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  “Master Raven.” A woman said as she bowed at the waist. “What has happened?”

  She looked familiar. Krys quickly glanced at the floor between two long banquet tables to find the serving women gone, their bowls and platters, and the spilled food cleared away.

  The wizard placed a hand on the woman’s shoulder. “No time to explain at present. Carry on your normal duties until someone is sent to tell the castle folk what has occurred and what needs to be done.”

  She gave Raven another bow. “As you wish.” She turned and walked past Krys and Navashay, giving a slight bow to each. “M’Lord, M’Lady.” She left through a darkened doorway.

  A small squeak came from under the table. Krys and Navashay looked at each other, then both gazed near the floor. The small girl, still holding the rag doll, crouched in the shadows. She moved farther away as Navashay extended her hand.

  “Come on,” Navashay said. “We won’t hurt you.”

  Slowly, the girl reached out and allowed Navashay to help her up. She huddled behind the healer as Raven approached.

  “Do not be afraid, small one,” Raven said gently.

  The girl peeked out from behind Navashay’s long vest.

  “Go find your mother and she shall feed you.”

  The girl beamed at Raven, wiped a snotty nose on the back of her hand, turned and ran through the same door the woman had just walked through.

  “Amazing,” Navashay said with a hushed tone.

  Krys felt something cold and wet touch his hand. He gazed down to find the dog. It nuzzled his hand and Krys ruffled the fur on its head. Then he and Navashay followed Raven as he rushed into the throne room and to the stone-covered arch directly behind the large throne.

  Krys felt sinking disappointment when he noticed the archways were still sealed in stone. “I was hoping they would have opened when the curse broke,” he said to Navashay.

  The wizard waved his hand down the right side of the arch. The sound of grinding rock filled the room and a tall, but narrow slot opened in the wall. He reached in and withdrew a pure white, carved staff. An emerald stone was perched on top, entwined by ringlets of white wood. The stone gleamed with intense light. He reached back into the hidden compartment and retrieved a small pouch. He turned around. “Now we must leave. Did Grimm say where the sacrifice would take place?”

  “On the body of the king,” Krys said. A wave of renewed fear swept through him. “His tomb is in my village.”

  Raven said nothing, grief painted his face. “The body of the king,” he mumbled, his gaze becoming a vacant stare.

  Navashay leaned toward Krys. “What’s wrong with him?” she whispered.

  “The way I understand it from the journal,” Krys whispered back. “The king and Raven were close friends.” He looked back at the wizard. “Um, Raven?”

  The wizard blinked a few times and focused on Krys again.

  “We need to get to Peter.”

  “Right, of course.” Raven placed his hand in the pouch he’d recovered and withdrew a handful of silver powder. It glistened in his hand. “Gather close.” He threw the powder into the air. “The tomb of King Reth.”

  The glittering powder fluttered down on them and the view of the throne room dimmed and disappeared, replaced by the open, grassy square in Ravenwood Village, lit only by the full moon overhead.

  Grimm stood over Peter who lay across the stone slab covering the royal tomb. Moonlight flashed off the blade held in the sorcerer’s hand as Grimm brought the weapon within a hairs-breadth of Peter’s heart.

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  Chapter 21 - Wizard Standoff

  Moonlight streamed through the treetops and eerie shadows danced across Peter, who lay draped over the tomb.

  Krys lunged toward his friend, but Raven’s strong grip on his tunic dragged him back to the cover of the large tree they hid behind.

  “Not yet,” Raven whispered.

  “But,” Krys hissed back. “Grimm’s gonna kill him.”

  “Let me handle Grimm.”

  All three pairs of eyes locked on the blade in Grimm’s hands as it descended.

  Lifting his staff, Raven pointed it across the grassy square. The emerald tip blazed. A thin stream of fire burst forth and struck Grimm in the side. In an instant, the dagger fell to the ground and the evil wizard flew through the air, crashing into the wrought iron fence.

  Raven launched himself from behind the tree and ran, skidding to a halt next to Grimm’s still body. Bright tendrils of light came from the wizard’s staff and wrapped around the sorcerer.

  Krys and Navashay raced to the tomb.

  His eyes rolled up in their sockets, Peter lay across the marble lid, his tunic missing, torso exposed. A circle of small purple flames burned on the skin over his heart. Deep scratches and cuts covered the remainder of his chest and abdomen and blood ran from his mouth. Skin peeled from the palms of his scorched hands. Oozing, blood-red patches showed beneath.

  “W-What,” Krys said as he pointed at Peter’s chest, “is that?”

  “Grimm’s target,” Navashay said, concern tingeing her voice.

  The smell of burning flesh filled Krys’ nostrils. Bile rose in his throat. He fought down the sensation and turned to Raven.

  With a quick flip of his hand, Raven extinguished the flames on Peter’s chest, a ring of charred flesh remained in their place. The wizard turned back to Grimm, resuming his guard.

  Navashay turned one of Peter’s hands from side to side as she inspected the deep burns.

  “This must have happened when Grimm and I were pulling Peter back and forth.” Krys’ voice shook as he pointed to the gouges covering much of his friend’s body.

  “Some of these cuts look pretty bad.” Navashay yanked her satchel open and looked inside. “Oh!” she said with surprise.

  “What?” Krys asked, worried something else might be wrong.

  “The fairies are awake.” She pulled the satchel further open, pushed back the flap and the three small beings crawled out.

  Stretching their wings, they launched themselves into the air and flew in circles above the tomb.

  “We can’t worry about them right now,” said Krys. “Peter doesn’t have much time.”

  Navashay nodded and returned her attention to the satchel, pulling out a handful of large, soft leaves, several bunches of pungent herbs and three vials. She laid them on the tomb at Peter’s head.

  Krys noticed Navashay’s furrowed brow.

  “What is it?” Krys said.

  Her hand went to the base of Peter’s neck and pulled a string of leather from it. “Has he always worn this?” She held up an object threaded onto the leather. The gray-white, curved, pointed object had the appearance of carved bone.

  “What—” Krys’ stomach lurched when he realized there was blood on the tip.

  “Has he always worn this?” she demanded.

  “N-No,” Krys said. “W-What is it?”

  “Dragon’s claw.” Fear blazed in her eyes. She yanked the claw from around Peter’s neck, snapping the leather string.

  “Where did it come from?” Krys’ voice was but a whisper.

  She shook the claw in front of his face. “This is bad, very bad.”

  “What does it mean?” Krys looked from Navashay to Peter’s still body, then back to Navashay.

  She hesitated for a moment, then stared at Krys. “It means—” She gulped. “Grimm’s put a claim on Peter’s soul.”

  “But—” A chill ran up Krys’ spine.

  “If Grimm gets control of Peter,” she said with tears in her eyes. “We’ll never get him back. He will, forever, be a minion of evil; and one day we will fight him as an enemy.”

  He glanced at the evil wizard and wished he had tried to kill him in the dungeon. He whipped his head around to Navashay. “We have to get him back!”

  “The only thing that’ll save him is if Grimm didn’t have time to complete the ritual.” Navashay pulled out a battered tome and began t
o search its pages.

  Krys heard leaves rustling and twigs snapping across the grassy square. Grimm thrashed about, straining against the fingers of light wrapped around his body. Placing a gnarled hand on one of them, Grimm roared, energy streaking up his arm. An instant later, the bonds broke and Grimm jumped up.

  “Face your destiny,” Raven said, jabbing his staff in the sorcerer’s throat.

  Grimm knocked Raven’s staff away and dove to the side, he retrieved his own fallen staff and faced Raven once more. The tips of each staff glowed with brilliant light. Grimm’s hood fell free and revealed the face that Krys had not seen before.

  He stared, mouth agape at the old, wrinkled face, bleached white from lack of sunlight. But to Krys’ surprise, the features were not male, but female; her stringy white hair flew about her face in a tangled mess. “Grimm’s a woman?”

  “What?” Navashay looked up from the book.

  “Grimm’s a woman!” Krys pointed and made a move toward the wizards.

  Raven’s head jerked around and he extended a hand. Krys halted at the gesture.

  “No! This will be my battle. You must help Peter.” Raven’s stern expression conveyed more than his words.

  The wizards backed up a few paces each, circling each other behind the protection of their staves.

  “You should not have returned, Ravendrad.” Grimm’s voice was scratchy and full of malice.

  “It’s you who should not have come back, Grimmonda.” Raven twirled his staff through his hands.

  They continued to circle each other, their eyes locked.

  Fear tingled across Krys’ skin as he watched the two powerful wizards facing off.

  Grimm struck first, sending a bright red blast into Raven’s chest.

  Krys flinched.

  Wide-eyed, Raven grasped his chest as he flew backwards several feet and landed on his back. He staggered back to standing and faced his opponent again.

  “Your two hundred year sleep seems to have weakened you.” Grimm laughed.

  Raven countered with a ball of green fire, which enveloped Grimm’s head. “On the contrary, I am stronger than ever.”

  Shaking off the flames, Grimm advanced on Raven, batting his staff with her own.

  The sharp crack of the staves as they connected echoed off the trees and nearby cottages.

  Taking a jump sideways, Raven disappeared.

  Krys glanced around quickly, trying to find where the wizard had gone.

  Raven reappeared on the other side of the fence.

  Grimm dissolved into red vapor and streamed through the fence and straight at Raven.

  A radiant shield of amber burst from Raven’s outstretched hand, crackling between the two combatants. “You must be stopped, Grimm. You can’t continue the blood-bath of two centuries past.”

  Rematerialized and unable to stop in time, Grimm connected with the shield. Blue-white strands twisted around her, holding her in place.

  “Yeah!” Krys cheered. “Get her, Raven!”

  Grimm’s body convulsed as the energy spread. She flung her arms out, breaking loose from the shield as it vanished in a tremendous pop.

  She circled her arms in front of her. A red aura surrounded her, giving her an even more sinister appearance.

  Spreading her arms outward again, she expanded the glow beyond her fingertips and yelled into the sky, “There is not a wizard alive today who can stop me.” She dropped her gaze to Raven. “Except you. And when you fall in defeat, this time, permanently, the last few strongholds will crumble and all of Lanterra will finally be mine!” She thrust her fingers outward and the sphere of sparkling energy grew larger. “You and that spell on the castle kept me from taking full power before. But after tonight, that will no longer be a problem because you will be gone for good—no longer protected by your precious castle.” With a jerk of her hands, she curled her fingers into fists, releasing the energy. As it contacted the trees on either side of her, the trunks began to swell and the sap boiled; they hissed and whistled in protest. Torrents of steam issued forth and the thick bark collapsed. The trees buckled and fell.

  Another tree exploded. Waves of splinters shot outward in all directions.

  Raven ducked behind a large tree.

  “Get down,” Krys yelled at Navashay. Grabbing Peter by his shoulders, he pulled his friend from the marble lid, using the tomb as a shield against the flying debris. He and Navashay huddled over Peter’s still body as hundreds of sharp projectiles whizzed past them; some splintered against the tomb, while others buried themselves in the trees behind them. When the spray of wood ceased, Krys peeked around the corner of the tomb while Navashay stooped over Peter and ministered to his wounds.

  “How quickly you forget the past,” Raven shouted. “You didn’t defeat me before, you only delayed the battle.”

  A growl escaped Grimm’s lips. She raced at the tree Raven sheltered behind, holding her staff like a spear.

  He jumped out and struck her across the chest with his own staff.

  The blow caused Grimm to fly backwards and slam into the hard ground. She stood and vanished in a puff of ebony smoke then reappeared and fell on top of Raven from above. “You’re getting slow, old man.”

  Rolling out from under her, Raven retreated several paces, then swung his staff over his head. A thick bolt of lightning shot out. When it contacted Grimm, she flew backward through the air again. She didn’t stop until she crashed through the side wall of one of the village buildings. The damaged stone wall collapsed on top of her.

  All around the village, Krys saw oil lamps inside cottages blaze to life and scared-looking villagers peeking from their doors and windows.

  The collapsed building erupted in a ball of fire. Grimm flew from the rubble straight at Raven. She barreled into his gut, knocking him down. The force of her blow loosed both their staves.

  They rolled on the ground, hands at each other’s throats.

  From his refuge, Krys could see the rage in Raven’s eyes.

  The wizard squeezed Grimm’s throat with such a tight grip her face turned blue.

  When she stopped moving, Raven let go and got to his feet. He turned and took a step away from her, bending to retrieve his staff.

  Grimm eased her eyes open and rolled to her side. She summoned her staff and jumped to her feet, directly behind him.

  “Watch ou—” But Krys’ warning came too late.

  Raven spun around.

  She smacked him directly in the face with the hard tip of her staff. “Enough talk!”

  Blood stained the wizard’s beard and long hair and he spat out a mouthful of bloody saliva.

  Swiping the back of his hand over his mouth, Raven smeared the blood even more. Grimm held her staff above her head and sent bolts of lightning from its tip.

  One of them whizzed past, causing Krys to duck behind the tomb again. The lightning incinerated several trees and cottages on contact. The people inside them screamed in terror.

  As he crouched in safety behind the tomb next to Navashay and Peter, still unconscious, Krys caught some movement at the edge of the clearing. He strained to see what it was. Out of the brush crept the lizardmen. “Look.” He pointed at the newcomers, fear intensifying in his gut as the creatures quietly crawled toward Raven’s back.

  Navashay glanced up. “Go!” She shoved his shoulder. “Raven may need some help.”

  His whole body shaking, Krys moved around her and crawled out the front gate of the enclosure and around the corner of the fence.

  Lying on his belly, he took a deep breath and pointed a finger. The lizardmen were gone. He glanced around quickly and located one, almost invisible against some nearby brush. The other one was hidden somewhere. Krys opened his mouth to cast a spell, but his mind went blank. In desperation, he raked his hands over the ground in search of something to use as a weapon. His fingertips touched a tree branch. He pulled it close, rose to his knees and eyed the reptile. When the lizardman crept close, Krys jumped up and k
nocked the creature over the head with the branch and then buried the end of it in its gut. The creature fell to its knees and retched, clutching its midsection.

  “Norsira alvestimoor, gostumsur.” Navashay’s voice rang out. At once, the underbrush to Krys’ right began to grow thick. It wrapped around the other lizardman poised over Krys, a large rock in the reptile’s hands.

  Gasping and gagging, the first lizardman raised its hand to Krys. “Gronssssploossssimal orm huulbrinssssonral.” A spell Krys had never heard before.

  At precisely the same instant, the rock held by the second creature, encased in thick vines, fell and hit the first lizardman in the chest. Its hand flew outward as the spell took effect, hitting Grimm in the side with a bolt of searing white lightening.

  The putrid odor of burning rotten flesh assaulted Krys. He held his sleeve over his nose and mouth.

  The sorcerer grabbed her side. “You fools!” She lifted her hand and enveloped the two lizardmen in yellow vapor. They disappeared. She turned to Krys and threw a web of fiery filaments at him.

  Desperate to avoid the sizzling net, Krys dove sideways. It contacted a tree next to him. He buried his face in the dirt and covered his head with his arms as the tree exploded, blowing a plume of acrid smoke over the top of him.

  He had never been so frightened in his life.

  “Get out of there!” Raven yelled. Krys jumped up and sprang over the fence on trembling legs. He took shelter behind the tomb once more.

  “Thanks,” Krys told Navashay.

  “Anytime.” She peeked around the edge of the tomb, then back down at Peter.

  Krys looked from Peter’s pale face to Navashay’s green eyes. “Is he going to make it?”

  “I’m doing everything I can.”

  Krys peered around the tomb. Numerous fires burned across the open area, illuminating the battleground. The village elders clustered around fallen walls, staves in hand. The other citizens ran through the village in all directions, flinching as fireballs and energy bolts whizzed past them. Women screamed, children cried, dogs barked.

  He turned his attention back to the battle.