The Spell Realm (17 page)

Augusta’s eyebrows snapped together. So Ganir already knew the Guard were not dead. Had Barson betrayed her to the Council Leader? Was that what the old man meant by her being ‘in league’ with her lover? Her anger intensifying, she saw Ganir taking a few steps back, and she realized that, in a moment, he would be near his desk, where his Interpreter Stone lay.

There was no more time to waste.

Loading the card she’d prepared earlier, Augusta closed her eyes and braced herself. When she opened them, she and Ganir were standing on the roof of the Tower, with all of Turingrad laid out far below.

Without giving Ganir a chance to get his bearings, Augusta went for her first prepared spell.

It was pure kinetic energy, focused all on one spot. It should’ve caused him to fly off the roof—yet Ganir barely flinched. He must’ve had a defensive spell on himself, she realized, watching him fumble as he took out cards from his pockets and began changing a spell at the same time.

Seeing those cards, she clutched her own stone, her biggest advantage right now.

Ganir’s first verbal spell was an elemental fire attack. It hit the shield Augusta had prepared, and waves of fire spread around the roof. It was the most powerful spell of this kind she had ever encountered.

Swiftly loading the pre-written card into her Stone, Augusta retaliated with a lightning bolt. It hit Ganir’s defense, causing the smell of ozone to permeate the air. The old man, however, was still unharmed.

He was also still attempting to write something on his cards. Why would he do this, when he had no Stone? There was no way he would be able to get Augusta’s Stone—and it wouldn’t work for him, anyway, since she had it customized for herself.

At the same time as he was writing, Ganir was saying the words to some verbal spell. The fact that he could do both at the same time was impressive; Augusta didn’t know anyone who could do two such concentration-intensive tasks at once. It made him even more dangerous, she thought as she loaded more cards into her stone.

Her next spell was designed to blast Ganir with sudden changes in temperature. As the spell began working, the air around him shimmered, turning from boiling to freezing and back to boiling within seconds. His shield held, but Augusta knew it would begin to weaken soon.

Suddenly, a triumphant expression appeared on Ganir’s face. To her shock, Augusta saw that he was now holding his Stone. He must’ve summoned it with that verbal spell he was chanting earlier, she realized with dismay, even as she quickly loaded more defensive spells into her own Stone.

It didn’t help. All of a sudden, she felt a debilitating fear—a nebulous, undefined fear of anything and everything. When she was a young girl, she had been dreadfully afraid of spiders, and it was like that fear, only multiplied a thousand fold. There was a silent scream in her throat, her panic irrational, yet overwhelming. Her vision darkened, her heart pounding like a drum, and cold sweat broke out over her body. She couldn’t even scream, her vocal cords paralyzed by terror. If she hadn’t had her shield in place, this would’ve been a thousand times worse, she realized dimly, battling the nauseating terror that crippled her thinking.

Ganir was literally trying to frighten her to death.

The fear intensified, waves of it washing over her at the knowledge that if he succeeded, the Council would think she died of natural causes. They wouldn’t even look for her killer. Fury, sharp and healing, seized her at the thought, giving her the strength to move her arms. Out of the corner of her eye, she could see Ganir writing something else on a card.

She didn’t have much time. His next spell would be the end.

Gathering herself, Augusta reached with trembling hands for a spell she’d prepared for another purpose. A new wave of fear hit her, causing her to nearly drop the card, but she managed to fit it into the Stone before collapsing to her knees.

Time seemed to slow. She could hear her own ragged breathing and the heavy pumping of her heart. Somewhere at the back of her mind she registered the fact that Ganir swayed on his feet and then sank down to the floor, and that the waves of fear battering her abated slightly.

Struggling to her feet, Augusta approached Ganir’s fallen body to make sure her spell had worked.

Then she began to work on a spell to calm and heal her shattered mind.

Chapter 24: Barson

Barson was doing what he always did when he was angry: channeling it into practice. Three sacks with sand now lay in a shredded mess on the floor, destroyed by his fists, and he was moving on to training with his sword. He knew it was risky, remaining in the Tower, but no sorcerer ever visited the Guard barracks, and Barson needed to let off some steam before he went back to Dara’s house.

Augusta was impossible, he thought between ragged breaths, swinging his sword in a wide, furious arc. He’d had every intention of telling her about his plan, but she’d twisted everything, throwing out accusations that made no sense. And then to imply that he couldn’t protect her because he couldn’t cast spells? He’d always admired her strength and independence, but she took it too far this time. He would not stand for that kind of disrespect—and certainly not from a woman whom he’d wanted to be his companion in the new order.

His intention today was to pass out from exhaustion in this training room, and he was making good headway when the sound of footsteps caught his attention. Turning, he saw Larn walking his way, accompanied by Zanil and Pugan, two of his best lieutenants.

Breathing heavily, Barson lowered his sword. What were they doing in the Tower when they were supposed to stay hidden? Had they come here for exercise as well? “Why are you here?” he yelled as they came closer. “Didn’t I tell you to lie low?”

Strangely, they didn’t respond, just continued walking.

As they got closer, Barson noticed the blank expressions on their faces. Their eyes were glassy and unfocused, as though they were out of their minds with exhaustion or drink. But if that was the case, what were they doing in the training room? And why had they not answered him?

“Larn, stop and explain what’s going on,” Barson commanded. There was no reaction, but Barson could see the muscles in Larn’s right hand tense as his fingers tightened on the hilt of his sword.

This had to be some kind of prank Larn dreamed up. “I am in no mood for levity,” Barson told them sharply. “Explain yourselves. Now.”

They unsheathed their swords instead.

Puzzled and annoyed, Barson assumed a defensive posture out of habit, gripping his sword tighter—and in that moment, they attacked.

They moved with a fury that took him completely by surprise. This was no training.

For some unknown reason, Barson’s best friend and his two trusted soldiers were out to kill him.

Parrying the first thrusts, Barson frantically thought about this situation. There had to be an explanation. “Is someone keeping Dara hostage?” he yelled at Larn, blocking the second wave of attack. “Is that how they are making you do this?”

A cut to his left shoulder was his only answer.

The cut was not deep, but its effect was sobering.

If Barson didn’t focus, he would die.

Chapter 25: Blaise

Entering Liva’s house with Gala, Blaise saw Esther and Maya sitting at the table with their host.

“There you two lovebirds are,” Esther exclaimed with a wide smile on her face. “Liva tells me that was quite a lesson today.”

Gala grinned, her face lighting up. “Liva did a great job with her spell,” she said, looking at the woman.

Liva flushed, both pleased and embarrassed by the praise. “Oh, I’m nowhere near as good as this girl right here . . .” She pointed at Gala. “Now, she’s got real talent.”

“Oh, we know,” Maya said drily. “Believe me, we know.”

“So when is the celebration?” Gala asked, looking excited at the thought. “I’d love to meet everyone.”

“We were just waiting for the two of you to get back,” Liva said, smiling. “Now that you’re here, I’ll let the others know, and we can start.”

* * *

Everybody gathered at a large clearing near the edge of the village. A big fire was blazing in the middle, with a boar roasting on a spit. “The hunters caught it today,” Liva said proudly as they approached the gathering. “It’s not often that we get such a feast, and we’re happy we can welcome you to the village properly.”

Blaise counted about a hundred people, ranging in age from toddlers to elders. It was a sizable settlement, he realized, watching them.

“Here, Blaise, have a drink,” an attractive dark-haired woman exclaimed, coming up to him and handing him a clay cup. She looked vaguely familiar, and the way she was talking made it seem like they knew each other.

“Thank you,” Blaise said, and then he realized that the woman was Ara—the female hunter he’d met earlier. He almost didn’t recognize her in a feminine blue dress, with her long hair unbound and streaming down her back. She’d looked so much like a boy before that the transformation was startling. Taking a sip of the drink she handed him, Blaise choked and made a face. “What is this?”

She laughed, patting him on the back. “Fermented berries. Not as fancy as the wine you’re probably used to, right?”

Blaise grinned at her. “I don’t typically drink, but the wine I had before was indeed very different.”

At that moment, Gala came up to them, a strange expression on her face. She looked almost angry. Looping her arm through Blaise’s elbow, she gave Ara a haughty look. “I don’t think Blaise likes that drink of yours,” she said sharply.

Blaise stared at his creation in shock. He’d never seen her be purposefully rude. Did she dislike Ara for some reason?

Ara shot Gala an equally disdainful look. “I think as a former Council member, Blaise can decide for himself what he does and does not like,” she began, and Blaise saw Gala’s free hand curling into a fist. The truth dawned on him. Gala was jealous. He needed to diffuse the situation and quickly.

“Gala,” he said evenly, “why don’t we take a walk right now? I think the fresh air would be good for us. Ara—thank you for the drink. It was actually quite good.” And before Gala could protest, he led her into the woods, trying not to notice the disappointed expression on Ara’s face.

“Gala, were you jealous?” he asked when they were out of the earshot of the villagers. “Was that why you acted this way with Ara?”

Gala looked at him, a stormy expression on her face. “Do you like her?” To his surprise, there was a hurt note in her voice. “Do you want her? Because I think she wants you—”

“What? No!” Blaise couldn’t believe someone so beautiful was feeling insecure. “You’re the only one I want. How can you even think otherwise? Ara was just being friendly—”

“No, she wasn’t,” Gala said quietly. “I’ve seen her looking at you before. She doesn’t act this friendly with the others—only with you.”

Blaise took a deep breath. “Regardless of what Ara may or may not feel, what matters is how I feel,” he said, holding Gala’s gaze. “And I can assure you, you have nothing to worry about. I don’t think of her that way.”

A faint flush stole across her face. “I’m sorry,” she said, looking away. “I don’t know what came over me. It’s not logical, but I don’t like the thought of you with some other woman. Even Augusta, although I know it’s in the past—”

“Gala . . .” Blaise reached for her hand, clasping it between his palms. His heart was beating faster, and a feeling very much like euphoria spread through him. “Believe me,” he said softly, “I can’t think of anyone but you.”

She looked up at him again, her expression unusually vulnerable. “And I can’t think of anyone but you,” she whispered, her eyes large and liquid in the fading twilight.

Unable to resist, Blaise bent his head and kissed her, his hands sliding around her back to press her closer. It was only the knowledge that the entire village was less than fifty feet away that enabled him to stop with just a kiss.

“Come,” he murmured, taking her hand again. “Let’s go back. And please, don’t be upset with every woman I speak to. I can promise you, they mean nothing to me.”

Gala gave him a soft smile. “All right. I will try.”

When they got back, the boar was ready, and the women were starting to slice off thick pieces of meat dripping with fat. Liva handed Gala and Blaise two misshapen wooden plates loaded with meat and roasted vegetables, and they sat down to eat next to the fire.

An old, white-haired man was sitting near them, with a few children gathered around him. He was telling the children a story. As Blaise listened closer, he realized it was one of the myths from the western lands.

“In the beginning, a thousand years ago, the world was all water,” the elderly man began, his voice deep and sonorous. “There was nothing there except two brothers—the Sea Monster and the Thunder Creature. They lived together, in the water and the sky, until one day they had a big fight. The Thunder Creature was envious of the Sea Monster’s freedom to swim, and in a fit of jealous rage, he ripped the Sea Monster’s heart out. That heart became the land of Koldun, and the Sea Monster’s flesh became its people. With his brother gone, the Thunder Creature went insane from loneliness, his howls creating the storms that surround our land to this very day.”