“They were watchers, keeping guard of the tombs. Perhaps meant to scare away thieves and intruders, nothing more,” Galatia said, as a possible explanation.
“Nearly worked,” Quill said, retrieving his bow, and slinging it over his back.
Mykal stood at the single door. He pressed his hands against it, the wood damp, rotted. He set his ear against it. He didn’t hear anything on the opposite side, but hadn’t expected to. The handle jiggled, but the door didn’t budge. It was locked, not surprisingly. Closing his eyes, he ran his palms over the wood, and on the left side, sent electricity surging into the hinges. His power hummed and sizzled.
“Mykal!” Galatia said.
“I want this to be done,” he whispered, unsure if anyone heard his words. Smoke rose from where his hands were pressed. He leaned his weight against the door, pushing.
The door fell in, slammed on the ground. A cloud of dust plumed around its edges, filling the chamber.
Moving through the dust, and coughing, Mykal stopped at a rock table. “A coffin?”
The others surrounded the slab of rock.
“Is this it? Is the chalice inside?” Quill said.
“It’s unlikely. There will be more kings buried in other sarcophagi,” Galatia said.
“I don’t like that word. It sounds so harsh. Dangerous,” Karyn said.
“Galatia can call on the orb for help,” Mykal said.
“Let’s check this, first.” Blodwyn leaned his staff against the table and bent at the knees. He placed his hands on the lid. “Anyone care to assist me? It looks rather heavy.”
“Opening graves?” Quill said. “Don’t see how anything could go wrong doing that.”
Mykal, Quill, and Blodwyn stood side by side and on three, pushed.
Rock scraped against rock.
The pushed again, harder. The lid moved, revealing a triangular view inside the rock coffin exposing white bones beneath decayed royal robes. The bowed jaw of the skull offered up a ghastly smile of yellow and blackened teeth, perhaps not at all happy to have his eternal rest disturbed.
“It’s not a king,” Karyn said. She had tears on her cheeks.
“Karyn?” Mykal said.
She pointed to the folded skeletal hands on the corpse’s chest. “That’s a Queen Stone ring. My mother wore one. This is a queen. Not a king.”
Mykal placed a hand on her shoulder. “Okay. It’s not here. Let’s seal it back up.”
They pushed shut the lid.
“What now?” Quill said.
“Wait,” Blodwyn said. He had walked around the chamber, and now stood at the back wall, his staff leaning against it. He reached up and dug fingers into mud. They fit between a wedge, and as he scraped along the edge, and down a side, the rectangular shape was revealed.
“Well, I’ll be,” Quill said.
Blodwyn used the top of his staff to clean away mud. There was a handle flat in the wood. He fit his hand inside, and twisted. A latch caught. He looked back at everyone, eyebrow raised. “It’s open.”
They entered a large cavern. Eight stone caskets were inside. Two at the far end, side by side, two to the left, two to the right, and two directly in front of them. In the center stood four statues, the crowns depicted kings. Each faced a different direction, north, south, east, and west.
“We can’t do this,” Karyn said. It was a whisper. Everyone must have heard her, but no one reacted.
The men pushed open the lid on the first casket. There were bones, and gold and jewels, but no chalice. They replaced the stone slab. The lids became more difficult to move. The stone was so heavy. The men panted, breathing heavily, but didn’t stop, or slow down.
The sixth one opened held what they were looking for.
Mykal removed it, looking into empty eye sockets, in an attempt to show some sort of respect. He lifted the chalice, and inspected the lack of craftsmanship. It was little more than a large gold cup. “Could this be it?”
Galatia held it in both hands. Turned it around and around, and then placed it in her pack along with the mirror. “It is,” she said.
Mykal removed the dagger. “Might as well keep them all together,” he said. “What is it?”
“We’ve completed the tasks. We’ve collected the items. Tonight we can hold a ceremony and call the other wizards,” Galatia said.
“Will they come?” Quill said.
“Even if they are far, far away they must be aware of a disturbance in the old empire. So much magic has been wielded, recently. It would be impossible to not sense. Yes, they will come when we call. I know they will.”
“Let’s get out of here. I don’t want to be down here any longer than we have to be,” Quill said. No one argued.
They exited the large chamber, and the queen’s room, then stopped.
“Did you hear that?” Mykal said.
It sounded as if something metallic was dragged across the ground, and then dropped.
“Have to be near deaf not to hear that,” Quill said.
The sound came again. Closer. Louder.
“What is it?” Karyn shivered.
The torch Galatia held went out.
“There is no draft down here,” Quill said, and prepared another arrow.
The sound. Scrape. Drag. Thud. The flame on Karyn’s torch flickered, rose with a whoosh, and extinguished.
They were plunged into utter darkness.
A fireball appeared. Galatia held it in her hands. It lit the section of catacombs they were in. And Mykal wished it hadn’t.
Men, women, children … surrounded them. The young girl was there with her burned face; doll in one hand.
“Mykal,” Karyn said.
“Close your eyes. Hold onto my tunic, and close your eyes. Don’t open them.”
Blodwyn twirled his staff around. The spirits watched him, a curious look on their faces.
“You should not be here. You cannot leave.”
Voices swirled inside the catacombs. Not one of the spirits spoke. Not one mouth moved.
Scrape. Drag. Thud.
Quill loosed an arrow. It passed through a man in torn and tattered clothing. “No point in going upstairs.”
“We’ll get lost down here!” Blodwyn said.
Mykal held out his hand.
The red orb appeared.
“Get us out of here,” he said. The orb launched forward. “Follow me!”
The spirits reached for them as they ran past, and through them. Quill shuddered, and moaned as he ducked and dodged touches from the dead.
Chapter 42
“Are they rabbits? I have no idea why we’re standing here,” the Mountain King said, staring at the large round opening in the ground.
The moon was full and bright, lighting the night almost as brilliantly as a midday sun.
Ida wrung her hands, her upper lip quivering.
“Am I talking to hear myself talk?” the king said.
“They are coming, I can hear them,” she said. “I can feel them.”
King Hermon sat on his mount, his hands on the saddle horn. He looked around. The Balefire River coursed behind them. Castle Deed was to their north. Owls hooted in tree branches. “I don’t hear them.”
“We should get ready,” Ida said. “Any moment and they will emerge.”
“You are sure?”
“I am.”
King Hermon directed the men with a gesture. “You know what we must do. It needs to be done fast. Sebastian, you and the Voyagers get behind the hole. Lanster, you and everyone else behind a tree. Stay still. Be quiet. If I can’t hear them approaching, I surely do not want to hear you hiding.”
The men moved into position.
And then King Hermon heard them. They were not quiet about their approach. One man pulled himself out of the hole. Reached in and helped pull out the others. Three men, a woman and another, younger woman. This would be simple.
He watched them bend over, hands on knees, gasping. Some coughed. He had no idea what they’d run away from
. He stifled a laugh. Wait until they see what they’ve run in to.
Sebastian and the other Voyagers didn’t wait. They attacked.
Two men immediately fell on the woman. They gagged her mouth and pulled a sack over her head. While they tied her hands behind her back, the others engaged with steel.
Metal clashed against metal.
Arrows pierced flesh.
Lanster and King Nabal’s knights charged. The bound woman was scooped onto horseback and brought to King Hermon, dropped at his feet.
“I will kill her!” King Hermon held a blade at the back of her neck. “Drop your weapons!”
The fighting stopped.
“Him,” Ida said, pointing at the young man with the sword.
“Young wizard, you will come with me,” the Mountain King said.
The girl moved fast. She grabbed the dagger from the male wizard’s sheath. She spun around and drove the blade deep into his chest. The boy-wizard stared at her in disbelief. His eyes wide.
Blood spilled from his mouth. His hands went to the hilt. Before he could remove the blade, he fell over.
“Lanster. Check the boy!” King Hermon said, pressing the tip of the blade hard against the sack.
“What have you done?” The man with the bow and arrows dropped to his knees by the boy.
Lanster kicked the man away and set two fingers on the boy’s neck. “Dead.”
“You’re sure? He’s dead?”
“I know dead,” Lanster said.
King Hermon looked at Ida. She furrowed her brow and shook her head.
“No matter. We have this one,” he said. “Now give us the talismans and I will be on my way.”
“We have no talismans,” the old man with the staff said.
“Is that so?” King Hermon said. “Kill the man with the bow!”
“She has them,” the young girl said, pointing at the wizard at his feet. “In her bag. She has the items you want.”
Ida pulled the bag away from the woman and dug around inside. “They are in here.”
“We have what we need?”
Ida nodded.
The Mountain King stared at the dead wizard. “A shame. Perhaps his death is for the best. Sebastian, you and the living Voyagers follow me. Lanster, you and your men kill these vermin, and then kill yourselves. I have no further need for your services.”
***
As soon as the others rode away, Blodwyn moved like lightning. He swung his staff. It connected with the side of Lanster’s head, knocking off his helmet. He whirled around, and struck again. The other soldiers came at them.
Quill rolled over, picked up his bow and loosed arrow after arrow, until his quiver was empty.
Swords slashed and sliced. Blodwyn blocked blow after blow. He countered with thrusts, and whacks.
Quill used his blade, and fought close, stabbing easily at a range that all be rendered a broadsword useless.
Blood flowed. Screams finally ceased.
Completely drained of energy, Blodwyn and Quill stood among the strewn bodies.
Karyn had rolled Mykal onto his back, and was laying on top of him.
The dagger was beside his head.
“What were you thinking? What have you done? Look what you’ve done!” Quill shouted, stomping over those slain toward her.
Blodwyn grabbed his arm. “Wait.”
“Wait?” Quill scoffed.
“Watch.”
Karyn didn’t move. She stayed splayed across Mykal’s body. Her legs lined with his. Her arms, matching his.
“What is she doing?”
“I think she is. . . bringing him back from the dead,” Blodwyn said.
When Mykal coughed, and gasped for air, Blodwyn and Quill ran forward. They lifted Karyn off him.
“Hey, nephew, welcome back,” Quill said.
“Did I go somewhere?”
“I think she’s dying,” Blodwyn said.
Quill helped Mykal up. They stood around Karyn.
Mykal knelt, and cradled her head in his lap. “How was she hurt? Who—”
“Mykal.” Karyn’s eyes were open.
“Did she kill me? Did you stab me?”
“I couldn’t let him have you. You’re too important. You can save Galatia and the others.”
That man had kidnapped Galatia. “What others? What’s wrong with you?”
“I was meant to save you. And I have. It took more out of me to do so, than I expected,” she said, offering up a thin smile. Her lips quivered. “He was right, but this is how it should be. You. Not me. I told him I’d save you.” She coughed.
“Who? Who did you tell?” Mykal said, brushing hair from her eyes.
“The man in my dreams. The man with no eyes.” Her hand went to her chest. She unfastened the opal broach. “My father gave this to me. I want you to have it. It is all I have left from him.”
Her eyes closed.
“Karyn,” Mykal said. The broach was in her hand; his hand covered hers. “Wake up. Karyn. Don’t do this. Please. Don’t leave me.”
“Mykal? Mykal, she’s gone,” Blodwyn said.
“No. She’s not. She used too much energy. She’s resting.” She just needed time. Bringing him back wore her out.
“Mykal?”
He wasn’t giving up. He wasn’t setting her down. “I can save her. I can make this right.”
Mykal closed his eyes. She had saved him. He could save her. He could rescue her from the grave. She wasn’t going to slip away that easily. Concentrating, he conjured forth his power. He felt his own strength flowing from his entire body into his arms, down to his hands. The energy pulsated through his skin, and fired like lightning from his fingertips. A white-blue aura encased her corpse.
He cried, tears fell down his face. His lips moved but no words escaped them. His magic came from his mind. He willed her eyes open. He commanded her heart beat.
Her eyes remained closed. Her heart stayed still.
He did not know how much time passed. Minutes. Hours.
When he thought he might lose consciousness he stopped. He pulled her up close, arms around her. “I can’t save you,” he said. “I can’t do what you did.”
“She did what she needed to do. She kept you out of King Hermon’s hands. We need to keep moving, son. We need to figure out what to do next.” Blodwyn squatted across from Mykal. “This is not the end of everything. This is only the beginning. A war is coming. Many lives will be lost. There will be a time for tears. I’m afraid that right now is not that time.”
“What are we supposed to do? Go after them?”
Quill shook his head. “We’re going to bury the lady. Then, I think we should call on the one person who might be able to help us most.”
“Who is that?” Mykal said.
“Your father,” Quill said.
“I think there may be one other person we should contact,” Blodwyn said.
Mykal was speechless. Quill knew where his father was? He was going to see his father again.
“Who?” Quill said.
Blodwyn stared at Mykal, an unspoken apology in his eyes. “Your mother. She has been living with the Voyagers.”
About the Author
Phillip Tomasso lives in Rochester, NY, and is an Award Winning Author with over 18 published novels. After nearly two decades of working at the Eastman Kodak Company (1990-2008: the last 10 spent as an Employment Law Paralegal), Tomasso landed a job almost seven years ago working full time as a Fire & EMS Dispatcher for 911. When not writing, or reading, he enjoys playing guitar. He can keep the rhythm, but is a horrible singer. Admittedly, and also regrettably, Tomasso sings when he plays guitar. Tomasso’s three grown children are his main inspiration. Currently, Tomasso is hard at work on several new novel projects. Be sure to stop by his website, and sign up for his blog to be kept up to date on his happenings, and follow him on Twitter for his often witty, if not more than often repetitive tweets. One of his favorite things in the world is emails from fans who have
read his books, (and one of the saddest is receiving story ideas. He will not accept, or write story ideas if sent to him; will delete the email and pretend like he never saw it in the first place).
An Invitation to Reading Groups
I would like to extend an invitation to Reading Groups/Book Clubs/Schools across the country. Invite me to your group and I’ll be happy to participate in your discussion (either in person or via Skype, or telephones with a speaker). You can arrange a date and time by emailing me at [email protected]. I look forward to hearing from you.
Coming soon from Mirror Matter Press
Wizard’s War – Phillip Tomasso
Axes and Incantations – A Fantasy Collection
Table of Contents
Title Page
Copyright Page
Dedication
Map
Chapter 1
Chapter 2
Chapter 3
Chapter 4
Chapter 5
Chapter 6
Chapter 7
Chapter 8
Chapter 9
Chapter 10
Chapter 11
Chapter 12
Chapter 13
Chapter 14
Chapter 15
Chapter 16
Chapter 17
Chapter 18
Chapter 19
Chapter 20
Chapter 21
Chapter 22
Chapter 23
Chapter 24
Chapter 25
Chapter 26
Chapter 27
Chapter 28
Chapter 29
Chapter 30
Chapter 31
Chapter 32
Chapter 33
Chapter 34
Chapter 35
Chapter 36
Chapter 37
Chapter 38
Chapter 39
Chapter 40
Chapter 41
Chapter 42
About the Author
Coming Soon
Severed Empire: Wizard's Rise Page 32