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

from the staff, he hauled Ambrose up to the rail as the big man came to his senses. Bowing their heads against the wind and the screams of Kimaris’ maddened choir, they scrambled the last several meters. Behind them, the murky tide roiled and raged, a spout of flame still gnawing at it even as another wave gathered.

Magus and bodyguard reached the rear of the zeppelin as the tsunami of slime filled with screeching faces launched toward them.

The men looked toward the edge of the zeppelin and back at the oncoming breaker from hell.

“Together!” they shouted in unison and leapt as one.

Kimaris’ wave broke just behind them as the men began their skidding departure down the zeppelin’s rear and into the open air above the valley. As they tumbled free, cartwheeling in a nauseating spin, Milo let the last Si’lat pull the pins.

There was a rumble half a heartbeat before a massive fist of flame punched up through the very center of the zeppelin, enshrouding it in flame. Less than a second later, secondary detonations from burning shrapnel and gouts of immolating gas set off the other bladders and ripped through the vessel. In the blink of an eye, the airship had become a second sun, blazing over the valley.

In that inferno, the blaze did not just kiss Kimaris, it embraced the horror like a lover, and together they burned and writhed. The chorus ceased, their torment finally snuffed out as they burned with their captor over the valley.

As this singular dawn rapidly approached its noon, two small figures fluttered through the air, their canvas chutes blazing above them. They’d been too close, and the heat had been too intense. They had just enough time to look up and see their desperate gambit play out before they plunged to their deaths on the rocky earth below.

In that moment of embraced inevitability, neither man cried out. Both magus and bodyguard smiled, basking in Kimaris’ ruin.

So busy were they in savoring the works of their hands that neither noticed the radiant forms racing toward them, riding fast and free on the wind.

25

A Novelty

“Have you heard what they are calling you?” Lokkemand asked, sipping from a canteen, his glass of schnapps untouched.

“I typically don’t listen to what people call me,” Milo said with a shrug as he finished his own glass. “It’s rarely flattering.”

Lokkemand nodded and secured the cap on the canteen before dabbing his mouth with a handkerchief. They were alone in the tent, most of the files, maps, and typist materials already packed. The war was moving beyond Bamyan, with Epp leading the offensive toward Kabul.

“It is actually funny,” Lokkemand said, reaching inside his coat and drawing out a cigarette tin. “I’d be worried about it being a breach of operational security if it wasn’t already making its way into all the dirty jokes and drinking songs.”

Flipping the tin open, he held it out to Milo, who took one with a grateful nod.

“All right, I’ll bite,” the magus said, the cigarette hanging from his lip as he fished out his matchbook. “What are they calling me?”

Lokkemand waited the tantalizing seconds until they’d both lit their cigarettes before answering, “Der Zauber-Schwartz,” the captain intoned through a haze of smoke. “Though I’ve already heard a few shortening it to the pet name of ‘Zauber.’”

Milo coughed on a throatful of smoke and took a moment to gather himself.

“What?” he wheezed, watering eyes bright with alarm. “They're calling me the ‘Sorcerer in Black,’ and you don’t think that’s cause for concern!”

Lokkemand chuckled, sending out tufts of smoke.

“Well, that’s not the only thing they are calling you, just the most flattering. There’s Verbrannt’Hex and Feuergeist. Things only get more imaginative from there.”

Milo stared incredulously as the cigarette smoldered in his hand.

“I’m not sure how that is supposed to make me feel better. I thought the fey worked their magic so the men wouldn’t remember what they saw.”

“Oh, their memories were suitably modified, but don’t you see?” Lokkemand snorted. “You're on your way to becoming a legend, a myth amongst the ranks of the fighting men of the German Army. What’s the one thing all myths have in common?”

Milo rocked back as he realized the captain’s point, savoring a long toke.

“They’re not real.” He sighed out a stream of hazy blue-gray.

“Exactly.” Lokkemand smiled, then picked up the glass of schnapps and held it under his nose. “We couldn’t have asked for a better cover if we’d fabricated it on purpose.”

Milo nodded, tapping ash into the empty schnapps bottle.

“What about the photos and other recordings? They were on a reconnaissance mission after all, and we didn’t search them before escorting them off the zeppelin.”

“Duly confiscated by Nicht-KAT,” the captain said as he flapped his hand dismissively, cigarette tracing wisps of smoke. “All packaged and on their way back to Berlin.”

“To be examined by experts? Studied”? Milo asked with a raised eyebrow. “Presented to the general staff?”

“Wouldn’t that be something?” Lokkemand laughed bitterly. “No, I imagine the colonel will peruse them briefly, but he is a busy man, and unless there is something exceptional, he’ll mark them to be locked away until some distant, unreachable date.”

Milo popped the expended cigarette into the bottle, where it went out with a damp hiss when it met the dregs of the schnapps.

“An enormous sentient jelly monster that killed hundreds isn’t exceptional?”

Lokkemand and Milo locked eyes through the haze of tobacco smoke.

“You’re special, Milo, no denying it,” the captain said, leaning to one side to stub out his cigarette on the gravel floor. “But you’ve only scratched the surface of this world. Savor the victory, then brace yourself for the next plunge.”

Milo crossed his arms, letting the words digest.

“Also, pack warmly.” Lokkemand grunted as he leaned forward to deposit the stub. “We’re headed north.”

“Not following Epp on his glorious conquest of India?” Milo asked. “Isn’t that what every true German would kill for?”

Lokkemand glared at Milo.

“Just when I thought I might grow to like you.” He sighed and heaved