Authors: Robin Briar
Neither spell was what I would call a
deliberate
casting. They just sort of happened.
I grab one the silver spikes hovering in front of Saffron, and Candice reclaims her sword. The rest of the floating silver objects follow Saffron wherever she goes. She levitates all three of us down to the basement floor, spacing each witch out around a mound of wreckage.
This is where we’re going to find Trent, and so Saffron repositions all the sharp silver objects overhead. Filling the hole we descended through while angling their pointed sides downward. Smart. If Trent does recover quickly and tries to escape by leaping away, he’ll impale himself on those.
Saffron waves her hand and spreads the debris aside with a single gesture, parting a sea of splintered wood and twisted metal. Trent is revealed underneath in what appears to be a hollow space, still half-man and half-wolf.
Right away we can all see that he’s not going anywhere. Near as I can tell, the werewolf has been impaled on what remains of the support beam, right through the middle of his belly. Impaled, but not dead. His breathing is shallow, but he’s still conscious. The look on his face is filled with hatred and pain, seething through his blood-red eyes.
I can only assume that Trent is stuck in this form. If he shifted back to being a human, the support beam would cut him in half. That’s when I figure out what he must have done to survive.
“You turned into a massive wolf before you were crushed,” I say, “and then shrank to create a hollow space for yourself once the debris settled. The thing is, you can’t go any smaller, can you? You’re stuck at this size.”
“I’m stuck until I pull myself off this post,” he coughs back at me.
“I doubt you could pull yourself off that post faster than I could cut out your organs,” Saffron says.
All the sharp silver objects descend to hover even closer above him.
“Well, the organs you haven’t already eviscerated yourself,” she finishes.
“Alternatively, I could cut you off that beam,” Candice offers. “Piece by piece.”
“That would mean you have to step a little closer, shield maiden. By all means do.”
“Posture all you like Trent,” I say. “You’ve been beaten and don’t have much time left.”
Trent narrows his eyes at me and spits blood.
“I’m beat when I say I’m beat.”
I step a little closer to him, but make sure I’m still far enough away that he can’t reach me with one of his outstretched arms. I kneel down and make eye contact with the man.
“You’re a nasty piece of work, I’ll give you that, just not very bright. You didn’t even suspect I was a witch. Maybe if you had, you wouldn’t be in this predicament. You lost, Trent. You won’t be forcing me to do your bidding. It’s over.”
He smiles at me with a deeply malicious grin.
“It can’t be over,” he replies. “I haven’t marked you yet. One way or another, we will finish what we started.”
“You’re delirious,” I tell him. “That’s normal for somebody about to die.”
Delirious or confident. I really don’t want it to be the latter, but something tells me not to underestimate this man, even with a beam through his gut. I really don’t like how much Trent is smiling right now.
“Delirious?” Trent sputters. “I’ve known Sylvia for sixteen years. She’s only lived in this house for half that time. I built it myself when she needed a bigger home. There’s no part of his place I didn’t have a hand in making, including this support beam. I wasn’t planning on getting impaled by it, but I knew it would break if I pushed hard enough.”
“Is this going somewhere, Trent?” Saffron asks. “It sounds like you’re stalling.”
“If that’s the case,” Candice adds, “and you’re having difficulties facing your impending demise, I’ll make it quick for you.”
That ignites a fire in Trent. He really doesn’t like being in a position of vulnerability—not that it will matter for much longer.
“My death will come when I’m ready for it,” he spits. “Especially now that I can move freely again, thanks to you three.”
That makes me shiver, and for good reason. His hand moves supernaturally fast.
Near as I can tell, Trent reaches behind his head and claws the back of his neck. Then, using the same claw, he smears the blood across the floor. I have no idea what he’s doing, but Saffron must. She’s the first one to speak.
“Jess! Get out of there!”
I turn around to face her.
“Get out of where?”
That’s when I look down and see it. The floor is glowing.
There’s a circle of runes around the support beam that impaled Trent. A circle large enough to encompass him and me. Strangely, I can see the entire perimeter through the debris and rubble. The light cast off by the runes is so intense that it has turned everything on top of it transparent.
I can see the floor for the first time. It’s not made out of concrete like a typical house, but masoned stone. Intricate pieces fit together. I look up at Candice and Saffron. I can read the concern on their faces. That can’t be good.
Then everything goes black.
My head swims. I don’t know which way is up or down. I’m falling. Or flying. I can’t tell which. It’s disorienting in the extreme, but the feeling doesn’t last long. The ground rushes up to greet me. My stomach lurches and I try not to retch, which isn’t easy. I manage to keep it together, barely.
It takes me a second to get my bearings, because it’s still pitch black, but I can feel masoned stone beneath me. The rubble, however, is gone.
That’s when I hear it. The sound of somebody else breathing. They’re very close. Somebody who is bleeding profusely, if the puddle of moisture my hand just touched is any indication.
Suffice it to say I’m not alone, and I’m pretty sure whom I’m not alone with.
I scramble to my feet. If the rubble isn’t here, then the post running through Trent probably isn’t here either. The post that was keeping Trent firmly stuck in one place. What I wouldn’t give for a simple light spell right now. Just a tiny little glow so that I could see my surroundings.
I used to have a silver spike in my hand. I don’t anymore. I sure wish I had that spike now. Maybe I dropped it when I lost my bearings. I back away from the sound of breathing. Everywhere I step, the cobbled bricks continue beneath my feet.
I can’t back away for long, as I come up against a stone wall. Where am I? That’s when I hear somebody, probably Trent dragging himself across the floor, except he’s not moving closer. He’s moving further away.
I stoop down quietly and crawl forward on my hands and knees, trying not to make a sound, and pat the stone floor as I inch forward. My eyes still haven’t adjusted to the darkness. It must be absolutely pitch black where I am. There’s no light whatsoever, like the deepest part of a cave.
I stretch my arms out in all directions, hoping to find the metal spike. My fingers dab into another moist puddle. Blood. That means I’ve gone too far.
The spike could have gone anywhere, but I back away from the blood. Maybe it rolled away into a corner, especially if I dropped it. That’s when the body that was dragging itself stops moving. I hear the sound of shifting as somebody adjusts themselves up against a wall, if I’m not mistaken. I listen for breathing. It’s still there. Faint, but audible.
I need that spike. I start groping further to the left and right, fanning out my reach as I back up again. My perseverance pays off. I recognize the smooth metallic texture of silver beneath my fingers and pick it up, trying to do so without making a sound.
The point of the spike scrapes the floor.
“That’s not going to save you against me.”
That confirms my suspicions. It’s definitely Trent.
“It’s better than nothing,” I say. “And besides, you’re in no condition to fight. You’re bleeding all over the place.”
As if to make my point for me, he coughs raggedly, which continues for a while before he manages to control of it.
“That won’t last forever,” he finally manages. “You must know that by now. I’ll be on my feet in no time.”
He’s right. It’s just a matter of time before Trent recovers, but it’s enough to formulate a plan. I’m sure more time than Trent would have me believe.
Without the support beam running through him anymore, there must be a massive hole in his gut. If only I could see him well enough to stab him with this spike, then I could stop him from healing. Heck, I might even be able to kill him outright.
Then I could figure out where I am exactly.
First things first. Trent is wounded. Moreover, if it really is pitch black in this place, then he can’t see me any more than I can see him. Wolves can see at night, but only by amplifying existing light. They can’t see in pitch-black conditions any better than humans.
That still leaves his sense of smell. He could probably pinpoint me by scent once I’m close enough. Meanwhile, I would be flailing in the dark. Flailing, but still protected by my spell. It’s almost worth a try.
No, I need a source of light, some way of seeing what I’m doing. Even if Trent can’t claw me through the protection of my spell, he could grab me and hold me down with his monstrous strength. That’s another fight I would lose.
I stand up and make my way backward again, armed with a silver spike in one hand, while reaching out for the wall with my other. It doesn’t take long before I find a corner. I start to fumble in the dark again, patting around for anything I can’t see. Then I make a discovery.
A metal frame of some sort, but open up top and built into the wall. I reach in and find a short wooden stick wrapped in something wet. Oil.
It’s a torch. A torch in a sconce. Primitive technology and old stonework. This place is becoming more curious by the moment. All I need now is a way to ignite it, so I begin feeling around again.
That’s when I realize how warm it is here. The air is thick. Not summer hot, but humid. Which means it’s probably even warmer than I realize, especially as the Maintain the Flesh spell keeps my core temperature normal.
Wherever we are, it’s definitely not Sylvia’s place. If I had to guess, we’re deep underground, someplace light can’t reach. Yet if that’s the case, then it should be cool, not hot.
That’s the other eerie thing about this place. I can’t hear anything else except for the noises Trent and I are making.
I will say this without a doubt in my mind: I’ve been teleported. Those runes were a teleportation circle. Candice was trying to tell me to get out of it. I didn’t know what she meant until it was too late. If I’m right, Trent and I could be anywhere in the world.
Saffron once told me that short-range teleportation spells are costly and tricky. You really have to know where you’re going first, fixing the location in your mind. The more unique the place, the better.
If the place you imagine is similar to any other place in the world, then your journey could be disastrous. Therefore, it’s much easier to teleport when you can imagine a location that’s familiar to you.
A teleportation circle is a different story. It has none of the same restrictions, but once a teleportation circle is drawn, it’s keyed to a specific location, another teleportation circle drawn exactly the same way. All the hard work is done by the runes. All you have to do is activate it, like flicking a switch.
Clearly Trent knew how to flip this switch, especially if he had one installed in the basement of Sylvia’s house. And based on what I saw him do, he flipped this switch with blood, his own, taken from his neck.
That was odd. Why not the blood from his belly? Where the support beam was running through him through? There was certainly enough to go around.
My hand locates something new on the floor. A thin, curved piece of cold metal, but that’s not all. There’s also a smooth piece of rock. I know exactly what it is. Perhaps a younger woman wouldn’t, but I only look younger than I am.
I strike the flint against the steel, creating a spark. It illuminates my hands for a brief second. The first source of light I’ve seen since arriving here. I bring it up to the sconce and do it again, then a few more times after that. It ignites on the fifth try.
I take the torch out of the sconce and turn around. Suddenly I can see where I am.
It’s a square room with no doors whatsoever. At least none that are visible. The floors, walls, and ceiling are all the same, cobbled stone. The space is completely unremarkable, except for runes that have been etched into the floor. An identical sconce is built into every corner at the same height. Most importantly, I can see my enemy now.
Trent has retreated into the corner directly opposite from me. He’s leaning up against the wall, like I thought. The floor is smeared with a trail of his blood and continuing to pool. His red eyes pick up the light of my torch and gaze at me confidently.
He’s so cocksure, even now, but human again instead of half-man, half-wolf. He’s also naked. His clothes would have torn away when he shifted into a massive wolf to protect himself under the rubble.
Trent is using one hand to prop himself up while covering the hole in his belly with his other. I can see from here that his body is healing, but the hole still goes right through him. Left to his own devices, he’ll make a complete recovery, but the process is slow.
There’s a lot of damage for his body to fix, which is why I can’t let that happen. The question is how to proceed.
How do I kill a cornered animal before he becomes too dangerous again?
There’s no telling what Trent is capable of in this situation. I can’t risk getting too close, but there’s very little choice when all I have to work with is a silver spike. His legs appear to be limp, but his arms are working just fine.
Trent breaks the silence and my train of thought.
“If you want to kill me with that spike, you’ll have to get a lot closer than that,” he taunts.
That’s a fight on his terms, which is what he wants. I won’t fall for it.
“You’d like that, wouldn’t you? You had your chance to mark me, but couldn’t perform in front of the audience that showed up.”
Trent smiles at me. “Tell yourself what you like, witch, but it’s just you and me here. We both know that isn’t true.”