Wizard Squared (13 page)
With as much effort as a hurricane blowing out a candle he sent a thread of his
potentia
spearing through the ether. His power cleaved the thaumic veil like that well-known hot knife through butter. So easy, so effortless. He felt like a dam with all its confining banks sundered, his undreamt-of powers flowing and flooding through him. Set free at last.
This is me. The true me. Won’t Reg be surprised?
Within heartbeats he’d found both king and dragon, harrying a herd of milch cows on the rural outskirts of the kingdom’s capital. The beasts floundered and foundered and sprawled in bloody death, carcasses littering the green field with profligate abandon. How typically Lional, to take out his frustrated spite on dumb animals who couldn’t fight back.
Really and truly, he’s got to go.
The dragon’s mind was a cauldron roaring with flame. Chained to Lional by inimical magics, it writhed in heartbreaking pain and confusion. With a thought
he eased its suffering. Weakened the
Tantigliani
bond. Recognizing his touch the dragon threw back its scaled head and kissed the sky with fire. Furious, Lional tried to overthrow him. The feeble attempt made him laugh.
Come to me, sweet one
, he crooned to the glorious crimson and emerald dragon.
I’ll set you free.
While he waited he searched idly for Shugat and Zazoor and their impotent army… and was stung with surprise when he couldn’t find them.
So their silly gods shield them from me, do they? Oh well. It hardly matters. I don’t want their sand and their stupid jeweled tears. And I’ve certainly got no interest in their smelly, uncomfortable camels. If they don’t interfere with me I’ll likely leave them alone.
A shiver in the ether heralded his dragon’s eager approach. Smiling, filled with the kind of excitement that used to fizz him as a boy, when it was his birthday and he was staring at his unwrapped presents on the breakfast table, he watched the empty sky and looked for it to fill.
And there it was, the dragon. His miracle. His gift. Heart lifting, throat tightening, he watched the magnificent creature tread the air lightly towards him. Its vast wings were dulcet, caressing the sunlight like a shy lover’s kiss. Spoiling the picture, Lional—his beautiful face ugly with temper, perched behind the dragon’s wings and clutching its elegant neck like a bully holding onto some stolen trifle.
“What are you doing, Gerald?” Lional shouted as the dragon settled sweetly on the grass. “What are you playing at?”
“Playing?” He frowned, reproving. “I’m not playing, Lional, I’m perfectly serious. Can’t you tell?”
There were blotches of cow’s blood on the dragon’s iridescent hide. Horrible. With a wave of his hand he removed them. Removed Lional while he was at it, tumbling Melissande’s mad brother off the dragon’s back into an ungainly sprawl on the ground. The dragon lowered its head and looked at him, crimson eyes banked with fire.
Lional scrambled awkwardly to his feet. There was cow’s blood on him too. It could stay there. And if he wasn’t very careful his own would soon be joining it.
“Dunwoody—”
Puzzled, Gerald stared at him.
I was afraid of him once. Not so long ago he made me soil myself with fear. How odd. And what a relief, to be done with that Gerald.
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“It’s over, Lional,” he said quietly. Men of power had no need to shout. “Your reign is at an end. If you surrender yourself peacefully I’ll see you come to no harm. You’ll be imprisoned, of course, but you’ll still be alive. But if you
don’t
surrender peacefully—” He shrugged. “Well. Then life will become rather unpleasant and you’ll only have yourself to blame.”
“
What?
” Lional laughed, incredulous. Beneath his smooth, pale skin a ripple of crimson scales. The
Tantigliani
still held. “Gerald, have you gone mad?”
He shrugged again. “Not at all. That’s what you did, Lional. What I’ve done is… find myself.”
Lional stared at him, ferociously silent. And then he reached out with his stolen
potentias
, with the magic that would never truly be his no matter how hard he tried to pretend.
“
Tagruknik
!” he swore in a tongue that wasn’t his,
either. What a thief he was, this mad king of New Ottosland. “Gerald—what the hell have you done?”
Oh and it was sweet, it was
delightful
, tasting Lional’s stark fear. The dragon, still chained to him, poor thing, lashed its tail and roared in frightened sympathy, flame shriveling the flower beds, poison dripping to corrode and char the clipped grass.
He rolled his eyes. “Oh come on, Lional. You know bloody well.”
The healthy color drained from Lional’s beautiful face, leaving it gray and sickly. “You can’t have. It’s not possible.”
“Not for the old Gerald, no,” he agreed. “But thanks to you and the cave I’m not the old Gerald any more. Thanks to you and the cave I’m an entirely new man. With your help I’ve found a fresh focus.” He smiled. “New purpose.”
Another ripple in the ether as Lional pushed with his
potentias
. Pushed to no avail. He really was wasting his time. Eyes wide, his breathing harsh, he stared. “No. It’s not
possible
. I left those grimoires guarded. Warded beyond any hope of breaching. No wizard could—”
“No ordinary wizard, true,” he said, and shoved his hands in his trouser pockets. “But come on, Lional. You’ve known since your failure in the woods that I’m anything but an
ordinary
wizard.”
Sweating, Lional stepped back. The dragon hesitated, then echoed him. “No,” he said, shaking his head. “This is a trick.”
Gerald sighed. “Lional, Lional. Tell me, what did you
think
you were doing when you were torturing me in that cave of yours?”
Lional didn’t answer. Just stared at him, his sky blue eyes narrowed. One hand reached out to touch the dragon’s breathing side. As though touch confirmed ownership. As though he had the right.
He raised an eyebrow. “You don’t know? Or is it you just can’t bring yourself to admit it? Never mind. I’ll admit it for you. What you did, Lional, old chum, was murder me. The old me, that is. And the Gerald you replaced him with, you made
that
Gerald into a murderer—like you. And—well—the thing is, you see, I couldn’t live with that. I couldn’t live with
“You think so?” said Lional, teeth bared in a feral smile. “Then you’re an idiot, Gerald. A doltard, like Rupert. You’re no match for me and my dragon.”
“Actually, Lional?” He pulled his right hand from his pocket and held it up, fingers spread wide. “It’s
my
dragon. And I’d like it back now, if you don’t mind.”
He clenched his fingers hard and fast, wrapping his
potentia
around the
Tantigliani
’s tight strands. Shrieking, Lional dropped to his knees. Beside him the dragon roared, fresh flame burning the flower-scented air, head thrashing in wild protest as the binding incant cut deep.
He winced. “Sorry, my beauty. Sorry. Be strong. It’ll be over soon, I promise.”
Teeth gritted, blood trickling from both nostrils, Lional fought back. His magic may have been stolen but that didn’t mean it wasn’t formidable.
“No—you can’t have her—you
won’t
have her—we won’t let you—we are
one
!”
The punch of Lional’s resistance was hard enough to rock him on his heels. Bones thrumming, blood surging, he punched back. Felt a sizzle of pleasure as Lional cried out and fell onto his hands and knees. Felt a trickle of guilt as the dragon’s roar echoed his pain.
“It’ll only hurt worse if you resist me, Lional,” he warned. “Let go. Stop fighting. I won’t tell you again.”
But of course Lional didn’t listen. He was mad, after all. With an outraged howl he lurched back to his feet and spat out a slew of filthy curses. So foul were the incants that the air between them caught fire, drowning the scent of flowers with the stench of putrid death.
Gerald extinguished the hexes with three unbinding words.
“I swear, Lional, you’re the doltard,” he said, as Lional recoiled in shock. “Compared to you Rupert’s a bloody genius. Now for the love of Saint Snodgrass, you fool, stop this nonsense and—”
With another furious howl Lional launched a fresh attack. This time the dragon attacked with him, teeth and claws and flame and poison unleashed.
No time for kindness or a delicate touch. With both fists clenched now, with a word and a vicious push of his
potentia
, he severed the unnatural bonds of the
Tantigliani sympathetico
. Severed Lional from the dragon and set the beautiful creature free.
Lional collapsed, screaming as though he’d just been eviscerated. Half his face and his right arm were turned to blackened lizard scales. The dragon screamed with him, lethal tail lashing, thrashing the surrounding flower beds to shreds.
Gerald leaped forward. “No! No! It’s all right! It’s all right! He can’t hurt you now! I’ve saved you!”
Dazed and confused, the dragon swung its head side to side, looking first at himself and then at screaming Lional [rea si. One luminous crimson eye was clouded gray and weeping blood. Blood dripped from its wide nostrils and fell scorching on the ground.
Hating himself for hurting the creature, Lional’s victim like so many others, heedless of the green poison oozing from its mouth, he risked a hand to the dragon’s shoulder. Wrapped its pain in a soothing hex and forced it to calm.
“There, there,” he crooned. “Stand still. Stand quiet. You’ll be all right soon, I promise.”
The dragon looked at him with its one good eye, tail continuing to thrash. The flower beds Lional’s father had so lovingly cultivated were ruined, reduced to churned dirt and torn foliage. Bits and pieces of blossom. All that diligent work, destroyed in scant heartbeats.
Well, it serves him right for raising such a horrible son.
Slowly, slowly, the dragon’s tail ceased its thrashing. Its head lowered, drooping groundwards, as its anger surrendered to magic.
“That’s better,” he told it. “Poor thing. You be quiet now. I’m your friend. I won’t hurt you.”
“But I will, you treacherous bitch!”
And too quickly for stopping, Lional blasted the dragon with a
mordicanto majora
from Stanza Seventeen of
Madam Bartholomew’s Little Surprise
.
The dragon shrieked once and fell dead at his feet.
Gerald spun around. “
Lional
! What the
hell
did you do that for?”
Lional rolled over and sat up. His right eye was burst and bubbled in its socket, the lizard scales where his cheek had been now dribbled with gore. His left eye was turned dragonfire crimson, glaring with a rage as hot as the sun.
“The dragon was mine,” he growled. “You had no right to touch it.”
Poor thing, poor thing. I should’ve known. I should’ve saved it.
“No, it was mine, Lional,” he said, shaking. “I
made
it. You only stole it. You steal everything. You’re just a petty thief.”
Lional got his feet under him and stood, drunkenly swaying. “I am a
king
. The King of New Ottosland. Everything contained within this kingdom is mine—including
you
, Professor. To do with as I will.”
Gerald sucked in a deep breath to stop the shaking.
He killed my dragon. He’s going to pay for that.
“I’ll give you this, Lional. You’re stronger than I thought. Anyone else would’ve died with the breaking of that
sympathetico
.”
Lional’s hideously deformed face twisted in a smile. “I’m not anyone else.”
He nodded. “That’s true. You’re one for the books all right, Lional. But now it’s time for this chapter to end.”
“I don’t think so,” said Lional. “I write my own story, Gerald. And in
my
story you’re not even a
footnote
!”
Killing hex met killing hex in cacophonous mutual obliteration. For all his unique
potentia
and the dark magics he’d absorbed, Gerald felt himself fly through the air like so much leaf litter caught in a high wind. He struck the ground hard, the breath driven from
his lungs in a grunting whoosh. Bouncing to his feet, blinking to clear his spotty vision, he saw where Lional had landed, clear across the far side of the gardens near the convoluted, meticulously maintained hedge-maze that led to the rear of the palace.
“Right,” he said, scrambling to his feet and dusting himself off.
Ow.
He had bruises. Lional was going to pay for them too, along with everything else. “Time to finish this.”
Lional was up again and raggedly running. Towards him, not away.
“The fool must want to die, Reg.” He shrugged. “Oh, well. It’s his choice. I don’t care one way or the other.”
But that wasn’t true, and he knew it. He wanted Lional dead.
Strolling, not running, he crossed the undamaged grass to meet Lional’s oncoming rush. With his one good eye Lional saw him and bared his bloodied teeth in a snarl. Came faster, shouting foul incantations between wet, panting breaths.
