Sinners of Magic

by Lynette Creswell

  Bridgemear stepped over the bodies, careful not to get blood on his boots, and was relieved to see his power and strength was returning. He headed straight for the dungeons. The castle’s layout was well known amongst most of the people who lived within its walls, and in the lodging house one person in particular had been more than eager to share his knowledge, for a price.

  Bridgemear’s steps were calculated and his eyes sharp. He soon reached the main part of the castle which held the dungeons and within the darkness of the shadows he watched the guards come and go until he was able to slip on by like a ghost in the night. When he came to a stairwell he heard male voices carried by the echo of emptiness; he listened and heard the distinct mutterings of Mordorma cursing his imprisonment and he silently thanked Snitterby for his treachery towards Forusian, for it had been he who had given him a map.

  Checking for guards, the mage made his descent and kept his body close to the wall like a fleeting shadow and when he reached the bottom of the stairwell, a silhouette of a Nonhawk soldier slid into view with a large circle of iron keys hanging from his leather belt. There was a flash of cold steel, a solitary cry, and then the sound of clinking metal brought Amella, Mordorma and Amadeus scurrying to their feet, relief flooding their faces when the door flew back to reveal the solid bulk of the magician.

  Amella caught sight of his handsome face, one she had not seen for so many years, and found herself grappling at the wall for support. Bridgemear nodded to his comrades before resting his gaze on the woman with her mass of wild, red hair. He thought she looked oddly familiar and then he was rushing to her side and moving her matted mane away from her face to reveal to him her identity. His throat tightened and he took an involuntary gasp when he realised it was Amella standing before him. He so desperately wanted to take her in his arms and kiss her trembling lips, but he dared not, not after everything he had caused her and he faltered. He saw her beautiful skin was etched with fine lines, especially around the eyes, and he noted her hands were stained with dark, ground-in dirt. His mind conjured the misery of what she must have endured because of him and he felt himself weep inside.

  She let out a wail that was so deep it wounded him as though a thousand swords had pierced his heart and because he couldn’t bear the sound she made, he instinctively cupped her mouth with his hands. Her eyes shone with longing and he found he could hold himself back no longer. He bent his head and kissed her lips and when he felt her respond, he pulled her swiftly into his arms.

  Eventually he let her go and his voice was soft and husky when he said to her, ‘my dearest Amella, what on earth are you doing here?’

  She opened her mouth to speak, but before she could get her breath back, Amadeus was interrupting.

  ‘I’m sorry to have to say this, but we must leave immediately,’ he said, with glowing cheeks. ‘I know there’s a lot for you to discuss, but it’s far too dangerous to stay here.’

  Bridgemear’s eyes narrowed.

  ‘Very well, but before we leave there is something I must tell Amella, something I cannot keep secret from her a moment longer.’

  He turned to see a look of panic sweep over her face and it was clear from her expression that she was waiting for an emotional blow.

  ‘Go on, what is it?’ she gasped, searching his face for some kind of clue. Bridgemear took a deep breath, feeling his heart beat violently against his ribs.

  ‘I must tell you that Forusian has taken our daughter, Crystal, she is a prisoner here in this very castle and the reason why I’m here.’ He thought she had not heard him for she did not respond and so he repeated the sentence once again. This time her eyes told him she had digested every word and the shock of it looked as though it had dealt her a physical blow.

  ‘You’re crazy,’ she finally choked, unable to stop the tears which were spilling down her pale cheeks. ‘How can you say such a terrible lie?’ she rasped, pulling further away from him.

  ‘It’s no lie,’ he said, unable to stop her leaving his arms. ‘Your father commanded her to be brought back from exile.’

  ‘That’s simply not true!’ she cried, turning furious. She snatched her hand away when he tried to take it in his own and held her fingers to her chest as though she would catch some infectious disease if he touched her.

  ‘You of all people know that would never happen in a thousand years,’ she hissed, allowing bitterness to rise from her belly, but Bridgemear stood his ground.

  ‘Amella, I understand your misconception,’ he insisted, taking a step closer. ‘However, it was your father who brought her here.’

  A crack of thunder broke overhead.

  ‘We must hurry and leave this terrible place,’ said Mordorma, repeating Amadeus’s warning. His face was strained with worry and he began to bite his lower lip in agitation.

  ‘Amella, it’s true what he’s saying.’

  He hesitated and then took a deep breath.

  ‘I clearly don’t know how all this mess has landed at my feet,’ he added, making it obvious he feared that he was about to be blamed, ‘but Bridgemear is right, your daughter is here in this castle, but she must have escaped Forusian at some point only to be recaptured.’

  ‘And there’s more,’ said Amadeus, unable to look Amella in the eye. ‘We believe the elf child you know as Nienna to actually be your daughter Crystal.’

  Amella turned on him then, her face set in an accusing glare. Her jaw flexed, her expression nothing less than murderous.

  ‘I don’t believe a word,’ she hissed, throwing her hands in the air in disbelief. ‘Surely I would know my own flesh and blood!’

  ‘No, not necessarily,’ Amadeus insisted. ‘She has not been amongst us very long and acts more like a mortal than a daughter of magic.’

  Amella’s face froze and then she paled as recognition finally unmasked itself to her.

  ‘Of course,’ she gasped. ‘Those startling blue eyes and that luscious, red hair … how could I have been so blind. Tell me, does she know who I am?’

  ‘I have no idea,’ Mordorma replied, still looking uncomfortable. ‘We only found out who she was when Forusian raided the inn and took us captive; it was then we realised she had been travelling under another name. Amella, you know we are bound by our oath of the Oakwood wizards not to allow you contact with your daughter and to be honest we just didn’t know what to do. As for your question whether she knows if you are her mother, I can only guess from her aloofness towards you at times that she did not know who you are. I am truly sorry for all this torment, but it is not for us to decide your fate with her.’

  ‘You must pull yourself together,’ said Amadeus, placing his hand gently on her arm. ‘We understand this is all too much to take in, but we must leave this place or we will undoubtedly die at the hands of Forusian.’

  ‘Never!’ she cried, her voice sounding shrill. ‘I allowed my daughter to leave my side once before, but not this time.’ She turned and stared straight at Bridgemear, her eyes shining like huge, glass baubles and her lips set in a firm line. ‘I won’t leave this place if our daughter’s held captive. If what Mordorma says is true, then I cannot abandon her again.’

  With a swish of her skirt, Amella turned her back on him and made her way towards the door. He called to her and she turned to face him once again, but before he could utter another word she silenced him with the look of courage that was burning in her eyes.

  ‘I won’t change my mind, Bridgemear, no matter what you may say or do. All these years I have yearned for my child, believing I would never see her again and then, out of the blue, I learn she has been by my side all along and I never even knew it. She found me and I let her go, but believe me when I say that it will not be the Elders who decide my fate with my daughter again, for I will make amends with her and shall have my daughter back. Now, I either do it with or without your help, but either way I will save my daughter from Forusian.’

  Before they could stop her, Amella spun on her heels, leaving them standing wit
h their mouths agape and their faces staring into space.

  ‘Damn that woman,’ said Mordorma, when she started climbing the stairs. ‘She always was a feisty one.’

  ‘She’s only doing what any half-decent mother would do in her situation,’ Bridgemear murmured in her defence.

  Mordorma nodded his agreement and they left the dungeon with sudden haste. Amadeus stopped to pick up the sword from the dead Nonhawk, wiping away the blood that was already starting to congeal against the blade. He had known all along it would come to this; the elf child must be saved to secure the future of his people. With a deep foreboding he too climbed the stone steps and prayed that by the end of the night their mission would have been accomplished, and Crystal would be free once and for all from the evil clutches of King Forusian.

  Chapter 26

  High above Forusian’s castle sat a huge mass of crimson fog. A swarm of thick, red clouds were gathering in-between the turrets and stone walls and the castle dwellers were becoming frightened. Shouts of fear and confusion filled the busy streets and those with families watched the demon clouds descend and immediately rushed to their homes to protect those they loved, barricading themselves inside.

  Voleton sat on his horse on the top of a hill and watched the storm clouds suffocate the last of the evening stars. Elveria and Amafar were by his side and each was struck by the knowledge that they would never be able to gain entry to the castle now. The castle was unapproachable by foot or by horse, for at least a thousand soldiers were positioned outside the walls, protected by a magical ring of fire. The castle shimmered with its power and Voleton wept inside, for it was obvious to him that they had arrived too late.

  Just a few feet away a tiny hand swept a spindly shrub aside and two bright eyes shone from the undergrowth. The wood sprite watched the three wizards with interest. He believed these mages were also following Bridgemear and he stared at them with mistrust shining in his eyes. The three wizards pulled back their horses and started to engage in conversation, and Bracken listened to their every word, deciding whether they were dependable, and found he disliked Elveria’s tone. The wood sprite sensed the elder wizard’s bad mood and, not liking his air of authority, he kept himself hidden and listened in a little more…

  *

  Crystal awoke to find herself in the anatomy unit, tied to a large wooden stake. She had fainted when the pain had become too much for her to bear and she looked down and saw her hands were bound behind her back. She tried to free herself but the invisible threads cut into her wrists and she winced when she felt her flesh burn.

  She looked up and saw Forusian standing close by and she let out a scream when she realised she was standing on the very edge of a pinnacle and her feet were also bound. The king turned to face her, his eyes still nothing more than black holes, and she saw his lips move, but his words were smothered by the loud cries coming from inside the pit. The cries were of agonising pain, like that of lost souls, and Crystal found their voices to be almost unbearable to hear.

  Sweat poured down her face from the intense heat that surrounded her and soon her clothing stuck to her skin. She tried again to escape her bonds; she was so frightened, terrified that Forusian was going to kill her, but her struggles were all in vain. Forusian continued to mouth silent words and then the stake began to stir and vibrate down her back. Screaming wildly, Crystal was petrified when she flew up into the air. She screamed over and over again from pure terror, realising she could not break free and her eyes searched for someone to save her before she tumbled to her death. The stake stopped suddenly in mid-air to levitate above the river and the swell of broken limbs appeared to jump up and try to touch her feet.

  Forusian laughed and pointed the golden spear towards her as though he was about to throw it and pierce her heart and he saw the hurt and look of bewilderment etched on her young face. She saw a moment of regret, but it was only a moment, before he was once again chanting forbidden magic and watching the centre stone of the amulet turn black.

  *

  Bridgemear looked down at the map and was unsure where the anatomy unit was kept. Arhdel had been left behind to look after the boy; they had both agreed he would be of no use whilst his broken body still recovered from his ordeal but now Bridgemear wished he’d come along. Arhdel had done his best to explain what he believed Forusian was planning and whilst Bridgemear guided the others along the corridors of the castle he informed them of what he thought to be Forusian’s intentions.

  Amella wasn’t listening. She was still suffering with the revelation of Nienna being her daughter and she was angry with herself too. How on earth could she not have noticed such vital characteristics of her daughter’s genetic make-up? Her mind whirled with explanations and excuses until she could stand it no longer and it was Bridgemear who kept telling her it was not her fault, holding her in his arms whenever he could until her mood appeared much calmer.

  After several twists and turns in the wrong direction they found themselves on the metal overhang that Arhdel had come across, perched at least twenty feet in the air. Bridgemear peered down over the rail and looked into the huge vat which Arhdel had told him was full of golden liquid and found that it lay empty of its contents. Amadeus caught his eye and he shook his head in despair, aware this meant trouble, and the warrior’s grip tightened on his sword.

  The group started to climb the stairs and it wasn’t long before they arrived on the first level.

  ‘What is your plan?’ asked Mordorma, suddenly. ‘You know we are no match for Forusian without our staffs.’

  Bridgemear’s eyes narrowed.

  ‘Have I ever let you down before?’ he said with almost a trace of humour.

  Mordorma looked into Amella’s face and Bridgemear’s humour slipped away.

  ‘You’re going to have to trust me,’ Bridgemear snapped, pushing Mordorma aside.

  Mordorma grabbed Bridgemear firmly by the shoulder.

  ‘I do trust you, brother,’ he said, refusing to lower his gaze, ‘I did not mean to offend you, but we cannot go in there without a plan.’

  Bridgemear held his stare, but his expression showed he knew Mordorma spoke the truth.

  ‘I know we have very limited powers here,’ he warned them all. ‘Forusian is clever and has somehow drawn the dark side of magic to him, and this force could well be greater than our own. But we do have the element of surprise and our internal magic so we can still fight. If we’re lucky the others will come in time, but until then we must hold off whatever plans Forusian has in store for our realms and my daughter.’

  ‘And if they don’t come?’ asked Mordorma, gravely.

  ‘You know the answer to that,’ said Bridgemear, taking a deep breath. ‘You know as well as I do the consequences should we fail.’

  His eyes flicked over to Amella. She appeared unaware of his gaze and he watched her nervously bite her fingernails. He knew they would probably not make it out alive and for that he felt deep regret. Not for himself, he was beyond that feeling now, but for the woman and the child who had been bound together with an invisible love which his own selfishness had almost destroyed.

  ‘Let’s get going,’ he said, placing his hand on the door which he believed led to Forusian. ‘The time has come for us to fight, so let the battle of the mages commence.’

  Chapter 27

  The three wizards sitting outside the castle no longer watched the devilment which protruded from inside the castle. They had set up camp for the night on the brow of a hill, having no fear of being seen, and busied themselves building a fire to warm their chilled bones.

  ‘I know your mind burns with frustration,’ said Amafar to Elveria, ‘but we have no choice, we must sit this one out.’

  Elveria spun on his heels to glare at him. The shimmer from the fire struck his face at such an angle as to allow Amafar the impression of narrow eyes and a sneering mouth. He looked away and down at the floor for he had never liked Elveria.

  ‘Just listen to me, you y
oung whippersnapper!’ said Elveria, in an indignant tone. ‘We are not going to simply sit here whilst Bridgemear and Mordorma struggle to try and bring Crystal back.’

  ‘So what would you have us do?’ snapped Voleton, looking very serious. ‘Tell us, how can we help from way out here?’

  A rustle in the undergrowth made them all turn and draw their swords, becoming one unity whenever danger surfaced.

  ‘Are you friends of the magician, Bridgemear?’ asked a voice from out of the darkness.

  ‘Who wants to know?’ called out Amafar. He stole a glance at the others, who eyed him back with tension gripping their faces.

  ‘Show yourself!’ demanded Elveria, his mouth set in a firm scowl. ‘Are you friend or foe?’

  ‘Begging your pardon, my lord, I come to give you my help,’ replied Bracken, looming out of the shadows. Elveria relaxed at the sight of the wood sprite and one by one the mages replaced their swords.

  With a light, rustling step Bracken made his way closer.

  ‘Would you care to join us?’ asked Voleton, walking back to the sanctuary of the fire and sitting down.

  Bracken looked closely at the flames which flickered and danced mischievously towards the sky. He knew how easy it would be for his dry leaves to catch alight and he quickly shook his head.

  ‘I’ll stay here if you don’t mind,’ he said, with a tight smile, ‘but please go ahead and warm yourselves, there’s a chilly wind surrounding us tonight.’

  Elveria eyed the wood sprite and sniffed, crinkling his nose with distaste, and Bracken felt the leaves on his spine bristle and he sniffed back, only louder. Amafar chuckled and his eyes flashed to catch Elveria’s reaction but before the elder mage could chastise the cheeky fellow, a flash of bright light illuminated the night sky high above them and Elveria turned to see the profile of a huge bird, glowing silver, appear from the centre of the castle.