The only furnishings were a chair and an old straw mattress, but at least it had a fireplace. Arcon started the fire quickly and stripped his wet robes and shirt from his body. He laid them in front of the fire and sat in the chair wearing just his damp trousers as he removed his boots.
He took the right boot off with a wince. The ankle was swollen and bruised, his toes purple. He had been such an idiot. His father had always taught him to pay attention to a horse. Pace it. Don’t push it too hard. But he had been so eager to get away. He had ridden the poor horse to death. When it had finally keeled over, it had rolled onto his leg.
He probed the ankle with his magic. It wasn’t broken but it was a bad sprain. He cried out and slammed his leg with his fist. He couldn’t afford this injury. He had to keep going. Eventually someone would contact his mother and she would tell them about this place, he was sure of it. He needed to be long gone by then.
He glanced over at the satchel he had left at the door. The rings were inside. If he wore them he could heal himself. He shook his head and laughed. No. That would be stupidity. Ewzad had turned the rings’ power inward and Arcon had seen what it had done to him.
Now Ewzad was dead. Arcon was sure of it. He had been mangled, with the enemy fighting nearby. Otherwise Arcon wouldn’t have chanced taking the rings. The fool had fought Mellinda and died.
The funny thing is, he’d also freed Arcon in the process. When Ewzad had slapped the witch, Arcon had felt his connection with her die. He hadn’t heard her voice since. Despite his fear and pain he hadn’t felt so free in his life.
Arcon reached out with his magic and flared the fire until his robe steamed as the water in it evaporated. Arcon reached out with air and pulled the dusty straw mattress nearer the fire. He hopped over to the mattress, careful not to let his injured foot touch the ground, and rolled onto it, heedless of whatever vermin might infest it.
His thoughts wandered back to the rings. What should he do with them? He knew he couldn’t just turn them in to the Mage School. That wouldn’t earn him forgiveness even if Mellinda hadn’t destroyed them. They would just take them from him and try him and quell him. They might even have him executed. He had killed so many people at Mellinda’s orders, surely there was no forgiveness.
No, but perhaps he could sell the rings. Surely the dwarf smugglers would pay handsomely for them. If not, there had to be dark wizards, maybe in Alberri or Khalpany that would reward him. He laughed at himself derisively. The problem with dealing with dark wizards is they were just as likely to kill you as to pay you.
Besides, once Mellinda heard they’d been sold he would be running from her forever. He got a chill as he realized another possibility. She could already have sent Talon after him. Suddenly this room didn’t seem so safe.
He sat up and used air to pull the satchel to him and opened it. He pulled out the rings, ten of them, each with a different precious stone and each linked with a golden chain. Perhaps he should put them on. If Talon did come, their power would be his only hope.
He laid back on the mattress and held them up in the light. No matter what he did, he was damned. Still, he smiled.
“At least I’m free of you, Mellinda!” he shouted.
He felt the orange eye in his chest move.
This is the conclusion of the first Bowl of Souls series
Upcoming:
A new novel based in the world of the Bowl of Souls
Tarah Woodblade
Keep an eye on the Trevor H. Cooley Facebook page and trevorhcooley.com for more details.
The Bowl of Souls: Book 05 - Mother of the Moonrat Page 50