Sorcerer Rising (A Virgil McDane Novel) (20 page)

“We want…the…traitor,” the thing rasped behind me, startling us all. Sam jumped back, but Lambros leaned in.

“James,” she said, removing an odd, silver and glass gun from the holster on her belt, “please remove the creature’s hood. I would like to make our introduction.”

B
oth me and Tiffany yelled together, but before either of us could stop him, he yanked off the hood.

I was startled by what I saw. The creature’s eyes had dimmed to a sickly tan color and were half the size they had been. Its skin was dry and it seemed to have shrunk in on itself.

Lambros kneeled in front of it. “Conrad, have you ever seen anything like this?”

Dorne was still having his match out with Tiffany. Finally, she threw her hands up and stormed out of the tent. Dorne frowned, watching her, but then said, “I have not, Diana. And it may not be safe to be around it.”

“Oh, come now. Where’s your sense of curiosity.” She reached out and delicately touched the creature’s skin with her finger.

The reaction was amazing. A ripple of color went ou
t from where she touched it, its skin changing from pallid blue to the olive colored complexion of her skin.

She laughed. “That is amazing.”

“Tiffany said they were telepathic, Diana,” Dorne said. “I would not recommend having this many people in here at once.”

“It’s more than that,” I said. “Something possessed it.”

“What are you rambling about?” Dorne asked.

“I don’t know,” I said. “I’ve never seen anything like it. Twice now I’ve seen something take hold of these. They got a hell of a lot stronger and their power went off the chart.”

“Then why hasn’t that happened now?” Lambros asked, still examining the creature’s skin. It was shimmering again, shifting from olive to a darker black.

I
t let out a sigh, a deep rasping sound that came out of the circular gills on the side of its head. “Not…worthy…” it whispered.

Then it dissolved.

We all jumped back. Lambros brought her gun up, quicker than anyone else. I think she would have fired it if Dorne hadn’t grabbed her and swung her behind him.

It was all for nothing though. The creature simply dissolved into mist, almost looking like Aether.

“Did everyone just see the octopus man become smoke?” Sam asked.

We all nodded.

CHAPTER TWELVE

The camp was tense after that
. The workers knew something odd had happened, trading trinkets and talisman to ward off everything from fairies to spirits. James and his men were extra twitchy. Conversations ceased as I walked by, dark looks traded back and forth, and there were no more evening poker games.

The third night after our attack, I lay in my cot, restless and irritated. My hand still throbbed, but most of the burning had dissipated. Whatever it had done, the effect was still ther
e. My aura was twisted and torn, my magic all but shattered.

Worse, my head was chasing through theories faster than I could keep up. These things had attacked me twice, but why? They were obviously targeting me, but was it because of the expedition or something else? They said they were looking for a traitor, a runaway I supposed, but I hadn’t the slightest idea who that could be.

A lantern outside my tent brought me out of my brooding. I threw my legs over my cot, wrapping my good hand around Abby’s stock. My bad arm I cradled to my body. The pain had lessened, but it was still unresponsive.

Tiffany stuck her head in the tent. “Do you have a moment?”

“Sure,” I said, surprised.

She
entered, lantern in one hand, a small pouch in the other. I was suddenly hit by her scent, a mix of earth and fruit that radiated femininity. It was a scent I hadn’t even realized I’d become used to. She sat down, crossing her legs and placing the bag in front of her.

“We need to talk,” she said, toying with her braid.

I lowered myself from the cot and sat across from her. “About what?”

“You,” she replied.

I gave her a tired smile. “Trying to chase me off again already?”

“No
. We need to talk about your arm.”

“I’m fine,” I said, not meeting her eyes.

“No you’re not.”

“It’ll heal.
” As if to contradict me, my hand spasmed, my fingers splaying unnaturally.

She watched
, frowning. “Maybe the arm will heal, maybe not, but your magic is something else entirely. Is it working at all?”

I didn’t answer
.

“If you’re going to see this through, we need you useful.” She tossed me the pouch.

I caught it, surprised at the small weight inside. I unraveled the string and shook it out. A ring fell into my lap, small but heavy. It was engraved with light script, a language I didn’t recognize. Not runic, but something else.

“Tiffany,” I said. “You know as well as I do that it’s not as simple as putting on a ring and saying an incantation.”

“I know,” she said.

S
he sat forward and pressed her soft lips against my own. The oh so pleasant scent of her filled my nose. Her lips were sweet, her body warm. I was startled, but I kissed her back and for a moment the world slowed to a stop.

I opened my eyes and made eye contact. They were gorgeous, green and lively, the color of a forest or a jungle.

“Shit,” I said, pulling away.

Sure enough, I wasn’t in the tent anymore. I was in the tunnel, the wall with the rune glowing
angrily.

“You shouldn’t have done that,” I said. “You could have just asked.”

She smiled, standing up. “You would have said no. And I think we both enjoyed this way better,” she added with a wink.

Her attention turned to the wall. “Does it stop you every time?”

“No,” I said, taking my place beside her. “Only mostly.”

“Could you reconstruct
your talisman if you got past?”

“I think so.
I did it the first time.”

I placed my hand against the wall. The rune flared brightly at my touch, but this time I had someone to lend a hand, to give me the strength to break through. She put her hand on my shoulder, a gentle but strong presence behind me. I dug my fingers into the soil, ripping into the wall. The rune flared again but I ignored it, forcing my hand deeper.

A gust of cold wind blew through the wall. I grinned, grabbing a handful of that air with my will and dragging it through the hole.

The wall imploded in a shower of dirt. Ash, like warm, dirty snow, showered us. I braced myself and moved forward, kicking my way through the banks of gray powder at my feet.

We were standing in a large, dreary courtyard. High walls, crumbling and badly kept, surrounded us on three sides. Gargoyles and statues lay in pieces along the towers, few of them intact.

Thick ashen clouds obscured the sky and a heavy fog blanketed everything. No sun shone through the clouds, only a sickly, gray light that reflected off the ash.

Behind us, the entrance we had come through had disappeared and a massive keep loomed over us, a forlorn, depressing sight. When I had first built it, she had been elegant and strong, made of fine white and blue marble. She had reached high into the sky with a dozen tall towers, a fortress of light and flame.

Now the stone was grey and cracked, stained with a thick layer of ash. Great pits had been torn out of its walls and several towers were missing altogether. Most of the windows had been blown out, their imagery littering the dirt. The whole keep leaned slightly to the left, giving the impression it was moments away from collapsing.

The great wooden door hung open, slightly off its hinges. The wood was splintered, the hinges rusted and cracked. It was dark and foreboding and I hated seeing it more than anything else in the world.

It was exactly as I had left it.

“Thank you,” I said.

The courtyard was filled with several buildings but it was the workshop we needed. It was a small rickety shack stuffed in the corner. It had always been like that. Al had too many airs without having world class accommodations.

I shuffled in that direction, kicking up more clouds of ash. Tiffany followed behind me.

“Al, let me in!” I yelled, banging on the door to the shack.

The door swung open, revealing a man who could have passed for my brother. He was shorter than me with lighter colored hair and a high forehead. His features weren’t as blocky, they were narrower, sharper. But he looked as bad as I did, his face sunken and slightly yellow. His eyes were grey and he was badly in need of a shave. He was dressed all in denim with a blacksmith’s apron wrapped around his front. A pair of thick, soot-stained goggles sat perched atop his head and thick brown gloves covered his hands.

Smoke drifted out from behind him, never a good sign when Al was involved.

His eyes widened. “Virgil! I wasn’t expecting you! Why didn’t you call?”

“I live here,” I replied. “I don’t have to call.”

“You know what I mean,” he said. “You don’t meditate for the fun of it. What’s wrong?” Then he noticed Tiffany and his eyes widened even further.

I ignored him and stepped into the workshop. As usual, it was chaos. Books, tools, ingredients, utensils, all sorts of stuff I couldn’t even begin to categorize, cluttered every available surface.

It was a confusing place, aggravated by the fact that you could never really tell how big it was. You could look at it in a different perspective, tilting your head this way and that and adjust the size accordingly.

I placed the ring Tiffany had given me on the counter. “We’re going to make a new talisman.”

“I’ve been putting out fires all over this place,” he said. “What did you do?”

“I went too far,” I said. “I overloaded the talisman, tried to channel too much power through it without the binding ring.”

“What happened?” he asked. “You know better than this!”

“We were attacked again.” I paused. “Didn’t you notice?”

He waved it away. “I can’t concern myself with every bloody thing you get involved with.”

“So you notice women, but not me being attacked by otherworldly fish mages?”

He threw up his hands. “Not my fault if your sirens go off in the presence of a great ass but not during danger.” He grinned. “Besides, you really have a thing for redheads.””

Tiffany laughed. I glared at him, trying to ignore her. “Are you making a joke?”

“I’m serious!” he said. Then he turned to Tiffany. “Turn around, Miss.”

“Stop!” I shouted, holding up a hand. “You’re telling me you couldn’t tell I was slinging around magic out there?”

He grabbed my hand. “Aw, come on, Virgil! Have some care for yourself! You’re lucky you still have an arm.”

I could see what he meant. In my head, the damage was truly visible. Veins of red, angry light coursed throughout my arm and fingers, pulsating in tune with my heartbeat. The skin was pale, ashen, absent of any life, and the web of power that the rings connected hung in tatters from my fingertips like gossamer thread.

“I didn’t have a choice,” I repeated.

“These things, they attacked you again,” he asked, examining my arm.

“They did, but I don’t know why.”

He dropped my hand. “Hold on.” He went over to one of the far desks, pulling out an old TV tube. No knobs, no housing, just the tube. “Let’s get a better look.”

“Your familiar?” Tiffany asked as Al fiddled with the tube.

“Sort of,” I said. “He’s been here as long as I can remember.”

“Is it wise to give him this much freedom?” she asked.

I snorted. “You must not have a familiar.”

“No,” she agreed.

“It’s tricky,” I said. “He’s not a tool, more like a brother.”

He smacked the TV as the screen filled with static. He let out a string of curses, mostly in Gaelic, then produced a pair of rabbit ear antennas, sticking them on top.

“Maybe a cousin…” I said.

“What’s he saying?” she asked.

I shrugged. “I don’t speak Gaelic very well.”

She cocked an eyebrow. “You’re serious?”

“It’s a dead language! I speak Hebrew and Latin, cut me some slack.”

“But he speaks it,” she said, pointing at Al. “How can he know it, and you not?”

I shrugged.

The static cleared, revealing the scene in the alleyway from my eyes. The image was still fuzzy, not so much from whatever Al was doing, but more from my own memory trying to pieces together everything I’d seen. Memories were subjective and this had been very unusual. I was having trouble believing what I was seeing and my memory reflected that.