(Blue Fire 05) Heartless [A]

by Scott Prussing

  The buzzing sound immediately grew louder. Four writhing, snake-like columns of black energy twisted slowly up from the hole in front of the wizard. Each was as thick as a man, though there was nothing remotely human about the shape of the rising energy. A foul stench and taste filled the air, as if something had lain rotting in the earth for months, not just weeks. This was more than the decaying bodies of the black waziri, Leesa knew. She was breathing in their evil magic, freed from the containment of human form. Fighting the urge to turn away, she placed her hand over her face and breathed in through her nose, but it barely helped.

  Dominic raised his palms toward the curling strands of dark energy and began chanting. Beams of yellow-white magic shot from his hands, striking one of the black columns with a loud hiss, like water splashing over hot coals. The black energy began to bend and twist more violently as Dominic’s magic poured into it, slowly burning it away. As soon as it vanished, he immediately turned his aim onto a second black strand, which disintegrated in the same manner as the first.

  Leesa watched, fascinated, as Dominic’s magic destroyed the magical essence of the black wizards once and for all. When he focused his power on one of the two remaining columns, however, something changed. The hissing grew louder and the dark energy seemed to become even blacker, if that was possible. Somehow, the essence of this black wizard seemed to be fighting back, whether of its own accord or strengthened by the Necromancer’s power Leesa did not know. Dominic raised the volume of his chant until he was almost shouting. His yellow-white beam glowed increasingly bright as he channeled more and more of his power into it, until at last this third column of evil energy finally melted away like the first two.

  Before he could turn his power onto the fourth essence, the dark energy suddenly shot up into the sky like a bolt of black lightning, too fast for Dominic to counter. A shadow seemed to streak across the darkening sky to the east, disappearing beyond the horizon.

  Dominic turned away from the hole in the ground, his shoulders slumped in exhaustion. He took a moment to gather his breath.

  “That was even more difficult than I expected,” he said. “Three of our foes are gone forever, but the Necromancer has managed to claim Andre’s essence for himself. Whether he will be able to bring Andre back to life or simply add his power to that which he has already collected, I cannot say.”

  He looked toward Jenna. “Was your spell successful?”

  Jenna nodded. “I believe so. Andre will have no recollection of Leesa, of that I am certain. I do not believe he will recall your part in the earlier battle either. As for the vampires, I cannot be sure whether Andre will remember them or not.”

  Dominic allowed himself a tired smile. “That will have to be good enough. Thank you. Now, I have one last spell to cast and then we must be off. First, we need to move back a ways from the grave.”

  He led them back toward the road, stopping when they were about fifty feet from the empty hole.

  “What kind of spell are you going to cast?” Leesa asked.

  “Something that will provide me a bit of information about anyone who visits this place in the next few days—meaning the xenorians, in all likelihood. As a bonus, it will focus their attention even more upon me, rather than on the rest of you.”

  Dominic closed his eyes and began chanting in his wizard’s tongue. He waved his hands in a slow circular motion and then opened his eyes.

  “It is done. Now let’s make haste. Leesa, call me if you need me. Otherwise, it might be a little while before you see me again.” He nodded to Rave. “Go now. Get her away from here.”

  Rave did not hesitate. In a flash, he was racing through the trees with Leesa in his arms and Dral and Bain on his heels.

  21. ON THE TRAIL

  BSI agents Smith, Jones and Rome gathered around a marble headstone in one of the Middletown’s cemeteries, the one closest to the Weston College campus. Beneath the marker, the sod had not yet completely grown back over the recently resealed grave, leaving narrow seams of dark brown dirt visible in the otherwise green grass.

  After returning from their drive across the river, they had decided to renew their investigation in the place where they had started it—at the graves of the three bodies that had been reanimated into the zombies who had attacked the girls dormitory. They hoped the dissipation of the strange spell that had been blanketing the entire area would allow Rome to sense traces of magic she might have missed the first time around.

  The afternoon shadows cast by the still mostly bare branches of the few trees scattered around the graveyard were beginning to lengthen as the sun began its slow descent in the western sky. The nearest tree spread a dark design across the grass and up the headstone that was almost skeletal in appearance, but if Rome noticed, she gave no sign. She squatted close beside the grave, slowly running her palms above the new sod, keeping them less than twelve inches off the ground.

  After a few moments, she twisted her neck around and looked up at her two comrades.

  “I still can’t tell much about the magic used here,” she said. “It’s been too long. Whatever might have been hidden from me by the interfering spell is gone now.”

  Straightening up, she glanced toward the next of the graves that had been violated, this one a few markers away from where they stood.

  “I doubt the other graves will be any different, but I’ll check them nonetheless.”

  She began heading for the second grave, then suddenly froze in mid-step. Her foot hung in the air for several seconds before she allowed it to fall back onto the ground. Behind her, Smith and Jones quickly scanned the surrounding terrain for any sign of danger, but saw nothing. They turned their attention back to Rome, whose gaze was directed to the west. Her features were drawn even more tightly than usual and a faraway look filled her eyes.

  Accustomed to the peculiarities of Rome’s gift and her behavior, neither agent said anything. They simply watched and waited. Finally, Rome’s eyes snapped back into focus and she looked at her companions.

  “Magic,” she said. “Lots of it. Very powerful, too.” She pointed in the direction she had been looking. “That way, and not too far. No more than a few miles. ”

  “Let’s go,” Smith said, already turning back toward the road and their parked car.

  His companions followed him hurriedly out of the cemetery and climbed into their SUV. Smith got behind the wheel, while Rome broke with custom and took the seat beside him to direct him. In a few moments, they were speeding west on Route 66.

  “Slow down,” Rome said after they had driven just two or three miles. “We’re getting close.”

  Smith eased off on the accelerator and allowed the car to slow to about thirty miles per hour. Rome’s eyes were fixed out the driver’s side window, peering past Smith and scanning the woods along the opposite side the road. She put her hand on his arm.

  “Over there,” she said. “Not too far back into the trees, I don’t think. Pull over onto the shoulder.”

  Smith swung the vehicle into a quick U-turn and guided it to a stop on the side of the road. All three agents scrambled from the car.

  Rome led the way into the trees, moving more cautiously the farther they got from the road, her eyes focused on the ground in front of her. Barely a hundred feet into the woods, she stopped abruptly. Jones and Smith halted behind her.

  Rome stood silently for a few seconds before turning and walking slowly ten paces to her left and then proceeding the same distance to her right. When she returned to the spot where she had originally stopped, she spoke.

  “A very clever wizard was here,” she told her comrades. “He has enclosed the area where the magic took place in a spell that will alert him to anyone who enters this part of the woods. Even if we disable the spell, doing so will tell him we were here.”

  “Do you think he knows about us?” Smith asked.

  Rome shrugged. “I cannot say. The spell does not seem to be directed at our kind, though. It will be activated by an
yone with any kind of magic who crosses this way.”

  “We need to know what happened here,” Jones said. “Does the spell present any danger?”

  Rome closed her eyes. “None that I can detect,” she said when she opened them again.

  “Let’s go, then,” Smith said. “Leave the spell in place and let the wizard know we were here. Dismantling it would give him even more any information about our abilities.”

  Once again, Rome led the way. In just a few moments, they reached a large, freshly dug hole flanked by a tall pile of still damp dirt. Smith and Jones stopped about six feet from the pit, while Rome edged a few steps closer.

  “This is the place,” she said. She dropped down into a squat and peered down into the hole. “I’ve never felt anything like this. It’s almost overwhelming.”

  “Is it a grave?” Smith asked, thinking of the cemetery they had just left. “Or was something magical unearthed here?”

  “I’m not sure yet. Perhaps it’s both.” Rome sniffed the air and moved her palms over the empty hole. “There is a complicated mixture of magics here, some of it extremely powerful. It’s going to take me some time to try to unravel it.”

  “Any chance that whoever or whatever did this is still nearby?” Jones asked, his eyes carefully scanning the surrounding woods for any unwelcome presence.

  “No, they are gone.” Rome stood up and slowly circled the hole. She pointed back toward the road. “Our wizard went that way. If he got into a car, I will not easily be able to follow him.”

  “Let’s take a quick look, just in case,” Smith said. “If pursuit seems useless, we can come back and you can try to figure out what happened here. This hole is not going anywhere.”

  Rome followed the trace of magic leading away from the pit.

  “By the way, our wizard was almost certainly a waziri,” she said as they walked.

  “A black waziri?” Jones asked.

  Rome shook her head. “No. I sense no taint to his magic. It is clean, like of old.”

  Smith and Jones both stopped, surprised by the news.

  “I didn’t know there were any of that kind left,” Smith said. “I thought they had all been wiped out by their black brethren.”

  “Apparently not,” Rome said. She continued on toward the road, stopping on the shoulder. “He got into a vehicle here. I could try to follow, but I would have to walk. We would never catch up to him.”

  “There’s no sense trying to follow,” Smith said, gazing down the road. He turned back to Rome. “Let’s go back to the pit and see what you can learn.”

  Rome nodded. “I agree.”

  They returned to the empty hole. The two men again kept their distance, giving Rome space to work. She spent almost fifteen minutes circling the excavation, sniffing the air, fingering the dirt, even jumping down into the six-foot deep pit and testing the air and the dirt below the surface. When she was finished down there, Smith had to hoist her out by the arms. Once out, she circled the hole yet one more time.

  At last she was done with her examination. She walked a few paces from the hole and leaned her back against the trunk of a thick tree.

  “There were at least four separate kinds of magic in play here. A waziri, as I told you before, who expended a great deal of power. There was also black magic here, several different strands that I could detect, probably black waziri. Their power was not as clear or well-defined as the wizard’s. I’m not sure why.”

  Smith made a face at the mention of the black waziri. “Are you certain they were black waziri? We’ve not detected their presence in this hemisphere before.”

  “No, I cannot be absolutely certain—like I said, there was something off about what I felt—but from what I could sense, that’s my best guess.”

  Jones spat onto the ground. “The black devils are the perfect example of why our brotherhood exists,” he said. “They turned from ordinary wizards to evil darkness, as all magic eventually must.”

  “Well, it seems the wizard did some of our work for us,” Rome said. “I cannot say for certain what happened here, but it seems as if he destroyed at least two of his renegade brethren.”

  A half smile curved Jones’ lips. “When we catch him, I’ll be sure to thank him before we destroy him.”

  “You said there were at least four kinds of magic used here,” Smith said to Rome. “What else are we dealing with besides the wizard and the black waziri?”

  “There was a witch here. I believe she cast but a single spell. What kind of spell, I cannot say. It was dwarfed by the power of the others’ magic.”

  “There have always been witches in these parts,” Smith said, “so I guess we shouldn’t be too surprised that one was here. Can you tell whose side she fought on?”

  Rome shook her head. “I cannot say for sure. I detected no hint of her being hurt or destroyed, so perhaps she aided the good wizard somehow.”

  “And the fourth magic?” Jones asked.

  “Ahhh, that one was the blackest of all. It stank of death, fear and anguish. I’ve never felt anything like it.” Rome closed her eyes for a moment, remembering everything she had sensed. “I felt it most strongly when I was down in the pit, but there was no trace of it on the surface of the ground. It’s as if the power was projected to this place, while the user remained far away. I don’t know how that is possible, unless he was somehow connected to the black waziri and was drawn here to help them.”

  She paused, remembering a small detail from her examination. She grabbed Smith by the hand and pulled him over toward the hole.

  “Lower me down,” she said. “I want to check something.”

  Smith took hold of Rome’s wrists and lowered her gently into the pit. He watched as she spun around in a slow circle before smiling and raising her arms back up toward him. He lifted her from the hole.

  “What is it?” he asked.

  “Something I almost missed. There’s an aspect of the foul power present here that was also used on the stairs in the dormitory. Had that magic not been so faded, I would have recognized the connection sooner.”

  “So one of the powers employed here was involved in the earlier reanimation?” Jones asked.

  “Yes, in some way. And not just any of the powers—the most malevolent one.”

  Smith nodded. “I think we need to make a much closer examination of the city and the college.”

  “With so much magic at play, we will need to be careful,” Rome cautioned. “There is a limit to how many powers each of you can absorb at one time.”

  “You’re right, of course,” Jones said, “but I doubt we’ll find all these powers working together against us. They are clearly enemies.”

  “If we’re fortunate enough to come across all of them at once,” Smith said, “we can sit back and wait until one side is vanquished. Then we can deal with those who remain.”

  “I can slough off the powers I absorbed from the vampire now,” Jones said. “Unless you think I should use them to spread a bit of terror and unrest first.”

  He opened his mouth. A pair of sharp fangs extruded from his upper jaw and his skin seemed to grow a bit pale. With an easy leap, he bounded up onto a branch twenty feet above his companions. He balanced there for a few seconds before swinging back down to the ground.

  “Their strength really is quite extraordinary,” he said after landing with a soft thud. “I wouldn’t want to apply this power in broad daylight, though. Even with the sun so low, I can feel it burning my skin.”

  He gave his body a quick, vigorous shake, like a dog shaking water off its coat. The fangs disappeared and his skin returned to its normal color as he pushed the powers back inside him.

  “I think you should rid yourself of the vampire essence now,” Rome said. “There’s no telling when you will need to absorb something else. You’d best be ready.”

  “I agree,” Smith said. “If there are more vampires around, we can stir the populace against them when we have finished with these other powers. T
hey seem to be by far the greater threat.”

  Jones nodded. He closed his eyes and blew out a deep, slow breath. A dark, misty shadow floated out from his open mouth, quickly dissipating into the air.

  “It is done,” he said.

  “Back to town, then,” Smith said. He rubbed his hands together in anticipation. “This might be fun.”

  22. RESTORATION

  High in the mountains of Romania, the Necromancer’s foul mood was evident as he sat at his magical table with the black wizard Viktor and the two remaining novitiates, Jordan and Rafael. Five empty wooden chairs pushed tight against the huge round table bespoke of the losses he had recently suffered.

  The Necromancer was a large man—if indeed the misshapen figure could be called a man—significantly bigger than any of his comrades, in girth even more so than height. He possessed a huge bulbous belly, and his hairless head was almost as round as a basketball. In the dimness of the room, the skin of his face and hands seemed almost white—a milky, deathly white more reminiscent of a corpse than a living human being. He had thick purplish lips, a broad, flat nose, and no eyebrows at all. As fearsome as the rest of his countenance was, his most frightening feature by far was his eyes. No eyeballs floated within their confines—no iris, no pupil, nothing. Just a flat, pinkish film. Despite his empty eyes, the Necromancer could see as well as anyone, although anything brighter than candlelight hurt his eyes.

  He sat slumped in a high-backed seat that was more throne than chair. Intricate carved runes covered much of the dark, almost black, wood. The smooth surface of the table in front of him was fashioned out of a special, highly polished material that looked almost like black glass. Candles flickering in brass sconces on the chamber’s stone walls tossed pale illumination into the room, but none of the light reflected off of the top of the table. The dark surface seemed to swallow any light that struck it.