Witchmarked (World's First Wizard Book 1) by Aaron Schneider (my reading book .txt) 📕

“You can let it go,” Milo called much louder than he needed to because of his damaged eardrums. “I think I felt the essence leave.”

Ambrose didn’t need to be told twice.

Hissing and spitting profanity, Ambrose let the smoking platter fall from his seared fingers, and more inert black sand slid across the floor in a small pile. When he held his hands in front of him, they were in far better shape than they had sounded seconds ago. He stumped over to the fountain and gingerly lowered them into it.

Even as a small sigh of relief passed the bodyguard’s lips, he twisted around and glared at the entrance to their apartments.

“Best get that peashooter loaded,” he called in a pain-roughened voice. “Whoever sent that thing might be coming by to finish the job.”

Milo nodded, finished loading his pistol, and went to check that the door was latched and locked.

He made it halfway across the common room when the door burst open and a contingent of ghuls led by Fazihr stormed in. They staggered to a halt when they saw Milo leveling his pistol and Ambrose, hands still dripping, holding a heavy bronze jug ready to throw.

“What is going on?” Fazihr hissed, his eyes darting between the two humans before settling on Milo. “Are you hurt?”

Milo didn’t lower the pistol as his eyes took in the troop of ghuls at a glance. All were armed with one esoteric weapon or another, which went from clubs made from femurs to whips made from sinew and vertebra, along with other stranger things. His eyes locked with Fazihr’s.

“Someone sent us a little surprise in the food your skeletons delivered,” Milo said, his voice hard and flat. “A creature made of black sand that tried to kill us both.”

“Stowed away as a couple of black eggs,” Ambrose put in, wearing a fierce smile below wild, roving eyes. “Thought you’d sent us a tasty treat, but it turned out to be inedible.”

Fazihr’s eyes widened at the implication, and after a short hiss in Ghulish, his entourage lowered their weapons.

“My sincerest apologies, Magus,” Fazihr said with a low bow his fellow ghuls imitated. “I was told to provide for your needs, including security, and I clearly failed. When we heard the sounds of violence, my guards and I rushed up here, but we were not fast enough. We will arrange for a pair of guards to be present at all times.”

Ambrose gave a derisive snort and might have thrown the jug at Fazihr right then if Milo hadn’t spoken up.

“Don’t bother,” Milo said as he lowered his pistol slowly. “We handled things.”

A strange look, fear and outrage twisted together, passed over his face. Milo wasn’t sure he was reading the ghul correctly, but he was more determined than ever not to trust him.

“I am afraid I must insist,” the ghul retainer began in a strained, wheedling tone. “If not for your sake, then for mine. The Bashlek will have me flayed and restitched many times over if any harm comes to you on my watch.”

Milo shook his head as he stepped closer to glare down at the stooped creature.

“I’m afraid I must insistently refuse,” Milo said coolly, raising an open hand toward the door. “Now, please leave so we can clean this mess up and make some lunch.”

A look of undisguised loathing squirmed across the Fazihr’s face, but he bowed and put on his best Ghulish smile.

“I understand,” he burbled wetly, then hissed another command that saw his guards file out. “Just remember, we are only just down the hall from here should you need us.”

Milo fixed the ghul with a stare, a challenge shining in his pale eyes.

“Oh, don’t worry, Fazihr. I’ll remember just where you are.”

The ghul turned sharply on his heel, and the door latched behind him as he left.

“Interesting,” Ambrose mused after setting the bronze jug on the counter behind him.

“What?” Milo frowned, still glaring at the door. “That we’ve been here less than two days and these creatures have already tried to kill us twice?”

“Well, there’s that.” Ambrose nodded before looking at Milo with twinkling eyes. “I was more pondering you saying ‘we’ were going to clean this place up.”

Milo turned from contemplating the door to the chaos that had claimed most of the common room: spilled food, upturned crates, scattered cookware, and of course the black sand that seemed to be on everything.

“You’ve an ear for detail, Ambrose.” Milo sighed as he bent down and scooped up a wayward tuber from the floor.

“All part of the job, Magus,” Ambrose said with an officious sniff. “All part of the job.”

12

A Development

“For the next time,” Imrah said the next day as she handed him a black cane topped with a raptor’s skull. Milo didn’t know which bird of prey it was, but judging by the size, it would have been an impressive creature.

As soon as Milo’s hand closed around the smooth shaft, he felt the energies thrumming within. When Imrah released her hold on the cane, he felt the sudden weight and realized it was not made from lacquered wood, but from polished black rock. It was not as unwieldy as it seemed at first blush, but Milo did expect that if he failed to use magic effectively in the next attack, he could just beat his assailant to a pulp.

“So, you just had a skull cane lying around?” Milo asked, lowering it to give the floor a good tap. It was a little tall for a traditional cane, but he found he liked it more the longer he held it. It had heft physically and magically, and it felt reassuring in his hand.

“It was a gift for my late brother,” Imrah said, looking at the staff. “He never had a chance to use it because he tried to depose my father before he was ready. I thought you could put it to use.”

Stunned by her bald statement about family matters, Milo felt