A Clash of Magics

by Guy Antibes

  He was only a few feet away when the middle of the shield broke. Red-hot embers surrounded a gaping hole. Trevor threw the shield at Gareeze. He swung his sword, but it caught on rigging still attached to the boom.

  “You will die before I will,” Gareeze said, coughing up blood.

  He pointed the ancient rod and sent a thin cord of orange lightning into Trevor’s chest. The pain was excruciating, but Trevor could still take a breath. His flailing with his blade cut enough of the line to free his sword. His last act would be killing Gareeze first, not letting the magician’s vow come true. He was so close he could smell Gareeze’s breath. The magician’s eyes were unfocused as he gasped in pain. Trevor thought of another solution. He grabbed Gareeze’s wrist and teleported.

  Trevor had no destination in mind, but Gareeze and Trevor ended up in a dark space that suddenly lit up. He immediately recognized the room underneath the Gnarled Wood mound. He thought the structure had been destroyed, but here he was with his archenemy.

  Gareeze’s eyes were closed, but the evil magician still breathed. Trevor wasn’t fully healed, but even though he risked being stranded in Gnarled Wood, he put his sword to Plissaki’s throat as he pulled the ancient rod from the magician’s limp fingers.

  Trevor could feel the magic pulsing in the ancient device. He suddenly recalled a passage in the old language book that he had memorized in Jilgrath. If Trevor could feel the magic, he wondered if he could use the rod. He withdrew his sword and waited for Plissaki to awaken.

  “You!” Plissaki sneered as his eyes opened, and he sat up. He felt his chest and looked at the blood that had seeped through his clothes. “My wounds!”

  “A benefit of using the ancient magic for teleportation,” Trevor said, placing his sword beside him but playing with the rod as he stared at the magician.

  The magician’s eyes were drawn to the rod. “That’s mine!” he said, leaning over to snatch it from Trevor’s hands.

  Trevor struck Plissaki’s fingers. The magician howled in pain.

  “No teleportation to make that go away,” Trevor said. “You and the potentate have caused the pain and death of a lot of people. It’s time for you to pay. Dryden is not happy.”

  Plissaki clutched his injured hand to his chest. “What do you know about Dryden?” he spat out.

  “I am his messenger.” Trevor looked around at the room. Plissaki sat on the table that had transformed Trevor into whatever he had become magically. It didn’t respond to the magician like it had to Trevor. “My message to you, Gareeze Plissaki, is that I will kill you here and now.”

  A thick bolt of silver lightning hit Trevor in the face. The sparkles of energy disturbed his vision as he felt the magician plow into his body. Trevor held onto the rod with all his strength. Plissaki stood back and continued to bathe Trevor with fire and lightning.

  “Nothing works!” Plissaki muttered to himself, but he turned to Trevor and saw the Jarkanese sword lying a few paces from Trevor. “You won’t be able to get through my defenses,” the magician said with the utmost confidence.

  “Let’s try this,” Trevor said, thinking the spell that activated the old rod. A thick snake of red lightning emerged from the tip of the rod, burning a hole through Plissaki. The magician’s body fell back onto the floor.

  “I suppose this works through your charms,” Trevor said to the smoking remains, but Trevor felt drained. The magic that had filled him when he touched the rod was gone. He wondered if Gareeze Plissaki had somehow charged it up for him. Trevor shook his head. He might never find out, especially if he was trapped in the chamber.

  “Red,” Trevor said aloud in the silence of the chamber. “Old magic, for sure.” The magician’s bolts were orange. Trevor suspected the one he had generated was much more powerful. It didn’t matter. Any bolt that would punch through Plissaki’s charms was good enough for him. At least he would go to his death knowing that the magician who had brought so much evil to Brachia and was responsible for Boxster’s death was gone for good.

  He sat on a chair and leaned back, staring up at the ceiling as the lights continued to pulse different colors. Nothing happened, but then he rose from the chair and laid back on the table.

  Trevor felt a jolt of something go through his body, forcing him to close his eyes. He opened them a moment later and found himself still sharing the chamber with Plissaki’s body, but glowing sections on the chairs’ arms had appeared.

  “The green one,” Trevor said to himself. “It feels right.”

  He pressed a button and felt magic pour into his cuirass, his sword, and then filling him up.

  “I’m recharged!” he said to the empty room. He took the rod that he had tucked into his waistband, and it felt much the same way before he had used it on the magician.

  “The potentate’s pier,” Trevor said as he thought of the gate and archway leading to the potentate’s ship.

  A soldier bumped into him, or Trevor bumped into a soldier. Trevor looked on at the ship continuing to burn. He didn’t know how much time had elapsed, but Samar Doford’s ships were close. Men lined the railings gazing at the ship which had begun to drift from the dock.

  Trevor spotted Win onboard, holding his arm and avoiding the burning fragments continuing to rain down on the deck. He frantically looked around for the uniform of a magician, but none were near. He put his hand on the rod and thought of using the ancient magic to teleport.

  In an eyeblink, he was beside his friend. He grabbed Win’s wrist and teleported back to the dock. As they appeared, both of them collapsed to the ground. Trevor stood up and brushed himself off. It was Win who had collapsed, this time. Trevor still held onto the rod and felt the magic intact. Perhaps he might not need a magician if the rod was filled with magic.

  “I got him,” Win said. He pointed to the flames consuming the potentate’s ship, burning not far from the dock. “I wish he were alive to feel the flames,” he said as they both heard screaming from the ship. A few men jumped into the water, but then nothing stirred on the deck as Trevor could feel the heat from the flames as he stood watching the potentate’s vessel die.

  Soldiers stood on the dock staring at the conflagration.

  “My charms held up,” Win said, his eyes fixed on the dying vessel. “The potentate hit me with everything that he had, but I’m sure Azar was with me as I slashed at the potentate’s neck and then plunged my sword through his armor. I left the sword in his chest. When they pull the body out, whoever recovers the corpse will know he is truly dead.”

  Trevor nodded and gave his friend a one-armed hug. “No need to worry about Plissaki, either, if you care to know.”

  Win smiled faintly. “I do. We did well, didn’t we, my friend.”

  Trevor nodded. “We did. Desolation Boxster would be proud of both of us.”

  Win nodded and grinned with a bit more energy. “I’m sure he would.”

  ~

  Chapter Twenty-Nine

  ~

  K hartoo had lost its magicians and the country’s ruler. The city felt deflated as Trevor and his friends rode through the streets. Brother Yvan had them stop at Merik Bandeford’s house. Brother Yvan and Trevor walked up the steps while Gorian, Glynna, Volst, Lissa, and Win stood on the sidewalk.

  Merik, himself, opened the door. “Ah. You came to gloat, Yvan?”

  “I’m sorry you feel that way,” Brother Yvan said. “Are you still up to performing as seer to Maskum?”

  “You don’t think Lister Vale wants me to repent and pray for forgiveness?”

  Brother Yvan sighed. “Do you have things to repent of?”

  Merik gave Yvan a pained look. “Of course I do. I was the potentate’s seer, not Maskum’s.”

  “And he truly did want to rule the world, didn’t he?” Brother Yvan asked.

  Merik nodded. “He promised me that he would allow seers to remain in all the countries.”

  “Not so,” Trevor said. “The magicians in Viksar attacked Seer Caspur. Did you know that
?”

  “Of course not!” Merik said, looking genuinely shocked.

  Trevor could see the information didn’t sit well with the wayward seer.

  “If you want to pay for whatever you feel you did wrong, lend Maskum some spiritual help. Without all the magicians, there is an opportunity to improve the citizens’ relationship with Dryden. That is the kind of penance that Lister would heartily approve of.”

  Merik pursed his lips. “I’ll consider your advice.” He looked at the palace spires. “The potentate offered me a place on his royal ship. I thought of both of you and decided to decline. I hope that will be something else in my favor.”

  “It’s not my job to judge,” Brother Yvan said. “But if you think that is something you don’t have to repent for, then I’m sure you made the right decision. Trevor made sure all the armies weren’t here to loot and occupy. We heard reports that the magicians left enough wealth from the Eagle cabal’s treasury to pay their soldiers and their expenses.”

  Merik sighed. “Good luck to you, Yvan. Have a pleasant trip back to Collet.”

  Brother Yvan smiled and looked at Trevor. “It will be a quick one.” He put his hand on Merik’s shoulder. “I am glad you didn’t perish in all this.”

  “Physically and spiritually?” Merik asked drily.

  “Of course. I wish you well.” Brother Yvan turned and walked down the steps. Trevor gave Merik a bow.

  “Does he have a chance?” Trevor asked Yvan as they mounted.

  “Everyone has a chance, even you,” Brother Yvan said. “Do you have anything to repent for?”

  Trevor gave Brother Yvan a sly smile. “I left a body in the Gnarled Wood mound. I should bury it.”

  “That is a start, I suppose,” Brother Yvan said and then laughed. “That is a good start. I’m glad this expedition ended so well. Let’s find your inn. I’m going to have a good night’s sleep before you take me to Collet. I’m sure Reena is anxious to see me intact.”

  They rode to the inn run by Potur’s friend. Trevor sat outside with Lissa, holding her hand. “At last, some time to ourselves,” he said.

  She squeezed and smiled. “I thought I’d be marching into harm’s way right behind you,” she said.

  “Glynna and Brother Yvan needed your help more than I did since Win didn’t quite have enough power to get me around until he reached back for something more. My head is still feeling the aftereffects.”

  “It was two days ago. Do you need a head massage?” she asked.

  “Not out here,” Trevor said in a conspiratorial whisper.

  She brightened and whispered back. “I suppose you are right.”

  They sat back, content in their proximity, and now that they had destroyed the Maskumite enclave, Trevor thought they could retire to Listenwell and live a good life. Glynna and Gorian Custik came out and took the other bench on the inn’s front porch.

  “If you two are going to get married, you need to have Seer Caspur perform the ceremony,” Gorian said. “You need to ride Snowflake north, anyway, so you might as well join us on our way to Jilgrath.”

  “Marriage?” Trevor asked. “I hadn’t…” he stopped and looked at Lissa’s hand in his. He had assumed she would be with him in Listenwell but realized they had never talked about such a thing.

  Lissa leaned over and talked past Trevor. “He hasn’t proposed yet,” Lissa said.

  “But we thought—” Glynna started.

  “There is an understanding of sorts,” Trevor said.

  Lissa stood up. “Of sorts? After all, we’ve been through, ‘of sorts’?”

  “You know what I mean,” Trevor said, taking her hand in both of his.

  She softened. “Of course I do, but you still need to propose.”

  Trevor got down on one knee while she still stood. “Will you marry me?”

  Lissa beamed. “Of course I will. Now our understanding isn’t ‘of sorts’ anything.”

  “No,” Trevor said. The situation had taken him by surprise. It was all very fast, and his mind was reeling. “I suppose it is official.” He took a breath to collect himself. “We will go to Jiksara and get married in your father’s church if the seer permits.”

  “Don’t worry about my father,” Lissa said. “We can visit him tomorrow morning before we set out for Viksar.”

  “I said I’d take Brother Yvan to Collet, first.”

  “He won’t be there for the wedding?” Glynna asked.

  “Reena and I will travel from Ginster,” Brother Yvan said, stepping onto the porch along with Volst. “It will take you longer to travel to Jiksara.

  “You heard?” Trevor asked.

  “We all did,” Volst said, dragging out Win.

  “Congratulations,” Win patted Trevor on the shoulder.

  Trevor suddenly realized what had just happened. “This was a setup!”

  “Of sorts,” Glynna said with a wicked smile. “Lissa didn’t know a thing about it, but we know you well enough, Prince Trevor or Duke Trevor or Des Boxster, how you would react. You generally do the right thing, and proposing was the right thing.”

  Trevor sighed. “I suppose it was, but I hadn’t intended it to be the night’s entertainment.”

  “We can go inside and continue to celebrate,” Volst said.

  Trevor finally laughed. “I suppose we can. It is something to celebrate.”

  ~

  Trevor waited for Brother Yvan to say farewell to the others. He promised to return to Maskum so he wouldn’t delay them from setting out for Viksar.

  “Are you ready?” Brother Yvan asked.

  “We are going to the Gnarled Wood first to remove Gareeze Plissaki’s body from the mound,” Trevor said.

  “That will be an unpleasant task,” Brother Yvan said.

  “I’ll carry the body when we teleport out.” Trevor had a bag with a small shovel and a shroud for the magician’s remains.

  They appeared in darkness. The smell of death permeated the chamber as the strange lights went on. Brother Yvan stepped away from Trevor and examined the table and chairs.

  “This is more than a table, unlike what is in the abbey just across the Jarkanese border or in the ancient room in Collet.”

  “It is where I was changed,” Trevor said. He described the story again in detail, this time showing what happened in the room.

  Brother Yvan tried to get out of the exit, but the door was jammed shut. “Let’s get the magician’s body out of here.”

  Trevor had wrapped Plissaki’s body in the shroud and lifted it. Brother Yvan put his hand on Trevor’s shoulder, and they transferred outside the mound. Trevor looked around for a suitable place to bury the magician, took the small shovel, and went to work.

  Brother Yvan looked back at the mound. It looked like a jumble of earth on the forest floor. “You said it was a real mound?”

  “It was. When I’m done, we will look for the door,” Trevor said, wiping the sweat from his brow.

  The grave was shallow, but it was as much as Trevor wanted to do. Brother Yvan muttered a few words over the site before they walked around the mound one last time.

  “The door was about here,” Trevor said, “but it’s covered with dirt, and the weeds have covered everything.

  “What is inside is part of your domain,” Brother Yvan said, “since you are the only person who can get inside.”

  “I don’t know if I’ll return,” Trevor said.

  “You have a long life ahead of you, so don’t think never.”

  Trevor grinned. “I won’t.” He pulled out the old rod. “I can still feel the magic,” he said.

  “Give me a demonstration,” Brother Yvan said.

  Trevor looked at a fallen tree. “I’ll try to think of a tiny beam. Plissaki had produced an orange light, but when I do it, the lightning is red,” Trevor said. He pointed the rod toward the tree, and a thin thread of bright red light emerged from the end of the rod and struck the wood, making a narrow hole through the diameter.

&nbs
p; “I didn’t extinguish the magic,” Trevor said. He went to the back of the tree trunk and looked at the smoking hole that had pierced all the way through.

  “That might be so powerful because it is of the old kind, and to think you are the only one who can wield it properly,” Brother Yvan said. “Current magic doesn’t require a device, but there isn’t a person who can create a bolt with that much power. I had a few demonstrations of what was possible with lightning in Jiksara, and nothing would have gone through that trunk. I wouldn’t set such a gift aside forever. Dryden has moved this from Plissaki’s hands to yours, you know.”

  “Perhaps,” Trevor said. He couldn’t deny the possibility. “I can use the magic to teleport. Why didn’t I get this before the Khartooian battle?”

  “Did you need it?”

  Trevor furrowed his brow. “No.” He shook his head. “Dryden’s way isn’t my way, is it?”

  Brother Yvan laughed. “Not in the least. Now, take me to my future bride.”

  Trevor put the shovel back in his bag, and the pair of them teleported to Collet. They landed in the ancient room.

  Brother Yvan looked around. “This has a different feel from the room in West Moreton,” he said.

  They walked to the refectory. Trevor wanted a bit to eat before he returned to Khartoo. A seer trainee spotted Brother Yvan and went to fetch Reena and Lister Vale, the head seer. The pair entered the refectory together just as Trevor received his snack.

  Reena ran to Brother Yvan and threw her arms around his neck. “You came back to me safely.”

  “Dryden watched over us all,” Brother Yvan said before kissing the former Jarkanese focus. “Sit and listen to Trevor’s tale.”

  Trevor didn’t spend much time since the others were waiting for him before leaving for Viksar. “Brother Yvan has other details. I have to go.”