by Vance Huxley
Moments later the woman stiffened, then turned towards the fighting in the front garden. “My master called, he needs help.” She glanced back at the loaned apprentice. “If I wasn’t on a tether I’d run away about now. That’s a big hint in case you missed it.” She hurried towards the garden gate. Behind her the remaining apprentice, the nervous one, backed towards the trees before freezing in shock. He’d been right about something coming into the garden, though it had been a someone.
“I’d rather you didn’t go out there.” The calm voice shouldn’t be in here but…
The woman apprentice turned to find a slim figure dressed in black, standing in the middle of the dug-over garden. One glance at the over-large cross told her all she needed and her hands came up. “Your stupid game costume won’t protect you from me.” Though a niggling thought wondered how a trainee had hidden from magical sight. Any niggling concerns turned to serious alarm as her glyphs fizzled out without even sparking the man’s shield. A cloud of small white angular shapes flew back towards her.
“It isn’t a costume, you fool.” The white shapes became a swarm of crosses surrounding her, ones with vicious points at the bottom. Even as she opened her mouth to surrender, they all turned their points inwards. A millisecond later her shield collapsed as the glowing white missiles pierced it, and then her body. Creepio strode forward, towards the garden gate, hoping he’d be in time. He wasn’t allowed to interfere unless attacked, so he’d tried to startle her. The response had been a surprise. Perhaps he should get a cloak and a wide hat to encourage more of the ungodly to make the same mistake. As long as the bishops didn’t find out. The archbishop’s face set as he neared the gate, still swinging closed behind the other apprentice. He might be too late to save young Abel, but now he could finally deal with Pendragon. That sorcerer had to have known about Father Curtis being seeded.
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Behind Creepio an apprentice backed slowly through the orchard, careful to make no noise. Once out of the garden he’d activate his tether and report to his mistress, but right now the black-dressed figure might detect any magic usage. He might look like Vicar Creepio Mysterio from that daft game, but the attack looked like pure church and had blown straight through a senior apprentice’s shield. A slight creak stopped the apprentice in his tracks and he quickly began to build glyphs and a shield. He’d come into an orchard full of dryads, just after discussing throwing them out of their trees.
A rustle warned him, but not soon enough and he staggered as the branch shattered on his shield. More branches swung or stabbed, while roots reached up for him. He had a shield and fire, but now the magic of six old trees closed in from every side. When the charred stumps of roots and branches drew back, they’d made sure the apprentice would never report anything to anyone.
Branches creaked and leaves rustled. “That was a risk. Sorcerers are nervous when dryads kill one of them.”
“We only helped the Lord of this house. The wind whispers of a dryad helping sorcerers near Dead Wood.”
“Against blood-bags. Though the new master of Sorcerer’s Keep offered us safety if we defended this garden. Many whispers speak of his generosity to those who help him, and his word is true.”
“The Lord here befriended a dryad, in the place of dead trees. His master offered us younger trees, protected ones.” Not-wind rustled branches. “It was worth a risk to kill an apprentice.”
“Yes, but only because he is alone. We should spread the whispers, about the Dead Wood and the contracts with dryads. About a sorcerer who treats magical creatures as allies, not prey.”
“About apprentices without tethers, and how fast they grow. We have heard them talk of spreading out, so others should be ready to meet them.” This time the not-wind sighed. “Perhaps a whisper will reach the Wild Wood, and we will have guidance.” Silence spread through the orchard. It had been too long since the wind brought word of the Wild Wood.
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As the dryads closed in on their prey, inside the house the Taverners closed in on the remaining male apprentice. His shield collapsed and he screamed briefly as four shields lurched inwards before they could be stopped. The woman, Ginny, turned to run but thuds and shouts outside the door, then more screams, stopped her. More glyphs smashed against her shield, the ogre raised huge claws and she made her decision. These Taverners had let her live once, when she surrendered. “I surrender. My shield is going down.” After a moment, light wind glyphs buffeted her as someone checked. More important to her, the ogre put those claws back on the floor.
Zephyr could feel magic raging outside the door, in the corridor, some of it feeling like Ferryl’s. She dropped her shield, kept enough magic in the ogre so it stayed solid, and reached out a tendril for one of the lead bars. With the magic boost she slid the tendril down and eased it between the bricks below the floor, into the corridor. She peeked through a crack in the floor, while keeping the ogre’s eyes on the sorceress.
Ferryl Shayde fought two apprentices, two strong ones. Her webs and strikes were stopping them from casting many glyphs, because they were busy bolstering shields, but Zephyr worried. Ferryl’s leather skirt and top were scored and burned, and one boot had split open, so perhaps she was weakening. One of the apprentices concentrated his shield to his front so he could strengthen it, blocking the corridor to avoid a glyph looping around him. Zephyr’s ogre smiled, because the tendril in the corridor couldn’t.
The tendril eased out onto the floor, thickening, while Zephyr drained the lead bar. She had enough magic for one good strike. After a brief assessment she decided on fire for the shock effect and carefully built the glyph, making it small but very hot just like Abel did. Ferryl cast one of her red nets at the apprentice’s shield where it clung on, causing a few cracks to appear, though the spitting, glowing strands couldn’t break through. Zephyr’s tendril reared up and struck like a scorpion’s tail, releasing the glyph inches from the back of the man’s bare neck before recoiling. He screamed and one hand went to his neck, he started to turn, and too late he realised. A moment’s inattention, a wavering in his shield and the net broke through, wrapping itself around him with a sizzling noise. As he staggered back Zephyr smacked his heel with a small wind glyph and he fell.
She had no magic to spare for another glyph, but when Zephyr looked she didn’t need it. As soon as the net broke through, Ferryl Shayde turned all of her attention to her other opponent. A silver net, still attached to Ferryl’s outstretched hand, clawed and ground away at the woman’s shield, but despite the fine silver lines mixed with the sparks and golden flashes, it wasn’t getting through. Now Ferryl’s other hand thrust downwards and a Windhammer smashed a hole clean through the floor, the joists and the ceiling of the cellar below, right underneath the shield. Zephyr felt sure the woman would drop out of sight, allowing Ferryl to finish the man covered by the net. She didn’t have time to watch, she needed everything to keep the ogre solid so she pulled her tendril back.
Outside in the corridor the woman apprentice lunged for the side of the hole, frantically trying to avoid the drop. A mistake because her concentration on her shield wavered. A silver spike grew out of Ferryl’s free hand and she punched, right in the middle of the area still being weakened by the silver net. With a crack the shield parted, the silver spike carrying on through and into the apprentice’s face. Silver fire wreathed her head, her shield disappeared and she dropped through the hole without another sound. Ferryl turned towards the apprentice still struggling in the red net, building a second one as she strode forward. She banished the glyph as she saw the charring on his neck and the blood welling slowly around the cooling mesh. That came as a relief, because she was running low on magic and there were too many apprentices. Already Ferryl worried she had taken too long, leaving Abel out there facing a full sorcerer.
A stab of something that must be an emotion hit Ferryl, making her wonder if she’d done the right thing. Maybe it was guilt, because she’d never meant to leave Abel unpro
tected, not for this long. There’d been gunfire, too much, and an explosion unlike any magic she knew, either of which might have breached Abel’s shield. Ferryl hesitated, torn, almost turning back to help Abel, but she’d offered to free the Taverners. Abel would be relying on her to help his friends. A moment’s thought and a seeming covered the damage to Ferryl’s clothing. Looking unharmed might help her to cow those holding the Taverners, though from the sounds, the trainees were already fighting back. Zephyr certainly was. Ferryl raised a foot and kicked.
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Inside the lounge the door crashed open again, hanging half off its hinges, and Ferryl stood there with glyphs boiling in each hand. She glanced at the crumpled figures and the one cowering in front of the ogre, and all the glyphs aimed at her. “Are there any more apprentices?”
Petra pointed. “In the garden, but there was shouting and a scream out there.”
“Yeuk. The dryads got someone. There’s nobody alive in the back garden.” The three Taverners looking out of the rear window turned away.
“In that case Abel might need our help. I had to leave him.” Ferryl did a double-take when she spotted the claw marks in the boards. “Nice ogre, Zephyr.” She turned away, heading back through the door. “Hurry.”
Eric glared at the remaining apprentice. “Any Taverner who is hurt, get bandaged or whatever and watch her. If the ogre stays as well, you’ll know if she shields.” He nodded with a satisfied smile. “From that look, she’ll be good.” True enough, Ginny’s eyes were locked on the huge, threatening shape taking up much too much space inside a house. “Wait for us, Ferryl.” He started running because Ferryl had already disappeared.
“Sit against the wall, Mz whoever.” As most of the Taverners surged out through the door, following Eric, a pale-faced Justin sat down. “I’m a bit wobbly so I’ll stay to dish out orders if your friends wake up.” He tossed an empty lead bar towards the captured apprentice. “Drain your magic into that and throw it back, then I’ll give you another until it’s all gone.” Ginny looked from the ogre to the half-dozen angry, injured Taverners and picked up the bar.
A relieved Zephyr settled down. She had enough magic to keep the ogre for a while, now she wasn’t moving or shielding. Though she would have rather gone with the others, to help Abel. Zephyr really wanted to go and look, to make sure he was safe, but the Tavern needed her here. Would she know if Abel had fallen, now they had no link? Zephyr sent a tendril out under the floorboards to come up and check on the burned man. Despite his injuries he still lived, a powerful apprentice who had hurt Abel’s friends and didn’t surrender. Her tendril thickened over his mouth and nose, long enough to make sure he would never hurt them again. Another tendril checked the other fallen apprentice, but he was already dead.
She wished again that she could go to find Abel and curl up in her tattoo, be Zephyr again, but she had to be Ffod the mighty just a little longer. What would she do if her creator was dead, if her home, her refuge was gone? Who would remind her she was Zephyr, not a nameless puff of wind? Zephyr’s ogre leant forward, glaring at one of the security guards as he roused. He was not strong enough to threaten the Tavern, so he could live.
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Outside, at the front of Frederick’s house, four teenagers and a sorcerer were engaged in a savage battle, glyphs flaring and sparking, tearing at shields and sometimes flesh. Abel started worrying, because his gold belts were running low while Pendragon seemed to be getting more confident. Again and again Pendragon’s attacks broke through, long enough for a moment of heat or pain, though as yet nobody’s shield had collapsed. That gave Abel some comfort; Kelis’s, Rob’s and Jenny’s gold belts and diamonds still had enough magic.
Inside the house, screams, shouts and the occasional crash of something breaking meant Ferryl had a fight on her hands. Smoke and then flame blew out a window, followed by a blackened figure that landed in a crumpled heap. After a moment, whoever it was staggered to their feet and dived back inside, still trailing smoke. The second time the figure flew out, Abel recognised the red net wrapped all around it. The still figure didn’t stir this time, even after the glow faded.
“Look out!” Rob’s shout wasn’t strictly necessary because with so many glyphs hitting it, Pendragon’s shield stayed permanently visible. They could all see the rear shrink back towards him so he could use the tethers to his apprentices and victims. Kelis looped a glyph around the shield but the sorcerer swatted it with a contemptuous sneer. Even as the four of them redoubled their efforts, the sneer turned to alarm. Pendragon staggered sideways, blood pouring from his arm before the shield snapped back all around him. Claris marched into Abel’s view, one of the security men’s pistols in a two-handed grip, firing again and again. Sparks flew from Pendragon’s shield, and as bullet after bullet hit it in almost the same place, red cracks showed.
“Hit those cracks!” Abel wasn’t sure if the bullets were seriously weakening the shield, or if Pendragon’s distraction as he healed his wounds had allowed it to falter. Either way, more little cracks appeared as more shots hit home. Abel smashed an ice spear into the same spot, though finding enough moisture for them was getting harder.
Claris tossed the gun aside and plucked another from the front of her jeans. “How d’ya like that? I’ve got plenty more!” She started shooting again.
But as Claris came past, Effy climbed to her feet and tottered towards her, fingers clawed. “Leave him alone! He’s mine!” Claris turned, the gun steadied, and for a moment everyone thought she’d shoot Effy. Instead Claris yelled in alarm and threw herself backwards, the gun flying off to the side.
Abel had heard the engine roaring, but not really paid attention until Effy turned, opened her mouth and eyes wide, and was plucked off her feet by the minibus. Abel got an impression of white hair with charred patches still streaming smoke, staring eyes, and white-knuckled hands on the wheel as Shannon rammed Pendragon’s shield! Flames and smoke exploded in all directions, and when they cleared, the sorcerer had definitely been distracted. The vehicle might not have actually broken through and hit him but his shield was down, he’d been thrown off his feet, and his clothes were on fire.
“Get him!” Kelis moved forward, firing glyphs with both hands but Pendragon only took a few hits before he shielded again. Although only to the front this time, and not because he wanted to use his tethers! “He’s weakened, shield to shield!” Kelis ran forward, still throwing glyphs, until her shield hit Pendragon’s with a flare of sparks. “Drain him!” Abel ran forward even though he had a horrible feeling Pendragon still had enough diamonds in his bones to drain all of them. The whoop from Jenny and the shout from Rob as they ran in sounded more confident.
Shannon half-fell out of the crumpled, smouldering minibus with a crazed smile on her face. “Magic airbags! Did I hit him?”
“Not hard enough.” As Abel pointed, Shannon turned and began to run in the same direction. Abel’s shield flared as it made contact, as did Shannon’s, forcing Pendragon to re-establish his full shield. Abel kept his smallish to make room for the others, but now he hoped the heat wouldn’t build up too much. Through the sparks and washes of flame, Abel saw the sorcerer’s face as he jerked his head back and forth, trying to work out what had happened.
Pendragon must have figured it out because his face calmed and he concentrated, his shield steadying. “Let’s see how you like to hear friends die.” The sorcerer took two quick steps back and as he broke contact the shield behind him shrank to nothing. He smiled, then looked startled. “How…?” They’d never know the rest, because a tubby green shape with thin arms and legs sprang out from behind a bush and wrapped its arms around the sorcerer’s head. Everyone saw the shield snap back out around the sorcerer and goblin, because the goblin thrust an arm up into it and ignited. A ball of flame enveloped Pendragon’s head, then filled the inside of the shield. As the globe faltered the five of them pressed back into contact, but it didn’t break even when the flames died back to reveal a burn
ing man. Within seconds the fire had gone, snuffed out by magical mist that left the remaining clothes smouldering. Through the smoke Abel saw huge blisters on the sorcerer’s hands, face, and any skin showing through his ragged and charred clothes. For a moment Pendragon thrashed around frantically, then his eyes healed and his shield strengthened. He coughed out a cloud of smoke and took a breath. “Hard luck, help coming.”
Abel’s heart sank because Pendragon had to mean his apprentices, though he felt a flush of pride because that meant the Taverneers had forced a full sorcerer to call for help. Not bad for amateurs, but it hadn’t been enough. As Abel rallied, pushing magic from his last belt into his shield, he heard cheering inside the house. At least Pendragon’s apprentices had been forced to free the Taverners. “I’ve come back to discuss that tether.” A cold, clear voice cut through the bedlam, and Abel, for one, stopped yelling. He peered through the glare and a relieved smile split his face, because his own reinforcements had arrived. A mini-skirted figure stood outside the front door, apparently unmarked, with a familiar glowing red ball growing between her hands. Behind her, Taverners poured out into the garden, most of them already forming glyphs with one target in mind.
Pendragon didn’t answer. After one startled glance he stopped trying to heal or throw glyphs, relying on his shield as he turned away and started to run. A hail of glyphs followed, hitting him but the shield soaked them up even if Pendragon briefly looked like a mobile firework. Rob even threw his rounders bat, but this time it failed him. With a loud crack the small length of enchanted wood shattered into splinters. As the mob ran forward, already building or casting another volley, the door in the garden wall crashed open. A stranger ran through, hands raised and glyphs forming, then screeched to a halt. He had time for one startled yelp before an avalanche of fire, ice and wind threw him back against the wall. Perhaps he had a shield, but if so it didn’t hold long enough.