Sinners of Magic (30 page)

Bridgemear extinguished the
fire with a hard stomp from his metal-plated boot. The fire fought
to stay alight, but he grounded the flames into the dirt, cutting
off the oxygen supply until it crackled and eventually died away.
He used his cloak yet again for a blanket and settled down in a
spot near the water’s edge. He listened to the gentle tinkling of
the water as it ran by and brought with it gentle memories of the
waterfall in Raven’s Rainbow.

The sprite was disappointed
with the wizard for wanting to retire so early so he sat with his
legs crossed on a mossy patch, which overlooked where Bridgemear
lay, and hoped he would change his mind.

‘
Do you mind
turning off your fireflies!’ shouted Bridgemear, still sounding
cross. ‘Some of us are trying to get some sleep.’

‘
Oops,
sorry,’ Bracken said, chuckling to himself, ‘I forgot all about
them.’

He turned his head and blew
gently on his halo of light, and each fly touched by his breath
immediately vanished.

‘
Is that any
better, grumpy?’ he yelled, when darkness descended, but Bridgemear
merely grunted and wrestled with his covers, concerned only for his
comfort throughout the night.

Bracken noted how much
frustration engulfed the wizard and sensed he needed to find inner
peace. As Bracken sat watching the wizard settle for the night he
decided he would tag along for the next few days and see what
mischief he could unravel. He knew every nook and cranny within the
forest and could live in any woodland of his choosing as long as he
had one of his sacred trees to hide inside. He felt confident to
admit he could be an invaluable asset to the mage whilst he
journeyed through the forest, so with this in mind he snuggled
inside a bed of leaves and drifted off to sleep.

Mordorma and Amadeus watched
with amusement from their hiding place amongst the shadows before
creeping away and returning to their own camp. They had watched the
little sprite wind Bridgemear up as tight as a coiled spring and
they’d half expected him to be turned into a pile of wood shavings
for his efforts.

They hadn’t retired early,
unlike Bridgemear, and instead talked until the early hours of the
morning, a bond forming between them through their mutual
understanding of each other’s dire situation. They would not let
any harm come to Bridgemear; he may have acted hot-headedly on more
than one occasion, but his heart was good and his loyalty to his
realm undisputed.

As dawn broke and a new day
beckoned, they each rose from their beds, aware that Forusian’s
castle was only one more day’s ride away.

Chapter
1
8

It wasn’t until he heard the
hollow footsteps behind him that Voleton realised he was no longer
alone in the Tower of Leddour. It had been agreed between the
remaining three wizards that he would be the one to ride to the
tower covered by a powerful spell, a spell which changed him into
King Gamada’s double.

Voleton spun round, vaguely
aware of a pair of unfamiliar eyes watching him from close by.

‘
Show
yourself,’ he demanded, drawing his sword in anticipation and
staring into the semi-darkness. The clip of the intruder’s heels
sounded out across the bare stone floor and he held his breath in
expectation.

‘
My lord,’
came the reply, ‘what are you doing here?’

Voleton was confused; the
person who had walked from the safety of the shadows was not a
young girl as he expected and he was unsure whether Forusian was
using the same kind of spell in an effort to trick Voleton into
admitting his own true identity?

‘
Oh it’s
you,’ Voleton answered, not wishing to give the game away. ‘Why
are
you
here?’

The soldier hung his head in
shame before answering whom he thought to be King Gamada.

‘
Sire, I do
not know why I am here. I was captured by Forusian’s men and thrown
into a chamber awaiting my demise, and then I was told I was to be
released. I had no idea you would be here waiting for me, my lord,
indeed I am deeply ashamed I did not manage to bring Amadeus back
to you.’

Voleton’s neck almost snapped
when he raised his gaze to scrutinise the soldier who spoke of
Amadeus. This just wasn’t making any sense; why had Forusian not
appeared for the gold and instead sent one of King Gamada’s own men
in the place of Crystal?

Oh
no
, he thought in horror,
this was just a decoy
.

He stared wide-eyed at the
soldier. ‘What’s your name?’ he shouted, replacing his heavy sword
in the sheath and retracting the spell which would turn him back to
himself.

The soldier’s face flooded in
confusion and he backed away from the mage, becoming afraid.

‘
Where’s the
king?’ he shouted. ‘Who the hell are you?’

‘
I am a
friend of the king,’ Voleton explained. ‘I am the wizard Voleton
and your king is now in great danger. I ask you again, what is your
name?’

‘
My name is
Phaphos,’ the soldier answered, placing his hands unclenched by his
side.

‘
Then we must
return to your kingdom, for I fear Forusian is there
already.’

Without another word uttered
between them, they raced down the stone steps, tripping and jumping
two at a time. They both flung themselves out onto the sand which
surrounded the single stone tower, but to Voleton’s horror his
horse was nowhere to be seen.

‘
Damn
Forusian,’ he cursed. ‘He’s taken my horse as well as the gold. Now
I have no choice but to use my magic and get to the kingdom as
quickly as possible. Phaphos, you will have to go on foot; I’m
sorry, but I cannot take you with me.’

‘
Don’t
worry,’ said Phaphos pointing to the horizon, ‘I can run the
distance. I may be too late to assist you, but I will make it
back.’

‘
Very well,’
said Voleton, nodding his head. ‘I can cast a spell which will give
you the energy to run as fast as the wind.’

Voleton touched the soldier’s
shoulder and the magic flowed from his hand and straight through
his body, giving Phaphos a sudden rush of adrenalin.

‘
Go swiftly,’
Voleton urged, ‘for we have much to do.’

He closed his eyes, muttering
something under his breath, and he mutated into a magnificent,
golden hawk, his wings already outstretched and he flew high into
the sky.

Phaphos sneered outwardly when
he watched the mage fly away. It had been so easy to trick the
wizards and now he could return and resume his traitorous activity
as a spy for King Forusian. With evil intent running through his
veins, Phaphos made his way back to his realm, a realm he had so
cunningly betrayed.

*

Elveria and Amafar were keeping
watch at the top of an outward-built turret for the return of
Voleton, assured that Forusian’s greed would be enough to make the
exchange. King Gamada was resting in his chamber, believing none of
it. He had been consumed with an overwhelming guilt ever since
Bridgemear’s display at his table and his thoughts were consumed by
his only daughter, whom he had not seen since Crystal’s birth. He
had never expected Amella to give the child the amulet therefore
stopping her returning home. How he wished he could turn back time,
but no magician, no matter how powerful, could ever do that.

He sat on his bed and pulled
his legs up to rest them on top of the satin cover; then he lay
down and stared up towards the colourful ceiling. Beautiful
paintings of cherubs and young maidens stared back at him.

At least they
do not judge me, unlike so many,
he
thought to himself, still feeling miserable.

He barely heard his chamber
door open and at first did not register the slight draught which
drifted his way. Busy wallowing in his own self-pity, he didn’t
raise his head to see the figure drawing closer to the bed, and
when a gloved hand pressed against his mouth, his fingers were slow
to react.

With lightning speed there came
a shimmer of cold steel whilst the sunlight cast itself upon the
blade. A king with as much magical power as Gamada could not be
killed with an ordinary sword, but his assailant carried no
ordinary blade. His murder happened within the briefest of minutes,
the cold metal flashing a fatal warning before the Sword of Truth
burnt a searing arc of pain into the king’s lower abdomen.

The blade was pushed up into
his chest and the impact forced a shudder through the metal, which
sliced through flesh and bone, and within the realm of darkness
Abbadon was beckoned to the extraordinary world. King Gamada, who’d
been caught by the element of surprise, could only gasp in sheer
horror as he watched the enchanted sword slice its way between his
ribcage in search of his heart. No amount of magic could save him
now; he had been ill-prepared for such a vicious attack.

Forusian finally let go of the
sword and watched the king with morbid curiosity clutching
frantically at his chest in an attempt to remove the blade. A
hideous wail filled the chamber when Death entered and hovered over
the dying king. The room’s temperature dropped and the stench of
Death was overpowering. Abbadon reached out and touched Gamada,
using his skeletal fingers to stop his beating heart, but Gamada
would not give in, refusing to die so easily.

Forusian’s eyes turned to slits
and the corners of his mouth hung in a deep frown. With the
strength of the damned he pulled the sword from the king’s chest
and blood splattered onto Forusian’s face, causing him to flinch,
but he quickly recovered his composure and grabbed a shirt folded
neatly on a nearby chair. He wiped his face clean, furious that the
blood had marked his clothing, before cleaning the blade with
it.

‘
You were
always so pathetic,’ he snarled, placing the sword back into its
sheath. ‘Did you really think you could outfox me? For all your
magic and knowledge of this world you really are a bitter
disappointment. I had hoped you would have been a bit more of a –
challenge.’

He bent towards the dying king
and placed his lips close to his ear.

‘
You know,
I
will
marry your
granddaughter,’ he hissed, watching horror fill the king’s dark
eyes. ‘She’s being a little
difficult
, but I’m sure that’s all
about to change and besides,’ he added, pulling a look of genuine
distaste, ‘I just couldn’t possibly see you as my
in-law.’

Gamada slipped in and out of
consciousness and Forusian looked without remorse towards Death’s
shadowy figure.

‘
He’s all
yours,’ he said, taking a step back and almost slipping on the pool
of blood which was congealing at his feet. ‘My part of the bargain
is complete.’

Forusian turned and left the
room as quietly as he had entered, content in the knowledge that he
was one step closer to his goal.

Whilst King Gamada clung to the
last threads of his life, he watched his bedclothes turn into a sea
of crimson. In desperation he dragged himself to the edge, followed
closely by Death, and he fell with a heavy thud onto the hard
surface of the floor. With the shaky hand of a dying man he spelt
out a word in his own blood, the word creating a bright scarlet
stain on the floor.

‘
Amella,’ he
croaked, but her name came out only as a gurgle of blood upon his
lips and, with one last agonising intake of breath, his head fell
back and he was dead.

Upon the king’s sickening
demise a ghostly green apparition floated above his body. Abbadon’s
chest swelled in triumph, filling the room with dark malice. With a
blood-curdling howl he sucked in the green matter until it became
caged with the rest of his terrified souls. His master would be
very pleased with his majestic prize, a prize he had been promised
for so long.

It was at that moment when
Elveria felt the cold hand of Death brush his senses and he looked
with concern at Amafar, who showed by the look on his face that he
had sensed it also. A look of horror blew across their faces and
they hurriedly left their lookout post and ran with baited breath
to King Gamada’s chamber. They pushed open his bedroom door, but
only an eerie silence welcomed them in.

‘
King
Gamada!’ Elveria called out, trying to hide the panic in his voice
when he took a step inside. He’d only just made it over the
threshold before he saw the king’s lifeless body lying on the
bedroom floor. Beside him the word ‘Forusian’ was written in his
blood, evidence that there could be no doubt as to who had done
this wicked deed.

Elveria put a shaky hand over
his eyes; his feet stood stone still but his legs wobbled like
jelly. Amafar moved with haste to the king’s side, taking his pulse
and examining him closely.

‘
He’s dead,’
he pronounced, lowering his gaze.

‘
I can see
that,’ snapped Elveria, bringing his fist to his mouth. ‘He’s been
murdered in cold blood right under our very noses.’

Amafar looked again at the grey
face of King Gamada. Waving his hands over the body, he closed his
eyes in meditation. Using his magic, he relived the last moments of
the king’s life. After a few moments his body was rocked with an
immense pain that pierced straight into his heart and he was unable
to stop the cry which left his trembling lips. Dropping his arms
down by his side, he collapsed to the floor and, although the pain
subsided, he felt Death linger.

Elveria was distraught.