by Brian Beam
I couldn’t move my eyes, but could see Sal’ in the periphery of my sight. She didn’t seem able to move her facial muscles, but I could just sense fear and concern for me radiating from those icy-blue eyes. I, on the other hand, had trouble fearing for my own life. I only feared for everyone else’s. The effeminate man’s insistent study of me with those eerie orange eyes revealed that I was the one he was interested in. Therefore, I had brought this on the others. I had to help them. I had to do something. However, at that moment, I could do little more than breathe.
Finally, the man’s thin, near-bloodless lips turned up into a smirk. The expression didn’t touch his eyes. The glow from the sword on the table eerily illuminated his emaciated face.
“Ah, the elusive Ingran Lemweir. I am sorry, it’s Korinalis Karell now, right?” he asked in a voice like stone scraping across tree bark. He had that same lilting accent that I had heard in Menar’s voice.
I felt my whole body heat in boiling rage. I assumed that this man could be no other than Raijom Weist, the man who wanted me dead for something that I was only allegedly to do. The man who had put Sal’, Max, Til’, and now the McAlwains’ lives at risk just to get to me.
The man let out a dry laugh that sounded more like a cough as if he had never truly laughed before. He appeared amused. “I can see in your eyes what you are thinking. No, I am not Raijom. I am only his apprentice, Prexwin Imos.” His lips turned up into as close to a smile as I was sure they could achieve. This time, his eyes did smile with them. Smiled cruelly, that is. “I am the man who will be ending your life.”
Chapter 17
Come At Me, Wizard
Now, I had feared for my life several times over those past few days, but this was the only time I had felt so helpless. This Prexwin bastard could have probably killed everyone in the room with ease as I was forced to watch without being able to do a damn thing about it.
As it was, Prexwin didn’t seem to even acknowledge that there were others still in the room. His eerie eyes stayed focused on me without blinking. His eyes shone with interest, though his body language still indicated boredom as if we posed no real threat. With what he was doing to people I cared about, I wanted nothing more than to stab out those orange eyes and shove them down his Loranis-forsaken throat. If you couldn’t tell, I was a little bit angry.
Prexwin took his bony hand from his pointed chin and brought it down to the glowing sword before him. He grabbed the ivory hilt and began caressing the blade with his other hand. “This always was one of my most precious creations,” he said with that gravelly voice. His eyes never flickered away from mine. “Raijom put it in the hands of incompetence when he gave it to Menar. He should have sent me to kill you in the first place. Why he would think Menar could bring himself to kill you, I’ll never know.” The gaunt man sighed. “But, he wanted to always have me at hand to assist him. I guess in the beginning he didn’t know if he could bring me back or not.”
I only glared at the man. Well, I tried to glare anyway. I could move my eyes directionally, but was unable to narrow them in anger like I wanted. I had no control over my brow or my eyelids. I had no idea what he was talking about and my searing anger made it hard to care.
Prexwin kept that smirk on his thin lips as he stared at me as if he knew exactly what I was thinking. “Well, the sword served its purpose, I suppose. We weren’t sure if you killed Menar or if he betrayed us, but when you destroyed his tracking stone, we just kept track of you with the sword. Such stupidity in destroying the stone with the sword. The sword simply absorbed its magic, making it as useful as the stone. As I said, it always has been my favorite. It has so many uses,” Prexwin continued in a condescending tone.
Had Max’s eyelids just twitched? It was hard to tell as he continued to rotate while suspended above the table. It was almost as if he cringed when Prexwin had mentioned the destruction of the tracking stone.
Prexwin rose to his feet, holding the magic sword. He was wearing black breeches as tight as the skin over his skull. “I consider myself lucky that I ended up at this farm. I was not able to come out exactly where you were, but this is so much better. I could feel you coming closer and closer with that sword and Mrs. McAlwain here…” Prexwin gestured at Undula pressed against the ceiling, her eyes filled with horror. “She let it slip that a man named Korin had come by just days ago. As you came closer, I assumed you were returning here and I thought that I could have a little fun.”
Prexwin’s dry voice took on a cruel edge and his smirk turned into a malicious smile. “You see, I enjoy making people suffer. Call it a character flaw if you wish. After the trouble you have made for my master, I figure what better way to make you suffer than to watch your friends die slowly by my hand as you impotently watch? Then, I will bring on your own slow end. I have been instructed to kill you immediately on sight, but what Raijom does not know, will not hurt him.” He chuckled dryly at that. The sound was cold and unnatural.
Finally shifting his gaze away from me, he slowly turned his eyes towards Undula. “This will be more fun if you can talk,” he told her.
Although her body still seemed unable to move, her mouth suddenly burst into motion. “Please let us go. We have done nothing to you,” she sobbed, tears dripping from her eyes as if they had been thus far trapped due to his binding. “Don’t hurt us,” she pleaded.
Suddenly, her words cut off and she let out an agonized shriek that was full of both fear and pain. Inch-thick strips of skin started peeling from the sides of her face, layers of fat coming off with them to reveal the muscle beneath. Blood started dripping onto the floor. Her face must not have been the only part of her affected as her dress had begun to soak with blood. Her screams were the only sound in the kitchen. Each one stabbed at me. It was my fault. It was all my fault.
I could feel every one of my muscles tensing, though I could not put them into motion. My face heated with anger. I had to keep fighting Prexwin’s bonds. I had to stop him before he killed her. However, no matter how hard I fought, I was powerless to do anything.
I looked away from Undula, wanting to vomit, but unable to do so being bound by Prexwin’s magic. I kept my eyes on Prexwin. This sick bastard was going to kill everyone in the room just for the fun of watching them suffer and watch me suffer by association before killing me.
As Undula’s screams continued and her dress became more dark red than the light blue it had been, Prexwin met my eyes again. “As fun as this is, I think I will have the most fun when I get around to…” Prexwin’s mouth finished the sentence as he looked over to Max, but the sound was distorted and muffled as if spoken within a crowd of people all trying to talk at once. I had an idea what word his lips formed, though.
I saw one of Max’s eyes briefly open and look over at me. I was sure of it this time. If Prexwin said what I thought he did, I could understand why Max would look at me and possibly why I couldn’t hear what Prexwin had said. The implications would be hard to wrap my head around. I would have to address the matter later, though. I had more pressing issues to worry about.
Prexwin hadn’t seemed to notice Max’s eye open and shifted his gaze back to me. Undula continued to scream as the strips of skin fell to the table and floor from Undula’s face, hands, and out from the bottom of her dress, landing with sickening squishes. I tried to shut my eyes and ignore her pain, but couldn’t. Undula didn’t deserve such punishment. No one deserved to die in such a fashion. Granted, she wasn’t dead yet, but the blood seeping from the rectangular spaces where her skin had been indicated that it wouldn’t be long before she bled out. Her screams lost their intensity as the weakness of blood loss took effect. I could do nothing. They were all going to die because of me.
Prexwin eyed me with a sardonic grin. “Enjoy that? I will give her some more time to suffer while I start on the next one. How about this little guy here?” he hissed, turning to Til’.
Abruptly, Prexwin’s body convulsed. It was a brief motion that seemed to catch him of
f guard if his widened eyes were any indicator. At the exact moment he convulsed, the McAlwains, Til’, and Sal’ all dropped a couple inches before snapping back into their original places. This brought forth renewed screams from Undula with their original intensity from the pain of the motion.
For that brief moment, I felt like I had control of my body again and my arms flew up into the underside of the table from the built up tension, but the magic binds snapped right back into place. Max’s body didn’t seem to move at all and just continued to rotate slowly. I definitely saw his eyes snap open and look right at Prexwin during that brief second, though.
With a shake of his head, Prexwin turned back to Til’, held motionless on the wall. The momentary shock on Prexwin’s face quickly melted back into an unctuous smirk. “From what I understand of this world, your kind are called Kolari, right?” he asked with that creepy, grating voice. I wondered what he meant by “this world.” Knowing full well that Til’ couldn’t talk, Prexwin continued. “I understand also that your people are adept at carving wood. Let us see how you feel when the blade is turned back on you.”
Til’s hand involuntarily opened and his dagger floated out and rotated in mid-air until the point was inches from his cheek. Although Til’ could not move a muscle in his face, I was sure his eyes were flaring with anger, not fear. Undula’s screams had turned to half-conscious whimpers by this time.
Prexwin turned his creepy grin back towards me. “Or,” he drew out in his lilting accent, “maybe you would prefer to watch me have some fun with the girl.” The dagger spun away from Til’ and shot towards Sal’, stopping mere hairs from imbedding between her eyes.
As suddenly as before, Prexwin convulsed again, this time more violently and he fell to his knees. Sal’ and Til’ fell roughly onto the rear countertops. James and Kipp fell straight to the floor while Undula dropped onto the table, the strips of her skin and fat squishing under her. She rolled, knocking over a chair, and fell off the table onto it. Screams came ripping from her lungs again. Max deftly dropped on all fours to the table and looked me right in the eyes. “Attack him now,” he screamed raspily.
I had only a fraction of a second of hesitation before launching to my feet so quickly that I knocked the chair I was sitting on skidding across the floor behind me. I threw one arm onto the table to help propel me forward over Max while drawing my shortsword with the other. With a scream, I brought my blade slicing towards the downed wizard before me.
What happened in those next few moments is a bit of a blur when thinking back on it. What I do know is I felt like I was hit by a charging bull and the next thing I knew, I was staring up at a nearly cloudless blue sky, squinting at the brightness of the sun with shattered glass surrounding me. My whole body ached, but seemed intact. I could feel stinging cuts on the back of my neck. The McAlwains’ cottage was a stone’s throw away from where I lay.
How I could be launched backwards through a window that far and not only live, but not have any major injuries, was amazing to me. I was sure the dragon egg had to have played a part and I was pretty damn thankful for it. I even had my sword still in hand. Chasus would have been proud.
I’d like to say that he’d also be proud of how adroitly I leapt to my feet, sword bared, ready to defend myself. The only problem is that I forgot that I was wearing the ridiculous, too-short robe that kept me from widening my legs into a proper defensive pose. What I did succeed in doing was stumble forward, barely keeping myself on my feet.
Looking towards the cottage, I assumed that everyone else was still inside. Undula’s screams burst from the broken window loud enough to be heard across the distance. How could anyone take pleasure in hurting others like that? Prexwin had to be stopped. I could feel the rage boiling inside me once again. My hand ached as I tightened my grip on my sword and burst into a run towards the cottage.
Out of nowhere, Prexwin appeared in front of me. It was as simple as one second there was nothing but grass and a flowerbed between me and the cottage, and the next Prexwin was there with that sickening smile on his face. Prexwin drove a hand forward into my stomach, knocking the wind from my lungs. Despite his frail appearance, the punch knocked me back to the ground.
In a flash, Prexwin went from standing a few feet in front of me to being at my side, bringing his foot down onto my right forearm. I let out a scream loud enough to audibly mute Undula’s unsettling screams, though it failed to mute them in my mind. The feel of the bones in my forearm snapping left no question as to the damage done as my sword dropped with a spasm of my fingers. Being the second time in two days that someone had broken my right forearm with a stomp of their boot, I strongly hoped that this was not going to become a regular occurance like falling on my ass had become. At least falling on my ass mostly hurt my pride. Having my arm snapped by a boot just plain hurt.
As I looked up at Prexwin’s smirking face, I realized that I probably wouldn’t have to worry about it happening again. I wouldn’t have to worry about anything happening again.
Still, I am not one to give up, especially when the lives of people I care about are on the line. I clumsily reached for my shortsword with my left hand. Prexwin simply lifted his hand and a ball of fire formed before it. With a quick flick of his wrist, the fire shot down to my hand.
I had thought that having my arm broken had hurt. However, the pain of having my hand set on fire as if it were coated in oil was indescribable. The smell of my burning flesh filled my nostrils as I drew in breath for another scream. I frantically waved my hand, feebly trying to snuff the flame, screaming the whole time. My body jerked as I did so, tugging my right arm that was still trapped beneath his boot and sending even more waves of pain through my body as my broken arm bones ripped through muscle. Prexwin just smiled down at me with sick pleasure, licking his lips, as my screams increased in intensity.
“Raijom spent so many years worried about you and now here you are at my mercy with so little effort on my part,” he mused to himself. “Do not worry, Ingran. This may only be the beginning of our fun, but I promise it will end. Eventually.” The smile didn’t leave his face as he spoke.
Tears flooded my eyes and panic flooded my body as I thought about what he planned on doing to me. Hey, you’d be a wimp about it too if you were in the same position. Trust me.
Just a glance to where the flames had finally snuffed out revealed a charred, useless, skeletal frame of a hand. I cannot even begin to describe the pain or fear I felt in seeing the burned, sinuous remains of my hand.
“Korin,” Sal’ screamed from behind Prexwin. Through my tear-hazed vision, I could see Sal’ dropping to her feet on the grass outside the shattered kitchen window.
Prexwin mockingly placed a finger over his thin lips with one hand as the orange glowing sword appeared in the other as if from nowhere. My current pain-filled scream cut short before I could try to tell Sal’ to get everyone away from the farm. Again, I couldn’t even move my mouth. My legs and arms were pinned to the ground by an invisible force. The only movement I could make was to lift my neck. I was sure that Prexwin had purposefully allowed that small freedom of movement so that I could watch whatever he planned to do to Sal’. This man was one Ilgish—the god of slugs—blooded monster.
I wondered how Prexwin was casting so much magic without any sign of another living thing to draw his power from. Then again, maybe that was why he was so insane. Maybe he had been drawing the energy to create his magic from himself for too long.
Still, with the amount he was throwing around, I couldn’t help but feel like he should be affected more than he was. I mean, Max had used my energy for just one spell and it screwed up my mind pretty bad for a bit. This guy had been using various streams of magic on multiple targets almost constantly since before we had even entered the cottage. Theoretically, if this guy did this regularly, his mind should have been mush.
As I frenetically attempted to scream for Sal’ to turn back, she rushed forward towards us with a hand in her wicker
case. Prexwin’s back was to me now, hiding the sword behind him. Sal’ raised her other hand, her rings glinting in the sun.
Prexwin expected the spell to come directly at him and therefore be reflected right back at Sal’. What Prexwin didn’t expect was Sal’s horrible aim. What must have been one of her forces of air that she had once used on me before slammed into the ground a good pace in front of him. While the spell itself didn’t touch him, grass and dirt shot up into his face, surprising him.
His break in concentration must have interfered with the magic he was using to pin me to the ground as I could feel the pressure from the invisible binds lift from me. Not one to pass up a good opportunity, I ignored the shooting pain in my right arm as I grabbed my short-sword and launched it blade first at him. Sure, I could have mounted a more effective attack if I was on my feet, but I figured my charred remains of a hand and broken forearm would have kept me from getting up quickly enough to take advantage of the situation. Regretfully, it didn’t really matter.
Given the state of my arm, my throw was clumsy and the sword tumbled in midair, clanging against the sword held at his back before falling uselessly to the ground. Prexwin had already recovered from Sal’s attack and, completely ignoring mine, lifted his hand towards Sal’ as she closed the distance between us. Sal’ was suddenly knocked backwards to the ground, as if by a gust of wind, and held there.
“How dare you attack me?” Prexwin screamed. I couldn’t see his face, but his voice held a venomous ferocity. Sal’s body started to lift feet-first into the air and she began to scream. The bastard was going to raise her high enough to drop her to her death. There was no way that I was going to let that happen.
I planted my ruined hand against the ground, fighting the urge to scream and bring Prexwin’s attention back to me. As quickly as I was able—which was not very quick at that moment—I was on my feet. Sal’ was lifted high enough to where I could barely even hear her screams drift through the air. I could see her struggle to catch the wicker case as its strap slid down her arm. She caught it as it slid down to her hand.