rest of the wizard guards.
“I need to get you out of here,” he said.
“No. Melichi will try to find Annie. I need to go after him,” Jason argued.
“I called her. She’s on her way.” Cham felt a sinking feeling in the pit of his stomach.
“I told you not to call her!” Jason pulled his hands away from Cham and stumbled as he pulled himself up. He looked out at the desert, the battle that was raging in the rocky outcropping.
Wizard Hall Chronicles Box Set Page 172