Spellwright

CHAPTER THIRTY-SEVEN

Outside Shannon’s cell, a man cried out as if dying.

The old wizard tried to hurry out of his bed but the Magnus chains wrapped around his wrists jerked him back.

He was still spellbound.

Worse, the censoring text locked around his mind kept him from seeing magical language and made the resulting blackness seem to spin.

He was truly blind now.

The cry came again. Moving more slowly, Shannon put his legs over the side of the bed and arranged his robes. He would face the end with dignity.

A thud sounded from the direction of the door. He did not flinch. The thud came again, accompanied by the crack of breaking Magnus sentences.

Shannon straightened his dreadlocks, smoothed his beard. Another thud and the door gave way with a metallic squeal.

Silence, then the clicking of leather boot heels on stone.

“Rash of you to come in your true body,” Shannon said as calmly as he could. “The sentinels will know of your existence after you kill me.”

“Kill you?” Fellwroth asked with amusement. Something stirred the air beside Shannon. “Nothing so simple, Magister. Come.”

Suddenly Shannon was on his feet, hands stretched out before him as Fellwroth pulled him along by his chains.

“I’m no use to you,” Shannon called. “The boy’s gone. You’ll never find out who he is now that-”

“Nicodemus Weal is in the forest south of here,” Fellwroth rasped. “Yes, I know his name. And, yes, I could flush him out of hiding. But at best that would start a time-consuming chase; at worst, it would kill the whelp.” They were hurrying down a long hallway. “You will carry a message to him.”

They turned and suddenly Shannon was stumbling up stairs. “I don’t know how to find him,” the old wizard said, fighting the dizziness caused by the censoring text.

“Magister, you’re a miserable liar,” Fellwroth rasped. “I’m going to release you, and you’re going to carry my message to the boy.”

Shannon shook his head. “Even if I could find him, I would never do so.” The stairs ended and again Shannon was walking down a hallway.

Fellwroth snorted. “You insult my understanding of human motivation. I know you’d never go to him if I tracked you. I will not follow. Double back five times over. Romp around in the forests all night looking for a subtextual tracker. You’ll find nothing. When you’re satisfied, take my message to the boy.”

Cold wind blew across Shannon’s face. They had left the hallway and were walking in the open air.

“The end game begins,” Fellwroth croaked. “It doesn’t matter that the sentinels know of me. We play on a field outside of Starhaven now. Should the wizards catch Nicodemus and bring him back here, I would have no trouble pulling him from their prisons. In fact, that’s my message to the boy: you and he are to return to Starhaven and place yourselves in the sentinels’ custody. I will use a sand golem to retrieve both of you the instant the black-robes have you.”

“What makes you think we would do such a thing?”

Fellwroth’s footsteps began to produce wooden thuds. Shannon frowned. Could they be walking across the drawbridge?

“You can’t feel it yet, Magister,” Fellwroth hissed, “but I have laced the muscles around your stomach with a Language Prime curse named canker. It forces the muscles to forge dangerous amounts of text. But I’ve edited this version to slow its progress. I call it logorrhea. It won’t kill you in an hour or even a day. It will grow stronger and stronger until it bursts your stomach. If fortunate, you’ll succumb to fever. If unlucky, you will digest your own entrails.”

Shannon could hear the wind rushing through the trees. Somehow they were on the dirt road outside Starhaven. What had happened to the guards?

“I will die screaming before I see Nicodemus submit to you,” Shannon growled.

“Tell the boy that only the Emerald of Arahest can cure the canker growing in your gut.”

“I’ll tell him to run as fast as he can.”

Fellwroth grunted. “If the boy runs, I will find him or he will die.” The monster pulled him hard to the right.

Shannon’s boots left the dirt road and began to swish though knee-high grass.

“Tell Nicodemus that if he submits to me, I will grant him partial use of the emerald. Tell him I will cure your canker.”

Shannon shook his head. “You’re a fool.”

The footsteps in front of him stopped. “Twenty paces ahead is a meadow where a horse is tethered to a low branch. I’ve spellbound your blue parrot to your saddle.”

“Azure,” Shannon said involuntarily.

Fellwroth laughed. “The sentinels had caged the bird in the stables with childish prose. Now go and tell the whelp what I have told you.”

“I’ll never-”

Two cold hands yanked Shannon forward by the wrists and peeled the fetters from his arms and legs. The old wizard gasped as the hands tore the censoring text from his head. His mind, restored to magic, reeled with shock. It felt as if icy needles were scraping across every inch of his skin.

“Tell the boy!” Fellwroth snarled, giving Shannon a shove.

The old wizard stumbled backward. His foot caught and he fell onto his back.

The only sound was that of footfalls on pine needles.

“I’ll die before I tell him!” Shannon shouted after the monster.

No reply.

“IT’S JUST IN here,” the elderly sentinel said.

Amadi was standing in the hallway of a small storage tower. Outside the evening sky was bruising purple.

The gray-haired woman standing before Amadi was a Starhaven sentinel, not one of her trusted Astrophell authors. “Magistra,” Amadi said, “I haven’t much time. The provost has demanded I prepare a report-”

“One of my younger riders found it on the road up from Gray’s Crossing,” the woman interrupted. “It was in the ditch, so it’s not surprising no one else saw it. Unfortunately, when the rider reported it, the guards didn’t believe him.” The old woman cast a short Numinous password into the door before her.

A frown creased Amadi’s brow. “Didn’t believe him about what?”

The old sentinel shook her head. “Best if I show you. I put it in here to prevent rumors.”

They walked into a room lit by candles. A young male lesser wizard was staring wide-eyed at something large and dark on the floor.

At first Amadi thought the object was a body. It was lying stomach down. Its left arm had been melted into a thin rod. Small pools of metallic blood had frozen around the thing’s shoulder and chest.

“Los in hell!” Amadi approached it. The thing’s face was human but for the rectangular window opening into its brow. She bent closer. The head was hollow.

“Pure iron,” the woman behind her said. “Took two wizards and a mule-drawn cart to haul it up here.”

“Shannon, it seems I owe you an apology,” Amadi murmured. “Monsters made of clay and metal.”

“Magistra Okeke!” Amadi turned back to the door. “Magistra!” It was Kale.

Amadi groaned. “Every time I see you, Kale, I get more horrible news. So before you tell me something else, let’s take care of this.” She nodded to the iron carcass. “I need three trusted sentinels to carry it up to the provost’s grand hall. And I want Shannon awake and ready to answer more questions.”

“That’s just it,” Kale panted. “Shannon’s gone.”

“Gone?”

“Someone took him. The guard is dead. The text about the cell was disspelled and the door was knocked down from the outside.”

Amadi’s mind came alive with questions. Who would want to take Shannon from her? The golem monster? How was she going to explain this to the provost? “Do we know where his captor took him? What direction they went?”

Again Kale nodded. “Out the front gate.”

“How is that possible?” the gray-haired sentinel asked. “The front gate is too well guarded.”

Kale’s frightened eyes turned to the woman. “Many sentinels and guards were wounded fighting the bookworm infestation. The rest were spread out across the stronghold, searching for Nicodemus. There were no guards in the gatehouse and only two before the drawbridge. Both are dead.”

“Raise the alarm,” Amadi commanded. “Call the searchers up from Gray’s Crossing and in from the forests. No one is to leave Starhaven’s occupied towers and halls. And see that the slain guards are prepared for a proper burial.”

Kale nodded.

“And tell the digger to make another grave,” Amadi added. “After I tell all this to the provost, you’ll have to put me in it.”