Wizardborn (World's First Wizard Book 3) by Aaron Schneider (read me like a book txt) 📕

he saw those same trucks stopping to be loaded with something before heading for the gate and disappearing into the broken city.

“We are, and I say this without a trace of exaggeration, about to end war as humanity has known it,” Roland said by way of introduction as he rose and moved to the brandy on the side table. He threw back a swallow straight from the bottle and then tossed his head with an appreciative sigh before coming to stand next to Milo.

“Zlydzen, the little fiend, has found a way to enslave men’s minds,” Roland said and nodded at the soulless. “In a process I’m sure you understand far better than I do, he uses his infernal engines to take over men’s minds so they can be controlled. It is not instantaneous, typically, but with continual exposure, even the strongest will can be broken if they don’t possess proper protection.”

Milo nodded eagerly. He’d thought at the outset that Roland would have nothing of value to tell him, but then the tidbit about protection sprang up. The magus had assumed there was something like that, which explained why Stalin and his subordinates had been mostly intact. He added that to the list of objectives.

“That reminds me,” Roland said as though the thought had just occurred to him. “You still haven’t told me how you became De Zauber-Schwartz, much less what you can do.”

Milo frowned.

“I took a test,” he muttered, not bothering to hide his irritation at the diversion. “And I already knew about the mind-control business, that street organ that Stalin was carting around. So what is he building, an army of those?”

Milo certainly hoped that was the case. Though the hellish instruments were dangerous, with proper information, the Germans and their allies could be alerted as to what to be on the lookout for.

“Oh, I heard it was quite the spectacle when you blasted that little curio to pieces,” Roland offered cheerfully as he drew out another cigarette. “Is it true you can hurl hellfire like some sort of demon?”

Milo grimaced as he blew out a jet of acrid smoke and gave Roland a sidelong glance.

“Let’s hope you never find out,” Milo replied curtly. “Now, are you going to answer my question, or was your offer a sham?”

Roland stiffened a little, and Milo saw a hint of danger gleaming in his dark eyes. He didn’t flinch away but instead turned from the window and stared at Roland. Roland resisted the urge to likewise square up, instead shaking his head and turning back to the window.

“The street organ was a crude prototype that Zlydzen has already moved past,” Roland said as he puffed on his cigarette. “Now he works to create something that can reach almost anyone, anywhere in Europe. In the space of a month, we will have the means to end a war in one night that has been fought for twenty years.”

Milo’s stomach twisted. His mind insisted that Roland was being grandiose for effect, but the hammering of his heart told him he was far from certain.

“How—”

The doors to the suite flew open, flattening two of the soulless against the wall as something huge and snarling loped in on all fours. From its cavernous chest came a howl of rage that Milo recognized.

“I’ve waited long enough!” Zlydzen roared as he powered forward. “I TOLD YOU TO KILL HIM!”

16

These Schemes

Zlydzen was a train of meat and bone hurtling toward Milo.

Roland sprang in front of him, arms spread protectively to either side.

Milo’s hand plunged into his pocket, fingers scooping up ash, but before he drew it out, the dwarrow skidded to a halt.

Muscles wider than Milo’s chest stood out on each shoulder, twitching with barely restrained rage. The floorboards groaned under huge fists that ground against the wood so that it began to crack and splinter.

“Move,” Zlydzen growled. Each quivering breath hissed between his clenched, snarling jaws.

Roland straightened a little and met the monster’s eyes without so much as a shudder.

“No,” he said, jaw set and eyes fixed. “We are doing this my way.”

A low warning growl erupted from inside the dwarrow’s chest, and one fist unclenched to reach out and settle with slow malevolence on Roland’s shoulder. The gnarled fingers splayed across his entire broad back, while the hooked thumb stabbed into his sternum. Milo didn’t doubt the dwarrow had the strength to flatten Roland’s chest with one sharp squeeze, and he also didn’t doubt that Roland knew that.

“I am not going to ask again,” the dwarrow hissed, spittle flying out between his teeth. “Move.”

Roland eyed the huge hand as though it were no more threatening than the sputum flecking the front of his suit.

“We had a deal, Zlydzen,” he said, his voice calm, almost bored, as he returned the dwarrow’s burning glare. “The objective and mechanisms are yours, but the operation is mine. This falls squarely under my purview.”

The hand's fingers began to tighten, and Roland’s not inconsiderable strength was no use against the crushing pressure. His breath became a labored gasp, and there was a series of low pops as bones shifted beneath the titanic grip. Milo’s fingers curled around the ash and his focus was narrowing when Roland spoke his words clearly despite the wheeze and rattle in his voice.

“Go ahead,” Roland said, sounding as though he didn’t care. “Let’s hope that those Reich bastards don’t mind negotiating with a deformed dwarf.”

Zlydzen’s arm quivered, and Roland’s legs buckled so he sank to his knees. Another second and Milo would launch his desperate attack, letting the chips fall where they may. It wasn’t much of a chance, but he’d be damned before he stood there while the deranged dwarrow ripped him and Roland to pieces.

But Zlydzen’s grip slackened and then released Roland, who fell forward, barely catching himself on his hands. The dwarrow bellowed and swatted the chair Milo had been sitting in, sending it bouncing across the floor to smash through the window by the bed.

Spit slinging from his curled lips, Zlydzen swung