The Painter Mage: Books 1-3

by D. K. Holmberg

  Color exploded outward.

  The angle protected me. Had Devan not created the charm in just the right way, the ink would likely have drifted back toward me, leaving me as blinded as any other. I didn’t want to harm anyone else, just incapacitate them.

  Someone coughed in the corner.

  I sprinted toward the sound, keeping my head low as I ran. The other charm remained clutched tightly in my fist, ready for the next attack. Power built around me as I skidded to a stop where I’d heard the sound.

  There was no one here.

  Shit.

  I turned, but too late. Something struck me from behind, throwing me forward.

  Had I not been wearing the belt Devan made me, it might have been enough to kill. Instead, it simply knocked me over, throwing me into the wooden wall of the barn. Splinters scraped my face, threatening to tear off my cheek. A spider dropped onto my head, and I shook it in a panic. What can I say? I’m more afraid of spiders than the blast from another painter.

  I rolled, readying the charm, swiveling it outward. But there was no one there.

  “Devan?” I called out.

  There came no response. The amulet I wore didn’t give any sense. Either she wasn’t here, or she wasn’t awake enough to use her magic.

  A dark laugh echoed across the barn. “Could it really be Escher Morris? The son of the great master painter known as the Elder?”

  I stood, my legs shaky and barely holding me up. Something twinged in my back. “It’s Oliver. And yeah, I came for my friend.”

  He laughed again. I assumed it was Adazi, though I’d never spoken to him before.

  “Your friend has proven less useful than I anticipated. And here I thought the daughter of the Trelking would have the power to return to his realm.”

  There goes any hope that he didn’t know who Devan was. Not that I really expected it. Why else would he have grabbed her? He must have known, but it begged the question as to how?

  “I’ve felt the same way. You don’t always get what you want with the Te’alan.”

  Leaning forward, I made my way toward where it sounded like Adazi had been. I couldn’t be certain, but it seemed he was up in the loft near the back of the barn. It would explain how he’d attacked us so easily without me seeing him. Likely he had a few patterns prepared, but the attacks had built pretty quickly.

  “Perhaps you don’t, Escher, but I think I will.”

  I grunted. “Well, you’ve got to cross the Threshold first.”

  And since this had been a one-way gate, he couldn’t do that here. Thankfully, the shifters had the other crossings covered. I hoped.

  “She isn’t really why I came.”

  I froze. “Then why did you come, Adazi?”

  He laughed. “You’re as clever as your reputation would have me believe, Escher. There is something I would like. A certain piece that has some value to me. And you are the only person I would trust to get it.”

  “Get it yourself.”

  Adazi stepped forward. He was up in the loft as I’d suspected. He wasn’t terribly tall and looked thin and wiry. He stood away from the ledge, careful not to come into the light. “That is the problem, Escher. When I tried to reach it, there were certain repercussions.”

  I wished he’d stop calling me Escher. It was the name my father had given me, but I’d never really liked it. My mother gave me my middle name after my grandfather on her side. That was the name I preferred.

  I thought about ignoring his demands, but would I be able to get Devan back if I did?

  He wouldn’t hurt her, would he? I mean, would Adazi really dare harm the daughter of the Trelking? Doing so would put him smack in his crosshairs, but that was assuming he could cross the Threshold and reach the Trelking’s realm.

  “This was all about drawing me out?” I asked.

  Adazi laughed. “Not entirely, but I thought De’avan might be more persuasive than I.”

  He said her proper name with the proper inflection, clearly having learned the language from the Te’alan. “Then what is it? Tell me what you want?”

  Adazi jumped down from the loft and landed lightly in a cloud of dust. I blinked. Painters weren’t superhuman. We could draw power and augment what we could draw naturally and use that for amazing effect, but we had limits. We got tired, hurt, sick, just like anyone else. He shouldn’t be able to just jump out of the loft.

  He stalked toward me. As he did, the streaks of gray in his hair darkened, almost as if he were shifting. I hesitated. Could he be a shifter? It would explain his power and the fact that he’d surprised Devan. No one with any magical talent ever really surprised her. The only one I’d ever seen succeed was Jakes.

  But shifters had no need of painting. Why would a shifter bother to spend the necessary time and energy to learn painting when they could simply manifest power? I didn’t even know if they could use painter magic.

  “What are you?” I asked.

  I held the rectangular charm carefully in my palm. If I needed it, I might not have many chances to use it, and if Adazi had anything like shifter magic, there wasn’t much I could do to protect myself. Taylor might be able to do a little more damage; I’d seen the way she battled Jakes before we realized what he was. Not many painters were able to summon that much power, at least not with any control. Taylor had managed to keep it focused on Jakes, to hold it tightly as she worked against him. Maybe I should have let her be the one to break the circle.

  Adazi stood in front of me. He had a hawkish nose and deep green eyes. Sallow cheeks had scars worked along them, and the skin on his face looked as if it might sag free. He wore clothing, but it was rough woven cottons and faded, reminding me of what I’d worn when I worked for Devan’s father.

  “Not who?” Adazi asked.

  “I know who you are. You might not know it, but I’ve been countering your moves for years.”

  Adazi smiled and stopped about five paces away from me. Could I get the charm to fire accurately at that distance? I thought I could, but I’d have to be fast.

  “Yes. Unfortunate that the Trelking found you. What else do you know of me?”

  “I know he has wanted you dead.”

  “That’s sweet of him to think of me.”

  I laughed. “I don’t know if you should really consider it sweet. Besides, he didn’t think much of you.” Adazi arched a brow at me. “He assigned me the task of killing you.”

  “Ahh. I must say, a piss poor job you’ve done of it.”

  I shrugged, hoping the banter would put him at ease. Then I could fire the charm at him. Maybe—just maybe and with Taylor’s help—I might be able to contain him long enough to find out where he’d stashed Devan, assuming she wasn’t here.

  “I didn’t really try. Killing isn’t much my style.”

  “Oh? You should try it. Taking a life can be so…revealing.”

  He moved faster than I could think. One moment he stood in front of me; the next, he was behind me. I had to spin to keep up, knowing there wasn’t much I could do to focus. I had no idea how he managed to move so quickly.

  I lowered my arm. The charm would be useless against someone who could move as quickly as Adazi. “What do you want from me?”

  He forced a sickly smile. It made the skin on his cheeks seem to hang even more slack. Only his eyes looked alive, bright and vicious. “The Elder’s son returned to the place of his birth,” Adazi said.

  He stepped around me again, another flicker too fast to follow. I turned, tapping my toe in the dust of the barn as I did. If nothing else, I could at least keep myself safe.

  “I returned for peace and quiet,” I said. “And then you had to go and ruin it.”

  “Ahh, but you brought De’avan with you. Doing so has angered some on the other side.”

  “Like the Druist Mage?” I still didn’t know if Adazi worked with him, or not.

  “The Druist, and others.”

  “It wouldn’t be the first time.”

  The Dru
ist Mage worked with dark powers. He used nothing like paints or patterns, rather he had a different type of magic, magi magic that I didn’t really understand. From what I’d seen, its focus was darkness. He wasn’t an inherently magical being, not like the Te’alan or shifters, but he controlled enough power that threatened the Trelking. It was why the Trelking had offered Devan in the first place, though I suspected the Trelking had another motive, one that I didn’t fully understand.

  “Yes. The Trelking’s artist. There are some who speak quite highly of your skill.”

  I snorted. “If he thinks I’m an artist, then he still has quite a bit to learn. Now, why don’t you say who you’re working for?”

  His smile peeled back from his lips. “You think I’m only here for another?”

  “You took Devan. Other than the Trelking, there’s only one other interested in her.”

  “So rushed, aren’t we, Elder’s son?”

  “I was thinking I wanted to get back home in time for dinner. You know, they have a great meatloaf sandwich at the Rooster. Maybe you want to come with me?”

  Adazi stopped in front of me. This time, he was close enough to almost touch.

  I didn’t wait. I pointed the charm and pressed.

  It didn’t fire.

  A few things happened. I’d like to say I handled them well.

  Adazi attacked. He moved like a gust of wind. Power assaulted me, but thankfully, I’d managed to power the circle around me, providing enough protection to keep him from incinerating me. This close to him, there was no way I would survive his power.

  What could only be described as a deep purple orb struck Adazi in the chest. He flew back, catching himself within moments, and turned, actually catching the orb and throwing it back. It exploded back toward Taylor.

  She crumpled to the floor with a grunt.

  Adazi turned back to me. Taylor’s attack had given me enough time to seal myself inside a proper circle. I’d used black ink, the color that resonated most deeply within me. Even with his power, I doubted Adazi would be able to attack me through a protective circle made in black ink.

  He smiled. I thought his face might fall off. “She is powerful. Inexperienced, but powerful.”

  I shrugged. “Doesn’t listen too well, though. I’d told her to stay back.”

  Adazi’s dark smile considered me as he slinked along the outer edge of my circle. If I’d made it properly, there wasn’t much he could do to step past my protective barrier, but that was a big IF. With as hasty as I’d needed to be, I couldn’t be certain. It felt like it was secure.

  He flicked something at the barrier. Fire burned through me as the barrier held.

  I smiled at him. “Seems we have a standoff here.”

  Adazi tipped his head. “Do we? But you brought another to gain the upper hand. I think I will need to even the odds.”

  With that, he spun and flicked what looked to be a fireball—an honest to goodness ball of flame—at where Taylor lay crumpled. I tensed. There was nothing I could do, not without getting myself killed.

  The fireball struck a barrier and diffused.

  I let out a shaky breath. “You okay there?” I called.

  “Fine,” Taylor said.

  Adazi shifted his attention back toward me. “A standoff it is,” he said. “But I believe I hold the upper hand.”

  “For now. I will get Devan back from you.”

  “Oh, I fully intend to release De’avan.”

  The way he said it sent a chill up my spine. “What is it you want, Adazi? Why did you come here?”

  He moved, stepping in that weird, flickering way he had, that made him seem less than human. When he turned back to me, his eyes shone with anger. “There is something on this side that I would have.”

  “Yeah? It seems to me that you’ve got enough power to just go and get it.”

  Adazi leaned all the way up to the barrier I held. I resisted the urge to use one of my charms. Doing so would disrupt the protective circle, and from what I’d seen, I didn’t know if he would manage to slip through in that brief moment the defenses were lowered. It was a real standoff.

  “You would think so, wouldn’t you?” he asked. His breath smelled fetid, and I leaned away, unwilling to be too close. He smiled and showed yellowed teeth. “And yet, claiming what I seek involves the sort of risk I’m loathe to take. That is where you come in, Mr. Morris.”

  My mind raced, trying to think what sort of item a painter like Adazi would want. Inks? Paints? Maybe even some historical piece of art? Anything like that wouldn’t be all that hard for him to secure on his own. Could he want something from my father’s house? That had been the reason Taylor came to Conlin, hoping to steal a book written in my father’s own hand, but doing so almost led her to release nightmares on this world. If he’d wanted something from the house, I got the sense he wouldn’t really need me. The way that he’d snuck in and abducted Devan told me that he had enough power and skill to simply take what he wanted.

  The only answer I could come up with was that he wanted something magical. And whoever guarded it had more power than Adazi.

  Shifters?

  “Are you going to tell me or am I going to have to stand here and smell your breath all day?”

  Adazi jerked back. I thought he might try attacking again, but he tilted his head back and laughed. When the laughter trailed off, he fixed me with those hard eyes. I resisted the urge to shiver. “Insults? Best be careful, Mr. Morris, or De’avan will return to the Druist. And I think we both know you do not wish for that.”

  “So if I do this, whatever it is you want, you’ll simply hand over Devan?”

  The dark smile that twisted his mouth made me question anything that might come out. “You don’t think you can trust me?”

  “Not particularly.”

  “Fine.” He lifted his shirt, revealing pale, yellowing flesh beneath. I could almost imagine that it was translucent, that I could see the organs beneath. With a long nail, he carved a series of interlocking lines into his chest, drawing faint lines of blood. He touched the pattern and pressed. “When Escher Morris completes his task, I will release De’avan Te’alan back into his custody.”

  Power surged beneath his fingers. There was a flash of light and the scent of burnt flesh. Adazi sucked in a shallow breath.

  Then he looked over at me. “You understand what that means?”

  I nodded carefully. I’d never seen anyone make a pattern like that on himself before. It was a marker of promise, one that would hold the bearer and bind him. If Adazi did not release Devan as he promised, the pattern would consume him.

  “Now. Can we move forward with a measure of trust?”

  I nodded again, not trusting myself to speak. That he was willing to place such a mark on himself meant either he had no intention of misdirection, or that he had another way of escaping the mark. For now, I was forced to trust him.

  “As you undoubtedly know, your home town sits at a waypoint. That is why, I suspect, the Elder chose this place as his home.” He sneered as he said it, a note of disgust in his voice.

  I had no idea that Conlin was a waypoint. Worse, I had no idea what Adazi meant by calling it a waypoint.

  “Your point being?”

  “Only that this is a place of power. One such as I cannot simply appear in the domain of the Elder and take what I seek. But the son of the Elder?” His smile deepened. “There are places you can go that I would never be allowed entrance. Do you understand?”

  “I’m afraid you’re going to have to spell it out for me.”

  Adazi tipped his head. His eyes shifted to Taylor. She stood in her circle, a wide pattern worked within her circle now glowing with soft light. Another ball of purple energy formed and Taylor appeared to hold it. Adazi grinned at her. “If she lives, she might be dangerous one day.”

  “I’m not dangerous?”

  Adazi turned back to me. “You are the son of the Elder.”

  I didn’t know if he
said that as a compliment or an insult.

  Adazi moved so that I, still inside my circle, was positioned between him and Taylor. He leaned toward me again. One of his hands slipped into his pocket. I tensed again as he reached in, uncertain what he had planned.

  But he only pulled a single sheet of paper from his pocket and set it on the ground. “This is what you will acquire. Find this and bring it to me.”

  “And then you’ll release Devan?”

  His smiled darkened, and he tipped his head, either nodding or acknowledging whatever pattern Taylor had built. “I’ll give you three days.”

  I felt power build and looked over at Taylor. There was another surge of power, greater than anything I’d sensed so far, and when I turned back, Adazi’s mark glowed softly on the ground. He was gone. The folded sheet of paper rested on the ground outside my circle like a taunt.

  6

  Adazi’s page lay unfolded on the long bench in the garage. I’d righted the bench and done what I could to repair the legs. Devan would have to fix it better once she returned. I had no doubt she would be angry with me if I tried anything more than lightly cleaning up the mess. This was her space, as much as the house and the basement were mine.

  “What do you think it is?” Taylor asked. She leaned over my shoulder. The scent of her hair and the spearmint gum she chewed mingled together. At least it was better than Adazi’s breath.

  Adazi—I assumed it was Adazi—had drawn a picture of a simple sphere. Worked on the surface of the sphere were a series of symbols, patterns, and shapes that could be marks of power or nothing more than writing in some foreign language. The detail to the drawing was more than anything I could ever hope to replicate. The sphere was set into a shaded stand. If I hadn’t known better, I would think it some sort of mystical snow globe.

  “I don’t really know. It’s nothing of my father’s.”

  “Are you sure?”

  Since returning to Conlin, I’d searched the house for anything that might be artifacts of power, anything that might have been made or marked by my father. Other than the book written in his hand, I hadn’t found anything.