Michael Manning - The Archmage unbound

“Did you think I would be so easily trapped?” came Timothy’s soft words in my ear as it dropped catlike down from the ceiling above. It had escaped my pit before it closed and it now stood directly behind me, so close I could smell the unnatural state of its flesh. My shield had vanished, utterly absorbed by its close physical presence and now the creature’s hand fell upon my bare neck.

The world vanished, replaced by a black void and a dark wind. The wind was hungry and it tore at me, drawing me into the emptiness that stretched before me. I fluttered in that wind, but try as I might I could find no purchase to stop my inexorable slide into oblivion. In the distance I heard Harold’s voice screaming something. It was too faint to understand, but I could only assume the bear had found him.

Then the world returned to me in a rush. It was still black to my normal vision, but my magesight could see Harold holding the void wrapped form of a small child, kicking and struggling pathetically in his strong grasp. I scrambled backward across the floor to gain space and then my hand landed upon my staff.

Drawing myself up to my feet I ignored my exhaustion and created a new light above us. The new illumination made it even clearer what had happened. In the darkness Harold had fought and dismembered the remaining bear. One of his swords still lay on the ground near its mutilated hind quarters. Now that he could see again he was preparing to strike the undead child in his vice-like grip with the other sword. It was a sight that made me want to cheer.

Unfortunately the creature that now called itself Timothy had not given up yet. As Harold drew his arm back to slice it in two one of its arms traced more symbols of blue fire and they raced across Harold’s enchanted armor, smoking and burning wherever they found a gap that led inward to human flesh. With a scream of pain and anger he threw the small body of our enemy across the cavern to land some twenty feet away. “Damn you!” he screamed in anger. I had to agree with his sentiment.

Raising my staff I sent fire streaming toward it, hoping to burn it to ashes before it could raise another protective barrier. My aim was off however and the thing leapt from the ground with blinding speed before I could strike again. It ran toward me faster than my eyes could track and yet before it could reach me Harold was there, blocking its path and striking out with the one sword that remained to him. His aim was true and one of the thing’s arms went flying to the side before it could scramble away.

“Ha!” Harold yelled challengingly. “Not so brave when faced with honest steel are you?”

Honest enchanted steel, I added mentally, but I didn’t think it was really appropriate to mention at that point. “Stay close to me, I’ll try to burn it from a distance,” I told him instead.

The abomination that occupied Timothy’s body had had enough. Before I could aim another strike it darted away, fleeing into the tunnel that led back the way we had come.

“Walter!” I yelled in warning, “It’s coming from behind you!” A loud explosion answered my cry and a thunderous roar followed. Walter had brought down the tunnel. Dust filled the air and we waited for what seemed an eternity for the rumbling of falling rock to cease.

When the dust had settled the three of us were trapped inside the cavern, with no open route to the surface. The tunnel that Walter had collapsed had been the only way in or out. Thankfully Walter had hidden his presence and the creature had merely run past him. For now, we were alone.

“What now?” Harold asked, breaking the silence that had fallen over us.

I opened my pouch and drew out the silver stylus that was quickly becoming my favorite tool. It would be much easier to create the teleportation circle using it rather than my hands or staff. I held it up dramatically and looked at my tired and emotionally drained companions. Fear is one of the most exhausting emotions. For some reason their weariness sparked my perverse sense of humor. “With this,” I began dramatically, “we can cut our way through the rock and take the enemy from behind!” I grinned and waited for their reactions.

Walter couldn’t even reply, his jaw simply fell open. Harold was more pragmatic, wiping his sword blades off he sheathed them before commenting… “How did Dorian survive childhood with you?”

I decided to revise my previous estimation of Harold; he was definitely developing a nasty case of sarcasm. “I was joking. Give me half an hour and I’ll have us back in Lancaster.”

“Why not take us back to the Duke’s camp?” asked the burly warrior.

I shrugged, “I can’t. There isn’t a circle there.”

“If you leave a circle here that thing may be able to use it,” Walter pointed out.

I opened my magical pouch again and this time I drew a set of two small round objects wrapped together in a small square of paper, one made of glass and the other of iron. “These are a matched set,” I told him. “I created a lot of these for the war with Gododdin but I still keep a few handy. They are similar to the necklace I put on you a while back. Smash the glass bead and the iron one explodes. I’ll place the iron one near the circle before we teleport away. Once we’re safely in Lancaster I’ll smash the glass bead and destroy the circle.” I smiled smugly; I was rather pleased with myself for thinking up such a neat solution. Honestly though I hadn’t thought it up on the spot, I had spent some time considering such problems after some channelers had used one of my previous circles to invade Castle Cameron.

Harold whistled appraisingly, “Dorian was right.”

“About what?” I asked.

“He said you were too dangerous to be allowed to run free without a babysitter,” he explained.

“Was this when he explained why you were being stuck with guarding me?”

Harold grinned and nodded but Walter interrupted before we could say anything else. “Excuse me…” he said mildly. Once he was sure we had paused he continued, “How many of these explosive devices do you carry about on your person? Aren’t you worried you’ll trip and blow us all to bits of bone and jam?”

I chuckled at his odd turn of phrase. It was a valid question though, especially since I hadn’t shown him my special pouch. I drew it out again and opened the top. Rather than explain I demonstrated by pushing my arm into the bag. Although it appeared to be no more than eight inches deep I was easily able to put my arm into it until my shoulder reached the mouth of the purse. From his perspective it now appeared as if most of my arm had been amputated. “I keep all my dangerous surprises stored far from my person,” I informed him.

The look on his face was priceless, but I didn’t say anything else. I got busy working on our way out. I didn’t think any of us wanted to spend any more time in our subterranean prison.

Cyhan followed the king down a long flight of stairs. He had been summoned late at night but he was used to such odd hours. During his years of service Edward had often needed him to serve in various capacities at times when most common men were long abed. Tonight was unusual in that the King was leading him through a circuitous route. The stairs they were on now led down from the outer palace wall and reached the courtyard near where the infrequently used postern gate stood.

The implication was obvious; Edward planned to meet someone secretly at the gate. Cyhan’s presence was purely for protection. If the King had wanted him to serve in a more aggressive role he would have been given more warning and time for preparation.

As they reached the gate the King addressed him, “The ones we will be meeting are dangerous but they should keep to their word unless I am mistaken. They will be bringing hostages, two of them. You merely need to keep them secure until the priests arrive.” While he was speaking Cyhan noted that the gate was open and the night duty guards were absent.