Then Young Peli punches right through the Contagion’s rib cage.
I inhale a shocked breath as Young Peli pulls his hand out from the Contagion’s chest. There are some accompanying squish noises which I work hard to ignore. It doesn’t work totally. Once Young Peli’s hand is free, a new object sits in him palm.
The carved peak from a wizard’s staff. It’s the original one Young Peli gave to Quilliam. The fake.
I frown, trying to process what I’m seeing. Young Peli just pulled that thing out of the Contagion’s rib cage. Damn.
Peli slams his wizard’s staff onto the ground. Instantly, a fresh gateway appears. Just as before, the gateway appears as a round and thin circle that seems to hang in the air. Within the window-like center, a familiar scene appears. A vast graveyard stretches off into every direction. Ghouls in black robes parade around the many headstones.
Hold on. Back in Antrum, Peli talked about needing to find a ghoul. Could this be related?
Young Peli slams his staff once more. This time, the glowing carving zooms into the gateway. A minute before, Young Peli had pulled that carving from the Contagion’s rib cage. Now it speeds through the gateway, where it slams into the nearest ghoul, striking the undead one on his shoulder.
The targeted ghoul is too far away to see his features clearly. Still, if the undead creature felt the impact of foreign magic, there’s no reaction.
The Contagion pales. “What did you do?”
“By the power of the Golden Arbor, this Simian magic became connected to you. If you regain it, you’ll eventually figure out how to escape. I can’t afford to keep this power in the Primeval. I’m storing it in another realm, where you can’t get it at.”
Young Peli slams his wizard’s staff again. Once more, the scene within the gateway changes. This time, the view shows a battle practice in Heaven. The process repeats. Young Peli pulls out another wizard’s peak from the Contagion’s chest. This time, it’s the blue egg wielded by the Avian wizard. Once removed from the Contagion, the wizard’s peak glows with azure light while zooming from Young Peli’s palm, passing through the gateway, and slamming into an angel. Again, there’s no reaction from the one who receives the magic.
Things happen so quickly, I find it hard to keep up. The Reptilian glass peak enters a demon. The Icythian shell one zooms into a human. And the golden peak of the Felines merges with a thrax.
Five lands for the Primeval.
Five peoples for the after-realms.
Each time one of the peaks enters after-realms, some of the golden sheen leaves the Contagion’s body. His skin turns more to bark while his body loses shape. More and more, the Contagion becomes a tree. All along the way, the evil wizard tries every trick in the book to convince Young Peli to stop.
Bribes.
Threats.
Tears.
Nothing works.
In the end, the Contagion stands rooted to the spot where the Golden Arbor once stood. The sight becomes familiar. It’s the same one I saw when Aldred showed off the Primeval in Antrum, a few days and a million years ago.
The Contagion is no longer a powerful wizard with golden skin who marches confidently through his orange jungle. Instead, he’s a burned out stump that’s only six feet tall. No branches arch above him. His skin is a shifting bark of black tar. Gaping holes serve as his eyes. That long gash acts as a mouth.
“You’ll leave me here to rot?” asks the Contagion.
“Only until I can kill you,” says Young Peli. “Enjoy your prison time. It’s my boon to you until I discover a way to end your life.”
“Impossible. Now that I’ve taken in the Golden Arbor, I’m indestructible.”
“Not exactly. It’s just a matter of uncovering the right magic to destroy you. Don’t worry; I’ll find it.” Young Peli’s voice lowers to a growl. “You should never have touched my family.”
The Contagion’s impossible mouth winds into a smile. “And you never got the peak to my wizard’s staff.”
“Don’t worry. No matter where you hid it, I’ll find it. There’s only one way to properly hide the peak of a wizard’s staff, and you didn’t do it.” Young Peli pulls the carving off his own staff. The peak transforms from wood into orange light. Young Peli then opens his mouth, takes the power inside, and swallows it whole.
Well, Peli always said he was packed with power. Now I see he meant it literally.
The orange haze surrounds me once more. Another visit to Peli’s past is complete.
23
Lincoln
Now that I’m engulfed in the orange cloud of Peli’s magic, I expect to transport back to the after-realms.
That isn’t what happens.
Suddenly, the orange smoke morphs into white flames. More angelfire. Once the blaze dies down, I find myself back at that strange forest with its plastic trees and swirling skies. The same tendril of blue smoke curls up from a single point far in the distance.
Once more, the landscape acts as a magical reminder. A greater threat lurks for me and Myla. But what is it?
A voice sounds again, deep and familiar. “I grow stronger,” he says. “Soon we shall meet.”
The white flames return, surrounding me in comfort. The blaze grows so fierce, I can no longer see the forest any more. My visit here is ending as well.
With every journey through magic, I hope for more clarity. Yet each time, my vision of the true dangers around me only turns more muddy than ever.
24
Lincoln
When the white flames vanish, I find myself seated on my bed, in the exact same position I’d taken before Peli cast his most recent spell.
And I am not happy.
“Wasn’t that grand? Didn’t I tell you all?” Peli spins about in circles. I’ve seen this silly trickster act before. There’s no need for a repeat.
It’s rather tempting to grab Peli by the tail and chuck the little monkey against the wall. The urge is incredibly inappropriate, considering how Peli isn’t attacking. Nevertheless, it’s tempting.
It takes conscious effort, but I push my frustration aside and organize my thoughts. At last, I regain enough control to ask a coherent question. “Can the Contagion be freed?”
“Not yet.”
“You mentioned checking in on a ghoul in Purgatory.”
“Once the peak of a wizard’s staff hits you, you gain a marking on your shoulder. For my part, I keep tabs on all my Marked Ones. Or try to. Folks in the after-realms have a nasty habit of dying. When that happens, their mark transfers to whoever is nearest and of the same bloodline. It’s rather frustrating.”
I recall how the fake peak to Peli’s wizard staff still contained some magic. “The ghoul you seek has a mark for Simian magic. The power rests inside their body until you summon it. Before that, the Marked One is oblivious.”
“Correct. When it comes to this ghoul, she doesn’t know a thing about the Primeval.”
“So it’s definitely a her.”
“Perhaps. I’m a trickster.”
“This isn’t helping.”
Peli stops jumping about. “Trust me, please. I tell you what I can, when I can. Primeval magic mixes strangely with the after-realms. Few tasks here are easy.”
“Like telling me the truth in a plain and clear manner.” I shake my head. “There must be more you can do.”
“Trust me or not. If not, then I leave. Aldred will still have me open that gateway, only it will happen at a place and time beyond your knowledge or control. Is that what you want?”
“Raising the fact that you’re scheming with Aldred? that doesn’t help your case.”
“I’m doing my best for my family and yours.” Peli stalks closer. “Now have I your trust, yes or no?”
In this moment, Peli is every inch the powerful wizard in compact form. I sort through everything I’ve seen of his past. Peli’s love for his family… his power to open gateways and fight the Contagion… and his willingness to share at least some informa
tion with me.
“Being a ruler means placing bets. I’ll wager to trust you.”
Peli exhales. “Good news. If you decided to fight me, I’d have been forced to place you in another enchanted sleep for the duration. I rather enjoy your company.”
“And I enjoy yours.”
“By the way, what convinced you to trust me? Seeing my past?”
I pull at the neckline of my pajamas. “More the rubber ducky PJs. No one truly evil could conjure up something like this.”
“I’m glad you like them. You’ll be using them once more.” Peli spreads his arms wide. A fresh cloud of orange magic fills my bedroom.
And I pass out.
25
Myla
Friday is here.
Trials of Acca.
Lady Bentford.
A fighting tree.
Bah.
This is pretty typical stuff for my life, really. I haul my butt out of bed at 6 am. The trials start at 10 and I want to be early. Lincoln and I haven’t spoken in what feels like forever. I definitely want to catch up.
Stupid Antrum.
Stupid thrax security making it impossible to talk to my guy.
Yes, I sent some written messages, but Cissy tells me they all got held up at the Purgatory Pulpitum. Antrum’s Transfer Central is saying the envelopes have demon spit on them or something.
So sketchy.
And all the more reason to down some Demon bars and get to Antrum fast.
All of which brings me to the present moment. 6:23 am.
I now stand on a round metal platform set into the floor of the main transfer station for Purgatory. The place is dark, save for a grid of white light that covers me.
“Hello?” I call.
“Greetings,” says a young guy. He’s totally got a shaky voice. Not a good sign. “Who are you?”
“This is Myla Lewis, the Great Scala, requesting transfer into Antrum.”
“One minute.”
Let the record show that ten minutes pass by.
“Hello again!”
“Greetings. Who are you?”
“We went through this. I’m Myla Lewis. I need you to transfer my ass to Antrum.”
“Wait, where are you?”
“Pulpitum VI. Purgatory.”
“Right.” The guy is panting so much, I can almost picture the sweat rolling down his cheek. “Who is this?”
“For the third time, this is Myla Lewis, your future queen.”
“Oh, yes. Of course! We just have a lot of traffic today. Can you believe it?”
“I can. People are coming in for my trials.”
Since today may involve demon fighting, I opted to wear my dragonscale fighting suit instead of my Scala robes. Plus, anything other than a dress ticks off the thrax. I’m in the mood to be irritating today.
More minutes pass. I kick at the metal disc beneath my feet. This is the round platform that will haul me to Antrum, when and if transfer Central gets its act together. My tail taps my shoulder in a fast rhythm. It’s the equivalent of saying, are we there yet?
And my tail raises a good question. Standing around while answering the same questions over and over isn’t getting me anywhere. Like Dad always says, grab the offensive and never let go.
“Hey,” I call. “What’s your name?”
“Terence.”
“Ter, how long have you worked in Transfer Central?”
“Three days.”
That explains a lot. No one asks a newbie to transfer the partially demonic in and out of Antrum. No one outside of Lincoln’s mother, that is.
“Did Queen Octavia put you on this duty today?”
“Why, yes. How did you know?”
“Lucky guess.” Octavia’s scheming to make sure I show up at the last possible second. There must be a reason. Or knowing Octavia, a whole slew of reasons. She’ll transfer me when she’s good and ready, not before.
I’m all about taking the offensive, except where Lincoln’s mother is involved. In these situations, I follow my mother’s favorite motto, discretion is the better part of valor.
With that saying in mind, I start playing a rousing game of rock, paper, scissors with my tail.
This could take a while.
26
Lincoln
This time when I awaken, I’m both rested and wearing pajamas with little monkeys on them.
Ah, Peli.
A few hours remain before the Trials of Acca begin. While I maybe trust Peli, I’m still taking precautions.
A lot of them.
Basically, I’ll pack the Trials of Acca with as many warriors and magic users as I can find on short notice. And considering I’m the future king of Antrum, I can find quite a lot.
Once the security side of things is set, I have two more tasks to finish before 10 am. First, I must find Mother and see if I can discover what Aldred’s trials for Myla will include. Second, I still need to check on Baptiste and the other orphans.
An hour remains do it all.
Not a problem. I’ve killed more in less time, and those things were breathing.
Slipping out of bed, I quickly get ready for my day. I’m supposed to wear my royal best—meaning crown, leathers and tunic—but that’s not happening. Knowing what I do about the Primeval, it’s a human-style body armor kind of day. If people don’t like it, they can find another prince.
Once I’m set, I make a beeline for Mother. Along the way, I make sure to leave messages for every warrior and magic user worth their salt. All in all, seeking out Octavia becomes quite the journey. I check mother’s chambers, Transfer Central, the Royal Archives, and even the secret rooms where she stores notes, pictures, and other intel.
No sign of Mother.
I also make a few half-hearted attempts to find Father. He’s secreted himself away as well. No surprise, there.
Ah, well. While it would be better to find out what the non-combat trials of Acca might be, I still hold to Myla’s assessment. Nothing can be harder than fighting a Class A demon.
Time to move on to my final task: checking on Baptiste.
To that end, I head over to Nat’s preferred training grounds inside a massive purple geode. Once there, I find a familiar square space. Colored light filters through the floors, wall and ceiling. It’s so lovely that it can prove incredibly distracting, especially for new recruits. Nat likes it that way, too. He believes warriors must learn early how to focus past their surroundings.
I really do have an exceptional Master at Arms.
Nat and Baptiste are alone in the geode. Both wear loose cotton pants and a black tunic as they run through basic battle poses. I like what I see, and not just because Baptiste has fine reflexes. The dark circles have already lessened beneath the boy’s eyes. His skin looks healthier as well, but that might simply be the fact that the kid was able to bathe.
The pair stop as I approach. Nat waves while the boy stands still and at full attention. I wave my Master at Arms over, careful to stand far enough away so we aren’t in listening range.
“Morning, Nat.” I nod toward Baptiste. “He looks good.”
Nat puffs up his chest. He’s pleased that I noticed the improvement. “I got him a full physical. He’s in good shape. No lasting damage, you know.” Nat taps his temple, meaning the royal physicians checked out Baptiste’s head as well.
“Good. I’d been concerned about that.”
“The boy’s been wanting to speak to you ever since the Royal Gymnasium. Not sure if you have time before the Trials of Acca.”
“Sure. Call him over.”
Nat whistles while raising his fist. It’s a basic summons sign. In response, Baptiste jogs up to join our group where the boy stands at perfect attention. It’s as if Baptiste has been in the military all his life.
“Permission to speak,” states Baptiste.
“Granted,” says Nat.
“I wanted to thank you, your Highness.”
“Nothing to thank. I can already
tell you’ll be a great addition to the guard.”
“I wish to free my fellow orphans from Aldred,” says Baptiste. “Requesting permission to join the mission.”
My brows lift. This one has a fire in his belly. “That’s Master Nat’s mission. Shouldn’t he be the one to decide if you qualify to join?”
“Yes, your Highness.” Baptiste stares at his bare feet. A sense of disappointment crackles around him like embers from a fire.
I shoot Nat a pointed look. “The Trials of Acca take place this morning.” The words are there but unspoken, do you think Baptiste should go?
“Considering the place will be packed with warriors, it could be good for Baptiste to observe.”
Baptiste beams. “I’d like that. Anything I can do to train or help.”
I wag my finger at the boy. “Just stay in the back. At the first sign of trouble, you run.”
Baptiste straightens his stance. “That would be my honor.”
“Excellent.” With my tasks for the morning completed, it’s time to head for the Trials of Acca. And, if I’m being honest, the best part of my day approaches as well.
Seeing Myla.
27
Myla
9:47 am
I’m still in the transfer Pulpitum. I’ve been standing on this metal disc for so long, I feel like I should set up curtains and a love seat.
At last, Terence pipes up again on the hidden loudspeakers. “Miss Myla?”
“Yup.”
“You’re approved for transfer now.”
“Excellent. Send me off in three, two, one.”
Finally, the platform hurtles into the ground. Magma, soil, and random minerals fly past as I speed toward my destination.
The Arx Hall Pulpitum.
Only, that’s not where I land.
Instead of a normal platform, I halt in some kind of basement filled with wooden boxes and hidden spiders. Maybe this place is closer to Acca territory, but it’s still strange. Normally, there is someone here to greet me and walk me to my destination. Antrum is a maze. It’s super-easy to get lost.
Trickster (Angelbound Lincoln Book 3) Page 10