Magic's Design (3 page)

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Authors: Cat Adams

BOOK: Magic's Design
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Tal couldn’t keep the sarcasm from his voice when he responded. “Of course not. Why would I expect that you’d do something yourself when you can risk a mindless lackey’s life instead?”
Vegre’s face lost its humor just before he delivered a stinging backhand to the side of Tal’s face. From the immediate sensation of swelling, he was pretty sure he’d have a black eye from it tomorrow, if there was a tomorrow. He then watched as Vegre ripped off one of his sleeves and stuffed it in his mouth to prevent him from speaking. That was confusing, since a silencing charm took very little power.
The man’s voice still carried a hint of accent from his native Brittania, but apparently he’d adapted in prison enough to use more modern speech patterns. “You should mind your tongue considering your circumstances, Constable. But we’ll see how loose your tongue is when your heart, and the hearts in those around you, grind to a halt to feed my escape.” He smiled slowly and hissed a word, eyes gleaming with malevolence in the pale light as his servant finally dared to come close.
“Venticulari.”
Tal had never heard that particular curse and had no idea what it might do. But from the evil light in Vegre’s eyes, he was sure it wasn’t good. Even his last hope—that Vegre would remain trapped in Rohm without access to the overworld, was short lived.
“Come, Hubert. I believe you mentioned Gate Six is just a few yards from here, and is fire keyed.” He turned right at the edge of where Tal could see and gave a jaunty wave. “Fare thee well on your journey into death, Constable. I would stay to watch, but I can’t rely on the abilities of my … how did you describe them?” He tapped his finger on his jaw for a moment. “Ah, yes.
Mindless lackeys
.” Vegre looked at the man by his side with disapproval. “I sadly can’t argue with your assessment.”
Tal suddenly felt an odd sensation in his chest. A brief stuttering ended with a sharp stab that pulled a muffled cry from his throat. Vegre heard the sound, even as Tal tried not to panic and fought to work the gag out with his tongue. He smiled again. “Still, I’m free and healthy, while you’re about to be distinctly … dead, so I suppose I have no complaints with the ultimate result.” He held out his arm almost casually and Tal realized the diamond focus was his. “Melt.” It was a simple spell, designed for glass making, but with the power of the spell and focus behind the word, the thick stone column binding the water witch dissolved into molten glass that steamed and hissed as water magic instantly cooled it.
“Thank you, Grandmaster Vegre!” He looked down at Alexy’s still form. “And as for you—” The witch kicked Alexy so hard in the dim blue light that he lifted from the ground. “Something to occupy your dreams before you die, Alchemist.”
Tal was so preoccupied watching the event that when the cavern lit up, he turned surprised eyes back to Vegre, who shrugged. “I see no reason why you can’t watch the others die alongside you … the O.P.A. apparently still adhering to their ridiculous notion of comradery.” The thought of Tal watching the others die seemed to amuse Vegre greatly, for he gave a genuine smile and chuckled as he walked into the distance, followed closely by his two servants, callously abandoning his unconscious lackey to capture or death.
Another flutter in his chest, followed by a stab, deeper than the first. He would have doubled over from the force of it if he could have. The pain seemed to flow through him until it wasn’t just his heart that was failing. Every vein, every organ felt as though daggers were being shoved in repeatedly. It was no wonder sane Guilders didn’t use this curse. Even people who chose to kill seldom stomached torture.
It took long minutes before he could work his tongue and jaws enough to spit out the gag. Unfortunately, that didn’t remove the paralysis spell. He still couldn’t move except to scream … and he refused to give Vegre the satisfaction. No, he had to break the immobilization first, before he could do anything else. But, at least with the Creeping Darkness spell gone, he could pull on magic in the cavern and beyond.
That made him pause and wonder. It was almost as though Vegre
intended
for him to do this. Otherwise, why remove a beneficial spell that was providing him energy? Or, maybe he was overthinking Vegre’s motive. It might be that he simply couldn’t maintain all three spells simultaneously, but didn’t want Tal to discover that weakness. Either way, he needed to take advantage of it.
He closed his eyes and turned his attention inward. He searched for the runes that were corrupting his life force. They were invisible to the naked eye, but in his mind he could see the traces of colored energy that affected him. He could unwind them, but it would take a steady flow of energy. He reached out with his senses, eyes still closed, searching. He could feel Alexy, Sela, and the captive. Oddly, they were barely affected by the Venticulari spell. At least they weren’t going to die as quickly as he was. To time a spell like that … to layer the effect from person to person—that took a level of skill that Tal had only known a very few Grand Masters to achieve. But at least his companions were alive.
After a few minutes of searching, Tal realized that they were nearly the only things that
were
alive in the area. Either the guards and prisoners had been relocated or they were dead. Moss, worms, mushrooms … all dead. As far as he could reach out, there was nothing but cold, lifeless stone.
And then he realized the trap. Alexy and Sela were unconscious, unable to free or save themselves. Tal would have to save them, but the only way to do that would be to free himself before the spell took him down. Unfortunately, the only energy to pull on was the life force of the others. If he did that, the spell would work that much faster. They would indeed die together, and it would be Tal’s fault.
He couldn’t do that, but to do nothing would also ensure their deaths, since he was confident that whatever Vegre did to knock them out would last until long after he was dead and they would be too weak to fight the spell—if they could even figure out what spell was on them.
“Vegre, you bloody bastard! I’m on to you. And I’ll find a way to beat you!” He screamed the words into the cavern and thought he heard echoes of faint laughter return.
Again he closed his eyes, shutting out the distraction of his injured teammates. He had to search inside himself, reach for the doorway to the spirit of the Sacred Tree that had never failed him in times of crisis. His foster mother had always called him blessed for his connection to the Tree’s life magic. While he couldn’t imagine why he had been singled out to be able to touch the Tree’s essence, he wasn’t above using it to save himself and his friends and prevent the scourge on humanity that Vegre represented. He imagined a doorway, and carefully created the runes in his mind that would invoke the protection of the Tree.
At first, he could only catch flashes of light and warmth. But slowly, he heard laughter and female voices … smelled the spices of home and cooking, felt happiness flow in and through him—and he knew he had tapped into the essence of the Tree.
Pain lanced through his mind as another spasm gripped his heart. A chill settled over him as the power of the Tree raced through veins and tried to correct the damage from the spell. The wintery blast was both frightening and cheering. “Not me,” he whispered to the light. “If I guide you, will you help the others?”
He’d never addressed the Tree’s spirit directly, but then he’d never been faced with this situation before. His eyes shot open in surprise and alarm when a decidedly feminine voice responded to his plea. “Where am I? Who are you? Who are
the others,
and how am I supposed to help?”
The honest confusion in the voice stopped him cold. How could the spirit of the Sacred Tree not know how to help? It was life, hope, the heart of the whole of Agathia. It was the source of all magic in the world. Couldn’t the spirit do
anything?
Still, it was
people
who manipulated the energy. It was the guilds that originally learned to harness the magic and bend it to their will. So, perhaps the raw energy source
didn’t
have the knowledge to do what he asked. “You need merely open yourself to me and I’ll do the rest.”
There was no answer, so he presumed the spirit agreed. He concentrated on the pure thread of magic that was bright enough to imprint on the back of his retinas. Time and again, he pressed the magic to his will, dissolving the runes that held him motionless. The sudden release dropped him to his knees and made him acutely aware of the cavern around him. The cool damp air filled his chest and it felt brand new—as though he’d never been to the waterfall before. The glowing strands of saliva seemed to twinkle like stars. Even the stark black obsidian of the prison walls was intoxicating. He wanted to reach out to touch the stone, feel the cold slickness under his fingers.
But there was no time. Even as he marveled at things he’d known all his life, he felt the power fading. It would be enough to save them, but just. He raced first to Alexy’s side, ignoring the flash of pain in his chest that the abrupt movement cost him. The runes surrounding him were weaker, but still formidable. Even without speaking directly, the spirit seemed intrigued by the symbols … as though it recognized the runes, but in an esoteric way, not for what they actually
did.
“Here … and here.” He guided the magic to dismantle the runes around Alexy and felt an instinctive sort of understanding follow, as though the spirit was relearning a skill that had been forgotten. The energy stream was decidedly weaker when he finished, but he couldn’t help but smile when Alexy’s eyelids fluttered open.
“What in the king’s bloody balls happened to me?” Alexy’s voice was hoarse, as though he’d been screaming, even in his sleep. “I feel like I’ve been run through a clothing wringer backward.”
Tal shook his head. “I’ll have to explain later. I don’t know how much time I have left to save Sela.”
Sela.
That name seemed to ring in his head like a bell, but the confusing images that followed in his mind made no sense to him. Richly waxed furniture, a fluffy gray cat, and the thick, cloying scent of flowers—none of them were things he could attribute to the stark, no-nonsense police agent he’d worked with for the past two years.
He ran toward the waterfall to the last place he’d seen her crumpled form. But she was gone. Only a small dark stain of blood remained on the damp stone. “Sela?” He looked up and around, turning in a full circle, in case she’d woken up and crawled or flown to a safe place. He called again, louder. “Sela! Where are you?” Only the rumbling hiss of the waterfall replied.
“Are you certain she was here?” Alexy was still woozy and was slurring his words more than a little. But as soon as Tal released Sela from the spell, she could use the small amount of healing magic she knew to fix that.
“She was here when I went to help you. She
can’t
have gone far. Sela!” Alexy began calling for Sela as well, picking up on Tal’s increasing concern. She had been unconscious, just like Alexy, while he was working with the Sacred Tree. How could she just disappear?
He realized he was worried about her—far more than he should be. She’d been missing before … had been
captured
before. Yet, concern filled him to the point that he raced into the darkness, searching.
“Tal! What are you doing?” Alexy’s voice grew fainter as he ran through the cave, looking in every cranny, high and low, for some sign of her. A bit of cloth, a few strands of golden hair. But there was no evidence she had been this way.
Another spasm ripped through him, and this time he couldn’t fight back the scream of pain. He found himself on the ground, with Alexy standing over him, but he couldn’t remember falling. There was only pressure—strangling his heart, pressing against his eyes, making his limbs feel leaden and sluggish. As the pressure increased, so did the stabbing, stinging, burning that made him want to tear off his own skin.
“C’mon, guv. Stay with me.” He could hear the words, but he couldn’t seem to make his mouth move. The realization that he couldn’t tell Alexy what the spell afflicting him was, nor that Vegre had been the caster, terrified him. He began to thrash on the ground, clutching at his throat, trying to make his lips form the words. But every movement intensified the pressure until he couldn’t even think.
Make it stop!
The plea, scream, demand came from inside his head, but it wasn’t his voice. It was the powerful female cry of the Tree spirit, who was trapped inside the spell with him.
I can’t make it stop. It’s a spell. I’m going to die soon.
The simple statement was met with abject panic from the spirit.
No! You can’t. I’ll die with you.
Tal went still. He couldn’t imagine that the Sacred Tree could
die.
That wasn’t possible. It was all-powerful, never-ending. It had existed from before he was alive, hundreds of years. It was the Tree that had drawn the ragged survivors of the Blackshear massacre from the overworld to their underground sanctuary.
But if the spirit could die, then it was too late. He couldn’t think through the pain to form a counterspell … even if he had the magic. He couldn’t move his lips enough to speak. His heartbeat was slowing and he knew somewhere in the darkness, Vegre was laughing at him.

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