The Sorceress of Aspenwood Trilogy Pack

by Sam Ferguson

  Janik bowed his head and turned to limp out of the room, dragging his maimed leg behind him with each step.

  “So teach me to break the vampire’s charms,” Kyra said, undaunted by her failure. “This is what classes are for, right? You show me my weaknesses and then we work on them together. I can do this.”

  Cyrus shook his head and walked to the desk. “You know I admire your courage…”

  “Don’t do that,” Kyra said, anger threatening to flare up. “Don’t give me the speech about trying hard and impressing you by making it this far. This isn’t enough. The vampire must die, not only for my mother, but for me. It’s the only way I will ever be safe.”

  “Or, we could arrange a deal with him and let him retrieve the dagger,” Cyrus offered.

  Kyra balked and her mouth hung open.

  “You might trip on that,” Cyrus commented with a gesture to her hanging jaw. “You know I don’t want to stop any more than you do. I think the fact that I have helped you this far should prove that.”

  “No,” Kyra said. “I can beat the vampire too.”

  Cyrus rubbed a weary hand over his face. “I had a daughter like you once,” he said truthfully. “Impetuous and headstrong, always jumping before stopping to look.” He sat back in his chair and a soft smile pulled at the corners of his mouth. His demeanor shifted then, and Kyra found herself waiting, not knowing how to respond.

  After a few moments, Cyrus cleared his throat and his usual, stern expression was back upon his face. He turned and pointed a finger at the book case. A thick book bound in black leather with red trim floated over to the desk and fell gently to rest upon it. The old wizard opened the tome and then turned it around and pushed it toward her.

  “Another reading assignment?” Kyra guessed.

  Cyrus shrugged. “If you won’t listen to me, then perhaps you will listen to Archmage Durit.”

  Kyra’s hand paused on its way to the book. She knew the name well. “What is this?” she asked, nodding to the book.

  “It is a rare treasure of knowledge. A book that required much sacrifice to acquire.”

  “Arts of the Soul Thief,” Kyra said in a whisper.

  Cyrus nodded. “Archmage Durit is renowned as the foremost expert on these matters. It is by reading this book, and studying the methods therein, that I have become the demon-hunter I am today. Though I dare say it has taken more than a fair toll on me in exchange.”

  “My mother used to look for this book,” Kyra said. “She never spoke about it in front of me, but there were a few times I would sneak to the library, or I would hear things I shouldn’t…”

  “It’s called being a snoop,” Cyrus said with a nod. “Most children do that, though some appear to never shake the habit.”

  Kyra felt his eye linger upon her, but she didn’t care. She was busy piecing together a puzzle in her mind. Her mother had always sent discrete servants to look for the book, or exchanged letters with various scholars about it. Not until Kyra was twelve had she ever asked about the book. Her mother had nearly frozen stiff she had been so taken aback by Kyra’s mention of the title.

  Of course, all her mother had said then was that it was a special book about magic, written by a powerful wizard, Archmage Durit.

  Now she understood. Kyra’s mother had been searching for a way to defeat her vampire father all that time.

  “Well,” Cyrus said, shaking her from her thoughts. “Are you going to read it, or are you going to stare at it?” He shook his head. “The words won’t jump off the page and come to you, you must engage your brain.”

  Kyra reached out and took the book in hand. She pulled it up to her face and studied the picture drawn upon the left page. There was a man standing before a mirror, reaching out to touch the glass with his left hand. In the mirror’s reflection, a sharp-fanged vampire reached back for him. Under the illustration she saw a single phrase.

  “When one reaches out to fight the darkness, it reaches back to ensnare the warrior,” she read aloud.

  Suddenly the book became very heavy. Her head began to throb. She lurched forward and fumbled the book onto the desk.

  “Careful!” Cyrus bellowed.

  She tried to say she was sorry, but her vision darkened and her knees slackened. She was only vaguely aware of the fact that someone had caught her before she hit the floor.

  When Kyra next opened her eyes, she was in her room, lying upon her bed. Cyrus was there as well, watching her and smoking from a long, curved pipe. As her vision cleared, she realized he was not actually smoking at all. He was holding a thin, curved stick that was burning on one end.

  “When did the nightmares start?” Cyrus asked when she woke.

  Kyra sat up, putting a hand to her head. It was still sore from before. She closed her eyes and took in a deep breath. Along with the air came the scent of the smoke from the stick, it was like rotting eggs mixed with the soggy black mud from a marsh. Her nose tried to fight the odor and she coughed against it.

  “Breathe it in,” Cyrus said. “It is a special root that helps clear the mind.”

  “It’s awful,” she replied.

  Cyrus nodded. “Not everything that is good for a person is pleasant,” he replied evenly. “Now, about the nightmares, when did they start?”

  Kyra instantly recalled the terrible dream she’d had a couple days before while waiting for Headmaster Herion. “A few days ago,” she said.

  “One time, or many times?” Cyrus pressed.

  Kyra pulled her arms into a hug around her own shoulders and frowned. The prying question shouldn’t have made her feel uncomfortable, but it did. “Every night,” she admitted. “Since the first time it has been every night.”

  “Then he is already here,” Cyrus said with a shake of his head. “He is coming for you.”

  “He is coming here?” Kyra asked, a tinge of fear in her voice for the first time since encountering the shade.

  Cyrus nodded. “And we will have to do whatever we can to ensure you stay safe.”

  Kyra put on a smile, forcing bravado. “I thought you wanted him to have the dagger.”

  Cyrus shook his head. “I said I would bargain for the dagger, but not for you.” His eyes turned dark and he grumbled something that she couldn’t quite hear. “Get up, I will teach you a few wards that will help block the nightmares. Tomorrow, we will begin training like you have never trained before. We will start with illusions, and work on them until you can discern the truth no matter what I throw at you.”

  “How did you know of my nightmares?” Kyra asked.

  “You have been unconscious for two days,” he replied. “Ever since taking the book in hand, you have been ill. As I tried to ward off the evil, I could hear your moans and screams as the terrors set in.”

  “Why did I react that way to the book?” she asked.

  Cyrus shook his head. “That, I don’t know. If I didn’t know better, I would have thought someone had put a spell upon it, a magical trap if you will, but that can’t be the case. That is my book. I have had it for years.”

  “Maybe it is my heritage,” Kyra said. “I have seen magic designed to hurt monsters and demons.” She was speaking of the charms that Al the dwarf had given to her and Lepkin only a short while ago in preparation for their fight against the shade. Even though she was not a full vampire, they had worked against her as well.

  “No, that isn’t it,” Cyrus said. His voice seemed sure and resolute. “I would have caught something like that,” he added. He turned and smiled at her once more. “Linny has been assisting with you, and she has kept this incident quiet. Extend to her my gratitude.”

  Kyra nodded. “Where are you going?” she asked.

  Cyrus sighed and set the smoldering root on the chair as he stood up from it. “I have someone I need to visit. Linny is here if you need food or water. Janik is posted outside the door for added measure.”

  “If the vampire is coming, shouldn’t you alert Headmaster Herion?”

&n
bsp; Cyrus shook his head. “A vampire who attacks in dreams is a patient hunter. It is not yet time to alert the entire academy. However, rest assured that Herion is a great wizard as well. He may have earned his position through a bit of politics and back-scratching, but he is not without merit. I would wager he is already preparing as well. I assume he started after your first encounter with the shade.” Cyrus smiled then and nodded. “Go back to sleep. The smudging root will keep your dreams clear. We’ll resume training in the morning.”

  Cyrus walked toward the door as Kyra was dropping back down to rest. Her eyes closed before the wizard reached the hallway.

  “How is she?” Janik asked.

  Cyrus nodded and closed the door. “She is all right. Where is Linny?”

  “Getting some soup from the kitchen,” Janik replied.

  Cyrus nodded. “Wait for my return,” he said. “When Linny returns, tell her to wait out here. Under no circumstances is anyone to enter that room until I am back. Understand?”

  Janik nodded.

  “And don’t think for one second that I failed to notice your quip about dealing with demons,” Cyrus put in. “The next time you tread close to the edge of revealing my identity, I will give you more than chest pain, are we clear?”

  Janik looked to the floor.

  The old wizard knew he had made his point. Normally he would have reprimanded the crippled warrior immediately, but he had needed to work fast against the spell that had caught Kyra. A simple threat would have to do, for now.

  Cyrus glanced down the hall and then he opened a rift in the very air before him. Static pops of electricity sparked into life around the opening, and then he slipped into darkness and disappeared from the hallway.

  Cyrus had lied to Kyra. The burning root was not there to clear her mind of nightmares. Quite the opposite, it was going to strengthen the nightmare, prolong it, and induce a deep sleep.

  But then, that is what he required if he was to find the dreamwalker.

  It took great skill to lay a trap that Cyrus would fail to detect. Great skill, and not a little power and experience. Cyrus knew there were only two possibilities. The first was the vampire, but that was unlikely, for the trap would have to be placed upon the book while the caster was in the immediate physical vicinity of the book. The second possibility carried far greater implications.

  The wizard focused his mind as he walked through the swirling darkness. This portal was not like most. Instead of carrying him to a new physical location, he was traveling to a realm only few could enter, and fewer still ever survived.

  Light began to break through the darkness, and Cyrus took in a deep breath as a rush of air, like that of a great tempest, blew the darkness apart and left him standing upon a deeply rutted dirt road that was busy collecting puddles.

  A moment after he noticed the puddles, Cyrus saw the droplets of water falling from the sky and sighed when the light rain turned into a heavy downpour.

  Why must nightmares and storms always be connected? In his experience, the light hid nearly as many monsters as the darkness. Still, there was no reason to fight against the rain here. It wasn’t real, although he could feel every droplet of cold liquid strike him with the force of a small bee, stinging his face and hands.

  The light then turned gray as the clouds rolled through the sky and lightning flashed around him. That was the way with dreams. Natural laws were only obeyed if the dreamer realized that the laws should apply. In this case, the rain had followed the puddles, and the clouds had come after the rain. It was something Cyrus found quite curious, but now was not the time to contemplate the threads that wove the strange tapestry of Kyra’s nightmare.

  He looked up and walked toward Kyra’s manor, or at least something that approximately resembled her home. This image of the house was much darker, with windows that appeared angular and sharp, as if the house itself was taking on a life of its own.

  Cyrus walked up the steps and pushed the front doors open. He saw Kyra walking into a group of people. She walked as if hypnotized, stiff and unblinking. Cyrus was careful to mask himself as a nondescript nobleman, that way he would match the others in the nightmare and not draw any undue attention to himself.

  He walked around the left to gain a better vantage of the party. It wasn’t long before he spotted the vampire. He was startled at first by the details. The wizard realized that in order for Kyra to have such a clear picture in her mind of the vampire, she must have already seen him at some point. The only question now was whether she had seen him recently, or if this was some subconscious construct formed by a memory created when she was a baby, or perhaps a very young child.

  Then something caught his eye. A movement at the top of the stairs.

  It was like a shadow, but somehow it didn’t match the other shadows in this surreal place that existed in the recesses of Kyra’s unconscious mind.

  Cyrus left the party, along with poor Kyra’s tormented soul, down on the first floor. He wasn’t interested in the nightmare’s progression. He could deal with dreams easily enough once he had finished the task at hand. For now, she would have to endure her suffering until he had completed what he needed to do.

  In the end, his success would mean safety for both of them.

  Cyrus stalked up the stairs and turned to his right. The hallway here was deformed, with slightly bent walls and doors made in irregular shapes. He made his way down the corridor as best he could, careful not to trip and fall as the very floor seemed to shift beneath his feet for a time. Then, he slipped into a familiar room. He had been here before, in the real world, and so he recognized the place as Kyra’s mother’s library. Even with the distorted light and the skewed window and books that seemed to open and close on their own, he recognized it well enough.

  He stepped into the room and then he closed the door.

  The sound of the metal latch catching as it clicked into place startled the other intruder. A warlock turned and pulled his hood back. There was no reason for pretense now. Both of them knew the other.

  Cyrus let his disguise melt away and he stared at Bothias, one of the warlocks he was currently working for.

  “I should have known,” Bothias said. “I could tell she had woken up, but I was trapped inside.” He folded his arms and sat upon a rectangular desk that began to float into the air just a bit, swaying back and forth as it hovered over the floor. “You woke her,” he said with a wag of his finger. “I didn’t think you would be able to do that.”

  “I suspected you could dreamwalk,” Cyrus said, ignoring Bothias’ comment, “but I did not think you would be so foolish as to come here.”

  Bothias held his arms out to the side. “It was too easy not to do,” he replied. “The enemy already has a hold on her fears. It was simple to bring them out to the forefront of her mind.”

  “So you planted the nightmares?” Cyrus asked. “I had thought that perhaps the vampire had done that.”

  Bothias shook his head. “I took the form of a raven,” he said. “I found her in the woods, on her way to see that dragon of hers. I planted the nightmare a few days ago.”

  “And then you put a curse upon my book,” Cyrus accused.

  “Well, in my defense, you normally hand your student the books to read and then send her on her way. I had assumed she would read it while out in the forest, giving me more than enough time to slip in and out before you would find out about it.”

  “How did you know which book I would give her?” Cyrus asked.

  “Come, come,” Bothias replied with a smirk. “What other book would you give to her?”

  “You should have left me alone to my task,” Cyrus said, his voice turning cold.

  Bothias’ smile turned into a confused expression, as if he was unsure what to make of the statement. “Surely you don’t mean to attack me here, do you? If we duel, then either she will wake, or she will discover us. Either way, we will end up trapped in her mind, or she will falter if her mind is weak, and then she will d
ie. You know how delicate a thing it is to walk in the dreams of others.”

  Cyrus nodded. “So what, then, shall we do?”

  “Help me find the dagger,” Bothias replied with a nonchalant shrug. “I am certain the girl knows where it is. You risk too much in letting her run around the countryside.”

  “The dagger is for me,” Cyrus replied evenly. “I have a bargain with the patriarch of your order.”

  “Ah yes, well the truth is we have been using you, my friend. You have been our… shall we use the word ‘scout’ to describe you?”

  “I thought you wanted the girl,” Cyrus said.

  Bothias nodded. “We’ll take the girl, and the dagger.”

  Cyrus nodded. “And what of me?”

  “You think we don’t know about your secrets?” Bothias asked. “Once we have what we need, we will offer you two choices. The first option will be to serve our order.”

  “And the second?” Cyrus asked.

  “The second option is death.”

  “You have the consensus of your brothers then?” Cyrus pressed.

  Bothias shook his head. “Not yet, but they will come around to my way once they see I have produced the dagger quicker than you ever could.”

  “The girl doesn’t know where it is,” Cyrus said. “If she did, she would have told me by now.”

  “Bah,” Bothias said with a dismissive wave. “She saw where her mother put it, of that I am sure.”

  Cyrus doubted very much that Kyra had any notion, subconscious or otherwise, where the dagger might be. From everything he had learned about the family, if Kyra was cunning and smart, then the mother was doubly so. He studied Bothias as the dreamwalker moved. Cyrus noted the man’s fingers twitching, possibly drawing runes in what he thought was a discreet ruse while trying to distract Cyrus with conversation.

  Bothias was not a large man by any means, but his powers were not to be taken lightly. Cyrus had heard of several of Bothias’ conquests, and even he had to admit the dreamwalker had talent. Then there was the fact that Bothias had managed to magically trap Cyrus’ own book.