Spellwright

“Kyran!” Nicodemus cried. Fellwroth’s luminescent Numinous passages had intertwined about the druid’s head, censoring him completely. He began to thrash.

Fellwroth rushed forward. Nicodemus peeled his rendition of Shannon’s spell from his forearm and cast it. A comet-like spell shot through the air but splashed against the golem’s chest. Nothing happened.

It had misspelled.

Nicodemus cursed. He had failed Magister Shannon. The old man had worked so hard to get him the anti-golem spell and his cacography had made a mess of it.

The golem laughed. “There’s nothing you can do, whelp. This body is solid iron.”

Nicodemus ground his teeth. He could not reproduce Shannon’s spell, but he’d be damned before he gave up.

He extemporized a Magnus lash along his thigh and pulled it free. But with a turn of his hand, Fellwroth cast a Numinous wave that shattered Nicodemus’s text into phrases.

Nicodemus began to write a second lash, but the monster’s pale hand flicked out and grabbed his throat.

Fellwroth’s touch made the keloid on Nicodemus’s neck flare up with scalding pain. It felt as if the scars had caught fire.

The world dissolved into blackness.

BEFORE NICODEMUS BLAZED the image of his last nightmare. He was again in the low cavern, staring at a body shrouded in white. “Fellwroth’s true body,” a boyish voice said.

A small tear-shaped emerald sat in the monster’s hands. The voice spoke again. “I dream your dreams; you dream mine.”

With shock, Nicodemus recognized the voice as his own childhood voice. It was coming from the emerald.

And then everything changed and Nicodemus was far away. He was in a dark room looking at his father-a tall man with long black hair and olive skin. An infant lay on a table.

“This was how we were separated,” his boyhood voice said as Nicodemus’s father pressed an emerald against the back of the infant’s neck. The child shrieked as white light erupted from the gem and cut into his neck.

When the light died the child was left with an angry keloid scar shaped like a Braid rune marred by an Inconjunct rune.

Nicodemus inhaled sharply. His father had branded him. He had not been born with a keloid as the Halcyon was prophesied to be. He could not be the Halcyon!

“Think no more on that,” the emerald voice said. “Think on this.” Suddenly Nicodemus was in a strange land surrounded by rolling highlands. It was night and a wide river stretched before him.

“This is how Fellwroth took possession of us,” the emerald said.

A giant was standing thigh-deep in the dark water. He had long red hair and skin that shone glossy black like a raven’s wing. From John’s description, Nicodemus recognized the demon Typhoneus.

Suddenly Fellwroth appeared behind the demon and brandished a blade of white light. Silently, Fellwroth stabbed Typhon in the side-stabbed him again and again until the demon collapsed and transformed into a ball of glowing red language. Fellwroth hacked the red language into bits that floated down the river.

Again everything dissolved into blackness. “Beware the scar,” the emerald’s voice said. “It will betray you to Fellwroth.”

THE VISION DISAPPEARED and Nicodemus was again standing on the wall before the compluvium.

Fellwroth’s golem had pulled back his hand as if burned by Nicodemus’s skin. The monster’s ragged white hood still concealed his eyes, but the thin bloodless lips had parted in shock.

Suddenly Nicodemus understood. “The emerald is the stolen half of my mind,” he said. “It’s the one sending me these dreams. Sending me dreams of where your true body is, dreams of your crimes. Before I saw the dragon and what you did to Eric. Now I’ve seen what you did to Typhon.”

Fellwroth’s lips worked soundlessly.

“You were the demon’s slave!” Nicodemus exclaimed.

Fellwroth struck out with his hand and screamed: “I CUT HIM IN THE RIVER!”

Nicodemus jumped back and caught Fellwroth’s blow on his shoulder. Pain exploded through his chest, and the world spun round. His back hit the ground.

When he looked up, Fellwroth was standing over him with clenched fists. A golden Numinous spike jutted out from the monster’s right hand, a Magnus spike from his left.

“I’ll hew your retarded mind in half!” Fellwroth snarled and drew back his right fist.

Suddenly Kyran was above them both. Blood covered the druid’s face. Again the magically burning branches were growing from his hands. With a snarl, he grabbed hold of Fellwroth’s raised fist.

The branches snaked down the golem’s arm. Their flames flared into a blaze that burnt off the golem’s sleeve and began to melt his arm into quicksilver.

With a metallic howl, Fellwroth turned and slammed his right fist, and its long Magnus spike, into Kyran’s stomach.

Nicodemus cried out and struggled to find his feet.

Blood spread across Kyran’s belly, but the druid only grasped Fellwroth’s arm more tightly. The blue flames roared louder as the burning branches spread down the creature’s shoulder.