Spellwright

With a shriek, she threw out her arms and turned away from Nicodemus.

DEIRDRE’S SHOVE TOSSED Nicodemus into the air.

Arms flailing, he turned a half-flip and landed on his back. All the air rushed from his lungs.

He tried to inhale but couldn’t. Suddenly Deirdre, her druid robes streaked with dirt, was kneeling over him and apologizing.

Long airless moments passed, each one an agonizing eternity. Deirdre took his tattooed hands. “Are you hurt? Why did you do that?”

At last Nicodemus’s lungs expanded. “I didn’t do anything!” he panted. “You were the one who-”

He stopped.

Only the faint light of dusk came down the cellar stairs, but it was enough to illuminate her tears.

“What did I do?” she asked in a shaky voice. “It was a seizure, Nicodemus; my goddess took control of me. I don’t remember a thing.”

Nicodemus’s throat tightened. He glanced over and saw that John had slept through their exchange so far. Nervously, he turned back to Deirdre. “You… you and I were talking about what we should do next. You argued that we need to run to Gray’s Crossing and find Boann’s ark. I thought it was too dangerous. By now the sentinels will be looking for me.”

Deirdre shook her head. “The ark sits in an inn at the town’s edge. It won’t be difficult to reach undetected.”

Nicodemus sat up. His head throbbed where it had struck ground. “Deirdre, I’ve stolen the Index. Every wizard south of Astrophell must be editing their attack spells and forming witch hunts to find me. Listen, Shannon gave me more than enough gold to see us to Dar or the City of Rain. You must have allies in the Highlands who can help us.”

Deirdre was shaking her head. “Nicodemus, it doesn’t matter where you run; without divine protection Fellwroth will find you.”

Nicodemus winced as his hand brushed his cheek. Shannon’s Magnus stitches were holding, but the wound was still tender. “This is where the argument stopped before. But you began to speak of your goddess’s beauty and then…” He looked away. “And you told me…”

“Nicodemus,” she whispered, squeezing his hand, “whatever flattery came from my mouth, it was Boann’s. She knows how important you are; she wants to protect you.”

Nicodemus looked her in the eye. “So she uses your body to manipulate me? That hardly sounds like a… Deirdre, I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to…”

She dried her eyes. “Nicodemus, don’t oppose her will. My desires are not my own. She’ll control me again. She’ll make me overpower you and drag you to her ark.”

Nicodemus let go of the woman’s hand. “Don’t threaten me, Deirdre. I am no wizard, but I am a spellwright.”

She retook his hand. “Nicodemus, you might cut me to pieces with your words, but Boann-”

“Let go of me.” He tried to pry off her fingers.

Her other hand clamped around his tattooed wrist. “Don’t do this; you will lose.”

Nicodemus extemporized a common language constricting spell along his tongue and spat the sentences around her elbows.

Surprised, Deirdre weakened her grip just enough for Nicodemus to slip his right hand free. He threw his arm back and wrote along it a short Magnus club. The text most likely was misspelled and would break after a single stroke, but he could deliver at least one blow.

Meanwhile, Deirdre heaved with her great strength and snapped the sentences wrapped around her elbow.

“Deirdre, stop, I’ve a spell in my-” He fell silent.

She now held the greatsword in her right hand. They locked eyes.

“Please,” she whispered, her eyes full of fear, “I cannot yield.”

“Then you will have to-” He stopped as a wall of faint golden light washed through the cellar. He jumped.

“What is it?”

A second wall of light flew through the cellar. Nicodemus dropped his Magnus club and caught one of the tiny Numinous words that made up the strange light.

Realization came with a surge of excitement. “It’s a broadly cast spell!” He began to translate the golden text. “It’s like a magical beacon.”

Deirdre lowered the greatsword. “But who would send a beacon to us?”

Nicodemus struggled to his feet. “We have to go. Let go of me.” When she did, he ran to pick up the Index.

“What happened?”

He grabbed her forearm as if to pull her along. “I’ll explain as we go. Now hurry!”

As they ran up the stairs, Nicodemus looked down at the translated word that glowed faintly gold on his palm. It read “nsohnannanhosn.”

DEIRDRE FROWNED. AGAIN Shannon doubled over and vomited nothing. Again Nicodemus went to his side and held the old man’s dreadlocks back from his face. The Index lay beside them. Azure, perched on a nearby rock pile, bobbed her head nervously.

Deirdre was sitting with Simple John in front of their campfire. Around them stretched the nighttime Chthonic ruins. The horse that Shannon had been riding was grazing somewhere out in the dark.

Above them, the forest’s branches tossed in the cold autumn wind; they made a soft rushing sound that was in sharp contrast to Shannon’s violent retching.

“What’s happening?” she whispered to Simple John.