Angst (Book 4)

by Robert P. Hansen

  The Tween Effect? Angus thought—and quickly dismissed it. It was another trick….

  “No,” Angus said, squeezing the strands of magic more tightly. They were struggling fiercely against him, and he had nearly lost his grip on them again. “I must know what has happened to Embril and The Tiger’s Eye.” Would they tell him which one of them had it? It had to be with the patrol. The lava had started flowing at the Angst temple, and it had followed them across the plateau. The magic here was acting strangely, just as it would if The Tiger’s Eye was nearby. Master Renard had said it drew the nexus with it and left volcanoes erupting in its wake.

  “I told you,” Giorge said, “Darby took it north into the mountains. Embril is chasing after him.”

  “You lie,” Angus said. He tied the last knot of the Firecluster spell and threw it against the mountainside well above them to let the explosions punctuate his statement. They were far more violent than they should be, and that confirmed his suspicions. “The Tiger’s Eye is here,” he said.

  The horses whinnied and backed away, and while Giorge fought to steady his own mount, Angus quickly tied together a second Firecluster spell, pinching off the last knot to keep it from squirming out of his grip before he wanted to release it. “Tell me the truth,” he hissed, “or I will end you here and now.” He sneered and added, “Whoever you are!” The superimposed green Giorge turned sharply toward him a full second before the Giorge beneath it did the same. Yes, Angus thought. There are two.

  “What are you doing?!” Giorge demanded. “I told you the truth!”

  “You lied,” Angus said with soft certainty. “The Tiger’s Eye is here. I can see its influence.”

  “Giorgie,” the woman behind him began, but Giorge cut her off.

  “Mother!” He turned in his saddle and hissed. “Don’t…”

  His mother? Angus thought in surprise. He said she died years ago. Another lie! He almost released the Firecluster at Giorge and the apparition smothering him. But something held him back. He didn’t know what it was, but it was important.

  Giorge’s mother—if that was who she was—slid from the saddle and landed neatly on the ground beside Giorge’s horse. She stepped quickly to the side and approached Angus. “He didn’t do it, Angus. It wasn’t his fault.”

  “What did he do?” Angus gravely asked without taking his eyes from Giorge.

  “Mother!” Giorge growled—only, it wasn’t Giorge; it was the apparition attached to him.

  Giorge’s mother looked worriedly at him and said, again, “It wasn’t him.” Then she looked pleadingly at Angus and said, “It was the curse. It made him take The Tiger’s Eye.”

  Giorge’s mother deftly sidestepped Giorge’s horse as it lunged for her, and then she scurried back to the others, who had already backed away some distance to regroup.

  Why aren’t they attacking? Angus wondered as he finished the Firecluster spell and hurled it at Giorge—

  And the thing surrounding Giorge coalesced into a thick green shield that deflected the Firecluster away from him—but the shield did nothing to prevent the horse from rearing in alarm and dumping Giorge to the ground. The horse scooted past Angus and broke into a wild run. Once it was by him, Angus put it out of his mind and turned his full attention to Giorge, to the thing enveloping Giorge. It had used magic, and that meant it was a wizard or a witch.

  Giorge crouched. “Don’t!” he cried, thrusting his arms out in front of him. “It’s The Tween Effect!”

  The thing wrapped around Giorge stood up, and his hollow green eyes stared angrily back at Angus.

  “Who are you?” Angus asked, drawing the magic closer around him. “What have you done with The Tiger’s Eye?”

  The apparition crouched down and lifted Giorge neatly to his feet to face Angus. Giorge smiled, a sinister, knowing smile, and began to laugh. It started out as a soft chuckle and quickly grew to a full-fledged roar of deep-seated belly laughter. As the laughter escalated, Angus drew more flame magic toward him and began the Lava Geyser spell. It couldn’t be deflected away like Firecluster, so the apparition’s shield should be almost useless against it. But that didn’t mean the apparition didn’t have the ability to avoid it if he noticed the spell forming. A few good leaps would take him out of range of its effects….

  “I,” Giorge finally said with a slight bow, “am Symptata.” An evil grin spread across Giorge’s face as he—Symptata—added, “And The Tiger’s Eye is in a place you will never be able to find.”

  17

  Still the mind, Embril thought with desperation. Still the body. It had to be Angus, but Giorge said he was dead. Still the mind. Who else could it be? Still the body. Tears dribbled off her cheek as she watched the man in black fly like an arrow shot with utmost precision and ease—just the way Angus had done when he had finally mastered the spell. Still the mind. She had to warn him. Still the body.

  She took a deep breath and shook herself, but it did little good. Still the mind. She dropped forward and splashed cold water from the pool on her face. Still the body. Her hands were shaking as she brought them up to her face again. Still the mind. Giorge had betrayed her; what would he do to Angus? Still the body.

  Angus didn’t know what Giorge had done. Still the mind. She had to warn him about the betrayal! Still the body. Giorge had The Tiger’s Eye. Still the mind. She had to tell Angus before it was too late! Still the body. But it was too late. The Tiger’s Eye had been removed, and the volcanoes were about to erupt. Still the mind. She looked up at the blurry, smoke-filled late afternoon sky. They were already erupting. Still the mind. She brushed the sleeve of her damp robe over her eyes and blinked several times. Still the body. Her heartbeat steadied. Still the mind. Her fingers were steady. Still the body. Her mind was clear. Still the mind. She brought the magic into focus and clinically noted the changes in the flame magic. Still the body. She reached for a strand of air and methodically, mechanically went through the motions of tying the knot for the Flying spell. Still the mind. Her breath caught in her chest as she saw Angus nearing the ledge. Still the body. Her hand quivered as she lifted herself off the soggy ground and—

  She hesitated, hovering a few feet above the ground. Angus wasn’t alone. Still the mind. Someone was following him, and she couldn’t believe what it was. Still the body. A robed figure was riding—

  She gasped. Still the mind. It couldn’t be, could it? Still the body. But it was! The wizard was riding a horse through the air over the valley, and it was running as if it had wings on its feet! Still the body. No, it had wings on its feet! And the wizard held a staff in front of her that captured and held the setting sun’s light as if it were an orange ball of flame. Still the mind. Who could it be? Was she chasing him? Still the body. She turned her attention to the edge of the mountain where she had come from. There were other riders—strange white ones—but they weren’t flying. Still the mind. The witch had been with them, hadn’t she? And so had Angus. Still the body. If they hadn’t been with the men riding after them on the mountain, why were those men pursuing them? Still the mind. She turned away from them and looked at Angus. He was almost to the ledge, and he needed her. Still the body. She flew toward him, staying low in the shadows near the ground, well below the smoke, and watched him land. Still the mind. The other witch wasn’t paying her any attention; she was focused on Angus. Still the body. He alit with the same delicate butterfly-soft maneuver that she had seen him do so many times during the winter, so many times before he had gone off and gotten himself killed—almost killed. Still the mind.

  Several minutes passed as she flew after them, and then a cluster of flaming orbs struck the mountain above the patrol and illuminated the ledge like a lingering lightning bolt. What was that? she wondered as the balls of flame flickered and died out. Is Angus attacking someone? Or is he being attacked? She glanced at the other witch but there was no change in her pursuit. It can’t be Giorge….

  She flew faster and adjusted the arc of her flight so that s
he would come up from below the ledge and land near where she had seen Angus land. But she was still moving too slowly! The other witch was going to reach him first! If she was his enemy…

  Embril gasped as a second cluster of flaming orbs scattered off the ledge and burst. She had seen that happen when an apprentice’s wayward spell had to be deflected by one of the Masters. But that meant there was another wizard up there with Angus! Had the patrol had two wizards with them? Or was it Giorge? Neither thought made any sense, but what else could it be? Giorge’s mother? No. Giorge was the one who took The Tiger’s Eye, and that meant he could use it, didn’t it?

  She glanced up at the other witch. She was approaching the ledge and showed no sign of deviating from her path toward Angus. Her staff pulsed with a vibrant orange light, as if she was about to send forth a spell, but would it be directed at Angus? Or his foe?

  It didn’t matter. She could do nothing to prevent the witch from acting, nothing to help Angus fight against the other wizard. She was still too far away. Or was she?

  She frowned. There was one spell she could use even at this distance. It would be difficult, but if she could see Giorge, she could reach out like she had with Lieutenant Jarhad and lift him off of the ledge. But if Giorge had hurt Angus, she wouldn’t just suspend him over the valley; she would drop him into it!

  A soft, consistent orange glow emanated from the ledge like a Lamplight spell on a slow, persistent simmer. She looked at the staff the witch was holding—it shone almost as bright as the sun!—and the stoic control she had carefully nurtured began to slip away. She’s attacking him! she thought in horror, shifting her trajectory once more. She may not be able to see Giorge, but she could see the witch. If she plucked her from her saddle, would her feet grow wings?

  She reached for the strands of magic she needed and hastily wove together the spell and sent it at the witch. She wasn’t sure if it would work at this range, but what else could she do? Several seconds went by without anything happening, and then the witch was flung sideways off her saddle. But she didn’t fall. She dangled from the reins of her horse with one hand and clung to her staff with the other.

  Embril reached for another strand….

  18

  “Angus!” Hobart tried to grab him before he flew off, but Angus was too fast. “Wait!” he shouted. “Taro’s visions—I have to tell you about them!” But Angus kept going. Hobart smashed his gauntleted fist against the plate protecting his thigh. “The gods take you then!” he shouted after Angus. And the gods take me for not telling him about them. He turned toward the plateau and shook his head. It was burning the way Taro had said it would be, and if that vision was true, the others might be as well. Why hadn’t he told Angus about them when he had had the chance?

  Because he didn’t trust Angus. He didn’t trust this Angus. This Angus acted like everything revolved around him, and he was the only one who knew what to do. But he didn’t, did he? The fool had gone off into that smoke without preparing for it. Hobart rode back to the others and said, “He’s done it again.”

  Ortis nodded. “He’ll reach the patrol more quickly this way.”

  Hobart scrunched up his lips, shook his head, and dismounted. As he walked over to the pack horse, he snorted derisively and grumbled, “He’ll probably kill them all if he acts anything like Giorge did when he threw those mushrooms into the fire. He didn’t take one of Jagra’s sheet, and that smoke up there has to be full of those mushrooms. Can’t you feel it? The Tween Effect? What will it be like when we get further into the smoke?” He unstrapped the sheets he had purchased from Jagra and began to distribute them. He even offered one to Dagremon, but she smiled and rode forward as if the smoke didn’t matter to her.

  Ortis dismounted and moved over to the other side of the pack horse and unlaced the knots holding the waterskins in place. He followed after Hobart and handed a full waterskin to each rider after Hobart had handed them a sheet. As they dampened the cloth and draped it over their horses’ heads, Hobart turned around and started cursing. They were simple curses, since simple curses were the most effective, and he knew a lot of them. By the time he finished, the others were staring at what he was staring at: Dagremon’s horse had grown wings on its feet and was running on the air as if it were as solid as the road they were on. She would never catch up with Angus, though; he was already halfway across the valley. Still…

  “Wizards,” Hobart grumbled.

  Master Renard shook his head and said, “If I knew those spells, I would be with them. They will reach the patrol long before we will on these horses.”

  Hobart knew this was true, but that didn’t make it right. They should have stayed together, but Angus had gone off on his own and Dagremon had followed after him. It would take at least two days to catch up with them on horseback, and a lot of bad things could happen in two days. Especially to Angus. He had been on edge even without The Tween Effect; what would he be like with it?

  “Look,” Ortis said, pointing down into the valley below them. “Could that be Embril? She wore a blue robe, didn’t she?”

  Hobart looked at where he was pointing and frowned. There was a blue blur streaking across the valley floor, just above the trees. Another wizard, he thought in disgust. What’s she going to do?

  “Yes,” Master Renard said as he got the faraway look in his eyes that wizards got when they cast their spells. “It is her.”

  That was good, wasn’t it? Didn’t Angus say he was looking for Embril? She was the one who had taken The Tiger’s Eye, wasn’t she? All Angus needed to do now was to look down at her. But he wasn’t about to do that, was he? He was flying straight for the patrol—and they had noticed him. “We will have to ride hard,” he said. “We won’t be able to rendezvous with the patrol for a day or two, but if we can get to that tunnel Angus made in the rock, we’ll have some protection from the smoke.”

  “It will be good shelter for the night,” Ortis agreed as he climbed back into his saddle. “It will be dark when we get there.”

  They rode for some time, and then Master Renard shouted, “The patrol has selected a spokesman.”

  Hobart lowered his sheet and looked up to see that Angus had landed on the ledge. Dagremon was about three fourths of the way there, but she wouldn’t reach him before they had a chance to parley. What was she up to, anyway? He knew what Angus was doing—he was desperate to find Embril and The Tiger’s Eye—but what about Dagremon? She had been enigmatic about it, hadn’t she? “Our destinies have crossed paths,” she’d said. But what was her destiny? Every time he had broached the subject, she had just smiled and didn’t answer—or gave him another riddle. Now she was following Angus, and that meant she wanted the same thing Angus did, didn’t it? She was after The Tiger’s Eye, too! That meant Angus was in danger—and so was the patrol.

  He was still trying to figure out what Dagremon was up to when Master Renard rode up beside him and said, “Something is wrong.”

  Hobart looked at the ledge and saw Angus hurl balls of fire at the mountain above the patrol. He had seen that spell before, at the construction site where they had asked him if he wanted to join his Banner. It had set fire to the mountainside and would have done a lot more damage if it hadn’t been for the quick action of the construction crew. Hobart and his companions had to run after their horses for hours before they were able to get all of them back again. But the patrol was still mounted, and they kept their horses under control. Why had Angus done it? Was something coming out of the mountain to attack the patrol? He frowned. No. That wasn’t it at all. It had been a warning, just like when the fishmen got too close to an outpost and the men sent a catapult full of burning oil flasks at them. But why was Angus warning the patrol like that?

  The Tween Effect. It was the only explanation. Someone had said something that Angus had taken the wrong way, just like when Giorge had skittered off into the trees because he thought he saw something when there was nothing there. Even after Hobart had told him what Angus had don
e, Giorge hadn’t been able to control himself. Was that what was happening to Angus? If it was, the patrol was in trouble, and—

  Angus hurled a second spell at the envoy—and it bounced off him!

  “He has a shield,” Master Renard said with some surprise. “But it isn’t Darby.”

  “I have a shield,” Hobart snapped. “It doesn’t do that.”

  Master Renard didn’t bother to turn to him as he said, “It is a spell that is capable of deflecting flames—magical or otherwise—away from the one it protects. With it—” he pointed at the plateau without looking at it “—you could walk unscathed through that conflagration.” He frowned. “I don’t know him,” he said. “I observed the patrol when they left Hellsbreath, and he was not with them. Nor was the woman.”

  “Woman?” Hobart asked. “You can see them from here?” He looked at the distant profiles of the horses and riders. They looked almost like the toy figurines he had played with as a child. He couldn’t even make out the color of their hair; it was just a dark blob.

  “Yes,” he said. “She is small, almost childlike in stature. Her hair is long and black, and her eyes are older than her size would suggest. Her skin is dark, like his. I think they are related.”

  Small, dark-skinned, black hair…. Hobart frowned and dismissed the thought before it could fully form. He didn’t need that distraction….

  Master Renard leaned forward and squinted. “I think he’s casting another spell,” he said. “I can’t be certain. His movements are quite subtle. He could just be flexing his fingers in preparation of casting one.” He sat back and said, “No. It is a spell. I wonder what it will do.”

  Hobart stared at the scene, but all he could see for sure was that the patrol was retreating from Angus. All but the little man who had parleyed with him. He was standing up in front of Angus, and even from this distance it was clear he was a head shorter than Angus. Then the ledge beneath the little man started to glow orange.