by Casey Wolfe
“That cat form must not take a lot out of him then.”
Jorah and Quail were going back and forth about more theories on the subject of shapechanging, but Rowan tuned them out. He was still in shock over the fact Badger was no mere cat. How had he managed to hide like that for so long? Why had he kept returning to the shop? There were so many questions Rowan had, yet he couldn’t wrap his head around the concept long enough to even start piecing any of it together.
“This turnoff here,” Tate directed Quail into the forest off the main road. “There’s another road that will take us to a parking area for a trailhead. We can follow that up toward the lake.”
“As we get closer,” Jorah said, “I should be able to pick up on a soul track to take us to the cave.”
Rowan was half paying attention. He shifted to pull his phone out, opening up the texting app. I love you, he typed. He entered both Shaw and Caleb as recipients, thumb hovering over the send button. There would be questions, suspicions, on both their parts should he send a text like that out of the blue. Before he could change his mind, he powered his phone off instead, returning it to his pocket.
Sacha must have noticed. She was the one who stole the marker from him that time, jotting lines of runes on the back of his right arm. Rowan allowed for the distraction.
Chapter Eleven
THE CAVE WAS tucked away behind thick brush and trees. It blended in seamlessly with the landscape, even without the powerful magic hiding it. As it was, Quail had to drop the wards they encountered, while Sacha did away with the illusion spell cast upon it.
“Quail, Rowan,” Jorah instructed from their place crouched in the darkness, “cast for any traps.” They merely needed the surrounding woods and small clearing in front of the cave to be safe. Anything that awaited them inside would never be put to use as they all agreed that being drawn in would mean their deaths.
“At the entrance,” Rowan informed them, “there’s a tripwire.”
“The treetops,” Quail added.
“I see them,” Sacha said. Her eyes glowed a stunning shade of indigo as she reached out with her own magic, disabling the firebombs dangling in the branches over the clearing. Undoubtedly, they were meant to drop on whoever was following the unsuspecting triggerman into the cave. Just the same, there was no reason to risk them being set off in another manner.
“I’m not picking up anything else,” Rowan said. “I guess he figured that would be enough.”
“He never expected to be found,” Jorah agreed. “He was brazen enough to be near you this whole time.”
Rowan scowled.
“Tate,” Jorah continued, motioning him forward, “I need you to draw him out.” He met Tate’s gaze, assuring him, “I’ll be right there.”
Hanging back in the tree line, Rowan watched while Tate stepped into the open. Jorah moved quickly without making a sound, practically melting into the shadows beside the cave entrance.
“Come out, mage!” Tate barked, summoning an ax from thin air. “It’s time for you to answer for your crimes!”
Menacing laughter echoed through the clearing and woods around them. A chill went down Rowan’s spine, and he knew immediately that they had been expected.
“Tate!” Rowan yelled, lunging out of hiding and hooking Tate around the waist, taking them both to the ground.
An array of daggers sailed over them, embedding into the bark of the trees. They were glowing black with the taint of dark magic.
Rowan turned as he sat up, Tate already popping into a crouch. The laughter died down to center on the source. Stepping from the darkness was none other than the mage Rowan saw in his vision.
The man in front of them didn’t look like someone they would peg as being off at first glance. He was tall and broad across the shoulders. There was scruff from a few days of not shaving and his dark hair was a bit unkempt where it curled at his neck. His jeans and loose-fitting tee were dirty from being in the forest, but really, the mage was rather handsome.
It was the manic smile that gave his true nature away, his sickly yellow eyes glowing like beacons.
Rowan wasn’t sure where his self-assuredness came from. Perhaps it was the fact he knew that not only were their lives in danger, but the lives of all the mages in Everstrand should they fail. Rowan didn’t want to know what the Inquisition would do to them should they find out, or how many more people this shapechanger would kill before he was finally put down.
Standing defiant, Rowan greeted, “Badger.”
The man grinned back. “Nothing personal, Rowan.”
Jorah had been slinking into position, as silent as the shadows themselves. However, Badger somehow knew he was there, turning and throwing a snare spell Jorah’s way. Dodging, Jorah rolled to the side, popping up and thrusting with his staff. At the same time, Tate pushed past Rowan, aiming his ax at Badger’s back.
Neither man connected, Badger wisping away as shadow and reappearing a couple of feet to the right. It wasn’t a skill learned lightly, but then Badger had already proven to be a man of many talents. He flickered in and out a few more times, dodging every blow the pair could throw.
With a taunting laugh, Badger ensnared Tate’s neck with a vine of pure darkness. It caused Tate to fall to his knees. Every time he gasped for air, the spell squeezed tighter. Rowan wrapped his fingers around it to attempt a counterspell and was scalded for his trouble, Tate wincing.
While Jorah went toe to toe with Badger—landing a few hits in the process—Sacha was able to act. “Well, that is enough of that,” she stated, literally putting her foot down. Incantation said under her breath, she threw her arms out wide into the air, casting a net of light.
Badger screeched, vanishing completely. As they all blinked away spots from their vision and looked around the area, now lit by bright floating orbs, they all realized the same thing. “Decoy,” Rowan growled, immediately on alert.
Tate was coughing, which was a good sign, Quail coming to his aid. “Relax,” Quail urged, hand glowing a healing blue.
Rowan couldn’t afford to be distracted. Only three of them were currently in the fight and Badger could have been anywhere. Beside him, Sacha gripped her own staff tightly.
“Where is he, Sacha?” Jorah demanded, resting the bladed end of his staff behind his shoulder.
Eyes glowing as she stretched her powers outward, her detection ability came through for them. “There.” She pointed toward the lake, visible between the trees, down an overgrown path. “I see a presence.”
“There’s no point in using stealth,” Jorah said. “He knows we’re here. Sacha, keep light on us at all times. We’re not giving him the opportunity to use any of those same tricks again. Tate, are you alright?”
“I’ll be fine.” His voice was a bit hoarse, and Rowan saw what appeared to be a burn looping around his neck, but already it was healing, thanks to Quail.
“Good. You and Rowan stay with me. Quail…just try to keep out of the way.”
“‘Keep out of the way,’ he says,” Quail grumbled. “What does he think I’ve been doing?”
Rowan’s smirk dropped away when he caught Jorah staring at him. He was always so difficult to read; his face seemed to be permanently set in stone. “Follow my lead,” Jorah told them all, despite the fact he was still watching Rowan with that piercing gaze.
They made their way down the path, Sacha casting another net of light when they broke through the trees to view the water. There was nothing there—as far as Rowan could tell—just the lake, with a low layer of fog, surrounded by the woods. Even the wildlife had gone silent.
“Get out here, Badger!” Rowan hollered, hoping to instigate him into showing his hand before he was ready.
Jorah looked at Rowan in disapproval. Still, he added, “You’ve got nowhere to run. We will hunt you down in whatever hole you crawl into.”
“Is that so?” They whirled around, the voice having come from behind, turning once more when the voice spoke from yet another d
irection. “Seems like you’re at a disadvantage.”
Tate huffed, having traded out his summoned ax for a swifter sword instead. He twisted it in his grasp, allowing it to absorb light energy, causing it to glow brightly. “I’d like to see you try that again.”
Rowan wasn’t as skilled with light as Sacha, or even Tate, but he knew how to make a mean fireball. He would have to be careful about where he flung them so he wouldn’t burn the woods down around them. He allowed electricity to dance across his fingers, hoping to stun Badger when he showed himself before landing a direct hit with flame.
As with most plans, it didn’t exactly work that way.
Jorah reacted before Rowan even knew what was happening, strafing in front of Rowan and holding up his staff diagonally. Badger impacted the force field, snarling as he slashed out with hands that had grown deadly looking claws.
Seeing his chance, Rowan let loose an electrical arc. Badger cast a counter that sent it into a nearby tree. As the wood exploded and splintered, Quail threw up a shield to protect him and Sacha, who was busy holding the array of lights.
Once more, Tate and Jorah worked to encircle Badger, giving him all they had. The light may have prevented him from using the shadows to teleport, but that didn’t seem to help them. Both physical and magical attacks didn’t penetrate his powerful shield. If they were going to do any damage, they would have to take it down.
Rowan narrowed his eyes. “Dodge this,” he spat, pushing out with both hands. The shield shattering spell that had been in his grandmother’s old books shot straight through Badger’s defenses. In fact, it went so far as to launch him back a good six feet, sending him skidding along the ground.
Badger looked up, yellow eyes piercing into Rowan. “Should have stayed out of it, Rowan,” he growled. His shield fizzled as he attempted to bring it back, but Badger appeared unconcerned by the new development.
Tate and Jorah’s next attacks were countered, Badger knocking them off their feet with a gust of wind. He threw Sacha and Quail back against the trees near their cover. Thick roots were pulled straight up from the ground, wrapping around all four of them. Thorns prevented them from moving. Jorah cursed, but every time he attempted to cast a new incantation to break the trap, the vines squeezed tighter.
Rowan tried again to hit Badger with a shock spell. Except, Badger did something Rowan had never seen before. He trapped the electricity in a ball of dark energy.
Badger’s grin was anything but friendly, too many teeth flashing in menace. “One by one they fall. One by one I’ll rip them apart. It’s tempting to save you for last…make you watch while there’s nothing you can do to stop me.”
Hand behind his back, Rowan switched tactics, pulling moisture from the air and cooling it rapidly.
If Badger noticed, it didn’t worry him in the least as he stepped closer. “You shouldn’t have come looking for me.” He brought the electrified dark energy ball up in one hand. “There is so much I wanted to show you, Rowan. So much we could have been.”
“That’s why you kept coming back to the shop?” Rowan spat.
“You ooze power,” Badger all but purred. “You were like a beacon. It’s a shame these fools could never see your potential.”
“You’re right.” Their eyes met. “But looks like you underestimated me too.”
Rowan slung the spell, ice shards whipping around to slash at Badger. The ball of energy flew into the air, landing short of Rowan. The impact shattered it—the shock spell dissipating into the air in all directions.
One of the sparks hit Rowan, passing through him before discharging into the ground. Though enough to sting and make his heart skip a beat, he didn’t go down. He hated to imagine what would have happened had it been a direct hit.
Badger glared at him, a snarl that was more animal than man leaving his throat. “I’m warning you, Rowan.”
Rowan smirked, feeling more confident than he had a minute ago. Badger was bleeding from multiple lacerations, some of them deep. While he could mimic the shapeshifting abilities of others, he couldn’t copy their healing.
The blood gave Rowan an idea. His eyes flicked over to Jorah’s staff, lying discarded on the ground. Apparently, Badger noticed because he lunged straight for him. Rowan brought up a wall of earth, cutting him off and allowing Rowan to make a play for the staff.
“Ro!” Tate managed to choke out before the vines tightened.
Badger snagged Rowan’s leg, tripping him. Rowan rolled to his back, kicking out as he tried to wiggle away. Badger dug his claws into Rowan’s leg, yanked him closer, and sneered. “Where you goin’, Rowan?”
Rowan heated his hand with fire and lashed out at Badger. Both his wrists were grabbed and slammed to the ground. Badger levered himself farther over Rowan.
When Rowan opened his mouth to shout an incantation, Badger whispered, “Hush.” He blew black smoke from his mouth, the spell wrapping around Rowan’s vocal cords and stopping him in midsentence. “None of that now, pet.”
Rowan felt panic bubble up. Now, he was well and truly trapped at the hands of a psychotic dark mage. Worse yet, his guildmates were unable to do anything to aid him. His eyes must have given him away because Badger chuckled.
“Now, now, no need to get out of sorts. This just gives us a chance to talk properly.”
Rowan’s eyes narrowed.
“Aww, don’t look at me like that.” Badger shifted his weight to settle on top of Rowan, bringing their faces closer. “You know, you’re adorable when you’re angry.”
The spell didn’t stop Rowan from breathing, so he was able to huff a reply.
“And look what we have here,” Badger all but cooed, catching all the runes on Rowan’s left arm. He gathered both of Rowan’s wrists into one hand in order to run his finger across them. Rowan shivered, feeling the prickle of dark magic as it interacted with the runes. “You can be so naive sometimes.” Badger patted his cheek.
Rowan glared. He was very tempted to bite those fingers right off, but he doubted that would end very well.
“One last chance, Rowan.” Badger pressed down on him. “We could be great together.”
Rowan opened his mouth, no words coming out.
“Did you want to say something, pet?”
Rowan gave him his best annoyed look. What gave you that idea?
He had wanted his voice back but wasn’t exactly thrilled with the way Badger went about reversing the spell. The lips on his were chapped, though it wasn’t so much a kiss. Rowan’s mouth fell open in surprise, Badger inhaling to draw the black smoke out. Rowan coughed at the sensation, ignoring Badger smirking above him.
“Well? Don’t keep me in suspense.”
Rowan glared. “Vigoréton,” he said, Badger instantly flying away with the force of the incantation. Rowan scrambled up to his hands and knees, reaching for Jorah’s staff. “Shouldn’t have been so cocky.”
His hands, thankfully, wrapped around the staff that time.
Badger groaned from yet another face full of dirt. “I gave you a chance,” he growled, watching Rowan rise to his feet. “I would have given you anything. Taught you everything. And you throw it back in my face!”
The bladed end of the staff hovered above Rowan’s hand. “No!” Badger shouted. The cut was deep, and Rowan felt delicate ligaments go, but he would simply have to hope Quail could fix it later. This was survival.
Eyes glowing as he tapped into the blood sacrifice for further power, Rowan could imagine the sight he made—blood dripping from his hand, wind whipping around him—as he drew on his Primal abilities. “Could have surrendered,” Rowan reminded him, barely recognizing his own voice as it twisted into something not entirely human.
Badger stubbornly refused to just lie down and die, coming at Rowan again. That time Rowan was ready, calling the fog from the lake. Wisping out of sight, the mist enveloped and hid him as he moved to flank Badger.
“Using my own tricks against me?”
“Not quite the
same,” Rowan answered, his voice echoing in the fog.
At last, he was able to land a shock spell on Badger. The crack in the air was deafening and smelled of ozone. The power behind it was fueled by blood, and even Badger couldn’t escape its effects—he was left immobile and barely breathing with nasty-looking burns over most of his body.
Stepping from the mist, Rowan gazed down at him. “Sorry,” he offered. There was fear in Badger’s eyes—the first flicker of real emotion—when Rowan raised the staff.
The blade slammed through Badger’s chest. He opened his mouth in a soundless scream. The yellow glow of his eyes faded, replaced with the blankness of death. Rowan trembled at the sight, releasing the staff and backing away slowly.
The grateful sounds of his fellow mages drew his attention, the vines releasing their hold. They were all covered in cuts and bruises, but they were alive.
“You did it,” Tate breathed in relief, rubbing his throat. He was the first to reach Rowan, grabbing his shoulders. “You okay?”
Rowan stared at him, unsure what to say. He didn’t feel like he was in his own skin at the moment, which made absolutely no sense. Tate frowned when he didn’t answer, looking frantically in Jorah’s direction.
“Rowan.” Quail gestured for his injured hand. “That was foolish. But, I won’t complain about the result.”
“Nor will I.” Jorah reached out and yanked his staff free, twirling it before tucking it under his arm. He actually appeared concerned as he gazed at Rowan’s hand. “Will he be alright?” he inquired of Quail.
“I’ll be able to repair the damage.” To Rowan, he said, “I’ll need to get you some of my potions first. And it might take a couple treatments, but…”
Rowan nodded, thankful to hear it. The magic prickling his skin was gentle as his blood vessels were stitched back together. At least he wouldn’t bleed out before Quail could fix the rest of his hand.
“Try not to use it,” Quail urged. He wrapped it with one of the bandages he brought with him, immobilizing it. Once that was in place, he tugged Rowan’s arm. “Come over here and sit so I can look at that leg.” Glancing at Jorah, Quail suggested, “Why don’t you and Tate dig a grave while you wait.”