Magic's Design Read online

  “Good plan overall, Vrillian. But nobody has ever broken out of Rohm. As you can see, it’s too well guarded.”

  His lips parted and a snarl cut the air. The waterfall in the distance was almost loud enough to cover up the man’s mutter as his slippered feet touched the ground. But not quite. “It shouldn’t have been guarded.”

  That raised Tal’s brows. “It shouldn’t? And why is that?” But the illusionist wasn’t talking now. His lips had sealed again. Only his clenched fists and flashing dark eyes revealed his anger that was being slowly replaced by a growing fear. Tal decided to prod him along a little to see if he’d break. He smiled broadly just before casting out the immobilization charm he’d been building up the energy for in his focus with a quick flash of his hand. “No answer? Well, that’s all right. I’m sure your fellows will be glad to discuss the matter at length, once I tell them you’ve told me all about your plan. The witch has seen us talking. I wonder if he could hear what’s been said.” He enjoyed seeing the frantic look in the man’s eyes at the words, just before the charm froze him completely.

  “Tal! Look out!” Sela’s panicked voice from above made instinct take over. He dropped to the cavern floor and rolled, scanning the area frantically, just as the brownout dimmed the lights. A blast of blue-white light from behind the hastily constructed pile of rubble in the wall gap seared his pupils and blinded him. The next thing he heard was Alexy’s pained grunt and the clatter of rocks being blasted out of the opening.

  Darkness descended abruptly on the cavern, so deep that not even the cave worms could be seen. Powerful magic rode the air, choking the breath from his lungs. The magic was accompanied by a bone-chilling cold that whistled through like an Arctic blast. This was no brownout. It was much, much worse. Tal gasped for enough air to shout. “Sela, get down! Find a safe position. Stay silent.” He said the words even as he scrambled through the unending black, seeking cover with blind fingertips that quickly grew bloodied on the sharp volcanic glass.

  If he was right, the three of them were no match for what had just been released from prison. The infamous fire mage Vegre was the only Guilder who was known to be able to control the Creeping Darkness; a spell that removed heat and light so completely as to achieve total darkness over an area. Their only hope was to survive long enough to either seal the gates to the outer world or report back to the king.

  “Blackguard! Befou—” Sela’s voice, filled with rage and contempt, was cut off as a flash of light engulfed her. Surely she hadn’t—? Why in the name of the Blessed Tree would she ever consider casting a death curse? He watched Sela fly backward through the air toward the waterfall. The thick, wet collision of flesh and bone against stone was followed by a whimper and then silence. A man’s scream cut the air and then a blast of power shot out. Clenching his fists, he bit his tongue until he could taste coppery blood. He would not be baited. As much as it pained him, he wouldn’t give away his position by speaking or racing to her side to help her. Instead, he searched for enough magic to fuel a spell. His stone was completely empty and the Creeping Darkness was doing its job. The shadows were beginning to pull on his life force reserves and, through him, others in the O.P.A. The spell would bleed their power to the caster … to Vegre. Tal would die, strangled with his own power.

  Tal reached outward with his senses, seeking other fire mages, his sister, the citizens of Rohm, the Sacred Tree of Life. Anyone he could connect to outside of the agency. He could sense death in a growing circle around him—the prison guards, some of the prisoners, and even a few travelers on the road to town. But strangely, not Alexy or Sela. They lived, if just barely. He stretched himself further, hoping against hope that Vegre hadn’t managed to cover the entire kingdom with his spell.

  “I can hear you breathing, mage.” The amused, gravely voice seemed to come from every direction. It was all Tal could do to remain motionless and try to find the mage among the magic, to strike. He might not have spells or blasting energy, but he was skilled in hand-to-hand combat. Vegre had been in prison for a very long time. “Yes, definitely a mage. Your fire tastes sweet on my tongue. What shall we do with you after you’re drained and helpless? Suffocate you in earth? Boil you in steam? We must reward you, after all, for attempting to foil my escape.”

  There. A telltale footfall in the scattered rubble as the dark mage chuckled. He turned his head slowly, trying desperately not to make a sound. The distance was difficult to gauge, but he had to try.

  As carefully as he could, Tal slipped his charmed handcuffs from the case on his belt. The spell Vegre had used wouldn’t affect them, since there was no power to steal until they snapped closed. All he had to do was attach the cuff to an ankle or arm and the charm would activate—drawing magical power from him to create a bright light. They were perfect for criminal Guilders, even if the magicwielder escaped from custody. They were easy to track, and quickly lost life force. Even better, the cuffs had no effect on humans, other than as traditional, sturdy handcuffs. That made them perfect for carrying topside, without any danger of them falling into the wrong hands.

  Tal couldn’t depend on the charm draining Vegre’s energy, because of the Creeping Darkness spell. Still, at least there would be light.

  Gathering his feet under him silently, he tried to time his movements to the sounds around him. While he knew he had no power to cast, the others might not know that. So, he hoped for the best and leapt forward with a bold battle cry that should paralyze his opponents. “Pryval!”

  Pain erupted when his neck snapped back. He’d collided with a body and both of them went to the ground. Tal held tight to the cuffs and reached out to grapple with the person under him, searching through the cloak for a limb—any limb small enough for the charmed metal band to lock around. His opponent didn’t speak, but he was well muscled and vicious—leading Tal to believe he was dealing with one of the original trio. The prison didn’t feed or exercise their criminals well enough for them to be muscled.

  “Bloody hell!” Tal winced as fingernails raked across his face. The opponent then found purchase in his hair and his skull was slammed against the stone floor hard enough for him to see stars. Blood from the scratches stung his eyes. Unfortunately, he couldn’t use the same techniques, since his job was to bring the prisoners back to their cells generally unharmed. Still, he could certainly defend himself, and he doubted his superiors would object to a somewhat vigorous defense, considering the heinous crimes the prisoners were convicted of.

  He punched and kicked blindly, giving as good as he got. The battle was more difficult than it normally would be, since not only was it pitch black, but he had to keep one hand free to attach the cuff when he found an opening. Unfortunately, the man’s arms were well covered with thick leather all the way down to his fingers, and the cuff had to touch bare skin. He swung his free arm backward and connected with what felt like the man’s stomach with his elbow. He put enough force behind the blow to make the man exhale air in a whoosh. But then a sharp blow to Tal’s mouth from what felt like a knee made him taste blood. The scent of rank sweat and his opponent’s foul breath made him want to heave, but at last, he found an ankle that was barren of cloth. He slapped the cuff against the ankle and knew it had locked when a quiet humming reached his ears.

  “Bastard!” The man howled in pain and annoyance just before shoving Tal completely off and shaking his leg, trying to stop the charm’s stinging.

  Tal watched carefully, waiting for the slow, pale blue light that would begin to chew away at the darkness. Seconds later, charm met spell and although the mage tried to cover the cuff with clothing and hide in comers, the whole purpose of the charm was to prevent that. Thankfully, the cavern was somewhat secluded and there was only one exit.

  Tal’s eyes grabbed onto what light the cuff provided to look around. The first thing he saw was the lifeless body of the illusionist on the ground. His skin had blackened and was oozing yellowish pus. But that made no sense. Sela hadn’t finished the curse.
If she had, she’d be just as dead as this criminal. The Befouler curse was a last-ditch death curse that pulled the life energy from the caster to kill another. But it killed both. Tal couldn’t imagine why his comrade would have lost her control enough to consider it. This was certainly critical, but not worth her life.

  Movement to his left pulled his eyes away. A tall man with arms crossed over his chest stared down at him with an amused expression. Recognition blazed and Tal felt an immediate hatred for the man. He’d been only a child when last he saw this face—twisted with anger and hate as he was hauled by thick chains through the smoking wasteland that had been the village of Blackshear. Tal’s parents were buried there, along with half of the populace of the village. Unfortunately, Vegre’s arrogance hadn’t changed a bit, despite centuries in prison. As Tal suspected, there was no cuff glowing on his ankle.

  With frightening speed that the old mage shouldn’t have been capable of, he spit the word, “Pryval.” Tal felt his body freeze in place, every muscle becoming rigid except his throat and mouth. That was odd and spoke of a very carefully laid spell.

  Vegre regarded him for a long moment, before grabbing his wrist. He pulled up the sleeve and twisted it sharply, making Tal hiss in pain. The mage’s eyes lit up at the sound and then he smiled, revealing darkened stumps of teeth in several places. “As I suspected … a mage, but not a craftmaster. Still, it’s gratifying to know the academy is teaching young constables to think on their feet. But surely you didn’t believe I would sully myself with fisticuffs?”

  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 i
t 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.