A Magic King

by Jade Lee

  Jane tried to think, but she was weak, her thoughts dull and slow. A part of her still hoped there might be a core of decency in Kyree. Maybe this was just a show of strength for him. Maybe the goodness she'd seen in the grove wasn't all false.

  "Kyree, the symbols you're using, the book itself, it's all evil. It's black magic."

  "Nonsense," he called back cheerfully. "Symbols and knowledge aren't good or evil. They are simply a way of tapping into the source of power within oneself. This book contains healing spells, finding spells..." Kyree glanced at his worktable.

  Following his gaze, she felt her heart begin to pound painfully in her throat as she noticed a metal object gleaming dully in a light of a heated brazier.

  "Ah, you finally noticed." He stood up, his chalk pentacle now clean of smudge marks, and went to his table. "You are so pathetically naive about the ways of magic, Jane." He picked up the Beretta from the table, firing pin in place. "I watched you that day in the House of Prophesy. I saw you dismantle this in the back room. I even knew you buried it the next night. All it needed was a simple finding spell and here it is. I have a gun. Given a little time, I will learn how to manufacture more."

  Moving to a better angle within her limited space, Jane saw what she wanted. The bullet clip was on the table, not in the handle. It was a weak ploy, but all she had.

  "You still need me, Kyree. The gun won't work."

  "Of course it does. Why else would you work so hard to hide the pieces?"

  Jane grinned. "Get a bullet and put it in the chamber."

  Clearly intrigued, Kyree did as she directed.

  "Now pull the trigger."

  He did. Nothing happened. Berettas don't fire without the clip in place.

  Kyree twisted the gun, inspecting it in the flickering light. "How very disappointing."

  "You still need me, Kyree. Now let me out of here."

  He stared vaguely off into space, and Jane began to hope that maybe her bluff had paid off.

  "Plus," she pushed, "even if you do figure the gun out, military secrets disappear fast. All too soon your enemies will have them. You'll need me to give you that next boost in weapons technology."

  Kyree turned, his head bobbing up and down as he silently agreed with her. Jane's hopes soared. Then Kyree turned, dropped the gun casually on the table, and began collecting chemicals which he tossed into a cold brazier. His next words effectively extinguished any hope that she'd gotten through to him.

  "I had such plans for you, Jane. If only you had been less intelligent."

  "A smart collaborator is better than a stupid one," she offered, willing to say anything he wanted if he let her out of the cage.

  "True, true. But you see, you're a bit too smart, and I'd have quite a time keeping you in line."

  "Believe me, Kyree," she offered, trying to placate him. "I'll be a lot more amenable now that I've seen some of your abilities." She again pressed against the forcefield with the same painful result.

  "Yes, and I considered it until you mentioned you're dying. That, of course, leaves me with only one recourse."

  She cursed silently, wondering how things had gotten away from her so fast. For a little bit there in his laboratory, she'd thought she had the upper hand. "How will you explain a change in me?" she asked, hoping a small change was all he had in mind.

  He glanced at her. "My dear, everyone saw how ill you were. Your death, even an illness, is already explained. I, of course, will neatly step into your place. You see, you will have given me the secrets of the Keeper. With your last dying breaths you passed on the information so the knowledge would continue."

  Jane felt her hands begin to shake, and she clasped them in front of her, trying to think. "There must be other options, Kyree. What do you want? I can get it for you."

  "I have thought and thought, but I must do this while you are strong enough to endure the process." He looked over at her, his expression sad. Like a person going into a pawn shop, he looked like he was about to lose something valuable out of necessity.

  Jane swallowed, the taste of terror bitter in her mouth.

  "You're right, you know," he continued. "Military secrets are never secret for very long. Eventually, I will figure out the gun."

  Jane closed her eyes, knowing he was right. It was only a matter of time, probably minutes, before he thought to put the clip into the Beretta.

  "But then someone else will figure out how to make them too. What I need is your knowledge, the information stored in your mind."

  "Exactly," said Jane, pressing enthusiastically forward in her cage. "If you kill me, it will all be gone. Even drugging me is unreliable," she offered, trying to hedge her bets. "A lot of this stuff is very tricky. I'll need all my brain power focused and sharp."

  Kyree shook his head forlornly. "This really isn't how I'd intended things to end." With a swift twist of his wrist, he lit the second small brazier. The chemicals began to burn, causing a thick, gray smoke to billow up from the center.

  Carrying the small pot of sputtering chemicals, he stepped into the center of the chalk pentacle and sat down.

  "What are you doing?" Jane asked, not trying to disguise the tremor in her voice. She had the most horrible feeling her time just ran out.

  "Look at the smoke, Jane."

  She did as he bid, a gasp of shock escaping her lips as she realized what was happening. Rather than floating above Kyree's head, the smoke from the brazier was somehow filling her airspace. She could smell the coarse burn of sulfur, the cloying scent of myrrh.

  She coughed, waving her arms to clear the air, but she became lightheaded from the effort, and the smoke thickened, rather than dissipated.

  "I give, Kyree! I'll get you the guns," she lied, desperately playing for time. "I promise." She coughed again, her breath coming in frantic gasps that caught on the way in and burned on the way out.

  Kyree's voice came to her, soft and melodious, as lights began to dance before her eyes. "The smoke is a kind of poison, Jane, but a slow one. First it robs you of your mobility, then it slowly bleeds into your mind."

  "I'm no good to you dead," she gasped out.

  "As it slowly eats into your soul, your mind becomes open and free. Highly vulnerable, you might say."

  Jane felt herself stagger. Her legs were numb, and she dropped to her knees.

  "In this weakened state, I will merge with you much like the Old Ones merged with other animals."

  She tried to fight, tried to think of a way out, but she was so weak, and so very, very slow in her thoughts.

  "Once joined with you, I will wander through your memories, absorbing them, living them, learning all you know."

  "Can't be done," she muttered, her words slurred and weak.

  "But I've already done it to that very bright student I mentioned earlier."

  "Dead. First," she forced out. "You'll die with me."

  "Oh, no," he chuckled. "I'll be long gone before the last flicker of your life is extinguished. I really am sorry about this. I had such plans for you. Oh," he added as an afterthought. "It won't be painful. You'll be unconscious long before you die. At least it will be relatively quick, almost pleasant when compared to radiation poisoning."

  On those words, Jane lost the battle with her body. Dropping away from her physical awareness, she slipped into the nebulous plane of her thoughts, trying to hold them tight to her.

  She felt his presence immediately, pressing against her like a heavy weight on top of her heart. She pushed him away, but her efforts seemed pathetically weak against his overwhelming strength.

  Desperate for anything, any kind of help, she called silently for Daken. She'd been toying with the idea ever since Kyree mentioned the bonding that was part of their communication spell. She brought out as clear a picture of Daken as possible, then called to it, begging for help.

  Nothing happened. On the edge of her consciousness, she heard Kyree laugh at her feeble efforts even as he began to invade her mind.

&nb
sp; She shoved him away and brought up her mother's symbol. She pictured a brilliant white cross shining in the darkness of her mind, spilling forth its power into her. In her mind's eye, she gathered the cross' power and aimed it at Daken, screaming for him to notice her, to hear her desperation in his mind.

  Nothing. It didn't work.

  Jane felt helplessness well up within her, a sobbing panic mixed with the cold certainty that she had lost. Her mind was no longer under her own control. She felt its barriers weaken, her consciousness slipping away like a pile of leaves in a stiff wind. Soon she would lose her ability to think at all, and in that relaxed state, Kyree would press forward. He would invade her as she never thought possible, pillaging her mind, then running away, leaving her to die alone.

  She struggled as long as she could, cleaving to her sanity, but feeling her grip weaken with each passing moment. She had lost to Kyree.

  His glee hovered at the edge of her mind, jeering at her even as she struggled. But the worst part was that no one would ever know what happened. Kyree would continue spreading his net of evil over the world, using her knowledge and the computer's information to become the most powerful force in the world. She would become a footnote in history. She would be the one who failed to stop him.

  Her last thoughts turned away from such global concerns. As the reality of her death crept upon her, she mourned her failures on a personal level. She grieved for the children she would never have, the people she could never say good-bye to. Most of all, she grieved for Daken. He would never know her last thoughts were of him.

  Gathering the tattered remains of her strength, she brought back her image of Daken. She also pulled up the cross, holding it with her because she was dying, and she couldn't think of a better symbol to accompany her into eternity.

  With the last of her sanity, she sent a message of love and sorrow to Daken. This time her efforts were rewarded. She felt a flicker of awareness in him. For an instant, she shared his thoughts.

  I love you, she whispered. It was all she could manage before her consciousness slipped away.

  As death spun toward her, Kyree took over and began the slow rape of her mind.

  Chapter 12

  Daken was drinking. Not a lot. Truth was, he was hiding more than imbibing.

  He couldn't shake the sight of Jane as a Council Member. His little fool looked as regal and capable as any queen in any land. She had her own special beauty. Her face was pale, almost drawn, but that only enhanced the fierce light shining through her amber eyes.

  She'd done well in the meetings. He'd listened to the talk. More than any of the petitioners, she was the one tried that day. Every one agreed. She'd done very, very well. Her few comments were well-spoken, well-timed, and well-received. She was a success.

  Daken was so very proud of her.

  He drained his tankard of ale.

  He was also very, very depressed. A small part of him had prayed for her failure, begged the Father for her to fall flat. Because then Kyree wouldn't have wanted her. He couldn't risk marriage to a political liability.

  Then she would be free for Daken. He would marry her no matter what her political inclinations were. Then she would keep his castle for him while he saved his people. He would come back after exterminating the Tarveen, after he demonstrated his devotion by making his lands safe for her and their children. And she would welcome home her triumphant husband, her face glowing in the sunset, her hair shimmering like dark silk. She would take him in her arms, and he would take her to bed.

  Daken ordered another tankard.

  His dream would never come true. She was the Oracle in all ways now, and she was Kyree's intended bride. He was nothing more than a petitioner for her aid.

  The inn door banged open, letting in a gust of wind that set up a wave of grumbling among the patrons. The weather was damp and uncertain, the wind alternately gusty, then dead—the certain harbinger of a coming storm. No one here this night, including Daken, appreciated the reminder of what the future held.

  Daken happened to glance up as the barmaid brought his next tankard. He'd meant to ogle her ample charms that spilled out in front of her like foaming ale. Instead he saw a small boy slipping through the crowds to him.

  He swore under his breath. The last person he wanted to see right now was Jane's little pet, Steve. The boy symbolized the end of his hopes of getting Jane as his queen. If it weren't for Steve, Daken would have been Jane's only friend. She would have continued to cling to her King or her Knight Errant, as she sometimes called him. Instead, she got her companionship from the safe services of a boy while she took on the whole Council and won.

  By the Father, he was proud of his fierce little beauty. And he was also very, very depressed.

  Daken scowled as Steve came up to the table. The boy looked winded and tired, but his eyes were wide with fear. Daken turned to his ale, not wanting to know, but the boy's steady presence and his hauntingly clear blue eyes continued to plague his thoughts even after he'd shut out the sight.

  With a sigh, Daken pushed away his ale untouched.

  "What is it, boy?"

  Steve made a gesture for Daken to follow him.

  "Is it Jane?"

  A nod.

  "Is she ill?"

  A vehement nod.

  "How ill?" He could barely push the words past the tightening in his chest. "Is she wounded?"

  He shook his head, no.

  "Sick, then. Dying?"

  A grave nod and a silent plea that echoed the agony in Daken's heart. Jane was dying.

  It was at that moment he felt something. The vague sense of unease that had been eating at him for the last half hour suddenly crystallized into a brilliant image: Jane, in a cave, gasping out her last breath.

  I love you whispered through the empty chambers of his heart, and then it was gone. She was gone, and he knew he'd heard her last words.

  When his vision cleared, he saw Steve, his expression intense and focused. In that instant, Daken understood what Jane saw in the boy. Steve was a lot more than just a mute servant.

  Gripping the child's sleeve, Daken spoke, his voice hoarse and urgent. "She's in a cave. And there's smoke."

  Steve's eyes widened in fear.

  "Do you know where it is?"

  The boy moved in a flash. Daken charged after the nimble-footed youth, loosening his sword in its scabbard as he went. Fear beat like a warrior's drum in Daken's bloodstream. As he pounded after Steve, Daken felt his body respond to the call of war. He didn't know who was killing Jane, but he hoped it was Kyree. It would give him great pleasure to slice the wizard from neck to groin in one swift stroke.

  He spared a brief thought for Steve. A mortal fight with a wizard was bad business. Daken had no spells, so his only hope was to surprise the bastard. That was easy enough to do if the wizard concentrated on something else. But if he happened to be in between spells or worse yet, waiting in ambush, then Daken didn't want an innocent boy in the middle of a doomed contest.

  Without magic, Daken wouldn't stand a chance in a face to face combat.

  They sped through the streets, and Daken soon noticed the shadow of the black pantar sliding through the darkness with them. They made it to Ginsen's Palace in scant minutes, and Daken nearly ground his teeth in frustration. He grabbed Steve's arm, spinning the boy around.

  "She was in a cave, Steviens. There aren't any caves here."

  The boy nodded vigorously and started running again, skirting the edge of the student dormitories until he came to the small grove of trees.

  Daken tore after him, pushing himself to keep up with the boy's lightning fast pace. Then he had to stop himself from running over both the boy and the pantar as he skidded to a stop, clutching on to the largest tree trunk to steady himself.

  The pantar nosed him aside, pawing at the base of the tree trunk. Steve appeared immobile, his face passive as he waited patiently for Daken to catch his breath.

  "Venzi, boy! I said, a cave. Didn't y
ou hear me? A cave!"

  Then Daken felt his anger slip away, if only for a moment. Surprise beat a counterpoint to his pounding heart as he realized Steve wasn't passively waiting, he was doing something. The boy closed his eyes, held onto his belt buckle, then touched the very tree Daken still clung to for support, the same tree the pantar still pawed.

  To Daken's astonishment, the trunk slid silently open. He jumped away to avoid getting hit in the face by what he now saw as the door. Extending below the earth was a rough hewn stair leading down into a black nothingness.

  "All right, boy," he said, drawing his sword. "Stay here." Daken cut off his words as Steve crossed into the passageway first. Then Daken scrambled inside before the door sealed shut, leaving the pantar outside to howl her frustration to the moon.

  Once again, Daken reached out for Steve, trying to shove him back to the door, but in the pitch black of the stairway, the boy evaded his grasp. Daken couldn't speak for fear of alerting Kyree, or whoever it was down there, so he settled for a long, silent series of curses. It would be hard enough moving blind down a narrow stair without worrying about one witless boy.

  But then suddenly a light flared bright above them, before dimming to a gentle glowing ball. It floated over their heads, illuminating just enough to dampen the oppressive blackness. It was a magelight. Daken looked with new respect at the small boy nimbly sliding down the stairs.

  Could it be possible that this boy was indeed a wizard? All the mages he knew spoke, but that didn't mean words were necessary. Daken resolved to keep a much closer eye on Jane's young protégé. In the meantime, there was a maniac to kill.

  Every cell in Daken's body strained ahead, demanding he tear forward and release the fury pounding in his head. With every breath he took, he wondered if Jane had already breathed her last. The greatest healer on the planet couldn't bring back life once the spirit fled. But he wouldn't do Jane any good if he got himself killed in an ambush before he could get to her. He steeled himself to silence and stealth as he and Steve moved down the twisting stairs.