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

Win ran to Trevor’s side and followed Trevor’s eyes out the window. “Is that our next destination?”

Trevor raised his eyebrows. He hadn’t thought of teleporting, but Win grabbed Trevor’s wrist. “Teleport!” Win commanded.

Trevor shrugged, and the two men suddenly appeared at the gate to the entrance of the potentate’s pier. To Trevor’s surprise, a thin spear of orange lightning licked out from the deck of the ship, splintering the timber of the open gate, missing them both.

“Shields up,” Trevor said as they walked purposefully toward the gangplank but kept their shields covering them from more bolts that came their way. By the time they could step up into the ship, it began to pull away from the dock. Jarkanese and Viksaran magicians began to approach them, laying their own fire and lightning bolts toward the potentate’s ship. Wherever the orange lightning hit, if no shield stopped the bolt, a soldier died. No charms could stop the weapon.

The exchange kept going. “We need to get on board!” Trevor said, putting his sword arm around Win’s shoulder. “We will try again!” and using Win’s magic, he barely made it onto the deck. Win staggered, his magical reserves shattered, and Trevor had to blink to clear his splitting headache. The teleportation barely worked, but they were oriented with their shields pointed toward those remaining on the ship.

Win regained his footing and raised his sword, spying a man wearing a cloth-of-gold tunic over armor. He charged. Trevor’s eyes were only for Gareeze Plissaki, and he spotted him turning toward Win.

Trevor closed with the man. As the ship started to burn, the sails rained burning embers down onto the deck. Gareeze turned to run from a falling boom, and Trevor followed, but the flaming timber fell, pinning them to the deck .

Gareeze gasped and turned to Trevor, who was certain he had broken his shoulder. Trevor grabbed his fallen shield and held it in front to deflect an orange bolt that would surely kill him. Gareeze was dangerous, even in his injured condition. Trevor inched his way toward the man, not daring to peek above the edge of the shield. Splashes of the magician’s brutal lightning began to peck away at the surface of Trevor’s shield. It was a matter of time before the magician’s bolts would break the shield, leaving Trevor’s body exposed to the deadly lightning.

He was only a few feet away when the middle of the shield broke. Red-hot embers surrounded a gaping hole. Trevor threw the shield at Gareeze. He swung his sword, but it caught on rigging still attached to the boom.

“You will die before I will,” Gareeze said, coughing up blood.

He pointed the ancient rod and sent a thin cord of orange lightning into Trevor’s chest. The pain was excruciating, but Trevor could still take a breath. His flailing with his blade cut enough of the line to free his sword. His last act would be killing Gareeze first, not letting the magician’s vow come true. He was so close he could smell Gareeze’s breath. The magician’s eyes were unfocused as he gasped in pain. Trevor thought of another solution. He grabbed Gareeze’s wrist and teleported.

Trevor had no destination in mind, but Gareeze and Trevor ended up in a dark space that suddenly lit up. He immediately recognized the room underneath the Gnarled Wood mound. He thought the structure had been destroyed, but here he was with his archenemy.

Gareeze’s eyes were closed, but the evil magician still breathed. Trevor wasn’t fully healed, but even though he risked being stranded in Gnarled Wood, he put his sword to Plissaki’s throat as he pulled the ancient rod from the magician’s limp fingers.

Trevor could feel the magic pulsing in the ancient device. He suddenly recalled a passage in the old language book that he had memorized in Jilgrath. If Trevor could feel the magic, he wondered if he could use the rod. He withdrew his sword and waited for Plissaki to awaken.

“You!” Plissaki sneered as his eyes opened, and he sat up. He felt his chest and looked at the blood that had seeped through his clothes. “My wounds!”

“A benefit of using the ancient magic for teleportation,” Trevor said, placing his sword beside him but playing with the rod as he stared at the magician.

The magician’s eyes were drawn to the rod. “That’s mine!” he said, leaning over to snatch it from Trevor’s hands.

Trevor struck Plissaki’s fingers. The magician howled in pain.

“No teleportation to make that go away,” Trevor said. “You and the potentate have caused the pain and death of a lot of people. It’s time for you to pay. Dryden is not happy.”

Plissaki clutched his injured hand to his chest. “What do you know about Dryden?” he spat out.

“I am his messenger.” Trevor looked around at the room. Plissaki sat on the table that had transformed Trevor into whatever he had become magically. It didn’t respond to the magician like it had to Trevor. “My message to you, Gareeze Plissaki, is that I will kill you here and now.”

A thick bolt of silver lightning hit Trevor in the face. The sparkles of energy disturbed his vision as he felt the magician plow into his body. Trevor held onto the rod with all his strength. Plissaki stood back and continued to bathe Trevor with fire and lightning.

“Nothing works!” Plissaki muttered to himself, but he turned to Trevor and saw the Jarkanese sword lying a few paces from Trevor. “You won’t be able to get through my defenses,” the magician said with the utmost confidence.

“Let’s try this,” Trevor said, thinking the spell that activated the old rod. A thick snake of red lightning emerged from the tip of the rod, burning a hole through Plissaki. The magician’s body fell back onto the floor.

“I suppose this works through your charms,”