Tides of Faith: Travail of The Dark Mage Book Two (36 page)

In an attempt to flush the mage out,
James created one of his magic-radiating orbs that floated through
the air and sent it forward.

No sooner had it passed beyond the
edge of his shield than it was obliterated by a draining attack
such as had plagued them since entering Tapu.

Testing the mage’s defenses, James
simultaneously created six and sent them outward in scattered
formations. Six strikes destroyed them in rapid
succession.

“He’s not going to show
himself.”

“No,” Miko said, shaking his head. “We
shall have to seek him out.”

“Let’s take out his store of magic
first. I’d rather face him without such power at his beck and call.
Keep an eye out while I work to extinguish it.”

“Very well.”

James entered the square and focused
his attention on the source of magic. Walking steadily, he used
both his regular sight and that of his mind to ascertain the exact
location of the magic.

The frequency of attacks increased. By
the time he had reached the center of the square, they came with
nearly every step he took. His shield held, keeping them at
bay.

As the far wall came into view through
the mélange of shadow and moonlight, an open aired courtyard
gradually emerged. Piles of lumber were stacked neatly off along
the left side while several wagons sat in no apparent order
throughout.

“It appears to be a carpenter’s
shop.”

Miko proved to be correct as upon
drawing closer, the main workshop was revealed.

The doors stood open and moonlight
streamed through to illuminate several dressers, stools, chests,
and just within the doorway, six wagon wheels leaned in an orderly
stack.

James gave it only a passing glance as
he turned his attention back to the rear of the carpenter’s
courtyard. There, the magic radiated strongest.

Despite the frequency of the attacks,
the sheer magnitude of the stored magic failed to
decrease.

The prickling of his skin was nearly
intolerable with being in such close proximity. It felt as if he
had rolled in an anthill and was now covered in a swarm of the
little nasties. Ignoring his discomfort, he pressed
forward.

“Any sign of the mage?”

“No.”

James glanced to his friend. “You
would think that if he was here, he would have done something by
now.”

“One would think so,” Miko
agreed.

Stepping forward, he brought them to
the opened gate leading into the carpenter’s courtyard. A couple
wagons came into view, but nothing that indicated anything
untoward. Yet, the presence of the magical energy could not be
dismissed.

Attacks now came back to back with but
the briefest pause in between. Each held the same intensity, the
same manner of attack; it was as if whatever was directing them
only had one trick and was unable to adapt it to the fact James’
shield made them ineffective.

The attacks were originating from the
heart of the stored magic. With his mind’s eye, he determined that
it was located somewhere on the far side of the courtyard.
Visually, there was nothing to indicate the presence of anything so
powerful. Quiet, moonlit shadows were all he saw. Bracing himself
for any increase in intensity in the attacks, he stepped forward
and entered the courtyard.

Wham! Wham!
Wham!

Non-stop surges of power slammed into
him. But, similar to the ones before, they proved inconsequential
against his shield.

The glow of Morcyth surrounding Miko
produced a field of illumination that revealed an area extending
six feet in all directions. As the pair drew nearer the far side of
the courtyard, a wagon sitting askew came into view. Its left wheel
was missing causing the left end of the axel to rest upon the
ground. The rear courtyard wall rose mere feet on the other side of
the wagon.

James came to a halt. As unbelievable
as it sounded, the magic originated at the wagon; more
specifically, the bed of the wagon.

“The wagon?”

He nodded as he glanced to Miko. “Yes.
But why would…” he began then trailed off as understanding
came.

Six years ago when he and Jiron
separated from Illan and his Raiders near the end of the war, he
had planted seeds of destruction in the beds of wagons traveling
with various caravans. The seeds were designed to draw minute
amounts of magic into itself, store it, then explosively release
the amassed magic when active magic came near. The plan had been
designed to take out Empire mages; in fact, one such trap had wiped
out the Empire’s School of the Arcane.

The wagon before him must have been
one of those carrying his seeds of destruction. For six years it
had drawn and stored magic from its surroundings.

“How does the curse
manifest?”

Turning to Miko, Azhan
replied, “Loss of strength, withering of flesh, and
death.”

And that is exactly what a
continual drawing of magic would do to those living in Tapu.
He
had
caused
this. A town died because of him. He hadn’t even considered the
effects should the seeds remain active an extended amount of
time.
Were there others still drawing
power? Still killing innocent people like the former citizens of
Tapu?
He couldn’t concern himself about
that right now. His family took priority over everything. Once the
danger to them was removed, only then would he worry about
discovering if any other seeds still existed.

“Do you remember me telling you about
my plan to remove Empire mages during the war?”

“Yes. You created magic traps and sent
them into the Empire in….” A moment’s pause, then, “Is this one of
yours?”

James nodded. “I’m afraid
so.”

Another moment of silence before Miko
asked, “Then, was it not supposed to have exploded by now? From the
way you described what you did, your shield should be within the
range that would trigger its destructiveness.”

“Absolutely. It should have gone off,
and considering the amount of magic stored within it, left a
massive hole where Tapu now stands.” Strengthening his shield in
anticipation of just such an occurrence, James backed out of the
courtyard amid an array of continued attacks, and didn’t stop until
the entire market square stood between them and the wagon. Though
only a marginally safer location should the seed actually go off,
from that spot there was less likelihood of his magic triggering
it.

“I can’t leave it.” He glanced to Miko
and saw his friend nod. “This could get interesting.”

Miko gave a half-smile. “Usually does
when you get involved.”

“Brace yourself.”

The white glow of Morcyth surrounding
the god’s high priest intensified and reached out to envelope James
as well. “Whenever you are ready.”

After a moment of adjusting his own
shield to withstand the explosive release of magic, James turned
his attention full onto the wagon and the nexus of magic radiating
from within. His mind’s eye traveled toward the wagon.

Now that he knew it was his own
construction, he could sense the bonds originally used to set the
spell in place. They were definitely his, only… something was
different.

“Do spells degrade over time?” James
asked.

He glanced to Miko who shrugged. “I do
not know. Azhan may. Why?”

Returning his attention to the “seed,”
he said, “It’s different. Instead of drawing very small amounts of
magic from the world around it at periodic intervals, it now seeks
to completely drain magic from whatever comes near it all at
once.”

“Like the owl.”

“Exactly.”

As if to emphasis what he said,
another attack hit the shield, only to be deflected
harmlessly.

“Also, the trigger to blow upon
detecting magic is no longer operational.”

“Could someone else have changed
it?”

“I don’t see how,” James replied. “The
only way to have done that is by using magic, which would have
caused the seed to detonate. No, the spell must have deteriorated
over time. It’s the only explanation that makes sense.”

With his mind’s eye, he could see the
interwoven intricacies of the spell. Over the past several years,
especially since his first experiments with teleportation, he had
grown more adept at discerning the multitude of magical components
that make up the inner workings of a spell. Although, it was very
likely an illusion constructed by his mind to make sense from
something completely incomprehensible.

In any event, what he saw was like
pulsating, undulating threads of magic that comprised the spell;
each being incredibly small and delicate like spider’s silk. Pull
one, and the whole would collapse. The trick, of course, was to
pull the right one. Tug on the wrong one and, well, the situation
could escalate quickly to extremely unpleasant. The more
complicated the spell, the more interwoven and numerous the threads
became; thus making the task of figuring out how to dismantle it
all the harder. What he saw before him was akin to what a ball of
yarn would look like after a litter of kittens was done with it. It
was a tangled mass of threads that twisted and serpentined in
complete disorder.

Within this labyrinth of magical
threads, he discovered a series of lines that seemed familiar in
some inexplicable way, lines which ran along more symmetrical and
linear paths. Tracing them from one to another revealed a cohesive
pattern at the center of the labyrinth. He was certain that he had
found the original spell.

At numerous points along the outer
perimeter of the original spell, offshoots sprang forth. It was
from these offshoots that the labyrinthine network of lines
encompassing the original spell originated.

James stood in silent contemplation of
what he was seeing while his shield warded off attack after
attack.

A small fluxation in one area of the
original spell preceded a larger fluxation in the lines of magic
surrounding it; which in turn was followed by the attack. After
three such consecutive attacks, he came to the realization that the
outer layer of magic was magnifying what the inner layer was
doing.

Maybe by severing the
amplifying strand from the original, the attacks would
cease?

“Be ready, I’m going to try
something,” he said and out of the corner of his eye, saw Miko nod
as the glow of Morcyth intensified yet further.

His entire thoughts and concentration
were on the point at which the offshoot connected to the original
spell. He saw the spell pulse; the outer spell surged; and the
attack struck.

Pulse-Surge-Attack.

A second later, the pattern repeated
itself.

Pulse-Surge-Attack.

He waited for yet another sequence to
play out. Then, in the lull before the pattern would begin anew, he
struck. A tiny sliver of magic hit the base of the
offshoot.

Expecting an explosion, he
was surprised that the only reaction to the severing was the
vanishing of a section of the outer magical layer. When the
sequence of magic began again, there was only the
Pulse
. The attacks had
ended.

“Well,” commented Miko as the glow of
Morcyth returned to its former level, “that is better.”

Giving out with a relieved sigh, James
wiped the sweat from his brow and nodded. “But there’s still a lot
of magic stored in there.”

“I understand.” The glow
re-intensified.

Taking in the increased luminosity,
James raised his eyebrow and cast Miko a grin.

Miko shrugged. “You never
know.”

He shook his head and chuckled. “True
enough.”

Returning his attention to
the spell and the stored magic it contained, James considered his
options. As far as he could see, there were but two; drain or
detonate. Trying the former would quite likely bring about the
later. He felt like a member of the Bomb Squad sent in to disarm an
explosive device.
Now which is it? Red
wire or blue…

“Give me a hand.”

Holding out both hands, Miko asked,
“Which one?”

“No. I need your help in maintaining a
shield around the wagon while I try to drain the magic.”

“Alright.”

Turning his attention to the wagon and
the magical seed within, Miko gave life to a white shimmering
sphere that fully encompassed the wagon. The luminosity of the
sphere gradually increased over the course of several moments until
the glow radiating forth turned night into day.

“Will this suffice?”

James checked it with his senses and
nodded. “It should.” He then glanced to his friend and saw the
strain upon Miko’s face. “How long can you hold it?”

“As long as needed.” A momentary
pause, then, “But try not to dawdle.”

“Will do.”

Returning his attention to the
destructive seed and the stored magic it contained, James
considered what to do. He dared not stick it with a pin and pop it
like a bubble. There needed to be a safe way that the magic could
be diffused or drawn off. It took nearly a minute, but a plan of
sorts came to mind.