Page 35 of Pawns of Fate

NICHOLAS

N icholas brought his sword down, cleanly slicing the tentacle rising from the muck.

Of course, the damn creature responded by spewing ink into the air.

But after three weeks of fighting octupi, lizardmen, and the occasional swamp troll, Nicholas had become immune to the shock of the putrid ink spraying in his face.

He located the creature’s beak and stabbed the fleshy head just above it.

Resting on his sword momentarily, he caught a flash of York’s lightning as he took out three octupi in one fell swoop.

Nicholas was too exhausted to be jealous of his brother’s superior fighting skills.

York could become the God of War and blast every creature in this swamp.

Nicholas would build a temple in his honor without a hint of jealousy ever crossing his heart if it meant this campaign would be over sooner.

A green lizardman stepped out from behind a large fern, growling and raising its claws.

Nicholas noticed one of the strange runes on its scaly hide.

Almost every monster they’d encountered had one.

Seven circles of ancient script and an evil eye at the center.

About the size of a fist. Blood red, like a ruby, when activated.

Someone had been busy, because there were hundreds of them.

And whoever they were, they didn’t want anybody in this swamp. Nicholas needed to know why, and soon. The men lost a little more morale every day they stayed here; supply chains became more difficult to maintain; this was never supposed to be a long, drawn-out campaign.

The lizardman charged. Tendrils of shadow grabbed its legs, sending it sprawling. When the shadows pinned it to the ground, Syzman snapped its neck, ending its life with a quick mercy.

“I need to show you something,” the shadow mage said as he stepped over the corpse. Wisps of darkness writhed at his feet. Nicholas fought the urge to step back. “I might have found the source of the runes.”

“What? Really?”

Syzman scowled. “I wouldn’t joke about something like this.”

“By all means, then. Lead the way. ”

Nicholas followed Syzman until they reached the bottom of a fern-covered hill.

He panted with the effort of climbing the hill.

Nicholas missed the cool, dry mountain air of Onanish.

The marsh was so humid, the air so thick with the smell of rot; he often felt like he was swimming even when he was walking on land.

The two men reached the top and were greeted with a circle of massive stones. Each stood about the height of two men and were carved to the thickness of one. A few stones stretched sideways across the top of the upright ones.

“A druid temple?” Nicholas murmured. Ruins like this were spread across Albion. They had a similar site in Onanish. It was close to the temple of the winter spirits, but the druids had died out long ago, so all it really amounted to was a pile of historic rocks.

“One of their abandoned sacred sites, at least.” Syzman pushed a fern out of the way. “Look what’s inside.”

Hundreds, maybe thousands, of spell circles were carved into the ground— fresh spell circles. Nicholas stepped forward.

Syzman blocked him by placing an arm in front of his chest. “Don’t.”

He’d almost stepped on one. Nicholas looked down, inspecting the chaotic runes and spells etched into the stone. Most of them were half-formed. Discarded? None of them looked like any magic he’d seen before.

“This place is an explosion waiting to happen,” Nicholas said grimly.

“Most of the spells are dormant, but still. It isn’t worth the risk,” Syzman agreed. “Look at the center.” He pointed to the middle of the circular ruins, where one small spell flickered bright red, like a malevolent, bloody ruby.

Nicholas widened his eyes. “That has to be what’s controlling the monsters. But how the hell do we deactivate it without blowing ourselves sky high?” Applying mana could actuate the dormant spells and create a horrible chain reaction.

Syzman’s lips pursed into a thin line. He held up a hand, tiny shadows twisting and dancing around it. “I have a few ideas. But I need Lyla’s help. She needs to see this anyway.”

The words sparked something in Nicholas’s mind.

Why did Syzman need Lyla to see this? They had a few other mages here with them, a competent water mage, two wind mages, and one earth mage, not to mention himself and York, though he could see how lightning magic wouldn’t be practical in this situation.

Syzman was requesting Lyla specifically because she was from the same mage tower. The implications hit Nicholas like a tidal wave.

“This is the work of a rogue shadow mage, isn’t it?”

Syzman’s silence was answer enough.

“What haven’t you been telling me?”

“I’m not hiding anything, or I wouldn’t have shown you at all,” Syzman snapped.

Nicholas’s mind raced as he realized Syzman was telling him the truth.

The shadow mage was just as surprised by the tangle of experimental magic as Nicholas was.

No one knew what was happening, and Nicholas hadn’t felt this sickeningly out of control since Rose had volunteered to go to the Ojoh.

No, before that. He hadn’t felt this way since he’d seen her look of terror when she’d noticed a shadow mage spying on them at the castle.

“Wait, is this connected to the shadow mage Rose saw in the garden? Back in Onanish?”

“I don’t know.” Syzman raised his hands in defeat. “I want to talk to Lyla before we report to the mage tower.”

“The mage tower!?” Nicholas clenched his jaw so firmly that his teeth began to ache. But before he could adequately express his frustrations to Syzman, the ferns behind them began to shake, and five lizardmen burst forth.

ROSE

Rose traced her finger down the leatherbound spine of a few novels.

The library clerk said they’d just reshelved The Princess and Her Paladin, but Rose couldn’t find it anywhere.

It would help if she could remember the author’s name.

It had just been on the tip of her tongue.

She’d remembered it at the counter, but now that she was actually among books? Gone.

She’d had trouble focusing ever since that fire drake had flown through the sky.

It had been weeks ago, but the atmosphere in the city had grown steadily more tense as the monster sightings had turned into monster attacks and continued to grow in frequency, intensity, and proximity.

Yesterday, a sand hydra destroyed an entire village.

It took two dozen warriors just to bring the creature down.

She watched Lyla help Ava reach a book from the top shelf.

The sight warmed her heart; Ava’s reading had improved enough that she could read York’s letters on her own now.

Not that many letters were coming their way these days.

After the fire drake sighting, reports of troll attacks on smaller, nearby villages had Lyla concerned enough that she stopped teleporting to the swamp unless ‘absolutely necessary.’ It made Rose sad because she looked forward to Nicholas’s letters.

But from what Lyla said about the swamp campaign, she wasn’t sure that Nicholas actually had time to write letters.

She bit at one of her fingernails absentmindedly, her least favorite habit. She thrust her hands down to her sides and redoubled her efforts to find The Princess and Her Paladin . Worrying about Nicholas wouldn’t actually help either of them. She needed a better distraction.

She turned a corner of bookshelves, still racking her brain for the author’s name, when she noticed a man wearing dark clothing and a drawn hood.

It was strange for someone to have their hood on inside the library, but the man looked relaxed enough and, more importantly, he was holding The Princess and Her Paladin , a lovely romance novel, so he couldn’t be that suspicious.

She decided to let the man have it. She and Ava were stuck here for another four months anyway. She’d check the book out some other time. Rose made to leave when the man softly asked, “ Were you looking for this?”

She turned back to face him. He was startlingly handsome, with intelligent, amethyst eyes and delicate features that would have let him pass as a woman had his chin and cheeks not been dusted with stubble.

“Oh, you can have it. I’ve read it before,” she replied. Something about the man unnerved her, and she felt the pressing need to return to Lyla. Rose wished she could use her aura to read his energy, but she’d glow pink. Instead, she just backed up a few steps.

“No, don’t leave. Here.” He held the book out. “Take it.”

Rose backed up a step further.

“I’m sorry, I’ve startled you,” the man said, cocking his head to the side. A frown crossed his features. “I was just so excited to meet someone else who enjoys S. Queenfisher’s work.”

That was the name! Perhaps she’d misjudged this stranger. Rose stepped forward. She didn’t like to be distrustful, especially not of fellow romance readers.

He held the book out again. This time, Rose grabbed it.

The book started to glow with what looked suspiciously like a spell, and Rose realized she had made a terrible mistake. This man wasn’t a romance fan at all.

She screamed, then felt a hand, two hands, grip her from behind, yanking her arm, tossing her backward, out of harm’s way and straight onto her ass. Lyla, a blur of skirts and knives, rushed past, lunging at the hooded man.

But there was no man. Not anymore. He’d melted into a pile of shadows before Rose had even hit the ground .

“What the hell were you thinking!?” Lyla yelled, then ran over to help Rose.

Rose fought back tears as a thousand thoughts and feelings rushed to take center stage in her head. I almost died. Lyla almost killed a man. I would have never seen Nicholas or Ava or Lyla or anyone from Castle Sharp again.

Not a single one of these thoughts was helpful or calming. She wished, not for the last time that day, that she could use her aura on herself.