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

“The door was about here,” Trevor said, “but it’s covered with dirt, and the weeds have covered everything.

“What is inside is part of your domain,” Brother Yvan said, “since you are the only person who can get inside.”

“I don’t know if I’ll return,” Trevor said.

“You have a long life ahead of you, so don’t think never.”

Trevor grinned. “I won’t.” He pulled out the old rod. “I can still feel the magic,” he said.

“Give me a demonstration,” Brother Yvan said.

Trevor looked at a fallen tree. “I’ll try to think of a tiny beam. Plissaki had produced an orange light, but when I do it, the lightning is red,” Trevor said. He pointed the rod toward the tree, and a thin thread of bright red light emerged from the end of the rod and struck the wood, making a narrow hole through the diameter.

“I didn’t extinguish the magic,” Trevor said. He went to the back of the tree trunk and looked at the smoking hole that had pierced all the way through.

“That might be so powerful because it is of the old kind, and to think you are the only one who can wield it properly,” Brother Yvan said. “Current magic doesn’t require a device, but there isn’t a person who can create a bolt with that much power. I had a few demonstrations of what was possible with lightning in Jiksara, and nothing would have gone through that trunk. I wouldn’t set such a gift aside forever. Dryden has moved this from Plissaki’s hands to yours, you know.”

“Perhaps,” Trevor said. He couldn’t deny the possibility. “I can use the magic to teleport. Why didn’t I get this before the Khartooian battle?”

“Did you need it?”

Trevor furrowed his brow. “No.” He shook his head. “Dryden’s way isn’t my way, is it?”

Brother Yvan laughed. “Not in the least. Now, take me to my future bride.”

Trevor put the shovel back in his bag, and the pair of them teleported to Collet. They landed in the ancient room.

Brother Yvan looked around. “This has a different feel from the room in West Moreton,” he said.

They walked to the refectory. Trevor wanted a bit to eat before he returned to Khartoo. A seer trainee spotted Brother Yvan and went to fetch Reena and Lister Vale, the head seer. The pair entered the refectory together just as Trevor received his snack.

Reena ran to Brother Yvan and threw her arms around his neck. “You came back to me safely.”

“Dryden watched over us all,” Brother Yvan said before kissing the former Jarkanese focus. “Sit and listen to Trevor’s tale.”

Trevor didn’t spend much time since the others were waiting for him before leaving for Viksar. “Brother Yvan has other details. I have to go.”

“Don’t you need a magician?” Lister Vale asked.

“I think I might be able to use the magic in the rod,” Trevor said. “If I’m still here after I close my eyes, I only thought I could, and I’ll need a magical boost to my sword and cuirass.”

He tried to teleport and opened his eyes in the stable yard in Khartoo. He grasped the rod and still felt magic coursing through it. His successful trip brought a smile to his face. Trevor didn’t want to have to rely on Win again. That last transfer was rough on both of them.

“Are we ready?” Trevor said as he walked into the inn’s lobby.

“All you have to do is saddle Snowflake. We already packed your bags,” Win said.

Within minutes, they were mounted and left the city. No one knew if the Maskumites were pacified or not. The potentate didn’t leave any heirs, and Potur Lott didn’t have any insight into who or what would rule Khartoo and Maskum. Trevor wondered if Merik’s wife was in line. The four countries that sent armies would leave one thousand men behind to make sure the transition was peaceful.

General Brightwork and General Henkari camped with their forces while they collected provisions for the trek home. They stopped to say farewell.

“We will be heading back to Viksar,” Trevor said. “I’ll be marrying Lissa there.”

Henkari smiled knowingly. “I wondered how long you were going to wait. The sooner, the better, I think.”

“Sooner is good,” Lissa said.

“I will write a commendation to King Worto,” General Brightwork said. “There should be some kind of reward waiting for you in Listenwell.”

“No reward is needed, but a written thank you would be nice,” Trevor said. He’d hang it in his study as a reminder that, in a way, Desolation Boxster had finally prevailed in Brachia.

Potur Lott walked up. “Good job, Arcwin,” the scout said. “You lived up to your title, messenger.”

Trevor didn’t know about that, but he knew he had tried his hardest and hadn’t felt the least bit guilty about killing Plissaki. That was another death that he considered required to give something back to Boxster’s memory.

They left the camp and headed north. When they stopped to rest, Trevor took Lissa by the hand. “We have something to do, but don’t leave without us,” he said to the others.

They appeared in front of the seer’s church in Jiksara. Lissa took Trevor’s hand as they stepped inside, looking for Seer Caspur.

“The conquering heroes, I hope?” the seer said as he found the couple sitting on a bench at the side of the church.

“Father, I have something to tell you,” she said.

Trevor stood. “We have something to say.”

“Marriage? Don’t be worried. You both have my blessing,” Seer Caspur said.

Lissa almost fainted with relief as Trevor felt her relax next to him when her father made the proclamation.

“When and where are you getting married?” Caspur asked.

“We will be traveling with Volst, Win, Glynna, and Custik,” Trevor said. We will be waiting for Brother Yvan to arrive from