Deep Magic - First Collection

by Jeff Wheeler

  “Rista! Ouch! Rista!” The tone changed to one of anger.

  “What happened?” shouted the voice of the man she thought was pretending to be Ilias.

  “The little brat tricked me,” said the woman. “There’s a beehive over there. Ugh, they sting! They’re swarming. I’ve been stung three times already. I’m going to slit her throat, Kree.”

  “No, we need her,” replied the man angrily. “Fuss! Get up here. Send Kylek to destroy the hive. Gabe! You two. Go around and encircle where she may be hiding. She can’t have gone far.”

  “She’s not far,” the woman snarled. “I’ll find her.”

  “We all will,” Mattson Kree said. “You go that way. Gabe, you go that way. Fuss . . . destroy the hive now!”

  Twig scampered inside the fallen log. His orange-red eyes were alight with mischief and his crooked-tooth grin showed his inner cunning.

  “Good, Twig,” Rista whispered, rubbing the knobbed horns on his head. She hugged the kobold. Her pride was tempered with growing fear. She was not under the protection of Ilias. She was being hunted by a Serpentarium.

  * * *

  Rista remained perfectly still as Papenfuss’s bear destroyed the beehive. She’d heard his pained snarls and growls, listened to the sound of mighty claws raking the scabbed bark. The bees began to scatter with the destruction of their home, the queen being the first to leave. All the energy of their efforts and defense were useless against a bear. She had bought herself some time, and watched as the sun dipped into the valley far below. The shadows of the trees were getting longer. Her body was cramped and uncomfortable. She heard the sounds of her pursuers. They were making no effort to be quiet. It was clear that their friendliness had all been an act, a deception to convince her to come with them willingly.

  They called out to her, issuing threats. They threatened to go back down the mountain and hurt her family. Rista clenched her teeth with fury, not fear. She knew they’d say anything to get her to reveal herself. The Arvadin was an enormous mountain range that was like the spine of the world. There were many places a person could hide. Her best hope of concealment was remaining still.

  The shadows thickened as night began to descend. This was her opportunity. Her pursuers were spread out around her, tromping and marching in the woods. In a few more moments, the dusk would make it very difficult to see. From the hive mind, she had learned the lay of the land and had mapped out a course that she would follow in the dark. From the commotion her enemies were making, she could almost see in her mind’s eye that they had wandered far afield, not realizing how close she was to the original hive. She’d hoped they would get past her.

  Twig’s head, which had been resting on her shoulder, popped up. The eyes blinked twice and then he suddenly rose and crept out of the stump. His bony little hands and claws gripped the decaying wood.

  Then the kobold jumped away as a snake leaped at him.

  Rista shrieked with fear. The snake was an atrox, with a diamond-shaped pattern down its back and length. The fangs had missed the kobold by a hair. The rattle on its tail began to whir viciously, and Rista scrambled to get out of the log. Her heart felt like it was going to jitter its way out of her chest as she fled in terror. The atrox slithered after her, moving with fluid grace and speed that made her mind go nearly black with panic.

  She scrambled over the log on the other side, lost her footing, and went down. She saw Mattson Kree standing by a tree about a dozen paces off, arms folded imperiously and a malevolent smile on his mouth.

  Rista’s knee was throbbing, but she scrabbled to her feet to flee the other way, when she was grabbed roughly from behind. Rista reached and grabbed a fistful of flaming-red hair and pulled hard, her body reacting to the desperate situation without thinking. She found herself clutching an abandoned wig and then felt the naked edge of a blade against her quivering throat.

  “You think I won’t slit your neck?” the woman hissed in her ear.

  “Trea,” said the Serpentarium in a scolding voice.

  “I was stung five times because of her!” railed the other. She grabbed Rista by the wrist and jerked her arm up behind her back, sending a jabbing pain into her shoulder that made her knees wobble. “Five times!”

  Gabe bounded over another log and landed nearby with a smirk on his face and then sheathed his daggers.

  Rista felt like crying because she’d been caught so easily, but she refused to give them the satisfaction.

  “And who are you really?” Rista demanded the boy. “Not the king’s son!”

  “Actually, he is,” Mattson Kree said smoothly, closing the distance. “That part wasn’t a lie.” He walked up to her, his expression now cold and calculating. “You’ve got spirit, Rista. And you do your father credit for one so young. I had thought to fool you all the way to Battle Mountain.”

  The atrox slithered up to them, the noisy tail still making its fearful rattle. Then Mattson Kree bent down and scooped up the giant snake, fondling it and giving Rista a crooked smile. The head hissed and gaped its jaws at Rista, and she fought against Trea, increasing the painful throb of her arm. The atrox hissed, its pink, fleshy mouth wide, the fangs dripping venom. Rista had never felt so much fear, never had her mind gone so utterly black with panic.

  “Five stings on poor Trea,” the Serpentarium mocked. “Well, since you like to cause pain, girl, I’m sure you can handle taking it.”

  “What do you want from me?” Rista whimpered, unable to break free. She saw the grizzly skulking toward them from the woods, the huge Damon Papenfuss coming from behind.

  “I really just need you alive, that’s all,” Kree said with a biting coldness in his voice. His eyes were like the snake’s, utterly devoid of sentiment. “Until your father is dead. I can’t have him ruining all my plans like he did to the Overlord, now can I?” He looked up at Trea, who was still gripping Rista and holding the knife to her throat.

  “I think one bite is worth five stings. Will that satisfy you, Trea?”

  “For now,” huffed the angered woman.

  Rista stared at them both in fear and horror.

  “Not on the leg, or she won’t be able to walk all night,” Mattson Kree said menacingly. “How about her arm then? You think a little bee sting hurts, Rista? I have magic that can purge the atrox’s venom. But you need to feel it working first. You think you’re so clever? I control every atrox in these mountains. They mostly hunt at night. You think slipping away from me will save you? You think your insignificant bee magic is going to save you? Trust me, little girl.” His tone went flat with ruthless intensity. “You have no idea what I’m capable of.”

  His eyes flashed with hatred and he nodded to the woman pinning Rista. Trea untwisted Rista’s arm and exposed the meaty portion just below the elbow. The snake’s fangs flashed down, sinking into Rista’s arm. It was painful, like getting jabbed by pins. But then the venom began to turn her blood into fire.

  Trea dumped her on the ground as the convulsions began to shake through her legs. As the pain began spreading throughout Rista’s body, the Serpentarium casually gathered up the snake and gently lowered it into the leather satchel he wore around his neck. Rista’s eyes bulged with pain, but she wouldn’t cry out. The pain in her arm grew worse and worse.

  She could not sense any bees around for miles.

  * * *

  The atrox venom was the most painful thing that had happened to Rista. She knew it would kill her if left unchecked. After Mattson Kree was satisfied she had suffered enough, he offered relief in the form of a glass vial with a stopper. Inside the egg-shaped crystal was a murky liquid. He brought the vial to her arm and looked as if he would pour it on her skin. Instead, the vial began to glow and the murky liquid seemed to suck the venom out of her bleeding punctures. She stared at it, quivering with pain and agony, but fascinated by the magic being wielded. The flaming sensation began to calm and then it was gone, expelled from her body. The murky contents of the vial were darker now, swirling mal
evolently. He crouched by her, his eyes devious as he showed her the vial, and then he stuffed it into a pouch at his waist and stood.

  “I know you have magic, Rista,” he said in a threatening tone. “I would encourage you to use it to keep any bees from getting near us. Your father will likely send them to hunt you. If I hear even one insect close enough, believe me—you will regret it. Keep them away from us and you will not get hurt anymore. Do we understand one another?”

  “Why should I help you at all?” Rista said angrily, clenching her fists. “You said you would kill my father.”

  His eyes narrowed. “There are many ways one can die, child. Remember that.” Then he turned to the others. “The sun is down. We need to be at the top of the pass before dawn to destroy the guards stationed there. Onward.”

  Rista rubbed the swollen bite marks on her forearm. As she walked, she searched the shrubs and vegetation for a sign of the kobold. Twig was nowhere to be seen.

  After nightfall descended, they hiked by moonlight up to the craggy heights of the Arvadin. The trees became denser, thick with pine needles and cone-shaped tops. The mountains grew steeper as they climbed, but they headed toward a gap between two peaks that still contained chunks of snow and ice. The air grew steadily thinner and Rista found herself gasping for breath to keep up with her captors. Papenfuss and Kylek took the lead, lumbering up the trail. The girl, Trea, no longer wearing the wig, scowled at Rista every time she happened to glance back at her. She kept her longbow ready and covered their trail to make it more difficult to follow. Gabe walked alongside Mattson Kree, conferring with him in low tones, but eventually he dropped back to walk alongside Rista.

  “So you are the king’s son,” Rista said with malice.

  “The king’s youngest son,” he replied casually. “The most useless. The least wanted. I have a better chance becoming master of Stanchion castle allying myself with this lot than I ever had before.”

  “Your father is a good man, an honest king!” Rista said angrily.

  “A fat lot of good it does him too,” Gabe replied with a chuckle. “And what do you know about politics, Rista? You live far away from court. The factions surrounding my father, constantly wheedling and maneuvering. He can hardly get anything done with all the opposition he faces. A king should have power. Not be a slave to the people.” He chuckled derisively.

  Rista’s insides boiled with anger. “And I suppose you think life would be better under the heel of another overlord? Mattson Kree may grant you your father’s throne, but you’ll be his puppet.”

  “Oh yes, I’m sure you’ve got it all figured out,” Gabe said with a snort. “Your father is reputedly the wisest man in all the realm. And look how easily we abducted you. Everyone knew that he was going to Apple Hill. Everyone knew that he left you all unprotected. So wise . . . yet so blind. Are you just like your father?”

  Rista bridled at his taunt, but she tried to keep her voice calm. “And what of the Enclave? Do you think they will sit still while your master seeks to reclaim Battle Mountain? Surely the true Ilias will come.”

  Gabe sniffed and shrugged. “That is a problem, Rista, when your eagles can see so far away. But they can only see during the daylight. They don’t see what happens in the dark.” He was walking closer to her now, his voice dropping lower, almost conspiratorially. “It is a different world at night. A world of bats. A world of croaking frogs. A world of shadows and drunks and laughter and dicing and all sorts of other evils that would make a young woman like you blush. Even the bees cannot sting at night.”

  She folded her arms, feeling a strangeness in her belly as he spoke. His tone was almost confiding.

  “That’s not true, you know,” she said, shaking her head. “Bees can sting at night.”

  “Really?” he said, surprised.

  “Think on it, Gabe. The time people are most likely to be stung are when the bees are out of their hives and people are out of their homes. At night, both are inside. But if you jammed a stick into a hive in the middle of the night, they’d come out fighting.”

  “Humph,” Gabe said with a chuckle. “You may be wiser than I thought.”

  He butted her with his arm and then hiked to catch up to Mattson Kree. And proceeded to warn him about what she had just told him. She gritted her teeth and wished she could summon a swarm into his shirt.

  * * *

  The night began to peel away and they had still not reached the summit. Rista was exhausted and felt her eyelids drooping. Mattson Kree looked impatient and angered by the delay. They were waiting for Trea to return from hiding their trail. The Serpentarium had his boot planted on a jutting rock and stared up at the mountains almost in defiance.

  “How much farther to the summit, Papenfuss?” he asked.

  The bearlike man shrugged. “It’s not much further, but we’ll be seen approaching in the light.”

  Trea came jogging up from the hill, a worried look on her face.

  “What is it?” Gabe asked her in concern.

  “I saw someone,” she said.

  Everyone turned to face her. “Saw someone or something?” Mattson Kree clarified.

  Trea rubbed her arm, keeping her bow flush against her body. “A man. He’s coming up to the pass.”

  Rista’s heart leaped and a small smile crept onto her mouth.

  “Tell me what you saw,” Mattson Kree said patiently, his eyes narrowing.

  “A man with gray hair,” Trea said. “He was hiking quickly with a walking stick. There was something scrabbling alongside him. A raccoon or a small dog.”

  Twig. Rista smiled even wider.

  “Is it the Beesinger?” Gabe asked Mattson Kree.

  “I have to assume that it is,” he answered darkly. “He doesn’t need footprints to track us.” He rubbed his mouth. “Well, he’s come a lot sooner than I suspected.”

  A thrill of hope tingled inside of Rista. Her father was coming. But what could he do against so many?

  “What do we do?” Gabe asked. He had a worried sound in his voice.

  Trea spoke up. “If we wait here during the day, he’ll catch up to us well before nightfall. If we keep going, we’ll be seen by the soldiers.”

  “I know,” Mattson Kree said angrily. “I’m not worried about the soldiers. There are enough atrox in these mountains to kill them all. This is what we do. Papenfuss, you will wait here and ambush the Beesinger with Kylek. We’ll go ahead and clear the pass.”

  “We’ll be seen!” Trea said worriedly, pointing to the skies. “Let’s all wait for the Beesinger and ambush him together.”

  Rista felt worry trembling in her stomach. There were four of them against her father, and he was old. There was also Twig. And of course, she would do what she could.

  Mattson Kree shook his head. “He’ll be no match for Papenfuss, let alone a grizzly.”

  Rista had to do something. She saw them conferring closely, ready to make a decision that would kill her father. If she could run ahead, she could warn the soldiers and bring them down to help. Although she was tired, the sudden panic lent her strength, and she glanced up the trailhead, wondering how far the gap in the pass would be. Trea had her bow, and she had no doubt the woman would shoot at her, but she had to try something!

  Rista glanced once more at the trail and prepared to bolt when suddenly Gabe was standing next to her, gripping her arm with his hand. She tried to shake him loose, but he clenched her so tightly it hurt.

  “That wouldn’t be wise,” he whispered to her.

  “What are you doing, Gabe?” Mattson Kree demanded.

  “She was about to run! You were all looking the other way and I saw her. We’d better gag her, just to be safe.”

  “Do it,” the Serptentarium ordered, glowering.

  Gabe withdrew a wadded rag and stuffed it into her mouth and began tying it roughly behind her. “I like your hair,” he whispered, tightening the knot. “It’s like sunshine.”

  She gave him a withering look and he only chu
ckled at her, returning to grip her arm.

  “You are so naive,” he scoffed, making her even angrier. She’d lost her chance to warn her father and cursed herself for being too slow. She should have bolted the moment the idea struck her. But Gabe was watchful. She’d remember that. She kicked him in the shins out of pure spite and anger, and he winced, startled.

  “She does have a stinger after all,” he mused, then pulled her along toward the others. She watched helplessly as Papenfuss and Kylek began to lumber down the mountain. The worry in her stomach turned to sickening fear. No human could outrun a bear. Her father had made sure he had taught his children that.

  * * *

  Mattson Kree walked ahead of them now, climbing up the steep slope toward the gap. Gabe marched with Rista next to him, one hand on her arm to keep her close to him. He kept glancing nervously back at Trea who was scouting for signs of what happened down the trail.

  The Serpentarium’s fancy cloak was brown with dust and dirt from the hike. He looked sternly ahead, his brow furrowed in concentration.

  “He’s summoning them,” Gabe whispered to Rista.

  She couldn’t answer him because of the gag and was wondering why he was even bothering to tell her.

  “He is powerful. And ruthless. He’ll do what he says he’ll do. His goal is to destroy the Enclave and put himself the master of it.” He pursed his lips. “He just may accomplish it too. If anyone could, it would be him.”

  Rista tried to jerk her arm away again, but he wouldn’t loosen his hold.

  “He is enemies with the Enclave,” Gabe continued, as if she were holding an equal part of the conversation with him. “He tried to earn his way there, to be admitted. He learned about serpent taming, which admittedly takes a great deal of courage. The homestead where he grew up was situated on a viper’s nest. No one knew it.” He chuffed to himself, shaking his head. “Killed his entire family. He was the only one who survived. His aunt raised him.” Gabe rubbed his jaw. “He grew and mastered his fear of snakes. He was determined to reclaim the abandoned homestead. And he did. He surely did. He began to develop a reputation of taming atrox and helped other families rid their properties. For a fee. He was doing everyone a great service, so he thought. But the Enclave refused to admit him. They saw something unworthy in his motives, I think. By denying him entrance, they provoked him. He learned at a young age that when you set your mind to something, however impossible the ambition, you will succeed if you do not falter. He’s the sort of man who could overcome my father’s kingdom and set himself as a tyrant.”