The Heir Chronicles: Books I-III

by Cinda Williams Chima

  Linda paid the check, and they walked out to the parking lot together. A black Subaru stood in a secluded spot in back of the restaurant. Jack opened the trunk and lifted out two ornate swords, handing one hiltfirst to Ellen.

  The weapons illuminated the parking lot, bright sparks in the gathering dusk. Jack’s was the larger of the two, and it had a large red ruby set into the hilt. Jack handled it as though it weighed nothing. He buckled on a leather harness with a scabbard that slanted across his back.

  Maybe those are magic pieces from the golden age of sorcery, like the dyrne sefa, Seph thought.

  “Let’s synchronize our watches. It’s seven forty-five,” Snowbeard said. “Linda and I will break into the web at eight fifteen. Wait a few minutes, then cut through yourselves.”

  Snowbeard slid behind the wheel of the BMW, with Linda on the passenger side. Jack and Ellen and Seph climbed into the Subaru, laying the swords down between the seats.

  They drove in tandem, with Snowbeard leading the way along country roads, turning as often as necessary to keep close to the shimmering border. It seemed to stretch as far as the eye could see, even arching over top of the town. It would be easy to walk into, if you weren’t paying attention.

  About a mile to the west, Jack pulled well off the road, into the edge of a field. The three of them climbed out, Jack and Ellen carrying their swords. Snowbeard drove on, disappearing over the next ridge.

  They’d chosen a spot where the barrier cut across a field. A battered farmhouse crouched next to the road, its paint gone gray with weather. The foundation of the house was overgrown with wild roses, sprays of red and white flowers with yellow centers. In the pasture, cattle wandered back and forth through the barrier, oblivious to it. The late day sun slanted across the barnyard.

  They slipped past the house, moving behind the barn where they would be less likely to be seen from the road. Here, between the barn and the fenced pasture, the grass was nearly knee-high and concealed hidden hazards: rusty pieces of old farm machinery and piles of cow manure.

  Up close, the barrier was revealed as an intricate network of nearly translucent cords, as thick as Seph’s little finger. There was hardly an inch of space between them anywhere. There was something mathematical about the pattern, like the spokes of a spiderweb. It had a kind of malevolent presence, as if it were alive and watching them. He couldn’t tell how thick it was.

  Jack paced up and down impatiently, swinging his sword like a scythe, clipping off the tops of weeds. Seph and Ellen sat down in the grass and waited. Biting insects buzzed around their faces.

  At 8:15, they queued up at the wall, Jack first, then Ellen, followed by Seph. “We’ll only be able to hack a narrow path,” Jack warned Seph. “This stuff is tough to get through and it kind of fills in behind. So be careful not to touch any part of it.”

  In the distance, they heard a boom and saw flames fountaining into the air like a series of gigantic Roman candles. The diversion had begun.

  They’ll be lucky if they don’t draw the local police, too, Seph thought.

  Jack’s blue-edged blade bit into the web, sending bits of cording flying. The net responded immediately, shrinking back before them. A muttering arose from the Weirweb, like the sound of an angry crowd. It grew until it became a great wailing clamor.

  Jack looked over his shoulder, making a face. “Hard to take, isn’t it?” He turned back to his work. He flowed from stance to stance like a fencer, the sword a bright blur, singing as the web keened. The warrior’s swordplay was poetry in flesh, although it wasn’t long before his T-shirt was stuck to him, and sweat poured down his face. Ellen followed behind, clearing loose tendrils and widening the path behind Jack. They swapped places every few minutes. Seph watched to the rear, looking for any sign of pursuit.

  They had cut a path about thirty feet into the net when it happened. One of the tendrils Jack had broken whipped back, and Ellen sidestepped to avoid it. Her arm brushed one of the loose tendrils at the side of the path. The web reacted swiftly, throwing three new cords around her waist.

  “Jack!” She hacked at the cords with her sword, but a line tangled around her legs, and she fell. More strands wrapped around her sword arm, seemingly attracted by her violent efforts to free herself.

  “Will you hold still?” Jack plunged into the growth around her, slicing away at the bonds that held her whole body prisoner. He used his blade like a surgeon, slicing through the web, miraculously never drawing blood. Ellen sat stone still, unflinching, though swearing creatively. But the net responded by throwing out more cords. Jack had to be careful not to become entangled himself. He was making no visible progress. He yanked a blade out of a sheath at his belt and looked over at Seph. “Listen, are you any good with a knife?”

  Seph was no good with a knife at all, but he accepted the blade and began hacking at the thick tendrils, conscious of time passing, working as quickly as he could while trying to stay away from vital organs. All around them, the web seemed to be chuckling triumphantly.

  After five minutes, Ellen was wrapped up as securely as before. She looked up at Jack and Seph. “Go on,” she said. “You’ve wasted too much time already.”

  “No,” Jack said stubbornly, slashing at the cords at her waist. His hair was plastered down with sweat.

  “Linda told us to get Seph to the Sanctuary. Take him and come back for me. I can take care of myself.”

  “Right,” Jack growled. “Against wizards. When you’re trussed up like a . . .”

  “Whose fault is that? I mean, if you were a little less clumsy with that sword of yours . . .”

  “Don’t think you can make me mad enough to leave you here.”

  “I know these people,” Seph said, chopping at the cord that bound her ankles. “We’re not leaving you here.”

  “That’s brilliant. Let’s all three get captured.” When they didn’t respond, she added, “You know I’m right.”

  “Fine!” Jack swiped at the sweat that streamed down his face. “You come on!” he said to Seph. “The sooner we get through, the sooner I can be back.” Jack pivoted away from Ellen and began hacking away again with a vengeance, sending tendrils flying. The keening wail started up again. They moved forward rapidly. It was probably another twenty yards to the inner wall of the barrier and half a mile beyond that to the edge of the town.

  When they broke through, Seph turned and looked back at Ellen. She was sitting quietly, no longer struggling. She scowled and waved him off when she saw him looking at her.

  “Go back for her,” Seph said. “I’ll go the rest of the way on my own.”

  Jack shook his head. They would be in the open from the edge of the barrier to the city limits. “Let’s go.” He started across the field at a run, his long legs covering the distance in great leaping strides. Seph followed, determined to keep pace despite the complaints of his tortured muscles and bruised body.

  Once they passed the edge of the barrier, Ellen could no longer see Seph and Jack, or hear the sounds of their progress, only the gloating whisper of the web around her. She tried to ignore it. She was uncomfortable, but she kept still, because the web around her tightened every time she moved. A cow passed through the barrier and stopped a few feet away, staring at her curiously. The cow lifted her head and looked back down the pathway. Ellen heard something, too. Someone was coming.

  It was one of the four young wizards they’d encountered on their way out of town. He had backcombed, white-blond hair, and a stubble of beard so pale as to be almost translucent. His eyes were a diluted color, like whitewash spread too thin over blue.

  He looked surprised to see Ellen, as though it was inconceivable that she would disobey his orders. “You again. I told you not to touch this.” The tendrils making up the wall responded to his presence like snakes to a charmer, curling over his shoulders and sliding between his feet, murmuring excitedly.

  “I was just trying to get back to town, and I got tangled up.” Ellen assumed what she hoped
was a blank, stupid expression. She’d spent a lifetime lying to wizards. Their arrogance made it a lot easier.

  “What’s this?” The wizard gently freed Ellen’s sword from the tangle of vines and examined it, turning it to catch the light. He took a few practice swings, handling it like a golf club. “This is awesome. Where’d you get this?”

  “I bought it off a dealer.”

  “Do you have any more pieces like this?”

  Ellen shook her head, watching the wizard brandish the sword and wishing she could get her hands on it.

  “What are you, a sorcerer?”

  “I don’t know what you’re talking about.”

  The wizard rolled his eyes. “Right. What’s your name?”

  Not a good idea to give a wizard identifying informa-tion. “Nikki. With two k’s and an i. What’s yours?”

  “Warren Barber.” He eyed her suspiciously. “Look, sweetheart. I know something’s going on. Fires. Explosions. People running around with magical swords. Old men in sports cars.”

  “It’s been like this ever since they set up the Sanctuary. It attracts all kinds of riff-raff. It used to be a nice little town.” She looked up at him. “Now. Could you get me out of this web?”

  Barber carefully set the sword down out of Ellen’s reach, then began crooning charms, coaxing the cords away from Ellen’s body until her legs were freed. He left her hands securely tied. She extended her bound wrists. “What’s with this?”

  “I have a feeling you know more than you’re saying. I think with a little persuasion you’ll tell me what it is.” He smiled and extended his hands.

  Ellen knew well how painful a wizard’s touch could be. So much for peaceful coexistence. She bunched her legs under her and rammed her head into Barber’s face, feeling his nose crunch at the impact. She landed, rolling, and gripped the sword hilt with her bound hands. Swinging the blade upright, she thrust it at the wizard’s midsection, flames dancing eagerly at the tip. But he leaped back out of range, spinning additional cords from his hands that snaked around her body, despite her efforts to cut them to pieces. They constricted until she was totally immobile, and then Barber yanked the sword from her hands and set it aside.

  He knelt and leaned over her, blood streaming from his broken nose, pale face spotted purple with rage. He wrapped his hot wizard hands around her throat and squeezed. She twisted and turned under his weight, but couldn’t free herself. Spots danced before her eyes, then coalesced into darkness.

  Something thudded into them, and then the wizard’s weight was gone and her airway was miraculously open. Ellen sucked in great lungfuls of air until her vision cleared. She looked up to see Jack and Barber circling like fighters being paid by the round.

  “You all right, Ellen?” Jack asked, without taking his eyes off Barber.

  “I’m fine,” she croaked, feeling stupid, lying on the ground, tied up like a holiday ham. “Cut me loose when you get a minute?”

  Jack reached over his shoulder and drew his sword, Shadowslayer, with a delicious hissing sound. He stood with his feet spread apart a little, the sword pointed at the wizard.

  Barber took a step back, outside of the immediate reach of the blade, and swept his hand toward Jack. Flames sprayed at Jack’s face, but he parried them with his sword.

  Barber cast an immobilization charm, but before it was out of his mouth, Jack spoke the counter spell, stumbling over the words a bit. Barber licked his lips. “You’re a wizard?”

  “Maybe.” Jack stood in a ready position, his blue eyes hard and cold.

  Barber feinted toward Jack, then launched a gout of flame at Ellen. Jack threw himself into the path of the attack, shoving Ellen aside. Tongues of flame engulfed his sword arm. Shadowslayer slipped from his grasp, landing with a thud in the tall grass. Swearing, Jack leaped after his blade, but Barber spun out long cords that tangled in his legs and wrapped themselves around his body.

  Almost lazily, Barber raised his hands to deliver a killing blow. Suddenly a peculiar expression spread across his face. He swayed, then toppled forward into the grass and lay still.

  Finally free, Jack retrieved his sword and stood over the wizard, both hands wrapped around the hilt, the tip of the blade pressed into the back of Barber’s neck. But Barber was out cold.

  Seph McCauley materialized before their eyes, as if out of the air, holding a large branch like a baseball bat. When he saw that Barber was truly down, he tossed the branch aside. “Best I could do,” he said apologetically. “I can’t cast charms while I’m unnoticeable. Anyway, I don’t know a lot of magic.”

  “Well, obviously you’ve learned something,” Ellen said, extending her wrists so Jack could cut them free.

  “Not that I’m ungrateful, but what the hell are you doing here?” Jack demanded of Seph. “I told you to stay where you were.”

  Seph swept his hair out of his eyes. “Did you? I must’ve misunderstood.” He nudged Barber with his foot. No response. He looked around. “Hey, the wall’s down.”

  Ellen looked up. The wall was disintegrating, dissolving into tattered wisps of mist.

  “I guess it needs some sort of conscious attention from Barber to keep it intact.” Seph shrugged. “The other wizards will know he’s down. Now would probably be a good time to get going.”

  Reluctantly, Jack lifted his blade away from Warren Barber’s neck and shoved it back into his baldric. He was pale and sweating and obviously in pain. His forearm was blistered from wrist to elbow where Barber had flamed him.

  “That arm looks bad,” Ellen said. “Maybe Nick can take a look at it before your mom sees it.”

  They began walking toward town, this time crossing the fields and orchards unimpeded.

  Jack swiped sweat from his brow with the back of his good hand. “Who was that guy?” he asked Seph.

  “I went to school with him,” Seph said. “At the Havens.”

  “Must be a great place, the Havens,” Jack said sarcastically. He seemed to be in a foul temper, probably not improved by the pain in his arm. He glanced sideways at Seph. “I can’t understand why we’re getting involved in a fight between wizards.”

  “We’re going to be involved, whether we like it or not,” Ellen said. “You know that.”

  Seph scowled. “I don’t expect any of you to get involved. If I have my way, I won’t impose on you any longer.”

  It was full dark by now. They began walking along the highway toward the town center. They had walked perhaps a mile when they saw a car slow down and pull onto the shoulder. It was the black Subaru, with Nick Snowbeard behind the wheel and Linda next to him.

  “Hey!” Jack said, pulling a set of car keys from his back pocket. “How’d you start my car?” he demanded in mock amazement. “Do you even have a driver’s license?”

  “If I did, they would probably take it away after tonight,” Snowbeard replied.

  They drove to a pavilion in a park along the lakefront and gathered around a battered picnic table for the debriefing. Snowbeard kindled a wizard light in the center, casting a soft illumination over all of the participants.

  Linda leaned forward and squinted across the table, then reached out and gently touched Jack’s hand. “What happened to your arm?”

  They told Snowbeard and Linda about the encounter with Warren Barber.

  “Can you do anything for him, Nick?” Linda asked.

  Snowbeard studied the injury, then leaned toward Jack and gripped him at the wrist and shoulder, careful not to touch the blistered area. Power rippled between the old wizard’s hands, like a cool stream flowing over Jack’s skin. The blisters subsided, though the area was still angry red.

  Jack released a long breath and managed a grin. “Thanks, Nick. That feels a lot better.”

  “Less chance of infection now, Jack, but the area will be very tender for the next few days,” Snowbeard said. He looked at Ellen. “What about you, my dear?”

  Ellen had a necklace of purpling bruises around her neck, but she brus
hed off Snowbeard’s question. Seph was getting the impression that she was not the kind of person who enjoyed being rescued.

  Jack turned to Snowbeard. “What happened with the other wizards? Where’s the Beamer?”

  Snowbeard smiled, rolling his staff between his hands. “I managed to bore quite a way into the web with wizard flame and what-not. Then I set off some spectacular fire-works. When the wizards arrived, we raced off in the car. They, of course, assumed it was Linda and Seph.

  “They were young and quite enthusiastic. We led them on a merry chase, but we never actually made it into the Sanctuary. So I parked at the mall out by the highway interchange. We went in and lost ourselves among the shoppers. The car’s still there.”

  “How’d you get back to town?” Ellen asked.

  “We found a kind family willing to drive us,” Snowbeard said blandly. “We told them we’d missed the last bus.”

  “We thought we’d have trouble getting through the Weirweb, but it was already down,” Linda added.

  “So,” Seph said. “What do you think is going on?”

  Linda cleared her throat. “Leicester wants you back. For some reason. Barber is working for a wizard named Gregory Leicester,” she explained to the others. “He was Seph’s headmaster at a private school up in Maine.” She slid a glance at Seph and he looked away.

  “Leicester is also on the Council of Wizards,” Snowbeard added thoughtfully.

  “They can’t be sure that Seph is here,” Linda suggested.

  “They’ve seen the Beamer,” Ellen said. “And they’ve seen you.”

  “They haven’t seen Seph, though,” Linda pointed out.

  Snowbeard said, “It occurs to me that there’s nothing to keep them from coming into town for a look around. And, depending on how you read the Rules of Engagement, they might be able to find a way to get you or Seph out of town by trickery or force as long as they don’t use magic.”

  “But I can use wizardry to defend myself, right? Assuming I can find someone to train me.” Seph shrugged.

  “I can teach you,” Snowbeard said, looking from Seph to Linda and back again. “Depending on what you want to learn.”