Formatted MS-kindle-no map Page 19

  The stream of one of Grimm’s lightning bolts held Raven in place. He convulsed as the energy passed through him. Smoke billowed from the wizard’s hair, beard and robes.

  Krys looked at Grimm. Her face had changed. She no longer looked gnarled and old, but younger now, close in age to Raven. She laughed as Raven’s body quivered.

  All at once, her lightning bolt vanished, freeing Raven from its clutches. The good wizard fell to the ground in a smoking heap.

  “Why did she stop?” Astonished, Krys asked Navashay.

  Grimm’s arms flailed about her head as if she tried to knock something away. Krys peered through the darkness to see the tiny fairies and Falunsaar as they flew all around her. Grimm reached up, grabbed one of the fairies out of the air. The sorcerer squeezed the life out of the fragile creature and threw her against the base of a tree.

  Krys felt his gut knot at the sight.

  The remaining fairies continued their attack, jabbing at Grimm’s eyes with tiny hands and yanking out fistfuls of hair. Falunsaar swooped just out of Grimm’s reach, scorching her with streams of fire.

  Pointing a finger, Navashay mumbled.

  Roots crawled out of the ground at Grimm’s feet and snaked up her legs.

  Staggering to his feet, Raven recovered his staff. He bolted at Grimm, holding his staff like a spear. The stone on the end glowed as bright as the sun.

  Krys squinted.

  Raven slashed Grimm across the torso. A loud crack resounded and intense light burst forth as the energy of the staff met with the body of Grimm.

  The staff passed through her. For a moment, the staff and evil sorcerer’s body seemed to meld as one. Then, they separated.

  She disappeared in a red flash and deafening boom.

  The roots smoldered in a small heap where she had stood.

  “Is she gone?” Krys stood up and looked at Raven. “Did you kill her?”

  “Get down, Krys,” Raven yelled. “She’s not gone yet.”

  A dozen paces behind Raven, Grimm reappeared. She ran at the good wizard and swung her staff as if it were a club. She was upon him in seconds. The blow caught Raven across the upper arm and chest; he fell to the ground.

  Grimm stood over Raven, her staff raised above her head, ready to impale him.

  Raven crammed his staff into her gut and pressed it upward.

  The tip of Grimm’s staff came down toward Raven’s chest.

  Pointing in Grimm’s direction, Krys clenched his eyes tight and tried to think of a spell, any spell to use to help Raven. “Hadrozeela.” he yelled. A feeble flame jutted from the tip of his index finger. He concentrated and the flame grew larger, but it lacked the power needed to reach Grimm.

  She jerked her head in his direction and flung out her hand.

  “Krys, no,” Raven yelled.

  A wave of searing heat reached Krys an instant later and threw him from his feet. He fell back and slammed onto the ground, which knocked the wind out of him. He shook his head to clear his thoughts. “What happened?”

  “Grimm attacked you, is what happened,” Navashay said. “It’s a good thing Raven intervened, or it’s quite likely you’d be dead right now.”

  Krys looked toward Raven, wanting to thank him, but the wizard was locked in battle with Grimm once more.

  “Raven covered Grimm’s spell with his own, minimizing the effects.” Navashay pulled Krys up. “Help me here, will you?” She grabbed his hand and pressed it into place over a large, fuzzy maroon leaf holding a poultice she had applied to one of Peter’s deep abdominal wounds.

  Working quickly, Krys helped Navashay finish dressing the rest of Peter’s wounds. Every few seconds he stole glances at the two wizards as they traded spells. Both were battered, hair smoldering, and skin cut in many places. When Navashay released Krys from his assistant role, he scrambled back to the edge of the tomb to watch.

  Spinning around, Grimm hit Raven in the chest. The invisible pulse from her staff rippled the air and knocked trees down all around them.

  The panicked screams of the villagers filled the air.

  Raven moved his staff with a series of slashing motions. Each time the staff tip came down, a small silver vortex escaped the end of it and struck Grimm.

  She stumbled back and regained her footing. She drew her staff up with both hands, parallel to the ground, and stopped the remainder of the vortices before they hit her.

  With an ear-piercing shriek, Grimm made an underhanded stabbing motion and sent a burst of fire toward Raven. He dodged, but the flame caught the end of what was left of his long hair and set it ablaze. Raven waved a quick hand over his singed hair and squelched the flames.

  He dashed across the clearing. As he ran, he reached into his robes. He withdrew a handful of powder that appeared like a million sparkling stars and threw it into Grimm’s face. She grabbed her eyes and shrieked.

  When she dropped her hands, her eyes blazed red with hatred. Krys could see the anger contorting her face from all the way across the clearing. She vaporized in a cloud of swirling scarlet-black smoke.

  Whipping his head around, Raven turned several times.

  Nose-to-nose with Raven, Grimm reappeared.

  Startled, he jumped back. She pursued him and knocked him to the ground with a visible wave of energy from her fingertips.

  They rolled across the ground and tried to position their staves so they could use them against the other.

  One of them must have succeeded because they flew away from each other with a brilliant burst of light. Both landed on opposite sides of the clearing. They shook their heads and had startled looks on their faces. Krys couldn’t begin to guess which one had cast the spell.

  Raven jumped to his feet and ran at Grimm.

  She stood on wobbly legs, but Raven knocked her down again with a swift release of red energy from his staff. He jumped astride her, his knees pinning her arms and preventing her from moving away. He stood and raised his staff. The second before he impaled her, she disappeared, leaving only laughter in her wake.

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  Chapter 22 - Lost Soul

  Krys bolted from the safety of the tomb to Raven, still kneeling where Grimm had disappeared. “Where did she go?” He dropped to his knees.

  “Back into hiding would be my guess.” Raven, breathing heavily, brushed the singed hair from his eyes. “We will see her again. I have no doubt.”

  “Why were the lizardmen here?” Krys asked.

  “I’m sure she summoned all her minions,” said Raven. “They must have been the only ones close by.”

  “There’s more coming?” Krys searched the dark trees surrounding the village.

  “She may have stopped them when she left us. We will have to be watchful.” Raven said.

  “Come quick,” Navashay yelled to them.

  Krys and Raven raced to the tomb, as they ran, Krys noticed a pronounced limp in the wizard’s gait. “Are you hurt badly?”

  “Evidently not as much as Peter.” The wizard rubbed his leg.

  Peter was motionless, his face ashen as Navashay cradled his head in her lap.

  Sinking to his knees next to his friend, Krys looked at Navashay. “Is he—” his throat so dry, he could barely talk, “—dead?”

  “No.” Navashay looked up at Krys. “But he’s not good.” The dragon claw lay on the ground next to her.

  Raven pointed at it. “Where did that come from?”

  “Grimm must have put it around his neck.” Navashay’s face paled and she glanced at Raven. “Can you recover his soul?”

  Raven stooped next to Peter’s still body and extended his hand to Navashay. “The claw, please.”

  Her hand shook as she placed the talisman in the wizard’s open palm and moved away from Peter a few inches.

  He sank to his knees and blew out a breath.

  Krys looked at the wizard, knowing he was exhausted.

  Raven circled the tip of his staff over the claw as he held it slightly above Peter’s
heart. He mumbled strange words Krys had never heard before. The old wizard swayed with unfocused eyes as he stared at Peter.

  The bloody claw glowed red. The disturbed air around it vibrated and drew inward in concentric circles. Below Raven’s hand, Peter’s chest glowed. A faint red vapor passed from the claw to Peter.

  With each moment that passed, more color drained from Peter’s face. He gasped and opened his eyes, but they were dull and held no flicker of life.

  Raven’s rambling grew in intensity. The red vapor grew brighter and moved in a tight, steady stream into Peter.

  Red flashes flickered through Peter’s eyes and his body convulsed. An ear-piercing scream escaped his lips. Then he fell unconscious once more and his breathing stopped.

  Raven continued to mumble and held his hand closer to Peter’s chest.

  He’s killing him! “Raven!” Krys yanked on the wizard’s arm and tried to pull him away.

  Never breaking eye contact with Peter, Raven shook off Krys’ grasp. He continued to mutter.

  Krys tried to get back to Peter again, but Navashay threw her arms around his chest and wouldn’t release him.

  “Let go!” Krys tried pulling away.

  “Stop it.” Navashay warned. “Let Raven do his work or Peter will die.”

  Not sure what to believe, Krys stopped fighting, but Navashay did not release her grasp.

  Long minutes passed as Raven bent over Peter. At last he slumped back, dropping his staff.

  Krys looked from the fatigued Raven to his dead-looking friend.

  “Raven!” Krys shot straight up on his knees and glared at the wizard. “Why did you stop?”

  The wizard’s gaze slowly rose to meet Krys’. “I can not recover his soul.”

  “What?” Krys reached across the body of Peter and grabbed the material of Raven’s robes. He shook the wizard violently. “You have to! You’re a wizard!”

  “Try as I did, I could not lift Grimm’s spell. She’s also a wizard.” Raven stared at Krys.

  “All magic can be countered!” Krys yelled into Raven’s face. “I thought you were the strongest wizard who ever lived!” Krys felt the tears burning in his eyes. “You’re no wizard! You’re a fake!”

  Krys yanked the dragon claw from Raven’s hand and held it over Peter’s chest. Having no staff, he passed his hand over it in circles. He couldn’t remember the words Raven had used, so he looked into Peter’s vacant eyes and thought about the day he met him, nine years earlier when Peter and his parents moved to Ravenwood. He remembered the friendship that blossomed quickly between them. “You’re like a brother to me,” he whispered. “No one knows you the way I do.” His tears fell onto Peter’s bare chest.

  Memories of the days they spent exploring the village and surrounding forest flowed through Krys’ mind. Jokes they’d played on each other. You can’t die, Peter. Somehow he knew he no longer needed to speak. Peter could hear him. I wouldn’t make it if you were gone. Krys could no longer focus his eyes, but he persisted. The fear I felt when Grimm stole you away was more than I could bear. He felt his body begin to sway but he couldn’t stop the motion.

  He concentrated on the times they laughed, and the times they cried. The pain of the day when Peter had angered him over something so trivial he couldn’t recall the details, and the days that followed when they didn’t speak. And he remembered when he realized he couldn’t be mad at his friend. He concentrated on the pain Peter endured the day his mother had died, and how Krys had tried to console him.

  Hundreds of memories passed through Krys’ mind. Each one took him further and further into a kind of euphoria he felt throughout his entire body.

  Through the haze of his blurred vision, he recognized the claw. It begin to glow. The air around it vibrated and he felt as if his hand were being squeezed. His vision cleared. The skin over Peter’s heart glowed as the faint red vapor once again moved to Peter’s chest.

  “You’re the only brother I’ve ever had. And I—I love you.”

  The vapor tightened into a thin red stream. Peter’s body convulsed violently, but Krys continued. He peered into his friend’s eyes, finding the same red flickers, but they were brighter and greater in number. Peter screamed, it was a mournful sound that cut deep into Krys’ soul. Then Peter lay still. The passage of vapor ceased. Deep within Krys, he felt Peter’s essence. He pressed his hand to his friend’s chest, not knowing why, only that he knew it was what needed to be done. Where there is one, there is the heart of the other. He felt part of himself pass into his friend.

  Peter gasped for air. In moments, his breaths became even and color began to return to his face.

  “You did well, Krys.” Raven smiled. “There is more in you than you even realize.”

  Navashay wrapped Krys in a hug.

  “I can’t believe I did that.” Krys looked at Raven.

  “You must believe in your abilities. Until you do, you will never be a great wizard.”

  “W-Wizard?” Krys stammered. “I’m no wizard.”

  “You did what no other could have done.”

  Krys felt a stab in the pit of his stomach. “Raven, I-I’m sorry I yelled at you.”

  “Perfectly understandable, my young mage.” There was no anger in the wizard’s words or gaze. “You did what I could not.”

  “B-But, you’re a wizard!”

  “Yes, but I could not bring Peter back. The hex Grimm put on him was one she thought could not be broken. But she hadn’t counted on the unbreakable bond between true friends, for she doesn’t have the capacity for love.” Raven placed a gentle hand on Krys’ shoulder. “Your power is rare.” He smiled. “I will help you bring it forth.” He turned to Navashay. “How is our young friend?”

  “He seems to be coming around,” she answered with a smile.

  “I believe he will be fine, now.” The wizard said. “However, even though his soul has been recovered, his defenses are weakened. He must have time to recuperate before meeting Grimm once more.” He looked down at Peter, then up at her again. “Administer essence of winderwood root. I trust you have that?”

  “In abundance,” Navashay said with an eager smile. She dug in her satchel and pulled a small vial of black liquid from within. She tipped it into Peter’s mouth.

  After several minutes, and with Navashay’s help, Peter sat up, his eyes cast to the ground. Slowly he looked between those gathered around him. He reached a shaky hand and scratched his head, a perplexed look on his face.

  “Look, Peter,” Krys said. “We freed Raven.” He couldn’t keep himself from smiling.

  “Is it r-really him?” Peter’s voice was weak.

  Raven smiled at Peter. “It is indeed.”

  Peter met Raven’s kind eyes with a smile then turned back to Krys. “You did it. I knew you could,” he whispered.

  “That’s not all he did,” Navashay said with excitement. She recounted the story of Peter’s lost soul and how Krys had recovered it when the powerful Wizard Raven could not.

  “You l-love me?” Peter said with a feeble smile. “That’s just creepy.”

  Krys felt heat rising to his cheeks. “Like a brother!” He smiled. He could see the look of compassion and heart-felt thanks in his friend’s expression, but also the exhaustion. He extended a hand to Peter and helped him up.

  Peter grimaced and held his hand to his gut. “What happened?” Terror filled his eyes. “Where’s Grimm?”

  “Gone. For now, anyway,” Krys said.

  Peter stumbled a little, but Krys steadied him.

  “Maybe you should sit down again,” Navashay said.

  “No, I’m okay,” said Peter.

  “Hey, you’re not going to believe this,” Krys said to his friend. “But Grimm’s a woman.”

  “Really?” Peter’s eyebrows rose.

  Krys nodded. “You should have seen it. What a battle!”

  “And she’s gone?” Peter asked.

  Raven nodded. “But she will return, better prepared and with
her followers in tow. We must be ready.”

  “Yeah, and even the lizardmen showed up again.” Krys furrowed his brow. “But she sent them away before they could do much.” He turned to Raven. “Why did she do that?”

  “I do not know.”

  Navashay returned all her supplies to her satchel and slung it over her shoulder.

  “Hey,” Peter said as he looked around. “Where’s my pack and food sack?”

  “I’d say he’s better.” Navashay chuckled.

  “I left them back at the castle,” Krys said.

  “You what?”

  “We didn’t have time to grab them after Grimm dragged you away,” said Navashay.

  “Don’t worry, Peter.” Raven placed a hand on Peter’s shoulder. “We must return there anyway. There is much to do before our journey.”

  “Journey?” Krys said. “What journey?”

  “The journey to recover the lost Stones of Wisdom, of course. We will depart shortly,” Raven said.

  “Oh, I’d forgotten about those, and—” A panicked and tortured thought hit Krys. He looked at Peter. “The journal. Peter, where’s the journal?”

  Peter’s face beamed as he reached to his boot and withdrew the old book. He held it out.

  “I thought we’d lost it for sure.” Krys grasped it and held it tightly with both hands.

  “Raven, is it really you?” a voice nearby said.

  Startled, Krys turned.

  A wizard from one of the distant villages inched toward them. Behind him, there must have been a hundred people pressing forward. Lining the front edge of the crowd were the wizards of Lanterra. Krys hadn’t noticed the people gathering during all the excitement.

  Krys looked up when he heard a crack overhead. A smoldering branch in a tree near the fenced tomb fell. Sparks bounced and died in the hard dirt. He glanced around his village. Smoke rose from several buildings and all around the area Raven and Grimm had battled.

  Elder Myt stepped up. His gaze locked with Raven’s. “We must be certain. Only after your identity is found, can we accept your magic into our midst.”

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