Warlock Apprentice, Black Lake Novel 4

Chapter Forty-Six

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This was my chance. For two days I imagined ways to flee Selene and Morgan and go after Blake, to free Louisa. But no plan ever formed, no opportunity. Now they were within strikin’ distance, ridin’ right to me. I could saunter down on them out of the thick orchards before they knew what they faced.

And do what, exactly?

There was that little snag in my whole scenario makin’.

They’re trained wizards.

My skill included little more than the ability to pick up the emotions of others. And talk directly to dragons. Those two, though fairly unique abilities, were unlikely to help me overly much in a duel with a real wizard.

From my position along the crest of the hill, I figgered they waited due north of the manor, where Rutland ironically wanted me. I reined up. The mare stamped, threw her head angrily, and I thrust forward in the saddle and juggled my crotch across the pommel. Ouch! One boot came out of a stirrup and that instantaneous fear rammed through my chest like an arrow. The next moment my hip struck Earth and the swirl of movement made me realize the somersault that brought me to ground.

I tumbled another, full, three-hundred-sixty degrees and my butt plopped into a foot-deep puddle of mud. My body continued in a hell-bent twist and my face plowed into the sod. Surely I snapped my spine into three parts. The world lit as though I’d been struck by one of those lightnin’ bolts the wizards love to hurl about. Another, and another flashed, before my vision turned to globs of gray. I fell backward, head contactin’, thankfully, soft-plowed loam.

Uhhhhh. My back. My bum. Uh. Everythin’ hurt. Should be used to it by now. Pretty much all I’ve known since I left Ike’s mountain lair.

My vision cleared and blue sky filtered through thick foliage. Peach, maybe, but I’m no expert on the manner of trees. I tried to focus on the still-green fruit—maybe to put off investigatin’ how many parts my body might be in.

A majic moved away briskly, travelin’ north.

“Ah,” I murmured. It was my own collected majic I sensed, stored in my walkin’ stick, tied to my saddle, atop a frightened horse which raced north as though to her stable and fresh oats.

“Pretty much means I’ve got the majic of a grub.”

Get up! Get up!

But my body wasn’t ready. What hurt before screamed in agony, and what had been numb, now existed in a universe of pain knowin’ no boundaries.

Selene and Morgan would soon be approachin’ the manor.

I threw more willpower than I knew I owned to rise. The world flickered and I stumbled. Unexplainably, my hand went to the hilt of my sword and it drew free of the scabbard. Whatever I was gonna do with it hadn’t fit together in my mind. But I sensed my entry into the ethereal, and power flowed into the blade. All on its own. From what I’ve experienced lately, don’t know why that should seem odd.

Rutland claimed I was needed north of the manor in the first place to draw from the ethereal, to give their foe somethin’ else to worry about. But I had a new goal. With a tinglin’ distraction racin’ over the hill, somewhere.

I reached out to locate Blake and his idjit friends. They hadn’t moved. Their fear had escalated. I smiled. What majic remained in the walkin’ stick circled them courtesy of the stinkin’ horse, and the growin’ majic in my sword bracketed them.

I stifled a laugh. Laughin’, like I had a plan and was some kind of warrior. Still faced three trained wizards, was a mile away from where the battle was sposed to take place, and I’m on foot now. I turned to run toward the manor, but stopped. Louisa’s anger thrummed the air.

I stood still, gaspin’, tryin’ to collect what little wits I could call my own. Louisa was ready to let loose. She was through bein’ yanked around by ignoramuses. They didn’t know where to go, where they were. They expected Selene to catch up with them long before they got so far north.

There’s irony.

They couldn’t take a hostage anywhere. They’d be hanged after a very short tribunal, even if the hostage was an ogre hen from the South.

Even if!

I would double do to ’em whatever I eventually dream up to do to ’em. Maybe Louisa could help me come up with what. A lot of impractical and vicious atrocities were crossin’ her mind I didn’t think she would ever truly commit.

But, she’d been force marched for over a week.

The idjits didn’t even know they were near a fellow wizard’s manor. They were lost. Fate was givin’ me a huge laugh.

Sensin’ the thoughts of others is handy.

I decided. Turned and sprinted directly for them. They were on the edge of a pasture directly through the orchard.

Come to Papa. Don’t know why that crossed my itty bitty head.

I imagined the sword vibratin’ hot with majic and sensed the heat of it an instant later. I broke through the orchard’s shadows and caught sight of the three men. Threw all of my energy to press my sprint. I high-stepped it through the tall rye ready to be sickled. Screamed a threat, realizin’ as my head exploded, the scream was mental, mind to mind. The three wizards gawked. Their horses bolted.

One of the men flew backward, feet ricochetin’ into the air, higher than his arse.

The idjit had tied the rope to Louisa around his waist, and she ripped him into the air. He hit softly in the tall grass and made it to his feet in a heartbeat. Drawin’ his sword he sliced through the rope, turned on the irate ogre hen who neared.

Louisa didn’t slow.

The man drew the sword back to strike her.

“Noooooooooo!”

The man doubled forward in pain and the fist Louisa threw where his head had been caught nothin’ but air. She plummeted past the man.

Louisa turned about and faced the wizard.

He recovered and stood erect, finally pulled from the ethereal.

I was still forty feet away. My mind reeled with empty options. Realized my earlier, unplanned shout had doubled the man over.

“No you don’t!”

The man grimaced, but the pain didn’t stop him this time. An aura welled at the base of his sword and he thrust it toward Louisa. I focused upon a single image, of the bolt threadin’ toward me instead of Louisa, and the majic swerved as though I commanded it. Did I? No. I couldn’ta done that.

I threw myself into the hip-tall grass and the energy passed over me. I came to rest with my razor-sharp sword an inch from my nose, and I groaned, realizin’ what I could have done. Selene’s words, not to lop off anythin’ I cared to keep, came to mind.

I didn’t have time to think. I needed to do somethin’, even if it was wrong. I thrust upward, boots slidin’ in the wet rye.

The other two wizards had evidently gotten their mounts under control and ran headlong toward me. I turned back to the first wizard. Louisa had him by the throat and lifted him, his feet danglin’ three feet off the ground. She clasp his sword arm in her other hand, but the aura of another bolt grew.

She better either break his neck, or prepare for a jolt.

But I needed to deal with the two other wizards. The drum of hooves rumbled in my skull. They were no more than thirty feet away. They hadn’t bothered to draw their swords. They intended to take care of me the old fashioned way, as cavalry had taken down infantry for as long as there has been war. I experienced the instantaneous vision of my body explodin’ from the impact, bones crushed, organs and flesh splatterin’ the ground.

The image changed, and I saw myself years ago durin’ a rare, idle moment, flingin’ Papa’s borrowed pocket knife at a tree, the blade prickin’ the pine bark. I threw my sword with all of my might, in my mind’s eye watchin’ the tip penetratin’ the wizard to the left. Off balance from the throw, I fell to the left.

Hooves clamored over me but unless I was numb in fear, didn’t feel a single hoof connect. I rolled and bounded to my feet. The two horses raced away, only one of which was ridden. I looked over my shoulder, and almost vomited. I may have dry heaved a moment.

The missin’ man sat in the grass ten feet away, legs splayed in front of him. Eyes bulged. Fists gripped the hilt of my sword. The man fell over, displayin’ the crimson blade that extended out his back.

A loud pop drew me back to the present danger.

Louisa flew backward, clenched fists pointin’ east and west, like each of her bare feet. She hit the ground with a gut-wrenchin’ ugh.

She didn’t move.

“Louisa!”

The man she had held struggled to his feet, and to my right, the rider had stopped his horse and turned back, kicked it into a run, drew his sword and leaned right. Either the horse would baste me into pasture fodder, or the blade would slice me in two.

Didn’t save Louisa. Didn’t do much for myself.

All I wanted to do was disappear, as though I never existed, had never been invited on such a ridiculous trek. What was I thinkin’, takin’ on three swordsmen, three wizards? I closed my mind an instant before the end.

Felt the whoosh of air across my face, and opened my eyes.

Where’d they go?

Hoof beats drummed behind me. How did the wizard manage to ride past me without— I ripped around. The man reined his horse hard, leaned back in his saddle with all his might. I sensed the horse’s pain as the bit tore into its jaw, stirrups rake its shoulders.

“Throw him!” I shouted at the stallion.

An instant later the man arched to the right, his left leg high in the air. The horse pivoted left. Flyin’ from his saddle, right boot twisted, locked in its stirrup, the man arched directly into the horse’s path. A hoof struck the man in the face and everythin’ above his shoulders exploded in a flash of red.

I gasped. The horse trotted on, continuin’ to pummel the empty shell of the man still dragged from a stirrup.

Vomit erupted in my mouth. I gagged, somehow kept from goin’ to my knees. I spat. But stood erect and turned around. The third wizard remained.

That one gaped at what was left of his friend, the headless one. The face of the man who killed Louisa didn’t belong to Blake. The image of the man I spitted with the sword flashed in my mind. That wasn’t Blake either. So the headless one was the one Selene hated so much.

Would that please Selene, how Blake ended up?

I stared. The pure-white face of the remainin’ wizard washed red with anger as he turned toward me. The sense of ethereal stabbed me in the back. The man took three steps toward me, holdin’ his right fist up, an aura growin’ about it.

Now what?

My mind turned to Louisa. I had so miserably failed to save her life.

I swallowed hard.

She stood up out of the tall rye, directly behind the wizard, and grabbed him at the back of his neck. Lifted him into the air. As his eyes bulged like the first wizard, she grasped him at the hip and drew him down hard across her raised knee.

Crack!

Louisa tossed the man to the ground like a filthy rag to be discarded.

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