Aldwyn's Academy (20 page)

Whirling like a dog snapping after a snake, Dorian turned and held his haversack out. The axe whistled at him. Helene screamed and shut her eyes.

First the blade then the haft disappeared into the mouth of the magical haversack. Committed to the swing the minotaur followed through on its strike, and its hand, then arm up to the elbow, plunged into the magical carryall.

Dorian thrust both hands holding the backpack forward, and the carryall swallowed the minotaur’s arm up to the shoulder. With deft and lucky motions, he slid one of the shoulder straps of the haversack over the minotaur’s horn and jumped clear.

Confused and trapped, arm completely enveloped by the haversack, the slow-witted creature spun and clawed at the bag. Trying to yank its arm clear, it dropped its battle-axe and the axe fell, lost in the haversack.

Dorian hit the floor and snatched up a three-legged stool standing beside an apothecary table. He rolled away, throwing the stool between the monster’s legs.

The minotaur turned in crazed circles. Its feet tangled up and the beast went down hard to the stone floor of the chamber. Dorian sprang to his feet and jerked the closest brazier over onto the monster.

Red hot, glowing coals spilled across the beast and for the third time the undead creature faced its most damaging foe, fire. Now its snorts and brays were not of anger but of agony, and the stench of burning hide was so immediate and strong Dorian was almost overcome by the urge to throw up.

A motion flashed in front of his eyes, forcing him backward in surprise.

A spear slammed into the wall next to him, the barbed iron head biting into the mortar cracks of the wall to half its length.

Dorian turned and saw both the bugbears charging for him.

Out in the chamber beyond them, Athadora sang out in triumph and the tip of her dagger plunged down at the helpless Helene.

D
orian pushed his back against the wall.

The bugbears were coming for him and a line of zombies stood in a wall between he and Helene.

He had no more tricks, no more gambles, no more plans.

It was over.

There was a flash of light and a vicious
crack
, like ice splitting on a winter lake. A voice filled the subterranean cavern with a force so powerful it reached inside of Dorian and shook his heart.

He blinked, confused.

The glare rescinded and he saw salvation.

Like an image out of a dream, Lowadar appeared in the center of the vast chamber.

“Athadora!” the stern wizard roared. His face was mottled red with rage above his beard. “You do this to children? You will pay!”

“You’ve already failed,” Athadora snarled back.

Flanking the head of Aldwyns on three sides in a diamond formation were the grim Professor Blackburn, Professor Ives, and—most shocking to Dorian—the Eladrin, Maverick.

“Oh, you’re a wicked girl,” the magic-shop owner grinned at Althadora. “But this has gone on quite long enough.”

His hand went to the hilt of a sword and the four mages unleashed their fury without further preamble.

Lowadar made a motion like a man tossing dice, and the plunging blade of Athadora’s dagger froze in midair.

Blackburn brought his wand down like a herdsman cracking a whip, and a fireball the size of a carriage ripped into the assembly of zombies.

The undead figures burst into flames like wooden kitchen matches. Dorian’s eyes bulged at the raw magical power on display. The bugbears racing at him suddenly spun and attacked the new threat.

Professor Ives, white robes flaring as he motioned, struck out with his wand and lightning arced from the tip to take the first bugbear in the face.

A group of zombies not caught in the first fireball shambled forward moaning in rage, picks and shovels filling their hands.

Maverick gripped a long, straight sword in his hand and stepped forward to engage this new threat only to be
surprised as the minotaur, axe freed of Dorian’s haversack, charged him, flames leaping off its hide.

“Maverick, look out!” Dorian shouted.

Blue energy illuminated a scrawling line of runes on Maverick’s blade as he parried a terrific blow from the monster’s axe.

Dorian looked to Helene.

He saw Athadora unleash a barrage of Magic Missiles at Lowadar, the spell leaping from her wand in such quick succession it was almost too fast for mortal eyes to follow.

Lowadar spun, green and gold robes flaring out as he matched the dark sorceress spell for spell.

Seizing his chance Dorian ran forward, Athadora’s key in his hand. He danced around one zombie’s clumsy attack only to see Maverick behead the undead soldier in the next moment.

The boy somersaulted over one shoulder and rolled up beside the altar where Helene lay chained. She jerked her manacled arm at him, impatience clear on her face.

“Hurry up!” she hissed.

“You’re
welcome
!” Dorian retorted, unlocking her first wrist.

“Give me that.”

She snatched the key out of his hand and quickly began unlocking her feet.

A burst of green energy smashed into the altar, throwing sparks up in a carnival display of light. The
force of the Magic Missile strike tossed Helene to one side and knocked Dorian to the ground.

Looking around the altar, he saw Athadora standing near the skull of the dragon skeleton.

Closer to the center of the chamber he clearly saw the line of magical runes written on the floor leading from the jaw of the dragon skull up to the altar.

Across the room Maverick split the flaming minotaur’s skull.

Ives put the second bugbear down and Blackburn unleashed a second and then a third fireball into the ranks of the remaining zombies.

Athadora twisted as Lowadar aimed his wand at her. Her hand, already cocked back, shot forward like the arm on a catapult.

Helene struggled up and reached out with her key to unlock the final remaining lock binding her to the altar.

The silver dagger spun like a wheel as it cut through the air.

“No!” Dorian shouted.

The boy drove himself up off the floor.

The dagger spun too fast for Helene to notice it. Dorian drove his shoulder into her back, trying desperately to knock her clear of the knife’s path.

Helene grunted under the impact, bowing backward as Dorian shoved her aside. Her arm whipped as he pushed her clear of the blade.

For one brief moment he thought his gambit had worked. But he failed.

The keen edge of the cursed blade struck her outflung hand and nicked her thumb.

A single drop of blood tumbled through the air.

Entangled, the two students slid to the ground.

The drop of the princess’s blood struck the floor.

Rich crimson light erupted from the first of the evil runes, then, like dominos falling, each glyph lit up in turn until the ugly light reached the dragon.

Beside the massive horned skull, a jagged bolt of lightning struck Athadora, knocking her backward.

Then the skeleton of Insidian exploded with a vibrant, overpowering brilliance the color of ink, and all light in the room was sucked into a deep, black void.

I
nsidian rose.

Dorian heard someone screaming as if from far away, then realized it was himself.

The monstrous, undead black dragon lifted up its grim skull, the pits of its eyes glowing with a vicious green, necrotic energy.

The long neck followed after it, raising white horns and fangs to the ceiling.

The heavy body filled the cavern chamber, the wings unfolding like skeletal fans to envelope the group standing before it.

A ball of green magical fire burned at the back of Insidian’s mouth and flowed like electricity at its joints and in the pit of its pelvic bone.

“Avandra protect us,” Helene whispered.

Beside her Dorian gaped, breath gone, mouth working without forming words.

A bitter, metallic, and unnatural cold emanated from
the undead dragon in a wind. Like the hinges of a portcullis opening, the jaw dropped open, displaying fangs that resembled sabers.

The boy knew fear that would have crippled grown men.

“Return to darkness, wyrm!” Maverick commanded, stepping forward. He lifted his enchanted sword and pointed it at Insidian, uttering spells.

The dragon reared back, raising a huge clawed foot to threaten the wizard.

Dorian’s heart leaped with hope as he saw Lowadar step forward, but then to the boy’s amazement and horror, the archmage vanished in a brief flash of light.

“No!” Dorian screamed in disbelief as the Aldwyns headmaster fled.

The dragon hacked out a horrid sound of rage and hunger. A vile green liquid sprayed from inside the nothingness of its great black maw.

Ives leaped forward and cast a golden umbrella of light that rose up between the dragon’s spray and the group of professors.

The liquid hit the magical shield and splashed outward like water from a pump. Dorian felt his body whiplash as Helene struck him from the side, driving him down to the floor behind the altar.

He hit the ground hard and his teeth snapped shut on the tip of his tongue. Bolts of pain lanced
through his body and the copper tang of blood filled his mouth.

“Hey!” he yelled.

The green, viscous liquid spewed by the dragon splashed off Professor Ives’ Shield spell and landed on the altar and floor around the students.

Dorian’s eyes grew large as he saw the saliva begin immediately eatting through iron and rock.

“Acid!” Helene hissed in explanation from on top of him. “They’ll be overwhelmed. We have to help!”

Dorian looked and saw Maverick finish his arcane command, unleashing a dazzling blast in front of the dragon’s face that caused it to retreat in confusion.

“Good work, elf!” Blackburn shouted. “We’ve got him now!”

The professor stepped forward and used his wand to send a hammer blow of magical energy into the dragon.

Insidian swept its wing and sent the three magic-users tumbling head-over-heels across the chamber. The undead dragon seized on its advantage and surged forward.

“Blackburn, look out!” Ives yelled. “We must give Lowadar time!”

Blackburn flung himself to the side, narrowly avoiding being impaled on the dragon’s fangs. Insidian brought its foot down and caught Ives a glancing blow on the elf’s leg.

Even from across the room, Dorian could hear the sound as the leg snapped like a stick of wood under the force.

“Ives!” It was Blackburn’s turn to call out.

The students pushed themselves up, clinging close. A loathsome stream of smoke rose in flickering tendrils from the acid holes where the dragon’s saliva had landed. Amazed at the horrific power, Dorian peered closer.

“Die!”

Athadora lunged from out of the shadow, wand in one hand silver dagger in the other.

“Dorian, watch out!” Helene fell back.

Dorian scooped up a loose manacle and threw it at the enraged woman.

The metal bracelet flew out and struck Athadora in the face. It crushed her nose like it were a piece of fruit, turning her coldly beautiful face into a twisted mask.

The desperate ploy halted her attack long enough for Helene to complete her spell.

“Charm!” the elf princess commanded in the language of magic and gestured.

Athadora spun as if clubbed and dropped to her knees. Her head went down so that her long raven hair covered her face in a curtain. When she lifted her face, her eyes peered out from between the tresses and found Dorian.

The hate and anger and evil that powered her dark gaze with such fierce light was replaced by … something else.

“Oh dear boy,” she whispered, her voice husky with emotion. “How could I have ever hurt
you?”
The necromancer began to crawl forward, still on her hands and knees. “Forgive me, you brave, handsome boy. I didn’t know what I was doing. Come here, let me help you.”

“You’re insane,” Dorian squawked, scrambling backward like a crab. “Get away from me!”

Athadora reacted as if she had been slapped.

“No, it’s not true!” she cried. “You must feel it too!” Her panicked eyes found Helene. “Unless it’s this strumpet who’s bewitched you! Evil girl!”