A Clash of Magics by Guy Antibes (read this if txt) 📕

Worto grunted, but Plissaki continued to walk unnoticed to Worto’s side.

“A pulse, you say?” Worto asked.

Trevor nodded.

Worto clutched the charm and suddenly noticed Plissaki, who jumped back.

“What?” Worto asked his chief magician. “How did you get in here?”

Plissaki bowed. “I am doing the work of my masters,” the magician said as he raised his hands.

Trevor jumped between the two men and absorbed a thick bolt of lightning. He reached out for Plissaki, who turned and burned a hole in the tent to escape.

“You won’t find him unless you use these. I only have two more,” Trevor said. “He has been sneaking and whispering in your ear without you knowing it.”

“What just happened?” Worto said. “He glowed when I looked at him.”

Trevor explained the charm and then described the invisibility spell that had been developed by Maskumite magicians. He explained that he was immune to magic and that he had just saved Worto from death. “I am guessing he has been controlling you for years,” Trevor said.

Worto looked almost uncomprehendingly at Trevor. “He has advised me before I made a bid for the throne.” Worto took off the gold circlet he wore on his brow and ran his hand through his hair. “What have I done?”

With Plissaki exposed, Trevor had no idea what would happen next. “I don’t know,” Trevor said, “but I would guess Maskum is behind your efforts to take over the world and you didn’t know that you have been Plissaki’s tool.”

Trevor had to share his recent exploits with the king, who listened with shocked attention. “Gareeze handled all the subversion tactics,” King Worto said. “He never told me about invisible magicians. There are questions he never answered. I thought he had, but…” Worto shook his head.

“May I leave you to think about what has happened? The Ginster prime has no desire to fight your armies and would rather spend her money elsewhere than posting armed forces on the Fulerian border,” Trevor said.

Worto clutched Trevor’s document, crushing it in his hands. He slowly unfolded his fist and straightened out the parchment. “Tell the prime that I will soon send an emissary to Collet with my decision.” He held out the charm. “I can have this?”

“And two more, like I said. Gareeze Plissaki is very dangerous, and the charms might help protect you and others on your staff. I’m currently having more made.”

Worto took a deep breath. “You are a Dryden Messenger.” His eyes brightened for the first time since Trevor walked in. “And you are Listenwell’s duke, as well? That wasn’t just a story to placate me?”

“Not at all.” Trevor bowed to King Worto. “May I leave you to compose your message to the prime?”

Worto nodded and said, “We will talk again.” He gave the document back.

Trevor was thrilled to return to Ginster alive.

Chapter Nine

~

T he three negotiators rode east toward Collet after King Worto’s officers met Ginsterian leaders on the middle of the bridge to verify a truce. Even though there wasn’t a war, it was clear that Worto’s army had withdrawn from the bridge.

Trevor wondered what King Worto was going to do with his war machine. He had thousands of Fulerian and Brachian soldiers with no one to attack at present. Still, Worto had never really attacked anyone, and Trevor was convinced that Gareeze Plissaki had been playing a double game with the king. Worto seemed genuinely surprised by learning about the Maskumite magicians exposed in Okora and Ginster, insisting that he had nothing to do with it.

They stopped at an inn, but it was already full of Ginsterian officers not wanting to eat military food or sleep in tents any longer. They were able to secure a room in a boarding house. The place reminded Trevor of the boarding house where Desolation Boxster and Trevor had stayed while acting the part of spies in southern Presidon.

Trevor wondered what would have happened if Boxster had stayed behind with the landlady, whom he had fancied? Trevor sighed as he brushed out Snowflake. No Snowflake, no magical immunity, and he wouldn’t be on his way to Collet. Trevor would probably be dead in Tarviston, piled unceremoniously with the bodies of his sister and three brothers.

Dryden’s actions, moving him around like a chess piece, seemed cruel and heartless, but he couldn’t think of an outcome that would have been better. Trevor sought out a water source with a bucket in hand when he heard shouting in the house. His sword was in his room, but he grabbed a poker from the firepit the stable hands used to keep warm at night and ran into the house.

The place looked like a slaughterhouse. The landlady was bleeding out on the kitchen floor. Two of the residents were groaning in the hallway, another silent and motionless. Trevor ran up the stairs and found four swordsmen and two magicians banging on Brother Yvan’s door.

“Leave now!” Trevor shouted.

“The prince,” one of them said as all six of the men turned around. Fire and lightning bathed him, but as usual, that helped him more than his assailants. He slammed the poker down on the wrists of two of the swordsmen and took one of the fallen swords. Trevor plunged it into the chest of one of the two. He had two weapons to fight the assassins.

Volst opened his door, sword in front of him. A bolt of fire flashed at him. Volst’s fire charm held up to the onslaught, but then one of the magicians shot a bolt. The lightning was almost too much for Volst’s defenses, and he fell to the floor, clutching a wound in his upper chest. Trevor was about to swipe at the magician, but the two remaining swordsmen confronted him.

Brother Yvan’s door opened a crack, and one of the magicians bathed him with fire. The attack