Warlock Apprentice, Black Lake Novel 4

Chapter Thirty-Six

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Our band of conspirators was back to three—love that word, conspirators. Though I never developed a rapport with the towheaded Lucas, actually felt a tad intimidated by him to be completely honest, prolly due to his bondin’ with the golden dragon queen, I nonetheless missed Lucas’ company already. The young man remained quick to smile day and night. And one of those smiles gave up his sarcasm fast enough. Not like Morgan who always looks as well as sounds the curmudgeon—not really sure what that word means, but it implies someone who’d be happy to cur-smudge ya to death.

Lucas’ leavin’ meant the last of the flyin’, too. I wished we could complete our journey on the backs of the dragons. That smacked me hilarious, considerin’ most every interaction I’d had with them started with spine-numbin’ panic. But they sorely beat the back of a horse. Since they beat my backside blood-sore.

We walked the horses over cobblestone the better part of an hour, which wasn’t so bad. The motion worked the gut more than anythin’ else, as the sloshin’ motion twisted my body in an S. It gave me time to adjust to the sword slidin’ and bouncin’ off my leg.

As soon as we were off the stone streets, Selene kicked his mare into a gallop. Morgan’s long legs swung smoothly, his dreadlocks dancin’ off his shoulders in a jig. I knew the ogre could out-distance the horses at this pace, and envied him. I’d give every bit of my majic to be able to run beside him, to avoid the blisters saddle and stirrups would wear.

Immediately Selene barked ridin’ instructions, which sounded contradictory. Don’t stand in the stirrups, but lift up. Meet the saddle comin’ up. Shouldn’t ya move with the saddle? Get yar hand off the pommel. What was it for, then, if not to hold onto? Everythin’ I tried irritated Selene more, and it didn’t do anythin’ good for my own backside.

It took me forty minutes to realize what part the muscles in my groin lent to the effort. By then Selene had shaken his head in frustration, my thighs were well on the way to raw, my buttocks pounded by a smith’s hammer, and I recognized how intensely the never-before exercised muscles in my crotch would soon cripple me.

Sympathy wafted from the ogre, though I never caught him glance across at me, as we were nearly head-to-head now. It was actually pleasant to sit a tad higher than the ogre. The aura about Morgan now created an edge against the anger and frustration.

I managed to press my mind from my discomfort to the plan that had been formulatin’. Did I really want to go it alone? Would I accomplish anythin’, besides gettin’ me killed? Would my death, if that was the only thin’ I accomplished, benefit Louisa?

It was indeed possible Blake and his blokes had already released Louisa. But just as likely, they could have tired of her by now, and killed her. That struck a new pain in my chest.

No. I must keep that fear at bay. But my responsibility was to the hen, not the ancient dragon queen. Should I test my ideas out with Selene and Morgan? Or sneak away like a snake when they weren’t lookin’?

If I chose the latter option, I’d have few opportunities. Perhaps in the middle of the night. Or with an engineered excuse. But what kind? An errand?

Hunger interrupted my thoughts long before a decision neared. I studied Selene and Morgan, drawin’ in their emotions, which I had ignored for hours and through several breaks. As usual, Selene remained tightly focused, tense. Morgan, angry one moment, humored with less ominous concerns a moment later.

“We take the left fork,” Selene said, his first words in two hours.

My mare followed her companion without a nudge of the reins, as Morgan sped up to take the lead on the narrower road, no doubt so he didn’t have to put up with whatever the horses kicked up, or plopped behind them. That scoop designed in their shoes seemed fashioned for exactly the kickin’-up purpose.

But then, maybe the improved scenery was more important to the ogre.

“Do ya think this will take us nearer to Louisa?” I asked.

“Nay,” Selene answered. “Morgan was clear we deal with the dragons’ danger first.”

That wasn’t exactly my question. That tightness struck my chest. It wasn’t fair. “How far?”

“No more than an hour,” Selene said.

“So soon? I—I expected all yar kind lived farther north.”

“Our kind, lad. Most are.”

“What’s yar plan?” I asked.

Selene remained quiet long enough it was clear he didn’t wish to speak of it, or he had no plan at all. So I created my own scenarios. The first several turned out badly in my head, drawin’ a bead of sweat across my brow. I tried to conjure more beneficial outcomes, but my schemes turned from idiotic to stupid—until I realized we approached some manor. Maybe it was the increasin’ tingle in my spine that made me look across the lush valley.

Still miles away, the main building nestled between orchards north and south. Earth-colored, barrel-tile topped the roof. Verandas wrapped the entirety of both stories, bracketed by broad, white pillars highlightin’ the granite structure. A barn as impressive as the main house lay back and to the left. Minor buildings, perhaps servant quarters and a kitchen, lay opposite.

The sting of growin’ majic struck me. It wasn’t just from Selene and Morgan. Whoever resided in the estate knew we were comin’, and prepared.

“He senses ya!” I blurted.

“He wouldn’t be much of a wizard if he didn’t,” Selene said.

The air lacked oxygen and I gasped. Where had it gone? No matter how much I sucked into my lungs, I turned dizzier.

“You’re hyperventilating, lad. Calm down.”

I glanced at him, convinced he loves to make up words. “Small task for ya. Ya were raised around wizardry.” And ya know of fine estates and majic battles.

Selene turned to me and smiled. That small consolation eased the pain in my chest the tiniest tad.

“Remain quiet, eh?” Selene said. “I’ll do the talkin’.”

“Aye,” I answered.

“And you?” Selene shouted across me.

Morgan harrumphed. “What would I say?”

I worked to slow my breathin’ the next five minutes. We crossed between ostentatious pillars connected to whitewashed fences enclosin’ two pastures with dozens of grazin’ thoroughbreds in each.

Selene reined his mare back, and mine followed. Morgan fell alongside. He and Selene studied the grounds, eyes flickin’ left and right. Their apprehension collided with confidence, which shrouded my own fears.

Half from the rougher gait, pain racked through my body, enhanced by a burst of majic. As though an invisible apparition crossed inside the home, I followed the wizard’s advance until the front door opened. The man walked to the edge of the veranda and stood, waitin’, face calm, though his ever-growin’ majic buffeted me.

The manor lord wore a gauzy, button-down white shirt, tan slacks which billowed at his hips—ridin’ wear, though the knee-high boots like Selene wears was missin’. In their place, flat house shoes with no buckles. I guessed the man was at least two decades older than Selene. He wore a similar triangle of beard on his chin, but it was peppered with gray.

Though his eyes moved often over Morgan and me, a faint smile crossed the wizard’s lips in recognition of Selene.

Morgan stopped several steps to our right as the mares halted fifteen feet from the grand stairs that lead to the terrace. Morgan leaned against Bacchus, though he didn’t appear winded, even after runnin’ steadily for hours up and down rollin’ hills. Stinkin’ ogres.

“This is a surprise, Nador,” the elder wizard called out. “An unplanned visit by Lord Ollimon’s favorite journeyman.”

A prick of irritation flowed from Selene. Was it from the man’s mention of Ollimon, or bein’ called a journeyman? Or should he have addressed Selene with a title, as he used for the other wizard, Ollimon?

“What do I owe the honor?”

Selene waited long enough to swallow his anger, perhaps, before speakin’. “I won’t waste your time. I’m here to either kill you, or leave with an understanding.”

The man’s jaw dropped, and his face turned white. “Wh— I don’t understand.”

“You’ve joined a cause I cannot abide, allow to precede,” Selene said in a raspy voice. “You abstain from involvement or I challenge you here and now.”

Anger flashed on the wizard’s face. “How dare you. You ride upon my property and challenge me like some riff raff? I’ll go to the council and—”

Selene shouted over his words. “I don’t care how the council feels about this, or even their own stand on the dragons. I challenge all who are willing to renew a conflict dead for centuries.”

The man’s anger twisted into a mixture of the original fear, and confusion. “How did you know?”

“Not important,” Selene said, some calm returnin’ to his voice. “But your plan cannot go forward. The wizard you and your compatriots wanted dead prophesied dire consequences to your scheming. I’m here to end it.”

The man’s eyes darted back and forth between me and Morgan for a long ten-count before lookin’ back on Selene. He stammered a moment, before intentionally stillin’, to calm himself no doubt.

“Only four wizards have battled in our memory,” the man finally said. “The consequences of those conflicts were horrendous enough. I can’t imagine what—”

“I’ve explained why you can’t go forward. I have no more to add to that. Either you give me your solemn oath to withdraw from the conspiracy, or we duel. What say you?”

Seemed to me we had plenty of time to do some convincin’, first.

The seconds ticked by. Both mares stamped. I caught the whiff of fresh-sickled grass on the breeze, of meat smokin’ somewhere on the property. Finches twittered in the hedges below the balcony rail. Blackbirds in the far orchards chattered about the fallin’ sun. The grounds were too idyllic for the threat bein’ lived between the two gentlemen.

The wizard released most of his stored majic, but it didn’t make a dent in the pressure I felt in my spine from Selene and Morgan. Why did the stranger free his power? To remove the appearance he presented a threat? His fingers, held straight at his sides, twitched. In thought, or anticipation?

The door behind him opened and a girl, perhaps ten years old, peered out. “Papa?”

“Yes, sweets,” the wizard said.

“Mama says tea is ready. Invite our visitors in.”

My gut tightened, a sensation I drew from Selene, Morgan, and the wizard as well. So the man had to make a decision immediately or present a danger he would never wish his family to be aware of.

“Thank you, sweets.”

But the girl didn’t return inside. Instead, she stepped out and closed the door, and leaned against it. She wore no flowin’ ankle-length, frilly dress as I would expect of a wealthy landowner’s daughter. She wore a casual white button-down shirt and slacks similar to her father’s, still in boots as though she had recently returned with him after reviewin’ the property—maybe my imagination was in a heightened state. Her globe-like eyes mostly took in Morgan. Big surprise, that. Not many ogres traipsed north the past two centuries—and lived to tell of it, at least.

The man’s face, already pale, lost more color. He took a deep breath through his open mouth, glanced to his left, and waved. I turned to see at whom. A servant rushed forward.

“Join us for tea, gentleman. It has been ordered. An invitation I challenge you not to dismiss. My lady can storm vicious given the least slight.”

“Papa,” the girl said.

The gentle reproach amused the man, and calmed him.

The servant reached up to take my reins, but I turned to Selene for direction. What would it be? Was the challenge resolved? Or were we to play some game before it was decided? Did we have to worry about poison-laced tea? Or had the two wizards come to a silent truce?

Selene gave me a nod, and I handed the reins to the servant. With the release of emotion that brought, I suddenly worried I might throw up. Swallowed at the bitter taste in the back of my mouth before attemptin’ to dismount.

Pain, like a railroad spike thrustin’ through both hips, brought tears to my eyes. The sword tangled between my leg and the saddle, further restrictin’ my ability to get my boot over my saddle.

And everythin’ went black. The world jolted.

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