A Slave to Magic Read online

  Kwil had never seen Nera so confident. Though new to her magical abilities, she had stopped the dogs with barely any effort. Her eyes spoke louder than her words. “Don’t take any unnecessary risks,” he said. “Try to avoid any Gatans.”

  With a grin, she replied, “Hey, I know what I’m doing.” Patting him on the back, she added, “Good luck to you.”

  “I’ll meet you down there,” he said, pointing to the slave area. He watched in silence as Nera trotted away in the darkness.

  Kwil stepped over the sleeping guard dogs as he made his way to the open window. No need for spells this time. A nearby crate gave him the height he needed to pull himself inside. The room was completely dark, his Gatan eyes taking only a moment to adjust. It appeared to be an unused bedroom, as there were no dressings on the bed and no logs in the fireplace. Nera was right, he thought. Getting inside is proving too easy. The fur raised on the back of his neck, his senses heightening to the slightest sound. Caution was warranted here.

  Cracking the door open, he peered out into the corridor. A human slave carrying a tray walked only steps away, turning down another hallway. As the footsteps faded away, Kwil crept out, sticking close to the wall. Regretting that he hadn’t removed his boots, he cast green magic over his feet, quieting his steps as he moved along. Where would Arsden keep the medallion? he wondered. Remembering that the other nobles he had worked for always kept their most valuable possessions in their private chambers, he decided to look there first. The lord of the manor would not have his room on the ground floor. Kwil moved steadily along the hallway, peering down each adjoining corridor until he spotted a staircase.

  As he tiptoed down the hall, another human slave crossed his path. Freezing in place, Kwil observed her, briefly catching a glimpse of the woman’s face. Her eyes appeared white, as if she were enchanted. I suppose that’s how a master wizard keeps his slaves in line, he thought, a hatred burning in his chest. This man was a true monster. He traded in human lives as if they were lower than insects. Not only that, Arsden had wronged Kwil’s mistress. More than ever, Kwil hoped to face the master wizard and exact punishment for his many crimes. But was he truly ready?

  Taking a deep breath, Kwil tried to remain calm. After reaching the staircase, he cast a spell over the wood, hoping to prevent any creaking as he climbed. The stairs were wide, and turned sharply before spilling out onto the second floor.

  Another slave walked away from Kwil, his movements stiff and unnatural. The mage searched his mind, wondering what spell might break these people from their enchantment, but in his heart he knew the truth. The spell could be lifted only by the master who placed it upon them. Arsden would have to be coerced into removing the enchantment. The only other way to break the spell would be to kill him. Kwil stared momentarily at his hands, wondering if he could take the life of another being. Despite Arsden being a slave breeder, Kwil wasn’t sure he could go so far. Such acts could lead down a dark road, and he wasn’t prepared to travel it.

  Silently moving along the corridor, Kwil scanned the doors, wondering which one might lead to Arsden’s chambers. A strong sense of magic emitted from the door nearest him, and he wondered if the medallion held magical powers. If so, it might be what he was sensing. Gathering his courage, he placed a hand on the knob and turned it, gently pushing open the door. Darkness greeted him inside, and he breathed easier believing the room to be empty.

  A flash of light erupted in the fireplace, stopping the young mage before he could take another step. Light flooded the room, the figure of a Gatan in a hooded robe sat near the fire. He was older, distinguished, with a stark white coat and blue eyes. Without an introduction, Kwil knew who he was facing. It was Arsden. The magic he sensed was coming from him, a spell of protection surrounding him.

  “I sensed your magic when you broke my locks,” Arsden said, coming to his feet. “I allowed you to continue out of sheer curiosity. What could bring a young sorcerer to my home?” Crossing his arms, he stared at Kwil expectantly.

  “I’ve come on behalf of my mistress,” Kwil replied, his chin jutting forward. “You have wronged her, and I intend to make it right.” He spoke loud to hear his own voice over the pounding of his heart.

  Arsden laughed. “And who is your mistress?” he asked.

  “Seela,” Kwil replied.

  The wizard’s eyes focused on Kwil, the smile disappearing from his face. “Seela,” he repeated. “She should have been left in the woods to die as an infant, but her mother insisted on waiting until she was old enough to have a fighting chance.”

  “You stole her inheritance,” Kwil said, taking a step forward.

  “And why shouldn’t it be mine?” Arsden replied. “After all, I was the one who arranged the accident.”

  Kwil cocked his head to the side.

  “I see she hasn’t told you everything,” Arsden said with a chuckle. “I killed her parents, or at least, I arranged their deaths.” After a pause, he added, “Perhaps she didn’t know.”

  Kwil felt the blood rising to his face. An image of Seela in her loving mother’s arms flashed in his mind. This man had taken everything Seela held dear. He had to be punished.

  “Of course,” Arsden continued, “arranging such a simple accident was almost beneath someone of my talents, but it was a means to an end.”

  Not wanting to hear any more of the sorcerer’s words, Kwil struck. Summoning the flames inside his body, he fashioned a fireball in the palm of his hand. Launching it in the sorcerer’s direction, Kwil could only watch as it bounced away from his shield, returning to the one who had cast it. His Gatan reflexes on alert, Kwil flattened himself against the floor, allowing the fire to pass by him, striking the wall instead. Arsden raised a hand to douse the flames, and then turned his anger on the intruder.

  Kwil tried to regain his footing, but he felt as if a hand were holding him against the ground. Rolling over, he felt a second hand pressing against his throat. Panic set in, his lessons of clearing his mind momentarily forgotten. Seela’s voice echoed in his ears. Concentrate! Despite his lack of oxygen, Kwil managed to steady his mind. Closing his eyes, he visualized the hands lifting away from him. He pushed with all his might to repel them, every muscle in his body tensing.

  Arsden took a step back as his spell was broken, the silver-furred Gatan clamoring to his feet. Flames danced in the young man’s palms, but Arsden had decades more experience. Summoning a gust of wind, he knocked Kwil backward, sending him tumbling end over end until he crashed against a wooden chair.

  His head reeling, Kwil found his way onto his knees, his sights locked on the master wizard. A shimmering blue light emitted from Arsden’s hand, heading straight for Kwil. Without hesitation, the young man shielded himself with red energy, the master’s magic striking it with great force. Crying out in pain, Kwil barely managed to maintain the shield.

  Why did I come here? Kwil wondered, pouring all his energy into his shield. I’m so stupid to think I could do this. I’m just a slave. Tears came to his eyes as he realized he had failed his mistress, and might not survive long enough to tell her. Maybe humans weren’t meant to practice magic, he decided, hanging his head. How could I ever be a match for a Gatan master? The thought gave Kwil pause. It was his Gatan form that was draining his magical stores. Maintaining the façade was taking up resources he needed for the fight. Dropping the spell, he instantly transformed into a human, an exhilarating burst of magic running through his veins.

  Arsden lobbed another attack, this one absorbed by the young man. Kwil rose to his feet, his resolve strengthening. Arsden threw spell after spell, turning to all four elements, but Kwil absorbed them all, restoring himself to full strength.

  “Impossible!” Arsden shouted, his face red with anger. “Humans can’t perform such magic!” Not only were his magical stores dwindling, his pride was injured. This was no Gatan who had come into his home. This was a mere human, a creature unworthy of the dirt on a Gatan foot. With his options quickly running out,
Arsden focused his remaining magic into his shield.

  Kwil approached at a steady pace, his hands glowing with red magic. Unleashing a barrage of flame, he pummeled the master sorcerer’s shield, weakening it until it burst in a shower of red sparks. Arsden raised a hand to protect himself, but his magic had run out. The young man had absorbed every drop.

  “You should have practiced more,” Kwil said with a grin. His opponent was finished, and he, a mere human, had bested a master Gatan wizard. With one hand, Kwil locked his opponent in place, forcing him to the ground. In his other hand, he summoned fire, but the spell was not intended to burn. Instead, it formed itself into a rectangle, spreading over the master wizard’s body.

  “What are you doing?” Arsden shouted, lifting his hands to touch the magic. He felt a solid wall of heat surrounding him, encasing him with fire magic.

  “Release the slaves from their enchantment!” Kwil demanded.

  “I will not,” Arsden spat.

  “Then you will rot in this prison,” Kwil threatened.

  Fuming with rage, Arsden demanded, “Release me!”

  “Your prison will unlock when you’ve freed those slaves,” Kwil replied. As he spoke, a feeling came over him that he had not expected. An image of the enchanted slaves passed through his mind, and his magical stores tingled. When he placed Arsden under his own command, Kwil had gained power over the slaves as well. Squeezing his eyes shut, he focused his magic toward the slaves. You are free, he projected with his mind. He could feel them responding, their own free will returning to them. Turning back to Arsden, he said, “It looks like I didn’t need you for that after all.” With a smile of triumph, he released white magic over Arsden’s immobilized form.

  The master wizard could not resist, his eyes sliding closed as he looked upon Kwil’s smiling face. He fell into a fitful sleep, his mind full of hate.

  Kwil’s eyes scanned the room, searching for any chest or coffer that might hold Arsden’s jewelry. There, on the mantle, stood a small golden box, and Kwil knew he had found the treasure he sought. Opening the delicate container, he pushed aside a ruby ring and a sapphire necklace. A single medallion of silver lay at the bottom, his mistress’s energy radiating from it. Gently lifting it from its resting place, Kwil clutched it in his hand. He had done it. His mistress would be pleased.

  Tucking the medallion away in his pocket, he hurried down the stairs and out the front door. There was another task to be done.

  Chapter 24

  Nera stepped softly as she made her way to the rear of the manor. Remaining in a low crouch, she hoped to avoid any eyes that might be searching for intruders. It was unlikely the dogs were the only guards in this area.

  Before her spread a series of pits dug deep into the ground. A few of them lit with torchlight, she could clearly see humans inside. As she moved closer, she could see some of the figures were pacing, all of them chained by either wrists or ankles. Another cry caught her attention, the scream of a woman in agony. Scanning her surroundings, Nera proceeded toward the source of the cry.

  Only a few yards ahead, two guards dressed in leather armor strode heavily across her path, forcing her to flatten herself against the ground. She held her breath as they passed by, neither taking any notice of her as she lay still in the darkness. Turning her head, she saw other sets of guards, all in pairs, pacing along the edges of the pits.

  Another scream from the woman forced Nera back to her feet, her leg muscles complaining about the crouched position. Regardless of the pain, she had to stay low and keep her movements slow and steady. Otherwise, she risked discovery and severe punishment.

  Ahead in the darkness, she could see three torches burning in a small wooden structure. Inside was the sobbing of a woman and the rattling of a chain. Nera’s heart leapt to her throat, her ears tingling as she listened for any clue to how many guards might be inside. She heard only one muffled voice, aside from the woman.

  Approaching the structure with caution, Nera knelt low and brought her face close to the wooden slats. With one eye, she could see between the boards, the image playing out before her of a Gatan towering over a chained human woman. The Gatan drew back his hand, striking the woman across her face. She did not cry out, instead hanging her head and remaining silent. She had no strength left to react. Swaying a moment, the woman toppled over onto the dirt floor.

  The Gatan proceeded to kick the woman, and Nera could no longer sit still. Taking to her feet, she charged inside, not caring whether she was seen.

  “Who the—” the man started to say. He never finished his question. Nera grabbed the torch nearest the open door and swung, slamming it against the side of his head. He dropped to the ground unmoving. The human woman scrambled to her knees, her eyes wide.

  “Don’t worry,” Nera said. “I’ve come to help you.” She searched the man’s unconscious body for a key but found none. “Where do they keep the keys to your shackles?” she asked.

  The woman shook her head, tears flowing from her eyes. “I don’t know,” she whispered.

  Nera looked around the room but saw nothing that would be helpful. “I’ll find the key or I’ll find an axe,” she said. Pausing before she walked out, she said, “I’ll be back for you.”

  Outside it appeared none of the guards had heard anything. They paced as they had before, lazily strolling from pit to pit. Choosing the pit farthest from any guards, Nera broke into a run. A man sat inside, gnawing away at a crust of bread. Startled by Nera’s sudden appearance, he dropped the bread, and retreated to one side.

  “I’m here to help,” she said. “Do you know which guard has the keys?”

  The man stuttered a moment, then said, “In the tower.” He pointed to a tall structure at the farthest end of the pits. “He’s always there, leaning on the rail and twirling them on his finger.” He spat on the ground. “He’ll be armed,” he cautioned.

  “So will I,” Nera replied, her voice confident. Leaning against the side of the manor, Nera spotted her weapon. It was only a spade, probably used by slaves to dig their own pits, but it had been forgotten and left in the open. Idiot guards, Nera thought. One of the slaves could have grabbed it and taken out his revenge. Instead, it awaited Nera’s arrival, its wooden handle sturdy, its iron blade dull but heavy enough to do serious damage. Grabbing the weapon, she checked the position of the guards before proceeding toward the tower.

  Keeping a close eye on the tower window, Nera crept closer to its base. She saw no one looking out. Silently she ascended the winding staircase, holding the spade against her chest. As she climbed higher, her foot encountered something abrasive, likely sand or pebbles, her footsteps no longer silent. Each breath came more rapidly, but still she continued despite the scuffling sound on the floor above her. Then, a figure stepped out in front of her, a blade held at the ready in its hand.

  “Who goes there?” a male voice asked.

  Nera did not reply. Instead, she clutched tightly at the spade, readying herself for a fight. The man moved down a few steps, his eyes taking in the intruder.

  “A woman?” he asked, surprised. He lowered his dagger slightly.

  Nera saw her opportunity and didn’t hesitate. She brought the spade up, connecting its handle with the man’s face. He cried out in pain and staggered to a lower step. Nera walked past him and turned, bringing the spade down against his back. The guard shouted and tumbled roughly to the bottom of the stairs. Nera raced down after him, turning his limp form over to search for the keys. Attached to his belt was an iron ring with four keys. She took notice of the blood on the man’s head, but he appeared to be breathing. Feeling little sympathy, she yanked the keys from his belt and headed back to the slave she had spoken to.

  “I got them,” she called to him in a low voice.

  The man looked up at her in surprise. Raising his wrists toward her, he allowed her to unlock the shackles. Beneath the metal, his skin was red and raw. He rubbed at them slightly and said, “Thank you.”

  R
emoving one of the keys from the ring, she handed it to the slave. “Go and free as many of the others as you can,” she said.

  The man nodded and took the key before creeping toward the nearest pit. Nera ran back to the wooden building where she had left the woman. The guard was still unconscious, and the woman had not been moved.

  Kneeling next to her, Nera unlocked her shackles. “Can you walk?” she asked.

  The woman nodded and rose slowly to her feet. Her gait was unsteady, but Nera did not have time to carry her.

  “Stay close to the others,” Nera said. “I’m getting you all out of here.”

  Stepping outside the building, Nera’s eyes immediately caught sight of a scuffle in the pits. Two of the guards had been alerted and descended on the unshackled slaves. From the corner of her eye, Nera saw the man she had freed. He was still unlocking slaves, avoiding the guards entirely. Good, she thought. The more we have free, the more that can fight these guards.

  Lifting her spade, Nera charged toward the guards, striking one on the side of his head. He crumpled into a heap, the slave he had been fighting unable to believe his eyes. His face was covered in fresh cuts, but he ignored the pain, leaping at the second guard. Nera lifted her spade again, but another slave jumped in to help, blocking her chance for a clean blow. Together the slaves pummeled the guard until he dropped, then quickly scampered out of the pit.

  “There are dogs too,” the injured slave warned.

  “I already took care of them,” Nera replied. She removed another key from the ring and passed it to him. “Unlock anyone who isn’t yet free,” she said. Looking around, she realized there were over a hundred human slaves here, and it might take longer to release them than she had thought.

  The first man returned after unlocking nearly thirty slaves. “There are more guards coming,” he shouted. “The noise has surely woken them by now.”