Sinners of Magic (40 page)

Forusian laughed and pointed
the golden spear towards her as though he was about to throw it and
pierce her heart and he saw the hurt and look of bewilderment
etched on her young face. She saw a moment of regret, but it was
only a moment, before he was once again chanting forbidden magic
and watching the centre stone of the amulet turn black.

*

Bridgemear looked down at the
map and was unsure where the anatomy unit was kept. Arhdel had been
left behind to look after the boy; they had both agreed he would be
of no use whilst his broken body still recovered from his ordeal
but now Bridgemear wished he’d come along. Arhdel had done his best
to explain what he believed Forusian was planning and whilst
Bridgemear guided the others along the corridors of the castle he
informed them of what he thought to be Forusian’s intentions.

Amella wasn’t listening. She
was still suffering with the revelation of Nienna being her
daughter and she was angry with herself too. How on earth could she
not have noticed such vital characteristics of her daughter’s
genetic make-up? Her mind whirled with explanations and excuses
until she could stand it no longer and it was Bridgemear who kept
telling her it was not her fault, holding her in his arms whenever
he could until her mood appeared much calmer.

After several twists and turns
in the wrong direction they found themselves on the metal overhang
that Arhdel had come across, perched at least twenty feet in the
air. Bridgemear peered down over the rail and looked into the huge
vat which Arhdel had told him was full of golden liquid and found
that it lay empty of its contents. Amadeus caught his eye and he
shook his head in despair, aware this meant trouble, and the
warrior’s grip tightened on his sword.

The group started to climb the
stairs and it wasn’t long before they arrived on the first
level.

‘
What is your
plan?’ asked Mordorma, suddenly. ‘You know we are no match for
Forusian without our staffs.’

Bridgemear’s eyes narrowed.

‘
Have I ever
let you down before?’ he said with almost a trace of
humour.

Mordorma looked into Amella’s
face and Bridgemear’s humour slipped away.

‘
You’re going
to have to trust me,’ Bridgemear snapped, pushing Mordorma
aside.

Mordorma grabbed Bridgemear
firmly by the shoulder.

‘
I do trust
you, brother,’ he said, refusing to lower his gaze, ‘I did not mean
to offend you, but we cannot go in there without a
plan.’

Bridgemear held his stare, but
his expression showed he knew Mordorma spoke the truth.

‘
I know we
have very limited powers here,’ he warned them all. ‘Forusian is
clever and has somehow drawn the dark side of magic to him, and
this force could well be greater than our own. But we do have the
element of surprise and our internal magic so we can still fight.
If we’re lucky the others will come in time, but until then we must
hold off whatever plans Forusian has in store for our realms and my
daughter.’

‘
And if they
don’t come?’ asked Mordorma, gravely.

‘
You know the
answer to that,’ said Bridgemear, taking a deep breath. ‘You know
as well as I do the consequences should we fail.’

His eyes flicked over to
Amella. She appeared unaware of his gaze and he watched her
nervously bite her fingernails. He knew they would probably not
make it out alive and for that he felt deep regret. Not for
himself, he was beyond that feeling now, but for the woman and the
child who had been bound together with an invisible love which his
own selfishness had almost destroyed.

‘
Let’s get
going,’ he said, placing his hand on the door which he believed led
to Forusian. ‘The time has come for us to fight, so let the battle
of the mages commence.’

Chapter
27

The three wizards sitting
outside the castle no longer watched the devilment which protruded
from inside the castle. They had set up camp for the night on the
brow of a hill, having no fear of being seen, and busied themselves
building a fire to warm their chilled bones.

‘
I know your
mind burns with frustration,’ said Amafar to Elveria, ‘but we have
no choice, we must sit this one out.’

Elveria spun on his heels to
glare at him. The shimmer from the fire struck his face at such an
angle as to allow Amafar the impression of narrow eyes and a
sneering mouth. He looked away and down at the floor for he had
never liked Elveria.

‘
Just listen
to me, you young whippersnapper!’ said Elveria, in an indignant
tone. ‘We are not going to simply sit here whilst Bridgemear and
Mordorma struggle to try and bring Crystal back.’

‘
So what
would you have us do?’ snapped Voleton, looking very serious. ‘Tell
us, how can we help from way out here?’

A rustle in the undergrowth
made them all turn and draw their swords, becoming one unity
whenever danger surfaced.

‘
Are you
friends of the magician, Bridgemear?’ asked a voice from out of the
darkness.

‘
Who wants to
know?’ called out Amafar. He stole a glance at the others, who eyed
him back with tension gripping their faces.

‘
Show
yourself!’ demanded Elveria, his mouth set in a firm scowl. ‘Are
you friend or foe?’

‘
Begging your
pardon, my lord, I come to give you my help,’ replied Bracken,
looming out of the shadows. Elveria relaxed at the sight of the
wood sprite and one by one the mages replaced their
swords.

With a light, rustling step
Bracken made his way closer.

‘
Would you
care to join us?’ asked Voleton, walking back to the sanctuary of
the fire and sitting down.

Bracken looked closely at the
flames which flickered and danced mischievously towards the sky. He
knew how easy it would be for his dry leaves to catch alight and he
quickly shook his head.

‘
I’ll stay
here if you don’t mind,’ he said, with a tight smile, ‘but please
go ahead and warm yourselves, there’s a chilly wind surrounding us
tonight.’

Elveria eyed the wood sprite
and sniffed, crinkling his nose with distaste, and Bracken felt the
leaves on his spine bristle and he sniffed back, only louder.
Amafar chuckled and his eyes flashed to catch Elveria’s reaction
but before the elder mage could chastise the cheeky fellow, a flash
of bright light illuminated the night sky high above them and
Elveria turned to see the profile of a huge bird, glowing silver,
appear from the centre of the castle.

‘
Is that who
I think it is?’ asked Voleton, rising to his feet.

The others cast their gaze
towards the light and as they watched, the image of Mordorma
materialised right before their eyes. The beacon shone for the
benefit of the sorcerers and the magicians gave a loud hoot of
euphoria when they realised what it actually meant.

‘
Mordorma’s
inside!’ Amafar said, with a huge grin, slapping Amafar on the back
from sheer delight. Elveria nodded, looking almost happy, but then
the image faded abruptly and their laughter died in their
throats.

‘
What has
happened?’ asked Voleton, looking worried. He turned and looked at
Elveria for an answer and when none came he kicked at the dirt,
sending stones flying across the ground, narrowly missing the
sprite.

Bracken seized the moment.

‘
My lords,’
he said, placing a leafy finger to his lips, ‘I think I might be
just the answer you seek.’

Elveria stopped in his tracks
and grew angry.

‘
Be off with
you, wood sprite,’ he hissed, shooing him away like some pesky fly.
‘We have no time for your childish games.’

But Bracken appeared
unperturbed by the wizard’s unsociable behaviour and simply stood
his ground. He grinned instead, showing his earthy, green
teeth.

‘
I know a way
into the castle,’ he said, pulling himself up to his full
height.

Elveria’s mouth moved into a
deep frown.

‘
What
nonsense this is,’ he scoffed, making his way to his
horse.

‘
I’m serious,
if you wish to gain entry into the castle this night you had better
follow me,’ Bracken persisted. ‘I’m your only hope.’

The wizard turned back to face
the sprite and was surprised to see the look of determination on
his small, green face. Amafar and Voleton moved swiftly to
Bracken’s side and this made it clear that he was the only one who
thought the sprite was not sincere.

‘
Will you
show us the way?’ asked Voleton, adding a hint of urgency to his
voice. ‘You know it is imperative that we get inside.’

‘
Yes, I will
take you,’ said Bracken, his eyes flashing with indignation and his
tone was firm when he directed his voice to Elveria.

‘
You know, if
you are ever in need of help from the forest again I suggest you
have a little more respect for those who are deemed less important
than you, for one day your greatness may well be the pinnacle to
your downfall and you will only have yourself to blame.’

Elveria was shocked into
silence for he could not believe his ears. A nerve began to twitch
against his temple and, humiliated, he spun on his heels, his mind
already overloaded with resentment at the wood sprite’s words. He
turned ready to give the sprite a lashing with his tongue, but he
tasted only bitter disappointment when he realised Bracken had
already melted back into the seclusion of the darkness.

‘
What is
wrong with you?’ asked Voleton in disgust. He brushed past the
sorcerer and almost knocked him off his feet as he made his way to
his horse. Elveria stood and watched Voleton place his boot inside
the metal stirrup and then climb upon the beast.

‘
Come on,’
Voleton urged him, noting Amafar had already mounted. ‘You have
little time to smart from the sting of his words; we must follow
him if we are to succeed at all this night.’ He kicked his horse
and turned full circle.

‘
Elveria, you
are not the great wizard here and the sprite is probably wiser than
you think.’

Something snapped inside
Elveria’s brain and his fury rested at Voleton’s feet. He reached
up and seized the reins, giving them a sharp tug, causing the horse
to rear up. Before he knew what was happening, Voleton was on the
ground and Elveria was on top of him, pummelling him with his huge,
great fists. Punches rained down on his head and body, taking the
younger mage’s breath away, and blood burst from his lip when an
indiscriminate punch hit him full force on the mouth.

‘
Damn you!’
shouted Amafar, dragging Elveria away. ‘We should not be fighting
amongst ourselves.’

Elveria allowed Amafar to pull
him away and, with some resistance, backed off. His breathing was
laboured from the exertion of the fight and his energy had been
replaced with despair. Amafar offered his hand to Voleton who
gratefully took it. He jumped to his feet and cricked his neck from
side to side and then checked his jaw for any sign of a fracture.
Once satisfied he would live to fight another day, he walked over
to his horse and grabbed the reins. Hatred flashed from his
bloodshot eyes towards Elveria and for a second the elder mage felt
a pang of shame.

Eventually the three wizards
mounted their horses and, with some reluctance from Elveria,
followed Bracken into the forest. The wind was howling between the
trees, spooking the horses, but the sorcerers themselves felt
nothing except the adrenalin that shot fire through their veins.
Riding in-between the trees they dodged twisted roots and several
low branches, gripping their horses’ thick manes until they arrived
at the north side of the castle. They caught their breath and then
they dismounted. Surprisingly, the undergrowth was still quite
dense and Bracken stood close to a large elm tree. He looked rather
confident whilst his body rustled in the strengthening breeze and
he was clearly unaffected by the harsh ride the wizards endured,
for he had been carried along by the wind.

‘
You can get
inside the castle through there,’ said Bracken, clapping his hands
to bring a halo of fireflies to his side. He nodded towards the
forest and they flew off into the direction of where his finger now
pointed. They lit the way for the others to follow and in the midst
of a dark patch of tangled ivy and wild roses they showed the mages
a door which lay hidden.

Bracken’s chest swelled.

‘
Forusian has
dozens of these hiding places all through the forest, but only this
one is actually linked to the castle itself.’

‘
Where in the
castle does it lead?’ asked Amafar.

‘
That I
cannot tell you, my lord,’ said Bracken, shrugging his shoulders.
‘I am bound to the forest therefore I have never been able to go so
far.’

‘
How do we
get inside?’ asked Elveria, when he pushed at the door and it
didn’t move.

‘
The opening
is there for the trained eye,’ said Bracken, with a smug grin; it
was clear he was enjoying being the centre of attention and his
dislike for Elveria was no longer contained.

He brushed Elveria to one side
and once the mage had stepped away he reached up and grabbed hold
of the ivy without breaking the vine. There came a strange swish
from the leaves before the ivy started curling around the wood
sprite’s hand. Bracken twisted the vine and pushed at the door and
this time the door fell away to reveal a dark corridor. The three
wizards hesitated for only the briefest of seconds before lunging
forward and entering it, but Bracken did not follow.