“Get out of here, fool!” Skynryd stepped in front of Tomlin and roughly shoved him away from the soldiers.
Levak was a dirge of destruction as he held off the entire company of soldiers. His combination of swordplay and staff combat was like a deadly dance that kept the soldiers from advancing. At some point his magic would falter and then he would fall like the others, but for now he was giving Tomlin and Skynryd a chance to escape. Tomlin wanted to fight at his side, but he knew that he would only get in the warrior-magician’s way.
The old father’s hands clutched at Tomlin’s cloak and tried to push him away again, but Tomlin would not be moved. Instead Skynryd pulled him close. “Do not let his sacrifice be for nothing.”
“I hate to ruin this touching moment,” Levak grunted with every strike and parry, “but I don’t plan on dying. I’ll be right behind you.”
It was all Tomlin needed to galvanize him into movement and he ran for the castle’s double doors. They were barred, but there was a smaller door within the larger one that should still be unbolted. Hand-cannons fired behind him and Tomlin instinctively dove to the ground. He rolled on his side so that he could see behind him. Skynryd was lying face down on the ground, motionless.
No! Tomlin’s mind reeled.
Tomlin got to his knees and scurried to the old priest’s side. He was not moving. As Tomlin crawled closer he noticed blood beginning to pool underneath the former servant of the goddess of life. There were bloody circles on Skynryd’s back where he was shot and the blood soaked into the green fabric of his robe.
Tears clouded his vision and Tomlin tried to wipe them away as he fumbled for his own hand-cannon and the bag of powder that he carried at his side. He shoved the ball into the barrel. Levak was being forced back even as the massive figure of Kellen in his shining armor and brandishing his warhammer came to the forefront of the battle. The last time these two men faced one another it was in a fistfight and Kellen had cleaned Levak’s clock. Of course Levak had not used magic in that altercation, but with a hundred men at his back the advantage was decidedly Kellen’s. Tomlin unsteadily poured dwarven powder into the weapon’s pan, not caring that he was using too much or that some of the precious powder spilled on the ground. He inhaled a long breath as he took aim. Now he forced himself to calm down making his movement slow, deliberate. It would take a half-minute to reload the weapon. This would be his only shot.
He exhaled slowly and pulled the trigger. The hammer ignited the powder in the pan; Tomlin held the gun steady for a few more seconds before the miniature cannon went off and a tiny lead ball flew towards Kellen and hit his shoulder plate. Kellen fell to the ground, but he still lived to Tomlin’s disappointment. Levak must have found that disappointing too, because he shoved his staff’s blade down into the knight or so it seemed until a stream of blue fire traveled up the length of the staff and caked over Levak. Then the rest of the men swarmed over Levak and he was gone from Tomlin’s view.
“No!” This time the word escaped Tomlin’s lips. He was still on his knees beside Skynryd’s body when Levak went down. When the soldiers were done with Levak they came for Tomlin and only then did he run to the relative safety of the castle’s door within a door. He yanked at it and it did not budge! Again he pulled, this time more frantically and it still did not open.
It is barred! It can’t end like this with salvation just behind a closed door.
His head banged against the door in defeated frustration and it gave just a little, but it was enough to bring him back to his senses. Tomlin pushed on the door and it opened easily. He skated inside and slammed the door shut behind him in one motion. His head whipped around looking for the hefty wooden bar that would barricade the door and hold off the soldiers at least for a while. There it was propped up against the double doors. He jammed it into position just before bodies started crashing into the door from the opposite end.
Tomlin laughed and he thought he might break into hysterics if he did not stop himself. Skynryd was dead; Levak was dead; and Tomlin almost died because he forgot how to open a door. He laughed again and wiped away fresh tears that began rolling down his cheeks.
For a second time the castle’s horn calling for retreat blew. Magicians would be transporting out to locations all around the kingdom. Their positions were being abandoned even now.
The sound of a child crying bounced off the walls in the empty hall. Alia’s old study and workshop were not far and he guessed it was Avelice. He hoped that Alia would be there too. Not because she would save him. She could not. He hoped to see Alia there, because the alternative would mean that she was outside somewhere and could be among the dead too.
He opened the door to the workshop and found Kaleb trying to quiet Avelice. They were alone. “Where is Alia?” he asked, afraid of hearing the answer.
“She said for us to stay here. She said she would come back for us.” The boy was fighting back the urge to break into tears.
“Be strong. It is going to be all right,” Tomlin urged him with a hint of magic laced into his words to calm Kaleb’s nerves. If only it was that easy to calm his own.
How many magicians were left in the castle that could use transportation to escape? Half would have evacuated at the first horn and the rest would have begun at the second. That was only moments ago, but he expected that the castle would be mostly empty except for any apprentices and magicians with… limited talents like him. There had to be another way out. There was always another way out, if one was willing to look hard enough for it.
“Tomlin, thank goodness. I thought-“ the voice came from behind him and he spun around, but was in Alia’s embrace before he fully registered who it was. She held him tightly for a moment before letting him go. “I am glad you are alive.”
“As am I,” he agreed.
“The kingdom is swarming into the castle grounds now that so many of us have fled. We need to do the same.” It was Ryonus just behind Alia. “Alia will take Avelice for the child’s safety. It will be a rough trip transporting three, but I will take Tomlin and Kaleb.”
A rush of relief rolled over Tomlin. He had seen the effects of trying to transport three people before, but it was better odds than a guaranteed death at the hands of the kingdom. He was about to agree to that, but Kaleb had another concern.
“We can’t leave Byrn behind,” he pleaded. “You said he was in a tower. We should get him.”
“There may not be enough time for that,” Ryonus warned, “We must go.”
Kaleb was about to protest, but Tomlin stepped in. “It is okay, Kaleb. You go with Ryonus and I will get Byrn.” Alia looked like she might argue, but seeing Tomlin’s resolve, decided to let his plan go unchallenged. “If one of you can spare a rune, then I will rescue Byrn from the tower and he can in turn save me.”
“It is too risky,” Ryonus began, but ceased his rebuttal when Alia handed Tomlin a rune. His face was always serious, but somehow seemed more earnest that usual as Ryonus reminded the bard, “If things don’t work out as you plan with Byrn just remember to try and picture yourself as being lighter than air. Then imagine yourself translucent like a ghost. Finally, picture yourself not being there at all and you won’t be.”
Tomlin nodded. He had heard the absurd instructions countless times before. It seemed impossible for him to imagine not existing and so he was never able to weave the spell. He would make the attempt again if it became a last resort, but held little hope of success. His chances were much better to save Byrn and have the master magician use the rune to get them both to Lion’s Landing and reunite with the others.
Alia wished him luck before vanishing with her daughter in her arms. Ryonus and Kaleb did the same a moment later, leaving Tomlin alone in the workshop. A loud pounding at the large double doors that was reminiscent of how an ogre would knock interrupted the sudden silence. He had to find Byrn in a hurry before the castle was overrun.
Chapter 20
The second horn was sounding as Xander’s sp
ell preparation was nearing completion. He had spent most of the morning in his tower outside of Byrn’s cell meticulously drawing a symbol on the ground and assembling several Atmari stones around the room in preparation of this spell. He had hoped for more time. His plan had been to use Byrn to finish off the kingdom army before they could penetrate the castle’s defenses and save the Collective, but it seems that now he would just have to settle for slaughtering all of the kingdom dogs instead. Most of the Collective that would escape would begin heading toward Mollifas and he could still meet up with them there and lay claim to the throne, but it was still disappointing to lose so many Collective members when their ultimate victory was almost at hand.
Byrn sat impatiently on the floor of his cell. He had ceased asking questions after the first hour or so when it was clear that he would be getting no answer. The young sorcerer’s eyes burned with hate as he tried to figure out Xander’s plan. Xander almost told him. He wanted Byrn to know the truth before the master stroke was delivered, but he knew from experience that it was so much more satisfying to wait for the moment when he could look in Byrn’s disbelieving eyes at the utter horror and surprise in that moment.
The grandmaster stood up and took a step back from the coal rune he had drawn and looked it over for imperfections. It took up half of the floor and was positioned as close to the wall opposite Byrn’s stone cell as possible to limit any negative effects from the anti-magic runes that blocked Byrn’s ability to regenerate magic. “It is complete,” he told Riona who stood nearby watching him. “Finish sketching it out in your grimoire quickly. We must make haste if we hope to destroy our enemies this day.”
Riona did as she was instructed and showed the drawing to Xander to make sure she had not missed anything. She did not. “Very good,” he admitted, “Now you will learn the secret to my immortality. Are you ready, my dear?”
“I am, my lord.” Riona stood proudly ready to accept Xander’s dark touch. She had agreed to this in order to learn his secret and with a little luck she would survive the experience. A fat tendril sprouted from his hand and, almost tentatively, embedded in Riona’s chest. She let out a soft sigh as the sudden icy touch of his death magic slowly absorbed her life energy and transplanted it into Xander, bringing her closer to death with every passing second even as Xander grew stronger. Her heart was slowing and she would have fallen if not for the tendril holding her up. Finally, Xander withdrew from her and caught her before she could fall. She was still conscious, but tired.
“Do not sleep,” he told her quietly, “You must be awake to bare witness if you wish to learn this magic and this is literally a once in a lifetime spell.”
She nodded, but was too tired to answer.
“What are you planning?” Byrn asked as Xander approached his cell. There was still defiance in his voice. It was a shame that things did not turn out differently. Byrn could have been his son-in-law and the grand necromancer would have seen to it that he was the one to sit on Aurelia’s throne as its rightful heir; instead he will be just another fool to give his life for Xander’s immortality.
Xander placed his hands on the stone bars of the cell and willed them away so that they sunk back into the floor and ceiling. Byrn attacked with his bare hands the moment the bars were gone, but Xander batted him aside with a tentacle throwing him into the wall. Four new tentacles sprouted from Xander’s hand, each one grabbing one of Byrn’s limbs and lifting him into the air. He hung like a pig on a stick, but as Xander examined him for injury Byrn began to kick and punch the air in an ineffective attempt to break free of the magic binds. Byrn’s blood was already beginning to regenerate its source magic, but Xander sucked the energy from him as quickly as it came.
“You look unharmed,” said Xander clinically. His black energy pinned Byrn down in the middle of the giant rune with each of his limbs and his head lined up with one of the focusing crystals. To Riona, he said, “Pay close attention to his placement in the rune and the alignment of the crystals with the body. By passing my own magic through the crystals I can alter the effects of the spirit tentacles so that instead of draining all of Byrn’s power I can infuse him with mine.”
Riona watched in anticipation, though she could still barely move. Her eyes shimmered as she took in every detail. She was an apt pupil.
For a split second Byrn was released as Xander’s tendrils were adjusted so they could pass through the crystals, but they held him back down before he could move. The tendrils turned from a deep black to blue where they passed through the crystals and into Byrn. His arms and legs took on a bluish-purple tint as Xander’s power infused every sinew of his muscles all the way to the marrow of his bones.
“His body is becoming attuned to me and my life-force as my body is becoming to his,” he explained to Riona. “For a brief instant will be as one.”
The deep blue energy grew more intense and Xander could feel his energy flowing out. His legs felt weak and he let his body fall to the ground. He would not need it anymore.
Somewhere he could hear screaming and knew it was Byrn. The pain was nearly unbearable and it passed into Xander as well as his spirit was ripped from its body. When a woman brought new life into the world she suffered an insufferable agony. Why should this act be any different, because as Byrn and Xander’s souls became intermingled they were both being reborn?
Now Xander was screaming with Byrn’s voice. The pain suddenly ceased and that in itself was a welcome relief. His muscles were empty of strength and magic, but he rolled from his back onto his hands and knees. He felt like he would vomit, but there was nothing in his belly, causing him to dry heave for a minute.
“Grandmaster?” Riona asked.
“I am fine,” he said with a youthful voice far different from his former elderly tenor. He stood, grabbing onto one of the crystal stands and looked at his hands; so young, so full of life. The grandmaster looked at the body lying outside of the runic circle; a body that Xander had occupied for the last sixty years.
Xander rolled over his old body and looked into the eyes that now belonged to Byrn. There was the utter shock that Xander had expected to see when Byrn first saw his former face staring down at him. “What?” he asked as he tried to come to grips with what he was seeing.
“What happened?” Xander guessed, “You took part in a soul transference. I could get into the intricacies of what just happened, but you will not live long enough for it to matter. Know that you have given me not only the power to destroy the kingdom’s army at our doorstep, but also made me the heir to Aurelia’s throne once Janus has been taken care of. Your sacrifice will bring about an era of magician rule in the kingdom and your name will go down in history as the greatest king to ever sit the throne.”
Xander held Byrn’s feeble neck in one hand and began to squeeze the life out of him. Neither of them had any magical strength left to speak of following the transference, but Xander’s new body recovered far more quickly than Byrn’s aged husk.
Byrn tried to pull Xander’s arm away, but his own limbs were like wet noodles trying to move an oak. He gurgled as he tried to speak. The words croaked from Byrn’s constricted throat, but his message was clear. “Kill me and you’ll die too,” he said.
At first Xander ignored his words, but as he considered them, he had to know what Byrn meant. He dropped the sorcerer to the floor. “Those are strong words from one who is in no position to be making threats. Explain yourself.”
“You remember when I woke up in Baj and we first met?” Byrn asked. He rubbed at his throat, trying to massage away some of the soreness. “I got tossed in there, because I killed a bunch of people on holy ground.” Xander remembered, but said nothing. Byrn continued, “During that time while I slept for several days I was visited by the goddesses of life and death. They punished me for my sacrilege with a curse that if I ever take a life, Kassani will claim mine as well. Now that curse belongs to you, necromancer.” The title was almost like a slap to the face. Byrn’s body was a source o
f unrivaled power and combined with Xander’s knowledge of ancient magic he should have been unstoppable, but death was either the fuel or the result of his most powerful spells without them...
“You’re lying,” hissed Xander.
“I’m not,” Byrn assured him, “Ask Alia. She knows the truth. She has known it since we first met.”
Xander stood from his crouching position over Byrn and kicked him in the ribs. The satisfying crunch of bone and Byrn’s gasp of pain made Xander feel a little better, but not much. “You’re lying,” he said again, but his voice lacked conviction even to his own ears.
“What about the army?” asked Riona. It had been Xander’s plan to use Byrn’s raw power to destroy Aurelia’s army, but if he could not kill, then that would be impossible. Riona was just now recovering to the point where she could stand. Normally the transference requires the sacrifice of a third person to fuel the spell, but Riona was a potent master in her own right and could spare the necessary energy and still survive.
“We must retreat for now until I can determine my next step. There are some runes on the third floor below us.”
“And what of him?” she asked, nodding at Byrn.
“The Kenzai will take care of him soon enough. He doesn’t have the strength to defend himself right now.”
They left Byrn weakened and bruised as they made their way down to the third floor. The sounds of occasional fighting, apprentices who were unfortunately left to defend themselves, still roamed the interior of the castle in a last ditch effort to throw the kingdom and the Kenzai out. They took all of the runes Xander had in the tower, not wanting to leave anything behind that Byrn might be able to use should he manage to recover enough to escape the tower.
Footsteps echoed from somewhere down below and quickly grew louder. The necromancers prepared for whoever might be about to come up the stairs and Xander made an effort to think of a spell that could incapacitate without killing. Then Tomlin dashed past their open door without a look in their direction.
Magician Prince Page 16